‘It is what I do,’ said the Smith, and there were centuries in his eyes.
‘What happens to the spare ones?’
He jerked with his head.
Delphine went to a door she hadn’t seen before and opened it. A sea of swords hung before her, each perfect. One row after another. Steel, skysilver, steel, skysilver.
‘You could make a lot of sentinels with swords like these,’ she said.
‘I imagine so,’ said the Smith.
‘You never mentioned these to anyone before?’
‘No one ever asked.’
Delphine had come here hoping to learn something, anything, about the Creature Court’s past that might give them an edge in the battle against Garnet. This was far more than she had hoped for. Not the past at all, but the future.
‘I’m going to be right back,’ she told the Smith, and darted out into the Killing Ground.
A thought struck her almost as soon as the sunshine did and she ran back into the forge before he could close the door behind her.
‘Since I brought you all that skysilver, do you think you could make something for me? Something important, but a bit different … I don’t know. Can you make things other than swords?’
The Smith looked expressionlessly at her. ‘I can make anything.’
Delphine smiled fiercely. ‘Excellent. Wonderful. I’ll draw you a picture.’
Best sentinel ever. Oh, yes.
The second time she left the forge, Delphine’s cheeks were ruddy and hot, her hair was frizzled and she was bursting with energy. She had a plan, and it was a most excellent plan, and it was going to make Macready sick that he hadn’t thought of it first.
‘Well, look at you,’ said a voice across the desert floor of the Killing Ground.
Delphine whipped her head around and saw Garnet. His animor hit her as an aftershock and she staggered a little under his sheer presence. Power and Majesty and all that, oh yes. Not just an empty title.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she gasped. ‘Not unless —’
‘I am accompanied by a sentinel?’ He smiled nastily at her. ‘Hello, sentinel. Though you’re not, are you? You left that behind when you denied me. You walked away from your duties, just like the rest of them.’
‘The Smith recognises what I am,’ Delphine flared. ‘Velody recognises me. I have my blades. Who are you to tell me I am not a sentinel?’
‘I am your Power and Majesty,’ Garnet roared, his voice filling the desert space from end to end.
‘I don’t care what you call yourself,’ Delphine spat at him. ‘You’re not mine.’
Garnet flew at her and she should have gutted him, it would solve so many problems, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t practised on Ashiol enough times, but he moved so fast and then she was on her back. She had a knife deep in his stomach, but he was laughing at her, giggling like a maniac. She had pulled the wrong knife. Left hand instead of right, oh saints, so stupid.
It was probably a good thing Garnet was going to kill her, as it would save Macready to doing it when he found out how idiotic she had been.
‘That tickles,’ Garnet hissed in her ear.
Delphine screamed in his face and brought up her other hand, the one entirely lacking in knives, to claw at his eyes. He lifted her and threw her down on the sand hard, so that her whole body juddered under him. He was going to break her into a million pieces and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ he promised, and then it was his turn to scream as blood fountained over them both.
Delphine choked on it, spat the blood out, and was able to scramble free because Garnet was writhing on the sand, screaming.
She saw Crane standing there, all bloodstained and rumpled. He fell to his knees, dropping his skysilver sword in order to cut his own wrist with his steel knife blade.
‘No!’ she demanded, furious at him. ‘Let the bastard die. He’d kill us all if we gave him half a chance.’
She had given him more than half today.
‘That’s not who I am,’ Crane said, gritting his teeth as Garnet grabbed the sentinel’s wrist and suckled hard. ‘I’m a sentinel. So are you.’
Garnet’s body was still shuddering in shock from the way the sword had sliced him open; his whole side was soaked in dark red.
‘He doesn’t deserve us,’ Delphine said, vibrating with anger as she recovered her blades. She wanted to wipe Garnet’s blood off the front of her dress, but there was no way to do it here. Damn Crane and his heroics. ‘Anyone he kills after today is your fault,’ she huffed.
Crane looked up at her, his eyes very calm. ‘The only kills I take responsibility for are my own.’
He took his brown cloak off and laid it over Garnet. Delphine wanted to smack him.
‘At least come away with me before he gets his strength back and guts you, like he was going to do to me half a minute ago.’
‘You could say thanks for saving you,’ suggested Crane.
‘I would,’ said Delphine. ‘But I think you enjoy playing the hero rather too much. I don’t want to encourage you.’
44
The Haymarket was deserted, apart from Rhian. She tore through Garnet’s rooms, searching for what must be there, what she knew he must be hiding from them all. She found clothes and shoes and all manner of irrelevant ephemera, and hurled them all on the floor, not caring if he knew she had been here.
He had been lying to her for so long, pretending that he and his precious animor could help her control the voices in her head, that he would use his status as Power and Majesty to take the damned futures away from her, to let her stop being the Seer.
Now Poet was missing, and Garnet was becoming more erratic, and he had stopped even pretending that he was going to help her.
She would wait no longer.
Finally, beneath his bed, she found what she was looking for. A book, handwritten, full of some forgotten Lord’s scholarship, his notes and theories about the Creature Court, about their history.
Fragments of the truth. She read every word, swallowing them deep inside herself. Oh yes, Garnet had been lying. He would never have been able to help her. She could do it herself.
‘What are you doing here?’ he snapped, slamming the door open. His shirt was torn and wet with his own blood. He pulsed with anger.
Rhian did not move. He dragged the book away from her, furious. ‘This is not for you.’
‘Yes,’ she said calmly, standing up to face him. ‘You like to keep all your secrets to yourself, don’t you, Garnet?’
She could feel his animor blazing around them, filling the room, but it was nothing compared to the heat under her skin. She had been holding it in for so long, and if she had to, she would release it upon him. It would be such a relief, to let go of it all at last.
‘You are my Seer,’ he said in a commanding voice. ‘Tell me where everyone is. Tell me what has happened to Poet. Tell me the truth!’
The angrier he got, the calmer she felt. ‘I can’t see the present. Only the futures.’
‘So read my damned futures!’ he snarled, and slapped her hard across the face.
Rhian had not expected that. Her head flew back against the wall, and it hurt. For a second, she lost control, and flames rippled up and down her skin.
Garnet reacted, stepping back and out of range. ‘What is wrong with you, woman?’
‘You want your future?’ Rhian said, reaching out a hand to steady herself against his bed. Where she touched the wooden frame, it burst into branches and buds. Water dripped from the ceiling, as if they were outside and a rainstorm was starting. She felt the flames burning hotter along her arms, though the raindrops put them out with a steady hissing sound. ‘You will die by fire,’ she told him. ‘Everyone you love will leave you and the fire will take you.’
He stared at her, and she wondered if it was true or just the cruellest thing she had thought of in that moment. She could no longer tell what was true and what wa
s false. She walked away, water pooling at her feet as she left his rooms.
Too far. It had all gone too far. She knew now how to rid herself of the futures, but it was likely far too late to save her from what would come next.
Macready slept, deep in his nest, protected from anything the city had to throw at him. His dreams were not remotely restful, alight with screams and flames and rose petals.
When he opened his eyes, someone was banging on the wall. Delphine, he assumed, until he opened it up and discovered Rhian waiting for him on the other side. He didn’t ask how she had known where his nest was. She was the Seer, after all. Heliora could have guided her feet — she had visited here often enough. Or perhaps she’d just seen a vision of herself standing in the street outside.
‘What is it, Rhian love?’ he asked carefully.
She looked unwell, too thin for her frame, and her skin was dry. There were cracks on her lips that she kept running her tongue over. Her eyes were too dark for the redhead she was.
‘Garnet,’ she said. ‘He mustn’t find me.’
Quick as he could, Macready ushered her inside and sealed the wall from the alley outside. ‘He can’t come in here unless I invite him, my lovely.’
‘I thought he could help me. He did at first. But Poet has gone missing, and I think he was the only one keeping Garnet calm.’
She raised a trembling hand to her mouth and Macready saw that she had a faint bruise across the side of her chin. Anger shot through him.
‘Garnet did that to you?’
‘I threatened him with fire,’ she said in a soft, breathy voice. She wouldn’t look at Macready; had barely made eye contact with anyone in days. The futures were taking her and there was naught he could do to stop it. ‘He’s afraid of fire. He won’t listen to me now. I thought I could learn control from him, but he has nothing to teach me.’
‘He’s long past teaching anyone,’ said Macready.
His mind was racing. Fire. They could use that somehow, surely. It wasn’t a bad thing to know what Garnet feared.
‘I set some men on fire once,’ Rhian said dreamily. ‘Perhaps he’s afraid of me.’
‘Oh, lass. We’re all afraid of you.’
Macready had a little stove, and set it going to make tea for her. Tea and sanity went hand in hand when it came to Rhian. Rituals were important.
He heard the squeak of the bed behind him as Rhian sat down with a sigh. ‘It’s not just fire,’ she said.
Macready turned to her and sucked in a breath.
Rhian was lying back on his narrow cot, her eyes closed. She was wet. Water dripped from her skin as if she had just stepped out of a bath. Where the hells was it coming from? The blankets were soaked, and it was pouring on to the floor in rivulets.
She opened her eyes suddenly and gasped as if drowning. Macready grabbed her and pulled her up from the bed. She leaned against him, the water soaking into his shirt.
‘What do the voices say? he asked. Hel, and the other Seers?’
‘They’ve gone quiet. I think they know that I’m not really one of them. I don’t know what I am but I know it’s going to get worse.’
She clung to him, and it was so rare to touch her that he couldn’t think straight for a moment.
‘Have you ever had contact with something that came from the sky?’ he asked carefully, a moment later. He was starting to suspect that what was happening to her was nothing to do with being the Seer. ‘Or … have you touched something that Velody has made lately?’
Rhian laughed, high and mocking and hardly herself at all. ‘You think this is the work of the dust devils? The things beyond the sky? I wish that were true. It would be so much easier.’ Then she shuddered again and buried her face into his wet shirt. ‘Help me,’ she whispered.
‘Always, lass,’ he said, and held her tight.
Oh, Rhian.
Rhian and Macready made it to Via Silviana without incident, but even as they turned the corner into the familiar street, she began to cough and lean against him. He steadied her with one hand and saw dirt fall through her fingers. As he watched with horror, she coughed up an entire clod of earth, replete with grass stalks and roots.
He hustled her forward until they reached her threshold, and used her latchkey to get them both inside.
‘It’s happening faster now,’ Rhian said when she could speak again. She crossed the workroom and headed for the kitchen, poured herself a cup of barley water to wash out her mouth. ‘The closer we get to Saturnalia.’
‘Aye,’ said Macready. ‘Festivals in the street and a city to save. Business as usual.’
She spat some wet dirt into the cup. ‘It’s not just the city. Tierce is gone. Bazeppe is gone. If Aufleur is swallowed as well, there will be a wound in the world too deep for us to recover from.’
‘So now we’re fighting to save the fecking world?’ Macready said tiredly. ‘Can’t say it surprises me.’
‘Did someone say saving the world?’ said a breathless voice as the kitchen door flew open. Delphine stood there, bloodstained and glowing, with Crane beside her.
Crane had a guilty look all over his face, as he usually did when he saw Mac these days. Macready was going to have to say something to the lad, but not today. Not yet. Delphine was luminous.
‘I happen to have a really good idea how to do that,’ she said. ‘If you’re interested. But first, I have to design a dress.’
They had lingered at the Diamagne estate. One day had become three, and then six. Velody was anxious that they had stayed away from Aufleur too long. Anything could be happening. Anyone could be dead or dying.
When she raised the matter with Ashiol, he simply said, ‘It won’t start until Saturnalia,’ and when she tried to find out more than that, he distracted her with his hands and mouth. He really was very good with his mouth.
Velody found Kelpie sitting on a herb-scented lawn watching little Lucia play games with an older demme — Ashiol’s ten-year-old sister, Phage, the youngest of his family, though the eldest of his brothers was recently married and had a baby on the way.
Ash had a family. Somehow he made more sense in the city, with the Duchessa as his cousin and no one else remotely attached to him. Velody could not see any part of this estate that felt as if he belonged to it, and yet he had brothers and a sister and a mother and the servants all called him Master Ashiol and this had been his home for much of his life. The place where he was safe, as opposed to the Palazzo at Aufleur or any territory in the Arches.
Kelpie glanced up as Velody approached and sat beside her on the grass. ‘Imagining what it might be like to be lady of the manor?’ she asked.
Velody raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you?’
Kelpie laughed. ‘I’m a city demme,’ she said. ‘Still, I rather like it here. It’s quiet.’
‘Too quiet,’ Velody said fervently. ‘Can you believe Ashiol lived here for years? He must have gone out of his mind.’
‘Perhaps he did.’
It was a fair point. Velody breathed out, watching the demmes play. She could feel Ashiol’s presence inside the house. His animor was like the lamp of a lighthouse, drawing her in. When they were in the same room together it was almost impossible to keep from touching each other. She was certain his mother had noticed.
‘Do you think he’s afraid of Garnet?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Kelpie said quickly. ‘No. I don’t know.’ She gave Velody an alarmed look. ‘You’re not hoping to mend things between Ash and Garnet?’
‘Why not? If I can mend them, I can mend anything.’
‘You’re cracked.’
‘You must have thought there was something to salvage of Garnet, or you wouldn’t have chosen him last time.’
Kelpie’s face tightened. ‘I don’t believe in this sacred marriage thing,’ she said finally. ‘It’s daft. Even those of the Court who are lovers have never trusted each other enough to make something like that happen.’
‘And yet it did happen,’
Velody said quietly. ‘Maybe the Creature Court was different then.’
‘Maybe,’ Kelpie said dubiously. ‘Or maybe they were really stupid.’
Every time Velody opened herself up to Ashiol, she thought: this time, he could take my animor. She wasn’t sure if what they had was trust. If one bled the other dry, it would mean taking on the entirety of the Creature Court as well. Did they want to share responsibility more than they wanted power?
It wasn’t the sacred marriage, this thing they had together now. But it was something worth preserving. And perhaps it was a promise that somewhere, beyond everything, there might be a future.
Garnet, though. They always had to factor in Garnet.
‘We’re going home tomorrow,’ Velody told Kelpie.
‘I know,’ said Kelpie, eyes on the children. ‘I’m almost sure I’m going to come with you.’
‘How does it work?’ Velody asked Ashiol that nox, in his bed.
Buried to the hilt inside her, he grumbled about demmes who liked to talk at such moments.
‘I mean it. The sacred marriage can’t just be making love, or you and Garnet would have been married years ago.’
‘Now that’s a scary thought.’ He bumped gently against her, then again, making her moan. Heat pulsed between them, ordinary heat of the flesh as they both held back their animor. ‘I don’t know how it works. Garnet’s the one who came up with the idea. Why don’t you send one of those thoughts of yours off to Aufleur and see if he can - provide – us – with – any – tips —’
‘Oh,’ she gasped, and then there was just heat and pleasure and she couldn’t find the words, not for some time, as he worked so deeply inside her there was no way of keeping her thoughts remotely collected.
‘I think we need to stop talking about Garnet when we do that,’ she breathed against the pulse in his neck, when she finally had breath enough to speak.
Ashiol kissed her, his teeth grazing her lip. ‘I will if you will. Was that a proposal, by the way?’
‘What?’ said Velody, distracted by his kisses. ‘No, it was a thought. I’m still working on it.’
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