Parsec

A day out from Glister, she was forced to leave the wyvern behind. She’d known it would be too noticeable, but it still rankled at her to land in the last copse of woodland large enough to hide it.

“You have not been unaccustomed to walking, I hope?” Parsec asked, pulling on her disguise.

“We won’t have to for long,” Jackal said. “And Sleech Rock is a bigger stopover. Bet you it’ll have an old boat yard.”

She adjusted the ties of the mask around her spines and curled her tail behind her wings. “How human do I look?” Jackal had bought her a hairpiece and a pointed hat in a cluster of floating village markets they’d long-passed. She hoped they were worth the additional discomfort.

“You look like a very eccentric witch,” he said. “As long as you don’t talk. I don’t know if you realise, but your voice is a bit…pointier than a regular human’s.”

Like water and falling pebbles, Venera said approvingly.

“I take it that playing at a witch of silence is better than appearing to be a necromancer?”

“Of course,” he said, cocking his head and squinting. “But are the bones really necessary?”

Parsec had gathered and sharpened half a dozen stakes of bone over the course of their journey. They made good arrows to ward off night scavengers, and more importantly, she could command them into simple puppets if the need so arose. A string of bird’s skulls slung across her chest was accessory to this benefit; the necromantic constructs didn’t seem to work nearly half as well without heads.

“I will keep them hidden under the cloak,” she said, tying the last bundle around her tail. “I have told you, it is difficult to use ordinary magic at the same time as the necromancy.”

“But you won’t need to use necromancy, right?” he asked. “Not where people can see. You’d get hauled off in front of a Magister if they realise.”

“I am aware. But I did not survive this long by neglecting the tools at my disposal.”

He gave her a strange—almost pitying?—look, but didn’t further argue the point.

They followed the path of a winding river to Sleech Rock, which hung in the air like a fat grey cloud. Long rope ladders trailed from its top, and many market stalls had been set up beneath its bulk and within its shadow. Parsec eyed the flimsy structures with some disquiet.

“I thought you humans relied on farmland to sustain such large populations,” Parsec observed.

“There’s probably some at the top of the rock,” Jackal said. “I think they’re having some kind of festival.”

Humans cried out their wares as they passed through the ruckus of market stalls.

“Fish for sale,” a man hollered. “Fresh fish from upriver, only ten coppers apiece!”

Parsec flicked her spines beneath her cloak at the claim. The fish smelled two days old, at least.

“Nausea potions from Glister,” someone else sang. “Buy two, get one half-price!”

“You there,” called a blue-eyed woman, leaning close as they walked by her stall. “Young man and your witch—you’ll be wanting a trusty blade down in the dungeon. Come, take a look at my work! The sharpest daggers in all of Sleech.” She picked up an apple and cut herself a slice to demonstrate.

“A dungeon?” Jackal asked sharply.

“Aye,” the woman said, popping the bit of apple into her mouth and chewing with relish. “My bad, I took you for Glister folks. A dungeon’s opened up a mile west. I daresay you’d be one of the last people in this place to know.”

Jackal gave her a nod and looked at the gathered stalls with new understanding.

“Will you go to the dungeon?” Parsec whispered, once they were out of earshot.

“I think I’d better.” He frowned. “Not that the quail you’ve scared up aren’t tasty, but…”

Simple flesh won’t suffice.

“I understand,” Parsec said. “Their bodies do not contain enough magic.”

“Let’s take a look up top first,” Jackal said decisively. “We’ve still got to get back to Glister and I don’t want to be walking all that way. Someone ought to have a boat for sale.”

The rope ladders she had seen from afar looked less makeshift up close; indeed, the ropes were so thick they felt as though they could withstand generations of use. Unfortunately, this did not make them much easier to climb. Parsec struggled, too used to bypassing vertical surfaces with her wings. The gloves and boots she wore to hide her inhumanness hindered what natural mobility she possessed. To add insult to injury, Jackal swarmed nimbly past her, carrying his pack and all.

Shaking off her faintly bruised pride, she followed him up onto the rock and through a quaint maze of buildings, squashed as close as any city. The air tingled with hints of the old magic keeping this miracle aloft. Using deft words and friendly gestures, Jackal acquired directions to a shack perched near the edge of the island. It had a large, grassy yard fenced with wire, and within that yard slumped a great many little skyships.

A stout man strode out to greet them, puffing industriously at a pipe. “Good day, your witchness, and to you too, sir. What brings you here?”

“I heard you were the person to see when it comes to boats,” Jackal said.

“You’re in the right place.” He beckoned them past the gate and waved a hand at the yard. “Take a look and see what catches your fancy. The two-seater skimmers are up that way, past the shed. I’ll be mucking out the henhouse, but give a shout if you’d like a word, eh?”

They walked among bewildering groups of ships, some battle-battered and others gleaming like new. Jackal inspected each one they passed, running his hands across the planks.

“How about this one?” Parsec asked, stopping in front of a finer looking specimen. It was painted with red stripes and pointed like a scout’s wing, giving a suggestion of swift flight.

Jackal barely gave it a glance before shaking his head. “That’ll be too expensive.” He sighed grimly. “If we’re unlucky, we might have to come back after I take a long dip in the dungeon.”

They continued through the yard. After a few minutes of her questioning, Jackal pointed out various features to look out for so Parsec could do more than peer over his shoulder. She headed off in the opposite direction, noting the wear and tear across several of the ships and trying to picture how well they might last them to Glister and for Jackal, possibly beyond. A strange shiver of unease gripped her when she contemplated the thought of him sailing into the wind, alone. When all of this was over…

Consider how, this being over…?

“I don’t know how,” Parsec said quietly. “At least, Jackal has a certainty waiting for him at the end.”

Venera hummed in response. And you Parallax, back to the predecessor’s Hive?

“If I could prove my innocence,” She said cautiously, hardly wishing to give name to that hope.

Her thoughts turned as she approached the edge of the shipyard, replaying those last hours inside the Hive for the hundredth time. Eltanin had planned his vile actions. But he had unseated her so easily because of her origin. She had belonged, until…hadn’t she?

“Venera,” she started. “Was I a Hiver, truly?”

Too small to track you only, Parallax. But yes, I say. Many outsiders became…the patterns do not distinguish…million-lined-throughways, your bower and your ripples blend…

“Ah,” Parsec said as the images splintered into unrelenting complexity, “that’s enough.”

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Apologies. Still too far from the flesh ways. I—predecessor—Venera—I do not wish to hurt you, Parallax.

Parsec swished her tail soothingly. “No, no. It is not your fault. You are what you are now.”

A hesitation. And if what I am, harms you?

“This was my choice. You do not.”

Parallax. In the time we have flown I have been looking…I see shape of consequence beyond pain, if kept for the span of years. You must let me disperse one day, else the limit of your own life begins to shrink.

“If that is what you want,” Parsec said, feeling her spines twitch of their own accord. “But we’ll speak of that when we need to.”

Should we not prepare now?

“Please,” Parsec said, alarmed. “Think about it for a while longer.”

By the time they’d circled back, Parsec found Jackal crouched before a flaking green prow.

“I’ll ask about this one,” he said, rapping the hull with his knuckles. Chips of paint fluttered off at the contact, exposing bare wood. “The flight crystal’s sound, and I’ve got some scraps in my pack to patch that sail with…”

It was a small, sparse craft that had obviously seen better days. It boasted no cover in event of the weather turning, nor any compartments to store supplies. Parsec regretted that she could not build them a finer boat out of wyvern bones as Jackal walked off to haggle with the ship-seller.

He came back carrying a bundle of papers in one hand and a container which sloshed with an unfamiliar-smelling liquid in the other. He gestured for her to move aside so he could climb aboard. “We can launch right off the side,” he said. “Hop on, won’t you?”

She did, with some difficulty, and clung to the railing as he poured the liquid into a hidden chute near the rear and fiddled with the sails. She noted several ragged holes once they were unfurled, but he assured her it would be inconsequential for the short trip down. Privately, she readied her wings just in case. Jackal seemed to have great trust in this human creation, but it would not do for them to plummet sixty feet off the side of the island.

The ship gave a brief, resonant hum as it lifted off the ground. Jackal steered them over the tops of the other boats and, reaching the edge, hurtled them over the side of the island. The wind cut upward like a claw. Parsec cried out despite herself, wings rising under her cloak.

“It’s alright,” Jackal yelled over the wind. The only thing stopping her from scooping him up and flying them off the boat was his grin and easy posture. He finished doing something to the levers which canted the skimmer to the side, righting their steep dive. Parsec’s wings settled back down. “Phew, this one’s touchier than kingdom craft. Got a good turn to her, though.” He patted the wheel with strange affection and flicked a few more levers, gliding them away from the island. “Let’s drop by the dungeon—I’ve emptied my pockets for this thing and I need some fresh meat, anyway.”

“I will accompany you,” she declared. “From what you have told me, such places are perilous for humans.”

“They’re dangerous for you too,” he said, sounding irked.

Parsec hesitated, sensing she’d caused offense. “Yes, that is true. I only meant…it will be less dangerous for the both of us if we work together, as scouts do.”

The tension in his shoulders eased as he flew them toward a cluster of tents in the distance. “Okay. There’s the base camp. Looks pretty new.”

Outflow, Venera murmured.

Jackal set them down in an area that had been cleared for other ships and spoke to a pair of guards at the perimeter. Tokens exchanged hands, and Parsec frowned.

“Why did you pay them?”

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on the boat,” he said.

“I could have asked Venera to linger…”

Little good when you are so far beneath, Venera said, and Parsec had to concede she had a point.

“…Ah,” she said. “No, you are correct. Those humans would better deter other humans. We will simply have to acquire a little more from the dungeon to replenish what you have spent.”

“Could you keep your voice down?” Jackal asked. “Or at least, try not to say the word ‘humans’.”

Parsec clicked her teeth together and nodded vigorously.

Jackal looked a little bemused, but he led the way without further comment. The camp was full of more people trying to sell things, and other, often armour-clad, people buying them. Many of the ones she guessed to be dungeonrunners were seated on crates around makeshift tables, eating ravenously and speaking among themselves. It was a motley mix; she was surprised to see some that were short of stature, wider-eyed and rounder of face, barely out of fledgling-hood by human standards.

The dungeon itself was a tunnel some hundred feet away from the main camp. Were it not for the steady trickle of dungeonrunners emerging from its mouth with strange objects in their arms, she would have thought it nothing more than an old hole crumbled out of a hillside. As they walked closer, however, she smelled a tinge of magic in the air. Jackal rubbed at his nose and sneezed as they approached.

“You can smell it too?” she whispered, first glancing around to check no one was within hearing range.

“Yeah, it’s always like this when they’re new—” He broke off and stared at a pair of figures striding from the dungeon mouth. “Is that—Kalyan? Reshmi?” he called, jogging ahead.

Parsec followed curiously. The two humans were covered in scratched-up leather armour, and had short swords belted to their hips. They carried a rusted metal chest between them. At Jackal’s exclamation, they set down the chest and made noises of surprise.

“Jackal!” the one on the right said. She cocked her head in apparent amazement. “It’s been so long! We had no idea where you’d disappeared to!”

“You’ve been travelling, I see,” the other human said. “Did you pass through Bitter Valley a few months back? Cyrilla said she thought she saw you, the last time we talked, but she couldn’t be sure.”

Jackal shook his head. “No, that must’ve been someone else. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know how it goes. Ups and downs.” The human shrugged ruefully and kicked lightly at the chest. “We’re hoping this’s got something good inside, though we’ve got to crack the lock first. Reshmi insisted we grab it, though it feels like twenty pounds of scrap iron to me.”

Reshmi swatted at his arm. “It was your idea to go down the webbed tunnel, so we might as well get something out of that rotten fight.” She paused, looking at Parsec who had drawn alongside. “Uh, who’s this?”

“Travelling companion,” Jackal said brightly. “Pavao’s a nice lady, though one of few words.”

Parsec inclined her head at the both of them, attempting a smile. She couldn’t be sure how it translated onto the illusion-mask, but neither of the humans recoiled, so she guessed it was successful enough.

“Glad you haven’t been traipsing around the wilderness all alone,” Kalyan said. “Were you just heading down? We’ve got a pot of stew back at the tent if you aren’t in a hurry.”

And so they found themselves sitting around a cheerfully crackling fire, though Parsec had to hold up a hand in what she hoped was polite refusal when Kalyan began ladling out generous bowlfuls of food; she didn’t think the mask would accommodate eating.

After the meal, they set at the chest with a variety of spells and hammers. Each attempt did little to damage it, and the lid remained firmly closed even as Reshmi poked cunningly-shaped pieces of wire into the lock and twisted them around. In fact, the wires got stuck and broke off when Kalyan tried yanking them back out. The humans mumbled a chorus of groans. Parsec, who had been watching the proceedings with growing interest, drew Jackal aside.

“Venera says I could try blasting it open,” she whispered.

His face cycled through many expressions, before he nodded and returned to pose the suggestion to the two dungeonrunners. Reshmi jumped eagerly to her feet, but Kalyan interjected.

“Suppose we try this somewhere away from the camp?”

Parsec watched as the humans hauled the chest into the woods until they found a nice, clean rock-face to place it in front of. They all scrambled out of her way, casting expectant looks over her, and she wondered how much of that expectation had to do with her witch’s hat.

We shall give them a star-falling-show, Venera said.

Parsec raised her arm and poured magic into her hand, until it felt as though she were holding a hundred tamed bees. Molten violet light gathered in a pulsing sphere around her fingertips, its surface fizzling like a mineral spring. She imbued the spell-light with thought, nudged along with Venera’s input. Here, to cleave through rust. And here, to limit the force along the outer shell. When she was finished refining the power, she raised her other arm in warning and flung it.

It hit the chest with a great, metallic crump. Little fragments burst from the point of impact, flinging themselves away and burying themselves into the dirt. The spell-light dissipated quickly, and Parsec gestured it was safe to approach the cracked-open chest.

Kalyan and Reshmi darted forward. She felt cool air against her hand and looked down to see the glove had all but disintegrated as she’d cast the spell. Fortunately, the two dungeonrunners were busy exclaiming over the contents of the chest—an abundance of silver coins, as far as Parsec could see. She tapped Jackal on the shoulder before he could join them.

“I have a small problem,” she whispered, showing him the remains of the glove.

“Oh, crap,” he whispered back. “It’s fine, you can borrow one of mine.”

She tucked her hand within her cloak while Jackal fetched a spare glove from his pack. Mismatched gloves and boots it was now, she thought, faintly amused. Perhaps it even looked like a deliberate choice.

“Please,” Kalyan was saying to Jackal. “Let us pay you a share. Good old Greygrass would’ve taken half this to help get it open.”

“I won’t refuse,” Jackal said. “But thank Pavao, not me.”

And then she was being showered with praise by the two humans. Reshmi even tried to embrace her, though she backed away hastily. Not that she wished to slight human customs, but she suspected her body, with all of its spines, would not feel similar to a human’s even under the weight of her cloak. Not to mention, the problem of all of those bones she’d strapped to herself…

“Sorry,” Reshmi said, looking flustered. “I didn’t think—didn’t mean to offend, erm—”

Parsec patted her shoulder in what she hoped was a conciliatory gesture.

“Right, right,” said Reshmi. “…Handshake okay?”

Her woollen glove was thick enough to disguise any differences, Parsec concluded, and took the proffered hand. Kalyan stepped forward to shake her hand, too. It was altogether an odd, but not unpleasant, experience.

After they stamped their way back to the campsite, Reshmi bought a crate of ale with a handful of the silver. Parsec discreetly handed her bottle to Jackal when the others weren’t looking. They spoke of events Parsec had not been present for, and eventually the chatter dissolved into tipsy laughter and snatches of off-key song.

Watching them, it occurred to her that Jackal would be happier here than dragged along on her desperate revenge-quest. A sour emptiness filled her chest at the thought.

He would be happier, said Venera, until the aponeurosis coaxes him to bite into his fellow humans.

“We’d make a great team,” Reshmi said, grinning. “Are you and Pavao staying for long? Cause if you aren’t travelling anywhere in particular, you’re welcome to join up with us.”

Jackal hesitated. “That’s nice of you to offer. We’ll stay awhile, but we need to be moving along soon.”

“Ah, yes.” Kalyan nodded in vague understanding. “We’re staying here until the dungeon dries up, but if you ever find yourselves in the same camp—drop by anytime, alright?” He raised his bottle in a toast.

They all gave a cheer and continued talking well into the night. If their voices were a little more melancholy than before, no one paid it much mind.