Authors: Stephen Deas
Tsen started talking, preaching about how he and his dragons would pour fire over a place whose name she'd never heard and turn it into ash. She watched the other Taiytakei as they listened. They were curious at first. Fascinated, but they weren't afraid. If anything she felt scorn from them. What could such a tiny monster achieve against a nation mighty with sorcerers?
Tsen talked of an army of dragons but he spoke in terms that were absurd and Zafir could only shake her head. A year? A hundred dragons? But it would take ten before they were grown to their full size. Did he mean to go to war with a hundred yearlings? Even her Adamantine Men would have destroyed them, no need for any blood-mages.
A Taiytakei in a cloak so cleverly made that he seemed to be garbed in flames rose and asked Tsen how much all of this would cost. The answer came in words that Zafir didn't understand but the meaning was clear enough. Something preposterous. Around their circle the Taiytakei fell to laughter and derision and discord as the soldiers bustled her and the alchemist and his hatchling away again. And that was that, and Zafir laughed as she left because for all their gleam and colour and glamour they were so much like her own Council of Kings and Queens. So deliciously, delightfully familiar and so utterly pointless. With no speaker, how did they ever do more than bicker?
It was as she walked away that she touched a finger to the soft skin inside her elbow and noticed a roughness there. She stopped and stared in horror at the first little whiteness on her own skin. She knew it for what it was at once – she'd seen it enough times after all – but it was too soon by far to have come from the hatchling Tsen and Bellepheros had brought today so maybe she was wrong . . . And then she understood. The hatchling dragon on the
ship. The woken one that had so very carefully cut her with its claw and then let her live. It had done this to her. It had given her the dragon-disease.
High in the gold-glass tower, back across the Paths of Words, Baros Tsen sank deeper into the water, deeper and deeper until his nose and his eyes were all that broke the surface.
Like a crocodile
, back when he had space for such frivolous thoughts.
A big fat happy crocodile. But not so happy now
.
He surfaced. The bathhouse here was nothing like the one buried in the bowels of the Palace of Leaves in Xican.
Here
was far above the ground with a gold-glass roof and walls. Anyone who happened to pass over the top of the tower on a sled or a disc could look right down and see him in all his glory if they were curious enough. And the bath was far too small, and they never got the water quite right, and the Xizic oil wasn't the oil he liked, and the steam just made the glass absurdly slippery and, really, it was a surprise no one had yet broken their neck in here . . .
At least it was dark outside now and, since he hadn't brought any lamps, no one would know he was here. Dark was good. Dark with a bit of moonlight in between the gathering rainclouds. He sat very still and when the water was smooth enough for him to see his own dim reflection, he wagged his finger at it. ‘You know what? That could have gone a little better. Just a bit. Maybe, perhaps, without the part where they all started laughing.’
His reflection stared back at him. At least the bath wasn't glass too. Someone had kindly lined it with the same black marble they'd used for the tower, with the gold flecks. In the dark they glowed. It gave him the odd sense of seeing his own face loom over him out of the night sky.
‘Go on. Say something. And it had better be something useful.’ A plague of dragons to scourge away the curse of the Ice Witch and her sorcerers across the storm-dark in Aria. And it wouldn't come for a year or two because that was how long it would take for
everyone to be ready, and the dragons would be bigger then, big enough for men to ride on their backs.
If Quai'Shu had been able to speak it would have been different.
He was the master of that, not me. I read them; he's the one who would take their minds and transform them. And I thought my dragons would be bigger
.
It had been an odd failure though. Too thorough and complete to quite make sense, as if someone had been ready for his play and carefully laid the ground against him in advance. He should have brought the grown one. Maybe that would have made a difference, if they'd all had to traipse outside to even see it. But then again maybe they just wouldn't have bothered.
‘Did it come from within?’ He looked at his reflection and his reflection shook its head. No. Just like the assassins trying to kill the alchemist, no one from Xican wanted to see the eyrie fail. They wanted to see
him
fail but not the rest, because if they destroyed the rest then what was there to inherit save an insurmountable debt? ‘Well then, if not from within, who wants to see a sea lord fail?’
His reflection laughed.
Who wants to see a sea lord fail? Why, everyone . . .
He stopped, suddenly aware he wasn't alone. He stayed very still, listening, until he was sure that he knew who it was and then turned. ‘LaLa, a bath is a man's private personal place. I come here to be alone, not to be bothered, even by you.’
Even when I come with Kalaiya, it's not what all the rest of you all think it is. Not that I care a whit
. ‘You'd better be here to tell me that Quai'Shu’s dead or something equally grave.’
I could put metal doors on my eyrie bath-house and line the walls and floors with brass to keep you out. My petty little thumb up my petty little nose to you. Shall I do that?
The Watcher lit a lamp. He bowed. ‘Sea Lord-in-Waiting, I do not come with news.’
‘That's a relief. It's been a long enough day as it is. And why do you keep calling me that when I'm not? Quai'Shu is our sea lord. I'm merely his t'varr, LaLa, and we've seen there are plenty of others equally keen to step into his shoes. One or two of them might even be better at it.’
And even if they're not, they'll certainly think it now. Well done, Tsen, well done. But who was it who set the trap?
‘They're all preening themselves, but do you know what
outcome
I
would most like?
I
would most like my sea lord to recover his wits and lord it over us all for another ten years more, that's what
I
would like. And if he doesn't, I might still change my mind and content myself with what I have, you know. Wisdom and the desire for a long life both recommend it and I can hardly complain about the conditions of my current position. Certainly far less than I'd complain about losing it. Besides, after today I'm inclined to wonder if almost
any
of the others might make a better job of it. What happened in there, LaLa? We were ambushed, that's what, and I had no idea it was coming. Would you care for some apple wine?’
The Elemental Man shook his head as Tsen knew he must.
Only water fresh from river or sky, untouched by the hand of any man
. ‘Our master Quai'Shu chose you, Hands of the Sea Lord. Do you not wish to be master of Xican?’
Now there's a question
. ‘Which one, do you suppose, will try to kill me first? Would you care for a wager?’
‘I do not wager, Hands of the Sea Lord.’
‘No.’ Tsen sighed. ‘You're really no fun at all, LaLa. And, in a way, that's why I'm not screaming for the guards outside. Fat lot of use they'd do me anyway. But which one. Pick one.’
‘None of them. I am your protector.’
‘What? And you think because of that they won't dare? How very pleasantly optimistic – but you're not
my
protector, LaLa. You belong to Quai'Shu.’
‘They will not see the difference now.’
‘Well I suppose I hope you're right but I can't say I don't have my doubts.’ Tsen sat upright and poured a glass for himself. He savoured the fire and the apple in his mouth and let out a heavy sigh. ‘I should have stayed where I was happy. With my orchards.’
‘Is that what you wish?’
‘Why do you keep asking me? What did you come here for anyway, LaLa? I certainly didn't invite you.’
The Watcher came closer in slow careful steps. At least inside the bathhouse he had the decency to get about like a normal man instead of simply vanishing from one place and appearing at another. Tsen gazed out into the steam-hazed gloom. They were alone. If the Elemental Man decided he was to die then that was
what would happen. Nothing could stop it, yet mostly he felt annoyed at the intrusion and despondent about the day as a whole. Fear? No, no space for that any more.
‘It is important that I know.’ The Watcher stared at him, all pretence of servitude momentarily gone.
‘Why, LaLa? Why? Why is it your business at all?’
‘I am owned. I am Quai'Shu’s slave, Sea Lord-in-Waiting.’
‘Ha!’ Tsen laughed. ‘An exquisitely expensive one. Are you free when he dies?’
‘I will serve whichever sea lord follows him.’
‘Yes, well, I suppose I can see how there would be flaws in Quai'Shu’s scheme otherwise, eh? An unstoppable assassin bound as a slave but free upon his master's death? Yes, I do believe I see a weakness or two in
that
. Other sea lords hate us and fear us, LaLa. You make us unique and some would see us fail simply because we have you. And now the dragons. It's as though Quai'Shu has set about acquiring a menagerie of monsters. Unfortunately, the other thing that makes us unique among our peers is our debt. I could sell you, I suppose. That might steady the ship.’
‘Will you do that, Baros Tsen T'Varr?’
‘No.’ No, he knew that already. ‘You'll be the last thing I let go. Right after I let some other grasping lord have Quai'Shu’s dragons.’ He drained his glass, poured another and looked the Elemental Man hard in the eye. ‘I asked Quai'Shu several times how he managed to buy you and he wouldn't give me an answer. If I'm going to own you, LaLa, I want to know: why did your masters give you to our lord? It can't just be money otherwise the Vespinese would have gone and bought a dozen of you just because they could. Your masters wanted something in return, something only Quai'Shu could offer, and they wanted it enough to do a thing they've never done before or since, something that upsets the balance they strive so earnestly to keep. What was it, LaLa? Do you even know?’
‘Our lord bought a service from one of my kind. This one failed.’
‘No, no, LaLa. You can do better than that. Elemental Men don't fail, and if they do then another one comes to do the same work, and if needs be then another and another until it's done. And then they go away again. What did your masters want from
Quai'Shu? More to the point, what are they going to want from whoever follows him?’
‘Our sea lord has a vision.’ The Watcher spoke softly. ‘We are a part of that. Where it goes, I follow.’
Tsen laughed. ‘Bringing dragons to Takei'Tarr?
That's
what your masters wanted?’
The Watcher bowed his head. ‘I cannot say, Hands of the Sea Lord, for I do not know.’
‘Really?’
But that's why you stand beside whoever keeps that vision and nurtures it, isn't it? And that, of course, is why I do too. ‘
If that's the case then your work is largely done and so is mine. I won't sell you, LaLa, but we need the money. Can I hire you out? Is that allowed?’
‘The Elemental Masters would likely be displeased.’
‘Why? Because it would be stepping on their toes? Breaking their monopoly?’ But Quai'Shu must surely have had the same idea. He'd never done it so there was surely a good reason.
Would they have had him killed? Ach, there is
so
much more to this than money!
Ah, but that's what makes it so spicy and unusual and interesting and why you're going to play along, even against your better judgement, isn't it?
Quiet, you. Although . . . ‘
I
am
left to wonder, LaLa, how many of us are puppets and who pulls our strings. Thoughts?’
You were a suspicious-minded old man, Quai'Shu. Did you ever wonder who was the tool and who was the craftsman here? Of course you did but you let it happen anyway. So you must have known what
it
was. Pity you went mad before you chose to share your thoughts
.
The Watcher bowed. ‘I am but a servant.’
‘Of course you are.’
And exactly how do I go about spying on a man who can turn into the wind and the rivers and the earth again? Oh, of course! I hire another one, and from the same masters! Surely
that
can't possibly go wrong at all, can it?
His lips settled into a wry pucker. ‘I see there'll be no answers for me today. But, LaLa, whoever takes Quai'Shu’s cape, they
will
need to know. Is that why you came? To see if it would be me? Well I don't know if I want it.’
Of course I do
. ‘And even if I did, whether I can get it.’
Yes, a bit more to the point that
.
Tsen sank back into the bath. He turned and slid across to the other side so the Watcher was behind him. ‘Since you're here, you can make yourself useful. Usually I talk to Kalaiya when I have days like today, but as she's not here I shall use you instead. Since you're nothing like her, I suggest you keep back in the shadows, and if you absolutely
have
to say anything, do it in a nice falsetto, and for the love of the sea please don't actually express an opinion on something I say or you'll ruin it completely. I shall call you Not Kalaiya until I'm done. Are you still there, LaLa?’
‘I am, Hands of the Sea Lord.’
‘I asked for falsetto! You didn't even try!’ He laughed. ‘Oh, then just don't speak at all, Not Kalaiya. Listen though. Whoever is sea lord must decide quickly what these dragons are worth. I want to keep them but they must be put to good use. They're tools of war, Not Kalaiya, useless without one. They must show their worth, but where is the war? My lords mocked our little hatchling today. They were turned against our scheme to use the dragons against the Ice Witch. Whoever did that turning I think must have another war in mind, perhaps a very different one and one that none of us yet see. Find out who did it for me, Not Kalaiya. Ask Jima Hsian. Find out why and what it is they want from us, for little monsters must grow into big monsters, and the bigger they are the more terrible they will become. And there is another matter: Quai'Shu, the alchemist, his dragons, that blasted slave who can ride them, even Chay-Liang. You must watch over all of them and keep us alive.’ Had he just told the Watcher that yes, he did have the will to become the next sea lord even if it meant he went to war with Chrias Kwen? But he already knew the answer to that. The little hatchling had bewitched him. His dragons would change the world, and for all he was a t'varr, fat and happy and sleepy in his bath and with his wine, he
was
still a crocodile. He put down his glass, sighed and stood up. There were no slaves here, no one to robe him. He preferred the solitude.