The Ascendancy Veil (20 page)

Asara did not rise to the bait. ‘I saved Kaiku’s life for
you
,’ she said calmly. ‘I have paid a price for it ever since. I expect a measure of gratitude for that.’

‘Ah, gratitude,’ Cailin replied. ‘Why would I owe you that, Asara? You did what I told you to. You will get your reward when our deal is complete.’

Asara stepped a little further into the room. It was dark; there was no light but the white glow of the two larger moons. She stood there in the shadows, a disdainful arrogance in the tilt of her chin. She wore a white dress fastened with a brooch, delicate jewellery on her wrists and in her hair. Every inch the desert Barakess.

‘Things are different now,’ Asara said. ‘I am no longer the woman I once was.’

‘You think you have
changed?
’ Cailin said in disbelief. ‘You can change all you want on the outside, Asara, but inside you are just as empty as you have always been.’

‘It is my situation that has changed.’ Her tone had become edged with venom now. ‘As well you know.’

They regarded each other across the room. It was the same one in which Kaiku and Cailin had been Weaving several nights before, on the second storey of the Red Order’s house. The vases stood empty now, the incense burner cold. The charcoal etchings on the wood-panelled walls seemed to creep in the darkness.

‘I must congratulate you,’ Cailin said at length. ‘Your seduction of the Heir-Barak showed impressive foresight. How you must have grieved when both his sister and his father died, making way for him to become head of his family.’

‘His sister was ineligible to become head of the family, since she was wed to the Emperor,’ Asara replied levelly. ‘Her demise benefitted you more than me. You wanted the Weavers to succeed in their coup, you wanted them to take this land. And now you have your wish.’

‘And you had nothing to do with her death, I suppose?’

‘Maybe so, and maybe not,’ Asara replied. ‘If the former, it would have been another example of how I have given more on your behalf that anyone has a right to ask, and received nothing in return.’

‘Such is the nature of our agreement, Asara. You will be paid in full when the time comes.’

‘Then I am altering our agreement.’

Cailin raised an eyebrow. ‘You are? How amusing.’

‘I am the wife of a Barak now, Cailin,’ Asara said, bridling a little. ‘I hold the most powerful man in the desert in the palm of my hand. You cannot sweep me aside as you might once have done.’

Cailin’s red-and-black lips were set in a mocking smirk. ‘I see. And you think that because you have fooled a callow boy into marriage that you can use it as leverage to bully me? I had thought better of you, Asara.’

‘I have been over a
decade
in your thrall, Cailin,’ Asara spat, sudden rage igniting within her. ‘Kept tied by your promises. You realised what I needed – the gods know how; your filthy
kana
-games, no doubt – and you have exploited me ever since. And all this time I have chased a dream that I am not even sure you are capable of fulfilling! Now I have the power in the desert, and I can turn Tchom Rin against you and your kind. I know what
you
desire, and I can make it much more difficult for you if you do not give me what I want
now!
’

‘Enough!’ Cailin snapped. ‘What is ten years, twenty,
fifty
to such as us? We will not age, Asara. We do not run out of time as others do. Where is your patience?’

‘I have been patient,’ came the reply. ‘But there is a line between patience and foolishness. Should I be your slave for another decade, and another, until you decide to release me? And even then, could you grant me what you say you will?
Would
you? One woman’s word is a slender thread to hang such a weight from. And you have hardly been a paragon of trustworthiness in the years I have known you.’

Cailin laughed, the sound high and bright. ‘Poor Asara,’ she said. ‘Poor, murdering Asara.’ Her laughter faded, and her voice grew dark. ‘You want sympathy? I have none. The Red Order’s cause is as much in your interests as ours—’

‘I doubt that,’ Asara interrupted.

‘—and however unwillingly, you are fighting for yourself when you fight on our side. We will make a world where Aberrants can live without fear. And you
will
aid us in that, whether you want to or not.’

‘You are avoiding the issue,’ Asara said, stalking closer. ‘Give me what I want.’

‘Release you from our compact? Hardly. You are, despite your faults, an extremely useful ally.’

‘Give me what I want!
’ Asara cried.

‘Or
what?
’ Cailin shouted. ‘What will you do, Asara? You think you can turn the desert against us? You think you can stop us? Your best efforts would be nothing more than a mosquito bite to the Red Order. We could kill you a thousand times over before you could even get back to your beloved Barak. And even Reki is not such a fool as to forsake the powers we lend him when the Weavers are even now trying to invade Tchom Rin. Yours is a poor bluff, Asara, and you tire me now.’

‘It ends here, then!’ Asara returned. ‘It all ends here. If you cannot prove to me that you can do what you say, then I—’

Cailin cut her throat.

It was a swift, dismissive gesture with her hand, a disgusted flick of her fingers in the moonlight. She did not touch the other woman; they were too far apart. But Asara’s neck opened from side to side in a red slit, as cleanly as if Cailin had been holding a sword.

Asara staggered backward, her eyes wide, making damp noises in her chest. Blood gushed, pulsing down the front of her dress, staining it a glistening black in the moonlight. Cailin watched impassively, sidelit by the moonlight, her irises gone crimson.

Asara tried to make a sound, but none would come. She tried to draw breath, but not even a gasp would make it through her severed windpipe. Panic swamped her, a terror like nothing she had ever known before: she was dying, dying unfulfilled, and when she was gone it would be as if she had never been here. Her legs went weak, her muscles leaden. She fell to her knees, clutching her throat with one hand, the other feebly propping her upright, her splayed fingers sliding in her own fluids. Her head was becoming light. So much blood, so much blood, and nothing she could do would staunch it.

Not like this
, was all she could think with the last dregs of her reason.
Not like this
.

Cailin made a vague waving motion with two of her fingers, and Asara’s throat sewed shut, fibres and tissues knitting seamlessly from side to side as if zipped. Eager nourishment slammed from her heart to her brain, and she hauled in a huge, sobbing breath. She had never felt such a divine sensation as the relief she experienced then, nor a hatred so pure as that which she had for the one who had hurt her this way. Still gasping, her dress sodden black, she raised her head and fixed Cailin with a gaze of utter malice.

The Pre-Eminent of the Red Order looked down on her coldly. ‘Satisfied?’ she asked, then walked out of the room, leaving Asara kneeling in a pool of her own blood.

An hour’s walk northeast of Araka Jo, deep in the forested mountains, lay the glade of an ipi.

It was a place of preternatural stillness and tranquillity, a cavernous sanctum with a roof of interlaced branches and leaves through which the winter sun shone in bright, slanting shafts of light. Gently rolling hillocks and tuffets cradled pools as motionless and transparent as glass; rocks smooth and white like bleached bone hid half-buried in the earth. In the midst of the glade stood the ipi itself: a colossal tree, its bark black as char, rucked and gnarled with age. Its uppermost branches meshed with the canopy overhead, while the lower boughs reached out across the clearing like crooked arms, fingers shaggy with pine blades.

Lucia knelt at the base of the tree, her head bowed, clad in a belted robe of dark green. She was meditating, communing with the spirit of the glade. To talk to an ipi was easy for her these days. Her power had grown at a frightening rate since she had emerged from the shrine of Alskain Mar back in the Xarana Fault, and all but the most ancient spirits were open to her now. Yet with every step she took into the world of the spirits, she took one away from the world of humanity, and she was becoming more like them by the day.

Kaiku watched her from the edge of the glade. Somewhere in the trees, out of sight, were her Libera Dramach bodyguards. But in this place, in the ipi’s serene presence, Lucia might have been alone in all the world. And it was true, in a sense. For there was no one like Lucia, nobody who could imagine what it was like to be as she was, poised halfway between two worlds and belonging to neither any more.

It pained Kaiku to see her so isolated. Mishani’s visit had reminded her of Yugi’s stinging words, how he had accused her of neglecting her friends while she subsumed herself in the teachings of the Red Order. Once, Lucia had been like a younger sister to her; now, Kaiku was not so sure.

Eventually, Lucia lifted her head and stood. She picked her way barefoot along the knolls, retrieved her shoes from where she had left them at the edge of the glade, and then joined Kaiku.

‘Daygreet,’ she said with a beatific smile, and then hugged Kaiku impulsively. Kaiku, faintly surprised, returned it.

‘Gods, you are the same height as me now,’ she said.

‘Growing like a weed,’ Lucia laughed. ‘It’s been too long since you came to see me, Kaiku.’

‘I know,’ Kaiku muttered. ‘I know.’

Lucia put her shoes on and they began to walk back towards Araka Jo. Kaiku dismissed the bodyguards and sent them ahead: their charge would be safer with her than with twenty armed men, and they recognised her even without the makeup and attire of the Order. She and Lucia ambled along the narrow forest trails. Lucia chattered happily as they went. She was in an unusually ebullient mood, certainly not the state of dreamy detachment that Kaiku had come to expect from her.

‘The blight is retreating,’ she said out of nowhere, interrupting herself in the process of telling Kaiku about her day.

‘It is?’

‘The ipi can sense it. Since the witchstone beneath Utraxxa broke. The land here is recovering, little by little.’ She watched a bird arrowing through the treetops as she spoke. ‘We are not too far gone to go back. Not yet.’

‘But that is wonderful news!’ Kaiku cried. Lucia gave her a sidelong grin. ‘No wonder you are so cheerful today.’

‘It is wonderful news,’ she agreed. ‘And I hear you have news also.’

Kaiku nodded. ‘Though I am not so sure whether it is good news or bad.’ And she went on to tell Lucia about her and Cailin’s encounter with the leviathan. The
Weave-whale
, as Cailin had come to call it.

‘I am afraid of them,’ she admitted. ‘For too long we had ignored them as they ignored us, assuming them forever out of our reach. But we have attracted them now, I think. They have noticed what was once beneath their notice. Our meddling in the Weave is drawing creatures to which the Weavers’ capabilities for destruction pale in comparison.’

‘But what are they?’ Lucia asked.

‘Perhaps they are gods,’ came the reply.

Lucia did not comment on that, but it sobered her. They walked on a short way in silence through the sun-dappled forest. A raven hopped from branch to branch overhead.

‘Lucia, I truly am sorry,’ Kaiku said at length. ‘I have neglected you for some time now. I was so caught up in learning how to use what I have that I . . . forgot what I had.’

Lucia took her hand. It was a gesture from the old Lucia, the child, before she became a young woman.

‘It is the war,’ she said. ‘Do not be sorry, Kaiku. You are a weapon, as am I. What good is a weapon if its edge is not sharpened?’

Kaiku was shocked at the fatalism in her tone. ‘Lucia, no! We are
not
merely weapons. If I taught you nothing else, I taught you that.’

‘Then you believe we have a choice? That we can turn away from all this now?’ She smiled sadly, and relinquished Kaiku’s hand. ‘I can’t. And I don’t believe you can, either.’

‘You
have
that choice, Lucia!’ she insisted.

‘Do I?’ Lucia laughed again, and this time it was bitter and made Kaiku uneasy. ‘If I wanted to duck the expectations the world has of me, I should have done it long ago. Before the Libera Dramach reorganised; before the battle at the Fold, even. Too many people have died in my name now. I cannot go back. That time has passed.’ She looked down the trail, and her eyes became unfocused. She was listening to the rustle of the forest. ‘I’ve become what they wanted of me. I’ve become their bridge to the spirits, for what good it will do. I am a weapon, and a weapon is useless if it is not wielded. I cannot stay useless for very much longer.’

‘Lucia—’ Kaiku began, but was interrupted.

‘You think I don’t know about the feya-kori? How we have no defence against them, no way to strike back? How long before you all call on me, then? Your last resort? Your only hope?’ They had stopped walking now, and Lucia looked fierce. ‘Do you know how that is, Kaiku? To spend your whole life knowing that your options are narrowing day by day, that eventually you must deliver on this promise that you
never made
! They look to me as their saviour, but I don’t know how to save anyone!’

‘You do not have to,’ Kaiku told her. ‘Listen to me: you do
not
have to.’

Lucia looked away, not remotely convinced.

‘In my life I have known people who are so selfish that they would sacrifice anything and anyone to bring advantage to themselves,’ Kaiku said, putting her hand on Lucia’s arm. ‘And I have known a man so selfless that he was willing to throw away his life too cheaply for the good of others. I believe the right path lies somewhere in between. I have told you before, Lucia: you need to be a little more selfish. Think of yourself for once.’

‘Even at the expense of this land and everyone in it?’ Lucia replied scornfully.