The Art of Hunting (15 page)

They passed through the ribcage of a whale and moved on into an area littered with post-human remains licked clean and gnawed. Skulls etched with tooth marks. Tibiae and fibulae cracked open for
the marrow inside. Here and there the cavern floor bore the scrapes of claws. And soon Briana could smell the dense musk of the beasts themselves – an odour so powerful she could actually
taste blood and sweat and sulphur on her lips.

Acanto pointed. ‘Look there.’

Ahead of them the path meandered onwards through slopes of rock and bone, following the downward incline of the cavern floor, until it reached a relatively flat and open area. There, cradled
between two specially constructed piles of mortared stone, rested a ship.

She was an antique, an Unmer yacht the likes of which had not been built nor sailed for over a thousand years. Eighty feet from bow to stern, straight and slender, her heartwood hull had faded
to a bone grey and was still clad in its original metal scrollwork – filigree so exquisitely wrought it reminded Briana of the finest Valcinder concertinas. Her windows were intact, the
rounded lozenges of thick yellow duskglass set in patterned alloy frames. Her single funnel, also forged from a forgotten alloy, rose behind a wheelhouse inlaid with hardwoods and precious metals
and a mast with a single yard and wire-wound shrouds. On her prow there stood a harpoon gun and cable spindle, while various hunting spears and nets had been lashed both to her bulwarks and to a
sturdy fore-deck rack. Her gangway had been lowered from the side of the yacht and rested on a series of stone slabs forming a rude stairwell down to the cavern floor.

Acanto blew through his teeth. ‘That’s a dragon hunter,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen one so old. I’ll bet that girl sailed before the seas were poisoned.’
He examined the ship for a moment longer, then frowned. ‘But why would a dragon lord choose to live in a dragon-hunting ship?’

‘You’re missing the point,’ Briana said. ‘It’s not a dragon-hunting ship. It’s a
captured
dragon-hunting ship.’

How like Conquillas to live in a trophy
, Briana thought.

‘How on earth did he get it up here?’

‘Strange, isn’t it?’ Briana remarked. ‘Presumably, it would have to have been carried here by something large that could fly. I can’t imagine what sort of beast
that would be.’

Acanto gave her a thin smile.

She smiled back. ‘Let’s hope he’s in.’

‘What? All this way and you don’t even know if he’s home?’

‘I’m prepared to wait.’

‘The place is
crawling
with dragons.’

‘You should have expected that,’ she replied. ‘The clue is in the name.’

The yacht lay just inside the arc of sunlight defined by the cavern roof and had, Briana suspected, been placed just so to take advantage of both the low slanted winter light and the available
shade in summer. As they drew near, she was relieved to hear the bright tones of a lute or similar instrument coming from within. She and Acanto climbed the rocky stairwell and strolled across the
gangway.

‘That’s far enough,’ said a voice from above.

Briana halted and looked up.

Argusto Conquillas was slouching in the shrouds, staring down at them with cold violet eyes. In his pale hands he held a bow, the arrow aimed at Briana’s head. How could she possibly have
missed him before?

‘You won’t shoot,’ she said.

‘I hadn’t planned to,’ he admitted. ‘But now I’m tempted, just to prove you wrong.’

‘That shot’s too easy for you.’

He grunted, but he lowered his bow. In one smooth motion he slid down the shrouds and landed lightly on the deck.

Conquillas’s eyes were the same peculiar hue as those of his relative, Prince Marquetta, but he was much older, with a long, almost skeletal, face and grey hair woven into a dusty plait
that hung between his shoulders. Physically, he appeared to be in his late forties, although Briana knew this to be misleading – Conquillas was probably older than the ship upon which he now
stood. He was tall and possessed an angular body softened somewhat by the puffs and frills of his woollen jacket and trousers. His calfskin boots made no sound as he approached.

He regarded Briana with cold intensity.

His eyes betrayed his great age; there was something both intense and deeply savage about them – a brutal intelligence coupled with a cold detachment that seemed to Briana to border on
inhuman. Conquillas didn’t perceive people as friends or allies, lovers or threats. When he looked at you, it was with eyes that merely determined what could be gained from your death. Briana
looked away, unable to meet his gaze for more than those few moments.

Conquillas evidently had company, for she could still hear the sound of the lute playing below decks. She could not imagine who his guest might be, although a gentle mental probing determined
that the presence there was certainly not Haurstaf. The playing, however, was exquisite, indicating a master musician. And now, as Conquillas approached, she heard a second sound . . . the faint
crackling of void arrows in the black glass quiver looped around his shoulder. Those sorcerous missiles were, alarmingly, extinguishing the air around them. She felt her hair stir in a sudden
breeze, drawn towards those ghastly arrow tips by the vacuum they were creating.

Conquillas screwed a bulb of glass across the top of the quiver, sealing it. Light shuddered within; there was a
whoomph
, and the breeze stopped, leaving Briana with a painful thrum in
her teeth and a ringing in her ears. She heard Acanto gasp. There was something about that glass tube, or the arrows it contained, something that made them difficult to be near. Like the atmosphere
pervading the island, but far more powerful. As with so many Unmer artefacts, it would be exerting an unnatural pressure on everyone around it.

Only Conquillas seemed unaffected. ‘Why have you disturbed me?’ he said.

‘Forgive me,’ she replied. ‘I wasn’t aware you had company.’ The Unmer lord regarded her for a moment. ‘News of the massacre in Awl will have reached Losoto
by now,’ he said. ‘Have you knowledge of the emperor’s response?’

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘You’ve heard?’

‘Dragons carry news more swiftly than ships.’

‘I was unaware we had any dragons in Awl.’

Conquillas’s lips narrowed. ‘
You
didn’t.’

There was an uncomfortable silence.

‘Emperor Hu hasn’t made a statement yet,’ Briana said. ‘At least not publicly.’

‘And what is the latest from Awl?’

She hesitated, glancing at Acanto, then said, ‘May we speak in private?’ That was, after all, the main reason she’d brought the captain along – to use him as an excuse to
get Conquillas alone. She didn’t want her words overheard by half a hundred serpents.

Conquillas indicated a hatch leading underneath the wheel-house. She followed him towards it.

Acanto looked around at the shadows. ‘I’ll wait here, shall I?’

‘If you like,’ she replied.

‘And . . . I’ll be safe here?’

Briana turned to Conquillas. ‘I need him to pilot the ship.’

The Unmer lord nodded. ‘Then he will not be harmed.’

‘Then?’ Acanto said. ‘I note your use of that qualifier.’

Conquillas ignored him. He threw open the hatch and led Briana down several steps and along a short passageway. At the end of this he opened another door and admitted her into a comfortable
wood-panelled chamber.

It was a parlour, occupying the full beam of the yacht. Like the wheelhouse exterior, its walls had been inlaid with tropical woods and curls of precious metal and bone. Light poured through the
duskglass portals and stretched across the floorboards in honey-coloured ellipses or else gleamed here and there on some fitment of brass – a scalloped table leg or lampshade base. The
ceiling was low and the joists had been shaped to resemble whalebones and hung with many tiny gem lanterns of an eastern style Briana had never seen before. Delicate furniture occupied strategic
positions around the room, overstuffed chairs and fine tables strewn with scores of books and scrolls. In one corner of the room there stood a harpsichord of pale lacquered wood. Resting upon a
nearby stool was the lute Briana had heard earlier, but the player was nowhere to be seen. She realized the playing must have ceased mere moments ago.

‘I’m not intruding, am I?’ she said.

Conquillas gave a dismissive wave. He filled two goblets from a decanter of pale green liqueur. Briana accepted the drink graciously, but did not raise the cup to her lips. Unmer spirits were
usually laced with drugs. They could affect human minds in strange and unpredictable ways. Conquillas settled into a curled gold couch. He sipped his drink and his violet eyes studied her over the
rim of his glass.

‘How long has it been, Argusto? Three years?’

He rolled the liqueur in its goblet and inhaled the fumes. Then he took another sip. ‘How could you have allowed this to happen, Briana?’

She felt her face flush. ‘No one could have foreseen it.’

‘She was in your care. You were studying her.’

His knowledge surprised her.
How much did he know?

‘We thought—’ she began.

Conquillas growled, ‘No, you didn’t think. You were negligent, arrogant, vain. That is why you underestimated her.’ He observed her for a moment longer with his piercing gaze.
‘Is she within you now? Can you feel her presence?’

‘She might be,’ Briana replied. ‘I can’t tell.’

‘Then we must assume she is listening to this conversation.’

Briana nodded.

‘As was your intent.’

‘Argusto . . .’

‘Say what you came here to say.’

Briana hesitated. She was walking a dangerous path here. The possibility of Ianthe spying had already forced her to lie once to Conquillas. Now she was forcing the Unmer lord to choose sides,
and possibly to name his enemies publicly.‘Forgive me if it seems reckless,’ she said at last. ‘But even if Ianthe is not present at this moment, she would have learned of our
meeting eventually. I came here, Argusto, because I know you to be a man of principle, and not one to flinch or cower from your enemies.’ She watched the Unmer lord take another sip.
‘Since you know about what has happened in Awl, you know what this girl is capable of. Which is why I believe you will recognize the threat now posed by her engagement to
Marquetta.’

She saw from his surprised reaction that he had not been aware of this latest development. Dragons might carry news as fast as the wind, but thought carried it faster still, and a few telepaths
yet remained in her former stronghold. ‘The prince announced their engagement publicly last night. They are to be married after his coronation, three weeks from now.’

Conquillas gave her a mirthless smile. ‘He hasn’t wasted time.’

‘The girl has been smitten with him since she first laid eyes upon him,’ Briana said. ‘Which only goes to show how well Duke Cyr has taught the little bastard to keep his true
nature hidden.’ She paused and rolled the liquor round in her cup. ‘Or else he simply mesmerized the prince. Either way, they mean to keep the girl close and use her to shield them from
Haurstaf influence. With such an ally on his side, the brat can only become . . . What would you say? Even more insufferable?’

Conquillas rose and walked across the parlour, deep in thought. He topped up his drink without offering Briana any more and stood there, staring into the corner of the room for a long time.
Finally, he said, ‘Have your soldiers sworn loyalty to their new paymasters yet?’

‘They have.’

‘And they are gathering support from Port Awl?’

She snorted. ‘Cyr is up to his usual tricks.’ She brought the goblet to her lips, and almost took a sip, before she remembered what type of liquor it contained. ‘He’s
using the pretence of saving the world to recruit allies.’

‘Evensraum?’

‘Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.’

‘He’s well placed for that,’ Conquillas said. ‘Awl’s wealth should allow him to stir up a revolt among the population, hire privateers to halt naval traffic and
starve the empire.’ He paused, thinking. ‘Or else smash Losoto and remove Hu in a show of brute force. That’s what I would do. Hit the capital hard to make a statement. The
emperor is universally despised. His death will only strengthen Marquetta’s cause. What Unmer weapons does Cyr now have access to?What were you hoarding at the palace?’

‘Nothing . . . Minor things.’

Conquillas nodded. ‘Then he can’t attack without help.’ He paced the floor, thinking. ‘He must find an ally. Evensraum would be the most obvious choice.’

Briana gave a cynical smile. ‘Did you know that Ianthe is from Evensraum?’

The Unmer Lord fixed his eyes upon her. ‘Fate has indeed been kind to Cyr,’ he said. ‘So Hu perceives the Unmer as a threat. He must raise an army quickly and that means buying
the warlords with promises and favours. He’ll baulk at that and fuss and hesitate like he’s always done, which will ultimately lead to his downfall.’ He gazed out of the window
for a long time, then turned. ‘And there’s no way to armour yourself from the girl’s psychic attacks?’

‘Not that we know of.’

He pondered this. ‘We must assume that her destructive powers are not limitless. After all, she slew only those Guild sisters in her immediate vicinity. Her reach did not extend to those
Haurstaf in Port Awl?’

Briana shook her head. ‘Those sisters in the highest palace towers and lowest dungeons survived.’

Conquillas nodded to himself. ‘An ugly war is coming,’ he said. ‘With Ianthe’s protection, Cyr will build his empire. And then he will seek revenge for a century of
enslavement and humiliation.’ He gave her a grim smile. ‘I dare say he won’t have forgotten your own personal involvement in it all.’

‘Nor yours.’

‘So you wish me to assassinate the girl?’

The abruptness of his statement startled her momentarily, but she soon found her voice. ‘I thought such a challenge might appeal to you,Argusto. The opportunity to test your wits against
someone who can see your every move, someone who could, at a distance, murder you with a single thought.’