Impossible Things (5 page)

‘Look, you’re from the Saranos, so we’ll call you Ishtaer ex Saraneus,’ he said. ‘The names are in High Ilani so the words are a little different.
Ex
just means
from
. It’s for Chosen and Citizens who aren’t from Ilania. Okay?’

She nodded in the way he was beginning to recognise as meaning she didn’t understand at all but was prepared to pretend she did so he wouldn’t get angry with her. This in itself made him angry, since after nearly a month she still couldn’t comprehend that he wasn’t going to hurt her.

‘You’ll be called Tyro while you’re at the Academy,’ he said, ‘because that’s the High Ilani word for student. Don’t worry, everyone there speaks Common Ilani. You won’t be expected to learn another language, except for a few terms. When you pass out of the Academy, you won’t be called Tyro any more, but your new title will be added to your name. Mine are Militis Viscus, because those are the marks I have. So, when you qualify as a Healer they’ll call you Ishtaer ex Saraneus Medicus, all right?’

The same uncertain nod.

‘Then there are victory titles. They’re usually awarded by the Emperor for a victory or great service. I’ve a couple,’ he added casually.

He wondered if she ever would. Then it occurred to him that in some way she’d already accomplished a victory of a kind: simply staying alive for so long in Samara’s compound. Retaining a shred of humanity. Surviving.

Hmm.

Kael opened his mouth to explain about the order of precedence for the Twice-Marked, but then shut it again. There was absolutely no point confusing her further when he didn’t even know if her other marks were genuine.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he told her, which was a huge lie and he knew it.

The breeze was fresh off the Great Ocean as Ilanium came into view, the sun just beginning to set, and as ever Kael stood in awe of the sight for a few seconds.

‘I wish you could see this, Ishtaer,’ he said, not even looking to see if she stood beside him at the rail. She nearly always did. ‘The city’s built on one huge rock in the bay at the mouth of the river, and it’s backed by the white cliffs of the bay. When the sun hits them you’ve no need for a light anywhere in the city, so they say. And there’s the Turris Imperio, the Tower, rising up above the city with the Emperor’s palace at the top, closer to the gods than any other mortal. See how it spirals up with roads and—’ he caught himself. ‘That is, I mean you ought to see it. Feat of engineering. The whole tower is bigger than some cities, but it’s just the centrepiece of Ilanium. The city’s built in a circle around it, avenues like the spokes of a wheel. They say the gods must have designed Ilanium, the view from high above must be so pleasing.’

He trailed off, aware he was prattling. Beside him, Ishtaer murmured, ‘It sounds very impressive, my lord.’

‘Yeah. Well.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I mean it’s not bad. For the Empire. Bit showy, if you ask me. I prefer my cities a bit more organic. I like castles with battlements on them.’

She nodded politely. Kael ran his hand through his hair and turned to study her. In less than an hour he’d be presenting her to the council. What would they think? Would they be appalled at the blind, cowering skeleton he brought them?

Her hair was beginning to grow out, which meant that it looked like she’d lost a fight with a set of hedge clippers. He made a mental note to attempt to even it up a bit. Her face had lost its gaunt look, and although she was still very thin she wasn’t as painfully, cadaverously emaciated as she had been when he found her. To his surprise she stood quite tall, at least she did when she wasn’t cowering.

The scar on her face had lessened considerably, but Karnos fully admitted he wasn’t one for fine work, and she might always have a mark there. It marred the otherwise beautiful lines of her Seer’s mark, the delicate tracery around her eye that wasn’t quite leaves or feathers but something ethereal and lovely.

He’d been able to heal the fresh burn on her wrist completely; no such luck with the scar on her arm where she’d been branded, like a cow, whenever it was that Samara had acquired her. But at least that was something she could keep covered up, if she chose. And since it had received immediate attention, her own nascent healing skills had taken care of the brand on her palm. The Healer’s mark there was whole and clean, manifesting itself as something almost like writing on her skin.

And that Warrior mark on her arm. Bold, thick lines curving and chasing each other over her whole forearm, marks like exotic blades conducting a battle of their own.

He still didn’t know what he was going to say to the council about that.

It was dark by the time they moored up. The structure of the city, surrounded wholly by water, meant that the docks circled the whole of Ilanium; but even so there was never quite enough room, especially for large ships such as his.

This didn’t, however, cause much of a problem for Kael.

He glanced at the jack he’d personally run up as they sailed in, and grinned. Toeing off his boots, he ran barefoot up to the bow and leapt onto the bowsprit, stepping nimbly out over the waves and steadying himself with one hand on the forestay. The wind flew through his hair, his cloak streamed behind him and the mighty sword he wore at his hip gleamed in the dying light of the day.

He glanced back at the foresail, emblazoned with his red and black banner, and when he turned back to the harbour his grin was fierce.

Below him on the bow stretched that tattered piece of human skin.

‘Tell the Empire Krull the Warlord has returned,’ he howled to the wind, and behind him the crew cheered, blades raised to catch the light.

Ships fled before him like mice from a cat.

The
Grey Ghost
slid into dock with insolent ease and Kael leapt down onto the ground, landing in a crouch.

‘Sir Verak, my boots if you please!’ he yelled, and a few seconds later they came thudding down beside him. ‘And the girl,’ he added.

The few passers-by who hadn’t been able to get off the dock in time froze, horrified, as if they expected her to be thrown over the side too. But by the time Kael had got his boots back on she was walking down the gangplank on Verak’s arm, looking remarkably composed for someone who had just sailed into the largest city in the Empire on the most notorious pirate ship in the world. Behind them strode half a dozen men, dressed in dark cloaks bearing the insignia of Krull the Warlord, every one of them very visibly armed.

‘I love a show of strength,’ Kael said.

‘Want me to come with you?’ Verak asked as he handed over custody of Ishtaer.

Kael shook his head. ‘No. You take care of the ship. It’s too late for a meeting now. I’ll send for you tomorrow if I need you.’

Verak saluted him and Kael acknowledged it with a nod.

‘My lady,’ he said to Ishtaer, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. ‘Don’t worry about stepping over things or around people,’ he added as he strolled off the dock and onto the first solid ground he’d seen for weeks. ‘They generally get the hell out of my way.’

He led her on foot through the city, the streets gently rising as they neared the centre. As darkness fell, wheeled conveyances were allowed onto the streets, but Kael never stepped out of the way of a single one. He watched with amusement as one poor man nearly drove into a wall to avoid him.

He frowned in thought as they approached the Academy, which had the effect of making a couple of small children cry.

The Academy, occupying more horizontal space in the city than any other institution, stood concealed behind high walls and permanently manned gates. Kael strolled up to the main door and used the hilt of his sword to pound on it.

A voice from behind it said, ‘It’s the middle of the night!’

One of Kael’s men sniggered.

‘Lad, I don’t think that’s what you’re meant to say, is it?’ Kael said. ‘Especially since it’s barely past twilight.’

‘Admittance ends at twilight,’ said the voice. ‘It might as well be the middle of the night. You’re too late, you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay tonight, and Sir Flavius will be—’

‘Shut up, lad,’ Kael said amiably, and slid his sword back into its sheath. It made a silken sound, which caused the voice on the other side of the door to go silent.

‘No. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to ask me my name, and then you’re going to open that hatch and check I am who I say I am, and then you’re going. To swiving well. Let. Me. In. Understand?’

‘Er … yes, sir. What is your name, sir?’

Kael took a deep breath. ‘Lord Kaelnar Vapensigsson ex Krullus Militis Viscus Saraneus Drax.’

There was a pause while the voice on the other side of the door processed this.

‘You might know me better as Krull the Warlord,’ he added, and the hatch shot open.

He smiled at the young man revealed there. It wasn’t a nice smile.

The door was dragged back in a hurry and Kael strolled right in without looking at the boy. Ishtaer kept pace with him, her gaze appearing as though fixed straight ahead. She wore a long cloak with the hood pulled up, but the light from the Academy’s torches clearly showed the mark on her face. She looked unexpectedly regal in the firelight.

‘Will, er, you all be coming in, sir—my lord?’ asked the boy, dancing around the squad as they marched into the outer courtyard.

‘No. My men will be returning to the ship,’ Kael said without turning to look at them. His men knew when they were getting an order from him. ‘Just me and the lady will be coming in.’

‘Er, yes, my lord. And can I take the lady’s name?’ the boy asked, reaching tentatively for a clipboard.

‘Tyro Ishtaer ex Saraneus Medicus Militis Aspicio prior Inservio.’

He wasn’t sure what made him add that last part. She might not be happy with him when she found out what it meant.

The boy scribbled it down, eyes wider with every cognomen Kael uttered. When he mentally translated the victory name his head jerked up and he stared at Ishtaer, who thankfully couldn’t see his naked shock.

‘Tell the council I want to see them tomorrow. And find a room for us.’

‘My lord, I’m sorry, but they’re only single rooms. Single beds, I mean.’

‘Lad, I’m Krull the Warlord. I want a room with a double bed. And my own water pump. You’re going to find one for me. Understand?’

‘Er … yes, my lord. Er … wait here, please.’

The boy ran off, and Kael noticed with mild interest how he had an awkward gait, one he’d only seen before on men with one leg.

‘Back to the ship,’ he told his men, and they saluted him, fist over heart, before turning and wheeling back out onto the street. Damn, even after weeks at sea they marched in formation.

‘Makes a warlord proud,’ he said. ‘Right then, Ishtaer. Here we are. When that damn fool boy comes back we’ll get some rest, have some supper and wash the sea off us, then you’ll be perfectly presentable to see the council tomorrow.’

She nodded silently.

‘Don’t mind sharing a bed with me, do you?’ he probed. ‘Just for one night. Wouldn’t want to leave you all alone in a strange place.’

‘I—’ she began, but couldn’t seem to go any further.

‘I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,’ he added with only a hint of mocking.

‘Yes, my lord,’ she stammered.

‘Ah, come on Ishtaer, you’re bad for my ego. Can’t I tempt you a little bit?’

‘No, my lord, sorry, my lord,’ she gasped, as if simply refusing him was the hardest thing she could do. He supposed slaves weren’t used to having much choice.

‘Well, your loss,’ he said as the boy came running back to them.

‘My lord, I’ve found you a room.’

‘Good lad,’ Kael said, striding on into the inner courtyard. ‘Somehow I knew you would.’

She didn’t know why he insisted on keeping her with him. Did he think she was going to run away? She might be terrified of this big, dangerous man, but for the first time she could remember she was clean, healthy and not hungry, and it was all thanks to him.

If only Ladyship had offered her those basic comforts, Ishtaer might have stayed.

She was so shocked at that thought that she hardly noticed the warlord pumping water into a bucket and taking his clothes off. It was only when he touched her arm and she turned, startled, that her body came up against his and she realised he was naked.

‘I’ve clean clothes for you, once you’ve had a wash,’ he said. Ishtaer nodded automatically. ‘You might need to get undressed first,’ he added when she just stood there.

‘I—’

He sighed. ‘Said I wasn’t going to touch you, Ishtaer, unless you wanted me to. Do you want me to?’

She shook her head rapidly.

‘Sure? It’s an experience most women would pay for.’

I know. I’ve been paying for it for years.

That thought shocked her too.

‘Come on, get your clothes off. I ain’t sharing a nice clean bed with you all covered in the sea. Funny how you notice it all the more on dry land, eh?’

She nodded stiffly and began to undress. He’d seen her naked before, of course, and had hardly been inflamed with passion. And she knew he’d taken off his clothes in her presence, quite often actually. She could hear the rustle of cloth, smell the scent of his skin. He seemed to do it on purpose, to needle her.

He probably wasn’t used to women turning him down.

She washed herself quickly and put on the nightshirt the warlord handed to her, just as someone knocked at the door.

‘Your supper, my lord, and … um …’

‘Lady,’ the warlord said absently.

‘Er … yes.’

The door shut, and the warlord said, ‘Well, you’ll be a lady when you graduate. Assuming those marks of yours aren’t faked.’

It was a loaded statement. ‘No, my lord.’

‘And for the love of the gods stop calling me “my lord”. My name is Kael. We’ve shared a cabin for weeks, girl. You can at least call me by my first name.’

‘Yes, my … Kael.’

He laughed softly at that, and told her to eat.

She’d learned to eat carefully, slowly, her stomach still unused to such huge amounts of food. A few pieces of meat and one bread roll and she was stuffed.