‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Ysmay said. But it was delayed and weak.
‘Carnelia,’ I said. ‘Go below and make sure all is well with Ysmay,’ I said. Carnelia nodded grimly and stalked off.
Lights bloomed on the bay, big mirror-backed daemonlights. Warships. Beyond them, there was some commotion on the wharfs, and the flickering light of fire. Klaxons beat at the air.
‘Is all this just for us?’ Tenebrae asked.
‘I don’t know, but I do not want to wait around to find out,’ I said. ‘Open sea. Now!’ Tenebrae dashed over to the speaking horn and repeated the order. I could hear its tinny echo, faintly, as if it reverberated through the metal of the hull.
‘Understood! I’ve got him,’ Carnelia said, her voice buzzing through the communication device’s amplification horn. ‘He’s preoccupied with the Miraculous and steering. Aren’t you, Mister Ysmay?’ She sounded somewhat pissy, as only Carnelia could.
The Typhon picked up speed, throwing great spumes of water to each side of the ship. Tenebrae moved forward, removed the red daemonlight lantern, and banked the light. For a moment, all was quiet except for the sirens diminishing in the distance. Behind us, ships moved, but slowly. We turned our eyes to the front, hearts sinking at finding Novorum unwelcome to us.
There was a flash of light ahead, illuminating the bay like a lightning flash, revealing the waters in stark relief – silvered waves, the tongue of land lashing out from the west and ending halfway across our eye line, and the dark forms that appeared to be rocks jutting out of the water before us.
‘Ships!’ Tenebrae yelled. ‘Ships!’ The massive report of a gun echoed across the water. It was overwhelming – more than Hellfire, more than percussive waves of sound. It was engulfing, massive. I could feel the Typhon vibrate, and my insides felt almost as if they’d been liquefied.
The light rose on a column of ash and arced in the sky, overhead, like a great torch, revealing everything in the bay as if it was high noon. A new sun passing overhead.
Another flash of light, another incandescent rising light arced across the sky.
Tenebrae turned to me. ‘I do not think it was us they were worried about, Livia,’ he said.
The first light fell westward, falling like a star trapped in molasses. But as it fell, it increased in brightness and speed. And then it disappeared beyond the horizon, the buildings of the wharf, the blocks of tenements and houses of industry, the shipyards, the wharfs and warehouses. For a moment it seemed like a candle snuffed in water.
When it came, the explosion blinded me. I knew what it was to have angelis fever, to have one’s eyes burned. An instant of terror, as the fireball grew, the sound expanding with it. Then Tenebrae’s hands were on me, forcing me to the hatch, and inside the Typhon, as he closed and fastened the door behind us and bellowed for Ysmay to descend.
Novorum burned. We passed through the Medieran fleet, scourged to the outer banks, slinking away and hoping no one witnessed our passing. The Medieran ships, over fifty strong and mostly frigates and warships, had stationed themselves in a blockade to cordon off the coast – a net to catch any Ruman ships that weren’t scuttled, while the bulk of the fleet bombarded Novorum, the seat of Ruman power in the West.
‘They’ve been three steps ahead of us this whole time,’ Carnelia said.
‘They are a sea people,’ Tenebrae said. ‘And do not place nobles in command without having earned it.’ He raised empty hands as he said it.
‘It is time we changed the game,’ I said. ‘Mister Ysmay, take Mister Tenebrae forward and load two of the armamare please.’
He looked bewildered and wild-eyed. ‘But— But— We can’t destroy them all!’
‘We do not need to,’ I said. My eyes still watered. ‘The biggest ship. Where the first missile emanated from,’ I said. ‘We target that one. And that ship only.’
‘But why?’ Ysmay said. ‘It will only put us in more danger and do very little against the Medierans.’
‘I disagree, sir,’ I said. ‘First, it will make them suddenly fearful. Second, it will distract them from their current occupation, namely using that Ia-forsaken artillery against Novorum.’
Ysmay blinked in the daemonlight of command. He put his face to the Miraculous, and turned the device about. Reaching out, he pulled back on the throttle and the thrumming of the engines diminished. ‘What if they spot us?’
‘They will not,’ I said. I walked toward the bulkhead and placed my hand on the cold metal there. ‘And I have full faith in this amazing machine, Mister Ysmay. It brought us across the sea, did it not?’
‘Yes,’ he said, brightening. ‘Yes it did!’
‘But we will fire on them not because of the ship, or for a distraction, or to make them afraid,’ I said. ‘We will fire on them because no one makes war upon Rume without reprisal. And I am of Rume.’
The words hung in the air. After a moment, Ysmay said, ‘Keep this course, ma’am, keep the main Medieran warship on this point – you see it?’
‘Yes,’ I said, peering into the Miraculous. The glass had degrees notated. ‘I understand.’
‘Those two marks, make sure the Typhon remains on either of those. I will return soon. Mister Tenebrae?’
They went forward. All was silent, but down the hallway I could hear Fiscelion babbling, ‘Rume, Rume, Rume, ’Pina. RUME.’
Carnelia placed her hand on my arm. ‘Are you sure this is wise, sissy?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘But I’ll be damned if we slink away, toothless.’
My sister smiled. ‘Good! Let us leave them shaken. They’ll not burn our city without spilling some blood.’
We clasped forearms, and then realised how ridiculous this posturing was, hugged each other as we always had. I kissed her cheek and when I pulled away, I could see the tears welling in her eyes.
‘I’m scared, Livia,’ she said. ‘Tata’s dead. The world’s gone to shite. What is going to happen to us?’
‘We keep going, sissy. We find Fisk.’ I gave a maniacal laugh. ‘We are wanted by two, maybe three nations now, we have a near magical and deadly machine at our disposal, and there is war. We have a baby!’ I said, and the absurdity of it crashed on me. I was hazarding my child. ‘We destroy this one ship, and in the carnage and disarray, we push through to open sea. It’s a solid plan. As good as running silently.’
She was silent for a long while, holding my arms and looking at me. Finally, she nodded. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Would that I could just have at them with my jian.’
‘Circumstances have become more complicated than that,’ I said.
‘They shouldn’t have to be.’
‘No, they shouldn’t have to be,’ I agreed.
She looked thoughtful and drew me aside. She whispered, ‘When I came down, Ysmay had abandoned his post and was going to his berth.’
‘He— He what?’ I said, amazed.
‘I caught him there,’ she said, pointing to the hatch that led to the forward half of the Typhon, the sleeping berths, deck gun controls, and mess. The armamare.
‘He seemed utterly dismayed. He was weeping,’ she said.
‘He’s under great stress,’ I said. ‘And hasn’t rested. Do you think it was a malicious abandonment?’
‘No,’ Carnelia said. ‘He didn’t seem like he’d been caught out, when I stopped him. He just seemed – hurt? Yes, wounded, like a dog going to lick its wounds.’
‘I worry about his state of mind, truly,’ I said.
Tenebrae and Ysmay returned. Tenebrae wrapped his hand with a towel, having let blood to prime the sub-aquatic weapons. Ysmay took position at the navigation. I took my place at the trigger for the armamare – it is the duty of command to judge, sentence, and execute punishment. For better or worse, I was in command.
The engineer edged the throttle up. The Typhon picked up speed.
‘We fire upon the warship,’ I said, ‘We pass through and make full speed to open sea.’
‘Yes,’ Ysmay said. He
was pale, shaking, sweating. ‘Understood. Approaching. Stand ready to fire.’
Long moments passed. The Typhon shuddered with speed.
‘Stand ready,’ he said, again.
‘I am ready, Mister Ysmay,’ I said.
‘Fire!’
I pulled the firing mechanism.
I felt more than heard the Typhon shift and the armamare release. Ysmay stepped away from the Miraculous, and gestured that I should look. I placed my face to the glass. The night was lit with wavering light, the Medieran vessels closer now. There were aggressive-looking munitions on each ship’s profile, and another flash and bloom, so bright I had to look away from the ocular and wait until the flare diminished. But this time, it was not Medieran artillery. It was Medieran destruction.
The ship erupted into expanding metallic vapour, the sea rose in anger at the grievous wound done it. It was not that the armamare was so deadly, it was but a match tossed onto tinder.
The warship took two other Medieran vessels with it as it quickly vacated this plane of existence. In its wake, a giant wave came rushing at us.
‘Mister Ysmay,’ I said, as calmly as I could. ‘We should descend now as far as we can. A wave approaches.’
He looked at me, alarmed by my calm tone. He did not argue or question, he simply manipulated the controls. The nose of the Typhon pitched downward. My view in the Miraculous became occluded and disappeared altogether. The hull ticked and groaned.
A shudder passed through the ship. A bright metallic sound rang out, there was a explosive rush of steam into the command. Suddenly it was hot and wet and every surface beaded with moisture.
Ysmay dashed back and, pulling out a rag, began turning a valve with great haste. The steam dissipated.
He rushed back to the com, pulled more levers. The Typhon levelled. It rose.
In the Miraculous, the sea was once more in view. We passed among debris and wreckage. Something scraped our side in an aquatic screech.
And then all was silent. I wrenched the Miraculous around to find the other Medieran vessels. Some were capsized. Others continued to fire upon Novorum. None seemed to be in pursuit.
We were beyond the blockade.
I looked to the engineer. He remained pale and trembling. A pained expression on his face.
‘Make haste to open sea, Mister Ysmay. Full speed,’ I said.
By morning we were far out to sea, with no pursuit. We turned south, intent on making the southern cape, running the Medieran blockade there, and entering the Bay of Mageras. From there, we might take the Typhon up the Big Rill, past the ruins of Harbour Town, to New Damnation. Marcellus and his legions would be there. And, maybe, my husband and heart.
I instructed Ysmay to rest as I manned the helm. He seemed relieved and thanked me, bowing and nodding. He stumbled to his berth.
I would not set eyes upon him alive again.
A day later, we found his body in his berth, pooled in blood.
NINETEEN
My Name Was Linneus
SAMANTHA AND SAPIENTIA brought hard news. Passasuego was lost. New Damnation was lost. Mediera owned the Hardscrabble once more, as it did a century and a half ago, at least in the day. At night, stretchers came to the lowlands, raiding, killing, taking whatever they pleased. No more dreaming in their high reaches. No more slumberous days of peace and winds upon the shoals. War came, naked and bloody, and the vaettir came from the mountains to greet it.
I took the engineers and their retinue – consisting of seven women and men in engineer’s aprons – to the tent where Fisk conferred with Neruda.
‘The lode is rich, then?’ Samantha asked on the way there. ‘Yielding good ore?’
‘It’s nice seeing you again, too, Sam,’ I said.
‘Ah, Shoe,’ Samantha said. ‘I never thought you needed pleasantries.’
‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘But it is nice to see you.’
She’d aged, more and more. The weight of our great struggle – against Beleth, against Mediera, against the Hardscrabble and the West, and even against those that came from beyond the veil – it had weighed heavy on her. She was so thin, now, her skin hung off her. She’d been plump, once, with a great appetite, when she was Beleth’s assistant. Now? Her clothes hung loosely, her skin in wattles on her arms and neck. Her face was wrinkled.
‘For my part, I am happy to see you, Mister Ilys,’ Sapientia said, eyes merry.
‘And I, you,’ I said. ‘Very happy.’ Sapientia was a handsome woman, and formidable. Her hair was maybe a bit greyer than when I last saw her, but her supremely intelligent face was still beautiful. Had I been just a few feet taller, I might find something there in her smile. Something more. But at least her friendship was mine, and that was a treasure.
I turned back to Samantha. ‘It’s coughing up piles of rocks, if that’s what you mean? The smelt and the rest of the mechanics of rendering silver have not been put into place, nor any munitions. But there’s great heaping piles of rocks and dirt they tell me are mostly silver,’ I said.
Samantha nodded, chewing her lip. ‘That’s good, at least. Passasuego is lost, but it’s not fatal, since the lode there was petering out.’
‘We’ll pass the ore piles on the way to Fisk,’ I said.
‘Good,’ Samantha said. ‘I would see them.’
‘And Beleth? He is contained?’ Sapientia said.
I quickly told her the events of the Long Slide and our capture of him.
‘Daemon-gripped vaettir,’ she said. ‘I thought that was a calamity. But a Beleth-gripped vaettir? That is the worst.’
‘He’ll not be doing much more gripping,’ I said. ‘Fisk shortened him a hand.’
Samantha snorted, as if startled, and then smiled for the first time since I’d seen her. ‘Oh, my. Well that is justice for that poor girl, Isabelle. Would that she’d never met that Bantam fellow.’
‘We’d all be spared this lovely war, then, Miss Samantha,’ I said.
‘I am no statesman, nor politician, but I think this war was coming, one way or another. I wish the girl didn’t have to die. She was kind. And lovely,’ Samantha said.
‘Aye, she was that,’ I said.
‘And her hand? The daemon hand? Does Fisk still have it?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Locked away.’
She nodded, thoughtful. ‘That has weighed on my mind more than I care to admit,’ she said.
We passed the ore piles and Samantha dismounted. Her movements were stiff and fragile, as if she’d aged beyond her years. She knelt painfully near the ore.
Sapientia pulled her mount close to Bess and said to me, softly, ‘She’s not been well. She doesn’t sleep, she eats sparingly. This happens with engineers, sometimes. The powers we work with, they can be overwhelming. Some of that—’
‘Taint?’ I said, thinking about a mountainside, and being naked upon it. And vaettir passing me by, in the darkness, because I bore no Hellfire, because I bore no silver.
‘Yes, for lack of a better word. In history, it was called the summoner’s gaze, this malaise. And she is affected, I think.’
‘Is there a cure?’ I asked.
‘Of course! She needs a holiday. Drink, and sex, and food, and happiness, and the yoke of responsibility gone from her, along with all the daemons we bear, figuratively, and literally,’ Sapientia said.
‘All that sounds lovely,’ I said. ‘I could use a holiday myself.’
‘Maybe, if we see the end of this dark endeavour, you will have one. And I hope I will, too,’ she said.
Samantha turned the ore over in her hands. To me it simply looked like granite with streaks of brown and white. Had I picked up a chunk of the ore by a river bed to make a ring for a campfire, I would never have known it was precious. She walked around the perimeter of one of the heaps and then returned to us and remounted.
‘It is rich,’ she said. ‘How long have they been mining?’
‘Two weeks, give or take a day,’ I said.
Samantha whistled her appreciation. Her eyes brightened. ‘Let us meet Neruda, and then we have some business with my old master.’
We left the engineers’ apprentices and assistants near the mess to refresh themselves and take care of the mounts. As we entered the praetorium tent, all conversation stopped. Black Donald paused in raising a cup of wine to his lips. Praeverta and Winfried looked at the newcomers, silently.
Fisk leapt up and embraced Samantha, who seemed somewhat taken aback by his overt sign of affection.
‘I am glad you’re here!’ Fisk said. ‘I trust Shoe has filled you in?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And I’ve inspected the ore. It looks promising.’
‘Which is why I’m here,’ Black Donald said, his beard bristling.
‘Munitioner Vemus.’ Sapientia inclined her head in greeting. Samantha followed suit.
‘It’s been, what? Five years?’ Black Donald said.
‘I haven’t a clue,’ Sapientia said. ‘I don’t mark your comings and goings on my calendar, I’m afraid.’
Black Donald barked laughter. ‘What? Impossible. The ground trembles at my approach!’ he said, smiling.
‘Apparently it doesn’t mark its calendar at your exits,’ Sapientia said. ‘Do you have plans for the smelt and munitions drawn?’
‘I just arrived here, woman,’ Black Donald said, reaching for his cup again. ‘I’ve surveyed where they will be built. It’s amazing how fast these dvergar are able to put up—’
Sapientia snapped her fingers. ‘Thank you, Vemus,’ she said. ‘You are dismissed. Please have your preliminary plans to me by second hour in the morning.’
Praeverta and Winfried looked about, surprised at the turn of conversation. Fisk stilled. His eyes narrowed as he looked first at Sapientia and the bearded engineer.
Black Donald spluttered and dropped his cup. ‘I’ll have you know, missy, that I am Marcellus’ chief munitioner—’
‘And where is Marcellus? There sits the commander of the Hardscrabble legions,’ Sapientia said, pointing at Fisk. ‘And if you want to compare rank, sir, I am praefect and princep primus of the College of Engineers, here in Occidentalia,’ she continued. ‘You are my subordinate. I require you have plans for the smelt – including your litany, ritual, warding and precium to raise the smelt daemon – prepared and ready for my approval by morning. You are dismissed.’
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