The music rose and fell and Isangell spun deeper into the circle of gaudy courtiers, letting the madness of the dance swallow her whole.
Cool fingers slid into hers and drew her out again. She followed, allowing herself to be brought clear of the chaos and even out of the room. Only in the corridor outside did she realise who had rescued her. It was the demme, one of Ashiol’s precious ‘sentinels’, the ones who served as lictor to him and his wretched creatures. This one played the man far better than Isangell in her costume breeches — her clothes were dark and worn, and she wore swords on her back.
‘High and brightness,’ she said politely, her hand still firmly holding Isangell’s.
‘Kelpie,’ said the Duchessa, remembering the demme’s name after a moment’s thought. ‘Is it Ashiol?’
‘Isn’t it always,’ said Kelpie with a cynicism that Isangell could well identify with.
They hurried along the corridor and into Isangell’s rooms. There, she looked around for her cousin, but there was no sign of him.
Kelpie busied herself by drawing her daggers and making firm incisions on the door. Isangell opened her mouth to complain about the scratches in the paintwork, but held back the words. The demme was so intent on what she was doing, she barely seemed aware that she was not alone.
As a child, Isangell had learnt much more by sitting quietly in a corner while the adults went about their business than she had when she made a fuss. So she sat, drawing her knees up on the couch (so strange not to have to fuss about skirts — she wondered if her mother would throw a fit if she regularly chose to wear breeches around the Palazzo), and watched Kelpie work.
The sentinel finished with the door and began to circle the room, her knives marking the wall at regular intervals. She made no distinction between wall and furnishings — her blades bit into plaster and tapestry curtain and a portrait of Isangell’s grandmama. It was rather fascinating to watch. Isangell shivered once, and it seemed as if the window darkened a little in that moment.
Finally Kelpie tore her eyes from her work and acknowledged Isangell’s existence again. ‘I need to seal it,’ she said, kneeling beside her on the couch.
Isangell did not get a chance to ask what and why before Kelpie put her hands on either side of her face and kissed her. It was warm and sudden, and Isangell felt jolted awake, as if she had been in a daze all this time.
‘Oh,’ she said faintly, when they came apart.
‘It works better with kissing,’ Kelpie said with an apologetic shrug. ‘Not sure why. It’s probably a Creature Court thing. Anything to get laid, that lot.’
She was up again, bouncing on her booted feet, fingers smoothing over the door that … was not there any more.
‘What have you done with my door?’ Isangell asked in surprise.
‘I’m keeping you safe.’
‘Trapped,’ Isangell said sharply.
Kelpie blew out an impatient breath. ‘Safe,’ she repeated. ‘You can leave any time you like. But you’re important right now, and not because of the Duchessa thing. Ashiol needs you safe and guarded while the shit goes down, and frankly I’d rather be at his side than in here with you. Don’t give me a hard time about it, aye?’
‘Is the city in danger?’ Isangell asked. ‘Is Ashiol in danger?’
‘Do you really have to ask?’
‘What about everyone else? The Palazzo is full of people. Would they be safer in here than out there?’
‘This is a nest, not a ballroom,’ said Kelpie flatly. ‘We’re not bringing anyone else in.’
‘I am the Duchessa. I can’t hide away in some nest while everyone else suffers.’
Isangell hurried over to the blank wall where her door had been. She felt for the crack, the doorknob, for any way out.
‘When I said you could leave anytime you like,’ said Kelpie, holding one of Isangell’s hands tight in a fist. ‘I lied.’
In the Forum, Velody watched the sky turn grey and then dark with the coming nox. She watched as the everyday people of the city, going about their business, began not noticing things — like the several wild animals that strutted back and forth on the grey cobbles, waiting for the battle. She could taste it on the air. War was coming.
The salamanders had won their battle. They had Garnet pinned above the great altar, bound to the statue of Iustitia with skysilver chains. Delphine was there, too, with the Smith, obviously the source of the chains. They all looked ridiculously pleased with themselves even as Garnet howled and roared at them.
‘We have to stop them,’ Velody said in a low voice.
Ashiol was near, but she was so far past his presence being a comfort to her.
‘Stop who?’ he asked. ‘Delphine, Poet, the salamanders? I thought you wanted everyone working together. Isn’t that what you were trying for all along?’
It was true, absolutely, but there was something wrong about all this.
‘We’re wasting too much energy going in so many different directions,’ she said in frustration. ‘We have to be a strong, united front to beat the sky.’
‘This is about as united as you’ll ever get us,’ Ashiol said. ‘With Garnet bound and out from under our feet.’
Velody shook her head, but said nothing else. Beating Garnet was not the point. It couldn’t be. They had a war to win.
Ashiol shaped himself into chimaera and flew forth, scattering salamanders this way and that. ‘Stand down,’ he roared at them. ‘Garnet will not die from your bites and scratches. He will fight me.’
Garnet turned chimaera with a fierce roar, shaking the chains they had used to hold him in place.
One of the salamanders shifted into rats and hurled themselves at Ashiol, shaping finally into Poet. ‘Fight?’ he repeated. ‘We’ve only just captured him. Do you expect us to let him go so you can playact your honour and revenge?’
‘Traitors,’ Garnet growled at them both.
‘Shut up and consider the fact that everyone who loves you most wants you locked up or dead,’ Poet snapped.
‘Those are my chains,’ Delphine said, crossing her arms as she stepped forward to stand at Poet’s side. ‘And I’m not taking them off. This isn’t about pawing the ground, Ashiol. Behave yourself or I’ll smack you on the nose.’
Ash returned to male form, recoiling from her. ‘What are you wearing?’
Velody had been so caught up in the fate of Garnet to notice, but yes: Delphine was wearing a tailored tunic of chainmail that gleamed with skysilver. She stank of it, the animor of the metal hitting the back of Velody’s throat harshly enough to make her gag.
‘Delphine,’ she said. ‘What have you done?’
There were rumblings from the sky. Delphine glanced up, then darted a smile at Velody. ‘I’ve been getting prepared, of course. Want to see?’
She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled fiercely, and suddenly the stench of skysilver was everywhere, surrounding them, and Velody could hardly breathe.
An army marched into the Forum. Dozens and dozens of men and women, dressed for a fancy party, armed with skysilver swords and daggers. A very specific feeling rolled off them all. Sentinels. Somehow, Delphine had created dozens of sentinels all at once.
Ashiol started to laugh, gleeful and utterly genuine.
Warlord and Lennoc flew overhead, shining in Lord form and surrounded by their courtesi. Everyone was ready for the battle.
They were, in fact, united against their enemy. All of them except Velody.
‘It’s all right,’ Rhian said calmly. She reached out and gave Velody’s hand a reassuring pat. ‘It will all make sense soon.’
Light blazed from the sky, fierce and hot, drawn into a single powerful thread that shot over their heads and burst through the roof of the Basilica, blasting into the ground some way past it. Velody leaped into the air, flew over the heads of Delphine and her army, and skidded roughly on the paving stones of the avenue just beyond them.
The light from the sky was channelling feroci
ously into the Lake of Follies. The water boiled and frothed under the heat and gave off huge waves of steam.
Shapes formed in the steam. Great winged shapes, and there was no way to know what they were, except that they were not friends. Shape after shape clambered out of the lake and lurched in the direction of Delphine’s army.
Saints and angels.
For one shocked and quiet moment, Velody had a strong memory all over again of her brother telling her about seeing angels in the steam. Devils made of dust. Saints made of clockwork. What on earth made me think that the angels might be on our side?
More light poured from the sky and the last water of the Lake of Follies gave up the ghost into one huge cloud of steam. It formed several distinct shapes and, yes, angels. There was no other word for them. Except, possibly, death.
49
Ashiol had never seen the use of Delphine before this. An army of sentinels, brought into being because no one had told her it was impossible. There was no time to stop and admire her now. The sentinels were under attack from the steam angels, and there were fracture lines cracking across the sky, glowing in fierce shades of orange, red and gold.
‘Let me go,’ Garnet yelled from where he was still chained to the statue of Iustitia, surrounded by salamanders. A glowing skybolt crashed into the tiled portico behind him, and the groove it made in the ground bubbled with molten skysilver. ‘For the love of Aufleur. Let me fight.’
‘How are we supposed to know what side you would fight on?’ Poet snapped back.
Another skybolt arced over their heads and Ashiol threw animor at it, forcing it to explode before it got too close.
‘You expect us to have mercy on you, Garnet?’ he said. ‘You picked the wrong people to ask.’
The steam angels swarmed towards them. The salamanders skittered forward and burst into bright flame, which kept the angels away for a little while at least. But they circled around, darting this way and that, actively looking for a break in the salamander fire.
‘Seems it’s you they want,’ Ashiol said to Garnet.
‘All the more reason to let me go,’ Garnet replied.
It turned out as Ashiol had known it would, with him standing at the foot of the statue of Iustitia, protecting Garnet from the angels. They smelled like animor and rain, and there were other scents in there too, of familiar skin that made his head muzzy.
One of them cried out as he slashed at her — her, of course it was a woman — with his chimaera claws, and for a moment her steam blurred thin and he saw a familiar face within. No, not that. No hallucinations of lovers past, not today.
Ashiol lost focus for just long enough to enable the second angel to climb onto the statue of Iustitia, her wings of steam wrapping around Garnet’s body. Now he was the one crying out, struggling to breathe. Ashiol went to him, but the first angel held him back, surrounding him in heat and cloud. His body sagged, losing strength.
‘That’s the way, cub,’ a voice whispered in his ear. ‘Stand down.’
The angel that had Garnet was growing more solid as her hands closed around the skysilver chains that bound him to the statue. She seemed to breathe, and the chains rotted from his wrists, breaking into tiny pieces that the angel took inside herself. She was forming colours now. A long golden dress. Skin more pink than white. Razor-sharp fingernails. Short, blonde hair.
‘Tasha,’ Garnet gasped, and the angel kissed him, tipping his head back and all but swallowing him whole.
‘Hello, my cub,’ she said, and then changed in an instant to chimaera form, dark and fanged and clawed, before shaping herself into Tasha again, or something very like Tasha. ‘Look what I can do.’
‘You’re a King,’ Garnet said drowsily. ‘You finally made it. Welcome to the party.’
Ashiol wanted to fight, to shout, to insist that it wasn’t Tasha, she was dead and gone, it was a trick. But his own senses were dimming, and the air was full of the scent of lioness. Tasha. Not Tasha. Not Tasha. He could not form words.
‘We’re both Kings,’ Tasha said alluringly, her mostly solid hands stroking Garnet lovingly. ‘You don’t need Ashiol or Velody now. You have me. We can make the sacred marriage and repair what was broken long ago. We can bring the skywar back into the daylight.’
Ashiol opened his mouth to protest, because Garnet was going to doom them all, but the steam angel turned to look at him and he felt a wave of agonising heat burn through his veins. As he writhed on the ground, struggling through the pain, he heard Garnet agree, and looked up just in time to see Garnet and Tasha wrapped around each other in a kiss.
Stupid, so stupid. How could Garnet fall for the trick he himself had used on Ashiol five years ago?
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was the fucking sacred marriage. Garnet’s animor was streaming out of him, light pouring from his mouth into the body of the angel, who was far beyond a semblance of Tasha now. She glowed white and gold, light pouring from between every sculpted feather of her wings. She pulled back from the kiss, leaving Garnet empty on the statue, and screamed with triumph.
The sky was falling in pieces — stone and sinew, bricks and pillars. Velody took shelter in the broken remains of the Basilica, and caught Crane’s sleeve as he hurried past her.
‘Where did all those sentinels come from?’ she demanded.
He glanced at her, a brief check for injury, then looked out at the whirling storm in the Forum. ‘Delphine’s idea. She figured out that it’s the skysilver that makes sentinels — and the Smith had a whole lot of spare swords. She’s brainwashed a bunch of her old friends into becoming an army.’
‘And you let her do something that crazy?’
Crane almost laughed. ‘Ever tried to stop Delphine doing something?’
She couldn’t argue with that. ‘If the creatures from the sky get hold of that many skysilver weapons, we’re doomed,’ she said desperately.
‘At least this way we can fight.’ Crane looked out again. ‘There she is.’
Delphine was a blur of light and silver in the darkness, surrounded by her new soldiers and a host of flashing blades. They were fighting creatures made of cloud and steam.
Velody felt rather than heard Ashiol scream elsewhere in the Forum.
‘Crane …’ She wanted to wish him luck, or tell him to be careful, or say something that wasn’t entirely meaningless right now, with the world coming down around them.
‘Go on,’ he said, wielding his sword again, ready to run out into the thick of it. ‘Call a sentinel if you need us. We’ve plenty to spare!’
The temple burst into stone and dust as they both ran out of its shelter into the thick of battle.
The Palazzo shook. Isangell looked with alarm at Kelpie. ‘What is happening out there?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kelpie said, then gave her a sharp look. ‘You can feel that?’
‘Of course I can feel it,’ said Isangell. She went to the window, but there was nothing there but blurred shadow against the glass. ‘I need to see out. What is happening to my city?’
‘We’re under attack, but that’s nothing new,’ said Kelpie. ‘You didn’t hear or feel anything the nox Heliora was killed,’ she added.
Isangell pressed her hands against the glass, willing herself to see beyond this cocoon Kelpie had built for them. ‘Ashiol says I am one of you now. I remember Bazeppe. As if I don’t have more important things to worry about.’
‘I think I’m supposed to give you this,’ said Kelpie, coming close. She unfolded her hand. A small, perfectly round diamond lay in the crease of her palm. ‘Ashiol didn’t send me. I wouldn’t miss out on the battle for him.’
Isangell reached out with one finger and touched the jewel. Kelpie’s hand was warm, but the diamond was very cold. ‘What is it?’
‘A tear. A seed. I don’t know. Something. When Heliora died, she wasn’t supposed to pass her gift on to Rhian. She got confused. Someone else was supposed to be our Seer — and, by the way, can I mention how much I hate that I know
this without having been told? My orders fell into my head the second Rhian gave me that stone for you.’ Kelpie lifted one shoulder miserably. ‘Hate all that mystic shit. If it doesn’t involve swords, I don’t know what to do with it. There were only a few of you there when Heliora died: Delphine, Crane and you. I don’t think our Crane’s cut out to be a Seer. He can’t even work out how to fancy a demme who might like him back. And don’t get me started on that cow Delphine.’
‘I don’t want to be a Seer,’ said Isangell.
A tear. A seed. She lifted the diamond slowly, not knowing why, and held it to her lips. It tasted like metal and sadness.
Pain seared through her suddenly, pain and words and light, and she fell like a stone, gasping as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Kelpie was there, steadying her, preventing her from falling with her strong hands.
It’s about time, said a sharp female voice directly into Isangell’s head. So you’re the one who’s going to fix my mistake, are you? I suppose we could do worse.
Isangell pressed her fingers to her temples. ‘Who are you?’
You mean it’s not obvious? I’m Heliora, the Seer of the Creature Court. Prepare yourself for a bumpy ride, high and brightness. I’m not the only one in here.
50
Ashiol screamed as an angel dragged him to the ground, its mouth burning his neck. He could see Garnet twisting in agony as his animor flooded the air around him, fattening the Tasha angel that held him down. Lightning struck, plunging straight into Garnet’s body and pinning him to the statue of Iustitia.
The angel holding Ashiol reared up and burst into motes of light as it was blasted by animor. Velody threw herself down beside Ashiol, her hair tangled madly around her face, her clothes all torn and charred.
‘What are they doing to him?’ she demanded.
‘Stealing his animor.’ Ashiol’s voice sounded grim even to himself. He would not wish that on anyone, even Garnet. He had not realised he was so forgiving. ‘Putting something else inside him. I don’t know what.’
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