by Tom Lloyd
‘You’re no use, are you ?’ Kesh whispered to the statue above. ‘Lord Lawbringer ; as cold and unfeeling as the statues raised in your honour. Nothing mattered to you except your duty, not after the Ten Day War when you became a traitor to your own House. But I have something to lose ; I have someone to hurt by my selfishness still.’
The statue did not answer, but just that empty stare was enough to cause tears to run down her cheek.
Damn you, Enchei. A bastard buried deep – that’s what Father would have said about you. How can I abandon you ? How can I leave Mother all alone ?
She wiped her face on her sleeve and glanced up, checking for witnesses to her tears but there were none. The cry of seagulls echoed around the square as she ascended the steps, her voice quiet and wavering as she spoke to the sleepy-eyed Lawbringer waiting in the hall beyond. She felt as weak as a child as she walked through the empty corridors, sick with anticipation.
Her escort was very young, a novice few would consider old enough to be a man, but he had the sense not to speak as she shuffled feebly after him. Up one great stairway in silence, down a long vaulted room and into a narrow passage with doors set into each wall. At last the novice found the correct one and knocked gently. Just that small sound made Kesh shrink back, her hand shaking as she reached out to open the latch and go inside. But one look at her mother’s face, at the delight and relief blossoming from sleepy confusion, was enough to give her strength.
They embraced a long time, Kesh’s mother keening as she hugged her girl tight. Only when Teike at last released her daughter, taking hold of her hands instead and bringing her to the small bed for them to sit, did Kesh speak, the words driving a knife into her own heart.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t stay long.’
Law Master Sheven stood at the entrance to an alley overlooking the docks, his white robe flapping in the brisk morning wind. The mass of fishing boats ahead, most painted green with Imperial suns in a variety of forms at the prow, swarmed with activity. Beyond them waited schooners – white or blue according to the trading league they belonged to – alongside tall ships from three different Houses and a pair of massive merchant house barques at the deep-water wharf.
In the distance, the House Eagle warship, upper gun ports open in lazy threat and sky-blue sails furled, kept clear – watching and waiting as it had been since it arrived within sight of the city. Sheven had a clear view of it through the small forest of masts.
‘Lawbringer,’ he said softly, ‘your Investigator’s message expressed concerns about any Dragon involvement, did it not ?’
Rhe nodded, eyes never leaving the crowd of men and women on the main dock. There was barely space to move there ; a narrow path ran down the centre of the road between lines of makeshift stretchers. The sun had been up only an hour, but already half the city seemed to have descended on the Vesis and Darch Harbour Warrant.
Faces masked against infectious vapours, it was a forest of bandits that tended to the sick they had brought on makeshift stretchers in their hundreds. It was impossible to tell the goshe from the anxious relations of the fever-struck – a detail that made both Rhe and Sheven wary. All looked poor, which tallied to the half-finished map of outbreaks Sheven’s aides were compiling, but the lower castes were also the main recruiting ground for the goshe.
‘Perhaps we can ask those two Dragon ships to hold back from the effort,’ Sheven continued, pointing to a pair of red-hulled schooners. ‘We don’t want to provoke that Eagle warship, after all.’
Both men wore scarves around their necks, ready to pull up when they came closer to the sick ; noble purple for Rhe, religious black for Sheven.
‘The schooners only have small deck-guns,’ Rhe pointed out. ‘What threat would they offer ?’
‘None,’ Sheven said, ‘but when both sides are looking for an excuse, are their House colours not enough ?’
‘You might make them even more determined to assist.’
Sheven smiled grimly. ‘Certainly you would if the request came from you.’ He looked around for one of the novices he’d suborned to carry messages for him and pointed at one. ‘You ; find me a Lawbringer from Dragon or one of their Major Houses – I have a mission for them.’
‘And the Dragons among us ?’ Rhe asked softly once the novice had raced off. ‘Can we even be sure about them ?’
‘I trust you right now, and that’s about it. You have teams ready in case there are more demons sighted ?’
‘I do, though only one was reported last night and it was quickly hunted down. I doubt we will need any tonight.’
‘But not unreasonable to assign any Dragons of ours to the teams before evening comes ?’
Rhe nodded. ‘It will be done.’
‘Law Master Sheven ?’
Both men turned to find a richly-dressed young man behind them. Of local stock, with pale skin and dark hair, he wore a beautifully brocaded jacket of blue and grey, but more notable was the fat gold collar to that jacket – the sign of the Imperial caste – and the low-slung pistol holster.
Sheven didn’t move for a moment, so surprised was he, but then Rhe bowed and the Law Master followed suit.
‘My Lord Sun,’ Sheven murmured, ‘how may I serve you ?’
From the Imperial’s collar hung a white silk scarf threaded with more gold, draped in a carefully rakish manner to Sheven’s eyes. He was in his early twenties and his eyes glittered dangerously as he nodded an acknowledgment to their bows. Sheven could never remember having before met an Imperial who wore a weapon so casually.
While they were of the highest caste and of course permitted such a thing, custom frowned upon it when the entire warrior caste of the House of the Sun had been banned after the Ten Day War. The youth’s careless arrogance was a gross provocation to any ranked House nobleman – had Rhe’s life followed a different path the Imperial might have soon been dying in a duel.
‘I come to assist you,’ the young man declared magnanimously. ‘My name is Prince Enser Kashte.’
‘Assist ?’ Rhe asked. ‘I believe loading the sick onto boats might be beneath my Lord’s high station.’
‘Oh indeed,’ Prince Kashte said, wrinkling his nose at the idea, ‘but I had something else in mind.’ With a flourish he took something from inside the thick sash around his waist and Sheven caught sight of intricate tattoos on the back of the Imperial’s hands before a folded sheaf of paper was offered forward.
‘I share a mutual acquaintance with your Investigator Narin – this acquaintance sends you this list at the Investigator’s request.’
‘What is it ?’ Sheven asked as he opened the paper to see a column of names in elegant script. ‘Lawbringers ?’
‘If any man was of a mind to wonder who among his colleagues might hold allegiances to other parties, a start must be made somewhere.’ Kashte nodded towards the paper. ‘Furthermore, if the Lawbringers find themselves in a police action of a larger scale than they are used to, certain distant relations of mine and I will be nearby and glad to assist in any service to our cousin, the Emperor, that might be requested of us by his noble representatives.’
Sheven coughed in surprise. ‘You and other members of the Imperial family ?’ He exchanged a look with Rhe. More men with guns being added to the mix – would that be a good thing or disastrous ? ‘Just how many are we talking about here ?’
‘A handful of idle youths such as myself,’ Kashte said with a cold smile. ‘Feckless and of little status among the wider Imperial family as we are, I can bring you thirty whose upbringing has been mostly occupied by swordplay and marksmanship. In the unlikely event you find a use for us, we will be yours to petition for assistance.’
The Law Master blinked at him. ‘And, ah, this acquaintance of yours ?’
‘Prefers to remain nameless, lest he gain a reputation for involving himself in petty matters of civic order.’
‘Where might we find you, if we did indeed have such a request ?’ Rhe asked while Sheven was stil
l lost in the list of names – many of them Lawbringers he respected and trusted.
‘There is a gaming house on the public thoroughfare – the Black Tiles. I have persuaded them to open their doors early to us.’
‘The Black Tiles,’ Rhe confirmed. ‘I know it.’
Kashte smiled and bowed with a flourish. ‘In which case I depart and leave you to your ministrations.’
The Imperial didn’t wait to hear Rhe’s polite reply and the words died unfinished, wasted breath that faded to nothing on the breeze.
‘Didn’t see that coming,’ Sheven admitted once he’d watched the minor prince turn the corner. ‘You ?’
Rhe shook his head. ‘All the more surprising given how careful the Imperial family usually are,’ he said. ‘Does it mean we have a new ally or another player in a game we do not yet understand ?’
‘Narin clearly knows more if he’s arranged this. Does he want us to have an edge or a fighting chance ? Could the goshe have guns to use ? Even with some warriors and nobles in their ranks, it’s a dangerous choice to use guns on us. House Dragon would certainly hear of it and might simply react.’
‘He fears worse than a handful of noble goshe ready to turn their guns on us,’ Rhe replied carefully. ‘As we agreed I’ve kept back details from you and this is one. Narin rightly fears the Dragons will send in their Astaren and that it will all spiral out of control. The goshe possess magic they can use in battle – magic no Astaren would stand to see in the hands of others.’
‘Such as your demons ?’
‘Their elite agents possess unnatural powers, according to the reports I have from Narin and others. I doubt the goshe have a cache of guns – mass-production of weapons is difficult to hide when Astaren across the Empire are watching out for it. But I am certain their elite are more dangerous than any armed warrior caste.’
‘Fortunately we’re planning on making it a surprise,’ Sheven said after a moment of quiet. ‘Whatever their motivation or the provocation it causes, I don’t believe we can turn these Imperials down.’
His attention returned to the sight of masked figures gently loading the stricken onto boats. Not all were unconscious, it turned out ; many were simply weak and delirious with fever, suffering through the early stages perhaps, but the majority were carried on every form of stretcher imaginable.
The steady stream of figures walking out onto the wide stone-packed ground put him in mind of a trail of ants – each bound to the will of others and mindlessly carrying their burden back to the nest. Through the press and disorder he caught occasional glimpses of white-coated goshe doctors moving through the mass, and a few black-garbed goshe too – all carefully modest in their numbers.
As Sheven watched, the first shouts went up from several of the fishing fleet ; their captains unhappy at being called into service by the Emperor’s personal order, but wasting no time to be away once their decks and holds were full of the sick.
‘And so we send them off,’ Sheven muttered, a sick feeling building in his stomach. His hand tightened around the grip of his scimitar until he forced himself to release it. ‘Cast them into the hands of our enemy – to do what with, we do not know.’
Rhe nodded. ‘It is time I went to find Narin and asked him that very question. The message said he had a plan – let us hope it is worth us helping the goshe do exactly as they want.’
Cautious as ever, Father Jehq stood in the concealing shade of a copse of trees until the boat was tied up at the jetty and the sailors jumped down. Goshe attendants from the hospital, all dressed in black, trotted forward to begin the process of unloading – the first of many such efforts, if Synter’s plans were falling into place. Jehq watched carefully as sacks of grain were passed over and shouldered, then stepped into the open.
A grey-cloaked man disembarked with the supplies and stood on the jetty surveying the island with such intent he did not notice Jehq at first. Hood raised to conceal his identity, the figure had clambered off the boat as soon as they arrived, not waiting for the lines to be secured in his eagerness to be on solid ground.
Jehq smiled inwardly. For all that he couldn’t see the man’s face, he knew it was Father Olos. Few of the goshe’s inner circle of Elders were as tall as the man from House Jaguar, a native of the great island ruled by House Salamander. Fewer still were so obviously unnerved by travel across water.
‘Olos !’ Jehq hailed as he reached the pebble beach. ‘You had no trouble at the docks ?’
A lined, tanned face squinted up at Jehq from the shade of his concealing hood. At last Olos scowled and swept the hood back, inclining his head to Jehq by way of response. His eyebrows and hair were all grey now, his cheeks sagging as age sapped the vitality Olos had been known for.
‘Getting busy there,’ Olos grunted, his thick southern accent still barely penetrable after all these years in the Imperial City. ‘You’ll be overrun soon.’
‘With the sick, I hope,’ Jehq nodded. ‘Our time is at hand, my friend. You have the artefact ?’ He looked around Olos at the other passenger on the boat – Caric, one of Synter’s Detenii, who was serving as guard for what would be unloaded last.
‘We got it,’ Caric replied, stepping up onto the gunwale and glancing at the men pulling supplies from the laden fishing boat. ‘Kinda wish you’d not mentioned it in front of this lot though.’
Jehq raised a hand. ‘Look at me, all of you !’ he commanded.
The sailors and goshe alike turned to face him and he felt a flash of light in his eyes. Every one of them gave a slight flinch as the Command Blessing took hold of them all.
‘Good – as I thought. Stop worrying, Caric. They all belong to the faithful.’
The Detenii grunted and removed his hands from the grips of the long-knives. ‘As you say,’ he said briefly, still looking wary. ‘Where do you want the crate ?’
‘The lazaret,’ Jehq said, pointing to the far end of the beach.
The goshe elder looked down on the small dock from a hump of ground at the edge of the beach ; a crescent perimeter of scrappy lumps of grass that separated it from the rest of Confessor’s Island. At each end there were larger slabs of rock seemingly broken off from the tilting cliffs that rose up behind them. Beyond the grass there were trees to Jehq’s side, small spike-leafed specimens huddled from the wind in the cliff’s lee.
The open ground was penned up by an old clay-brick wall, its yellow-tinted flanks stained by rain and grey lichen. There were two gates in the wall ; the nearer one being the larger while the smaller, near the far end of the beach, led into the leper colony. The lazaret occupied a sizeable tract of land ; space for three palazzo-sized buildings to house the lower-caste patients and another three quads of cottages for the higher castes. In addition there were barns for the animals that grazed on the rest of the island so they could be accessed from within the wall, and a sheltered community garden.
‘Into the lazaret ?’ Olos commented, surprised. ‘You intend …’ He trailed off, but Caric gave a snort as he hoisted a crate onto his shoulder and stepped onto the jetty.
‘Aye, we do. No time to be squeamish now, Father.’
Olos’ expression twisted into distaste. ‘Is that quite necessary ? There must be hundreds at the harbour by now, if not a thousand of the fever-stricken.’
‘Your compassion for our wards does you credit, my friend,’ Jehq said dryly, ‘but the sooner we’re ready, the less time there is for us to all be slaughtered.’
Caric chuckled as he passed Olos. ‘Heh – a saying the Detenii have always lived by, Father.’
An average-sized man, Caric looked strange with the large crate propped on one shoulder, but he ascended the pebble beach and stone steps cut into the turf with ease. He headed past the wide gate that led to the rest of the island, pausing only to salute a face watching him from above, and went on to the lazaret gate.
‘Come, Olos,’ Jehq said patiently, ushering his long-time colleague forward. ‘This must be done, and they will be cared fo
r still – you know that. Even more so than before – it will be in our interests to tend to them.’
Olos shook his head sadly. He had been vital to their plans over the decades of work leading to this day, Jehq knew that all too well, but Olos had left the hard decisions to his peers – preferring life in a laboratory to the more active role Jehq had played.
It took a moment, but Olos eventually came along and the pair trailed behind Caric ; a strange mismatch, with the smaller of the two almost supporting his colleague for the first dozen paces.
‘Do we have a number ?’ Olos asked, walking taller as they arrived at the door. From behind it they heard the heavy clack of bolts being opened.
‘Of souls ?’ Jehq shook his head. ‘Nothing so definite I’m afraid.’
‘You’re the one who’s worked with the artefact most, are you not ?’
Jehq inclined his head. ‘Each mind is different – and we had never expected to factor in so many fever-born. I have a broad idea ; certainly by the end of the day we will be able to touch every goshe in the Empire, even those in the eastern Shures of Raven. Synter’s left us exposed, but at the same time her boldness has brought us all we need.’
‘Fever-born ?’
‘The name we’ve given them to differentiate them from the moon-born – those goshe who were dosed with Moon’s Artifice as children. We’d only ever thought to use those mental deficients in our care to be fever-born, a few score perhaps. Just enough souls to give the artefact power to reach the nearest moon-born and spread from there.’
Olos looked around. ‘The lazar colony will need to be expanded then, the hospital too. The variant you’ve used will make them helpless – entirely dependent on the goshe for care.’
‘And care they will receive,’ Jehq reminded him, ‘care commensurate with the divine spirit they will then carry.’ He smiled. ‘You will, of course, be in a position to ensure that !’
