Page 9

Every little princeling thinks they are immortal.

Verpace enjoys cutting them down to size.

~ Personal Notes, Trell the Cynic

* * *

The red light of the sun sparkled on soapy ripples, the water droplets on Esterra’s dark skin glistening like pale rubies.

She languished in a wooden tub lined with brass.

The steam and hot water soaked into her muscles and washed away weeks of grime and tension.

Bubbles popped and formed with each movement.

There was nothing like a real bath to properly clean up.

The bath was raised up from the floor, allowing space for a wide brazier which was filled to the brim with red hot coals, the heat transferred into the wood through hundreds of thin, carefully maintained brass pipes filled with water.

This ensured that the boiled water, laboriously transferred from the hearth fire to the tub via a simple process comprised of maids and buckets maintained its temperature for as long as possible.

A real luxury, and one Esterra intended to languish in for as long as possible.

The coals were the product of the coal-makers of this tract.

Good wood was plentiful here in the Wooded Realm of King Nellan III, son of Nellan II, who was, according to wild rumour, son of Nellan I… Esterra chuckled.

She found the names and titles of this short-lived, self-proclaimed kingdom farcical at best.

The family had only held power for a few Circle years now, if memory served, but used epithets from times long past.

They wanted to appeal to some imaginary tradition or lineage, as if that meant anything.

The tract was ever in a state of political intrigue.

Most suspected that the sons poisoned their fathers once they came of age, leading to quick succession and chronic instability.

The family thrived on this, as the semi-constant crises ensured that fear was instilled in the hearts of all the subservient people who relied on the protection of the kingdom.

Fear made people look seek order, and the so-called royalty provided a semblance of order, as disorderly as it might really be.

The current king was as obese as he was devious, and anyone placing their security on his jiggling gut would be sorely disappointed.

But the power of the royalty had transferred to the queen of late, with the king taking more of a back seat, abusing his power for personal pleasures while she abused the situation to gain more control over the tract.

Guess that makes some kind of change , Esterra thought.

She looked over at the leather sling that had borne her lichtridden arm for so many years, slung over the back of a chair.

It bore the scars of many tracts and countless battles.

Rough patches of cloth were sewn across the worst of the damage with thick twine.

A brass-worker in the Circle had reinforced the edges of the leather with braided wire, taking the stress off the tanned hide and giving her more stability.

Yet here, in the bath, with the arm immersed in the hot soapy water, she felt a deep hatred for the device.

I shouldn't need that.

She had lived for years with that voice hissing in her mind, whispering cruelties, every word dripping with envy and loathing.

She hadn’t noticed it until the book-collector Tarr had pointed it out, and now she recognised the sickly familiar flavour of it, like the that acidic tang that sometimes comes with a chest cold or the sudden pong of a rotting corpse smelt before the body is ever seen.

Tarr said the inner voice is reflected in the tone of our real voice.

Yet that inner voice’s very insistence lent it an air of credibility, the years of internal and external abuse made it feel so natural, and the yearning for self-pity urged her to bend an ear to its ugly words.

“You quite done in there, woman?” someone shouted through the door.

“Not by a long shot!” Esterra yelled back, laughing.

“Hurry it up, otherwise I’ll eat without you.”

That sobered Esterra right up.

She rinsed away the soap with ladles of ice cold water, dried herself off and dressed, all in a few moments.

She opened the door and blocked a whimsical punch aimed at her head by her chubby friend.

“Damn it, Naba, can’t you let me enjoy just one moment?” she said.

Naba lifted her sharp nose into the air in mock disdain at her lower-class acquaintance.

“The luxuries become a bore when one is so accustomed to them.”

“You’re very haughty for someone who spends her time clawing through dirt all day.”

“Oh shush, you,” Naba laughed, looping her arm through Esterra’s and leading the way.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Aye.

It’s been too long since I last had a proper bed.”

“And yet you never stay long, dear.

Why is that?”

Esterra shook her head, looking out at the tract to their right.

The hallway was open to the air, the view broken only by the round pillars supporting the storeys above.

The forests below spread out wide and verdant, the rising dawn painting the entire place crimson.

Up above, separate from the main part of the palace, rose a listener’s tower.

Esterra gazed at it for some time, wondering what kind of listener was imprisoned there.

She tried to push the thoughts from her mind, and looked at the scenery again.

She enjoyed this place, the baths, the food, and Naba’s company, but she hated everything else about the tract.

She could spy at least forty soldiers scattered below, all shambling about on errands both official and unofficial.

One was yelling at a woman who had just opened her coal stall.

Two others were knocking on a door of some hovel, likely to extort or abuse those within. Naba saw her frown and pulled her away from the view, plopping her down on a bench where two servants had placed their breakfast. She sat down beside Esterra, nudging her with her hip to move over. Esterra complied.

“This place isn’t perfect, Esterra,” she said, passing her a hunk of bread still warm from the palace ovens.

“But it is home.

And look, we have broiled skewers to contest even those of the Circle.

I know you like those.”

“I do,” Esterra said, taking ten of them and piling them in a precarious little pyramid beside her plate.

“You could stay.

A good person like you might even improve the place.”

“I’m not a good person,” Esterra replied, sliding half a skewer’s worth of meat into her mouth.

“And as much as I enjoy our long talks and friendship, I cannot stay here.”

“I search for a cure daily, in my botany.”

“I know.”

“And if I found it? What would your answer be then?”

“I guess we’ll see when the time comes.”

“You never change,” Naba replied.

But her words were not cold or hurtful, and Esterra took no offence.

She did not want to change.

She was good at being who she was.

There was no need for softness, and all the luxury and comfort that she wallowed in here would only break the armour she had built about herself.

That armour was layered and strong, a work of many years.

Besides, when the inevitable royal assassination came, all those luxuries would be torn away from the tract, and only those who wore armour would survive.

There had once been rumours of great farmlands in the distant yaelu , on the way to the Shoreless Sea, entire tracts where food was plentiful and people were more civil.

Those rumours had turned darker in recent years, speaking of slave traders and isyapi dens, all watched over by monstrous warlords.

Esterra wondered if any of the rumours were true, new or old.

Perhaps the truth lay somewhere in the middle, a bit like this place, with a few animals, some farmland, and enough tension in the air to give an anxious mind an aneurysm.

It all sounded very much like the Circle to her, and she had decided long ago to keep her distance from such places.

She pushed the grim thoughts from her mind as they sat down to breakfast.

The meal was simple but hearty, with various meats, breads, and butter from the few mangy cows which grazed outside the walls.

The poor beasts had only lived so long because of Naba’s carefully planned diet of various plants and grains.

Her skill with flora was unmatched in Verpace, to Esterra’s knowledge.

Where most of the world had fallen into anarchy, depravity, and violence, Naba had sought knowledge.

Again Esterra was reminded of the man from the Wandering College, Tarr.

“Have you looked into that thing?” Esterra asked.

“Humans morphing into animals via proximity to licht? Yeah, a little.

I asked around and it’s a regularly seen phenomenon, or regular enough that it hasn’t degraded into myth.”

“So living near the licht can do that to a person?”

“From what I have heard, it’s not the proximity.

It requires actual consumption of trace amounts, usually through a food or water source.

For example, some lichtridden creature stumbles into a spring and drowns.

Most of the licht within it escapes on death, going who knows where.

But the very lichtridden status of the rotting corpse in the water can cause the changes you see if humans or other animals drank from it.”

“That’s what I thought.

Worrying.”

“Look, it’s rare enough not to concern me, so it shouldn’t worry you, Ster.”

“I suppose you know more about the nature of this world than myself.”

“Perhaps, though we walk different paths, and so have different specialities.”

There was a commotion down below.

Esterra leaned on the railing and watched a group of figures in grey, faded robes made their way through the little hamlets in the valley.

They seemed to flailing their arms about, and all made way before them.

“Who are they?” Esterra asked.

“Hmm? Ah, you’ve never seen a penitent? I don’t know much about them, though they seem interesting.

They whip themselves and apparently others, seeking forgiveness for the world or some such nonsense.”

“Just another cult.”

“Maybe, who knows.” Naba seemed distracted.

“What’s on your mind?”

“How bored are you?” Naba asked through a mouthful of bread.

“Uh..

Bored? I’m never bored,” Esterra replied.

“Well, I spied a plant in a tract two hollows over, sabah -ways.

It is unlike anything that I have ever seen before.

I feel that it has some use, as do most plants, that may be worth studying.”

“Congratulations,” Esterra said with a smirk.

“Enjoy the trip.”

“Ever snarky, aren’t you? Admit it, you love helping me.”

“Literally nothing in the world excites me more.”

“Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

“Hold up,” Esterra said.

“Your queen is here.”

Queen Nellania the First approached them in all her eerie glory.

She was thin as a corpse, but bore herself with a certain strength, an innate power that radiated from her like heat from a fire.

Her advance guard glistened in bronze-lined armour, the soldiers’ eyes shadowed by their helms.

Her eyes were locked on Naba.

Naba bowed her head as the queen took a seat beside her.

A child, barely six years old, stood by her side holding a pitcher of water and a goblet.

The boy kept his gaze downcast.

Esterra noted the thin cheeks stretched across thinner bones in the little face.

“How are you, my lovely?” the queen asked, her voice oddly beautiful in contrast to her slight frame and gaunt face.

“I am well, your majesty.”

“Have you gathered that exciting new species yet?”

“I was just discussing its retrieval with my friend here.”

“Ah.

She a botanist too, eh?” She laughed, the vibrations running down through her arms and shaking the table.

“You are such typical women, ha! You love your flowers.

But that is good! With your friend’s help, you can work faster.

One week was too much anyhow.

Three days, girl.

I have no patience, and your own deadline approaches.” She inclined her head at Naba with a tight-lipped smile, then lurched to her feet, whispering harshly at the child to follow along.

Naba had not looked up the entire time, a mirror of the boy’s mien.

“What…” Esterra began.

“Not here,” Naba replied.

Her jaw was clenched tight.

Esterra said no more, but finished her meal quickly.

They made their way to a long balcony and up a creaking staircase that climbed the side of the decrepit building they called a palace, the wind pulling at them all the while.

Finally they reached a great chamber with a thousand windows in the walls and ceiling.

It brimmed with a thousand plants, a million colours warring for attention in the varied foliage.

Sweet scents were marauded by stinging odours and the sludgy undertone of manured earth.

Naba shooed off a few gardeners, who bowed and scuttled away with downcast eyes.

Naba locked the glasshouse door and led Esterra by the hand, making a full round of the place to ensure there were no prying eyes.

As if she hadn’t taken a breath since leaving the breakfast table, she collapsed onto a stool and gasped, instantly breaking into tears.

Esterra looked on, nonplussed.

“Damn it, Naba.

Why do you put on this act for me, these false smiles and fake joy? What do you owe her? You should leave.”

“What do you even know about this place, Esterra? You come and visit once a year, if that, and act like you know better than me? That you know anything about me, or this damn tract? You think I sit here pining away for my friend to visit? I’m working here, and she helps me do that.”

“They? That frail bitch who calls herself a queen? She helps you?”

“Lower your voice, or she’ll kill us both.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Naba’s palm was quick as lightning.

Esterra’s cheek burned bright crimson, and she bit her tongue to stop herself from retaliating.

But Naba saw the fierce anger in her eyes.

“I’m not strong like you,” Naba whispered.

“Then come with me, and let me be strong for you.”

“I can’t travel, Esterra.

I’m not built for it.

I need peace, quiet, and somewhere stable.

A place to call home with people who listen and understand me.”

“This kingdom isn’t stable.

And that so-called queen…”

“Name a single tract that is better, Esterra!”

Esterra sighed, leaning on the balcony, looking out at the sea of trees.

Her friend was right.

The world was chaos, but here she could practice her skills.

Only the Valley had any sense of permanence or safety, but Esterra would never let Naba go there.

She refused to acknowledge why she held the bias.

The Valley was evil, and that was that.

“Why don’t you go back to the Trader’s Circle?”

“Because that’s not who I am, Esterra.

Selling food and water to miserable half-starved beggars for exorbitant prices just to line that bastard Gadzell’s purses? What kind of life is that?”

“Gadzell is dead now.

Maybe his son Esker is better.”

“Esker tried to assault me and threatened to put me in his whorehouse.”

Esterra caught her breath, gripped her friend’s hand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know Naba…”

“That’s exactly it, precisely, you don’t know, Esterra.

Because you’re never with me.

You’re always out there, hunting and killing and whatever else tickles your tractwalking fancy.”

“Don’t think you know everything about me, either,” Esterra said, glaring.

“I… can we just stop for now? Tell me about your plant.

Why does that bitch want it?”

Naba looked at her for a long moment.

The fire in her eyes cooled into embers.

“She thinks it’s a weapon.”

“Poison.”

“I guess.

It looks similar in shape to some poisonous plants out there.”

“So you’ve seen it?”

“The queen’s scouts have.

But they can’t retrieve it.

It’s there, but we can’t get to it.

Giant beasts fill the tract.

They feed on this plant, hence my interest.

Their size indicates that the plant has some beneficial properties.

But Nellania only thinks of poisons.”

“What kind of beast?”

“Like boars, great pigs with long tusks and multiple eyes.

They are covered in thick fur, very hardy.

The men here tried to hunt one.

Three corpses returned that day.

All human.”

Esterra wiped a palm over her face, closing her eyes.

“How do you expect me to deal with them, Naba?”

Naba didn’t respond.

“You know I don’t use it. I can’t.”

Still no reply.

Esterra opened her eyes, fury boiling just below the surface.

“I won’t use the licht for some stars-cursed plant.

I know you’re in some kind of trouble, the three days thing, but can’t we just leave? I’d rather risk the wrath of that woman and her little army than this mad quest.

What happens when I succeed, bring you back the plant? You think the queen will suddenly play nice? She is the only power here.

She wants a weapon, and as soon as she finds out it cannot be used as one, you’ll be in even deeper trouble.

I’m not scolding you…”

Naba was crying, hot tears sliding down her cheeks.

Esterra stood looking about the sanctuary of plants.

The place was humid and uncomfortable enough, but now her only friend in the world was bawling her eyes out like a child, and she had no idea why.

She knelt and held Naba’s hand in her good one, but found no words to say.

Naba’s blonde hair covered her face, and the strands shook with each fresh sob.

Esterra crouched beside her, nonplussed and awkward.

She hated dealing with other’s emotions, never knew what to say or do.

After a moment she put her good arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

She waited as the heaving sobs subsided, silence replacing the broken weeping.

They sat for a long while, gazing out at the woods below.

“I’m pregnant, Ster.”

Esterra blinked, then pulled Naba close, leaning her forehead against her friend’s wet cheek.

Did the queen send someone to do this? Rage swelled in her chest.

Her lichtridden arm sang out, willing her to hunt, to kill.

She bit her tongue and squeezed Naba’s shoulder more tightly.

Anger would only hurt her friend more.

Esterra fought with her emotions, pushing them down, calming herself by focusing on Naba’s pain and suffering, forcing her empathy to replace the blind rage that threatened to overwhelm her.

She struggled to ask the question.

“Whose is it?”

“My lover’s.”

Relief flooded Esterra’s soul.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had met someone.”

He’s a decent man, would make a good father.”

“Then why in the stars are you crying?”

“The queen is barren, though it is death to say so.

Her fat king spends his time sleeping with those he can seduce, and raping those he can’t.

He has no interest in actual politics, and she has gladly taken over.

Shortly after your last visit here she passed a decree.

Maybe it was to spite her piece of shit husband, who knows.

All children born in the kingdom are to be housed in the palace for education.”

“That boy…”

“He’s one of the lucky ones.

He is fed and kept relatively safe.

The others she chains or sells as playthings.

Some of them inevitably end up as victims of her husband, but that only serves her better, keeps him distracted.

The prosperity here is no longer just on the surface, Ster.

It is growing, and soon this kingdom will have power similar to the Circle itself, assuming no lichtvallen takes it.

The queen has talens to buy whatever and whomever she desires.

Most of her custom goes to the merchant-barons in the Circle, but not only there.

Plenty of places need slaves, and many men enjoy the abuse of small boys and girls.

They’re all the same, Ster. Every tract, every damned tract and hollow is the same.”

Fresh sobs shook through her friend, and Esterra held her again.

None of this came as any surprise.

She had met such traders, monsters who supplied the foul scum of the world with human flesh for their pleasure.

They had often hunted her down when she was young.

While she had escaped their grasp many times, there were many occasions when she had only escaped by unleashing the licht and slaughtering them.

A fresh trickle of rage slipped across her temple at the memories.

“Even if I retrieve this plant, the queen will use your child as a perpetual ransom over you.

They’ll find some new work that needs doing, and they’ll come to you again.

And again.”

“I can’t leave…”

“Stars above, woman, don’t you see that staying is not an option?”

Naba frowned, her tears running down her cheeks in little rivulets.

She wiped her nose and frowned some more.

Esterra knew she was being a little cruel to her friend, but she also knew people like the royalty in the Tract of Wood.

They were infinitely more cruel and more creative in their methods.

Naba’s child would be a tool for their gain, and Naba’s love for the baby would ensure she remained a loyal and willing slave.

The tragedy had to be nipped in the bud before it could bloom.

“Does he know? Your lover.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll get this plant for you.

But on one condition.”

“Go on.”

“When I return, we are leaving.

I know a good man who can help you, maybe guide you.

You can travel with me till we meet him again, and then I’ll find a tract where we can all settle.

Maybe more people will eventually join.

I’ll build you a tract, a tract of peace, where you can work and garden and be happy with your little one, Naba.

Will you come with me, when I return?”

Naba looked up at her, her tear-filled eyes matching Esterra’s own.

She nodded, then hugged Esterra so tightly that she feared for her ribs.

There was strong muscle under her fat, and as unfit as Naba might think she was, Esterra knew she could hold her own if needed.

Esterra hugged her back just as tight.

“Pack your things, but not too much, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can, with your plant.

If you feel unsafe, you have your poisons.

But I don’t think you’ll need them.”

Naba nodded, and Esterra gave her a last hug before going back to her room.

She retrieved her pack, belted her knife to her hip, filled her water gourd, took some bread and dried meat from the kitchen, and set off.

The guards at the hollow leered at her, but did not dare say anything.

Esterra walked like a predator, all lean muscle and sharp edges.

No smart man would mess with her.

Pity there are so few of those around , she thought.

The hollow was empty, safe, leading her directly to the next tract.

She found herself a nice lair in a jumbled pile of boulders rising a dozen paces up the side of the tawil.

It would provide a place to leave her pack, and retreat to safety if needed.

She established her camp there, preparing to spend the night if necessary, though she hoped she could return before nightfall.

She wanted to be back with Naba as quickly as possible.

She sat against the sun-warmed stone and studied the tree-spotted hillocks and fields of the tract, laid out like a map before her.

Small knolls awash with flowing grass rose between rocky gullies and shallow depressions.

A few murky ponds lay scattered here and there, covered in algae and hundreds of buzzing insects.

Some way in the distance, the pigs rummaged through the long grass, raising clouds of dusty pollen in their wake.

They were large, almost shoulder height, and Naba hadn’t lied about the tusks.

One curved up from each side of the beasts’ lower jaws.

She tapped the hilt of her knife against her chin, counting the hogs as they wandered about.

Around twenty of them , she thought.

A few down baed-ways, but it would take them a good while to get here, even at a sprint.

Stars they are huge, though.

Little wonder no one wants to venture here.

I don’t want to use my blade against their fur, either.

it looks thick and somehow sharp and jagged, even from this distance. She rubbed her eyes, the heat of the red sun sending the tract into a shimmering, nebulous wave, till she could not tell where the grass swayed in the wind and where it was merely the movement of the heated air tricking her vision. Looking too long gave her a headache.

Where would this plant be? Purple flowers, Naba said.

She shook her head.

She could not see anything purple or any colour close to it.

She sighed, sheathing her knife and considering her options.

The beasts would likely fear fire.

Yet she could not light the fields aflame, as the plants were hiding somewhere in all that long, dry grass.

She could barely risk a torch, as a single spark could engulf them all in the blaze.

Sturdy wooden spears might work, but only if she was facing a single beast.

The herd here was too large to fight.

If she had two hands and a bow, she might have camped in a tree and loosed arrows on them.

Damn it all .

She sighed again, glancing at the sun.

It was past noon.

I’ll make my way to that hill there, only a few hundred paces away.

It is quite tall, offers a tree to climb, if need be.

Not sure if that’ll be much help.

Those tusks looks as if they uproot slender trees like that for fun.

I’ll look for the flower, then form a better plan.

That’s it, then.

She was barely down to the ground level of the tract when a wild crash to her left startled her.

Her instincts kicked in, and she was running before her mind had registered the giant boar rushing after.

The earth shook as the beast lunged at her, yellow ivory tusks gleaming with spittle.

She dove to one side, rolled, and ran on.

The thing had a dozen eyes, half of them blind, but more than a few healthy enough to see her and give chase.

Its hooves pounded with terrible force, driven by unnaturally large muscles.

The licht had come here, twisted these abominations into what they were.

She ran harder.

The thing came at her again, froth forming on its lips.

It caught up to her with uncanny speed, lunged again, squealing with annoyance as she dodged.

Esterra had lost her bearings in the panic.

Their mad chase had thrown up a cloud of dust and pollen, seeds floating on the heavy, heated air like tiny insects.

Her calves burned, but she rushed on, heading up a small hillock, hoping that gravity would help slow the beast.

Then there, at the top, she saw the tree.

She threw herself at it, half-running up its side before grabbing a branch and lifting herself up.

The rough bark scraped across her skin in the rush.

The boar slammed its tusks into the base.

She caught the next bough with her arm, barely managing to keep her grip. Again and again the wild beast smashed into the tree, gouging great rents in the bark with its tusks. Stars above, he’s going to rip right through it. Then she heard the squeals.