Legends and Liars

by Julia Knight

  Another lie, because he could see the weariness in her eyes, but he said nothing. She lied because he’d had the jollop, saw he couldn’t hide the clumsiness of his movements. They weren’t safe here, and at least she was alert enough to see trouble coming.

  The lies coming so thick and fast worried him, but he wasn’t going to argue so he found his blanket and lay down–not on his back. As he shut his eyes he had time for one clear thought–Thank god for Esti’s jollop–before he was asleep.

  Alicia flipped the pages and flung a look at Esti, who trembled in the corner. “A clockwork heart?”

  “N-not just clockwork,” Esti stammered. “I had to add a little to it. I only know they had me make the living part–it’s an organism I created. Eneko said he could use it for whatever they were doing. Sabates did something with it too.”

  And Alicia hadn’t known a damned thing about it. Wasn’t she supposed to be Sabates’ confidante, wasn’t he supposed to be sharing all his plans with her? He’d certainly led her to believe he was. He’d led her to believe that Esti was dead for quite some time as well. And Sabates plotting with Eneko of all people, that was just too much. This was going to take some pondering. In the meantime she had her original aim: use Vocho and Kacha to lure Dom to where she could kill him. Such a shock to discover he’d been their ally in Reyes, that she could use that alliance for her own purposes. If not, if Vocho’s current state and the army in their way did for him and his sister, she’d find another way. And if they did make it to Reyes that would be a splendid distraction for Sabates.

  She looked over at Esti and at the leech on her neck, keeping her under Alicia’s control.

  “What does Sabates want this for?”

  Esti shrugged and then flinched. “I don’t know; he just made me do it. This is only a copy. The originals went to Eneko weeks ago.”

  Eneko? What were those two bastards up to now? And why hadn’t Sabates told her about this? How many more secrets did he have? And just what was he planning?

  She strode over to Esti, who tried to press herself into the wall, but there was no escape from Alicia, not now. Maybe not ever. The leech pulsed under Esti’s dress at the base of her throat. Just a word, a thought, and she could end Esti right now. The little witch had stood in her path every second of her stay in Ikaras. Always better, always more favoured, thwarting Alicia’s ambitions at every turn and without even seeming to try, which made it rankle all the more because magic didn’t come naturally to Alicia. She had thought she’d got rid of Esti, made herself prime in Sabates’s confidences, when she’d set Esti up for murder, made sure the king knew about it, and had him sentence her to hang. Even then Sabates hadn’t been able to let go, hadn’t been able to confide his best secrets to Alicia. He’d kept this witch in secret, in blackmail too knowing the bastard for what he was. Now here was part of a plan Alicia knew nothing about.

  “What was he doing giving it to Eneko? He hates the little shit as much as anyone.”

  “I… I don’t know! I swear. He just made me do it. He did say…”

  “Say what?” Alicia whispered, and the leech twisted under the cloth, bringing a gasp from Esti.

  “Eneko hates the prelate as much as Sabates does,” she said in a halting voice, not wanting to speak the words but having to. “That Eneko could be a tool to bring down Bakar for good, and discarded afterwards. But I don’t know how, or what the heart has to do with that. I swear it!”

  Alicia grunted and brought out her scalpel. She gripped Esti’s hair and yanked her head forward. One quick slash where it would bleed profusely but not show, on the back of her head, and suddenly the room was full of the smell of blood. It was the work of moments to fashion a circle of it on the floor. A few more seconds, and she could see Reyes. Some fine tuning… There was another circle in the guild. In a private room. She peered out of the circle and saw a room made for nasty work, implements on a table, some heating in a brazier, a blood-soaked chair in the centre. The circle was Sabates’ work, she was sure.

  Someone moved across her vision, a familiar figure. An idea came, and she acted on it at once.

  “Eneko.”

  The figure stopped what it was doing and turned to the circle. Eneko’s face loomed large, close enough for her to see every wrinkle and wish she couldn’t. She wondered that he didn’t recognise her from before, as opposed to knowing her as Sabates’ associate. But it had been a long time ago and only the once. Maybe it had been a minor thing to him, not the world-shattering event it had been to her. She’d been not much more than a girl then, and maybe he’d never even known her name. She supposed they’d all changed in the years in between.

  “Alicia.” His tone was formal, wary but curious. “What can I do for you?”

  “Progress report. Sabates has his hands full at present, but he wants to know how things go at your end.”

  A raised eyebrow. He hadn’t expected her, she thought, wasn’t aware she’d known about the circle. Finally he inclined his head.

  “They go well enough. Those plans… genius! Sheer genius.”

  “Naturally,” she said dryly. “But more details, please. You know how Sabates likes his details. I can’t just report back that you’re pleased.”

  A smirk at that, at the thought she had to do as she was told. “Certainly. Tell Sabates that the automatons will be ready by the time he reaches Reyes. They should be more than enough for me to prove my worth as the new leader of Reyes, and enough to make a show of this ‘war’. Sabates will get what he wants. Bakar will be the first to die. A few skirmishes; my automatons will kill Orgull, and then Ikaras and Reyes–or rather Sabates and I–will come to terms as agreed. Impress on him that I’ll be true to that agreement.”

  Crafty bastard, although Alicia had no doubt as to Eneko’s life expectancy once Sabates had what he wanted out of the man. “Certainly. Thank you.”

  The face in the circle winked out, and Alicia sat back in thought. Clockwork hearts for automatons. Secret agreements with Eneko. Bakar dead–well, she’d known about that plan. Orgull’s death was a different matter, but how could she use this to her advantage? She had her own ambitions. She didn’t care if Bakar lived or died, if Reyes won the “war”. She cared about Eneko, getting what she wanted from him. And then killing him for all he’d put her through whether he’d known it or not. Sabates killing him before she could get what she wanted–no. That would not do at all. Maybe she’d have to bring parts of her plans forward, change others.

  She looked down at Esti, who cradled her bleeding head in her hands. Maybe she could use Esti to do that too. Wouldn’t that be fun?

  Kacha listened to the snuffles of the horses–hers in particular would let her know if anything disturbed him, possibly by the screams as he did his best to bite any available flesh. Too many people around for her liking in a country that had been as rural as they came, with the occasional house and silent groups of slaves working fields here and there. Now it was positively crowded, if the fires were anything to go by. They winked down on her from the foothills that led to the main pass, too many to count. And how many men had King Orgull at each fire? All poised on the border, and more joining them, from what she gathered from the tracks she’d seen. Horses, wagons, men on foot. That group earlier, who’d given up the chase and passed by half a mile to their side late in the day. No woodcraft, or they’d have spotted them, but that was hardly unexpected from what looked like a bunch of plantation workers.

  They wouldn’t be the only ones, so she kept sharp and listened. She glanced at Vocho and wondered just why it was he’d changed. Maybe it was the pain–Esti had said he’d take some time to heal, and Voch had often been a bit of a baby about physical pain–or maybe it was something in the jollop Esti had given him. Kass wasn’t inclined to trust her, for all she’d helped them, and she looked at the bulge in Vocho’s pack, nestled under his head, where the bottle lay. She could pour it away. She probably should pour it away, but she’d have to prise it out of Vocho’s h
ands first. And maybe there was nothing wrong with it.

  But he’d been unnaturally quiet for most of the day and peevish when he wasn’t quiet. For the voluble Vocho, this counted as well past strange and into suspicious. It worried her–he worried her. And what worried her more was that she’d begun to doubt him. Oh, not about the usual things, like whether he was lying, because he often was. OK, always. More about whether he’d have her back if she needed it. She’d never not been sure of that–even during the fallout from the whole priest debacle she’d never really doubted it. Now she did.

  He was here under protest, she knew that, because she’d asked him and tempted him with the thought of glory, but she didn’t know how far she could push it. Not very far if he knew her real reason for wanting to go back to Reyes. Oh, all the others, the ones she told him, were true enough. But they weren’t the real reason.

  She got up to stretch her legs and left him sleeping like the dead even if he snored rather more noisily.

  The clearing they’d camped in was almost perfect for keeping hidden. Only one side was relatively open, and that’s where she watched because she was sure they’d been marked leaving Ikaras, but she hadn’t seen a damned thing since to confirm it. Either she was paranoid or they were very, very good.

  She saw nothing now either, just shadows and trees shifting in the breeze. A silvery owl ghosting through the woods in search of dinner. The horses snapping at snatches of grass, her horse bullying Vocho’s out of its fair share. She looked down at the sleeping Vocho when the moon came up and fitful beams filtered through the canopy to light his face. He lay curled on one side, leaning on an arm and his pack for a pillow, and looked so gaunt she felt a pang of guilt for all she hadn’t told him.

  Not enough to not wake him when she felt herself start to nod, though she gave him as long as she could, as much to make sure he wasn’t clouded by the jollop as anything else. He sat up groggily but readily enough, and she slid into the warm space he’d just vacated, though she waited until he was fully awake before she shut her eyes.

  It wasn’t much that woke her–a rustle that seemed too loud for any woodland creature that would risk getting so close, followed by a muffled jingle which was certainly no animal.

  Close on the heels of that came a prod in the shoulder and a hiss. She came upright in a rush, hand already on her sword, the other at her knife, and looked about. Without a fire, without the moon, which was obscured by clouds, it was dark, but after a few moments she could see well enough. Her horse stamped and snorted behind her, snapping its teeth at something. Vocho was to one side of her, still haggard, but at least he looked alert under the sheen of sweat. He had his sword out of its scabbard and was peering into the darkness.

  Suddenly the moon shed its cloak of clouds. In that light she saw her pack at his feet with paper poking out of it.

  The slightest of sounds away to her left, the whisper of a breath and then a glint of metal. For the first few seconds all she saw was the sword, all she was aware of was getting her own up in time to save her head and a quick, random thought–maybe this army weren’t all amateurs. She managed a hasty parry that juddered her arm as she caught her attacker’s sword awkwardly. Then she was rolling away, getting her feet under her as Vocho leaped to her undefended side. Whoever had attacked had melted back into the shadows just as Cospel sat up, blinking sleepily.

  “What the fuck was that?” Voch whispered as they came back to back.

  “The bloody tooth fairy? What do you think?” she snapped back. “Looks like Orgull has a few professionals with him.”

  “Oh good. I need a bit of practice.” Despite his words Voch sounded bone tired. “And that trip across the mountains through an army had sounded so boring. I bet hiding—”

  “Voch?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Any chance you might shut up so we can hear whoever it was just almost took my head off?”

  A short silence and then, “Good point.”

  Kass strained to hear over the rasp of her own breath. Vocho fidgeted with his feet, and she looked down to see him trying to poke the papers back into her pack, but that was going to have to wait for later, when no one was trying to kill them.

  Whoever he was–she was pretty sure it was a he, she’d caught a half-glimpse of a face–he was good. She strained her ears but heard nothing. A glance towards the horses showed them alert, ears pricked and listening but not alarmed. She didn’t like this at all.

  A flicker of movement to her left. She whirled to face it, only to find nothing. Behind her there was a grunt as Voch did something–parried most like as the sound of steel on steel echoed around the clearing.

  She turned again, and Vocho was defending against a savage overhanded blow from a palla. It thundered into Vocho’s slimmer sword, staggering him and bringing a screaming sound from his blade. Then the attacker was gone, leaving Voch looking pale and shocked, just before the heavy blade came for her, from the other side.

  This guy was good.

  She managed a dodge and a parry–so late it was almost useless, but it turned the blade just enough, and then she was on the back foot, defending against a heavier blade and a much stronger opponent. She caught glimpses of him in the fitful moonlight–an impression of a tall man, heavyset, ideally suited to his weapon. A face with odd markings or possibly scars marring one cheek. A hole where his nose should be. The heavy blade whistled through the air towards her and missed her by the breadth of a hair, so close she could feel the slide of it across her skin.

  But the attack had left an opening for her, one she was trained to use. She ducked under the still swinging blade and came up with the knife in her left hand arrowing for his armpit, a thrust that should have skewered him if he’d been there to receive it. Something–the hilt of his weapon, she thought–slammed into the side of her head. Her vision blurred for a second, and then the man was gone into the dark just as Vocho came up on his flank.

  She knew who he was now, the same man who’d been watching Esti’s. Marked too that there had been a hint of awkwardness to him. Nothing much, favouring one side like she did when she knew Vocho had her flank and she could ignore that side and concentrate on the other. A life warrior.

  “Aim for his—”

  “Left, yeah. I’m not blind,” Voch said. “That’s if I see it in time.”

  They stood, as they often had before, back to back and watching every shadow. Cospel huddled by the horses with a heavy pan in one hand, as much for his own protection as to protect them, and kept out of reach of Kass’s horse. Vocho seemed more like his old self, and having him there, knowing he had her back, made knots in her neck she hadn’t realise were there loosen. They waited but no further attack came. Only the first stirrings of dawn and with them the chorus of waking birds that told Kass that no one was close. Or probably anyway, remembering that her normally hostile-to-everything-that-moved horse had barely stirred until their attacker was on them. Whoever this man was, he had more woodcraft than either her or Vocho, who’d lived and worked in the city almost their entire lives.

  He was almost certainly something to do with Alicia, she thought as she scanned the area in front of her again. Only Alicia had good reason to kill the pair of them. It didn’t make any sense that the man was playing with him, and she was clear on that. If he’d wanted it, she’d be dead. This was not a prospect she’d often had to face, and one she didn’t want to now.

  “I say,” Voch said after a time. “I say we pack up and ride the fuck away. It’s altogether too lively around here.”

  It was hard to disagree, except perhaps on which direction they should go.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  They packed up their belongings hurriedly, one hand hovering over blades, one eye on the fading darkness, and Kass didn’t fail to notice that her letter from Petri was out of order. Her horse complained bitterly, but that was nothing new, so she dodged his lunging teeth with ease, strapped everything to his back and mounted.


  Alicia was playing with them. Why? What the hells had she achieved?

  They moved off into the gloom of the trees, trusting the horses to find a path though they had to beware low branches. Kacha itched all over, expecting attack at any moment. Vocho seemed just as twitchy as dawn melded into day. She watched his back as they rode and thought a great deal about trust, at the same time turning over all she knew about their attacker.

  They came carefully out of the shelter of the trees into a rocky defile that was still filled with grey light and led towards the nearing mountains. A road ran nearby–over to their left plumes of dust rose over the ridge, and the sound of men and horses filtered through the air–but without saying anything they knew the road was a risk too far. Two against ten? No problem; they’d done it before and won. Two against twenty; trickier but doable. Two against what might be ten thousand…

  The defile led them towards a gap in the fires, to what must be an area too inhospitable to camp. The way became steep and rocky, finally too steep for the horses with them aback, so they dismounted and led them. Kacha looked back often, kept sharp watch on the lines of the ridges to either side, but saw nothing and wondered whether that was a good thing or bad. In front of her Vocho struggled along over the rocky terrain, his hand going often to his pack, to the pocket where he kept Esti’s jollop. Then he’d turn, see her watching and take his shaking hand away. His face was haggard, but there was a set look to him and accusation in his glance.

  The way got harder, so that even she was winded and sweating, while Vocho only held himself up by a hand on his horse’s stirrup. She called a halt, but he gritted his teeth and carried on, so she followed, and Cospel came behind too tired to grumble.

  They reached a long steep slope of fallen rocks and brush. Vocho cast her a look, one she knew of old, though with none of the humour that was normally there. “Dare you,” it said. “Dare you to beat me.” Then he tied his horse to a stunted oak and went on, pulling himself up the slope by the straggling shrubs and warped trees. She followed, leaving Cospel to watch the horses, not trying to beat Vocho, only to stay with him.