Xantaire only got on board with the plan if I let her have three free shots at Orven’s face before we got started – the guy did his best to back away, protect his (frankly already valueless) features with his arms. She landed at least seven just on his nose, and when Bor finally put the Lultons to sleep Orven seemed glad of it. Tanra opened the window, then Em’s flight-spells saw us through the aperture and out into the smoggy city air.
I kept a firm hold of Xantaire’s left hand as she had her first flying experience, while Em held her right. Down below us I spotted a cluster of Bertie Boys in the street – most of them must’ve already fled and another group scarpered once they saw us, but four stayed stoic, gazing up at us as Em brought our sleeping captives out behind us.
When I released Xantaire’s hand and drifted down towards them, another one ran.
“Who’s in charge now?” I asked.
The three looked at each other. Two of them were the ones Wyre had kept close, the ones I knew from before.
“Your names!” I snapped.
“J-Jarle.”
“Lark, sir.”
“Garet…”
“Garet.” I looked the big, hulking man over. He had an honest face, which was more than the other two could boast. “You’re the new boss.”
“I – the new boss?” He looked dumbfounded.
“Don’t worry, you’ll do just fine.”
“B-but, Peltos –“
“If Peltos – or anyone else –“ I glowered at J-Jarle and Lark “– has a problem with it, I’ll have a problem with them, see? If they’re putting so much as an ounce of pressure on you, I’ll put a thousand pounds on them… Look, I’ll come back in a week, talk things over. If you still don’t want the position then, we’ll fix it. For now, get your guys in order, damn it. If you stop killing people, I’ll leave you alone. I don’t want you to think I’m your new big boss here – if you don’t stop the indiscriminate slaughter, I’ll be back, believe me.”
I saw Garet mouthing out the word ‘in-dis-crim-in-ate’ and sighed.
When I moved my eyes across the other two, I noticed Jarle in particular was still eyeing me with terror.
“What’s your problem, exactly?” I asked, feeling tired already, considering it wasn’t even noon yet.
“It’s, er, yer – yer –“
He gestured at his face.
“Oh – my mask.” I squared my shoulders. “Yeah, there’s so much point in wearing that now, isn’t there? Thanks to you fellas… Better to just own it now.” I glanced around – there were only a few people on the street, but there were dozens of eyes at windows.
I sighed and moved my eyes back to Garet. “Good luck. If these guys don’t back your play or decide to stab you in the back, just remind them I’ll be looking for them.”
Offering a swift prayer to Yune on the oaf’s behalf, I went to catch the others up, using my wings to increase my speed.
The brick-built watchtower was in Cutterwells, only a two hundred yards – a brief hop as the mage flew, though getting there on foot would’ve probably comprised a journey of half a mile or more. Xantaire was relishing the opportunity to fly by the time we arrived, and it wasn’t until she realised she had the chance to watch Wyre and Orven get clapped in irons that she decided to actually land and enter.
The handover was smooth, simple. The few watchmen on duty looked terrified to have received the crime-lord of the Bertie Boys, on Yearsend morning, from four champions no less – and then Spirit did something that explained the situation to them in about five seconds flat, before putting an extended truth-telling charm on the Lultons.
When we got back outside and stood in front of the tower, buffeted by a cold breeze Em didn’t choose to stop, I spent a good few seconds simply staring at Bor and Tanra in stupefaction. My voice was almost tinny to my hearing as I numbly thanked them for what they had done. Bor magnanimously clapped me into a bear-hug, while Tanra curtsied, as though it were nothing.
Like I was fifty feet away, listening to my own voice through a metal pipe, I heard myself say: “Do you fancy stopping at ours? Mine first, I mean.”
“Yes, we’re heading up to mine after…” Em threw me a questioning look.
I nodded. “So long as the twins are still up for it.”
“Bor’s coming round to meet my mum for the first time,” Tanra said, without much by way of enthusiasm, folding her arms across herself to ward off the chill.
“What’s the problem?” the enchanter asked her. “I’ll charm the socks off her.”
“That’s what I’m worried about…”
“What?” I stared at her, perplexed. “You don’t think he’d actually, you know, use his powers on her?”
“If I don’t head him off, he will.” She sighed, and easily evaded the elbow he threw at her ribs. “He’s more worried than I am, even if he isn’t showing it. He’d do almost anything to make a good first impression.”
“Oi!” he snorted. “I’m right here!”
I grinned despite everything. “Well – I wish you both the best of luck.” I looked at Em. “Are you free to come back, for a bit at least?”
“Jaid will want to see you, I’m sure,” Xantaire said absently – she was looking down at her bruised knuckles, rubbing them affectionately with a proud smile on her lips.
“Let’s go check on them,” the wizard said, staring at me curiously.
“What is it, the mask?” I waved at my head.
But the curious look resolved into a smile. “No, Kas. I like it. But won’t they think you’re… you know… trying to ‘claim credit’?”
I cast about, and Xantaire nodded in agreement.
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“Your girlfriend’s got a point,” she said.
“Hmm.” I hadn’t thought about it that way – perhaps people would think it was big-headed, showing off, a self-congratulatory revelation… “Fine.” I grabbed my mask from my pocket and settled it across my upper face once more. “For all the good it’s going to do me.”
Em renewed everyone’s flight-spells, and we all took off, Tanra and Bor heading southwards.
“Happy Yearsend,” the seeress called back as they vanished out of sight.
We headed for Mud Lane, her words ringing in my ears.
I know, Tanra, I thought. I know.
* * *
My gremlin wasn’t the best flier, but with Em’s direct assistance he managed to keep up as we flew, cloaked in invisibility, to Rivertown, hauling a sack of presents behind us as we went. The Reyds had never met my family before – never mind my extended family – and, while they knew in advance how many to cook for, the main room was awfully full of bodies while we ate the Endfeast. Atar had prepared the traditional five-bird roast twice over, and at least three of the birds were stuffed with unusual, Onsoloric spices. No one except Linn seemed to enjoy the potent pheasant, which he washed down with copious amounts of ale; I did my best with it to save face, but I filled up on the grouse. Thankfully, Xastur, Jaid and Jaroan all found something they could stomach – they almost polished off both partridges between the three of them, along with a platter of gravy-soaked veg. Orstrum seemed to delight in trying a bit of everything, though he still had the tears in his eyes that’d been there since he returned from the graveyard to hear what had happened. Xantaire didn’t eat much, looking down at the fist with which she’d pummelled her brother’s killer. Occasionally her granddad would reach out and pat her on the shoulder, and she would offer him a wan smile.
It was finally catching up to us. The events of this morning would’ve felt like a distant dream, especially now that my belly was fit to burst and I’d had a couple of beers – the lethargy of the exertion and the excitement washed over me, and I was ready to fall asleep. But Jaid stayed right next to me, often holding onto my arm between mouthfuls as though she were afraid if she let it go for too long she’d be taken away again. Jaroan had taken it all on the chin, merely looking at me sternly whenever I dared even suggest that he’d been through a rough ordeal. Being taken by those ruffians, held by knife-men until Killstop appeared to free them and return them home…
Whenever I thought of it, my head seethed, and I came back around – each and every time Jaid wormed her hand between my arm and my side, wrapping her elbow around mine, I felt the fury inside that had almost decapitated the murderers where they stood.
At least there was one silver lining – they weren’t going to become archmages. If there’d ever been a time for a pair of twins to suddenly inherit earth-shaking powers, it would’ve been then.
All in all, it was a good job I had Jaid keeping me awake, because next came the gift-giving. A couple of my more-intimate presents for Em I would save for later, but we opened the sack she’d carried through the skies for us which contained the vast majority of what I’d bought. The kids distributed the adults’ gifts first before they got theirs from the Reyds, which should’ve normally meant they’d be moving frantically to get it over and done with, get their pressies – but only Xastur, blissfully unaware of today’s events, seemed to get into it. In any case, the presents from these near-strangers weren’t going to outstrip the things I’d bought them; they did their best to seem grateful for the wooden toys, which was all I could ask for considering the circumstances. They did better than Linn, anyway – Atar managed to beam brightly when I produced the customisable sheath I’d bought her, a clever bit of kit that would let her transform the appearance of her z-shaped flute-instrument; she went and tried it out right away – but Em’s dad merely gave me a sceptical ‘hmm’ while digging through the master-craft woodworking set I got for him.
“Give him time,” Atar silently mouthed at me across the room, with a conciliatory wave of her hand.
I smiled back. It was difficult, smiling, sometimes. More difficult than smashing gangs of thugs, more difficult than taking on darkmages.
Em forced me to dig my robe out of my satchel before giving me my primary gift, and once I had it on she produced a truly magnificent item: a gem-studded belt of silver-blue dragonscale leather, far more elegant and ‘magician-y’ than the nice-enough black leather cords I’d used till now. I quickly untied my current belt, freed my pouches, then tried it on for size.
It was perfect – despite its apparent weight and sturdiness the dragonscale was as light as air. I kissed my girlfriend for the first time right in front of her paza, then let her go back to her mazan, where they’d been poring over one of the recipes in the Too Hot To Handle cookbook I’d gotten her. I was beginning to regret that one purchase, given the devious looks Em’s mum started to throw in my direction. She was every bit as bad as her daughter.
A while later, once Jaid and Jaroan finally fell asleep together on the couch, I found Orstrum outside – somehow he’d managed to lower himself onto the frozen back doorstep, using a scrap wooden pallet from one of Linn’s bins as makeshift cushion. As I stepped out to join him I noticed he was chewing something, and I caught the aroma instantly.
I studied him for a moment. The shaven head was covered in bristles. The trimmed white beard was festooned with long whiskers.
How long had it been since I’d looked at him? Really looked at him?
“I didn’t know you ate wane,” I chided him lightly, folding my arms across my chest like I could parent this man who was sixty years or so my senior. I was still wearing my new belt – at least when I crossed my arms wearing the robe I didn’t look like some petulant, scrawny ghoul; it definitely had space in it for me to pack on some muscle.
“Oh-ho, my boy,” he chortled, “after a day like today, a man must be forgiven for his indulgences. You fly your way – I have my own.”
I held out my hand, and he only raised an eyebrow for a few seconds before grabbing a pouch from inside his coat-jacket and placing a leaf in my fingers.
The taste was acrid, bitter and, in my current mood, relatively enjoyable. The effect of the substance diverged wildly from beer, serving to settle me down rather than rile me up, slowing and elongating the thoughts churning in my head. After a few minutes I found myself sitting beside him on the pallet, staring up at the darkened sky, reminiscing about his dead grandson.
“That night, when your little chap made those wine creations,” he said wistfully. “I think that was the happiest I ever saw him, Kas.”
That ‘little chap’ is dead too, I thought – but he didn’t need reminding. The twins had long since found out and went through their own mourning process, their grief dampened by my reassurances Flood Boy wouldn’t be gone for that long… Not that I’d know where to find him in Etherium if and when he did come back… not that I knew who he really was, either…
“I should’ve never given Morsus that money.” I still smiled, though, remembering his gratitude. “He was a good man. You should be proud, that you helped raise him.”
Orstrum sniffed. “He was a weak man, Kas. He lived for the moment. I… I failed him, not you. I should have been harsher. Harder. I should have stopped him being that kind of person, filled with his greed, his lust for things… Things, they just bring complication, my boy. The less things you got, the less there is to worry about.”
“There’s wisdom in that.” I shut my eyes, leaned back against the cold door, and breathed deep of the chill twilight air. “But he wasn’t weak. He was strong. It was just… a different kind of strength.”
The other door swung in, and Em poked her head out. I could tell from the narrowing of her eyes that she could smell the wane on my breath, and I felt my face flush.
Damn aeromancy…
“Mazan is going to play,” she said curtly, then turned away and headed back inside, leaving the door open behind her.
“Come on, we’ve been summoned.”
I got to my feet and helped the old man stand, but instead of moving off with me he stood his ground – I faltered, and he put his hands on my shoulders, looking in my face.
“I call you my boy and I mean it, you are family to me – everything you’ve done… But I know you’re a boy no more. You understand me, right? I’m not trying to put you down. You are a good man, Kas. A strong man.”
I felt a wellspring of positive emotion, undiluted, indelineable, that seemed to come up through my being from out of nowhere, and I didn’t know what to do with it until he hugged me. It was just a swift bear-hug, manly-enough for his sensibilities, but I had no idea whether or not he knew what it had done for me.
That’s the magical flora talking, Kas, my cynical side said in a chuckling tone.
I followed the old man in through the door, and somehow it had worked. Today – Yearsend… The Bertie Boys – the precipice of slaughter on whose lip I’d faltered, almost falling… The distress, the damage, Xantaire’s injuries, everything the twins went through –
I was happy. Somehow, in spite of everything, I was happy.
* * *