Havemercy. Part 1

HAVEMERCY.

Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett.

To Uncle David, for all the walking and talking.

Jaida.

To Andrew, for not laughing when I said ametal dragonsa Dani.

And to Ellen, without whom this book would never have been a book at all.

J & D.

If it takes a village to raise a child, then it takes an army to write a book, and we couldnat have done this without our army. To those who were brave enough to read this in its earliest stagesa"Susan, Natasha, Yi Liu, Tashina, Sara, Laura, Justine, Mom, Uncle David, Grandma Fay and Grandpa Terrya"thank you for being swift and merciless with your feedback. Many thanks, of course, to our tireless agent, Tamar Rydzinski, to Anne Groell, our editor at Bantam Spectra, for taking a chance on Rook, Thom, Royston, Hal and all the metal dragons, as well as to our copy editor, Sara Schwager, and Joshua Pasternak, who was always kind enough to tell us aDonat panic.a Thanks to both our dads for the straight-talkina; to John Jurgensen at the Wall Street Journal for including Jaida in his article, aRewriting the Rules of Fiction,a which somehow landed us on this path in the first place; to the society of Nitpicky Babes for their sound advice and witty repartee; to Ca.s.sie and Holly, for being our first inspirations; to Claudia and all the fine ladies at Java City, for keeping the coffee coming; to Jonah, for the soundtrack; and to those in our lives who put the right books in our hands when we were the right age. Finally, thanks to the boxers: You know who you are, and where would we be without you?

CHAPTER ONE.

ROYSTON.

That morning, I awaited my arrest in Our Lady of a Thousand Fans. I wasnat alone, but it seemed I might as well have been, for the young man in the bed next to me was asleep. He had no particular reason not to bea"after all, it wasnat his future upon which fell the shadow of impending arresta"and though I found that I could not look at him, neither did I begrudge him the repose.

It was rather a curious situation in which Iad found myself. Truth be told, Iad considered myself clever enough to avoid such entanglements altogether. Yet the problem with doing foolish things was that it was quite often impossible to tell what was foolish and what wasnat until youad swum too far out to turn back again. After that point, it was either carry on or drown.

Of course, you were hanged either way if another man stood up to accuse you of doing all manner of things you were relatively sure you hadnat.

And that was the thing about men: They could so easily change their minds, become frightened of what might happen to them, and throw you to the wolves. If you were very, very unlucky, they might even do all three.

At leasta"if you were more than pa.s.sably wealthya"you might be able to go out in style.

I was waiting that morning for the footfalls I knew were coming. They were neither the trained, delicate rhythms of Our Ladyas skilled professionals nor the uneven steps of sated patrons, but rather those that held all the surety and sharpness of a man of the law. The man who was coming for me was one who did not need to hunt his quarry because he knew very well where it would be. Though my offense was by all accounts a serious one, the way in which it must be handled would demand a touch of finesse. Most political matters did, though it was a philosophy lost on some men.

Despite my a.s.sumptions, I couldnat have said quite what I was expecting, but it certainly wasnat the Provost of the city himself, leaning in the doorframe as though he hadnat a care in the world.

There was a large mirror hanging on the wall opposite the beda"for people who liked that sort of thing, I supposeda"ornately framed in dark cherrywood. So I saw the scene as it must have appeared to him: the lines forming thin and faint at the corners of my eyes, gray hairs glinting at my temples more obviously than Iad have liked in the late-morning sun. I thought ruefully of how little I deserved those marks of age, and how well I had won them, for a man just past thirty-five years of age. Next to me the young man slept on, his tanned shoulders smooth, his mouth open and vulnerable. I tilted my head, fingers measuring the dark unkempt edges of the beard creeping over my cheeks and under my chin.

Iad not had the time to shave beforea"and after, it had seemed like something of a trifle. After my betrayal by Erik, many things had seemed a trifle.

aMargrave Royston,a said the Provost. aYouare a hard man to track down.a aNot particularly,a I said.

His nose wrinkled at the smell of burnt cloves that permeated the air, and I could sense how very badly he wished to tell me to stop smoking. His excellent comportment prevented him from doing so; or perhaps it was his keen attention to protocol. Nevertheless, there were those who believed the Esar had made a grievous error in letting a commoner enforce his laws. The Provost was a man of the Charlotte district, center-born and center-bred. The people liked him because he didnat put on airs, and everyone else liked him because he minded his own businessa"with the exception, of course, of those rare occasions when the n.o.blesse went out of their way to do something exceedingly imprudent or alarming; and then his intervention was required.

There was a bowl carved from black stone on the nightstand, in antic.i.p.ation of the possibility that the wealthy patrons of Our Lady might need a place to put their cuff links or jewelry. I myself had adopted it as an ashtray, a purpose for which I felt it was peculiarly suited.

aYouad better get dressed,a the Provost continued, removing a round, gold watch from his pocket. aThereas a ruling to be had.a aSo soon?a I didnat know myself whether the surprise in my voice was feigned or genuine. I decided on the third option, which was trousers, and got out of bed. aDmitri, I must say the efficiency of this nation in condemning a man is simply astounding.a The Provost continued to examine his pocket watch with somewhat forced interest. aYour duties within the Basquiat will be a.s.sumed by another, in accordance with the sentencing.a aSentencing?a I caught a glimpse of myself again in the mirror, hair dark and sleep-wild, half-dressed, white shirt voluminous and untucked, my nose stark and sharp and the new lines tight around my eyes and mouth. Iad lost my cuff links under a mound of ash. I looked exactly as I felt: a man thrown off center.

aOh. Thereas no official trial,a Dmitri said quickly, casting a glance upward. Finding me more or less decent, he nodded and tucked the watch away into some invisible pocket. aWe just thought it might be time for a little, ah, chat.a His att.i.tude confirmed my worst fears.

We stepped outside together, and I looked about at the city I loved.

Our Lady of a Thousand Fans was situated in the heart of Miranda. Most will tell you itas the palace, or even the Basquiat, thatas the real center of the cityas uppermost district. In truth, it all depends on where youare coming from, or what attracts you most.

You can tell a lot about people by the details they choose to employ when describing Volstovas capital.

If you ask anybody whoas anybody, though, theyall tell you that if you wish to get through the city and not end up hopelessly lost, it isnat at the palace or Our Lady that you want to begin. Leaving from the Basquiat is actually easiest, taking the Whitstone Road, which leads in a counterclockwise direction through aVersity Stretch, past the Rue daSt. Difference and its countless millinersa"elaborate hats being very much in fashion this season, the sort with lace veils, wide brims, and feathersa"along with all the other shops. The Rue is just on the edge between lower Miranda and upper Charlotte, so once youare past the merchantsa quarter youare smack in the middle of Charlotte herself, teeming and fat-voweled and c.o.c.ky. No one much cares what you do in Charlotte so long as youare not doing it to a friend or member of the family. Once you accustom yourself to Charlotteas indifference, she will adopt you as her son or daughter, so long as you look after yourself and donat stray too close to Mollyedge.

It was a principle that could be applied to any of the three sister districts, for each had its own boundaries, as well as its own consequences for dealing with those who strayed too close to them.

The Provostas hansom had windows, at least, and for that I was thankful. I had the odd idea in my heada"pervasive no matter how I tried to distract myselfa"that this might be the last time I got to examine the city I so loved with such reverent attention. Iad had the same feeling with Erik the last occasion Iad met with him, though at the time I hadnat paid my misgivings much mind.

In the end I didnat blame Erik. Volstov was accepting of such dalliances, while Arlemagne took the opposite approach. And Erik was an Arlemagne prince. He was under edict, and he did no credit to his royal family nor to the time-honored tradition of diplomacy for which Arlemagne was famous. On top of all that, we hadnat exactly been carefula"a fact for which I blamed myselfa"making eyes at one another in broad daylight, in the streets, in the middle of the Basquiat. My only surprise was that no one had noticed us sooner.

If I were being ruthless in my honesty, I would admit that it was not the only surprise I had felt over the matter, but I had told myself it was pointless to wrestle with such thoughts beyond what good they could do me. Arlemagne had no understanding of Talents: a magicianas particular apt.i.tude within a given field. The same man who could pull a stream from its bed could not create enough heat to boil water unless he did it the same as the rest of us, with a stove, or by building a fire with his own two hands.

Likewise, a man whose skills lay chiefly with combustion would have to rely on his own considerable charm, rather than his Talent, to seduce any sort of prince.

Erik had capitalized on the ignorance of his countrymen and saved himself a great deal of grief in doing so. Really, it should not have surprised me. He was boundlessly clever; one almost wanted to admire him.

Now, in the absence of what regret Iad not yet allowed myself to feel, I felt an overwhelming sense of loss concerning Thremedon City herself, her twisting uneven skyline and its gentle sloping toward the sea.

We jostled around a corner, the Provost staring at his watch with the keen interest of a man determined not to be late or one who was extremely uncomfortable with the situation at hand. From the fervor he was devoting to the task, I had to a.s.sume that, wherever we were heading, it was certain to be a room full of self-important men, waiting to decide my fate. I normally had nothing against self-importance, but the idea that, at this moment, someone could be settling a sentence upon my head was both disquieting and invasive, as though the private events of my life had all too quickly become public.

I might have considered this fact before involving myself with Arlemagneas heir, but I have always been much cleverer in retrospect.

There were certain freedoms allowed to men of the Basquiata"men of privilege and wealth. I wondered if this would help my case. But there were some limits to that freedom for which one couldnat be pardoned. Iad never been at the center of an international incident before. On the periphery, perhapsa"skirting around the edges like the proper young madames keen on avoiding puddles in the streeta"but this time was different. Displease the wrong people, and even your connections canat save you. Displease the wrong country, anda"well, I would find out shortly.

I refused to blame Erik. Panic was a natural reaction; it could make you stupid, selfish. Iad seen it often enough. It was a rare man who had the natural proclivity to do the right thing when the wrong one might save him a share in the punishment or blame. Erik had been young. In his place and at that age, I might well have done the same.

This was a liea"I knew even as I thought ita"but it was a lie that gave me some comfort.

Our carriage halted in front of the Esaras palace: a long, low-ceilinged building of cream and gold. The Provost got out before me and held the carriage door, so I knew that things couldnat be so dire as all that. Still, it was with a sense of slow, settling disaster that I stepped onto the Palace Walk.

For the first time in a long while I felt utterly powerless to shape my surroundings.

aItas this way,a said the Provost. He tapped me once on the shoulder, then took the lead. I followed him, for I could go no other way.

ROOK.

The only reason we got punished the way we did was acause thaEsar was spitting mad for too many reasons that had nothing to do with me and what Iad done. All of a sudden and out of nowhere, we were getting slapped with a ruler on the wrist, only there was a whole lot more of a ruckus about it, and it was thaEsar himself instead of some prissy-pants schoolmaaam doing the slapping. I mean, we were all called ina"me and the rest of the boysa"and lined up on these uncomfortable chairs that smelled of old velvet and dust, and made to wait in this place Balfour (his voice reminding us head been raised with all the privileges of a thoroughbred b.i.t.c.h) said was Punishmentas Antechamber. And even I had to admit it: That seemed about right. n.o.body said anything to us, just gave us a couple of dark looks before making us wait, no doubt so we could think long and hard about what wead done. They were scowling at me in particular, seeing as how Iad been the one to do it, and everyone knew.

I wasnat sorry. None of the boys were, eithera"I could see it in the way they were scowling right back. ThaEsar was just p.i.s.sed and looking for someone to blame it all on. Because we were having enough trouble with Arlemagne without all this on top of the rest, Ghislainad said, and Adamoad just shook his head like maybe he wished head been a part of it and maybe he was real glad he hadnat been, and maybe it didnat matter either way since he was called in for it with the rest of us.

The thing was, I didnat know she was married.

She wasnat so fine and so sweet-curved as I couldnatave found somebody elsea"and bettera"to tickle that night. But she was married to a diplomat, which was what made it so bad, so when I tried to pay her like she was a common wh.o.r.e, she got wild as a wet cat on me, screaming and throwing things and breaking vases. I thought she was a wh.o.r.e, the way shead tarted herself up, but apparently that was just an Arlemagneas way: powder on everything and too many undergarments, the kind of teasing frippery you only see in Our Lady and which I normally donat have time for. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were incredible, thougha"big and round and soft and warma"and I spent a lot of time letting her know how incredible I thought they were. Even if I did think it was a commercial exchange, she mightave been grateful instead of screaming rape all over, like thatas what you can do if youare a woman when things go sour and you feel a slight.

She called me all kinds of things in her raw-edged Arlemagne voice, all kinds of incredible things I pa.s.sed on afterward to Magoughin, who collected that kind of talk. But then all of a sudden there was a diplomat with some ridiculous mustache knocking down our door like he was going to kill us, and I almost had my knife in him, all the boys laughing and whooping it up, when Adamo got his arms round me and dragged me off, both of us cursing up a storm.

Which led us to where we were, too early for my tastes, ready to take our lumps from thaEsara"which is what they call him in the streets, on account of there being one too many eas in the t.i.tle otherwisea"and n.o.body happy about it, except me, since at least Iad seen some action and was feeling pretty good despite the situation.

aSo what about this f.u.c.k-up with the little Cindy?a I asked, acause I knew I could fish it out of Jeannot, who loved gossiping about the n.o.blesse better than the n.o.blesse did themselves.

Jeannot sighed. aRook,a he began.

aFine,a I said, amending. aThe Margrave, then. Biting the pillow with one of Arlemagneas princes? Everyoneas talking about it. I just figured youad know the sordids.a aHeir apparent,a Jeannot replied. aHe was abiting the pillowa with Arlemagneas heir apparent.a af.u.c.k,a I said, and whistled.

Balfour gave me a look like Iad offended him something awful, which was ridiculous, seeing as head been one of us long enough that no man could call him rookie. Besides which, Iad found better names for him since, and he knew what to expect from me.

aIt wonat be anything serious,a said Ace, who never thought anything was serious unless he was in the air, and even then he was keeping score. But I didnat know whether head been listening to us or whether he was trying to rea.s.sure himself about the punishment that was waiting for us just on the other side of thaEsaras door.

Evariste took it as the second meaning, and didnat bother answering. He was only ever half-listening to anything anyone ever said, anyway. aThey never punish the Margraves.a aThey never punished us before, either,a I pointed out. aWhere the f.u.c.k is f.u.c.king Niall?a The ninth of our company had talked his way past the guards, pleading a weak bladder, but I didnat think itad have worked for anyone else. Niall came from soldiering blood; they recognized their own and favored him as such. Unfair f.u.c.king world, but Niall was tight in a pinch, especially when the pinch required sweet-talking. Even now he was probably reading the rags on one of thaEsaras own porcelains or, better yet, milking information from a maid somewhere with his hand right on the teat.

Besides the boys, there wasnat much to look at in the Antechamber, just blank walls painted the same puke tan every which way you stared. Raphael said it was supposed to be calming, the color, so as to soothe the wild psychopath within, but Raphael talked like that all the f.u.c.king time, like head read one too many fancy books as a kid and the words had left him addlepated. Anyway, I figured the men that designed the room wanted anyone waiting to think long and hard on what theyad done, instead of letting them relax by filling the place with fancy picnic scenes so they could sit and think aWhat a lovely paintinga and not aIf Merritt goes on tapping his foot like that, Iall kill him.a aShe did have amazing b.r.e.a.s.t.s,a Ace said finally, before he kicked Merritt in the shin, at least solving that problem.

His topic was a pleasing one, though it always set me on edge to be agreeing with anything Ace had to say. But I guess even disagreeable men could come together over a nice pair of b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

I smiled, fierce and smug. Along the line of chairs, one or two bodies shifted like they had something important to say but couldnat see their way toward saying it. I crossed my arms and dared them to go on and get it off their chests, but anyone who wanted to protest at being called in on my account had missed his chance when itad first happened. aCourse, they mayave been discouraged by my knife and my temper at the time, but that just meant they were prudent.

Had to be prudent to fly with the Dragon Corps.

Niall came skidding back into the room, looked relieved and then disappointed that we were all sitting exactly where head left us. He took the empty seat, fussing with the high collar of our uniform. aEsaras tied up in some big to-do a ways down. Very top secret. Something to do with a Margrave and the prince of Arlemagne?a aHeir apparent,a I told him, in a foul mood now because this was no news, and I hated hearing the same rumors twice. aSeems heas bent as aa"a aRook,a Adamo cut in, calm as ever, but with a promise in his tone for anyone who took that calm as anything like weakness.

aFriend of yours?a I asked, and then I closed my mouth. Adamoad always said I had more guts than good sense. Why anyonead want or need the latter, I couldnat imagine, but Adamo was too big for arguing with.

aAs a matter of fact, he is,a said Adamo, like he knew Iad just been mouthing off and hadnat been expecting that.

Before it could get nasty, or interestinga"or botha"the heavy doors at the end of the room gave way. The kid whoad opened them looked barely thicker than the doors themselves, but he wore the frip and cut of a man in the service of thaEsar.

aWeare ready for you,a he said.

Compagnon snorted, triggering a ripple of amus.e.m.e.nt through the rest of us as we stood, ranged more or less shoulder to shoulder with the exception of our punier members.

No one was ever ready for us, I thought. Not even thaEsar himself.

HAL.

The story began the way all the old legends began: This is only a story. Whether there is some truth to it is for the discerning reader to decide.

Many years ago, in a distant land, there was born a most extraordinary young man to two entirely mundane parents. With his parents being such simple country creatures, it came as no surprise that young Tycho was born without any magical powers to speak of, let alone a Talent of his own. Perhaps it was this absence that caused his behavior, queer and brash at once, as though he did not understand that he too was meant for a common life, and wished to rail against the stars that had ordained his purpose.

Tycho was many things before he was the Brave. Just short of twenty years, he lost his nose while outmatched in a duel with a magician. It is said that the lady they fought over was so impressed with his foolhardy courage that she implored her fathera"a silversmitha"to craft the young Tycho a nose of precious metals to wear instead.

She was a beautiful lady, unmarried and kindhearted. Therefore she was precisely the sort of lady any man would start a duel over, and even a man so peculiar as Tycho was not immune to her charms.

What happened next was unclear; whether the lady held Tychoas favor for the good shead done him, or whether he had so indisputably impressed her that night. Whatever the case, it is certain that they made an impression on each other, for they came to be engaged over the course of the next year. Tycho visited his ladyas house to ask after the progression of his fine new nose, and soon he grew accustomed to taking her walking in the gardens or through the streets of the city.

aWe should be married in a garden,a he would say to his lady.

aYes,a said the lady, for that was what she always said.

They might have been married the very next month, for the ladyas father had finished his work on Tychoas fine nose, and there was no reason for any further delay. However, the magician who had taken Tychoas nose in the first place had a delicate sense of honor, which had been dealt a frightful hurt over losing the lady when head won the duel.

He came to Tychoas wedding, dressed all in black velvets with a splash of white lace at his throat. There he placed a curse on the bride, that before the yearas end harvest she would fall ill and become a lady entirely of stone.

aYour body will become as cold as your heart!a the magician cried, and he disappeared before any member of her family could reach his rapier in time.

The lady was most distressed over this news. She fretted all through the reception and would take no cake, nor drink any wine.

aI will take care of this,a Tycho said, for her father had many books, and he himself was incredibly learned.

aYes,a said the lady, for that was what she always said.

They enjoyed no honeymoon, and the newly married couple went to none of the fine summer festivals that year. Tycho spent his days locked away in the study of their small home, poring over his vast library for any spell that might counter what the magician had done. His lady wife interviewed hundreds of magicians in their parlor, asking them each what might be done about the curse placed upon her, and if there was anything that might be done to keep a ladyas body flesh and blood the way it was meant to be.

Every day, the magicians shook their heads and left the house regretful. Every night, Tycho would unlock the window cas.e.m.e.nt in his study and climb to the roof of their house to sit with his wife and gaze at the stars.

aThe harvest comes soon,a Tycho said, stretching his fingers to trace the shape of a horseas head in the sky.

aYes,a said his lady, for that was what she always said.

The summer ended, and it came time for the yearas end harvest. Magicians from all four corners of the world visited Tychoas house, but none of them was able to offer a single suggestion that could offset the magicianas curse. The ladyas mother came to stay at their house and to look after her daughter, while Tycho expanded the time he spent with his books, reading through them like a man caught up in some terrible fever.

aThere must be something,a he said to his ladyas mother.

aA pity you had no children,a replied the old woman.

The harvest came. The men and women on their farms scythed their fields and reaped their wheat, and one morning Tycho woke to find his lady wife a gray weight beside him, stony and silent.

A great heaviness settled over his own heart that day, as though some part of him had turned to stone as well. He set his lady in the garden, where they had taken their first walks and spoken their first vows. Then he locked the doors to the house they had shared and left the village where he had been born and raised.

The events of those years are not well doc.u.mented. It is said that Tycho was searching for the magician who had cursed his wife, or that he was searching only to forget his wife entirely. Some accounts insist that Tycho encountered a dwarf and took to keeping him as a kind of jester, to lift his spirits. Others say that he took to riding a moose, stating that it traveled much faster than even the swiftest of horses.

Of the many differing accounts of these years, it may be argued that the most true is the very first: that he sought to take his revenge on the magician who had so cruelly stolen his lady wife.