The first hour of the early eight, Kirven’s eyes sticky with tiredness. She was not an early riser and never had been. She would be glad to leave the skyraft behind. She had not enjoyed the journey, never enjoyed flight, whether on a skyraft or a marant. People were not meant to fly, they were meant to walk on the ground. It was too hot on the skyraft as well; once the great fires were lit to fill the balloons then you could not escape the heat, and even though it was cold this far north the skyrafters went bare-chested and wore only shorts when they were on the main deck. Only the family Archeon went full-dressed, striding about shouting commands. There was always something to do but Kirven did not understand any of it, nor did she want to.
Venn refused to speak to her, in the darkness of their cabin while she dressed her child in their armour she had spoken to them. Her words urgent, almost begging.
“Venn,” she had said, “you must understand, once I have left you with Vanhu there is no more I can do for you. You are out of my control. Vanhu answers to the Cowl-Rai, he will do whatever he deems necessary.”
“Then do not send me with him, Firstmother,” said Venn. Their voice dead, and in the darkness she could not see their face. She paused in the lacing of their chest piece. Her lips were dry, the heat made her head ache.
“I could get a histi, Venn, they have animals on board. Wake your cowl, one small death, and we can go back to Harnspire. Galderin has a marant in the hold.” She waited, hoping that they would answer her. That she would feel their muscles go limp, feel them slump and give in. That she would finally win this foolish battle of wills with her own child. Venn did not reply and the only sound was her breath in the darkness. Sweat ran down her skin. She bowed her head and pulled on the straps of the armour, deliberately making them too tight in a way she knew would chafe. “You are not the only one this hurts, Venn,” she hissed. “You think I do not feel pain?”
But they did not reply and she finished putting on their armour in silence.
On the deck the fires were out, though the great braziers still radiated heat into the air. The balloons were being folded away and the air was full of the sound of the rafters as they finalised docking the huge craft to Harn-Larger’s docking spire. Not a real spire, but a rickety construction of wood that she would not trust for a moment if she were asked to walk up or down it. Already some passengers, laden with goods, were leaving that way, over the gangway and down the stairs around the spire. She was glad she would be going down on the lift.
She no longer wore the layers of wool, instead she wore tight-fitting crownhead leather in brown and blue. Her hair tied back rather than in elaborate braids. She knew that there were those who would not approve, but she did not want to announce her presence here. She had hoped to sneak in and out without being seen. Events had conspired to stop that and now she must meet the Leoric of Harn-Larger, and their monks, though they had been told to keep her presence secret. Her intention had originally been to travel with only Vanhu, Kyik and Sorha but Rai Galderin had convinced her otherwise. She knew that he did not argue his presence was needed only for her safety as he said; most likely he did not want Vanhu to have her ear to himself, even for a few days.
Rather than fight Galderin and risk him becoming resentful she had allowed him to put together an honour guard, with the agreement they would stay on the raft when she went into town. As if to underline to Vanhu who had the power, Galderin had brought with him not only a branch of soldiers but a marant and also some Hetton. She had commanded they must remain in the hold. The Hetton had an unpleasant effect on all who saw them, but the presence of Galderin and the Hetton had ensured her visit could not be kept secret.
Now she stood with Venn, the trion doing their best not to look at her, and the two Rai, one either side of her.
“I must meet with the Leoric,” she said. “So we may have to postpone what you have planned, Vanhu.” The Rai nodded.
“Are you dressed to meet their Leoric?” said Galderin. As ever his make-up and armour were perfect, as if he had stepped out of his own chambers in Harnspire, not a cramped skyraft cabin.
“I am the High Leoric,” she snapped the words out, “how I dress is always correct.” Galderin bowed his head. “Besides, it is better if these provincial towns see their High Leoric as someone who is like them, and that is how I dress. Not as some out-of-touch aristocrat in clothes they could work all their lives and never be able to afford.”
“Of course, Kirven,” he said, as if amused by her ideas.
“A little time is not a problem, High Leoric,” said Vanhu. She realised his worn look, someone who put more import on his weapons than his looks, was just as deliberate as Galderin’s. “I intend to send Kyik ahead to find a good place and prepare it for the trion’s ascension to Rai.” He smiled at Venn, though they did not look at him, instead becoming very focused on a rafter doing something with ropes nearby. Galderin tried to hide a sneer but failed. “And I need you to arrange for some suitable material. Three or four prisoners should do.”
“I will speak to the Leoric,” she said.
“Good. Presuming the materials are ready we will travel to the forest tomorrow, and by the evening our dear trion will know their power and be ready to rule.” He looked over at Venn. “Their attitude will have changed then, High Leoric, I promise you.” A sharp look from Venn, full of resentment. For a moment she thought they would speak but they did not. Only returned to watching the rafter at their work. Kirven felt an emptiness inside, a scouring. Venn was her child, a part of her. She could not bear them hating her. Not when she acted for their good. To protect them. If only she had a little more time with them.
“I will come to the forest with you,” she said. Another sharp look from Venn.
“It is a mistake,” said Vanhu, too quickly. But the Rai was not a fool, he realised it as soon as he spoke. As did Galderin, she saw him smile. “I only mean, High Leoric, that what must be done, well, it will be hard. A difficult thing for a mother to watch.” She stared at him. Knowing he was right, that her presence would not help. This was a torture she must endure just as Venn must endure whatever Vanhu had planned. A thing she had been very careful not to ask too much about.
“The lift is here,” she said, pointing over at the contraption as it rose into view, hanging from cranes. She thought they looked far too thin to take the weight of all the people and cargo waiting. “Galderin,” she said, “please escort Venn to the lift.” He nodded, took her child by the arm and led them away. Vanhu remained, waiting for her to speak. “I want you to know, Vanhu,” she said quietly, “that if my child does not return from the forest, I will have you skinned. Then I will wait for your cowl to grow it back, and have you skinned again. That will be your life.” He smiled, let out a low laugh.
“Of course, High Leoric,” he said. “It is a pity you do not have a cowl. You would have made an excellent Rai.”