Chapter 10

Isansho Shika regarded him with some curiosity from where she stood before her easel, paintbrush in hand. She glanced at him often as she worked, her square jaw set in concentration and her dark hair shaved high at the sides, like every other woman Never had seen so far in the city.

However, unlike the other women, the overlord’s hair bore traces of green paint, as did her hands and forearms where they slipped free of her dark robe. She still wore twin blades at her hip, one shorter than the other, but nothing ornamental to suggest she was a ruler of Najin.

Of course, sitting on a stool, hands bound, while someone painted his portrait was unusual enough to suggest that he was currently at the mercy of someone powerful. It was oddly intimate – unnerving even, since no-one had ever had need to paint him before.

“You have an arresting face, Never,” she said.

“Thank you, Isansho.” He glanced to the two bodyguards who stood just beyond the lantern-light. Were they really as fast as Hanael said? One stood near enough to a lacquered table that he could reach for a cup of something every now and then, the other was closer to the open shutters on the window, these too made of treated bamboo.

Escape certainly didn’t seem likely – and maybe it wouldn’t need to be. If he could talk his way into some sort of advantage...

“Lei-Dahn disapproves of my little habit, you see,” Shika continued, frowning at her work. “He would prefer you were interrogated immediately.”

“I imagine you’re learning quite a lot in your own way, My Lady,” he said. “He is the Gathering Monk?”

“He is.” She changed brushes, taking blue paint now. “And I don’t believe I have learnt enough, just yet. You are obviously Marlosi by your accent and colouring of course but there is something else to your features that I cannot place. And you are searching for someone; you worry. I see that in your eyes.”

Never raised an eyebrow. He was yet to explain his purpose in Kiymako to his captors – yet, when had he grown so easy to read? “That is true, Isansho.”

“And what makes you believe you will find them in Najin?”

“Hope.”

She murmured as she made another few strokes before placing the brush down a moment. She stood back from the work. “Never, it is only a fool who plots a course on hope alone.”

“I’m rather lucky, I have to admit.”

Shika chuckled. “That I can see.”

“I appear luckier when I’m not tied to a chair.”

“Tell me, who were you chasing across the rooftops?”

“Someone who was supposed to help me find a pass,” he said smoothly.

“Oh? You’re heading inland then?”

“Not any more it seems.”

Shika shook her head. “An answer that is not an answer is hardly adequate, Never.”

“Then may I ask you a question instead?”

“Please.” She appeared amused.

“Don’t you think I make a terrible spy? Or assassin, or whatever it is you assume I am?”

“Perhaps, but you’ve got yourself within these walls easily enough.”

Now Never grinned. If only she knew how easy such a feat could have been. “Something that would be more impressive if I hadn’t been given an armed escort.”

She approached him now, but made no threatening move. Up close, he could see she was a little older than he’d first assumed, though not by much. “I must at least credit Wanatek for thinking outside his regular cast for infiltrators. But I do wonder what he offered you, since you have so little with you. Weren’t you smart enough to demand payment up front? Or have you stashed it away somewhere.”

Never hesitated. Was there an opportunity here? Perhaps, if he could play it right... “Are you offering more, Isansho?”

She frowned. “More?”

“Well, I find myself suddenly open to new arrangements – and surely I’m most ideally suited to gathering whatever information about Wanatek it is you’re looking for.”

“The man who takes silver from two employers leaves behind two knives.”

“What if I didn’t want silver?”

“Oh?”

“What if I wanted information?”

“Ah, we’re travelling in circles now.”

“About a girl – or a young woman – of Marlosi heritage, who was raised or possibly held prisoner in a temple.”

Lady Shika studied him for a long moment. “That is a very dangerous question to ask.”

“Do you not ask something very dangerous of me in return?”

“I do.” She folded her arms, then turned and strode to her men, speaking softly. Then, they started forward, faces impassive when they reached the light. One gestured for Never to stand, and then he was being half-carried, half-led from the room and into a dim corridor.

Shika trailed without a word.

Never kept his hands together, his nails poised to gouge his palm, just in case. Crimson-fire would dissolve his bindings, and give him a chance of escape, but he still hadn’t had a chance to take the measure of his captors.

And more, there was a chance Shika would help him.

When they came to steps leading up to a curtain, the bodyguards stopped. One pulled him aside, allowing Shika to draw it open. She turned to look down on Never.

“Few see this room and live, Never. Touch nothing, understood?”

“Understood.”

She motioned to her men and Never was released. He started up the steps, following Shika into the room, her bodyguards close behind.

The overseer was lighting evenly-spaced lamps, seeing as there were no windows. It was a large, square room with little furniture, only two long cabinets around waist high, mostly made of glass.

But it was the walls that caught his eye.

Dozens of paintings lined the room, all uniform in shape but covering the entire spectrum of colour. And they started with a deep purple, near black, and lightened and changed as they progressed around the room.

The first was difficult to discern, but the second was rendered more clearly – a corpse. The purples bled into one another but the sightless gaze and sunken cheeks were clear. Its torso appeared to bear hints of red too.

“My memory, as best I can manage, of my first encounter with death.”

“A chilling image.”

She appeared pleased. “There is one in particular I wish you to see. Come.” Shika led him around the room, slow enough that he had a chance to see many more faces. Some were still alive while painted – expressions of anger, defiance or defeat clear. Where Shika had included a setting, it was the room Never had himself sat within moments before.

One man, who’d been shown mostly in yellows, was repeated in three paintings. Each time, he slumped further on the stool... as if she had painted his actual death.

Never stopped.

“Traitors, murderers and criminals mostly,” she said when she turned back to him.

“And the others?”

“Sometimes merely a face I wished to capture,” she said with a shrug. “Quickly now.”

Never joined her at the first cabinet; it was filled with a wide assortment of items, all arranged on black cloth. A piece of pottery, a single playing card, a river stone, a silver dagger and various other items – one of which was a ring set with a small ruby stone.

Hanael’s ring?

“Here.”

Never looked up.

The young girl stood in pinks and reds, her dark eyes and black, waist-length hair vivid in the image. Unlike the other pictures, which had been created using heavier paints and strokes, this seemed to be done with a softer approach.

Her expression was one of deep weariness, though she still might have been called ‘cute’ rather than pretty – doubtless because she was young.

He could not look away.

Could the girl... he raised a hand but did not reach out. Something about her expression... the closer he looked the more it seemed possible. Her features suggested mixed heritage, her skin tone a little darker than common in Kiymako and her mouth, something about it was familiar.

Like Father.

Never spun. “Who is she? Tell me. Is she alive?”

Shika lifted a finger. “I do not care for your tone, Never. But yes, she lives.”

“Forgive me, Isansho, but I must know more.”

“And so you shall – when I get what you have promised and no sooner.”