The Incorruptibles (14 page)

FOURTEEN

We were two days on Banty’s trail when the air turned bitterly cold. I began to fall behind, leaving Fisk the only rider left to pursue. Hate to admit it, but us
dvergar
ain’t cut out for long spells on horseback. And Bess, she was born for the long haul, but not for speed.

Fisk pulled up, his black horse lathered and blasting air from its nostrils, and said, ‘Go on back, Shoe. You can’t keep up this pace and I can’t wait for you. Go back. Tell them where I’ve gone. Banty can’t be more than two days ahead of me. I’ll take him.’

‘You know what’s at stake.’

‘I need reminding?’

‘Hell, it couldn’t hurt.’

‘Damn kind of you, Shoe.’

‘Go on with you, then. I’ll tell them.’

‘Looks like he’s headed toward Broken Tooth. I can get there before him if I take the Salt Flats.’

‘Ain’t safe this time of year, pard, you know that. And we got company, anyway.’

The Salt Flats is a high plateau between here and Broken Tooth that in winter becomes treacherous, windswept and eroded. Game flees the scrub of the steppe – moving down among the shoal grasses – and before they take the hint and follow, the wolves, the bears and coyotes that prowl the edges get hungry and lose all inhibition about human flesh. Never all that finicky to begin with.

‘What else to do?’

‘You seen ’em?’ I continued. He had to have.

He looked at me for a long time and then nodded, once.

A pair of stretchers had been pacing us for the past day, letting themselves be seen, rangy, wild, like wolves pacing a shoal auroch herd and then melting into the plains. The land had turned drier, more dust-swept and cold, with more frequent scrub-brush, wilted patches of honeymallow, and stands of organpipes. And occasionally a stretcher could be seen, taking long, loping strides with what looked like scalps dangling from clawed hands.

‘Yeah. I’ve seen ’em.’ His grey eyes scanned the horizon and then came back to me; they looked washed out. ‘Ain’t worried about the stretchers.’ He patted his pistol, tried to smile, failed. ‘Them
vaettir
only understand threat and spectacle. They won’t bother you none when you turn back. You ain’t got any Hellfire, anyway. They’ll aim for me, I figure.’

‘Thought you didn’t hold with my opinion of the taint.’

‘You made it up and down the mountain. My eyes have been opened.’ He sniffed, shifted in his saddle.’ You need to head toward Pilgrimage. Better cover, smoother trails. Them stretchers won’t bother you in that direction.’

‘Yep. I hope, at least.’

‘Once you’re gone, I’ll give black her head. The stretchers’ll be winded keeping up with her, however tall they be.’

I nodded.

He stuck out his arm, and we clasped forearms.

‘Ride fast.’

‘You, too.’

He turned and was gone.

As I headed back, I relived the night of the funeral. When it became clear that
this time
, Banty and the Medieran princess weren’t hiding on the hurricane deck, Secundus called us all to the great room – his father being too drunk and wracked with grief to take control.

Agrippina watched as Fisk and myself, Livia, Carnelia, Secundus, Cimbri, Beleth, and Samantha gathered in the great room. The ship was still except for the sounds of the drunken funeral-goers chanting and calling from the riverside. Gnaeus’ pyre still burned.

Secundus, looking much older and very grave, said, ‘We have to get her back, and quickly.’

‘I can see the need, what with all the stretchers about,’ I said.

‘There’s that. But that’s not all,’ Livia said. Carnelia, sitting next to her, looked petulant and angry that a handsome equite scout had not stolen
her
away.

Miss Livia looked tight, intense, worried. Thin-lipped and pale.

‘What did you think we are doing, steaming upriver to Passasuego?’ Secundus asked.

I shrugged.

Fisk said, ‘No telling with patricians, beggin’ your pardon.’

Secundus looked irritated, but Livia smiled.

I looked at Agrippina. She sat immovable, inactive. But her eyes were open, and what looked like a half-smile sat on her lips. Never can tell with Rumans or
vaettir.

Livia put her hands in her lap, looked at Fisk, and then the tight lines at the corners of her eyes softened and she gave a sad smile. She tilted her head toward him, and for a moment something passed between them – maybe a regret it wasn’t them running, fleeing the
Cornelian
. If
they
had fled for love, no one would have followed, I’m thinking.

‘As you all know, Mediera and Rume have an uneasy truce here in the west,’ said Livia. ‘The Emperor’s goals for the Protectorate are often contrary to King Diegal’s, and we vie for resources and territory. There was a knife-fight between two cartographers in New Damnation before we left.’

Cimbri guffawed and she allowed him his laughter, though when he stopped, he glanced at her, checking her temperament in the face of his humour.

Secundus poured a glass of wine before speaking again. ‘The Protectorate, while important, hasn’t been as pressing to the Emperor as the trade routes to Tchinee, and this past year, there’ve been quite a few sea skirmishes between Rume and Mediera regarding them. In one of the most recent, Isabelle was captured.

‘Of course, we are not barbarians. Through diplomacy, we have managed to secure important mineral rights and resolve territorial disputes in return for ending our custody—’

‘Possession, Secundus,’ said Livia.

‘Our
benevolent
custody of Isabelle—’

‘See,’ said Carnelia. ‘He’s already playing the part of senator. Aren’t you, little brother? When will you change your name to Primus?’

‘Hold up,’ Fisk said. ‘You caught her in a sea battle? What was she doing on a boat?’ Fisk looked steadily at Livia. He leaned slightly toward her, his hands on the table as though none of us were present.

‘Shouldn’t a princess be at home?’ I said. ‘Protected?’

Livia said, ‘We think she was en route to Tchinee, betrothed to the Emperor’s heir in a masterstroke to outflank the Empire’s efforts to secure a monopoly on Tchinee trade. With the discovery of the westward sea route, many Medieran ships have circumvented the blockade. Understandably, they have much to gain and very little to lose.’ She sniffed. ‘The Tchinee aren’t above playing favourites, and the Shang Tzu incident did not help our cause with the Autumn Lords.’

Not much is known about the Autumn Lords other than they’re powerful, they rule most of Tchinee – also known as Kithai – with an iron hand, and fiercely protect the Tchinee trade routes. But everyone had heard of the Shang Tzu incident, all the papers in Harbor Town and New Damnation had featured the incident. Autumnal port authorities confiscated a Ruman trade ship for ‘unassessed taxes.’ A nearby
equestris
class destroyer running escort to the trade flotilla razed half the dockyards in answer. If there were coffin-nails to peace with the Autumn Lords, the Shang Tzu incident was surely one.

‘You’re telling me that three nations are basing their foreign policies on the virtue of this girl?’ Fisk asked.

‘Well, virtue might be too strong a word.’ Livia looked disapproving. ‘Should the White Rose of Cordova already have been plucked, I imagine it will be overlooked, unless she’s with child. Even
that
might be overlooked. But the goals of three nations have focused on the girl. So, yes.’

‘And we were delivering her back to the Medieran Embassy in Passasuego, weren’t we? But why the hell Passasuego?’ I asked. ‘It’s pretty isolated and halfway to Aegypt.’

Secundus said, ‘I think you might have answered your own question.’ He straightened his tunic – hemmed in Imperial blue and bearing the crossed pilum brooch on his breast – and moved to the table. He leaned on the wood, hands balled into fists and knuckles down, so that his shoulders stood out, giving him a most warlike aspect. ‘The official missives insisted that Isabelle be returned to the nearest Medieran fiefdom. We chose to interpret that loosely.’

I laughed. ‘You’re putting her as far away from the knightboard as possible.’

‘Indeed. Passasuego is the last and most remote holdout of Medieran strength here in the Territories. In recent years, it’s been mostly cut off from the rest of Medieran territory, what with the Occidens fifth at New Damnation and the third at Fort Brust.’

‘Not to mention our shipyards in Harbor Town,’ added Livia. ‘The Ruman fleet grows larger every day, though we are still only just a match for Mediera on the high seas.’

‘Once she is turned over, they will sign this treaty.’ Secundus pulled a sheaf of yellowed parchment and splayed the pages in front of Fisk and me. ‘It grants us sole silver mining rights from the Whites all the way to the eastern shore of the Imperial Protectorate. Essentially relinquishing the rights to this land. A land we’ve already won, in truth, by force of arms. But it would be an official acknowledgement of the loss. All because of a girl.’

I whistled.

‘The Ia-damned idiot,’ Fisk said. I wondered if he was cursing Banty or himself. ‘Hard to believe you let her out of her room.’

Livia blinked, and Carnelia said, ‘She was
not
a prisoner!’

Beleth, who had been sitting silently, listening intently and sipping his claret, said, ‘The most important thing in the world right now is recovering the girl. If the silver rights are lost …’

‘You won’t be summoning many
daemons
this year, will you? No more mechanized baggage trains, or steamers. No fancy lights or hot water on the
Cornelian,
’ I said.

‘No. You miss the point. Silver will continue to be mined. It’s the key to our infernal industry. The nations of the world won’t give up the infernal combustion Ruman engineers have been spreading for the last century. The price of silver will go up for us, and the College of Engineers and Augurs will mandate a spike in the price of our work. Unfortunate, but necessary. I imagine the Rumans will be unwilling just to acquiesce with that.’

There was a silence around the table and I watched the
vaettir
. When she blinked, it was like she was moving in amber, so slow, her eyes closing as though she was falling asleep, ineffably bored with the tiny machinations of humans. And
dvergar.

‘You are right. If Isabelle cannot be recovered,’ said Livia, glancing from Beleth to Fisk then me, ‘there will be war.’

FIFTEEN

Five days after setting out in pursuit of Isabelle and Banty I returned to the
Cornelian
on a bedraggled Bess, hoping that Fisk proved successful in his hunt. I had made for Pilgrimage and lodged there for a night. I was not harried by
vaettir
or beast but there were times under the blank face of sky when my heart felt it would seize up, caught with fear. Every bird on the wing, leaping buck or doe, every lonely tree held intimations of
vaettir
. Yet none assailed me.

The next day, Bess was much rested and we rode hard for the Big Rill and the
Cornelian.

When we came into sight of the boat, Bess hawed and picked up her pace. The boat hadn’t steamed any further upstream. A bitter cold had filled the sky and settled about the
Cornelian
like a shroud, bringing with it heavy snows.

Two legionaries called for identification through the flurry of snow, and I gave it. In my absence, the legionaries had constructed a windbreak for the animals and a corral to keep them. The ponies huddled together in the cold air, steaming.

The two legionaries were wary and tense, huddled against the weather and watching the plains with hard eyes, carbines in hand.

‘Stretchers sighted?’ I asked.

One of the men – I recognized him from the auroch hunt – shook his head but didn’t look at me, keeping his eyes on the horizon. What he could see of it.

‘How are things on the
Cornelian
?’

‘She ain’t et no one else.’

‘Who?’

‘The elf.’

‘What?!’

‘Pilinus came up missing on watch. Found some scraps of clothing and a mess of blood.’

‘On the boat?’

‘Naw,’ the legionary said. ‘Shore.’

‘Well, how could she have eaten him? She’s bound and trapped on the ship.’

‘Might be so. Might be ain’t. Them patricians seem mighty friendly with it. Maybe she’s their tame devil.’

‘What’s your name, soldier?’

‘Ain’t my job to answer to no dwarf.’

‘You were at the hunt, were you not?’

Finally, the man looked at me. He nodded slowly.

‘You saw what happened to the highborn lad. You drank at his funeral.’

He remained still, staring at me. His face was wrapped with a scarf and the hood of his paenula was up, so he looked halfway like some far Bedoun raider from a story book or mural.

‘They do not love the
vaettir
. Understand? If anything, she’s held as hostage for protection.’

‘There’s talk that she’ll draw more of ’em. She should be gutted and left for the coyotes.’

‘I can’t argue with you there.’

He turned back to the plains, searching.

The edges of the Big Rill were beginning to freeze, despite the current. Once I’d rubbed down Bess and draped her in a woollen blanket to keep the bitter cold at bay, a lascar broke ice and ferried me over to the
Cornelian
in a johnboat. On the
Cornelian
the filigreed woodwork of the galleries was rimed in frost.

Cimbri escorted me to the private triclinium where they’d questioned me after Agrippina’s outburst. A tight, close room – though well appointed. The table was laden with crystal decanters. Lupina stared disapprovingly, her arms crossed and her hair pulled back severely from her pale face, as I helped myself to some cheese, bread, and a tumbler of whiskey, and put my arse to the fire and breathed into my glass, glad for the warmth of the room.

Cornelius himself was there, lolling on a divan, his good leg propped up. Livia and Carnelia wore their hair in artful messes, still in mourning, dressed in black to appease Gnaeus’ spirit as he came before the Pater Dis.

The Cornelian clan had received a dramatic lesson on life in the Hardscrabble Territories. Short a son, deprived of the better portion of a leg. And possibly misplaced a heart.

Secundus seemed older now, the weight of becoming heir settling upon him more like a yoke than a mantle, lines of worry etched into the corners of his eyes. Carnelia seemed transparent, a ghost of her former self, and couldn’t manage a sneer as she looked upon me. Livia clasped her hands tightly together.

‘What news?’ Secundus asked.

I told them what had happened, Bess faltering, Fisk’s risky path through the winter Salt Flats.

Secundus looked tense, but nodded. Livia’s expression became distressed.

‘If there’s anyone who can track Banty and get back the girl, it’s Fisk.’

They nodded, not looking happy.

‘We need your help, Mr Ilys,’ stated Secundus.

‘Of course. At your service.’

‘We need to know more about the
vaettir
. Captain Skraeling fears we’ll be frozen on the Big Rill for the winter, still some seventy miles south of Passasuego. Which means, unless we want to lose the
Cornelian
to the stretchers this winter, she’ll have to remain staffed and defended.’ He paused. ‘And it gets pretty cold come Winter’s Heart.’

‘Yep. Damn cold. But she’s
daemonfired
, ain’t she? What you need most is meat. Meat and staples.’ I drank the whiskey, set down the glass in front of Lupina. Cornelius nodded to her, and she refilled my glass with a scowl.

‘Let’s get down to brass tacks, Mr Ilys,’ Cornelius said. Strangely, he wasn’t drunk. Without the slurring and tottering, he was quite an intense man. ‘You can speak the creature’s language. We want to put some questions to her.’

I have no love lost for the indigenes, but I didn’t like the way that sounded.

I nodded my understanding, which Cornelius took for agreement.

‘You’re a credit to your race, Mr Ilys. Have some more whiskey. Fetch food.’ Lupina jumped at her master’s voice. ‘Beleth will conduct the interrogation with the assistance of Miss Decius. You will be at their disposal.’

‘When’re we gonna have this rodeo?’

‘I imagine you’d like to rest. Is tomorrow too soon?’

‘Just fine.’

‘I’ve taken the liberty of arranging a room here on the
Cornelian
for you. Cimbri has covered your duties as scout, and we’ve sent a rider to Marcellus in New Damnation requesting replacements for you and Fisk.’ He spoke as a man used to being in charge. So different from the sodden patrician we’d known before.

He stopped, peered at me. ‘This pistolero will retrieve Isabelle? You are sure?’

I swallowed. ‘Can’t be sure of anything in this world, Mr Cornelius. But if anyone can, it’s Fisk.’

‘I hope so. For his sake,’ he said, and he gave Livia a considered look.

I think I liked the Senator more when he was drunk.