Chapter Twenty-Two
Sardec stood by the dockside, wondering how it had come to this. He did not like their situation at all, did not like to think they were trapped and that their only option was to run. He found that he rather liked Harven, and would have liked to spend more time in the place. He wished that Rena was here. This was a place where he felt the two of them might be happy together, where Terrarch prejudices meant less, and humans meant more. He was surprised to find himself in sympathy with that attitude. His father certainly would not have been. He forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Another large ship was being towed into the crowded harbour. It flew the flag of Talorea. A few hours earlier he would have felt sure that its master would help him if asked, and if paid enough; now he was far from certain. At every ship, at every agent’s office, he had heard the same thing. There were no ships available. The tides were wrong. Storms were expected in the Bay of Whales. No cargoes were being sent in that direction right now. The ship’s master was sick. There had been an outbreak of pestilence on board and no man was allowed ashore because of the quarantine. The extent and originality of the excuses had been really rather impressive. Without ever quite spelling it out, the merchants and captains had let him know that no ship was likely to become available no matter who his patron was or how much he was prepared to pay. Sardec was beginning to lose his patience.
The man in front of him now seemed frightened even by his very presence. He was an agent for a Talorean shipping company, a small man but wealthy looking, recommended by Ambassador Valefor, and for that reason the last Sardec had approached.
“I am sorry, Lieutenant,” he said. “All our outbound ships are heading for Selenea. And none of them have room for passengers.”
“Why?”
“They are simply too small.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“I am sorry, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”
“Why will you not aid an officer of your own nation?”
“I would if I could but as I have already explained...”
“Let me explain something,” said Sardec. “If you do not help us I will see to it that you die.”
“Are you threatening me, Lieutenant?” Sardec gestured in the direction of Weasel and the Barbarian.
“Those men there will cut your throat if I order them to.”
“The watch would have them...”
“I assure you they are capable of doing it at a time and place where the watch will not catch them. They could make your death particularly unpleasant if I asked them to.”
The merchant stared at the pair. He took Sardec’s assessment at face value. “If it were up to me,” he said at last, “I would find you a ship, but even if I did, no captain would take you.”
“Why?”
“Word has gone around that any ship that carries you will encounter the Shipbreakers.”
“Who has spread such rumours?”
“They are not rumours. The word has come through the Intercessors.”
“Lady Asea is an accomplished sorceress. She can protect any ship.”
“The Light preserve her, at sea the Quan are supreme. If they decide a ship will sink, it will sink. I have seen it happen.”
“You have seen it?”
“In my youth, when I sailed with the Summer Fleet there was a captain who took it into his head to blaspheme in their Temple. He was a bold man, an Ilimarian, and he feared nothing. For a bet he went to Temple and pissed in the sacred pool. For a week thereafter he wandered around the city, drunk and boasting how nothing had happened to him despite his actions.”
“And?”
“When the Summer Fleet set sail for the Middle Sea we were no sooner out of harbour than his ship was destroyed. One minute it was there, a triple-masted forty gunner; the next it was gone.”
“It hit a rock?”
“In the open sea round Harven? It’s clear that you are not a sailor, Lieutenant. No - it was pulled down. I saw it with my own eyes. Massive tentacles, covered in suckers with leech-like mouths, emerged from the sea. Each was the size of a tower. They wrapped themselves round the ship and pulled it below, shattering it to splinters. No man survived.”
“Some must. They could have swum clear.”
The merchant smiled coldly and shook his head. “There were things in the water, Lieutenant, that made sure that when a man went down he never came back up. There were no survivors. Not a man-jack of the crew ever saw port again. It was a lesson to everybody, and everybody learned from it. You don’t defy the Quan and sail the Northern Seas, Lieutenant. And when the Intercessors say something is not to be done, it will not happen in Harven. The Quan don’t interfere here often, but when they do, they are obeyed. They are the real rulers of this city, Lieutenant, and that’s a fact. You could threaten to kill and torture every captain in this harbour, and they still would not take you, and do you know why, Lieutenant?”
“I suspect you are going to tell me.”
“You can only kill a man, Lieutenant, but the Quan, and that’s what those things were in the water that day, they will eat your soul.”
The merchant’s manner left Sardec in no doubt that he believed every word he said. He knew then that they were not going to be able to get out of Harven by ship.
Rik felt as if his mouth was full of rotten flesh, that his tongue was a bloated worm, that his limbs were made from mouldy cloth. All strength had been drained out of him. Terror filled him as memories of what had happened flooded back into his mind.
He opened his eyes and looked around. The walls were wooden. He could hear the sea lapping against them. The air was damp and salty. The floor was at an odd angle. Malkior stood in the corner of the room; his face was lit by a glowstone placed within an old naval lantern.
“You can shout if you like,” said Malkior. “No one will come. They are used to hearing screams from these old hulks.”
If the situation had not been so serious, Rik could almost have smiled. It was a situation straight out of those old chapbooks he used to read. He was a prisoner on one of the dreaded harbour prisons. He wondered if he could escape in any of the ways the heroes of his youth had.
He looked down at his feet. He was, as he had expected to be, chained. The weight dragged at his ankles and made it impossible for him to move more than a stride away from the walls.
“They have used these ships as prisons for over two hundred years,” said Malkior conversationally. “No one has ever escaped.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You have read too many storybooks. The Sea Devils take any swimmers they find in the waters around the hulks. Young Quan, hungry ones, wait here for just that purpose. It’s one of the few places in the harbour they are permitted to do so by their elders.”
“You seem to know a lot about them.”
Malkior shrugged. “We share certain tastes in common. I have been in touch with them for many years. They are fascinating creatures, if a little horrid.”
Rik fumbled at his wrists. He was surprised to discover that both his hidden pistol and his knife were still there. Cautiously he loosened the pistol in its holster. He might still have a chance to escape, he thought. He could threaten Malkior with the gun and get himself unchained then use him as a hostage to get off the hulk. Instinct warned him that it could not possibly be that easy, but he decided he had better give it a try. He let the pistol drop into his hand. He raised it and pointed it directly at Malkior’s belly.
“You will order me released. You will not come close enough to touch me. If you do I will put a bullet in your gut.”
Malkior laughed at him. The sound was rich with mockery and in that moment Rik hated him enough to pull the trigger. Only his even stronger desire for self-preservation kept him from it.
“I am not joking,” he said.
Malkior looked at him. “It’s been a long while since anybody threatened me. Now it has happened
twice in the space of twenty-four hours. First Asea, now you. I find the situation refreshing.”
“I have seen a number of belly wounds,” said Rik conversationally. “The deaths were never easy.”
“I do believe you are my son, Rik. I could not have said that better myself.”
“Then you also know I mean it.”
“I do. But consider the situation. You shoot me in the belly, possibly fatally, and what do you get? An unpleasant death at the hands, or I should say tentacles, of my aquatic associates.”
“I would get the satisfaction of killing you. I expect my own death anyway.”
“Then why not shoot?” If Malkior intended to call Rik’s bluff, he made a mistake. Rik pulled the trigger. The gun sounded as loud as a cannon in the confined space. Much to Rik’s surprise it actually worked despite the damp. Malkior staggered backwards, blood pumping from his belly. His face twisted in a rictus of pain then he laughed again.
“Very good, Rik. You are quite vicious enough to be one of my brats.” He straightened, and an odd green glow entered his eyes. The shadows around him curdled and whispered. There was a chinking noise and the bullet erupted from his stomach and rolled across the floor. Malkior opened his shirt and Rik could see that the flesh of his belly had already started to knit back together again.
“I cannot be killed by bullets, Rik. I am not entirely sure I can be killed at all. Certain... modifications were made a long time ago. Perhaps your patron should have told you that before she set you on me.”
“How would she know?”
“Asea knows a lot of things, as she made clear to both of us the other night. She made it perfectly clear that she suspects me of the murder of the Old Queen.” He gave a sly smile. “Quite correctly as it turns out.”
“So you did kill Amarielle, just as you killed my mother.”
“This business about your mother really upsets you, doesn’t it? Who was she? I am afraid I have quite forgotten her.”
“A Sorrow street girl you tortured to death in one of your rituals.” Malkior paused and appeared to consider for a moment.
“That one, of course. The dates would be about right. Well, I have to say I am sorry now that I know about you. If only she had told me, she might have saved her life. She might have saved yours as well. That was damned inconsiderate of her.” The mockery in Malkior’s voice was enraging, exactly as he intended it to be.
“Perhaps she thought she was saving me from you.”
“Well if that’s the case, she failed, didn’t she?”
“You are a bastard, aren’t you?”
“There’s no need to be rude, Rik. You are not going to be sharing my secrets with anybody, and I find it quite refreshing to be honest with someone after all this time. This will be our only chance for a father and son chat. Anyway, to business; I have a few questions to ask you, and I would really rather not get blood on these nice furs, so I trust you will spare us both the unpleasantness of having me torture you. It would ruin the magic of the moment for me.”
“Fuck you,” Rik said. Even before the words were out of his mouth, there was a very long, very sharp knife in Malkior’s hand.
“I can’t kill you, and I can’t use any magic that will damage your mind. Our hosts here would not like that, but I can think of a number of options that you really would not enjoy. I beg you not to make me use them. Salty water and flayed flesh are an extremely unpleasant combination.”
Despite his languid tone, Rik had absolutely no doubt that Malkior would flay him alive. Asea had taught him spells that would blank out pain, but there was a limit to what they could do, and he did not wish Malkior to know about his training. It was one of the few tiny advantages that remained to him.
“I will make you a deal,” he said eventually.
“You are not really in a position to do so, but I find myself in a generous mood. Speak your proposition and I will give you my answer.”
“I will answer your questions honestly if you will answer mine.” Malkior’s smile seemed genuine.
“Why not?” he said. “Tell me about the Serpent Tower. What happened there?”
“I do not know you will keep your side of the bargain, and I have no power to enforce it so I would prefer it if you answered my questions first.”
“If you are delaying in the hope of some last-minute rescue, you are deluded. No one is coming.”
“I believe you. However I am curious.”
“Very well. We have time. Ask away.”
“Do you really serve the Princes of Shadow?”
“Yes, I do.”
“They exist then.”
“Yes, they do.”
“Why do you serve them?”
“Technically, that is your third question without answering any of mine, but I will let that slide. I serve them because they granted me power and immortality and the means to gain revenge on my enemies. And for other, more sentimental reasons.”
“You are a Terrarch. You already had power and immortality.”
“Things were not quite as your people were led to believe on Al’Terra, Rik.” Malkior sounded thoughtful. “Our magic was fading, our immortality vanishing with it. The Princes of Shadow offered us the means to reverse that process. The High Council rejected their offer. Some of us thought them foolish to do so.”
“Why?” Again Malkior looked thoughtful. Rik composed himself to listen well. He had found that sometimes that was all it took to get people to speak, and every word he got Malkior to speak was one more heartbeat he did not have to face the knife. He was not yet ready to encounter death.
“The Council rejected the Princes’ knowledge on moral grounds. It involved a certain amount of what might be called vampirism.”
“Thanatomancy?” It was the ability to devour the life force of sentient beings and use it to power spells.
“Aha - Asea has been teaching you forbidden things - how very naughty of her. Yes, thanatomancy. They felt that it would be better if we all died off together rather than having the strong survive and prosper.”
“Perhaps they feared the justice of God.”
“There is no God, Rik. There is no Hell. There are no punishments for sin. Believe me, if God punished sinners, every single Terrarch on the face of this planet would be dead, starting with your beloved Asea.” Malkior sounded a little sad as he said it, almost as if he wished that it were not the case. He sighed and when next he spoke his voice was stronger and more certain. “They were against us because of their taboos, Rik. They thought what we did a species of cannibalism, and I suppose they were right, but when you are desperate enough you find that there are many taboos you can put aside.
“Of course, things are different now. Then all we had to devour were each other. Now we have a whole new world full of a species that can barely be described as sentient.”
Rik was surprised to find he was still capable of being shocked. “Humans?”
“Indeed. It’s amazing how that one little change makes such a huge difference. I made certain knowledge available in the East by various subtle means, and now every second rate necromancer who has his own private estate is about it. Thanatomancy is one of the reasons Sardea will win this war. Its sorcerers have become very strong indeed.”
“You are going to use the human race as cattle?”
“Can you think of a better use for them?” Malkior looked up and there was a glint of humour in his eyes. “Anyway, I think I have answered enough of your questions. Tell me what happened in the Serpent Tower?”
Rik told him, honestly and completely, leaving nothing out. Malkior paused to consider this. “You know, I believe you, but even if you are lying the Quan will get the truth. Your question.”
He seemed almost to be enjoying the game now. Rik found he was curious about his heritage.
“Were you born a Shadowblood?”
“I was. My mother taught me the secrets from my youth. I suspect her husband was not my true father. He died under rather m
ysterious circumstances. She was very devoted to the Desecrator. I suspect he was my true father. That would make him your grandfather.”
“Who was the Desecrator?”
“That’s an extra question but I will answer it. The truth is that I do not know who he really was. I only know he was originally a Terrarch like me. To tell the absolute truth, I hope someday to become like him.”
“How will you do that?”
“I think it’s my turn for a question. I think you should tell me what Asea knows now. Not what she suspects, what she really knows.”
“She knows you are a Shadowblood. I do not know if she can prove it, but she does not need to. She will kill you if she can.”
“I do not doubt it. That is why I must kill her first. I would have killed her long ago if I could have but she has always been very cautious until recently. Now tell me how she came to suspect what she does!”
Rik told him. When he got to the part about Tamara and the murder of Elakar, Malkior shook his head. He seemed almost angry. “I warned Tamara about using her powers. I warned her about showing off. She would not listen to me.”
“That’s a shame,” said Rik unable to keep the mockery out of his voice. Malkior smiled. It was a frightening smile.
“It is for you. It enabled Asea to put all the pieces together and that ended up with you sitting here. I suppose you could blame Tamara for that too. She’s going through one of her periodic phases of asserting her independence. I suppose I shall have to bring her to heel soon.”
“Do you have any regrets at all about what you have done?”
Malkior laughed. “I can’t afford regrets, Rik. The pursuit of godhood does not allow for them.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Wouldn’t you, if you could get it?”
“No.”
“The difference between us, Rik, is that I am in a position to achieve it and you are not. It makes all the difference in the world.”
“And you would kill anyone who gets in your way?”
“I have killed a lot of people, Rik, and I expect to kill a great many more. Asea, Kathea, Azaar are all on my list. I think I shall start with Asea tonight.” Rik thought he was beginning to understand Malkior a little better now, the vanity behind his boasting was obvious. He must have suppressed this part of himself for a very long time to let it come so off the leash now. It was a pity he could think of no way to take advantage of the fact.