The Shattered City (5 page)

A second courtesa entered, wearing the same black and white uniform as Damson. This one carried a plate of savoury dainties.

Velody took a tiny pastry stuffed with white cheese and herbs and bit into it. Delicious. ‘You have been in the Creature Court so much longer than everyone else,' she observed, licking crumbs from her lower lip. ‘You must have seen some changes in your time here.'

‘None so dramatic as recent events, Lady Majesty,' said Priest with a sly grin. The third courtesa entered with a tray of sweetmeats and sticky cakes, and once Velody had made her selection, the courtesa placed the tray close to Priest's elbow. ‘Sadly I have no particular wisdom to impart on that score. I had twoscore years beneath my belt when I first set foot in Aufleur. Our Ashiol has been here longer than I, as have our Lords of Rat and Wolf.'

Forty. Priest had come here at forty years old. Where had he been before that? ‘You were already a Lord then?' Velody asked.

‘Aye, I had belonged to the Clockwork Court in Bazeppe once, in my youth,' he said, referring to the capital city of the duchy of Silano, far to the south. ‘They
had what you might call a surfeit of Lords, and I had no fondness for the Power and Majesty there. I travelled for several years and stopped in here on my way home — out of curiosity more than anything. Aufleur welcomed me with open arms, and who am I to deny such good fortune? Ortheus was a seigneur after my own heart, and I have made a home here.'

Velody had not given much thought to the other Courts, though of course they must exist. There had been one in Tierce, before it fell. She wanted to ask if there was any contact with Bazeppe now. Should there not be ambassadors between them? Ways of sharing information on the best ways to fight the sky? Or was it like the Creature Court itself: everyone so much of a danger to everyone else that they never got anything done? ‘And Garnet?' she could not help but ask. ‘Was his rule to your tastes?'

‘Garnet was a lad with much to learn,' Priest said with a comfortable shrug, taking a violet cream from his tray. ‘But we got along right enough. I'm an old man, Lady Power — by Court standards, in any case. I'm not one for rebellion and petty politics. As long as I have my demoiselles, a full stomach and a sky to fight, I'm a happy man.' He eyed her empty glass. ‘Would you like another? Or is there some other boon I can provide for you, as my honoured guest?'

Velody took a deep breath. ‘Show me where Garnet lived. Please. I'd like to see it.'

Priest paused, as if mulling over whatever secrets her voice had betrayed, and then bowed his head. ‘As you wish, Lady Majesty.'

 

Velody ignored Crane's disapproval as best she could. If she couldn't see the judgement in his eyes, she would not have to deal with it — and would not have to remind him yet again who was in charge around here.

They trailed through dank tunnels until the roof opened up into a wide concreted space, with a deep drain running through it. The walls were daubed with vivid images of the Creature Court — warriors and animals fighting the sky. The murals were splendidly done, worthy of a temple ceiling or a Palazzo wall, and Velody could not help wondering who had painted them.

‘The Haymarket,' said Priest. ‘Centre of merchant activity and the storage of supplies, back when all of Aufleur was packed down here like rats.'

Velody had known that this underground ruin had been a functional city, in the days before the skybattles were hidden from the daylight folk, but she had never thought about the practicalities of it — of merchants and food storage and other such everyday concerns. ‘Garnet lived here?' she asked.

‘This is the closest thing we have to a Palazzo,' Priest said cheerfully. ‘All the Powers and Majesties have used this as a centre of power.'

Velody had never set foot here before today. ‘Am I supposed to do the same?' she asked, forgetting that she was with Priest and not Ashiol — she should not be letting her uncertainties show so obviously.

‘If it is your will,' said an acid female voice.

Velody looked up. If she did not know Livilla's Court form was a wolf, she might have guessed cat. There was something about the watchful wickedness of her eyes, the way she held herself.

Livilla posed at the top of a metal staircase. Her gown was short and all red bead fringe. With her harsh bob of black hair and chalk-pale skin, she looked like a skeletally sketched fashion plate in the middle pages of a newspaper.

Not for the first time, Velody wondered where Livilla acquired her outfits.
I shouldn't be the leader of this patchwork army, I should be their tailor. I'd put her in emerald green and silver; hang pearl strands off that neck of hers until they brushed her ankles
. ‘You live here?' she asked instead.

‘I belonged to Garnet,' said Livilla, descending the stairs with a swooping grace. ‘More than most. I lived in his rooms. My rooms, now.'

There was a challenge in her eyes, and in the strut of her walk. Velody lifted her chin, letting the animor bubble up in her blood. She could take Livilla. They both knew it.

Two lads appeared at the top of the stairs. Velody had been doing her best to learn about the courtesi as well as the Lords, and she knew the names of these two though little else about them. The taller, older of the two was called Janvier, and he was a raven. He had black hair, and light brown skin. He wore feathers in his long braided hair, and a pair of ridiculously tight trews. His chest was bare. Either he put himself on display for Livilla's benefit, or he was part of her show. Velody suspected the latter. Livilla was certainly the type to select outfits for her courtesi and demand they primp their hair and fingernails before they set foot in public.

The other boy, Seonard, was younger and more defensive. Hair fell in his eyes, making it hard for Velody to judge his age, but she suspected he was at least a couple of years younger than Crane, if not more. He
should be working an apprenticeship somewhere, or celebrating his man's tunic with his family like young Giuno. Not this.

The Creature Court offered a shadowy semblance of a life, Velody could see that now. Was she crazy for not escaping the city when she had a chance?

‘It would not be much of a fight, should you wish to put her in her place, Lady Majesty,' said Priest, sounding amused at the possibility.

Livilla's head arched towards him. ‘You're the new favourite, are you, old man? Ashiol will be heartbroken that he lost his position.'

‘I don't have to put anyone in their place,' said Velody. ‘We are all friends here. Allies. Our job is to protect this city from the sky. There is no place for petty rivalries.' She was going to make something of the Court. Something better than what it was. The first step was to rebuild them as a team rather than a tangled mess of rivals and enemies.

There was a short, strangled pause, and then Livilla started to laugh. Priest joined in with a deep, meaty sound.

‘She's precious,' said Livilla. ‘Don't you think?'

‘There are worse vices than idealism,' said Priest, still chuckling.

‘So glad I amuse you,' Velody said sharply. ‘Livilla, I believe you had a question to ask, about your accommodation.'

There went that chin again, pointy with entitlement. ‘Did I?' asked Livilla, Lord Wolf, her voice utterly disdainful.

Moving from mortal shape to Lord form was no longer even a matter of thought. Velody made it happen,
as naturally as breathing. She stood tall and straight, her skin gleaming with power. She could feel her blood sing. ‘I believe you were going to ask my permission to keep your rooms,' she said.

Livilla tossed her head. ‘You would have me beg on my knees? I would rather die than lower myself to such an indignity.'

Saints and angels, it was as bad as talking to Delphine.

‘I didn't suggest that you beg,' said Velody. ‘Yet.'

Livilla stepped from the staircase and walked slowly towards Velody, her hips swinging. The red beads of her dress shimmered in the lamplight. ‘Tell me who killed Dhynar, Lord Ferax, and I shall surrender my rooms to you.'

Velody smiled thinly. ‘Dhynar fell in his attempt to betray and kill his Power and Majesty. It does not matter who wielded the blade; it was done in service to me. And I do not want your rooms, Livilla. I want the fealty you pledged to me on the third day of the Floralia. I want you to keep your word.'

‘I have never disobeyed you,' the Wolf Lord said, baring her teeth in a snarl.

‘Ask me for your rooms,' Velody said calmly. ‘That is a direct order. Ask, or I shall take them from you; and more than that — I will take you apart. Chances are I'll have to do it to one of you at some stage, to prove that I am a worthy Power and Majesty. I might as well choose the first to rebel, the first to speak to me as if I were someone's
maidservant
.'

Velody's animor pulsed with frustration. These people confounded her. Why couldn't they be sensible? Why couldn't they accept that they had a job to do and get on with it, without all the silly blood and ritual and politics?

She would play the game if she must, but it made her skin itch. Changes had to be made.

‘They said you were soft,' said Livilla, a smile taking over her face. ‘I don't know what you are.'

A bloody good liar
, Velody thought, loud enough to scream. ‘I am Velody. I am the Power and Majesty that you swore fealty to. Would you be forsworn, as Dhynar was forsworn? Would you walk the streets in pain and corruption, a tortured soul doomed to destroy everything she touches?'

‘That fate would only befall me if I died,' Livilla breathed. She was enjoying this, damn her. Her eyes sparkled, her breasts heaved under the stupidly skimpy frock. What the saints was holding those beads up?

‘If you raise a hand against me and the oaths you swore,' Velody said quietly, ‘I will strike you down in an instant. I proved with Dhynar that I could conquer a street shade. I would risk it again, if I had to.'

‘Such fire, from a little mouse,' said Livilla, and deliberately licked her lips.

Velody sincerely regretted that hitting the other demme over the head with a brick would make such bad politics. ‘Make your decision, Livilla, Lord Wolf. Fast.'

‘Don't be rash in this, Lord Wolf,' said Priest with a smirk. ‘You never did challenge our last Power and Majesty, did you? Don't think this one will forgive you every time you spread your legs.'

Livilla's eyes flashed angrily. ‘Garnet loved me!'

‘Aye, perhaps he did,' said Priest with a hint of wistfulness. ‘But you've no idea how to handle a Power and Majesty who has no love for you, who doesn't indulge your whims as our Garnet did. Look deeply
into the face of this one. She's not impressed with your amateur dramatics.'

‘Thank you, Lord Pigeon,' said Velody, taking back control of the conversation. ‘I hardly need an interpreter.'

Livilla's perfect cosmeticked heart of a mouth twitched slightly. ‘You won't hurt me, Velody of the Vittorine. You challenged your precious Ashiol because he gouged out Poet's stomach to prove a point. You're against wanton acts of violence.'

‘So I am,' Velody said calmly. ‘But apparently wanton acts of violence are the only way to make you people listen.' She had to be prepared to hurt Livilla, to win this fight, however much she hated it. She was going to remake this Court, one stitch at a time, so that none of this posturing was necessary. But to make that happen, she had to be prepared to be the kind of Power and Majesty they recognised.

She formed a blade in her mind, sharp and vicious. She could do this. She filled her head with the image of slicing Livilla open, neck to belly, destroying that gorgeous sheath of red beading.

At least the dress wasn't white.

Velody held Livilla's gaze, showing her exactly what it was she was capable of doing, what she intended to do. Everything.

‘You won't,' breathed Livilla. ‘You're too nice.' She said ‘nice' as if it was something sour on her tongue. ‘Saint Velody.'

‘Is that what you all call me?' said Velody, and gave a short laugh. ‘Oh, you got that wrong.'

Blood, she couldn't do blood, not yet. Vomiting might damage her dignity in their eyes. It would have to be pain. Velody hurled her animor at Livilla, Lord Wolf, in
a thousand agonising needles, and hated herself just a little for going so far.

Livilla crumpled like a harlequina with her strings cut. She made no sound as she fell.

‘Once again,' said Velody. ‘Is there anything you have to ask me?'

Livilla lifted her face, eyes wide and rimmed with tears. A nice touch, beautifully staged even through the pain. She opened her mouth, and no sound came out.

The two courtesi both tensed as if about to leap to Livilla's defence, but Velody turned her gaze on them, sharp and challenging. ‘No,' she said.

The taller one, Janvier, placed a hand on the arm of the younger, Seonard, who was about to explode in frustration.

‘Try harder,' Velody suggested to Livilla, not letting up the pain.

Livilla pressed her lips together, smearing her cosmetick. Slowly she rose, with great effort, knuckles white, body taut and defensive. She lifted her chin and stared at Velody in defiance. ‘Power and Majesty,' she said, haughtier than any Duchessa. ‘May I please retain the rooms I shared with Garnet, for as long as you reign?'

‘Yes,' Velody said, not wanting to draw this out now that Livilla had capitulated. She turned away as if this scene no longer held any interest for her. ‘Priest, shall we return to your nave for more refreshment?'

‘As you wish, my Lady Power,' he replied with a bow.

‘Excellent.' Velody walked away, her steps muffled on the concrete floor. She held her head high, pretending that she did not feel Livilla's eyes bore hatefully into her back. Velody had made an enemy instead of an ally today, but since when was that anything new?