CHAPTER FOUR
Satyendra’s eyes bored into the stranger’s. They were wearing a servant’s hood which was odd in itself as they were indoors. He noticed a long strand of hair spill from the hood. He had possessed hair like that once, as long and dark as his mother’s. Until, that is, she had cut it away. Not long ago, his face had been clear of gold paint just like this one. He looked into those wide eyes and it was like looking into a mirror of the past.
From the moment he’d found Roh in the corridor, he’d known something was going on. A liar always knew another liar and he was a creature made of lies.
‘I assume these staff are new,’ he said to Roh, though his gaze did not leave the too familiar face.
‘That’s right, my good lord. Two of my kitchen lads.’
‘I would have their names, and see them observe proper manners within my castle. Hoods are for outside, not in.’
‘Oh, but they know the rules, my good lord, it’s just that their hands are full.’ She put a hand to her back and groaned, though Satyendra was not convinced by the display of discomfort. ‘All this running about has worn these old bones hard. Might we be excused?’
He glanced to the guard at his side. ‘Make sure she doesn’t fall.’ The guard nodded and took the cook’s arm. He forced his attention to go to the other figure, wanting to save his mysterious twin till last. ‘Let me get that for you,’ he said, smiling as he threw back the young man’s hood. A pale face was revealed. It was worn and tired, unremarkable save for the scars where his earlobes should be. There was a delightful amount of worry there, even for a servant meeting his lord for the first time, and yet Satyendra found it hard to absorb. Something was wrong. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Tal, my lord.’
‘You have the look of a road-born, Tal.’
‘Y-yes, my lord. I was born and raised in Sagan.’
‘And then raised to my castle, it seems. Who brought you into the kitchens?’
‘I …’
Roh cleared her throat. ‘It was Honoured Mother Chandni, my good lord, she did it as a favour.’
Lies. I’ve never seen this boy before and my mother didn’t bring people in for favours. She brought in the best. But he kept his face civil. ‘I see. Welcome, Tal. What happened to your ears?’
Tal’s cheeks flushed scarlet and he looked at the floor. ‘The Wil—’
‘Fool tried to pierce them as a child,’ interrupted Roh. ‘Got infected.’
More lies. Not even good ones. He took a moment to take what he could of Tal’s mounting terror, but it was as if something was muting it, interfering with his ability to feast. In fact, he himself felt uncomfortable. His armpits had become sweaty and he resisted the urge to scratch them. Lord Rochant would never be seen to scratch in public.
‘Welcome to my castle, Tal of Sagan. Serve me truly and you shall have nothing to fear.’ The fear and guilt were so clear on Tal’s face it was embarrassing. I’ll keep this one in the cells when I’m done. Between him and Pik I’ll not want for food.
‘And you?’ he said, turning at last to the other one again. Their eyes met a second time and it was just as much a slap in the face as the first. Unlike Tal, he got no fear from this one. There was curiosity mixed with anger and determination. Nothing he could use. ‘What’s your name?’
Roh took a breath to answer for him but Satyendra’s hand came up, silencing her. ‘Let him speak for himself.’
‘My name is Sa-at.’
‘I’ve never heard a name like that before.’ He reached out and pushed back Sa-at’s hood. Beneath the cloak, he could see black feathers. Part of some garment that bore no resemblance to any of the castle fashions. And that face! His face. A perfect copy. ‘We could be brothers,’ he murmured. Then added: ‘In body. You could be related to this body.’
Sa-at regarded him with similar fascination. ‘You’re like me.’
Conflicting feelings rose within Satyendra. He wanted to touch Sa-at, to see if he were real. To see if I am real. He wanted to rake that face with his hands and destroy it. He wanted to flee the intense scrutiny.
He realized that Sa-at wanted to reach out to him too, but couldn’t as his hands were already full. And that brought his attention to another oddity. ‘What are you carrying, exactly?’
Both Sa-at and Tal gave worried glances towards Roh. The old cook was leaning against the guard, her eyes half closed. ‘Don’t look at me. When your lord asks you what you are carrying, you show him.’
Sa-at was the first to move. He proffered one of the cloth parcels towards Satyendra, who took it. There was solidity beneath the fabric, along with an unpleasant feeling. A familiar, unpleasant feeling. The skin of his palms tingled unhappily.
I don’t want what’s in here. I want to give it back.
But at this point he had to open the parcel. To do anything else would appear strange. After all, he’d asked to see it. As the cloth fell away, he found himself looking into the empty eye holes of a helmet. Clearly it belonged to a Sapphire Deathless, but despite being of similar design it was not his helmet, that one was smaller. He’d just seen the other Sapphire Deathless arrayed in their armour before they’d left to hunt. None of their helmets matched what he held in his hands.
‘What is this?’ he murmured.
The burning sensation intensified, and he felt that strange shifting in his hands, as if the flesh were trying to get away from the crystal. He was just about to give the helmet back to Sa-at when he heard a gasp and a thud.
‘By the thrice blessed suns!’ he exclaimed, turning towards the guard. ‘I told you to stop her from falling.’
But Roh had not fallen.
She was standing, very much alert, with the guard unconscious at her feet. In her hand was a long, thin needle that glinted as she dipped it into a pocket of her cloak.
‘Guards!’ he yelled.
Roh moved towards him. He should have been able to avoid her. But he was distracted by Sa-at’s stare and the pain in his hands and the sluggish feeling brought on by contact with the crystal.
The needle went through two layers of fabric and into his shoulder. Immediately it started to tingle.
‘Might want to get that seen to, my good lord,’ said Roh.
He dropped the helmet and fell back against the wall, screaming for help. As more of his staff arrived, Roh and the other two fled down the corridor. ‘Sound the alarm!’ he shouted as he prepared to give chase. ‘Gather every able-bodied guard you can and bring in Roh. She’s a traitor!’
They stared at him, uncomprehending. A small voice in the back of his mind warned him that he was behaving in a most un-Rochant like manner. He ignored it. ‘Now!’
As the servants rushed off to fulfil his orders he realized there was only one way to save himself. One thing to do. He set off after Roh while clutching at his shoulder. The skin around the tiny wound tingled, the sensation slowly spreading. He wondered what foul poison was in his veins.
Am I already dead?
He continued on, faster, tears on his face, alone and in pain. And privately, he yearned for his mother.
Chandni followed Crowflies through the trees. It was quiet, almost tranquil, and she was reminded of the brief moments of joy she’d experienced here so long ago. It’s strange. For all the horror that time in my life brought, I had moments of true happiness too. Can I say that about any other time?
She thought of her life in the castle. There had been a background sense of satisfaction over her work and moments of quiet pride at her achievements, but it had always been weighed down with stress and fear. Even before her son had been replaced, her life had been one of duty, not pleasure. Before Varg, she’d never really wanted anything for herself. Never even considered it an option.
‘Cha-aan,’ said Crowflies. There was a note of warning in its voice. The Birdkin was not far ahead, it was looking into a small clearing where she could just make out Varg leaning against the white block of Glider’s back.
They’re alive!
She wanted to run to them but her courtly upbringing stopped her. She turned to the branch Crowflies was sitting on. ‘Thank you for helping me. I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you in return for your kindness but you could have some of my hair for your nest if you’d like.’
Crowflies made a derisive noise.
‘A piece of colourful thread from my clothes, then?’ One look at the Birdkin’s face told her this was no good either. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve never had to deal with a creature as magnificent as you before. Is there anything you would like before I go?’
Crowflies looked up towards the sky. She looked up too but could see nothing unusual. She realized it had exposed the underside of its beak but there was nothing amiss as far as she could see. Then it dawned on her. ‘Ohh, you’d like me to deal with an itch?’
There was a flash of movement, a lightning fast nod, and then it was looking up again.
‘Of course.’
She gently scratched the space underneath its beak.
‘Aaark,’ it said. ‘Aaaarhhh.’
After a moment, she saw its wings lower as the tension left its body.
‘Well, I should be getting back to my friends now. Thank you again.’
But as she turned to go, Crowflies caught her sleeve in its beak.
‘What is it?’
The Birdkin offered her the top of its head. She sighed. ‘Very well, but then I really have to go.’ She quickly scratched the top of its head and then waved goodbye. She expected Crowflies to leave but it remained on its branch, watching her with intensity.
Varg didn’t notice her arrival. His head was buried in his knees. She could see the grey streaks in his hair and the tired slump of his shoulders. He seemed smaller than usual, like a shrivelled version of himself.
He was sitting against Glider, who most definitely had noticed her. She too, appeared tired. Both her blue human eye and the dark canine one were bloodshot. Though she remained curled around Varg, her head lifted slightly in Chandni’s direction, and her tail began to thump softly on the earth.
Chandni put a finger to her lips and crept over to them, kneeling down.
‘Hello, Varg.’
She heard a sniff, and then he very slowly looked up at her. ‘Chand?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought you … I thought I’d never see you again.’ His eyes began to well with tears, then narrowed. ‘Is it … really you?’
‘It’s really me, Varg.’
‘Prove it.’
‘Well, for one thing, Glider isn’t growling at me.’
‘Glider’s been wrong before. And you went into the Wild to die. You were bleeding and they took you in. I’ve heard a lot of tales of folk being stolen by the Wild but I ain’t never heard one where the Wild gives someone back.’
The reunion wasn’t quite going as Chandni had imagined it. ‘I’m right here, Varg.’ She went to take his hand to prove how real she was but he flinched away from her into Glider, making the Dogkin grumble in protest. Chandni held up her hands.
‘You need to prove you’re really her and not just something that looks like her.’
She pulled back her sleeve. ‘You see the three fresh cuts? I made them with your knife. You see the older ones? Made in the back of your wagon on the morning after we first met.’ She pulled off her glove. See the missing nails? Taken by the Hunger Tree when it saved me from the poison. Do you believe me now?’ He didn’t reply, just stared at her, slack jawed. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Varg, just kiss me!’
And then they were kissing, him pressing forward until the two of them tumbled together, him on top. They were fumbling kisses, desperate and messy, and punctuated with laughter. Varg’s tears splashed on her cheeks and his beard tickled her lip and she didn’t care.
She left her right arm encircling his body and used her left to explore beneath his clothes. Her fingers brushed through the hair on his chest and against the harder muscle beneath. Then down, to start loosening his belt. It was surprisingly difficult, one handed, especially as he was still intent on kissing her.
He paused when he realized what she was up to. ‘You want to do this here? Are you sure?’
‘Yes!’ she replied, her voice louder than she’d intended. ‘Help me.’
They undressed each other. In their rush, clothing got caught and tangled. Buttons were lost. Varg swore several times and Chandni laughed and joined in. Glider began barking and tried to get between them until they told her, loudly, to go away. No magic had changed the forest floor. It was just as rough and uncomfortable as it had ever been. But again, she didn’t care. Mohit, her past lover, had been diligent and followed her instructions to the letter. Varg didn’t need instructions, he just needed encouragement.
And she gave it in a voice her mother wouldn’t have recognized.
Afterwards, when they had settled against each other, their breathing falling into mutual rhythm, he brushed the hair from her cheek and looked at her.
‘What does this mean, Chand?’
‘It means we can be together.’
‘But how? The Wild don’t give up fresh blood.’
‘It didn’t.’ She put a finger on his lips to stop him from blurting more questions. ‘A demon took some of my blood, and I made a deal. That means I get to be with you and to live the way I want.’
He gently pulled her hand away from his mouth. ‘And what does it get?’
‘It gets me.’
‘Oh no. Oh shit.’
‘But not today. Not for a long time. It has to give me what I want first. It’s going to help me find my son, my real son. The Satyendra that sent me to my death isn’t the baby I brought here with you all those years ago. Murderkind, that’s the demon’s name, will help me find him. But that’s not all. I’ve bargained for a life with you, Varg. A good, long life. We can finally be together.’ She looked down, suddenly shy. ‘If you still want this.’
He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘You know I do.’
‘Are you sure? What about your duty to Lady Pari?’
‘I’ve paid my debts there. I want my own life now. I want a family. Do you want a family?’
‘You mean children?’
‘Yeah.’
‘If we can, then yes, and I want Satyendra to be part of this family too. And Glider.’ She paused and looked around. ‘Where is Glider?’
She saw the Dogkin had taken herself to the other side of the trees and had her back to them, though one floppy ear had pricked up at the mention of her name. ‘Glider, come here!’
In seconds she had bounded over to eagerly accept a hug. Chandni gave herself a moment to enjoy being in such loving company, then looked up at the sunslit leaves. ‘Before we can start building a life here, there’s something I need to do for Prince Murderkind.’
Glider and Varg both raised their eyebrows. One barked and the other protested: ‘I thought you said we’d get our time first before you were his. A good long time.’
‘I did. And we will, but Murderkind is just asking for this one thing now. I think it’s something only I can do.’ When she’d been with Murderkind, heart to heart, she had felt no deception, and yet she felt odd defending the demon.
Varg shook his head. ‘Well, what is it?’
‘I need to find another Prince of the Wild called Kennelgrove and persuade him to ally with Murderkind against the Corpseman.’
‘Sounds dangerous to me. And how are we supposed to find this Kennelgrove?’ Glider barked so loudly that Varg had to raise his voice. ‘I’ve never heard of him.’
‘No,’ she agreed, and then pointed at the Dogkin. ‘But she has.’
Glider barked again, and as soon as they looked at her, she bounded off into the trees, pausing occasionally to howl, long and loud.
‘Where are you going?’ Varg shouted.
‘Get dressed, we need to go after her.’ Chandni started collecting her clothes and putting them on. She became aware of Varg’s admiring gaze. ‘Hurry up. I don’t want to lose her.’
With a muttered curse, Varg tucked his enthusiasm back into his trousers.
It wasn’t hard to know which way Glider had gone. They heard her howling not too far away. And then, they heard other howls, other Dogkin, at least half a dozen. The trees too, were murmuring uneasily. That feeling transferred itself to Chandni’s stomach.
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ said Varg. ‘We should get out of here while we can.’
‘No,’ said Chandni. ‘Glider wouldn’t abandon us.’
‘That’s exactly what she just bloody did!’
‘I mean that she wouldn’t abandon us if we needed her.’
‘Think about it, Chand. If something’s big enough to threaten old Glider, what use are we gonna be?’
She took his hand and started walking. ‘Argue if you want, but we’re going.’
‘Fuck,’ said Varg, but that was all he said, and they made their way towards the howling together.
The idea for Satyendra’s salvation had come to him in a flash: his hunger. When he’d gorged himself on Yadavendra’s shame he had become immeasurably stronger and that strength had allowed him to heal from terrible injuries overnight. If his body could reassemble a crumpled skull, then surely it could handle a little poison? All he had to do was feed before the effects kicked in.
It didn’t take long to catch up. Sa-at and Tal were already slipping into Roh’s room, but the old woman herself had lagged behind. As he crept closer, she stopped to lean against the wall. This was his chance. He blinked away tears and tried to soften his steps, keen to catch her unawares.
Meanwhile, the tingling numbness was spreading from the wound, not fast, but continuously, bringing with it a rising sense of panic. Perhaps that was why he rushed the approach, or perhaps Roh was more alert than she appeared to be. In either case, as he closed in on her, she turned to face him, that long needle in one hand, held between them. Poison glistened on its tip.
To a normal person, it would be a powerful deterrent, but Satyendra was not normal. He did not stop nor even slow, surging forward with hands outstretched. He barely felt the needle as Roh slipped it deep into his gut. What was more poison after all?
He grabbed her and tried to slam her against the wall, but she was surprisingly strong, and bigger than him. For a few seconds, they wrestled, equally determined, as the poison continued to spread. She gave him no fear, no pain, nothing he could feed on. In fact he felt nothing from the old cook save contempt.
In desperation he bit her cheek, sinking his teeth into the flesh, and pulling. This got a reaction, and he bit harder. In return, she let go of one of his hands and punched the needle where it protruded from his side.
That was her mistake.
For now he had her blood on his teeth, and her pain in his body, and he had a hand free. His hand grasped her face so fast that her skull was rebounding against the wall before she even registered contact.
Shock.
Pain.
Fear.
At last, he felt these things from her. He took her hand from the needle and crushed it in his own, powdering the bone. Then he removed the needle, and then, as the power and the hunger surged within, he got to work.
By the time the guards arrived, Roh was dead. Sensation had returned to his shoulder and stomach, and the tiny pinprick wounds had vanished. ‘The traitors are hiding in there,’ he said, pointing towards Roh’s room. ‘Bring them to me.’
The guards’ salute was slow in coming. Most of them had grown up with the cook, as had their parents. She was almost as much a part of the castle as the walls.
‘Now,’ he added, through gritted teeth. The guards’ attention drifted to his face. To the blood around his mouth.
He stood up, and to them, he seemed taller somehow. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘No, my lord,’ they replied, though it was clearly a lie.
Satyendra followed them as they approached the door.
The high still sang in his veins but he was troubled despite it. I have killed an old woman. And I … enjoyed it. And it was easy. He tried to tell himself that it was necessary for his own survival, and that he had never liked Roh anyway. It did nothing to assuage the guilt. In fact, as he thought about what he’d done the hunger within him stirred and a muscle he wasn’t normally aware of flexed within his face, as if it wanted to open in a different way.
Pausing in horror, he brought his fingers up to either side of his nose. The skin there felt normal. He let them roam across his cheekbones and forehead but found nothing amiss.
Yes. This has been a warning. The hunger must be resisted before it becomes too much of me. He told himself that he wouldn’t feed it again.
But as he got to the door he felt it stir again, tempting.
They flew along the Godroad in twos, the sunslight playing across their wings. Vasinidra was alongside Mia, his finest hunter and mother to his children. He already feared the day she’d be gone. She’d been a rock to him in this lifecycle and had become the yardstick against which others would be measured.
Behind them were his hunters, then the other Sapphire Deathless; Umed, Yadva, and Gada, each one backed by their own flight. He felt both joy and sadness considering them. Joy because the sight of his family flying together in the same direction gave him hope. Sadness because they were a wounded house, reduced forever from seven Deathless to six. Nothing he could do would ever change that.
When they reached the village of Sorn he banked to the right, knowing that the others would follow. Somewhere below, in that overgrown ghost place, was his mother, Nidra. It was a childish thing, but he stared at the buildings below as he passed over them, longing to see her. And longing for her to see him in his new station.
But if Nidra were down there, she gave no sign. Only a foolish exile would stand in the open, and Nidra was no fool.
Not long now, Mother.
Away from the Godroad, the essence currents were weaker, inconstant, and harder to navigate. Alone, he might be able to glide all the way to the hill Lady Pari Tanzanite had told him about. However, the others would never get that far.
He glanced back, waiting for the tell-tale wing dip of one of his family losing altitude. It wouldn’t do to get separated in the Wild. As he suspected, Gada was the first to go. Before his brother began to drop noticeably, Vasin signalled for his flight to descend. There were no perfect landing spots, but he could see a long thin gap in the trees.
Good enough.
He and Mia flew down together, Sky-legs bringing them to a bouncing stop at the furthest edge of the opening. He turned to see how the rest of the house would fare. With so many landing at the same time in such a narrow space, everyone would be focused entirely on themselves. Such unguarded moments were rare and gave him useful insight into the state of his hunters.
Each flight kept formation, the hunters landing in an orderly fashion. No other house can match our discipline, he thought proudly. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Uncle Umed were still in a younger body, and even Gada, our worst flyer, managed admirably. There are no weak links for the Wild to exploit.
He raised his spear and every other spear came up together in reply. Pride for his people filled him. Without another word, he turned and bounded into the trees. Deathless and hunters fell in behind him, Sky-legs hitting the ground in time, making them sound like a single creature, a giant come to destroy its enemies.
The trees picked up the sound of their progress and sent it out in all directions, a warning for others. Not long after, he heard the howls of Dogkin and the shrieks of Birdkin. No doubt the whole of the Wild knows we’re here. Let us hope the Scuttling Corpseman still sleeps deeply.
One moment they were running through the forest – and it seemed as if the trees leaned away from them to avoid being gored by their razor-edged wings – the next, he was in the open looking at a tall hill with near vertical sides.
