The Queen's assassin

Chapter Twenty

The vast tower loomed over the small boat. It was not as large as the Serpent Tower had been and it did not have quite the same air of ageless might and impregnable strength as Ilmarec’s green-walled home, yet to Rik’s eye there was something similar about the two buildings.

Perhaps it just seemed strong and stable when compared to the changeability of the grey sea and cloudy sky. Or maybe it was the way it made the small, luxurious barge they rode on seem like a woodchip afloat on a pond. The Tower of Sorcerers over-awed Rik with its strength. Here was a place you could enter and never come out.

To distract himself, he studied the waters around them. The harbour was full of ships, lit by lanterns powered by oil and sorcery. As he passed close he could see that many of those ships were homes. Entire families dwelled on them. Washing hung from the spars and rigging. Some craft were taverns, some were brothels, some were restaurants where parties of people ate. There was a second city floating out here, home to tens of thousands, a wooden slum with its foundations in water.

On the far side of the harbour green lights illuminated the huge, sinister prison hulks. They lay partially submerged in the water like dying river wyrms, seeming barely able to keep their superstructures aloft. Rik shuddered and looked away. Those were the prisons of this city, and he had a healthy fear of any sort of prison anywhere.

The collar of Rik’s dress tunic felt tight. His head felt fuzzy from all the late nights of forced learning. Sardec, garbed in a full formal uniform, looked just as uncomfortable as he, although perhaps it was the motion of the ship that upset him.

What was the difference between the sea and the river he wondered that one could make you feel nauseous and the other did not? Rik knew that some of the soldiers were affected. For many of them, pleasure boat rides around the harbour had turned into theatres of misery. He counted himself fortunate that he seemed immune to sea-sickness.

The Barbarian stood on the deck nearby along with Weasel and a few of the other Foragers. It was their job to see that Asea arrived at the Council’s reception safely. Apparently a little light piracy had been known to happen even in the harbour. The possibility of robbery seemed a universal constant wherever you went.

Rik was not sorry when the boat tied up and they made their way up the stone steps carved from the living rock of the island, towards the Great Tower. He even felt a thrill of anticipation. Tonight, he was going to meet Lord Malkior, the Terrarch who was possibly the murderer of his mother, and possibly his father.

The buzz of conversation increased as the Talorean party entered the chamber. It was high-vaulted, like a cathedral. Massive carved wooden statues, the figureheads of long-salvaged merchantmen lined the high alcoves. Between them hung the banner of Harven, a black squid on a blue background. In each tentacle it clutched a flag or a treasure chest or a sword. Doubtless there was a symbolism to it that Asea would have no trouble explaining. He could almost hear her voice in its lecturing mode: the Harvenites would be insulted at him calling the beast a squid. This was the Great Kraken of Quan, their legendary patron and protector, the mother of all Sea Devils.

At the far end of the hall where the altar would have been in a cathedral was a full-sized ship, a small trading caravel which Rik knew was the legendary Golden Morning, the first trader to have anchored in this harbour, the ship of the city’s founder Lord Harven, the Terrarch who had made the pact with the Quan.

The great hall was cold and damp. It was no wonder all the merchants wore fur, and hardly surprising that their hair and beards were long and plaited. The thick gowns the women wore made even the thinnest of them seem somewhat dumpy. The most surprising thing was that the number of humans and the number of Terrarchs present seemed almost equal, and they did not seem at all uncomfortable talking to each other. Certainly, the Terrarchs kept mostly to themselves on one side of the huge chamber, and the humans milled around on the other, but there was no sense of stifling hierarchy that you felt at such a gathering in Talorea. There the only humans you were likely to see were servants. There were some things that he liked about the place.

He studied the crowd even as it studied him. There were hundreds of wealthy men and women present, all robed in furs, and bearing long curved swords. There were a number of masked Terrarchs, sorcerers judging by the Elder Signs woven on their long flowing robes, and the winged staffs they carried. There were even a few humans garbed in a similar manner. They seemed squat and graceless compared to the Terrarchs but the fact that they were here at all astonished Rik. For a human to practise magic was a crime punishable by torture and death on most of the Ascalean continent.

There were other Terrarchs, garbed far more richly than any he had seen, rings glittering on their fingers, gold chains dripping from their necks. These were the legendary merchant princes of Harven. Their glances were cold, their smiles merry. Rik fixed a smile on his own face, and saw that Asea had done the same.

The introductions began, a roll-call of the rich and powerful of the city, human and Terrarch. They went on for a very long time and then suddenly Rik found himself bowing to Lord Malkior.

Malkior still looked like his portrait. He wore a deep purple tunic and dress britches instead of armour but Rik could tell this was the Terrarch in the painting. The artist had accentuated the leanness and good looks, the aggressive intelligent gaze. He had glossed over the scars and the mole on the chin and missed out the warm smile completely. The painting caught the aura of power that hung over Malkior but not the ease and friendliness that went with it. Rik looked at the Terrarch, hoping that the surge of interest and dislike that he felt was not immediately obvious to everyone.

Malkior bowed to Asea and kissed her hand. He showed no tension despite the fact that their nations were at war. She responded easily, and although Rik knew with certainty that she hated, feared and loathed the Sardean, he would never have guessed it from her expression. She looked delighted by his attention. Rik had long ago learned that while the face might lie, body language did not, and yet he could detect none of the subtle signs of animosity he would have expected to see in the way she moved or held herself. It would seem that Asea had mastered the art of concealing even those. It was a thing worth being reminded of. His patron was an extremely gifted liar.

“So you are the hero of the Serpent Tower,” said Malkior as they bowed to each other.

“Hero is too strong a word,” said Rik. He had to force himself to keep his tone casual. Was this Terrarch his father? Had he really killed his mother? Rik wanted to grab Malkior by his furred collar and slap some answers from him. He forced his shoulders to untense, and his hands to relax. It would not do to assault a high noble of Sardea at this reception, much as he might like to.

“I know many people who are simply dying to talk to you about it.” Rik smiled at the man, wondering what was going on behind those kind brown eyes. If Sardec’s suspicions were correct, Malkior’s statement held at least one double meaning.

“Perhaps you can introduce us, and I will do what I can to aid their understanding.”

“That’s a very generous offer, and I am sure I will take you up on it.” Malkior’s words seemed perfectly sincere, and yet Rik felt as if he had just been subtly threatened. He told himself it was his imagination, but he was sure that it was not.

Malkior smiled. “My daughter speaks very highly of you.”

“You have talked to her recently?”

“Before she went to Halim.”

“You have heard from her since the robbery? You have had a letter, perhaps?”

“I have,” said Malkior easily. “And I would like to thank you, Lady Asea for taking such an interest in the case.”

“It disturbs me that I could not find out anything,” said Asea. “It was almost like the Shadowblood were involved.”

“Come now, my dear, let us talk of more pleasant things. We left such darkness behind us on Al’Terra.”

Asea looked at him and smiled very coldly. “I have my doubts about that,” she said.

Malkior raised an eyebrow. “If you have suspicions, I must take them very seriously. Perhaps we should talk about them in a more private place.”

“I look forward to it,” said Asea. “We have much to discuss.”

“Such as?”

“We can talk about that in private. Did you know that Rik hails from Sorrow? A city with which you are more than a little familiar.” A subtle, mask-like quality came over Malkior’s face. Or was that Rik’s imagination?

“The last time I was there must be twenty years ago…”

“Nineteen. Just before Rik here was born. Just after too.”

Malkior inclined his head and studied Rik with more care than he had before. “It’s a small world,” he said.

“His mother was murdered, you know. In quite a spectacular fashion.”

Malkior looked at her now. If he was getting Asea’s message, he gave no sign. “I am sure the subject must be more than a little distasteful to our young friend here.”

“He’s not entirely an orphan. I have spent considerable effort locating his father, and I think I may have found him.” Rik felt oddly embarrassed and uncomfortable. The way they were talking made him feel like an object, a thing that was not there. He wanted to tell them both to stop it, but kept his mouth firmly shut and his attention focused.

“As always, the depth of your philanthropy is a source of astonishment to me, my Lady.”

“Thanatomantic rituals were involved in his mother’s death.”

“Harven is a place tolerant to sorcery, but I would not say things like that too loudly even here, Asea.”

“I am sorry if you find the subject distasteful.”

“Just because there is no Inquisition here does not mean there are no prejudices. I am concerned for your safety. Even in Harven there are some…zealots… who object to these matters being even mentioned. Secret brotherhoods are everywhere, as I am sure you are aware. Some of them have great power.”

“I believe the Terrarch who killed Rik’s mother perpetrated other atrocities.”

“Fascinating. You must let me know when you catch up with him.”

“You will be the first to know when I do.”

“I look forward to that day. Now I must not monopolise your time,” he said. “I can see that there others here simply dying to have a chat with you.”

They smiled like old friends, bowed and parted. “You came a long way to have that conversation, didn’t you?” said Rik softly.

“You have no idea how far, Rik,” Asea replied. He thought he noticed some strain in her voice, even if none appeared on her face.

There was eating. There was music. There was conversation. The whole time Rik felt as if he were under observation, in some subtle inhuman way. He felt as if someone was looking at him, but every time he turned to see, there was no one there.

A steady flow of the very wealthy and very powerful, both Terrarch and human, drifted into Asea’s orbit all evening. They were curious and they wanted to talk. Rik sensed that the merchant princes were unsettled. There was at once aggression and deference in the way they spoke to Asea, as if they both resented and feared her. Rik began to fear for her. It was clear that the Councillors of Harven were far more used to causing fear than suffering it. They obviously resented anyone capable of making them afraid, and the resentment of the powerful was something to be scared of.

If any of this made any impression on Asea, she gave no sign of it. She smiled pleasantly and made small talk, accepted and offered invitations, listened to gossip, asked about trade, engaged in conversations about the minutiae of small points of sorcery, spoke of the siege of Halim easily, fluently and well. She looked stunning in her furs and her evening gown. Her be-gemmed Elder Signs looked like jewellery. Her smile was warm and friendly, and more than once he saw speculative, resentful, envious looks aimed in his direction. Obviously the tale that he was her lover had circulated here.

Not for the first time he wondered what it would be like if that were true. What would it be like to bed his patron? Interesting, was his suspicion, but he was unlikely ever to find out the answer, nor did he want to. The difference in power in their relationship did nothing for his sexual appetite. Quite the contrary, it diminished it. It came to him in a sudden flash of insight that he actually preferred it that way. His relationships with women, the intimate ones with Sabena, and with Rena, had been unhappy, tormenting things that had caused him a great deal of pain. He was not ready to entangle himself again. Whatever the strangeness of his relationship with the sorceress, he was comfortable with it. He felt threatened by Asea on many levels, but the fear of intimacy was not one of those levels. The possibility of it simply did not arise.

As he watched Asea closely, he noticed one thing. Her answers always appeared open, sincere and complete, except when she was asked about what had happened at the Serpent Tower. These questions she parried easily, dismissed and deflected in such a way that no one could take any offence. The more she avoided the subject, the more curious people became. It was undoubtedly a question that a great deal of those present took a great interest in.

Rik found himself facing a small, squat, white-haired man, in fur-trimmed sorcerer’s robes. His ugly face was lined. His eyes twinkled benevolently, and he had a smile that would have put the most suspicious Sorrow street thief at ease. Rik raised his guard instantly.

“I envy you,” said the man. His smile widened a trifle. Rik found himself disliking the stranger and trusting him even less.

“Why?”

The man gestured in the direction of Asea, caught Rik’s glance, laughed and shrugged. “I don’t mean like that. I am too old to be smitten by beauty although she certainly has it in abundance. I mean I envy you your chance to talk to her.”

Rik thought he understood. “You are a sorcerer.”

The man nodded as if he approved of Rik’s perceptiveness. “And she is the sorceress of all sorceresses. I have many questions she could answer if she had a mind.”

“Why don’t you ask her them?” The man touched his forehead and then his heart. It was a quick gesture that must have had some significance unknown to Rik. “As you may have noticed I am a human, and the First do not share their secrets with humans.”

Rik almost said that he was in a position to know differently but stopped himself. It was probably exactly what this man wanted to know. He was clever and he was oblique. The fact that he was talking to Rik while most present concentrated on Asea showed that.

“I did not catch your name,” Rik said.

“I am Alaryn.”

“I am Rik — pleased to make your acquaintance. I must confess I was surprised by the number of human sorcerers present this evening.”

“Harven has always been a safe haven for us against the prejudices of the masses, and dare I say it, the feudal aristocracy. The Quan prefer to deal with us, and so we have always enjoyed their protection.”

“Why is that?”

“There were human priests who dealt with them before the coming of the Terrarchs. Many of us have a greater knowledge of the old rituals, and less prejudice against the habits of the Elder Race.”

“You do not fear madness? Forgive me but I have always been told that humans were not made for sorcery.”

Alaryn smiled. “I mean no offence but perhaps you should ask yourself who benefits from putting that interpretation on affairs.”

“You are saying that it is one way the Terrarchs keep humans in their place. I have heard that said before, but I have also seen human sorcerers go mad.” It had happened to the Old Witch in Sorrow, and many of the other dabblers in the Thieves Quarter.

“You have lived an interesting life. Many weaker minds are smashed by using the Art and the Power, and in this, alas, humans are significantly weaker than the Terrarchs. That does not mean madness is inevitable. If the proper precautions are taken, and the proper rituals are observed, and if a human does not attempt to fly too high or draw on powers beyond his capabilities, he can live a relatively normal life and even become prosperous.” Alaryn tapped his chest significantly. He certainly sounded sane enough. “And I flatter myself that there are areas in which we have even greater gifts than the Terrarchs.”

“You interest me,” said Rik. “In what areas would those be?”

“Dealing with the Elder Races would be the obvious place to start.” Rik looked closer and noticed the Kraken image that dangled from the man’s neck. He had taken it for an Elder Sign at first, but now he knew it was something else.

Rik thought of Zarahel, the priest of Uran Ultar — he had been a human, and he had summoned a demon god. This did not seem to be the time of the place to discuss things however. Instead he said; “It is said that there were human sorcerers in ancient times before the coming of the Terrarchs.”

“They made the mistake of fighting against the Conquest. That may be why so many of them were cleansed.”

Even in liberal Talorea that was not a thought a human would have spoken out loud where a Terrarch might hear. Things really were different here.

“You do not have the Inquisition here in Harven?”

“The Quan would not allow it. We practise tolerance. It is good for trade.”

Rik felt as if he was missing something here. Were the gestures Alaryn kept making those associated with one of the Brotherhoods, those ancient secret societies that still lurked in the shadows of civilisation? Some were cults dedicated to ancient demon gods, others, it was said, to the pursuit of knowledge and equality between human and Terrarch. Still others were arms of foreign policy of the Dark Empire.

“The Quan enjoy a great deal of power here.”

“Say rather influence. They need us. We need them. Always we seek accommodation, and to keep the other party happy. That too is good for trade.”

“I can understand how the city needs the Elder Race. What I do not understand is what they get from you.”

“We provide them with raw material they cannot get for themselves. We act as their intermediaries on the surface.”

Rik thought of the darker tales he had heard, of human sacrifice and the devouring of souls. It seemed undiplomatic to mention them. “Have you ever seen one, a Quan I mean?” he said, to fill the gap in the conversation.

“I am an Intercessor. I have talked with them. I have swum with them. I have visited their city.”

“Is that possible?”

“There are magical engines that make it possible — great bubbles propelled by magic that let a man pass through the water.”

“Bubbles — would they not burst?”

“They are not like air bubbles in water, more like translucent integuments spun by the Quan.”

“I would not have thought they could hold enough air.”

“By strange alchemy, the integument extracts it from the water. I confess I do not know exactly how.”

“That is mighty and wonderful magic.”

“The Terrarchs are not the only source of powerful sorcery in this world, friend Rik. It is something to keep in mind on your travels.” Alaryn smiled and Rik wondered whether he had just been given a subtle warning. Was he supposed to carry this tale to Asea, or to think about it himself?

“I have heard that the Quan are very agitated these days.”

“You are well informed for a newcomer to the city. Indeed they are. Recent developments on the surface have upset them greatly. I believe you yourself had some involvement in them.”

“The destruction of the Serpent Tower, you mean?” Rik felt as if they had suddenly reached the point that Alaryn had been trying to get to all along.

“The very same.”

“Why is that of interest to them? The Tower was a long way from the sea.”

“The Tower was the mightiest citadel of an Elder Race left on the surface of our world, or so I am told.” He paused, giving Rik time to wonder exactly who had told him. “Of course, its destruction is of interest to the Quan. At the height of their power, a long time ago, it was something the Quan would have struggled to achieve, and yet you and your mistress somehow managed it…”

He paused, and his silence was an invitation for Rik to pick up the thread of the conversation. Instinct and training warned him against it. As a young thief in the streets of Sorrow he had learned that information was a commodity of great value to the right people, and the secret of what had happened in the Serpent Tower was obviously of interest to many people in this city of merchants. He decided to test the water.

“I would imagine the information about how that happened might be worth a great deal to the right people.”

“You imagine correctly, Rik. It is of enormous value. There are people who would kill to acquire it.” Almost by accident his gaze rested on Lord Malkior. The Sardean stood amid a group of Terrarch merchants, who all laughed at some jest of his. Almost as if he sensed them looking at him, he turned and his gaze met Rik’s. He raised his glass in a mocking toast and returned to his conversation.

“A most dangerous Terrarch,” said Alaryn. “They say he has the ear of the Queen Empress.”

“What brings him here at this particular time?”

“He is buying influence on the Council, trying to get it to take the Sardean side in your war.”

“Do you think he will succeed?”

Alaryn smiled. “I would say that too is information that would be of great value to the right people.”

“I am sure you are correct.”

“The world is changing, Rik. When the world changes, policy must change too. That is a maxim that we live by here. We all must.”

Sardec found himself standing with a Terrarch even more gaudily garbed than the local merchants. The insignia on his epaulettes marked him as being from the island realm of Selenea, part of its navy, he would have guessed.

“An interesting party,” Sardec said politely.

The Selenean surveyed the gathering coldly. “Smells of fish,” he said eventually.

He had the high Terrarch’s contempt for trade, which was odd, since his homeland was famously a place of traders. Sardec’s father had always told him the Selenean Terrarchs were funny that way, claiming to despise trade even as they took the vast majority of their revenues from it. He had never particularly cared for the Seleneans despite the fact they were traditional Talorean allies against the Valonians to the West.

“You are not enjoying this?”

“My dear Lieutenant, I have not enjoyed a single moment since I first set foot in this barbarous place three years ago.”

“Your patience in enduring such suffering is admirable.” Sardec allowed a hint of mockery to show in his voice. The Selenean’s smile said that he got the joke and did not mind the mockery.

“When Queen and country call, what else can one do? I can see you are a Terrarch who understands the meaning of duty.” His gaze lingered on Sardec’s hook. Sardec noticed that the speaker’s sleeve was empty. It looked like he too had taken his share of wounds in the name of duty.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said the stranger bowing. “I am Laevin, Captain in the service of her majesty, Selena, Moon Queen of Selenea.”

Sardec introduced himself.

“You are the commander of First Asea’s bodyguard,” said Laevin. It was not a question.

“I have that honour.”

“I would be very careful if I were you. Things are very strange here at the moment.” Sardec was inclined to take that statement very seriously. “Lord Malkior is spending a lot of money and making a lot of promises to swing the Harvenites over to the Sardeans.”

That must worry for the Seleneans. If the Harvenites and their Elder World allies turned against Talorea, they would turn against her allies too. Selenea was an island, and a mighty naval power, but her fleets would be at risk from the Sea Devils. Facing such a threat, they might even remain neutral or switch sides themselves.

“Do you think he will succeed?”

“If he offers enough money, he might swing the vote of the Council. Normally you could rely on the Quan to make sure the merchants behaved sensibly, but something has them damnably stirred up. They have even been talking with Malkior, you know.”

Sardec gave Laevin a second look. “How do you know that?”

“I have my ways,” he said. “I am the Ambassador’s military advisor.”

Such a post was often a cover for a spymaster. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I have judged it in the best interests of my Queen to tell you. I suspect you may not have learned it from sources that should have informed you.”

Sardec narrowed his eyes. This was tantamount to an accusation that Ambassador Valefor had wilfully not told them what they needed to know. Of course, Laevin was not going to come right out and say such a thing, but then again he did not have to. Sardec’s sense of having put his head into the jaws of a trap increased.

“You think Lady Asea may be in danger.”

“I am certain she is.”

“What would you advise?”

“Do not try to get out of the city by ship. They can have accidents, if the Quan have taken against you.”

“You think that has happened.”

“Let us say I would not rely on it not being the case.”

“You are taking a risk telling me this.”

“I have been instructed to do so by my superiors. They fear the consequences of an alliance between Sardea and the Quan.”

“They are right to do so.” Such an alliance would have control of the northern seas. Whole armies could be moved by ship. Harven would provide a near impregnable base in Northern Kharadrea from which the Dark Empire could sally forth and lay claim to the country. It could even be used as a staging post for an amphibious assault on Talorea itself. The balance of power on the continent would indeed change if the Quan could be persuaded to take sides. Sardec felt out of his depth here. He told himself that such things were not his responsibility. All he had to do was see to Asea’s safety. Even that duty seemed fraught with complications.

“I am glad you take me meaning, Lieutenant. I wish you a safe and uneventful stay in Harven, though I fear you may not have it.”

They stood on the docks waiting for their boat to take them back to Nearshore.

“That was an interesting party,” said Sardec, glancing around, making sure all the men were in position. He had arranged them around Asea, blocking any clear shot someone might be able to get at her.

“Indeed,” said Asea. “I noticed you were talking to the Selenean attache.”

“He had a number of interesting things to say.” Sardec noticed the half-breed had his eyes fixed on the harbour waters. It took him but a moment to understand why. In the depths of the harbour faintly greenish translucent shapes moved, a combination of man and squid and something else. It sometimes seemed to Sardec that they held struggling humanoid shapes between them, but he told himself that could not be so.

They clambered aboard their boat and pushed off. “I am glad to be leaving this place,” said Rik.

“I will be glad to leave this city,” said Sardec.

“Let us hope we have the chance,” said Asea so softly that Sardec was sure that only he and the half-breed had heard it. So she too suspected the way things were going.