Chapters (51)
- Dedication
- Contents
- PREVIOUSLY …
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- PART III
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART IV
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- About the Author
- ALSO BY DAVID WRAGG
- About the Publisher
‘And who leads you?’
‘Leads? We lead ourselves, mercenary. Ours is a meritocracy, where those of ability and education may vie for local administration, and those of the greatest ability rise to serve at the level of canton, or even on the federated assembly.’
‘Administration? That open to anyone?’
‘Of course, anyone from the appropriate classes.’
‘The appropriate classes?’
‘It would not do to inflict the burdens of duty and administration on those ill-equipped to perform such functions. We have our own mud-farmers in our country, after all.’
‘But if they had ability, could one of your mud-farmers serve?’
‘Had I the wings of a bird, could I soar like an eagle?’
Rennic narrowed his eyes. ‘No gods or kings, yet still some rule.’
Kosh shrugged. ‘It is nature’s law.’
‘Shame nature isn’t around to corroborate. Still,’ the big man stretched his arms as the wagon’s climb levelled off and the vehicle began to slow, ‘you’ve got one thing right. If you want people to do what you want, make them afraid. Make them think they’re under attack.’
The wagon came to a halt on a wide, incongruous plaza, a network of fountains at its centre, fully a hundred feet above the gate through which they’d entered the city. Still towers and spires clustered around its circumference, including the great twisted spire Chel had seen from beyond the walls, but before them stood the great gilded dome Chel had seen from afar.
‘The House of the Keeper,’ Loveless said, motioning them to dismount. ‘Keep your fucking mouths shut in there, or so help me I will flay you all.’
TWENTY-FIVE
They waited in the Butterfly Room, and it was no challenge to work out its name. Bright creatures flitted between giant silken facsimiles of the same, fashioned from curls of filigree and decorated with glittering jewels, suspended by threads from the distant domed ceiling, itself a masterwork of tile and coloured glass. Kosh peered at the nearest silk butterfly, sniffed, and pushed it with a finger, watching it swing and sway. She tutted.
A chamberlain announced them as a wide set of curtains parted, revealing the rest of the chamber, its swirling columns and rows of prismic windows, pulsing in the afternoon’s light. A cluster of musicians in the far corner played gentle, teasing harmonies on instruments that Chel didn’t recognize.
‘We’re announced as Tarfel of Vistirlar and his retainers,’ Loveless hissed from beneath her hood, ‘so look retaining.’ She stepped forward to meet the oncoming group, and the others followed.