Symphony of the Wind

by Steven McKinnon

  She offered them a seat on one of the russet, autumnal leather couches, but neither man took advantage.

  Gallows always felt like he was on his back foot when he spoke to Sheva, but he could never put his finger on why.

  Her voice was soft but direct when she spoke: ‘The stewards tell me you only returned with one horse.’

  Straight to it. ‘We successfully completed our assignment,’ Gallows answered.

  ‘Details, please.’

  Gallows looked at Damien. ‘Well…’

  ‘The Hessian farm was besieged by a gigantic snake,’ explained Damien. Gallows felt as stupid as his partner sounded.

  After a moment, Kirivanti said, ‘Repeat that.’

  ‘As per the contract,’ started Damien, ‘we left the city boundaries to travel to Regina Hessian’s farm to deal with her infestation problem. Tyson dealt with the nests of vipers above ground while I entered a nearby cave, within which I discovered dozens of snake eggs.’

  ‘Giant snake eggs?’

  ‘No—just one giant snake. Some of its features are consistent with the dalthic viperidae. Actually, it reminds me of the prehistoric imperatrix viperidae—it too possessed an exoskeletal crown of bones, like some crustaceans. But nothing like this, and certainly not of this size.’

  And on Damien went, relaying the tale of the giant snake.

  Kirivanti steepled her hands on her desk. ‘And Hessian said she wanted to keep the remains of this beast?’

  ‘Wants to recoup her loss,’ said Gallows with a shrug. ‘If people toss money into a hat for backflipping stilt-jugglers, they’ll probably do the same for invisible demonic sand snakes. People are fickle like that.’

  Sheva Kirivanti regarded Gallows with the slightest shimmer of humour. ‘Well. I will not dock anything from your fee—despite the loss of a perfectly healthy horse.’

  That’s it, thought Gallows. The reason she’s so damn intimidating isn’t ’cause she’s mean, it’s because she makes you care when you screw up. A punishment would make it easy to resent her. All those idiot hard-asses in the military could learn something from her.

  ‘There is something further I need to discuss with you both.’ Kirivanti removed her glasses and slipped them into a case. ‘I spoke with Guildmaster Roland of the Raincatchers’ Guild this morning. An incident occurred last night. Seemingly there was a malfunction with a lightning Spire. One of their airships was damaged and a number of crew died.’

  ‘A tragedy,’ said Damien.

  ‘Gods.’ Gallows shook his head. ‘Do you know how it happened? Did it crash?’

  ‘This is the complication, I’m afraid; the captain maintains that the Spire was activated after they arrived—on purpose.’

  ‘Probably an expedition to steal rainwater, then,’ Gallows surmised. ‘Half the Raincatchers are thieves and pirates. A bit like us, I guess.’

  Kirivanti shook her head. ‘Guildmaster Roland signed the writ himself. Apparently it was an additional water run as the Spire’s reserves were already full. The Council say it was a fault in the machinery.’

  ‘Doesn’t seem probable,’ said Damien. ‘There are a number of safeguards in place.’

  ‘Captain Fitzwilliam believes a fellow Raincatcher is responsible for the tragedy. A feud within one guild will undoubtedly affect the others—particularly if we are hired to assist the Council and the Watch mitigate it.’

  ‘Belios,’ uttered Gallows. ‘This is all we need.’

  ‘Guildmaster Roland will do all he can to settle the situation. Hopefully there will be evidence of an accident, but until the matter is closed, the situation will be tense. It is important we show our respect.’

  Gallows’ face screwed up. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I’d like you to accompany me to the funeral service. It shall take place this evening at the Raincatchers’ guild house. I can’t order you to accompany me, but I would be rather grateful if you did.’

  ‘Do we get paid?’

  Kirivanti drew a sharp breath. ‘I am appealing to your good nature, Mister Gallows.’

  ‘We’ll attend,’ said Damien.

  ‘Excellent. Oh, one more thing: Major Fallon from the Musa’s Harp garrison dropped by. He requested your presence there, Mister Gallows.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. You can ignore him.’

  ‘He said it was about Sera.’

  A knot tightened in Gallows’ gut, and though it was impossible to see, he sensed Damien stiffen. ‘Sera’s dead.’

  Kirivanti’s mouth turned down. ‘I know, I wouldn’t have mentioned it had the major not visited in person. Perhaps it’s worth-’

  ‘No,’ shot Gallows, his stomach churning. ‘It’s just bait. It’s the kind of shit Fallon pulls. Ignore him.’

  Kirivanti shuffled papers on her desk. ‘As you wish. But do know I’ve forwarded your address on to him. That’ll be all.’

  ‘I’ll meet you and Kirivanti at the Raincatchers’ chapel tonight. Got something to do first.’

  ‘Alright,’ said Damien. ‘The Major?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I understand your grief,’ Damien began, ‘but if he has information on Sera-’

  ‘She can’t die twice,’ Gallows shot back. ‘Screw Fallon, I got my own life to lead—and other people to see.’

  Damien kept his eyes forward, a look of understanding crossing his face. ‘Ah. I see.’

  ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

  ‘I am, in fact, purposefully not looking at you.’

  ‘It’s not what you think.’

  ‘You’re liaising with Madam Veronica.’

  ‘Okay,’ Gallows admitted, ‘it’s exactly what you think. But you don’t need to say “liaising” like it’s a dirty word.’

  ‘Who am I to judge?’ said Damien. ‘I think it’s cute you have another friend.’

  Music emanated from somewhere deep within the maze-like hallways, soft violins. They sounded like they were weeping.

  ‘I heard they have a special guest coming for the Remembrance,’ Damien began. ‘Genevieve Couressa.’

  ‘For real?’ She was the most famous singer in Imanis, and probably the rest of the world. ‘Jugglers, music, Genevieve Couressa. The Remembrance is better than Wintercast.’

  ‘You can’t begrudge people moving on, Tyson.’

  ‘Sure you can.’

  ‘Do keep up, Fabian.’ A slender old man in a white suit marched into the foyer. He carried a cane in one hand and a hat in the other. His bald head glistened with sweat, and when he caught sight of Damien, a note of recognition crossed his face.

  ‘Know him?’ asked Gallows.

  ‘No.’

  A younger man trailed behind, arms loaded with luggage. His features twisted at the sight of some of the more unkempt Hunters. ‘You’re sure this is the Musicians’ Guild, Aulton? They have weapons!’

  ‘Do shut up, Fabian.’

  The heat pressed upon Gallows as soon as they stepped into the street. More people in costumes danced and mimed among the crowd, entertaining all who passed. Performers conjured fire from nothing and danced over flaming jump ropes, eliciting applause from the gathering crowd.

  Gallows’ stomach clenched. ‘Is this what we fought and died for? Is this worth the sacrifice?’

  ‘Yes. Liberty. Happiness. Joy. Do you think the Idari emperors would allow this? It’s what separates us.’

  ‘Huh. You say it like this is the kind of thing that makes you happy.’

  Damien’s voice turned as coarse as crushed glass. ‘Society cannot function with a boot on its neck. What you and so many others experienced during the war—and myself, I might add—was sickening, there is no argument otherwise. But we can’t allow it to define our future. The trauma lives with you every day—I see it on you as I see it on so many others. Talk to someone, Tyson. Get help. Or leave, if you think that’s best. But don’t expect the rest of the world to grieve with you.’

  ‘But at the Remembrance?’ Gallows shook his head. ‘You
know, I saw a doctor after we got back. She seemed more concerned about ticking a box than helping me out. Prescribed me diluted bloodroot and sent me on my way.’

  A knot of people separated as they pushed through. ‘Did you take it?’ Damien asked.

  ‘Of course not. You’ve seen what that shit does to people. She wanted to shut me up. Can’t have vets coming back from war with dead eyes and delirium. Might ruin the romantic notions people have. “Dead eyes, delirium and a sharp increase in the suicide rate” doesn’t exactly fit in a song.’

  ‘Yes, be flippant if that helps.’ Damien stopped walking. ‘If you want things to change, Tyson, perhaps you are the best starting point.’

  ‘Yeah? Has it ever helped your… Affliction?’

  Damien’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘I don’t need a doctor.’

  ‘Ha! Yeah, well, I know someone who’d find that hard to bel-’ Gallows’ arms fell to his side. ‘Oh you are goddamn kidding.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There.’ Gallows motioned out into the crowd. A street juggler in colourful red, orange and yellow garb was cuffing a filthy, dirtied man across the head.

  ‘Oi! Oi!’ the victim protested, weak hands doing little to shield himself. ‘I swear, his purse fell into my palm, hahahaha!’

  ‘Buzz Fitangus,’ said Damien.

  ‘Yup, free as a… Toothless, junkie bird.’

  Two watchmen dragged Buzz away. He frothed at the mouth, giggling and spitting, wild feet scrambling on the cobbles like an insect’s.

  ‘Say what you want about him,’ said Gallows, ‘but he looks happier than you or I will ever be.’

  ‘Angelo, Serena,' said Petrakis. ‘This is Junior Councillor Enfield, Minister of Guilds. He’d like to speak to both of you about the incident that happened yesterday.’

  The common room had been cleared out, and Serena and Angelo escorted inside and ushered into seats.

  Serena had never met a Councillor before and wasn’t sure what to do, or how to address him. She wasn’t one for curtseying.

  ‘Serena, Angelo,’ Enfield said, trying too hard to make his voice sound warm. He looked at both of them and smiled. ‘Um, lovely names, musical names. May I sit?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Angelo.

  Enfield took one of the small, wooden chairs. ‘Please accept my apologies for intruding. Um, I… I need to ask some questions about the tragedy that occurred yesterday. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time, and Sister Petrakis will be in attendance. Please, um, you’ve nothing to feel intimidated about.’

  Serena shifted and crossed her arms. ‘Don’t you know everything already?’

  ‘Of course, of course. I, um, I need your account as part of the Council’s investigation. Formality, really. The Royal Sky Fleet has already recovered your colleagues’… um…’

  ‘Bodies,’ said Angelo. Serena winced at the word.

  ‘Yes,’ said Enfield. ‘Listen, Serena—and Angelo—grief can make people do strange things. We all process it differently. The Sister Supreme tells me you… acted out today. And while that’s an internal issue to be resolved here, I, um, I need to know that you’ll be here over the next few days. I know you don’t have any family, but please, this is the best place for you. Both of you. Sometimes children feel like they don’t have anywhere to turn and run away-’

  ‘We’re not children,’ snapped Serena.

  Enfield’s hands shot up. ‘No, no! Of course, sorry, poor choice of words. What I mean is, the people here can take care of you. They’re all willing to listen. If you’d like, I can arrange a doctor to visit you. Talking to someone you don’t know is sometimes best. Oh, you’re not in any trouble,’ he added at seeing Serena’s expression. ‘Neither of you are in any trouble.’

  Serena couldn’t make her mind up about the man. He was young, maybe only six or seven years older than her. She’d heard Fitz and Roarke talking one day on the Liberty Wind, saying how Enfield’s family had done favours for the king, and that he was given a Councillor’s position as a reward.

  After a moment, Serena spoke. ‘It’s okay. We’ll stay put. What… What happens next? With the… bodies?’

  Enfield shifted in his seat, looking first to Petrakis then back to Serena. ‘My understanding is that, um, a service will be held in the Raincatchers’ guild house this evening.’

  Serena’s back straightened. ‘We’re going.’

  ‘Well, that’s… That’s not possible, I’m afraid, the curfew for youngsters being what it is.’

  ‘We’re going.’

  Petrakis shot her a look. ‘Serena.’

  ‘This is wrong!’ What right did the Council have? They weren’t kin, not like Serena and Angelo.

  ‘Yes,’ said Enfield. ‘Yes, I understand. But the curfews are in place for your safety. We believe it was an accident-’

  ‘Piss off.’

  ‘Serena!’

  ‘It’s all right, Sister Supreme, it’s quite all right. Really, it’s okay, Serena. I’m sorry. But the investigation is ongoing, and while we’re sure it was, in fact, an accident, we… Well, we need to protect you, just in case. Tell me—do you know the whereabouts of Culran Hajjar?’

  ‘No. Why? Is he under investigation?’

  ‘No, no, he is simply unaccounted for.’

  ‘We left him behind,’ Angelo explained. ‘Had to.’

  That didn’t make sense to Serena. Why didn’t he come aboard when Fitz told him to?

  ‘I see,’ said Enfield. ‘Did, um… Did Culran ever… say anything?’

  Serena’s eyebrow arched. ‘Sure. Lots of times. Usually started with “hello”.’

  Petrakis hissed her name again, but Enfield laughed it off. ‘I should have been more specific. Did Culran ever mention being… dissatisfied with work on the Liberty Wind?’

  ‘Um, probably? You want to arrest a Raincatcher for moaning, your cells will burst.’

  ‘Ah, no, rather… Did he ever, perhaps, say anything about destroying a Spire?’

  That set Serena’s blood on fire. ‘No! Of course not.’ Who was this guy? What gave him the right to accuse one of the crew?

  ‘No,’ answered Angelo, voice flat. ‘Never.’

  Serena shook her head. ‘You ain’t serious. Culran almost died. Probably is dead!’

  ‘Well, the, um, the Idari are known for utilising suicide bombers.’

  ‘He didn’t fight for the Idari, he was enslaved by them.’

  ‘Yes, well, the Idari are also known for deceit and low cunning.’

  Serena refused to believe it. Culran didn’t say much, but he was one of ’em. Crew. Family. Kin. No way was he responsible.

  ‘And what about the thunderstorm?’ Serena’s words carried venom. ‘Culran did that too, did he?’

  ‘As I say, we’re investigating. We’ll know more over the, um, the next few days.’ Enfield fished a photograph from his pocket. Pictured was a man with long, black hair. ‘This is, um, a few years old, but it’s-’

  ‘Culran,’ said Angelo. ‘Before his scars.’

  ‘Indeed. The Idari mark their subjects in accordance to caste: Those who worship the Moon Emperor of Idar-Vankhur, and those who worship the Sun Emperor of Idar-Antolia. To possess decorative markings on one’s face is to signify belonging to the former, whereas the absence of markings denotes the subject has aligned with the latter. Culran Hajjar-’

  ‘Had half,’ Serena said. ‘He was a kuramanusa.’

  ‘Indeed. Hajjar was a political exile from Mercuria. He was a fisherman whose trawler was captured by Idari pirates. They enslaved him, brainwashed him. He may even have been present during the invasion of the Sanctecano Islands.’

  Frost settled over Serena’s skin. The Islands were the closest thing she had to a home. ‘Why? Why would Culran want to destroy the Spire?’

  ‘To remove the defences afforded by concentrated lightning storms. That’s why the Spires were built in the first place, after all.’

  ‘You think the Idari are preparing for anoth
er war,’ said Angelo. It wasn’t too difficult to believe; Prime Councillor Pyron Thackeray didn’t talk about anything else, so it’d make sense for the rest of the Council to believe it too.

  ‘Anyway,’ Enfield started, ‘in all likelihood the whole affair is, um, a tragic accident, but until we ascertain Hajjar’s whereabouts, you two need to stay out of harm’s way. To that end, I’ve asked the Sister Supreme to close the gates of the orphanage and station a watchman outside. As you’re younger than seventeen, you’re the Council’s legal responsibility.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Serena folded her arms and glared at the Councillor. ‘What about everyone else?’

  ‘I’m, um, I’m sorry?’

  ‘Angelo and me, we’re locked up here. How about Captain Fitzwilliam and the rest?’

  ‘The crew of the Liberty Wing have been instructed-’

  ‘Wind.’

  ‘Of course, my apologies. Um, the Liberty Wind has been grounded.’

  Serena shrank in her seat. Of course.

  Enfield stood. ‘Serena, Angelo—please know that the Council extends its sympathies.’

  The councillor said his goodbyes and walked away with Sister Petrakis, the door easing closed behind him.

  ‘There’s no way I’m staying locked up here while the crew are at a funeral for three of our own.’

  ‘We can’t. Impossible. The curfew-’

  Serena punched the arm of her seat. ‘Musa give me peace! I know, Angelo, I’m not stupid!’

  Angelo’s head bowed. ‘Don’t like to see you angry.’

  ‘But we should be angry. Me and you! How can you not feel anything? How can you be okay with this? He’s got the Watch guarding us—there’s no way they think this was an accident. And if Culran did set those bombs off, I’ll kill him myself.’

  ‘“A man bent on revenge keeps his wounds bloodied.”’

  Serena’s eyebrow arched. ‘Um, okay?’

  ‘Aurien tal Varaldo’s words. Pursuing revenge is pointless.’

  ‘Whatever. I’ll tell Fitz tonight. He can decide what to do with Culran.’