21. Lukas
21
LUKAS
A t dawn, Lukas puts on his cloak to hide his face and walks down the stairs of Sparrows’ Hall with Elric behind him. Elric is carrying Marko. Marko was the only creature who slept in their tiny chamber at Sparrows’ Hall the previous night, curled on the pillow, with Elric lying beside her. Lukas had spent his time sitting on the chamber’s bare floor. Mind turning over and over. Thinking of Red Wolf. Thinking of Damon. Thinking of Elric. Three blades in his heart.
Betrayal upon betrayal. Loss upon loss.
And now, Lukas can hardly bear to look at Elric. His head pounds from a sleepless night and the weight of what Elric has confessed to him.
His emotions rattle inside his heart. Truly he thinks he needs a long time and some proper rest before he can even begin to unravel it. But there is no more time to think about anything. Little Lamb follows behind them, ensuring Elric has nowhere to go. He needs to sharpen his wits. He needs to find a way to let Elric run. A way to be rid of Elric forever. But right now Inga and Little Lamb’s eyes are on him.
The public room downstairs is not busy this early in the day. But there are some traders here, fueling themselves before setting up for market and other patrons, stopping for some bread and ale before the day begins. Several of the raucous party from last night are still present, slumped sleepily on tables. The fire is lit and the air is already growing smoky with moonleaf. From the kitchen, Lukas can smell baking bread masking the stale scents of last night’s revelling.
He scans the room. He was told that if the Plumian envoy wanted to meet them she would take the long table at the back. That table is indeed occupied. Sitting alone there is a tall woman with dark skin and her head shaved bare. She certainly looks like she could be a Plumian. Lukas nods to Inga, who follows his gaze. She sees the woman and nods her understanding back to Lukas.
Lukas winds his way through the room to the table. When he reaches it the woman looks up.
“Good day, traveller,” Lukas says. “May I speak with you?”
The woman looks Lukas up and down. Her gaze pauses on his hook. “Who are you?” she says warily.
Lukas says, “I have been sent by Abul, Commander of the Mortingales. He has an offer for the great land of Pluma and its brave and noble warriors.”
The woman pauses and then nods to Lukas. He sits down, making space for Elric beside him on the bench. Inga follows, sitting down beside the woman. Little Lamb stands at the end of the table, his big body blocking them from the view of the rest of the public room.
Lukas extends his left hand. “Silverhand,” he says.
The woman narrows her eyes. For a moment, she peers at him. There’s a strange moment before she reaches out and takes his forearm. “Trysta,” she says. She looks right into his eyes. Then she says, “You are Lukas Darekul,” she says quietly. “Rebel Prince of the Empire. Bastard of Prince Rafus.”
Lukas sucks in a breath, feeling Elric go tense beside him. He is unused to being so easily recognised. But he says, simply, “I am. And if you know my reputation, you know I am true to the cause of freedom.”
“I had heard you turned again. That you were no longer with the Mortingales. Have you truly severed your ties to the Empire?”
Lukas raises his hook. “The Empire that took my hand? Yes, I have.” He looks at Trysta. She wears what looks like it might once have been an Imperial Army uniform. A black leather jerkin and breeches. She has a thick belt about her waist, that holds a heavy sword. “Have you? That’s an Imperial Army sword,” he says.
“You’re observant,” Trysta says.
“I’m careful. Just as you are.”
Trysta puts her hands on the hilt of the sword. “There are steel blades like this all over this city. The Empire forges them by the dozen upon dozen for their ever-swelling army. You can pick them up at the market. Imperial soldiers lose them gambling and pay with a flogging from their commanders.” She pauses. “However, I earned the right to wear this blade. I fought for the Imperial Army for almost twenty years as an enslaved warrior. I only escaped them this last Nubis moon. Now, I work for my beloved Plumians. I am their voice on the mainland. I’m happier away from the island than most of my brothers and sisters.”
Lukas looks at her. This woman fought in the Imperial Army. She looked at him like she knew him. She knew who he was. A woman enslaved by Azuria would have no love for the place or any who fought for it. Nevertheless, he wonders if she knew Damon. If that is how she knew who he was. And her concerns are not because he is a Darek, but because he is Damon’s brother.
Does she know that he is dead?
Lukas takes a breath. Whatever connection this woman might have to his dead brother does not matter in this moment. He says, “Trysta, thank you for doing us the honour of speaking with us. Our leader Abul the Red sends tribute to you and the brave Plumians in the hope that we might join forces to fight our shared foe.”
Trysta looks thoughtful. “The Mortingale Rebels and the Plumians do indeed have a common enemy in the vile Azurian Empire. What forces do you have? I understood the Mortingales were almost wiped out in the purge of the mountains by the filthy Dareks.”
Inga leans forward. “Selim’s revenge on us was five years ago. We have regrown our strength and now number sixty.”
“Three score fighters?”
“Sixty in all,” Inga says. “Some are fighters grown. Some will grow to be.”
Trysta clearly is unimpressed by these numbers. She looks from Inga to Lukas thoughtfully. “The Plumians are wary of outsiders. I will have to work to find a way for them to trust your Mortingales enough to agree to an alliance.”
Lukas nods. He points to Elric. “This is Elric Underlia. He is the son of the Warden of Pluma-Ferris. We captured him in the Mortingale Mountains. We could, of course, demand a large ransom for him from his wealthy father, but we would offer him to you as a token of our esteem. A gift to our brave Plumian allies.”
Trysta looks Elric up and down. “Elric Underlia,” she says slowly. As if his name is a strange foreign tongue. “What do you mean for us to do with him?”
“He is the Warden’s son,” Lukas says. “A valuable prize.”
Inga cuts in, “He is the son of a vile tool of the Empire. We will give him to you to use as you wish. You can use him to force the Imperial army to tear down the Ferric Wall.”
Trysta looks from Elric to Inga. “You think the Empire will tear down the Ferric Wall for some Lordling? Have you any idea how much blood was shed to build that wall? I was there.”
“You think Lord Underlia wouldn’t protect his son?” says Inga. “Torture the whelp and see what he says then.”
Trysta looks at Elric. “Tell me the truth, Lordling. Would your father tear down the Ferric wall to save your skin from the savage Plumians?”
Elric shakes his head. “I will not lie to you. This scheme has been doomed from the start.” He glances at Lukas. “If you told my father you would kill me if he didn’t surrender the Azurian half of Pluma-Ferris to you, he would be delighted to have the chance to prove his loyalty to the Empire by denying you. He has used me to further his ambition all my life. Nevertheless, you ought to take this deal. You should find a way to persuade the Plumians. Not for me. I don’t matter. But it makes sense for the Mortingales and Plumians to work together. You have a common enemy. Neither of you has made much progress in overthrowing the Azurian Empire alone. They are simply too powerful. If you want to attack them then the only way to succeed would be all their enemies banding together. And the Mortingales will be good allies. Every one of them I have met has a fierce dedication to their cause. You should consider this offer seriously.”
Trysta smiles at Elric. She nods at him and then looks back to Lukas. “This son of Lord Harwin Underlia speaks sense,” she says. Her gaze returns to Elric. “And if I do as you advise and make this pact with the Mortingales, what should be done with you?”
“I’m happy to make myself scarce and find my way on the streets of Lunatum,” Elric says. “Or take me with you if you wish. I’d love to see Pluma-Ferris. So long as you keep me far away from my father.”
Trysta looks a little baffled by this suggestion. “Take you to Pluma-Ferris…?” She pauses, shaking her head. “The son of Harwin Underlia? I do not think you would survive a day.”
“Forget the Lordling slut then,” says Inga, leaning forward. “You agree we have similar aims. Perhaps we can discuss that.”
Trysta looks thoughtful. “I suppose we—” But before she can finish there is a hiss from the counter at the other end of the room, low and sharp, “Enforcers!”
The whole room seems to go tense. Lukas looks to the door as five Imperial Enforcers march in, each dressed in green and gold with twelve-pointed marks of Zai on their breast. One of them, who appears to be their leader, steps forward, his hand on his sword. “Every one of you pieces of Lunatum scum stay right where you are,” he barks out in a voice like metal scraping on stone. Lukas peers at him, but this is not an enforcer he knows.
The whole room watches the enforcers as they look around, sharp eyes under their glittering helms. There’s a man with them. Lukas recognises that man with a sinking dread, and he senses Elric recognises him too. He’s the oily man who shouted at him and Elric for being luxorite sluts. Lukas curses himself. He should have killed that man when he wanted to.
The leader looks right at Lukas and nods to the man, says, “That one?”
The man nods.
“You,” the leader says, pointing to Lukas. “What’s your name?” He begins making his way over to the table.
Lukas looks around. He can feel the way Little Lamb’s hand has gone to his axe, Inga’s and Trysta’s to their swords. He runs his fingers over the point of his hook and glances at Elric. Elric is pale.
In a low tone, Inga murmurs, “What the fuck did you do, Silverhand?”
“Stole a sword. Blew up a gaol house,” Lukas murmurs. “Be ready.”
As the lead enforcer reaches the table, Lukas says, as casually as he can, “Can I help you, Sire?”
“You the sly whore known as Lucky?” he says. He looks at Lukas’s hook. Then he reaches out and pulls back the hood of Lukas’s cloak. “This man says he saw you in here last night, says he saw you committing sins of the body. And,” the enforcer pauses and looks around at the table. “He also remembered seeing you on the punishment scaffold one year ago.” He nods to Lukas’s hook.
Lukas shakes his head. “I don’t know what you're talking about,” he says, standing up. He checks Elric is behind him. Inga and Trysta both stand too.
The enforcer seems unfazed by this show of strength. He looks to the oily man beside him, with a questioning expression.
“It’s him,” the oily man snarls, looking at Lukas with an expression of distaste. “He’s a foul luxorite. I saw him here last night and I recognised him from when he lost his hand and I’ve seen his likeness on posters. I was told there’s five hundred dal on his head for burning down the gaol.”
Five hundred dal, thinks Lukas. Quite a purse. Even Inga gives him a glance that is almost admiring.
“I am going to have to ask you to come with us,” the enforcer says to Lukas. “We have a few questions for you.”
Slowly, Little Lamb, who has moved around so he is behind the two enforcers at the table, slides his axe out of his belt. Trysta sees the move and her fingers tighten on her sword. She looks to Lukas, “It seems our alliance begins now,” she says, quiet and level.
Lukas nods. “Yes,” he says, then, “Now!”
The fight explodes instantly. As Little Lamb swings his axe, Trysta springs up onto the table in a fast, powerful leap and takes down the leader of the enforcers with her sword to his chest. Marko leaps from Elric’s arms and vanishes under the table, snarling like the war dog Red Wolf once claimed was her mother. Lukas’s hook finds the neck of the witness, though he takes a vicious slash to his unguarded side from one of the other enforcers as he slays him. Little Lamb takes that one down quickly with his axe in a bloody strike to the belly.
Little Lamb’s axe is a much better weapon at close quarters than a sword. And with the numbers evened they might have had a chance. But Lukas knows well that isn’t how it works in Lunatum. One of the enforcers who was over by the counter, has darted to the door, calling for help from more enforcers on the street.
And they are coming. A dozen more. Thundering through the door. An unstoppable tide in green and gold.
“We can’t take them all,” Trysta says as she sees the fresh enforcers. “We need to run.”
She’s right. They can’t take this many enforcers, especially now Lukas is wounded and all of them are tiring.
The enforcers rush towards them across the room, and as they do, Marko shoots out from under the table and sinks her teeth into the ankle of a particularly large one.
With a grunt of rage, he stoops to scoop her up. He holds her by the scruff. She is snarling and wriggling. Lukas’s blood runs cold.
The enforcer pulls a short blade from his belt with his free hand. “You filthy fucking mutt,” he growls. He raises the blade to Marko’s shaggy neck.
Marko bares her teeth, snarling as she tries to wriggle free.
Lukas cannot take this. He has lost Damon and Red Wolf, Elric has betrayed him. He is not losing Red Wolf’s fucking dog too. Marko is the only thing left in this world that loves him. He pulls away from the fight at the table, raises his hook and rushes towards the huge man, screaming out, “Put my fucking dog down,” Then, “ Death to Emperor Selim!”
As he hurls himself towards the enforcer, he hears Elric, behind him, also crying out, “ Death to Emperor Selim! ” as he follows Lukas towards the new wave of enforcers.
Many of the patrons of Sparrows’ Hall have fled, or at least drawn back to the other side of the room, but one, a woman in red, moves forward. She echoes Lukas’s cry of, “ Death to Emperor Selim! ” and jumps onto the back of the enforcer holding Marko, her pale legs wrapping around his waist. The enforcer drops Marko and yells out in shock. In the next moments, all of Sparrows’ Hall is rushing into the melee, fighting with fists and knees and knives and sticks.
Trysta is beside Lukas. Defending him as he plunges his hook into the neck of the man who held Marko. Blood sprays Lukas in the face as the enforcer goes down with the woman still screaming on his back.
Trysta whirls around catching another enforcer just before he thrusts his sword into her back. Her blade finds his thigh.
In the chaos, Lukas sees his chance and makes a bolt for the door to the backyard, Inga at his heels. Outside, by the privy huts they scramble over the wall and find themselves dropping down into a narrow alleyway that runs behind Sparrows’ Hall. Breathless Lukas leans against the wall. He lifts his shirt. The wound he took to his side is shallow, but it’s still bleeding.
Inga looks at it. “That’s nasty,” she says, before growling, “and you fucking deserve it. What in Zai’s name were you doing last night, fucking that Lordling in public?”
“I was just getting some food,” Lukas grunts, as Trysta drops down from the wall. Sweat glistens on her brow as she resheaths her sword. She has Marko under one arm. He looks quite happy there.
Lukas looks behind her. “Where’s Elric?”
“Elric?” Trysta says. “Underlia? He’s not with me.”
“Fuck,” Lukas goes to move, to climb back over the wall to return to Sparrows’ Hall.
Inga grabs him, grasping his forearm above the hook. “You can’t go back in there. Little Lamb will get him.”
But as Inga says that Little Lamb appears, rounding the corner into the alleyway alone. He has blood smeared on his face and his axe hangs in his hand. Lukas swallows. Little Lamb has a great wound to his chest and belly, a deep slash from a sword, bleeding through his shirt. He reaches them staggering, eyes glassy, swaying for a moment before he falls to the ground, smacking wetly onto his front. Inga cries out in horror.
She drops to her knees beside him wailing, “No. Fuck, no. Lamb, Little Lamb.” But Lukas is sure there is nothing to be done for him. His guts were almost spilling from his belly before he fell.
Little Lamb lifts his face from the cobbles. “Got three,” he says, before his face falls back down onto the ground. Inga wails again.
There’s no sign of Elric. He would have taken this chance to run, Lukas tells himself. He had a plan. He would have run. And he has no business going after Elric now. Let him find his own way. There are plenty more people for him to betray in Lunatum.
Then from the wall above them, a voice calls out, “Here. The wretch is down here.”
Lukas looks up. One of the enforcers is straddling the top of the wall.
Trysta grabs hold of Lukas’s wrist. “This way,” she says, “quickly.”
Lukas looks back at Inga, but she is kneeling over Little Lamb. He can’t leave her. Not to the Lunatum enforcers. “No,” he says to Trysta.
“They don’t want her,” Trysta says, urgently. “They want you.”
“She was in the fight.”
“All of Sparrows’ Hall was in the fight. You’re the one they want. Everyone else will be fine. But not you. You need to come with me. Now.” She tightens her grip on his wrist. And they run.
Lukas and Trysta hurtle through the back streets of Lunatum, occasionally stopping to hide from enforcers. When Lukas is sure he cannot go much further, they reach a tall building with a wooden sign outside depicting a crude drawing of an apple with a bite taken out of it. Underneath is written ‘The Happy Apple’ in both Artemian and Juran.
Trysta hustles Lukas in through the door. They step into a parlour, dimly lit, with purple and red fabric hanging in the windows. Two women sit on a low threadbare settle. Dressed in skimpy clothes. Marko jumps from Trysta’s arms and goes up to one of them — a prettily rounded woman with dark hair — snuffling at her bare ankles. She scoops her up, “Oh, Trysta. Who is this?”
Trysta looks at Lukas.
“Her name is Marko,” Lukas says, before turning to look at Trysta. “My lady, please, have you brought me to a pillow house?”
Trysta laughs. “Don’t worry, Silverhand. We are not here for pleasures. I keep a room upstairs.” She nods to the two women — who appear to know her, but are far more interested in Marko — and leads Lukas up a flight of wooden steps at the back of the parlour. He follows her down a dim passageway into a small back room. Mostly bare, with a bed and a few clothes slung over a chair.
“Sit,” Trysta says, pointing to the bed.
Lukas obeys. He sees no reason to question Trysta, and even if he did, she is taller than him, stronger than him and a better fighter.
Beside the bed is a jug of ale and a wooden cup. Trysta gestures to it. “Drink. Calm your spirit some.”
As Lukas does so, Trysta says, “We will be safe here. I need to speak with you, Lukas Darekul.”
“Is this still about the alliance between the Mortingales and the Plumians?” Lukas says, feeling very certain that it isn’t.
Trysta shakes her head. “No. I am still willing to arrange the pact if you wish it. But that is not the reason I want to speak to you.”
Lukas cannot imagine what this could be about. He says, “Why did you fight with us in the tavern? You could have been in great danger if one of them had realised who you were.”
“I fought with you because I know who you are. And I am sworn to defend you.”
Lukas points to his chest. “Me? Forgive me, but we have not met before, I believe.”
“We have a mutual friend,” Trysta says slowly.
Lukas stares at her. “I know no Plumians,” he says warily. “You are the first I have met.”
“I know people who are not Plumians. I was in the Imperial Army for almost twenty years. You look like him. And you have his eyes.” She smiles with a broad mouth. “He spoke of you often. He told me you were an outlaw.”
And Lukas knows who it must be. The only person it could be. Trysta must have brought him here to tell him what happened to Damon. “My brother is dead,” Lukas says, “I am already aware”
“Damon Darekul is not dead,” Trysta smiles. Her teeth are large and white. “Saved him myself. Took him from that island.”
Lukas feels like a great weight has just been dropped on him. He stares at Trysta, stunned. He doesn’t know what to say. How can this be true? His banging heart seems to thump even harder. His eyes prickle. He takes another drink of his ale. Trysta simply waits and eventually, Lukas says, voice shaking, “He lives? He lives still? You know where he is now?”
“I do.”
Lukas feels dizzy. His clanging heart hurts. He thinks he might start sobbing. He has sobbed too much over too many people in the last few days. He swallows down his feelings.
Trysta nods, “As I said, I am willing to sign your papers. I will agree to the alliance between the Plumians and the Mortingales. But after I do that I would like to take you to him. I think he would like to see you.”
Lukas shakes his head. “I do not think he would. Last time I saw him he told me if I ever returned to the Rose Palace he’d take my head.”
Trysta snorts. “He told me about that too. But a lot has happened to him since then. I think he would take a different view.”
Damon. The thought of being in the same room as Damon makes Lukas feel strangely light-headed. “I cannot,” he says. He pulls the papers from Abul out of his shirt. “After I get your mark to prove you are willing to make an alliance, I need to travel back to the Mortingale Mountains to let Abul know the news.” He hears himself speak, but the words mean nothing.
Damon, his brother. He lives.
“There will be time for that,” Trysta says simply, as if all of this, as if Damon being alive, is simple. “If you come with me to the docks, our ship the White Watch sits just beyond the horizon. Come with me and see him. If, after that, you want to take your paper back to the Mortingales and be acclaimed for making your alliance, no one will stop you.”
“You want me to go with you now?” Lukas says.
“No, not now. After what happened at The Sparrows’ Hall, I would advise you to remain here, at least until the midday bell. You would be in danger on the streets of Lunatum. Five hundred dal of danger.”
Lukas swallows. She is right. The streets will be full of enforcers looking for him right now “Until the midday bell,” he says. “Very well.”
“While you are safe here, I will go and see if I can find out what is happening. And you can rest. You look as if you need it. When I return, we can decide what you wish to do. I will send one of the women with water and a dressing for your wound.”
Lukas nods. Rest? He isn’t sure if he is capable of it. But he does need to clean and dress his wound. And he isn’t sure, if he stood now, whether his legs would carry him.
After Trysta leaves, Lukas pours himself some more ale and drinks it, then lights his pipe using the room’s single candle. He feels strangely alone.
He smokes his pipe and looks at the paper he is holding. The paper from Abul about his alliance with the Plumians.
And he finds himself thinking of Red Wolf.
Elric had read Red Wolf’s papers. Red Wolf had taken papers about the planned raid on the Rose Palace to give to Chancellor Vindar. Elric said Red Wolf always had papers when he came to see Vindar and he knew to look for them at night. But why would Red Wolf bring papers? Why would any of the spies bring papers? Why take that risk? Bringing papers suggested Red Wolf’s true role was that of an envoy. Taking papers from the Mortingale Mountains to the Rose Palace. Who sent Red Wolf with those papers?
Lukas turns something over in his mind.
His mind drifts to Elric. And Elric’s father. Elric’s father finding a use for his sly son.
Red Wolf was the spy. He admitted it. He told Lukas so as he lay dying. Lukas has no doubt that is what Red Wolf believed. A secret that sat so heavy on his heart that he had to confess it to Lukas. A secret that drove him to force Abul to rescue Lukas from Lunatum. And to protect Lukas when he returned to the Mortingales.
Lukas looks at the paper he holds in his hand, signed and sealed by Abul, waiting for Trysta’s mark.
Red Wolf was Abul’s son. Lukas knew he always wanted to prove himself in his father’s eyes. Red Wolf was no fighter. How did Red Wolf become a spy? How could that situation have even come about? He thinks he might know. But the only person who can tell him for sure is the person who saw Red Wolf’s papers. Elric. He needs to find Elric.
He puts down his pipe and lies down on the bed. He stares up at the ceiling. And he thinks about Red Wolf, who is dead, and Damon, who is alive.
And Elric who, he hopes, is somewhere in Lunatum.
Lukas is still turning this over and over in his mind when the dark-haired woman he’d seen downstairs appears with a bowl of steaming water and some linens. Lukas thanks her.
He cleans and dresses the shallow wound on his side, then lies back on the bed.
Trysta returns a while after the midday bells have rung. She has Marko in her arms. As she steps into the room, Marko leaps down and comes yipping over to Lukas, jumping up onto the bed to nuzzle him.
Lukas pulls Marko onto his lap and strokes her fur.
“I have spoken to some contacts,” she says. “Your friend was taken by the enforcers. The woman with the scarred face. The big one is dead.”
She says it bluntly. She used to be a soldier. Perhaps death means little to her. Or perhaps only the deaths of people she doesn’t know. Lukas nods. Little Lamb. Killed by the Empire just like his brother. “Inga?” he says. “The enforcers have Inga?”
“They did. I understand they spoke to her. But they let her go after she confirmed that you were who they thought you were. A sly whore called Lucky, I believe. Who stole a sword and lost his hand and then escaped the gaol when it was burned to the ground by the Mortingales. Five hundred dal for you. Dead or alive.” She sounds impressed.
“That’d be right,” Lukas says. He finds himself smiling. At least Inga can take care of herself. But that’s all he feels. After everything he’s been turning over in his mind since Trysta left him. Most of him feels quite numb.
“And what of Elric Underlia? Do the enforcers have him?”
“They do not. No one has seen the son of Lord Harwin Underlia.”
Lukas nods. “I need to speak with him. And I think I know where to find him. And then,” he pauses, considering what he can only think of as the other issue. Trysta’s ship and who waits for him there. “And then I will come with you.”
“In that case,” says Trysta. “I will give you until midnight. We must leave then. Find your young Lordling then meet me at the docks. I will take you to my ship.” She pauses. “Where is your paper from Abul the leader of the Mortingales? I will mark it now.”
“Now?” Lukas is surprised.
Trysta nods. “Your son of Lord Harwin Underlia was right. The alliance would be worthwhile for us both. I do not want you to think I am bribing you to come to the ship.”
Lukas picks up the papers from the floor beside the bed. Trysta takes a piece of charcoal from a pouch on her belt and leans the paper against the wall to mark it. As she does, she says, “If you are not at the docks by midnight, I will assume you have decided to return to the outlaws without seeing your brother.”
She doesn’t say Damon’s name. Lukas is glad of it. He doesn’t think his heart could stand it. “Very well,” he says, standing from the bed. Marko yips.
Trysta points to Marko as she jumps excitedly from the bed to the floor. “You can leave her with me for now. If you wish.”
Lukas looks at Marko. “Really?” It would be far easier to travel through the streets of Lunatum without Red Wolf’s dog darting off after rats at every step.
“Yes.” Trysta smiles one of her toothy smiles. “I like her.”