The Company of Glass

by Tricia Sullivan

  She raced past Pallo, leaving him to pick himself up and cope with the apparition that was Xiriel. She took the tunnel that led to the room where Kassien had been cut down, forcing herself to put her sword away. Men were entering through the door that Kassien had opened for them, moving slowly through the room to the exit that had been blocked by machinery. It was now open. Istar waited until a group of Clan soldiers were coming through and slid into their ranks. They didn’t seem to notice her: their eyes were turned inward.

  Then there was an outcry from behind; Pallo’s guards must have caught up with him. Istar broke from her position and barrelled through the ranks of soldiers, shoving aside startled officers, Pharicians, Wolves, Seahawks, Wasps. She simply put her head down and scurried forward, and before anyone could grab hold of her she had slipped between their legs and kept going, using the bodies of the soldiers to pull herself along. The shouts and hysteria from behind increased, so she ripped out her sword as the passage began to open to daylight.

  Suddenly she was out in the wind. As Pallo had suggested, they had used the black island to jump to the final island. Now, carried along by the momentum of the host, she was running across a greensward high over the sea. The causeway was gradually emerging from beneath the tide. Spray flew at her face, turned to handfuls of jewels by the light of Jai Pendu. A Pharician lieutenant grabbed her from behind as she charged forward on to the causeway, and from there on out it was one big fight.

  A series of impressions raced across her like reflections on water. There was brine and wind and her arm felt seared where the wound had reopened, and she could sense the innate composure of her own skeleton as she met the onslaught. The situation couldn’t have been worse: she was completely surrounded by well-armed opponents – yet somehow she felt sure of what she was doing. Her muscles were responding when she asked them, and her eyes picked up the arrows directed at her and taught her to dodge without breaking focus on the nearer opponents who came at her with spear and sword. There was visceral fear and hostility in plenty, but in some remote part of her there was also a detached satisfaction at being able to ride the currents of the battle. And if the fight had been only a fight, Istar would have felt herself able to rise to its demands.

  But it was not only a fight. For Jai Pendu cast its light over the scene, and even when her back was to it and she could not see it directly, she could feel a disturbance in the air. Every so often she jumped or twitched for no reason, as if someone had touched her with a needle.

  She had not reckoned on the sheer mass of them. No matter how many she struck, there were always more to replace them, pushing through any gap they could find with the force of thousands behind them, spilling across the bridge to Jai Pendu. They climbed over one another, knocking each other into the water and sweeping up Pallo, who was borne out into the water. Istar kept pressing forward along the causeway, wading up to her thighs. She found it hard to use her legs with the tide sucking at her balance, and swung wildly. There were too many; far too many. She lost sight of Pallo; Istar whirled with her sword outstretched, cutting herself a circle of free space in which to work, and two poorly equipped Pharicians fell into the deeper water. A heat, a fury on the edge of madness, swept through her loins and belly and chest, and she could hear herself gasping and crying out as she made each frenzied stroke, stabbing and darting and turning and swinging the sword like an extension of herself, her feet moving of their own accord and taking her into a crouch, then kicking her free of a descending stroke at the last second. She sliced someone’s fighting sticks in twain without missing a beat and dropped to one knee to avoid a spear, only to catch an arrow in the upper arm. She jerked it out while parrying a sword cut; the pain spurred her to drive her blade through the pelvic girdle of some untrained Slave, whose blood poured over her as he fell.

  The causeway dipped in the middle and she lost her footing, swimming a few clumsy strokes before she found it again. The soldiers were foundering in the water, surging forward like panicked animals trying to cross a flooding river. Istar began pulling herself up the roadway on the other side with the waves smacking her right and left. The causeway was slippery beneath her boots. The current nearly pushed her over the side altogether, into deep water. Gasping from deep in her lungs, she threw herself and her armour and weapons forward, and suddenly a fortuitous break in the waves freed the way before her, and the road led up milky and calm into Jai Pendu. Behind her, the grey of midsummer night swallowed colour.

  The men around her had altered their disposition. They ceased to take notice of her or of each other. They moved like a great herd; they could not be bothered to fight, for they were fixated completely on their glittering destination. Istar let herself be borne along by the crowd, straining for some glimpse of the Company – but she was too far back in the ranks, among the common soldiers. She raised her gaze to Jai Pendu where it loomed above her.

  The scale of things had changed. What from the Floating Lands had appeared to be filigree and mesh as delicate as a butterfly’s wings now turned out to be solid columns and awnings of a light-bearing substance as hard and fixed as stone. As she reached the top of the incline and came among the arches that led through the outer walls, she had the feeling of being inside a living thing. There was not a straight line anywhere, nothing was symmetrical – yet every part contributed to the whole, which was beautiful and a little frightening.

  The arches passed into a huge space containing a mountain of irregular white spheres culminating in what must be the base of one of the towers, but its top could not be seen, for there was an opalescent ceiling forming a vault around the tower’s treelike base. The army was crawling up the surface of the white mound, moving very slowly, for the curves were steep and smooth, difficult to grip.

  She was beyond tired, and her arm hurt so much she could barely move her fingers, so she slipped a little to one side and hid herself among the folds of the mound. The soldiers were so focused on reaching their destination that no one seemed to notice her departure. She rested for a little while and then began to wander along the base of the mound, curious as to what this place was and who had made it. The mountain seemed to be one thing yet many, like a pile of eggs all fused together – and it was perhaps this fanciful association that caused her to give the base a good kick with her booted right foot.

  It didn’t break; but it was hollow.

  Intrigued, she kept walking around and looking. Eventually she came to a place where the mound had cracked open, revealing a honeycomb of chambers whose walls were translucent. They appeared tissue-thin – until she came up close to one of them and realized it was as thick as her hand was long. Within the membrane she could see more honeycomb designs, as if the structure were repeated on a tiny scale inside the wall itself. Something had broken a path through the inside of the mound, as if a rush of water had come down from the top, splitting into a number of streams along the way and shattering the dividing walls of the chambers as it went. She found she could climb up quite easily by following this passage. Above and around her she could feel and hear, and sometimes vaguely see, the progress of the army as it slowly oozed up the sides of the mound.

  Heartened, she climbed faster, and at the top she cut her way out into a semispherical bowl. She had managed to get here ahead of the Sekk and its vanguard, and for a moment she was alone at the bottom of Jai Pendu. What she had taken for the bases of the three towers was in fact an empty space. The towers climbed through the roof of the vault, but their bottoms were not rooted in anything: they floated over Istar’s head, their bottoms mirrored just as the underside of Jai Pendu was mirrored where it rode the sea.

  She had no idea how to get up there. The bowl was completely empty and featureless, except for a black triangle set in the floor at the centre. When she stood inside the black triangle she could see the faint outline of three doors around her, each one set on a side of the triangle – but they were like phantoms and she couldn’t touch them.

  She heard hoofbe
ats.

  Stepping out of the triangle, she wished Xiriel were with her; maybe there was a code for these doors, also. She climbed up the inside of the bowl and peered over the edge, down the white mountain. The chariots and siege engines had been long ago abandoned and the Pharicians climbed hand and foot; but there were twelve in Clan armaments who rode horses even over this impossible terrain. The standard they carried had been lost, but Istar recognized them at once. They moved among the mass of men, and infantrymen and officers alike looked to them for guidance. At the head of the army walked the Sekk Master. She knew that it was the same one she had seen inside the black island, for it had no eyes; but now its robes were white, not black. It carried a Glass, which it held before itself like a torch.

  Istar couldn’t move. She could only watch it coming towards her, closer and closer until within the Glass she could glimpse a bit of movement, like tiny people. A group of Pharician soldiers broke out of the front of the army and charged towards her, but she couldn’t look anywhere other than at the Sekk. She tried to strike, but instead of raising her sword, her arm relaxed at her side and the hilt bumped the outside of her thigh.

  She gazed into the Glass. The soldiers surrounded her but did not attack. Instead, they pushed her back towards the black triangle and in among the ghostly doorways that she couldn’t touch. Still she was transfixed by the Glass, for she had begun to make out the figures inside it. For a moment she thought she saw—

  ‘Chyko?’

  Her rapture lasted only an instant; then something bit viciously into her back, bruising her flesh even through the heavy leather. She was dragged off-balance and lost sight of the Glass as darkness swiftly snatched her up.

  Three Doors

  The White Road passed into the mirrored underside of Jai Pendu and ended in darkness. The sea was twilit behind Ice and Tarquin, and Jai Pendu was as luminous as ever, but the place where the Road ended was smothered by a rag of impenetrable darkness; this place must still be held under the influence Night had put out when it spoke its name and killed the light eighteen years ago – if time truly ran that way in Jai Pendu. Here, in what he remembered as an in-between place among the three towers, Tarquin could not see boundaries, and though he felt something under his feet, he could not see the ground either. Dimly lit by the moon were three doors against a black sky, set around him in a large triangle; but there were no walls. There was no ceiling, and the constellations that lived overhead were ones he had only seen once before. Each door had a symbol carved in its lintel: the Eye to one side, the Sun to the other, and the Rose straight ahead of him. The doors stood in isolation, like stage props: he could walk completely around them without passing through.

  The horse Ice prowled the darkness, nostrils red, pawing at the ground that was not there. Insubstantial forms moved without: the horde was somewhere adjacent, unable to penetrate to this final stage, but waiting. Like Night. Waiting for him to make a mistake.

  Outside in the darkness there was a commotion. Ice’s head shot up and the horse lashed his tail like a cat. Tarquin drew his sword. Beyond the place of the three doors the soldiers surged as though trying to enter, and among them was a darkness: the Sekk was a kind of absence in the crowd, a darker shade among many shadows. The air rippled. They were going to break through.

  Ice stretched out his neck, the blood vessels swelling in his wide nostrils, and opening his mouth to reveal dreadful teeth, he bit into the darkness.

  There was a cry, and an armoured figure tumbled against the horse, braids flying, sword extended. Tarquin took a step in to engage, but Ice blocked him. The figure kept rolling and landed right side up. Dark eyes fixed on him. It was Istar.

  ‘My father!’ she exclaimed. ‘Where is he? Where did he go?’

  Tarquin fell back. He was at a loss for words.

  ‘My father’s in that mob out there! I saw him through the Glass. He looks like a ghost. Tell me what you have done.’

  ‘There is no time to tell tales.’

  Sword still out, she pursued him.

  ‘You will answer to me, Tarquin the Free. Or I will start opening these doors and discover the answers for myself.’

  He felt the blood drain from his face. ‘Do not, Istar!’

  ‘Then tell me. Why are they here? What is the Glass the Sekk holds, and how does it control the army? What has become of my father?’

  Ice continued to guard the darkness. The army without was stalled. Tarquin haltingly began to speak. It was easier the second time – what had been a story stammered out piecemeal in a whisper to Keras became more coherent the second time around. As Istar listened she paced, and he could sense the pressure building within her.

  ‘We must save them,’ she said in the end. ‘We must get this Artifact away from Night and liberate the Company from their prison.’

  ‘Not we – I. This has nothing to do with you, Istar. Keep out of my way.’

  ‘No, you keep out of my way!’ she exploded. ‘You’re just a broken old man – and this is your fault. I came through the Floating Lands. You said it was impossible.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said bitterly. ‘You led Night through the Floating Lands. That is the good you have done. And now Lerien rides behind you, does he not? All of us gripped like food in the jaws of Jai Pendu, food that doesn’t yet know it’s dead.’

  ‘Don’t be such a doom-sayer, Tarquin. The Sekk found its own way through the Floating Lands – we were lost more often than not. Besides, that’s how it must have got back from Jai Pendu in the first place, don’t you think?’

  ‘It has changed. It did not look like a Sekk before. It was white in Jai Pendu the first time.’

  ‘Well, do not blame me for the Floating Lands. I closed the way behind me several times, and the Sekk found another. They would have come whether or not I had got here.’

  ‘Istar, I mean no insult to you. But this is no time for posturing. You can’t just reach out and take the Glass away from Night. This Sekk, it has aspects you cannot see. I saw it crawl from the Water and I saw it take the strongest warriors in Everien like a cat takes mice. The Company of Glass is dangerous; you are not equipped to deal with it – or with Night.’

  ‘My father is one of the Company. I’m sure I’m equipped to deal with him.’

  He said nothing for a long moment. How could he make her understand something he barely had begun to grasp himself? ‘There are places among the worlds so twisted and forgotten that an honest human emotion is worth more than gold. Even if that emotion is hate.’

  ‘My father was many things, but he was not a man of hate.’

  ‘You never saw him fight.’

  She had been listening carefully. Now she looked pointedly at his hand on her wrist. There were tears shaking in her eyes, but her voice didn’t break when she said, ‘All this vague talk of other worlds doesn’t help us in this one. I’m not going to just stand here with you and wait for the tides to turn over. I’ll get another Artifact for Everien.’

  ‘That would be a stupid mistake.’

  ‘More stupid than what you have done?’

  He said nothing. He felt old. He tried to think of a way to explain, but she was wriggling in his grip.

  ‘Let go of me!’

  Suddenly he released her. ‘Find out for yourself,’ he said angrily. She took a few strides, rubbing her forearm where he had grabbed her. She went to the door with the Eye symbol, but it would not open for her. She went to the Rose door, and that wouldn’t open either. Her face set in hard lines that reminded Tarquin spookily of her father, Istar strode to the last door and gave it a jerk. It opened.

  ‘Ah,’ she said, smiling her father’s battle-smile. ‘The Sun. I will go this way.’

  Tarquin glimpsed a flight of steps going up into greyness before the door shut behind her. Now, in spite of himself, he was curious. He went after her, but the door was locked. He went to the Eye door and this one opened, but the way was blocked by water falling so hard he couldn’t even stick his hand into it. H
e shut the door.

  The only choice was the Rose. Tarquin loosened his sword in Ysse’s scabbard and opened the door.

  Seahawk

  Istar counted eighty steps before her wind began to go and she slowed. Hunger gnawed. Her head hurt. In the brief pause she’d made to argue with Tarquin, her muscles had cooled and stiffened, and bruises were swelling and aching. When she looked down she could see a white city, so complex as to confuse her eyes; but she couldn’t see the Floating Lands, or Everien, or even the other two Towers. The stairs went on, dazzling in their alabaster symmetry, curving slowly out of sight behind violet and grey spires that rose like grass. She lowered her head and kept climbing. She couldn’t feel any wind, even though she was higher and more exposed than she had ever been on the Floating Lands. She could hear nothing but the creak and scuff of her steps, the explosions of her breathing, and the wild rattle of her heart as she struggled to keep up the pace. Gradually she was forced to slow down. The stillness had become oppressive. There was nothing up here but architecture – no birds, no clouds, nothing that moved at all.

  How not to be defeated when there is no opponent?

  Her mind began to get lost. What was at the top of the stairs? What if they went on forever? What if she fell – no one would ever know what had become of her.

  What if something even worse than the monsters of the Floating Lands was waiting for her at the top?

  The Sekk-controlled army no longer seemed such a threat.

  She couldn’t see the Floating Lands, or the mainland, even though she was now at a great height. There was only white stone, glass, and the blue sea and sky all around. As if she were in a bottle.

  She felt small and panicky. She kept going for a long time. She realized that night had fallen because the sky above deepened its hue; there was still plenty of light coming from the city itself.