Those Below: The Empty Throne Book 2 (40 page)

Upslope the city was a certain sort of quiet, a silence that was more than the absence of sound, which seemed almost its own active presence, a great beast lurking over the spires. There were no guards on the gates to the Third Rung, the Cuckoos posted there and across most of the rest of the lower portion of the Roost fled. There were two Cuckoos manning the gate to the Second, though they bolted at the sight of Pyre and his bodyguard. He gave no thought to pursuing. It was far too late to be concerning himself with any individual traitor; indeed now that the contest seemed over or nearly, it was time to turn attention from vengeance and towards forgiveness. Without Those Above to torment and beguile them, the people of the Roost would be able to live in harmony with one another.

Though there was little suggestion of pardon in the pose, face and tone of Eudokia, Revered Mother, when they met in the antechamber of her mansion high up on the Second. At her side was the Parthan, chubby-cheeked, eyes brown as chocolate, breasts like a whore, hands that might have wrapped comfortably round an aged oak. At his side hung a curved cutting sword, the make of it unfamiliar to Pyre but the purpose clear enough, of the blade and the man who carried it. A killer, Pyre knew from a glance, and wondered why his presence was needed if Eudokia was so suitably protected, his presence or the presence of the four men he had brought along.

Pyre had arranged for a safe house nearby, on a further corner of the Second Rung. It was a reasonable precaution. It was possible that the Eternal or their misguided human chattel might seize on Eudokia as some reasonable proxy for the forces outside their gates and, regardless of the violence that was to come, it would do well to keep the Revered Mother protected.

‘I was told there would be a third,’ Pyre began. ‘A young man?’

Eudokia’s eyes were stones, and her mouth was a line, and neither revealed anything of what she thought. ‘It is only the two of us.’

Pyre nodded and led them out of the gate and onto the main road. He set two of his men half a block ahead and put two half a block behind, and between them he supposed himself safe from attack.

A reasonable supposition, though it would soon become clear that he feared danger from the wrong point of origin. ‘I take it by that last caterwaul that our tormentors have evacuated the city?’ Eudokia asked, as if the matter was of only casual import.

‘Such was our assumption.’

‘And the Spire?’

‘It holds, Revered Mother, at least it held according to our last report.’

‘Excellent, excellent. All moot of course, if my stepson can’t manage his end of it outside the walls. But then again, if the thing was certain there would be no point in doing it.’

The street down which they walked was narrow and formed of perfectly fitted slate. On either side of the thoroughfare a clear, thin trickle of water had been diverted to act as moat or adornment for the buttressing houses, things of hardwood and polished stone, lovely and unassuming. Here and there were bright little spots of colour flaring out against the afternoon sun, purple silk awnings, flags and streamers fluttering in the wind. The windows were shut tight, the doors barred. The smell of smoke in the air was strong but not yet overwhelming.

‘It does not quite seem so terrible, does it Pyre, the First of His Line?’ Eudokia asked. ‘It does not seem, at first glance, like a thing which needs to be destroyed.’

‘A cage is no less confining for being made of gold.’

‘Return in a week and knock at the door of one of these cages, and ask the women and children cringing inside if they preferred servitude beneath the Birds to their new-found freedom.’

Pyre was clever with his hands, and he was more than clever as a tactician and as a leader of men, but words had never been his strength, and after nearly a straight day of labour he would have preferred to remain silent. ‘Good fortune borne on the backs of their species and their kin,’ he snapped. ‘For every one of these happy householders there are a hundred families on the Fifth Rung starving and dying and rotting in misery.’

‘Correct, exactly,’ Eudokia agreed, seeming pleased. ‘They’ve enjoyed themselves long enough. It’s your turn now.’

‘In the age to come humanity will know of no distinction,’ Pyre said, again quoting from the prophet, ‘a happy family, without division or rancour.’

Eudokia paused for a moment, staring at him ‘I think that was quite the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.’

But Pyre did not respond to this provocatio, and Eudokia continued hobbling onward. ‘And where is Edom, on this glorious occasion? Where is Edom, at the moment his long dream has finally come to fruition?’

‘Safe,’ Pyre answered confidently. ‘His is too valuable a presence to risk until the outcome is certain. Should the demons rally and break our line, he will be needed to renew again the struggle.’

‘And you will not?’

‘There are others who can do as I do. The word is what matters, and the word speaks most honestly from Edom.’

‘Truth is to be preferred over even modesty, in my experience, Pyre, the First of His Line, and you will find that there is no virtue which cannot become a vice if taken beyond its proper boundaries. Take loyalty, for instance – an admirable quality, necessary for the stability and the progress of civilisation, frequently and easily carried beyond all objective reason.’

‘Therein we disagree, Revered Mother,’ Pyre said. He more stalked than strolled, and his eyes flashed round for signs of threat as happy distraction from the conversation. ‘Loyalty is the essence of the Five-Fingered. Loyalty to our species, loyalty to our descendants, loyalty to one another.’

‘The essence, you say? The very essence? This continued fidelity towards a man who sought to kill you is more masochistic than admirable.’

Half of the escort were twenty paces ahead of him, and half were twenty paces behind, and none seemed to hear this blasphemy. Pyre bit down against his fury, felt his tongue give way between his teeth, took his hand off the hilt of his sword. ‘That was a foolish joke.’

‘Levity is one of the pleasures which make existence bearable, and Eudokia has been known on occasion to let a jest slip into the wild. But that was not one of them.’

‘If my men heard you speak in such a fashion,’ Pyre said, still quietly, ‘I am not at all sure that I could stop them from hurting you.’

‘I suspect Jahan would have better fortune,’ Eudokia said, ‘though it seems best not to discover either way, which is why this discussion does not include them. Oh, come, boy, so far you’ve been nothing but clever, and perhaps even a bit more than that. A decade now I’ve dribbled money into Edom’s accounts, wondering all the time if I was not pissing away silver. I had anticipated it would take another five years to build to this moment, but you and your little army have brought my timeline forward half a decade. Best for all of us.’ Eudokia halted for a moment, rubbing at her knee for relief – or effect. ‘I’m scarce sure I’d have been capable of running things by then. Age is implacable, Pyre, the First of His Line.’ She began moving again, and returned to her monologue. ‘As for this false modesty, it is a delusion which you and you alone labour beneath. Your confederates look to you, rightly, as the source of their success. The people praise your name as a slayer of demons and a leader of men. I assure you Edom is entirely cognisant of your qualities, indeed I suppose he thought of little else in the days before arranging to have you murdered. Curious, perhaps even fitting, that it proved to be this attempt on your life that would ensure your pre-eminence among your people. But then, if I am to confess bluntly, I have never considered Edom to be worthy of this reputation you and the rest seem to have granted him. He has a very square jaw, and his hair is distinct-looking. He has some modest talent with epigram. There are less clever men, certainly, though this hardly qualifies someone for leadership. But then again, one must never underrate the willingness of fate to thrust an individual beyond their proper station. Mark my words, you will live long enough to see Edom’s name used in blessing, to see him named prophet and called saint. In thirty years children living in the city will struggle to fall asleep the night before the festival of Edom’s name day, will wake the next morning to toys and sweet treats, will watch the mummers perform a pageant in his honour. Though, if you act wisely in the next few hours, that signal honour will pale beside the praise heaped upon your own name. How many sons will be named Pyre in the generation to come! Babes across the great length of the Roost!’ Eudokia had a light, sharp laugh, like the point of a stiletto, and Pyre did not realise his hand was back on the hilt of his weapon until he noticed the Parthan doing the same, his curved blade already a few finger-widths out from its sheath, his eyes effortless and uncaring and dark as night.

‘I would again advise you to do nothing which would worry Jahan,’ Eudokia said, a small dash of concern in her voice, ‘it would set my plans back terribly if you had to be killed. He’s very protective of me, dear Jahan,’ she continued, setting a hand on the giant’s shoulder that served to return the weapon back to its sheath. ‘Where were we? Yes, Edom, the First of His Line. When I met him he was calling himself Samite, though I very much doubt that was ever his real name. A runaway from the plantations, according to the men I sent to look in on the matter, slipped off with a passing merchant, preferred a life on the roads to one in the fields. By the time he reached Aeleria he’d morphed into one of those countless street-corner visionaries one finds wriggling round the Senate Hall, hoping to trade future prospects for coin in the moment. He was immodest and pushy, but he spoke well, and he gave the strong impression of believing what he said. There was some hint of promise. I cleaned him up, I gave him a stipend and helped him return to the Roost to peddle his dreams. In truth he’s achieved far more for himself than I’d ever thought him capable of. Had you told me ten years ago that this clipped-copper hustler would have been instrumental in the overthrow of the Eternal, the dream of hungry-eyed man for the better part of for ever …’ She smiled, shrugged. ‘I admit freely, that was beyond the range of my vision. But that’s what it is, you see. You set a hundred plots within motion in the vague hopes that two or five of them might take hold. Like scattering seed in the dust.’

Pyre’s body continued in its rhythm, moving forward by momentum and reflex, feet rising and falling without any conscious intent, which was good because in that moment Pyre found that he could not hold within his mind even the simplest of thoughts, and they walked another hundred steps before he managed to respond. ‘Madness,’ he said, convincing no one. ‘You would suggest you developed the creed of the Five-Fingered? That it was your hand that has brought about the dawn?’

‘Not everything,’ Eudokia admitted, ‘only the wiser bits. I was not, for instance, made aware of Edom’s decision to have you killed until the deed had already been attempted. Though of course that proved fortuitous enough in the end. More proof, as if it was needed, that to be wise is not to be omniscient, that we all follow along in the tread of history.’

Pyre had been awake for perhaps seventy of the last seventy-two hours. He had raised the standard of rebellion in the very heart of the Roost, and defended that standard with such vigour as to have stalemated the demons themselves. He had come to or near to the final culmination of his dreams. He could no longer think with very much clarity. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You are careful, yes boy? You are clever? You move through the city as a fish through the rivers? Did you not think to ask how the custodians knew of your location? To be certain enough as to bring in the assistance of an Eternal?’

‘The Birds have spies everywhere.’

‘Everywhere, yes, everywhere, exactly. They have spies in your bedroom and your chamber pot, they have spies within the inner council itself. One member of the inner council in particular, who heard your name on every man’s lips, scarred by strangers on alley walls. Every revolution needs its martyrs, and who better than Pyre, the First of His Line? Cut down in the prime of his strength, and the city needing to avenge him? Pyre, the First of His Line, brave and strong and above all, loyal?’

The truth slid slowly, comfortably, neatly into place. He thought now that perhaps he had already known, known and refused to consider it.

‘The Five-Fingers,’ Eudokia said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘And what will you call yourselves now?’

‘What?’

‘The Five-Fingers, to contrast with those less generously endowed. What happens when there is nothing here in the Roost, nothing across the breadth and length of the world, that can walk and speak and hate as men except for man himself? It is a concept given definition by its opposite, without whom it will wither and collapse.’

‘I hadn’t thought of it.’

‘Edom has, I assure you. Why be a prophet when you can be a king? Someone has to be in charge, of course; or did you suppose the death of the Eternal would usher in a new age of enlightenment, that without its ancient enemy mankind would have no need for line or law or leader? The Eternal did not teach us to kill, Pyre, the First of His Line. Nor to desire, not to lust, nor to hate. Their annihilation will save no man from the sins which haunt him. There must be someone who can stand above the fray, who can keep his evil in check.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps too great a task. Who can focus it, at least. Edom, needless to say, would be that someone. It was that which he was thinking of when he revealed your location to the Cuckoos, the night you killed the Lord of the Ebony Towers. He was thinking of your name, and how to murder it before it grew too large.’

‘Why would you tell me this?’

‘Really, child, isn’t it obvious? Because Edom is too slippery a character to build atop, and I’d rather be dealing with you than I would with him. And because now that your eyes have been opened, now that you understand who it is that you’ve sworn obedience towards, this man who has sought your death, you will be sure to do the same of his – though, I suspect, with more success.’