The Splintered Gods (41 page)

Diamond Eye reached the eyrie rim and seized it with his hind claws, tearing rents in the solid stone. The dragon still held a gondola in its forelimbs; now it leaned forward, the glasship chains
clamped between its teeth, dangling limp. Bellepheros could see it, even from so far away, quivering with the effort. Before the Vespinese had blown it up with their lightning, the black powder cannon had been mounted on massive iron plinths set into the stone of the rim. The iron was still there, warped and twisted. Enough to wrap a chain around it, perhaps.

For a moment no one moved. Then a Taiytakei ran out and grabbed the end of one of the chains and started to pull on it, struggling to even lift it, to wrap it around the iron; and then more men ran forward, and in a moment a swarm of them were heaving beneath the dragon’s maw, slaves and Taiytakei alike, dragging the loose ends of the chains and wrapping them around the plinth, twisting them together, pinning them with the bent barrel of the ruined gun, shouting and cheering and swearing up a giddy frenzy of hope. The dragon terrified them to the core and yet they did it, and then they were finished and backed away and a cheer went up from the wall and Bellepheros found he was cheering too, but his heart was still racing because that was only the start.

The dragon let go. The chains snapped taut.

And held.

Bellepheros stayed on the wall, watching, as mesmerised as everyone else.

The first glasship stopped the eyrie’s fall with its underbelly touching the cloud. Zafir arced Diamond Eye under the rim to look and see if the storm-dark devoured the stone but in the night it was all too dark to see. And maybe, just maybe, the eyrie was still very slowly sinking. She drove her dragon skyward again and one by one Diamond Eye hauled the glasships down. When she came with the second the men on the eyrie changed their plan and guided her to the white stone watchtowers, unbreakable by anything except a dragon, threading the chains through the windows of the towers to hold them fast.

Do I expect their gratitude for this?
It wouldn’t make any difference. She’d burned and shattered Dhar Thosis to ash and splinters and in the end she’d hang for that come what may.

Why do it then?

She really didn’t know.

*

When the third glasship was secured to the eyrie and they were rising again, Bellepheros reckoned they were safe and he could probably go back to his room and get some sleep, or maybe go back to his book. But everyone else was out in the yard or up on the wall, slaves, soldiers and other Taiytakei, even his Scales, milling around and shouting at each other over the wind while they waited for the dragon to haul the next glasship down, so he stayed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Li, about how she’d have known what to do, the same thoughts running round in the same circles, staring blankly into space until suddenly it was done and over. Five glasships floated overhead. The eyrie wasn’t falling any more. Zafir, of all people, had saved them. Zafir, not Li.

He shook his head and turned away. He needed to think.

The dragon perched on the wall, hunched with its head almost resting on the battlements. It had carried the same dented silver gondola throughout, but now the gondola was lying in the dragon yard at the foot of the wall, discarded, and the dragon was holding something in its claws, looking hard at it. Not a some
thing
, Bellepheros saw as he came closer, heading for the tunnel back to his study. A some
one
. Her Holiness Zafir was on the wall, yelling, and the man in Diamond Eye’s talons was screaming, brimming with fear and outrage but unable to settle on one over the other. ‘You cannot do this!’ That sort of thing, over and over with different words and an occasionally varying order, but it all amounted to much the same.

Bellepheros walked on past. He’d seen it too many times over the years – the torture of a man who thought he couldn’t be touched. That was dragon-kings for you. They always did it, even when they didn’t need to. Even when they
knew
they didn’t need to because they’d called the grand master alchemist of the Order of the Scales to their eyrie to make truth-smoke, and Bellepheros, given time, could get the truth out of creation itself spoken by the very stones of the earth. They all knew it, but dragon-kings tortured their prey anyway. Queens, apparently, were no different. No great surprise – this was more the Zafir he knew. He paused, fought the wind and turned to see who the man was.

Shonda!?
Dear Flame, she had Shonda! Even in the moonlight
his robe gave the sea lord away. There was nothing else like it. Bellepheros sighed and hung his head. Truth-smoke was another thing he’d chosen not to mention to Li or the Elemental Men, mostly in case they decided to have him make the stuff and then use it on himself. Maybe now was the time. Better that than let her Holiness kill a man and then have to make his corpse speak.

He walked back to his study, dragging his feet all the way, sat down at his desk, picked up the next page and tried to get excited about it.
Vespinese sorceress Abraxi increased her interest in the mountains and their subterranean dwellers in the last years of her reign. The few of her writings to survive confirm the apocryphal Rava although they may simply be repeating it. The Elemental Men have at least once directly spoken of the existence of shape-shifters beneath the Konsidar . . .
Zafir had told him that, and he had no idea why an Elemental Man might have said such a thing to her. Maybe she’d made it up on a whim to tease him. He wouldn’t put it past her. He wouldn’t put
anything
past her any more.
Abraxi’s writings suggest the Righteous Ones tamed dragons and now consort with them, keeping them as pets . . .

You picked a story and chose which one to believe. Some of the slaves from the desert claimed it was all a myth, that the Elemental Men were protecting some other secret from before the Splintering . . .

He couldn’t concentrate. With a flash of peevish resentment for everyone and everything for choosing
this
night of all nights for their excitement, Bellepheros put the pages away, got up and poured himself a glass of cold qaffeh. He missed sitting with Li, drinking qaffeh and eating Bolo. He’d missed it before but it was worse now. It hadn’t ever crossed his mind that he might not see her again but now . . . Now he found a fierce hunger burning inside him. He wanted to ask her what she’d seen. Tamed dragons? Was there any possibility of truth to it? No one else seemed to think so and yet he couldn’t let it go. The Vespinese had taken the dragon as a symbol of their city after all. Why?

Flame, he missed her. Too much. He wanted her back. They’d all nearly died tonight. It was like that every day. The tension . . .

I’m afraid.

He forced himself to sit down again. Tonight’s page was supposed
to be on the Rava itself, the forbidden book of the Taiytakei, though he wasn’t much in the mood for writing. ‘Book about the ancient gods and the time before the Splintering. Probably no real copies left. Elemental Men hunt you and kill you if read a single word of it so don’t, and besides, if anyone claims they have a copy, it’s probably a fake. Possibly entirely mythical.’ Easy. Move on. Next entry. Except it wasn’t so easy because even if the book didn’t exist any more, even if it never had, its history was real enough and so was the who and why of its writing and probably the nature of what it contained.

He picked up his pen and dipped it in the ink. At the very end of his book he had a page set aside for Zaklat the Death Bat. He had fond thoughts of Zaklat. Zaklat meant the end. Zaklat meant he was done.

A hammering on his door made him jump. ‘Master Alchemist! Master Alchemist!’

Another Scales. Bellepheros glared at the closed door. ‘Are we falling out of the sky for a second time? Have the chains failed? Is her Holiness on the rampage, burning everyone?’ he shouted.

‘No. Master Alchemist.’

‘Then
go away
!’ Writing his journal was his own personal time, and Flame knew he got little enough of that. Even if he was staring at a blank page, not writing a word.

The Scales was still outside his door. Bellepheros wasn’t sure how he knew it but he did. He waited. Closed his eyes. Sighed. ‘Is the dragon injured again? Because if it is, I already showed you what to do.’ Which was to make sure the dragon was well fed, leave her Holiness to sit with it and keep as far away as possible.

‘No, Master Alchemist. They want to know about the other glasship. The one we used to move the eggs. Please come!’

‘Eggs? Who said anything about moving eggs?’ He got up and went to the door, growling and muttering to himself. He’d forgotten in all the excitement. ‘What are you talking about? Who moved eggs? What glasship?’

He opened the door. The Scales gave him a vacant imploring look. Bellepheros let out a deep sigh and followed for a second time, up the winding spiral of the white stone passageway. For the
middle of the night there were a lot of Taiytakei about, but maybe it was hard to go back to sleep when you’d almost been dropped into the storm-dark. Most of them were looking at the dragon, at Zafir and Shonda. Most of the rest were looking at the chains or at the glasships, muttering to each other nervously. Wondering whether the chains would hold and for how long and who it was who’d tried to kill them all. And yes, now that he bothered to think about it, there were five glasships holding up Baros Tsen’s eyrie now where last night there had been six.

‘Master!’ The Scales was still dogging his heels and tugging at his robes.

‘Yes, yes, I see it.’ He looked at the dragon. You’d have to be blind not to see the hole in Diamond Eye’s wing from so close, but really what was he going to do? Stick a bandage on it and tell the dragon to rest until it got better? ‘There’s really nothing for it. Food and water and I’ll talk to her Holiness about flying him more carefully for a while.’ As if that would work either. Might as well talk to the dragon itself.

‘No, Master Alchemist, not Diamond Eye. The other masters wish to know where the sixth glasship went.’

Bellepheros turned and saw a t’varr closing on him with a squad of soldiers. ‘What
are
you talking about?’

‘They ask why we moved the eggs to the glasship and where they’ve gone and by whose order.’

‘Eggs? What eggs?’

‘The four eggs we drew from the hatchery an hour ago and sent away with the old t’varr’s glasship. They want to know where it went.’

The Taiytakei were almost on him, but never mind that. Bellepheros ran to the hatchery. It took only a glance to see that the Scales was right. Four eggs gone. He grabbed the Scales and shook him. ‘Where are they? Who told you to move them?’

The Scales only grew more bewildered. ‘You did, Master Alchemist. You were there. You told us to move the eggs and then you left with them.’

‘I
left
with them?’

The Taiytakei reached him. Soldiers seized him by the arms.

‘And the sled too,’ called the Scales as the soldiers dragged him away.

‘I did
what
?’ Bellepheros screamed, but his words were lost in the wind.

45

The Enemy of My Enemy

Red Lin Feyn’s glasship descended into the abyss of the Konsidar. Liang looked out of the windows as the day faded into a twilight gloom. The walls of the chasm were slick and black, the ferns and trees that grew from the cracks higher up now gone. Only mosses and lichen could live with so little sun. The gondola reached a platform in the stone and stopped. Red Lin Feyn, dressed in her glory as the Arbiter, gestured to open its golden ramp but the Elemental Man caught her hand.

‘You do not have authority here, lady. None of us do. We must wait. We must be invited.’

There was little to see from the windows. The ledge jutted out over the deeper abyss with a single dark tunnel leading into the rock. Elsewhere the walls were sheer. Liang peered down to see if she could see how far they went, but they vanished into the darkness. She looked up then, trying to guess how far down they were. A mile perhaps? ‘How deep is it?’ she asked, but Lin Feyn only shook her head.

The Elemental Man shrugged. ‘Deep. That is as much as any of us knows. We do not come further than here now. Once, perhaps . . .’ He trailed off.

‘Why not?’

He laughed. ‘Enchantress, this is a realm of other creatures, of other rules and other ways. To intrude would be . . . impolite.’ And other things too, she thought, from the careful way he chose his words, but the killer clearly had no intention of explaining himself.

An hour passed, then two, then another. Red Lin Feyn hid her impatience behind her mask; the Elemental Man stood like a statue and Liang twiddled her thumbs until at last she saw movement in the tunnel and three figures appeared.
Creatures
, the killer had
said, but to her they looked like men. Nothing about them seemed strange except that they wore veils to hide their faces.

They walked onto the ledge and stood before the gondola. The Elemental Man waited for Red Lin Feyn to seat herself at the table, then opened the ramp, shifted into air, vanished and appeared again at the Arbiter’s side. The three veiled men entered. Men, Liang thought, not women, but it was hard to tell. They were slender and oddly built, though she couldn’t say exactly what was strange about them. As one they bowed. The first stepped forward.

‘You are not welcome here.’ The veiled head turned to the Elemental Man. ‘You, earth-touched, know this. Your kind do not belong.’

Red Lin Feyn spread her hands across the table, the usual pause she made before she began, but the killer leaned forward beside her and spoke first. ‘Our kind do not name ourselves. The lady before me is Red Lin Feyn of the Dralamut. She judges those who live above when judgement is called for. The other is Chay-Liang, artificer of glass. One of you has come to the surface. I am here so you may explain yourselves. You do not wish the alternative.’ The threat in his voice was naked for a moment. The veiled man cocked his head as if to consider this. Liang winced. The violence in the air was something she could almost touch.

As the veiled man turned away, he said, ‘Earth-touched, you may pass. Alone. When you are ready.’

The air popped. The Elemental Man vanished and appeared again on the ramp, blocking the exit for a moment before he stepped aside to let the veiled men pass. They swept past the killer and away down their tunnel. The ramp eased closed. When it was sealed, the killer moved from one window to the next, closing the blinds. Red Lin Feyn didn’t even blink.

‘I am the Arbiter, killer,’ she said. ‘You are not.’

The killer bowed. He glanced at Liang and then bowed again. ‘I may not speak of the Konsidar to any who is not of Mount Solence or an initiate of the Dralamut, lady.’

‘Chay-Liang? Yet I brought her here.’ Lin Feyn reached a hand across the table and beckoned impatiently. ‘Chay-Liang of Hingwal Taktse, kneel before me.’

Liang approached uncertainly. She folded her legs carefully
under herself and placed her hand palm down on the rosewood table between them. Lin Feyn turned her hand and gripped Liang’s wrist. ‘Chay-Liang of Hingwal Taktse, I summon you into the mysteries of the Dralamut. I name you navigator of the first rank. You will not practise your art without my permission. The many other rules by which you must now abide will be explained as opportunity presents itself.’ Her voice was quiet but a fury quivered through her. Her grip on Liang’s hand was so tight it hurt.

‘Lady!’ The killer was shaking his head. His hand rested on the hilt of his bladeless knife. ‘You cannot—’

‘I am a navigator of the fifth rank, killer. I have crossed the storm-dark to the Dominion of the Sun King, to Aria, to the dragon-lands, to Qeled and Scythia and to the Slave Coasts. I have the right and the authority to add to the number of the Dralamut as I see fit and I have done so. Chay-Liang, you are now a navigator of the Dralamut. Killer, explain yourself.’ Lin Feyn didn’t move except to release Liang’s hand.

‘Lady, this woman is directly involved in the crime of Dhar Thosis. You cannot take her as an apprentice at this time. You
cannot
!’ The killer spoke through gritted teeth.

‘If you do not trust my judgement as your Arbiter, killer, you are not fit to be at my side. I break no oath or rule of my title. You will depart our company and find another of your ilk who understands his duty more fully.’

‘Lady!’

Lin Feyn raised a hand to silence him. ‘Go, killer. Begone!’

‘I was instructed to stay!’

‘And I
instruct
you to leave.’

For a few seconds the killer stayed where he was. Then he unlatched the one window that would open and vanished into the air. Liang felt the flutter and then he was gone.

‘Close it, Chay-Liang. Do not let him return.’ Red Lin Feyn was trembling with rage.

Liang shut the window. With slow and careful movements Lin Feyn lifted the feather headdress off and pulled out the pins that held up her hair. She looked tired, but then she turned her head and smiled for the first time Liang could remember in a while. ‘Do not aspire to my title, apprentice. I would happily give it up
but not to one for whom I cared.
Are
you willing to learn from me, Chay-Liang?’

‘I am, lady.’

‘I am ten years younger than you. Let neither of us forget that. I have knowledge you do not. You have experience and wisdom I may yet find I lack. Shall we begin with the Konsidar and the creatures who dwell beneath and the true nature of the killers, why they are called the earth-touched and what the storm-dark really is? Or shall we begin with jasmine tea?’

Liang bowed and went to the kettle. When she had made the tea and turned back, Lin Feyn had the glass globe of the storm-dark on the table. She had her hand on it and was rolling the fragment of the maelstrom back and forth and from side to side with her mind as though it was the easiest thing in the world. As Liang set the tiny glass cup beside her, Lin Feyn passed her the globe.

‘Keep your hand on this at all times. Do not think of it, but hold it. We may be here for a while.’

And so they sipped tea together and Red Lin Feyn told Liang what everyone secretly already knew: how there had once been four divines, the lords of the sun and the moon and the ladies of the earth and the stars, remembered even now in little ways in corners of Takei’Tarr and revered in the realms of the Sun King and of Aria. How each had made a race of creatures in their own image: the children of the sun, who would become the peoples of Takei’Tarr and the Dominion and all the other realms; the sorcerers of the moon with their white skin and their silver eyes, few but with near limitless power, the half-gods whose war broke the world; and the earth-touched, most favoured children of the dead goddess, who changed their shapes and forms as it suited them.

‘You said four. What of the fourth?’

Lin Feyn shook her head. ‘They are forgotten. Even in the writings of the Rava. Perhaps they were never made.’

Liang was amazed, for even to speak of the Rava was a curse and Red Lin Feyn was the Arbiter, no less. For a second they looked at one another and then Lin Feyn laughed.

‘It will be hard for you at first,’ she said, ‘for the world is not what you think or have been led to believe. We grow up to imagine the mighty killers as the protectors of our ways, and so they are,
but that is not their purpose nor was it ever. What
is
their purpose, Liang?’

‘They are killers of sorcerers.’

‘That is what they
do
, but why?’

‘To protect us.’

‘From what?’

Liang hesitated. ‘From . . . from subjugation. No?’ Red Lin Feyn was laughing again. ‘Then what?’

‘From being enslaved?’ The Arbiter shook her head. ‘Look at our race and how we behave. Do they lift a finger? No, because slavery is a part of us. No, no, no. You belong to the Dralamut now and you must see a larger canvas.’ She shook her head. ‘There are no killers here, Chay-Liang, and you must not believe all they say. There are copies of the Rava hidden in the Dralamut, and yes, the killers will do all that they promise if ever they find them, if they find that any of us have even looked at them, but all of us have, Chay-Liang. All of us. Its knowledge is needed if you are to cross the storm-dark. Feyn Charin read every single word as he sat at the foot of the Godspike while the killers hunted his mentor. You will read it too.’ She gave a toothy grin. ‘More tea, apprentice!’

Liang did as she was told. Lin Feyn got up and climbed the steps to the upper section. She came back holding a book, large and heavy and very old. She put it on the table in front of her. As Liang poured more tea, Lin Feyn pushed the book across.

‘The Rava, Chay-Liang. What purpose do the killers serve?’

‘I don’t know.’ Liang couldn’t take her eyes off the book. It was as though Lin Feyn had put a poisonous scorpion down in front of her.

‘Better. Much better. No, you don’t know, and nor should you ever assume otherwise. They hunt sorcerers to prevent another cataclysm. That may be true. They say they hunt the copies of this book because it contains the knowledge to make such a cataclysm possible. That may also be true. But some truth is not the whole truth, Chay-Liang. The Arbiter, above all others, must know the difference.’

She talked on, of how the half-gods had fallen to fighting among themselves and against their creator, how many had simply vanished, how the earth-touched had withdrawn to their safest places,
to the realms of the dead they called Xibaiya while the war of the half-gods raged, of the Splintering itself, the cataclysm that ended the half-gods who remained and broke the world into pieces. How the breaking of the earth had slain the goddess-creator.

‘All of this you will find written elsewhere, in myths and stories. We imagine the half-gods and the earth-touched long gone, figures of legend, never truly real, but they were. Yet there are also things in the Rava that you will not find elsewhere. The Rava
is
dangerous, for it is the tome of all the gods of its time and there were not four but five, the sun, the moon, the stars, the earth and the Nothing that came before them all, and the story it tells is of the breaking of the world that came when the Nothing was unleashed, for a very fraction of a moment, from the prison in which it was held. That is a secret you will not find elsewhere. You must never let the killers know you have learned it, for they will kill to keep it, yet it is the secret of the storm-dark.’

She reached across the table and tapped the book. ‘It’s all in there. The last priests of the old ways wrote down everything they knew before the killers found them. The goddess of the earth was slain when the Nothing burst free, but in her dying she made a cage in the ruins of Xibaiya and captured it once more. All but a few ways between this world and Xibaiya were destroyed – here in the Konsidar, others in other places, in the Queverra, once – but those were abandoned long ago. Here the Rava is incomplete, for it does not say the cause. The earth-touched remained in Xibaiya.’

‘Xibaiya?’ The enormity of what Liang was hearing kept slapping her, making her head spin and her skin turn numb. ‘The Elemental Men are from Xibaiya? Are they dead?’

‘They are people like you and I, Chay-Liang, but they carry a piece of something else inside them – a fragment of the fallen goddess. It changes them. An Elemental Man is a fusion. They are both now.’ She said it lightly as if it was nothing, as if Liang would somehow understand. ‘The skin-shifters are the same in some other way. On this the Rava has nothing to say. Unfortunately.’

She leaned forward and sipped her tea.

‘Something has changed, Liang. It began twenty-three years ago when a new star lit the sky above the Godspike at the exact end of the year. Do you remember it?’

Liang nodded. A beautiful light had bloomed like a new moon on the night of midsummer. It had lasted for a week and everyone across Takei’Tarr had seen it.

‘I remember it too. I was a girl then. After it was gone, the hsians of the thirteen sea lords and the Arbiter of the Dralamut met in secret to consider it in the Palace of Forever. Nothing was resolved except that the star must carry some great meaning. The hsians went back to their lords and hatched their plans. Quai’Shu’s dreams of dragons were born on that day. This foolishness between Xican and Dhar Thosis and Vespinarr is a scratch on the surface, Liang. The killers had a hand in bringing dragons to Takei’Tarr, and the moon sorcerers too, who never came out of their towers in the Diamond Isles and were nothing but myth and legend until Quai’Shu went to their island and called them from their diamond towers and they actually came. Dragons in Takei’Tarr, that’s what they wanted, all of them. In hindsight it’s so obvious. They know something, and the Righteous Ones in their gloom, they know something too.’ She frowned. ‘Six years ago, in the desert by the Godspike, one of the ring of needles cracked and the storm-dark began to shift. You know this.’

Liang nodded.

‘It has not stopped. The change is slow but it continues. Something changed in Xibaiya as well at that time. We cross the storm-dark, Chay-Liang, and when we do, we stare into the very heart of death itself. We go to places the killers can no longer imagine. For six years the Righteous Ones have been creeping out of their caves. The skin-shifter we seek now isn’t the first. It is little more than six years since, in Aria, an army of the dead scourged that land, since the Ice Witch rose, since the founding of the Necropolis. Across all the worlds, Liang, it has been anathema for a thousand years to bury the dead and consign their souls to the dead goddess of Xibaiya but in these last handful, in both Aria and the Dominion, the dead who die without the light of the sun or moon or stars, without fire or water or wind, no longer rest in peace but rise again. In our world too, Chay-Liang. In the Dralamut we have poisoned condemned slaves in lightless caves and seen them die and rise once more. The sea lords push the sun king towards holy war against the Ice Witch for their own ends. Dragons come to Takei’Tarr.
Skin-shifters roam from the Konsidar. I will judge the guilt for the burning of Dhar Thosis but there is far more to this and I would penetrate its mystery. The killers try to hide what is happening because they are afraid. They think to keep it from the Dralamut but they know more than they are saying, Chay-Liang, and so do the Righteous Ones of the Konsidar. When our new killer comes, you will say nothing of this, but do not trust his answers. They hold the reins of our avaricious sea lords and see that the shifters remain in their homes; and so we shall gather what knowledge we can and pretend that that is all that matters. We shall keep our peace despite what we know.’