Impossible Things (8 page)

‘Open the doors,’ Kael said lazily, and the two bewigged footmen glanced at each other.

Kael drew his sword, and before the silken sound had even died away, the doors were open and the major domo was gliding forward ahead of them.

‘Lord Kaelnar Vapensigsson ex Krullus Militis Viscus Saraneus Drax,’ he bellowed, and Kael silently prayed Verak’s horse wouldn’t have another meltdown. ‘Sir Verak Torsis Militis Saraneus Drax. Sir Karnos Atrius Medicus Saraneus.’

His voice echoed around the suddenly silent room. Kael walked his horse forward, Verak and Karnos following in formation. The only sounds in the room were the horse’s hooves and the slide and clank of armour.

Kael kept his gaze on the figure seated on the throne dead ahead. The Mirrored Court lived up to its name, however, and the myriad mirrors reflected the astonished, amused, and in some cases terrified reactions of the courtiers filling the room. Every one of them was dressed in fabrics that cost more than the average worker’s yearly wage and adorned with jewels and gold and intricate hairstyles. Kael knew that the hair on the heads of a lot of these women had initially grown on the heads of much poorer girls.

He was all for putting on a show, but that was just ridiculous.

The Emperor liked to hold court in this room because, aside from its blinding splendour, it rose in a series of steps to a throne higher than most men’s shoulders. This meant that anyone petitioning the Emperor was forced to look up and be reminded of his own smallness.

Which was why Kael had decided to ride in on a huge warhorse.

The Emperor was a man of middling height and slightly past-middling years. He wore a neat goatee, which was the same textured grey as his close-cropped hair, and he tended towards austerely cut clothes in dark-coloured, expensive fabrics. His Empress was a handsome, intelligent and hard-working woman, who had unfortunately failed to give him children. While Kael knew this to be a great source of personal sorrow for the couple, he also knew that the Emperor’s three sisters had given him several nieces and nephews who were all being carefully educated and watched to see who would be the best successor.

His eyes tracked Kael’s progress across the great expanse of floor with no small amount of amusement.

‘Imperial Majesty,’ Kael said, reining in his horse and saluting in a way he rarely had cause to. Right fist to breastplate and then raised ahead of him, in the direction of the Emperor.

Kael might speak to the man as an equal in private, but he wasn’t about to disrespect him in front of the entire court by failing this show of fealty.

‘Lord Krull,’ the Emperor replied. ‘Sirs. Please, I am sure you would be more comfortable on foot.’

Nice try. ‘With respect, Your Grace, we have been travelling for a long while. To remain seated is more comfortable.’

‘Atop a horse?’

‘Were we to sit on the ground we might cause offence, Your Holiness.’

The Emperor actually laughed at that.

‘There are chairs in my salon,’ he said. ‘Would that suffice?’

‘Your Imperial Splendiferousness is too kind,’ Kael said, but he didn’t move to get down from his horse until the Emperor had risen and footmen had opened the doors to his private salon. Then he swung down, followed incrementally later by Verak and Karnos, and marched off after the Emperor, mounting the mirrored steps and ignoring the surprised murmur from the Mirrored Court. Not many people got a private audience with the Emperor.

The door shut behind them, and suddenly the only sound was that of a fire crackling cheerfully in the massive fireplace. The salon was a large room, but it was a manageable sort of large. There were carpets on the floor and the chairs looked comfortable.

They weren’t alone – various aides and servants stood around, but Kael knew they could be dismissed if necessary.

The Emperor gave Kael a look. ‘Splendiferousness?’

‘Too much?’ Kael said.

He shook his head, as if Kael was a naughty child.

‘See our horses are cared for,’ Kael told a man in livery. ‘And find somewhere comfortable for my men to rest.’

‘Is this my palace, or yours?’ the Emperor complained as he took a seat. Kael followed, and then Verak and Karnos did the same.

‘I believe it belongs to the Empire, sir,’ Kael said smoothly.

The Emperor rolled his eyes and made an economical gesture to the servant to do as he was told. ‘You always did like to make an entrance,’ he said to Kael.

‘I can’t disappoint my fans.’

The Emperor snorted, but made another subtle gesture, and a servant began pouring wine. ‘What news from the New Lands?’

Kael unbuckled his gauntlets and tossed them on the floor, where they clattered noisily. The day was cold, and up here the air rarely got warm, but he could have done without a full suit of armour.

‘We found no trace of Venerin in any ship, container, or warehouse,’ he said, and watched the Emperor deflate. ‘The effects of it, yes, all over; and plenty of people offering to sell it to us. But whoever supplies them is pretty damn cunning, sir. Every supplier only knows one link back in the chain, and often not as far as that. We followed one man who collected his supplies from a dead drop. We stationed men there for weeks, but nothing happened.’

‘We thought it must be a different location each time,’ Verak put in.

‘Finally we managed to get someone to speak to us,’ Kael said, and the Emperor was too polite to ask if this was because Kael had used force. Which he had. ‘He said he picks up the stuff from a new location every time, never knows where or when until two weeks before, when the information is passed in another dead drop. The trail just goes all over the place, sir, often going completely dead.’

The Emperor drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. ‘And what about the exports?’

‘Not a word, sir. Nobody knew anything about sending it abroad. We checked every damn ship coming in and out of port, but there wasn’t a trace of it. False holds, concealed barrels, barrels with fake bases … we found lots of other stuff, but no Venerin.’

‘“Other stuff?”’ asked the Emperor delicately.

‘I believe I am still covered by the Privateer Act, sir, while on Imperial business?’

He damn well hoped so, or he’d have to cough up for all the illegally exported silk, tobacco and weapons he’d sold on in the New Lands.

‘Happily,’ the Emperor’s tone suggested anything but, ‘you are. Except for illegal drugs.’

‘Wouldn’t touch ’em, sir. I’ve seen what they can do.’ He hesitated. ‘Sir, one plantation owner … seemed to have a very free supply of Venerin.’

Verak shifted in his chair. Karnos shot him a warning look.

‘Indeed?’

‘But no traces of it going in or out,’ Kael said. ‘We checked every wagon, every barge.’

The Emperor sat upright. ‘You think he’s manufacturing his own supply?’

‘Her, sir. She calls herself the Lady Samara.’

Instantly a flunky appeared with a piece of paper, which he handed to the Emperor. ‘Ah … yes. Looks like you spent several weeks in her region. Exporter of oil.’

‘Very rich exporter of oil,’ Kael corrected, wondering where the hell the man got his information from. ‘The Empire can’t afford to get on her bad side.’

‘Hmm.’ He gestured to another flunky, who brought forth more paper. ‘And did you notice any crops of … ah, no, our Healers say it’s made from mundane herbs …’

‘But can’t figure out how it’s treated to create such an effect,’ Karnos rumbled. ‘Sir, they use it in the East. I still think we should be looking there.’

‘The aphrodisiacs coming out of the East might be related to Venerin, but they’re not as devastating,’ the Emperor said, shaking his head.

‘We found some Venerin in Samara’s kitchens,’ Verak volunteered.

‘And did you question her staff?’

‘Slaves, sir. Not staff,’ Kael said darkly, remembering the frightened huddle of skinny wretches. ‘Not one of them could have given you a straight answer. That was the problem all over, sir. Slavery is still rife in the New Lands and there’s nothing to regulate it. You can’t follow a money trail because nearly everything’s generated by slave labour. There are no laws governing how slaves are kept, so they can be beaten and starved into submission …’

‘… which means they won’t answer any questions put to them,’ the Emperor finished for him. He sighed again and gestured for more papers to be brought over. ‘I see. With respect, Lord Krull, if you can’t frighten the information out of them I don’t see who can. I’ll put this to my Council and see what conclusions they can draw.’

Kael knew a dismissal when he heard one. But Verak was giving him a very pointed glance, and he sighed and cleared his throat. ‘There was one more thing,’ he said.

The Emperor looked up from his papers and said, ‘Oh?’ in a manner that suggested he knew what Kael was going to say before he said it.

‘At Samara’s compound we – I – found a slave with the marks of the Chosen.’

The Emperor said nothing, just waited for Kael to continue.

‘Not just one mark, either, sir. She has the mark of a Healer, and that of a Seer …’

This time Kael said nothing and waited for the Emperor to show his hand.

‘A fortunate young woman, to be Twice-Marked,’ said the ruler of the Empire.

Gods damn him. Kael glanced at Verak, who nodded. ‘She also has the mark of a Warrior,’ he said finally.

For a long while the Emperor didn’t respond. Then, very quietly, he said, ‘I see.’

Did he? What did he see?

‘I can’t speak for the veracity of her Seer mark, sir, but I’ve seen her heal herself, and …’

‘And?’ Finally the Emperor looked at him. ‘And? You are Krull the Warlord, the most famous soldier and pirate in the Empire and beyond. Possibly the most famous Militis we have ever had. You can’t tie your shoe without the gossips spreading the news all over the city. I heard about this girl the second she stepped off your ship.’

‘Nonetheless, I considered it a courtesy to tell you in person,’ Kael said, fighting the feeling that he was a boy being told off by his father.

‘Indeed.’ The Emperor glanced back down at his papers. ‘The consensus at court is that it’s some kind of joke.’

‘In that case, then it’s not a very funny one,’ Kael said. He took a breath and said, ‘Her Militis mark is real.’

‘Your professional opinion?’

Kael nodded.

‘I see,’ said the Emperor again. He appeared to think for a while, then said, ‘What does Scipius make of her?’

Kael made a face. ‘He’s not happy about it – but that’s more because she’s blind than because she’s a girl.’

The look on the Emperor’s face was priceless. Kael thought this must be the first time he’d surprised the man.

‘Blind?’

‘Nothing anyone seems able to do about it. Madam Julia says there’s nothing wrong with her eyes or her brain or … oh I don’t know, all that stuff Healers rabbit on about. But the fact is she can’t see.’

‘A blind female Thrice-Marked Militis,’ said the Emperor slowly, pausing between each word.

‘Who is also a Medicus and Aspicio,’ Kael added helpfully.

The Emperor stared into the distance.

‘The gods do have a sense of humour,’ he said eventually.

‘My sentiments exactly.’

She didn’t see night fall, of course, but heard matches being struck, the hiss of something she dimly recalled might have been gas. Somewhere, a bell tolled. Fires had been lit around the room, and from their smell she guessed they were coal, not wood.

‘It’s late,’ Madam Julia said eventually. She’d given Ishtaer a sandwich for lunch, and now told her to get some dinner. ‘You do know your way to the dining hall?’

She hesitated. She’d known this morning, but since then she’d been shepherded from one room to another, offices and meeting rooms and classrooms and now the sick bay, all of them up stairs and around corners and across courtyards.

‘I’ll talk to Sir Flavius in the morning and see if we can get someone to show you around. We have maps for new students, but I don’t suppose they’ll be much use to you if you can’t see.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I’ll show you around,’ a voice said. A new voice, not one of the other Medicus students or one of the patients. A young man, his accent slightly different to the cultured students or poor city-dwellers. He sounded vaguely familiar, but she’d met so many people in the last twenty-four hours, she couldn’t place him. ‘I’ve got loads of free time.’

‘Mr Fillian,’ said the Healer, a slight trace of exasperation in her voice. ‘You do get around.’

‘Astonishingly, yes,’ the young man replied.

‘Do you have no classes to attend?’

‘Too dark,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘And anyway, for some reason I’m not Sir Scipius’s favourite pupil.’

‘He says you’re like a bad ass,’ Julia said crisply.

‘Always turning up,’ agreed the young man. ‘You’re Ishtaer. I saw you last night. You came in with Lord Krull.’

A slight lull in the noise of the ward around them followed Krull’s name, as Ishtaer was learning it usually did.

‘Yes, I did.’

‘I’m sorry, that should be Lady Ishtaer—’

‘No,’ she interrupted. ‘It’s Tyro.’ Then, shyly, ‘I’m told it should be Tyro Ishtaer.’

‘Well, you’re both Tyros, so just get on with it.’ Madam Julia sounded exasperated again, but then this seemed to be her usual state of being. ‘Eirenn, take her to the dining hall, would you? She’s hardly eaten all day. And see if she’s been assigned a room yet. And get her something suitable to wear.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Eirenn said, making a noise that sounded to Ishtaer like a heel click. ‘Ishtaer?’

There was a pause, and then he took her hand and rested it in the crook of his arm, just as Kael had done on the ship. He led her out of the ward, walking confidently but with a slightly unusual gait.

‘This is very kind of you,’ Ishtaer said as he took her down the corridor she thought led to the outside.

‘Not a problem. I’m the Academy’s gopher anyway.’

Ishtaer tried to work this one out. Her face must have showed her confusion, however, because Eirenn Fillian laughed and said, ‘Gopher this, gopher that. I’m the runner. Ironic, really.’

She gave up on trying to work that one out.

‘Why did Madam Julia call you a bad ass?’

He laughed again. It seemed to come very easily to him. ‘Lots of reasons, but an ass is a small coin. You know, if you flip a coin and the wrong side always comes up … it’s a bad ass.’ When she was silent, he added, ‘Sort of a pun. Never mind. If you’re not too hungry, I reckon we should go to Admin first and see about your room. It’s useless trying to get anything out of them after dinner.’

Ishtaer nodded, and he turned a corner in what she thought was the opposite direction from the one she’d come in by.

‘So, you’re from the Saranos? What’s it like there?’

I have no idea.
Vague memories jumbled together in her mind, some half forgotten, some possibly invented. Kael had kept suggesting things to her, and now she wasn’t sure if she’d just agreed to the things that sounded realistic, instead of actually remembering them.

‘Different,’ she said. ‘I—they don’t really have Chosen there.’

‘Yeah? I thought they were part of the Empire now.’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’

‘You grow up there?’

Ishtaer nodded. She bit her lip. Then she said, ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’

‘Fair enough,’ Eirenn said easily. ‘Generally when people ask about where I’m from it’s so they can make fun of it.’

‘You’re not from the Empire?’

‘Oh, yeah, but out in the arse end of nowhere. When my mark manifested the major concern was how the hell they were going to get me all the way to Ilanium. That is, not the major concern, but not far off.’

‘What was the major concern?’ Ishtaer asked politely, because he seemed to have left that one hanging there.

Eirenn laughed. ‘Right. I’m used to people knowing. And if you can’t see …’ she felt the slight breeze of him waving his hand in front of her face, and said nothing. ‘So. Drumroll, if you please.’

Ishtaer didn’t know what he meant by that, so she just said, ‘There’s something wrong with your leg. The … the right one, I think.’

Eirenn was silent a moment. ‘How the frilly heck did you know that? Did Madam Julia tell you?’

‘Why would she tell me? I could tell by the way you walk. The sound of it, and now I’m beside you I can feel that you slightly favour one leg over the other.’

‘I’m impressed. And yes, it is the right leg. Want to take a guess at what’s wrong with it?’

She thought for a moment and listened to a few more footsteps. He walked as if he couldn’t bend his foot or ankle, but she didn’t think he wore a cast or splints, and could sense no injury anywhere. It was possible he had some wasting disease, or had suffered from one as a child, and his leg had needed to be splinted for strength or to keep it straight, but that didn’t feel quite right to her either.

‘It’s a wooden leg?’ she guessed eventually.

Eirenn laughed, the sound one she’d later categorise as admiring. ‘I’m twice impressed. It is indeed. You don’t get many around here. I guess it’s more common out in the Saranos? I mean, if they don’t have Chosen there aren’t Healers, right?’

‘Right.’ She chewed her lip again. ‘What happened?’

‘Rock fall. I lived up in the mountains, you see. Farming. Mostly goats and sheep. The land is practically vertical around there. All it takes is one footfall in the wrong place and half a hill shears off and slides down. Just one goat hoof on the wrong pebble. It was like a river,’ he added, almost wistfully. ‘A river of stones. Beautiful, really. That is, until it landed on me. Then it was less beautiful, and more intensely painful. And like I said, no Healers, so it just got chopped off and I was considered lucky.’

‘Lucky?’

‘Could’ve killed me. Or the wound could have been infected, or … Well, anyway. When my Militis mark appeared a few years later no one really knew what to do with me. Think they were ashamed to send a one-legged boy off to the Academy.’

‘But the Academy accepted you?’

‘Oh, sure. I can fight, you see, I’m good with a sword, although my footwork’s not up to scratch. And I’m ace with a bow and arrow. Strong, too. They said the gods must just have a sense of humour.’

‘They said that about me, too,’ Ishtaer said, and he briefly squeezed the hand she had tucked into his arm.

Eirenn took her to an office smelling of paper and coffee where he charmed a rather brusque woman into assigning Ishtaer, ‘a good room. Not one above the training yard where she’ll get no sleep, not one where the water pump is leaky, one with a good bed. Ah, you’re a star, Augusta.’

Next he took her to a large laundry, where he held up various garments against her until he had a collection he deemed suitable. When a tired-sounding woman asked him what he was doing, he said, ‘I’m outfitting Lord Krull’s protégée. You have heard he has a protégée? Well now, who wants to get on his bad side?’ And the woman left them alone.

‘Whose clothes are these?’ Ishtaer asked as he bundled them into a basket and led her away.

‘The Academy’s. You’re lucky, both Warriors and Healers get through a lot of dirty clothes, so there’s a constant supply to change into. I’ve no doubt you’ll want to go shopping for your own soon, but this’ll do you for now. Don’t worry, it’s all standard stuff, I won’t make you look weird.’

I have hair an inch long and a tattoo on my face,
Ishtaer thought,
I can’t see where I’m going and I weigh as much as a small bag of feathers. I’m pretty sure I already look weird.

He led her back to the main courtyard and then through a set of doors to a smaller quadrangle.

‘There are a couple of sets of accommodation around the place, but they all have the same layout. Three atriums leading off a central courtyard. Each atrium has a lounge, study area and eight bedrooms on the ground floor, and then upstairs there are twelve more on each storey. You’ve got a second floor room,’ he explained as he led her through the atrium, ‘which means more stairs to climb but fewer people thundering past your door at all hours.’

He told her about the central fountain which rose from a square pool open to the sky, and took her past it to a passageway leading back further. ‘There’s a lounge there to your left, and a study room to your right, but if the girls’ accommodation is anything like the boys’, they’re just hang-out clubs for the popular kids. Best avoided until you’ve found your feet.’

Eirenn led her up two flights of stairs and along a corridor, allowing her to count the doors until they reached the right one. He put a key in her hand and guided it to the lock.

‘Housekeeping will have a key to the room,’ he said, ‘but no one else. If you want you can bolt it from the inside, okay?’

He let her go into the room and explore it by herself, silently, carefully, moving about in her own private darkness. There was a rug to muffle her footsteps. A bed touching her shins. It was already made up with blankets and pillows. Beside it was a small locker, and at the foot a chest for clothing. There were also shelves and hooks on the walls. A small fireplace was already laid, with extra coal beside it, and hooks to heat the warming pan and kettle she found on the washstand, beside a large ewer and jug.

‘There’s a water pump at the end of the hall,’ Eirenn said. ‘I’ll show you.’

Ishtaer nodded, dumbstruck. There was one bed in here. She had the only key.

Was this really her room?

‘I know,’ Eirenn said softly behind her. ‘I couldn’t believe it either when I first came here. I’d never had my own room. Never even had my own bed.’

‘And it’s so … it’s so …’

‘A palace compared to the dark little cottage I came from. Dunno what houses are like in the Saranos, but only rich people live like this where I come from.’

Flashes of memory hit Ishtaer like slaps. Lady Samara’s huge bed, hung with silks and velvets; the tiny, covetable cubby where her personal servants slept; the bare floors and dirty straw for the rest of the slaves; the freezing cell …

… and more memories, tumbling over each other, jumbled and incoherent. A small dark room with two clean, comfortable beds; the frills of a silk comforter; rows of iron bedsteads and a small child weeping; the cold pantry floor; a hammock, a ship’s bunk, a ship’s bunk—

‘Ishtaer?’

Eirenn’s voice brought her back to herself with a gasp.

‘Are you all right?’

She nodded, her hands pressed to her stomach, and took a deep breath.

‘Sure, it’s a bit overwhelming at first.’

She nodded again, gratefully.

‘Come on, let’s go and get some food. You must be starving.’

You have no idea
, Ishtaer thought, but she washed her hands and face with water from the pump and followed Eirenn back down to the atrium. She heard a couple of girls giggling, and her heart sank. She knew that giggle. It wasn’t a kind giggle.

‘Eirenn Fillian,’ one of them said, ‘don’t tell me you’ve got a girlfriend!’

‘You know you’re not supposed to be in here,’ said the other.

‘Just helping a friend out,’ Eirenn said. ‘Have you met Ishtaer ex Saraneus Medicus Militis Aspicio?’

He left off the last two words, Ishtaer noticed. The two she didn’t understand.

There was a short silence, then the first girl said, ‘Don’t be stupid, Eirenn. She can’t be Thrice-Marked.’

‘Well, she can and she is, and she’s also got perfectly good hearing,’ Eirenn said, ‘so you can address your remarks to her.’

A longer silence this time.

‘No? Right then. See you around, girls,’ Eirenn said, and took Ishtaer’s arm to lead her away.

‘… has to be fake,’ one of the girls whispered as they left the atrium.

‘Ignore ’em,’ Eirenn said.

‘I’ll try,’ said Ishtaer, who’d been ignoring worse for longer than he could imagine.

He took her back to the dining hall where she’d had breakfast with Kael all those hours ago and helped her navigate the loud, busy room, select a tray of food (‘Is that all? No wonder you’re so thin.’) and find somewhere to sit that wasn’t terribly crowded.

Eirenn proved to be an immensely likeable companion, with a friendly, lilting voice and casual manner of dropping hints and explanations before she quite realised she needed them. He was also a natural raconteur, managing to make everything – from his humiliations on the training field to his days herding his family’s goats – into entertaining stories.

‘So it’s me and this mad nanny goat, right, and she’s squaring off against me, head down, like she’s ready to charge. And I never thought about how big a nanny goat’s horns were before, but my gods, they could do you some damage if they hit you somewhere sensitive, you know what I mean? Although actually, you’re a girl so you probably don’t. Anyway, imagine it. Goat-head height. And she has these glowing red eyes, she’s proper mad. And there am I, backed up against these rocks, and all I’ve got to eat all day is this packet of sandwiches which are in my trouser pocket, and she’s about to charge, and I’m seriously thinking about whether I’d be more upset if she squashed the sandwiches or—ah, bollocks.’

Ishtaer found herself giggling. She didn’t think she’d ever giggled in her life.

‘Ishtaer, in advance, I’m really sorry.’

‘Advance? You’ve already said it!’

‘No – what? Oh, no,’ he said distractedly. ‘I mean I’m sorry for the waste of a Militis mark coming towards us.’