Antiphon

Chapter 24

Charles

The white light of a winter afternoon, coupled with the blast of frigid air, brought water to Charles’s eyes, and he blinked for a moment. The strong hand on his upper arm guided him quickly through the open door as he was passed from one Machtvolk guard to another.

He looked out over the snow-covered forest, his eyes taking in the smoke of a hundred fires and the scattering of buildings that punctuated the foothills of the Dragon’s Spine.

If this doesn’t work, he thought, I could be dead by nightfall.

He’d spent the first two days hidden with the mechoservitors and the book. He had met Garyt just hours after they’d arrived, when the loyalist guard brought the latest of Winters’s dreams, adding them to the most recent volume of the Book of Dreaming Kings. And as soon as the man had left to find food and water for Charles, the old arch-engineer busied himself reading the book while the mechoservitors continued sharing data in code. That first night-or perhaps it was day-he’d slept with a full stomach from cold roast chicken and small potatoes fried in salt and fat with dried onions. The bread had still been warm and the water was ice cold and sweet.

In the morning, he’d made his decision. The mechoservitors had resisted, as he’d expected, but in the end they had no other choice but to let him go. They needed their missing pages, and they could not leave the cave. Charles would elicit help from Rudolfo’s Gypsy Scouts.

Now, he stood outside for the first time in weeks. He felt the wind on his face and took in a great lungful even as Garyt pulled at him. “We need to move quickly,” he said.

Charles nodded and followed the guard. The dirty woolen and fur clothes stunk in his nostrils and made his skin crawl. He tried to ignore both. He kept his head down, feeling the bits of wood in his beard as they tickled his neck. It had taken them an hour to get him ready, applying the mud and ash to every inch of his body and then dressing him carefully in the clothes Garyt had brought.

They walked past log structures that looked new, and immediately Charles noted the crowd. Through the trees, he could just make out the bright canvas of large pavilion-style tents-liberated he suspected from the papal summer palace. “There are a lot of people gathering here,” he said in a low voice.

“Mass of the Falling Moon,” Garyt said. “One of their high holy days. There will be a ceremony tonight followed by three days of feasting.”

Charles smiled. A good time to hide a crazy old man.

They moved along the edges of the larger pockets of people, with Garyt steering them away from the uniforms that Charles saw interspersed among the crowd. They picked their way carefully across the more populated areas near the larger wood structures and climbed a trail that took them behind a round building made of stone. They left the trail when they were out of eyeshot of any others, and Garyt kept them moving quickly.

When they were deep in the woods, Garyt paused. “You’re certain of this?”

Charles looked up. “I am.”

He’d learned about the Watcher yesterday. He’d surprised the man with his question when the guard brought him a second meal. And Charles had known the moment he asked that the man knew something about it. Still, beyond eventually acknowledging its existence, Garyt had said very little else about it despite the questions. But he had finally agreed to take him to Aedric.

Not that Charles knew exactly what he would ask of the first captain of Rudolfo’s scouts. The missing pages, according to both Isaak and the other metal man, were vital for the salvation of the light. Somehow, they had to wrest them from their mechanical guardian or-if fate was kind-search the caves that Garyt claimed it lived in while it was away on some other business. Charles hoped for the latter, because if they were truly facing one of those ancient artifacts from the days of the Younger Gods, the gypsy scouts would be no match in an open confrontation.

And Charles knew better than to believe it could be reasoned with. Not a mechanical that operated on faith. Of course, it wasn’t so very different from his metal men and the dream they believed in and acted on behalf of.

He felt the strain of their quick walk in his legs now and noticed that the snow had let up. Overhead, beyond the canopy of frozen evergreens, he saw that the midmorning sky was clearing as northern winds pushed the clouds away. Even with all that time in the Beneath Places, his muscles protested the effort.

They’d not gone much farther when a low whistle brought Garyt to a halt. Charles started at the sudden sound and stumbled, catching himself. He looked around the clearing and saw the slightest shimmer, heard the slightest whisper of footprints as they materialized in the snow.

“Hail, Garyt,” he heard a voice call out. “And you as well, Androfrancine, though you are a long way from home.”

Charles noted that the direction of the words changed even as they were uttered. “Hail, Aedric. How are the others?”

“They bide well,” he answered. “We’ll see him safe back to your care, Garyt.”

Garyt inclined his head and looked at Charles. “Be cautious, old man.”

Charles nodded. “I will.”

He watched the man jog south and west, then turned his attention back into the clearing.

“So.” Now the voice was closer, and Charles could make out one eye, barely visible, just inches from his face. “Garyt tells me you are inquiring after a certain metal man.”

Charles nodded. “It has something we require urgently.”

“We?”

“I am here with Isaak,” he said. “He is hidden with the Book of the Dreaming Kings. Pages have been removed from it with precision only a mechoservitor could produce. I’m told one lives in the woods and your men have encountered it.” He paused as he realized what he was about to say. Perhaps I do know what to ask of Aedric, he realized.

“I need you to take me to it,” Charles said.

“It is out of the question,” Aedric said. “Aye, there is a metal man. It’s been monitoring and altering our birds. It killed two of my men-cut them, bled them first and then sent their folded uniforms back with Lady Tam after serving her tea. She’s left clear orders that we’re not to approach the Watcher.” He could hear awe bordering on fear in the man’s voice. “It’s like nothing we’ve seen before.”

Watcher. Charles noted the name. “I need to find the pages it cut from the book.”

“The Marsher book?” Aedric asked.

Charles nodded. “Yes. What they need from it is missing. Without them, they cannot complete their antiphon.”

His own words surprised him. He heard faith there, and it frightened some part of him that remembered his vows as an acolyte of P’Andro Whym. I shall eschew all but the light and trust reason as my truest guide. And yet, some other part of him responded to the faith in his metal children and the risks they took for the dream they claimed to share. He did not know what the pages were for; he did not even know what the antiphon was, other than a response to their dream. But something in him cried out that it was true and that it was important for him to assist them.

Perhaps, he thought, because it was what fathers did to satisfy the hopes of their children.

“This is Marsher mysticism,” Aedric said. He nodded to the northeast. “Yon Watcher is real and deadly. Evil, even, if such a thing may be. I’ll not risk your life or the lives of my men for nonsense.”

Charles felt the anger starting in his scalp. He tried to force it from his voice but was not successful. “It is not for you to decide, Captain. Bear word of this to Lady Tam. Tell her what I have told you. Do not tell her that only Charles asks it of her but that Isaak does as well, for it is his dream that these missing pages serve.”

There was silence. Finally, Aedric spoke. “I will consult with Lady Tam. Wait here until I return.”

Charles opened his mouth to protest, and a cold wind brushed his cheek.

He waited for a minute. “Hello?”

No answer.

After another five minutes, he found a tree and squatted against it, facing the direction Aedric and Garyt had run in.

As he sat, his mind played out every possible scenario he could envision with this Watcher, gathering questions as he went and turning them over and over like the dials and catches of a Rufello lock in his mind. How old was it? Had it truly fallen with the first Wizard King? Had it risen from some temporary grave in the Beneath Places? He sat and pondered until he grew numb from the cold.

Standing, he looked above and realized at least two hours had passed.

Where are you, Aedric?

The man should’ve been back an hour earlier. Unless, Charles thought, he’d been delayed. Or something had gone wrong. For a moment, he thought about making his way back to the gathering crowd. With all of the activity, he should be able to make his way unnoticed back to the double doors that led into the caverns. Then he remembered something.

No. I’ll not go back.

Smiling grimly, Charles turned to the northeast and began walking in the direction Aedric had nodded. Yon Watcher is real and deadly, the first captain had told him.

Charles suspected that soon enough he would know this firsthand, and prayed that his children’s faith would protect him in his hour of need.

Winters

The woman in the mirror surprised Winters and she stepped back, her mouth falling open. She’d never comprehended southern women and their vanities, spending most of her life dressed in ragged, cast-off clothing and rarely caring whether that clothing was meant for the body of a male or a female. Now, in the dress that Ria had left for her, with her hair carefully braided by hands more skilled than her own, she did not think it was truly her own face and body reflected back at her.

She turned, noting the way the soft fabric clung to curves she was only just becoming accustomed to, and then glanced to the dressing room door.

“How does it fit, Winters?” It was Ria’s voice, sounding bemused.

She looked again at the long blue dress with its low neckline and laced sleeves. “It fits. well,” she said.

“Well?” her sister asked.

Winters turned and opened the door. Ria wore a similar dress, only hers was in a deep burgundy the color of pooling blood. Her face had been painted in the Machtvolk custom, though tonight there were less greens and more grays and blacks and whites. Still, each color was laid to her skin with precision, interlocking with the others like pieces to a puzzle. The paints covered her face, her neck and even her cleavage, the colors darkening where they intersected with the raised scar tissue that peeked out from the mark of Y’Zir her dress mostly concealed. Her own brown hair was up, offset by a silver tiara that Winters had not seen before.

Ria stepped back to take her in and then frowned. “I could paint your face,” she said. “There is still time.”

Winters shook her head. “I’m certain you have better things to do with your time, sister.”

Ria nodded. “I do. We’ve a special guest tonight that I should see to. Someone I hope will answer some of those questions of yours I’ve not been able to answer.” She moved toward the door, her bare feet shushing the carpet. “Your boots and robes are by the main entrance. Meet Lady Tam and the others there at the fourth bell and my guards will bring you to me. We’ll walk to the amphitheater together.”

Winters nodded. She’d used it-or rather Hanric had-for those rare times that large groups of her people gathered. It was really nothing more than a valley nestled up against the mountain, the downward slopes logged of lumber, with the stumps left as places where people could sit. She’d seen them clearing the snow from it for days in preparation for tonight and knew that even now, bonfires were being set across its wide floor to provide at least some warmth for those able to huddle nearby. Most would rely upon their furs and the warmth of their companions.

Ria paused at the door and smiled. “I am glad you are here for this, Winters.” Her eyes took on a concerned look. “I had thought when I returned to take my throne that I might lose a sister I had never truly had. I’m glad to be wrong.”

Winters felt something cold in her stomach but forced herself to curtsy. “Thank you, Ria.”

The woman returned the curtsy and let herself out. Winters forced herself to count to ten before she released her breath. “Pig shite,” she whispered.

“I’m glad,” a voice from the corner said, “you also see it as such.”

It took her a moment to place it. “Aedric?”

The voice moved. “Aye.”

She blushed. “How long have you been hiding in my room?”

The first captain chuckled. “I’ve kept my eyes averted, Lady Winteria. Rudolfo’s scouts are gentlemen at the very least; we only look when asked to.”

She felt the heat in her cheeks, nonetheless. She went to the dressing room and brought out its lamp, placing it on the desk. “I thought your secret meetings were exclusively with Lady Tam.”

“We’ve a new development. One I am quite late returning to.” The voice was low, muffled with the same magicks that concealed him. “Your sister isn’t the only one with special guests. Charles and Isaak are here. I’ve left the old gray robe in the wood; he seeks pages missing from your Book and believes the Watcher has them.”

“The Watcher?”

“Lady Tam will tell you more when she can. He’s a metal man the likes of which we’ve never seen. A leftover of the Younger Gods, I’ll wager, dug up from their graveyards beneath the ground. Charles and Isaak believe he’s taken pages from your book. Pages required for their work of saving the light. Lady Tam sent me to inquire what you might know of this matter.”

Winters was certain her face had already betrayed her. Charles and Isaak are here? And inquiring after the missing pages? She turned in the direction that Aedric’s voice last came from and swallowed. “Yes,” she said. “I know of it. It was what the other mechoservitors told me when Garyt took me to them.”

“And these pages-do you say they are critical to save the light as well?”

She thought about this. “I do not know about the light,” she said. “But I know they are the path Home for my people, Captain, and a part of the dream the mechoservitors serve, part of the dream I serve.”

“The one that names your boy, Nebios, Homeseeker?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

She heard Aedric sigh. “Then let’s hope that even Y’Zirite metal men celebrate their so-called Moon Mass.” His voice moved near now, and his face took shape before her, shimmering and faint in the lamplight. “I will do what I can to find these pages.”

The sudden thought of a metal man attending the mass piqued her curiosity. Ria had mentioned a guest who could answer her questions, and she wondered if this might be that guest. She shook away the thought at Aedric’s next words. “Open the door for me, Lady Winteria. It’s time for me to go.”

She did, stepping into the hall and calling out to a servant who was going someplace quickly, her arms full of coats. “When you are finished,” she said, “I would like some tea, please.” She felt the slightest wind on her exposed feet and ankles as Aedric moved away down the hall.

The girl nodded and continued on; Winters went back into her room and closed the door.

She walked to her bed and sat upon it.

Do I still want to go through with this? Charles and Isaak were here now. And Aedric was now involving his Gypsy Scouts. Still, the missing pages were only a part of what compelled her toward action tonight. She’d asked for her voice magicks before she’d even known about the final dream. She’d asked for them once she’d started dreaming again, once she’d seen the wrongness of the path her people were being led down.

She looked to her knives where they hung from their belts on the back of the wooden desk chair. Then, she looked back to the bed. She stood and then crouched down, stretching her hand underneath the mattress until it found the small phial. She held it and stared at it, remembering the last time she’d tasted the sour contents that fueled her announcement of ascension to the Wicker Throne. And later, those contents had let her preach her first War Sermon, compiled of glossolalia and the scattered images of her family’s long Homeward dream.

Walking to the mirror, she saw her dim reflection now within it.

Such a girl now. No, she realized, a woman.

She’d much rather go to this in her ragged trousers and tunic, her hair braided in bones and sticks, her face washed with the ash of desolation, the mud of a land that rejected her people and cast them into sorrow. She’d rather face this moment with the knives that her friend had taught her to dance with.

She placed the phial between her breasts and pushed it to the right, adjusting both breast and phial until the one covered the other. She would have to find a safe moment to drink the magicks.

Then, she would have to find the words that needed to be said to her people and to the woman who had stolen them from her.

Wolves in the fold, Winters thought, and wondered if she would be as strong as the hero Jamael when the time came.

Jin Li Tam

The song rose in a cloudless sky the color of slate and speckled with the few swollen stars that were visible by day. Jin Li Tam held Jakob close, hidden in a sling beneath her fur robes, his tiny face peeking out. It was a cold evening, made colder still by the chills the Y’Zirite hymns brought to her skin. She glanced to Winters where she walked beside her and then to Lynnae on her other side. All three of them had been provided gowns and fur robes. They were walking now on wooden planks that had been hammered together to create a path above ground going muddy from those who’d walked it before.

They’d left the lodge in a large throng of people that she assumed were Ria’s elite. Those who had helped her wrest power from her younger sister, those who had seeded the Y’Zirite resurgence in secret. She and her party walked close to the front, where the Machtvolk queen led the procession, accompanied by a robed figure who had joined them late as they gathered by the front door.

Now, they approached the natural amphitheater and Jin saw the light of a hundred fires and heard the hymn as it built to a crescendo. It was not the song she had first heard, but similar, and the words within it took her back to the war that had raged in her since the meeting with the woman claiming to be her sister.

When the regent bids you come, go with him. The boy will be safe in Y’Zir.

Her child was their messiah somehow, in conjunction with their Crimson Empress. The world’s healing was in their hands, according to the gospels she’d read. And if the magicked woman in her room spoke true, somewhere beyond the Named Lands lay a place bearing the name of their faith-a place she was intended to go to with her son for some purpose yet to be revealed. Initially, she’d been convinced it was a trap. But the more she thought about it, the more she saw that it seemed the direction gravity pulled her toward. Truly, there had been a great conspiracy within the Named Lands, fueled and funded by a branch of her family with help from this Watcher. An enemy greater than these pulled the puppet strings, and the opportunity to get closer to that enemy was nothing to be taken lightly.

And there is no safe place in the Named Lands. Not unless she was prepared to live here with the Machtvolk. The conspiracy had done a good job of assuring that none of the nations of the Named Lands could trust her family or Rudolfo.

The music changed as they drew closer, and they carefully picked their way down a crowded slope, moving slowly. As they went, she felt tentative hands reach out to touch her, and she forced herself not to cringe from it. She brought her arms up over Jakob by instinct.

They reached the bottom of the slope and climbed wooden steps onto a platform where two dozen chairs sat in a ring around a large wooden cutting table. An elaborate system of catch trays was fastened to it, all feeding into a single pipe that fed a silver basin. Nearby, Jin saw a table with silver knives laid out upon it beside a bowl of white powder she assumed must be cutting salts. Over the past several days, she’d heard much about tonight’s mass, but this was an unexpected aspect. Though in hindsight Jin wasn’t sure why she’d not anticipated it.

Someone is going to be cut tonight.

They stood before their chairs. At first, she thought they waited for Ria, but she realized that the Machtvolk queen watched the robed man who joined them. When he sat, Ria did the same, and the rest of them followed.

Jin leaned forward, still unable to see the man’s face, but she noted his hands. They were white and large, laced with scars that reminded her of the marks that her father bore, cut into him by Ria during his time in captivity. Whoever he was, he’d arrived late in the night and had been hidden away quickly. The shimmering forms that she glimpsed from the corner of her eye told her that he was accompanied by magicked scouts.

A handful of her own scouts had accompanied her, and she wondered how the others fared. She’d sent Aedric to Winters, and the fact that he hadn’t returned told her that the girl had confirmed the missing pages and Isaak’s need of them. By now, surely the first captain had reached the caves, gambling that its metal occupant was attending the night’s event.

She looked around the crowd again. If the Watcher was here she could not see him; but there were thousands crowded into this space now, and if he was robed, she might never pick him out.

Still, she kept looking for him even after Ria stood and sipped from a phial she held in her ungloved hand. When she cleared her voice to speak, the sound of it rolled like thunder out over the valley and into the surrounding hills. “May the grace of the Crimson Empress be with you,” she said.

Their response rose up, half a cheer and half a reply. “And also with you,” a multitude of voices answered. One of them was the firm, confident voice of the robed man who sat near her.

“Behold,” Ria said, “the falling moon!” As she said it, the first blue-green light of it rose up on the horizon. “Tonight, we celebrate the salvation it brought us in this-our first open celebration of the mass here in the land of our sojourn.” She paused, the roar of her words echoing out into the forests for league upon league, blending now with the wild cheers of the faithful. Then she turned, pointing toward Jin. “And behold, even our Great Mother attends, bearing the Child of Great Promise.”

The cheer was deafening, and she felt her face grew hot. Her eyes met Ria’s, and behind the adoration she saw there was something else, something off-putting. Was it defiance? She couldn’t be certain. Forcing her eyes away, she inclined her head.

Nestled close to her in his harness, Jakob laughed.

The Machtvolk queen spoke for nearly an hour, her voice rising in passion then dropping low and reassuring as she spoke of their home and their faith. Jin followed what she could but found herself focused instead upon the gathered crowds. Twice she saw uniformed soldiers wrestling individuals to the ground to drag them from the valley. And at least once, she thought she’d seen a tall, robed figure moving along the ridgeline above them.

She also watched the robed man, catching glimpses of a scarred jawline or of a crimson cuff beneath his fur robes. She could distinguish his voice from the others now, and it carried with it an accent she could not place at first.

It is familiar to me. Her sister Ire Li Tam had also spoken with an accent.

To her right, she heard Winters shuffle, and she glanced at her. The young woman’s face was drawn tight, and she bit her lower lip with her eyes closed. She looks pained. Or in prayer.

Jin leaned over. “Are you okay?”

The girl nodded but did not speak.

They were singing again, and when they finished, Ria turned to the robed man. “We are honored by another guest,” she said, passing over the phial to him. “He has come a long way to bear tidings of our empress. Tonight, he honors us by making the cuts of healing upon our proxy.”

The robed man stood and cast off his hood to reveal a scarred and pale face beneath close-cropped silver hair. He looked first over the crowd and then turned to meet the eyes of the others he shared the platform with.

“I am pleased,” Ria said, “to present to you Blood Regent Eliz Xhum.”

The man stepped forward, and when he spoke, his voice was warm, inviting, even as it blasted out from him. “Greetings,” he said with a wide smile. “It is good to see the Machtvolk on the edge of their new home.” The crowd roared at this. He turned slowly as they did, and his smile widened even farther, though Jin was not certain how it could. “It is good to see you at last, Jin Li Tam, Great Mother of Jakob, our Child of Promise. I’ve awaited your coming for many years now, as have all of us in Y’Zir.”

She met his eyes and found them disarming for that briefest moment before he looked away.

“I am honored to worship with you tonight,” he said as he outstretched his hands. “And this mass shall be your last without a home. Even now, the places are set to the table and the feast is soon coming. Even now-”

But another sound interrupted him, and Jin looked to the right, startled by it. Another clearing of the voice like thunder, and she saw that Winters stood now, her face suddenly a hard mask.

“Oh my people,” Winters cried out, “heed not the lie of wolves in our fold. The dreams of the House of Shadrus are clear. Our home is not here for us to take but rather”-she raised a finger and pointed to the sky-“it is there for us to seek.”

Jin Li Tam followed her finger, saw the moon to which she pointed, and then looked back to the girl. Her hands moved quickly though Winters didn’t pay her any mind. What are you up to? Already, uniformed men moved toward her, and Jin saw her own scouts slipping in closer.

Jin shot a glance to Ria and the regent. Ria’s face was mottled purple in rage, but Eliz Xhum’s face looked more bemused than anything.

“You surprise me, little sister,” Ria said in a voice that dripped venom.

Winter raised her hands. “Hear me,” she cried. “Our home arises, and our Homeseeker will bring us to it in the end. Do not lose your faith in our dream. Do not trade it for this late-coming lie.” She held her copy of the gospel high above her head and then flung it.

Jin watched it as it tumbled out into the evening air to land within the closest fire. When it landed in the flames, she heard a thousand gasps.

Now, the approaching soldiers faced off with the Gypsy Scouts. Their hands were upon their knife handles as Jin Li Tam’s fingers flew, issuing orders to them that they acknowledged with low whistles. “Stand down your men,” she said over her shoulder to Ria.

“I’ll not-”

But Ria’s voice was cut off by the regent’s. “Stand down,” he said, and they did. When he spoke again, his tone was gentle. “Let us reason together,” he said with a smile.

Jin Li Tam looked to the faith she saw upon Winters’s face, bathed blue-green in the light of the moon, and then to the painted puzzle of Ria’s face and the carved symbols that spiderwebbed Eliz Xhum’s strong features.

Last, she looked to the face of her child, still laughing where he lay against her.

Whatever came next, Jin Li Tam doubted reason would have much to do with it.