by James Stone
‘There was no honour in murdering my life, my god,’ she wept.
Magmaya ignored her and took a deep breath, coughed and read off the scroll before her.
‘Nurcia Vyce of Orianne,’ she said, and the rain filled her hair and drenched her furs, ‘you have been tried and have confessed to the murder of Albany Moore, the murder of Kaladeous Garneth, conspiring against Orianne, coercion with the Mansel, and the desecration of Rache Vorr. In sight of the nameless gods, your life shall pay the price for your crimes. Do you have anything to say?’
‘Whatever happens,’ she had said to the headsman, ‘after her last words, you are to take her head off.’ Magmaya was savouring the moment he would.
Nurcia finished her prayer and said, ‘My hearing isn’t what it used to be, my chancellor. Would you repeat the verdict?’
Magmaya sighed, her heart drumming. Just get it bloody over with, she thought and said again, ‘You have been tried and have confessed to the murder of Albany Moore, the murder of Kaladeous Garneth, conspiring against Orianne, coercion with the Mansel, and the desecration of Rache Vorr.’ Her throat was aching. ‘In sight of the nameless gods, your life shall pay the price for your crimes. Do you have anything to say?’
‘Thank you, though I must apologise for the confusion,’ Nurcia finished as the headsman crept forward. ‘I never confessed to maiming Rache, my chancellor.’
Magmaya’s eyes grew wide. Her stomach was twitching as she reached out her stiff fingers to the headsman. The officials about the ground were shuffling about, shouts of confusion echoing, but the executioner was still moving. He can’t hear her! she realised.
The headsman raised the axe into the heavens and hammered it down through Nurcia Vyce’s neck.
She could almost see a smile form on her lips when her head rolled away, and in Magmaya, a bottomless pit grew, and her vision glowed red, her head turned dizzy, and the world collapsed around her.
‘What was due has been done,’ the crowds said, confused, but Magmaya wasn’t listening. She felt her chest grope at her lungs as she strode back through the mud, away from the bloody mess that had once been Nurcia Vyce and through the light of the braziers as they finally died in the rain.
‘Siedous, I’ve made a mistake,’ she cried.
‘I know.’ He stroked his chin, and she watched the small hairs brush about his fingers, grey and tattered. ‘Most of the palace was there to see it.’
‘What do I do, then?’ Magmaya yelled.
‘There is nothing more to do, the traitor is dead,’ he said. ‘Whether she confessed to maiming your brother or not doesn’t mean she wasn’t incriminated enough. It matters not.’
She looked out the window of the boardroom and watched the snow sail through the wind. At last, she was permitted to be alone again, but her stomach was in knots, and there was a ringing in her ears that just wouldn’t cease. She couldn’t have been alone if she wanted to.
‘It does.’ Magmaya scowled. ‘I was meant to keep her alive until she confessed to it. Now she will never be remembered for what she did to Rache—she got away with it. As far as the world is concerned, the bitch is innocent. That bloody headsman!’
‘You know she is guilty, my chancellor, is that not enough?’
‘No,’ she stammered. ‘One day I will die, and with me, time will forget. Half of those I tell won’t believe me and the other half will be forgotten too. The only way to remember her treachery is to record it—or gods forbid, live forever.’ She laughed at the thought.
‘Perhaps she is better forgotten,’ Siedous suggested. ‘Is that not a great enough punishment?’
‘If she is forgotten, then surely Rache will be too…’ she murmured. ‘And with him, me, you, Albany. Gods, it feels like I’m already dead.’
‘My chancellor—’ he put his hand to her back, but she pulled herself away.
‘I don’t know what to do.’ Magmaya sighed. ‘I don’t even know how to lead—I’m going to my quarters. I need to sleep.’
It was a lie, of course. If she ever managed to get herself to sleep, it would be a miracle. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she saw was Nurcia, and she feared it would be like that for a very long while.
‘If you’d wait a minute,’ Siedous said and started over to a drawing desk. He returned a moment later, hands full, and crouched beside her on the threadbare carpet, placing a wooden board down beside him.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked with almost a laugh. ‘What’s that?’
‘Sit,’ he said, so she did, and though she couldn’t help but think of the bloodstains about the floor, they were becoming less real in her mind. It was getting easier. ‘It’s a playing board,’ he said. ‘The Kytherans left it behind for Nurcia but considering what happened…’ he trailed off.
‘And why are you showing me this now?’
Siedous produced a small velvet bag from beneath the board, unlaced it, and shook it about. A number of carved metal pieces tumbled out onto the floor, and one by one, he picked them up and began arranging them about the hexagonal squares on the board, sometimes second-guessing himself, but eventually satisfied.
‘Apparently, this game is commonplace all over the south,’ he answered after a while. ‘I can’t take you there, I’m afraid, nor can I take your brother to the Cold Seas. But I can give you this.’
‘And what’s this?’ she asked, bewildered.
‘An hour,’ he said. ‘An hour to see you laugh again, and then we can forget this ever happened. Not a damper on your pride.’
She smiled. ‘Please stop, Kharon Vorr was never one for…’
‘Emotion, I know. But I’m not Kharon Vorr,’ he shrugged.
‘A compelling argument.’ She caught herself laughing—perhaps it was enough already. ‘How do you play?’
‘I’ll show you,’ he said and plucked a piece between two fingers, moved it four hexagons forward, and three diagonally. ‘It’s simple enough to start with,’ he explained. ‘There are two different sides: the weeping veils and the laughing veils. When my weeping piece moves, it can place it up to seven places however I like.’
‘And whatever am I to do?’
‘Copy me,’ he said. ‘I’ve spent years playing on my own.’
They carried on well into the evening, and the more she played, the more she understood. Each time she took one of Siedous’ pieces, she was able to move another of hers; in time she found herself manoeuvring around his backlines and taking his weeping lord. Half of her pieces got knocked down in retaliation, but she carried on until the conversation strayed.
Siedous began telling her of the first woman he’d kissed before his father had thrown him out and he’d clawed his way to the palace. She’d been seventeen and him fifteen, and her tongue had tasted like sugar, he told her, and her neck even more so.
He told her how not long after he’d come of age, the chancellor had held a great feast and even the commoners had been invited. He told her how a nameless shadow of a man had appeared, slept with half the guests, and disappeared.
He told her there had been another great feast under Kharon to welcome the coming of the southerners all those years ago, and how between meals they had played the same game. He told her how it was that evening he’d been made a knight and how it had been the last time he’d ever drunk. He told her he’d been so happy then—happier still when a maid across the moonlit hall had told him how bold he looked in his tunic. Happier still when he’d gone home that night, tired and weary and warm.
Though after all of it was said, he’d been happiest when he’d given Magmaya her first wooden sword and watched her strike down that metal scarecrow again and again into the frozen cornfields. She caught herself laughing at that.
It was only once the stories had stopped that the game did too, and Siedous counted up his pieces, and Magmaya hers.
‘Beginner’s luck,’ he said as she stood, and began clearing the game back into the bag. ‘I bid you a good sleep, Magmaya.
’
‘Thank you,’ she nodded. ‘And you, Siedous. I’ll see you on the morrow. Maybe then we can be free of these angels, and I’ll be able to think a little clearer.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You never did tell me what the game was called—?’
‘The Lamentation of Fates,’ he said with a smile and put the board away. ‘Invented by a man who just wanted to laugh at the world. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
On her way back to her chambers, she kissed Rache and hummed him to sleep as he lay, unbeknownst to the day’s happening. But no matter what she did, no matter the game, Magmaya couldn’t forget. When she crawled back under her sheets, they were cold and wet, and in all the shadows that sprung across the walls, there was Nurcia, kneeling and denouncing her confession.
It was then she realised she’d been wrong—the Divinicus weren’t the truth; they hadn’t a clue what to do. But then again, perhaps they just didn’t care for any northern matter. How many more would insist on coming to her home and leaving her in the dark?
As if in answer, as she tossed and turned, Magmaya felt something prickle her ears and scratch at her neck. Her heart was ringing with fear as if someone had come for her, but as she dragged herself up in a cold sweat and ruffled her hand beneath her pillow, she found the culprit, sharp and icy.
Magmaya curled her fingers and tugged it out, finding herself with a tattered paper, old and torn as if it had been weathered by all of time. She unfurled it and poured herself over its contents, feeling her hands tremble against the cold.
My chancellor,
Meet me alone in the forest after dusk.
Don’t tell a soul.
Xx
Magmaya tossed it aside, but her mind insisted on racing. Who could it have been? Rallun? Siedous? But why would they need to meet her in secret? Fabius or the Divinicus? The angels were under strict supervision; Magmaya had assured they were under curfew. She could hardly fathom going out alone to face some horror of the night. In the pit of her stomach, she imagined seeing her father there, or Albany or Nurcia, growing from the rose thorns and throwing her into the pond.
But then, a moment later, Magmaya found herself out of her nightgown and sporting leathers and furs. She stole a glance out her window, and as expected, found a pair of guards striding back and forth amidst the falling snow. Beyond that, she could make out nothing, save for a few burning braziers lit in the city below, where merry men would steal themselves an ale and a sell-maiden, and travel back to the pleasure houses in the Seventh Quarter. Farther across, the mountains stood tall, and an army of trees waited, swaying softly in the cold wind.
She slunk to the corridors, tip-toeing as she closed each door with a whisper behind her before moving to the sculleries. Magmaya turned away from the rows of wine which besieged her from every direction, wrestled herself beneath columns of ribbed spoons that shimmered under the thin candlelight, and stole towards the door in the corner.
A single key hung lank from beside it, so Magmaya pulled it from its place and drove it through the keyhole. She had to remind herself that guards rarely patrolled at the back of the palace and low and behold, she found herself alone as she stepped out beneath the moonlit sky.
She found the Silver Mountainside humming above her like the goliaths of old, and she felt a shiver cross her spine before retreating to the sculleries. Magmaya ruffled through the drawers, like a bird pecking at its own feathers, until she found a large carving knife and forced it through her back pocket. The weight in her coat and the cold in her hand reassured her—enough to find the courage to carry on.
And as the chancellor did, she followed the trail into her forest as she’d done a thousand times before; trees sprouted from the ground like wraiths at her throat, their spindly fingers reaching for the moon. But the farther Magmaya found herself from the palace, the more they became one with her, and their hailing became her calling. Roses tickled her bare ankles as she walked, and the crunching snow beneath her feet began to calm her so that she loosened her grip on the knife and traced her way through the intricate dark, smiling.
But then, a voice called out from behind, and Magmaya Vorr froze.
Twelve
It wasn’t the first time she’d reached for a weapon in the forest. But it was the first time she found one.
It bit at her hands as she struck at the trees and moonbeams, drawing not a drop of blood, save for the silence of the night. And the night remained silent until footsteps echoed from behind her—a heavy crunch amid the skin of the frost.
‘Who’s there?’ Magmaya called, though her voice was faltering.
‘Put that bloody thing away,’ the voice said.
‘Kurulian.’ At last, she recognised the voice, but she found herself gripping the carving knife harder still.
‘Drop it,’ he said. ‘And I’ll do the same.’ He gestured to the blade at his hip. He was fully armoured, and despite the lack of light, Magmaya was able to make out a myriad of terrible trinkets pinned to his breastplate. ‘Drop it.’ He gave her a sideways glance.
The chancellor did as he demanded, and the carving knife fell into the snow with a light thump. And as promised, Kurulian followed suit.
‘I know I shouldn’t have had you come out here,’ he said curtly. ‘And I know it’s cold but—’
‘How did you get out? You’re under curfew,’ she cut in. ‘My heart nearly burst…’
‘No guard is as sharp as their master boasts.’
‘Then I suppose I’ll have to find new guards,’ Magmaya remarked. She paused for a moment. ‘So why are we out here?’
‘It’s quiet,’ Kurulian admitted. ‘I began strolling about the grounds earlier today. You can hear every whisper, every chime. But I presume you already know that.’
‘This isn’t your place,’ Magmaya spat, ‘your kind isn’t allowed here.’ Only I am, she reminded herself. She’d heard terrible stories of what her forest had once been a hundred years ago—a witch’s place—a cursed place. That didn’t matter to her, though.
‘My kind?’
She ignored him. ‘Why are you even armoured? I do hope you’re not going to kill me.’
‘No.’ His answer didn’t much relieve her.
‘So why are you here?’
‘You wanted to talk to the Divinicus.’
‘What?’
‘I heard you tell Lord Black. After you returned from the execution.’
‘I remember,’ she admitted. Magmaya had said it; the Tyla had been pestering her and well… Her thoughts trailed off. ‘There’s a better time for this.’
‘There’s no better time than when the moon is ripe with colours. People tend to be more honest at night.’ Kurulian gazed up. ‘Is this about your decision in the boardroom?’
Magmaya smiled and shook her head.
An animal shrieked through the night—something between the call of a bird and the low baying of a wolf. Magmaya shuddered, and even Kurulian began to look around with a sort of trepidation. He fingered the snow and found his blade, though he seemed hesitant to sheath it.
‘In truth, I did have a request of you,’ Magmaya admitted after her heart had stopped trembling. ‘I was going to ask your Lord Commander, but I think I know what his answer will be.’
‘I feel like your rejection of our alliance was enough to halt any goodwill he might have had for you,’ Kurulian said. ‘But go on.’
‘You’re not like him, though,’ she grumbled. ‘But I’m scared your price will be an extortion.’
‘There’s only one coin of worth,’ he answered plainly.
‘I’ve heard about your Blood Sovereigns,’ Magmaya said. ‘I’m not a bountiful chancellor. I have little in the way of money to offer you.’
‘Money isn’t what I want,’ Kurulian groaned.
‘Well, I’m not giving you my body.’ She covered herself.
‘I don’t want your body, either,’ he said. ‘But do go on. Soon enough, the sun will ris
e, and we’ll be two fools standing about in a field.’
‘I tell myself I don’t want it.’ She sighed. ‘But I know I do. And I’m scared that soon I’ll need it more than anything in the world.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘You have to take me south.’
‘The only coin of worth is information,’ Kurulian explained. ‘And even that isn’t sufficient for what you want.’
‘I thought as much.’ Magmaya looked away. There was an ache in her chest telling her she was about to cry. ‘I just wanted the soft grass between my feet,’ she said, frowning. ‘Do you know how cold it is here? I wanted the sun to beat down on my back, and I wanted to feel the warm sea against my skin. I’m trapped in the north. I need you to help me escape.’
‘These people are yours to govern,’ he reminded her, ‘and they need you far more than you need any warm sea. Rallun has already declared for your city against the Mansel, no? Then you must lead them.’ He paused. ‘I’ll be on my way.’
‘I can’t,’ she called. ‘All my life I’ve been told it is not a woman’s place to rule—they’re right. I’m only the chancellor before my brother because of his damned legs. Besides, you probably heard what happened today at the execution.’
‘Yes, we all did.’ He nodded. ‘I presume you wish you hadn’t killed her now. You made the mistake of not listening to me. Don’t worry, you’ll learn in time.’
Magmaya fell silent and watched him saunter away, holding the blade tight against his hip. Soon enough, he became a shadow amongst the trees. The strange animal sound called again, and she sighed, dropped to her knees and picked up the half-buried carving knife.
But then, a sudden strength rose in her.
‘Kurulian!’ Magmaya called, and her voice echoed about the mountains, sending a small flock of birds flying from the trees and into the embrace of the moon.
‘What?’ he replied duly.
‘I have information.’ She made her way over to him, pleading. I can’t remember the last time I pleaded, she realised. What a pathetic thing I’ve become.
