Leviathan's Blood (17 page)

‘You sure know a lot about them,’ Bueralan said. ‘For a man who is not one of them, that is.’

‘I read, baron.’

Since then the cartographer had never been far from him. It was as if, in the words that the two had said, an unspoken truce had been called. Bueralan had not agreed to it and did not like the
assumption that had been made by the other man, but if he was god-touched –
if
Ger had done something to him beneath Mireea – it was better to have the old man around than to
leave him and his words as a niggling doubt in his mind. Besides, and this Bueralan admitted to himself as the rain-slicked docks drew closer, he could do nothing to stop Orlan. The cartographer
had proved that to him since he had first met him. Better instead to keep the old man close and focus on what he had come to do.

The leather pouch that held the crystal against his skin was cold. For his whole life he had stood outside the Mother’s Gift, but he would not turn away now. He would hold the dark cold
bottle that the witches created and he would feel the thick blood move sluggishly inside. His mother had called it a barbaric practice and he did not doubt her. What concerned him now was how he
would achieve it.

When
Bounty
touched the docks and the ropes were uncoiled, Bueralan Le prepared himself to step onto shore, unable to do otherwise.

The Keepers met in a large curved room in the middle of the Enclave’s twisting shape. Dark, heavy oak doors enclosed the long room from west to east and between those
doors, beneath white walls and their narrow windows, lay a long table. It was held aloft by six pairs of stout legs larger than Ayae. It had been crafted from a wood darker than the doors, and the
polish added another layer of darkness to it, leaving it a deep mix of black and brown, the combination of which bordered on red when the afternoon’s sun came through the windows, as it did
now. Around the table were twenty-five high-backed chairs, similar in their colouring.

Ayae had arrived early in the company of Xrie. The last had been accidental: she had met him as she walked to the Enclave. He had asked her how Faise and Zineer were, told her that a new
shipment was due to go to Wila at the end of the week and, before they entered the Enclave, told her that she was being followed by two Empty Sky soldiers. She told him politely that she knew. The
two soldiers had not bothered to hide themselves. None of them did, any more. They appeared on streets next to her, passed her and Faise and Zineer in markets, and rode in carriages when one or all
three of them were in them. In fact, it had become so prominent that Faise and Zineer no longer went anywhere without her.

She did not tell Xrie that, however. It was likely that the Soldier already knew – he knew about her meeting with Eira, for example – and after they entered the meeting room, Ayae
put the thoughts of her friends aside. The Empty Sky were not important for her right now. Now, she had to see if there were others who would support her in having the Mireeans released. The Cold
Witch clearly would not. With that in mind, she watched the Keepers who entered.

For their part, the Keepers did not spare her much of a glance. Instead, each of them stared at the vacant chair beside her. It looked much like the others in shape and design, from the high
back to the grey cushion on it, but it was not until Xrie leant over and told her that it was intended for another new arrival to Yeflam that she understood the curiosity. Her immediate thought was
that the chair was for Zaifyr, but by the time Aelyn Meah and the remaining Keepers had filed into the room and Zaifyr had not appeared, Ayae had reached the conclusion that it wasn’t.

‘We have a full schedule today.’ Aelyn sat at the head of the table. Beside her was Kaqua, the Pauper, a tall, dark-skinned man. Ayae had not met him, but she knew he was the one who
was organizing Zaifyr’s trial. ‘There is a lot of news and a lot of information to cover,’ she continued. ‘The month has been busy.’

‘I want to discuss Qian.’ It was Eira who spoke. She sat four or five seats away from Ayae, but had not looked at her since she entered the room. ‘His trial should be first on
our agenda.’

‘We will discuss my brother in time.’

‘Why must we wait? It is the only topic that we have to discuss.’

‘Eira,’ Kaqua said, his voice soft and calm. ‘It will be done. But you know as well as I do that there are other interests to address first. Paelor, if you would please
begin.’

A white man in trapper’s leathers who smelt of forest damp rose from beside Eira. He had dark hair and a beard streaked with grey. His hand, as he spoke, never left it. ‘General
Waalstan has had success in the Kingdoms of Faaisha,’ he began reluctantly. ‘His Faithful have torn through the eastern side of the kingdoms. Their most emphatic victory was in Celp,
the largest city in that part of the kingdoms. It was protected by Marshal Faet Cohn. I would have thought that he would give Waalstan more of a fight, but he lasted no more than five days. By the
time I arrived, the battle was over and little remained of the city. The insides of Celp were awful. The stories we have heard about cannibalism and slavery are very evident, I am
afraid.’

‘The priests here deny that,’ Kaqua said. ‘They say that they are Mireean lies.’

The other man pulled at his beard uncomfortably. ‘The bones tell no lies about the first. As for the fact that they’re selling their prisoners as slaves, well, I saw one chain being
led down to Leera myself. It’s possible that they could be used for something else, but from what I heard being said by the soldiers and prisoners, I’d easily believe that they were
being sold. It is true that the Faithful are not slavers in their blood, not like the people of Ooila or Gogair, but they need the coin. Their army is made from what they had. They have no trade to
fall back on, no resources. They have spoils – spoils to pay for supplies for their soldiers’ food and weapons and supplies for the priests who travel, but the spoils will not be
enough. I think we will also begin to hear soon that they have gone into the Plateau to take Tribesmen to sell as well. That’s why Waalstan struck so hard at the east before he broke up his
force.’ He shook his head and pulled his hand free. ‘General Waalstan is not a fool. We shouldn’t underestimate him. He knows that if he keeps a single force, the marshals will
force him into a siege and starve him out. He has already divided up his forces—’

‘That is enough, Paelor.’ Eira laid her hand on his arm. ‘I will not sit here and listen to what is a farce of news. We have reached our truce with Leera. We have allowed their
priests and their propaganda into our streets. We have all agreed on that, so there is no point in debating whether or not the Leerans have our morals. Especially not when we could be discussing a
man who threatens all of us.’

‘The world around us is our concern,’ Kaqua said evenly. ‘We are all aware of your loss, Eira, but it does not mean we can ignore the rest of the world and our place in
it.’

‘What is to say he will not do the same to us?’

‘He will not.’

‘I do not believe you. More than that, I have heard how my love died!’ She rose from her seat angrily. ‘Have you? Have you asked this tiny flame what he did?’

‘I know what he did. Have you forgotten that I speak with him every week?’

‘Have you forgotten who you are?’

‘Eira,’ Kaqua said. ‘Surely you do not question my loyalty?’

‘Why is there no trial?’ She almost shouted the words across the table. It caused the other Keepers to flinch back, as if her fury was a physical force. ‘Why do we delay his
execution?’

‘Eira.’ Aelyn, now. ‘You do not know what you ask.’

‘I ask for justice and I think I deserve it. We all do. We have all been patient while you and Kaqua have asked Qian what kind of trial he would like. We have watched you bow and scrape to
him so that he is not upset. We have been patient but our patience is at an end. He is guilty of murder. He
must
be punished for what he has done.’

‘Don’t be foolish, child.’ For all that Aelyn claimed she did not rule the Enclave, Ayae could not help but note that her words left Eira chastised. ‘My brother will not
allow you to kill him,’ she continued. ‘I know you want justice for Fo and Bau and I know it frustrates you not to have it. But you must understand that he is not here to be tried. He,
in fact, cannot be tried. Perhaps Kaqua and I have made a mistake in not letting you all meet him, not letting you see what he is. Perhaps it is my own fault for how I conduct myself. You have all
decided that he is your equal, but he is not. He is beyond your rule.’

‘You once imprisoned him,’ Eira said.

‘I did not do that alone.’

‘You could do it again,’ Eira insisted. ‘We could do that. For his crimes, we could at the very least return him to his crooked tower.’

‘He’ll not go there,’ Ayae said. She did not know why she spoke. She should have remained silent and let the argument between the two finish, if it could. ‘He’ll
never go back there. But why don’t you just listen to what he has to say? He is only interested in telling you about the child. That is why he wants his trial. He wants you to hear what she
is. He wants you to stand with him against her. He has even written to the rest of his family.’

‘Which brings us to the chair you have all been staring at,’ Aelyn said. ‘You talk about Qian as if he is a single being, but he is not. He has brothers and sisters. I am one,
but you will find I am the only one who will support you. The others – well, the others will not, no matter their relationship to me. The one who has arrived today will definitely not. In
truth, he has been here for days already, listening to each of you, drawing his own conclusions, making his own plans. His little birds have fluttered around the Enclave. A dog has walked into the
Yeflam Guard’s barracks. An ox-drawn cart sat alone on a road near here for hours. Yes, I can see that you are all suddenly aware who has arrived.’

The silence that fell around the table surprised Ayae. Many, she saw, glanced at the chair with apprehension, as if, suddenly, a terrible fear had been made real.

‘I want you all to listen to me,’ Aelyn said, her voice without pity. ‘I want to be very clear to all of you. You must all accept that we are not equal. I want there to be no
misunderstanding in this regard. Jae’le is here. He is in Yeflam. You know the names he has. You have heard the stories about what he has done in his life. Not a single one of them is a lie.
Not a single one is an exaggeration. And neither is this: Jae’le will never allow you to execute Qian.’

‘Who wrote this one?’ Faise asked as he entered the room. ‘I can’t read the name – I don’t know the language.’

Zaifyr paused in the doorway and stared at the old, thin book she had picked up. It had been sitting on the pile near the windows at the back of Aelyn’s estate and the afternoon’s
sun fell strongly over it. For a moment, the glare hid the title of the book, the print on its leather cover faded even more than usual beneath the glare. ‘Sister Meliana,’ he said,
when he could make it out. ‘She was a priestess for the goddess Linae before the War of the Gods. This is an Ooilan translation of her diary.’

‘Do you want to keep it?’

‘No.’ He indicated the pile by the door he had just passed, the pile of books that had failed to provide him with useful names. ‘The diary was damaged when it was originally
found,’ he said to her, picking up another book. ‘It was just weather damage, but the villages in the Broken Mountains were considered cursed after Linae’s death and it was
centuries before someone entered the area. I thought maybe a name I could use would be there, but it is mostly a list of births and deaths and the number of eggs that the chickens laid.’

‘Meliana herself is not useful?’

‘No, she died before the Wanderer fell.’

‘She could have been reborn,’ Faise said, returning the book to the pile. ‘Could you not look for her, then?’

‘If she was reborn, it would not be identically. She would be shaped by what she was born into in a new life – and it would be that life that her spirit remembered, nothing
else.’

He continued towards the piles by the walls, on the other side of Faise. Since he had killed the priests, Zaifyr had not left Aelyn’s house. Instead, he had spent the weeks gathering books
from libraries and stores and focusing on his search, which had so far, he admitted, revealed little. He relied on Ayae and her friends – and to a lesser extent Kaqua – to tell him what
was happening outside, a task that only Ayae took to the most. She looked at the piles he had made, the research he had sunk into, and he knew she saw the search as a retreat because of what had
happened with the priests. He had not been surprised yesterday when she suggested cleaning up the books, a task that Faise and Zineer had taken to after Ayae had left earlier.

‘By the way,’ Faise said, taking another book. ‘Do you have children of your own?’

‘No.’ It was not the first question she had asked like that. Indeed, before he entered the back room where Faise was, Zaifyr had been upstairs in the piles he kept strewn through the
room he slept in. There, Zineer had asked how many wives he had had. He took both of their questions good humouredly, for he enjoyed Faise and Zineer’s company. He found them sharp and
capable and, in the days after he had killed the priests, he found them, more than anyone else, to be the antidote to what he was feeling. ‘I have never heard of any of us having
children,’ he said. ‘Even gods didn’t have children. When they had a child, it was just an aspect that split from themselves, a metaphor from the original, I suppose. Most of us
assume that we can’t.’

‘Does everything still work? You’re not, y’know—’ she made a dangling finger motion.

He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be more modest or something?’

‘No. In fact, I am writing a book on the juiciest details of immortality,’ she said blandly. ‘Zin and I plan to sell it at the trial.’

‘We’ll make our fortune out of you,’ Zineer said, entering the room. He carried a stack of books and on his shoulder was a bird. ‘This ugly little guy knocked on the
window to come in, if you can believe that.’