PART VIII
Lamb to the Slaughter
23
Fortuna; one day
before the Kalends of Saturnalis
Fortuna was almost done and the Lord Livilla still knew nothing about what that man of hers had in mind for the Saturnalia. Topaz had been worried about some kind of vengeance after she had delivered the cup of death into that bastard’s hands, but there was no assault on the stairs. She and the other lambs were left alone, and Livilla stayed in her rooms, rarely stepping out.
Sometimes the sky changed colours and Garnet called the Lords and Court to join him, but Topaz and the lambs were made to stay home. Too young, Livilla insisted. Bree would sneer and toss her head, proud she was the only one allowed to accompany their mistress into the sky. Topaz had no idea what happened in that dratted sky, but she was pretty sure she lost nothing by staying where it was safe and warm.
The last nox of Fortuna was the worst. Livilla and Bree were gone for so long, and the lambs were more restless than usual. They huddled up to Topaz, craving her warmth. She did her best to heat their hands and feet without bursting into flame. It was getting easier to control her heat, though it still didn’t feel natural.
Livilla screamed. The lambs all exchanged a fearful look, and then scampered as one to the balcony.
The whole Creature Court were there, what was left of them, gathered in the Haymarket below. They were a mess, charred and smelling like thunderstorms, hair stuck up in all directions, burns on their skin and clothes. Garnet stood in the middle of them all, his hands around Livilla’s throat.
Topaz felt the heat rise within her. The lambs needed their lady; how else were they to survive this mad world that they had been hurled into?
‘So this is it,’ Garnet said, voice loud and hateful. ‘Can’t poison me with your drink or your cunt, so you’ll let the sky do it for you?’
Livilla glared at him. ‘I did nothing to that damned sky,’ she managed to say. ‘It wants you dead, and why not? You’ve been dead once already, and you escaped. Shouldn’t the sky be angry at you? Shouldn’t it want your blood?’
Topaz’s heat prickled her skin from inside out. Smoke curled out from under her fingernails. She climbed up on the rail of the balcony.
‘None of you touch me,’ she cautioned, even as the other lambs made to grab hold of her.
‘Little salamander wants to play, does she?’ said Garnet, without even looking up in her direction.
‘Let her go,’ commanded Topaz.
The heat was pressing heavier against her skin, like there were coals alight in her belly. She stood up on the balcony rail.
‘Do not speak to me, courtesa,’ said Garnet, disgust evident in his voice. ‘You are less than nothing.’
Topaz broke into lizard form. She spread out in her many bodies, running at full tilt over the curve of the balcony and down the sheer drop of the wall. Her lizards fanned out as she hit the floor and burst into hot, scorching flames all over.
The Court scattered like the animals they were. Only Garnet stayed, his hands still clasped around Livilla’s throat.
‘I am your Power and Majesty,’ he raged, shaking Livilla, and Topaz could feel it, the anger of him, the power pressing down around them all. He was strong enough to crush the lizards body by body. He would hurt her if he could. She was supposed to bow and scrape to him like all the others. Too bad no one had ever stopped to explain all the rules to her.
She burned hotter and hotter, until her eyelids had to fall closed to protect her eyeballs from her own flame. ‘LET HER GO,’ she thundered, and felt the city shake with the wonder of her words. She could see nothing, but she felt it, all of it, the moment of his capitulation.
Livilla breathed once, a shaky gasp. ‘Topaz,’ she said, in the gentlest voice Topaz had ever heard from her. ‘Enough.’
Topaz let go of the flame and felt the cold of the concrete seep into her lizard skin. She looked up and saw that Livilla stood nearest to her. Garnet had stepped away from them both, his face blistered and scarlet.
‘You are not of the Court,’ he said in a voice that shook and swayed. ‘Swear an oath never to turn your flame on me again, salamander, or you will leave this place. I will have order here.’
Topaz found the thought that belonged to her demme body and crawled into it, forming arms and legs, shaping herself whole. ‘I serve my mistress,’ she said, when she had a throat.
Livilla gave Garnet a triumphant look. ‘You were always such a rebel, lover. Can’t you appreciate how glorious she is?’
‘She can be as glorious as she likes as long as she swears an oath to me,’ Garnet spat.
‘Make us,’ Livilla challenged.
Eventually, Garnet walked away.
‘He’s going to kill her,’ said Bree later, when they were alone in their room. ‘He’s going to kill all of us, and it’ll be your fault.’
‘I can’t help what I am,’ said Topaz.
‘Livilla Lord Wolf was loyal before you came along,’ the other demme said in a sulky voice. ‘To all the Power and Majesties, even Velody, and she hated her way more than Garnet.’
‘I think she wants something different now.’
‘You make no sense,’ Bree huffed. ‘This is how it’s supposed to be. Courtesi obey Lords, and Lords obey Kings, and the Power and Majesty rules them all, and we fight the sky. There’s an order to it.’
Order. That was what Garnet had said.
‘It never made any sense to me,’ said Topaz. ‘Maybe it’s time it all came crumbling down. Make something new.’
‘It will be over Livilla’s dead body,’ Bree warned. ‘She can’t fight him. She never could. My old Lord, Priest, always said she was too soft for Garnet and one day it would get her killed.’
Topaz breathed deeply, trying to give herself over to sleep. ‘Reckon she’s stronger than you think she is.’
They had to hope so.
Later, when Bree was sleeping, Topaz awoke with the scent of Livilla’s perfume and cigarette smoke wrapped around her like a thick curtain. Her mistress sat at the foot of her bed, legs crossed like a child.
‘Topaz,’ she said quietly, her eyes gleaming in the darkness, ‘our Power and Majesty is not one to let these insults of ours stand. He will move against us soon.’
‘My Lady,’ Topaz said. ‘Do you want us to leave this place? The lambs? Or all of us together?’
‘Goodness, no!’ Livilla seemed offended by the idea. ‘These are my rooms. This is my territory. But we can’t carry on like this. We need to find out exactly what it is the bastard has planned for Saturnalia. For leverage, you understand.’
Topaz understood that Livilla didn’t like anyone knowing something that she did not. ‘What do you want of me?’
Livilla smiled fiendishly. ‘Poet is his weakness, sly thing that he is. And you are Poet’s weakness. Find out what he knows.’
Topaz knew better than to point out how badly it had gone last time Livilla tried to use her as an instrument for her own political manoeuvres. She was uncomfortable with the thought that Livilla might not count that one as a failure. Still, she had promised to serve.
‘As you wish, my Lord,’ she muttered.
The daylight was harsh on Topaz’s eyes after so long underground. It was strange to breathe the ordinary air, to walk the streets. She could run and hide, maybe sneak onto a train out of this place, or just walk and walk until her shoes gave out. Who needed shoes? She could be out of Aufleur by the next noxfall.
But the rest of the lambs were still with Livilla, and Topaz didn’t trust her to do right by them. She wasn’t all that sure Livilla knew any difference between right and wrong, let alone anything else.
The Vittorina Royale it was.
It was a shock to her, the sight of the ruined theatre. She had half-forgotten what had happened that nox, and how bad was that? Bart had skipped her mind entirely; Bart and the cruel wedge of golden stone that had pounded the breath out of him.
Topaz curled up on the pavement outside the ruin, allowing herself to feel utterly miserable. They had been happy here. Their first chance of a real life. She stayed there for some time, until she felt a familiar presence approach.
‘Hello, lamb.’
The Orphan Princel had found her, not the other way around. He stood there all fine in one of his pretty suits, with a scruffy boy and a sulky young man at his heels.
‘What did you want us for?’ Topaz blurted, staring at her hands. ‘Why did you bring us here?’
Why had Bart been here, to be crushed by pieces of a city that didn’t exist?
The Princel rubbed his nose, pushing up his spectacles. ‘Let me buy you a cake,’ he suggested.
Only the Orphan Princel could take such a ragged pair of imps into a fancy tearoom and be greeted by smiles and approving looks rather than, you know, being chased out with a broom.
It was called the Gardenia, and was all white walls, cane furniture and tiny teacups. Topaz slouched in her high-backed chair, feeling like a rat in the custard bowl. Her only consolation was that the Princel’s boy looked as uncomfortable as she did. The other courteso, the man, had refused even to come inside, claiming he was guarding the exits.
‘Livilla let you out for the day, did she?’ the Princel asked.
Tisane arrived in swan-shaped pots, with silvery net scoops to catch the leaves. Cakes came next, tiny feathery things made of air and sugar. Topaz didn’t want to touch them.
‘We go where we please,’ she said stubbornly, staring at her knees. ‘She don’t lock us up.’
‘She needs you close, though, doesn’t she,’ said Poet thoughtfully. ‘Her secret weapon.’
Topaz didn’t like the tone of his voice. ‘You could have had us if you’d paid us a moment of your time when everything was falling to bits.’
‘I know that. As you rightly surmise, I regret it now.’
‘Tough,’ she muttered, rather liking the luxury of being rude to him.
The boy was eating, shovelling in cake after cake. There would be none left for her at this rate. Not that she wanted them.
‘I remember what it was like,’ Poet said. ‘Being a courteso for the first time. Not wanting to leave the side of your mistress. Doing anything, forgiving anything, just to catch her approving smile.’
Topaz couldn’t imagine him as a lamb. He was always so refined and sure of himself. ‘Don’t sound much different to how you are now, with him,’ she observed, and when Poet’s sharp gaze fell upon her, she distracted herself by seizing a cake from under the hand of the boy and biting into it. Puff and sweet crumbs, oh yes. It tickled her throat and she fought not to cough.
‘Not stupid, are you,’ said Poet. ‘I’m not stupid, either. Livilla wants to know what Garnet’s up to. Were you expecting me to unfold like a stage trick?’
Topaz shrugged and took a mouthful of tisane, which was sticky and sour. She was no spy. Livilla knew that. Poet should, as well.
Poet leaned forward, hissing unpleasantly through his teeth. ‘Tell your mistress this. I brought him back when she’d given up on him. He’s mine now.’
‘I don’t reckon anyone belongs to anyone in this Court of yours,’ Topaz observed.
Poet folded his arms, glaring. ‘Eat your cake.’
They returned underground together, Poet and his silent courtesi and Topaz, clambering down underneath the street. Topaz hated this part, the way that the tunnels smelled of cold earth and dampness. They emerged into a maze of underground shops and buildings. She realised she could see in the dark now. They always had lanterns in the Haymarket, so she hadn’t noticed it, but the dark streets of the Shambles lit up under her new eyes, even in human shape.
‘I’ll walk you home,’ said the Orphan Princel, returning to his usual stately manners. ‘Dangerous people around here.’
Topaz couldn’t help preening a little, letting flames lick around her ears. ‘More dangerous than me?’
He laughed suddenly, looking her over. ‘I’d forgotten that. You are dangerous, little lamb, because you don’t look it at all.’
It was best that they underestimated her. Topaz put her fire away. ‘I’ll walk you home,’ she said with mock gallantry.
Poet seemed nicer when he laughed, like he was a real person. She couldn’t afford to like him again, though. Livilla had plans for him, she reckoned, and anyone who got on Livilla’s bad side had to be in big trouble.
‘This is mine,’ he said as they reached an old shop with a rusted sign showing cabbages and apples hanging in front of it. Soft orange light gleamed out of the upper windows. ‘If ever you need to leave that wench of a mistress of yours, bring your lambs here. I’ll look after you.’
‘Better than last time?’ Topaz said cynically.
Poet gave her an odd sort of smile. ‘Better than last time,’ he promised. Then he stilled and his eyes went strange. She could tell that he was no longer thinking of her at all. ‘What’s she doing back here?’ he murmured.
He turned and went inside the shop without another glance in Topaz’s direction, and his courtesi went with him.
She should run back to Livilla, but she’d learnt nothing yet. She followed them inside.
Topaz found Poet at the top of a narrow, dark staircase, one hand resting on the boy’s shoulder. He shifted slightly to show that he knew she was there.
‘You’re safe here,’ said a gentle, masculine voice. Garnet. She’d know him a mile off. ‘They won’t find you.’
‘I’m so tired,’ said a woman. Her voice was familiar, but only just. Topaz couldn’t see her in the room.
‘We should be looking after you better. Do you know how valuable you are?’ Garnet’s voice was like honey.
Poet was so very still, as if he wanted to blend into the walls and floor. Topaz could barely feel his power, let alone see him among the shadows.
‘The flames are getting hotter,’ said the woman in a low, low voice. ‘The heat in my skin. I can’t stop it. I get so angry. I’ve never been this angry before. When I lose control … I don’t want to hurt anyone.’
‘You can’t hurt me,’ said Garnet. He almost sounded amused at the thought of it.
Topaz stared at her own hands, barely visible in the dark. Flames under the skin. Was there someone else like her?
‘Come in, Poet,’ Garnet said suddenly, his voice sharp. ‘Don’t hide in the shadows like an interloper. We are your guests.’
Poet stepped forward into the light of the room. ‘Didn’t want to interrupt,’ he said. ‘I’d hate Mistress Rhian to be startled. It’s such a bore to clean up the mess afterwards.’
Rhian. The Seer, then. Livilla spoke of her, but always sounded dismissive, uninterested.
‘I have such terrible dreams,’ Rhian said. ‘Of Saturnalia, and a sacrifice. Are you really going to —’
‘Enough,’ Garnet commanded. ‘I have no secrets from Poet, but there are some things that should never be spoken aloud. Not until the time is right.’
Topaz felt a shiver. Did he know she was there? She could feel the heat of his animor, and Poet’s, shining out of that room like a beacon.
She had to get out of here.
She turned, stumbling on the steps as she went. Her human body was too big and clumsy for this. She felt a hand in the small of her back, pushing her hard down the stairs. She shaped herself into her real form, burning and cool-skinned, lizard feet scrabbling on the steps as she rushed down.
They were everywhere, Poet’s people, all around her, leaping in from the darkness. She felt the shadehound snapping at her heels, the weasels sliding between her feet, and she burned brightly, her flames bursting free to keep them at bay, all of them.
None of them could touch her. She scattered into several lizard bodies, making for the door, but fierce silver threads held her back, wrapping around her feet and limbs, a different kind of burn tangling around her.
This one hurt.
She couldn’t see, and there was no heat to the burn, just pain, pain, a tangled net of crossed threads binding her forms together. Topaz howled, slithering, biting, but it was too late.
She was trapped.