The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 14
“What?” Notch’s hand strayed to his hilt.
“There, beyond the harbour. Breaking the waves now.” A stream of water shot into the air. Sofia jumped. Large enough to disturb a passing ship, the water crashed down in a fountain-like spray. “That’s the Sea Beast – surely no whale could do that?”
“Old Fury,” Notch said. “It’s been years. Those ships in the harbour are in trouble.”
“The Storm Singer is probably already on her way.”
The giant creature broke the surface again, sending waves that rocked ships already at dock. Not enough of it was visible to be sure, but Sofia had always thought the mysterious beast was at least as big as a full fleet. She’d only seen it once before, as a child. Where it came from, or what its purpose, no-one was sure. Her father’s best guess was that it was an ancient creature from the blackest depths of the ocean. Legend said the beast was the first Anaskari king, cursed by the Medah as they fled their old city.
“True, and there you go.” Notch pointed down to a stone walkway that extended out to the water. At its peak, small from her vantage point, was a stone chair. A throne, really. Lavinia, the king’s Storm Singer, had shown it to her several times in calm weather. Slick with slime and droppings from gulls, the woman sat upon it in her fine robes without hesitation. Among the last of the magic-users in Anaskar, she lived a life of luxury and vigilance, though she too, had told Sofia that she was a prisoner. “Of duty,” the woman said, her smile sad.
“It’s her, it’s Lavinia. See her hair.”
“Like a flame.” Notch was squinting against the rising wind, now bringing with it chill mist.
Sofia shivered in her cloak. “She’ll still be able to calm both storm and beast, won’t she?”
“She always does.”
Lavinia crossed the walkway, waves lapping the sides, pausing once to hold her footing. By the time she reached the throne the black clouds had unleashed thunder and jags of lightning. People rushed to the walls to point and shout over the wind, or at Lavinia, but Sofia watched Old Fury. The Sea Beast lurked somewhere beneath the harbour, flashes of his inky mass now visible, now gone, now visible again.
And then he thrashed his bulk and people on the wall screamed.
An enormous wave tore through the harbour, capsizing smaller vessels and smashing into the big ships, tipping them and tangling their masts. Sails and rigging tore and snapped as ships lurched. People fleeing the harbour’s boardwalk were swept from their feet and Sofia flinched when a figure was dashed against a wall. Others were sent tumbling up streets, while yet more disappeared, sucked into the harbour. The wind masked the screams. Sofia turned away with a shudder. Gods, how many had died already?
“Notch, it’s never this bad.”
He shook his head.
Lavinia remained on the throne, red hair streaming as she sang. At first it was just a suggestion of new sound, thin notes woven into the wind. Sofia closed her eyes to trace it better. Clear, beneath the wind and the thunder, like a brilliant bell, Lavinia’s voice rang across the harbour. It slipped between other sounds and the world slowed.
Sofia exhaled when she opened her eyes.
The rain had faded, black clouds dissolved, as if blown away from below. But the only thing coming from the throne was Lavinia’s voice. It filled the air and Sofia’s chest resonated with it. Even the Sea Beast had sunk beneath the water. The harbour was calming as the wind fell away and blue sky peered through tattered cloud. On Lavinia sang and Sofia blinked at sudden tears.
She wiped them away, turning from the wall a moment. People beside her stood with tears in their eyes. A young man took her hands and danced a little jig. Before she could react, he’d turned to another onlooker.
Someone cheered. Within moments the entire wall was cheering. Sofia shouted her joy down to the tall woman, who was even now walking back along the spur, toward the private entrance to Anaskar. At its black iron gate she stopped to wave up at everyone and was given another roar of thanks.
Notch smiled down at her. “I’d forgotten.”
“Me too.”
“Beautiful.” His voice was quiet. “And you’ve met the King’s Storm Singer?”
“Many times. She’ll be exhausted after such a feat, but when she sings, even softly to herself or even in a hall, it changes the whole room. Even her guards forget to frown.”
“I’d love to hear that.”
Sofia checked the harbour. Waves still slapped against the docks and ships with ragged sails still rocked. Men in orange and blue, both Shield and Vigil, rushed to help, but many people were already dead.
Elsewhere, fishermen would be rushing to ready those vessels able to sail. Each appearance of the Sea Beast brought with it magnificent hauls, nets overflowing with all manner of fish – both rare and large. As if half the ocean couldn’t help but follow the Sea Beast. For weeks after, the catch would be plentiful.
Once, the people of Anaskar had tried to slay the beast, long before her grandfather’s time. To hear father tell it, no-one came close to hurting it of course, and once people realised the Sea Beast brought fish with it, no-one cared to try again and the city grew richer.
But was it worth it, when people died? “Can we help them?”
“We could but it’s too great a risk. The Vigil and Shield are there.”
The crowds jostled her, pressing in and sucking the air from the wall. “Should we return then?”
“Good idea. Seto might have something for us to do now.”
“I hope so. I hate all this waiting,” she said.
Notch nodded. “Me too.”
Sofia led him from the wall and along the cobblestones, part of her glad to be leaving. “I hate to think what will happen if Lavinia can’t find others to train. Only her children remain. And her brother, but he has no children.”
“It’d be a disaster. Otonos should be protecting the line better.” Notch let a wagon pass, its sides bludging with silks. “When I was a boy, I once saw waves, created by the beast during a storm, that cleared the lower wall. Imagine a whole winter of such weather.”
“It’s never that bad is it?”
“Not often but sometimes I’m surprised captains still sail here. They risk a lot for their profits – even with the post-beast bounty.”
“Well, at least the Sea Beast isn’t seen that often.”
“True. And he’s always left after her song. Once, back when her father was Storm Singer, there was a time the Sea Beast didn’t return for ten years.”
“Hmmm.”
She wove through the thinning crowd. Music resumed, flowing from a street corner where men in blue tights with Swordfish headpieces bounced as they played. The costumes were silly but they pleased a group of children, who stood laughing and clapping. One even spun a little dance, her arms in the air. Wealthier parents tossed coppers into open instrument cases. Sofia smiled. The children’s faces were alight.
One of the musicians smiled back at her before bending to place a sweet-cake in a boy’s hand.
“The musicians play well,” Notch said as they passed.
Sofia paused to listen a moment. “They do, almost as good as –” she choked on her last word as the smiling man, his blue costume damp with sweat, leapt forward. He caught her arm and dragged from the street. Shocked onlookers made no move to help her, as the rest of the musicians stepped up to block them, their instruments silent.
Notch had not paused with her, and was almost out of sight.
She broke her captor’s grip, driving her elbow into him. “Notch!”
The musician snarled, snatching at her. She swatted his hand aside and jabbed at his face but he dodged, twisting to deliver a glancing blow to her side. Pain ran along her ribs and she grunted, collapsing over his arm.
Someone caught her shoulders.
“Keep her still,” a voice shouted.
Sofia kicked at the man holding her, but he turned his thigh, absorbing the blows. Fingers dug into her cheeks and something was poured into her mouth. A bitter tang. Dormi, sleep-drug favoured by the Mascare. Tantos used it on her once, as a stupid prank. Father had been furious.
A hand clamped over her mouth before she could spit, and then she was tumbling to the ground.
A blood-splattered forearm lay on the cobblestones, weeping red.
Steel flashed in the sun and screams echoed along the street as Notch spun into the circle, his blade shearing another limb. His face was set as he slipped into a crouch, slashing with a knife and blocking a kick with his sword. He skipped forward, driving his shoulder into another man, who stumbled amongst his fellows. A small woman in blue leapt onto Notch’s back, circling an arm around his neck. The mercenary spun with a roar, flinging her into the crowd.
Something clawed at Sofia’s cloak and she flinched.
The smiling musician, his face now twisted in pain, drew her in with his single arm. His stub pumped blood as he struggled with her. Sofia drew a chisel and slashed it across his cheek, scrambling away.
“Sofia.” Notch caught her arm. His tunic was splashed with blood and concern covered his face. “Quickly, the Shield will come soon.”
“Wait,” she gasped, jamming her fingers down her throat.
Vomit splashed across the stones, coloured with a bright orange liquid. She’d end up sleepy once the adrenaline wore off, but for now, she’d stay awake. Hopefully.
“Go,” she said.
People fell back from Notch’s expression as he leapt over a crumpled musician and a shattered swordfish headpiece. He pulled her into a side street and Sofia glanced over her shoulder. Two of the men in blue were limping away.
The smiling musician lay still.
Chapter 17
“We weren’t followed and we knocked at the stable gate. I don’t know if the Mascare or even the Shield are watching the inn anymore. Tulio let us in,” Notch said.
He dumped his bloody shirt into a washbasin, Sofia and Seto hovering behind. Pink clouds spread in the water and he shivered when a chill ran over his bare skin. The rear of the inn was a little too distant from the fire. Not as though it would kill him. Getting old, eh?
“You have so many scars,” Sofia said. Her voice changed. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”
He chuckled as he rinsed his arms. “Don’t be sorry. I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“And so am I. Thank you, Notch.”
He turned, smiling as he accepted a towel from Seto. “And we’re lucky too – there was only one mask. Don’t know if I could have handled more than one at the same time.”
Seto nodded. “The rest were likely Shields or Vigil, I imagine the palace has spread itself thin in its search for this little bird. Perhaps some more care is in order?”
Sofia frowned at him. “I’m too tired to tell you not to call me that.”
“The drug will wear off soon. As I understand it, dormi is –”
“I’m familiar with it.”
“Of course you are. Silly me.”
Notch hid a smile. At least the two were talking. “I think we need to anticipate their next move. Solicci or Cera could be more direct next time.”
“I and the other Rats will watch for them,” Seto promised. “In fact, I have an exceptionally skilled young Braonn doubling as a manservant in the palace.”
“Should we strike back?” Sofia asked. A hardness rested in her gaze.
“Until I can prepare something, you would be best served by remaining hidden.”
Notch took a clean shirt and ducked into it. “That wasn’t the only excitement we had, Seto. Old Fury visited. He flooded parts of the Lower Tier. It looked bad, even if it might have cleaned the place up a bit. Are Flir and Luik safe?” Notch rubbed his shoulder. “Do we need to go and look for them?”
“So eager. Trust my judgement, I’m sure they are well and will return soon. We’re all cogs and our parts are not always to act. You need to stay out of sight.”
“You could never be a cog, Seto,” Notch snorted.
“That’s true, old friend.”
He massaged his neck. “Seto.”
The older man gestured for them to follow, heading back toward the dining room. “I know you feel useless. But you’re nothing of the sort. Besides, I have news of my own. I don’t know if there is a connection between what I have to tell you and why the Mascare have left our doorstep. But since we reopened, I caught one snooping about.”
“Where?”
“In your rooms. We would have found him sooner but I was attending to other matters.”
Sofia glanced over her shoulder. “Where is he now?”
“Come.” He led them down a narrow hall toward the basement. Sofia followed, a limp in her stride, Notch close behind. He’d have to keep an eye on her, not just her ankle, but to make sure she held up. She’d worn a brave face since Seto brought her to the inn.
“So we’re still being watched?” he asked.
“I have extra eyes on the eyes upon us. If the Shields or the Mascare attempt something so bold again, we will have warning.” He lowered his voice at the entrance to the cellar. “There’s something peculiar about this Mascare, however.”
Seto opened the door and took them to the centre of the room. A body lay beneath a cloth, unmoving in the torchlight.
“You killed him?” Sofia ran forward, tearing the cloth free. She gasped, looking back over her shoulder.
Seto knelt beside her. “Yes. You see what I mean about peculiar.”
Notch felt his own eyebrows rise. A tall man lay in Mascare robes, a mask beside his head, hands at his side. His skin was quite pale – moreso than the Braonn, who spent so much time beneath their forests. This man was so pale as to be snow-like.
Renovar.
“An imposter,” Seto said. “He attacked when I caught him. Regrettably, I was forced to kill him before learning anything of use.”
“This is punishable by death,” Sofia said. “Worse. Do you know what happened to the last man who pretended to be Mascare?”
“He was stoned before the city walls,” Notch said. “In full view of his family.” And a crowd too big to disperse. A hot day. Too hot for armour, but he’d been on duty and that meant the full gear. It might have shielded him from steel had he been on the field, but it couldn’t block out the screams.
Seto covered the man. “Clearly he had not heard, coming from across the sea as he did.”
“I saw an imposter myself. I lost him, but his mask was set in a frown.”
Seto’s own face creased.
“What does this mean?” Sofia said.
“I don’t know. Trouble for certain.” The old man stood. “But now perhaps I do have a task. One which we will all undertake. If you are able, Notch?”
Notch straightened and his pulse quickened. It was almost shameful, how easily the thought of action stirred him. Action led to the restoration of his name. Whatever was left of it. He flexed the muscles in his forearm. The stiffness was bearable. “Tell me.”
“Two of my favourites – deception and misdirection. Are you able too, Sofia?”
Sofia sniffed. “Of course I am.”
Notch sighed. “Seto, tell us.”
A man in black cleared his throat, standing in the door. Seto met him and the two conferred a moment. When he returned he was smiling.
“First let us eat. By the time we’ve finished, Luik at least will have returned and I will lay out my plans.” His mouth twitched. “I understand Flir had to swim some of the way back, but they’re fine.”
***
Notch ran.
Stupid. Bloody stupid. Why did he always end up going along with Seto? If there was ever a stupider idea, he had yet to hear it. And yet, he ran.
Stone walls, dark doorways and the surprised faces of onlookers flashed by as he skidded through a small square, turning into a street leading to the Iron Pig. Too far from the wall to have been flooded, the cobbles were damp from the rain. He nearly slipped several times and shouts from pursuing Shields were never far behind. A man stepped into his path, arms outstretched, as if to stop him. Word of his reward had made people bold on the Lower Tier it seemed.
Notch flattened the fellow with a single punch, barely breaking stride.
Crashing through the inn’s door, he skidded to a halt, using the nearest table in the common room to slow him. His chest heaved.
At his wild entrance, customers jumped up, one spilling a drink and cursing. All eyes were on him. The bench seats were full, meals and tankards set before workmen and darker sorts, but it was the innkeeper, standing in an apron behind the bar with the most telling reaction.
The man’s eyes widened and he spun, giving the wall a thump. An opening appeared, one that did not appear to be a regular door.
From the corner of the room, Luik stood. The muttering had grown, and Notch barely made it halfway across the floor when a man with greasy hair stood, opening his vest to show a knife.
“Stop there, friend,” he said.
Several men joined him but Notch didn’t pause, grabbing the first fellow and tossing him onto a table. The room erupted with a roar. Luik appeared, giant arms beating a path. “Hurry,” he said, grunting when someone smashed a chair on his broad back. Spinning, Luik delivered a blow that slammed the man into the wall. He stomped on. The display of brute strength gave the patrons pause and Notch broke free, following Luik to the wall behind the bar.
“No handle. Sealed,” he said.
“Try the kitchen.”
Ovens roared and massive pots bubbled, but every person in the room lay groaning on the dirty floor. Except Flir.
“What took you so long?” she asked.
“They’re right behind me,” Notch shouted over new noise. He glanced over his shoulder. The group of Shields had burst into the common room with cries for order.
“Out back.” Luik wrenched a door open and waved them into a small passage. At its end a stout door waited, crossed with two steel bars. Luik flipped them, kicked open the door and charged up an alley. There Seto waited with Sofia and an unhitched wagon laden with barrels.
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