Winterstrike (44 page)

‘Esse!’ Canteley shouted from the top of the stairs. The brazier was rolling down towards us, bouncing and bounding, its metal sides clattering on the steps. I didn’t know
whether Mantis had thrown it or whether it had rolled, but I flung myself off Shorn, who tried to rise. As the brazier reached the bottom step I grabbed it by its handles, ignoring the sudden
searing heat, and swung it at Shorn’s head. The heavy metal canister hit home. The back of my sister’s inhuman head caved in like a broken egg and Shorn collapsed.

I looked down in horror. Shorn lay in death, looking immediately smaller, more human. Her eyes were glazing. No time to say I was sorry, no time to say goodbye. She was simply gone, and I
wondered whether she’d finally be free or whether her troubled spirit was already flying out to greet the ghost army of the Noumenon. I didn’t have time to dwell on the issue. From
above me, Mantis gave a thin, high wail. She came flying down the stairs, her burned face blackened now and her arms reaching wide. She cried something in a language I did not understand and I
heard movement behind me, but Mantis was already there. She struck me in the face and knocked me to my knees. Up on the stairs, I was dimly aware of Canteley screaming. But Mantis had achieved what
Shorn had not and I could feel consciousness slipping away from me. I fell forward but as I did so, I heard chanting.

I’d heard it before. It had ripped a piece of my soul from me, and now, with the later hole partially filled by the lock mechanism, I could see with my soul what my eyes could not. Someone
was standing over me, someone familiar, and she was speaking. The majike had caught up with us and she was doing to Mantis what she had done to me. The chanting went on and on, horribly insidious,
words keyed into soul-engrams, and of course the majike must have known what they were, since she was Mantis’s creator. No wonder Mantis had sought the sanctuary of the Crater Plain, with
such a weapon against her; she must have been very sure of the Noumenon army to return to Winterstrike.

It wasn’t my soul but it hurt all the same. I didn’t quite lose consciousness, however, and when my vision finally started to clear and I could sit up, Mantis was crouched in a
huddle of skirts across the landing, her face as slack as an idiot child’s. The majike was folding something into her reticule, primly, as if about to return home after a party.

‘Essegui,’ she said severely. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Leretui’s dead,’ I said, blinking up at her. It seemed as accurate as ‘Shorn’, now.

‘Yes, I can see that. But we need to go.’ She reached out a hand and after a hesitant moment, I took it and allowed her to pull me up.

‘I know you don’t trust me,’ Gennera Khine said. ‘But I’m on your side, you know.’

‘And which side is that?’ I didn’t see how she could say such a thing, when I didn’t know myself. ‘Calmaretto’s? The Matriarchy’s?’

The majike regarded me calmly, as if I was a particularly slow pupil. ‘No. Winterstrike’s.’

We went quickly and cautiously down the stairs and out of the bell tower. There was no point in trying to secure the turret room any further – if someone wanted to try and make off with
the festival bell, they’d have to go right ahead – but I released the lock, into the doorframe of the archive room. It might not stay secure for long but it was all I could do and I
didn’t want to go out of the tower with the lock still with me: it felt wrong. The majike watched as I worked, and said nothing.

When we finally stepped through the blasted doors to the remnants of the bridge, the sun was up and spilling brightly over the snow, sending sparks from the icicles. The majike pointed.
‘Look,’ she said. A figure was skating across the courtyard of the Temple, its robes a drift of cloud. The vulpen, leaving.

They’re still here,’ I warned. ‘They’ll stay in the tunnels under the city.’

The majike gave me a reproving look. ‘They’ve always been here. They come and go as they please, not as we do. I’ve sent squads of excissieres into the catacombs in the past
and half of them didn’t make it back. Where do you think Shorn’s creature came from? All the way from the Crater Plain? Whenever a woman goes missing, or a child – chances are
that’s where they’ve gone.’

‘What about the rest of the Changed?’ I asked. ‘Without Mantis, they might not be so keen to band together.’ But we could not be sure. ‘And what about the
Noumenon?’

‘The Noumenon will have to be fought,’ the majike said. ‘But I confess, I don’t know how. We’ll have to wait and see what happens with the Changed.’

‘What about my soul, then,’ I asked, but she only smiled.

We were on the bridge, and conversation languished until we were safely over the gap. The majike’s vehicle was waiting by then, on the forecourt of the Temple which even now was melting
into sunlight and snow. Canteley and I climbed into the vehicle in silence, and in silence, returned to Calmaretto.

THIRTY-SEVEN

I was surprised to find the mansion still standing, and appearing so normal. When we’d reached the Temple courtyard, I’d looked back to see the bell tower, the
familiar crimson eye of the window no longer gazing out across Winterstrike. We’d mend it, I thought. Maybe. But it wouldn’t be the same. The majike had told me that she’d send
excissieres in to retrieve Shorn’s body. I wondered if she’d be able to spare them. The morning city had a wary air, with no one about. I had no idea what might have happened in the
course of the night. I saw neither citizens nor ghosts. Mantis had been led away, going meekly, by an excissiere waiting at the car.

When we reached Calmaretto, Canteley threw herself out of the car and up the steps, with myself close behind: it might not be wise to rush in. But the entrance hall was quiet, the black and
white checkerboard of the floor and the tapestries that hung on the panelling were undisturbed. A moment later the parlour door was flung open and there stood my mother Alleghetta, her red and grey
hat askew but still attached to her head. She’d probably take to sleeping in it, if we survived. She gave us all a glowering look and said, in the direction of the majike, ‘Your crew
fought off the ghosts. They’ve chased them out of the Winter Palace and put out the fire.’ She looked grimly triumphant, although I couldn’t see that she’d had anything to
do with it.

‘It won’t be for long,’ the majike said. ‘The Noumenon have come too far. They might not be able to enlist the Changed next time, but they won’t give up. This city
is infested with ghosts now.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ said Alleghetta.

Canteley clutched her arm. ‘Where’s Thea?’

‘Sleeping it off Alleghetta said with a downward twist of the mouth, and for the first time it struck me that an actual Matriarch might not want to have a liability as a wife. Divorce
might be frowned upon, but so was addiction. And something in Alleghetta’s face as she looked at the majike, a sly, unexpected speculation, made me wonder whether Canteley and I might not be
anticipating a new stepmother fairly soon.

‘Leretui’s dead,’ I said, because the majike hadn’t said anything about that and clearly it was falling to me. The result was more extreme than I’d expected:
Alleghetta staggered back and clasped the banister for support.

‘How?’

‘I—’

‘She tried to cross the bridge to the bell tower,’ the majike interrupted. ‘I’m afraid she fell.’

Alleghetta collected herself. ‘Very well. Perhaps it’s for the best.’ And that was all she said about the matter, then, or for some weeks afterward, at least in my hearing. I
suddenly felt exhausted. ‘I’m going to bed,’ I said. ‘I don’t care what happens now.’

Canteley yawned. ‘I’m tired too.’

The majike nodded. I thought I caught a flicker of sympathy in her glance. Alleghetta clearly hadn’t slept, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. As I headed for the stairs,
the majike caught my sleeve.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said, in an undertone. ‘We’ll look after you, Essegui. I’ll restore your soul to you, the missing parts.’

‘All right,’ I said. It had sounded more like a threat than a promise. I avoided looking at Shorn’s door as I passed it, as if she’d left some eldritch trace of herself,
her unhappy spirit still in there, drifting. I shut the door of my own chamber with relief, to see that the red message light on the antiscribe was winking at me. So I went over to see what was
waiting.

Hestia’s face floated onto the screen: tired, grainy, and deeply familiar. ‘Essegui?’ she said. ‘I’ve got something to tell you . . .’

WINTERSTRIKE

‘A rich, textured story of political intrigue on a far-future Mars . . .
Winterstrike
is beautifully written, seamlessly plotted and profound’

Guardian

‘Throughout a twisting, eerie novel, Williams’ prose is taut and detailed. Yet also velvety and dreamlike – a balancing act she sustains quite
brilliantly.’

BBC Focus

‘If there were ever any doubt,
Winterstrike
confirms that Liz Williams is among the finest SF writers we have’

SFX

‘Dramatic stuff indeed and Liz Williams handles the complicated weaving of the story with skill . . . The real strength of the writing, however, lies in the worlds
Williams creates . . . Exotic characters, intriguing locations and a twisting plot . . . a very impressive new series from one of British sci-fi’s most original authors’

SciFiNow

Terrific stuff and I can’t wait for the sequel. In fact, if I do have one quibble, it’s with the ending. I want to know what happens next. Right now.’

SFCrowsnest.com

BLOODMIND

‘A breathless, vivid, adventure that is thought-provoking on such subjects as the allure of violence, our need for myths, and what is “natural”’

The Times

‘It’s a further measure of her skill that Williams creates a killer who is both monster and wholly sympathetic . . . Williams is one of the most original and
distinctive voices in British SF’

SFX

‘Williams’ forte is her depiction of driven characters in richly realised settings, and the complex unravelling of tangled motivations and agendas’

Guardian

‘Bloodmind
is absorbing, intelligent, and well-written Science Fiction’

Starburst

Liz Williams is the daughter of a stage magician and a gothic novelist, and currently lives in Glastonbury. She received a PhD in Philosophy of Science
from Cambridge, and her subsequent career has ranged from reading tarot cards on Brighton’s Palace Pier to teaching in central Asia. Her short stories have been published in
Asimov’s
,
Interzone
,
The Third Alternative
and
Visionary Tongue
, and she is the co-editor of the anthology
Fabulous Brighton.
Her novel
Banner of
Souls
was shortlisted for the Arthur C. Clarke Award 2006.

Also by Liz Williams

The Ghost Sister

Empire of Bones

The Poison Master

Nine Layers of Sky

Banner of Souls

Darkland

Bloodmind

The Snake Agent

The Demon and the City

Precious Dragon

The Shadow Pavilion

The Banquet of the Lords of Night and Other Stories

Acknowledgements

With special thanks to

Peter Lavery and Stef Bierwerth at Macmillan,

Shawna McCarthy,

everyone at the Milford workshop.

First published 2008 by Tor

First published in paperback 2009 by Tor

This electronic edition published 2010 by Tor
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com

ISBN 978-0-230-73851-5 PDF
ISBN 978-0-230-73850-8 EPUB

Copyright © Liz Williams 2008

The right of Liz Williams to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital,
optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be
liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Visit
www.panmacmillan.com
to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews
and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.