Witch King, page 12
Ashem and Ramad were still trapped in the cantrip web and Ziede had contributed her own additions to the bonds on Aclines’ two surviving men: their arms were bound in front of them with more solidified air. After setting the sails, the soldiers had climbed down from the rigging and now stood at the rail or sat on the deck. None moved or spoke as Kai and Tenes went by, most averting their eyes or trying to stare surreptitiously. Ashem ignored them. Ramad was the only one who turned to watch.
The secondary cabins were accessed via a sheltered hatch. A narrow stairwell continued down to the rowing and supply decks. Kai sealed that passage with a minor cantrip, so no one could use it to come up on the stern cabin from below. The area already stank with the rotting-flesh odor of a dead expositor’s failing intents and designs. Leaning close to sniff the polished wood of the doorframe, Kai detected a tangle of intentions, something meant to monitor the crew when they were out of sight. The apprentice’s work, probably. Aclines was far more powerful, some of his more complicated workings surviving his death to take on spirit-lives of their own.
Tenes watched closely as Kai drew the wards and warnings, and frowned a little as he cut his arm for the spark of pain to power the seal, not understanding his technique. She didn’t ask for an explanation and he didn’t offer one.
The cabins in the secondary deck were smaller and windowless, meant to be shared, but not much less comfortable. The Immortal Blessed considered themselves superior to their Lesser Blessed cousins, but they also considered the Lesser Blessed far above common mortals, who wouldn’t have been allowed on the ship in the first place.
The beds were narrow but stuffed with soft linens and silk quilts, with gauze drapes for privacy. The rooms were cooled by a system of tiny round vents that funneled in air from the wind and the movement of the ship. There was a bathing room, smaller and not as well-appointed as the one below the stern cabin, and a larger galley with more food stores. There were signs the cadre were using a brazier to cook; Aclines must not have bothered to expend the power to make the Blessed stove, a block of stone set with metal plates, work like it was supposed to.
It was more support for Ashem and Ramad’s version of events, at least the part about how abruptly the crew had been conscripted. There was almost nothing down here that wouldn’t have already been on the ship: no extra clothing, no combs or hair oil, no makeup or remedies for ailments, no paper or writing implements, no books or counters for games, nothing that soldiers going traveling might choose to carry with them. There were also no hidden cursebreakers, no poisons or intentioned devices that might send or receive messages or leave traces to be followed. There were no weapons of any kind.
The search of the stern had already told Kai that Aclines and his minions had known to bring supplies for a long trip. And Aclines had brought a chest full of writing material and ingredients for complex designs; he had meant to stay aboard for some time.
With the search finished, Kai and Tenes went back up on deck. The breeze was cool and the sky was still overcast, though clear blue was visible to the north. The ship was out of the strait now, their course bending away from the smoke and haze of Gad-dazara, the dark islands off the starboard side growing smaller already. The Immortal Blessed ship was much faster than the poor burdened shell-whale.
They crossed the deck again in silence under the eyes of the cadre, the wind pulling at Kai’s still-damp hair. On the steps he paused to tell Ashem, “Order the ones Ziede doesn’t need to go below.” Tenes had already reached the upper deck and stood with Ziede. To see if Ashem or Ramad would attack him, Kai plucked the web of cantrips around their feet and let it drop. “You too.”
Ashem stepped back, slowly, careful to make no sudden moves. She turned and went down the steps to the lower deck and spoke to her cadre, posting a watch and telling the others to go below.
Ramad turned to Kai and said, “I’ll stay up here, if you permit.” Without waiting for an answer, he sat down on the top step.
Ramad was a vanguarder, he wanted to glean information. Kai climbed to the upper deck where Ziede eyed him critically. Sanja stood on the couch, gripping a line to steady herself and looking back toward the islands shrinking in the distance. The natural wind had risen a little but Ziede still had full control of the ship through her wind-devils. She probably had some controlling the ship’s direction and others napping in the sails to keep them filled. Ziede said, “Can you at least put some clothes on?”
“At what point did I have time for that?” Kai protested. His damp tunic and leggings still clung to him. He lowered his voice. “I’m going to try to stop the power well and put the rowers to sleep.”
She took a sharp breath, but didn’t argue. “Just be careful.”
Kai went past her into the stern cabin. Tenes followed and he signed to her to make sure no one came in. She signaled understanding and settled on the deck near the hatchway.
He picked a room that hadn’t been occupied and sat down on the knotted silk rug. There was only one bed, larger than in the secondary cabins, filmy drapes protecting the linens from the salt wind flowing through the open port. There were cabinets on the wall, forming part of the sun sign–carved decorative panels, and a fragrant sagewood chest. Kai had checked all the storage spaces in these rooms, to make sure no one had been clever enough to conceal a trap, or had left anything interesting behind.
How did an expositor get his filthy hands on this ship? Kai thought. He had the feeling the answer would explain a large chunk of what had happened.
If the Immortal Blessed had made a deal with Aclines, surely one of them would come along as part of it, to guard and sail the ship. There was no sign of the battle that would have ripped through all this finely crafted wood and metal if Aclines had fought an Immortal Blessed caretaker, injuring them so badly they returned to the Well of Thosaren.
Aclines had time to stock the ship with supplies meant for mortals; there were even soaps and oils in the stern bathing room below this deck. He had expected to have the use of it for a long time. And he didn’t expect to be hunted for kidnapping a Rising World cohort. Because he had been given permission to take them? Or because he thought no one would trace their disappearance to him? Maybe the ship had been payment for Aclines’ part in whatever was going on here.
Which took them right back to where they had started; betrayed by someone high in the Rising World, someone with Immortal Blessed allies who could obtain this ship with no repercussions.
If they were lucky, Aclines’ surviving followers knew.
Kai couldn’t pierce his skin with this new body’s blunt bitten fingernails, so he had to use his knife to draw enough blood to write the Saredi word reveal on the wooden deck. It would help him navigate the expositor’s intention and set an anchor for him to return. Then he took a deep breath, let it out, and sank his consciousness into the lower air to look for the complex web of designs and intents that controlled the power well.
Expositors didn’t draw power from pain in their own body, like Kai did, or by forming relationships with the spirits inherent in the different levels of the world, both living and otherwise, like Witches. Expositors drew their power from life: new life, stolen life, life on the point of death. It was why they were so dangerous, why greed was their driving force. It was why their power was so susceptible to a true demon’s ability to steal life from anything living or once living. But that was something the Saredi hadn’t realized until it was too late.
But that affinity for stolen life let Kai’s consciousness follow the chains of Aclines’ work down to the rowing deck, and examine the delicate intention that bound all the mortals together. That held them in suspension so Aclines could feed off them like a wasp off a trapped caterpillar.
He had to follow each thread separately before he could understand the shape of the whole structure. Once he found the design that drained the victims and fed the power to its maker, he picked it apart. He left the bonds that held the mortals in suspension without need of food or water, but funneled more power to an unused branch that would reduce their awareness of their circumstances. That would make the experience less like a waking nightmare and more like a genuine sleep.
When he was certain it was done, he drew himself up and back to earth. Kai opened his eyes to a darkened room. The deck swayed in time with higher waves, and the sky visible through the single port was fading to purple. His head swam; it had been delicate, difficult work and that one apprentice he had eaten was a long time ago now. He let himself slump down and curl up on the rug, sinking into sleep.
SIX
Kai woke to firelight on his eyelids and grimaced. The sway of the ship told him where he was even if his brain felt slow and waterlogged. He managed to make out Sanja standing over him with a small clay lamp. She called to someone, “Yes, he’s alive.”
Kai sat up, shoving his hair out of his face. He was still on the floor of the cabin but someone had put a cushion under his head and a quilt over him. “What?” he demanded.
“Now he’s awake,” Sanja reported over her shoulder.
“Did you eat? Does Ziede need a rest?” Kai scrubbed his eyes. He called a swarm of imps and they flitted around the room and out into the main part of the cabin, shedding a soft white glow on the polished wood and gold.
“Ziede’s fine. The sailors made lentil dal and they didn’t try to poison us or anything.” Sanja pinched the lamp wick out with her fingers. She wore a new tunic with the sleeves rolled to fit her, and her hair had been fixed into a neat cap of finger coils. “Ziede says the wind finally picked up in the right direction so she can let the air monsters steer for a while. She wants you to find out from those people, the cohort leader and the spy, and the other two, what they know.”
“Right.” Kai pulled himself to his feet. “Give me a moment and then tell Ziede to make them come in here.”
Sanja padded out. Someone had left clothes draped over the chest by the wall. Kai changed into the dark blue long-sleeved tunic and split skirt, and kept his battered water-stained belt and bare feet. It wasn’t cool enough for the coat inside the cabin, despite the strong breeze coming in through the ports. These clothes had probably belonged to Aclines; the woven grass silk was soft and fine, the dark blue iridescent on the folds. Kai’s hair had dried into a curly, frizzy mane. He shook it out and didn’t bother tying it back.
He pushed the drapes aside and walked out to the main cabin to take a seat on the Immortal Blessed throne. Sanja was already back and had settled on the couch along the starboard wall. Her legs were tucked up and folded but one knee bounced impatiently.
Kai called the imps to gather overhead and leaned back. Through the large forward hatch he had a view of the upper and lower decks, where a few oil lamps had been lit along the railings. Aclines must have brought those aboard for the crew; the Immortal Blessed made their own light and wouldn’t need anything so primitive.
Aclines’ two surviving followers entered first, the wisps of solidified air still binding their limbs, loosened only enough to let them walk. Ashem and Ramad came after, and then Ziede, outwardly calm but Kai could read all the suppressed tension in her shoulders and jaw. Ziede had changed out her tunic for a finer one, but had kept her cotton pants since there weren’t any spare women’s clothes aboard except what the Arike soldiers were already wearing. Tenes remained outside on watch, though Kai spotted sinuous movement in the dark, an indication that Ziede had called more wind-devils to guard the deck.
Ashem watched Kai steadily, glancing aside only when Ziede paced deliberately past her. Controlling her impatience with visible effort, Ashem said, “What about the cohort?”
Her concern seemed real. Kai said, “I’ve altered Aclines’ power well. They’ll sleep until we get to a place where they can leave the ship.”
There was a flicker of relief in Ramad’s expression. But Ashem was still clearly suspicious and deeply dissatisfied with this solution. Her jaw tightened and she said pointedly, “You refuse to release them?”
Before Kai could make a flippant yet vaguely threatening response, Ramad told her, “What Aclines did isn’t easy on the body or the mind. It’s better this way. If he just lets them go, they could panic, injure themselves. And we don’t have enough supplies to keep them fed.”
Ashem hesitated, reluctant, but she was obviously finding Ramad’s point persuasive. Finally, she grudgingly nodded. “I see.”
Kai said, “I’m glad you approve, Cohort Leader.” It was unsurprising, but still a sour bite that a random vanguarder’s word was better than his. He jerked his chin toward the two expositor’s men. “Introduce your friends.”
“Safreses and Kinlat, lords in the court of Nient-arik.” Ashem added with a grimace, “Not my friends.”
Nient-arik had been one of the first Arike city-states to fall to the Hierarchs, who had assassinated the presiding Prince-heir and replaced her with a distant relative willing to submit to them. Which was interesting but not proof of anything. Something similar had happened in Benais-arik, though not until most of Bashasa’s family had already been murdered.
“You’re a traitor, Ashem,” Safreses said, furious and afraid. “You and the vanguarder will burn along with the Witches for this.”
“You kidnapped me, and my cadre, and an entire cohort,” Ashem retorted, exasperated. It was the first unguarded reaction she had shown yet. “You’re the traitors. The Witches have Imperial favor—”
“It’s lies, lies—” Kinlat burst out, as if he couldn’t hold it in a moment more, even to save his life. “There was never an alliance, it was never—Imperial Arike destroyed the Hierarchs with no help from these abominations!”
“The Arik wasn’t an empire back then and technically it isn’t even one now,” Kai corrected. He had heard all this before, which didn’t make it any easier, but at least it wasn’t new. He could tell these two had been subjugated to an expositor’s will, whether they understood that aspect of their relationship with Aclines or not. It made them vulnerable in a way that Ashem and Ramad and the other mortals on the ship wouldn’t be. Kai used a little of his stored power to set his voice in a tone that would resonate with that vulnerability and compel answers. He said, “Who ordered us captured and trapped?”
“Aclines,” Safreses said immediately. “It was his doing.”
The response had been too quick. Safreses was apparently clever enough to pretend to be under Kai’s influence. Aclines had been taking orders from someone. This ship was proof enough of that.
“It wasn’t Aclines alone, it couldn’t be,” Ramad contributed. His arms were folded, his expression cool and thoughtful under Safreses’ enraged glare. Ramad continued, “It has to be someone closer to the Rising World court.”
Kai did not appreciate the interruption. “I know that. I don’t need your help.”
“Shut up, Ramad, or I’ll rip your tongue out.” Ziede was clearly at the end of her small store of patience. “Kai, get on with it.”
Kai focused on Safreses. Unfortunately for him, pretending to be under the influence of Kai’s will just made him more easily affected. Safreses lifted his chin defiantly, apparently less frightened than Kinlat. It was usually the ones who wouldn’t allow themselves to express their fear that broke first. Kai took a more oblique tack and said, “Who told you it was Aclines?”
“He did … No.” Safreses shook his head, pretending to be uncertain. “You can’t make me—”
Kai leaned forward. A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead. This was almost pure will, and it wasn’t easy, even on two mortals whose minds had been subjugated already, even on overconfident Safreses. “Why did you think it was Aclines?”
Safreses fought to keep his lips closed but Kinlat blurted, “He had the strictures and intentions for the working. The signal that told him when something went wrong. He knew the tower had opened. He knew how to find you.” Kinlat struggled to move his arms, as if he wanted to stop up his own mouth. “He knew the traces to follow the hunter.”
That jibed with what little Tenes had been allowed to remember, and suggested Aclines had been the one to create the tomb. Safreses was still resisting, so Kai tried, “Do you know an expositor named Menlas? He was strong enough to command a shell-whale.”
“He left to…” Kinlat looked confused. “No, no.” Safreses’ mouth twitched, an involuntary spasm.
“Who is Menlas?” Kai persisted, adding emphasis through their tenuous connection. “It can do no harm to your plans to tell me.”
“He was Aclines’ apprentice.” Kinlat’s confusion deepened, as if he heard the words but didn’t understand that they were coming out of his own mouth. “Then he wasn’t. He left. Aclines was angry…”
Aclines must have realized that Menlas had gone to the tomb, and been on the move even before Kai and Ziede had woken.
“Kai,” Ziede said quietly. Through her pearl she whispered, Tahren.
He didn’t think it was the best moment to ask, but he knew how much pain and uncertainty Ziede felt. Kai said, “Where is Tahren Stargard?”
The abrupt change in subject slipped under Safreses’ defenses. He blurted, “I don’t know.”
Kinlat’s expression twisted into pure malice. “Dead! The Fallen should be obliterated, the ashes scattered!”
Ziede stepped forward, the faint tremor in her voice a danger sign. “If you’re so anxious to see someone burned—”
They weren’t done yet. Kai said sharply, “Ziede. He doesn’t know.” She halted, her hands clenching and unclenching. Kai focused on Safreses. “Where is Dahin Stargard of the Lesser Blessed?”
Safreses clamped his jaw shut again but Kinlat gasped, “At Nient-arik, in the court, I saw him—” He shook his head, sinking his teeth into his lips.
