Dragon Queen (53 page)

Stories. Everywhere had its stories.

It took another full day from the Queverra to reach Dhar Thosis. He came to it early in the morning, and the first things he saw were the two great pieces of stone that rose out of the sea around its harbour, the larger Eye of the Sea Goddess, which from this angle, coming straight from the desert, looked more like a nose, and the pinnacle of the Dul Matha, the Kraitu's Bones. He could even see the arrow-straight line of the Bridge of Eternity, the span made of enchanters’ glass and gold that crossed the sea between the two, hanging a thousand feet above the waves. The stories of the desert men had it that the Kraitu had come from the Queverra, sent by the desert gods to battle the sea. The great serpent of the ocean, the Red Banatch, had fought it in the shallows here and the Kraitu had been crushed in the serpent's coils; the Kraitu's body had become the monolith of the Dul Matha, and the marks of the battle were still there to be seen if you believed in such things, the long dark gouges down the side of the sheer stone stack. The Red Banatch had returned to her depths, but not before she stole the Kraitu's essence and laid a thousand eggs along the shore, the offspring of earth and sea. Half had hatched into the sea titans, little images of the mighty Kraitu itself, and the other half into dragons.

Odd, the hsian mused, to be coming to one of the few places in Takei'Tarr that had a story about dragons in its past when he was driven by the ones that Quai'Shu had brought to the present. The dragons of Dhar Thosis were myths, and even if they'd once been real were long gone, but not so the titans. The old story went that the titans had savaged both land and sea with storms and floods after they hatched from the serpent's eggs. The dragons had plucked them from the water one by one and dropped them from the top of the Dul Matha – the shards and lumps of broken stone around the base of the cliffs were said to be their bones – until the last few swore an eternal oath to become guardians of the coast here for ever. In the cataclysm of the Splintering the dragons had vanished as the world fell to chaos and darkness but the titans were still there, lurking under the water, ready to come if the sea lord
master of the Kraitu's Bones called to them. No one, as far as Jima knew, was quite sure any more whether the titans were real or merely an elaborate and exquisitely crafted story to instil caution into the city's enemies.

Time. Such scales of time and space and change beggared lesser minds. But not a hsian.
Why would there be dragons here?
He could see, as the glasship flew over the city and across a narrow stretch of sheltered sea full of ships at anchor, how it would be a fine place for dragons. The only ways to the top of the Dul Matha were to fly or else to cross the water to the Eye of the Sea Goddess and climb her winding roads to the Bridge of Eternity, both of which would be next to impossible for any unwelcome invader. Perhaps not quite as safe as Baros Tsen's flying fortress, but Jima Hsian was about to bet his life that the Palace of Roses on top of Dul Matha was a great deal more impenetrable to what was by far the most dangerous threat to any lord – an Elemental Man.

The glasship nudged up against a black enchanters’ monolith. They would need to stop here for a full day to recover enough energy to cross back over the deserts. Seneschals cloaked in feathers of emerald and blue, the colours of the city, greeted him with kindness and courtesy, exactly as the protocols of a good host demanded, and never mind the enmity that existed between their lords. They led him across the open yards between the three great glass and gold towers at the heart of the Palace of Roses. They opened the tower walls for him with their black rods and took him to a beautiful hall filled with scents and pleasures where they entertained him while their lord decided what was to be done. An hour passed and then another, and then the inevitable black-cloaks came. Polite to a fault, they blindfolded him and led him through a maze.
Down
, he thought.
We went down, not up. Down into the Kraitu's Bones
.

When they took the blindfold away, he was at the end of a passage filled with fine silver chains hanging from the ceiling, so thick with them that every step was like walking through thick mud.

‘They say the Elemental Men cannot pass such a passage in any form other than flesh and blood,’ said Sea Lord Senxian on the other side.

‘And are they right?’ Jima finished pushing his way through.

‘We will probably never know.’ As he emerged from among the
chains, Senxian led him on into a small room lined with gold and lit with candles in such a way that no shadows could exist. They exchanged the necessary words, spoke of their families, their business interests, all the things that needed to be said before the reason for the hsian's coming could be reached.

‘I have considered my sea lord's position carefully,’ said Jima Hsian at last. ‘It is no secret that the acquisition of dragons from the western realm has placed a huge burden upon him. There are some who question whether he can survive. My sea lord will require considerable additional loans before his debts can be stabilised and brought under control. I have made my assessment of those who will be sympathetic and those who will not, of what assets will be traded fairly away and what cannot be lost. I have assessed those among the sea lords who see an ally in need, those that see an opportunity for partnership and advantage, and those who see a giant about to fall. Sadly, the state of Quai'Shu’s health and the fragility of his mind will have a significant and substantial adverse affect on the confidence of our friends and allies. In short, he does not have the trust and faith that he once commanded. Had that been otherwise I believe the fleet of Xican would weather this storm. As it is, I have concluded that it will be you, Sea Lord Senxian, who will hold the balance. The fate of Quai'Shu’s fleet will rest in your hands. You will decide whether Xican remains proud and free or whether it becomes a second vassal to the bottomless wealth of the Vespinese.’
Quai'Shu
. Not
My sea lord
. There was a hint in that if Senxian cared to see it.

‘My hsian concludes the same,’ Senxian said.

‘Feyn'Channa. A great and dear friend and colleague.’
If you could say that about a man who was a venomous snake
. ‘We studied together for a time.’

‘Yes. Be clear to me now, Quai'Shu’s hsian. Have you come to beg? If so, what does your master offer?’

‘My master hasn't sent me,’ said Jima Hsian. ‘My conclusion is that you would see him fall and we will become vassals to Vespinarr.’

‘Do you seek new employment then, Hsian? How curious. What would you offer?’

‘You know there's only one thing worth either of our considerations.’

‘The dragons, Hsian? Why would I want them?’

‘Not the dragons. The alchemist, Sea Lord. Whoever controls the alchemist controls the dragons. Feyn'Channa, I'm entirely sure, has already told you this.’

‘Yes. So I have . . . heard.’ Senxian didn't believe him! Which meant Jima had missed something and all his calculations were wrong or . . .

He started to get up, then stopped as Senxian stood up too, shook his head and rang a little bell. ‘Why not meet the man who believes otherwise, Hsian, since you've come such a way.’

A cleverly concealed door opened behind Senxian, one that Jima Hsian hadn't seen. Beyond it stood a slave, a very tall man with skin so pale it looked like moonlight, dressed in grey robes and with tattoos that ran from his cheeks down his neck and vanished into their folds. A slave. Worse – one from a distant realm. The hsian wrinkled his nose.

‘This was once the home of your dragons, Hsian.’ Senxian smiled. ‘They belong to this stone. Perhaps this slave can explain more clearly than I can.’

The slave pulled a weapon from his robe, a cleaver with a gold handle covered in stars. He held it up and bowed. Jima Hsian started to rise from his chair again, quickly this time, pricked with fear.
A trick! Betrayed!
But the slave was already on his feet and quicker, and the knife came down fast and sharp.

Three little cuts. You. Obey. Me
.

But that
wasn't
what happened, at least not how Jima Hsian remembered it later, and when the slave had explained and made everything perfectly clear, the hsian scoffed at his own childish fright. For Sea Lord Senxian had shown him something he hadn't known before, something that changed a great deal, and he knew now that he'd made the right choice to come here, that he would stay and serve Senxian as he'd once served Quai'Shu. That he'd give him every possible help and, for him at least, everything would end exactly as he desired. At night, as he lay in his new bed with his new life around him, the strangest thought came to him: the white stone walls that glowed, the ones inside the eyrie he now meant to help Senxian to steal, they'd felt under his hands exactly like the stone surface of the Godspike.

46

Slaves and Executioners

Tuuran jumped over the side into the churning surf. The water was cold. A wave lifted the boat beside him, bumping him, almost knocking him off his feet. Crazy Mad was beside him. There were a lot of things wrong with Crazy, but how he handled himself in a fight wasn't one of them. Life felt good. It was one of those days for revelling in being alive.

‘I've been here before.’ Crazy Mad's eyes gleamed. They fought through the surf. ‘Not
here
here. Probably not even this world. But somewhere, leaping out of a boat like this, crashing through the water up onto a sandy beach towards waiting lines of trees. Oh yes. You were there too. You were called Tarn.’

‘Tuuran, slave. Always Tuuran. One name's good enough.’

Crazy Mad ignored him. ‘That was the day the Bloody Judge was born.’

Six months back at sea. Six months away from the choking desert and the mad devices of the Taiytakei and their slaves and the alchemist and his shameful submission. Three months since the grey-robes had come and no one had known why or what they wanted; and no one else had been on the deck after they'd gone and Tuuran had hauled Crazy Mad back up out of the sea, and so no one else had seen him sit bolt upright and stare at Tuuran with eyes that blazed with silver-white fire like the full moon on a cloudless night.

‘I am the Bringer of Endings.’

Three months. The grey dead hadn't been happy not to find what they were looking for but they hadn't come back. Three months and Crazy Mad's eyes had stayed crazy and mad but they hadn't burst into moonlight flames again. Tuuran had quietly decided he must have imagined it. Easier to bury that way.

‘Run, you dogs!’ he roared. ‘Run! Out of the water!’ The sand
felt sure beneath his feet. He raced to the beach and stood, naked steel, teeth bared, a roar poised on his tongue. The other sword-slaves were still struggling out of the water.
This is what I am. This is what I was made to be. ‘
To the trees!’ He ran and Crazy Mad ran beside him, long loping strides. Crazy Mad, still alive. No one had thrown him into the sea or sold him to another ship and now he was a sword, a soldier, and Tuuran was proud of him. Whoever he thought he was, he'd grown into his madness now. He'd made it his.

‘The last time I did this there were soldiers waiting in the trees.’ Crazy grinned. Sometimes he was frightening. His hunger for a fight put even some Adamantine Men to shame.

The second and the third boats were nosing into the shore now. The rest of their little company of sword-slaves and Taiytakei with their bows and their wands and their spiked clubs to keep them all in line. When they'd given Crazy Mad his first sword, Tuuran had seen the wondering in his eyes: how easy might it be to take them down, to cut them apart and seize their ship and be free? But that was what every sword-slave thought when they were given their spear or their blade or whatever weapon they chose.

‘And it happened too – once,’ Tuuran told him, as he'd been told in turn. ‘A whole ship threw off its chains. And the Taiytakei hunted down that ship and every slave who sailed her. They sent a sorcerer who could become the wind and the sea and every one of them died a horrible grisly death, and you may scoff as I once scoffed but I've seen those sorcerous killers with my own eyes now and I've seen what they do. So think it, slave, and then think that you'll have to cross your sword with mine and every other here. Better to take what is freely given.’

And Crazy Mad
had
thought it, and Tuuran had wondered for the first time in a very long while whether this was a man with whom he might cross swords and lose. But it hadn't come to that, not yet.

He waited for the other sword-slaves and lined them up, pairing them off.

‘Where are we?’ they asked, and Tuuran shrugged. The slave ship sailed where the slave ship sailed. None of them, save perhaps a few of the Taiytakei, knew where they went.

‘None of your concern, slave.’ He shoved a man at Crazy Mad. ‘This is Jris. He's yours.’ He took a step back and looked along the two lines of men. ‘You're slaves.
Proud
slaves. Slaves with names. You look after each other. What happens to one of you, it happens to the other. If one of you runs, we are all punished. If one of you brings back a new slave, we are all rewarded. We are as one.’ He pointed down the beach. ‘A mile that way, some people are stupid enough to be living. Bad for them, good for us. We want more slaves. Men to work so you don't have to. Women for pleasure, because we get little enough. Or boys, if you prefer, or more men, or girls, or donkeys if you're Amrir here. I don't care. The sick and the old have no place in our ranks. If they fight then take them. We like a fighter. If they fight too hard then put them down. Don't break them unless you have to, but if you do, make sure whatever you break stays broken. Burn, loot, plunder, take whatever you like but you won't get to keep it. What's yours is mine and what's mine is theirs.’ He pointed to the Taiytakei. ‘You fall, you get up. You get hurt, you make like it's nothing, because there's no place here for the wounded and there's two ways back to the sea – on your feet or rolling in the surf to feed the fish. Now run! Run with me, you dogs!’