by Lloyd, Tom
Jackdaw was busy and Venn didn’t reply, but he drew his sword, which enraged the God further. Venn took another step back and Vellern followed, raising the javelin high, ready to stab down at him.
The blow never came. As one the spectral rats leaped, and the swirling spirits darted at Vellern’s face. He ignored the rats entirely and slapped away the first spirit to reach him. Its smoky form dissipated entirely as Vellern’s hand passed through it without resistance. The second fared no better, casually destroyed without regard, and though the rats tore and raged at Vellern’s legs their efforts were too insignificant to warrant attention.
But they were just distraction, and a fat arc of raw, spitting energy raced from Venn’s sword tip and struck Vellern hard enough to make the God reel. It was followed by another, then another, each one driving Vellern a pace back as it hit home. The Wither Queen stepped forward now, a long stiletto in each hand.
Jackdaw changed his attack and threw a writhing coil of white energy that blew apart Vellern’s javelin, while the Wither Queen stabbed her knives into the God. Vellern parried the blows with his hands and kicked out at her, raking talons down her chest and causing her to screech in pain.
Jackdaw renewed his efforts, lashing out and tearing great rents in his peacock mantle. Venn felt a shudder run from deep inside him and he howled with pain as Jackdaw punched forward, knocking Vellern from his feet.
The Wither Queen and her rats pounced, a swirling mass that swarmed over the supine figure.
Venn’s every sense was spinning and he was struggling to move as he saw the rats tearing at Vellern’s white speckled tunic, trying to rend the flesh beneath. The Wither Queen had greater success, stabbing one stiletto into Vellern’s shoulder and pinning him to the ground.
Venn felt a burning sensation on his fingers as though they were aflame. When he looked down he saw his fingers were blackened trying to control a crackling ball of energy. In his mind Jackdaw gibbered with drunken delight.
‘Yield to me,’ the Wither Queen screeched triumphantly, ‘yield and submit - accept me as your God, or you die now.’
Venn saw the horror in Vellern’s eyes. The God looked past the Wither Queen and directly at him, fearing the surging ball of magic in his hand. Venn raised his hand and his intent was obvious. The rats continued to attack and now the God could feel them, writhing under their assault as he lay there with one shoulder pinned to the ground. With a gesture the Wither Queen halted the rats and underlined her demand by putting the other stiletto to Vellern’s throat.
‘I yield,’ the God cried at last. ‘In your service I will live.’
The last words were said in a resigned pant, but the Wither Queen was not yet satisfied. The glee plain on her face, she slammed her free hand into Vellern’s chest and drove her broken fingernails through the flesh. Vellern howled, but the Wither Queen ignored him and pushed down to where a mortal’s heart would be.
The Goddess found what she was looking for and wrenched her hand out again, this time closed around something. She held her prize up and laughed, the noise like a person choking their last few breaths. She raised her hand to her mouth and opened it, and Venn caught a glimpse of a golden wisp of light before it was devoured.
The Wither Queen licked the dripping ichor from her palm and crouched to allow the rats their share. At last she was satisfied. and looked down at Vellern. She placed her hand on the injured God’s chest and he vanished, leaving only an indentation in the earth and a few last spots of divine blood that the rats fought to lap up.
‘Tell your master,’ she croaked, looking up at Venn with the smile of a sated glutton, ‘I agree to his bargain.’
CHAPTER 23
The sweet scent of azaleas drifted in the breeze as Major Amber eased his leg up onto a stool and hooked an arm over the rail of the balcony so he could better look down at the tables below. It was early evening, but the terrace was full, every chair in use. He took another sip of wine before catching the eye of a woman with a yellow sash tied across her solid body. Amber raised his goblet and she nodded, moving swiftly to fetch him more wine.
This tavern dominated the northern edge of the Stepped Gardens, the three-tiered heart of Byora’s Breakale district. The tables below, which had long since spilled over onto the hedge-bordered grass of the middle tier, catered for a general clientele, but the upper room was for more exclusive guests.
This early in the evening his only companions in the room were a trio of Litse, two merchants, and the wife of the elder. All three were typical of their tribe: fine-boned and very pale-skinned, and Amber guessed them to be as wealthy as anyone in Breakale; no doubt voluminous sleeves and oversized collars were the height of fashion among the people of Byora, no matter how ridiculous they looked.
The younger, a man of some twenty summers, couldn’t hide his distaste at sharing a room with a Menin soldier, but Amber was determined to enjoy himself. Though his injuries had healed, he still felt fragile, and the last thing he wanted was start a barroom brawl, no matter he’d easily win.
Relief came in the form of Nai, former manservant of the necromancer Isherin Purn - and staunch opponent of footwear, however fashionable. The mage padded up to Amber’s table and sat without invitation. He had a preoccupied expression on his face, and if he even noticed the outrage from the Litse, he didn’t show it.
‘At least you’ve visited a tailor,’ Amber commented, looking Nai up and down. He lingered on the mage’s bare, odd-sized feet. ‘Did the cobbler laugh at you though?’
Nai’s expression soured further. ‘If you called me here to mock me, I’ll be leaving.’
‘It wasn’t the only reason,’ Amber protested, ‘just my preferred one.’
The woman in the yellow sash arrived before he could say anything more, and deposited a fresh carafe of wine and a second goblet before sweeping up the silver level Amber had left for her. Once she’d gone Amber poured Nai some wine and gestured at the bowls on the table. The mage selected a small stuffed pepper and sat back, his eyes fixed on Amber while he sucked out the filling. Amber grinned, his slightly malicious smile faltering slightly as the fiery spices appeared to have no effect on the mage.
‘I hear you’ve been busy,’ he said at last. ‘Running all over the city.’
Nai reached for another pepper. ‘I’m only doing what you ordered me to.’
‘And do you have anything to report?’
‘Nothing you couldn’t have found out yourself.’
Amber shifted forward in his seat. ‘Don’t get petulant. You’re in the Menin Army now, and there’s no place for it here.’
‘Funny sort of army,’ Nai retorted. He knocked back his wine in one gulp and eyed Amber suspiciously as he poured himself another. ‘For one thing, loads of soldiers marched away a while back and left us here.’
‘The term “army” encompasses many meanings,’ Amber said, a warning tone to his voice. ‘Perhaps you’d be good enough to tell me what you’ve learned?’
Nai grunted and began, ‘Not all that much, except Sergeant Kayel has good taste in whores and is paying a lot of attention to the various Walls of Intercession cropping up all over the city.’
‘Is that what they’re calling those walls covered in prayers to the child?’
‘Not just walls either, but that’s what they’re calling them, so the difference probably doesn’t mean much. The wall at the Ruby Tower compound’s as much a cenotaph to those who died in the assault, for example. Your friend the sergeant is showing his face at each one, turning up as soon as he hears of it ... Doesn’t do anything once he gets there, mind, unless those sitting in vigil speak to him, and few enough dare. Otherwise, he just stands for half an hour, looks at the faces and leaves.’
‘Hmm. Just telling the people of the city he’s watching over them,’ Amber concluded. ‘He does nothing else all day?’
The mage shrugged carelessly. ‘Not much. He’s often in Hale overseeing the resettlement, of course, but you know that alread
y. It’s hard to follow him there, but even so, I’m certain he’s doing nothing more than watching and giving orders. There haven’t been any clerics openly resisting the reallocation of temple land, so he’s had no excuse to arrest any, and he shows no great zeal for that to change. The leader of the beggars spends much of the day meeting with agents, but he’s always surrounded by his faithful flock so I can’t get close enough to hear what’s going on. All I know is his name, Luerce; he’s a local, but he looks to be in charge of sending the missionaries out. Kayel may give him his orders, of course, but not when I’ve been watching.’
‘So it’s really just these Walls of Intercession, drawing worship away from the Gods?’
Nai scoffed at the suggestion. ‘Before you start throwing charges of impiety around, take a look at yourselves first!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That damned Victory Memorial right inside the Carter’s Gate!’ Nai exclaimed. ‘Skulls and icons glorifying our lord - right where everyone can hardly fail to see it! It’s looking more like a shrine than any rag-strewn wall.’
‘I don’t remember your orders including the instruction to think about anything,’ Amber said quietly.
Nai slammed a palm on the table. ‘If that’s the case, get yourself some pet adept of Larat to spy for you instead!’
Amber sighed. On the other side of the room the three Litse sat bolt upright with alarm, like deer ready to flee. ‘I can’t trust any of them,’ he said in a low voice, ‘you know I can’t.’
‘Then don’t forget I’m no damn soldier,’ Nai hissed. ‘I’m not even Menin, and my loyalty isn’t blind. Your coin might look like army wages, but don’t think for a moment I can’t manage without you.’
Amber paused. ‘I’d never thought of it like that. How did you earn your keep, back in Scree?’
Nai gave him a cold smile. ‘Do you really want an answer? You really want to ask how my master came on his wealth? There are more than enough ways for a mage to easily earn an honest living, but as you can probably imagine Isherin Purn didn’t believe in any of them.’
‘You’re right,’ Amber agreed, ‘I really don’t want to know. As for impiety, no, I don’t care about that. I’m trying to work out what Sergeant Kayel and his friends are up to in Byora - whether all these prayers for intercession and missionaries to other cities are the scheme or the smokescreen.’
‘It would be a complicated smokescreen,’ Nai pointed out. ‘Their resources are limited, their numbers few. The missionaries are all, from what I can see, locals being recruited to the cause - the mad and the sick, beggars who’ve lost all hope and are desperate for salvation. What’s telling is that the Harlequins are in on it now.’
‘What do you mean?’
Nai grabbed a heel of bread and jammed it in the side of his mouth, talking as he chewed. ‘Aha, some real news to justify this sinner’s wages. There’s a Harlequin in the city. It was speaking in Burn the other day.’
‘What’s new about that?’
The necromancer grinned. ‘It wasn’t the usual stories the Harlequin was telling - some, but not all. It was mostly speaking of a child, one that would set us back on the path of the righteous. Damn storyteller did all but denounce every cult in the Land as self-serving criminals, leading us away from the embrace of the Gods.’
Amber gaped. ‘A child? They’re in league with the Harlequins? But, that’s . . .’ His voice tailed off and he sat back in his chair.
‘Surprising, aye,’ Nai said. ‘Means you’ve got to take them more seriously now. The Harlequins have never sided with anyone before, but all this fits together so neatly there’s got to be a plan there somewhere.’
‘But what’s the plan?’ Amber asked helplessly. ‘What am I missing?’
‘That I don’t know,’ Nai said as he tipped his chair back to balance it on its rear legs. It creaked and wobbled alarmingly. ‘But this plan’s not secret now, parts of it at least. Getting the Harlequins on your side will make every power-broker in the Land sit up and take notice, them and the preaching missionaries. That means they’re confident, either because they’re strong enough to survive on their own, or because what they’re up to doesn’t threaten anyone nearby.’
‘They’re not strong, even with the Jesters. The tribes that worship them aren’t an army and they aren’t here. They’re just a few Raylin, plus a bodyguard.’
‘But we’re the only ones who can hurt them,’ Nai said with a pointed look. ‘What if they don’t fear us - their Walls of Intercession are more than a shade akin to the memorials Lord Styrax has raised after every battle he’s won. If there is a purpose behind them, maybe it’s the same purpose.’
Amber leaned forward over the table and said in a hushed voice, ‘You think Lord Styrax is in league with the shadow?’
‘I’m not someone he confides in,’ Nai replied. ‘I don’t know if you are or not - I doubt even you really know - but the Lady of Luck’s dead and I don’t believe in coincidences.’
Amber looked bleak. ‘I don’t know all his secrets, but if you think Lord Styrax follows the order of any man, let alone some shadow, you’re the fool.’
‘So go and ask.’
‘Eh?’
‘That scarred bastard, Sergeant Kayel,’ Nai said brightly. ‘You think he’s one of Azaer’s disciples, and my money’s on you being right. Now I don’t know much about Azaer, but what I do know leads me to believe it isn’t one to advertise. To those in the know, all this preaching’s a lot of noise coming from a corner that’s normally quiet. They won’t believe all this has gone unnoticed by the man who’s just conquered this city, and still they don’t hide - so go and ask Kayel. No one draws attention to themselves while under Kastan Styrax’s thumb unless they’ve got nothing to hide.’
Amber nodded slowly. ‘Or they’ve got something to offer. You could be right there.’ He paused. ‘What’s your part in all this?’
Nai looked startled at the change of focus, immediately wary. ‘What do you mean?’
Amber was about to leap on the shift in the mage’s demeanour when he caught himself. He’s not just a mage, he told himself, he’s a necromancer; as a breed they don’t like scrutiny, and they don’t like questions, so this doesn’t tell me anything.
He changed tack slightly. ‘You heard me. What part are you playing in all this? You’ve sat in more than one camp, but exactly how many? One whole lot o’ things bugged me about Scree, and one of them was Zhia Vukotic not once showing any sign of sensing that abbot using the Crystal Skull they were all chasing.’
Nai’s brow crinkled in confusion. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Remember when we walked out into the Library of the Seasons, when it was a dead area for magic?’ Amber reminded him. ‘The change was clear as day on your face. There was no reason for Zhia to hide it if, during the course of a day, she’d sensed someone using a Crystal Skull, yet long before that Purn had detected it and contacted us. Purn’s house might have been closer than Zhia’s but she’s by far the stronger mage and she never seemed to notice.’
‘Zhia Vukotic is a politician,’ Nai argued, ‘and as gifted at it as her brother is with a sword. If she doesn’t want to give something away, she doesn’t.’
‘That’s crap - if she wants to hide something, she does, but that’s not the same as never giving nothing away - so why should she bother? She knew why I was in the city because Mikiss told her. And how she was around that lovesick boy from Narkang, that wasn’t an act either. So if she wasn’t hiding everything all the time, why would she have chosen something that didn’t matter? You better believe I was paying attention, and thinking of the debriefing I’d have to give if I survived.’
Amber took a deep breath. The flicker of suspicion at the back of his mind was growing with every moment. ‘If Zhia went looking for it, then sure, she’d find it - but why bother?’
Nai inclined his head to agree, but he didn’t speak, which only added to Amber’s certainty.
He co
ntinued, ‘And on the paranoia stakes, what sort of man could compete with one of the greatest heretics in history? A necromancer, maybe - but if Zhia Vukotic didn’t bother searching for such a thing, why would Isherin Purn?’
He rose suddenly from his seat, startling Nai and causing the mage to nearly fall backwards. ‘You fucking rat-bastard necromancer!’ Amber shouted, grabbing at Nai’s arm.
The mage tipped himself back out of his chair and rolled onto his feet out of the major’s reach.
‘What are you doing?’ Nai yelled, almost colliding with one of the Litse merchants as he scrambled back. The three stared in horror as the big Menin lurched forward, still unsteady after his injuries but no less brutal-looking for all that. The conversation had been conducted in the Menin dialect and they had no idea what was going on.
‘I’ll fucking gut you in a moment,’ Amber roared, drawing a scimitar. ‘Bloody Purn didn’t sense that Skull; he was taking orders from Azaer!’
