The Seven. Peter Newman

I don’t think Obeisance, or the people of the Shining City,’ she grimaces, ‘or my father are ready for it.’

      Samael nods, slowly. ‘I agree.’

      ‘At the moment, they can’t even imagine the changes I want to make. I’m hoping that if I can pull this off, they won’t need to. It’ll be there for everyone to see.’ She looks directly into Samael’s mismatched eyes. ‘I’m going to do this, whatever it takes.’

      ‘And the Malice is happy with your plans?’

      Vesper touches the sword’s hilt and it hums beneath her fingertips. ‘I don’t know if the sword can ever be happy. But we’ve talked about it and we’re of a mind.’

      They fall to a companionable silence. Time passes, the knights talking quietly amongst themselves, Vesper playing with Scout while the buck and Samael watch the waves.

      Then, around them, the water begins to darken.

      Samael looks up but there are few clouds in the sky, and none of them block the sunslight. He and Vesper move to the rail and lean over.

      The shadow is beneath them, growing rapidly as it ascends. Though the taint has made denizens of the deep big enough to match what comes, it is too solid and too static for a life form. This is a ship, made in the Empire’s glory days: a Wavemaker. True to its name, it sets the water around it to motion, rocking The Commander’s Rest. Under their feet, the deck shakes, then a dull boom sounds, and Vesper’s boots lift briefly into the air. She grips the rail tight while the knights wait, stoic, strapped into their positions.

      Magnetic locks activate within the Wavemaker, attaching it to the smaller vessel. Untroubled by the extra weight, it continues to rise, until the blunt nose breaks the surface, pushing itself and the smaller ship into the air.

      Foam sprays in all directions, and the rocking falls into a steady rhythm, decreasing as the two ships and the water around them settle.

      A hatch opens in the Wavemaker’s side and a black-clad figure emerges, its loose robe flowing easily over fitted armour. With a single leap it sails up, twenty feet, to land on the rail, a boot either side of Vesper’s hands.

      Knights detach themselves, rushing forward to support her. Samael draws his battered sword, and, at Vesper’s shoulder, an eye springs open, angry.

      ‘Wait!’ she shouts, holding up her hands. ‘All of you, wait! Stand down.’

      Immediately, they stop, though all remain prepared. Samael’s sword returns to its sheath.

      The First looks down at them. ‘I see that your natures remain … violent and I am unsurprised.’

      Vesper takes a step back from the rail. ‘You haven’t changed either.’

      ‘This is true. I remain … reasonable.’

      ‘Is that why you ambushed us?’

      The First raises a gauntleted hand to point at Vesper. ‘You are displaying your power. I am simply displaying mine. It interests me that you have told your followers not to attack and yet you have drawn the Malice.’

      Vesper blinks, surprised to find that this is true. The sword is in her hand, humming, ready to act. She thinks quickly. ‘Not drawn in anger. The Malice is part of this discussion too.’

      She closes her eyes, letting the sword show her a different vision of the First. Through its eye, she sees the infernal dwelling within the human body. Swirling essence that moves in alien ways, discomfiting. Within the strangeness lurk more recognizable emotions. Rapid fluctuations that betray anxiety, a lightening of colour one moment, perhaps curiosity, in the next a change of shade that suggests bitterness. There is no sign of aggression, at least not yet.

      Opening her eyes again, Vesper beckons the First forward, inviting it on deck.

      Lightly, it steps down. ‘Are you ready to begin?’

      ‘I am.’ She lowers the sword but does not sheath it.

      ‘You do not wish to discuss our … business in private? If you wish, we could return to my ship.’

      ‘No. We can talk freely here. My knights understand what we’re trying to do.’

      The First reaches up, unclasps its featureless helmet, and removes it. A face is revealed, hard, female, the features rendered slightly odd through a lifetime of minor alterations in service to the Empire of the Winged Eye.

      Vesper gasps. She knows that face. Once it belonged to two people, both called Duet. The face stirs many memories, of her betrayal of one of them, of being betrayed by the other. Ultimately, Duet was taken by the infernals, though only one of her went willingly.

      At the sight, Scout throws back his head and howls.

      The First studies Vesper. ‘You may be wondering why it is I chose this particular body for our meeting. There are many reasons. I wanted to remind you that people of your Empire have desired alliance with me in the past. I wanted to acknowledge the … history that exists between us.’

      ‘Is she still,’ Vesper waves a hand, ‘in there?’

      ‘No. Her body was fresh enough for me to occupy, but by the time I arrived, her essence had already dissipated.’

      Vesper looks down. ‘Good.’

      ‘Is it? For whom is it good? Had you not interfered, the woman would have realized her dreams through me. Now she is nothing more than a memory. Look at this face and remember the past. If you do not accept my offer, only death will follow.’

      The threat makes the knights tighten their grip on their weapons. Unlike the other orders of the Seraph however, these knights no longer carry singing swords, having sacrificed them long ago. As such, they pose little threat to the First.

      Scout glares up at the infernal and begins to growl.

      ‘Stop that!’ snaps Vesper, shaking her head at Samael. The half-breed does not reply but the Dogspawn lowers its head, abashed. ‘You were saying something about an offer?’

      ‘Yes. I have no quarrel with your kind. Many of them live … happily in my cities. For years now, we have proven an ability to coexist. It is only your Empire that resists me. Disband it, destroy the weapons made to cause my kind suffering, and I will make peace.’

      Vesper bites her lip and looks out to sea. In her hand, the sword begins to shake. ‘That’s it? That’s your offer?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Well, I agree on one thing; if we can’t negotiate, there will be war.’

      ‘Then let us negotiate.’

      ‘Alright. I don’t have any quarrel with your kind either.’ She gestures to Samael. ‘I can, how did you put it? Coexist. I’m on good terms with New Horizon, West Rift, Red Rails, Verdigris and Slake. That’s only a first step. I intend to negotiate with all of them, not as individuals, but as a collective. I want you to be part of that collective. Come south with me. Take part.’

      ‘I have heard of this gathering of yours.’

      ‘It’s no secret.’

      ‘These things are not mutually exclusive. If you agree to my offer, then I would come with you.’

      An eye narrows and Vesper’s voice rises. ‘How can you be so blind?’ She holds up the sword and the First flinches away. ‘The Malice is alive, just as much as you are! It deserves to live just as much as you do. The Seraph Knights’ swords that you try so hard to break also live. They’re not as complex or as clever but they are alive. If you want me to look at you and see more than just an enemy, you have to do the same for me.

      ‘You’re offering me the chance to submit to you or be destroyed. That’s no choice at all. I’m offering you the chance to be part of something bigger.’

      The