understand.
On another day. Today he simply shook the rain from his armour, sat down in the only chair in the room and growled a reluctant greeting at the man who had summoned him.
‘You’re in a surly mood.’ Jeiros looked tired. Drained. Vale had seen that look before. The look of a man engaged in battle and slowly but steadily losing. Speaker Hyram, towards the end he’d had that look. And others before him.
‘My mood is whatever the realms require of me.’ Vale tried to smile. It wasn’t easy after what he’d had to do today. Letting Hyrkallan gut Jehal on Narammed’s Bridge would have been the easiest thing in the world. I might have given him a round of applause. So why did I stop him? Duty, that’s why. Duty and nothing else. Of course I’m in a surly mood.
Jeiros winced. ‘Don’t, Vale. Now you look surly and constipated.’
‘Flying on the back of the Viper’s dragons leaves me queasy, master alchemist.’ Vale let his face fall sour again. ‘Never mind me. You look like a rabbit cornered by a pack of hungry foxes. You called me here. What do you want?’
Jeiros picked up a decanter and poured himself a glass of wine. ‘When Grand Master Bellepheros vanished, it fell to me to keep the realms safe. A light touch here, a few words there. A little guidance. That’s how we work. That’s all we’ve ever needed.’ He tossed something across the room. ‘I suppose you’d better read this for yourself. You’ll find out soon enough.’ Vale plucked it out of the air. Dragon bone, hollowed out into a case for maps or scrolls. Ornately carved.
‘A pretty present.’ He shrugged. ‘I imagine you don’t get many gifts. I certainly don’t.’ He smirked. ‘Speakers get lots of gifts, but I doubt Jehal much liked his last one. Jehal and Meteroa are two snakes from the same nest.’
Jeiros pursed his lips. ‘Say what you like, Night Watchman. Prince Meteroa was the master of King Jehal’s eyries. Strictly speaking, he was mine.’
‘Ha!’ Vale threw back his head and laughed.
‘It hardly matters now. Meteroa is dead.’
Vale raised an eyebrow. ‘Losing a finger hardly seems a mortal wound to me. Is there something you wish to share.’
The alchemist wiped his brow. ‘That is a letter from Valmeyan in the Pinnacles. Zafir put a crossbow bolt through Meteroa’s skull and hacked his head off his shoulders. Valmeyan was kind enough not to send any more than his finger. I kept the rest from our speaker until after Narammed’s Bridge. I thought it best. He knows now. He has not taken it well.’
‘Had I heart, perhaps it would bleed for him.’ Vale blinked. ‘So Prince Meteroa is dead now, is he? Can’t say that troubles me.’ He stared at Jeiros, waiting. Waiting for the words that would wash away the numbness rising up from inside him, but the alchemist met his silence with a silence of his own. ‘Zafir, old man,’ said Vale softly, almost whispering. ‘You said Zafir. Is there something I very much need to know? Is that why you brought me up here? Did she survive Evenspire after all, old man? Could I have let Hyrkallan have his way with Jehal? Is that what you brought me here to tell me?’
‘There’s a letter inside that bone. It’s meant for us. Read it, Vale. Just read it.’
Vale reached his fingers into the hollow bone and touched paper. Slowly, carefully, he pulled it out. The seal was Valmeyan’s, the Mountain King. It took a minute, and then Vale knew everything. By the time he was finished, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh like a maniac or scream in murderous range. Probably both. Furymouth taken, Queen Lystra taken, Prince Meteroa dead. Jehal finished. Zafir alive. I could have let Hyrkallan kill him. When, old man? When did you know?
‘I’ll have my men break this wonderful news to our so-called speaker right away. Shall I hang him next to Shezira or next to that fool Sakabian?’ The cages were long gone, but Vale still saw them when he closed his eyes. His head was spinning a little. Valmeyan. A proper speaker. He’s got Queen Lystra. Jehal in the dungeons. Impaled and hung in a cage. I’ll do it myself. Jehal was as good as dead. He didn’t even try to stop himself grinning any more. They had a saying in the deserts: when the ancestors smile on you, smile back.
‘You’ll do no such thing.’
The alchemist might have said more, but Vale’s hand around his throat choked him into silence. The Night Watchman bared his teeth. ‘It would be easy, little man, to pick you up and hurl you over the edge. No one would see except my own men, and you know how we are about orders. From birth to death, we are sworn to follow them. We are sworn to follow the speaker. How long?’ he hissed. ‘How long have you known that Zafir was alive?’
‘Gah!’
Vale relaxed his grip ever so slightly. Enough for the alchemist to speak.
‘I never thought she was dead,’ gasped Jeiros. ‘And before you throttle me again, I knew what you knew, Night Watchman, no more.’
Vale crumpled Valmeyan’s message and held it in front of Jeiros’ face. ‘But you read this. You knew more before Narammed’s Bridge, didn’t you, alchemist? Don’t pretend otherwise. You kept this from me. I could have let Hyrkallan put the Viper out of my misery and been content. I am sworn to serve the speaker!’
‘And if Hyrkallan had killed Jehal, what then? Valmeyan cannot be speaker.’
‘That is not for you to decide!’ Slowly, carefully, mindful of his own strength and fury, Vale let the alchemist go. ‘Are you a king-maker now? Do you rule the realms? By what right, alchemist? By what right do you overturn every law that Narammed laid down?’ He took a step back towards the door. ‘I’m minded to have you and your order rounded up and thrown in the dungeons. You can hang next to Jehal. Give me a reason, Jeiros, why I should not do this. Ancestors! The world lurches from one madness to the next!’ He stood still, staring at the alchemist. Orders. An Adamantine Man obeys orders. No matter what. From birth to death. Ancestors! What do I do?
The alchemist licked his lips. When he spoke, he spoke almost in a whisper. ‘Valmeyan is selling dragon eggs to the Taiytakei, Vale.’
‘What?’ Doubt, doubt, doubt. Doubt was death. An Adamantine Man learned to banish all doubt.
‘From one madness to the next, Vale. As you say.’
Vale’s face blackened. His gaze settled on Jeiros. ‘I serve the speaker. If Zafir lives, I serve Zafir.’ No. There was no other way. Duty was duty.
‘There are awakened dragons in the Worldspine, Vale.’
‘And? What would you have me do?’ He shook his head. Dragons were the business of the alchemists. The misdeeds of kings were a matter for the speaker. The Night Watchman served the speaker, nothing more. The speaker’s sword. That’s all he was. ‘All the more reason Jehal should swing in a cage while the true speaker is restored.’ Vale hesitated. Jeiros was trembling. Either he was getting sick or something was very wrong. And would Zafir be any better? You already know the answer to that. Just look at who brought us to this place. ‘Alchemist, you bring such accusations to a council of kings and queens, not to me. Let them decide. I will happily seize the Mountain King, string him up, fill him with truth smoke and find out, but only if that is what the speaker commands of me.’
‘They almost broke us, Vale, those rogues. Almost broke us once already. They filled our secret caves with smoke. Such damage. Even if I wanted to, I could not give my eyrie-masters the potion they need, not all of it. Even if I looked after every drop. So I will starve them. They have enough for a few weeks. A couple of months, some of them. And after that the dragons will start to wake. A week and they will become restless. Two and they cannot be trusted. I don’t know how long it takes for their true awareness to return. A month? Two perhaps? I suppose it must depend on their size. We feed a hatchling far less than we feed an adult, after all…’ Jeiros was wringing his hands. He hadn’t listened to a word Vale had said. ‘A light touch here, a few words there. No no, Night Watchman, we are long past such things. Valmeyan put the sword to Shezira’s neck. His vote condemned her. He pushed us into this. What do you suggest? What would you do, Night Watchman? What say you of our kings and queens? Would you strangle them, as I propose, or would you trust them, as your duty commends? Will the kings of the north sit quietly and let Zafir return to her throne? I don’t think so. Will they let her put Jehal to death? Of that I have no doubt. But his queen and his son? No, they will not. Will Zafir condemn Valmeyan when his dragons are all that gives her power. No. And while they argue and fight, we will all burn to ash!’ The alchemist laughed bitterly. ‘Now I see his scheme, too late to thwart it. He’ll take the eggs straight from Clifftop so as not to lose his own. They’re probably on board the Taiytakei ships by now, halfway across the Endless Sea.’ He brushed past Vale. ‘Do
