Название | Stormtide |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Den Patrick |
Жанр | Сказки |
Серия | Ashen Torment |
Издательство | Сказки |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9780008228187 |
‘And we find Felgenhauer,’ said Steiner. ‘Now let’s find a barge and leave this place.’
The Envoy was true to her word and the novices worked through the night to unload the supplies though the chill was deep and bitter. Silverdust had no need to pack for he had long given up the mundane pleasure of possessions. He took a spare uniform and packed a handful of curios so that he might pass as human.
No one spoke as he headed across Academy Square. The gaunt novices, wrapped up against the cold, shared wary looks at Silverdust’s passing. The remaining Vigilants of the Synod assembled to watch Silverdust depart. None had words of farewell for the Exarch. He nodded to them and turned his back. It would be many hours until the sun rose at this time of year, yet Silverdust’s aura of arcane light emanated brightly around his feet. He turned to take in the brutal splendour of the four academies. It pained him to know he would not return here. Vladibogdan had been his prison these long decades but it had also been his home. The Envoy slunk from the shadows, the white fox stole that hung from her shoulders ghostlike in the darkness. She joined him at the centre of the square and followed his gaze to take in the buildings.
What will happen to these children?
‘Such sentimentality.’ Envoy de Vries grinned. ‘Come, pay no mind to them. The Emperor needs new Vigilants now more than ever. I am sure they will be treasured.’
Silverdust began the many steps down to Temnet Cove where the Imperial galleon waited in the darkness. The silver light followed him and threw weak shadows all around.
‘I’ve long been aware that individuals of certain power manifest the arcane in strange and forbidding ways,’ said the Envoy from behind him. ‘For Khigir it was tongues of flame that danced at his feet.’ She paused. ‘They never did find his body.’
Most unfortunate. Though in truth Silverdust had hated Khigir. He’d been glad to hear Steiner had put an end to the hateful man.
‘I trust you can suppress this nimbus of heat that surrounds you?’
I am sure I can accommodate you, Envoy de Vries.
‘I don’t like you, Silverdust,’ said de Vries dispassionately. ‘I don’t like the way you never speak.’
I was injured. My face. It is difficult to form words and so I use the arcane. He didn’t really care if she believed the lie; she had no way of proving him false short of wrenching off his mask. They were halfway down the countless steps to Temnet Cove, the stone worn smooth by the passage of time. How many novices had scaled these steps only to die during their training?
‘I don’t like the fact that you retired,’ continued the Envoy, her voice quiet but no less dangerous for that. Silverdust reminded himself de Vries needed him alive.
‘And I can never tell if you’re mocking me or not.’
I would never mock you. You are the Emperor’s representative.
‘I don’t like your mask, and how it reflects my face back at me.’ Silverdust reached the bottom of the steps and made a mental note, adding Envoy de Vries to the list of people he wanted to kill.
I will think on what you have said and make efforts to appease you.
The Envoy stopped and stared up at him. Silverdust could feel her frustration as she tried to get the measure of him. She released an irritated sigh and headed towards the boarding ramp. The ship was lit by lanterns, the masts gilded in soft light. A dark shape awaited them on the main deck.
‘Father Orlov,’ said Envoy de Vries with a smile. ‘Have you been waiting long?’ The Vigilant gave a shrug as if it were no matter. Silverdust approached the man with the sense that something was amiss.
I trust the island will be safe in your hands, Father Orlov.
‘In my hands? Ah, you are mistaken, Exarch. I am not staying on Vladibogdan.’ Silverdust looked at Envoy de Vries, who smirked at him with her hands on her hips. ‘I too am journeying to Khlystburg,’ continued Father Orlov. ‘So that the Emperor may benefit from both of our accounts of what happened here.’
Silverdust nodded. His hopes to assassinate the Emperor wavered with this new complication. No matter. It was a long way to Khlystburg and a plan would present itself in good time.
It did not take the galleon long to reach Cinderfell with Father Orlov and Silverdust lending their talents. Both of them had studied at Academy Vozdukha and could summon arcane winds with a gesture. The white sailcloth billowed out from the mast and snapped taut as more and more wind was conjured into being. The day favoured them with a lazy drizzle and pale grey skies. Silverdust was grateful that the Envoy stayed below decks. Her endless affectation of boredom made him want to burn things.
Soon the ship had crossed the Spøkelsea. Cinderfell was just as drab and dreary as Silverdust remembered. The cottages and hovels were squat, built from drab grey stone with thatched roofs, scattered over a steep incline that looked out to sea. Envoy de Vries emerged from her cabin and stood at the prow. The town was silent as a tomb.
‘Where is everybody?’ she whispered.
‘Perhaps Shirinov put them all to the sword when he came here,’ said Father Orlov. ‘He was always keen in that regard.’
Orlov, Silverdust and de Vries took a small boat to the stone pier, escorted by two soldiers who rowed without a word.
‘Why was Shirinov so desperate to come here?’ asked the Envoy.
I do not know. Silverdust wondered if the Envoy believed anything he said. He couldn’t blame her for distrusting him.
‘The Vartiainen boy had a sister,’ said Father Orlov, happy to oblige the Envoy with facts. ‘It was concluded that she should have been brought to the island instead of her brother. This was Shirinov’s and Khigir’s mistake.’
Khigir never had the sight. He could not have detected witchsign even if his life depended on it.
‘This sister,’ said de Vries, striding down the pier. ‘Her name?’
I did not learn it. Another lie in service to Steiner, another attempt to keep someone safe.
‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ said Father Orlov. ‘Shirinov took a ship to Cinderfell with around twenty soldiers. Surely they can’t all have disappeared.’ Silverdust left the pier and crossed the beach, noting large pieces of blackened driftwood tumbling to and fro at the water’s edge. The Envoy joined him and looked around.
‘Damn you, Steiner Vartiainen.’
Something troubles you, Envoy?
‘Your talent for understatement is masterful, Silverdust. Where is the ship? Where are the soldiers?’
Silverdust pointed to the several pieces of burned driftwood.
Your missing ship has been ravaged by fire. It sank close by, or perhaps it washed ashore and the locals broke the hull down out of fear of reprisal.
Silverdust studied the beach. Three weeks had passed since Shirinov’s ill-fated journey. The rain and tide had long since washed away any tracks that might tell a useful story.
‘Emperor save us,’ said Father Orlov from further up the beach. Silverdust and the Envoy made their way to where the Vigilant was pulling something free of the