The Year of Our War (32 page)

I whipped round, located the highest window, a glassless, shutterless square. I backed with every scrap of strength; even so, it took two laps to slow down and the drag nearly pulled my wings from my back. The window had no sill. I closed wings, drew my legs up and dropped through it without touching the frame, hit the floor and jogged to a halt.

A round room lined with people—men standing against the walls, perhaps fifty pairs of eyes. Click. Click. Click. Click. What? Then I saw four crossbows, in the extremities of the room, braced in the brawny arms of four intense-looking men. Their strings were spanned and the catches off. I spread my hands downward, showing that I had no desire to draw my sword.

“For the sake of the Empire.” Ata could dump my body off September Tower pier and sincerely maintain that the sea had claimed me. The unwavering crossbow bolts were sharp, I would scarcely feel the blow; they would rip straight through me. Like a damn fool Rhydanne I had swept in to where Ata was indisputably sovereign of her island and stronger than I had ever imagined.

Ata Dei stood at the far side of the ring of guards, behind a simple table. She had a nearly translucent dress that matched her long white hair, and she seemed most unlike a warrior. She smiled broadly, which made her all the more frightening.

An officious-looking woman was behind her, of similar age and build, with a scraped-back gray ponytail and a hatchet nose. She wore a soldier’s coat over her red brigandine and carried a crossbow. A bracing hook hung on her belt and from her assured stance I could see she well knew how to handle it.

“Welcome,” Ata pronounced. Her tone was kindly but I didn’t trust her. I hated the way the men were staring at me, awe mixed with a greater loyalty to her. There was no way I could reach the window if they took aim. “You must excuse this treatment,” she continued. “I don’t yet know the reason for your visit.”

“Here is a letter from our supreme Emperor,” I said, keeping my voice low. “And as an impartial Messenger I am at your service.”

“Give me your sword.”

I unbuckled my belt and laid it, with sword and misericord, on the bare floor, then took my knife from my boot, and dropped that too. Now I had no defense save a silver tongue. One of her guard took the weapons to her desk.

“I think we must stop threatening the Emperor’s Messenger,” she said, in Morenzian, and the men removed the bolts from the runnels and lowered their crossbows. “You can leave us now, but wait in the lower room and come quickly if I call. I have much to discuss with Comet, so let there be no interruptions.”

The men filed out, creaking the floorboards and with many curious glances over their shoulders. I realized what a weird figure I must appear to them. Apart from my exquisite good looks, I was by now more sharp-set and unshaven, with my damp flight-knotted hair and cat-eyes. The Hacilith men wouldn’t wear a silk shirt in the middle of winter. They were two hundred years too late to understand my pewter Wheel brooch but they recognized what was previously a gang patch as Comet’s standard. Even the corvine lady behind Ata looked apprehensive, as if she thought that a man capable of flight was capable of any feat. I bowed to her.

“I had better introduce you,” said Ata. “This is Carmine Dei, the harbormaster of Hacilith Moren, and my daughter. Before the storm she brought Hacilith’s ships to the island, the soldiers San sent her, and several hundred men we employed in the city. The Governor is unaware of the thugs missing from his streets. So our new fyrd are not as finely drilled as the Awians but they do know which end of a crossbow faces outward.”

“I see you have a veritable host here,” I said.

“Aye, at present. Carmine, you’ll have heard of Jant Shira: mad, bad and a pain in the neck.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” said the human, resting her heavy crossbow at her hip. I understood that nothing would end her support of Ata, but I wondered whether her loyalty was freely given.

Ata dragged a chair away from the wall so I could rest. She took her seat, and her phlegmatic daughter guarded the window. I twisted the chair to see her; being shot from behind without warning was for some reason worse. Ata lit two oil lamps on the table, which gave a comforting yellow glow. “We could hear you flying,” Ata said. “Your wings make an awful din.”

“Thought it was too dark to hear me,” I muttered.

“Start from the beginning,” she said.

“You’re mortal now, Ata Dei.”

“Start at the start and tell me something I
don’t
know!”

“San decrees that you will be the next Sailor. You will rejoin the Circle when your campaign is complete.” I passed her the correspondence; she sliced the seal and read it.

“No. This must be wrong…Jant, the Emperor wants to kill me! I must become Eszai
first
.”

“You can’t possibly make it to the Castle! There’s thousands of Insects in the way!”

Frustrated, Ata examined the letter. “This is practically a death warrant. Fight Insects as a Zascai? Without the Circle to support me if I’m wounded, Jant? Succumb to little cuts and bruises when so much is at stake?”

This woman, adulteress, murderess, was jealous with her own life. I had an idea that San wanted Ata to face Insects on a par with the mortals whose lives she played with so dispassionately.

“Jant, you wouldn’t be in the first line if you were a Zascai. You’d run away!”

“Insects bite immortal flesh too.” I hid my resentment with a shrug. “Remember the last Hayl was ripped apart at Slake Cross? The Circle was no protection then! If you want immortality, you have to accept San’s rule.”

Ata collapsed into her chair. “And fight for his favor. Yes, I must…I will. A risk of death to gain immortality…Eternity is worth it. Do you have any other news?”

I described the wreck of the flagship, her husband’s body preserved at the wheel, and the crosstrees sparkling and dripping with nitid ice.

Ata’s forehead wrinkled with astonishment. “I knew
Honeybuzzard
had foundered on the rocks,” she exclaimed. “I just sent Diw’s men to search for salvage! No doubt they’ll bring him back…Shearwater was from Diw, you know, originally; not from Peregrine at all.”

The room was gloomy now, the seascape outside impervious black. Knowing Ata to be callous, I was not surprised when she showed no grief, though it made me hate her. When every other woman I’ve known would break down and cry, Ata became calm, with steel fortitude. Ice eyes bade me continue, her strong arms folded across her commodious chest. She showed no sign of joy when she heard about Cyan, and guarded her expression when I spoke of Lightning too. Her eyes were emotionless; though there was some strong feeling behind them I could not tell what.

“I felt the Circle strain to hold Shearwater,” she said. “I felt it break and I felt him die. I was right here, in this tower, and I knew what I was looking at. It was just the same as when Hayl Eske died, only this time it felt
good
.

“And the clock’s ticking for me now. So I’m Zascai, but not for long, either way; I’ll be killed, or you will be calling me Mist. I don’t like this weight of time, Messenger; maybe you’ll have the nasty experience yourself one day.”

“I want to know what really happened to Mist.” I braced myself for the tearing impact of a crossbow bolt—none came, but Carmine Dei was holding the bow steady.

Ata still let no emotion betray her. Her smile and her sigh were an excellent contrivance. “Jant, you said you were impartial.”

“I am impartial, but I do know the truth and I need tell it to no one else if we beat the Insects.”

“You’re out of your depth, as the seahorse said to the jockey.” She smiled. “What in Empire could this accusation be?”

I walked to and fro across the room. Movement might untangle my jumbled thoughts. It helped me to put Carmine’s crossbow out of mind and hopefully made it harder for her to aim.

Moreover, the level of cat in my bloodstream was dropping and I was starting to miss it. Withdrawal doesn’t come on immediately but the calm before the storm is a confused paranoia: something is missing, something is not quite right, something awful will happen. Which it will if I don’t soon take a fix. In the dullness of encroaching illness I can’t think properly. I tried to concentrate, swallowing to clear my hearing. Ata realized that if debate grew difficult all she had to do was stall for time and I would turn into a suffering ruin, glad to agree to anything so I could get out of there.

I said, “Mist wouldn’t sail to Lowespass. That’s what started all this. There was no excuse for Mist’s violence and of course he was to blame, but we assumed you were innocent. No one asked
why
he hit you. I think it was because you told him about your affair with Lightning, and Cyan’s origins. A man like Mist wouldn’t know what to do, and maybe he felt that violence would make the problem go away. Instead, you asked Lightning for help. He agreed, because you trapped him eight years ago by seduction. Lightning’s now full of remorse and a desperate admiration—it isn’t love—and he’s losing his nerve when the Empire most needs him. Is all this true?”

Ata shrugged. The lamplight colored her white hair and dress a soft yellow, and gave a pleasing roundness to her face. When she shook her head, every hair was illuminated separately so her appearance changed from young lady to mature woman in a second. Then she gestured to Carmine. “Darling, leave your bow, it’s making Jant shaky.” Carmine complied and, relieved, I continued, convinced by her reaction that I was right.

I sniffed. “You sent Cyan to Micawater, knowing that Mist would attempt to abduct her, as Cyan was now a wonderful tool to use against you. In doing so, he brought Lightning farther into the fight. Damn him, he’s so predictable…”

“As you are.”

“Ata, killing me will not seal your secret while Lightning lives. You may not have planned Mist’s getaway into the terrible storm but he played into your hands there, as well. To escape from Peregrine harbor he had to sail through the strait. And Grass Isle has a tail of rock…He was a brave man to make such a move and he didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“Shearwater’s ship was blown off course and there’s an end to it. Many boats come to grief on that coast. The islanders have been picking wood and bounty from it since time began.”

“Yeah. So Mist had the lighthouse built and I don’t doubt it saved many lives. But the fire wasn’t lit, and you are the only person who could have ordered such an omission. I know because I flew over the lighthouse and it was cold.”

“It’s been a cold day,” she said.

“On these dark mornings the fire’s always stoked; it
never
cools down.”

“Oh, Jant,” she said, expressionlessly. The lamplight made her body a compact dark shape within the diaphanous dress. I ripped my attention away from the curve of her breasts. How confusing can the world be, when murderesses have great breasts?

“So you caused Mist’s death. You extinguished the lighthouse and he ran into the reef.

“And I’m disgusted and repelled by the way you’ve treated Cyan. How can you plot eight years ahead? You planned her entire existence! The purpose of her life was for you to use Lightning to fight Mist. I suppose you let Lightning watch her grow, to secure his love for her. Now she’s fulfilled her purpose and useless to you, what will you do?” I sought Ata’s gaze and held it. “Was every one of your children bred for a reason?”

“Jant…”

“Don’t involve me in these schemes any longer! I only wanted to fly errands and fight Insects!”

“There’s a change from your usual anomie.” Ata smiled. “But if you report such infamy in the Castle it will be your word against mine, and is San likely to believe the word of a junkie?”

I looked away. “Don’t use that expression. San believes the reports I bring in every single day.”

“They’re facts, whereas your tale cannot be proven. Aye, most of the Circle knows Jant is a junkie. Think how it would look splashed all over the front page of the
Wrought Standard
. You would be facing Challengers every day for years! I marvel at your ability to keep the knowledge from mortals. Except Carmine; she knows now, sorry.”

I risked a glance at the harridan, who leaned by the window with a mordacious smirk on her face. As an efficient harbormaster she would be well aware of the trafficking that goes on in the Moren docks and I felt a twist of guilt even though I don’t do that kind of thing anymore. I tried to reassure myself but Ata knew she had hit a nerve. In fact, all my nerves were beginning to jangle.

“You want your drug now, don’t you?” she inquired, guilelessly.

“No. I’m fine.” This will get you nowhere, Ata. I tapped my foot on the floor in a pointless attempt to alleviate the mounting tension. I felt as if all my muscles were starting to compress like springs.

“Go stick a needle in yourself. I can tell you want to. What’s that jolt like?”

It’s the answer to everything, Ata. The Shift, it’s where the Insects are coming from. But of course I didn’t tell her that. “Why are you doing this to me?” I asked plaintively.

Ata glanced meaningfully at Carmine, and changed language to Awian. “Because it’s the first reason why you will tell no one your strange idea that I caused Mist’s death.”

“The second reason?”

“Genya Dara.”

“What do you know about Genya Dara?”

“I know what you did to her. Rape.”

I folded arms, wings, legs tightly and perched on the chair staring at my jiggling foot. Fuck it, fuck it. I was so stupid! How could I have been so possessed? I didn’t understand why the mountain girl should turn up now. She had nothing to do with this. Desolate, I said, “I’m not like my father. I’m not. I do love her.”

Ata’s eyes narrowed in interest.

“It wasn’t rape. Rhydanne sex might seem like rape to a flatlander. It was only a short pursuit; we’re both to blame for the affair. In the Scree culture things are very different,” I added.

“That won’t matter, if Awia learns of it. For all I know, in the mountains you bizarre Rhydanne might chase down girls like deer every day. But people here will not be as understanding. I might just tell Lightning, you know how he puts women on a pedestal. And I will tell your jealous wife; imagine how she would react. With the gates of Micawater and Wrought closed to you—at least for the next couple of hundred years—your life will be more than miserable. Jant, if you slur my name and try to bar me from the Circle I’ll bring you down too. In this situation the Emperor would make examples of us both.”