Vengeance

‘In these extraordinary circumstances,’ scowled the chancellor, ‘I will approve the abdication of the present Lord Ricinus.’ Then he smiled vengefully. ‘And installation of the new lord, Lord Rixium Ricinus.’

Rix nearly fell against the stage. Lady Ricinus staggered and clutched at her lord. Her mouth opened and closed, then she slipped a new mask over the old. Clearly, she had expected that the stewardship of House Ricinus would be given to her for her lifetime. It was a reasonable expectation, since a third of the noble houses were led by women, but her vulgar birth was a fatal flaw.

‘Thank you, Chancellor,’ she said with a cracked smile. ‘I will do my duty as steward until — ’

The chancellor looked down at Rix, who knew he had forgotten nor forgiven nothing. What game was he playing now?

‘Rixium will be installed as lord immediately,’ said the chancellor.

‘But he is not yet of age.’

‘He defeated a caitsthe with his bare hands, did he not?’

Several mature ladies, who must have heard the story, tittered. A trio of young eligibles eyed Rix boldly and inflated their assets.

‘He also took the war to the enemy,’ said the chancellor, ‘and rescued a Pale who has given us priceless intelligence about Cython.’

Lady Ricinus knew when she was defeated. ‘Rixium, Lord of Ricinus, come up.’ She extended her hand towards her son.

‘Not yet he isn’t,’ growled the chancellor. ‘First, we finish the Honouring.’

Rix took his place between his mother and father, barely able to keep his throbbing head upright, and afraid he was going to throw up again. This was monstrous, a travesty.

‘May I see your sword, Lord Rixium?’ said the chancellor politely, as though nothing had ever happened between them.

Rix handed it to him. The chancellor studied it for a moment, then passed it to the chief magian, who ran his little fingers along the worn inscription, causing multi-coloured auras to flicker around it. Momentarily the words stood out, black against the bluish metal — Heroes must fight to preserve the race. The chief magian started, then mimed several words.

The chancellor nodded and took the sword. ‘Search the archives,’ he said softly. ‘Find a test.’

The chief magian resumed his seat. The chancellor’s mouth hardened. He looked Rix up and down, then handed the sword back.

What was that all about? Rix’s restless gaze passed across the audience and he noticed Tobry at the back of the hall. And there, clutching his arm, as Pale as if she’d had the word painted on her forehead, was Tali. She was gazing up into Tobry’s eyes, quivering with suppressed emotion, and his eyes were locked on hers. What was she doing here?

Rix started, then realised that his mother had fixed on the small girl in the blue gown and the mouse mask.

‘Lord Rixium,’ she said softly. ‘You have no idea how sweet my revenge is going to be.’

CHAPTER 91

Can this unexpected boon outweigh the disastrous loss?

Lyf had been floating in the Abysm for a day, evaluating hundreds of possibilities, each a branch of the unknowable future. I have a body! he exulted. I’m free! Or at least, the framework of a body, ugly, misshapen and clumsy though it was. With flesh stripped from the facinore and the power stolen from the gifted child he would soon complete his body, and no longer would he be bound to the place of his death.

Lyf had discovered how to create a body for himself seven hundred years ago, and ever since he had fought and schemed and struggled to glean the power for it. And had failed every time.

Then those foolhardy intruders had brought the Pale child to his caverns, bearing within her a gift neither she nor they understood, one he had not realised he could feed on until the moment she had hurled that golden globe. Truly, fate was unknowable. He had always discounted luck and serendipity, but he should have made allowance for them — chance had given him in a moment what centuries of planning could not. He would not make that mistake again.

But could this prize outweigh the loss of The Consolation of Vengeance?

The balance was poised. If his enemies learned to read the iron book it would reveal almost the entirety of his plan. But could they read it? He had written it in an ancient script that had never been common, and the enemy had burnt most of Cythe’s books at the end of the war. Lyf doubted that any books survived in this script, save in his own library, yet if there were, Hightspall’s scholars might decipher the iron book in time. That would be a dreadful setback, though he could recover from it. Thankfully he had not yet written the ending.

But the theft raised another possibility, one that was terrifying. That they might understand the magery of the book, obtain a measure of alkoyl and write their own ending, one he had no way of knowing about or dealing with.

That possibility could not be allowed. His armies must encircle Caulderon so tightly that a flea could not escape. At the same time, he must set his traps from within.

First, allow Deroe to discover that the host of the master pearl was on her way to the cellar, and to believe that with her pearl he could break the possession for good. Deroe would follow her, carrying the three stolen pearls that never left his side.

Next, using Rix’s heatstone, tighten the compulsion on him and bring him to the cellar to kill the magian and cut the pearl from Tali’s head. Lyf’s new body, even when complete, would not have the dexterity to remove it safely. Then Lyf would take the pearl, kill his remaining enemies and rise in triumph as his armies broke into Caulderon.

Last, recover the iron book and write the true ending. Then the real war could begin.

CHAPTER 92

Lord Ricinus swayed on his feet while the chancellor praised his staggering gift of the Third Army, studiously avoiding mention of his personal attributes or character. The Honouring medal was fixed to Lord Ricinus’s chest, the official artist completed his sketches and the chancellor beckoned Rix forward.

‘Would you unveil your portrait, Lord Rixium?’

Lady Ricinus was glowing now. This night was the culmination of two decades’ dreams and schemes and, despite several scares and stumbles, it was going well.

The crated portrait rested on a wooden frame behind them, high enough for the audience to see it over the heads of the dignitaries. Lady Ricinus drew Rix’s ancient blade and handed it to him, hilt first.

As he rose, pain speared through his skull and he stumbled, for his head felt worse than when he had roused on the tower roof. The audience must have thought he was tipsy but everyone smiled indulgently — he was soon to be the lord of a house of the First Circle, after all, and many of them had daughters.

With the titane blade Rix cut the sealing wax and the bonding cords, and lifted the front of the box away. Behind it, the portrait was concealed by grey silk.

‘With a flourish,’ said Lady Ricinus.

Rix forced himself to bow to his father, his mother and the chancellor. He took hold of one end of the silk and turned to the assembled nobility.

‘Father,’ he began, choking on his own hypocrisy. ‘Father, with this portrait I reveal the true man behind the mask. With all — with all my art I honour you …’

With a single heave, he tore the silk away to expose the portrait he never wanted to see again.