Unholy War (79 page)

‘You do not have a month. You have one week.’

He closed his eyes dazedly. ‘I’d need to contact Rutt Sordell.’

‘I can do that. I have your relay-staves now.’ She tapped her palm. ‘Do we have a deal?’

He looked at her with utter hatred, but his voice was faint. ‘Yes, damn you.’

‘Good. I’ll contact Rutt tonight. Now, tell me how you faked Cera’s death.’

She could almost see his mind working, weighing the variables, trying to see if there was anything he could salvage from this débâcle. But he knew her, as she knew him. ‘All right. Do you remember Coin?’

‘How could I forget … ?’ Her voice trailed off as she realised what he was saying.
‘You bastard!’

He pinched the bridge of his nose, though the blood had already stopped flowing. ‘I managed to save her – after you almost killed her – but she was becoming a nuisance. She was always too demanding, and she got these fixations …’ Catching Elena’s impatient look, he focused again. ‘She became obsessed with Cera and she agreed to get Cera and Timori out of Brochena. They might have got away with it, too, but Coin decided to kill Francis first, payback for the way he treated Cera, I suppose. Or maybe just to screw me over. That’s what alerted us, and we caught them just in time.’

‘So it was Coin who was stoned?’

‘I offered her death, so that Cera could live. Coin had nothing left to live for by then, so she accepted. She changed form, then I Chain-runed her so she couldn’t back out of our deal.’

Elena stared at him, utterly sickened. ‘One of the emir’s informants told me she had her tongue cut out even before she was stoned.’

He looked down. ‘I couldn’t risk her trying to speak out in the arena.’

‘Kore’s Blood, you’re a piece of work …’ She didn’t bother trying to hide the disgust in her voice; she could feel Kazim’s seething contempt, too, even though he didn’t know these people like she did. ‘But why save Cera anyway?’

Gurvon shrugged. ‘I never waste an asset, you know that. She still had some value as a bargaining chip; I thought I might be able to trade her for you, or maybe use her to bring the Nesti under my control, or even threaten the Dorobon with her in case they managed to seize control again. She was always going to have value to someone.’ He attempted a wry smile. ‘Lucky for me, eh?’

‘You’re worse than I ever realised. How did I waste half my life on you?’

‘She was your pupil, Elena. Perhaps it was you I saw in her.’

The worst thing was, that wasn’t so hard to believe: Cera had always been a little cold, and a little too fond of secrets. She was clever, but she was also vulnerable, which made her easy to manipulate.
Just like me when I was young
.

Finally she asked the one question she was desperate to know the answer to. ‘How did you convince her to betray me?’

‘That was easy.’ She could hear the pride in his voice. ‘She was frightened, and looking for reassurance. She was still just a child, for all the crowns and council-room triumphs. I told her that you and Lorenzo di Kestria were plotting together, and when you obligingly started screwing him she thought it was proof of everything I’d told her. I promised safety for her and her precious little brother – I reassured her and promised her a way through the maze while you were just feeding her fears and leading her deeper in.’

‘And the charges against her?’

‘Is she safian?’ Gurvon leered. ‘Surely you’d know that, about your
darling
protégé?’

‘I can do worse than just hit you, Rondian,’ Kazim growled.

Gurvon raised a hand, wincing. ‘I take it back. But yes, she is – not with Tarita though. She’s been bedding Portia Tolidi.’

Elena blinked.

‘I know: the most beautiful, most desired woman in the kingdom, the soon-to-be mother of the Prince Royal. A wonderful scandal, isn’t it?’

‘You’re all class, Gurvon. What about Tarita?’

‘Gone – still alive, for all I know.’

Elena’s hand went to her mouth. ‘She is?’

‘I think she was probably already in the tunnel when I intercepted Cera – she must’ve crept away as soon as she realised the jig was up.’ He examined the scabs on his right arm and sighed. ‘We knew she was spying for Mustaq al’Madhi, but I really thought that had been curtailed when the tunnels were sealed up. After that it didn’t seem worth killing her.’ He scowled. ‘See where mercy gets you?’

‘You’re alive because of mercy, you pig.’

Gurvon looked at her levelly. ‘You know, I could have had Timori killed at any time, but the circumstances were never quite right. He’s been a useful little carrot to dangle just out of reach. Both the Dorobon and the Nesti wanted him, but I had him, and that kept this kingdom from degenerating into open war. You’ll regret asking for him. It makes open conflict inevitable.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Gurvon looked at Kazim. ‘Listen, Dokken: Elena will use anything and anyone – even a child – to further her own ends. Watch your back; she’ll sell you to the Inquisition as soon as she’s run out of uses for you.’

Elena felt a little apprehensive; surely this nasty little barb wouldn’t take root? But Kazim laughed so unaffectedly that her heart swelled with gratitude. ‘My lover dwells in my heart, Gurvon-sahib,’ he replied calmly. ‘We are one being. Anything you say against her, you say against me’

Something in his simple, calm answer silenced Gurvon completely, as if Kazim’s total love and faith in her left nothing to attack.

At last Gurvon sniffed, affecting disdain and boredom, and said, ‘I rather think we’re done here.’

‘You know,’ she replied bleakly, ‘I think we are.’

36

Marriage

Huriya’s pack ate their horses and entered Teshwallabad as a pack of wild dogs. They found a wrecked old building near the river and drove off the squatters, except for a couple who were too slow to run away; those they killed and ate too, because the journey had been long. Of course, the hovel did not suit Huriya, who asked Wornu to find her a guest-house more to her taste. Wornu acquiesced, returning with a palanquin; the most eastern-looking of the pack acted as bearers to carry their Seeress into the centre of the city in style. The palanquin was large enough for two and she insisted Malevorn join her, something the shapeshifter men had not expected and visibly resented by, though they didn’t refuse.

A carved wooden grille went a little way to lessening the clamour and stink of the city, but it allowed Malevorn only glimpses of Teshwallabad as they crept along the close, winding streets and through the wide plazas where wares of all sorts from spices to copper kettles were piled high on stalls set up on carts or laid out on tattered blankets on the ground. They saw crumbling slums and marble domes, cracked clay and crenulated walls, and many, many people, including an old orange-clad Omali pandit being berated by three young Amteh Scriptualists; a beggar with no legs on a wheeled trolley; and a donkey-cart so overladen that the cart had tilted backwards – the poor beast had all four legs off the ground and was staring about itself in obvious bemusement. There were many dark, weathered faces with bushy whiskers and broken teeth, but even more young faces, bright with life. Music and the wailing of Godsingers filled the air: humanity at its most cacophonous.

‘I grew up in such a place,’ Huriya said, peering out with an expression somewhere between wistful memory and contempt, ‘but I always knew I was destined for more. Sabele herself promised me.’

To Malevorn it all looked primitive and degenerate. He put a fold of his scarf over his mouth and nose, trying to mask the smells. ‘Revolting.’

‘This is the greatest city in all Lakh,’ Huriya said coolly.

‘I’m from Pallas. This place is a hovel.’ Pallas was clean, orderly, and full of greenery and space … the part his family lived in, anyway. The poor were kept well away from where the good people lived … where he would one day live again, despite his father’s suicide and the family’s swift descent to ruin. His name had got him into Turm Zauberin; his wits would get him home …

‘This was ancient when your Pallas was a clutch of mud huts.’

‘Compared to Pallas now, this still is.’

‘Your city was built on the gnosis. This was built by human hands, centuries before your kind were capable.’

‘The past,’ he sneered. ‘We live in the now.’

‘Change is coming,’ Huriya replied haughtily. She looked out of the grille, her features uncharacteristically pensive. ‘We’re going to overturn the entire world, starting here.’

Malevorn scratched his nose.
Yes, we are. But I rather think you and I will have very different views on what happens after that
. ‘Where is this vizier?’

‘His palace will be easy to find; he is an important man.’

‘And when we find him?’

‘We will pay him a late-night visit.’ Huriya reached out and stroked his cheek. His face had been stained darker, and with his untended hair and beard and the garb of an Antiopian mercenary, his disguise was complete. ‘You look tense, Malevorn my sweet.’

He bridled at her condescension, but he had to admit she frightened him too. She was as unpredictable and cruel as anyone he’d met – even at the Inquisitorial Bastion in Pallas. So he met her eyes and gave his most charming smile. ‘I’ve been waiting for a long time to finally catch up with Mercer and that mudskin bint.’

She gave him a languid look. ‘Did you know that my first lover was Rondian?’ she asked slyly. ‘A bull of a man: Jos Klein, his name was. I didn’t even know I was a Souldrinker then, and as I had not come into the gnosis, he didn’t know either. Then Sabele told me what I needed to do and after we coupled, I killed him and stole his powers.’

‘A cautionary tale.’

She laughed throatily. ‘I suppose it is, but that was not my point. I was just noting my apparent predilection for white men.’ She pushed her foot into his crotch and massaged him through the cloth. She’d been doing a lot of this recently, teasing him, but never quite delivering, and he was becoming sick of the game. When she saw that he wasn’t reacting she pouted, then lounged back into the cushioned seat. ‘Tonight at midnight we will find this Hanook and see where he has taken Ramita’s family. Perhaps she is even here, and the Scytale with her.’

Now there is a hope to cherish.

Finally they came to a place where the crowds were at their thickest, and the palanquin bearers halted and carefully set the box down. Malevorn jumped out and helped Huriya to disembark, and she dismissed Wornu and his men, then pointed towards a street jammed with hundreds of people. Malevorn took the lead and under her guidance bullocked a path down winding alleys between dilapidated buildings until they burst out into open space. In front of them was a wide, sluggish muddy brown river. Huge steps had been built of stone right along the bank on both sides, and to Malevorn it looked like the whole of Antiopia was here, many of them half-immersed, pouring water over their heads in apparent prayer. Bells chimed constantly from temples set all along the riverbanks, and priests chanted endlessly, and so loudly that the faraway sounds of the Godsingers in their towers were barely audible. The city on the other side of the river was as vast as that on the nearside.

Malevorn found himself more than a little awestruck by the sheer number of people, and the size and grandeur of the buildings lining the river.

Huriya flung out a hand theatrically and announced, ‘The Imuna River, which also flows through my home city of Baranasi.’ She walked down to the river, but Malevorn hung back, intimidated by so many men and women, all dressed in the brightest of colours. The cloth was mostly threadbare and cheap, but here and there he could see richer-garbed families were also making their way through the crowds. It looked like everyone came to the river to immerse themselves in the muddy sludge and chant – prayers, he guessed: Omali-worshippers.

There were more people than he’d seen in his life, except maybe at the great Imperial parades in Pallas, on special days … but Huriya had claimed earlier that this was just an ordinary day.

He shrank against the wall, feeling strangely small, and watched Huriya go right down to the river, skipping like a child until she got to the final step, then she knelt and wet her brow. He’d thought her agnostic, but it looked like she was praying.

Her face was solemn as she returned to him.

‘They say that bathing in Imuna cleans away all of your sins,’ she declared.

‘Handy. Didn’t take long.’

She giggled. ‘I didn’t even need soap.’ She waved a disdainful hand behind her. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Certainly. Anywhere but here.’

‘You don’t like it?’

‘It’s barbaric.’

‘You really do have no soul at all.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ He looked about in bewilderment. ‘Where do we go?’

‘This way.’ She led him back into the press of the alleys and as he followed, he felt more than ever that he was depending utterly on her to survive this maelstrom of alien humanity.
I’m just a toy to her, an extravagance.

The place she took him was a guesthouse, where she used the gnosis to beguile the host into welcoming them inside without any exchange of names or coin. The place was a monument to opulence, a palace of sandstone and carved cedarwood that must be worth a fortune in this place without forests. Gauzy curtains hung everywhere, and a heady smoke leaked from behind closed doors. The staff, male and female alike, were all young and beautiful, dressed in silk skirts and nothing else. Music and singing filled the air and the main room was decorated with brightly coloured statues perched on plinths, so lifelike he was amazed
–
until he realised that they really were alive: real people covered in body paint and cloth, each one very slowly moving into a different pose as they passed.

‘What is this place?’ he asked.

‘A whorehouse masquerading as a place where rich pilgrims can stay after immersing themselves in the river.’ Huriya looked about her with faint disdain. For someone who had grown up poor, if her tales were to be believed, she looked utterly at home – and by no means impressed. Perhaps the souls within her had seen better.

For himself, Malevorn was fascinated.
Who wouldn’t want to be a rich man here? Is this how the emperors lived?
But he was also increasingly on his guard.
What is she trying to prove, by bringing me here? Does she mean to seduce me?
The thought of copulating with any Noorie repelled him, despite her lush sensuality.
She’s wasting her time.

Huriya ordered food and wine to be delivered, then she dismissed the servants and threw herself into the middle of the vast divan, shedding silks as she moved. ‘What do you wish for?’ she asked over her shoulder. ‘Opium? Spirits? Music? Dancing girls? We can have anything we want here.’

‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘We need to prepare for tonight.’

Huriya laughed. ‘Prepare? For what? Bullying an old man?’

He gritted his teeth. ‘Let me have my gnosis back. And a sword.’

She shrugged carelessly. ‘A sword, perhaps – swords don’t frighten me. But I don’t think you’ve been anywhere near well-behaved enough to be trusted with your magic.’

‘You should be preparing, scouting, making sure your people know their roles.’

She just giggled and looked about her. ‘No, I want to be clean! And perfumed, and fed. And I want a tongue inside my yoni, followed by a long hard lingam.’ She laughed lewdly. ‘I’ve gone without for too long.’ She struck a whorish pose, beckoning. ‘Don’t you want to play?’

Not with a mudskin degenerate like you
. His lip curled. ‘I’ll relax when I hold the Scytale in my hands.’

‘That will never be, slugskin.’ She looked vexed. ‘Go away then, sulk in a corner for all I care.’ She pulled a bell rope and shouted, ‘Bring me wine!’

*

Hours later Malevorn was still burning with anger as they left the pleasure house. Night had fallen and the long blade of a crescent moon hung like a scimitar above the eastern mountains. He flexed his fist and breathed deeply of the cooling air, but it was still thick with river-mist and the smoke of hundreds of thousands of cooking fires, hanging over the city and reducing visibility to a few yards. He could just make out the forty or so pack-members milling about in the ruined building they had claimed. They all looked replete, having gorged themselves on souls as well as wine and food. He wrinkled his nose in contempt. The stench of their animal mating still hung in the air; Huriya too had wasted the preparatory hours on drunken sex with a pair of male whores while Malevorn waited in another room, trying to clear his mind and prepare for a fight.

At least they’d given him a weapon – a Keshi scimitar – and some ill-fitting mail. He tested the sword’s balance again, familiarising himself with the curved blade; it required a different fighting style to the straight swords he’d been brought up with. And all the while he missed Raine Caladryn, who would have been just as iron-willed as he was, just as grimly purposeful. He’d shied away from thinking about her in the months since she’d died because missing someone was weakness. But Kore’s Blood, he’d have paid anything to have her standing with him now.

I wonder which of this damned pack drank her soul?
He’d never been told, and had never asked.

Huriya gathered the pack, a queen among her subjects. Any pretence that Wornu controlled the pack was long gone; they were all her creatures now.

‘My children, tonight we seek two prizes, the Scytale of Corineus and the widow of Meiros and her children – each is equally precious, but there is no guarantee they are here, so that is what we are seeking to determine. You will follow me into the vizier’s house and spread out, using caution and silence, at least until the alarm is irrevocably raised. It would be better to accomplish this without attracting any outside notice, but all servants and any guards within must die. If the young mage Mercer is there, kill him. The vizier and Ramita, if she’s here, must be brought to me
alive
. Is that understood?’

The pack murmured their assent.

‘One final thing.’ With her hands on her hips, she glared around the room. ‘If any try to claim the prizes I have named as their own, they will be made an example of. This is not a time for seeking personal gain. All will gain equally from these prizes. Is that understood?’

The shifters muttered their obedience, and Malevorn wondered if any would hold to it. Then Huriya clapped her hands and said, ‘Let the fun begin!’

A low collective moan of eagerness rose from the Souldrinkers, who then fell into the agonised contortions of shapechanging into their favoured beast or half-beast. Malevorn moved into Huriya’s shadow, blanking his mind of everything but the task at hand.

‘Good boy,’ she approved with a condescending smirk. ‘Watch my back.’