Ketty Jay 04 - The Ace of Skulls (38 page)

‘I think they’re called cassocks,’ Ashua put in scathingly.

‘Whatever.’ Frey sat back and crossed his arms.

‘Put yourselves in their shoes, Frey,’ Samandra said. ‘They’re responsible for hundreds of thousands of troops. They have a war they think they can easily win. Are they really gonna go charging off after some secret weapon on the say-so of a bunch of pirates with a history of betraying them? Far as they’re concerned, this could be an Awakener trap. They won’t even listen.’

‘So what will convince them?’ Malvery asked.

‘We need proof,’ said Samandra. ‘At the very least, one of us needs to see it for ourselves.’ She indicated the Century Knights in the room.

‘Piss on ’em if they won’t listen to us!’ Frey cried. ‘We’ve warned you. Now what are we gonna do about Trinica?’

There was silence around the table again. The crew exchanged awkward glances. Slag, sensing a vacuum in the collective attention of the room, left his spot inside the oven and jumped up on to the table. He sat hopefully in the middle for a few moments, then when nobody stroked him he padded over to Jez and slipped down into her lap.

‘Cap’n,’ said Silo. ‘She gone.’

‘She’s
not
gone!’ he snapped. ‘She’s not gone! Not while she’s still alive!’

‘They put a daemon inside her, Cap’n,’ said Malvery gently.

‘And
he
can take it out!’ Frey cried, thrusting a finger at Crake. ‘Can’t you?’

Crake looked pale. He swallowed.
You want to say no
, Silo thought.
Say it
.

‘I’ve never heard of anyone converting an Imperator before,’ Crake began weakly.

‘Screw what you’ve heard of. You did it for your brother, right?’

‘That’s not the same. That was a different kind of daemon. Not half as strong as—’

But Frey wouldn’t be argued with. ‘You and me, we took down the Iron Jackal! You’re saying it’s stronger than that?’ he cried in disbelief.

Crake looked down at the table. ‘Maybe we can do it,’ he said at length. ‘But I wouldn’t rate our chances.’

‘Any chance is better than none.’

‘No, Cap’n, listen. It’s not as simple as just taking it out. I can’t reverse what happened to Jez because the daemon is the only thing keeping her alive. If I took it out of her, she’d die. Now, if the Imperators kill their hosts the way the Manes do . . .’

‘The Manes do not kill their hosts.’ It was the clear, accented voice of Pelaru. ‘I am a half-Mane, and I am alive.’

Frey seemed surprised to hear the Thacian come in on his side.

‘I froze to death after I received the Invitation,’ Jez added, emotionlessly. She was tickling behind Slag’s ears. ‘That’s why my heart stopped. That’s why I’m dead. It’s ’cause of the Manes I got back up again.’

Frey stared at Crake expectantly. Crake could think of no more objections.

‘Maybe,’ he said again. ‘But first you have to get her. You know what it’s like with Imperators. We can’t even get near them.’

‘I can,’ said Jez.

‘I don’t want her bloody head ripped off,’ Frey snapped.

‘Oh,’ said Jez. ‘Forget it, then.’

‘I have a solution.’ This was a new voice, one they hadn’t heard before. Morben Kyne. His words came sheathed in strange harmonics: no doubt some effect created by the mouthpiece of his mask. ‘Perhaps it will please all parties.’

‘Spill it,’ said Samandra.

Kyne stepped forward. Green artificial eyes glowed faintly from within his cowl. ‘The Imperators are trusted implicitly within the Awakener organisation. Their loyalty is beyond question. Our spies suggest they are always present at meetings of the highest level, as bodyguards or observers. It has also been surmised that they can communicate with one another on a level that does not require physical speech.’

‘Which is good, ’cause the Awakeners cut out their tongues,’ said Samandra.

Frey thought of Trinica. No, they couldn’t. She needed it to order her crew about. They
couldn’t
. . .

Could they?

‘The ability is limited, not like the simultaneous communication of the Manes,’ said Kyne. ‘But it’s our guess that they all talk to each other, in a way.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Frey asked Kyne.

‘It’s likely that the Imperators are aware of the Awakeners’ plans. The date and location of the attack, and so forth. Even the ones that were not present may have learned the information from others.’

‘You’re suggesting we capture one and question it?’ Crake was incredulous.

‘Didn’t you just say we couldn’t get near them?’ This was Ashua.

‘We can’t,’ Kyne said. ‘But perhaps we can find a way to bring them to us.’

Crake seemed both terrified and excited by the prospect. ‘Could we do it?’

‘It will be dangerous, but maybe it can be done. I understand you yourself trapped and destroyed a powerful daemon in Samarla without using a sanctum. Did Miss Bree tell me right?’

‘Well, yes, I . . .’ Crake was nervous. He glanced at Jez, no doubt remembered the hash he’d made of things in the shrine below Korrene. ‘Field daemonism is not really an exact science.’

‘Then might we work on it together?’ said Kyne. ‘I would be interested in your theories.’

Crake was politely uncertain. ‘Er . . . I . . . Well, yes, if you like. Do you know much about daemonism?’

Samandra snorted. ‘Honey, he’s
crawling
with daemons. Just about every item of clothing on that man’s back is thralled. In fact, half the kit the Century Knights use was made by this feller. Not to put you down or anything, but he’s the best daemonist in Vardia, and likely the world. Just be glad we got him on our side.’

Crake gaped. ‘I . . . I didn’t even sense them. For them to be so . . . Well, they must be
exquisitely
fashioned! Why, it’d be an
honour
to work with you!’

‘If you’re all quite finished admiring each other’s arses,’ Frey put in impatiently, ‘how does any of this help Trinica?’

Crake was excited; the insult passed him by. ‘When we have an Imperator, we can take readings from the daemon inside it. Once we have its frequencies, we’ll know the frequencies for all the Imperators, since they’re all possessed by the same type of daemon.’

‘Like the Manes,’ put in Samandra.

‘Well, not quite,’ said Crake gently. ‘The Manes are all possessed by one single daemon, which has a tendril in each of them, so to speak. The Imperators are possessed by separate, identical daemons. When the Awakeners tried to copy the daemonist’s experiment, they didn’t get it exactly right.’ He turned his attention back to Frey. ‘It’s like finding the key to a code. Once we’ve cracked it, we can fashion devices to negate them, so we’re not crushed with fear whenever we get close. We can
fight
them then. And it will be a hundred times easier to extract that daemon from Trinica.’

Frey was staring intently at his fists, bunched on the table in front of him. Frustration was written on his face. ‘Seems like a pretty damn roundabout way of getting to her.’

‘You’re welcome to try on your own if you want,’ said Samandra. ‘Me, I ain’t in it for your suicide mission. Dracken’s not here nor there to me. Far as I’m concerned, she took the Awakeners’ coin and she got what she deserved. All I care about is gettin’ proof of your story back to the Archduke. What you do after that is your own business.’

‘It’s the way it has to be done, Cap’n,’ said Crake, with a shade more diplomacy. ‘We have to negate her Imperator powers before we can get that daemon out of her. But there
is
hope.’

Frey rested his head in his hands. The others watched him, waiting for his response. Slag, in Jez’s lap, gnawed at something between the toes of his forepaw.

He was tormented. Silo knew it. He knew this man better than anyone. Frey wanted to run after Trinica, to save her, because that was what his heart told him to do. But she was lost to him now, maybe for ever. And there was another part of him, a part that had won out many times, which wanted to throw it all up in the air and flee. To turn his back on all of this: the Coalition, Trinica, everybody.

Frey was a man who’d kept his world and his responsibilities small. Silo knew that path well. It was safer that way. But life had a way of involving a man in bigger things.

Frey lifted his head and looked at Silo. ‘What do you think?’ he asked. Once, he would never have consulted Silo about anything. He wouldn’t have thought to. But things had changed, and they weren’t changing back.

Silo weighed his words. As ever, he wouldn’t be rushed. A man shouldn’t speak if he didn’t have something worth saying.

‘Time was I thought I didn’t have no stake in any o’ this,’ he said. ‘Not this war, not your woman. Vards ain’t my people, and Vardia ain’t my land. Gonna be a foreigner here no matter what I do, so why take a side, right?’ He lowered his head. ‘But after last night, I been thinkin’ different.’

He pushed away from the wall and began to pace round the table. ‘Sammies been handin’ over Azryx tech, ’cause they want the Awakeners in power so they can get to the aerium here. My bet is, once they get their fleet fuelled up, they won’t come askin’ no more. They reckon they can take this country like they took mine, they reckon the Awakeners are just a bunch o’ priests couldn’t run a country if their lives depended on it.’

There was an unfamiliar agitation in him. As if saying the words confirmed them in his mind. He began to speak louder, faster. He felt himself firing up. Mother, this was
truth
!

‘But they wrong!’ he said. ‘These are
daemons
, damn it! They don’t think like us. They ain’t gonna rule this land, they gonna
enslave
it. They gonna turn your leaders one by one until there ain’t nobody left to stand up to ’em, and by the time the Sammies come it’s gonna be too late. You can’t fight an army of daemons. It ain’t gonna be Vardia that gets invaded, it’s gonna be Samarla and Thace and every damn place else! There ain’t gonna be no place to run. We don’t stop this now, ain’t just us gonna be goin’ under. We fightin’ for the
world
here. And I’m
damned
if I’m lettin’ anyone make me a slave again!’

The whole room was staring at him. Even the cat had paused with its paw in its mouth, and was gazing at him in wonder as if he was an alien. After a moment, Frey turned his head to Malvery.

‘Doc?’

‘What he said,’ said Malvery, thumbing at Silo.

‘Ashua?’

‘Shit, I’m inspired,’ she said with a grin. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘Jez?’

‘To stop the Imperators? I’m in.’

‘Harkins.’

Harkins saluted. ‘Ready to fight for the Coalition, Cap’n!’

‘Pelaru?’ said Frey, and then caught himself. ‘Oh, wait, I don’t give a shit what you think. Alright, we go catch an Imperator. But after that, I’m going after Trinica. And you all better damn well back me up when I do. Fair enough?’

There were general mutters of reluctant agreement from the crew.

‘Which leaves us with just one problem,’ said Samandra. ‘How do we lure an Imperator to us?’

Frey leaned forward, his face grim. ‘As to that,’ he said. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

Twenty-Six

Old Flames – Lust – The Ghost in the Pipes – Frey Disappoints – Politics

T
he sun beat down on Frey’s shoulders, shining bright in a cloudless sky. The sea spread out before him, glittering in the midday heat. Insects creaked and hummed; birdsong filled the air. The Barabac Delta had been sultry even in winter, but here in the Feldspar Islands, further south and near the equator, there were no seasons to speak of. Just the same perfect day, over and over.

He stood on a stone balcony overlooking the Ordic Abyssal. Far below, waves rolled against the feet of the cliffs. At his back, tiered gardens rose up the slope, a private wonderland of shady paths, splashing brooks, covered walkways and secret arbours. Statues peeked from hidden nooks. Domed gazebos rose above the foliage. Along the coast to his right he could see the roof of a mansion, just visible through the trees.

Another time he might have found this place beautiful. It was the kind of paradise where a man might find contentment for a while. But there was no contentment here, and the beauty couldn’t touch him. He felt cut off from the world. His body occupied a space, but he was connected to nothing. His responses were automatic, predetermined. Sometimes he felt like he was watching himself, a disinterested observer of someone else’s life.

He existed, but nothing more.

What am I doing here?
he thought to himself.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up. He’d never asked for much. He’d never seriously coveted wealth and power. All he’d wanted was the freedom to do what he wanted. But somewhere along the line he’d acquired a crew that he cared about. Somehow he’d fallen back in love with a woman he thought he’d left behind.

And then he’d lost her. They’d forced a daemon into her body, into her
mind
. He tormented himself night and day by imagining how that felt. Was she still awake in there, screaming silently as the daemon pulled at her nerves like a puppeteer, making her limbs dance? Or had she been crushed by the onslaught, leaving nothing left of the woman he’d known? Would he ever get her back, or would the attempt claim his life and that of every friend he had?

There is hope
. Crake had told him that. But he wasn’t sure he could let himself believe it. Hope was a dangerous thing for all of them. Giving up now might save everyone. Everyone but Trinica, anyway.

This was why he never wanted responsibility for anyone but himself. It hurt too damned much when you lost them.

‘Captain Darian Frey,’ said a voice behind him. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’

He turned away from the vista, and put a smile on his face for Amalicia Thade.

She was wearing a dark blue dress, cut low at the neck to show the necklace of precious stones that lay against her collarbone. Black hair tumbled over her shoulders. She was smiling, the easy smile of a young woman who knew how to use it as a weapon. Her skin and features were flawless, her eyes dark and mischievous. She was even more breathtaking than the last time he saw her, when he’d been aiming a gun at her head.