The Blood of Whisperers Page 9

  Malice turned and was at the door in an instant, the rain outside visible in the lantern light. ‘Give my love to Hana tonight, yes?’ he said, and, not waiting, strode into the rain, the tip of his ponytail the last thing I saw before it swished out of sight.

  * * *

  I climbed the stairs to the palace forecourt, striding past Lord Rota, the Master of the Court. Rain poured upon the small garden. Bamboo leaves sagged beneath its weight and flowers drooped, yet it held its own beauty. Lantern light shone through the patterned fretwork, glinting off each drop as it poured from the sky.

  It was cold for a summer night, the rising wind making the paper screens snap taut in their frames, and candle flames dancing even within the protection of their lantern husks.

  ‘Your Excellency!’ The Master of the Court called after me as I passed through the doors, water dripping from the hem of my robe. ‘Minister? Is everything all right?’

  ‘Perfectly fine, Lord Rota,’ I said, not stopping. ‘I have been for a pleasant stroll.’

  The brightly lit palace was strange after the darkness of the city. Those shadowed haunts better suited my mood.

  ‘Minister? Are you aware you’re bleeding?’

  I lifted my hand to show I had heard, but continued into the passage without answering. A court secretary stopped to stare at me, his arms filled with parchment scrolls.

  ‘You!’ I said, and the man gave a start of horror.

  ‘Me, Your Excellency?’

  ‘Who else? There is a conspicuous lack of others present. Drop the scrolls.’

  ‘E-Excuse me, Your Excellency?’

  ‘It isn’t difficult to understand. Drop them. Now.’

  The man let the scrolls go and they bounced around the floor before settling at his feet.

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Leave them, they aren’t going anywhere. I need you to do something for me, and I need you to do it now.’

  ‘Yes, Your Excellency, whatever you wish.’

  ‘What I wish is that you run as fast as you can to the emissary’s yard. Tell them I want their fastest rider on their fastest horse to take a message to the Shimai guardhouse, leaving immediately. Say nothing about this to anyone else and you will do well by me.’

  ‘Yes, Your Excellency. And what do you want the message to say?’

  ‘They have a prisoner there by the name of Endymion. Order them to keep him safe by any means necessary. Tell them... Tell them the Vices are coming for him.’

  Chapter 6

  The men were getting ready. They ate, slurping thick broth from the rims of their bowls; they dressed, strapping on assorted pieces of leather armour; and they each took turns stepping outside to relieve themselves. Then they sat around the kitchen, their desultory talk filling the dim space, only the occasional bout of laughter lightening the oppression.

  But I was not a man.

  I sat on the bench in the corner and watched them, watched Monarch stride around the room. He was the tallest, the broadest, and the strongest – the handsome leader with his great bow and his seemingly ingenuous smile. Every other man was a mere shadow compared to him.

  Malice was gone when I woke, leaving no sign he had been present at all. He was always like that; transitory. I knew there were others, Vices they were called, men he travelled with as Monarch had his Pikes, but they had never come much in my way. There were rumours about them of course, but there were rumours about us, too. Some said Regent was capable of tearing the heads off men. The Pikes had laughed at that, unable to imagine how such a tale had sprung from so diminutive a size as mine.

  ‘I see your Vice has abandoned us,’ Monarch said, his deep voice purring in my ear.

  I turned my head, just enough to see him leaning against the wall at my side. ‘He’s a busy man,’ I said, breathing in his smell.

  ‘What did the spider want?’

  ‘Is it inconceivable that he just wished to see me? He is my guardian.’

  Monarch snorted. ‘One of your guardians. You come with heavy chains.’ There was a note of laughter in his voice and I knew he was watching me, but I kept my gaze riveted on the busy Pikes.

  ‘Angry with me?’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get that kiss.’

  ‘Who says I want it?’

  He laughed and pushed himself from the wall.

  ‘Wait.’ I slid off the bench and gripped his arm, looking up into those bright blue eyes. ‘Let me come with you tonight.’

  ‘Come with me?’ The laugh died. ‘Are you mad? It’s too dangerous.’ He lowered his voice, his words for my ears alone. ‘I don’t know why I let you come with me at all, why I let you take on this charade.’

  ‘Because I want to fight!’

  ‘There are not so many of us that we can afford to throw ourselves away. Why do you think I keep Kimiko safely in Jinanton?’

  ‘Is that all I am to you? A number? A name?’

  Monarch glanced at his men, as though to be sure no one was watching. ‘Hana,’ he said, his voice little more than a whisper. ‘Our name is all we have. We are all we have – you and me. I will take back the throne, but until I do you must stay here where it’s safe. Wait for me.’

  I felt entranced; unable to do more than stare up at him and nod, though I wanted to scream. It was my throne too. It was my crown.

  Our crown.

  The idea crept upon my mind. He looked as though he wanted to say more, wanted to finish what we had started beneath the Kissing Tree, but there were too many eyes turned our way.

  Our crown.

  But I wanted to be more than just a wife, more than just a woman. I wanted to be his equal.

  Monarch said nothing more. I caught the flash of his smile as he turned away to join the others, touching Hatsukoi as though to be sure she was still with him. The men were checking their weapons, those few heading into the palace making sure their knives were well concealed. My fingers strayed to the needle threaded into my sleeve. I had no other weapons except for the clawed hand-straps in my pouch – a pair of fingerless leather gloves with four hooked claws protruding from their palms. Monarch often jeered, calling them my cat claws, but even he couldn’t deny their usefulness. They were the weapons no one expected.

  My fingers fondled the needle. Shin was talking to his small group while Monarch’s team of decoys watched their leader. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, moving to stand before the door. ‘I want silence until we reach the square. Keep in your pairs and make your way back at sunrise if you can. Let’s give those red-belts hell.’

  They cheered, each man beating his fist upon his chest. ‘Monarch! Monarch! Monarch!’ they chanted, eyes aglow.

  Shin stepped forward, he the only man in the room not enthralled by his leader. Without a word, he led his men into the passage. The chant slowly diminished, but the energy remained as each man pulled a leather hood over his head. It had been raining steadily since sunset.

  Monarch’s men followed, patting each other on the back and jostling their way out until only Monarch remained. With his hand on the door he looked back. ‘Stay here, Hana,’ he said. ‘Don’t open the door. Don’t even move. We’ll talk when I get back.’

  He was gone on the words, leaving me to lock the street door behind him like a demure little girl. But I stood, irresolute, my hand on the latch. Outside, rain fell in heavy streams off the eaves and made the stones shimmer. It was warm inside, comfortable and dry. I could lock the door and be sure of safety. Malice had locked the door between the servants’ quarters and the main part of the house before he left. But then he had known I would not stay.

  If you don’t take what belongs to you now, you won’t be able to take it at all.

  The door slammed behind me as I stepped into the rain, heavy drops dripping down my neck. A tug brought my hood up and all I could hear was the rain pattering on the leather. Drowned beneath this sound, Mei
’lian’s dark streets became another world.

  I crossed the main square of the Pleasure Quarter with hurried steps. Here, the city bustled despite the weather. Noblemen were everywhere, their purple sashes tied in flamboyant knots. Many travelled their short journeys beneath enormous tasselled umbrellas, a link-boy lighting the way. Others allowed themselves to be carried in palanquins. Not the common variety often used in the country, but exquisitely jewelled palanquins bearing the crests of prominent families.

  At the entrance to the Pleasure Quarter a line of guards on horseback trotted past, the tails of their sashes limp with rain. I watched them go, confident there was nothing in my appearance to raise suspicion. Many common men wore hoods like mine, their faces shadowed.

  Once the soldiers had passed, I crossed the street, ducking between two carriers. An alleyway greeted me and I turned down it, slipping through falls of water. I felt like a ghost. No one had eyes for me, so busy were they scurrying about their business with their heads down and water dripping from their clothes.

  A gong sounded so close I jumped. It hung beneath the balcony of a robe maker’s shop, the single resonant boom affected by a man with a hastily tied sash. Across the city other gongs echoed its call, announcing the hour.

  Two hours past nightfall and Shin had a head start. If his men split up through the streets that might give me a few extra minutes, but I knew no secret back routes. All I could do was continue north, eyes always upon the distant shape of the palace.

  I sped up, veering around two men carousing on the corner. Light spilled from a warehouse door, the scent of spices mixing with the sodden smells of the city.

  By keeping the palace ahead of me, I soon found myself on the Silk Road where rows of shops showed shuttered faces to the street. Two guards raced past and I almost ran into them in my haste. I fell back, heart hammering, but they paid me little heed. One adjured me to watch where I was going; the other said nothing at all. They ran on toward the Divine Square and I watched them go, my every breath quick. Were Monarch’s men already drawing the red-belts’ wrath? A jolt of fear ran through me. All too easily could I imagine Monarch clutching a wound and surrounded by enemies. Outnumbered, betrayed, and I had not been there to help.

  For a moment I stood, undecided, quivering on the balls of my feet. If they caught him, his true name would not save him any more than mine would save me. Once, the soldiers had been Otako men, employed to protect us, but that time was long gone.

  Our crown.

  But I had to be the one to carry it out, the one to stand before him with it in my hands. It was my job, not Shin’s. Monarch knew how to look after himself.

  I turned along the Silk Road, dodging a thick spout of rainwater. Lightning flashed above the city and the thunder sounded its low rumble. I gathered my hood tighter. This was a true storm, yet the end of summer was weeks away. It was a bad sign. My foster father always said a summer storm meant a bad storm season to come, with rains so heavy they would drown Kisia. ‘Perhaps we deserve it,’ he would say. ‘We should pray for forgiveness.’

  I tried not to imagine what he would think of me now, sneaking toward the palace with my saturated slippers soundless on the street. Hana, his little girl, a rebel running with the Pikes.

  The Silk Road ended in a string of narrow alleyways, the run off from each roof causing waterfalls to crash upon the stones. My feet slipped on the old, slick cobbles as I darted through, and I gripped a broken shutter, water splattering over my hood.

  This was the old city, this narrow nest close to the palace where lords and councillors had once lived, before the houses grew too old and the streets too shabby. Mei’lian had expanded and changed, leaving behind pockets of dereliction.

  A pile of tattered palanquins met my gaze in the next courtyard and I knew I was close. I could only pray I was not too late.

  A narrow street followed the curve of the palace’s outer wall. The shuttered houses were far from welcoming. Only a few were lit, leaving the rest bathed in shadow. I barely noticed whether eyes watched me pass, nothing but the bark of a dog pulling my attention from the well at the end of the street. There stood a group of hooded figures, and I let out a long breath, half relieved, half afraid. Shin looked up. I saw his hand dart to his sash, but his weapon remained undrawn. Other eyes joined his as I approached.

  I tried to look calm, to walk with ease though my lungs sucked in deep breaths and my pulse pounded. With the hood smothering my ears, all I could hear was the gallop of my own fear.

  ‘Captain,’ Shin said when I drew close. ‘Trouble?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Only a slight change of plan,’ I said. ‘We thought you could do with the extra pair of hands.’

  Every man stared at me and I stared back, determined to show no fear. Shin did not look at his men, but nodded. ‘Good to have you, Captain,’ he said, his words making it clear he was surrendering leadership to me.

  ‘Thank you, Shin.’

  I cringed inwardly. The Pikes were not keen on manners. ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ I snapped, trying to cover my mistake. ‘Monarch’s team is in place. We go now or we don’t go at all.’

  One by one they murmured ‘Captain’, and with a nod from Shin, the first began his descent into the well’s dark mouth. A buzz of excitement ran through me. I had made it. I was going into the palace.

  ‘After you, Captain,’ Shin growled when the last man had disappeared into the darkness.

  I drew on my cat claws and climbed onto the edge of the well. Shin held out the rope. The wet hemp was slick, but I dug in my claws and lowered myself into the well, hand over hand, the stink of stagnant water rank. Rain peppered my face. A torch flared. Its light rose around me, making the stones shimmer and the rain look like falling gold.

  At the bottom the others were waiting. The burning torch made their damp skin glow, its light reflecting back off pools of water. Shin joined us, his feet landing on the slimy stones with barely a sound.

  The Zavhi Waterway. In both directions the dripping tunnels stretched into darkness. The roof was low and stained with moss, and blackened gratings barred dozens of smaller passages.

  Conversation was impossible. Every sound rang back to us, the roar of rain our constant companion. We could only nod and grimace at one another, grateful that Shin knew where he was going. At the first grating he did not so much as pause, just turned, ducking through a sheet of falling rainwater and into a narrow tunnel.

  The further we went the worse the smell became. I held my breath when I could, sucking damp air through my mouth in a vain attempt not to taste it.

  The water level rose. Great rivers roared along channels and poured down falls, drawn ever deeper into the earth. To most Kisians the Zavhi Waterway was more myth than reality, though its forgotten tunnels had served Mei’lian for centuries. Legend said it was connected to a network of underground rivers and caves, and that anyone sucked into its bowels would never return. The men seemed to have this on their minds, gripping tightly to walls, bars or each other whenever the water rose above knee height.

  Shin led us on, saturated and stinking. We waded through high water and skidded along slippery stones, the tunnels a maze to all but Shin. I had to remind myself why I had come and just keep walking, step after step, until eventually our guide stopped beneath a sluice. It rose into the darkness. Wen went first to light the way and the rest of us followed, struggling up the slick stones, gripping mossy cracks and wedging ourselves between the narrow walls. My body burned with fatigue, but I would not give up. If the men could climb it, so could I.

  At the top, a bar had been removed from the grating and we slid through on our bellies. I was small and made it through with ease, but some of the others struggled, black metal bars digging into their backs as they dragged themselves through. On the other side a ladder climbed into a dark opening. Its rungs were pitted and old, and when I touched
it the smell of metal stuck to my fingers.

  We gathered at the bottom of the ladder, a silent group in the tense air. Shin scowled, his expression more than ordinarily grim. Flames danced from the torch in Wen’s hand. The night was slipping away.

  I nodded, and Wen plunged the flame into a stagnant pool. It went out with a hiss. The sudden darkness was full of flare-light ghosts, and I had to reach, blind, for the ladder. I found a rung, cold and damp, and setting a foot on its slimy surface, I began to climb, claws scraping on the metal.

  The others followed.

  A few steps took me through the opening and the space above was cramped, barely wide enough for me to reach up, hoping to find the hatch with my hand before I hit it with my head.

  The walls were too close. I took a deep breath and reminded myself I was not trapped, but it did little to lessen my discomfort. Sounds echoed in the thick air. My clothes stuck to me, puckered and tight like a second skin.

  Up another few rungs my hand brushed something smooth, and drips of condensation fell on my face. I climbed higher, and putting my shoulder to the hatch, pushed it open. The hinges squealed. Someone hissed in warning, but the hatch fell open with a thud.

  No knives greeted me. No spears. No sounds.

  We were alone.

  The others followed me out of the hole, mere shapes in the darkness. There were seven of us in all, Shin the last. Something about the way he stood made him recognisable even in shadow.

  Water dripped off me. I tried to wring the worst of it from my clothes, squeezing half the storm from my soft slippers. The leather hood hung heavy from my neck, so I pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. The others did the same and when they were ready, I went to the door. Wen darted forward as I put my hand on the latch, his existence little more than a whiff of sweat in the darkness. He touched the hinges, and the door swung open soundlessly.

  We were in a dim passage. A distant torch threw light our way, illuminating nothing but a cluster of tense expressions. The silence was oppressive. Not a footstep, not a whisper.