Waer

by Meg Caddy

  ‘Does the Shift hurt?’

  ‘No.’

  She folded her arms and gazed out over the souther plains, the landscape stretching out towards the Parch and beyond. ‘It does hurt,’ she said. She sounded as if she was spoiling for an argument, her usual defense against vulnerability, but I kept my voice level and gentle.

  ‘It is different when you have not been born a waer, and it is more painful the first few times.’ She seemed unconvinced, and I went on. ‘Especially if you have no care and comfort the first time, and no one to teach you. Newly turned waer have come to the Valley before, seeking our help. It is a terrible thing to undergo alone.’

  Her lip curled. ‘Kaebha was there,’ she said.

  I froze. ‘Kaebha is a waer?’ She nodded. Horror shot through me. ‘A waer, who tortures other waer? Who helps her master to hunt us down and butcher us?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about Kaebha.’

  ‘How could anyone do such a thing?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about Kaebha, Wolf.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Are you listening to me?’ She rounded on me, eyes blazing. ‘I don’t want to talk about Kaebha. I don’t want to talk about the things she did, or why. Bad enough we’re walking right back into Leldh’s arms, and two out of the three Watchers still haven’t agreed to help us. Bad enough to think about what Leldh did to me, that I can’t escape what he did to me! He turned me into a dog!’

  She was the one who had brought Kaebha’s name into the conversation. In spite of what she said, I felt she did have a need to discuss it. But she was not ready, and I was unwilling to break the fragile trust growing between us.

  I reined myself back, forced myself to remember how painful it was for me to discuss the death of my family. I lowered my head in a show of deference. Lycaea’s breath was ragged, and her cheeks were flushed. She lashed out in fear, not in anger.

  The rage faded from her slowly. She stepped back and took long, shuddering breaths.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I’m sorry. I’m trying, Wolf. You know I’m trying.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Kaebha is stronger than I am.’

  ‘I doubt she has half your heart or courage.’

  I think she was as uneasy with the comfort as I had been with the praise. She was paralysed in the wake of her own anger, possibly battling with the urge to Shift.

  ‘We have Rogues to see,’ I suggested, ‘and sailors. We should return to the Debajo and ready ourselves. I imagine they will not be easy to convince, and their numbers might be great.’

  I touched her shoulder. She flinched, then relented, let me put my arm about her. We walked together through the southern gates, back into the city.

  The Rogues were not all Luthanese. One group was from Manon – entirely female in composition, they called themselves the Isteri. They greeted Lycaea in rapid Manoni. To my surprise, she responded fluently.

  There were also Rogues from beyond the northern mountain ranges; and from Norest, islands off the north-east coast where fierce durlows swam and planes of ice were all that could be seen from miles around. There were few Pels. Lycaea explained that they preferred to concern themselves with the Primero and the nobler politics. But the Pels aside, Rogues seemed to come from every city in Oster, and beyond.

  We sat and ate with them as we discussed our strategy; proper food this time, rather than the hunks of meat we had given to the souther-waer. I was fast falling in love with Luthanese food. It seemed decadent in comparison to the sturdy, thick foods of home. It was especially easy to get a taste for the honey-breads and the dried figs.

  ‘We march on Caerwyn, then,’ said a stout Rogue called Dice. ‘We’ll surely follow Hemanlok, long as he gives his support. But it’d be nice to know we got some aid, Lycaea. Are the Manoni on-side?’

  ‘No.’ Lycaea pulled apart a hunk of honey-bread. She did not seem to enjoy the sweet crust, but instead picked at the soft white insides. Her taste tended towards the savoury, like the salty olives and dried fish. Bright green nuts with crisp purple skins. ‘We have more chance with the souther-waer, though. I’m hoping they’ll fall in. But we need a real show of strength, which means we need all Rogues in, and the sailors too.’

  Dice lathered his sweet bread with preserved sour cherries. ‘It comes down to seran and gold, sweetheart. I can talk any Rogue into any battle under the sun, but a golden tongue is nobody’s use unless it can be bought and sold. You see my dilemma.’

  ‘What do you need?’

  Dice spoke through his mouthful. ‘More turf.’

  Lycaea tensed. I knew she could not promise him that. Turf control was entirely under Hemanlok’s jurisdiction, and he had not put his hand in with ours yet.

  ‘Can’t do it,’ she said. ‘Everyone will be asking the same thing, Dice. You know that isn’t fair.’

  ‘Serans.’

  ‘Leldh has those in abundance. If you come with us to Caerwyn, you can have free rein to loot the place. Not to mention there will be prisoners, and mercenaries, and all manner of people looking for jobs. Cheap labour. You’re a Wharfer, Dice. You can never have enough labour.’

  ‘And what can we offer you?’

  ‘Blast-powder.’

  I started. This was the first she had spoken of it.

  ‘That could be difficult to get, Lycaea.’

  Lycaea laughed. It was a warm sound, entirely infectuous.

  ‘Don’t give me a spin, Dice. You’re Wharfers. Pels send blast-powder through your people every second week. Everyone knows you’re the main suppliers in Luthan. We need it. Whilst the soldiers in Caerwyn are trying to hack at our Rogues and mercenaries, we need to line the courtyard with blast-powder or firesticks and blow the place to the stars.’

  I forgot about the food and watched the two of them. Lycaea had been keeping her plans close. If she had discussed this with Hemanlok, I did not know of it.

  ‘You always were ambitious, Lycaea.’ Dice sighed and made one last effort to protect his interests. ‘We’ll still be short on men.’

  ‘There will still be waer prisoners we can free.’

  ‘Weak, hungered, injured.’

  Lycaea’s eyes were suddenly on me, though she still spoke to Dice. ‘We have the Shadows.’

  ‘Has the Wytch agreed to that?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Dice smiled. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘You get the Dealer on-side and you have yourself a bargain, girl. And don’t doubt me for a moment, I’ll talk every gang leader there is into joining us. Hemanlok can order them and they’ll obey, but I can put their hearts into it.’ He rose and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘Good eats, Lycaea. Send word when you have the Dealer.’

  ‘You’ll hear from me before the week is out,’ she promised. Dice sauntered out, and Lycaea stared at her food for a while. I watched her, waiting for explanation. She raised her eyes. They were startlingly green, and focused.

  ‘You better finish that quick,’ she said. ‘We still have a lot of work to do.’

  Kaebha

  Shame and agony sealed Kaebha’s loyalty. She was unfaltering, unfailing. Four months she was held in Leldh’s cells. By the time she emerged and returned to the ranks, she had no doubts or hesitations. She spent each moment at his side, to Cooper’s chagrin. The competition between them resumed; though on Kaebha’s part at least it was detached and controlled now.

  Daeman watched their constant clashes with amusement. He saw new opportunities, now Kaebha shared the blood of his enemies. He tested her pain threshold on a regular basis; tried her with silver, and pushed her through the Shift with brutal delight. Kaebha endured. She had brought the repercussions upon her own head. She knew the price of defiance now.

  After another month, Leldh brought her closer into his circle, admitted her once again into the fold of his coterie. This time, she was no mere soldier. Who better than Kaebha to deal with the waer? Who better to know how to hurt them, how to break them? She learned the artistry of
a hot iron, the effects of silver on the flesh. Once, she skinned a dead waer and presented the pelt to Leldh. He was pleased; he wore the pelt about his shoulders.

  Now she was put to more difficult tasks. Most of the waer she tortured had no experience with battle or hardship. They were easy to break because they had not been taught resistance. Because cruelty was alien to them. Such was not the case with the men and women of Luthan. Cooper and Leldh’s other soldiers brought them in, fighting and cursing. They were the sharks taken in with a haul of fish. Sometimes they had been trying to infiltrate Caerwyn. Other times, the soldiers had attacked chipre-folk, and the Luthanese had been travelling with them. Half-breeds, vagrants, Rogues.

  Kaebha was learning how to work on their kind too. Fire and iron and boiling water. Still, they were hard to break.

  ‘Just think, Kaebha. This was once you.’

  She looked over her shoulder at Cooper. Where her hands and tunic were stained with blood he was, as always, pristine. He leaned on the door frame. His lips pulled back into a slow, broad smile. Kaebha could have counted his teeth.

  ‘Back in favour,’ he went on. ‘How does it feel to be licking Lord Leldh’s boots again? Literally, this time.’

  ‘I am working,’ she said. ‘Leave me. You are a distraction.’ She turned back to the Rogue in front of her. A young woman: conscious, but only just. It was part of the skill, keeping them aware of the pain, preventing them from surrendering too swiftly to darkness.

  She felt Cooper’s breath on the back of her neck. She could smell him, his scent mild compared to the blood.

  ‘How long this time, Kaebha?’ he whispered. ‘How long until you break and fall? And what, I wonder, will he do with you then?’

  She stepped back from the prisoner. For once she was not torturing this girl for the sake of Leldh’s curiosity. This time, she needed information. Cooper’s words nettled her and pulled her attention away from the job at hand. She reminded herself that he wanted her to fail.

  Never again.

  She slapped the girl across the cheek, then reached for a bucket of cold water and splashed it over her face.

  ‘Wake up,’ she hissed.

  The girl’s eyes opened, rolled, focused on Kaebha. ‘Please.’

  Kaebha brought her face close. She softened her voice, touched the girl’s cheek. Left bloodied fingerprints there.

  ‘Are you ready to speak?’ she asked. ‘I am ready to listen. Just a few words.’ She brushed the girl’s hair back, sisterly. ‘Tell me what I need to know.’

  The girl started to talk, and Kaebha smiled. She hoped Cooper heard every word.

  Lowell

  Lycaea delayed visiting her mother. Instead, she spent her time sparring with Hemanlok and training me. Both were taxing. Lycaea’s sessions with Hemanlok were in the morning, so by the time she came to me in the afternoon she was sore and ill-tempered. To my knowledge, they had made little progress; Hemanlok still withheld his support, and his forgiveness. Over the week after meeting with Kirejo, the waer and the Rogues, I could see it weighing on Lycaea. The Derrys had once told me how she craved the man’s approval, and I doubted it at the time. But I could see it now. His rejection gnawed away at her. It would have helped if most of the Own did not follow his lead. Donovan and Mitri were kind, but Flicker, Shard, Salvi and Hywe treated Lycaea with varying combinations of cold indifference and blistering hostility. In their eyes, she had betrayed them.

  ‘They have no right.’ My anger spilled over one afternoon following a heated exchange between Salvi and Lycaea. He had accused her of selling her body along with their secrets. She had thrown a plate at him.

  Lycaea dropped into a chair. Her eyes fixed on the grain of the table. ‘I don’t care.’

  I wanted to take her hand. Comfort her. ‘I do.’ All I could give was my support. Unquestioning. Unshaking.

  Her gaze flicked to me. ‘I expected it. I sold them out.’ She rolled her shoulders back. I heard them click. ‘Told Leldh everything I should have kept secret. Told him about Moth and Dodge. About the Debajo, and how to get here. Hemanlok’s powers and restrictions. The Dealer’s madness. Ways to get into Kirejo’s palace. Any weaknesses Luthan has. He knows them all.’

  ‘You were a child, Lycaea.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter how old you are. I’d do it again now.’ She stood restlessly and went to rummage through the cupboards. ‘When they start prying up your fingernails. Using brands. Scalding you with boiling water. Age makes no difference. It doesn’t matter how many lies you tell. Chances are, you’ll eventually give them what they want to know. Keep telling them anything until they stop.’ She was lost in the memories. She shuddered, then turned around and held up a jar of spiced almonds. ‘These?’

  ‘Those,’ I agreed, when I found my voice. I was not hungry, but she needed something to keep herself occupied. She sat opposite me and opened the jar, sliding it into the middle of the table.

  ‘Thing is,’ she went on, taking one of the nuts, ‘they’ll follow Hemanlok’s lead. If he relents, so will they. For them, it’s not really about what I did. It’s about what the boss thinks.’ ‘He sent you there in the first place,’ I said. ‘A leader is only as good as his people.’ I thought of Alwyn, respectful and kind, working alongside us in the Valley. ‘If you are to blame for what happened in Caerwyn, Hemanlok is just as accountable.’

  Her lips curved. She was laughing at me. ‘He is a Watcher, Wolf,’ she reminded me.

  ‘All the more reason. He has a duty to the people who trust him, and he has the resources to keep them safe.’

  ‘Gods don’t have a duty to their people.’

  ‘If they did not, there would be no point in them.’ I took an almond. It was sweet and peppery, warm to the tongue. ‘Besides, the Watchers are not gods. They are human, even if they seem to have forgotten. That is what Dodge said in his stories.’

  For once, no argument. The tension eased from her shoulders, and she sat back in her chair. I wished she could always be so at ease with me.

  ‘Will you approach your mother soon?’ I asked her.

  She threw an almond at me. I caught it, and she grinned. ‘In good time,’ she said. ‘First, training-room.’

  While Lycaea delayed, Moth continued to approach the third Watcher. She, too, was suffering continued rebuffal, and it took a toll on the little Healer. Most nights, she sat silent with Dodge, grey eyes distant. Arriving in Luthan had been a relief, but time and the upcoming battle were unkind to our spirits.

  When I woke, I was exhausted. My muscles were knotted and sore. I ate in silence, knowing half the Own had risen already, and the other half would not be awake for another hour or so. Lycaea was awake, and I could hear the faint sounds of sparring from the training-room. I winced. It was going to be a long day.

  Flicker walked through the kitchen, snatching an apple from the table as she went. She liked to watch the training sessions. I ground my teeth. Of all the Own, she was cruel-lest to Lycaea. I found it hard to believe she was married to Donovan, who was so mild and affable. She was certainly beautiful, but mischief and vanity made her ugly.

  She pushed open the door to the training room and leaned against it.

  ‘She’s on the floor again,’ she remarked to me. ‘How is she supposed to fight in Caerwyn if she can’t even keep her feet?’ ‘You should not mock her.’ I finished my porridge and cleaned my bowl. I went to join Flicker at the door. ‘I have never seen you sparring with Hemanlok. I would wager he could knock you flat.’

  ‘I’m smart enough not to try. And I’m loyal enough not to have to.’

  ‘How can you call her disloyal?’ I watched as Lycaea sprang up, only to be sent flying back at least a foot. ‘She came back here as soon as she could. And she has been desperately trying to make things right with Hemanlok since.’

  Flicker nodded towards Lycaea and Hemanlok.

  ‘She won’t make things right with him. The person who came back from Caerwyn ain’t the same person who left Luthan.
She’s a stranger to us. She ain’t Rogue any more. He can’t put his support behind her, because he can’t trust her.’

  ‘And he thinks he can ascertain whether she is trustworthy through this?’ Hemanlok’s stave cracked against the back of Lycaea’s legs, dropping her to her knees. She swore. ‘Every day, he beats her. Every day, he weathers away the strength she has been building.’

  ‘Then she ain’t strong enough.’

  ‘You underestimate her.’

  Lycaea struck out at Hemanlok but he knocked her stave back each time. The third time this happened he caught her knuckle and she drew her hand back with a hiss. Hemanlok took this opportunity to strike, landing her a blow to the stomach with the butt of his staff. She doubled over and he hit her over the head, hard enough to make her stumble. As she lurched forwards, he slammed the length of the staff into her back, flooring her. I flinched.

  ‘Get up.’ Hemanlok’s voice was firm. Lycaea did not rise. I could see her hands clench into fists. Hemanlok hit her with the staff again. ‘Get up, brat,’ he said. Lycaea took an audible breath and pulled herself up. She was barely on her feet when Hemanlok knocked her down again.

  ‘He’s taken all your talent,’ he said, stepping back from her with disgust. ‘All your pluck. I thought better of you, kid. I really did.’ He nudged her with his boot. ‘You used to have a bit of spark. Some courage. I thought it could last. More fool me.’ His lip curled. ‘You should have been left for dead. You’re of no use now, in any case.’

  She looked at him without speaking, blood trickling from her swollen lip. She lowered her head, pressing it to the ground. Hemanlok cast down his stave.

  ‘You ain’t one of my Own,’ he said, and turned on his heel. He walked towards us with even, heavy steps. I took a step towards Lycaea. Flicker grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back.