by K. T. Davies
“No rush. Senator. It’s thirsty work breaking into a prison. I say prison. You had all the comforts of home.”
He snorted. “Your home, maybe. No offense.”
An image of Hurgarunya the White Keep, blazed in my mind and made my heart ache for that place and the life I’d had there. “None taken.” He deigned to drink his wine when the innkeeper returned with a fat-bellied bottle. I refilled for both of us.
“All patricians are allowed a certain level of privilege, as befits our status. You wouldn’t stable a horse in an urux pen, would you?”
“No, indeed.”
He knocked the wine back, grimaced, and wiped his face with his tentacle. “Actually, I lie. That little bedwarmer was a bit special. Commander Rubus did well finding her for me.” He leaned across the table. “The old dog knows I like blondes.” A slow smile spread across his face. “This friend of yours, who was he?”
“A stupid hero. Well, he was wise, but in a sanctimonious way. And he could be fucking naïve at times... most of the time.”
“No, I mean, what did he do? Was he a senator, a general?
“He was a sor— he was a priest.”
“Oh.” He looked disappointed. “A bishop, an Eklesiasti perhaps?”
“No, just an ordinary priest.”
It was full dark by the time I got him back to the Dawn’s sepulchral lair, which was located in the grounds of the Domina’s mansion. After several bottles of awful wine Tobias was cupshot but despite my best efforts, I remained sober. It was nothing to do with being warspawn or any of that bullshit. The amount of wine we’d necked was strong enough to slay a dragon. I was sober because burning anger consumed me. I was angry that the body of my friend was occupied by a stuck up, selfish cunt and that, once again, it was my fault. If I hadn’t changed the past, this sloppy puke I was half carrying wouldn’t be here now, wearing Tobias’s skin.
“You know, you’re not so bad. You know?” he slurred. “You’re all right, Breed. You know that? You’re gutterscum, but I think you’re all right…”
“I think you’re a prick.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Best keep it down now, eh?”
He slapped his tentacle over his mouth, and loudly ‘shushed’ himself before his tenuous grip on consciousness failed and he passed out. Relieved, I threw him over my shoulder and slid the bolt on the gate. Before entering, I checked to see if we were being followed, because I felt sure someone was watching. If there was anyone out there, they were better at hiding than I was at spotting them.
The tombs of the Domina’s illustrious ancestors stood solemnly reproachful either side of a shady path that was lined by cherry trees. It was quiet, save for the hiss of cockroaches and the yowls of cats fighting somewhere in the undergrowth. Muddy heel scuffs on the tessellated path, and the cloying scent of perfume and body odor told me that the woeful cult had recently passed this way. I kept an eye out for the muscle and was rewarded for my vigilance when I spied one of them crouching in the undergrowth.
I didn’t bother to draw my sword. After accepting that the prick I was carrying wasn’t my Tobias, I had attained a state of grace; my bag of fucks was now almost entirely empty, save for matters concerning vengeance. “No need to hide, fustilugs. I can smell you,” I said. There was a pause before I heard the sound of a blade locking against the throat of a sheath. Chella stepped from the bushes, her feral eyes near luminous when caught in the cloud-scattered moonlight.
“You’re lucky it’s me on watch after what you did.”
“After what I was forced to do, remember? How is your lover, he eating solid food yet?”
She narrowed her eyes. “He’s fine. Mad as hell. He said he’s going to kill you.”
“He’ll have to wait his turn. Now let’s go, because I think this tosser’s going to puke.”
25
“Absolutely not,” Effie’s breath tumbled the hot curls of chai steam. She took another sip and shook her head again.
“Are you sure?” Swann twirled. Tiny silver bells on the hem of his coat chimed as he came to a stop.
“Quite sure. It doesn’t go with the trousers—and put a shirt on, you’re turning blue, you skinny fool.”
It was cold in their house by the river. A thin sheen of ice etched ghost leaves on the windows and sharpened the air. The small lizards were dozing in their nests in the kitchen. Steam rose from a pan of stew bubbling on the stove that sat in the corner, glowing like a giant, one-eyed toad. I coughed to remind my hosts that I was there. It was a polite cough because I was on the beg.
They looked at me. “I’m a touch pressed for time…”
“Sorry, sorry, jimma.” The talismancer offered me his twin-bowled pel pipe. I declined. It was loaded for a human constitution, and even though he had a prodigious habit, it wouldn’t have had much effect on me save to leave a bad taste in my mouth. He shrugged, held it between his lips while he took off the coat and picked another from the pile on the floor. According to his theatrical taste, this one had yellow stripes, and the hem was decorated with embroidered, blue chrysanthemums. Cobb would have approved. He blinked. “What were we talking about?”
“Visiting my family. Tomorrow,” said Effie pointedly.
Swann shrugged and twirled again. The dozen or so necklaces he was wearing jangled. For a body quite so full of pel he was remarkably steady on his feet. The coat flared around him like flower petals. He giggled like a kinch at the sight of it and only stopped when he noticed his partner was giving him the blade of her eye. “Why are we doing that again? Not that visiting your family isn’t lovely in and of itself.”
“The public holiday? In celebration of the dedication of the Empirifex’s new ziggurat, you remember? No one’s allowed to work on pain of pain.” She sipped her chai, leaned against a scorched table.
He tapped out the pipe on the palm of his hand. The alchemical residue that blackened the tips of his fingers were so ingrained that they didn’t mark the delicate fabric of his coat. “This is the one, love, what do you think?”
“It’s beautiful, brings out the colors of your eyes. Now give it here, I’ll hang it with your breeches.”
Dutifully, he complied and gave her the coat. In return, she gave him a kiss before trotting off upstairs. Swann scratched his nethers, grinned dreamily, and stretched. I coughed again.
“Oh, aye, Chas.” He again offered me the pipe. I again declined. “What was it you wanted?”
“I was a sorcerer.” I began for the third time. “But I’ve lost the ability to control my power or cast spells safely.” I waited for him to catch up, but I wasn’t holding my breath as he was humming to himself while picking up and then discarding shirts. I waited until he found one that he liked and put it on. “I would like you to help me regain my powers and some control.”
Enlightenment dawned in his eyes. “Right…” He glazed over for a moment before his attention returned to the room. “It can’t be done, jimma.”
“You sure?”
He ran his fingers through his tousled mane. “In my experience sorcerers lose control when they’ve pushed the Paradox beyond their limits. Don’t give me that look, jimma. It’s just my experience. Anyway, there’s nothing I can do to help you with that. Nice trick by the way. Not many of the Third Estate can command the elements.”
“What can I say. I’m special.” I took out Vulsone’s seal ring that I’d stolen before handing him over to the Third Dawn and a bag of assorted coin I’d acquired on my travels. He came over, poked open the pouch and picked up the ring. I’d prized the seal out just in case I needed it, but the shank was still a fair old lump of gold. For a moment, he looked tempted. But then, perhaps after he’d made whatever calculations ‘mancers like him made, the avaricious light faded from his eyes.
He made a little tune of his breath as he exhaled. “Listen, Chas. There might be a way to realign your powers, but I’m not the person for the job. I’m sorry, but I’ve flown too close to the fire myse
lf, if you get my meaning?”
“The Paradox?”
He grinned and drew a small pouch of powdered pel from his breeches and reloaded his pipe. “What else?”
The light clop of hooves announced Effie’s arrival. She’d changed her outfit and was now wearing a fussy ensemble all of silk and satin. She twirled before Swann. “What do you think?”
He beamed. “Perfect, love. Just perfect.”
“Isn’t it? I was going to save it for All Gods’ Day, but if the Empirifex is going to declare himself a god, then I think it’s fine to wear it now, don’t you?”
I perked up. “Declare himself a god?” Now the plot to kill him made sense. The Empirifex had overstepped the mark, and the Corrector was going to deal with him. The Third Dawn and terts were just a convenient scapegoat. It made a cold kind of sense. “Where did you hear this?”
“The heralds. They declared it this morning. Didn’t you hear?”
“I was busy.”
“Next you’ll be telling me you didn’t know that the Flower Market has burned to the ground.” She gave a sly grin.
“No, I knew that. When’s the dedication ceremony?”
“Tomorrow. Mum says we should bring a chicken, Swann.”
“Chicken, absolutely.” He lit the pipe. “Was there anything else I could do for you, Chas?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.”
With the pipe hanging from his lips, he buttoned the shirt over his bird-thin chest. “Such a relief. I hate to turn people away, especially those who have done such a service for our friends. What do you want? A love potion, a charm against fire…?”
“Apport me into the Empirifex’s new ziggurat.”
The pipe burned like the heart of a furnace. He laughed, and puffed, and laughed some more. Not mockingly, it was hysterical, an exclamation born of shock rather than amusement. “Sweet Salvation,” he said at last. “The calculations required… the force required to punch through those wards…” He shook his head. “If I got it wrong, you’d end up nothing more than a smear of flesh and bone on a wall, or worse.”
There weren’t many horrible ways to die that I hadn’t experienced, so his warning didn’t bother me overmuch. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“I’m not, and neither is Swann.” Effie clopped between us. “You’ve helped the terts and we’re grateful, but there’s a limit to gratitude and that is death, which will be our reward if we help you.”
Swann raised his hand. “Wait. Why, Chas? Why do you want to get in?”
“I’ve…there’s a very, very bad man who…” I looked at them both. Swann was a wreck, but he was a well-loved wreck. If I told them about Ludorius and the Corrector and all the attendant bollocks, I’d be putting their lives in even more danger. Something tugged weakly at my gut strings. I think it was what was left of my conscience, and I really wished it would just fuck off and leave me alone. The less they knew, the safer they’d be, but the weaker my argument. “I just need to get in and stop something bad happening.”
Swann drew on the pipe. The bowl glowed ruby as he exhaled a tiny whip of smoke. “Effie’s right. I can’t do it.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, as you’ve both been very kind. But if it this thing happens your lives and the lives of every tert in the city, if not the Empire will be in danger.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” Effie added, but she sounded unsure.
“Then trust me and help me.”
“You can’t afford it,” Swann answered, his resolve also weakening. “I’m not being greedy, jimma, but to pull such a ’port requires some rare shit.” He gestured to the ring and the coin purse. “You can’t afford it.”
I drew my blade.
He backed away. The smell of petrichor and sulfur bloomed. “You can’t threaten me into helping you. It doesn’t work like that. If my energies aren’t aligned, I can’t work, and threats definitely un-align my energies.”
I flipped the blade, offered him the hilt. “I’m not threatening you. Take a look. It’s exceptional, one of a kind.” He waved it away.
Effie snorted. “If it’s so special, why did you let it get wet? Rust will eat it.”
“It’s fine. It just sort of gets wet. I’ve no idea why. What I can assure is that it is worth both your weight in gold.”
Swann relaxed; the stink of sorcery faded. “Even so. It’s not going to be enough, jimma. The toll on me would be high, maybe too high. I have to play it safe these days.” He gave a wry smile. I guessed that he kept the Paradox at bay by making trinkets and smoking a lot of pel.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important— to everyone, including you.” He remained unmoved. I offered the sword again. “Here, take it, just have a look at it, see what you think.”
I could see he was humoring me as he took the blade. I didn’t blame him; despite the pel he was a canny cove. But I also knew how powerful Volund’s sword was, and the moment it was in his stained hands, so did he. His eyes lit up. The pull of powerful magic was stronger than any drug to someone like him. Time passed as he turned the blade in the light and ran his fingers lovingly over the steel.
“I have never seen the like of it.” He sighed, lost to the magic of the sword that already looked different to the blade I had wielded. It was changing to suit its new master. “The Empirifex’s mage coterie will skin me for eternity if they catch me, that’s if I don’t just burn from the backbite of their wards.”
“You won’t burn,” I added brightly. “You might melt into a puddle of molten fat, or explode but I doubt you’ll burn.”
He smirked, tapped the blade. It sang. “You understand how valuable things like this are to a talismancer?”
“Yes.”
“Things like this are rare.”
“There are no things like this. Not in this world.”
He bit his lip. He was trapped on the edge of a dilemma. He wanted to say no, but made no move to returned the sword. “You know, before I met Effie, I used to roam the world hunting for things like this— and there are other things like this.” His gaze turned inwards. He smiled as old memories surfaced. “I studied every lore book I could lay my grubby little hands on; ancient texts, forgotten inscriptions. I found things that the world had forgotten.” He laughed softly at some treasured remembrance. “I was good at retrieving those things that had been lost. Really, fucking good.”
“By ‘retrieving’ you mean stealing?”
He gave a sly grin. His gaze refocused on the blade. “Stealing’s a bit strong.”
“As you can see.” I gestured to my sword. “I’m also very good at retrieving things. Maybe we could help each other.”
He carefully laid the sword on the table. I felt power gather around the talismancer. The temperature increased, it grew sticky hot in the room. He held out his hand. A purple luminescence swirled in his palm.
Cursing under her breath Effie stormed out.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart!” He turned to me. “Chas, I’ll apport you into the ziggurat in exchange for this, wonderful thing.”
“Sure.”
“…And three ‘retrievals’.”
I sighed. “Yeah, sure, what the fuck.” I was about to break into the Empirifex’s pyramid that was stuffed to the eaves with mages and clanks, in order to kill an insane Mage Lord. Chances were, I’d be dead before the suns set tomorrow eve.
I took his hand. Light coalesced into the form of a viper that wrapped around our wrists. Its arrow-shaped head drew back, its emerald eyes sparkled as it struck and sank its ghostly fangs into my wrist, I say ‘ghostly’, but the pain felt real enough. Bargain sealed, the snake vanished.
Swann smiled, slapped me on the back. “I wasn’t sure if the serpent was too much. What do you think?”
“I think you should trust your gut…So long as your gut says the snake was too much.
He laughed. “I’ll bear that in mind, partner.”
“Splendid. Now, as we’re partners there’s a
few things I could do with.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things?”
“I’ve got a list.”
I spent the night on their couch, listening to them argue while nursing a headache and a sore wrist. It could have been worse; I could have made a deal with a demon instead of a pelled-up, paradox-raddled talismancer.
Dawn broke dull and grey. The atmosphere in the house could best be described as tense. Whenever she trotted past, Effie gave me a dirty look or three, but she had the self-control to keep her tongue behind her teeth. I understood her antipathy. I’d burst into their lives uninvited and reminded her other half of those things he had once desired above all other things. I didn’t feel guilty; he was an adult and in command of what faculties he hadn’t given over to pel or the Paradox of Power. But I understood. Indeed, she was right to dislike me, for I rarely brought joy to those whose paths I crossed.
Something hit the floor upstairs and rolled. The lizards on the kitchen wall hissed and whipped into their nests. A moment later, when they deemed it safe, they slithered from their dens and began fighting and stalking bugs. Something else scraped across the floor upstairs. It might be an act, he might be about to apport me into a cliff, but it seemed like a lot of effort to go to just to slot me for the sword. And besides, I knew sorcerers. He wanted to test his skills against the Empirifex’s wards and do something more interesting than making love potions and charms against piles. Of course, whether he could do it was another matter.
“Chas?” He called down the stairs. “I’m ready.”
I headed up. I didn’t always carry Volund’s blade, but today I felt strangely naked without its perfectly balanced weight on my hip. Swann had been busy, and the room had been transformed. All furniture had been pushed back against the walls. The windows were shuttered, and the floor had been chalked with intricate, interlocking geometric designs and elemental symbols. A thick layer of incense smoke bisected the room at head height. Swann was standing before a bench. Without looking up, he beckoned for me to join him. On the workbench there was a model of a ziggurat. It looked old; the gold paint was tarnished, the plaster chipped on the corners. He removed one side of the model to reveal a network of passageways and chambers. He looked drawn, enervated by his efforts to formulate the apportation spell. His sweat was stale and clung to his shirt, and he was covered in a light dusting of chalk, which enhanced his already ghostly pallor.
