The Tower of Living and Dying

by Anna Smith Spark

  King Illyn did not want to marry her. He had never met her. Did not love her. There was a woman at his court whom he loved, and he thought perhaps that had he been free to choose he would have married her. But he was young and his father had died and his father had lost a battle, and he needed strong allies to help him keep his throne. And so he married an Ithish princess, whose brother was his ally, whose family had always been allied with his own. And they were happy enough, as such things go. Marissa bore him a child, a son, strong, healthy, radiant with beauty. She was a good and fine mother. Illyn was delighted. Loved the child. Sent the woman Elayne away, albeit with grief.

  Marissa became pregnant again. The child miscarried. Marissa died.

  Well, now, the king’s heart was broken, as anyone’s would be to lose a wife in such a way. But after a few months had passed, his advisers said to him that the child needed a mother, and he needed a queen, and the kingdom needed more than one heir. And he thought again of the woman he had loved, Elayne Murade, Elayne of the Golden Hair. He married her. And he was happier, married to her, than he had been married to the Ithish princess, because he loved Elayne and she loved him.

  And Elayne loved Marissa’s son. He was beautiful and strong and charming: how could anyone not love such a child? Perhaps she loved her own son more. Perhaps. She was his own mother. Is that so very hard to understand? But she watched the boys grow and she loved them both, and Illyn loved and cherished them.

  But they were afraid of Marissa’s son, also. Watched him sometimes with fearful, wary eyes. For he was so bright. So radiant. And there was something in him that terrified them. Shadows gathered around him. His hands seemed red with blood. And one day he stood up before them, mad-eyed, ruined, broken, all they had done, all they had tried, begged him, pleaded with him, wept, screamed, comforted him in his sorrow, hated him for his hate, he was mad and ruined, sunk into himself, filled with self-loathing, there was nothing they had not tried, to help him, and they could not help him, and one day he stood up before them and told them that they had killed his mother and he knew they wanted to kill him and that he hated them and wanted to kill them too.

  What do you say, when your child hates you? What can you do?

  A beautiful child, and his shadow stinks of bloodshed.

  What do you do?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Kill him.”

  “Well … yes. That’s pretty much established. As a life goal, I can’t really disagree with you there, Raeta.”

  The boy’s face killing a house full of people, back in Sorlost. Killing everything. They’d almost had to stop him killing the rats in the pantry walls. He’d wept as he did it. This man is alive. Now this man is dead. It’s my fault. This child is alive. Now this child is dead. It’s my fault. This woman is alive. Now this woman is dead. It’s my fault. This man is alive. Now this man is dead. It’s my fault. That horrible blank grief and the blade coming down and down and down. That had to die. That face. “I can’t let you go to Ith, boy,” he’d told Marith, when he betrayed the boy to Landra Relast. “You know that. Can’t let you have power and command. I know what you are. What you’d do. Think of this as a kindness, like. “Cause it is.” And Marith had looked up at him, defeated. Known Tobias was right. That poor boy with puke in his hair and wild mad sad eyes, jumping out of his skin if someone farted too loudly, staring about him like he was haunted, sobbing in the night, whispering for his mum.

  “But, you know … how?” And don’t, Tobias thought, just don’t say “with a knife.”

  Tobias thought: I’ve seen the boy fight. Although “fight” is possibly the wrong word. I am not ever, ever, ever going up against him with a blade, not for all the gold in his kingdom, and that’s that.

  “How we kill him,” said Raeta, “is why I’m here and what we need to plan out. Obviously. Although I’d have to say with a knife might be a good starting point.”

  There was a knock at Tobias’s door. The innkeep’s daughter, or whatever she was. “There’s a woman downstairs says she’s here to see you,” she said.

  “To see me?” He wasn’t even using his right name. Also, pretty much everyone he’d met while on the White Isles was dead.

  “Tobe, from Immish, she said. Staying in the room under the eaves with the chimney that smokes, she said.”

  “Show her up, please,” said Raeta. She handed the girl an iron penny. The girl glared again at Tobias and went out.

  “Something to do with you?”

  “Someone who might help us. Possibly.”

  “Possibly?”

  “It does smoke,” said Raeta. “The amount they’re charging you, they should get it sorted out without having to be told. Did you a favour.”

  “Any number of favours, you’ve done me. All worked out so bloody well. Don’t change the subject. So who in gods’ names is this possibly helpful woman and how does she know me?”

  “I met her in the same place I met you. Underneath the queen’s corpse. Invited her here to see us, gave her the name you go by. You’ll know her. Wait and see.”

  Actually, was he imagining it, or did Raeta look … uncomfortable? Embarrassed, even.

  Thalia, he thought, for a very brief moment, like the sun on his face and a knife in his gut. Thalia. She’d come sweeping up the stairs in a gown of gold and moonlight.

  The door opened. “Here you are, then,” said the innkeep’s daughter. “Tobe of Immish, who’s staying in the room under the eaves with the chimney that smokes.”

  Footsteps in the hall. Hesitant. The woman came in. Who the fuck is this? thought Tobias. A woman with a burned face and her hair covered up in a cloth. Looking terrified.

  Looking kind of familiar, too, weirdly. You’d think he’d remember meeting a woman with a burned face like that. Not something he was going to forget. Sadly for him.

  The woman was staring at him. Looked puzzled herself, on top of the terror. Like maybe she thought she knew him. Her eyes opened wide. “What—?”

  “You have met, I believe,” said Raeta. “Briefly. Though more than once. Landra Relast: Tobias, formerly of the absurdly named Free Company of the Sword and briefly squad commander to a certain young man you know. Tobias: Lady Landra Relast.”

  Lady Landra Relast? The woman who paid him a king’s ransom for Marith’s head on a platter? Her? Lady High and Mighty? What in gods’ names happened to—?

  Oh. Yes.

  The most awkward silence since the awkward silence that had followed Tobias kneeling before King Illyn to tell him that he was indeed absolutely certain dear Marith was back on the White Isles, and, um, well, he knew this because, um, well, uh, he, uh, might have had some hand in getting dear Marith back there. Gods, I have absolutely no idea in the world what to say right now, thought Tobias. “Shouldn’t have shafted me on the deal, should you, woman?” not seeming entirely appropriate, in the circumstances.

  “I’m really sorry for the loss of your entire family, your face, your childhood home and everything you’ve ever known or cared for?”

  “Well, gee, that didn’t quite work out the way we’d planned, did it?”

  “Want a refund?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

  Lady Landra Relast sat down on the chair.

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” said Raeta.

  Lady Landra was holding a funny scrap of yellow cloth in her hand. Squeezing it. She looked blankly at Raeta. “What else could I do?” She poked at the cloth around what must until recently have been her hair, itching at it. I don’t, Tobias thought, I don’t want to think what your head looks like under that. Not if I ever want to eat pork scratchings again, anyway.

  “I’m not looking for vengeance,” Lady Landra said. Her eyes were red where she’d been crying.

  Okay. Really?

  Well, that’s unfortunate, because I certainly bloody well am.

  “I’ll go and get us all some beer and some stew,” said Tobias.

  They all sat around in
further awkward silence until the innkeep’s daughter had been and gone with bean soup and the speciality herb flavoured beer. The soup was noticeably thinner and less meaty than it had been when he first arrived at the inn. The girl glared at the chimney and then at Tobias before she left.

  “Good soup,” said Raeta after a long pause.

  “You are planning to kill him?” asked Lady Landra.

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” said Raeta. “Otherwise Tobias has just wasted a penny buying you a meal.”

  “I can pay you for it,” said Lady Landra. She grabbed at a purse round her neck. She looked at Tobias and her eyes shrank away.

  Remembered hating her as a bitch queen, when they met before. When she shafted him over Marith and Thalia.

  “She’s joking,” said Tobias.

  “Oh, yeah. Soup’s way more than a penny a bowl, now, what with the cost of rebuilding half Morr Town and meeting the king’s drinks bill.” Raeta took a long gulp of her beer. “Good beer, though, still.”

  They ate and drank in silence. Tried not to notice Lady Landra was crying into her bowl.

  “So,” said Raeta. “We were discussing how to kill him.” She turned to Lady Landra. “You know him. You’ve been thinking about how to kill him. For a long time. Any thoughts?”

  “I’m not looking for vengeance,” Lady Landra said again.

  “No,” said Raeta. “Of course not.”

  “Do it publicly. Shame him, as he dies. Everyone in Morr Town should see him die.” Lady Landra’s eyes flashed. Looked for a brief moment like Tobias remembered her. Fierce. Cold. “We could bribe his guards. Ambush him in the street. Cut him down. Leave him in the gutter, with the filth.”

  Tobias snorted. “Ambush him in the streets? Me and whose army? If you can find me a hundred heavily armed men and an inside contact … I’d still tell you you were mad. There is no sellsword company in the world, anywhere, who’d take that job, knowing what I know.”

  “I know my way around Malth Elelane,” Lady Landra said. “I know where he sleeps, everything. I’ve been in his rooms.”

  “I don’t care if you know where he shits. Which you probably do, I’m sure. But it’s too dangerous. We’d never make it in and out in one piece.”

  Lady Landra widened her eyes. “You’re a sellsword. A hard tough man, the leader of a troop of hired killers, you destroyed the Summer Palace of the Asekemlene Emperor of Sorlost.” All the strength seemed to run out of her then, as she spoke the word “destroyed.” Her voice choked off. “You … He is one man. You go into his bedchamber at night and stab him. Cut his throat, cut out his heart. I will … I will pay you well, when it’s done, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” Her voice shook, her hands were shaking. Her voice was small as dry dust.

  “Pay me?” She was wearing a cheap, badly made dress. Too big leather boots with scuffed-up toes. There was a lot of grime under her fingernails. Looked like she’d been sleeping in a barn. “Not for all the gold in Irlast,” Tobias said.

  “We go into Malth Elelane in the night and stab him in his sleep,” said Lady Landra again. “I’ll do it.” She was crying again. Hunched in on herself. Like snapped thread. “Just give me a knife and I’ll do it. What else am I still alive to do?” Lady Landra said.

  Raeta laughed.

  “I’m not looking for vengeance,” Lady Landra said.

  “Yeah. You said. Look: you’re both thinking too personal. Assuming we do it ourselves. Up until a few months ago he was dead and buried. Now there are corpses hanging off his fortress walls. There must be some other people around here who want to see him dead.” Turned to Landra. “You, Lady Landra, must have some friends left among the rich and powerful you could talk to.”

  “Lady Landra is dead,” Lady Landra said.

  “Someone? Anyone?” Gods, come on! Lady High and Mighty Landra—taken over a whole lodging house in Sorlost she was so rich, “kneel, Tobias,” “the Relasts are the most powerful noble family on the White Isles, Tobias,” “my family are connected by blood to all the great families of Irlast, Tobias,” “I have Altrersyr blood myself, Tobias,” “just give me word, Tobias, and we will take him and destroy him and give you such a reward and your name will be celebrated across the Whites”—Relast? No powerful friends?

  But her voice was like something that was already dead, yeah.

  “His friends, then. What are they like? Any of them for turning? This bloke Lord Fiolt his new best mate? I’m guessing he’s not exactly unambitious.”

  “Osen Fiolt?” A dead laugh. “Osen’s spent his whole life trying to thrust himself into Marith’s affections. Osen was so jealous of Carin. Carin used to talk about killing him. Gods, I wish Carin had killed him.”

  “I’ll go and get some more beer,” said Tobias at last. “If anyone wants some.”

  In the common room a bunch of early drinkers were getting all over-excited. Roared out singing: His cloak is red as widows’ eyes. His big big sword he thrusts hard and wide. The innkeep’s daughter broke off from clapping time to give Tobias three more cups of beer. He took them upstairs in silence.

  “Death! Death! Death!” a drunken voice shouted outside the window. Lady Landra jumped and whimpered.

  “You just pissed on my foot, you arse.”

  “Look, Lady—Landra, you got anywhere to stay?” said Tobias. “Anywhere, uh, better than this?”

  “I was sleeping in a barn,” Landra said after a long silence. “I … I spent last night outside the gates of Malth Elelane. Walking through Morr Town. There is a woman I know, somewhere, I could … I thought I might go back to her.

  “But I can’t,” Landra said.

  “The room next door to this one’s free,” said Tobias. “As far as I know.”

  “I …” Her hands went to the purse round her neck.

  “He’ll pay for you,” said Raeta.

  It was your money, some of it, anyway, Tobias thought. Blood price for Marith Altrersyr. I can’t bring myself to spend it on anything. Left his hands feeling tainted. Slithered through his fingers like raw meat. If he gave it to a shopkeeper to buy something … like it was cursed, or something equally bloody stupid.

  One of the richest men in Morr Town, was old Tobias. Laugh or weep so hard you’d bloody piss yourself.

  “You need a bath and a sleep,” said Tobias. “Some new clothes, all of that.” Gods, he sounded like someone’s mum.

  “And then tomorrow, when you’re feeling … slightly better, possibly,” said Tobias, “we’ll start planning how to kill him.”

  Landra nodded dully.

  “Good,” said Raeta. “I’ll leave you two friends alone, then.” She got up. Went out.

  Come back …

  So. The two of them. Alone. Kind of awkward, yes?

  “I’m sorry,” Tobias said.

  Landra said nothing. Twisted the cloth in her hands.

  “I’m sorry. Honestly.” Gods, he thought suddenly, what if she’d noticed my face, when I was there at Malth Salene? She’ll kill me.

  “I thought it might hurt him, at least, to see Carin’s grave.” She took a long sip of her beer. “Such a little time he spent grieving. That creature, that woman he’s married. Married! If you’d told me who she was … And heaping Osen Fiolt with honours. His dearest friend, they say he calls him!”

  She said, “Osen Fiolt wanted to marry me too, once. A long time ago, when we were all still really children. He tried to charm me, brought me flowers, whispered things. My hand in marriage, and only Carin’s death between us and all my father’s power and wealth. I had him thrown out. But it gave us the idea, Carin and me. And now Carin is dead, and Osen is Marith’s beloved friend.” She stood up and bowed her head to Tobias. An odd gesture, not a sign of deference but … some attempt at her pride? “I’m sorry. This means nothing to you. You just wanted to make some money out of my pain. Couldn’t know what it was that you did. I’ll go downstairs. Take the room.” She blinked. “Thank you, Tobias.”

>   Poor woman. The tangled wreck of her life. He watched her go, heard her come back up, the innkeep’s daughter showing her the room. Her voice shiny and ladylike thanking the girl. Then the horrible muffled sound of her crying. On and on. Idiot, he thought. For offering her the room. Her and me … every time we look at each other, nothing but guilt.

  He went down to the common room to drink, to get away from it, but they’d moved on to a song about Amrath’s conquest of Mar.

  “Now the King of Mar, his lady wife was a god:

  She had horns and a tail, the dirty old sod.

  But that didn’t stop Amrath.

  He cut off her tail,

  Even though she turned pale,

  And He cut off her horns with His knife!”

  Went back upstairs and stuffed his head under the pillow to try to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sat bolt upright in bed.

  He wanted to kill Marith because he’d seen what Marith could do to people—no, scrub that, he wanted to kill Marith because he’d seen what there was in Marith’s eyes—no, scrub that, let’s be honest here, Tobias, shall we, he wanted to kill Marith because Marith was rich and beautiful and brilliant and a total evil poison shit.

  Landra Relast wanted to kill Marith because fairly bleeding obvious.

  Why in all gods’ names did Raeta want to kill Marith? Raeta was a woman Tobias had chatted to on a boat. The way she talked about it, she’d been dreaming about killing Marith her whole life. Her eyes, when she talked about killing him, they lit up. She strolled up to him when he was standing underneath a load of dead bodies, suggested he help her kill someone she’d never met, and it all seemed perfectly natural?

  Lay staring at the ceiling, all his thoughts tangled up. Raeta’s eyes lit up like a starved wolf when she talked about killing the boy. Raeta was some woman he’d met on a boat.