You cut her free, Ceres said. Ill hold them.
She swung her blade in arcs, holding the sailors at bay while Thanos worked to free Jeva. Up close, she was even stranger looking than she had been at a distance. Her soft, dark skin had blue swirls and patterns worked into it, creeping over her shaven skull like tendrils of smoke. Fragments of bone decorated her otherwise silken clothing, while her eyes blazed with defiance at her predicament.
Ceres had no time to watch as Thanos cut her free, because she had to concentrate on keeping back the sailors. One hacked at her with an axe, swinging it overhand. Ceres stepped into the space created by his swing, cutting as she moved past him and then swinging the sword in a circle to force the others back. She thrust it through the leg of one man, then kicked high, catching him under the jaw.
I have her, Thanos said, and as Ceres glanced back, he had indeed freed the Bone Folk woman who skipped past Ceres to snatch a knife from a fallen man.
She moved into the crowd of sailors like a whirlwind, cutting and killing. Ceres glanced across to Thanos, then went with her, trying to keep up with the progress of the woman they were supposed to be saving. She saw Thanos parry a sword stroke and then strike back, but Ceres had a blow of her own to deflect in that moment.
The three of them fought together, shifting places like participants in some formal dance where there never seemed to be a shortage of partners. The difference was that these partners were armed, and one misstep would mean death.
They fought hard, and Ceres shouted her defiance as they attacked her. She cut and moved and cut again, seeing Thanos fight with the square-edged strength of a nobleman, the Bone Folk woman beside him lashing out in a blur of vicious aggression.
Then the combatlords were there, and Ceres knew it was time to go.
Over the side! she yelled, running for the rail.
She dove, and felt the cold of the water again as she hit it. She swam, making for the boat, then hauled herself up over the side. Her father pulled her aboard, and then she helped the others one by one.
What were you thinking? her father asked as they reached the deck.
I was thinking I couldnt stand by, Thanos replied.
Ceres wanted to argue with that, but she knew it was part of what made Thanos who he was. It was part of what she loved about him.
Foolish, the Bone Folk woman was saying with a smile. Wonderfully foolish. Thank you.
Ceres looked around at the boats nearest to them. All of them were up in arms now, many of the sailors aboard rushing for weapons. An arrow hit the water near them, then another.
Row! she yelled to the combatlords, but where could they row to? Already, she could see the other ships moving to intercept them. Soon, there would be no way out. It was the kind of situation where she might have used her powers before, but now she didnt have them.
Please, Mother, she begged in the quiet of her mind, you helped me before. Help me now.
She felt her mothers presence somewhere on the edge of her being, ephemeral and calming. She could feel her mothers attention, looking through her, trying to work out what had happened to her.
What have they done to you? her mothers voice whispered. This is the sorcerers work.
Please, Ceres said. I dont need my powers back forever, but I need help now.
In the pause that followed, an arrow struck the deck between Ceress feet. It was too close by far.
I cannot undo what has been done, her mother said. But I can lend you another gift, this one time. It will only be once, though. I do not think your body could stand more.
Ceres didnt care, so long as they escaped. Already, boats were closing in. They needed this.
Touch the water, Ceres, and forgive me, because this will hurt.
Ceres didnt question it. Instead, she placed her hand on the waves, feeling the wetness flow around her skin. She braced herself
and she still had to fight to keep from screaming as something poured through her, shimmering out across the water, then up through the air. It seemed as though someone had drawn a gauze veil across the world.
Through it, Ceres could see archers and warriors staring in shock. She could hear them shouting in surprise, but the sounds seemed muted.
They complain that they cannot see us, Jeva said. They say that it is dark magic. She looked at Ceres with something like awe. It seems that you are everything Thanos said you would be.
Ceres wasnt sure about that. Just holding this hurt more than she could believe. She wasnt sure how long she would be able to keep it up.
Row, she said. Row before it fades!
CHAPTER THREE
In the high-roofed temple of the castle, Irrien watched impassively as the priests prepared Stephania for sacrifice. He stood unmoved while they bustled, tying her in place on the altar, securing her while she screamed and struggled.
Normally, Irrien had little time for such things. The priests were a bunch of blood-obsessed fools who seemed to think that placating death could fend it off. As if any man could hold off death except through the strength of his arm. Begging didnt work, not to the gods, and not, as Deloss brief ruler was finding out, to him.
Please, Irrien, I will do anything you want! Do you want me to kneel before you? Please!
Irrien stood like a statue, ignoring it the way he ignored the pain of his wound, while around him nobles and warriors stood watching. There was some value to be had in letting them see this, at least, just as there was value in placating the priests. Their favor was just another source of power to be taken, and Irrien was not so foolish as to ignore that.
Dont you desire me? Stephania begged. I thought you wanted me for your plaything.
Irrien wasnt so foolish as to ignore Stephanias charms, either. That was part of the problem. When her hand had been on his arm, hed felt something beyond the usual stirrings of desire he felt with beautiful slaves. He would not allow that. Could not allow that. No one would have power over him, even of the kind that came from within him.
He looked over the crowd. There were more than enough beautiful women there, Stephanias former handmaidens kneeling in their chains. Some of them wept at the sight of what was happening to their former ruler. He would distract himself with them soon enough. For now, he needed to get rid of the threat that Stephania posed with her ability to make him feel something.
The highest of the priests came forward, the gold and silver wires in his beard jangling as he moved.
All is ready, my lord, he said. We will cut the babe from its mothers belly, and then sacrifice it on the altar in the proper fashion.
And your gods will find this pleasing? Irrien asked. If the priest caught the slight note of derision there, he did not dare show it.
Most pleasing, First Stone. Most pleasing indeed.
Irrien nodded.
Then it will be done the way you suggest. But I will be the one to kill the child.
You, First Stone? the priest asked. He sounded surprised. But why?
Because it was his victory, not the priests. Because Irrien had been the one fighting his way through the city, while these priests had probably been safe on the ships transporting them. Because he was the one who had suffered a wound for this. Because Irrien took the deaths that were his, rather than leaving them to lesser men. He didnt explain any of that, though. He didnt owe ones such as these explanations.
Because I choose to, he said. Do you have an objection?
No, First Stone, no objection.
Irrien enjoyed the note of fear there, not for its own sake, but because it was a reminder of his power. All of this was. It was a declaration of his victory as much as it was gratitude to any gods watching. It was a way of claiming this place at the same time as he rid himself of a child who might have tried to claim his throne when it was old enough.
Because it was a reminder of his power, he stood and watched the crowd while the priests began their butchery. They stood and knelt in neat rows, the warriors, the slaves, the merchants, and those who claimed noble blood. He watched their fear, their weeping, their revulsion.
Behind him, the priests chanted, speaking in ancient tongues meant to have been given by the gods themselves. Irrien glanced back to see the highest of the priests holding a blade over Stephanias exposed belly, poised to slice down while she fought to get away.
Irrien returned his attention to those watching. This was about them, not Stephania. He watched their horror as Stephanias begging turned to screams behind him. He watched their reactions, seeing who was awed, who was frightened, who looked at him with silent hatred, and who seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. He saw one of the handmaidens there faint at the sight of what was occurring behind him and resolved to have her punished. Another was weeping so hard that another had to hold her.
Irrien had found that watching those who served him told him more about them than any declaration of loyalty could. Silently, he marked out those among the slaves who had yet to be fully broken, those amongst the nobles who looked at him with too much jealousy. A wise man did not let his guard down, even when he had won.
Stephanias screams became sharper for a moment, rising to a crescendo that seemed perfectly timed to match the priests chanting. It gave way to whimpers then, falling. Irrien doubted that she would live through this. Right then, he didnt care. She was fulfilling her purpose in showing the world that he ruled here. Anything beyond that was unnecessary. Almost inelegant.
Somewhere in it, fresh screams joined those of Deloss most beautiful noblewoman, her babes cries intertwining with hers. Irrien stepped back toward the altar, spreading his arms, drawing in the attention of those who watched.
We came here, and the Empire was weak, so we took it. I took it. The place of the weak is to serve or to die, and I decide which.
He turned to the altar where Stephania lay, her dress cut from her, clothed now in a mess of blood and caul as much as in silk or velvet. She was still breathing, but her breaths were ragged, and the wound was not one that a weak thing like her would survive.
Irrien caught the attention of the priests, then jerked his head at Stephanias prostrate form.
Dispose of that.
They rushed to obey, carrying her away while one of the priests handed him the child as if presenting him with the greatest of gifts. Irrien stared at it. It was strange that such a tiny, fragile thing could potentially pose a threat to one such as him, but Irrien was not a man to take foolish risks. One day, this boy would have grown into a man, and Irrien had seen what happened when a man didnt feel he had what belonged to him. Hed had to kill more than a few in his time.
He placed the child on the altar, turning back to the audience while he drew a knife.
Watch, all of you, he commanded. Watch and remember what happens here. The other Stones are not here to take this victory. I am.
He turned back to the altar, and instantly he knew that something was wrong.
There was a figure there, a young-looking man with bone-white skin, pale hair, and eyes of a deep amber that reminded Irrien of a cats. He wore robes, but these were pale where the priests were dark. He ran a finger through the blood on the altar without apparent distaste, simply with interest.
Ah, Lady Stephania, he said, in a voice that was even, and pleasant, and almost certainly a lie. I offered her a chance to be my student before. She should have accepted my offer.
Who are you? Irrien asked. He shifted his grip on the knife he held, moving from a grip designed to plunge down to one that was better for fighting. Why do you dare to interrupt my victory?
The other man spread his hands. I dont mean to interrupt, First Stone, but you were about to destroy something that belongs to me.
Something Irrien felt a flash of surprise as he realized what this stranger meant. No, you are not the childs father. That is a prince of this place.
I never claimed to be, the other man said. But I was promised the child as payment, and I am here to collect that payment.
Irrien could feel his anger rising, his grip tightening on the knife he held. He turned to order this fool seized, and it was only as he did so that he realized that the others there werent moving now. They stood as if entranced.
I suppose I should congratulate you, First Stone, the stranger said. I find that most men who claim to be powerful are actually quite weak willed, but you did not even notice my small effort.
Irrien turned back to him. He had Stephanias child in his arms now, cradling it in a surprisingly accurate facsimile of care.
Who are you? Irrien demanded. Tell me so that I can write it on your gravestone.
The other man didnt look up at him. He has his mothers eyes, dont you think? Given his parents, Im sure hell grow up strong and handsome. Ill train him, of course. He will be a most skillful killer.
Irrien made a sound of anger, low in his throat. Who are you? What are you?
The other man looked up at him then, and this time his eyes seemed to swim with depths of fire and heat.
There are those who call me Daskalos, he said. But there are those who call me many other things. Sorcerer, of course. Killer of Ancient Ones. Weaver of shadows. Right now, I am a man collecting his debt. Allow me to do so and I will go in peace.
The mother of this child is my slave, Irrien said. The child is not hers to give.
He heard the other man laugh then.
It matters so much to you, doesnt it? Daskalos said. You must win, because you must be the strongest. Perhaps that can be my lesson to you, Irrien: there is always someone stronger.
Irrien had put up with enough from this fool, sorcerer or not. Hed met men and women who had claimed to command magic before. Some of them had even been able to do things that Irrien couldnt explain. None of it had let them best him. Faced with magic, the best thing to do was strike first and strike hard.
He lunged forward, the knife in his hand flashing into the young mans chest. Daskalos looked down at it, then stepped away as calmly as if Irrien had merely brushed the edge of his robes.
Lady Stephania tried something similar when I suggested taking her child, Daskalos said, with a hint of amusement. Ill tell you what I told her: there will be a price for attacking me. Perhaps I will even have the boy exact it.
Irrien lunged again, this time going for the other mans throat to try to shut him up. He stumbled past the altar, almost overbalancing. The sorcerer wasnt there anymore. Irrien blinked, looking round. There was no sign of him.
No! Irrien bellowed. Ill kill you for this. Ill hunt you down!
First Stone? one of the priests said. Is everything all right?