Chapter 30
Spitethorn (perennial), being those flowers which first arose among the Spires. Preternaturally hardy, of sweet flavour. Rumoured to be drawn to sorrow and blood.
None of the legends of Thell had mentioned tea, or a copper kettle, leaves dancing in the pot. Legends left that kind of stuff out. You never heard about the choice of tapestries in the princess’ tower, or the care taken in cutting the rushes that covered the floor.
Quickfish was enjoying the real Thell as it shucked off the husk of stories, as its people thawed a little, and the strangeness of every new sight shifted from terror to wonder.
The more he saw, the more he realised how little he had seen, how sheltered his parents had kept him in Hesper and how much those high walls had hidden.
And here he was with Roof, hundreds of miles away, seeing things no Hesper lad had ever seen before.
He squeezes Roofkeeper’s hand at the thought, and the taller man turns to him, eyebrows raised.
‘What?’ he says, a smile on his lips, for once.
‘Nothing. Just you. This. Here.’
A step or two ahead, Icecaller stops. She’s kept up a fierce pace, an urgency in her step that Quickfish doesn’t quite understand.
The look she shoots back at him is the same as the other glances she’s been stealing as they marched deeper into the Stump.
Half pity, half curiosity, like she’s looking at a dog who can dance.
Her little sister perches on her shoulders like a rosy cheeked gargoyle, dismantling small, sticky fruit, and watching him with dark, flashing eyes.
Ahead, the passageway curves to an antechamber where coats and hats hang above stitched boots and a few scattered toys.
‘Wipe your feet,’ Ice mutters, and pushes aside a curtain at the far end of the chamber. Clacking bronze and beads announce their arrival. Beyond, Icecaller carries Nigh into a small room, and Quickfish watches as her entire body changes into something softer.
She sets the little girl down on a rug strewn with cushions and crosses to the woman by the kettle, snakes her arms around her waist, and plants a soft kiss on her shoulder.
‘Right on time, love.’
Her voice is dark, steady, like rain on wood.
She is a little shorter than Icecaller, but broader at the shoulders, her hair a soft brown, her eyes shadowed and her fingers flecked red and black with ink.
Her belt hung with needle, scalpel and gauze.
The marks of Thell’s trade in tattoos. Skin magic.
Blood magic. The sort of stuff that might save his mum.
The woman catches him staring and smiles, crooked teeth flashing.
‘Oh, we have company.’
Ice settles another kiss on her cheek and slides into a chair.
‘We certainly do. Steel, this is Quickfish and Roofkeeper. They’re Hesper boys. Hesper boys, this is the best girl in Thell, Steelfinder.’
Steelfinder sketches a little bow. ‘Welcome, welcome. Nice to have some new blood. Grab a seat, there’ll be tea, there might be something to go with it if I’m left in peace long enough.’
She shoots a glance at Ice, who shrugs innocently. ‘I’m just here as a chaperone for these two.’
‘Mmhm. Honey as usual?’ Steel waves the ladle.
‘Yes, love.’
‘What about you lads? It’s nothing fancy, petals and spices. A little bit of heat and sugar to keep the cold off.’
Quickfish has settled in a chair that looks big enough for two, but isn’t. Roofkeeper is balanced awkwardly on the arm.
‘Sounds essential. Thank you.’
The cups are small, sweet things, hammered copper that catches the light and sends little pulses of warmth through his fingers.
Steelfinder hands a cup to Roofkeeper too, then joins Icecaller opposite them.
‘So, what brings you to Thell?’
Icecaller snorts. ‘They are being very fucking coy about that, love. Aren’t you boys?’
Quickfish feels his chest tighten, feels Roof stiffen a little next to him too. It all seems friendly enough here, and there was no tea in the legends. But the legends were not kind, and visitors did not walk out of them.
Roof squeezes his hand and leans down. ‘We didn’t come this far …’
Quickfish nods, but there’s a catch on his tongue, a little latch of fear. His palm itches, and he rubs the cup against it absently.
Ice leans forwards, Steelfinder’s hand on her back.
‘Look, you can tell us. In fact, I think you want to tell us. I know it’s a big old scary place and my da’s a shit-your-britches story for you Hesper kids, but I’ve known him since before he had grey in his beard and he’s softer than you think.’
Quickfish frowns and sips. ‘It’s good.’
Ice smiles. A genuine smile. Not pretty, a bit weird on her stark face, but the first real flash of joy he’s seen from her.
‘Course it’s good. It’ll put a bit of fire in you.’
She toasts him. ‘You’ve come too cold, to a cold place, Quickfish, but that doesn’t mean there’s no hope.’
Steelfinder crosses to where Nigh is playing and takes her by the wrist, bringing her back to the group, tucking her between Ice’s legs and her own and stroking her hair softly.
‘You can trust us, Quickfish. I know they all say that, but you’ve come a long way to keep your own counsel. Besides’ – she elbows Ice – ‘you have a line to the top in this one.’
Quickfish drinks again, holding the sweetness on his tongue, and swallows.
‘Why would you help me? You’ve been pretty …’
‘Obnoxious?’ Steel finishes. ‘That’s her style. She thinks it’s charming.’ She nudges Icecaller. ‘We haven’t really cured her of that yet.’
‘I’m unsalvageable,’ Ice says. ‘But I’ll tell you why you can trust me, Quick. I am impatient, I am bored and I am way too ambitious to moulder away in this cold rock for my whole life.’
She sets her cup down and leans further forwards still.
‘If we help you, we’re back in the world whether my da likes it or not.
Which means we get to go out in the world, and we have a chance to do something decent out there.
’ She waves a hand. ‘Look at this! Pretty. Cosy. Dark. Unchanging. We need out if we’re going to survive. Or some of us do, at least.’
Quickfish feels a pang of sympathy as he thinks again of those grey towers and those high Hesper walls.
Icecaller looks almost guilty for a second, then bats the thought away.
‘We bottled ourselves up in here because my da, and the rest of them, waded through blood to get us free. And then we’ve … stayed bottled up in here because the South burnt, and the waves from that splashed us, even here. Where we thought we were safe.’
There’s a shake to her voice. Steelfinder rubs her back a little more softly.
‘And it’s stupid. Because if the world can get us like that, what is the point of rotting in the dark? When we could go out and do something?’
‘What would you do?’ Roofkeeper asks.
Ice rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t know. Because I don’t know what’s out there, because I’ve never bloody been. But I’ve got a good spear arm, and half a brain, and I think I’m not a total cunt, so I’m pretty sure we could do something.’ She sinks her head into her hands and scratches at her scalp.
‘Look, I’m tired, we’re tired of being locked away. There’s a world out there, and it might be fucked or it might not be, but I know in my bones we can see it and still protect our folk here. It doesn’t have to be either or. No matter what my da says.’
Quickfish laughs, and that little latch eases. ‘Well, you are looking at the crown prince of ignoring your dad.’
Ice blinks. ‘Did you say clown prince?’ She snorts. ‘Well, aye, welcome to the club. My da’s a good man, but he fought for most of his life. He can’t think of a peaceful world, or a road to it.’
She sips, swirling the tea around her mouth.
‘He struggles to see it, they all do. They fought too hard and too long to risk what they’ve made, but Steel and I, we want more. Lot of folks here do.’
She glances down. ‘And Nigh, she deserves better. Wider, wilder. This mountain isn’t big enough for her.’
She kisses the top of her head. ‘Is it, you little snot?’
Steelfinder gestures at the small girl. ‘Look at her, she’s got a world to conquer.’
Nigh burps and smiles at Quickfish, who holds his arms out reflexively. She walks across, climbs into his lap, and drums inquisitively on his collarbone.
‘She’s talking to you,’ Steel says. ‘That’s how she talks. Learnt it from the Singers after she couldn’t do anything else.’
Quickfish smiles. The little girl is surprisingly heavy, but she leans back against his stomach contentedly. ‘What’s she asking?’
Ice grimaces. ‘Well, she was asking if you were a friend, but as usual, she’s made her own mind up, without waiting for anyone else’s opinion.’
She sets the tea down, fixing him again with that more familiar, harder look.
‘So are we friends Quickfish? Are you going to tell me what you want? Have I bared enough of my soul to you, or do you need another bloody little piece?’
For a moment he returns her hard look in kind, but what’s the point? He’s come too far, and he’s too desperate. His mum’s still shrivelling in a starched seaward bed, and his pride isn’t going to save her.
‘I’m hoping there’s someone here that can help my mum. Someone that understand blood and body. She’s been lost since the South. Since Crowkisser came for her.’
‘Lost?’ Steelfinder says, skewering the evasion.
‘Coma.’ Quick says, and even saying it feels like lifting the stone on something that shouldn’t see light.
‘Shit,’ they both say. ‘I’m sorry,’ Ice adds, and there’s no hardness in it.
She sits for a second, thoughts running across her face like foxes over a field.
‘Might be we can help you. Our resident warlock does things with bodies that I’ve never seen done, and Steel’s no slouch herself.’
Steelfinder nods modestly.
‘We could come with you even, if we get my da to agree.’
Icecaller pauses, exhales. ‘I should go talk to him. Before you bring this before everybody. If it goes to Council first, and someone sticks their oar in …’ She puffs out her cheeks. ‘Then you’re fucked. Or we’re at this for months, which is worse than being fucked.’
Quickfish’s head swims. ‘Resident warlock?’
Ice nods. ‘Skinpainter. Old as my da, I think. Doesn’t look it.
Was there back in the day when your mum came to fight for us, and brought half the western coast with her.
I think it’s safe to say that they’re a safe bet.
’ She drums her fingers on Steelfinder’s thigh.
Realisation creeping across her face. ‘Shit. If I can get my daddy dearest to agree, we could actually take a crack at helping you, at helping her. Tits on a snake, we could finally fucking do something.’
She wriggles her leg free of Nigh, and stands. ‘You trust me with this, Fish? You’re a wet nit, right enough, but I can do this for you. For us.’
She holds out a hand. ‘Go on, skinny. Take a chance.’
Quickfish shakes her hand. It’s warm, firm, the bones beneath the skin smooth and long. She holds him for a second, her fingertips kissing the pulse of his wrist. Her eyes are bright, shivering.
‘I’m taking a chance’, he says. She grins.
‘Pretty and smart, eh? Maybe not a total disappointment to your big daddy just yet.’
She leans in and plops a kiss on his forehead. Laughs with her lips against his skull.
‘Steel, I’m going now. I’ll catch Da while his farts are still cooking. Look after the maggot and these two.’
She turns at the curtain, and smiles again. That warm, soft smile that’s only escaped twice now. ‘Something new at last, lads. Let me go piss of my dad so we can wake up your mum.’
It’s quieter after she leaves. Steelfinder fusses with Nigh, adding some more honey to the kettle.
Quickfish leans into the crook of Roofkeeper’s arms and breathes.
For the first time in months the weight in his chest shifts.
Something else is stirring there, a little bird of hope fluttering in the dark.
He lets himself rest for a second as he takes in the soft light of the room, the curls behind Nigh’s ears, the clunk of the ladle against the rim of the kettle.
Steelfinder’s fingers move delicately as she crushes herbs and makes small talk.
He drains the last of his cup and listens to the mountain.
There is water running somewhere. He stands, lets his mind and his feet follow the sounds, crossing over soft rugs, to the dark curve of the walls, finding little green hollows where meltwater courses behind the stone, dipping into carefully carved cups, that hold plants, dark earth, pale blossoms.
The ice doesn’t seem to touch them. Steel catches him looking and smiles. ‘You like them?’
He leans in and sniffs, inhaling the lightest sweet scent, rising like morning. ‘Very much.’ Saying it cracks that stone in his heart and tears pool hot behind his eyes.
The young woman moves to stand with him, putting a hand lightly on his shoulders.
‘Spitethorn. Terrible name for a lovely wee thing. Never understood it. No thorns on the damn thing.’ She strokes the thin green shoots.
‘They only really grow around here, over the top of the mountain and in the slopes of the glacier. Amazing. The bulb generates its own heat. Here, see.’
She takes his finger and sticks it in the earth. Distant, faintly, he feels a soft warm glow. She must see his smile, because she laughs. ‘I know, right? Stubborn bugger. Melts its way right through the frost, the cold. It just wants to grow. It’s burning to grow.’
She brushes the earth off his fingers. ‘All it needs is a little space. A little time. Then something beautiful arrives.’
As she moves back to the kettle and the herbs, Quickfish turns to look at the small room, Roofkeeper dozing on the cushions, Nigh playing on the rug.
Perhaps that really is all that’s needed. A little more space. A little more time.
Until something beautiful arrives.