Chapter Four

If she ever got home, Anastasia promised herself again and again, she really was going to give the castle servants a raise.

It wasn’t easy to keep track of time, as she washed and scrubbed and cleaned everything from the floors to the wizard’s vast collection of glass jars, vials and magical paraphernalia, but she thought she’d been held captive for a week. It felt like a year. She awoke early in the morning, ate a breakfast porridge that was easily the blandest thing she’d ever tasted, then spent the rest of the day doing her duties, before eating more of the bland portage and going to bed. It was hard to tell if she was having any effect on the dirt and grime, no matter how hard she worked. The stench of death and decay seemed ever-present. No matter what she did, it surrounded her and crawled into her nostrils. It was too much to handle, at times, and she found herself crying at night. If Master Avitus noticed, he said nothing. He didn’t seem to care very much about anything, but his magic. She wasn’t sure what sort of magic he did, yet she knew it was dark and dangerous and probably illegal. He would be somewhere a great deal more pleasant if his magic was legal.

She spent some time testing the limits of the leash binding her, only to discover he’d been telling the truth. There was just no way to leave the building without his permission, unless she wanted to be trapped helplessly until he arrived to free her. He didn’t seem to care about leaving her alone in the house, when he went out every day, which made her wonder if he’d cast a few other spells on her without her knowledge. It was impossible to be sure. The only room he’d barred her from entering was his lab, but she dared not assume he wasn’t keeping an eye on her. It was what she would do, in his place. She knew how dangerous a treacherous servant could be.

“You will join me in my lab after breakfast,” Master Avitus told her, one morning. “We have work to do.”

Anastasia nodded, reminding herself to pretend to be meek and mild. She intended to get out, whatever the cost, but that meant doing something to the man who insisted he was her owner … so far, she hadn’t come up with anything she thought would work. He would have magical protections, of course, and the only thing he ate was that accursed porridge, which he cooked himself. She suspected he was a better cook than herself, which wouldn’t be that surprising. It also kept him safe from poison. She couldn’t slip something nasty into his food if he didn’t trust her to make it.

Her mind churned as she ate her own breakfast, mentally cringing at the fits she’d thrown as a young child when her favourites hadn’t been on the menu. She had never realised how lucky she was to have her choice of food, from out-of-season strawberries to cakes and pastries and a hundred other treats fit for a princess. If she could go back in time and slap her past self … she chewed the porridge sourly, wishing she had something sweet to liven it up. But Avitus didn’t seem to care. Given how translucent his skin was, she couldn’t help wondering if he even had taste buds. He certainly didn’t have a working nose!

She stood and cleaned the dishes, then walked into the lab and closed the door behind her. The air stank, as always, but now there was a sharper – even less pleasant – stench in the air. Avitus stood behind a table, staring down at a body. Anastasia felt her stomach churn as she stepped up to the table, trying not to show her disgust. She’d never seen a dead body until she’d been kidnapped and replaced, now she’d seen too many of them. Whatever magic Avitus practiced, it was very dark indeed.

Avitus passed her a knife. “Cut away the clothes and strip the body.”

Anastasia hesitated, fighting the urge to lift the blade and stab it into his throat. She wanted to … but she didn’t dare. He was too far from her, far enough to give him plenty of time to stop her in her tracks … if, of course, a blade could actually kill him. She was no healer, but Avitus looked too thin to be alive. The body on the table between them looked the picture of health compared to him. If there hadn’t been a nasty wound in his chest, staining his garment with blood, she would have wondered if he was still alive.

She quelled her distaste with an effort – she’d discovered layers of endurance she hadn’t known she had over the last week – and started to saw at the man’s clothing. It was rough and ready, patched up so heavily it was hard to tell if any of the original garment survived. She felt something heavy lurking within the coat as she cut it free, something that felt like a money pouch. She pocketed it on instinct as Avitus turned away, exposing his back to her. She knew he was testing her … she hoped he hadn’t checked to see if the corpse was carrying any money. Or that he hadn’t put it there to test her …

Her stomach turned as she finished stripping the corpse, her skin crawling as if she were doing something unspeakably vile. She’d never seen a naked man before and … her gorge rose, helplessly, as her gaze fell to the thing between his legs. She forced herself to look away, schooling her face into a blank mask as Avitus turned back to her. His eyes flickered over the body, then he nodded curtly. If he cared about her reaction, he didn’t show it.

“Watch closely,” he said, as he produced a set of small knives from the drawer under the table. “The human body is a device.”

Anastasia tried not to be sick – again – as Avitus cut the body open in a dozen places, lecturing her on how the brain sent signals through the nerves to make the body do as it wished. He spoke with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, as if he was genuinely enjoying the chance to explain his magic to a captive audience. The blood pooled below the table, washing against her boots. She tried her best to ignore it as he removed a handful of organs, his lecture continuing with a quiet intensity that horrified her.

“There are those who say Death Magic is the most dangerous of all the arts,” Avitus said, finally putting a name to his magic. “But exploring the mysteries of the dead brings many rewards, to those brave enough to try.”

He looked up at her. “You are disgusted, are you not?”

Anastasia wanted to lie, but she couldn’t. “Yes.”

“Many are, at first,” Avitus said. “They lack the heart and the stomach to master death. They see using a human body for magic as sacrilege. They refuse to acknowledge that once a soul has departed and gone onwards, the body is naught but an empty shell.”

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His lips twisted into a wide smile. “And how many of those self-righteous assholes come here to beg for my services, even though they would never welcome me into their home?”

“I don’t know,” Anastasia said.

Avitus’s sallow yellow eyes met hers. “The louder they protest the use of such magics, the more they use them for themselves.”

He picked up the body, showing a surprising degree of strength, and waited for the last of the blood to drain before placing it in a giant glass bathtub. “Blood has many uses, some technically not on the banned list,” he said, absently. “But in this it is worse than useless.”

Anastasia swallowed, hard. “What are you doing to do?”

“We call these the death fluids,” Avitus said. He picked up a large device and fixed a needle to the tip, before pressing it into the corpse’s skin and pushing down on the end. “The blood within is replaced by my potions, then the entire corpse is bathed in others …”

He broke off as the corpse shuddered and jerked, arms twitching as if there was some life left in the dead body. Anastasia couldn’t help herself. She screamed.

Avitus giggled. “You’ll see far worse, as you go along,” he said. “This art is not for the faint-hearted.”

The body jerked again. Avitus reached for a large jar and poured the contents, a sickly yellow liquid, over the corpse. The air filled with magic, the sense of something utterly disgusting hanging in the air, waiting to be born. Anastasia found herself taking a step forward, her stomach twisting as the liquid slowly sank into the dead body. It was alive now … no, not alive. Just animate. She saw the dead eyes rotate in the skull, as if the corpse no longer needed to see. Or if it had forgotten how …

Avitus made a gesture with one hand. The corpse hovered into the air and levitated over to the table. Avitus picked up a needle and thread and started to seal up the wounds in the flesh, as if the body was nothing more than a piece of cloth. Anastasia had been taught how to work the needle, how to sew with her own two hands, and yet … she couldn’t bring herself to watch as Avitus completed his grizzly task. It was just … wrong.

“You’ll prepare the next one,” Avitus said. “Follow my orders carefully.”

She shuddered as he indicated another body. Smaller this time, a child missing a head. She was repelled, unwilling to even look at the corpse, but … she knew she had to play nice, to pretend to be his obedient servant until she figured out a way to escape. Her hands shook as she drained the body of blood, Avitus teaching her an spell to keep the blood from clotting, then carved out the internal organs. It felt as if she were crossing a very dangerous line. The magic flickering around her, as she injected the liquids and then sewed up the body, felt horrifically wrong.

“If you ever reveal to anyone what you did here,” Avitus said, “they’ll use you. Or they’ll burn you.”

Anastasia felt despair threatening to overcome her as she watched him prepare the third and final corpse. The young woman had been pretty once, but she’d been carved up by a sadist and left for dead. Avitus gave her the same treatment as the other two, then snapped his fingers. The three reanimated corpses staggered to their feet, moving like drunkards who had forgotten how to walk properly. Their eyes rolled helplessly in their sockets, their arms dangling by their sides as if they were on the verge of falling off. Anastasia turned away, despite her instincts insisting it was a very bad idea to turn her back. She couldn’t bear to look at them.

“You may accompany me,” Avitus said. “This way.”

He led Anastasia to the door, the three animated corpses staggering after them. Anastasia had wanted to leave, had wanted to run, but now … part of her wanted to stay behind as Avitus led his monsters onto the street. She pushed the urge aside as the clean air slapped her face, a relief after spending so long trapped in the death wizard’s nightmarish home. The surrounding city was a maze of wooden homes and gangplanks, ladders and masts and rope bridges moving faintly … it struck her, suddenly, that she was on a city made up of ships, lashed together so tightly they could never be freed. The wooden walls looked dark and decayed: here and there, she spotted shafts that led down to the dark waters, surrounded by a handful of youngsters trying to fish. One young man looked up at her and smiled, then hastily looked away as he realised who was behind her. Anastasia felt her heart sink. She was alone in the middle of a thriving community.

The wind blew stronger, the wooden flooring and gangplanks shifting as the waves rocked the massive structure. Anastasia struggled to keep her footing as they walked onwards, passing a handful of shops, bars and a place with a carving of a naked woman of a naked woman on the door. The population appeared to be largely sailors, although she spotted a number of men in aristocratic outfits and women whose clothing covered less than her nightdresses. A handful were clearly inhuman, a gorgon rubbing shoulders with a man who appeared to be half-wolf. They all gave her, or Avitus and his monsters, a wide berth. The sense of being alone grew stronger.

“You can buy food and drink there, if you wish,” Avitus said, quietly. He pointed a hand at a shop, then moved to the next. “Forbidden magical items and components there … I’ll be sending you there to buy my supplies later, so don’t forget the way. Or go too far from the shop.”

Anastasia shuddered. The free state was a maze. She had the impression of ships resting on ships, of passages cut from one to the other that would be lethal if a powerful storm blew up and started to tear the free state apart. She wished she’d read more books about sailing, back when she’d had the chance. Or magic. Circe had come up from the gutter, if she was to be believed. Anastasia could do it too. But if Circe had been a slave …

They stopped outside a large part of black doors, two guards eying them nervously before stepping aside to allow them to enter. The interior was a thriving chamber, dozens of rough-looking men milling around drinking and chatting loudly. They looked away from Avitus as he led Anastasia and his monsters across the room and through a smaller door, into a chamber that reminded Anastasia of her father’s private audience chamber. The sudden pang of homesickness shocked her, forcing her to take a moment to gather herself. It was too much.

“Greetings,” a new voice said. It was a tone of cold supremacy, a tone that chilled her to the bone. “You’ve brought my new pets?”

Anastasia forced herself to look up. A man lounged on a hard wooden throne, wearing a naval uniform and a jaunty hat covered with gold braid. He was immensely fat, his uniform actually calling attention to his bulk; his small dark eyes sent shivers down her spine, her instincts screaming a warning. The man in front of her appeared more human than Avitus, but she had the feeling he might well be worse. His eyes swept over her, then looked away. She was nothing to him.

“Yes, Admiral,” Avitus said. He indicated the monsters behind him, then held out a jewelled device. “Yours, for the normal price.”

The Admiral took the device, then clicked his fingers. A thin-faced man emerged from the shadows, carrying a bag laden with coins. Avitus took it and counted carefully, then slipped it into his robe and turned away. Anastasia followed, feeling two pairs of eyes watching her as they left. The two men were monsters and …

Her heart twisted as they left the building and made their way back home. She’d grown up in a castle. She had never known such poverty existed, not here and not anywhere; she’d never known, not truly, how monstrous some people could be. The free state shouldn’t exist, she told herself, and the fact it did shook her to the core. How many things had been kept from her, because she was young; how many horrors had she been spared, because she was a princess? She didn’t want to know. It was just … too much.

She forced herself to look into the darkened alleyways as they passed. Men sleeping on hard wooden decking, women doing things with men … she tried not to gag as she spotted a woman kneeling in front of a man, his manhood in her mouth. Another woman was doing the same further down the alley … no, it was a man, servicing another man. The wind shifted constantly, blowing all manner of smells towards her. She thought she spotted a dead body drifting in the waters, between two mid-sized ships. She kept that to herself. Avitus might try to take the body and turn it into another monster.

“Who …?” She took a break and started again. “Who’s he? The Admiral?”

“The closest thing to a boss about these parts,” Avitus said. “He was once an admiral in the Zangarian Navy, or so he says. Fled just ahead of the hounds snapping at his feet, if the story is to be believed. Now in charge of the free state, insofar as anyone is.”

He stopped outside the shop. “You can clean up the mess,” he said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Anastasia gritted her teeth as she stepped inside, feeling a faint tingle as she passed through the wards. It was just another reminder that she was trapped, unable to leave without his permission. Her hands felt dirty and soiled … she staggered to the washbasin and cleaned herself as best she could, though it wasn’t enough. How could it be? She’d cut open a dead body and turned it into a walking corpse!

She stepped into the lab, then reached into her pocket for the pouch she’d taken. It was fatter than she’d realised, with a handful of gold and silver coins. She didn’t recognise the markings, but … they were a start. If she had money, she could figure out a way to use it.

And the sooner I get out of here the better, she thought. If I stay here too long, I’ll never be able to leave.