Leviathan's Blood (29 page)

‘I have never seen you before.’

‘You have.’

He reached out his hand, closing in on the still black figure, the cold seeping into his fingers as he touched it. ‘No, this I have—’ He released his cold hand, suddenly.
‘You are the soldier from Mireea. The one the child was in.’

‘Yes,’ it – no,
he –
whispered.

‘She destroyed you.’

‘She remade me.’

The implication was not lost on Zaifyr.

‘She will be here soon,’ the small man continued. ‘Once she is here, I will not have the independence to speak to you, so I urge you to listen to me, please.’

On the continent that Leera, Mireea, the Kingdoms of Faaisha and the Plateau share, there are three gods: Ger, the Warden of the Elements, Maika, the God of Ascension, and
Taane, the Goddess of Memory. The final two lie in Leera. Two hundred years ago, the Kingdoms of Faaisha sought to take the land under which the god Taane lies, but that army turned mad, as all do
who travel to the end of the northern marshes, and no other attempt was ever made. It has remained in Leeran hands since.

On the Plateau, however, the lack of gods is balanced by what else lies there. It is best to view the whole part of that land as a prison, if you will, one that is maintained by the people who
live on it. Yet it is here, I think, that we begin to a see a more honest depiction of this new god.

—Tinh Tu,
Private Diary

Before Pueral, the coastline lay under the bone-white light of the moon, the black ocean an empty promise that the shore wound around.

She had arrived at Oetalia, the capital of the Fifth Queen’s Province, eight days earlier. Her guard of twenty seasoned soldiers, a tracker and a witch followed her from the dirt trails to
the stone streets of the capital, a silent ribbon of unannounced black and red. Oetalia was larger than Cynama: spread across an uneven, rocky ground that turned into a ruined mountain, it was
broken by half a dozen huge stone canals, the bottoms of which dropped into a darkness that, even when the fractured suns sat directly above, no end could be seen. Elaborate steel bridges stitched
the city together over those fractures and, from the rise of the first, Pueral could see a rocky horizon stretched on either side of her. Originally, Oetalia had been the capital of the First
Province, and a certain grandeur haunted its narrow streets, a nobility lingering in its steep roads, its long stairways and tall stone buildings.

It also laid claim to the largest population in Ooila, though Pueral could find no evidence of it as she and her company made their way through the streets. She saw men and women and children,
but they were furtive, at the edges of lanes, in the shadows of doorways and windows, silent and sullen.
Fear has done what no army could,
she thought, crossing the third bridge,
unconcerned by the new sway it had.
It has broken this city, turned its population into refugees.

The Fifth Queen’s castle was a high, severe fortress built on the top of the mountain. It ill-suited the young, pretty queen within.

After arriving at the huge iron gates, Pueral was led through the corridors still armed (a fact, she noted with approval, met with professional disapproval by all her soldiers) and was presented
to Queen Dalau Vi before the afternoon’s sun had set, but as the last of the butterflies fell to the ground. As the light began to fade, she was taken from the chamber by the Queen herself,
led past narrow windows that watched her, until she reached a door that opened into a private room. Inside were a long and lonely table and a pair of high-backed chairs.

‘Please,’ the Fifth Queen said, ‘sit.’

Pueral unbuckled the belt holding her sword and laid the sheathed blade over the table, next to the silver teapot. She took a seat, grateful for it, and to her surprise, watched as the Queen
began to pour tea into two cups. ‘Three generations ago,’ the pretty woman said, holding the steaming pot lightly, ‘I was killed by a friendly envoy from another queen. She is the
Third Queen now, but was then the Second to my First. I vowed in the next generation that I would never be so betrayed and so I met with no one. After two lives of talking to no one, I wish for
conversation, but find that I have only old generals who order me to hide outside my city and claim it is for my safety.’

‘Do you need them?’ Pueral asked, after thanking her for the hot tea.

‘I do.’

‘Kill their children.’

‘And if they decide they do not need me?’

‘Kill them,’ she said, simply.

Dalau, the Fifth Queen, smiled faintly and lowered herself elegantly into the chair opposite Pueral. She was a fine-boned figure, a delicate woman of the darkest skin who, though she had left
childhood behind, could not abandon her youth. It was easy to view her as a figure in need of direction or control, as if she had not the experience or intelligence necessary to rule. To hear her
speak did not dispel the illusion, for her voice was soft and gentle, a confidante’s voice, a lover’s voice, unable to be otherwise.

‘You have a man who has seen the Innocent?’ Pueral blew on her tea, then said, ‘That is why my Queen sent me.’

‘Of course.’ The Fifth Queen clapped twice, sharply. ‘The First Queen has been the only one to answer my letter. Please tell her that for me.’

Pueral nodded.

She had almost finished her tea in silence when, after a knock on the door, two guards, both in grey-and-white-edged armour, entered with a man between them. A middle-aged man, he had been
dressed in soft clothes, and had tight manacles around his wrists, though he appeared neither agitated nor violent. Yet Pueral, gazing at his damaged face, knew that such was not always the case:
she could see that his fingers had torn his cheeks, his chin and lips, while across his face was a thick scar made by a knife, a knife that had clearly and intentionally gouged out the man’s
eyes.

‘Ja Nuural cannot see and cannot talk,’ the Fifth Queen said. ‘His tongue has been cut out as well as his eyes. But if he could talk, he would tell you that he was in charge of
a community down on the coast. He ran a research team dedicated to the cultivation of healthy fish, a scheme I have helped to fund. It aims to breed out the poison and disease that have
contaminated the fish in Leviathan’s Blood.’

Pueral rose from the table and approached the blind and mute man. Closer, she saw that, in addition to his face, Ja Nuural’s feet had been damaged, and blood from dried scabs ran across
his sole and toes. ‘Did he walk from the coast to here?’

‘Yes.’ The Fifth Queen stood beside her. ‘We have tried to care for him, but the best work of our witches and warlocks has been of little help, because once he is alone, he
digs at his wounds. His feet first, then his face, as if he cannot decide which has failed him more. We have taken to keeping him chained as best we can, but after a few hours, he begins screaming.
He stops only when we unchain him so he can dig at his wounds.’

It was awful and Pueral felt sympathy for the man. ‘What makes you think that the Innocent did this to him?’

‘He had a letter.’

Pueral had it now, as she led her horse along the ruined coastline.

For the last two days, she and her soldiers had not passed a living creature. The oldest of her group, a man a few years older than her, a tracker by the name of Ae Lanos, had been the first to
tie a black stone around his neck. The stone was flecked with glass, a cheap piece. As if compelled, the others, even the witch who rode silently with them, followed his lead, and by morning, when
awoken by the smell of blood and salt and the sound of the ocean, Pueral found herself the only one in her party without a stone hung around her neck to catch her soul.

She did not blame them. Against her breast, between the padded cloth and the black steel of her armour, was the stained, tattered letter that the Fifth Queen had given her. It was written in a
firm hand, in ink, and it was unsigned. Yet the letter that the man who had lost both his eyes and his tongue had carried lodged in her a very real, very deep fear.

I am far from innocent
, it said.

‘Tell me,’ Heast said, ‘how did Lok die?’

‘Of course.’ The tribesman had finished the bread and water and, as he spoke, began to pull his gloves back on. He said, ‘I was not originally given the task of delivering you
this message. For the most part, I was kept from the discussions of war in Faaisha. I told the story of the beautiful girl twice in the presence of Lord Tuael. The first time, it was before him and
his staff. The second time, it was before the Lords of Faaisha, their marshals and Baeh Lok. I thought it strange that he was there, for he was no more than an old sergeant in Lord Tuael’s
guard, responsible for the training of young lords and ladies in the art of violence. Yet, it became clear in the middle of my story that I was not speaking to the Lords, but to him. It was to him
that a message was being delivered. At the end of it, he told Lord Tuael that he would carry a letter to you. They were the only words he spoke.’ The tribesman flexed his left hand, the
leather making no sound as he did. ‘When Lok began his journey, he was given half a dozen men as an escort. Truthfully, I think most served as a guard to ensure that he did deliver Lord
Tuael’s message – I overheard one of the soldiers say that Baeh Lok was not the most loyal of men to Faaisha. Still, that was after I had asked to accompany him. I hoped that I would
find further evidence of my ancestors and could begin the task I had been set, though of course I did not say that when I made the request. I simply offered to be a guide through the battle zones
and Lord Tuael agreed. Baeh Lok saw through the deception, which is why I relate it now, but we reached an agreement that at the border of Faaisha and Mireea we would part and finish our respective
duties.’

Everything Taaira said rang with truth to Heast. Baeh Lok would have been close to seventy now, if not already that, and would have known what Kye Taaira was immediately. He would have heard the
story and known, like Heast, how rare it was for a Hollow to leave the Plateau. He would have known that the situation was serious.

‘It went wrong from the start,’ Kye Taaira continued. ‘On our fourth night, we were found.’

‘You were betrayed?’ Muriel Wagan asked.

‘No, just unfortunate. We did not leave much of a trail, but Baeh Lok insisted that we take a wide track up through the east, to skirt the ruins of Celp, and then go down through a few of
the towns and cities that still stood. He was particularly interested in Maosa, and though I told him that there was an easier route to the border, he would not be swayed. Still, I thought I had
found a way through the Leeran forces that were scattered across the land there. But it was not safe. A simple mistake on my part, I am afraid. We were discovered.’

‘Were the girl and her companion there?’

‘No, it was just soldiers. Her Faithful.’

‘Faithful?’ It was Reila who spoke, the elderly healer’s voice sharp with her sudden intensity. ‘To the girl you described?’

The tribesman nodded. ‘The name was in common use by the time I arrived in Faaisha. The Leerans claimed she was their god.’

‘We had been told,’ Muriel Wagan said carefully, ‘that she was younger. A child.’

‘No.’

‘You could not be mistaken?’

‘I saw her again,’ he said. ‘During our escape, I was separated from Sergeant Lok and the six accompanying him. With some difficulty, I reached the border of Faaisha and
Mireea. That was where my agreement with the sergeant ended, but I found myself faced with the moral choice of finding the men who had briefly been my companions or abandoning them. I must admit
that I felt some obligation to Baeh Lok and his men, but I also knew that I could combine the search for my ancestors with a search for them and so I set out into the lines and camps of the Leeran
Army. I found five of the sergeant’s guards without much trouble. They had been killed with arrow and sword and their bodies had been nailed to trees, their blood drained cleanly from their
bodies. They had borne no insignia and no uniform, but the message was clear, and I feared that I would find the sergeant in a similar state. When I did discover him, however, he was by a river
crossing, a two-man patrol dead beside him. He was alive, but his own stomach was a bloody mess, and he knew that he would not survive. He asked me to bring you the letter that you hold. I thought
to deny him – what did I care about his task? I did not believe I would get much help from it. The thought must have shown on my face, for he laughed. It was in the face of that laughter that
I agreed. It shamed me that I had considered ignoring a final request, despite my duty. I offered to bear him as far as I could as well, but he asked for mercy instead.’

‘You killed him?’ Lady Wagan asked. ‘I thought such a thing would be forbidden?’

‘Even were I not Hollow,’ he replied, ‘you must not mistake pacifism with cruelty. Baeh Lok was in such pain there was only a single cure available.’

‘What of the last soldier?’ Heast asked.

‘I found him on a trail that led to her.’ Taaira’s voice turned soft, ominous. ‘He had been hanged from a tree and his blood drained, as the others had, but it had been
done half a day’s walk from her camp. It was a mobile outpost, like much of the rest of the Leeran Army, and it was dominated by a series of well-disguised tents. I was lucky that I had not
walked into it by mistake. But it was there that I found my ancestors, as well as the girl and the man who had walked across the Plateau. There were other soldiers too, and men and women whom I
would later come to identify as priests. Over the two days that I watched, I saw the latter two mingle, and leave the camp in pairs, heading into the Mountains of Ger and, I assume, Yeflam
after.’ He held his gloved right hand up, much as he had his left, and flexed it. ‘It was this path that she herself took days later, in the company of that same man and many of her
priests.’

‘Your ancestors?’