The harbour boiled. Chel watched from the prow of the sword-shaped ship as they steered toward the icy wooden dock, freezing black water churning beneath them. Trickles of water, streams and brooks, cut dark, steaming lines down the snow-draped peak that loomed over the inlet, and the black seawater hissed and foamed where they met. The whole place stank of bad eggs and iron. On the horizon, the evening cloud hung thick and dark over the silhouettes of broken peaks, sporadic gouts of molten rock and earth-smoke clawing upwards from within, shot through with flashes of orange light. Beyond, odd wafting waves of emerald and indigo veiled the narrow band of stars that squeezed between earth and sky.
‘Truly,’ Foss said, ‘we are at the end of the world. The heavens are burning, and all the hells are here.’
‘C’mon, Fossy, don’t be so dramatic. It’s the ash-light, you can see it sometimes from Clyden.’
‘And the great bursts of flame from beneath? The smell?’ He looked around, at the clusters of large and muscular reavers at the back of the boat. ‘The company?’
Kosh was re-organizing the contents of her alchemy sack, cross-legged before the mast. ‘That is volcanic activity. It is natural.’
Foss looked unconvinced. ‘Evil days,’ he muttered. ‘Evil days.’
‘Well,’ said Loveless, joining them at the prow, ‘I’m guessing that’s the closest thing we’ll get to an apology from a Horvaun war-band.’
‘Ah, that was no war-band,’ Lemon gave a dismissive wave of her hand, ‘that was barely a scouting party.’
‘Either way, Lem, it’s fair to say they weren’t expecting to meet friendlies. Our new bosom chum Brecki appears to have smoothed things over.’
‘She has promised us as great weapons for her queen,’ Kosh muttered. ‘Including a … wizard.’ She spat the last word.
Lemon was outraged. ‘You can understand them? How can you fucken understand them?’
Her gaze flicked to Lemon and away. ‘Honestly, I am appalled that you cannot.’
Chel crouched before Kosh. ‘Can you talk back to them? Translate for us?’
The Nort looked appalled. ‘Is it not enough that I sully my tongue with your mud-speech? Leave me be. Leave me to my … wizard tricks.’
Loveless put a hand on Chel’s shoulder. ‘You all dried out, cub? You’re still shivering.’
‘You’re just twitching with excitement, eh, wee bear? Besides, splash of cold water’s good for the muscles, you’ll be in better shape than the rest of us come morning.’
Chel offered a tight smile and excused himself, with reluctance. He dreaded to think what shape they might all be in come the morning. Brecki’s return and his sudden rescue from the frigid lake had been such a welcome shock that what had followed had passed in a blur; baffled, angry conversations between Brecki and their would-be murderers, a forced march, Chel still wet and shaking and half-carried by muscular reavers, from the lakeside down to the jagged coast, bundled into waiting Horvaun vessels and carted across the black water to wherever this demonic harbour lay. He’d at least had a chance to change his clothes once they were aboard and under sail, but it seemed impossible he would ever feel warmth again in his frozen bones.
Tarfel remained huddled beneath his cloak, curled beyond the mast. He’d been silent since the giant reavers had marched them down to the boats, keeping the lowest of profiles. He looked up at Chel’s approach, tried to muster a smile.
‘Ah, Vedren, how do things look?’
‘We’re coming into harbour. The landscape looks like it’s on fire.’
‘Jolly good, jolly good. Are we prisoners, do you think? It’s hard to know exactly.’
‘I wasn’t aware that Horvaun reavers took prisoners, highness, so your guess at this stage is as good as mine.’
He nodded, smile cracked. ‘Then let us try some old-fashioned diplomacy, and turn the screws against my brother yet.’
‘C’mon, you dour sods,’ Lemon called across the boat, ‘we ain’t dead yet, that’s something to celebrate, eh?’
‘It’s all right for you, you’re back among your people,’ Rennic retorted.
‘Ah, piss off!’
‘Evil days,’ muttered Foss, as the boat bumped against the pier.
***
The fortress on the hill smelled even worse than the harbour, but it was wonderfully warm. Hacked and quarried into the hillside and walled in its rough grey-black stone, it offered both sweeping views over the darkening bay and respite from the blasted winter beyond. Brecki and two of the giant reavers from the boat led them out of the bitter night and through thick double doors, beneath an archway carved with a snarling parade of voracious faces. The hallway within was bright with torchlight, reflecting from racks of weaponry lining the walls, axes and pikes, shields and serrated daggers, some notched, stained, well-used, others ancient in style or appearance.
‘It’s half-armoury, half-museum,’ Lemon muttered.
‘What’s a museum?’
‘Aw, ancestors, Fossy, are you messing with me?’
Their escorts seemed unconcerned by their proximity to all the hardware, and they remained unchained and had not been disarmed. If anything, that made it worse: as far as the hard-faced, pale-skinned lumps marching either side of them were concerned, the group were no threat at all, armed or otherwise.
They were led into a vaulted great hall, a combination throne room and dining chamber. Tables were laid out in a spreading pattern from a dais at the far end, where a grand old throne, carved from dark wood and topped with what Chel guessed was a bear skull, looked down on the staff scurrying around, laying out preparations for what looked like a coming feast. Guards stood at regular intervals, hefty types in boiled leather with axes in their hands and at their backs.
A woman stood before the dais, taller than Brecki but not towering like the reavers who’d brought them in. She was hard-featured, inescapably pale, but frost-sharp with it, and wore a dark blue stone on a clasp at her neck. Her hair was unbraided, pulled back from her head in a loose pile, interwoven with coloured ties. On seeing Brecki, her eyebrows gave the slightest flex, and she turned half away.
‘You stay,’ Brecki growled, gesturing fiercely with her hand as if they were dogs of questionable obedience, then walked off toward the woman. She seemed to shrink as she approached, her stride losing its swagger, her shoulders hunching.
‘We’re all agreed this is Brecki’s queen, right?’ Loveless muttered, to general murmurs of assent. Rennic was craning forward to catch their conversation, but whatever passed between reaver and queen remained impenetrable. Chel had expected their language to be all grunts and hawking, but to his ear their speech was almost sing-song, a roll of even vowels and trills.
‘What do you think, Vedren?’ Tarfel pressed close to Chel, his gaze darting between the reaver guards who flanked them. The nearer one was a tall woman, beast-shouldered, with thick braids of jet-coloured hair bound beneath a helmet fashioned from an ox skull. Her furs were clean, thick, embroidered beneath. Chel caught the crystal blue of her cold eyes as she swept them over the group, and he flinched back.
‘I have great faith in your diplomatic capabilities, Tarf,’ he replied in a near-whisper.
‘What do you reckon they’re jacking on about?’ Lemon said, one arm leaning on Foss, who looked peeved. ‘Hardly strikes as a tearful reunion, eh?’
The attention of the group shifted very perceptibly toward Kosh, who was hunched at their centre, arms wrapped around her alchemical sack. ‘Ugh,’ she said, ‘must I do everything for you? How is it I am surrounded by such incapable infants?’
‘Strikes me you’re the smallest, crunchiest person in this hall, Nort,’ Rennic growled, ‘and we infants are the only thing keeping you alive.’
She scoffed. ‘Who was it who engineered our escape on the lake, who produced—’
‘Hush,’ Loveless said, ‘they’re finishing.’
Brecki was dismissed, sloping off toward the hall’s far doors without a backward look. The woman at the dais looked over to the group, smiled, and beckoned. Something about the smile’s brilliance made Chel nervous.
***
The woman with the blue stone maintained her smile until they were all standing before the dais. Up close, there was more than a hint of a sneer about it. ‘Welcome,’ she said in their own language, ‘I should perhaps introduce myself. Or reintroduce myself, as appropriate.’ Her accent was obvious but controlled, her speech fluent, colloquial.
‘What do you mean, reintroduce?’ Rennic had shouldered his way to the front, trying to reassert a measure of dominance. Normally one of the biggest humans in any gathering, he seemed unnerved by so many large, brawny figures around them. ‘Not sure any of us has ever travelled down to this beautiful part of the world before.’
She smile-sneered again, but it was without contempt, which Chel took as a good sign. ‘You have not, but I have been north in the past, no doubt much to your surprise.’ She leaned back, resting one hand on a chair that sat on the dais, small and relatively simple, before and to one side of the throne. Another matching chair sat on the throne’s far side, and Chel wondered at their significance. ‘I spent some time, a few years ago, studying at the Academy in Denirnas, among other things. I once met a young man, the little brother of two of my classmates, who had travelled there to visit with a great retinue.’
Her smile widened as her eyes sought Tarfel among them. ‘That is you, isn’t it, Prince Tarfel? You’re taller now, I’ll say that for you.’
Tarfel stepped forward from behind Rennic, holding his head high with barely a sniffle. ‘I’m afraid I don’t remember you, ah …’
She ignored the dangling pause. ‘I am glad, after all, that Brecki spoke true, and you are not dead as we had heard. This will make life very interesting. We have much to discuss.’ She was smiling even wider. ‘The rest of you, you are …’ She wrinkled her nose in thought, an oddly juvenile expression. ‘… Mercenaries? Sell-swords?’
‘Aye, we prefer “freelance contractors”.’
She nodded, unperturbed. ‘And which of you is the wizard?’ Again, her smile was genuine, if unnerving.
‘Hold on a thrice-damned moment!’ Rennic was still trying to assert himself. ‘Who are you?’
‘You may call me Ruumi.’
‘And you’re the queen of this place, right?’
‘Ah,’ she said, grin undimmed. ‘Very nearly.’
***
The hallway they followed curled down into the hill, vaguely infernal, lined on either side with monstrous images, statues and bronze casts. Ruumi nodded to each one, a salute of sorts, remarking over her shoulder as she walked.
‘You’re familiar with our pantheon, your highness? You must have suffered Doctor Mesomedes’ overview at the Academy.’
Tarfel mumbled, noncommittal. Chel worried that the prince’s great resolve from their journey seemed to have withered now they were in a Horvaun stronghold.
‘You will recognize the main players, of course,’ Ruumi said, pointing as she walked. ‘The Devourer, the Reaper, the Beast, everyone knows.’
‘The Reaper who winnows weakness, the Beast who hews strength, the Devourer who consumes the dying world,’ the prince echoed, seemingly surprising himself.
‘Very good, your highness. But do you recognize that one? No? The Gatekeeper, who stands before the door? Do you remember any others?’
‘The … Judge?’
‘The Arbiter, yes, who sits in judgement. An easy one. Any others?’
‘The … Frothing Ear-Biter?’
‘Ha, no, very good, your highness. You could also have had the Tiller who sows the seed, the Sentinel who watches over, the Harbinger who heralds what comes, the Navigator who sails the starry sky. Then there are all the minor gods, of course,’ she continued. ‘But their names vary depending on who you ask, and the time of year. I doubt even Doctor Mesomedes could name half of them.’
‘They worship the Navigator in the Thousand Isles,’ Chel said. ‘Is it the same one?’
Ruumi’s gaze travelled through him and out the other side. ‘Does their Navigator sail the oceans of night in a vessel of bone, her oars fashioned from the claws of the last dragon?’
‘I, uh, don’t think so.’
‘Perhaps not the same one.’
‘Aside from the Tiller, they sound like a morbid bloody lot,’ Loveless muttered from behind.
Ruumi smiled. ‘The Tiller harrows with a thousand-sided plough of the swords of his conquered foes, sowing their teeth in the furrows, that they may rise as an army of slaves at the coming of the endless winter.’
‘Ah. My mistake.’
The doors were thick and dark, the rooms windowless and lit by fat, reeking candles that burned with a strange, sloppy flame, their smoke vented through black gaps carved into the ceilings. Behind the candle-smell, the old eggs and brimstone odour remained, obscured but undimmed.
‘You may make yourselves comfortable here,’ Ruumi said, airy as a seneschal. ‘The women will be in here, the men there.’
Chel frowned, peering round to see if the other chamber was better furnished. ‘Why the separation?’
‘I imagine you are tired after your trip. Perhaps you would care to leave your belongings here and bathe? Then we can talk.’
Rennic had burst his dam. ‘God’s bollocks, woman, who the fuck are you? Are we prisoners? Can we not get a straight fucking answer out of you without a riddle and an enigmatic smile?’
Ruumi raised her eyebrows, but her smile remained. In the hallway beyond, the guards creaked as their hands moved to rest on their weapons.
‘I apologize if I seem enigmatic, Master …?’
‘Rennic.’
‘Master Rennic. I am only out of practice with your language, I assure you. Answers will come shortly, but rest assured, you are not prisoners. You are my honoured guests, my honoured, royal guests.’
‘So, we can leave?’
‘We have yet so much to discuss. Brecki told me that Prince Tarfel had a proposition for me; I will hear it, and he will hear mine in turn, then we will reach accord. This is diplomacy, yes?’
‘And you are, what? “Nearly-queen”?’
‘My mother was queen, if that helps?’
‘Not really.’
‘Where’s Brecki?’ Chel said. He’d half-expected to find the woman waiting for them, one-armed and gurning.
‘As we speak?’ Ruumi’s brow crinkled. ‘Preparing for her exile, I imagine.’
‘What? You’re exiling her? After she, she—’
‘Rest assured, Andriz, she is grateful for exile. To return after such failure, our laws would demand her execution. Her redemption is cause for celebration, should your inclination yearn for mercy.’
‘Huh?’ Chel scratched at his brow. ‘Are you saying she led us all the way here expecting to be executed for her troubles?’
Lemon whistled. ‘Goes to show you can never really know a person, eh? Especially a leg-chewing head-splitter like that one,’ she added quietly.
‘She is a warrior,’ Ruumi said, blithe and cheerful. ‘Better to be sent to the gods by her own people than die a coward in the Sink. Or perhaps she was confident of her outcomes. You may yet have a chance to ask her, should you return north and survive a while.’
Lemon started. ‘Hoy now, what’s that supposed to—’
Ruumi gestured to the cushions and furs beyond. ‘Please, rest for now. Bathe, I beg you, for others’ benefit if not your own. Pikul will direct you.’ One of the meaty guards nodded, incongruous as a bull. ‘I must go, I have much to prepare. I will return soon, and we can discuss our proposals then.’ She swept from the room, a pale, languid flourish, lost in the hallway’s darkness in a moment.
‘Well, she’s a pain in the arse,’ Loveless muttered. ‘Is it just me, or does this sort of thing seem to happen to us with alarming frequency?’
Rennic sat down heavily on one of the fat cushions that littered the chambers’ common area. Chel glanced at the guards, immobile as statues, their gazes fixed. ‘What do we do?’
Whisper was unwinding various straps from her limbs, laying her equipment down on top of a carved wooden trunk. She gestured, one-handed, then resumed her task.
Rennic sighed and nodded. ‘As the lady says, a bath wouldn’t kill us.’