It wasn’t the pain that woke him, but the sound: rhythmic, low and muffled. It was the pain that kept him awake. His skin felt rasped, his bones jarred and his shoulder pulsed, but inside he was scratchy and raw. He had no idea how long he’d slept, but angled daylight sneaked through the gaps in the sand-sacks that blocked the arched windows, scattering odd patterns on the tasselled rug. The sun was still high. It was the same day.
They’d found Foss in one of the lower tunnels, still breathing but unconscious, and it had taken six of the late-arriving guards to carry him up. Lemon had pumped what water she could from his lungs, but he had not woken. It was likely he never would.
The sound came again, an incessant, cracked-voice murmuring. Lemon was curled in the corner, Foss’s corner, lying against his motionless form, her body wrapped around him. She was saying his name, over and over, whispering reassurances and promises of shared activities when he woke. From the croak of her voice, she’d been doing so for hours.
‘You’re awake.’
Rennic sat against a pillar, legs extended, staring at the dancing motes in the shafts of light. He looked dry-eyed but flattened, and had a nasty, charred smell to him.
‘Yeah.’ Chel paused, searching for something to say. The side of his head throbbed hot and angry. He had no idea what he’d done to it. ‘About what happened, I—’
‘No.’ Rennic cut him off with a gesture, pushed himself upright. That was it.
Chel stood with him, clutching his battered body, rolling his shoulder in its socket in an attempt to quell its rebellion. ‘What’s going on? Outside?’
‘A lull.’ Rennic sniffed, made a face. Clearly, he wasn’t at peace with the stink that clung to him. ‘Their gambit in the waterways failed, and they’re marshalling topside for their next assault. I doubt we have long.’
‘Should we do a circle or somethi—’
‘No!’ It was Lemon who spoke, her voice shredded raw. She rubbed at her eyes with her sleeves, forcing herself up on her knees. She looked thin. ‘Why the fuck would you do that, wee bear? Circle’s for the dead.’
Chel looked from her to Rennic and back, his mouth half-open, his question unspoken.
‘Fossy’s the toughest lad I ever saw,’ Lemon went on as she stood, half to herself. ‘Once saw him swim Lake Tulum in winter, against the current, no bother. Docks boy, he is, grew up on the water. Aye, nothing to worry about, he’ll be back up and about in no time.’
‘He will soon be dead. Like all the others.’
Chel hadn’t even seen the little alchemist, huddled in an alcove, buried in cushions. She looked no better than Lemon, drawn, red-rimmed, hoarse. She dropped from the alcove and waved a finger over Lemon’s protestations. ‘We are just meat, just sacks of rotting flesh, frail, mortal. Our lives ended on another’s whim, without care or consultation.
‘Your friend will die, and the rest of us will join him soon enough. I hope you feel proud of your existence, because it is all you will get. It is all any of us gets, and it … it … it is not enough! Life cannot be so cheap, that we as living, thinking beings are so easily snuffed out. A lifetime of memories, relationships, thoughts, hopes, fantasies – gone! In an instant!’ She whirled on Rennic. ‘Those people in the courtyard, they were trapped, defenceless. They were tricked and beaten. And you … you murdered them all! You burned them to ash!’
Now Rennic stood tall over the Nort, his nostrils flared, hands flexed rigid and trembling. ‘You say too much, alchemist. My patience for plush-living, would-be warriors telling me the hows and whys of war is a desperately scarce resource. I invite you to shut your fucking mouth while it remains within your power to do so.’ He put a finger under her nose. ‘I asked you if you had the stomach, and you decided. You make your choice, then you make your peace.’
Chel twitched at the echo of Foss’s words. The little Nort shook, from fear, rage or both it was impossible to tell, then stormed for the door. ‘Your friend will never wake!’ she called again as she threw it open. ‘And our lives are ending!’
‘Go on, get to fuck,’ Lemon called after her, a sob squeezing at her throat. ‘You useless fucking piss-baby!’
The door slammed, then opened again, slowly. A harried face appeared, one of the Acting Keeper’s remaining staff.
‘His highness the prince has asked for you.’
***
Chel and Rennic followed the flunky along the deserted hallways, leaving Lemon to her murmured ministrations.
The palace appeared silent, eerie, not even the distant clatter of activity echoing from the bare stone.
‘Words or deeds,’ Rennic murmured as they walked.
‘What?’
‘Huh?’ He blinked, went quiet. Then, after a moment, he spoke. ‘I was thinking of the first man I killed.’
Chel waited. ‘And?’
‘That was what my captain asked me, when she heard. “Words or deeds”.’
‘For why you’d killed him.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Which was it?’
They climbed the wide stone steps slower than before, Chel feeling the burn of each in his legs.
‘Words.’ He paused again, and Chel thought that was it, but after a moment he continued. ‘It was in an alehouse, took exception to another drinker. I’d had a few myself, and was … younger. Fresh riding with the company.’
‘You killed a man in an alehouse?’
‘No.’ He smiled to himself, but not happily. ‘Waited outside for him, seething, struck with his back turned. He was bigger than me, a lot bigger. Then.’
‘And was your captain pleased?’
‘No. Not by my answer, nor my actions. You know what she said? She said that one day I wouldn’t even remember what he’d said, that it would all be meaningless.’
The flunky nodded to them. ‘His highness is with the guard captains. You will be seen next.’
‘My gracious thanks,’ Rennic replied with a snarl.
They waited in the hall, each leaning on an opposite wall.
‘What did he say?’ Chel said. ‘Your first victim.’
Rennic was quiet for a long time.
‘I don’t remember.’
***
The Butterfly Chamber stood shattered, its balcony blocked with sand-sacks, its upper windows smashed, its glossy marble floors littered with piles of debris. Its former insect occupants appeared long-gone, but a few of their bejewelled silk facsimiles remained, tattered and dangling loose by their strings, crass and garish. Tarfel stood by the blockaded arch to the balcony, looking haggard and stooped, hair hanging like string around his ears. The two seneschals who attended him withdrew at Chel and Rennic’s approach.
‘My friends,’ he mustered an unconvincing smile.
‘Tarf,’ Chel nodded. Rennic merely grunted. In the far reaches of the room came the echoes of whispered, desperate words of those sharing what they knew could be their last conversations. ‘You summoned us.’
‘I’m not going to dress it up,’ the prince said, walking toward the balcony. ‘Things are bad. As you might say, this city is fucked.’
Rennic nodded, as if this matched his expectations.
‘What happened in the caves below the city led to the collapse of one of the aqueducts, the destruction of countless pieces of water-retrieval machinery and the loss of water supply to over a third of the city, including the workshops. This is without assessing the loss of silkworms and habitat to the flood. The damage to the city’s prospects is severe.’
Chel started to protest, but the prince held up a hand. ‘But. But. Corvel lost a huge number of his troops when the aqueduct collapsed, not to mention those who drowned in the caves or were discharged into the gorge.’ The prince nodded to himself, smiling, but Chel felt a certain sickness at the thought of his hand in their deaths. ‘A swathe of their confessors are gone, as are most of their mercenaries and ancillaries. Your destruction of those Mawn at the gate was sublime, Master Rennic, and you have my thanks.’
The mention of Mawn jumped Chel’s gaze to Rennic, his eyes searching, but the big man’s stony expression made no admissions. ‘Part of the job,’ he said.
‘Is it right that you lost someone in the defence of the caves?’
Chel stiffened at the prince’s use of ‘you’.
Rennic sniffed and looked away. ‘No.’
‘Ah, good, good. And as for you, Vedren, my dear, dear Vedren.’ Tarfel put a hand on his bad shoulder, and Chel grimaced. The prince didn’t notice. ‘What you did with those … those flying engines, those silken birds, why, it was magnificent! You may have saved us all, and I will ensure that the people of this city hear of it. You’ll be a hero!’
Chel smiled, despite himself. ‘Part of the job,’ he said. Rennic frowned.
Tarfel lowered his voice. ‘I wanted to thank you, Vedren, for your words when we arrived. I … doubted myself, and you gave me the strength to go on. We wouldn’t have made it here without you.’
Chel nodded, but his smile had frozen. Somewhere in his head, a voice was whispering, this is your fault, all this death and chaos.
Rennic intervened, impatient. ‘What are the scouts saying?’ he said.
‘That they may sue for a peaceful withdrawal after all. Perhaps they come for another parley to demand departure payment, perhaps they simply vanish into the night. Their engines are laid waste, their supplies shredded. Most of their non-believers have deserted, or no doubt plan to. That leaves a sizeable force, but their situation is greatly diminished. Another few days, and the outriders despatched by Exalted Matil may yet cross their supply lines and cut them off from behind.’
‘Have you heard from the outriders?’ Rennic said, moving past the piled sacks of sand onto the shaded balcony overlooking the plateau. The others followed.
‘Not since they left.’
‘Then they may not be coming. And we may not have a few days.’
‘Taking me prisoner can’t be worth that much more to them, surely? They have lost so many, they must realize that taking the city grows beyond them, let alone holding it. Even if the army doesn’t revolt, every day out there, away from the seat of his power, increases my brother’s vulnerability. The south must be disintegrating by now, Ruumi’s reavers, the hill tribes, the free cities – how long will the Names stand by before they demand he take action, or take up arms against him themselves?’
Rennic nodded to the gorge. ‘They still hold the bridge, and their long-wagon spans the gap.’
‘True. But the city’s captains attend my orders, and have rallied – to an extent. It seems I’ve learnt a few things from my time with you lot after all.’ The prince offered a thin smile, which Rennic ignored.
‘They can always build more engines.’
Chel pushed forward. ‘If they build more engines, we’ll torch them with kites, like before. If they come over the bridge, you’ll trap them and burn them, like before. We can see them off, for as long as it takes. As long as we have the workshops, we can fight them back.’
‘That, little man, presupposes an overabundance of the alchemist’s black powder and its constituents. Sounds like your escapades in the caves may have cleared out the precursors. We’ve got nothing but what’s steeping in the workshops as we speak.’
Chel’s jaw was jutting. ‘Then what should we be doing? If everything is so dire, and all our plans are fruitless? Hm?’
Rennic’s eyes gleamed in the gloom. ‘Sally in the night. Cross their bridge before they do, kill the sentries, take them in their beds. Set the camp aflame, and whatever witchfire remains, before they wake.’
Chel was staring back in horror. ‘But they might be on the verge of surrender!’
‘Something like that should make up their minds for them.’
‘… And I don’t believe we have the manpower to launch such an assault,’ Tarfel said ruefully. ‘Speaking of which, would you happen to know the location of our alchemical friend? I understand she was in Lady Matil’s chambers earlier, and left in a state of some distress.’
‘We saw her, yeah. She left. Don’t know where she is now. Probably skulking in the workshops.’
‘I see.’
‘How is the Keeper?’ Chel asked.
‘She still has yet to wake, but she lives. There is hope.’ The prince turned to the plateau, watching it glow red in the light of the waning sun. ‘Vedren is correct: while the workshops stand, impaired as they are, we retain our strength. But the structures that underpin this city are desperately weakened. If Corvel had any idea, he’d exploit it to the hilt.’
Rennic moved next to him. ‘And if the people of the city knew that handing you over would end this in a heartbeat, they’d throw you across the gorge.’
Tarfel didn’t blink. ‘Then they had best remain ignorant.’
Rennic’s lips curled, something like a smile. Then his brow lowered.
‘Movement at the head of the bridge. They’re coming again.’ He straightened. ‘Looks like no surrender after all.’