Antiphon (27 page)

Special. Latent sensitivity by nature of who he is.
Petronus took the words, examined them, filed them away. Instead, he forced himself to think of that massive black rock surrounded by an underground sea of quicksilver. Seen from above, at least in his imagination, it looked like a dark and staring eye.

Petronus looked up and met eyes with Hebda. “How many of you survived Windwir?”

Hebda looked around again. “It would be imprudent to discuss that under these circumstances.”

Petronus leaned forward, placing both hands flat upon his desk. “What is the operating mission and authority of the Office for the Preservation of Light?”

“Our authority is Papal by Holy Unction. Our mission is secret.”

“I am the Pope,” Petronus said, his voice rising.

“No,” Hebda answered. “You
were
the Pope.” Then he stood. “This is fruitless, Petronus. We do not have any more time for this.” He pointed to a map that suddenly, conveniently lay open, covering half the desk. “His last transmission point was
here
.” He pointed to a point on the map, and Petronus quickly memorized the surrounding area. “If they capture him, they will use him to find the mechoservitors. He has
great reach with whatever it is he’s found. And if they find the mechoservitors, the light will be utterly lost to us.”

Already, he could smell the salt and dust choking out the scent of lavender and paper. But he had to ask at least one more question. “Who are they?”

“They,” Hebda said, “are the Blood Guard of the Crimson Empress. And they’re now loosed in the Named Lands as well.”

Petronus felt the sharp edge of the rock as he connected with it and watched the world blaze white for a moment. Slowly, it refocused and he saw that he was staring into the sky. It was one of those days when the moon was visible, and he saw it thinly veiled behind high, thin clouds. The horses around him stopped, including his own, and Grymlis dismounted.

“Another one?” the grizzled captain asked.

But Petronus said nothing. Instead, he wondered how he’d not heard it before. Because it was everywhere, he now realized. The song was all around him.

And, Petronus knew, it required a response.

Vlad Li Tam knocked lightly on the boiler room door and slipped inside, pulling it closed behind him as he did. The heat of the room washed over him, and he felt the sweat rising. He licked the salt from his lips and glanced around the room.

Baryk stood nearby, and beside him, Vlad’s forty-eighth son, Ren, covered in grease and wet from sweat. On the far end of the room stood the sunstone vault—a massive steel compartment with Rufello locks to keep the ancient power source secure. Though he wasn’t supposed to have them, Vlad had long ago paid very well to acquire the ciphers for the locks, but he’d yet to need them. The boiler stood in the center, a series of pipes leading to and from it carrying steam aft to power the engines. Stretched out on a rack, almost as if hung to dry, the metal man stood, chest plate open, wires spilling out. Ren held one end of a braid of wires that led deep into the chest cavity.

He looked to him. “Are you ready, Father?

Vlad nodded. “Do you think it will work?”

“I think so,” the young man said. “Yes.”

They’d spent the better part of a day looking over the metal man before Ren Li Tam had been brought over from one of the other ships. He’d studied the mechanicals during a dispensational apprenticeship
to the library in his youth and had continued to dabble here and there with what little he could find.

It took him no time at all to see that the mechoservitor’s power supply had somehow burned out.

Now, most of a week later, they were ready to reactivate the mechanical using the sunstone that powered the flagship of the iron fleet. Ren had gone over his plan with them quite carefully, and Vlad didn’t see a better way to discover how a mechanical could be adrift in the deepest south of the Ghosting Crests in one of Rafe Merrique’s lifeboats.

“I’m going to power us down,” Ren said, throwing a large switch. “Then I will wire the mechoservitor directly to the sunstone.”

The vibration of the ship that he’d grown so used to was suddenly gone, and Vlad looked up. He could hear everyone breathing in the quiet.

He watched as Ren threaded his end of the wire braid through what looked like the eye of a gigantic needle set into the side of the vault. He knotted the braids and then pushed the needle into a slot in the side of the vault, slowly. When he was finished, he wiped the sweat from his hands and threw the switch.

The mechoservitor danced upon the rack for a moment, then settled as its boiler started ticking. After a few minutes, the amber eyes fluttered open as the shutters blinked.

“Are you functional?” Ren asked it.

“I am functional,” it answered.

“What is your designation?”

“I am Mechoservitor Number Seven, First Generation, attached to the Office for the Preservation of the Light by Holy Unction of Pope Introspect.” The metal man shook violently as he spoke, his bellows pumping wildly as his eye shutters opened and closed fast as hummingbird wings. Then, the shaking stopped and the eyes grew bright and then dim. “My name is Obadiah.”

Vlad blinked. “You have a name?” He was familiar with Isaak—though the last time he’d seen that metal man had been at Sethbert’s arranged execution well over a year before. Still, Isaak was the only mechoservitor he knew of to take a name.

“I do,” the mechoservitor said. “Where am I?”

“You are aboard
The Serendipitous Wind
, flagship of House Li Tam,” Vlad said. “What are you doing so far to sea? And how do you come to be in one of the
Kinshark
’s lifeboats?”

The metal man pulled at the chains that bound him to the rack. “Why am I restrained?” He stretched his legs.

Vlad smiled. “I ordered it. To be certain of you. When I am, I will order it otherwise.”

The mechoservitor blinked. “You are the captain of this vessel?”

“I am Vlad Li Tam.”

The mechoservitor clicked and clacked, its eyes flashing again. “Do you serve the light, Lord Tam?”

An odd question.
And one he’d not thought about for a good while. Not so long ago, he might have lied in his answer. But now, he opted for the truth. “I do not serve anything,” Vlad Li Tam said.

“The light requires service of you.”

How many times had he heard these words? To be fair, at least half the times that he had acquiesced when they called, it had been because of some secondary outcome he could achieve beneath their very cowl-shadowed noses. His eyes narrowed. “What service does the light require, Obadiah?”

“A replacement power source. The twelve vessels provided you by the Androfrancine Order are powered by sunstones and—”

“Six vessels now,” Vlad said. “Perhaps we can barter a satisfactory arrangement.” He glanced around the room, saw the stool someone had placed for him, and sat in it. “But first, a conversation.”

“Time is of the essence, Lord Tam. I do not—”

He raised his hand. “First,” he said again, “a conversation.” He leaned forward. “Where is the
Kinshark
?”

How long had that vessel been missing now? Two months? Four? He made a mental note to ask Baryk.

“I do not know,” the mechoservitor said.

“Were you aboard her?”

The eye shutters flashed again.

Vlad smiled. “We found you in her lifeboat.”

“I was aboard. I do not know her current location.”

He nodded slowly. “What were you doing aboard the
Kinshark
?”

Nothing.

Vlad changed his tack. “Did you hire Rafe Merrique to transport you?”

The mechoservitor’s bellows pumped, and a gout of steam released from the exhaust grate in its back. “The light required service of his vessel. Captain Merrique and his crew were provided for.” When it
met Vlad’s gaze he felt suddenly unsettled by the intense light in those amber eyes. “May we now barter?”

Vlad shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “Not until my curiosity is satisfied. What is your purpose in the Ghosting Crests?”

“You are not authorized to—”

Vlad sighed. “Power him off.”

The eyes flashed again, and the metal man began to shake. Ren reached for the switch, and the metal man’s mouth worked its way open and then closed three times before it spoke in a quiet voice. “The antiphon will fail if you do not aid me, Lord Tam. My task cannot be accomplished without your assistance.”

“Then trust me. There is no Order to support you. There is no Pope to offer Holy Unction. You are aware of this?”

“Yes.”

“And you are self-aware. You have a name. Obadiah, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You are capable of making choices outside of your scripting, Obadiah?”

The mechoservitor was silent for a moment. Finally, it spoke. “I am.”

“Then choose to trust me.”

It hung its head, and when it looked up, there were tears welling in its eyes. “But the dream is clear on this matter: You are not to be trusted.”

Vlad sat back and blinked. “Me?”

“Your kind.”

He glanced around the room and made a quick decision. “Everyone out,” he said. “I want to be alone with it.”

He watched the surprise register on the faces. As they slowly shuffled toward the door, he caught the sleeve of Ren’s shirt. “Stay nearby. I’ll summon you.”

He waited in silence for a minute after they left. Then, he edged his stool closer to the mechoservitor. “Trust is an earned commodity not easily accrued in these times,” he said. “So I am going to trust you, Obadiah, and hope that you, in turn, will trust me.” He waited until the mechanical stopped clacking, processing his words, and then continued. “The only reason I found you was because the d’jin we follow took us to you. If she hadn’t, you would be lost at sea, nonfunctional, and whatever this
antiphon
is that you speak of would surely have failed. Do you concur?”

“I concur.”

“You are adept at mathematics and probabilities. What are the chances of another sunstone-powered vessel finding you in the Ghosting Crests?” When the mechanical started clicking and clacking to work the equation, Vlad raised a hand. “I do not need the exact number. Would you concur that it is highly improbable?”

“Yes,” Obadiah said. “I concur.”

Even as he painted the image for the metal man, Vlad began to see it for himself. She had known. She had brought him to the metal man’s rescue, but it did not appear to be her only destination. Each night, even since they’d brought the metal man aboard, she’d appeared to guide them farther southeast. Something still waited for them out in the waters where none dared sail.

“I do not know why she brought me to you,” Vlad said, “but I believe she intended us to find you. Even still, she leads us southeast and—”

The mechoservitor looked up. “You sail for the Moon Wizard’s Ladder.” He started to tremble again. “The light-bearer is calling you into the dream.”

Light-bearer?
Vlad had never heard the term before. But he’d heard of the Moon Wizard’s Ladder from the mythology of the Old World. He’d certainly heard stories as a boy about the Year of the Falling Moon and the ladder that the first Wizard King had used to return and avenge the kidnap of his daughters, establishing the firm but just reign by blood magick in the now desolate lands north of them. He thought of the ghost in the water, and his heart swelled for her, aching in its intensity, in his need to follow her.

Vlad forced his attention back to the mechoservitor. “Calling me into what dream?”

“The dream we serve to save the light,” Obadiah said, his voice reedy and low. He clicked and whirred for a minute, as if calculating how much trust to extend. “The dream compels us. It requires a response.”

Yes. Like the ghost in the water.
Compulsion to follow, expressed by an intense love. “The antiphon,” Vlad said.

Slowly, the mechoservitor nodded.

Then it opened its mouth and sang. The metal voice rose in the metal room, and Vlad Li Tam felt the hair on his arms and neck lift. In that moment, he felt a connection to something he had never felt before. The song was all around him, wrapping him like the warm
sea, his scars burning from the salt. Light pulsed and undulated, tendrils waving to him.

“I know this song. She sings it to me.”

The mechoservitor stopped singing abruptly and fixed his eyes on him. “Lord Tam, you have heard the dream. You are my brother. The light-bearer chose you. The antiphon is nearly complete. We must clear the Moon Wizard’s Ladder or the antiphon will fail and the light will be lost.”

Vlad Li Tam stood slowly.

Yes my love,
he told his ghost.

“Yes,” Vlad Li Tam said to his metal brother, his cheeks wet from tears he did not know he cried.

He could still hear the song beneath his skin.

Winters moved through the new-fallen snow, her feet carrying her once more along a familiar pathway. Behind her, her two constant companions followed at an appropriate distance.