Axel was supposed to be visiting Turcaret right now. She could go that way, or follow the blood stains to where Jordan might be in danger.
Axel could take care of himself, but Jordan was only here because she had kidnapped and coerced him to be.
Cursing foully, Calandria wrestled her cape into position, threw her bags over her shoulder, and went to follow the blood trail.
As she left the room, a voice emerged from the darkness ahead of her.
"You're in quite a hurry for an innocent traveler, Lady May."
§
Turcaret stared at the place on Yuri's sword where it had broken cleanly in half.
Axel Chan's hands were at his throat. He gurgled. Then he rolled to one side, spat, and gasped.
"The sword broke," whispered Turcaret. "On your neck..."
Axel put his hands under himself and carefully rose to a kneeling position. Then he grabbed the edge of his overturned chair and used it to brace himself as he stood up. He tried to speak, but only a cough came out.
His throat was red and lacerated where Turcaret had hit it with the sword. Little blood flowed; the wound seemed superficial.
Obviously, he had struck the stone floor with the tip of the sword before the rest of the blade had touched Chan's throat. That must have been what happened.
No time to worry about that, Chan was on his feet. Turcaret grabbed the man's own dagger off the table. Chan made a clumsy grab for him but Turcaret stepped inside his reach and stabbed up, right under his heart.
The dagger tore through Chan's shirt and grated across his ribs. He staggered back, coughing. Blood flowed freely from the wound. Turcaret could plainly see he'd raised a flap of skin the size of his palm—but the blade had not penetrated.
Surprised, but not worried, Turcaret jumped after Chan, who was trying to get to the door. "Die, damn you!" He reversed the dagger, grabbed Chan's shoulder and stabbed him again and again. It was like stabbing a table. Each blow cut Chan's shirt as the blade scored across his skin, and plainly he wore no armor. But the blade would not penetrate more than a few millimeters. Finally it too broke against the man's shoulder.
Turcaret backed away. "How have you done this?"
Chan huddled against the closed door, gasping. His whole upper body was covered in blood. This was not going to be the clean kill Brendan Sheia had demanded. There was no way Chan would appear to have been killed by Yuri's dying blow. Maybe it could be made to look like more of a fight had taken place, but they had wanted to avoid that because the question would be raised why no one had heard anything. But the man would not die!
Chan turned now and uncovered his eyes. He might have been vulnerable there, but Turcaret had not thought of it in time. Chan's face was transformed. The skin around his mouth was pure white, and his eyes were wide. He was shaking, but not, it seemed, from fear.
"Help," Turcaret said under his breath. Then he screamed it.
"Get in here and help me!"
§
Jordan was no longer sure where he was. When the wall spoke to him he'd bolted, and came to himself briefly to find himself here outside on the front lawn of the estate. He tried to keep going, to somehow escape the noise in his head, but only made it fifty steps before he went blind again. He could see—with a clarity which was itself frightening—but no longer through his own eyes.
The spirits surrounding him were handing vision back and forth, like a ball. All the parts of the Boros estate had their spirits, it seemed, and each kind of thing perceived the world in a different way. They were all speaking at once, looking about themselves, as though awoken from an ages-long sleep to find themselves startled by the world.
Something had awoken them. Something was coming.
The trees told of a gargantuan weight descending through the air, and of a shadow between them and the twilight sky. The stones could feel an electricity spreading in a kind of wave, coming from the east. Jordan understood these things because the stones, and trees and water, were speaking in common terms of reference, some of which were actual words and phrases he could understand, some images, some physical sensations.
He staggered to a stop, swaying, unsure whether he was even still on his feet. No, he seemed to be above the ground now, very high up. He could see the rooftops of the manor, and he saw the windowed facades (last rays of sunlight touching them gold) and felt the draft of the passage of human bodies through the halls within. The attentiveness of the estate seemed to draw a tighter focus, bearing him images of people. He seemed to touch the faint trails of heat left by the cooks in the kitchen, as reported by an archway there. The flagstones in the courtyard felt the pressure of walking feet, and measured the passage of four people. The sound of voices echoed weirdly as if from a long distance.
The spirits were searching for someone, he realized—a man or woman who was somewhere on the estate.
He knew he wasn't really in the air; this was just a vision. Jordan began to move again, perversely wishing they would notice him because then he could see where he was, if only through their eyes. He put his hands before him like a blind man, and walked.
The heavens... something was coming down from the sky. The estate knew it, and increasingly the snatches of vision Jordan caught were images from a vast height, far above the highest trees.
If he wasn't able to fight back these visions, he was as good as dead. Was he just going to stand here and let whatever it was that was coming take him?
Angry at his own helplessness, Jordan stopped walking, dropped his arms to his sides, and breathed in deeply. Once. Twice. He called on all the things Calandria had taught him, and tried to subdue the panic. All so he could have his own eyes back, for just a moment.
He felt the kaleidoscope of visions clearing, and tilted his head back. He saw the cloudless sky, scattered with the first stars of evening like finest jewels on blue silk.
And he saw the Heaven hooks.
§
Linden Boros displayed the family smile to Calandria. It was no more charming coming from him than it had been from Yuri or Marice. He was dressed in dark riding breeches and a red embroidered jacket, as if he had just arrived from the stables. He had ten men with him, all armed. August Ostler stood near him, looking uncomfortable.
"August told me there was a fight," said Linden. "Were you a witness to it, lady?" His bodyguards had their swords out.
Calandria looked at the swords, wide-eyed. "What is this about?"
"It would seem my bastard brother has overstepped his boundaries," Linden said dryly. "Through his friend Turcaret." He gestured for her to come up the steps. She walked up to stand before him.
"Where is my apprentice?" she asked. "He should be with your man here." She indicated Ostler.
Linden's brows furrowed slightly. He glanced at Ostler, who shrugged. "Not my concern," he said. "But I think you owe us an explanation."
Calandria cocked her head to one side. "Explanation? Regarding what? That we saved your man here from death requires no explanation—unless you are one of those who would not save a life unless it profit you. That we hid him? It was at his own request. He was a bit ashamed of himself after breaking the rules of the house."
"And why are you dressed for riding at this late hour, lady?"
"Considering the kindness I've done your man, Mister Boros, I think I'm entitled to keep that to myself."
He scowled. "May I remind you that you are a guest in this house?"
"Not for much longer," she said. "And I am not the guest who transgressed the rules," she added, nodding significantly at August, who shrank back.
Linden folded his arms. In this light he appeared quite menacing, slim and poised, with his sword loose at his side. The blond hair cascading down one shoulder was bound with black ribbon. Standing this close to him, Calandria caught a scent of leather, horses and sweat. "Speaking of transgressing rules," he said with some irony, "the Winds might be upset to know just how much science you carry around with you, Lady May."
>
She didn't reply. "Our poor August, here, was done for, by his own admission," Linden continued. "Someone tried to disguise a freshly healed sword wound with a new and shallower cut, but it's a clumsy job. Especially since there's a corresponding scar on his back. I've never seen such a pair of scars like that before... most people with that sort of wound don't last a day. Now August assures me his blood is actually rather thin, making it difficult for him to clot a cut finger. He says you did something to him... something scientific, which brought him back from the brink of death. The last person to try that was general Armiger, whose entire army was destroyed by the Winds."
"But—" she started.
"But," interrupted Linden, "you happen to be right. You did save my servant's life, by his own admission. I'm not sure what it is you are doing, but those who attacked August the first time just returned to finish the job. That tells me you are not one of them yourself. I don't know who you are, but—"
He was stopped mid-word by screams and shouts breaking out below them. A man ran up the stairs recklessly, shouting "Sir! Sir! He's dead!"
Calandria had bent to pick up her packs. She hesitated, as the man stumbled on the top step, skidded to his knees, and shouted, "They've killed Yuri!"
Linden's eyes widened. "Brendan! I knew it!" He rounded on Calandria. "If you have some involvement in this, lady, then you won't live to see trial. But you saved August, so if you love our house then come with me!" He raced down the stairs.
Calandria reached for her packs, but August already had them. "Where is Jordan?" he asked her, as men raced around them like a river in flood.
"Don't you know?"
He shook his head. Then they turned as one and ran after the mob.
§
Axel reached for the first thing at hand. It was a potted spider plant.
"B-bastard," he managed to croak. His throat burned like he'd been branded. Every time he moved, his arms and shoulders screamed pain. The subcutaneous armor worked just as Calandria had advertised, or else he would be dead by now. It wasn't enough to prevent loss of blood and deep bruising. He had to hope Turcaret didn't realize just how close to collapse he really was.
He threw the pot. Turcaret dodged it easily. Axel's reflexes were still pathetic, but the dizziness was passing.
"I'll kill you," Axel told the controller, trying to sound confident. He stepped into the center of the room. Turcaret backed to the window. Axel stared at his stolen possessions, laid out on a piece of cloth on the table top as if they were for sale. They were going to plant them wherever they killed Yuri, in case they didn't get Axel himself. Good plan.
Turcaret stepped to the window and shouted "Men! Get up here!" loudly.
"Oh, right—" Axel began, but just then the door behind him burst open. Four large men with swords spilled into the room. They stopped their onrush when they saw Axel, bloody by the table, and Turcaret backed against the window.
The leader's eyebrows hopped up and he sneered at Turcaret. "Shall we finish him, sir? It's well past time for—"
He had laid himself wide open, so Axel put a side kick into him. The man sailed across the room and shattered a fine lacquer cabinet. Axel staggered and nearly fell over.
A sharp blow to the shoulder drove him to his knees. This time he had the sense to roll forward, and came to his feet on the far side of the table. The man who had tried to chop his head off was looking at his sword in surprise.
Two of them came around opposite sides of the table. Axel hopped onto it and let one stab him in the chest. He reached out and took the man's wrist; Axel twisted it and took the sword out of his hand while the other bodyguard watched in confusion.
He couldn't let these men catch him. He turned to see a good view of Turcaret's rear end, as the controller struggled to get out the window.
Axel put the pommel of the sword into its owner's face and got off the table. He kicked a chair between himself and the other bodyguard and ran for the window. Turcaret had made it outside, and was clinging to the casement, some three meters above the roof of the manor.
No more time to look—they were converging on him. He grabbed the window frame and pulled himself through it as they howled after him.
The fall would have broken something had he been unarmored. As it was, he was stunned for a second. When he pulled himself to his knees on the rooftop, he could not at first spot Turcaret.
But there he was struggling with the metal door set into the rooftop. Behind him the moon was rising, huge and white. Axel barked a laugh and painfully pulled himself to his feet.
Turcaret looked up in fear—and it took a moment for Axel to realize the controller was not looking at him, but past, at the sky.
Ventus only had one moon, and Diadem was small. The thing Turcaret was silhouetted against was huge—larger than Earth's moon—and growing by the second. It glowed from within.
Turcaret was staring at something behind Axel. He turned around, and looked up... and up.
"Oh, thank you," Turcaret said.
§
The Boros family feud really wasn't any of Calandria's affair, but right now she was surrounded by shouting men for whom nothing could be more important. She let herself be swept along with them, thinking that by doing so she might find Jordan.
Linden raised a hand. "Silence!" he thundered. "Where?" he said to the man who had told them of Yuri's death.
"In his bed-chamber!"
"Oh, pray he was not butchered in his sleep." They hurried out into the courtyard, which was ablaze with torches. The sky was lit by the crepuscular glow of a vagabond moon, huge and lowering over the estate. Servants crowded everywhere, gawking. Linden's men were rallying under the main doors to the manor. "Where is Sheia?" roared Linden.
"We've got his men barricaded in their rooms!" crowed a lieutenant. "Don't know where he is—doubtless he's run, like the cur he is."
"Where is Marice?"
"With Yuri."
"Come then." Linden hurried into the manor. They followed. August stayed close to Calandria, but said nothing.
Yuri's bedchamber was on the third floor, at the front of the house. It had a commanding view through many floor-to-ceiling leaded glass windows. Two fireplaces faced one another across the room; Yuri's giant, canopied bed hulked near the one to the right. Linden's men crowded in after a whole mob of people, who were babbling and wailing incoherently.
Everything had been knocked about in the course of Yuri's final battle. Tables were overturned, chairs smashed. It was astonishing no one had heard the fight—but then, the walls were thick stone, and the door was four centimeters-thick oak.
Yuri lay on his back on the bed. His belly was slit, and intestines bulged blue out of the wound. His eyes were still open, glaring at the ceiling.
Lady Marice stood next to the bed. There was no expression at all on her face; it was as if she were carved from stone. She watched as people ran back and forth shouting.
"The assassin fled," someone said to Linden. He stepped up to Marice and took her hand. She snatched it back, and turned away from him.
"But he left his sword." The man pointed to the floor by the bed.
"Did he now?" Linden knelt and prodded the blade that lay there. "And whose is this, I wonder?"
Calandria gasped. It was Axel's sword.
13
The bowl of the sky was being filled. Jordan could see stars only near the horizon; the rest of the firmament was taken up by the dark mass of a vagabond moon. He had never seen one so low to the ground before—had never realized how big it was, like a thunderhead. It seemed ready to drop on him at any moment.
From a distance the moons seemed featureless, but up close he could make out tiny patterns in its dark skin, like the veins of a leaf. And directly above him, in the center of the bowled-in sky the moon made, he saw a deeply black star-shaped opening appear, and motes of light drifted silently down from it.
The Heaven hooks. He could see them among the lights now: black filament
s, like spider's thread, with the lights strung along them like paper lanterns at a fair. Everyone knew the hooks rode on vagabond moons, reaching down through clouds like the hands of a god to scoop up entire fields. He had never seen them before—no one he knew had. But he knew the stories.
The entrance to the manor was only a hundred meters away. Jordan put his head down, and ran for the doors.
§
Linden Boros picked up Axel Chan's sword. The blade was covered in blood. The lord turned it over in his hands thoughtfully. "Foreign make," he said. "Could be Iapysian?" A fresh commotion was breaking out in the hallway outside Yuri's bed chamber. The whole estate, it seemed, was erupting with noise.
"What does it matter," said the lieutenant at his side. "We know Brendan Sheia is behind this."
"Is that so?"
Silence fell like a cloak across the room. Calandria stood on her tiptoes to see what had happened.
Brendan Sheia stood in the doorway. He had one hand on the pommel of his sword, otherwise he appeared calm. "Is it wise to jump to such conclusions, brother?"
"I'm not your brother!" Linden paced up to him. "It was very stupid of you to come here, Brendan. I suppose, though, it saves you the humiliation of being run to ground."
"You're too quick to jump to conclusions," Brendan said. He went to Marice, and gravely bowed. "My lady, I don't know what to say. This is terrible." Again, Marice turned away.
Brendan Sheia wheeled about like an actor on stage. He knew he had the attention of every person in the room. He was a hulking man with a square face, black hair and beetle brows. He wore a house coat embroidered with the family crest, and simple grey breeches, a doubtless calculated attempt to look like he had come from his own bed chamber, which the sword spoiled.
He would have had to be insane to enter this room without the weapon, judging from the way people were looking at him.
"What is that?" He nodded at the sword Linden held. "The murder weapon?"
"Yes," said Linden, "and as soon we find which of your men it belongs to, we'll pin him to the south wall with it—just ahead of you."
Ventus Page 18
