Sovereign

Almost at once she thought of the smithy. But would the blacksmith let her use it? She shouted an order to a passing patrol of Red Hands to follow her, and she made her way out of the palace and through the streets. When they arrived the blacksmith was still at work, adding the finishing touches to one of the blades for a pair of shears. He saw them approach out of the corner of his eye and angrily barred their way, holding out his tongs like a sword with the red-hot piece still in them.

'You lot have just put in my new furnace and now mm want to destroy that one, too? I won't have it—' Jenrosa nodded to the Red Hands. A short sword flashed in the air and the tongs clattered to the ground, broken in two. None too gently they evicted the shocked blacksmith from his own shop and set up guard outside.

Jenrosa made sure no one else was inside and closed the doors. Warm air blossomed inside the smithy. Sweat prickled her face. She gazed into the centre of the furnace, steadied her heart and began the incantation, her voice starting as barely a whisper and rising as the magik gained strength. The fire grew hotter as the chant continued, changing from orange to yellow to white, and its core seemed to pulse with a life of its own, Tendrils of flame licked out from the furnace, reaching for Jenrosa like grasping fingers. The tendrils merged together, created writhing patterns that suggested shapes Jenrosa thought she recognised but could put no name to; then she saw a face, indistinct, unrecognisable as any individual, but a face nonetheless with eyes and mouth and ears. The flames retreated. The heat in the smithy was almost unbearable; she felt as if she was standing in the middle of the sun. Sweat saturated her clothes, plastered her hair to her scalp.

More tendrils, sinuous, tinged with blue and green. Forests. Wings. A woman.

There, Jenrosa thought. Now.

The core changed colour. A bright ruby point that swelled until it seemed to fill the whole furnace. A face, and this one she knew. She screamed at it in fear and hate, and the face screamed back at her.

A wall of air moved out from the furnace, picked up Jenrosa like a leaf in a storm and threw her against the smithy door. The door flew open and she tumbled outside among the startled Red Hands. Hands scrabbled to pick her up. She remembered to breathe. The cool night air touched her skin, made her shiver. She looked up and saw a cloud of black greasy smoke pillow into the sky until a fresh breeze above the city walls caught it and whipped it away.

Truespeaker, are you alright?' one of the Red Hands asked.

Jenrosa hardly noticed the title. 'We have to get back to the palace. Quickly.'

She tried to take a step but was too weak. Hands grabbed at her again.

'Best wait a while,' another Red Hand said.

'Quickly!' she cried. 'For Lynan's sake!'

That did it. They set off at a brisk trot, supporting Jenrosa between them.

'Hurry!' she called desperately, afraid she would be too late, and clutching at the dagger under her shirt.

The whole time Lynan was in the forest—and time behaved very strangely when he was there—she was never very far from him. Even when he could not see her he could hear her song.

'I do not understand the words,' he told her once.

'It is a song of desire,' she replied. 'A song of deep and great want.'

'You are singing to me?'

'I am singing for you,' she laughed.

The sun never rose in the forest, although the moon was so bright there was no need for it anyway. His eyes could tell colours and shapes apart as easily as they could in the day, and everything possessed a beautiful sheen, as if gilt in silver. When she was close, the colour became more like jade or emerald.

When she was not singing for him, she was asking him questions.

One time she said to him, 'Tell me about the queen.'

'Which one?'

'The one you sleep with.'

'The one I love.'

'The one you sleep with,' she insisted, the laugh never far from her voice.

'She is wild and beautiful.'

'And she loves you.'

'Yes.'

'Tell me about the other one.'

'The other queen?'

'The other woman. The one you love.'

'No.'

'You will not tell me about her?'

'I do not love her.'

With one long, sharp nail she traced the shape of a heart on his chest. 'Tell me about her.'

'She is in pain all the time. I do not know how to reach her.'

'But you do not love her,' she said, pretending to pout.

'No.'

'Tell me about her.'

'The queen or the one I love?'

'The queen who hates you.'

'She is my sister.'

'She is half of you.'

'No.'

'She has half the Keys.' She used her finger to lift the Keys and study them closely. 'Is she beautiful?'

'I do not know.'

'Is she as beautiful as you?'

'I do not know.'

'I need all the Keys. Without them we cannot be together forever.'

'I know. I will kill her for you and take her Keys.'

'Soon,' she said, and then again, drawing out the word, rubbing her thigh against his. 'Soon, my love.'

'You can have my Keys now,' he said.

She seemed to consider it, but let them drop from her finger. They clinked together. 'No.'

'But—'

She placed her hand over his mouth. 'No.' She lifted her hand and kissed him deeply. His head was filled with the great smell of her, of ancient earth and ancient sex. 'I will not be half complete.' After a long while she pulled back from him. 'I am half of you too.'

'If I am half my sister and half Silona, what is there of Lynan?'

'Nothing at all,' she said, her voice mocking. 'There never was.'

Another time she said to him, 'I will teach you to fly.'

'You will make me like you. I will be like Silona.'

'No one is like Silona,' she said. 'I am the last of my kind. I was here before your people came to Theare. We were hundreds then, each with our own great forest. At night we would fly over the continent and sing to one another. We would take each other on the wing. We had such beauty, such power.'

'Why are you the last?'

'All the others were slain by iron and fire, their forests butchered for farms, their wings turned into cloaks for petty horse-riding chieftains.'

'The Chetts killed your people?'

'You are all Chetts, dear Lynan.'

'Why are you still here?'

'Someone has to sing the song. Someone has to desire more than life.'

Another time she said to him, 'I will teach you pain.'

She held his head in her clawed hands and her nails bit deep into his scalp. His blood ran down her wrists and she licked them clean. She scraped her clawed hands down his chest and thighs until the blood ran down his legs and pooled at his feet and she devoured it all.

The pain was all the ecstasy he had ever known.

'Do you know pain?' he asked her.

'I know only desire,' she said, and he tasted the lie but was afraid to say so.

She saw the doubt in his face and it made her angry, She drew away from him.

'I am sorry,' he said.

She ignored him.

'Come back. I am sorry.'

She was smiling at him now, her face appearing behind branches and leaves. Teasing him.

'I will do anything,' he said.

She drifted towards him, carried on a breeze, her great black wings rippling in the sky. Behind her head the moon gave her a halo.

But there was the moon, above him.

The light behind her flared suddenly. He heard her scream, and the sound of it was like a dagger thrust into his own body.

Night. A single candle flickered on the washstand. Ager seated on his right, his head bowed in sleep. Korigan on his left, her body slumped over the bed, snoring softly.

And himself.

It took a moment, then he remembered who he was. And he remembered her.

'How long?' he asked.

He felt his chest and scalp. There was no bleeding, no scars.

'God.'

The light. Its echo still made him blink. What had it been?