by Stephen Hunt
Duncan remembered how easily his sister had betrayed him. How quickly she had thrown the freedom he’d arranged for her back in his face. Not just Vandians, it seems. ‘You were friends with Cassandra’s father in the legion,’ said Duncan. A statement more than a question.
‘Aye,’ said Paetro. ‘Friends and brothers in battle. I miss poor old Aivas.’ He looked at Helrena, clashing steel with the trainer. ‘I know the princess still mourns her husband. And there wasn’t a week that passed that Lady Cassandra didn’t ask me to tell her an old war story about her father the hero.’
‘You once told me that Circae had her son stripped of caste and exiled to fight with the army for daring to fall in love with Princess Helrena, but you never told me who Aivas’s father was.’
‘Not the emperor, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ laughed Paetro. ‘The head of the imperial harem doesn’t also get to bear the emperor children; although I dare say the old goat tupped Circae, too. Just without issue, is all. If Circae had given birth to children with imperial blood running through their veins, the old witch would have been sure to match the emperor with noblewomen likely to bear inbred weaklings and cripples, and positioned her own children at the front of the queue to seize the throne. All the sons and daughters of the empire need to breed strong for the empire to survive. No, the little highness can only call Emperor Jaelis grandfather through Princess Helrena. Her other grandfather was rumoured to be a professional gladiator that Circae took as a lover. He died, I think. Most of them do, sooner or later.’
Duncan watched the fierce training duel continue. ‘Can the house’s surgeons do any more for the princess’s leg?’
Paetro shook his head. ‘Not unless they can give us time, for that’s what is needed for the mistress to heal.’
Duncan bit his lip. Time. Not much of it left, now. Helrena had barely managed to stop her house being stripped of their sky-mining rights after the slave revolt. It was only the fact the ruthless head of the secret police was up to his neck in the empire’s failure to control the slaves that had saved them from total disgrace. Exile, execution, worse. Slippery Apolleon had called in many favours to extradite himself from the disastrous revolt, and in doing so, had been required to spare his ally and her forces … who had been acting, for the most part, under his command. But the name of Helrena’s house was still mud, associated with the only mass escape of slaves in the imperium’s history, a revolt which had sparked dozens of smaller outbreaks of violence and rebellion among the easily encouraged slave force and lower-caste citizenry. The imperium of Vandia could be many things, but Duncan knew that as soon as it was perceived as fallible, as weak, the empire would fall in an inferno of ancient grievances. If its own restless masses didn’t do the job first, it’s jealous, subjugated neighbours would seize their revenge. But it wasn’t for the likes of them that the princess trained so hard.
The door at the back of the duelling hall opened and Apolleon appeared, causing Duncan to shudder involuntarily. Why do I feel like this, every time he visits the Castle of Snakes? As always, Apolleon wore luxurious civilian clothes. A dark tunic with a wolf-like emblem over his right breast, a velvet cloak lined in crimson. Apolleon’s pale white face shone round and dandyish, jutting out from a stiff, high collar where his neck emerged. There was something about the ageless man, something beyond Apolleon’s falsely obsequious manners so at odds with his position as head of the hoodsmen, the emperor’s ruthless secret police. Strange shadows that moved around the edges of the man when you caught sight of him in the corner of your eye; shadows which brought back the memory of the peculiar howls Duncan had heard reverberating through the thick clouds of volcanic ash during the revolt. Inhuman wails. But he needed to put his feelings aside. For without this slippery creature, this menacing, awkward ally, the house Duncan had joined his fortunes to would be destroyed. The man’s appearance meant news of import for the house, for if the high-ranking imperial ever socialised for the pleasure of it, Duncan had surely missed the occasion.
Apolleon strode over to Duncan and Paetro and ran a supercilious eye over the princess dancing back and forth across the duelling floor, as though the practice of arms was beyond him. He might have a point there. Apolleon could have most people in the imperium legally executed with just a word – no sweat required. ‘’Pon my soul, she will tear a muscle if she continues to exert herself so.’
‘She trains to help her forget,’ said Paetro.
‘Better she remembers,’ said Apolleon. His mouth narrowed around the edges. ‘Better if we all do.’
‘You have news, my lord Apolleon?’ asked Duncan, guardedly.
‘Oh, I always have that. I am very well informed. The tribunal at the Court of the Grass has ruled,’ said Apolleon. ‘Helrena can only join the expeditionary force after proving herself through trial-by-arms.’
‘A trial she may not survive,’ observed Paetro, grimly.
‘Another duel?’ asked Duncan. ‘Does Circae not tire of Princess Helrena sending her cat’s-paws back in coffins?’
‘This is far more significant than a private challenge,’ smiled Apolleon. ‘It will be a public contest, fought for all to see in the arena.’
‘I do not think this is wise,’ growled Paetro.
‘It is not your name that needs reclaiming.’
‘After all I have sacrificed—’
Apolleon raised a hand, cutting him off. ‘I do not gainsay your personal loss, Paetro, but only observe that the emperor doesn’t give a gnat’s piss about your sad, dead soldier girl. One of the seeds of Jaelis Skar’s imperial loins has been snatched, the chastening cherry on the cake after the empire’s humiliation at the hands of a motley band of barbarian slave miners. Such a public humiliation deserves an equally public punishment squadron dispatched to extract revenge against those responsible.’
‘And Helrena deserves to lead that punishment squadron,’ said Duncan.
‘Deserves?’ Apolleon snorted. ‘I can tell that you weren’t born to the imperium, my young barbarian buck. Nobody in the empire gets what they deserve; only what they can take and hold.’
‘I thought you were fixing matters with the court?’ said Paetro.
‘The magister in charge of the challenges tribunal has two daughters due to come out next season, and an ambition to have the women installed in the imperial harem, their bellies swelled with potential heirs to the diamond throne before Emperor Jaelis grows any sicker. Let’s just say that Circae currently has more influence on his state of mind than my coercions. If Helrena wishes a high command position on the punishment force, she will have to fight for it.’
‘And who would challenge her right to hold that position?’ asked Duncan.
‘I understand it will be Baron Machus.’
‘He’s bait,’ said Duncan.
‘Of course,’ said Apolleon. ‘Circae wants the princess to fight – what better way than dangling Helrena’s treacherous cousin in front of her nose to goad her into accepting.’
‘And you still want her to accept?’ said Paetro.
‘I need her to,’ said Apolleon. ‘Can you not hear the sound that carries in the air, simple Paetro? It is the sound of this house’s wealth draining. If Princess Helrena doesn’t secure a commission in the punishment squadron, she will never regain the face she lost during the revolt. Her house will suffer a death of a thousand cuts over the next couple of years; every enemy emboldened to snatch at her territory in the capital and the provinces and the sky mines. But if Helrena fights and wins, if she takes the position and returns victorious, then she will have a good chance at Jaelis’s throne after he is gone.’
‘She’ll fight,’ said Duncan. ‘Not for the throne – but as a mother who wants her daughter back.’
‘How sweetly naive,’ Apolleon grinned. ‘But so long as she fight and wins, she can be doing it to collect spare silver from the arena’s betting touts for all that I care. But fight she will. The alternative will not be pleasant, for anyone.’ He l
eft the threat lingering in the air like a bad stench from a sewer.
‘And what would you ask of an Empress Helrena?’
‘Only the opportunity to continue serving the imperium,’ said Apolleon, ‘as assuredly as I have served her father during his reign as emperor.’
Duncan knew there was more to the arrangement than that. Helrena had hinted as much to him when he’d been caring for Lady Cassandra following the last kidnap attempt on the house’s young heir. Duncan burned to know more, while fearing what he might discover. It must have something to do with Doctor Yair Horvak, the genius scientist whose work the house sponsored. What might the good doctor accomplish with the entire resources of the empire at his disposal? Why, whatever Apolleon ordered him to, of course. Given that the empire’s reach and influence already extended across the almost infinite leagues of Pellas, just how great were Apolleon’s ambitions, Duncan wondered? Perhaps almost as far-called as a world so large that a single message took millennia to pass around the relays of the Guild of Radiomen before making a single circumnavigation of the globe. A scale that was almost beyond comprehension. All Duncan wanted was to make something of his life that stretched beyond the shadow of his family’s name. That was far-called enough for him. No, whatever ambitions Apolleon harboured, they obviously required longer to fulfil than the dwindling lifespan of the current half-insane emperor. Apolleon needed a new patron, and it seemed that for better or worse, Princess Helrena was his choice in the race to fill the coming vacancy on the diamond throne.
Helrena strode over; her bout finished. She tossed Duncan the steel-mesh of her face guard and stood there a moment, observing Apolleon as the sweat dripped off her forehead and rolled down the padded white fencing suit. Paetro passed her a towel and she wiped her face before meeting Apolleon’s gaze again. ‘If you’re here, then the decision is the arena …’
Apolleon said nothing but bowed lightly, acknowledging the noblewoman’s words.
‘Better if you stalled for time, Highness,’ advised Paetro.
‘The punishment squadron being assembled won’t wait,’ said Helrena. ‘And my enemies certainly won’t.’
‘Your injury—’
‘Shit on my injury,’ said Helrena. ‘Do we have a ransom demand from the barbarians, yet? Assurances of good treatment for Lady Cassandra? Does my daughter have a year of me lying on my back with my leg tied into a muscle regeneration scaffold?’
‘We know she is held in the nation of Weyland, where most of your slaves were sourced from. Our local allies exert themselves,’ said Apolleon.
‘I exert myself,’ snarled Helrena. ‘To what end? Does my sweat help Cassandra? I want my daughter back safe, not platitudes about how hard the local barbarian war-chiefs are scrambling around in the mud to keep the imperial bribe money flowing.’
Apolleon chuckled. ‘It will be Baron Machus that opposes your commission in the squadron.’
Princess Helrena shook her head in bemusement. ‘Is Circae that transparent? Well then, she may choose among the fools to enter the arena.’ Helrena raised her sabre. ‘I shall select our weapons.’
‘You’d rely on your bad leg less if you chose pistol-and-paces instead,’ said Paetro.
‘True enough,’ said Helrena. ‘But my snake of a cousin is a passable shot, and I intend to give Circae a small parting gift before I travel to reclaim my child. A bloody parcel of filleted baron.’
‘What an empress you would make,’ marvelled Apolleon. ‘As fierce as a goddess. A light to burn so bright that few will dare gaze upon it.’
Helrena’s mood didn’t appear sweetened by his sugar. ‘Who would have ever thought that a poet lurked inside the soul of the imperium’s chief torturer?’
‘Poetry is about revelation,’ said Apolleon. ‘Much the same can be said about the intimacies extracted from the empire’s enemies when they are tied to our truth tables.’
‘Inform the court I still desire a command position in the punishment squadron,’ said Helrena to Paetro. ‘And I will accept trial-by-arms to clear my way to that commission. We shall see which of us is the prey and which of us hunts. Make sure the court records my choice of weapons … dagger and sabre.’
‘Capital,’ said Apolleon, rubbing his palms against each other as he watched the squat bodyguard stalk away. Paetro glanced back at Duncan and smiled thinly before he left the duelling hall, then Apolleon continued, ‘You have made the right decision. This is the first step to recovering your house’s name.’
‘I will recover more than that,’ said Helrena.
Apolleon smiled knowingly. ‘I trust so. It would hardly be the same in the fleet without you and your forces.’
‘You will be travelling to Weyland too?’ said Duncan, surprised.
‘Not to help the legion pull the wings off our errant flies,’ frowned Apolleon. ‘But the outlaw Sariel is lurking somewhere close to that land. The slaves could never have escaped home without his assistance. Sariel must be found and executed.’
Duncan tried to keep the disbelief from his face. I doubt the elderly vagrant I saw before the escape is dangerous much beyond his malodour. Apolleon seemed dangerously obsessed with capturing the rascal, almost blind to the fact that it was their precipitate pursuit last time that had ended in such disaster at the sky mines. Apolleon’s words sounded deranged. How in the world could some old tramp have helped the slaves escape home? The sky miners must have hijacked a Vandian ship, the way Carter had always talked about doing. It was my home, once. And the errant flies will be half of Northhaven if Apolleon has his way. Now Duncan had another reason to make sure that Helrena emerged victorious from the arena. He would travel home and do what he could to moderate the Vandian’s retribution. Ensure that the dogs who kidnapped Cassandra took the full weight of the punishment. They deserved all that and more if they had harmed one hair of the precious little girl’s head. And Duncan’s father deserved to see that his out-of-favour son had carved a future without his controlling, barking, overbearing plans for the heir to the Landor fortune. All the people in Northhaven who had only tolerated Duncan because of his father’s position, pretending to be his friend and searching for ways to help him: they would have a real reason to show a little respect and obsequiousness towards Duncan Landor when he turned up in Weyland with the forces of the imperium at his back. Yes, it would be quite a homecoming.
‘And perhaps my house is not the only one with a reputation that needs burnishing?’ said Helrena.
‘You may kill more than one bird with the appropriate stone,’ said Apolleon. ‘But first you must find the right projectile to eliminate your cousin.’
‘Killing Machus will be a rare pleasure in this business,’ said Helrena. She could barely speak the baron’s name without revealing the pain she felt about his betrayal, switching sides to join Circae and attempting to arrange the princess’s assassination.
‘I never saw the attraction of mixing the two,’ said Apolleon. He bowed and departed the hall.
Duncan hardly believed that. There was a man who enjoyed his work, if ever there was one. It was only the title man he was uncertain of.
‘You are not going to chide me like Paetro, I hope?’ asked Helrena, hanging up her weapons on the wall rack. ‘For accepting the challenge.’
‘I know you’re doing it for Cassandra.’
‘I’m doing it for the house, too. Hell’s teeth, I’m doing it because I have no other choice.’
‘You’ll get her back. We’ll get her back.’
‘I’ll be relying on you more than any of them when we arrive,’ said Helrena. ‘For your local knowledge of Weyland and the barbarians there; the damn slaves that stole my girl. Tell me again about the priest from Northhaven.’
‘Jacob Carnehan was a good man when I knew him. There was always a harsh edge to him, but he believed in what he preached. Forgiveness and peace and the love of the saints and the compassion of God. He helped people in the town when they were sick. He abhorred violence.’
‘Nothing like the imperial cult, then. Here, priests and priestesses of the Imperium Cosmocrator preach only loyalty, fealty and honouring our ancestors.’
‘He won’t harm Cassandra.’ I hope.
‘Yet he snatched her up from the battlefield.’
‘I think he was afraid of the empire’s retaliation for inciting the sky mines to rebellion.’
‘Your priest isn’t stupid, then, for he has good cause in his concern. But I spared his son, didn’t I? I gave Carter Carnehan his life in the sky mines. That must count for something.’
You mean you only had him half-flogged to death for trying to escape.
‘I wish I could have kept her safe,’ said Duncan. I was there. I should have done more.
‘As do I. As does Paetro. But Cassandra was trained to lead from the front, and she followed her duty during the slave revolt. I did not raise a daughter fit only to cower in safety while the soldiers of her house die on her behalf.’
‘But—’
Helrena reached out to him. ‘You were gunned down trying to protect her. Hesia died attempting to protect her. Paetro was lucky to live. It is no failure to survive to fight again. The only failure is in giving up.’
‘I’ll do whatever I can to help you.’
‘Then you will come to my bedroom now; rub oils on me to help my muscles relax and recover.’
Duncan knew how that would end, and it wouldn’t be entirely relaxing. Certainly not for him. There were a great many matters where it was Duncan who was still in training, and Helrena who was the master, or at least, the mistress. Slave or freeman of the imperium, his status now made very little difference between the sheets. Still, you had to be pragmatic about these things.
‘I will have Cassandra back at my side, soon. But that is only the first step. My daughter will be truly safe when I am empress,’ whispered Helrena as she gazed back at the training hall, leading Duncan out. ‘Only then.’
Perhaps she would. But how safe would the rest of them be when Helrena Skar sat on the diamond throne, with malevolent Apolleon hissing suggestions by its side?
