Hope and Red (37 page)

“Red's cousin,” said Hope.

“Alash Havolon,” he said, smiling more brightly now that some of the load had been taken from him. “Miss…”

“Call me Nettles. I'm no miss or missus neither. Just Nettles. Keen?”

“Keen?” he asked.

“She wants to know if you understand her,” translated Hope.

“Oh. Yes. Well, I suppose I must seem terribly formal to you.”

“Nah, you're alright.” Nettles turned to Hope. “Not bad on the gander, is he?”

“She thinks you look handsome,” Hope told Alash.

“Oh, er, thanks? And you as well, Miss, er, I mean Nettles.”

“Don't get any ideas, though,” said Nettles. “Or I'll shove that lacy cock of yours up your own ass.”

Alash only stared at her.

“You get used to it,” said Hope.

They carefully walked Red down the narrow stairs into the cabin.

“What happened?” Filler limped over, leaning heavily on a crutch.

“How is your knee?” asked Hope.

Filler shrugged. “'Bout the same.”

“You'd think he'd want to sit this adventure out. But he wouldn't hear of it,” said Nettles.

Filler looked embarrassed. “You needed the hands to crew this ship. My leg ain't working, but I can haul on a rope alright. So what happened to Red? Will he be okay?”

“I
think
so,” said Hope. “I didn't see what Teltho Kan did to him. It seems he just knocked him out to slow me down so he could get away.”

“Which worked,” said Nettles.

“For now. But I have a way to track him, no matter where he runs.”

“So Red'll just wake up and be good as new, right?” asked Filler.

“Probably.” Hope smiled. That's one thing her time on New Laven had taught her. How to lie and smile while doing it. But in this case, it was a kindness. There was no sense in worrying poor Filler any more than necessary. Perhaps Red
would
be fine. Although in Hope's experience, interactions with biomancers were never so simple or so clean.

“Well, Captain, we're ready to set sail,” said Sadie.

She and Hope stood at the helm, the sun shining on the water.

“I think you would be the better choice for captain,” said Hope. “You've done it before.”

“The time I've been on a boat wouldn't add up to half a year. And I've never been on the open sea. It's yours by right and by plain common sense. If you want to give chase to this biomancer of yours, we're with you. But it's you that's got to take the lead.”

“I've never been a leader.”

“It's not a big group. And you might surprise yourself. Here.” She gestured to the wheel. “Why don't you take hold of the helm? Maybe the feel of it in your hands will inspire you.”

Hope gripped the wooden pegs like she'd seen Carmichael do countless times. “I feel foolish.”

“That's just other people's voices in your head tellin' you a woman's got no place as a captain.”

“
You
did it. Red told me the story.”

“And you don't think I felt foolish? That's how it
always
feels when you do something new and bold. You feel as fake as a whore in a temple.”

“So how do you stop feeling that way?”

“You don't at first. You just feel like a fake and do it anyway. But you do it long enough and you don't feel like a fake anymore because you're
not
anymore. Keen? Now, let me hear you call it.”

“Now?”

“Of course.”

Hope took a deep breath. She remembered the way Carmichael would do it. A sound that bellowed from deep within his gut and a tone at once serious and fiercely joyful. “Look alive, wags! Cast us off! Set sail!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” called Missing Finn, bless him.

Hope guided the ship through the harbor, and it was as if she could hear Carmichael's voice overlaying her own, his hands guiding hers. Drem and Ranking, the two men who had caused his death, were now dead. But oddly enough, it wasn't their deaths that gave her peace. It was this moment. Sailing his beloved ship, the wind at her back and the sun in the sky. This was what he'd loved best, and she knew he would have been pleased.

As much as the Vinchen code spoke of vengeance for the dead, she wondered why it never mentioned honoring their life.

“Give me full sail!” she called. The
Lady's Gambit
headed out to the open sea.

The sun still blazed overhead, and the wind tossed Hope's hair as she stood at the helm alone. It was late afternoon, and she'd been at the wheel for hours, gradually feeling more comfortable with it.

“Well, now, haven't you put on the lords?” said Nettles, coming over.

“Put on the lords?” asked Hope. “You just made that up.”

“They don't say that down south?” Nettles looked genuinely surprised. “Like putting on airs, acting all important?”

Hope smiled and shook her head.

“Huh.” Nettles leaned her elbows on the rail and tilted her face up to the sky, closing her eyes against the sun. Hope noticed that it had lightened streaks in her dark, curly hair, and her complexion was brown and rosy.

“The sea agrees with you,” said Hope.

“You think?” asked Nettles, keeping her eyes closed. “I never expected to leave the Circle. Never even thought about it. It was my whole world. But when Sadie asked if I wanted to come up with her, I found myself saying yes before I even realized it.”

“Because you were worried about Red?”

“That's some of it, I suppose. I've spent years expecting to find him dead in the street or else just vanished, so it's habit if nothing else. But this was more than just that. After all, he's got you to keep an eye on him, and you're nearly as sensible as I am.”

“Thank you.”

Nettles nodded. “No, I reckon I started seeing things different that night you and me and Palla worked over Drem's crew. We was quality.”

“We were,” agreed Hope. “How is Palla?”

“Back in the Hammer, still fighting with Big Sig and Sharn for control. Although now that Sig's absorbed Thorn Billy's share, I'd say he's like to come out on top. Anyway, after that night, the Circle started to seem…small. I went back to my job—which I'd always been grateful to have, you understand. But there I was, beating on some tommy who don't know how to treat a whore, and it just felt so bludgeon. Like, what's the point? Keen?”

“You wanted more,” said Hope.

“Yeah. More world. More life. More
me
.” She looked at Hope then, her eyes squinting in the glare, and smiled. “And drown it all, more pissing sunshine!”

The
Lady's Gambit
sailed into a storm just after sunset. Thick black clouds swept over them, flickering with lightning. Thunder cracked like a giant whip in the sky. The wind blew stinging sheets of rain sideways into their faces. They rode up and down swells that were twice as high as the ship.

Hope had been in worse storms. But her crew was inexperienced. Carmichael hadn't had to say much in a storm because his people knew what to do. But Hope had to dictate every action. To complicate matters further, Filler wasn't very mobile, and Nettles and Alash didn't know the terminology. So Hope had to rush around the ship, skidding on the rain-slick deck as she ran from one station to the next, shouting her commands in detail over the roar of the waves.

When the storm finally slackened, and the murky purple clouds dispersed to reveal a bright crescent moon, she was bone weary and hoarse.

“Well done, Captain,” said Missing Finn as the two stood at the helm.

“Thank you. We'll get better at it the more we do it.”

“That we will, Captain. You look dead on your feet. Why don't you let me take the helm for a bit and turn in?”

“Good idea,” said Hope. “The helm is yours, Mr. Finn.”

Finn grinned as he took the wheel. “You was trained by a proper man of the sea.”

“Captain Carmichael was a great man,” Hope said quietly. “Perhaps not a perfect man, but a great one.”

“Ah, if that's all anyone says of me, I'd be content.”

Hope gave him a tired smile. “I suppose you're right.” She turned and headed toward the cabins in the bow.

“Shouldn't you take the captain's quarters?” asked Finn, nodding toward the stern.

“I don't like separating myself from everyone like that.”

“Be a waste, don't you think?”

“You take it, then.”

“Not me, Captain. Wouldn't be proper. I reckon your Captain Carmichael would have agreed.”

Hope sighed. “Fine. But I'm going to check in on Red first.”

When Hope came down to the cabins, it was dark and quiet. Everyone else was still topside. She was happy to be with them all again. More so than she would have expected. But at this moment, she was grateful for the silence and solitude.

She stood over Red, who was wrapped up in his hammock so that only his face was visible. His breathing was strong and regular. He looked peaceful, almost innocent.

Perhaps Hope had been wrong to worry. After all, he seemed fine. Better than Hope in some ways. At least he was getting some rest.

As if the thought reminded her body, a wave of exhaustion swept over her. She should retire to her cabin before she fell over. But she wasn't quite ready to leave Red's side. Last night, sleeping in separate rooms, she'd found it difficult to relax. She had grown so used to him that even in sleep, his presence comforted her. What a strange thing. Maybe she would just sit with him a bit longer.

Yes, that sounded reasonable. She sat sideways in the hammock across from him. It was far more comfortable than she remembered. Had Finn set up new, better hammocks? It seemed unlikely. And yet, there was no denying how nice it felt to sink into it. So much so that she thought it would be even nicer to lay her head in it. Just for a moment, of course. And then she would go to her own cabin. Which was on the other side of the ship. That sounded like a very long journey all of a sudden. Whereas this hammock was very comfortable and had the added advantage of already being underneath her.

She watched Red breathe gently in and out, finding the rhythm of it soothing. A slight smile curled up in the corners of his mouth, and the sight of it spread a gentle warmth through her.

“Me and you,” she whispered, and gently stroked his cheek. “Hope and Red.”

In that moment, with no one around to see, and too tired to fight it any longer, she allowed herself to enjoy the sight of this boy—no, this
man
—who had followed her so far and so faithfully. He had proved his loyalty, his skill, and his courage, yes, but also his generosity and kindness. Her feelings for him were as strong as those she felt for Hurlo and Carmichael, but he was no mentor, no teacher, no captain. He was something altogether different. She did not know what, exactly. All she knew was that when she looked at him, she felt something she had never expected to feel again. She felt home.

28

B
rigga Lin's time had come. Tonight, her two years of training, study, and sacrifice would at last bear fruit.

She stood in the antechamber, waiting to take her turn before the council. She gathered her thick white robe around her, her hood concealing her face. It wasn't just her breasts and genitals that had changed. Her features had softened and refined, becoming more feminine. And after some debate with herself, she'd even decided to allow her hair to grow long. She looked very much like the woman she had chosen to become, and she had to be careful that she did not reveal that prematurely, or else there would be…misunderstandings.

But she was not concerned. So far, her timing had been impeccable. Soon after she completed the final phase of incorporating her new abilities, she'd received the summons for the annual biomancer council meeting at Stonepeak. It had been an obvious sign that the council and the world were ready for what she would reveal to them.

What she was bringing to the council was not merely a weapon, but a means of strengthening the entire order of biomancery. Granted, her methods were unorthodox. But once they saw what she was capable of, she was sure the council would brush aside such provincial, antiquated concerns. They might even invite her to join the council. And at such a young age, wouldn't that be something? Her parents would rue the day they disowned her. When she had revealed herself to them, her father had said, “My son is dead. I have no child.” They had been incapable of listening to her explanation once they had seen her transformation. As painful as the exchange had been, it taught Brigga Lin a valuable lesson. She could not reveal herself to the council until after she had explained the new abilities she had unlocked for biomancers. Once they were awed, perhaps even humbled, by what she could do, they would surely see her transformation with a more equanimous eye.

So Brigga Lin waited in the dimly lit antechamber, forcing herself to remain still, to not pace or wring her hands or show any outward sign of anxiety.

A novice entered the antechamber from the hallway, his hood back, his eyes wild, his robes flapping around his ankles as he walked quickly past her.

“
I
am next before the council!” she growled, grabbing his shoulder.

“I was instructed to bring urgent news to the council from Teltho Kan.” The novice's eyes were fixed on the thick wooden door to the council chamber.

“Kan is not a council member.” Brigga Lin forced her voice to remain low and gravelly. That had also changed to a woman's.

“Even so, I have been instructed,” said the novice.

His gaze began to shift toward Brigga Lin, so she let him go. It was too soon for anyone to look at her closely. “Fine. But be quick.”

She watched the novice pull open the door and enter the chamber. Whatever Teltho Kan's message was, she was confident it couldn't possibly overshadow her own discovery.

“Brigga Lin,” called Ammon Set, chief of the biomancer council, in his dry, dusty voice. “You may present your findings.”

Relief swept through Brigga Lin. The novice had been with them only a few minutes, and then left. She had expected to be called shortly after. But she had been waiting in the antechamber for hours while they discussed whatever news Teltho Kan had sent. It had been so long, Brigga Lin began to worry they would convene for the day. She would have to endure another night of concealing herself from her fellow biomancers. But now, at last, she could show the council, and everyone else, just how far she was willing to go to achieve greatness.

The thick doors opened to reveal the council chamber. It was a large room, mostly bare, with the sandstone floors and walls that comprised the building material for much of the palace. At the far end stood the council, the twelve wisest and most powerful men in the empire. They were all in a row, their hands joined, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods. Their white robes were lined at the hood and cuffs with gold thread, the mark of their high status.

Brigga Lin quelled her anxiety and walked to the center of the room. She bowed low to them. “Masters, thank you for hearing me,” she said, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. It came out oddly raspy.

“Why do you not lower your hood before us, Brigga Lin?” asked Chiffet Mek in his voice like rusted metal.

“My apologies, masters. You will know the reason shortly. I beg your indulgence for just a few moments.”

“Your voice seems changed, Brigga Lin,” said Ammon Set.

“A result of my experiments, masters.” She had expected them to remain passive while she presented her findings, not this immediate questioning. Perhaps keeping her hood up had drawn their curiosity and they were eager to hear what she had to say.

“It happens to us all eventually,” said Progul Bon with a voice like cold oil. “Our work scars both our skin and our voices. If you fear to show us your face because of this, trust that there is no deformation incurred from your work that would horrify us.”

“Thank you, masters. I am here to tell you that I have found the solution to our problems. Not simply a new weapon, but a means of making biomancers themselves more powerful.”

The council members did not outwardly react, but Brigga Lin had not expected them to. As long as their hands were linked, each of their thoughts were immediately known to the others.

After a pause, Ammon Set said, “Indeed? Please elaborate.”

“If you may recall, masters, two years ago you granted me permission to explore the ruins of the temple of Morack Tor.”

“You wanted to bring soldiers,” said Chiffet Mek.

“Yes, and you wisely decided against it,” Brigga Lin said quickly. “I see now how foolish my request was. Soldiers would have only been a hindrance to my search.”

“So you did find something?” asked Progul Bon.

“Indeed, masters. Hidden away in a secret place was an ancient copy of the
Biomancery Praxis
. It was identical to our edition in every way, but there was a final chapter that we have never seen. A chapter which instructs a biomancer how to unlock more power than we have ever known before. And with this newfound power, not even the might of Aukbontar will be able to stand against us!”

Brigga Lin hadn't meant to raise her voice. Now, when she stopped talking, the silence that followed was all the more palpable. Of course they were telepathically discussing this shocking revelation among themselves. She stood and waited patiently, ready to give them as much time as they needed. After all, the revelation of a lost branch of biomancery was earthshaking news. Let Teltho Kan try to top that.

“Approach the council, Brigga Lin,” said Ammon Set.

Brigga Lin could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her heart raced as she moved to stand directly in front of the chief of the biomancer council. She had thought she'd at least be expected to furnish some proof of these new abilities before they invited her to the council.

Ammon Set held out his right hand. “Give me your hand, Brigga Lin.”

She was being allowed to join the silent telepathic conversation. This was even more than she had hoped for. In a moment, her thoughts would be joined with those of the greatest men in the empire.

She took a slow breath and willed her hand not to shake as she placed it in Ammon Set's dry, wrinkled hand.

“Even your hands have become fine and smooth,” said Chiffet Mek, his rusty voice suddenly grating with disgust.

“Masters?” Then Brigga Lin's body froze in place. She could breathe and she could blink, but no more.

“We knew of this final chapter in the
Praxis
,” said Ammon Set. “Because it was Burness Vee who wisely excised it from the book. We know the power a female biomancer could obtain. But no power is worth degrading the order with such vileness by allowing women to join. Others have discovered this knowledge, but none ever became so depraved that they did what you have done.”

He reached out and pushed back Brigga Lin's hood to reveal her face. The features had become finer, her skin smooth and soft. Her lips had become fuller and more expressive. Her long black hair was thick and glossy as it spilled onto her shoulders.

“Disgusting,” said Chiffet Mek.

“Let us see how far you have gone,” said Progul Bon.

Ammon Set held up one finger and touched her robe at the collar. He slowly traced a line from her left collarbone, down across her left breast, all the way to her thigh. As his finger traveled down her body, it cut through cloth and into flesh, so that the white robe split open and revealed a red line on her bare skin, welling up with blood. He then did the same thing down her right side, so by the end, her robe was in tatters, exposing her naked, blood-streaked flesh. Her breath came out in harsh gasps, since she could not even cry out.

“You did a thorough job of it.” Progul Bon drew back his hood to reveal a face melted like softened candle wax as he gazed at her with watery eyes. “A complete gender change from head to foot. It's impressive.”

“It's an abomination.” Chiffet Mek pulled back his hood to reveal a face threaded and patched with bits of metal. He spat on Brigga Lin's bare breast, the saliva mixing with the blood as it ran down her abdomen.

“It is heretical,” said Ammon Set. “An example must be made so that no one else is foolish enough to repeat these loathsome actions. Take this…creature to the dungeon to await sentencing.”

Brigga Lin didn't know how long she'd been in the dungeon. They'd thrown her in an unlit cell just large enough to let her sit, but not lie down. The tattered remains of her white robes stuck to fresh wounds with newly dried blood. Every time she moved, the fabric tore open the wounds.

She didn't know why they hadn't already executed her. The Iron Spider seemed a likely candidate. Or the Mountain Seat. But perhaps they wanted to invent an entirely new means of execution, just for her. She'd witnessed that happen once before. A classmate of hers during her novitiate named Speld Mok had lied about his lineage in order to get accepted into the order. When the council found out, they severed his legs at the knees, to illustrate how much lower born he was than they were. Then they made him walk through the rocky paths of the palace gardens on his ragged stumps until he died of blood loss. They'd named this new form of execution Mok's Journey. Brigga Lin wondered if there would be a form of execution named after her.

But so far, it seemed they were content to let her rot down in a dark hole beneath the palace. Perhaps they would starve her to death. It seemed almost too much to hope for. Starvation was a gentle death compared to typical biomancer execution techniques. But Brigga Lin hadn't heard a single soul since she'd been locked up. Not even other prisoners. Perhaps that had been on purpose. After all, they knew what she could do. And she'd been so sure that would convince them. She had been a fool.

No,
they
were the fools. Foolish, cowardly old men whose time had come. She would make them pay for what they had done to her. Somehow. She would escape and grow stronger. Then she would return to wreak vengeance on the council. On the entire order.

She repeated this vow to herself many times. She didn't know how many, exactly. Or how long she'd been locked up. More than a few hours she was sure. But a few days? She had no idea. Unable to lie down, she'd only dozed here and there. But for how long? She had no way of knowing. No daylight reached her cell. No warden came to deliver food. There was no light and no sound. Nothing changed.

Then, finally, she heard something. At first the sound alarmed her, although she couldn't say why, exactly. Perhaps any sound would have. Gradually, she realized that it was footsteps. Two pairs of footsteps.

“Do you think they really found a survivor?” came a wheezing voice.

“I think
they
think so,” said an amused-sounding second voice. “But whether Teltho Kan is right, who knows?”

They were getting closer.

“We'll know soon enough, anyway,” continued the second. “Kan's due to arrive at any time.”

“Already? Wasn't he coming from New Laven?”

“I heard he's being chased by some Vinchen who's vowed to kill biomancers. A female, no less.”

“A female Vinchen?”

“That's what he said in his message.”

“Can't be all that dangerous, then. Only a female.”

They were definitely coming closer. And after making statements like that, their deaths would not weigh much on her conscience.

A light appeared, painful and blinding after her prolonged darkness.

“Alright, you. Time to eat.”

All she could see were two shadows cast by a blazing torch. She heard a panel slide open in the door and felt a tray press against her leg. She needed to be able to see them. If they left before her eyes adjusted, it would be too late. She took a slow breath, forcing herself to remain calm as she waited for her vision to clear.