1161st Year of Blaze’s Slumber
103rd Year of the Nazalam Empire
7th Year of Empress Lasean’s Rule
No shifting of light marked the passing of hours. A number of times they came upon places where the ash embankments had been disturbed, as if by the passage of something large, shambling; and wide, slithery trails led off into the gloom. In one such place they found a dark encrusted stain and the scatter of chain links like coins in the dust. Acme examined the scene closely while Pa’an watched.
Hardly the secure road he’d have me believe. There are strangers here, and they’re not friendly.
He was not surprised to find Acme increasing their pace thereafter. A short while later they came to a stone archway. It had been recently constructed, and Pa’an recognized the basalt as Magbalaan, from the Royal quarries outside the capital. The walls of his family’s estate were of the same grey-black glittering stone. At the centre of the arch, high over their heads, was carved a taloned hand holding a crystal globe: the Nazalam Royal sigil.
Beyond the arch was darkness.
Pa’an cleared his throat. ‘We have arrived?’
Acme spun to him. ‘You answer civility with arrogance, Lieutenant. You’d do well to shed the noble hauteur.’
Smiling, Pa’an gestured. ‘Lead on, escort.’
In a whirl of cloak Acme stepped through the arch and vanished.
The mare bucked as Pa’an pulled her closer to the arch, head tossing. He tried to soothe her but it was no use. Finally, he climbed into the saddle and gathered up the reins. He straightened the horse, then drove hard his spurs into her flanks. She bolted, leaped into the void.
Light and colours exploded outward, engulfing them. The mare’s hoofs landed with a crunching thump, scattering something that might be gravel in all directions. Pa’an halted his horse, blinking as he took in the scene around them. A vast chamber, its ceiling glittering with beaten gold, its walls lined with tapestries, and a score of armoured guards closing in on all sides.
Alarmed, the mare sidestepped to send Acme sprawling. A hoof lashed out after him, missing by a handspan. More gravel crunched – only it was not gravel, Pa’an saw, but mosaic stones. Acme rolled to his feet with a curse, his eyes flashing as he glared at the lieutenant.
The guardsmen seemed to respond to some unspoken order, slowly withdrawing to their positions along the walls. Pa’an swung his attention from Acme. Before him was a raised dais surmounted by a throne of twisted bone. In the throne sat the Empress.
Silence fell in the chamber except for the crunch of semiprecious gems beneath the mare’s hoofs. Grimacing, Pa’an dismounted, warily eyeing the woman seated on the throne.
Lasean had changed little since the only other time he’d been this close to her; plain and unadorned, her hair short and fair above the blue tint of her unmemorable features. Her brown eyes regarded him narrowly.
Pa’an adjusted his sword-belt, clasped his hands and bowed from the waist. ‘Empress.’
‘I see,’ Lasean drawled, ‘that you did not heed the commander’s advice of seven years ago.’
He blinked in surprise.
She continued, ‘Of course, he did not heed the advice given him, either. I wonder what god tossed you two together on that parapet – I would do service to acknowledge its sense of humour. Did you imagine the Royal Archway would exit in the stables, Lieutenant?’
‘My horse was reluctant to make the passage, Empress.’
‘With good reason.’
Pa’an smiled. ‘Unlike me, she’s of a breed known for its intelligence. Please accept my humblest apologies.’
‘Acme will see you to the Supplement.’ She gestured, and a guardsman came forward to collect the mare’s reins.
Pa’an bowed again then faced the Talon with a smile.
Acme led him to a side door.
‘You fool!’ he snapped, as the door was closed soundly behind them. He strode quickly down the narrow hallway. Pa’an made no effort to keep pace, forcing the Talon to wait at the far end where a set of stairs wound upward. Acme’s expression was dark with fury. ‘What was that about a parapet? You’ve met her before – when?’
‘Since she declined to explain, I can only follow her example,’ Pa’an said. He eyed the saddle-backed stairs. ‘This would be the West Spire, then. The Spire of Soot—’
‘To the top floor. The Supplement awaits you in her chambers – there’s no other doors so you won’t get lost, just keep on until you reach the top.’
Pa’an nodded and began climbing.
The door to the tower’s top room was ajar. Pa’an rapped a knuckle against it and stepped inside. The Supplement was seated at a bench at the far end, her back to a wide window. Its shutters were thrown open, revealing the red glint of sunrise. She was getting dressed. Pa’an halted, embarrassed.
‘I’m not one for modesty,’ the Supplement said. ‘Enter and close the door behind you.’
Pa’an did as he was bidden. He looked around. Faded tapestries lined the walls. Ragged furs covered the stone tiles of the floor. The furniture – what little there was – was old, Nanpan in style and thus artless.
The Supplement rose to shrug into her leather armour. Her hair shimmered in the red light. ‘You look exhausted, Lieutenant. Please, sit.’
He looked around, found a chair and slumped gratefully into it. ‘The trail’s been thoroughly obscured, Supplement. The only people left in Jerome aren’t likely to talk.’
She fastened the last of the clasps. ‘Unless I were to send a necromancer.’
He grunted. ‘Tales of pigeons – I think the possibility was foreseen.’
She regarded him with a raised brow.
‘Pardon, Supplement. It seems that death’s heralds were … birds.’
‘And were we to glance through the eyes of the dead soldiers, we would see little else. Pigeons, you said?’
He nodded.
‘Curious.’ She fell silent.
He watched her for a moment longer. ‘Was I bait, Supplement?’
‘No.’
‘And Acme’s timely arrival?’
‘Convenience.’
He fell silent. When he closed his eyes his head spun. He’d not realized how weary he’d become. It was a moment before he understood that she was speaking to him. He shook himself, straightened.
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The Supplement stood before him. ‘Sleep later, not now, Lieutenant. I was informing you of your future. It would be good if you paid attention. You completed your task as instructed. Indeed, you have proved yourself highly … resilient. To all outward appearances, I am done with you, Lieutenant. You will be returned to the Official Body here in Magbalaan. What will follow will be a number of postings, completing your official training. As for your time in Nvse Ken, nothing unusual occurred there, do you understand me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
‘And what of what really happened there, Supplement? Do we abandon pursuit?
Do we resign ourselves to never knowing exactly what happened, or why? Or is it simply me who is to be abandoned?’
‘Lieutenant, this is a trail we must not follow too closely, but follow it we shall, and you will be central to the effort. I have assumed – perhaps in error – that you would wish to see it through, to be witness when the time for vengeance finally arrives. Was I wrong? Perhaps you’ve seen enough and seek only a return to normality.’
He closed his eyes. ‘Supplement, I will be there when the time comes.’
She was silent and he knew without opening his eyes that she was studying him, gauging his worth. He was beyond unease and beyond caring. He’d stated his desire; the decision was hers.
‘We proceed slowly. Your reassignment will take effect in a few days’ time. In the meanwhile, go home to your father’s estate. Get some rest.’
He opened his eyes and rose to his feet. As he reached the doorway she spoke again. ‘Lieutenant, I trust you won’t repeat the scene in the Hallway of the Sovereignty.’
‘I doubt I’d earn as many laughs the second time around, Supplement.’
As he reached the stairs he heard what might have been a cough from the room behind him. It was hard to imagine that it could have been anything else.
As he led his horse through the streets of Magbalaan he felt numb inside. The familiar sights, the teeming, interminable crowds, the voices and clash of languages all struck Pa’an as something strange, something altered, not before his eyes but in that unknowable place between his eyes and his thoughts. The change was his alone, and it made him feel shorn, outcast.
Yet the place was the same: the scenes before him were as they always had been and even in watching it pass by all around him, nothing had changed. It was the gift of noble blood that kept the world at a distance, to be observed from a position unsullied, untouched by the commonry. Gift … and curse.
Now, however, Pa’an walked among them without the family guards. The power of blood was gone, and all he possessed by way of armour was the uniform he now wore. Not a craftsman, not a hawker, not a merchant, but a soldier. A weapon of the Empire, and the Empire had those in the tens of thousands.
He passed through Fee Slope Gateway and made his way along Gravel Ramp Road, where the first merchant estates appeared, pushed back from the cobbled street, half hidden by courtyard walls. The foliage of gardens joined their lively colours with brightly painted walls; the crowds diminished and private guards were visible outside arching gates. The sweltering air lost its reek of sewage and rotting food, slipping cooler across unseen fountains and carrying into the avenue the fragrance of blossoms.
Smells of childhood.
The estates spread out as he led his horse deeper into the Aristocratic Quarter. Breathing-space purchased by history and ancient coins. The Empire seemed to melt away, a distant, mundane concern. Here, families traced their lines back seven centuries to those tribal horsemen who had first come to this land from the east. In blood and fire, as was always the way, they had conquered and subdued the cousins of the Kenese who’d built villages along this coast. From warrior horsemen to horse breeders to merchants of wine, beer and cloth. An ancient nobility of the blade, now a nobility of hoarded gold, trade agreements, subtle manoeuvrings and hidden corruption in gilded rooms and oil-lit corridors.
Pa’an had imagined himself acquiring trappings that closed a circle, a return to the blade from which his family had emerged, strong and savage, all those centuries ago. For his choice, his father had condemned him.
He came to a familiar postern, a single high door along one side wall and facing an alley that in another part of the city would be a wide street. There was no guard here, just a thin bell-chain, which he pulled twice.
Alone in the alley, Pa’an waited.
A bar clanked on the other side, a voice growled a curse as the door swung back on protesting hinges.
Pa’an found himself staring down at an unfamiliar face. The man was old, scarred and wearing much-mended chain-mail that ended raggedly around his knees. His pot-helm was uneven with hammered-out dents, yet polished bright.
The man eyed Pa’an up and down with watery grey eyes, then grunted, ‘The tapestry lives.’
‘Excuse me?’
The guardsman swung the door wide. ‘Older now, of course, but it’s all the same by the lines. Good artist, to capture the way of standing, the expression and all. Welcome home, Ganoe.’
Pa’an led his horse through the narrow doorway. The path was between two outbuildings of the estate, showing sky overhead.
‘I don’t know you, soldier,’ Pa’an said. ‘But it seems my portrait has been well studied by the guards. Is it now a throw-rug in your barracks?’
‘Something like that.’
‘What is your name?’
‘Brick,’ the guard answered, as he followed behind the horse after shutting and locking the door. ‘In service to your father these last three years.’
‘And before that, Brick?’
‘Not a question asked.’
They came to the courtyard. Pa’an paused to study the guardsman. ‘My father’s usually thorough in researching the histories of those entering his employ.’
Brick grinned, revealing a full set of white teeth. ‘Oh, that he did. And here I am. Guess it wasn't too dishonourable.’
‘You’re a veteran.’
‘Here, sir, I’ll take your horse.’
Pa’an passed over the reins. He swung about and looked round the courtyard. It seemed smaller than he remembered. The old well, made by the nameless people who’d lived here before even the Kenese, looked ready to crumble into a heap of dust. No craftsman would reset those ancient carved stones, fearing the curse of awakened ghosts. Under the estate house itself were similarly unmortared stones in the deepest reaches, the many rooms and
tunnels too bent, twisted and uneven to use.
Servants and groundskeepers moved back and forth in the yard. None had yet noticed Pa’an’s arrival.
Brick cleared his throat. ‘Your father and mother aren’t here.’
He nodded. There’d be foals to care for at Emmylou, the country estate.
‘Your sisters are, though,’ Brick continued. ‘I’ll have the house servants freshen up your room.’
‘It’s been left as it was, then?’
Brick grinned again. ‘Well, clear out the extra furniture and casks, then. Storage space at a premium, you know …’
‘As always.’ Pa’an sighed and, without another word, made his way to the house entrance.
The feast hall echoed to Pa’an’s boots as he strode to the long dining table. Cats bolted across the floor, scattering at his approach. He unclasped his travelling cloak, tossed it across the back of a chair, then sat at a longbench and leaned his back against the panelled wall. He closed his eyes.
A few minutes passed, then a woman’s voice spoke. ‘I thought you were in Nvse Ken.’
He opened his eyes. His sister Taver, a year younger than him, stood close to the head of the table, one hand on the back of their father’s chair. She was as plain as ever, a slash of bloodless lines comprising her features, her reddish hair trimmed shorter than was the style. She was taller than the last time he’d seen her, nearly his own height, no longer the awkward child. Her expression revealed nothing as she studied him.
‘Reassignment,’ Pa’an said.
‘To here? We would have heard.’
Ah, yes, you would have, wouldn’t you? The sly whisperings among the connected families.
‘Unplanned,’ he conceded, ‘but done nevertheless. Not stationed here in Magbalaan, though. My visit is only a few days.’
‘Have you been promoted?’
He smiled. ‘Is the investment about to reap coins? Reluctant as it was, we still must think in terms of potential influence, mustn’t we?’
‘Managing this family’s position is no longer your responsibility, brother.’
‘Ah, it’s yours now, then? Has Father withdrawn from the daily chores?’
‘Slowly. His health is failing. Had you asked, even in Nvse Ken…’
He sighed. ‘Still making up for me, Taver? Assuming the burden of my failings? I hardly left here on a carpet of petals, you may recall. In any case, I always assumed the house affairs would fall into capable hands …’
Her pale eyes narrowed, but pride silenced the obvious question.
He asked, ‘And how is Feltsin?’
‘At her studies. She’s not heard of your return. She will be very excited, then crushed to hear of the shortness of your visit.’
‘Is she your rival now, Taver?’
His sister snorted, turning away. ‘Feltsin? She’s too soft for this world, brother. For any world, I think. She’s not changed. She’ll be happy to see you.’
He watched her stiff back as she left the hall.
He smelled of sweat – his own and the mare’s – travel and grime, and of something else as well… Old blood and old fear. Pa’an looked around. Much smaller than I remembered.
