CHAPTER 7
Grey ghosts of mist
hung over the valley floor, sheltered from the listless breeze by
the cliffs of Blackfang. Nothing moved inside the valley; no
creature or spirit heard the silence shrouding the Library of
Seasons broken by a small sound coming from the northern cliff. Set
into the rock was a solid doorway, securely barred on the outside.
The sound came again, tiny, even amidst the fearful hush: the
muffled click of a leather-wrapped hook catching a bolt, the slow
scrape of the bolt being dragged open. It was followed by a long,
patient pause of several minutes - long enough, perhaps, to ensure
anything hearing the rasp of metal would have investigated by
then.
The valley floor was
gradually being brought into life by the faint brightness spreading
across the sky and by the time one of the doors eased open and
Captain Hain of the Cheme Third Legion peered out, the murk of dawn
was starting to dissipate. Directly in front of him Hain could see
a small stretch of grass that extended for twenty yards, dropped
away gently on the left, and ending more abruptly on the right at
the white stone walls of the animal pens.
Debris was scattered
all around the sloped roofs, and a single furrow, a large one, had
been carved into the turf. Beyond the pens was the shell of a
large, low building; the roof that had once covered one end had
been ripped off and through a hole in the outer wall Hain could see
the interior was equally wrecked.
To the left, around
the base of Blackfang’s peak jutting out into the bowl of the
valley, he could make out half of the Fearen House, the largest
building in the valley. The great dome looked intact, but one wing
had been ripped clean away. Lord Styrax’s beastmasters thought the
dragon would most likely have chosen the Fearen House to sleep
because of the amount of power in the place - most of the books
were preserved by magic. No magic had worked in the valley itself
until the spell had been broken; the attendants had ensured any
ageing works were moved to a library annex outside the valley,
where the protection spells would reactivate and slowly restore the
book until it was fit for another fifty years in the
library.
He began to mouth a
prayer to Karkarn before catching himself - he wasn’t going into
battle, he had only a knife on his belt, and rumour was the Menin
were no longer favoured by Karkarn: the priests travelling with the
army and in Akell, where most of the Menin were billeted, had been
troublesome for months. Demanding greater involvement in political
and military matters had apparently been only the start and
factions were now developing.
Ritual and combat
training mixed easily for the War God’s chosen tribe. Many of the
officers, including as Major Amber, had learned weaponscraft at a
training temple dedicated to minor Aspects of Karkarn. Now there
were divided loyalties, and like many, Hain wasn’t sure what side
he was on in the argument between Gods and tribe. Loyalty to the
Gods was something he had always taken as a given, but it was the
priests themselves who were pushing men into taking sides and
declaring what authority they bowed to - nation, lord or
priesthood.
He shook the matter
from his head. Now was not the time for such things; he had a
dragon to worry about. His task was to scout the valley without
getting eaten, and lay the snares.
Captain Hain took a
deep breath and stepped out into the weak light of dawn, moving as
silently as he could to the animal pens. When he glanced behind at
the doorway he could just make out the eyes of one of Gaur’s
huntsmen, lurking at the edge of the tunnel that led back to the
Akell quarter. The man gave him an unnecessarily cheerful thumbs-up
that made Hain shake his head in bemusement.
Bunch of madmen, the lot of them, he mused.
So why is it I’m the one playing rat-mazes
with a damn dragon?
He reached the animal
pens and, trying not to breath in the pungent odour, crouched down
to check his route. Then he set off at a crawl towards the
shattered building. Guessing stealth would serve him better than
haste, he kept an eye on the distant Fearen House, ready to sprint
for the tunnel entrance at the first sign of movement. It was only
a hundred yards of ground, but for Hain it felt like it took an age
to cross. He could smell the charred wood before he reached the
building, but when he got there the thick stone walls appeared
sound enough for his purposes.
Hain made his way
around the edge and surveyed the rest of the valley. The Scholars’
Palace had been almost entirely destroyed, with what was left of
the lower floors scorched and blackened. Great chunks had been
ripped from the building and thrown down onto the valley floor.
There was a lot of debris lying around, but other than the one wing
which had been torn open the Fearen House didn’t appear to be much
damaged, and as far as Hain could see, it was empty. His breathing
came a little more easily at that, but only until he began to
imagine the creature perched on the cliffs, watching him like a
hawk watches a mouse. The dread returned.
A little
surprisingly, the huge gate that led to Ilit’s Stair, the
two-hundred-yard-long slope leading down into Ismess, was
untouched. The dragon had destroyed large sections of the quarter,
but it obviously preferred to fly over the cliffs of Blackfang
rather than waddle out through the gate. Of the remaining large
buildings inside the valley, two had been completely destroyed
while the rest appeared whole.
There was no sign of
the beast anywhere right now so Hain took one last look up at the
cliffs and made his way back to the other corner of the ruined
palace and gestured to the waiting huntsman. He emerged from the
tunnel, carrying a pair of shovels, with a long cable looped over
his shoulder.
Hain pointed at a
patch of ground between them and the animal pens. ‘That’s the
spot,’ he whispered.
‘Don’t believe we’re
even tryin’ this,’ the huntsman moaned with a shake of the head.
‘You’re goin’ t’get us killed, settin’ snares for a damn
dragon!’
‘Shut up and get back
there for the rest,’ Hain hissed, trying to keep from raising his
voice. ‘We know they’re not going to hold it.’
The huntsman said
nothing more as he handed over the cables and made his way back to
the doors. Hain watched him for a moment, wondering if the man was
right, then he shook himself. It didn’t matter if the huntsman was
right or not; he had orders to carry out. He bent to the task of
separating out the cables on the grass, trying to put to one side
the ridiculousness of the idea - even though it was partly of his
devising.
‘Let’s hope the
beastmasters are right about dragons being similar enough to
wyverns,’ he muttered, ‘otherwise looking stupid’s going to be the
least of our problems.’
He peered up at the
sky, which was lightening with every passing minute, though dawn
was still a way off. The beastmasters had said there was no way of
predicting when the dragon would be active and away from its lair,
but darkness would prove no barrier to its eyesight. Hain’s best
bet was to work alone and quietly, as soon as it was light enough
for him to be able to see the dragon approaching.
So get a bloody move on, he ordered himself, and
started to cut the turf. Whether it works is
someone else’s problem.
A knock came at the
door of the orphans’ chamber. The Duchess of Byora looked up from
her breakfast and watched blearily as Sergeant Kayel crossed over
to the door and opened it a fraction. Mornings had always been
precious to Natai. Whether or not her husband, Ganas, had risen
with her, she had cherished these precious few hours before
official duties took over. It was a fair indulgence, she thought;
no matter the problems the day might bring, she was always better
prepared, both in temper and perspective, having spent some time
with her young wards first.
Natai looked around.
The orphans’ chamber was conspicuously lacking in one detail:
orphans. Only Ruhen was present, together with his painfully thin
nurse, Eliane, who was sitting in the furthest corner of the room.
The rest were absent, as were the nurses who tended to them, and
Natai felt a flicker of anger - until her gaze returned to Ruhen,
sitting happily at her side. This morning he was playing with an
old quill, drawing elegant spirals on a battered piece of
parchment. She tilted her head to look at the page; the shapes
looked almost like writing from a far-distant place.
‘Ruhen, dear, would
you draw something for me?’ she asked on a whim.
‘Yes, Mother,’ the
boy replied solemnly, looking up at her through his long lashes.
The ache in her head softened as he smiled, and the shadows wove
patterns in his eyes.
So beautiful, she thought dreamily, so beautiful, and so clever.
She moved her hand to
stroke the line of his jaw and tuck an errant lock of long brown
hair behind his ear to stop it falling over his face. Ruhen’s cheek
dimpled a fraction and Natai felt a flutter of pleasure in her
belly.
How foolish I was to think him so young when he first came
to me- No, he has been here for years, of course. I am his mother,
I gave birth to him. I remember the pain, the first clench of
labour as Ganas and I went on our Prayerday trip . .
.
Her thoughts tailed
away into nothing. Remembering was hard, so hard, and so painful.
She was Ruhen’s mother, and that was all that mattered. He gave her
joy by his mere presence, and in time she would be proud to watch
him grow into a prince, to rule all of the Circle
City.
‘Your Grace?’ A deep
voice interrupted her reverie, making her flinch. She looked around
vaguely until she realised it was Sergeant Kayel who was
talking.
‘Yes? Yes, what is
it?’ She frowned. ‘Did someone bring a message?’
‘They did, your
Grace,’ Kayel replied. He heaved his large frame into a chair and
dropped his elbows heavily on the table.
Natai pursed her
lips. Her bodyguard should not eat with his mistress, should he?
She wished for a moment she could remember ... She watched him drop
a handful of letters on the table and pick up several hardboiled
eggs in his scarred hands.
‘Strangely enough,’
Kayel continued after filling his mouth with one egg, ‘the letters
ain’t for you, your Grace. One is for me.’
‘Who would write to
you? Who are the others for?’ She caught sight of Ruhen, holding
out his hand for the one of the eggs Kayel had.
‘You want one?’ Kayel
offered an egg to the little boy, but not close enough for Ruhen to
take it. ‘What do you say, then?’
‘Now,’ Ruhen said
with a firmness that made Natai tense. Kayel chuckled and leant
over, extending his reach until the boy could take it from
him.
Natai relaxed again.
A boy must have a father, she reminded
herself. Ganas was a sweet man, but he was
weak. Kayel is a better influence for my little
prince.
‘Anyways,’ Kayel
continued, one cheek bulging, ‘the other letters are for Aracnan
and the Jesters. The seal is Menin, General Gaur’s
own.’
‘What does he want
with you?’
Kayel smiled and a
knife seemed to magically appear in his fingers. He picked up the
letter and ran the blade under its seal. He unfolded the letter,
held it up to the light and read it out loud.
‘Sergeant Kayel, you
are cordially invited to join Lord Styrax the morning after
tomorrow at dawn for a hunt. Attendance is mandatory for all
subjects loyal to the new ruler of the Circle City.’
‘Well, you must not
refuse him then,’ Natai said suddenly. ‘To do so would give grave
offence.’
‘Hunting though? You
invite noblemen hunting, not men like Raylin mercenaries, men like
me!’ Kayel thought for a moment before giving a cough of laughter.
‘Hah, damn it, of course! Can’t really refuse him now can I? Not
when it was your idea for the hunt in the first place. You take
noblemen if you’re hunting for deer. You take Raylin and the like
if you’re going after larger game.’
‘My
idea?’
‘Yes, your Grace. You
were the one who asked him to free us from the beast preying on the
folk of Ismess. He’s gathering warriors and adventurers together to
hunt a dragon; Piss and daemons, but I wouldn’t miss that fun for
all the money in Coin. And when nobles go hunting, there’s always
business to be talked over afterwards. So I wonder what it is he
wants - and who else is invited? ’ His face fell slightly. ‘Giving
Aracnan the good news might not be a bundle of fun.’
‘His wound still ails
him?’
Kayel gave her a
contemptuous look. ‘He’s an immortal who is slowly dying, driven
mad by pain while the rot in his shoulder goes deeper into the
bone. Ailing don’t really cover it.’
‘Library,’ Ruhen
said, putting his pen down.
‘That’s right dear,
soon you’ll be able to go to the Library of Seasons again and see
the funny men with wings,’ Natai said.
‘Aye,’ Kayel agreed
pensively, brushing the back of one thumb with the edge of his
dagger. ‘A prince needs a suitable education now, don’t
he?’
A small drop of blood
fell onto the letter, but only Ruhen paid it any attention. He
watched the bright spot run down the paper, his eyes dancing with
delight.
‘This Menin
occupation has become tiresome,’ Zhia announced, slipping her arms
from the sleeves of her dress and letting it fall about her ankles.
‘There are altogether too many curious faces on the streets, even
at night.’
The naked vampire
ignored the bedroom’s chilly air and carefully unwound her plait to
leave her hair falling freely about her shoulders. Doranei turned
slightly so he could see her slim body silhouetted in the faint
daylight creeping around the door. He felt a familiar stirring of
lust banish the fog of sleep and for a while he just enjoyed the
sight of her, every movement graceful and neat.
‘Where did you go?’
he asked eventually, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘I didn’t
hear you leave.’
Zhia’s sharp teeth
flashed white in the twilight. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’ With a
twitch of her fingers the blanket lifted off Doranei’s body and the
cold air rushed in. As Doranei instinctively curled up Zhia slid
sinuously into his arms. By the time the blanket dropped down again
his body was tightly wrapped around hers, his lips on the nape of
her neck as Zhia pushed against his chest.
‘You went to feed?’
Doranei said softly in her ear, breathing in the delicate perfume
she wore.
‘I did. A girl has
needs even you cannot satisfy,’ Zhia purred, reaching back around
his waist to pull him tighter against her. As he kissed her again
she took his hand and pressed it against her chest, hard enough to
make him wince.
Doranei didn’t say
anything more. He might not like it, but he was a professional
killer; what right had he to pass judgment on her Gods-imposed
curse?
‘How are you going to
spend the day?’ she asked eventually.
He sighed. ‘I have
the usual errands to run. I can’t afford to let our agent here out
of the safe house, he’s too easily recognised and Ilumene
will have people looking for
him.’
‘Then an evening of
drinking in Coin? That disguise would suit you better if you had a
beautiful lady to accompany you.’
Doranei gave a
noncommittal grunt. Even washed, shaved and dressed in fine clothes
he hadn’t managed to attract the right friends in the cardhouse;
bringing Zhia in would complicate matters in other ways. His usual
method of intelligence-gathering - befriending soldiers, cooks and
servants - had been precluded now a traitor comrade was overseeing
security at the Ruby Tower.
He was hoping the
merchants of Coin and the minor nobility of Eight Towers would tell
him enough instead, but it was hard to lay the groundwork in
fraught times like these, when he didn’t look like he belonged.
Zhia did, but she wore a dark allure like a mantle, and Doranei was
noticeable enough already.
‘Ashamed to be seen
in public with me?’
‘Don’t be foolish.’
He kissed her, and added, ‘If you could make yourself look a little
less beautiful, confident and terrifying all in one go, then I’d
have no argument. But I already attract too much attention, and
you, my love, you dominate any room you enter.’
She pulled his hand
up to her lips and kissed his fingertips as gently as a butterfly.
‘You grieve for Sebe. When you drink, you glower, and frighten
those around you. However delicate your touch, you still resemble a
white-eye looking for something to kill; that’s what they notice in
Coin.’
‘It isn’t so easy to
throw off,’ he growled.
‘I know that, pretty
one,’ Zhia continued in a conciliatory tone, ‘but it is a detail
you must address. There’s enough grief around that folk will
understand it. Wear something to explain your mood and their
suspicion will be allayed.’
‘You think that’ll be
enough?’
‘I don’t know; you
won’t tell me what information you are seeking.’ There was an edge
of hurt in her voice that made Doranei want to immediately
apologise, but he suppressed the feeling.
‘Do we need to have
this conversation again? I’m not your pet to be indulged, and we’re
not on the same side in this war.’
‘Those are not
sufficient reasons to mistrust me. I can provide you with a plan of
the Ruby Tower, of the duchess’ security arrangements - whatever
you want. Lady Kinna is still under my control, and her access is
unrestricted.’
‘They are all the
reasons I have,’ Doranei said, knowing he sounded petulant, ‘and
besides, my orders are clear enough.’
‘Your king does not
trust my motives; I understand that, but do you honestly believe I
would give you false information or betray your plans to the
shadow? Do you believe I would ever put you in
danger?’
‘Zhia — Of course I
don’t, but this is how things must be. Can we — ’ he broke off to
stroke her back, and whispered, ‘Zhia, can we please talk of
inconsequential things instead?’
She heard the tired
edge in his voice and, knowing how exhausting an emotion grief was,
she didn’t push matters further. Zhia gently kissed each of his
callused knuckles before using his hand to cup her face. ‘As you
wish, pretty one. We will talk of the children we will never have
instead; of the life we will never lead. I require a minimum of two
girls - I remember having a sister most fondly.’
‘At least two?’
Doranei winced at the thought. ‘Just one with her mother’s smile
would be trouble enough for me.’
‘You would rule them
without ever realising it,’ Zhia said with laughter in her voice,
‘as their father, the proud merchant, comes home after a long day
to a great clatter of feet as his adoring women rush to greet
him.’
‘Merchant? What would
I sell?’ Doranei asked in surprise, unable to imagine himself doing
anything so safe - or so legal. ‘My entire life’s been in the
king’s service.’
‘This is the life we
will not lead,’ Zhia reminded him. ‘Your father was a soldier in
King Emin’s conquest, but he wanted a better life for his son and
so he apprenticed him to a wine trader. You, in turn, are so filled
with pride when young Manayaz announces he intends to join the
Kingsguard, you cannot resist giving him your
blessing.’
He frowned. ‘Manayaz?
Even in your homeland, boys can’t have been called that since the
Great War. Your father rather coloured most folk against the
name.’
‘Manayaz,’ Zhia said
with finality. ‘He will have his father’s size and his mother’s
speed. No bully will take exception to his name more than once.’
She pulled Doranei’s hand tighter against his chest. ‘He will be a
fine older brother to little Sebetin, the one whose smile melts the
hearts of even his fierce gaggle of sisters.’
‘Sebe,’ Doranei
whispered, ‘named for their favourite uncle, who still manages to
get me into daft scrapes when we’re both old, rich and
fat.’
‘The very same; who
wakes early when he comes to visit and drags the children out with
the dawn so we can have these few quiet moments together. These
moments that mean as much to me as anything - these moments that
last as we grow old together and watch our children make all the
same mistakes we did when we were young.’ Zhia smiled and squeezed
his hand. ‘Except the ones involving jumping off buildings or
petting guard dogs; they’ll have the sense not to do
those.’
‘What fools we are,’
Doranei said bitterly. ‘You, who doesn’t grow old; I, who’ll not
survive to do so.’
‘It is not too late
for you,’ Zhia said with a shake of the head. When she tried to
continue, however, she felt the words catch in her throat. Neither
of them could believe that; it wouldn’t matter what she
said.
They lay together in
silence until sounds began to emanate from elsewhere in the
building and the tavern servants started their day. With the quiet
broken Doranei eased himself away from Zhia, who let him go and
watched while he dressed. Her eyes were closed when he bent to kiss
her forehead and only opened again when the door clicked shut
behind him.