Vengeance of Dragons (Secret Texts) (10 page)
BOOK: Vengeance of Dragons (Secret Texts)
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He had also, however, shown himself willing to be brutally honest. He thought an appearance of absolute honesty made for the best negotiating, and had long ago learned that giving an enemy a concession up front so often shocked him that he thereafter was less cautious in his dealings.
“We have . . . spies . . . who have been watching this young woman’s movements closely. She’s found an artifact of enormous importance. We suspect, though we cannot be absolutely certain, that it is the Mirror of Souls.”
He heard a gratifying number of gasps. Not from either Crispin or Grasmir Sabir. Of course not. Their Wolves would keep them as well informed of the situation as Shaid’s Wolves kept him.
“From what we can determine in our archives, the Mirror of Souls would be an excellent tool in the hands of friends, but a devastating weapon in the hands of enemies. Kait Galweigh, the finder of this artifact, has made herself the enemy of Goft House. Because she stole both money and information from us to acquire the Mirror, we can make a strong claim to it, and to the ruins in which she found it. We want that Mirror. For your assistance in the Mirror’s recovery and for an uncontested claim to it, we offer you half the ruins. Further, we offer our expertise and assistance in getting the one thing the Sabir Family most desires.”
Crispin Sabir laughed softly and asked, “What exactly do the Goft Galweighs imagine the Calimekkan Sabirs want most in the world?”
Shaid stood up straight and met the question with a calm smile. “Galweigh House. Controlling it would give the Sabir Family the entire city of Calimekka. The Goft Galweighs will give you uncontested claim to the House and its contents. Of course, we’ll expect you to . . . ah, clear your claim by eliminating any members of the Calimekkan Galweighs who survived your last attempt to win the House.”
For one long moment, the silence in the room weighed enough to crack the stone walls of the great hall. Then all around the table, Sabirs exploded with questions.
“That went well, I think,” Veshre Galweigh said. She was head of the Goft Wolves, a wizard of tremendous talent and deceptive ferocity who disguised that ferocity behind a jovial manner and a pleasantly plump facade.
Shaid pulled his attention from the enchanting view of the countryside that slid beneath the airible, and leaned back on the cushioned seat. “Probably less well than it seemed; nevertheless, I’m pleased.”
“You should be ecstatic.” Veshre snorted. “They agreed to supply their troops to assist us in our attack on one of
their
ships, to give us undisputed claim to the Mirror of Souls, and to destroy that bitch, Kait. And they also agreed to kill off the only people who stand between you and Galweigh House. Meanwhile, you already have the Dokteeraks lined up to wipe out the surviving Sabirs after they clear out Galweigh House but before they can claim it. That was the most brilliant bit of negotiating I’ve ever seen.”
their
ships, to give us undisputed claim to the Mirror of Souls, and to destroy that bitch, Kait. And they also agreed to kill off the only people who stand between you and Galweigh House. Meanwhile, you already have the Dokteeraks lined up to wipe out the surviving Sabirs after they clear out Galweigh House but before they can claim it. That was the most brilliant bit of negotiating I’ve ever seen.”
Shaid sighed. “Perowin, the greatest of the Ancients’ diplomats, once said, ‘Diplomacy is the art of getting your enemy to cut his own throat for you, convincing him to do it outside where he won’t leave a mess, and making him believe he’s getting the best end of the bargain while he does it.’ I aspire to make that very bargain someday, but in the meantime . . .” He thought for a moment, then grinned broadly, and finally began to laugh. “In the meantime, by the gods, I came pretty close, didn’t I?”
In the courtyard beside the Palm Hall, three black fawns strolled between the fountain and the waterfall, grazing on hibiscus flowers. On a rotunda well away from the falls, a band of Rophetian musicians played
dool dlarmas
—traditional Rophetian dancing airs—for the entertainment of the Family. Crispin Sabir sat on the windowsill in the room above the hall and watched the deer and the dancers and listened to the cheerful music, which suited his mood.
dool dlarmas
—traditional Rophetian dancing airs—for the entertainment of the Family. Crispin Sabir sat on the windowsill in the room above the hall and watched the deer and the dancers and listened to the cheerful music, which suited his mood.
His brother Anwyn, rummaging around the shelves along the inner wall of the room, said, “The last bastard that was in here finished off the
paurel
and didn’t replace the bottle.”
paurel
and didn’t replace the bottle.”
Crispin laughed. “I think that bastard was you. You’re the only one in the Family who’ll drink the vile stuff, and you get so drunk when you do that you don’t remember having done it.”
Anwyn squatted on his hocks, balancing delicately on his cloven hooves, and rubbed absently at the horns that curled from his forehead. After a moment he said, “You might be right, come to think of it. I brought a girl in here only a week ago. I might have drunk it then.”
After years of Scarring induced by the constant practice of
darsharen
—the sacrifice-magic of the Wolves—nothing human remained of Anwyn’s body. Besides the horns and the hooves, spikes protruded from his spine and joints, scales covered what had once been smooth skin, and talons curved from his fingertips. Crispin’s body had taken as much of the
rewhah,
the rebound magic, as Anwyn’s had, but because Crispin was Karnee, his body had absorbed it and fought off the changes the same way it reverted to human form after a Shift. Anwyn, without the benefits of the Curse, had been trapped in an increasingly hideous form.
darsharen
—the sacrifice-magic of the Wolves—nothing human remained of Anwyn’s body. Besides the horns and the hooves, spikes protruded from his spine and joints, scales covered what had once been smooth skin, and talons curved from his fingertips. Crispin’s body had taken as much of the
rewhah,
the rebound magic, as Anwyn’s had, but because Crispin was Karnee, his body had absorbed it and fought off the changes the same way it reverted to human form after a Shift. Anwyn, without the benefits of the Curse, had been trapped in an increasingly hideous form.
Crispin raised an eyebrow. Girls were never with Anwyn by choice. “A girl?”
Anwyn was going through the shelves again, looking for something that would suit him as well as the thick, bitter tuber beer that he liked best. He took his time answering. “Andrew found her for me—a street urchin with a bit of size to her, and an attitude. She thought she could handle anything.”
“Until she met you.”
“Until then, yes.” Anwyn chuckled.
“And when you were done with her, Andrew . . . borrowed her?”
Anwyn pulled a dark green bottle out of the back of the bottom shelf and said, “Hah! I thought I’d put this away for later.” It was
lakkar,
green mango beer, and to Crispin it was as unpalatable as
paurel.
Anwyn uncorked the bottle and strolled over to the window, his hooves clipping sharply on the marble floor. He dropped into a seat opposite Crispin, took a swig of his drink, and sighed. “She wasn’t young enough to interest Andrew. You know his tastes.” He shrugged. “I played with her until I broke her. Then I put her in the Wind Garden. The bellshrubs were going gray and dropping their flowers before they could set their seeds; I thought they could use some fertilizer.”
lakkar,
green mango beer, and to Crispin it was as unpalatable as
paurel.
Anwyn uncorked the bottle and strolled over to the window, his hooves clipping sharply on the marble floor. He dropped into a seat opposite Crispin, took a swig of his drink, and sighed. “She wasn’t young enough to interest Andrew. You know his tastes.” He shrugged. “I played with her until I broke her. Then I put her in the Wind Garden. The bellshrubs were going gray and dropping their flowers before they could set their seeds; I thought they could use some fertilizer.”
“I’m glad you were paying attention. I’ve been too busy lately to notice any of the plants, but I’d hate to lose the bellshrubs. They’re charming when they’re fruiting. I’ll take a look at them the next time I’m in the West Wing—make sure the fertilizer did enough.” Crispin sipped his own drink and leaned back against the cool, smooth marble of the window frame. “At least I haven’t been neglecting them for nothing. All that work looks like it’s going to pay off. The meeting went well, don’t you think?”
“Hard to believe it could have gone better. I wish I could have been there in person—I would have loved seeing those faces up close when your Galweighs were setting out their bargain.” Anwyn took another gulp of his drink and shook his head. “They didn’t see a problem with their plan at all?”
“If they saw a problem, they certainly didn’t mention it.”
“Amazing. They’re ready to commit two of their airibles to the attack against Ry and that bitch of theirs? And troops? And they’ll send in their troops against their own Family?” Anwyn chortled. “The question then becomes: Are they genuinely naive, or do they think they’re being clever?”
“I read their paraglese this way: He’s a small-time, double-dealing manipulator, but he sees himself as the future head of a great Galweigh empire. He certainly doesn’t intend to hand over Galweigh House without a fight—I think he closes his eyes and sees himself at the head of the table there, commanding armies and armadas across the known world with the twitch of a finger. He may take us for fools, but perhaps he believes whatever double-cross he’s set up will be sufficient to get us out of the way.”
“Then you don’t think he intends to honor his word.”
Someone rapped at the door.
“To Sabirs? Of course not.” Crispin rose to unlock it, and found his cousin Andrew waiting on the other side. “I was wondering where you’d got to,” he said. The scent of blood still clung to Andrew, as did the smell of child. Crispin wrinkled his nose and, disgusted, turned back to his brother. “Would you honor the word you gave to a Galweigh?”
8
D
own in the belly of the
Wind Treasure,
Kait and Hasmal crouched beside the Mirror of Souls, padding the bulkhead behind it with rags and roping it in among the ship’s other cargo. Ian and the ship’s physick were tending to Jayti, and most of the crew were searching the ruins for prizes to take home. Those on board the ship were sleeping or carrying out necessary repairs.
own in the belly of the
Wind Treasure,
Kait and Hasmal crouched beside the Mirror of Souls, padding the bulkhead behind it with rags and roping it in among the ship’s other cargo. Ian and the ship’s physick were tending to Jayti, and most of the crew were searching the ruins for prizes to take home. Those on board the ship were sleeping or carrying out necessary repairs.
So the two of them were alone, though Kait felt sure someone would come checking on them sooner or later.
“They’ll never let us take this to the Reborn,” Hasmal whispered.
“Not willingly.” Kait twisted her end of the rope around the silver-white metal of the base. “I know that. I knew it when I agreed to their deal. What they won’t permit, we’ll have to achieve by force.”
Hasmal looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Force? We’ll still be outnumbered when we cross the sea. Vodor’s bones! The captain or Ry Sabir could send pigeons days in advance of our arrival and have the whole of the Sabir army waiting for us on the shore when we arrive, no matter where the captain puts us in.”
“Well, not force, perhaps. Maybe by guile.”
Hasmal tipped his head and gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Ah. Planning on winning the Sabir to your side by love, Kait? You think he won’t take it back to his Family if he’s passionate enough about you and you don’t want him to?” Hasmal shrugged. “That might work, though I don’t like the idea of the future of the world depending on it.”
Kait stared at him, momentarily lost for words. Finally she said, “You . . . think I’d bed him to keep control of the Mirror?”
Hasmal frowned. “I’d
hoped.
It isn’t as if he’s diseased or repugnant. You’ll have the opportunity—the captain’s seen to that. And the Reborn needs the Mirror; what matters to him matters to us and the whole of the world. Women have futtered men they didn’t want for lesser reasons than the fate of the world.”
hoped.
It isn’t as if he’s diseased or repugnant. You’ll have the opportunity—the captain’s seen to that. And the Reborn needs the Mirror; what matters to him matters to us and the whole of the world. Women have futtered men they didn’t want for lesser reasons than the fate of the world.”
At that moment she didn’t like Hasmal, though she could understand that in his eyes the idea must seem practical. She called on her diplomatic training and didn’t say what she was thinking about him. Instead, she tempered her response. “It wouldn’t work. If I loved him more than all the world, I’d still demand that the Mirror go to the Reborn, then to my Family. He’s the same. He was raised to duty. No matter how infatuated he was with me, he’d still demand that the Mirror go back to his Family, either exclusively, or else first—and once it was in Sabir hands, his Family would make sure it never went to my Family, no matter what his arrangement with me or mine with him. My Family would do the same. That’s the way Families are—they take care of their own, and they never let private agreements between individuals override the good of the Family as a whole. Never.” The Calimekkan Galweighs wouldn’t, anyway. Goft Galweighs might be another matter, but she never intended to deal with those traitors again.
“So anything you swear to him or he swears to you is already meaningless if the Galweighs or the Sabirs won’t eventually approve of it?”
Kait started to deny that.
Then she thought about what he’d asked her, and what she’d said.
She’d always considered her word a thing of value, and her honor as solid as the rock on which Galweigh House was built. But she realized at that moment that no matter how honest she was, no matter how hard she worked to keep her promises, her Family could make a liar of her with a single command. And if that was true, what value had her word to anyone? She stared down at the rope in her hands and said, “Yes.”
She shook her head. People struck bargains with the Galweighs all the time. She’d always thought it was because of the Galweigh reputation for honor. Now she reconsidered. The Galweighs ruled half of Calimekka and much of the world—only a fool would dare refuse Galweigh business, and only a fool would renege on a contract with a Galweigh. But did the men and women who marked wax with the Galweighs consider the Family’s mark worthless? If so, no wonder the streets stank of fear when she walked down them. No wonder she smelled such hatred from strangers. No wonder women pulled their children from the streets, and little shops had often just closed their doors for the day, when she strode by them.
There had to be a better way. There had to be a way to protect honor and the Family at the same time.
Hasmal said, “Then we’re going to have to learn to use it before we reach land.”
Kait, still thinking about her Family and the problem of honor, didn’t know what he was talking about for an instant. Then she stared at the Mirror of Souls, and shivered. Learn to use it? “I can’t read the glyphs inscribed on the buttons,” she told him. “Any of the Ancients’ artifacts can be deadly if misused. The Mirror of Souls . . .” Her voice trailed off to silence, and in her mind the bodies of dead legions scrabbled from their graves and shambled across the darkened face of the world, seeking revenge against the fools who had trapped their souls in foul-fleshed husks without restoring those husks to healthy life. She dreaded the idea of a mistake, even a small one.
“I’ve dealt with the Ancients’ work before. I know the dangers.”
“Have you learned to read the glyphs since I found this?”
“No. But if Ry Sabir won’t come around to our side, we have no other choice.”
There were always choices. “If Amalee would speak to me again . . .”
“No. Don’t welcome her back.” Hasmal’s eyes stared faraway at nothing, unfocused. “Something was wrong about her,” he said after a moment’s thought. “She told you that the magic that destroyed your Family released her soul from captivity. But a soul held captive would race to the Veil, wouldn’t it? Beyond the Veil she could have claimed a new birth, a new life, all the things from which she’d been deprived for so long. Instead, she satisfied herself with seeing things through your eyes, hearing things through your ears, and existing as a powerless, disembodied voice that meddled in affairs hundreds of years after her death as if they affected her personally.”
“She hoped the Mirror would raise her from the dead, I’m sure.”
“Why?”
She wondered if he was intentionally stupid sometimes. “So that she wouldn’t be dead anymore.”
Hasmal shook his head. “That would make sense for your brothers and sisters and parents, Kait—they have you here, and everything from the life they’ve left behind. But if you raised her from the dead, your ancestor would have no one and nothing familiar in the world. Everything has changed. Why wouldn’t she choose to find the souls who shared her other lifetimes with her and rebirth with them? Why wouldn’t she want to return to her rightful existence?”
Kait considered that. “I don’t know, really. She talked about helping me, about having her revenge on the Sabirs, about, well . . . She was interested in my life, in what it was like to be me. She thought it would be exciting to be Karnee—she talked about that a lot. I don’t know why she was more interested in me and now than in going on. I didn’t think about it.” She rocked back on her heels. Perhaps she’d been stupid. “I was so grateful to know there might be a way for me to get my family back, I didn’t worry about what Amalee would get out of the deal.”
“Don’t do anything to call her back, Kait. I don’t know where she’s gone, but I think we’re better off without her. Even if she returns to you, don’t ask her to help you work the Mirror. I think she’s dangerous.”
“She’s the reason I came after the Mirror.”
“I know.” He rubbed his head. “That’s just one of my many nightmares.”
“Nightmares?”
When he looked over at her, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his face and realized that the serenity that had molded his features the first time they’d met was gone. “I haven’t forgotten the prophecy that sent me running from you after we first met: If I allowed myself to be entangled in your life, I faced a horrible death. Now I am indubitably enmeshed in your affairs, and the two of us are custodians of nothing less than the Mirror of Souls. And you’re haunted by a ghost, and we’re in the company of Sabirs. And I am and shall always be a coward. I sleep poorly these days.”
“You’re still alive.”
“That’s less comfort than you might think.”
Heavy footsteps thundered overhead, and Hasmal rose. Kait stayed crouched, untying a knot and beginning to retie it. Several of the crew came down the gangway, arms laden with the toys and tools of the Ancients. They were laughing to each other, but they stopped when they saw Kait and Hasmal. “Up you go, both of you,” one man said. “We have work to do down here.”
Kait nodded. “We’ve just finished.”
Hasmal met her eyes. “The rest of what we have to do will wait.”
9
A
hundred awkwardnesses, a thousand embarrassments: Kait carried her few belongings into the tiny cabin she would share with Ry, conscious of the stares of the crew, his men, and her own comrades, and stopped just at the door. Ry stood beside the bunk beds, the expression on his face carefully neutral.
hundred awkwardnesses, a thousand embarrassments: Kait carried her few belongings into the tiny cabin she would share with Ry, conscious of the stares of the crew, his men, and her own comrades, and stopped just at the door. Ry stood beside the bunk beds, the expression on his face carefully neutral.
“Don’t just stand there,” he said. “Bring your things and come in.”
She nodded and took the extra step that carried her across the threshold. The hatchway closed behind her with a muffled thud—a sound that echoed the beating of her heart.
She looked around the cabin. Ry hadn’t been there long—the little room lacked his scent, and his belongings were all in his chest or a bag on the bottom bunk. “Where shall I put my belongings?”
“You don’t have much, do you?”
“Not much.” She was still looking around the room because it was easier than looking at him. Well-done woodwork, a washbasin built into the starboard wall with a pitcher beneath it, a tiny skylight, the two narrow bunks one on top of the other (and she was relieved that they were so narrow—two people couldn’t hope to sleep side by side in them with any comfort), a built-in armoire, a tiny table hinged to the wall and stowed at the moment, two small plank benches also hinged to the wall on one end, also stowed. The floor was clean and polished, the walls smelled of citrus and wax, the linens were clean and tucked neatly into place at the corners and smelled only of soap and sunlight and fresh air.
“You can have the drawers beneath the bottom bunk.” He moved away from the bunks.
She didn’t want to step any closer to him, but she couldn’t just stand there holding her bag until he left. So she took a deep breath, walked over to the bunk bed, and knelt on the floor. She gave the drawer a tug and it slid out smoothly; she was so tense she pulled it clear to the end of its run, and only the fact that the carpenter who’d built it had included stops kept it from landing in her lap. He was behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body, so close his scent became a drug, and her vision grayed at the edges and narrowed into a tunnel and she could hear only the rushing of her blood in her veins and the quick, sharp pace of his breathing.
She stiffened her back, dreading his touch and half-expecting it at the same time. But he kept his distance. She shoved the bag into the drawer, not bothering to unpack it, shoved the door closed, and moved away as fast as she could.
Through the wall, she heard someone begin to pluck the strings of a guitarra. “My cousin Karyl,” Ry offered, noting her shift in posture as she listened to the music.
His playing was sweet, his voice a mournful tenor as he began to sing.
No, I’ll not for lads nor lasses.
My dancing days are done.
The bitter tide
Is my final ride
To the sea I am now gone.
And I follow the rush of the water
For the water flows to the shore
And I have cried
Where the pale tides died
And wept to weep no more.
I lost my faithless lover
To the sea, my faithless friend—
For the one devoured the other
Leaving nothing but pain at the end.
Now I hear her song in the wave
And her voice in the water deep.
She is gone but her music lives on
And it’s all that I can keep.
And I follow the rush of the water
For the water flows to the shore
And I have cried
Where the pale tides died
And wept to weep no more.
When that song was finished, the unseen singer paused for a moment, then launched into another one, equally mournful.
“Sad songs,” Kait said, not wanting to listen to any more wistful, yearning ballads.
“If he knows another sort, he’s never shown it.”
“I’ve never heard that one before.”
“You won’t have heard any of them before. He only plays the songs he writes himself. A hundred variations on the theme of grief.”
Kait had no wish to discuss love, or longing, or grief. She said nothing, and the stilted conversation died there, and the two of them were left looking at each other.
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