Black Bottle (58 page)

Caliph turned to Bablemum’s makeshift magistrate. “Ku’h, can we talk? Privately?”

“Of course.” Ku’h smiled. There was something wrong with that smile. If his entire city had been wiped out by the same disease that had steamrolled Sandren, why did he seem so calm, in control, even amused? Why wasn’t he filthy and tired from fighting off silver-skinned plague victims and giant eel-men? Even more obvious, why wasn’t he sick?

Caliph gestured to the doorway through which he had entered the room. He didn’t know a thing about the ship’s layout and decided to take Ku’h aside in the only direction that wouldn’t make him feel lost.

Ku’h stepped into the darker hallway. When they were sufficiently alone, Caliph said, “There was an international conference scheduled in Sandren five days ago. We—”

“I know what happened,” said Ku’h. “I know how you came to be here.”

“So you know we’re following—”

“The Sslia,” said Ku’h.

Caliph didn’t want to give in. He didn’t want to accept that his world of metholinate trade, of meetings and treaties and signatures on paper was collapsing into a deep hole of esoteric words and occult legend. As much as he had wanted to escape the role of High King only days ago, he now very much wanted it back. He wanted all of it back, all the problems and threats and mincing tongues.

Those things were understandable.

“I’m following the woman who committed the crime. Who murdered all those people in Sandren.” It was all he had left to hold on to. The last rational piece of action he could take. Caliph realized this even as he said it. But now that it was out of his mouth, he also realized that it sounded crazy. If the plague was everywhere, if even the mighty city of Bablemum was a silent ruin, where would Sena’s case be tried? Were there any lawyers still alive? Judges? Did laws still exist? The world had changed under Caliph’s feet. He was falling and yet he was trying to ignore that fact.

The realization disturbed him. As if some mechanism in his head had finally snapped to, he wondered, maybe, whether it was time to start thinking in a new direction.

“She is in the city,” said Ku’h.

“Where?”

“With the Lua’groc.”

“The Lua’groc?”

The lewdness in Ku’h’s smile arose, no doubt, at Caliph’s expense. Ku’h pulled his white shirt out of his pants and lifted it to reveal his muscular sage-colored abdomen. There was an ugly black mark above his navel.

“We are the Cabal of Wights,” said Ku’h. “Or, as the witches of Mirayhr call us, the Willin Droul.”

Caliph sorted through everything he had read in Sena’s books. “The Lua’groc are one of the ancient races. But you don’t look like some kind of mon—”

“The Cabal is not an ethnic organization, King Howl. We come from every region of the continent. Most of us do not have Lua’groc blood in our veins.”

“So you have medicine? You look healthy.”

“We wear the Hilid Mark,” said Ku’h. He gestured to his waist, which was not far below Caliph’s eye-level. “It is a ward. We are protected.”

“So you’re with them? The creatures spreading the disease?”

“Yes.”

Here was the enemy. One face of it at least. And Caliph felt unarmed. There was no way he could fight this man. And what good would it do? Rather, this was an opportunity to understand, finally, what had happened.

“Why are you with them? Why do you want all of this to happen?”

Ku’h laughed, a sound that came from miles deep. “You expect poor, ignorant people to join a cult. People without hope. But that’s not the case, King Howl.

“The affluent and powerful can also become disillusioned. The endless pursuit of money, fame, comfort, power? The desire for a sense of accomplishment before you die? Don’t you feel it too?”

Caliph rocked back on his heels. “You don’t think providing government for peoples’ well being is worthwhile? You don’t think doctors—”

“In the end,” said Ku’h, “no matter who you are, or what you did, self-sacrifice included, all you’ve done is rubbed yourself in an effort to feel special—to feel good.

“Which is why I joined the Cabal of Wights,
Mister
Howl: to get underneath the protective shell that keeps us all feeling safe and normal. To get down to the ugly, tender truth.”

“And what’s the truth?” Caliph asked.

“Change is truth.”

“You joined an organization that backs change? That’s not so unusual. But why the disease? Why—”

“Why paint with yellow over blue?” Ku’h interrupted. “The answer is that you prefer it. That’s all there is. Change. Not change with a purpose. Just change. That’s why the Lua’groc laugh in the face of their own death. It’s a beautiful, empowering thing: to not care. To stand in awe and watch the universe devolve.”

Was this true? Was this what Sena believed? Was she really with these psychopaths? Some kind of prophet flying at their head? Leading them? Caliph couldn’t believe it.

And yet … she had killed all those people at Sandren.

He felt the planet crack in half and all the warm logic pour out of its center, leaving the world cold and empty. Maybe there were no courtrooms left. Maybe there were no crimes that could be rationally punished. But there was still one thing Caliph could do. He could find Sena and he could ask her, to her face,
why.

“You worship Sen … er, the Sslia?” asked Caliph.

“The Sslia is the avatar of change. We embrace that change. But the Sslia is also a servant, an attendant. The Sslia prepares the path. The Sslia, by virtue of its own desire to escape the role it has been given, does the only thing that it can do.”

“And what is that?” asked Caliph.

“The Sslia destroys the world.”

“That’s a lot to take in, Ku’h … especially on an empty stomach.”

Ku’h’s smile was dark and cunning. Caliph could tell that the huge Veyden was not underestimating him. “The Sslia told us that you had arrived. She said you would need food and safety, that you were already protected against the disease. Bablemum is no threat to you. We have come up to invite you to dinner.”

“Thank you. We’re all hungry. But I’ve just woken up and I need a shower. Can I ask for forty minutes?”

Ku’h’s eyes were predatory. “Of course.”

“Again, thank you.”

Caliph reached out to shake the man’s hand but Ku’h only simpered. “You are in the south now. We do not touch here … unless we are mating.”

Caliph followed the giant man back into the other room. Without a word, Ku’h made a gesture and all his men stood up.

Caliph cringed at the demure moment of separation between Taelin and the Veyden who had been reclining next to her on the divan. The sight of it made him hugely uncomfortable.

When all the Veydens had left, Caliph turned to Baufent. “Tell me when you think it’s safe to talk.”

“I think it’s safe,” she said.

“Are we in danger?”

“I don’t know.” Her face was as gray as her hair. She looked exhausted. “He’s not the lord mayor, that’s for certain.”

“What’s going on? What happened?”

“You know as much as I do,” Baufent snapped.

“I mean with Sena. What happened?”

“I can tell you what happened,” said Taelin.

Shielded from the priestess, Baufent offered Caliph an elevated eyebrow.

“Taelin? Can you excuse the doctor and me for just a couple of minutes? I want to talk to her about my injuries.”

“Sena healed you.” Taelin beamed. She giggled softly and sauntered toward the door. “But that’s fine. I know you want to talk about me.” She blew him a kiss and then the curious octagonal portal slid shut.

As soon as she was out, Baufent exhaled. “She’s lost her blessed mind. Completely. She practically worships your…” An awkward moment. Baufent’s face was deeply lined. “Anyway, I have to admit, I’m starting to wonder whether I should join her church.”

The humor was so dry that neither one of them smiled. Caliph was looking at his hand. The stitches were gone. There were no scars or traces of injury.

“Look, I’m sorry you’re here. I know you didn’t want to come—”

“Of course I didn’t want to come!” Baufent yelled at him. “Do you realize where I am? I’m fourteen hundred miles south of where I should be. Fourteen hundred!”

“I know. We’ll get you on a ship headed for Stonehold—”

“There aren’t any ships.” Baufent’s voice was a chisel. She chipped her words directly from his optimism. “Did you
not
look at the streets? When Ku’h said only some of them were left, he meant it. There
isn’t
anyone in Bablemum. There are no flights out of here!” Her cheeks sagged but her eyes looked bright and young and pleading.

Caliph couldn’t reassure her so he changed tack. “What did Sena do while she was here?”

“You think that’s going to help us figure—”

“I want to know!” he barked. “What happened while I was asleep?”

“I already told you.”

“Tell me again.”

Baufent glowered. “They had me in a cell. The Iycestokians I mean. Lady Rae let me out and told me you needed a doctor. We were on our way to the cockpit to tend to you when Sena walked onto the deck. She’s the one who fiddled with the controls.”

“How did she get on board?”

“The same way we all saw her leave the ship in Sandren. She just walked clean out of the sky!”

“And she left the same way?” It sounded stupid but he wondered if Baufent might have seen her go into the city.

“I didn’t see her leave. All I know is that she took the Iycestokians with.”

Caliph noticed for the first time how quiet the ship was. He remembered the silver arms flailing, the hands pawing at him. “So there’s just the three of us now?”

“As far as I can tell.”

“And you never spoke to Sena?”

“No.”

Caliph found it hard to believe, but the fear on Baufent’s face as she remembered the event was clear.

“Sena talked to Taelin. I stayed away. They moved you into the room over there.” She waved her hand toward the place he had woken up. “Then the ship started moving. I came back to find out what was going on and Taelin said we were headed for Bablemum.

“I assumed she was delusional but she wouldn’t let me give her anything to calm her down.

“Anyway, that’s pretty much it. Shortly after that I realized Sena was gone and so were the Iycestokians.”

“Did you check the cockpit?”

“I looked in. I’m not a pilot. I didn’t dare to touch anything.”

“And you said we arrived here last night?”

“That’s right. We drifted in low, through the trees. Ku’h showed up right away. Said he’d seen us coming from a lookout in one of the towers. He basically showed up and said hi, then left and didn’t come back until this evening. That’s when I came and got you.”

“Did he say he wanted anything?”

“He’s offering us dinner,” said Baufent. “Which I’d like to take him up on. We’re down to a few canned goods in the kitchen.”

Caliph was hungry too but he remained thoughtful.

“So,” said Baufent. “Are we going? To dinner?”

“Indeed,” Caliph mumbled.

After half a minute of silence Baufent asked, “What are you going to do?”

Caliph looked at her. She was powerful and fierce, defiant of her own lack of options.

“I’m going after Sena.” When Baufent didn’t reply he offered a few qualifiers. “It’s all I have left. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Sigmund’s dead. Alani. So many people.”

“Well can you at least get me fed before discarding me for your silly quest?”

“I’m not discarding you. What else do you want me to do? What makes sense? I couldn’t have planned for this. How the fuck could I have planned for this?” He saw the truth of it register in her face. He saw her regret her words. “You can come with me,” said Caliph. “Or you can do whatever you think is best. I’m not your king anymore. I’m not a pilot either. I can’t fly us back home.

“I just need to understand what happened. How everything turned upside down. Even if it kills me.”

“Again?” Baufent asked.

“What?”

“Even if it kills you again?”

He studied her face for cynicism but she was unreadable. “You really believe that?” he asked. “That my organs are in jars back in Stonehold?”

Baufent pawed the side of her face, a combination perhaps of pensiveness and nervous tic. “The organs you were born with? Yes,” she said. “Yes I do.”

CHAPTER

46

Sena stood at one of Ulung’s many inroads, waiting for the Veydens. The flawless did not guard the borders to their empire. Those who stumbled in were presumed swallowed by the sewers.

You ate here last summer,
said Nathaniel.

This particular gateway to Ulung was located in a cistern beneath one of Bablemum’s restaurants, not far from where the airship had moored.

“Yes,” she said. Despite her eternal lack of hunger it was true.

You made your pact with the flawless here?

“Yes.”

I don’t doubt they greedily accepted your terms. But you don’t need to
be
here. You don’t need to fulfill your promise to them. I’ve been infinitely patient,
he said.

“Patient, is it? Not desperate?”

I’m far from desperate.

“So it seems. You just returned from the ocean … I’ve been wondering—”

Why isn’t the High King dead? Why are you delaying the ink?

“When I need ink I’ll have it, Nathan.” He hated when she called him that. “But I’ve been wanting to ask you something—”

Don’t try to turn this around.

“Why did you send me to Soth—?”

For my daughter. And the pimplot—

“That’s a lie. You never loved your daughter. You saved yourself in that garden twenty thousand years ago—”

You know nothing.

“I think we could have found a substitute for the pimplota seed, don’t you?”

I don’t know. You’re the one going to the jungles. You’re the one who wants to do everything with exactness—

“The platinum wires. The rubies? You actually tried to use stones. You’ve made mistakes. But I don’t think you could have really believed—”

So you think my journals are a fabrication …