Princess of Blood Read online

  ‘So what happened back there? You forgot all of that?’

  ‘That …’ For a moment the red mist of rage returned, but Toil mastered it somehow. ‘I knew that Charneler a long time ago. And I swore to kill him.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘He was the guide on my first relic hunt,’ she said in a tight voice. ‘He led us underground and betrayed us. Grabbed what he wanted and left me for maspid bait. Left me to die a mile underground.’

  ‘But you survived,’ Lynx pressed, ‘you conquered the dark, you told me that yourself.’

  ‘Yeah, I survived,’ she spat. ‘You of anyone should understand, though. No light, none at all. I crawled for days up out of that hole – four fucking days and nights so far as I can tell, half dead and out of my mind with terror. Arms and legs all torn up, couple of bones broken along the way and licking water off the walls to stay alive. You want to know why I’m not scared of the dark? It’s because as far as I’m concerned the dark’s already killed me once, claimed me as its own and spat me out on sufferance. One day it’ll take me back for good, but until then I’ll never stop fighting.’

  Toil paused, breath ragged as her rage loomed closer to the surface, before continuing in a more controlled voice. ‘And now the man who left me to that blackest hell without a moment’s pause is here, sniffing around one of the greatest Duegar mysteries ever known, with the Knights-Charnel to back him up. He’s a coward and a danger to anyone around him, but the man knows ruins as well as anyone and doesn’t care what chaos he leaves in his wake. He is as big a threat to this city as any army and I might have just handed him the keys to the labyrinth.’

  Lynx was quiet for a long moment, as much unsure what to say as waiting for Toil’s blood to cool. ‘So what do we do about it?’ he finally asked, quietly.

  Toil straightened. ‘You all follow me; I’m going to need some muscle to back me up here. Muscle and a lot of luck.’

  ‘Muscle? Toil, we’re under guard. They’ll likely shoot us if we put a foot out of line.’

  ‘Then we better get it done before they can. Come on.’

  From somewhere she produced a small knife and sliced her dress open at the bottom to allow her to walk better, then opened the cleavage up for good measure. She pulled a slim pouch from her waist and jerked the door open to speak through it.

  ‘Guard, it’s urgent I speak to the Monarch.’

  ‘Back inside,’ the man growled, eyes drawn to her chest even in his anger.

  Instead Toil flung both doors back and tossed her hair in upper-class outrage.

  ‘It is vital to the interests of your city,’ she declared, waving the pouch in his face as though it was a written order from the Monarch.

  ‘I don’t—’

  Toil hit him full in the face and in the next moment swung around to backhand the other guard. Both staggered but before they could react Lynx and Teshen were there to slam their heads into the wall and toss their guns away. In the next moment Toil was off down the corridor, striding with an exaggerated sway to distract the next soldier she met. The Cards shoved the unconscious guards into the room and closed the door behind before hurrying to catch her up.

  ‘I need to speak to the Monarch,’ Toil repeated as she rounded the corner. ‘It’s urgent!’

  They were not far from the throne room, Lynx knew. He’d had a decent view as he was marched away at gunpoint. Following Toil round the corner he saw her brandish the silk pouch at a soldier so vehemently she managed to slap away his hastily drawn pistol at the same time.

  ‘I have a letter for the Monarch, I must deliver it at once.’

  Payl raced forward to barge the soldier with her shoulder as he turned to follow Toil. The soldier stumbled and Lynx grabbed him before he fell, babbling apologies to distract him while Teshen slipped the gun from his hand. Toil stormed onward, growing in her role and letting the clouding rage fall away behind her. Lynx realised that Toil’s greatest protection was not the three mercenaries following her, but rather the incongruous image of her striding towards the throne room making as much of a show of herself as possible.

  She hadn’t been the epitome of ladylike refinement earlier when they’d dragged her away, swearing like a thirsty sailor. This time, however, she was bewilderingly determined, unarmed and compellingly magnificent to Lynx’s eye. Judging by the nobles and courtiers Toil strode past, he wasn’t the only one to think so.

  Another guard appeared from a side-room and levelled his gun, but dithered over shooting an unarmed madwoman. Preferring confusion over violence, Payl deliberately stumbled into Teshen and sent him flailing into the guard, knocking both to the ground.

  Leaving Teshen behind, they rounded one more corner and headed down the side of the great hall, towards the inner door that led to the throne room. More curious and startled faces turned their way, Toil ignoring them while Lynx did his best to look apologetic and helpless. Toil made it all the way into the great hall before a guard sought to forcibly bar her progress, whereupon she deftly wrong-footed the man and was around and past him in the next instant.

  Lynx put himself between the two of them and then it was only the pair of personal bodyguards at the great door to the throne room she had to negotiate. With the Monarch inside, however, they were less open to Toil’s act, but again surprise came to her aid. The first guard didn’t take the threat of an unarmed woman as seriously as he might and just grabbed her by the arm to arrest her progress.

  Toil headbutted him. As he staggered she stepped inside the reach of the other’s gun and slammed him bodily into the jamb of the closed door. A swift knee and a punch felled him while Lynx put the first guard down, then she was through the door.

  Inside there were squawks of alarm and the rush of bodies – a roar of surprise from Envoy Ammen, a shout for the guards from someone else. Lynx followed close behind and saw Toil punch some richly dressed nobleman full in the face and put him flat on his back. The Envoy charged towards her, waving his arms as he bellowed furiously, but Toil simply grabbed him and manoeuvred the big man around as a shield while one final guard levelled his gun.

  From the throne there was a shout as the Monarch called for the guard to hold his fire, while the Crown-Prince leaped from his seat to put himself between Toil and his wife. The Crown-Prince drew his sword and mage-pistol in the same movement so Toil barely avoided impaling herself on the tip of his sword as she abruptly yanked the Envoy aside. She dropped to her knees, now bellowing her request to the Monarch.

  ‘Crown-Princess Stilanna!’ she called above the clamour. ‘I come to beg your forgiveness—’

  Toil broke off as the Crown-Prince’s rapier touched her throat, a thin line of blood welling up where the razor-sharp edge kissed her skin. Lynx had ground to a halt just a few steps inside the room, not wanting to appear any more of a threat, and didn’t see the blow from behind that knocked him down.

  ‘I beg your forgiveness, Monarch,’ Toil continued in a more subdued voice, ‘both for the incident with your guest and this intrusion, but I have a letter I must deliver upon forfeit of my life. Such actions as I took earlier, I swear it was in the interests of your city – let your husband’s blade take my life if I am mad or a liar.’

  She looked up straight into the Monarch’s eyes as she said that last before slowly raising the pouch she carried.

  ‘Envoy Ammen has already begged my forgiveness,’ Crown-Princess Stilanna said coldly. ‘Your master is already engaged in his job and attempting to undo all that you have done.’

  ‘I understand, Monarch,’ Toil said, lowering her eyes, ‘but my mission is not only in his service. The letter, I implore you.’

  ‘What letter is this?’ Ammen demanded from behind her. ‘There was no further letter in the official correspondence.’

  ‘Your Envoy disagrees with you,’ the Monarch said to Toil.

  ‘The Envoy does not know of it,’ Toil said. ‘The Envoy’s function here is already fulfilled. The letter, Monarch, is for royal eyes onl
y.’

  Stilanna glanced up at her husband and gave the tiniest of nods. Without a pause the man struck down at Toil’s head with his mage-pistol. She was thrown to the ground under the blow and went limp. Lynx shouted and tried to scrabble forward but was pounced upon by black-uniformed soldiers. He stopped struggling, realising they would kill him if he fought, and watched the Crown-Prince retrieve the pouch, ignoring Ammen’s protests. The man slipped a letter free, then Lynx’s vision was full of mosaic tile floor and little else as he was dragged away.

  Chapter 5

  (Two weeks earlier)

  The lamplight seems to barely touch the walls. Rough, undecorated stone surrounded them – as much a cave as ancient crypt.

  ‘There’s nothing here!’ whispered Staul, turning with his lamp raised. The yellow light trembled as he moved and his gun was no more steady.

  Asolist snorted, the sound echoing loud enough to make the others jump. Two of them anyway, Staul and Lirish. His Hanese manservant, Yel Dan, was unmoved and appeared unimpressed with the underground room. Asolist hadn’t intended to make that much noise but his blood was still fizzing with a combination of Wisp Dust and firedrake leaf. The mixture of drugs, excitement and childhood terror meant he couldn’t keep still.

  ‘What were you expecting? Piles of gold and God Fragments? The bodies of Duegar kings?’ Asolist shook his head. ‘That’ll be far below the surface, this is just a back door.’

  The youngest of the group, Staul had gone white when Asolist announced they were off to explore the labyrinth after a spirited evening in a local alchemist parlour. He’d not argued, though, he never did. His family were minor vassals of Asolist’s father, the Lessar-Prince, and knew when suggestions were really orders.

  ‘Still not safe,’ Lirish said in a breathless voice. He was a skinny, unlovely third son of a count, but a loyal friend to Asolist. ‘Weren’t just that academic got killed, she had guards. Then the brown-jackets that never came back up, folk say they screamed for hours.’

  ‘Fucking mercenaries and watchmen with cudgels?’ Asolist spat. ‘Useless scum the lot of them.’ He brandished his mage-pistol, one of a pair with beautiful polished brass inlay. ‘Now keep your eyes open.’

  The stone room was an uneven, kidney-shaped space about twenty yards long. At the foot of the stair they’d descended was the only flat wall. One stretch at waist height had been polished smooth, but no amount of prodding or inspection had yielded the reason for it. Round behind that, at the far end of the room, was a tunnel mouth leading further down, but the sobering effect of stepping into the labyrinth had tempered Asolist’s usual bravado.

  ‘What was that?’ Staul hissed, whirling around.

  They all turned their guns that way, but Asolist could see nothing. He kept quiet, though, he’d heard some sort of scratching noise too.

  ‘There!’ Lirish gasped.

  The blond youth fired on instinct and the deafening report of an icer crashed against Asolist’s ears. Despite everything he winced at the noise, magnified by the enclosed space. In the dim light Asolist could see nothing but the trail of the icer and shards of stone bursting out from the wall.

  ‘Godspit and curses!’ Asolist yelled. ‘Don’t do that!’

  ‘I saw something!’

  ‘You jumped at bloody—’

  Yel Dan cut him off with a gesture, stepping across Asolist towards the nearer wall. Before Asolist could summon words he saw a thin wisp of white dart out from the grey stone. It flickered forward then pulled back and vanished, but they had all seen it.

  ‘We go,’ Yel Dan commanded.

  With his free hand the Hanese urged Asolist back towards the stair but he barely had time to move before the room exploded into movement. More wisps of white flashed out from the wall – long spider-legs probing delicately at the ground. Staul fired at one and the icer passed straight through the ghostly limb without effect. He cried out and stumbled as the legs reached towards him, falling on his backside and spilling a cartridge as he tried to reload.

  More legs darted out with shocking speed, then a monstrous blurring body obscured the entire wall. Yel Dan fired in the same moment as Asolist, but the Hanese had loaded an earther. A dark mass seemed to smash into the ghostly creature and hammer it back against the wall behind. Stone exploded behind it and shards lashed Asolist’s face. The creature reeled and its long legs thrashed madly for a few moments, but before any of them could load another cartridge it struck.

  One leg caught Staul in the back of the calf and dragged him off his feet. Another slapped across Lirish’s belly and he collapsed with a shriek. Asolist watched, frozen in horror, as Staul was hauled towards the huge spider-like ghost. The youth had time for one scream of terror then the legs rose and fell, three stabbing down as one and tearing his chest open.

  ‘Run!’ Yel Dan roared, shoving Asolist back.

  He dropped the pistol he was loading and pulled his second. The icer had no effect, seemingly passing through its misty body without touching it.

  Yel Dan thumped Asolist in the shoulder with the butt of his mage-gun and sent him stumbling towards the entrance. There was a crazed wordless roar from the Hanese then a blinding flash of light.

  Asolist turned tail and ran, one arm across his eyes to shield them from the light of the burner. Behind him Yel Dan continued to shout and Lirish’s screams took on a new, awful intensity. Asolist didn’t look back – even when Yel Dan’s yells turned to pain. He scrambled up the steps and out into the cool dark of night, running as fast as he could to the open. Only then did he even glance behind. The voices behind had fallen silent and a ghostly shape reached up out of the ground. A jolt of terror ran through his body and turned Asolist’s muscles to jelly. He tripped and fell.

  In the cold light of morning, there was no avoiding the silent scream on the corpse’s face. He lay on his back in the street, arms splayed wide and green velvet coat spread beneath like wings. The ruin of his chest was displayed for the world to see, as though he had been left purposely on display, but Crown-Princess Stilanna, Monarch of Jarrazir, thought not.

  There was no trail of blood leading here, only the blood that had spread evenly underneath him. The young man had run and tripped, rolled over on to his back and then … Well, she doubted his heart had actually been taken, but things were such a mess in there it was difficult to tell.

  She looked up toward her husband as the Crown-Prince conversed quietly with Colonel Pilter, commander of the city regiment. The men could hardly have been less alike; one tall, dark of hair and complexion, handsome to boot, the other portly and bald with sandy mutton-chop whiskers and some sort of stain down the sleeve of his grey uniform.

  ‘My love?’

  Tylom glanced up and nodded, breaking off his conversation to join her. His face was grim as he passed the corpse. For all his skill with rapier and pistol, the man had never been comfortable around the sight of blood.

  Just as well he’s not the one who’s going to give birth, she told herself, one hand rubbing her swollen belly in what had almost become an unconscious action to her these days.

  A ring of soldiers in the austere black and silver of her personal Bridge Watch kept onlookers back both from her and the fat stub of a pillar a few yards away. For all her life it had stood there, the height of a child and unremarkable in every way except for a single glyph inscribed on its flat top. Until the night some foolish scholar had gone into the Deep Market, a mile west of here, and performed a feat of magic everyone had always assumed was impossible.

  Stilanna was still coming to terms with the shock of that. She’d paid the legends of the labyrinth no great regard in her life, but it was literally the bedrock of her city – an enduring fact that predated Jarrazir itself, unchanging and unknowable. Except now it had changed and now it had killed people. The bedrock shifted beneath them all and the prospect of what might come next worried her.

  ‘I know him, don’t I?’ she said, almost in a whisper. ‘I’m sure I recognise
his face.’

  Tylom nodded. ‘Lesser-Prince Besh’s second son, Deuxain Asolist. We’ve met him a few times, a foolish boy who could never stay still, if memory serves.’

  Stilanna nodded slowly. ‘Of course. Merciful Insar, he was little more than a child.’

  ‘I suppose we must count ourselves lucky,’ Tylom said. ‘Besh never seemed to like the Deuxain. If the Primain was lying there, we’d have an armed expedition about to charge down into the labyrinth.’

  ‘A scant mercy that. This brings the total to what? Nine dead in three days? Probably more, some of the casualties must have been part of groups who went inside and were just the only ones to actually get out again. Killed by gods-cursed spectres rising from underground as though all the silly stories we were told as children were true. And if it wasn’t for those stories, how many more might have attempted it?’

  The Crown-Prince scowled. ‘Eleven dead,’ he corrected. ‘Veraimin embrace them all. It turns out there were two people in the house in East Armoury Street when it collapsed.’

  She grimaced. ‘And still we’ve no idea how to stop it. Colonel, join us.’

  As Pilter approached he beckoned forward a young woman she didn’t know wearing the uniform of a lieutenant, albeit one of a far better cut to most.

  ‘Monarch,’ Pilter and the lieutenant said together, bowing low before the woman did so again to Tylom, muttering, ‘Crown-Prince,’ in an aristocratic accent.

  ‘This is Lieutenant Gerail,’ Pilter said, ‘she has specific command over the Fountain investigation.’

  ‘What is your progress?’

  ‘We are looking for a pupil of Matarin’s, Monarch, one Lastani Ufre. Her body was not found at the Fountain so we believe she escaped and is in hiding. She was a mage and would have been part of the ritual that opened the entrance.’