Banner of souls (21 page)

"Yskatarina? Where are you? Why have I not heard from you?"

"You
have
heard," Yskatarina said. "I've sent regular re-ports."

"I need to hear your voice," Elaki said with angry im-patience.

So that you can tell whether or not 1 am lying to you
, Yskatarina thought, and this was precisely why she had not wanted to speak to her aunt directly. She was filled with relief at the thought of the emotional loss that Memnos had given her, and terror that it would show.

"I contacted you," Yskatarina said. "I told you that the Matriarch gave me the whereabouts of the
hito-bashira
, and I made the necessary arrangements. The Matriarch, as I trust you know, is dead. Her predecessor has been reani-mated, and has replaced her."

"I have spoken to the thing. I am pleased, Yskatarina, with what you have done."

A handful of weeks before, such a compliment would have elated Yskatarina for days. Now there was only a merciful numbness. She tried to infuse her voice with an appropriate degree of gratitude.

"Thank you, Aunt. Thank you. And other matters are proceeding well."

"Did you speak to the Mission?"

"I tried, but there was no response."

"Something is wrong at the Mission," Elaki fretted. "I have heard nothing since they sent word to me about the girl."

"Don't worry. I am no more than a handful of yards away from the hito-bashira."

"And you will kill her," Elaki stated. "I understand. You are seeking the best opportunity, even now."

"That is so," Yskatarina lied, as smoothly as she could manage. "That is so."

Earth

Toward noon the heat grew until the reek of weed and dead fish enveloped the junk. Lunae, whom Dreams-of-War suspected of having feigned sickness, grew pale in earnest and now asked to go below—a request to which Dreams-of-War readily agreed. Lunae's absence gave her the opportunity to seek out Sek. It had not escaped her at-tention that Lunae did not like Sek, and Dreams-of-War was not sure what to make of this. Her ward had met so few people, after all—an acquaintance limited to herself, the kappa, the Kami and the assassin (who could hardly be said to count), and the Grandmothers. Perhaps Lunae was simply nervous and defensive… but then again, perhaps not. There was something about Sek that made Dreams-of-War uneasy, something familiar. She resolved to ques-tion Lunae at the next opportunity. A fresh eye, she felt, was often helpful.

Neither had she been told where the Grandmothers had found the captain. Was she under contract to them? An independent operator? Dreams-of-War had tried to find out, but failed.

She located the captain at the helm. Sek squinted out to sea, paying no attention to her visitor.

Dreams-of-War watched her for a moment. Where
did
Sek originate? She did not have the look of a Northerner, though Dreams-of-War knew that the vessel was registered in the Siberian Is-lands. There was something strange about her and yet familiar: an outworld feel that made Dreams-of-War's skin prickle beneath the sheltering cover of the armor. The cap-tain had an almost Martian look to her. Sek seemed sur-rounded by sudden darkness: a star before the abyss of night. Dreams-of-War blinked. Sek was once more the salt-stained sailor in ragged red clothes, rough hands trac-ing the intricate fretwork of the helm.

"I should like to see where we are," Dreams-of-War said abruptly. "Are there charts?"

"Of course." Sek spoke mildly. She ran her palm across a nearby screen. "Here."

Dreams-of-War studied the map that unscrolled itself across the surface of the screen. There, at the far bottom corner, lay Fragrant Harbor: a tiny scattering of islands bi-sected by the wide waterways.

Dreams-of-War touched a finger up the splintered coast to a skein of islands: the southern reach of Hakodate. They were heading for the port of Ischa. She looked through the porthole. The sea stretched before her, untroubled. Dreams-of-War walked to the other side of the cabin. Nothing but water until the far horizon.

"Why can't I see the coast?"

"Because we are too far out to sea," Sek said patiently.

"Why are we not following the coastline? Would it not be safer, given the chance of storms?"

"There are dark-ships that lurk in the inlets and islands. I deemed it best that we sail the open sea."

"Dark-ships? Do you mean pirates?"

"Of a kind. There are marauders all along this coast. They do not seek to enslave or steal; they seek to destroy. They speak of holy waters, of violation by the shipping trade. They come from nowhere, their ships materializ-ing in clouds of mist. They use old, half-forgotten tech-nologies. No one knows much about them. No one would wish to."

Dreams-of-War tapped impatient fingers on the sur-face of the screen. "Yesterday you spoke of Dragon-Kings. What of them?"

"How much do you know of the Dragon-Kings?"

"I believed them to be a myth. I have been doing some research. I now know that they are rare, dangerous, their origins unknown. I also know that they can rise up and cause even the greatest vessels to disappear."

Sek nodded. "Essentially accurate. They hunt alone, emerging from the deep seabed."

"And you said that you glimpsed one on the voyage here?"

"In the distance. A shell was seen. We lowered the sail, which can attract their attention--or so it is said. No one knows for certain. It came no closer."

Dreams-of-War frowned. "Where are we now? Are we anywhere near the place where you saw the Dragon-King?"

"The chart should show the junk's passage. And no, it was farther north."

When Dreams-of-War looked more closely, she saw that this was so. The junk appeared as a minute crimson dot, trailing slowly across the screen like a leaking droplet of blood, leaving a faint wake behind it. Yet she still did not understand why they were so far out to sea. The junk looped away from Fragrant Harbor. It had been Dreams-of-War's understanding that the junk was heading directly for the Fire Islands.

She glanced at Sek, whose face was turned to the sea. Sek appeared as serene as a stone.

"What are you looking for? Land? Or danger?"

"Both, or either," Sek replied absently. "Does your ar-mor give you farsight?"

"It can," Dreams-of-War admitted. "But possibly no better than those binoculars."

"Look through them. Tell me what you see."

Dreams-of-War did so. After a moment, she found the faint line of the horizon and scanned it. The line—darker water, paler sky—was unbroken.

"I see no land. Yet we are supposed to be nearing the southern reaches of Hakodate and I can see no sign of it. I thought I saw smoke this morning. A volcano."

"There is a single peak surrounded by islets. The weather has been gentle. You see for yourself; the water is placid as milk and there has been little wind. We cannot have strayed off course."

"Perhaps your instruments are malfunctioning," Dreams-of-War suggested.

"The crew are checking them now. Did you come here merely to question me about our course?"

Dreams-of-War thought back to that dawn glimpse: the woman with artificial legs spread, the thing poised above her, drilling inward, and was glad that the armor concealed a shudder. "No. I have a question about a woman. I assume she is another passenger and not one of your crew."

"Ah." Sek smiled. "You mean Yskatarina Iye. The woman with the ornamental limbs."

"I did not see her onboard when we arrived."

"That is because she was not here at that point. She ar-rived by speed-scull in the night."

"Just so. This morning—" Dreams-of-War paused, re-luctant to conjure once more the scene that she had wit-nessed. She chided herself for cowardice. "I saw her in one of the cabins. In sexual congress with a—thing."

"That is her companion."

Dreams-of-War stared at her. "You knew about this?"

"How not? It accompanied her on board; it belongs to her."

"But what is it?"

"I have been given to understand that it is a bio-artifact, at once a kind of artistic representation and the repository of her family's memories."

"I have never seen such a thing before," Dreams-of-War said.

"No? Yet it seemed to me that it is in part the same kind of technology as that armor you wear.

Sentient, aware, capable of storing and interpreting information, old memories. Capable of acting independently." Sek looked at Dreams-of-War and a faint smile crossed her mouth, like a ghost's.

"I do not rely upon my armor for sexual gratification," Dreams-of-War said, cold as the sea.

Sek shrugged. "That is your affair. And what Yskata-rina does with her creature is her own business."

"And her arms and legs? An accident? A birth defect?"

"I have not liked to ask. She had her prosthetic limbs shipped aboard shortly after her arrival.

Sometimes they are metal, encrusted with ornamentation; she showed me a pair that end in claws like the feet of a great bird. They can be used for battle. Perhaps you should discuss it with her." Sek turned back to her contemplation of the horizon and reached out a hand for her binoculars.

"But where does she come from? Was she bom on Earth?"
Were you
? Dreams-of-War almost said, but bit back the words.

"I do not know," Sek said blandly. "Perhaps she is from the North. There are many people there who come un-whole from the growing-skins, who are genetically af-fected by ancient disasters. I have seen others like Yskatarina. We all bear our wounds as best we may. It is not my business."

"I can see something," Dreams-of-War said. It was nothing more than a speck, coming fast across the sea. Thoughts of Dragon-Kings, of pirates, of unknown dan-gers raced through her head.

Dreams-of-War touched the helmet control at her throat and in a second, her head was encased within the armor's hood.

"Sight," Dreams-of-War said. Her voice echoed within the confines of the helmet. The visor ratcheted up its mag-nification until Dreams-of-War could see the oncoming thing more clearly.

It was black and shining. Bands of jade light played along its sides, like a small traveling storm.

Something much larger was carried within it: a hunched shape. As she watched, the edges of the cloud split and broke apart, shattering into a thousand whirling fragments before re-forming. It seemed to be a flock of something very small, bearing a thing the size of a human.

"What is
that
?" breathed Dreams-of-War.

Sek grasped the wiring of the helm.

"I do not know!" The words snapped back through the calm air. Dreams-of-War sprinted along the deck, heading for Lunae's cabin.

The cabin was a place of peace. Soft air drifted through the open window; light marbled the ceiling so that the cabin resembled an underwater sanctuary. Lunae was sitting on the bench, reading something on an anti-scribe, and the kappa was occupying herself with a mess of tangled knitting.

"Bolt the porthole," Dreams-of-War ordered.

Lunae looked up in alarm. "What's happening?"

"We're under attack."

"From what?" The kappa was gaping at her.

"A cloud of
things
. Do you know what they might be?"

The kappa's eyes opened wide. "I have no idea."

Lunae was scrambling from the bench, her face fierce. For a moment, Dreams-of-War barely recognized her. "I can take care of it! Let me, Guardian."

"No!" Dreams-of-War said, swallowing a bolt of pride. "It's some kind of swarm; you can't grasp it as you did the assassin. Besides, it's too dangerous. We don't know what the consequences might be."

She pictured Lunae ending up in the middle of the ocean. "We stay here, with the door locked. The crew will take care of it." She hated being left out of a fight.

They waited: Dreams-of-War poised by the door, blades bristling, the kappa holding tightly to Lunae's re-sisting hand. Dreams-of-War closed her eyes for a mo-ment, to listen. There was something whirring overhead, a sound like an orthocopter, shouts, a deafening crashing crack. The junk shuddered.

"What was that?" the kappa quavered. "Is the mast down?"

"How should I know?" It was all Dreams-of-War could do not to throw open the door and run onto the deck. A second later, she did not have to.

The side of the cabin exploded inward in a shower of splinters. In the exposed gap appeared whirling blades, a mass of black propellers. The air was filled with something sparkling and hot. Dreams-of-War thrust her longest knife into the nearest row of blades. Metal shrieked on metal. The front part of the swarm swung up and over, headed downward. She glimpsed the passenger behind, riding on a cloud of knives.

"Armor!" she cried, intending to protect Lunae, but it was too late. The kappa, seizing Lunae by the hand, dragged her through the gap and was gone over the side of the junk before Dreams-of-War could utter a word of protest.

Cursing, Dreams-of-War caught the rider by the back of the hood and hauled it to its feet. It was wheezing, but it stamped and flailed, striking out at her. It spat out a sticky ochre stream that trickled down her armor, leaving molten metal in its wake. It reached no further than the armor's epidermis, but Dreams-of-War was outraged. She tore away the hood to find a reptilian face. A forked tongue snaked out from a mouth ringed with teeth. Dreams-of-War seized the tongue between finger and thumb, armor-servos on maximum, and gave a short, sharp tug. The entire jaw tore away, leaving a bloody, gaping hole.

Dreams-of-War flung the jaw over the side in disgust and peered into the remains. A brain, definitely, but differ-ently lobed than a humans. Dreams-of-War let the thing fall to the deck and rushed to the side of the boat. Sek was ducking beneath the sail, shouting out.

"Princess! See what it's brought…"

Dreams-of-War, hanging half over the rail, ignored her. There was no sign of either Lunae or the kappa, only the churning, foam-flecked sea and something rising from it.

Earth

The kappa moved with such uncharacteristic swiftness that Lunae had been taken aback. As they hurtled through the gaping hole in the cabin wall, toward the railing, she tried to pull free, but the kappa held her hand tightly in a clammy grip. She tried to shift time, but something constricted her throat and brain, sending wire-hot pain through her synapses. She remembered the sudden sparkling of the air—-but then they were over the side of the junk and falling.