breathing softly in his ear. The tenderness in her voice gave him the answer he didn’t want. Yes. It’s bad then.
‘Rider Gaizal told us,’ she said. ‘They’re all talking about it. No one’s killed a dragon since… I don’t think anyone knows. Since the first Night Watchman.’
Balls. I’m going to die. ‘How much blood is there?’ If I can still think then it can’t be too much. Not yet. Who dies of an arm wound?
‘A lot,’ she said with that irritating trace of sadness that said he wasn’t going to be getting better. And how does she know? What is she? How does a queen who’s not much more than a girl and who’s spent her life living in a library know when a wound is mortal? Eh? And if you don’t know, then I’d appreciate you not being so bloody condescending about it. He tried to sit up again, but that was clearly going to be beyond him for a while.
‘Who’s leading the defence?’
‘Rider Jubeyan.’ She paused, and he could almost feel her fidgeting, trying to decide whether to tell him something. Then she sighed. ‘They took Princess Kiam. They were going to tie her to one of the scorpions, where every rider could see. There are soldiers in some of the caves now too. They were fighting in the tunnels.’
‘Right. So we’re losing then.’ That didn’t seem possible. Was Tichane really going to win by throwing cages full of barely trained slave-soldiers at him? That hardly seemed decent. Not that I’m one to complain about a lack of decency. Too many bad habits of my own when it comes to that.
‘No, we cleared the scorpion caves, but it’s getting hard. I don’t know how long we’re going to last.’
‘You know it’s Zafir, out there, don’t you? You should hide. Take Hyaz. Dress yourselves as servants. That sort of thing. Keep Zafir away from Jehal’s heir. Hyaz was supposed to find the secret way out.’
‘No one knows a secret way out.’ Lystra mopped his brow. ‘And I don’t think I would stay hidden for very long.’
‘No.’ Although you don’t seem all that bothered for someone who’s best option is probably to take poison while you still can. But the words stumbled over each other in his mouth, which somehow wasn’t working again. No. You sound like a little girl who’s trying desperately hard to be brave. Well you’re right to be scared. And then he was fading again, perhaps for the last time…
No. I’m not having that. I’m not dying now. Especially not if that means my whole life has to flash before my eyes. I’m not ready for that. I need another few months or years before I can look you all in the eye, you ghosts, and tell you it was all worth it. Show you what I’ve done for us. Calzarin, you were so beautiful, too beautiful for me to resist. The sun to Jehal’s moon. But don’t pretend that you gave yourself to me unwillingly, or that you took me, as you did, under duress. Don’t you dare blame me that your own father put you to death. He killed you because of what you did to him, not what you did with me. Do you say it was the sweet nothings I whispered in your ear that put such a bloody knife in your hand? Tell it to the gods, ghost. Maybe it was, but it was your hand that held the knife nonetheless, and I do not believe your heart was so frail.
Or Tyan? Do you have something to say to me, big brother? You point your wagging finger at me and accuse me of murder, do you? I would point out that it was Jehal who killed you in the end, not me, but we both know that would be splitting hairs. Do you think I somehow regret that I poisoned you? Do you think that I wish I had not watched you suffer for all those years, mad, useless and drooling. Do you think that it was not an endless pleasure to me to watch you like that, after what you did to me? Yes, I had your wife in my bed and I had your son there too. But you never knew it. Their loss pained me more than it pained you, and yet you were allowed to stand there, the grief-stricken king, while I stood beside you and held your hand and murmured ‘There there’ in your ear while all the while my heart was bleeding. I fucked lots of other people as well until you denied me that pleasure for ever. And you did what you did because of what? Whispers in your ear. Murmured half-truths and lies and conjecture. If you’d caught me with my prick stuck in Calzarin’s arse or between Mizhta’s legs then I would have understood, I really would. But on hearsay and rumour? To your own brother? You should have finished the job and had me killed with your son. No, I don’t regret what I did to you, not one second of it. So bring it on, ghost. Let us spend the rest of eternity locked in our anguished embrace…
On and on, over and over it went, fading in and fading out. Mostly the ghost was Tyan. Sometimes it was Mizhta or Calzarin, sometimes even Jalista or the other Tyan, the little boy Calzarin had disembowelled through his arse. Once or twice it was Jehal, and then, perhaps, Meteroa felt a twinge of guilt for all the things the cleverest of the princes had never even begun to deduce. I could tell you the truth. But why? What would good would it do you?
Mostly though it was Tyan, and Meteroa faced him down with salt and iron, as any good ghost-hunter would do. They fought and it seemed to be for ever. In the distance sometimes he heard screams and wondered if they were his own. He felt pain too. Pain was good. Pain was life, even if the pain got worse and worse until he seemed to be bathing in fire.
And then someone was poking him, and the pain was blinding. He opened his eyes.
‘He’s alive, Your Holiness,’ said a voice. Not one that Meteroa recognised. He tried to open his eyes. The ghosts were gone but the fire wasn’t. He felt sick. When he finally did manage to lift his eyelids, the effort almost broke him. The light was blinding.
‘Are you sure?’ There was no mistaking that scornful voice.
‘Zafir.’ The word hissed between Meteroa’s teeth. It probably sounded more like a sigh, a last dying gasp, than anything else, but someone understood him.
‘Lord Meteroa.’ She was coming closer. ‘You’re alive after all. You don’t much look it and I’m not sure you’re going to last much longer. But since you are…’ She moved away again. ‘Get him up. Let him sit in my throne one last time.’ Hands hauled him up from wherever he was lying. The pain in his shoulder was like being stabbed with a thousand burning knives. Mercifully he fainted. When he woke up again he was soaking wet and a fierce skin- stripping smell was flaying his nose. He jerked away and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Zafir again. So that wasn’t a dream then. Or another ghost.
‘Where’s my sister, you impotent little snake? Murdering Uncle Kazalain is something I could be persuaded to overlook, but not my sister. Where is she?’
You hate your sister. Why are you bothering me? Leave me alone. But the only speech he could manage was ‘Uh?’
‘Is that all you have to say? Shall I tell you? I found her still alive, no thanks to you. She was stripped half naked and tied to the front of a scorpion. How Prince Tichane managed to find the competence not to burn her I shall never know. But she lived, you sick little gelding. And she told me all about you. About how you ordered your riders to rape her while you watched.’
‘What are you…’ Talking about? Your little sister is a liar, but that should hardly be a surprise. Shit! Come on, mouth, work!
Zafir stepped away and raised her voice. ‘Yes. Ordered your riders to rape a royal princess so you could watch because you can’t do it yourself? Was that it?’ She shook her head theatrically. ‘The realms will be a lot better without you.’ Ah, so that’s it. Playing to the crowd. You want a reason to kill me? Do you really think you need one? That makes you seem all the weaker, you know. Better you just did the deed. Please go ahead, though. Anything to put an end to this pain. Although, if you can spare one, I’d prefer an alchemist or blood-mage, who might actually be able to heal me. He laughed, a broken hacking sound. Zafir spun to face him, furious.
‘You laugh?’
‘Even when I could… I mostly preferred… boys… Or perhaps you didn’t… know.’
She came closer and a smile twisted her face. ‘I’ve been wondering which part of you I should cut off to send to Jehal. Your prick then. He’ll recognise it, will he?’
Meteroa laughed some more. In the face of the agony in his arm, it was that or weep. ‘There’s nothing… to cut. Tyan… saw to that… long time ago. You… know… nothing.’
‘Oh, I know quite enough.’ Zafir walked across to one of her riders and snatched his spear. Then she ran at him and jammed the spear into his belly with all the force she could muster. He gasped and groaned at the impact, but his armour held.
‘Hold the spear,’ she barked. Two of Zafir’s riders came and took hold of it. They seemed uncertain what to expect, until Zafir walked to the far end of the room and picked up a hammer. Meteroa felt himself almost vomit. This isn’t how I want to die.
‘Slow and painful?’ Zafir snarled as she drew close again, as if reading his mind. ‘No more or less than you deserve, eh? You were behind all of this, weren’t you? Jehal’s puppet-master. Hyram called him the Viper, but that’s you, isn’t it? You’re the venomous one.’
