The Red Winter

by Henry H. Neff

  “Just one shape,” said Lupo. “There’s human in us, you know. Masquing isn’t like hydeshifting. We’re not borrowing another creature’s shape but putting on our other face. It’s like turning your clothes inside out.”

  “Would you show me?”

  The guards stopped as Lupo paused and furrowed his brow. With a shudder, his face suddenly rippled and he changed into a skinny boy of ten or eleven with reddish brown hair, a weak chin, and a forehead spotted with pimples. One of the guards muttered something to another in Etruscan. Lupo whirled on him.

  “I’m not done growing!”

  The boy transformed back into a vye, but not before Max saw his face flush red.

  “Do you know Eloise?” asked Max, changing the subject as they continued.

  “Of course. She’s in the class ahead of me. Eloise is tops.”

  “Tops?”

  “Tops in everything,” said Lupo. “Masquing, fencing, elixae. You name it. If she’d been born male, she might have been Archon someday. See that statue? That’s Tiberius—he’s the Archon who tamed the first wyverns.”

  Lupo pointed up to an alcove where a black marble statue glared down at them.

  “Very nice,” said Max. “But is Archon a name or a title?”

  “The master of Arcanum is always called Archon,” said Lupo. “Even masters from the other schools have to call him that, though they don’t like it much.”

  “How many schools are there?”

  Before Lupo could answer, a guard interjected in a harsh flurry of Etruscan. Max’s eager tour guide scowled.

  “He says to watch my tongue,” huffed Lupo. “That information is for Archon to share. I’m to remember that you’re the enemy.”

  Max glanced at the guard who had spoken. The vye returned his gaze with a look of cold, unblinking suspicion.

  “But Eloise,” said Max, turning back to Lupo. “She can never be Archon? Even if she’s ‘tops’?”

  Lupo laughed. “Of course she can’t! Whoever heard of a female Archon? If females could be Archon, the Lady Nico might succeed her father—not Fenwulf.”

  “Who’s Fenwulf?”

  “He’s the master of … one of the other schools. Everyone thinks he’ll be next. He’s not a fighter like our current Archon, but he’s a brilliant elixist. He re-created the Lupercan Draught.”

  Again a guard snarled and Lupo ceased, albeit with a sulky glance. He stopped to direct Max’s attention over a stone balcony, which looked down upon a paved avenue that wound along the river. The avenue was teeming with Raszna carrying picks and other mining tools.

  “Shift change,” explained Lupo. “My father’s probably down there. He’s been working like crazy since a gildhünd sniffed ormeisen off one of the new tunnels. He says the scent’s centuries old and the ore’s probably worthless, but you can’t let something like that go.”

  Max was puzzled. “What’s a gildhünd?”

  Lupo squinted, scanning the miners until he spied in their midst a dozen lean hounds with pale, silvery coats. “There’s a few. They’re special dogs that are bred to sniff out veins of precious metal. If ore’s close by, they’ll find it. They give off different yips to let you know what they’ve found. They’ve even got a yip for ormeisen.”

  “What is ormeisen?” asked Max. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  The vye looked very pleased to know something his famous guest did not. “Dragon iron, of course. I thought everyone knew that.”

  Max let the comment slide. “What’s so special about it?”

  “It can kill spirits dead. Even the big ones other metals can’t hurt.”

  “That sounds like Zenuvian iron,” said Max, recalling the preposterously expensive substance he had acquired by bartering his torque with Madam Petra.

  “Why do you call it that?” asked Lupo earnestly.

  “Because it’s mined in Zenuvia.”

  The vye laughed and promptly covered his mouth. “I’m sorry, but that’s just an awfully stupid name. I mean, ormeisen isn’t just found in Zenuvia.”

  “Okay,” said Max, smiling tightly. “Why do you call it dragon iron?”

  The vye offered a pitying look. He spoke slowly, as though to ensure maximum comprehension. “Because you only find it where a dragon was born.”

  Max suppressed an urge to flick his guide’s nose and focused instead on this interesting tidbit. If Lupo was right and dragon iron lost potency over time, then the ore found in Zenuvia must have been located near a recent hatching. To Max’s knowledge, the only true dragon that had been seen in the last millennium was curled about Mina’s bedchamber. Was Ember the source of Zenuvian iron?

  “Well, I see I’ve startled and amazed you,” said Lupo happily. With an impatient growl, the guard captain plucked him up by his ruff. Dangling the young vye like a misbehaving kitten, the guard invited Max to continue on their way.

  As they walked, Lupo went limp as a noodle and vowed savage retaliation when he “hit his growth spurt.” Neither approach made much of an impression upon the stony captain.

  “That’s the Hydeshifting wing,” murmured Lupo glumly, gesturing to an archway whose stonework was carved into the likeness of various beasts and birds. Apparently a class was letting out, for a score of young vyes in orange robes spilled into the hallway beyond the arch. Several females caught sight of Lupo and giggled.

  “Put me down!” he hissed to the guard captain. “Please!”

  The captain relented and Lupo quickly smoothed his ruff and robes. He glanced sidelong at Max. “I’m sorry if I was rude. I don’t mean to be. My mother says I can get too ‘familiar.’ Whatever that means.”

  “It’s okay,” said Max. “But maybe we should get to Amber Hall.”

  “Right,” said Lupo. “Would you mind if I just did one thing?”

  “Of course not.”

  The young vye turned to the watching girls. “Hound of Rowan!” he called, pointing vigorously at Max. “The other pages were too scared.”

  Taking Max’s elbow, Lupo strode boldly ahead. He might have been leading a dangerous criminal to his cell. Max sighed.

  Indeed, Baron Lynch was the first person he saw as they entered Amber Hall. He was standing with Lucia and Sarah before a vast mural that seemed to tell the story of the Raszna’s journey underground and the founding of Arcanum. Connor was pointing down to a section of floor beneath the mural that had been roped off, as though it was hallowed ground. Max’s eyes drifted up to the mural and surrounding walls, for the entire room looked as though it had been thickly glazed with amber. Its surfaces were as smooth as glass and gleamed in sumptuous shades of honey and gold, pale yellow, and sienna. Its colors were alive, dancing and shifting by the light of a single, massive brazier at the hall’s far end. Next to the brazier, a somber vye in black robes stood upon a dais next to a tall oil jug called a lekythos.

  Scathach and her hostages sat at a long table playing a game that resembled chess but whose board had several tiers. Eloise was staring fixedly at the pieces on the lowest level, her tongue caught between her teeth as she rolled a captured bishop between her hands. Lady Nico and Lady Isu rose as Max and his escort marched toward them. Scathach, who had been trying to distract Eloise, pushed back from the table and hefted her spear. Her eyes fell upon the armed guards and her grin faded to a tight, hard line.

  “I’ve brought him back,” announced Lupo, stopping before them. “You can release the Lady—”

  “Quiet,” Scathach ordered. She looked keenly at Max. “Who was my youngest shield maiden?” she asked him.

  “Ula.”

  “Who fashioned the brooch at your neck?”

  “My father.”

  She nodded. “Are you wearing your favorite shirt?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “Good.” With a fluid movement, she drew her poignard and stabbed his chest.

  Eloise gasped, Lupo fainted, but Max merely braced himself. He felt a jolt of pain as the blade’s lethal point was turned a
side by the nanomail corselet he wore beneath his outer clothes.

  “Well,” said Scathach, examining the poignard’s tip. “It seems you really are my Max. A smee can’t replicate that—even if it has your memories.”

  Eloise clapped with delight and turned to Lady Nico. “Did you see that, maman?”

  “Indeed,” replied Lady Nico, taking her daughter’s hand. “We have had a clever keeper. Now that her Max has returned, will she permit us to go free?”

  “With pleasure,” said Scathach, setting down her spear. “You’ve been very gracious hostages.” She made a small bow to Eloise. “Thank you for teaching me arcadia. How close were you to taking both my towers?”

  “Four moves,” answered Eloise gravely. “Maybe three.”

  “We’ll have to play again sometime.”

  Eloise said she would be very happy to and stared at Scathach with something approaching reverence. Twice her mother had to tell her to get her woozy schoolmate a glass of water. Once revived, Lupo was plucked up by the guards, who carried him and his water glass out of the hall. Lady Nico turned to Max.

  “How was your meeting with Archon?”

  “I’m sure he’ll tell you the details,” he replied, scratching Nox’s chin as the lymrill sidled up to him.

  Connor, Sarah, and Lucia came over to join them, also eager for news of Max’s meeting. Max turned to Lady Nico.

  “Is there someplace we can bathe and change?” he asked. “Archon has asked us to attend tonight’s gathering. After horses and wyverns, I could use a change of clothes.”

  “Of course,” said Lady Nico. “I keep an apartment here and you’re welcome to use it. We’ll have your clothes and packs brought to the room. Eloise can get you situated while I see Lady Isu back to my father’s quarters.”

  Lady Nico’s rooms were not far from Amber Hall, just a brief walk down several corridors and up a short flight of stairs to a pair of large double doors. Pressing her small hand against a stone, Eloise growled a harsh, guttural command that unlocked the doors. Max realized he had yet to see Eloise or her mother in their natural guise. It was easy to forget the two were vyes.

  Inviting them in, Eloise led them through the apartment, through a bedroom, and into a bathroom that had a large tub and a pair of marble sinks beneath a polished mirror. Max saw that the sinks and tub had copper faucets as if …

  “Does hot water come out of those?” asked Lucia eagerly.

  “Oui,” said Eloise, smiling as she demonstrated. The two spoke in rapid French. Max was able to make out something to do with the waterfalls and hot springs.

  “The girls clean up first!” Lucia declared, snatching up a towel and ushering Max and Connor out of the bathroom. Eloise accompanied them into the sitting area, said a few words to Connor, and bowed as she excused herself.

  “We’re to make ourselves at home,” said Connor, setting a copper kettle to boil in a fireplace. From the bathroom, Max could hear Lucia exclaiming with delight as steam trickled out from beneath the door. Failing to wake Kettlemouth from a nap within his cage, Nox came to settle on Max’s lap. Reaching in a pocket, Max found a remaining ingot and let her pluck it from his fingers.

  “First chance I’ve gotten to see you alone,” reflected Connor, opening a canister of tea leaves. “What do you think of Arcanum?”

  “I’m still in shock,” Max confessed. “About it. About you. What have you been doing, Connor? Archon said you’re to be honored at tonight’s gathering. What’s that all about? Why did Archon call you ‘ruva’ when we were introduced to him?”

  “It means ‘brother,’ ” Connor explained. “I’m going to be made an honorary member of the Raszna.”

  Max stared at him. “How did that happen?”

  “It’s been moving in that direction for a while,” Connor answered. “When Lady Nico and I became close, I eventually met other Raszna and started spending more time with them. Some of it was business—cooperating on trade, planning initiatives against Prusias—but most of it was social. I liked them and they liked me. They made me feel at home. When they asked if I wanted to join the tribe, I said yes and have been earning my stripes, so to speak.”

  “Was killing Lord Grael a requirement?”

  Connor nodded, nosing about a few tins and finding one with several cookies. He tossed one to Max. “Not him specifically, but a ‘great enemy’ of the vyes. Grael did plenty to them in Malakos. No one else at the médim would have qualified, except you.”

  “Am I really a great enemy?”

  “To some vyes, you’re the enemy,” laughed Connor. “I’m not sure if you know anything about Magyarün, but you’re practically their bogeyman. The Raszna have heard all the stories.”

  “Archon told me about Nolan,” said Max, watching Connor’s face carefully. He wanted to see if Connor had known, if his friend had been sitting on this shocking piece of news. Connor finished his cookie and wiped the crumbs from his cloak.

  “I’m glad,” he said. “I wish I could have told you myself, but Även’s a big secret. Only Archon’s allowed to share something like that with an outsider. I only know because I’d heard Lady Nico tell Eloise about Nolan when he died. When they realized I knew, they swore me to secrecy.”

  “Is Archon trustworthy?” asked Max. “I’m not asking as a representative of Rowan. I’m asking as a friend. Archon seems open to the idea of a Rowan-Raszna alliance, but if he was lying, this gathering could be dangerous for us.”

  “Archon is trustworthy,” Connor assured him. “He’s tough and has a short temper, but he wouldn’t go back on his word. But there are others you’ll want to be wary of. Did Archon mention the Apocrypha?”

  “He did.”

  “Then you know there are some who see you as the moschiach. And there are others who find that idea crazy and would rather see you dead.”

  “Where does Fenwulf fall?” asked Max.

  Connor wrinkled his nose. “How’d you hear about Fenwulf?”

  “Lupo mentioned him,” said Max. “He said he’s likely to be the next Archon.”

  “Aye,” said Connor, sitting down and scratching Nox’s ears. “That’s true. I haven’t interacted much with Fenwulf since he’s normally at Silverfalls, which is another school a long ways east of here. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but the Harinean revolts are partially about Silverfalls.”

  “How so?”

  “Yuga,” said Connor. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about her, but she’s a demon the size of a freaking typhoon. She’s been devouring the eastern duchies and is getting close to where Silverfalls is hidden. It doesn’t matter that the school’s hidden in the mountains. If Yuga senses life nearby, she can get to it—even if it’s buried deep. Lots of goblin tribes have found out the hard way. Many braymas have lost their lands to Yuga. They’re furious Prusias brought her into this world and don’t think he’d have done it if he didn’t have some way of controlling her. They think he’s happy to let her gobble up his rivals while he pretends she’s beyond his control. Prusias doesn’t know much about the Raszna, but we’ve sent messages through these braymas and others trying to get him to do something about Yuga. Since he doesn’t bother to respond, we’re hoping the Harinean revolts will twist his arm a bit. To get Prusias’s attention you have to show you can hurt him.”

  Max recalled his own narrow escape from the living, feasting storm. “Maybe you’re right, but I’ve seen Yuga up close. I’m not certain anyone can control her.”

  “Well, Archon and Fenwulf mean to make Prusias try,” said Connor. “But when it comes to Fenwulf and the Apocrypha, I don’t think he’s a believer. He wants the Galian memorial removed from Amber Hall. Thinks it causes some people to deify her.”

  “What memorial?”

  “I was showing it to Lucia and Sarah when you came in,” said Connor. “Part of the floor’s roped off where a prophet was stoned to death. There are bloodstains and gouges that have never been cleaned. It’s become a holy place for those who be
lieve in the Apocrypha. Fenwulf and some others want it removed.”

  “Will he be here tonight?”

  “Oh yes,” said Connor. “Silverfalls has been evacuated. Its people have crowded in here. Fenwulf’s been at Arcanum for a few months and I should be grateful. I can’t really become a proper member of the Raszna without him.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Max.

  But Connor only flashed an enigmatic grin as a knock sounded at the door. He set down his kettle to answer it. Several of Lady Nico’s guards entered, bringing their packs and belongings from the sledges. Among the items, Max saw Sarah’s naginata and searched in vain for the gae bolga. He demanded to know why it hadn’t been returned and was told to take it up with Archon. When the vyes had left, Max located his traveling coat only to find his spypaper was also missing.

  “What are you looking for?” asked Connor, sipping his tea.

  “A piece of old parchment.”

  “Florentine spypaper,” said Connor knowingly. “The Raszna use it, too. Handy stuff.”

  “Well, I want mine,” Max snapped. “David needs updates or he’ll think we’re in danger.”

  “You are in danger,” Connor pointed out. “Not danger that you can’t handle or I wouldn’t have allowed them to bring you here. How is David?”

  “Busy and probably worried.”

  “Is he gonna send Cooper after you?”

  “Cooper’s got his own assignment.”

  “In the thick of things, I’d expect. Can’t believe he married Miss Boon! When Lucia told me, I nearly fell off my chair. Didn’t think he was the marrying type. Her neither, come to think of it.”

  “People change,” said Max, eager to shift the conversation back to the Raszna while he had Connor alone. “How many Raszna are there?”

  “More than you might guess,” said Connor. “There’s five schools. Arcanum and Silverfalls are the biggest, but there are two more in Blys and one in what used to be Brazil.”

  “How many Raszna are in Blys?” asked Max. Raszna that lived overseas were too far to be helpful in a campaign against Prusias.

  “A few hundred thousand?” said Connor. “Maybe half are military age.”