Silver Kings: The Splintered Gods Part 16

'Great Charin! Hes not dead! The enchantress was almost laughing with glee now. 'Hes not dead! He escaped! He could be anywhere at all by now! But how . . . How was it done? I dont understand how it was done . . . She frowned. 'And if he escaped, why didnt he take Kalaiya with him? He would have taken her. He would! Chay-Liang shook her head, momentarily too puzzled to remember she was standing next to a corpse that talked back. 'And I havent the first idea how . . .

Red Lin Feyn did though. 'A skin-shifter, she said. 'From the Konsidar. She closed her eyes, trying to think. A skin-shifter in the form of his slave. One whod killed a man and then changed the corpse to fool them into thinking that Tsen was dead so no one would come looking. Clever. Almost perfect. 'This was no escape. She closed her eyes. A chill swept through her. 'Someone took him. And so everything is changed.

The dragon Silence fell through the weft of the world to Xibaiya. It had chosen its dying and chosen the place of it, the place where Diamond Eye had killed the Watcher, the earth-touched who had sent Tuuran to watch over the echo of the Black Moon. In Xibaiya the dragon Silence looked for the trail of the dead killer and found it easily enough. It would ask the Watcher why, and how it knew. With tooth and claw wrapped around the dead spirits throat if it had to.

It started to hunt.

Baros Tsen TVarr

30.

Shifter Skin The last thing Baros Tsen TVarr remembered, the Vespinese were attacking his eyrie. The next thing he knew, he woke lying on something hard. His head hurt and he had no sensation in his arms, his legs or his face except to feel the wind on it, the same b.l.o.o.d.y wind as ever tearing at his braids and tugging his clothes. What he could feel was someone pulling at him.

He opened his eyes and wished he hadnt. A mile straight below were dull purple flashes of lightning that could only be the storm-dark. Between him and it there was, well, nothing. Everywhere else was dark no, not quite dark; he could make out a deep purple tinge. It took a moment to realise that he wasnt, in fact, falling to his death.

He was underneath the eyrie.

Instinct made him push against whatever invisible force was holding him, but his arms werent working properly and he supposed he must look rather like a fish flopping about on a riverbank. He managed to roll over. At least he wasnt staring down at the storm-dark now, though looking up at the black stone underbelly of his eyrie a few feet over his head didnt strike him as a great deal better.

'Hush. The voice sounded like Kalaiya but he knew better. Shed touched him and, in a crippling flash of pain, stolen the strength from his legs. He remembered falling, the pain getting worse. He remembered not being able to move, seeing another man topple beside him, seeing the mans face swim and change and morph into his own, the doppelgnger Kalaiya crouching beside him, her hand never leaving him. Actually, he remembered everything with grim clarity. He rather wished he didnt.

Not-Kalaiya crouched beside him, one foot pressed on his chest, pushing him down. Shifter skin. Shed said she had shifter skin hiding a gla.s.s sled. Was that how shed changed her face too?

'What are you? he asked. He tried to move but she wouldnt let him and so he lay still, terrified he was about to die. No, not die, because if that was what she wanted then hed already be dead. Something worse.

'Be careful, Baros Tsen TVarr. Its a long way down and this sled is a touch small for any rolling about. I wouldnt want you to fall after Ive gone to so much trouble to get you here.

A distant flash of purple lightning lit up Not-Kalaiyas face. She was wearing a very Not-Kalaiya smirk. It was cold and mocking and heartless and turned her into someone hed never seen. It was a smirk that made him unreasonably angry. He tried to sit up but that clearly still wasnt going to work for a while.

'What did you do to me? He winced as a jagged line of bright violet arced from the belly of the eyrie to the storm-dark a mile below. The thunderclap rattled his bones and set bells ringing in his ears. 'Who are you? Where is Kalaiya? What have you done with her? If youve hurt her, Ill . . . Ill get . . . He faltered. Hed get what exactly? Angry? Well he was already fairly angry and so far it hadnt been much use. Hed throw this impostor into the storm-dark? But if he could do that then why hadnt he done it already? Because he was a stupid fat tvarr, thats why, and no match for a skin-shifter.

Skin-shifter. The thought rolled around inside his head. Hed heard things about skin-shifters, hadnt he? 'I will make you suffer, he finished. 'A thousand times.

'I didnt hurt her. I took her shape, nothing more. What will happen when the Vespinese are done here, I dont know. By now your eyrie is theirs. Whatever happens to your slave now, your business is with them, though you may not be in a position to do much about it for a while. If I were you, Baros Tsen TVarr, Id worry a lot more about myself just now.

'Who are you?

'Someone who doesnt want to see you hang from a Vespinese gibbet. The foot came off his chest. Tsen carefully felt for the invisible edges of the sled and sat up. Not-Kalaiya stood over him, watching. Above them both the jagged black underbelly of the eyrie was close enough to touch if he stood up. Veins of deep purple ran though it. Another violet thunderbolt cracked between the eyrie and the swirling clouds below. He shuddered. No one ever told me it did that. Did anyone even know?

'Youre one of them! he said suddenly, grasping at the first thought he could and finding Not-Kalaiyas words in the bath house. When would be a convenient time? 'You are a Regrettable Man! Or Woman, or whatever. He looked down at the storm-dark. No. That couldnt be right either, and he wasnt going to die, not yet and possibly not at all. Youre not a Regrettable Man any more than you were Kalaiya. So who are you?

'Dont be stupid. Im here to rescue you.

'I didnt want to be rescued!

Not-Kalaiya rolled her eyes. 'Fine, then Im abducting you. Would you like to go back?

'Not really. If she wanted, she could have killed him in his bath, as easy as anything. But rescue? 'Who sent you?

Careful, TVarr. Shes not what she says.

Not what she says? Oh how marvellously astute!.

Youre really not helping much here. 'How do you look like her?

'Im a skin-shifter from the Konsidar.

'And Im a dragon in a funny hat!

'You asked. Not-Kalaiya shrugged. 'I really dont mind if you dont believe me.

'Shifter skin. Thats what it is. You have a shifter skin. So show me who you really are.

'Look away, TVarr.

'Why?

Not-Kalaiya watched him steadily until he turned away. Hed been in Cashax when he first heard of shifter skin, years ago when he and Vey Rin had been tearing up the citys heart every night, looking for each thrill to be bigger than the last. Vey Rin had come in one night with a story of a woman or maybe it was a man who had a coat of skin and could become anything you wanted. Theyd gone looking but they never found her, and Tsen was sure now that shed never existed, because was that how you spent your time if you had the power to change into the shape of anyone at all? He remembered how hed wondered what he might do with such a treasure.

But maybe it had been some sort of elaborate game. He and Vey Rin and some of the others back in Cashax had set challenges for each other. Stupid dares, and this would have been right up their street. So, go and abduct the stupid fat tvarr from under the noses of the people who want to kill him. Then leave him naked in the desert with a bottle of apple wine and tell him he has to sing a song about the nymphs of the Yalun Zarang. Sometimes, remembering what he used to be like made his skin want to crawl off and go and be with someone else.

'You can look now. When Tsen looked back, Not-Kalaiya was gone and in her place stood a slender man of similar height and build. His face, in the dim light of the storm-dark and the dazzling flashes of lightning that spat down from the eyrie now and then, made him look little more than a boy.

'What if one of those bolts. .h.i.ts us? snapped Tsen.

The man shrugged. 'Then whether this is a rescue or not will be of academic interest and no one will ever find us. The man uncoiled a rope from around his waist and tossed it into Tsens lap. Instinct made Tsen grab it, but the rope writhed and wriggled in his hands like a snake. He yelped and tried to scrabble away. One hand went over the invisible edge of the sled and he fell back. The rope moved fast as lightning and wrapped itself around him, pinning his arms to his waist. He cried out as he began to topple over the side of the sled but the rope was tight around him, the far end held fast in the other mans hands. Tsen glared at him.

The shifter pulled on the rope, dragging Tsen away from the edge. 'Clearly, TVarr, if I wanted you dead then I would simply have let the lords of Vespinarr have their way. So I want you alive, at least for a while. Frankly Id been hoping for a little more grat.i.tude.

'Really? Tsen looked pointedly at the rope wrapped around him. 'Was that before or after you decided to pretend you were my Kalaiya?

The sled eased away from the shelter of the eyrie. The wind roared fierce and the shifter had to shout into Tsens ear to make himself heard. 'Look up, TVarr! Three gla.s.ships approached low, hugging the surface of the storm-dark. They sent their soldiers on sleds like this, so small you wouldnt see them coming, so many your dragon wouldnt be able to kill them all. The gla.s.ships were to draw your monster into the sky while the soldiers pa.s.sed beneath it, but you never saw them coming at all.

'And in the midst of that, you thought youd rescue me? How kind. Show me your shifter skin, whoever you are. Tsen snorted. 'You know where it comes from? Shed by the Righteous Ones of the Konsidar. He sniffed the air. 'It should stink.

The shifter paused for a moment. 'Youre right, of course. Only we dont exactly shed it, TVarr. It has to be flayed from our still-living bodies. It has to be enchanted and cut and st.i.tched into clothes. Abraxi the sorceress made exactly three sets from us before the Elemental Men made an end of her. Remind me, TVarr: where were you when the Vespinese came?

'I was . . . The wind ripped the words off his lips and shredded them. Tsen sighed. In my bath. Without a clue they were coming. 'Take me back!

'No. The shifter shook his head. 'TVarr, I took the place of one of their soldiers. This is his sled. Sea Lord Shonda was very specific: we find you, we kill you. Very specific indeed.

'Shonda? Shonda himself?

The sled was clear of the eyrie now. Tsen looked up and gasped. There must have been fifty gla.s.ships above the dragon yard, or sixty or perhaps even more. In the night sky they were lit up from within by the gold light at their hearts, sprinkled and sparkling through concentric annuli that spun one within the next and all inside the slow rotation of each great outer disc. The rims shone a brilliant white, their lightning cannons bright and ready, shining on the eyrie like a full moon. They were cl.u.s.tering slowly together, layering themselves so they were all huddled above the eyrie. Tsen had never seen so many so close together. They looked like a shoal of giant glowing jellyfish, only instead of seeing them from above and from the deck of a ship, he was seeing them from below as though he was some tiny fish.

'These lords of Vespinarr came to your home with two things in mind, yelled the shifter. 'To kill you and to take what was yours. I dont know why and I dont care, though if you wish to air your opinions then go ahead. We have a long journey and Im fond of conversation. He guided the sled back towards the shelter of the eyrie.

'Who are you?

The man shook his head and chuckled. 'A friend of Bronzehand.

'Bronzehand? The youngest of QuaiShus sons. Bronzehand, whod been trying to reach him right before this skin-shifter had come. Well theres a thing. Bronzehand was possibly the one person in the world who might have a reason for keeping him alive, the only trouble being he was across the storm-dark in a different world, and people had a tendency to vanish when they tried to penetrate the jungles of Qeled. Another thought struck Tsen. He laughed. 'Looks like Meidos going to win our wager after all. Maybe that was why Bronzehand was so interested.

'What wager was that?

Well done, tongue. Anything else youd like to share? Tsen sighed again. 'Nothing that matters now. We wagered this eyrie on how long Sea Lord QuaiShu would live. Im a month short. Bronzehand. For some reason that made him feel safe.

Really? You feel safe?

Well, safer than I did a few minutes ago.

And whys that, then, TVarr?

Because Bronzehand could be an ally.

An ally? Ha! Walking corpses dont have allies, TVarr.

Well thank you for that little piece of joy. Although the voices had a point.

'Whats your name, boy? All this shouting into the teeth of the wind was making him think of being at sea. He hadnt been at sea for a long time and hadnt much liked it either.

The shifter yelled back, 'If you knew how old I was youd choke. Ive more years than you, TVarr, and lets leave it at that. They sank slowly towards the maelstrom, keeping under the eyrie where the gla.s.ships wouldnt see them.

'Your face says otherwise.

'Im surprised you put any trust in faces. As for names, I wear them every bit as easily. Call me Sivan. He grinned and bared his teeth.

'Sivan. Well then, Sivan, I am first tvarr to a sea lord, and now you can take me back where I belong. I will not leave without Kalaiya.

The sled dropped suddenly. Tsen screamed as they plunged like a stone towards the storm-dark. 'Kalaiya! They were really going without her. Somehow he had thought there might be a miracle, that he could change what would happen. 'Kalaiya! Kalaiya! He struggled against the rope, rocking back and forth until he almost threw himself off the plummeting sled, and screaming and screaming until Sivan whirled about and touched him and everything went black.

31.

A Half-Remembered Place For the second time Baros Tsen TVarr opened his eyes and wondered where he was. This time he quickly screwed them shut again. The wind had stopped. The air was still and the sky was as bright as the sun. The sled under his back was hard and uncomfortable. He shifted, trying to stretch himself out, and realised he could move and that the rope was gone. He rolled onto his back, sat up and tried that eye-opening thing again. It didnt much help. Everywhere he looked, all he saw were rolling waves of dazzling sand. He was out in the open in the middle of the desert in the middle of the morning with no shelter and, as far as he could tell, no water.

'Come on. Get up. Sivan was poking him.

His first thought was to push Sivan off the sled and fly away. 'If were going to debate the terms of your surrender, could we at least do it somewhere comfortable? Frankly Id prefer a pleasant orchard, perhaps over a qaffeh and some Bolo, but Id honestly settle for any place with some shade. Could you perhaps . . . ?

The shifter ignored him, jumped off the sled and walked away across the sand. For a minute or so Tsen watched him go but Sivan didnt look back. With a groan, Tsen got up. His feet hurt. He frowned and scratched his head, trying to remember how to make sleds work. They were enchanter toys. They did what an enchanter wanted because the enchanter wanted it and that was about the extent of what he knew; that and that they were probably a lot less use than they appeared in a place like this. He dimly remembered hearing that the small ones couldnt fly all that far before they ran out of whatever it was that made them work.

He jumped up and down a bit. The sled wobbled. It was floating over the sand, not resting on it. Still working then, although a fat lot of good that did him. Enchanter constructs worked when he wanted them to work because he carried a black rod. The enchanters made those rods for everyone and each rod was different, a personal thing. They were like keys, unique, and what locks they opened depended on who you were. And he didnt have his black rod any more. Of course he didnt. Sivan had taken it. Then again he hadnt seen Sivan use a rod either. Did that make him an enchanter then?

Well, you could always ask him. Sivan was almost at the top of the nearest dune. Tsen watched as he disappeared over the top.

Or perhaps not.

Tsen stood there for a bit, thinking Go and Up as hard as he could and then thinking what a fool hed look to anyone watching and then what a fool he was for thinking something so stupid. Yes. Probably a whole host of invisible dune people pointing and laughing at you. Although if there were then at least they might know where to find some water. He was parched. Sand had crept into his ill-fitting too-tight black silks too. It itched.

He sat down again. He was sweating and there was no shade. The sled was made of gla.s.s and no use. He got up again and very deliberately scanned the horizon in case somehow hed missed something, but there wasnt anything to see except the rolling dunes and one set of footprints leading up the nearest rise. See? Now if there were invisible dune people, then thats how youd know. Theyd leave tracks.

The only tracks were Sivans. Tsen closed his eyes and took a deep breath and sighed. He really didnt want to climb the dune, really didnt, but the only other choice seemed to be to stay where he was and see what happened first: whether he roasted to death or died a parched husk. He sighed again, dropped off the sled and started to follow the footprints. He was probably being stupid. Sivan hadnt gone to all that trouble just to drop him into the storm-dark so he presumably wasnt going to leave him to die in the desert either; presumably he was off getting some shelter and water and other useful things and so presumably he was coming back. Presumably. Unless the shifter meant him to follow and just hadnt bothered to say so.

Thoughts of rescue bubbled up, of escape and flight, all of them utterly stupid. He had absolutely no idea where he was except that he was somewhere in the Empty Sands, and what he did know was that the Empty Sands had earned their name. They ran almost the entire width of TakeiTarr, from Cashax in the north to the Lair of Samim and in places right to the sea in the south. From east to west they were a bit smaller a mere handful of hundreds of miles from the G.o.dspike in the east westward as far as the escarpment of the Tzwayg, which, if he could be bothered to imagine such things mattered just now, might be considered the start of the foothills of the Konsidar. Since the Tzwayg and the eastern Konsidar were every bit as dry and dead as the sand sea, he reckoned the distinction was irrelevant. Good to know he remembered his geography though. All those years trying not to learn anything. Must have had a good tutor back in Cashax. Maybe if he wasnt dead a year from now then he could go back and thank him. Tell him how knowing the exact extent of the Empty Sands had really raised his spirits when he was stuck in the middle of them . . .

Oh just shut up.

Halfway up the dune and he was already gasping. b.l.o.o.d.y sand. Hed spent a good deal of his youth in Cashax, roaring around the desert on the back of a sled, wadi racing and generally making an a.r.s.e of himself. Hed learned a lot about sleds and how fast they could go and how to corner them and skim them across the face of a dune. He tried to remember whether hed accidentally learned anything useful about surviving out here. If he had, it was largely to try very hard not to have to.

Well, thats useful then.

Yes. Almost as useful as illeistic sarcasm.

Actually, that wasnt strictly . . .

Looking for features in the sand wasnt going to help because there werent any. He probably knew the desert as well as anyone who didnt actually live there, and the sum of what he knew was that it was mostly made up of great big sand dunes with other bits scattered around like careless sprinkles on a hurriedly decorated cake: flats of gravel and of a milky-white power like crushed gla.s.s and a few stretches of hard red clay that the desert men claimed had once been lakes in the long-ago before the half-G.o.ds broke the world. He clearly wasnt in any of those, and even if he climbed a dune to find one staring him in the face, he hadnt the first idea how that was supposed to help him because they all looked the same. Oh, look, a large flat expanse of red clay. Must be a dried-up lake bed. Pat yourself on the back for being clever for a moment before you go back to dying of thirst. Something like that.

From the air hed sometimes seen what looked like lines in the sand, or maybe under it. The shadows of old roads, said the desert men, but from the ground they were invisible. Nothing much lived here. Spiders. Scorpions. Snakes now and then. Skimming the dunes around Cashax, hed once come across a nest of tiny silver ants with ridiculously long legs. If he was lucky maybe he might see a desert hawk. Magnificent birds, but that wouldnt be much consolation when he was stretched out dead. Maybe hed be eaten by one. There were probably better ways to go.

What? Like dying quietly of old age in your bath fifty years from now with Kalaiya by your side and the taste of apple wine on your lips? Already forget that your dragon burned a city, did you? Forgot that everyone wants you hanged?

He deserved this. He deserved to die out here for what hed done.

I tried to stop it! He waited a bit to see if his conscience was having that, but no, apparently not. You were trying to be clever and you messed it up, but hey, you tried to stop it. Well done. Clap clap clap. THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE BURNED!

He spent another few minutes arguing with himself about just how much everything either was or wasnt his fault, which kept him going until he reached the top of the dune. Sivan was waiting a few yards down the leeward side, just out of sight.

'You could have stayed with the sled, you know, said the shifter.