Outside, Penn was waiting for her. She walked right up to him and punched his arm. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It wasn’t my place.’ He shrugged. ‘But you’re happy, though, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. It’s brilliant. I just – I wish I could thank them properly. Not just for that, but for –’ she struggled to find the words – ‘being who they are. You know.’
‘I know,’ Penn said. ‘And we thank them by being good at our job.’ He gave her one of his rare smiles. ‘Come on. Let’s go and see if we can find Zander.’
They were nearly at the Gate of Steel when – just as she had all those weeks ago – Ree spotted her parents waiting for her. Penn must have worked out who they were, too; a shade of alarm entered his eyes.
‘I’ll just wait for you over –’
‘Oh no you don’t,’ she said firmly, linking her elbow with his. ‘I need backup for this one.’
Her parents stepped forward as she approached, both of them shooting speculative glances at Penn. He was a good-looking boy, Ree thought with detached amusement. And very … Mirrorvalese. No wonder her mother was looking at her as though she’d finally solved an age-old secret.
‘Good morning,’ she said breezily. ‘Did you hear the news about the treaty with Sol Kardis? This is my friend, Penn Avens.’
Penn managed to mumble something vaguely suitable. Ree’s mother fixed her gaze on him as if she were about to subject him to interrogation, but Ree’s father got in first.
‘We received this,’ he said, holding out a thick piece of paper covered in elaborate black ink. Ree recognised the Darkhaven seal at the bottom. ‘A termination of your marriage contract. By order of Ayla Nightshade.’
Here we go. Ree sighed. ‘Can we talk about this another time? Only I really don’t have the energy to –’
‘A letter came with it,’ her father went on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Informing me that my debt to the Tarran family has been paid in full and thanking me for the excellent service of my youngest daughter, who has … where did I put it?’ He fished a second piece of paper out of his pocket, this one in Ayla’s energetic scrawl rather than the beautifully inscribed lettering of a legal clerk. ‘Rendered herself indispensable to the Nightshade line.’
He looked up; to Ree’s surprise, tears gleamed in his eyes.
‘She says you helped stop the war,’ he said softly. ‘That you rescued her children. Is that true?’
Ree was about to be self-deprecating when she realised there was really no reason why she should be. Her parents had taught her that a well-brought-up young lady never boasted about her accomplishments, yet her parents had also never seemed to understand that she’d actually accomplished anything. So she lifted her chin and looked her father in the eyes.
‘Yes. That’s my job.’
He regarded her in silence for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then he said, ‘I’m proud of you, Ree.’
‘Both of us are,’ her mother added.
‘And we wanted to apologise. For what we’ve said and done these past few weeks. We hope …’ He hesitated, then said it in a rush. ‘We hope you can forgive us.’
Ree didn’t even have to think about it. She opened her arms wide. Then all three of them were hugging, and her mother was crying, and Ree found that she was crying too. It had been a long few days. A long few weeks. And people were dead, and she’d very nearly died herself a couple of times, and Zander had come back to Mirrorvale, and she didn’t have to get married … and she wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad, but sometimes it was good to cry with your parents. Even if you were a nineteen-year-old woman in charge of your own life.
‘You’re sure this is what you want, chicken?’ her mother asked finally, wiping her eyes. It was the easiest question in the world to answer.
‘Yes. I am. I really am.’
‘Then I’m happy for you.’ She darted another glance at Penn, who had retreated a little way when the hugging started, and a hopeful smile curled her lips. ‘Now, tell me all about that young man over there.’
‘Penn and I are just friends, Mother.’ Ree considered her words, decided just was a stupid word to use for a friendship that was as important to her as any romantic relationship could be, and amended, ‘Close friends. The best of friends. He’s a wonderful person. But as for what you’re thinking … no, I have absolutely no desire to sleep with him.’
‘Ree!’ That single, scandalised word sent her into a fit of laughter. And perhaps her mother realised her own reaction had been one of habit, rather than genuine feeling, because after a moment she shook her head and said with the hint of a smile, ‘Well. It’s good to know you have friends in the city.’
After they’d gone, with many promises to visit again soon and have her to stay at home – you can wear whatever you like, Cheri, but do bring that nice boy if you want to – Ree turned to Penn with eyebrows raised.
‘They’ll never change. My mother has already married us off in her mind. But at least they’re trying.’
‘Did you mean it?’ Penn asked gravely. ‘When you said we’re the best of friends?’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Of course. You and Zander … you’re like my swords. It’s not that I need either of you, exactly. It’s just that the two of you make my life better when you’re in it.’
Penn considered that, and a slow smile spread across his face.
‘Ree Quinn, I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’ Linking their arms together once more, he looked down at her with affection. ‘Come on. Let’s go find Zander.’
THIRTY-TWO
Caraway spent the best part of a day on the hardest task of his life: accompanying each of his dead men on their final journey to be returned to their families. Some of them would end up in the Temple of Death, the only place in Arkannen where it was possible to return someone to the earth with all the appropriate dignities; others would be taken to the pyres outside the city, or carried home to a family estate or village burial grove. But in each case, Caraway had to speak to a parent or a child, a lover or a sibling, and explain why their son or father or husband or brother wouldn’t be coming home.
To start with, he encountered a lot of denial. Everyone knew there had been a war, of course, but the Helmsmen who had stayed in Darkhaven should have been the ones to survive, not the ones to die. Over and over again, Caraway had to explain how it could be that an entire cohort of warriors in the heart of their own domain had been so comprehensively destroyed. And over and over again, he was forced to confront his own failure. He had retrieved his children unharmed, and he was thankful for it. Yet for thirty-three men and one woman, he had failed to be the captain they deserved. He had failed to protect them. And they had died.
As dusk fell, he dismissed the surviving Helmsmen who had helped him to deliver the bodies and the news, and trudged back up to the fifth ring alone. A long list of urgent tasks spooled through his mind, starting with the need to recruit more men to replace those who had fallen, but he couldn’t bear to face them now. Instead, he went in search of the one person he thought would truly understand his guilt.
He found Bryan keeping busy: too busy. Caraway recognised the signs. He bore the weaponmaster off with him to the sixth ring, where they sat outside the Shrine of the Moon and listened to the priestesses singing.
‘You all right?’ Caraway asked finally. Bryan shrugged.
‘I’m not gonna fall apart, if that’s what you mean. I’m a soldier. I know how the world works. People die. People betray you. Shit happens.’
‘Fall apart as much as you like,’ Caraway said. ‘You can’t do it worse than I did.’
He sensed, rather than saw, Bryan look at him from beneath heavy brows. ‘Want to bet, boyo?’ A rusty chuckle, which turned into a sigh. ‘Nah … the truth is, I’m not all right. I keep thinking, how could I not have known? And also –’
Caraway waited, but there was no more.
‘
Also?’ he prompted.
‘I can’t stop loving the bastard.’ It was a barely audible mutter, with a defensive edge that suggested Bryan half expected Caraway to mock him for even mentioning the word love. But really, Caraway thought, his friend should know him better than that. Fifth-ring banter was one thing, but Caraway made no secret of the fact that much of the time, love was the only force holding him together.
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘That isn’t how it works, is it? You don’t stop fighting just because someone stabs you in the heart.’
‘Then what? Stab him back?’ It was said flippantly, but Caraway heard the deep underlying sorrow in it.
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘Because love means throwing away all your weapons. All your armour. Love has no room for defences. That’s why it hurts so much when you realise the other person had a knife after all.’
Silence. Bryan sat with his forearms propped on his knees, hands fisted, head bowed. His shoulders shook. Caraway put a hand on his back and said nothing. Sometimes it wasn’t possible to do anything more than be there.
‘And you, lad?’ Bryan asked, once he’d got himself under control. ‘Are you all right?’
‘No, not really.’ It was easier to say it in the darkness, with the stars above him and music in the air that made the conversation seem almost like a dream. ‘More than half the Helm died under my watch. Most of those I sent to the border with Ayla returned unharmed. They were safer in a war zone than with me in Darkhaven. I’m not sure I can live with that, Art.’
‘You have to,’ Bryan said gruffly. ‘What else can you do?’
‘I don’t know. But ale is looking pretty damn good right now.’
‘It won’t help. Look, I know how you feel. If not for me, Miles would never have come to Darkhaven in the first place. No war, no massacre, no stolen kiddies. Don’t you think I’ve been aware of that ever since I found out he was a traitor? Don’t you think it’s been playing on my mind, the what-ifs? Your murdered Helmsmen are just as much on my conscience as they are on yours.’
Caraway shook his head. ‘If Miles hadn’t been there, Gil would have done it himself – in which case, I’d be dead too. So if you’re going to take any responsibility, you can take it for my continued existence.’
‘You’re quick enough to absolve me,’ Bryan said. ‘Try applying a little of that forgiveness to yourself. You couldn’t have known, Tomas. This wasn’t your fault. You fought the war as best you could. It just turned out to be a different war than you were expecting.’
Again they were quiet. Then Caraway said, ‘I hope you’ll come back to Darkhaven. If not now, then … sometime.’
‘You still want me living there? Without …’
‘Of course. If you want to come.’
‘Thank you,’ Bryan said. ‘I’d like that.’
When he got back to the tower, Caraway ignored the comforting call of family and bed, instead taking the quickest route to the cells where Gil was being held. Ayla didn’t know he was doing this. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to. It wasn’t as though it would change anything. But the man had killed half the Helm, and Caraway couldn’t leave that alone. It scratched at him like a ragged nail. He knew Gil was the kind of man who would never feel any remorse. He knew a confrontation would achieve nothing but tear the fragile scab from a barely healing wound. And yet he couldn’t help it.
He dismissed the Helmsman on duty, then carried a chair down to the furthermost cell. Gil was shackled at wrists and ankles; no-one had wanted to take even the slightest chance that he might escape before his execution. He looked tired and uncomfortable, but not in pain. Ayla had insisted on that.
‘Good evening, Captain.’ The greeting was polite, a little sombre. No hint of fear. The Parovian accent was clear, now; he no longer had any reason to conceal it. Caraway dropped the chair just beyond the doorway, sat down, and met Gil’s steady gaze.
‘I have to know,’ he said. ‘I have to know why you did it.’
‘I love my country, Captain, just as much as you love yours.’
‘My love for my country doesn’t extend as far as entering someone else’s country and committing mass murder.’
‘I had to keep the Helm from interfering. It was the logical thing to do.’
‘Logical?’ Caraway was on his feet before he could hold himself back, hands curling into fists. The physician was cuffed and chained; it would be easy to make him pay, a little, before his death, and certainly none left in the Helm would fault their captain for it …
But Ayla would.
He turned away, walking to the door and back again to give himself enough time to regain control. Once back at the chair, he gripped its back and stared at Gil.
‘You killed thirty-six people.’ Most of them Helmsmen, but there were the two murdered kitchen maids as well: their throats slit, their bodies left to lie where they fell. ‘Not in wartime, not in retribution, not in self-defence. Men and women with lovers, children, friends. And you don’t see anything wrong with that?’
‘It was my job, Captain Caraway. I saw no other way.’
‘A sleeping draught –’
‘Would not have prevented the Helm from going after the children once they awoke.’ Gil shrugged, and repeated, ‘It was the logical thing to do.’
‘Logic didn’t get you as far as it should have, though, did it? The children are safe. Ayla is safe. Darkhaven didn’t fall.’
Incongruously, a small smile crossed the physician’s face. ‘Unfortunately, people and logic rarely go hand in hand. All the same, Captain, if it had not been for the damned alchemist and his unwillingness to let you die …’
Caraway didn’t want to discuss Miles. He brushed that aside. ‘And Hana?’
Gil looked at him blankly. ‘Who is Hana?’
It was as close as Caraway had yet come to punching the man. It took him every last drop of self-control to hold himself in one place, though his heart pounded hard enough that he could feel the blood rushing past his ears.
‘The first girl you murdered,’ he said with taut calm. ‘She gave Ayla your antidote. She made sure your taransey reached its destination.’
‘Miles’s antidote,’ Gil replied. ‘And Tarran’s poisoned taransey. All I had to do was persuade the girl to deliver them.’
‘How? And don’t try to tell me she was a traitor too, because I won’t believe it.’
Gil shrugged. ‘You really ought to be stricter with your maids, Captain Caraway. I only had to drop a friendly word in her direction and she was blurting out her whole life story.’ He affected a squeaky voice. ‘Me and Sia are best friends. We always go down to the cellar together because we hate the rats. I like my job, but I’d rather work in the nursery. I love the children. It’s so sad Lady Ayla can’t have any more. Yes, I have the fifth day of each week off, did you want to meet for a drink sometime? Blah, blah, blah.’
Caraway gritted his teeth. ‘So …’
‘So I told her I thought I had discovered a cure for Ayla’s weakness in childbirth, one that required her to drink taransey of the newest possible vintage to work most effectively. And that she wanted to keep it a secret from you to avoid raising your hopes. After that, the girl fell over herself to carry out my instructions. Deliver the antidote in Ayla’s morning tea. Take the right bottle of taransey from the cellar. Easy as that.’
‘And then you killed her.’
‘I had to. She was very much the weak link in the chain. Really, Captain, I do not know what you expect from me.’
‘She thought she was doing something good for her country,’ Caraway said. ‘For Ayla. And you murdered her without a second thought.’
Gil snorted. ‘Hypocrite.’
‘What?’
‘You cannot tell me you would not kill one, ten, fifty girls to save Ayla’s life. And what about the crew of the Windsinger, Captain? Correct me if I am wrong, but I rather think they are dead.’
‘They had my children –’
‘That
makes it better, does it? No. We are both willing to shed as much blood as it takes to protect what we believe in. That is what war is, what it means. So what gives you the right to say your kills are virtuous, and mine are not?’
‘We’re not at war.’
‘Oh, we are. We have been at war since you planted your baby in Ayla Nightshade’s belly and continued a line of tyranny that should have died with her. Your refusal to recognise it does not make it any less true. And in war, Captain Caraway, people die.’
‘Tyranny?’ Caraway echoed. ‘It’s all Mirrorvale can do to stand against Parovia. Against Sol Kardis. Against every larger power that threatens our borders. We do what we can to survive, and no more. What part of that is tyranny?’
‘But you are no longer standing against Sol Kardis,’ Gil said. ‘You have allied yourselves with them. You have changed the balance of power. Perhaps you thought you were seeking peace, but what you have made is war.’ He shook his head. ‘We would have been content to let Mirrorvale remain small. The pivotal point, the unchanging centre holding the rest of us in tension. Do you think I have not heard Miles spout his alchemical theories? But now …’
‘Now what? We stop losing men to an endless war of attrition along our southern border. We agree new trade deals. What difference does that make to Parovia?’
The physician sighed. ‘This is what happens when a mere soldier becomes the second most powerful person in an entire country. Anyone who had been through even a fraction of a political education would have advised Ayla against making peace with Sol Kardis. Because like it or not, she is a weapon. She is the one thing neither we nor Sol Kardis possess. And the only way you could have kept us both reasonably happy with that situation was to remain neutral. Whereas now you have opened your borders to Kardise trade and Kardise influence …’ He shrugged. ‘If the enemy of your enemy is your friend, Captain Caraway, what does that say about the enemy of your friend?’
‘But our borders are already open to Parovia,’ Caraway said. ‘We’ve been trading with you for decades. We let you bring the Windsinger to Mirrorvale! If anything, the Kardise treaty only puts us on the same footing with Sol Kardis that we’re already on with Parovia. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?’
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