“Sofia.”

  Nia stood with a nocked arrow, eyes scanning the square, while Emilio ran forward to help Sofia. The younger man reached up to free Notch’s hands, catching him when he fell free with a grunt, pain lancing along his thigh. Emilio lowered him to the ground, gesturing to Sofia, who took his head into her lap as the Captain ran light fingers over his injuries. Notch winced when they touched his wrists.

  “We need something for bandages,” Emilio said.

  Sofia tore strips from her robes and Emilio wrapped his thigh. “Think you can walk?”

  Notch grinned. “I have to, don’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked to Sofia. “Have you found your father?”

  “We’re going there now.”

  “Then we better hurry. Efran will be back, he’s gone into the...” Notch frowned at the trees. They were blackened, inky sap spreading from the trunks. Was the entire grove dying? “Did you do that?” he asked.

  “It’s an illusion,” Sofia said.

  “Then let’s use it. Can someone give me a weapon?”

  Nia tossed him a dagger.

  “Are you injured?” he asked when he got a better look at her. Tears welled in her eyes but she only shook her head.

  “This way,” Sofia said. Notch limped after her. His thigh throbbed and he fell behind, swearing at the pain. Emilio dropped back and put an arm under his shoulder. Together they half-ran, half-hopped through rows of fading amber, slowing to navigate dark sap flows.

  “How far?” Nia called over the wind.

  “We’re close,” Sofia returned. Notch grunted. He hoped it was right beyond the next row. Nia’s powder helped, but dozens of cuts, bruises and wounds plagued him, not in the least his thigh, draining his strength. How long since he’d eaten now? His last sip of water was...yesterday? Without Emilio, he might have fallen several times. Gods, how was he meant to help Sofia now? He muttered another oath.

  He shook his head when they paused a moment. “This is dangerous. You can’t carry me there and back and I can’t help you when we get there. You should hide me somewhere and come back for me.”

  “That’s worse,” Nia said. “What if someone finds you first? Or we can’t get to you? Bad idea.”

  Sofia waved them on, only slowing to creep up to the edge of a row. Nia flanked her, bow held ready.

  “The compound is beyond the next row,” Sofia said. “Before the storm, two men guarded its doors and there were four within.”

  “If the room is as important as you say, then they’ll still be there,” Notch said. “Is there a gate on the compound?”

  “Yes, but I’ll get them to open it for us.”

  “How?” Emilio asked. Worry lined his face as he looked at her.

  “I’ll spirit-walk right through the gates and get their attention,” she said. “Then they’ll open it to follow me – just be ready. I’ll catch up.”

  “I’ll be with you here,” Emilio said.

  Notch nodded. He tapped Nia’s quiver. “Only five left?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Save some for the way home.”

  “I will.”

  “You can do this, can’t you, Notch?” Nia asked.

  “I can.”

  “Here I go.” Sofia closed her eyes and a pale blue shadow of her body flitted from the row. Nia followed and Notch kept pace with a clenched jaw. They paused at the end of the row, peering around a bulge of sap.

  Sofia’s spirit crossed the open ground, heading for a spreading tree concealed within a stone wall. Large wooden gates stood with heavy bolts. She passed through and Nia sprinted across the small clearing. Notch stumbled after her, reaching the wall and leaning against it, chest heaving as thunder rocked the sky.

  Nia held her blade ready and Notch had his own dagger in hand.

  Sofia’s form reappeared and she waited, glancing to them. Her face was set in concentration. The rattle of bolts followed and the gates swung open and a pair of Sap-Born charged Sofia.

  Before they reached her, she disappeared. Nia was upon them almost before Sofia’s form was gone. Notch lurched forward but Nia was already done with the first man, and had blown a puff of cloud onto the second man’s face. She swept his legs out from under him and followed with a knife to the chest.

  Sofia and Emilio charged across the clearing. “Help me,” Nia said to Emilio, and the two dragged both bodies out of sight as Notch helped Sofia close the gates, his thigh straining.

  A neat garden, arranged in circles, stood before the not-too-distant tree. It dominated the compound with its canopy, sweeping down, leaves fluttering in the wind. Sofia led them along the short path to the door, where she stopped.

  “Locked. What now?”

  Nia handed the bow to Sofia. “Four men inside?”

  She nodded.

  “Let me try.” Emilio stepped back. “It looks quite sturdy.” He gave it a good kick. The wood shuddered but didn’t budge.

  Notch raised his blade, but no sounds came from inside the tree. “Empty?”

  “Try again,” Sofia urged.

  Nia stopped Emilio as he lined up a second time. “Wait.” She removed a glove and patted a circle on the wood, her hands swift. Notch watched closely. Did they change colour? She stepped back, replacing her glove. “Now try.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Weakened the wood.”

  Emilio kicked again. Half the door splintered and he fell back as Nia burst inside. Last into the room, Notch came to an unsteady halt. Empty.

  Several chairs and a heavy table; its surface covered in amber discs. Smooth walls set with dark lamps and a circular trap door in the centre of the floor. Its surface was wrapped with cloth and spidery runes were painted in a circular pattern.

  Sofia had already bent by the trapdoor, straining to lift it. She stood back. “It almost moved.”

  Emilio took her place, spreading his feet across the trapdoor and giving it a heave. The lid slid free with a scrape. The young captain had barely set it down when Sofia leant over the hole.

  “Father?” She waved a hand. “I need light.”

  Notch took a lamp from the wall. “There’s nothing to light it with.”

  Nia bent by a chest resting under the table and Sofia called to her father again, but no reply came from the cell. “He could be unconscious.”

  “Here.” Nia gave him flint and tinder. Once he had the lamp lit, he passed it to Sofia, who held it over the opening. She didn’t move at first, and when her head dropped, Notch limped over.

  The cell was empty.

  Chapter 46

  For how many hours had he sat in her old room, running the memory through his head? Flir and the others were yet to return – what had they found? Killing Vinezi himself was...a sore point, no matter how hard Seto squashed the thought.

  But suddenly, revenge was a luxury and one he could ill afford. A pitiful turn of events. What would Tulio have thought?

  No time for that now.

  Seto held Chelona in his lap but did not raise her to his face.

  Instead he ran the memory over, one more time. A young man dressing in black, waiting in his rooms until the Dead Hour, slipping into the ways to bypass the guards and sneaking into Chelona’s room, with a key stolen from Father’s desk. Stretching up to touch her cheek, glancing over his shoulder before pulling her down to stare into the hollowed eyes.

  Her need to escape had washed over him.

  “I’ll take you away,” he’d told her and slipped back into the hidden passages, then out of the palace and down through the glistening streets with his hood raised and onto the ship with its mutinous crew, men he’d long since counted as his own.

  What a young and foolish man he was then.

  Seto raised her to his face but paused. Was this attempt twenty? More probably. What an old and foolish man he was now. On the bright side, the blackouts were growing shorter. He placed the mask on.

  Darkness.

  When he woke, this time sprawled on his bed, Seto groaned. The usual result. But no. There’d been something. A hesitation on her part. Had there been a flicker of doubt before she rejected him?

  “Then let us remove that doubt, my dear.” Pausing to first drink from a half-empty cup, only water, then moving into the other room to feed the Solave, he strode from his chambers and made for the royal crypt.

  Chelona he kept hidden in the deep interior pockets of his robes – the royal orange not to his taste, truly, but comfortable enough. And, unfortunately, splendid for drawing attention.

  Solicci bore down on him from an adjacent corridor with General Tadeo in tow. Both had worried expressions. Seto waved them after him as he turned down a corridor. “What is it gentlemen?”

  “The wall is near to complete, Your Majesty,” Tadeo said. “Our own catapults are in place. They may not be in the best condition but I believe they will hold.”

  “Then you should both look pleased.” He pushed open the door to a stairwell. “Has something gone awry?” His voice echoed.

  “Holindo sent us, sire,” Solicci said. “He is seeking your permission to...ah, improvise.”

  He came to a halt. “Out with it, Solicci.”

  Both men bunched above him, not ready for his abrupt stop. General Tadeo gave a little laugh. “Well, we don’t have enough cut stone to finish the wall. The quarries weren’t prepared to repair anything that large. We also have little to hurl at the invaders.”

  Seto shook his head as he resumed his descent. “And Holindo’s solution?”

  “To tear down some of the buildings near the Tier wall – factories and work houses mostly. He feels it will be quicker,” Solicci explained.

  “Grant him my authority.”

  “And the people?”

  “Tell them they will be compensated of course.” He chuckled. “Should we survive.” He opened another door and crossed a passage to a second stairwell. Neither man made to leave and Tadeo seemed unable to time his question. “General?”

  “Yes. Your Majesty, I have my own request.”

  “Surprise me, Tadeo.”

  “Ah, we’ve marshalled every soldier in the city, called in forces from outlying holdings and villages and even the mountains and I’m still not satisfied with the numbers. And frankly, the experience of some of our Vigil – who make up a significant portion of the Lower Tier forces, is not adequate for a siege.”

  “That is why we’re dispersing Shield amongst them.” Seto pushed through another door, striding along the passage leading to the Crypts. “Is something else wrong?”

  “No. But in light of my concerns, I would like to hire mercenary companies, Your Majesty. They will expect good gold, but they’re experienced.”

  “Thinking with the treasury, I see.” Seto stopped at an archway framed by the Swordfish. Too important for the ocean, were the bones of the royal families. “But it is a good idea,” Seto added, when the General opened his mouth. “Solicci will arrange the funds.”

  The General bowed.

  “My King.” Solicci lowered his voice. “I have discovered something of Nemola’s plot.”

  “Go on,” Seto said. A timely test of the man’s loyalty. Especially as Solicci did not know of what Giovan had discovered, with the Tartaruga boy.

  “A young Mascare has gone missing. From House Tartaruga. His fellows recall him being absent much of late. He was also known to have visited Nemola on occasion.”

  A good sign. “Enough to investigate further.”

  “I thought so.”

  “You have done well.”

  “Thank you.” He paused. “Are you planning on visiting the crypts?”

  “I am. In fact –” Seto frowned. Perhaps it was finally time to trust Solicci. “No. Once you’ve finished with the General, meet me here.”

  A hint of curiosity lay on his face but he said only, “Yes, Sire.”

  Seto took a torch from a half-concealed barrel inside the entryway, lit it from a lamp and started down. The Renovar ships were too close, it was time for Solicci to prove his loyalty beyond doubt – and truly, who else could help? Deep recesses, mere shadows beyond his torchlight, held stone coffins. Each coffin contained the long decaying remains of royals five centuries back. Not always the line of the Swordfish either, there were Falco and Cavallo bones too.

  At the end of the crypt he stopped to raise his torch.

  Three recesses against the back wall, each with a brittle bone carved above it, the namesake of the decedent. In all cases, a Swordfish. Only, two coffins were empty – their lids smooth and uncarved.

  One for Otonos and another for Oson.

  But Oson had earned no such resting place and Otonos clung to life yet, such as it was.

  The leftmost coffin was thick with dust, his father’s relief indistinct. “No-one visits you, Father. Not even Otonos would.”

  Seto brushed dust from the carven shield, then the stone pommel of the man’s sword and finally his face. Dark, sunken eyes and a beard the two features most prominent – the only two features anyone remembered. That and his madness.

  “A broader nose than mine, Father.”

  He removed Chelona. What a fool he must look, alone in the crypt, reintroducing a mask of power to the remnants of a corpse. “Do you remember my father?” he asked her.

  She offered no response.

  “This is his face.” He showed the mask the coffin. “And he is not I. My name is Oseto, and you first met me when I was a young Prince, being groomed for the throne. I held you and you didn’t even notice my shaking hands. How busy you seemed. How wondrous – you saw everything, didn’t you?”

  Seto waited. Nothing.

  “If it is true that Father wanted to coerce or force you into an act you did not approve of, let me assure you; I am not he. I want only to protect my city – as you are said to do in times of crisis.”

  Chelona’s eyes were fathomless as he set her on the coffin.

  “Will you speak to me?”

  Footsteps approached. Seto turned to new light. Solicci arrived, a slight crease to his brow. The man wasn’t adept at controlling his face as skilfully as his voice. He probably assumed his expression was composed. Too used to the mask.

  “I am here, my King.”

  “Indeed.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Seto stepped aside, gesturing. “To help me speak with her.”

  Solicci gaped as he strode forward. “Chelona.”

  “Yes. And I cannot make her speak. You must help me, Solicci.” He took the man by the shoulders. “The city needs her.”

  Chapter 47

  Flir sucked in a deep breath. Finally, proper air. Near to a whole day underground and now the late afternoon grey sky, rife with rain clouds, became beautiful.

  Alosus paced the grass before the Tier wall while Luik handed out bowls of steaming food – not fish but some manner of bird by its look. She’d already sent Wayrn and Ain to the palace to inform Seto. Now it was time to set a trap. A big one.

  “No guarantee he’ll come back this way,” Luik said around a mouthful. “We didn’t explore every tunnel. Might be other entries or exits.”

  “I know that, but this is the best chance we’ll get,” she said.

  “We’ll catch something at least.”

  “And no mistakes this time. He won’t have anywhere to run.”

  “What have you got in mind?”

  She closed her fist. “Surround him. Put him in a wringer.”

  “Here?”

  “No. Further along I think. Let’s see where the passage leads, first. Then we can decide where to lay the snare.”

  “Who’s going to watch this great hole then?”

  “We can patch it up or post a guard.”

  “Risky.”

  “Which?”

  He scratched his cheek. A beard was coming in; it made him look even more the mercenary he used to be. “Both. They’ll see the patchwork by torchlight, and grow suspicious. Or worse, they’ll steer clear of the hole and we’ll lose our advantage – or they’ll simply trample whoever we leave behind. Then they’ll be in the palace grounds, maybe with more acor.”

  “Fine, but if they could always get in here – why didn’t they just break a hole in the wall – or actually use the door?”

  “We’d see a hole and then we’d find them.” Luik frowned. “And maybe there’s no symbol inside the tunnel? If there wasn’t, how would they know where to look for a door from the inside?”

  “A one-way door?”

  “Why not? Seems like a good security step.”

  Flir put her head inside the hole. Too dark. She re-lit a torch and examined the inside of the wall, further along. Luik was right. No symbol.

  “Well?”

  She stepped back outside. “Nothing. So the symbols are more important than we thought?”

  “Guess so.”

  “We still need someone to guard this opening.”

  Luik slapped his thigh. “The Storm Singer.”

  “That’s better. Flank him with some archers and maybe a few of the Mascare and he’ll be able to handle anything that comes through the hole.”

  He glanced at Alosus. “You all right with him while I go and find Abrensi?”

  “No problem. Will he still be singing?”

  “Probably, but someone will bring him if Seto asks.”

  “True.” Flir made her own hasty meal, offering some to Alosus. In the light of day, his markings were somehow less pronounced, though his odd skin tone remained as vivid. He accepted with words that echoed Anaskari for ‘thank you’. He still wore his giant sickle, but the doll was no-where to be seen. Perhaps it was in the bag he wore at his belt, opposite the weapon.

  Why had he been singing to it when they found him? And what exactly did Vinezi have the giant guarding down there? No way to know for now, but it had to have something to do with the Sea Beast. She pointed to her eyes, then the opening. He nodded and she went back to guard duty.

  The sun was setting, a thin blaze of gold lining the wall before her, when Seto arrived with Luik, Wayrn and Ain in tow. He strode with purpose. “Impressive work, Flir. All of you,” he added. When he noticed Alosus, he smiled and spoke a few words, obviously a greeting.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117