Sofia bent to the chest. A steel lock caught the clasp. Argeon was within. How she knew, it didn’t matter. She beat at the lock with the hilt of her blade. “It’s not working.”

  “Find a key.” He checked the bed, tossing a pillow aside. Sofia shifted the chest itself, then slid the mirror aside. A small panel of wood lay ajar. She pressed it and the panel popped open. Inside lay a small box, which she opened. A few scraps of paper and a row of jewels so blue that her eyes widened.

  But no key.

  “Emilio.”

  He paused a moment then snapped his fingers. “I’ll return.” He slipped from the room and the sound of doors opening and closing followed. Sofia stood, knife ready. His footsteps soon returned and he entered, a large axe in hand.

  “Careful,” she said.

  “I will be,” he said as he moved to the chest. He drew the axe back and swung, shattering the lock with a grunt.

  Sofia knelt and threw back the broken lid.

  Argeon lay encased in amber.

  Chapter 61

  Flir shook Seto gently. His head still wobbled where he lay on the expansive bed. Ridiculous. Now that she’d finally caught Vinezi for him...what else could go wrong?

  “We’ve tried that, My Lady.” Solicci said, his worry not fully clouding the frustration in his manner.

  “I hope that’s not the only thing you tried.”

  “Of course not. The healers can do nothing. Not even Mayla. She’s off concocting a new draught and I’m searching for the Storm Singers now.”

  “It’s the mask, isn’t it?”

  “I believe so.” Both stood alone in the King’s bedchamber. Wind howled outside and rain rattled the windows. A gust flew down the fireplace.

  “Can you do something?”

  “No. I have tried to remove it. Something untoward is happening...but he breathes at least.”

  “And where are Abrensi and Lavinia?”

  “Finishing with another song. The last one before the invasion it seems.”

  Flir rubbed her neck. “There’s nothing I can do, is there?”

  “Not truly.”

  “Then I’m going back to the wall. Holindo’s in charge of the men, you’re in charge here and I’m in charge of everyone, right?”

  “Until his majesty wakes.”

  She gave him a grin. “I don’t want the job, Solicci.”

  “I understand.”

  “Send word if he wakes.”

  “Of course.”

  “And get someone over to the Harper to move a body up here, I don’t want it going missing.”

  “A body, Lady?”

  “Yes. And it’s heavy, so be sure to send men with stout backs.”

  “Vinezi?” he breathed.

  “I imagine he has another surprise in store for us, but for now, I think I put a stop to him.”

  He straightened. “I’ll send men at once.”

  She strode to the door but he stopped her. “Be safe.”

  “Sentiment, Solicci?”

  He smiled. “Some.”

  “You too.” She charged down the corridors. The ships would be within firing range in hours. Less. And still too much to be set in motion.

  By the time she found a mount, fought the crowds and handed the reins off to a soldier in the camp, she was breathing hard. Too much running, even with a horse to do half the work. She signalled to Holindo, who joined her with a worried look on his face. “How is he?”

  “It’s the mask. Solicci has sent for the Storm Singers.”

  “That’s something.”

  She nodded. “I nearly forgot to mention, but I killed Vinezi.”

  His eyes widened. “Just like that?”

  “Well, it wasn’t simple exactly, but it might have been too easy. I’m having the body sent to the palace, to be safe. He mentioned ‘waking something’ too, which worries me. But we’ll talk about it if we survive the invasion. Right now, let’s gather everyone in your tent. We have to act as if Seto won’t recover in time.” Which he better. She’d kill him if he didn’t.

  Holindo sent runners and she watched a group of Shield haul a huge vat toward the wall. Thin trails of steam escaped from the edges of its lid. It moved on a wheeled platform, crunching to a halt beneath a system of ropes and pulleys. Men rushed to affix hooks to the vat and stood back, faces ruddy in the torchlight, signalling to those above, where space had been cleared for the vitriol to rest.

  Further along, catapults loomed. To her eye, they didn’t appear as sturdy as they ought, the timber and steel having an aged quality. In fact, they were smaller than modern catapults. How long since they’d been used? How many decades since an attack had even been attempted via the harbour? Piles of rubble were heaped nearby, the great arms creaking under the weight of their loads.

  Maybe they ought to be flinging some of the acor from beneath the palace at the ships. Not a lot of margin for error – once it hit the water...

  “Did you catch him?” a voice said, speaking quietly.

  She blinked. Luik stood behind her, arms folded. A bruise crept across his forearms and though it was hard to be sure, it looked as though dried blood matted his short hair.

  “Yes. Have you seen a healer?”

  “I’m well enough,” he grunted. “Where’s the bastard now?”

  “His body’s in the basement of the Queen’s Harper.”

  “Good.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “It’s strange. At the end, when he knew he was caught, he threw himself on my blade.”

  “Think he’s mad? Or he knew he was finished?”

  “He has to be a little mad, but I think it was confidence too. He still has something in store for us, Luik. I know it.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “Where have you been? Any survivors in the temple?”

  “Just our men. I’ve been wandering the city.”

  “Useful.”

  “Not like that. We’re preparing, in part, for regular siege, focusing on the walls, right?”

  “Because of the breach.”

  “Right. But what about when they send acor over the wall?”

  “That’s what Holindo’s fire-crews are for, that’s why we’ve been searching for hidden acor for weeks.”

  “I know, but we should have given the fire-crews more time to prepare. We need better lines from the wells. We should have been planning how to use seawater somehow. We have to support them better.”

  “I agree, but how ready can they be? You remember the Pig. How could we prepare them for that?”

  He shrugged. “We should have done more.”

  “You might be right. Where’s Alosus?”

  “Guarding the Tier wall in the palace.”

  “Good idea.”

  “What about Seto? Rumours are starting that he’s died.”

  “Idiots.” She lowered her voice. “The mask has done something to him but Abrensi’s going to try and wake him.” She caught sight of General Tadeo and Admiral Baliso heading for the tan command tent and started after them.

  He kept pace, despite a slight limp. “So what’s the plan?”

  “Same as before, only now I’m in charge.”

  He chuckled. “How’s that different from usual?”

  She swiped at him but he ducked away, still grinning. Big fool. “Very clever. Let’s just focus on how we get through the siege.”

  “Right.”

  Holindo’s command tent was crowded with grim faces. The Captain was listening to the Admiral. “Our ships are ready but the Renovar fleet is larger than we hoped. We’re not going to be as effective as I wished, even with the refit. But if we can attack their catapults, we’ll sink them.”

  “It will have to be enough. Our catapults?”

  “Ready. They are old but I’m praying they are good for several volleys – at least, for all the material we have to throw at them.”

  Tadeo leant forward. “I hesitate to ask, but can the Storm Singers help?”

  “Possibly,” Flir said. “I’d never want them to take part in any fighting. If we have to pull back to the First Tier we might engage them. If there is anything they can do.”

  Luik straightened. “Can they call a storm to disrupt the ships?”

  Holindo called for a runner. “Let’s find out.”

  “Let’s hope,” the Admiral said. “How long now?”

  “An hour or so.”

  An older soldier dressed in the blue of the city Vigil cleared his throat. “If I might speak, My Lords?”

  Holindo nodded. “No ceremony here, Meloc.”

  “Some of the people are heading underground. They think they will be safe from the explosions.”

  “Do we want to discourage that?” General Tadeo asked.

  Flir frowned. “Did every explosion in the city breach the ground itself?”

  “Some did. But we can’t tell how potent each strike of acor will be,” Luik added.

  “They’re in danger no matter where they seek shelter,” Holindo said. “Don’t stop them, just keep them off the streets as planned.”

  “We will.”

  “And when the breaches occur?” The General asked.

  Holindo sighed. “I know, Tadeo. Falling back to the Second Tier is still an option.”

  “But its walls will be just as susceptible.”

  “But easier to defend.”

  Meloc stiffened. “That means sacrificing the population of the Lower Tier.”

  Silence.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Holindo said. He paused to chew on some more herbs. “Either that, or everyone dies during a press of bodies at the Antico Gates. As it is, we’re having to clear makeshift ladders at the Lower Tier walls too often. People are constantly trying to flee the city. And if we do fall back, the attackers will be within the walls anyway. And once supply lines are cut, we won’t be able to support the population within the Second Tier.”

  “What about the Mountain Gate?”

  “It still won’t solve the problem of how to bring thousands of people through the Antico Gate while under attack.”

  “Then we should have moved them in days ago.”

  “The men on the walls need something to defend other than empty buildings,” Tadeo said.

  “And they won’t be any safer in either Tier,” Flir said. “Not with the ships flinging acor at us.”

  Meloc shook his head but fell silent.

  Holindo clapped his hands together. “Let’s all get to work then.”

  “Everyone is to support Admiral Baliso during the siege,” Flir said. “And Luik will be leading the fire-crews. Report to me or Captain Holindo. In the event of both our deaths, General Tadeo. Understood?”

  “Yes, My Lady,” the room said.

  Chapter 62

  Sofia swore at the lump of sap. Her knife barely made a scratch, so hard was the amber.

  Emilio ran to the door to listen. “What now?”

  The gardeners. She spun. “They melt the sap with embers and hot knives.”

  He checked the hall. “Let’s go.” Sofia hauled the square of sap after him. At the bottom of the stairs, she held back a moment while Emilio checked the door. “No-one.”

  They slipped around the building, sneaking into the trees sheltering it. Hints of other structures were visible through the leaves, thatch rooving and heavy boards. A breath of smoke hung in the trees. The saw-marks looked fresh, even from their position. A child’s voice echoed.

  She pointed. “Look.”

  “Are the gardeners within?”

  “I don’t know. Last I saw them was within the grove itself.”

  “We go there first.”

  They crossed the small clearing and entered the grove, stepping over a typical trail of sap. Emilio knelt a moment, head swivelling to peer beneath the rows. “Left.” He took off again and Sofia followed, bumping into him when he stopped again.

  “Be ready.”

  Emilio sprang into the next row. Sofia skidded after him, unable to keep up. He was already sprinting over the dirt and sap. The gardener fell back at the sight, overturning his brazier.

  Embers hissed in dirt as Emilio swung his axe. The Braonn raised his own glowing knife but too late. Emilio’s weapon hacked through the raised arm and the man screamed as blood flashed. The Shield twisted and followed-up with a second blow, this one digging into the man’s neck.

  The gardener collapsed, axe still lodged in his body. Sofia averted her eyes.

  “Quickly.”

  She ran to his side as he jerked a glove free from the man’s hand then passed it over. Sofia shuddered when she pulled it on, but took the blade from the dirt and began carving sap from Argeon, turning her back to the bleeding corpse. The glowing steel parted the amber with ease. She cut the corners away, then sliced the longer edge of the square on each side.

  “Should we do this somewhere else?” she asked, wincing when her hand slipped too close to the glowing blade.

  “Better to finish quickly.” He held the axe again, its head bloody. “I’m watching.”

  More sap fell away. She breathed slower the closer she came to the bone itself. Careful. Don’t push too hard. She ran the tip of the blade around his face. Next came the inside of the eyes. Shifting the knife, she shaved at the cheeks and mouth, flipping him to cut into the block of sap stuck inside.

  “How goes it?” Emilio asked.

  “Like being a Carver again – I should be able to wear it soon.”

  She kept slicing and shaving, but the curve of the mask obstructed her movements. And she needed most of it gone, else she’d have the mask stuck to her face.

  Shouts.

  A group of men in forest greens charged up the row. Emilio shifted his feet, taking on a wide stance, weapon ready. “Hurry, My Lady.”

  She cut away a few more pieces and stood. Four men. Armed with swords and bows. One man had pulled an arrow from his quiver. Emilio bent and snatched up a stone, hurling it at the bowman just as he drew. It struck his throat and the arrow flew wide as he pitched forward.

  But another Braonn was already nocking his own arrow.

  Sofia tucked Osani away and raised Argeon to her face. Still-warm traces and globs of sap stung her skin and she fought tears, even as she shouted.

  “No!”

  The bow string snapped and Emilio stumbled, a shaft caught in his shoulder.

  He stood his ground. “Run, Sofia.”

  There was another way. Spirit-walking would not stop arrows. But maybe now, Argeon would hear her. She showed him darkness, the grove snapping into black.

  As before, nothing.

  “No, please,” she cried.

  And then Tantos was there in the dark, smiling at her.

  Like this. His voice was the same, a touch of amusement as he showed her. For Argeon, there was no night and day. He saw everything.

  You want him to blink, for lack of a better word. Tantos told her. His blinks are slow.

  She showed Argeon and night fell.

  Chapter 63

  Flir glared at the ships in the darkness, their lights illuminating white sails. The decks were a flurry of activity as men rushed to set the acor on the catapults, or turn the ships to meet Admiral Baliso, who bore down on them in his cutter. Another ship joined him, this one a refitted merchant and significantly slower, its rails also lined with archers. Each man held burning arrows.

  The plan was simple if risky.

  Explode the ships where they floated, by intercepting their launch. There was no way for their few ships to stop the attack, but if they could at least do some damage it had to make a difference.

  One of the Shield shifted beside her, armour scraping. His face was hard in the torchlight. Both hands were crossed on the pommel of a blade, its point resting in a crack in the makeshift platform. “Damn those pale bastards,” he muttered. Then he flushed. “Begging your pardon, My Lady.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Flir said. “I don’t want them here either.”

  He mumbled another apology and moved off.

  Luik chuckled. “You scared him away.”

  “Too bad it won’t work for that lot out there.”

  “Any word from the Storm Singers?”

  “None.”

  He grunted. “We do it the hard way then.”

  “There’s no other way in battle, Luik.”

  “True.” He pointed. “Look.”

  But she was already watching. A shout rose along the wall, demanding readiness. One of the enemy catapults drew back, its contents a glowing blaze. Baliso bore down on the Renovar fleet and his other ship split off to intercept one of the enemy vessels attempting to outflank them. “They’re heading for the wrong catapult.”

  Luik slapped the parapet. “He sees it.”

  The Admiral changed course, slipping around to strafe the line, cutting away from the second ship. Heavy fire followed The Seahawk but his archers unleashed a volley of their own flaming arrows. They peppered the decks and sails, but the full force concentrated on a catapult – loaded with acor.

  “Did it work?”

  Flir shook her head. “It doesn’t seem –”

  A roar echoed across the water as orange light exploded into the dark. Pieces of burning wreckage flew through the air, leaving behind a smouldering skeleton of ruin. Men, some aflame, leapt into the water as the ship sank. Nearby vessels were a hive of activity, as lines of sailors and soldiers rushed to put a stop to small fires, protecting the volatile acor.

  Cheers burst from the wall and Flir joined them until the snap of catapults crossed the harbour. One of the Renovar ships finally sent its cargo into the air, where it flew high above the wall to hurtle down and crash into the Second Tier streets. The rumble reached them on the Lower Tier and another ship was right behind, this one sending a blazing comet screaming overhead.

  It landed with a thud and barely a breath passed before the explosion rocked the very city. A giant column of flame rose, smoke pouring into the night. Screams followed and Flir took half a step before Luik stopped her. His face was grim.

 

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