The Company of Glass
Page 49
She returned to work, but she could hear both of her children talking to the new arrival. The horse’s hooves clopped past on the way to the yard and she heard laughter outside. Then a voice she hadn’t heard in a long time called, ‘Halloo? Anybody home?’
The warrior who appeared in the doorway was dressed as a man, hair braided Seahawk-style, hands tough and brown and one arm bandaged. Yet few men would have been so short and none so wide-hipped, and anyway without armour it was apparent that she was female, for her shirt was half-open in the summer heat, and the glass vial that she wore on a thong around her neck was nestled within cleavage that Enzi gazed at enviously.
‘Is there anything to eat?’ the newcomer asked in a low-pitched voice. She leaned against the lintel, feigning exhaustion. ‘I’ve been riding all morning, and I’m starving.’
Epilogue
The sky opened its starry wings above Tarquin as he grappled the waves. They pitched him skyward the way a father might toss a child; except the father would be playing and the ocean was not. The deep was indifferent to Tarquin as he lay on its back like a leaf. It did not care that his throat was full of water, that his chest was tight, or that he was chilled to the bone. The shine and glory of Jai Pendu had vanished long ago, and the waves were too tall to offer any view of land. He had no idea which way to go, and doubted he could withstand the current anyway. His only hope was to keep his head above water and stay conscious even though the cold fed on his life. Were it not for the horse he might have given up.
Once or twice he glimpsed Ice, who looked like a stylized wave with his proud, arching neck and flowing mane, untroubled by the cold swells. Twice he managed to grab hold of Ice’s tail and was dragged until the rough waters separated them again. Then he tried to follow the horse. By the time light began to grow and he learned which way was east, Tarquin was too far gone to profit from the information. He was all but witless, thinking only of the bottom of the sea, convinced he was about to go there.
Something had changed in the night. The dawn sky was heavily clouded, tinged with thunder-green. The waves became tepid and calmer, revealing a shoreline of verdant mountains buried in cloud. A warm, humid breeze began to blow. The surge carried him landward, towards a set of sharp, bald cliffs of red clay; when the waves struck they made a sound like deep breathing.
Eventually he managed to gain a handhold, but he hadn’t the strength to pull himself out of the water. He dragged himself along the cliff until he came to a low outcropping, where he tried to climb out. His muscles felt gelatinous and foreign. He closed his eyes.
A vice-like hand gripped his upper arm and began to tug with considerable strength. Surprised, he kicked against the stone and came out of the water like a seal, scraping himself on the red rock. He looked up at a skinny, white-haired boy with dark brown skin.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Tarquin demanded, startled and disbelieving. His saviour drew back a pace and regarded him through coal dark eyes. His lips were black but when he smiled his teeth were paper white. They seemed larger than usual, and they swelled the contours of his face even when his mouth was shut. His nose was curved and fleshy, and he had enormous hands with slender fingers and knobby knuckles. He wore no Clan paint, and he was too weedy to be Pharician; too ugly to be Sekk; too tall to be Wild; too delicate for an islander … Tarquin had travelled for many years, but no. There was no tribe of people that looked anything like this boy.
‘Who are you?’ he repeated in a faint voice.
‘She couldn’t give me a name,’ the boy answered. ‘There wasn’t time. Nemelir said I was to be fed to Ice at birth, and everyone knows the naming day is ten days after that.’
Tarquin blinked salt water from his eyes and tried to make sense of what the boy was saying. Nemelir? Wasn’t that the name of Keras’s trainer?
‘It was the craziest deal I ever cut,’ she said.
‘Come on,’ urged the boy. ‘I haven’t been on my own two feet in ages. Let’s explore!’
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Also by Tricia Sullivan
Lethe (1995)
Someone to Watch over Me (1997)
Dreaming in Smoke (1999)
Maul (2003)
Double Vision (2005)
Sound Mind (2007)
Lightborn (2010)
Everien (as Valery Leith)
1. The Company of Glass (1999)
2. The Riddled Night (2000)
3. The Way of the Rose (2001)
Acknowledgements
When I started writing this story, Russ Galen was my imaginary reader, and he is probably wrapped up with the text in ways I don’t begin to understand. But I did understand the Talisker, and the view, and one or two other things.
Mic, during this book you saved my life so many times I’m starting to count on divine intervention at regular intervals. In particular, thanks for Cornwall, and my first cigarette, and the words I needed to hear that no one but you knew how to tell me; and thanks for introducing me to China Mieville. (Chi, I hope you like the monsters. They’re for you.)
Caroline Oakley and Anne Lesley Groell both did yeomen’s work, especially in editing the first draft; as always, I’m grateful for their criticism and understanding in equal parts, and their vast patience above all. I also appreciate the support of Sky Nonhoff and Danny Baror.
Finally, I would like to thank my dear friends Lisa and Caroline, for sage and advice.
Dedication
for the animals of Bourne Hill
the tame ones and the wild ones
and especially
the one called Steve Morris
Tricia Sullivan (1968 – )
Tricia Sullivan, born in New Jersey, received a music degree from Bard College and a Master’s in Education from Columbia University. She taught in Manhattan and New Jersey before moving to the UK in 1995. Her novel Dreaming in Smoke won the Arthur C. Clarke Award in 1999 and Maul was shortlisted for the same award in 2004. Sullivan’s partner is the martial artist Steve Morris, with whom she has three children. They live in Shropshire.
Copyright
A Gollancz eBook
Copyright © Tricia Sullivan 1999
All rights reserved.
The right of Tricia Sullivan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This eBook first published in Great Britain in 2015 by
Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 473 20078 4
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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