The Shattered City Read online

  ‘This is the closest thing we have to a Palazzo,’ Priest said cheerfully. ‘All the Powers and Majesties have used this as a centre of power.’

  Velody had never set foot here before today. ‘Am I supposed to do the same?’ she asked, forgetting that she was with Priest and not Ashiol — she should not be letting her uncertainties show so obviously.

  ‘If it is your will,’ said an acid female voice.

  Velody looked up. If she did not know Livilla’s Court form was a wolf, she might have guessed cat. There was something about the watchful wickedness of her eyes, the way she held herself.

  Livilla posed at the top of a metal staircase. Her gown was short and all red bead fringe. With her harsh bob of black hair and chalk-pale skin, she looked like a skeletally sketched fashion plate in the middle pages of a newspaper.

  Not for the first time, Velody wondered where Livilla acquired her outfits. I shouldn’t be the leader of this patchwork army, I should be their tailor. I’d put her in emerald green and silver; hang pearl strands off that neck of hers until they brushed her ankles. ‘You live here?’ she asked instead.

  ‘I belonged to Garnet,’ said Livilla, descending the stairs with a swooping grace. ‘More than most. I lived in his rooms. My rooms, now.’

  There was a challenge in her eyes, and in the strut of her walk. Velody lifted her chin, letting the animor bubble up in her blood. She could take Livilla. They both knew it.

  Two lads appeared at the top of the stairs. Velody had been doing her best to learn about the courtesi as well as the Lords, and she knew the names of these two though little else about them. The taller, older of the two was called Janvier, and he was a raven. He had black hair, and light brown skin. He wore feathers in his long braided hair, and a pair of ridiculously tight trews. His chest was bare. Either he put himself on display for Livilla’s benefit, or he was part of her show. Velody suspected the latter. Livilla was certainly the type to select outfits for her courtesi and demand they primp their hair and fingernails before they set foot in public.

  The other boy, Seonard, was younger and more defensive. Hair fell in his eyes, making it hard for Velody to judge his age, but she suspected he was at least a couple of years younger than Crane, if not more. He should be working an apprenticeship somewhere, or celebrating his man’s tunic with his family like young Giuno. Not this.

  The Creature Court offered a shadowy semblance of a life, Velody could see that now. Was she crazy for not escaping the city when she had a chance?

  ‘It would not be much of a fight, should you wish to put her in her place, Lady Majesty,’ said Priest, sounding amused at the possibility.

  Livilla’s head arched towards him. ‘You’re the new favourite, are you, old man? Ashiol will be heartbroken that he lost his position.’

  ‘I don’t have to put anyone in their place,’ said Velody. ‘We are all friends here. Allies. Our job is to protect this city from the sky. There is no place for petty rivalries.’ She was going to make something of the Court. Something better than what it was. The first step was to rebuild them as a team rather than a tangled mess of rivals and enemies.

  There was a short, strangled pause, and then Livilla started to laugh. Priest joined in with a deep, meaty sound.

  ‘She’s precious,’ said Livilla. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘There are worse vices than idealism,’ said Priest, still chuckling.

  ‘So glad I amuse you,’ Velody said sharply. ‘Livilla, I believe you had a question to ask, about your accommodation.’

  There went that chin again, pointy with entitlement. ‘Did I?’ asked Livilla, Lord Wolf, her voice utterly disdainful.

  Moving from mortal shape to Lord form was no longer even a matter of thought. Velody made it happen, as naturally as breathing. She stood tall and straight, her skin gleaming with power. She could feel her blood sing. ‘I believe you were going to ask my permission to keep your rooms,’ she said.

  Livilla tossed her head. ‘You would have me beg on my knees? I would rather die than lower myself to such an indignity.’

  Saints and angels, it was as bad as talking to Delphine.

  ‘I didn’t suggest that you beg,’ said Velody. ‘Yet.’

  Livilla stepped from the staircase and walked slowly towards Velody, her hips swinging. The red beads of her dress shimmered in the lamplight. ‘Tell me who killed Dhynar, Lord Ferax, and I shall surrender my rooms to you.’

  Velody smiled thinly. ‘Dhynar fell in his attempt to betray and kill his Power and Majesty. It does not matter who wielded the blade; it was done in service to me. And I do not want your rooms, Livilla. I want the fealty you pledged to me on the third day of the Floralia. I want you to keep your word.’

  ‘I have never disobeyed you,’ the Wolf Lord said, baring her teeth in a snarl.

  ‘Ask me for your rooms,’ Velody said calmly. ‘That is a direct order. Ask, or I shall take them from you; and more than that — I will take you apart. Chances are I’ll have to do it to one of you at some stage, to prove that I am a worthy Power and Majesty. I might as well choose the first to rebel, the first to speak to me as if I were someone’s maidservant.’

  Velody’s animor pulsed with frustration. These people confounded her. Why couldn’t they be sensible? Why couldn’t they accept that they had a job to do and get on with it, without all the silly blood and ritual and politics?

  She would play the game if she must, but it made her skin itch. Changes had to be made.

  ‘They said you were soft,’ said Livilla, a smile taking over her face. ‘I don’t know what you are.’

  A bloody good liar, Velody thought, loud enough to scream. ‘I am Velody. I am the Power and Majesty that you swore fealty to. Would you be forsworn, as Dhynar was forsworn? Would you walk the streets in pain and corruption, a tortured soul doomed to destroy everything she touches?’

  ‘That fate would only befall me if I died,’ Livilla breathed. She was enjoying this, damn her. Her eyes sparkled, her breasts heaved under the stupidly skimpy frock. What the saints was holding those beads up?

  ‘If you raise a hand against me and the oaths you swore,’ Velody said quietly, ‘I will strike you down in an instant. I proved with Dhynar that I could conquer a street shade. I would risk it again, if I had to.’

  ‘Such fire, from a little mouse,’ said Livilla, and deliberately licked her lips.

  Velody sincerely regretted that hitting the other demme over the head with a brick would make such bad politics. ‘Make your decision, Livilla, Lord Wolf. Fast.’

  ‘Don’t be rash in this, Lord Wolf,’ said Priest with a smirk. ‘You never did challenge our last Power and Majesty, did you? Don’t think this one will forgive you every time you spread your legs.’

  Livilla’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘Garnet loved me!’

  ‘Aye, perhaps he did,’ said Priest with a hint of wistfulness. ‘But you’ve no idea how to handle a Power and Majesty who has no love for you, who doesn’t indulge your whims as our Garnet did. Look deeply into the face of this one. She’s not impressed with your amateur dramatics.’

  ‘Thank you, Lord Pigeon,’ said Velody, taking back control of the conversation. ‘I hardly need an interpreter.’

  Livilla’s perfect cosmeticked heart of a mouth twitched slightly. ‘You won’t hurt me, Velody of the Vittorine. You challenged your precious Ashiol because he gouged out Poet’s stomach to prove a point. You’re against wanton acts of violence.’

  ‘So I am,’ Velody said calmly. ‘But apparently wanton acts of violence are the only way to make you people listen.’ She had to be prepared to hurt Livilla, to win this fight, however much she hated it. She was going to remake this Court, one stitch at a time, so that none of this posturing was necessary. But to make that happen, she had to be prepared to be the kind of Power and Majesty they recognised.

  She formed a blade in her mind, sharp and vicious. She could do this. She filled her head with the image of slicing Livilla open, neck to belly, d
estroying that gorgeous sheath of red beading.

  At least the dress wasn’t white.

  Velody held Livilla’s gaze, showing her exactly what it was she was capable of doing, what she intended to do. Everything.

  ‘You won’t,’ breathed Livilla. ‘You’re too nice.’ She said ‘nice’ as if it was something sour on her tongue. ‘Saint Velody.’

  ‘Is that what you all call me?’ said Velody, and gave a short laugh. ‘Oh, you got that wrong.’

  Blood, she couldn’t do blood, not yet. Vomiting might damage her dignity in their eyes. It would have to be pain. Velody hurled her animor at Livilla, Lord Wolf, in a thousand agonising needles, and hated herself just a little for going so far.

  Livilla crumpled like a harlequina with her strings cut. She made no sound as she fell.

  ‘Once again,’ said Velody. ‘Is there anything you have to ask me?’

  Livilla lifted her face, eyes wide and rimmed with tears. A nice touch, beautifully staged even through the pain. She opened her mouth, and no sound came out.

  The two courtesi both tensed as if about to leap to Livilla’s defence, but Velody turned her gaze on them, sharp and challenging. ‘No,’ she said.

  The taller one, Janvier, placed a hand on the arm of the younger, Seonard, who was about to explode in frustration.

  ‘Try harder,’ Velody suggested to Livilla, not letting up the pain.

  Livilla pressed her lips together, smearing her cosmetick. Slowly she rose, with great effort, knuckles white, body taut and defensive. She lifted her chin and stared at Velody in defiance. ‘Power and Majesty,’ she said, haughtier than any Duchessa. ‘May I please retain the rooms I shared with Garnet, for as long as you reign?’

  ‘Yes,’ Velody said, not wanting to draw this out now that Livilla had capitulated. She turned away as if this scene no longer held any interest for her. ‘Priest, shall we return to your nave for more refreshment?’

  ‘As you wish, my Lady Power,’ he replied with a bow.

  ‘Excellent.’ Velody walked away, her steps muffled on the concrete floor. She held her head high, pretending that she did not feel Livilla’s eyes bore hatefully into her back. Velody had made an enemy instead of an ally today, but since when was that anything new?

  ‘You did well,’ Crane admitted later, once they were in the city above, making their way back to Via Silviana.

  ‘Better than you feared?’ Velody asked. The light was fading from the sky already. Nox was coming all over again, as it always did. She had felt a brief glow of triumph for what she had wrought with Livilla, but now the darkness was back, wrapping around her like a cloud; it was all she could do to hold herself upright, not to hurl herself at Crane again and sob her heart out.

  There had to be hope that she could change all this, that she wouldn’t have to be monstrous every time she wanted something from one of the Court. But where to begin? With Ashiol pouring himself into a bottle to escape them all, she had only the sentinels to help her decide what to do, and how to behave.

  ‘Better than I hoped.’ Crane sounded so serious. ‘But if Warlord had been there, you wouldn’t have taken Livilla so easily.’

  ‘Warlord and I have an understanding,’ said Velody.

  ‘His loyalty to Livilla is longer and older than any promises he makes to you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, laying her hand on his arm. Even this brief touch made the dark thoughts lift off her, for a moment. ‘I mean it. You work so hard, all of you, to keep me upright. To support me. I do appreciate it.’

  Crane regarded her warily, as if he was waiting for the ‘but’. ‘It’s what we’re here for,’ he said finally.

  ‘I appreciate that, too.’ Velody almost laughed at the look on his face. ‘Is it so unusual, to be thanked for doing your job?’

  ‘I thought you were angry at me.’

  ‘Not right this second.’

  He smiled then, as honest and true as if there were a lantern shining out from his face. Oh, saints and angels.

  ‘You should get some sleep,’ Velody said firmly when they reached her kitchen door.

  Crane looked as if he was about to argue, then he bowed his head with a small smile. Obedient. We’ll see how long that lasts.

  Velody waited in the yard after he closed the gate behind him, until she could no longer feel his proximity heating her skin. Then she reached for a foothold there, a handhold here, and clambered up the side of her building to reach the roof. It was calm up here, and cool, and as good a place as any to arrange her cluttered thoughts. Velody lay on her back, the rough pattern of clay tiles digging into her spine.

  The stars began to appear, one by one, as the sky gave way to nox. Nothing rained down upon them; not yet, in any case. Velody stared at her hand, making it glow brightly enough with animor that she could see every crease and callous, even the small scar from the time a knife had slipped when she was cutting cabbage. It was her, entirely her. And yet …

  She shaped her thumb into a small, brown mouse. Its nose quivered, tickling her other fingers. She snapped back into herself, and the fur was gone. Just her ordinary thumb, same as ever.

  Her body shuddered, from neck to ankle. She wanted to run in all directions at once. Wanted … something.

  She flicked her thumb back into mouse shape, and let the mouse pull entirely free of her skin. It ran down her body, sniffing, and hovered near her stomach. Huh. Velody hadn’t thought about that before. If she could control her mass, she could change her own human body shape, surely. Flatten the slight swell of her stomach, take an inch or two off her thighs. Delphine’s dresses would hang better on her, when she borrowed them.

  But, no. If something happened to some of her mouse shapes, Velody might need those curves. To make new thumbs, or something.

  The skin on her hand was smooth where her thumb used to be. She called the mouse back, and took him into herself again, then moved her thumb back and forth.

  Odd. She felt the presence of the wolf before it leaped from the baker’s roof to her own. She stared at it. Not Livilla, she was certain. There was nothing of the Lord about this creature. But neither was it an ordinary wolf.

  Velody reached out, pushing her animor against him. ‘Change.’

  He stepped back once, twice, his paws scrabbling for a hold on the tiles.

  ‘Change,’ Velody said again, and gave him a harder shove with her animor.

  He shaped himself all at once, and sprawled on the roof: it was Seonard, the younger of Livilla’s boys, all scowl and too-long hair. ‘You oughtn’t of done that,’ he muttered.

  ‘It’s my roof,’ she said calmly.

  ‘Don’t care about me,’ he said, scratching the back of his head. ‘You oughtn’t of treated my Lord like that.’

  ‘Did Livilla send you to me?’ But she knew the answer to that already, from the shifty expression on his face. ‘Your Lord swore fealty to me, Seonard. I deserve her loyalty, just as she deserves yours.’

  ‘You’re just some demme,’ he protested.

  ‘Your Lord is “some demme” too.’

  That made him angrier. ‘Wash yer mouth out! She’s a lady!’

  Oh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ Velody asked him.

  The boy gave a shrug that seemed to encompass the whole world within it.

  ‘I have no problem with Lord Livilla, as long as she holds to her oath,’ Velody offered as a compromise that might allow him to retreat with some dignity. She had no wish to fight this boy and send him home bleeding to his mistress.

  Seonard shrugged again, and made no sign of moving. He was worse than Crane for brooding silences.

  ‘How long have you been in the Creature Court?’ Velody asked finally. If she was to share the roof with him, she might as well get some useful information out of it.

  Seonard lifted one shoulder, no longer bothering to even shrug properly. ‘Couple a years.’

  She had so many questions, though no reason t
o think he would answer them. Why would a child choose this life? Had it chosen him? Why Livilla, of all of them? Why did he think she was the one who could best offer him protection? This close, she wasn’t even sure if he was old enough for his man’s robe.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Velody asked instead, feeling ridiculous, like one of the formal patrons who had sometimes visited the Apprentice House, displaying as much knowledge about seams and hems as could fit on the head of a pin, but always being terribly polite about it.

  To her surprise, Seonard gave her a wicked grin. ‘Course I do. Nothing better, is there?’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘We’re fighting the sky, aye? No one else gets to do that, only us, and we’re rubies at it! Like chasing bolts of warlight across the sky, bam, wham, and bloodstars … you know they make this popping sound if you wrap animor around them, like in your hand? And iceblades, ha, if you blast them just right, they shatter into patterns. It’s rubies, isn’t it?’

  Velody just stared at him. He looked so fiercely excited, like a child with a heap of Saturnalia parcels in front of him, and a mouth full of sugared raisins. ‘Best job in the world,’ she repeated.

  Seonard nodded enthusiastically. ‘Aye, course it is.’ He paused, and when he spoke again it was in such a low mutter that she almost missed it. ‘Wanted to say thanks.’

  ‘To me?’

  ‘You could have turfed my Lord out on her ear. Any other Power and Majesty would have done it, I reckon. You let her keep her pride when you didn’t hafta.’

  ‘I don’t have anything against Livilla,’ said Velody, which was almost entirely true. ‘We’re all on the same side.’

  ‘Reckon we are,’ said Seonard, as if he hadn’t thought of it that way before. ‘Aye, I’m off then.’ He sat up straight. ‘You try it, next battle. Hold the bloodstars in your hand and push the animor at them. They pop like sausages!’ He laughed once, and then shaped himself into the altogether more sombre figure of the wolf. He trotted to the edge of the roof and leaped off.

  Velody sat there for some time after he had gone. ‘Like sausages,’ she repeated in a murmur. She never would entirely understand the Creature Court.