Lamentation (14 page)

Jin’s voice lowered. “You have the spell?”

Isaak nodded. “I sang it in the central courts of Windwir and watched the city reel from it.”

Jin shuddered. “How could such a thing happen?”

Isaak turned away. “My script was modified. They were always so careful with us. Brother Charles expunged my memory each night, careful that I should not keep such knowledge. But his apprentice—under Lord Sethbert’s instruction—altered my activity script.”

Jin shook her head. “Not that. I can piece that together myself. Sethbert has fingers on many strings. What I don’t understand is why they would even undertake such dangerous work in the first place?”

Isaak looked at her, and steam trickled from his exhaust grate. “The preservation of all knowledge is at the heart of the Androfrancine vision.”

Jin knew this was true. Along with an abiding curiosity about how and why things work. She’d heard stories of fabulous machines and intricate mechanicals kept locked away in the hidden vaults of the now dead city. Her father, along with others close to the Order, had benefited from this. There was the mechanical bird in his garden—a trinket really. But more practical than that, there were the iron ships at his docks, powered by engines that the Androfrancines had built from ancient specifications and housed in high, broad iron-shod cruisers. It made House Li Tam the most formidable naval power in the Named Lands.

Perhaps, she thought now, the root of Windwir’s fall lay exposed in that.

They hid in their city, guarded by Gods knew what in addition to their Gray Guard. And they doled out scraps of knowledge and innovation to those they favored, withholding it from those they did not. They held on to what they learned until they felt the world was ready for it.

They’d been so cautious about those outside of their city but had somehow not brought the same level of care within their own Order. Somehow, Sethbert had learned of the spell and had then learned how to use it to bring down the Androfrancines.

She looked at the metal man across from her. She wondered if he wasn’t another example of their failure to watch themselves as well as they watched the world. “I’m curious about you, Isaak,” she said.

He blinked at her. “Why would you be curious about me?”

She shrugged, smiling. “I’ve never met a metal man before. You are somewhat of a rarity.”

He nodded. “There was a time when there were thousands of us. When Rufello drew up his Specifications and Observations of the Mechanical Age, he was working with the broken and discarded remains of mechoservitors found in the ruins of the Eldest Days, broken artifacts from the Age of the Younger Gods.”

Jin finished chewing her rice before speaking. “When were you built?”

He hesitated, and Jin noted that hesitation.
He’s not used to speaking about himself.

But then he continued. “My memory scrolls have been replaced at least twice since my first awareness. I hav‹warifye no record of those times. My first memory is Brother Charles asking me if I were awake and could I recite the Fourteenth Precept of the Francine Accord.” He paused, and she watched his eyes alternate between dim and bright as the gears in his head whirred. “My last awakening was twenty-two years, three months, four weeks, six hours and thirty-one minutes ago. I’m not sure when I was built, though I suspect that knowledge is stamped somewhere onto me. Brother Charles was a meticulous craftsman.”

She studied him. His chest bellows moved in and out to keep whatever strange fire burning in him hot enough to boil the water and keep him moving, to keep air moving through him to power his voice. His eyes were jewels of some kind—dull yellow and glowing with varying degrees of brightness. His mouth was more of a flap that opened and closed—probably to humanize him more than for anything else. A wonder of the ancient world, brought back carefully by adapting old knowledge to present-day capability.

“He was indeed a meticulous craftsman,” she said.

Isaak looked at her and the eyes dimmed. “He was . . . my father.”

The bellows began to pump faster and harder. Water leaked from around the eyes—another humanizing characteristic: A machine that could cry. A high pitched squeal leaked from his mouth.

She put down her bowl and reached across, placing her hand on his shoulder. It was hard beneath the coarse wool robe. “I don’t know what to say, Isaak,” she told him.

In the end she said nothing, and simply sat with him while he cried.

Neb

Neb looked up from the wheelbarrow and saw the riders from the south, a large group of them. He started counting horses but gave up—there was no way he could count them. There were too many.

Dropping the load of bones, he turned and ran for Petronus, shouting at the top of his lungs. The old man looked up from across the blackened field, but he was too far away for Neb to see the expression on his face. Other nearby workers stopped what they were doing until Petronus waved and shouted at them to get back to the task at hand.

Neb ran as fast as he could, but the riders still overtook him and he fought his way through the storm of ash they kicked up. As it cleared he saw they had surrounded Petronus, and a large man on an enormous stallion—Sethbert, he realized—leaned down to speak with the old man.

Neb approached but stayed off to the side, listening.

“I thought,” Sethbert said, “you were in Kendrick.”

Petronus bowed. “I went, Lord. I’ve come back.”

Sethbert snorted. “I see that. And what exactly are you doing?”

Neb watched as the cavalry around Sethbert surveyed the group, quickly counting heads. An unfelt breeze lifted ash from the ground and he heard a low whistle. “We’re here,” a voice said in the faintest whisper. Neb nodded and his stomach went to water.

“We are burying our dead,” Petronus said.

“Surely,” Sethbert said, “you are aware that an Exercise in Holiness has been decreed?”

Petronus nodded. “We’ve been very careful not to enter the city itself. We were going to wait until we had your permission to suspend the Exercise for humanitarian reasons. It is my understanding that precedence was set for this by—”

Sethbert raised his hand. “I know, I know. I’m not a fool, old man. I know a bit about Androfrancine Law. But we can move past that. I will do far more than grant you permission.”

Neb saw a pained look cross Petronus’s face, as if he knew what Sethbert was going to say next and dreaded its outcome.

Sethbert straightened himself up as high as he could in the saddle, his jowls shaking as he jiggled around. “Bring them in,” he shouted to his men. “Bring them all in.” The soldiers started herding the workers.

He smiled down at them, and his horse danced a bit while they waited. When everyone was gathered, he addressed them.

“I commend you all,” Sethbert said, “for the work you have undertaken. It is a noble thing that you do.” His eyes scanned the crowd, making contact with theirs if he could. “Petros here has said there is a loophole in Androfrancine Law that would allow me to grant you permission to enter Windwir for humanitarian reasons. I will go further than that,” he said, his voice raising as he said it. “I will underwrite this venture on behalf of the Androfrancine Order and as Windwir’s appointed Guardian, I will protect you as you work. Every one of you will get a fair day’s wage for a hard day’s work and I’ll send a contingent of cooks and supplies.”

Perhaps he expected a cheer to go up. It did not. Petronus looked at him, his eyes hard. “We don’t do this work for money, Sethbert. We do it because it needs to be done.”

Sethbert snorted. “Exactly.” He leaned down. “Look, old man, whether you want it or not, you’ll have my help or you’ll not be permitted to enter the city.”

Petronus gritted his teeth. “It won’t change how the world sees you when it knows what you have done,” he said quietly. Then he spit at Sethbert.

Neb watched the look on Sethbert’s face shift from shock to fury. He wiped the spittle away, and when his foot shot out it was fast and hard. The boot hit Petronus’s jaw, and the old man was spun around as he fell. Neb raced in but wasn’t able to hold him up. They fell together into the ash. Sethbert glowered down at them. “One last condition,” he said. “Anything you find here belongs to the Androfrancine Order. I will send men daily to collect whatever you may happen to find. I already have at least one spy in your camp and I will know if you try to cheat me.” Sethbert smiled. “Do you understand me?”

Petronus rubbed his jaw, his eyes bright and dangerous. “I understand you.”

Then Sethbert noticed Neb. “Did you find your voice, boy? Are you ready to tell me the story of the Desolation of Windwir?”

Their eyes locked and Neb felt himself shiver. He couldn’t move.

Sethbert laughed. “I didn’t think so.”

As he turned and rode away, Neb watched him go. Suddenly, he wished he’d never met Pope Petronus. If he hadn’t, perhaps he would’ve found a way to kill Sethbert.

But the look on Petronus’s face, the fire in his eye, the ice in his voice—they resonated deep inside Neb.
It won’t change how the world sees you when it knows what you have done.

Perhaps, Neb thought, someone else would make Sethbert pay for his sin.

Rudolfo

Rudolfo prowled the high-windowed prisoner’s quarters in the western tower of the Summer Palace. They’d removed his shackles at the door, marching him through the compound in chains for show more than anything else. They locked the door behind him, and he noticed immediately that there was no way to open it from inside. The windows were set high enough and deep enough into the stone that there was no way a man could squeeze through. And the colored glass blocks looked too thick to break.

The suite of rooms was more than adequate. The living area contained a full bookcase—a treasure of books, Rudolfo saw from a glance, ranging from the tragic dramas of the Pho Tam Period to the mystic poetry of T’Erys Whym—along with an ornate desk and a sitting area near a Žancgolden furnace.

His boots were hushed by thick carpets as he strode across the room and opened the door to the bedchamber. The bed was large, with heavy timber posts and heavy wool blankets and quilts. Once he’d seen the entire suite, he returned to the desk and sat at it. He found paper and started crafting messages that he doubted he’d be allowed to send. Still, it kept him focused to write them.

He was finishing his fifth message when he heard a key at the lock. He looked up and watched as an older man in white robes trimmed with blue stepped in, accompanied by two taciturn guards.

“Lord Rudolfo,” the man said with the slightest nod.

Rudolfo stood and then bowed. “Pope . . . 
Resolute
, is it? I wish we met under more favorable circumstances.”

The Pope nodded, then gestured to the sitting area. “Let’s sit and talk for a while.” He walked to a large, plush chair near the furnace and waited until Rudolfo joined him.

Rudolfo walked to the chairs and then sat. He adjusted himself until he was comfortable. “You’ve issued a Writ of Shunning against me, and your guards arrested me on sight,” Rudolfo said. “I would know why.”

The Pope’s eyes narrowed. “You know why. You know damned well why.”

Rudolfo kept his voice low, his tone calm. “I did not destroy Windwir.”

Resolute’s next question was edged with urgency and anger. “Where is the metal man?”

Rudolfo hoped his next words were truthful. “Somewhere safe.”

“I’ve issued orders for all Androfrancine resources to be gathered for inventory here at the Summer Palace. All resources, including the mechoservitor.”

“I understand this.”

“Yet you ride to me alone and empty-handed?” The Pope leaned forward. “You are harboring a fugitive.”

Rudolfo matched his posture, leaning forward himself. “I’m safeguarding the Named Lands—and
you
, I might add, the Last of the Androfrancines—from the most dangerous weapon conceived in recent history.”

The Pope smiled. “So you admit it?”

“To holding him? Yes.” Rudolfo’s eyes narrowed. “But I did not destroy Windwir. Your cousin did that.”

Resolute sat back, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

“Certainly I know Sethbert’s your kin,” Rudolfo snapped. “I make a point of knowing.” But the disdain—much like the cockiness—was a sham intended to provoke.

Inwardly, he felt grateful for the look of surprise on the Pope’s face. It meant he did not know what Rudolfo knew. Of course, the Androfrancines no longer had the intelligence resources available that they had once had. To be sure, the Order maintained a vast network of operatives, but it would take months to pull it back together under the vastly different circumstances.

If it
could
be pulled back together. Rudolfo suspected that it would be an impossible task.

Do I press or hold?
He pressed his hands together, forming a tent beneath his chin. Hold, he thought. Wait.

Resolute’s face flushed. “And you say my cousin Sethbert destroyed Windwir? Those are lofty charges.”

“And yet I imagine he made the same allegations to you regarding me,” Rudolfo said.

“He did.”

“With what evidence?”

The Pope didn’t even think. “You
do
happen to have only one of the fourteen mechoservitors. And the one you happen to have is the one that supposedly brought down the city. We also have the body of Arch-Mechanic Charles’s apprentice, allegedly killed by your men.”

“All of these are true enough,” Rudolfo said. “I do not hide it. And tomorrow, I will tell you my tale and you may judge for yourself.” Rudolfo offered an apologetic smile. “I am tired and would present my best case to you, not the mumblings of an exhausted general.” He stood. “I will also have messages to send,” Rudolfo said, “in accordance with the Rights of Monarchy spelled out in the Rites of Kin-Clave.”

More surprise. Whatever kind of archbishop he’d been, this Oriv hadn’t learned the subtle dance of kin-clave politics.

Finally, the Pope stood and smoothed his robes. “Tomorrow, then,” he said. “And I will consider your
request
.”

Rights are not requests,
Rudolfo wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, he waited, counting the steps, until Pope Resolute the First reac“ thRomhed the doorway and raised his hand to knock.

“Excellency?” he said, stepping forward and raising his hand.

The Pope turned. “Yes?”

“I would just have you ask yourself one thing on my behalf.”

The Pope’s jaw clenched but he forced the words out. “What is that?”

“I do have the metal man. And I did kill the apprentice—or rather, I had him killed. But how would I have known anything about the discovery of the Seven Cacophonic Deaths?”

Pope Resolute frowned. “Spies. Someone in the upper echelons. Anyone can be bought at the right price.”

Rudolfo smiled. “Even a cousin?”

Resolute’s face went white. He turned back to the door and knocked on it three times. When it opened to him, he left without saying a word and his guards followed after.

Rudolfo watched them go, and inventoried everything he had just learned.

Vlad Li Tam

Vlad Li Tam’s summer office was on the eighth patio of his seaside estate. The building was layered like a pyramid, each level smaller than the one before it until the eighth and last—the highest point in a hundred leagues or more. There, reclined on cushions and smoking his pipe, he asked questions and gave answers as he saw fit each day, every day.

“What news have we of my forty-second daughter?” he asked, drawing in a lungful of the kallaberry smoke.

The aide found a string on his stack of pages and followed it to the appropriate message. “She comes under the color of knotted blue.”

Ah, he thought. An admonition couched in inquiry. She was a clever one. He’d named her for the water ghosts that once raced the oceans—the Jin of Elder Times. Quick and unseen and too deep to be caught.

She’d lived up to her name.

“What is her admonition?”

The aide shuffled papers about. “Her admonition is that the metal man is returning to Pope Resolute.”

Of course, Vlad Li Ta“rse Rem thought. He is dangerous and in danger all at once. He didn’t need for her to say that she would accompany the metal man. He knew that she would. “And what is her inquiry?”

“Do you still mean for her to wed Rudolfo?”

He knew his daughters well, and now he smiled. Once the new Pope issued his decree, Vlad Li Tam had known she’d write and ask. Not because she thought his strategy might’ve changed—though she’d tell herself that. She would ask because there was a part of her, deep down, that saw marriage as the hunter’s snare—something to poach but not be caught in.

He laughed. “Of course I do. Resolute the First will come to nothing.”

“Lord?”

He inhaled from his pipe and watched the green waters of the Inner Emerald Coast. “What else do you have?”

The aide pulled the dark purple thread—a color not on any message scarf but known to be that of silent kin-clave. “I’ve word from Resolute,” said the aide, “ordering significant credit transfers of guardianship custom to Sethbert.”

“How significant?”

“Certainly enough to offset part of the impact from destroying the major pillar in the Delta’s economy. For a short while, anyway.”

Vlad Li Tam smiled. “He only needs it for a short while. The Writ of Shunning coincides nicely with Sethbert’s guardianship of Windwir. It’s not a stretch to assume he intends to take the Ninefold Forest under his care as well.”

But why? Vlad Li Tam did not ask this question out loud, though. He did not want his aide to know that he did not know—it was better for them to believe he knew everything.

Most days, he
did
know everything. But today, he did not know why Sethbert had turned on Windwir, why he’d brought her down so utterly without any warning or posturing.

The plan was well conceived. The cousin conveniently away at the Papal Summer Palace. The apprentice paid for. The metal man’s script rewritten. Sethbert had managed to bring down the city, prop up his economy and position himself to annex the Ninefold Forest and provide the muscle for an Androfrancine Remnant.

But why?

“Rudolfo also rides for the Dragon’s Spine,” the aide said, pulling another string. “His Wandering Army’s vanished.”

Vlad Li Tam sighed. He’d known the army would vanish. He’d wondered whether or not Rudolfo would go to face the Pope. Now he knew something more about Rudolfo.

The aide shuffled paper. “That is all of the
unquiet
business of the day.”

“And the quiet business?” Vlad Li Tam said.

“Pope Petronus has voided our letters of credit in the Windwir Effort, with apologies.”

Vlad Li Tam leaned forward. “Because Sethbert is tending to it?”

The aide nodded. “Yes, Lord.”

“Good. Tell Pope Petronus that I will keep his secret. For now.”

“I will send the message immediately.” The aide stood, bowed and left.

Three days, he thought.
In three days I will tell everyone that I am going to the Dragon’s Spine as well.

Vlad Li Tam inhaled the deep salt air. It was nearly as soothing as the kallaberry smoke.

“I wonder what we are making, daughter,” he said to the sea below.

Jin Li Tam

Jin Li Tam approached the Gray Guard at the gates of the Summer Papal Palace before any of the Gypsy Scouts could.

“Hail, keepers of the light,” she said. “I would speak with Pope Resolute.” She cantered her mount closer. “Tell him it is Jin Li Tam, former consort of his cousin Sethbert, forty-second daughter of Vlad Li Tam, and most immediately, betrothed of Lord Rudolfo of the Ninefold Forest Houses and General of the Wandering Army.” She inclined her head to them. “Tell the Pope I have personally escorted his metal man home.”

Getting in, she realized as the gates creaked open, is never the problem.

The Pope insisted on seeing her immediately, personally escorting her to the guest quarters. He did not understand the taking and giving of kin-clave, she realized. And he did not understand that because of this, she knew everything there was to know about him in less than seven minutes.

“My father was very specific,” she told him, smiling through the lie, “that I was to personally escort and supervise the mechoservitor until this matter of Windwir is “ ofcifresolved. He said that you of all men would understand why this was so important in light of recent events.” Her tone was dark and she lowered her voice. “House Li Tam has acted as a neutral party in many negotiations of kin-clave.”

The Pope nodded. “We will accommodate his request.”

She nodded. She knew full well it had nothing to do with anything other than money. This new archbishop’s only bridge to what remained of the Order’s treasury was her father, and doing what her father wanted was prudent for him. “Also, there is the matter of consummating my betrothal to Rudolfo.”

The Pope stammered. “Yes. I did not know until today.”

“My father only recently announced it. I’m assuming that the Order does not forbid conjugal visits of their prisoners?”

“It can be arranged, certainly.”

“My father would appreciate that,” she said. Already, the betrothal was working in her favor. It had to be her father.

After the Pope left her, she bathed and perfumed herself and oiled her hair. She unrolled the one gown she’d found among the clothes laid out for her at the seventh manor and she hung it near the hot water so that the steam could lift the wrinkles.

She moved easily and naked around Isaak as she prepared.

“We will see Lord Rudolfo tonight then?” Isaak asked.

“We will,” she said. “We have much to discuss.”

She arranged to have her dinner served in Rudolfo’s chambers, and ten minutes before, she and Isaak went to the staircase that led to the tower where the Gray Guard waited. They did not bother to search her, though they looked Isaak over thoroughly, exchanging furtive glances of trepidation between themselves. Still, her father’s wishes—even those she manufactured—would be followed. Of this, she had no doubt.

Finally, they worked a large key in the door and opened it for her. She walked in, Isaak close behind, the thick carpets shushing his metal feet.

The Prisoner’s Quarters were nearly indistinguishable from her own. Wall hangings of hunting scenes woven in tapestry took the place of a wide glass window—this room’s windows were set high and narrow in the ceiling. She saw a desk with scattered sheets of paper filled with cramped script in at least three languages, and behind it, a bookcase. A door led off the main room into what she supposed was the bedroom and bathing room. Across from it, a small dining table was set for three, and in the “ee,e. center of the room stood a golden furnace surrounded by a low couch and three armchairs.