The Snake Bracelet
Carla Venasque had brought water and two bread rolls. She passed them through the bars of Irian’s cage.
‘Say thank you,’ she said.
Irian put her hand inside her jacket, to calm Koo. ‘Thank you.’ She said it loudly, to cover the angry peeping sound coming from her clothes.
Carla barked an order at the stymphalian bird and it crouched at her feet. She sat down on its back, legs elegantly crossed at the ankle.
‘I hate these birds,’ she said to Irian. ‘I find their eyes uncanny.’
‘Then why have anything to do with them? Why not leave all this behind? Why not unlock the door and release me?’
But Carla laughed. ‘For a scholar, you’re very overconfident in your own knowledge. There is so much that you don’t know. It’s too late, Irian Guinne. I am bound, and it is the fault of Fidens Nighthand.’
‘Bound how?’
Carla lifted her wrist and the snake bracelet writhed.
‘By this.’ She took out a nail file and began to shape each of her nails to a sharp point.
‘When Fidens Nighthand abandoned me, I was penniless and heartbroken and alone. I had nothing. Nothing, until I met Astor Morax. We met by chance at the Midwinter Fete, in Heletha Square in the City of Scholars. Half of the ground was transformed into an ice rink; there were dances. I could see him watching me as I danced. I was used to that. He wore a mask: many people did. I did not see his face. Perhaps I would not have done what I did, had I seen his face. But he came to me – striking, tall. Confident and rich. He told me he could give me anything, anything at all, if I would join his company of men and women. He said my beauty was a power he wanted in his arsenal. So I told him what I wanted.’
‘What did you want?’
‘I said I wanted the head of Fidens Nighthand.’
Irian said nothing.
‘I told Astor Morax I could not live like this. I could not live with the knowledge that the man I loved had laughed in my face, and abandoned me on an island of pirates, and still walked free. He had to die, so I could live.’
‘And what did Morax say?’
‘Astor Morax has never been in love. He did not understand my pain. But he knew how to make a bargain. He has made many in his lifetime: too many to count. He told me he could guarantee Nighthand’s death.’
Carla Venasque paused, thinking back to that day. She had asked him very few questions. It stunned her now, to think how few questions she had asked.
‘He told me he would need payment in exchange,’ she said to Irian.
‘I asked what he required, and he said: loyalty. I should have known even then: it is the virtue most prized by thugs. I laughed, at the time. This man, with all his power, asking no more than a promise! But he was not so foolish. He told me promises are nothing without a guarantee. And he held out his palm. On it was a snake, small and slim. He told me I would wear it upon my wrist. An ouroboros. And I would come when he called me.’
Morax had not been alone at the festival. Darius, his captain, had been with him; and Carla’s eyes had gone to him, and he had nodded. He had said, ‘We are united by it. Any man or woman you see with the bracelet, anywhere in Glimouria, you know they’re an ally and a friend.’
So in that moment, without further question, Carla had set the bracelet upon her wrist. Only later did she discover that to try to remove it was to die.
She was never alone: even in silence, there was the threat of what he might hear, for the snake and the man held some connection she did not, even now, understand.
All those who served him wore it. Most had put it on willingly, in full knowledge of what they did, stepping gladly and hungrily into a community of murderers. A few had been blackmailed into it.
‘So now I am his.’ Carla shook herself, a spasm of disgust, and faced Irian.
‘And I have kept my half of the bargain. I have spied for him. I have been bait for him: my beauty has become a trap that he likes to set. I have more freedom than some. I dare speak the truth of him, knowing he can hear me at any moment, because I know he values me. I would be hard to replace. And he has sent out his spies – oh, he has some formidable spies – looking for Fidens Nighthand. And now Morax has found him – and Morax has woven his death into his plan.’
She looked at Irian, who listened in her chains, breathing hard.
‘We are nearly at the moment his plan takes flight,’ said Carla.