by Toby Frost
“Fine weather, isn’t it?”
Arashina stood beside him, smiling out to sea. She had tied her hair back and wore two knives and a long dryad sword. Her dark clothes were soaked through, and for a moment she looked like something that had sprung from the waves.
The Tower of Glass loomed above them, glowing through the rain like a corrupted moon. He licked his lips and tasted salt.
“Are you ready to fight, friend?” Arashina called.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied.
***
Giulia pushed the doors open and slipped out of the dumb-waiter. She was in a corridor bathed in green light. The left wall was entirely glass, flawlessly smooth. There were niches down the other side of the corridor, and delicate vases and sculptures in each. Figures leaped and danced on the vases: she thought of the sea monster rising in the glass that Elayne had showed her.
Walking in the green glow was like being underwater. She was close: Azul had to be on this floor. She’d find him very soon.
A door opened behind her, and she darted into one of the niches and pressed herself against the wall. Shadow fell across her face. She heard a babble of voices – old men talking over one another, bickering and confused.
Very carefully, Giulia leaned out. Half a dozen men blocked the passageway. They all wore expensive-looking clothes, and one or two had a vaguely military look. It was always hard to guess the ages of the rich, but none of them could be under forty-five. The men milled around, agitated but unable to act, as though their servants had unexpectedly disappeared.
Who were all these old bastards? She caught fragments of conversation – “No safety in meeting like this” – “I told him it wasn’t possible” – and wondered if Azul was holding them captive here. No, she realised. There was something about their faces, a sort of bullying confidence, that reminded her of the soldiers she’d seen taunting martyrs in religious paintings. They were dignitaries, she realised, Azul’s friends, the Old Crusaders that Arashina had spoken about.
So, that was it. He’d been having a party. She felt the urge to shoot one of them, just to spoil their fun. She stopped herself. Whoever these arseholes really were, they weren’t her target. Giulia crouched down and slipped out of the alcove. Bent over, keeping close to the wall, she ran back to the far end of the passage.
There was a door here: she pulled the bolts back and opened it. A set of narrow stairs led down. They would get her back to the kitchen, and let Hugh and Sethis out. And then it would be Azul who was trapped.
***
The delegates gathered around the entrance of the dining room, eager to get away. Azul watched them from his seat at the head of the table.
They were not his soldiers anymore. Their strength was gone: they were nothing more than fat merchants and decrepit crooks, men with no ambitions beyond rotting quietly in their comfortable homes. He caught Cortaag’s eye. “Get these cowards out down the back way. Ring the alarm bell for the men to guard the dock.”
The big man shook his head. “They won’t hear it, not in this weather.”
“God damn it! Just ring the bell!” Azul raised his hands, as if about to call down curses from Heaven. He hissed and checked himself, and a hand touched his arm.
It was Brother Praxis. “Forget it, Ramon. These old boys are useless to us.”
“This was beyond my control,” Azul began.
“I know. I’ll contact you.” He dipped his head, a kind of small bow, and stepped back. “Time to take my leave.”
“It was out of my hands,” Azul croaked.
Praxis smiled. “Of course,” he said, and he joined the mob at the door.
For a moment, everything seemed lost. Azul’s comrades were weaklings, his standing within the Hidden Hand was ruined. He felt like finding somewhere safe and warm, and using the snake part of him to sleep through the winter and wake once the chaos had settled down.
No. There was still a plan to be followed through, money to be made. He’d do it himself: put the gold he’d made back into the operation, hire more mercenaries, bring in more booty from the New World. And he wouldn’t have to split it with anyone else.
Azul turned to his assistant. “Cortaag, listen. I need you to get the bird ready to go. Once you’re done, take the little strongbox with the jewels in it and get yourself and Alicia down to the diving-boat. Meet me at the warehouse an hour after dawn.”
“Yes, sir. What of the sorceress, sir?”
“Take her up to the bird too. We’re getting out.”
***
Giulia hurried down the last few stairs, down to the kitchen door.
There were no guards. She yanked the bolts back and tore the door open.
Hugh stood on the other side, sword raised. He sighed and lowered it as he saw her face. “Giulia.”
“Let’s go,” she said. “Where’s Sethis?”
“He’s not coming.”
“What?” She lowered her voice. “He can’t stay here. They’ll get in and murder him.”
“He says he’s staying,” Hugh replied. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
She ran past him, into the kitchen. Sethis was still perched on his stool, china-pale in the candlelight. He looked up very slowly, and she saw that his chest was dark with blood.
“Oh, no. Sethis, no.”
“I’m staying here,” he said.
“You can’t,” she replied. “They’ll break in. There’s guards below—”
“I’m not in much of a state for running,” he replied. He raised his hands; there was a pistol in each. “I’ve got these.”
She thought, He’s going to kill himself.
Hugh said, “Let’s get going.”
“Go on,” Sethis said, looking at the barricade.
Giulia strode over to him, leaned down and kissed his cheek. He smelt strange, alchemical. “Thank you,” she said. “Good luck.”
***
On the grand staircase there were threats and recriminations. “Damn stupid business,” Fontaine said, feeling for the next step with the toe of his boot.
“A total waste of time,” Dravaignac replied. “Slow up: my hip hurts. What happened to all the God-damned lights?”
“Maybe it’s not a complete disaster.” Torvald still sounded thoughtful, despite the circumstances. “There’s sense to his plan. In the hands of someone better – someone with the appropriate ability, perhaps – it might be made to work. If Azul could be replaced…”
Complaining, they moved down. Their boots scuffed on the staircase.
“And who will take his place?” Fontaine demanded. “Azul’s a high-ranking man; people respect him. It’s not like changing sentries at a guardpost, you know. Who else is going to have the clout to pull off a thing like that?”
“Shush,” Torvald said. “I heard something.”
They stopped and listened. “Nothing,” Fontaine said.
“No, I heard it.” Torvald peered into the darkness with small, hard eyes. One of his comrades pushed past, sniffing and muttering.
A dryad woman stepped out of the dark two feet in front of Torvald and drove a knife into his chest.
The ones at the back heard him gasp and sputter, and suddenly a pale face and a blade were coming at them. Others followed up the staircase: a human with a sword, a second dryad. Some of Azul’s guests drew their daggers, but they were unused to combat and dressed for show.
Fontaine went down squealing. Dravaignac slipped, fell, screeched as he hit the stairs and rolled over and over. Long knives flashed into paunches and wrinkled necks. Their descent became a panic, then a stampede.
***
Green light washed over Giulia’s face as she stepped into the corridor. It was empty.
“There were all these old men here,” she whispered. “I think they were Azul’s g
uests—”
“Be careful,” Hugh replied.
They walked down the passage together. Giulia moved in a crouch, bow raised. Hugh’s boots scuffed on the floor with each limping step.
There was a doorway on the left. Giulia raised a hand and Hugh froze. She took a deep breath, put a little pressure on the trigger. She sidestepped and pulled the crossbow tight into her shoulder, ready to fire.
She looked into a dining room. It was abandoned: seats had been pushed back from the table, glasses of wine left on the tabletop. This was where the old men had been making their plans. The rear wall of the hall was pure green glass. The light made her think of witchcraft.
“Nothing,” Hugh said.
They closed the hall doors and kept going. Hugh lurched along beside her like a broken machine. She could sense his urgency: she knew that he could think only of Elayne. Giulia thought about Azul and how much she wanted to see him die. Hatred swamped her thoughts for a second, and then she snapped her attention back to the corridor.
At the end they turned left.
“God almighty,” Hugh whispered.
They stood at the end of a broad hall, lit by candelabra. Lenses and mirrors threw clear light around the room. Down the centre ran sheets of glass, as big as partitions, and on each sheet a different scene was replaying itself. To the left, a life-sized athlete hurled a spear, which reappeared in his hand ready for the next throw. On the right, a galleon loosed its cannons and flame blossomed on a coastal fort, then faded ready for the ship’s next salvo. The rows of glass panels made alleyways down the hall. The room was for display, Giulia realised, a glittering, shifting maze built out of enchanted glass.
Something caught her eye, and she glanced left and saw a blur behind the glass at the end of the room. A second blur moved up beside it.
Giulia raised her hand, held up two fingers. She glanced at Hugh. The knight nodded, understanding. When she looked back down the hall, the blurs were gone.
Very quietly, they advanced down the centre of the hall. Fear made Giulia’s limbs ache. Her palms were damp. On either side figures leaped and danced silently, as though she walked through someone’s memories.
Glass exploded behind her. She ducked and whipped around and saw a black shape slam into Hugh and knock him through the next panel in a storm of glinting fragments. Hugh slid across the floor on his back, the monster crouched on his chest. Giulia leaped after them. Hugh groaned.
The werewolf lay twitching on top of him. Hugh’s knife was in its mouth, the tip protruding from the back of its neck.
Giulia ducked down. The beast was warm and sweaty. It smelt of fresh meat.
She grimaced and pushed it with her boot, and Hugh slid out from underneath.
His thigh was covered in blood. The beast had pulled the wound open, and the bandages he’d applied were fast becoming sodden. Giulia stood over him as he retied the dressing. Shards of glass crunched under her boots. She looked down and saw two rows of teats on the werewolf’s chest. Alicia, she realised. Got you.
There was another one. She looked left, then right. Can they smell blood? It had to be waiting, watching them perhaps – There!
He was ten yards off. He stood behind a castle like the Devil looming over a city of sinners. Giulia did not move her head. She whispered, “Stay here.”
Hugh gave her a tiny nod.
The figure moved: not directly towards them, but down the length of the hall. He’s trying to get round the back. He doesn’t know I can see him. All I need to do is get a good shot…
She would only have one chance. If he didn’t die, he would be on her before she could reload. She needed to get closer.
In the glass on her left, a harlequin was dancing in a pantomime. Hands raised, he skipped across the glass and away again, while a crowd of onlookers applauded silently from the background. The harlequin danced towards her—
And she danced back. Giulia sidestepped as the harlequin skipped, using him as cover, and the shadow was right before her. She lifted the bow.
“Hey!”
The shadow spun around.
The bolt punched straight through the glass and into Cortaag’s eye. From six feet away it skewered his brain, and he stumbled, flailed, crashed into the wall and slid onto the floor.
Giulia loaded a fresh bolt and walked over to the body. Cortaag lay in a heap, apparently dead. She drew her long knife and made absolutely sure. When she returned, Hugh was upright.
For a moment, she thought about going without him. It would be easier to face Elayne that way. But Hugh had rescued Giulia, and she still owed him for that.
“Elayne,” he said between his teeth.
“They’re on the roof,” Giulia replied. “Nowhere else to go.”
***
A distant crash told Sethis that the outer doors had gone. He heard a jumble of voices, too muffled to make out, as they got to work on the inner door.
His side hurt, but not too much. Sethis knew some of the dryad techniques for easing pain, and the herbs he’d mixed up had taken the sharpness away. The pain had settled down into a hard, throbbing ache, pounding like a muffled hammer in his side.
He took out the little wrapped canisters from his belt. Each held enough powder and lead for a single shot. Once the inquisitors had broken in, he would be able to fire twice before he was overwhelmed. His fingers broke the canisters open, one by one, and soon gunpowder slid down the front of him like black sand, pooling in his lap.
You won’t get me, he thought. Sethis drew a pistol and laid it across his lap. He reached over with his left hand and pulled the candle close.
Suddenly he felt very sad. It would have been good to die in Faery. Perhaps his soul would go back to the woodland, and his spirit would be forgiven for spending so much time in the world of men. At least he would be taking some of the enemy with him. The Lord and Lady would appreciate that.
The doors burst. He snatched the candle, raised it high, and for a moment he stared into the gap, confused. Then he tossed the candle aside, seeing the flame go out as it struck the ground, and the pain in his side swelled as he lowered his hand.
Portharion stood in the doorway, and just behind him, a man with his arm in a sling.
***
Stairs led to a trapdoor in the roof. Giulia ran ahead and unbolted the trapdoor while Hugh limped up to join her. His sword hung down, and his free hand was clamped to his side.
“Are you sure that you want to do this?” she said.
“I have to.”
“Then let’s get the bastard.” She let the trapdoor fall open, swinging on its hinges. A square of black, rainy sky was above them. Together they climbed into the cold night wind.
Azul stood next to Elayne on the far side of the roof, the griffon at his side. It was bigger than a carthorse, muscled like a bull, and the sight of it sent a rush of terror down Giulia’s spine. Elayne’s hands were bound behind her, her mouth gagged. They all looked out of scale: the tall woman, the little man and the massive beast beside them, as if the perspective was awry.
The wind whipped around the tower. “Welcome!” Azul called. “You’ve missed dinner, I’m afraid!”
“Unhand the lady,” Hugh said.
The fake jollity disappeared. “No. She’s worth too much to me. And to you. Giulia told me all about that. She told me about a lot of things, didn’t you?”
Giulia pulled the bow up and fired. Azul ducked; Elayne twisted free and Hugh lurched towards her. The griffon darted forward, quick as water, and its great clawed hand batted Hugh to the floor. His sword clattered on the stone. He lay there, pinned under its massive foot, its talons digging into his breastplate. Slowly, idiotically, his hand reached out towards his sword.
Elayne ran to Giulia’s side. She shook her bound hands at Giulia and made a muffled, desperate sound.
“All t
his for nothing,” Azul said. He was shouting against the storm: his voice was twisted with rage and contempt. “So weak, all of you. You, Giulia, so willing to betray your friends for a little respite from the pain. This broken old knight, chasing dreams. The great sorceress, as trusting as a child.”
“People are coming,” Giulia said. “You’re finished.”
“No. By the time they get here, I will be long gone. As will you!”
The griffon’s jagged beak opened, and a pink snake of a tongue squirmed within.
“You,” Azul shouted, his voice almost cracking. “You think you can have whatever you want. You think you can steal from me. All of this is mine, you evil bitch!” he screamed, jabbing his finger at the ground. “I worked for this. I made it. You don’t get to take this away from me!” He stopped, shaking, almost in tears. “Watch, knight,” Azul said. He looked at the griffon. “Kill the women.”
Giulia drew her knife.
The next two seconds seemed minutes long. She lifted the knife, pushed the blade between Elayne’s hands and sliced them free.
The griffon advanced, light and sleek as a panther. Hugh crawled towards his sword.
Elayne tore a wad of rolled cloth out of her mouth. “Stop!” she cried.
The griffon stopped. It looked round, a little confused, as if unsure whom it could trust. Giulia looked at Elayne.
Elayne raised her arm and pointed. A trickle of blood ran from her nose. “Kill.”
The griffon turned, smooth as water, and looked down at Hugh.
“Yes,” Azul said.
“Kill,” Elayne repeated. Her teeth were clenched, her body shaking as if to break apart. Her nose bled freely now: blood ran over her chin.
The griffon looked up, at its master.
“No,” Azul said. He took a step backwards. “Stop. I order you to stop!”
The griffon pounced on him, smashed him into the wet stone. Azul howled in pain. The massive beak dipped and closed around his head and he shrieked.
