The Art of Hunting (30 page)

She was still toying with ways to expand this metaphor when they arrived at the palace gates.

The gates were thirty feet high, thirty feet wide and three feet deep, a jungle of metal vines, flowers, thorns, and small creatures painted in a thousand colours. This was one of four entrances
through the massive limestone walls that had once formed the old town boundary. They were also, Briana decided, the only gates in Losoto (and probably the world) that could actually induce despair.
Despair that someone had actually designed them to look like this. Despair that someone else had wasted many tons of metal in their construction. And then yet more despair that such an
extravagantly ugly creation had then been further debased by what looked like a paint fight. The sight of them now made her feel faintly nauseous. Every noble visitor and warlord who came here
would see the same sight. It was like reaching the gates of vulgarity itself.

Thankfully, the palace guards waved her through with minimal delay. Even a buffoon like Hu knew better than to try her patience.

The gates closed behind her carriage and the imperial palace loomed ahead of her like a peach and gold mirage. Acres of gardens surrounded them, the floral sprays and whorls of lawn and box
hedge dotted with finely carved dragon-bone gazebos and colonnades and statues of warriors and courtesans in chalcedony and pink quartz. Fountains glittered like broken crystal.

Songbirds shrilled and twittered in gilt wire cages hung from an ancient spreading yew.

Briana despised the sickly sweet beauty of it all. Real grandeur, she felt, could only be achieved through restraint.

But then they reached the Caxus Serpent and, as ever, she fell into silent awe.

The Caxus Serpent was the preserved corpse of an ancient sea snake, some three hundred feet long and twice as tall as a man at its thickest. These monstrous serpents pre-dated dragons and,
indeed, were known to have been used as a template when the Unmer set about creating the modern beasts. The specimen before her now had been killed by one of Hu’s predecessors over eight
hundred years ago. Columns of white alabaster held its great maw open and, as the carriage passed, Briana could look deep inside the creature’s gullet, where a hundred gem lanterns marked a
sinuous path through its fossilized innards. There was, she knew, a small shrine in the snake’s tail – a carved statuette in the shape of an old and forgotten god that Hu’s
antecedent had believed to be patron of the great snakes. They were hunted by emperors as a rite of passage, but also for ashko, the psychoactive drug extracted from their poison glands. The
specimen before her now, Briana mused, would have contained enough ashko to get an entire empire high. And that was just a baby.

The carriage passed the snake and finally came to a halt on a red-brick piazza outside the main palace entranceway. Servants of the emperor helped Briana down, paid the driver, and ushered her
on through the doors and into a vast antechamber of white and gold stone. Before her, a broad cascade of stairs rose to a circular gallery hung with hundreds of paintings and statuettes on quartz
plinths. A second team of manicured youths arrived, headed by a powder-faced old cretin in an ivory frock coat and ruffs.

This man clutched a handkerchief in one upraised hand, as if cautious that the smell of Briana might offend him. He said, ‘His Highness Emperor Hu is presently attending a war
council.’

‘Take me to him.’

‘I’m sorry,’ the lackey replied in a tone that implied the very opposite. ‘But he cannot be disturbed.’

Briana huffed through her teeth. She spoke with slow, cold precision. ‘Do you know who I am?’

The servant smiled thinly. ‘It doesn’t matter—’

‘Answer my question.’

He shrugged. ‘I presume you are a Guild representative?’

‘I am the head of the Guild.’

His smile suddenly disappeared. ‘Miss Marks? Oh, I do beg your pardon. His Highness was not expecting you for weeks yet. Please, please, forgive me. I expect that the emperor would greatly
value your input at the war council.’

‘I’m sure he would,’ she remarked. ‘If I ever make it there.’

‘Yes, of course.’ He bowed and fluttered his hands and then led her up the marble stairs to a circular vestibule that formed the jewel in the gallery’s ring. Painted images of
Emperor Hu looked down upon them, oozing derision. Onwards they swept, through a sparkling corridor boasting a thousand silver mirrors, eventually arriving at a single golden door.

‘The council is within,’ he explained. ‘Please wait a moment while I inform His Highness of your presence.’

Briana ignored him and barged through.

She found herself in a vast hall with three tall windows overlooking the gardens. Before one such window, a group of people stood around an enormous map of the Anean peninsula set upon a carved
oak table. The war council was rather more eclectic than Briana had prepared herself for. It comprised Emperor Hu, an admiral of the Imperial Navy, several officers and court advisers, half a dozen
flouncing young noblemen who looked like poets or artists, together with what appeared to be a sizeable retinue of their friends, lovers or courtesans and at least twenty servants waiting at the
far wall. In addition to all of these people were four of the emperor’s blind Samarol bodyguards and three score of foreign warlords. It didn’t look like a council so much as a
carnival.

The warlords would not have looked amiss deserting a burning ship with armloads of loot and women. They wore necklaces of bones and beads or trinkets of glass and silver and leather skullcaps or
wide-brimmed hats, printed head-scarves or turbans, beaded sword belts and amulets and they kept their hair in long braids dyed blood red and green or spun with coloured thread. Tattoos covered
faces, arms, necks, knuckles and lips. Their jewellery clinked and gleamed. A riot of jewellery. Their mouths contained marginally less gold than the chandeliers above their heads and also teeth
from men who were evidently not present.

‘You!’ the emperor cried, stabbing a finger at Briana.

‘A formidable deduction, Hu,’ Briana replied.

‘What are you doing here?’

The servant had followed her in and was about to make an announcement, when Briana pushed him aside with a raised hand and a warning glare. ‘I’m here,’ she said, turning back
to Hu, ‘to make sure you don’t mess things up.’

The emperor reddened. Several of the warlords grinned.

Briana marched up to them and regarded the map table with disdain. ‘You have one chance, Hu,’ she said. ‘Hit Marquetta’s armada with everything you have. Crush it before
it reaches land. Drown them all.’

‘Don’t tell me how to fight,’ Hu said. He gripped the table in both hands and fixed his gaze upon the map. ‘As a matter of fact, we won’t need to engage the Unmer
at all.’

‘
What?
’

Hu pointed to the tip of the peninsula. ‘We merely need to station combat psychics here, and . . .’

‘You’re not using my psychics,’ Briana said.

‘They’re
my
psychics,’ Hu replied in a low dangerous tone. ‘I pay you well enough for them.’

‘Ianthe will simply kill them.’

Hu snorted. ‘Here we have the advantage of surprise.’

‘Surprise?’ she said, aghast. ‘What surprise?’

He said nothing, but the murderous glare he gave her was enough to make Briana suddenly regret having taken such a confrontational approach with him. Here before these foreign warlords he had
everything to prove. And they themselves would not prevent him from courting disaster. Men such as these resented the empire. They guarded its boundaries and gathered taxes and for that they were
given a certain degree of autonomy. But they knew that Hu would act quickly to crush dissent. If Briana was going to convince him, she had to be subtle.

She swallowed. ‘Ianthe’s powers are growing,’ she said. ‘The range at which she is capable of detecting and destroying a psychic’s mind is now greater than
ever.’ She took a deep breath, mustering conviction for the lie she was about to tell. ‘And it’s no longer just Haurstaf who are vulnerable.’

Hu’s eyes narrowed.

‘Everyone here is in danger,’ Briana added.

‘She could destroy
any
of us?’ Hu said.

Briana nodded. ‘With a single thought.’ She paused to allow this misinformation to sink in. ‘That’s why the armada needs to be attacked at sea. As far from here as
possible.’

The emperor studied her warily. ‘That strikes me as particularly convenient for you, Miss Marks,’ he said.

‘You think I’m lying?’

‘Actually, I do.’

‘Then I won’t waste any more time here,’ she said. ‘I’ll take my sisters and go.’

‘You are lying,’ Hu said. ‘And what’s more, I think you have threatened me for far too long, Miss Marks.’ He turned to his bodyguards. ‘Seize her.’

Two Samarol warriors rushed forward, their silver wolf’s head helmets grinning. They each grabbed one of Briana’s arms and held her firmly. She cried out, ‘What the hell are
you doing?’

‘Your psychics are cowards,’ Hu said. ‘They are afraid to face the Unmer as long as Ianthe is with them. But they do not understand the value of tactics. They’re women,
not warriors. I need to offer them some . . . what is the word?’

‘Discipline?’ one warlord ventured.

‘No.’

‘Motivation,’ another tried.

‘Yes,’ Hu said.‘Motivation. They need to know what happens to cowards in my army.’

‘What are you doing?’ Briana cried. ‘You need us on your side, Hu. Can’t you see that? You need me.’ As she said this, she broadcast a message to every Guild
telepath who might hear it.
Hu has seized me and turned against the Guild. Send help to the Imperial palace in Losoto. ‘
What about all the Unmer you have here in Losoto? Who will
guard them?’

‘I released them.’

Briana’s face fell. ‘Released?’

‘They sailed for Awl this morning.’

Briana was dumbstruck. ‘You think that’s going to save you? A token gesture of conciliation? Do you really think Marquetta will forgive you for all the years of
enslavement?’

The emperor strolled around the map table and came up to Briana. ‘I see no harm in preparing for all eventualities,’ he said. ‘If the Unmer leave us in peace, then we will not
pursue them. Otherwise my combat psychics will be ready and waiting. And they will stand firm, Miss Marks. They will fight or they will suffer the same fate as their leader.’

Her throat felt dry. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

The emperor smiled. ‘I’m going to have you leucotomized, of course.’ Then he laughed suddenly, and turned to address the others. ‘The Unmer must appreciate the irony of
that.’ This statement provoked a smattering of laughter and nods from his guests.

‘Please,’ Briana said. ‘Don’t do this. I can help you.’

Emperor Hu turned back to her, his eyes still wrinkled with mirth. Briana searched his expression but she could not find a shred of pity in there, only defiance and triumph. ‘You will
serve me better as a symbol,’ he said. He waved to one of the Samarol. ‘Do it now.’

The blood drained from Briana’s legs. Her heart froze.

The Samarol to her left slipped a nine-inch blade from the loop in his belt. In some dulled corner of Briana’s brain she registered it as one of their famous seeing knives.
‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Don’t.’

The other bodyguard seized her neck in the crook of his arm. His free hand clamped her forehead. She watched his companion step forward and press the tip of his blade against the innermost
corner of her right eye, angled upwards into the brain.

‘Don’t,’ she said.

She felt her body go completely limp with terror. Had the emperor’s men not been supporting her, she would surely have collapsed to the floor. And just as her thoughts began to reel she
found she had no more time to think.

She felt pressure in her eye and watched the Samarol push his gauntleted fist forwards, sliding the full length of the knife up into her brain. Liquid coursed down her face. She tasted
blood.

There was a moment of confusion, while she tried to remember how she’d hurt herself. She sensed heavy pressure behind her nose. They were holding her firmly. Her face was wet so she must
have been crying. And then she remembered that they were severing the two lobes of her brain, so she really ought to remain very still in case they made a mistake. She felt the knife moving up and
down next to her eye. More liquid – blood – streamed down her face. The vision in her right eye went dark.

And then the warrior in the wolf’s head helmet withdrew the blade. Briana felt a surge of welcome relief. There were people all standing about her, looking at her. She recognized the
powdered face of Emperor Hu. There were other men who could only be warlords. And servants.

‘Should we put the eye back in?’ Hu said.

Was she crying?

Briana touched her face. It was wet. Her fingers came away bloody.

‘How do you feel?’ the emperor asked her.

Briana stared at the blood on her fingers. ‘I’m hurt,’ she said. And then she realized that everyone was still looking at her. She smiled shyly. ‘What
happened?’

The emperor’s eyes glimmered. ‘You were ill,’ he said. ‘But we’ve fixed you now.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘You know,’ the emperor said, ‘I think I might follow your advice after all.’ He turned to an old man who was wearing an Imperial naval uniform crusted with medals.
‘What do you think, Admiral? Should we strike them at sea?’

The old man moistened his lips. ‘A splendid idea, Your Highness.’

Port Awl’s shipwrights had completed their repairs to the Haurstaf man-o’-war,
Irillian Herald
, and there remained no trace of the damage Ianthe’s
father had caused. She was moored against the dock, her gilt brass fittings as bright as sunlight and her red dragon-scale hull shining fiercely on the crystal-green brine. The water was so calm
and clear that Ianthe could see three former harbours down below the current wharf and the ruins of old stone buildings along what had once been the waterfront. Paulus took her hand and led her up
the gangway onto the midships deck.