Chapter XI. Kiss and Tell #2
“‘That’s just what Mme Dilpont said first time she took me on a tour of her boudoir. But in my defense, I was young. And what I lacked in quality I made up for in quantity.’
“Dior and Joaquin laughed together, eyes sparkling. Phoebe shook her head, but her smile was also genuine; like most aboard Dawnseeker, the duskdancer was clearly charmed to the eyeteeth by the young houndboy of Aveléne.
“‘Out with it then, Mlle á Dúnnsair,’ he demanded. ‘You can’t leave us hanging.’
“‘I can hang ye all I like. Unlike some, I dinnae kiss and tell.’
“‘So you have kissed then…’
“Joaquin met Phoebe’s eyes, waggling his brows suggestively. The fleshwitch tried to match his mischievous stare, but broke up laughing instead. ‘Yer a lil’ fuckin’ twat.’
“‘And you are avoiding the question.’
“Phoebe glanced at Dior, shrugging. ‘Eh. A few drunken snogs. Nothing serious, like.’
“Joaquin gasped, pointing a finger in faux outrage. ‘Jezebel! ’
“‘Get fucked,’ Phoebe replied cheerfully.
“‘Precious little chance of that among this company, I fear,’ the lad grinned. ‘What about you, Capitaine? Ever rolled onto the wrong side of the hammock in a storm?’
“The capitaine raised one craggy brow. ‘What happens at sea stays at sea, boy.’
“‘Let’s hope th— Ow.’
“Joaquin rubbed his arm where Dior had thumped it.
“‘Wrong side of the hammock indeed,’ she muttered.
“‘From a Church perspective, you understand,’ he smirked, signing the wheel.
“‘Church.’ Phoebe scoffed. ‘Never could ken the whys of that about ye Lowlanders. World being what it is, ye think yer Almighty would have better things to fret on than who ye take a tumble with. Nae such judgment in the Moonsthrone, boy. The Mothers and Father care nae fer who we love. Only that we love.’
“‘Well, Reyne and I can move up there when all this is done and shag like rabbits,’ Dior said. ‘Until then, all that groaning you hear from my cabin? It’s not the ship’s timbers in squall, it’s my fucking nethers threatening to explode.’
“Joaquin sucked his teeth, shaking his head. ‘Maids.’
“The capitaine nodded. ‘Maids.’
“‘Maids.’
“Reaching into her frockcoat, the Grail of San Michon plucked a cigarelle from a battered case, peering at the contents with a heartfelt sigh.
“‘Only two smokes left.’
“‘We’ll fetch you some more in the capital. When we arrive in glory.’
“Dior glanced up, meeting Joaquin’s gaze. And where a moment ago, he’d been all smiles and bawdy jest, now the houndboy looked at her with fire in his eyes. He tapped one of the maps on the capitaine’s table, jaw set.
“‘This whole city will soon sing your name.’
“Dior pursed her lips, striking her flintbox as she looked to á Connell. ‘You and Reyne are the only folk aboard who’ve been to Augustin, Capitaine. Any idea what to expect?’
“‘Depends on our foe, Holy Maid.’
“The big man cleared aside the other charts from the largest map, revealing a mighty city, cleft in three parts by a great river.
Its streets and fortifications were rendered in fine detail, its name etched in a bold, flowing hand—Augustin, Heart of the Empire.
Dior took up place beside the capitaine, cigarelle hanging from her lip as á Connell began to speak.
“‘The capital is a ways upriver, where the Fer meets the Béni.’ He tapped the city’s third on the southern shores—a great walled grid of tanneries and warehouses, silos and smithies.
‘Rive Sud is her industrial heart, fed by a port large enough to service the whole realm. The walls are stout, the cannon, many.’ The capitaine pointed to the northern bank; a twisted tangle of tenements and tavernes and townhouses.
‘Rive Nord is home to the capital’s hoi polloi.
The walls here are stronger still, but the belly softer, and her portside not so mighty.
But she’s backed by the guns of Rive C?ur. ’
“Here á Connell pressed one callused finger to a great island in the middle of the river: the capital’s core, around which all else revolved. It was a walled enclave of grand buildings and cathedrals, and at its heart loomed a keep so huge it beggared belief.
“‘Chateau Impérial. She’s the greatest fortress in all the realm, none her equal. When the Béni is frozen, she’s a touch more vulnerable, but when the waters flow, she can only be reached by one of these.
’ á Connell pointed to a series of great bridges, seven in total, linking the capital’s heart to its south and north banks.
‘Summer will be ending by the time we arrive. If they’ve held off ’til now, Augustin should be safe through autumn.
Nae vampire can cross fresh running water, save at bridges or in coffins.
And that far upriver, the waters are fresher than a maid on her wedding night. ’
“‘An Ossian maid at least,’ Joaquin murmured.
“Dior rolled her eyes. ‘You’re just rubbing it in now, M. Marenn.’
“‘It does raise the question, though,’ the capitaine said. ‘Your Celene and this … Mother Maryn … they’ll be of nae use if we’re forced to fight on river.’
“‘You’re assumin’ they’ll be of use a’tall,’ Phoebe scowled. ‘I trust Celene far as I can spit her. And the wee one I’ve nae seen hide nor hair of this whole journey.’
“‘Let me worry about the Esana, Phoebe.’ Dior scowled at the map as she dragged on her smoke. ‘We’ll not fight ariver if we can help it.’
“‘We may not have a choice,’ Joaquin said.
“‘Aye. And that’s nae our only concern.’ The capitaine pushed the map of the capital aside, drawing out another.
It showed a stretch of jagged coastline, a long blue line snaking inland, Augustin marked with an ornate star.
His fingers traced the river’s path back to the sea.
‘The mouth of the Béni is guarded by two bastille almost as grand as Chateau Impérial. And we’ll have to pass beneath them if we’re to reach the capital. ’
“‘Reyne told me about them,’ Dior nodded. ‘Philippe’s Vise.’
“‘Aye. Hundred guns apiece. A natural span of stone bridges the two cliffs, and a chain runs the river’s breadth beneath, forged of pure Elidaeni steel. It’s Augustin’s first line of defense from sea assault.
If the Vise is intact, we’ll have to treat with Alexandre’s fleet.
But if the Emperor has lost control of the river, if the Forever King has taken one or both… ’
“‘Then we fight,’ Phoebe growled. ‘Tooth and claw. Sail and steel. Yer men are strong as bears, lass. And they dance well. Fer a pack of lily-white Lowland cunts, like.’
“Joaquin blew the duskdancer a kiss. Dior stared at the maps, eyes clouded. In the soft silence, Phoebe squeezed her good hand.
“‘We stand wi’ye, Flower. To the end.’
“‘And this is only the beginning,’ Joaquin vowed.
“She looked around the cabin then, blue eyes shining.
“‘I’m glad you’re all here. Truly, I’m so happy you’re with me.’ Dior hung her head then, smoke drifting from her lips. ‘I only wish Gabe was too…’
“‘I miss him too, love,’ Phoebe said softly. ‘More than I’d admit, were he here to chide me fer it. Because he would. Gabriel de León loves ye, Dior. And ye will see him again. But he’d have ye set mind to task now. We’re still a long way from the Emperor’s throne.’
“Dior stared at the map, those words etched beneath: HEART OF THE EMPIRE. And dragging on her cigarelle, she breathed her words like flame.
“‘I’ll be ready.’
“We were waiting in the hold as always. The Grail squeezed through the crates, and without much more than a nod, we began to train anew. She was afire with the belief of her comrades, and if heart were the measure of her success, Dior would have been a master sanguimancer already.
“But after four solid hours, cursing and sweating and hissing frustration, she slumped onto the deck, utterly defeated. She could form her blade almost flawlessly now. But to wield it effectively still seemed completely beyond her.
“‘I can’t,’ she spat, staring at the red slick on the floor. ‘It’s too much.’
“‘You must focus, chérie. Quiet your mind. Be the blade.’
“‘I’m trying, fuckssakes…’ Dragging a pale lock from her lips, she rolled upright and began pacing.
‘But I’ve all this shit to fret on now. Reyne, my men, Voss.
We’ve no clue about the arse fuckery waiting for us ahead, Maryn still hasn’t found Gabe, and every time I sit still, it feels like I want to crawl out of my bloody skin. ’
“‘You’ve much on your mind. Heavy lies the head…’
“‘And the crown isn’t even mine yet.’ She scoffed, sinking to a crouch. ‘Yet? Ever, more like. Have you seen the size of Augustin? Can you imagine the army it must take to threaten it? Fuckssakes, we must be mad for trying this.’
“I nodded. And with a sigh, I shrugged my oilskins off my shoulders.
“‘No, wait … why are you taking those off?’
“‘We are done training for tonight, Dior.’
“‘We are not done. We’re days from the Vise, I have to master—’
“‘These are no trifles we teach. Sanguimancy is dangerous. Particularly when it is your blood under sway. Above all other tools required to master it, you need a clear head.’
“‘Clear head,’ she scoffed, eyes flashing now. ‘Fine jest coming from you. Maryn has spent more time on this trip talking to herself than anyone else aboard, and you’ve got fuck knows how many bloodsuckers bouncing around inside your bonce. You’re both more cracked than a dropped chamber pot, twice as full of shit, and you talk to me about… ’
“The Grail faltered then, the momentary glint of cruelty in her eyes fading. She caught her breath, hand to her heart, cheek pinked with shame.
“‘… Sweet Mothermaid, I’m sorry, Celene. I didn’t mean that.’
“We glanced to the porthole, that shadow lurking in the reflection, pressing cold hands against the glass. And we shrugged.
“‘Truth is the sharpest knife.’
“‘I don’t know why I said that.’ She seethed upright, slipping her last cigarelle from her battered case. ‘I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me lately.’
“We tilted our head, watching her pace.
“‘All your life, everyone you trusted either betrayed you, or was taken away. And so you learned to trust no one. To rely on none but yourself. But this is not Lashaame. You are surrounded by those who love you, Dior. So if you cannot do it all, do all that you can, and trust that we who stand with you will do the rest.’
“The Grail slowed her stalking, leaning on the pillar as she drew out her flintbox. ‘We make quite a pair, don’t we?’
“‘How so?’
“‘Just … We both got very good at being alone over the years, I s’pose.’
“‘But we are not alone. Not anymore.’ We smiled, tapping our brow. ‘Not ever.’
“The Grail dragged deep on her cigarelle, sinking to her haunches with her back to the pillar. And breathing a lungful of grey, she spoke. ‘So spit it, bitch.’
“‘I beg your—’
“‘Nine lives. Two left.’
“‘Oh no,’ I scoffed. ‘You are supposed to be earning that tale with your training.’
“‘Well you’re the one refusing to train me, and we have to do something to pass the time. I’m too tight-wound to sleep, and there’s naught else to do in my bed, so…’
“‘So.’
“‘So tell me how you learned about never being alone.’
“We looked again to the porthole, the shadow swelling beyond.
We could feel him bubbling beneath our skin, like a kettle coming to boil, and we wondered what might happen when he finally sang.
But beyond Wulfric, we could feel the others now, clamoring in that silence; Octavia and Dmitri and Alexandra and Anastasia and Viktor and Anna and Aléne.
And beneath them all, the smallest, the quietest, the hardest.
“The first.
“We hung our head.
“Closed our eyes and sighed.
“‘Her name was Victorine.’”