The Long War 01 - The Black Guard (30 page)

One of the other men saluted him and motioned towards Zel. ‘The slave tells us that the enchantress will see you, sir,’ he said, glad to be able to turn away from Zel’s serene gaze.

Lorkesh stood, leaning against the open ledge and breathing heavily from the ascent. The way he averted his eyes from looking down made Zel think the man was uncomfortable with heights. He puffed out his chest and turned to Zel. Lorkesh was a rather fat man, not as vigorous as a guardsman should be, and his world-weary features suggested someone built for wit rather than action.

‘You’re slave to the enchantress?’ he asked. ‘But you’re a Kirin.’ He raised his eyebrows at Zel’s mixed lineage.

‘Indeed, sir,’ Zel replied. ‘I see the guard of Kessia are ruthless in their pursuit of truth.’

Lorkesh was uncertain whether the slave was trying to be funny, but made a slight grunt and dismissed the comment.

‘Very well, show me through to your mistress.’ He leant in close to one of the other men. ‘What’s this one called?’

‘Saara the Mistress of Pain, sir,’ the guardsman replied.

‘Wonderful,’ Lorkesh said ironically, as he followed Zel into the apartments, his breathing now more shallow and regular.

Saara still sat on the couch, her legs crossed and several inches of thigh showing under her dressing gown. She smiled as Zel and Lorkesh entered and beckoned for the guardsman to come closer and sit opposite her. Zel remained by the door, closing it with a thud that made Lorkesh jump.

‘Please, have a seat,’ Saara said in her sensual, lyrical voice.

Lorkesh was making some effort to not look at the enchantress as he nervously crossed the apartment and sat.

‘Right, your… Sister-ness, ladyship… er, hello.’ He smiled slightly. ‘A man we believe to be Larix the Traveller of the wind claws was found dead beneath your balcony some time ago. I obviously need to ask you some questions,’ he said with practised discretion.

The guardsmen of Kessia were professional men, neither nobles nor slaves, and maintained order in the dangerous city. Lorkesh clearly took no pleasure in talking to Saara, but his oath as a vizier’s man made it impossible to overlook the death of a wind claw and the presence of an enchantress.

‘You have need of answers and I will provide all the answers you need,’ Saara said quietly.

Zel once again saw her moving her hands as she breathed out and began to work her enchantment on Lorkesh. The guardsman looked up involuntarily and a faraway look flowed across his face. He was not a wind claw and his resistance was minimal. There was no pain and no attempt to break away, and the effect, when it came, was subtle.

Saara leant forward and said, ‘The man you seek is Dalian Thief Taker, he betrayed his brother and threw him from a window of this building before he fled into the city.’

Zel was a little surprised at this, but eagerly awaited his mistress’s next words.

‘You will assemble the necessary squad of men and arrest the Thief Taker; if he resists, you will kill him; if his brother wind claws attempt to intervene, you will kill them too,’ she said through pursed lips and with her eyes closed. ‘You have spoken to several residents in this building, all of whom confirm that the Thief Taker was here with Larix shortly before his unfortunate death.’ Saara opened her eyes and smiled at the blank, compliant look that covered Lorkesh’s face. ‘Is this clear?’ she asked with less seductiveness and more authority.

‘It is clear,’ he responded, speaking in a monotone.

‘You may leave and go about your work now,’ Saara concluded with a wave of her hand.

The guardsman stood up in one jerky movement and walked blankly away from the enchantress. His eyes blinked slowly, and Zel thought he was gradually regaining his senses as he opened the door and left the apartment.

Zel walked over to stand before his mistress. ‘Shall I lay out some appropriate clothes for your appointment at the Well of Spells, mistress?’

She considered this for a moment before saying, ‘Yes, I believe I’ll wear something blue today.’

* * *

Kessia was built in a series of walled circles, stretching out from the imperial compound and the Tower of Viziers at its centre. The first two circles were home to the richest merchant princes and most influential mobsters, housing them in opulent luxury, surrounded by slaves and armies of paid guardsmen. The third and fourth circles were for the less well-off, and by the outer wall of the fourth circle the sprawling rainbow slum stretched across the arid plain.

Class was everything in Kessia, and these Karesians would spend as much time amassing a fortune as looking over their shoulders to make sure no one was planning to take it from them. It was a paranoid city which lacked the strict laws of Tor Funweir and the honour-bound traditions of the Freelands.

Zel tried not to have too many opinions, preferring to rely solely on what his mistress instructed him to think; however, he disliked the capital and the pervading aura of fear that hung over it. These Karesians had no time to relax and enjoy their lives. Nor could they raise their families in any kind of positive atmosphere. At all times, the people of Kessia were obsessed about their place in the larger order of things and how someone might be trying to do them out of it.

The Well of Spells was situated in the middle of this carousel of status and fear. It was one of three buildings that dominated the central piazza of Kessia, the others being the imperial palace and the Tower of Viziers. The Well was home to the Seven Sisters, and only they and their servants were permitted to enter. It exercised the highest authority in Karesia, though Saara had frequently instructed her slave to keep this knowledge secret, as the common citizenry preferred to believe that the wind claws and the high vizier held the power. In reality, nothing happened in the vast lands of Karesia without one of the Seven Sisters willing it to happen.

The Well was small compared with the huge white marble palace and the lofty tower, but no less significant for its subtlety. The architecture was strange, not employing the clean, rounded lines of traditional Karesian buildings, and no balconies, minarets or open terraces could be seen. It formed a heptagon with a featureless grey wall on each side, possessing no doorways or windows. Looking up, Zel had always found the castellated rooftop five storeys from the ground more reminiscent of a Ro fort than a Karesian building, and the Well was rugged and somehow more solid than the neighbouring buildings.

Saara was wearing her customary black robe, chosen to keep her identity a mystery as she walked amongst the people of the city. She enjoyed the anonymity and Zel often saw her smiling to herself as they passed guardsmen, wind claws and others who would have been shocked to see an enchantress in their midst.

She didn’t stop as they approached the Well of Spells, causing passers-by to look with interest at the woman who stepped closer to the building than most would dare. The area immediately around the Well was always deserted, for people feared to step too close and risk the Sisters’ wrath. With her slave close behind, Saara strode across the empty ground and stopped within a few feet of the featureless wall.

With a dozen or so of the people of Kessia watching, Saara held out her hand for Zel to take. The slave complied and she cradled it tenderly before closing her eyes and willing the two of them inside.

Zel had been transported inside the building several times in the past and was always disappointed that he never got to see the reactions of the common citizenry when they saw a woman and her slave vanish before their eyes.

Within, the Well of Spells was radically different from its outward appearance. Sparkling white columns emblazoned with arcane symbols circled an open central yard, and the darkwood tree in the centre was well maintained and tended by a stone golem. The golem was large, over seven feet tall, and possessed shining red eyes. It was constructed to be a facsimile of a man, but had no features save for a rudimentary mouth, and its limbs were huge with stone hinges replacing the joints. The building in which it lived had no interior walls and was spacious and airy, with a permanent and barely perceptible chime in the background.

The golem rose from its crouched position at the base of the tree and moved, in a jerky fashion, across to Saara. The creature had been constructed long ago by the first of the Seven Sisters to serve all those who came after. Zel found the construct fascinating and enjoyed talking to it when he had the chance.

‘Mistress of Pain, welcome. Zeldantor of Lislan, welcome,’ the construct said in a rumbling voice that echoed from all around the building. ‘You are expected.’ The stone golem slowly turned back to the tree and loudly returned to its work.

Saara and Zel walked round the outer line of pillars to a raised platform against one of the seven walls. The Mistress of Pain was the eldest sister and, as such, held the high chair and was responsible for all of the enchantresses’ designs.

As they walked up the white steps to the high chair, Zel could hear the golem talking to itself. ‘The Sisters meet. What will they discuss? The Sisters meet. We tend the tree while the Sisters meet. We will be quiet and the tree will be cared for.’

‘Mistress,’ Zel said, as Saara took her seat, ‘how much does the golem know… about the world outside, I mean?’

Saara smiled warmly at her slave. ‘The golem has been here for as long as there has been a Well of Spells and, in all of those hundreds of years, it has never ventured outside. I don’t think it’s even aware of the lands of men. It lives only to maintain the tree and to protect the Well from those who would seek improperly to gain entrance.’

Zel had often wondered about the darkwood tree that stood in the centre of the Well of Spells. He had even asked Saara about it, confused about her birthmark and the significance of the tree. In response she’d always spoken vaguely about a dead god; the tree was the last remnant of lost divine power –
the priest and the altar
, she had often said. In fact, she had once told Zel that the place of his birth, deep in the forests of Lislan, had been peopled by Kirin who revered a similar tree. Zel knew that this was part of the reason he had been selected to be a slave to the Mistress of Pain, but the exact details about the tree and the god it symbolized had never fully been explained to him.

The tree was black and gnarled, with a thick trunk and a strangely squat appearance. The only branches it had protruded directly from the top of the trunk and snaked out in an irregular fashion, creating the impression of black, writhing tentacles.

The golem rose to its feet again and several slight distortions appeared in the air around the outer edges of the Well. Two more of the Seven Sisters appeared and were approached by the golem.

‘Isabel the Seductress, she is welcome to the Well of Spells,’ the Golem said to the younger of the two enchantresses. It then moved jerkily to the second woman and said, ‘Shilpa the Shadow of Lies, she is also welcome to the Well of Spells.’

Isabel and Shilpa both bowed with deep respect towards, first the Golem, then the seated form of Saara. Neither of these women had slaves and Zel was again reminded of the fact that he was unique, being the only man ever to have become slave to one of the Seven Sisters.

Saara rose from her chair and crossed the open space to greet her younger sisters. The greeting was formal at first, with each sister bowing respectfully, but the mask cracked quickly and the three women shared smiles and hugs of genuine warmth.

‘It has been, what, three years since we met as a group?’ Saara asked her sisters.

‘I think four of us met last winter,’ replied Isabel, ‘though my memory may be faulty.’

Shilpa nodded and said, ‘Yes, that sounds right. Last winter was when Ameira and Katja left for Ro Tiris.’

Saara laughed a silvery peal of amusement. ‘Ah, yes, I remember Katja complaining about the need to go somewhere so cold.’

‘It’s Ameira I feel sorry for, she’s been with the men of Canarn. That land is cold
and
uncivilized. At least Katja has been afforded the comfort of King Sebastian’s hospitality in a civilized land,’ responded Shilpa, as she joined in her elder sister’s laugh.

Zel was struck with how similar the three women appeared. All were tall, with lustrous dark hair and curvaceous bodies. Isabel was a little younger and had a playful glint in her eye; Saara had deep green eyes that stood out next to the blue eyes of the other two, and Shilpa possessed a languid grace, as if she were always dancing as she moved. Saara had no facial tattoo, a privilege of being the eldest sister; the other two both had intricate patterns in black ink across their left cheeks. Shilpa’s was a series of birds in flight, and Isabel’s a coiled snake. Both shone brighter within the Well of Spells and Zel couldn’t take his eyes from the beautiful designs. Despite the differences, Zel thought there were many more similarities and from a distance it would be difficult to tell them apart.

‘And how is young Zeldantor today?’ asked Isabel with a girlish smile.

‘He’s well,’ replied Saara. ‘Zel, come and pay your respects to Isabel and Shilpa.’

The Kirin slave bowed his head and glided across the floor to stand in front of the three enchantresses. ‘It is an undreamt of honour to see you both again, most noble sisters of my mistress,’ he said with formality.

All three laughed and Zel closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the sound. Their voices harmonized and rose in volume beyond a simple laugh to become something magical to Zel’s ears.

‘And will your other sisters be joining us today, mistress?’ he asked Saara.

‘The two others who remain in Karesia have all been summoned. Katja and Ameira are otherwise occupied and, based on the news I received from Larix earlier today, I would surmise that they have met with success in their endeavours.’

Shilpa and Isabel had not heard this news and both had eager and excited looks on their faces. Zel knew that whatever had transpired in Ro Canarn had done so at the Sisters’ urging and the plan, whatever it was, was proceeding well.

More subtle distortions in the air followed and two more beautiful women appeared at opposite sides of the central room. The golem rose and approached each in turn.