Grey Sister (Book of the Ancestor 2)

“You punched through that man’s head.” Images of the act flooded Kettle’s vision. In a distant cell Nona winced.

“I walked the Path,” Zole said, standing behind Kettle as she attended the captive.

“You could have just stabbed him. Or punched him more . . . gently.” Kettle stood up and turned around.

“I did not know how many I would have to deal with. And I have not got a knife.”

Kettle presented Zole with one of the daggers from her belt, a hefty piece of iron, nine inches long and honed to lethality. “Now you do.” She smiled. “And thank you. I think he had me.”

Zole said nothing, just scowled and flexed her fingers.

“You’ve not killed someone before.” Not a question.

“No.”

“You’re right to feel it. It’s not something to be taken lightly.” Kettle put her hand to Zole’s shoulder. The girl flinched but made no move to push Kettle away.

In the distant cell a frown creased Nona’s brow. She tried to remember her first. One of Sherzal’s soldiers that night in the Rellam Forest. She had been eight, perhaps. She had worn the blood of those soldiers into Giljohn’s cage but any trace of guilt had washed off long before.

“Well.” Kettle gave Zole’s shoulder a squeeze then removed her hand. “We should find out who our friend here is and what he knows.”

Kettle crouched and studied the man. The others had been similarly dressed in grey jerkins, dark trousers. Nona had little doubt they were the same order that held her captive. They had the same short hair, the same quiet dedication.

“I don’t really have to ask what he is,” Kettle said. “He’s one of the Lightless. He’s shadow-threaded, like me. I can sense it now I have a moment to concentrate. You can see it in him.”

Now Kettle said it Nona could see it too and wondered how she hadn’t before. The darkness moved around the man, a subtle thing, as mist would move around any other person.

“Lightless?” Zole asked.

“The Lightless are servants of the Noi-Guin,” Kettle said. “Most of them candidates who survived the training up to some point but failed to prove themselves. They outnumber the Noi-Guin considerably. You don’t often find them out and about though: it indicates that Nona has been captured by a Noi-Guin. Also that either this Noi-Guin took Lightless with him and left them to guard his trail—which seems unlikely. Or that they guard this trail habitually. Which would indicate that we are near the Tetragode.”

Zole had no more questions.

Nona had plenty but none of her efforts to get Kettle’s attention met with any success. Nobody knew where the Tetragode was sited, though it was rumoured to relocate every two to four years in any case. But wherever it was the place would be impregnable. The Noi-Guin had survived many enemies over the centuries, a good number of them emperors. Remaining hidden might be their primary defence but it was far from being their only defence.

“I’ll give him the antidote and we can see what he has to say for himself.” Kettle reached into her pocket.

“Is there any point?” Zole kicked at the ground. “He will be sworn to silence. I do not know what tortures they teach a Sister of Discretion but will it be enough to break him, and quickly?”

“I know how to hurt someone.” Kettle’s voice was grim. She took out her boning knife and used it to cut a rectangle from the bottom of the man’s trouser leg, enough to cover two splayed hands. Next she showed a pill between thumb and forefinger. “Antidote first.” Lifting the man’s head she put the pill into his open mouth, closed it, and raised his chin. She turned the man’s head so she could stare into his eyes. “In a short while you’ll gain control over your muscles again and be able to speak.” She picked up the rectangle of cloth and waited.

Control came to the man’s eyes first. A twitch, another twitch, and then a frenzy of darting this way and that.

“Your friends are dead,” Kettle said.

Next his mouth recovered. He spat a dark mess at Kettle who caught it neatly in the patch she’d cut from his trouser leg. She moved back. The man kept spitting and gagging as if he had the foulest taste in his mouth. At the back of Kettle’s mind Nona puzzled. The antidote to boneless tasted of nothing . . . perhaps a little salty.

“How far from here is the Tetragode?” Kettle asked.

“Ten miles.” The man slurred the words, his muscles still weak from the boneless. He blinked, a look of horror and astonishment coming over his face.

“We’re looking for a girl who has been captured. Tell me about anyone who has passed this way in the last few days who might have had her with them.”

The man’s face contorted with effort but his mouth betrayed him. “Tellasah came through two days ago, she was leading a mule, the box on it smelled as if it held a prisoner, or a body.”

“Who is Tellasah?” Kettle asked.

“She is a Noi-Guin, second order.” The man struggled to raise his hands to cover his mouth but the ropes held him.

“Describe the entrances to the Tetragode and their defences,” Kettle said.

“The main entrance is a cave at the foot of cliffs in the Grampain Mountains, half a mile west of the ri—” With a scream the man bit down hard and blood sprayed from his mouth. He gargled through it as if he were still answering the question but Nona couldn’t make out the words.

Kettle glanced down. Between the man’s gore-spattered legs lay a chunk of flesh. A large piece of tongue. Nona felt Kettle clench her jaw. A moment later her knife jutted from the man’s left eye, his pain over.

“You gave him Mistress Shade’s truth pill along with the antidote?” Zole asked, her voice as flat and free of emotion as ever.

“I did.”

“How many more do you have?”

“None.” Kettle pulled her knife free and wiped the blade on the man’s sleeve. “It’s not just a matter of rare ingredients, a powerful enchantment has to be used to bind them. Apple swapped favours with an Academic named Hanastoi, but no help from the Academy is ever cheap . . .”

“No point trying to capture another one then.” Zole knelt and started searching through the man’s pockets. “They must have a camp near here. What is your plan?”

“I don’t have one.” Kettle started back towards the trail. She paused. “How did you follow me without my noticing?”

“Carefully.” Zole looked up, pocketing a few coins. “Do not feel too bad about it. I am the Chosen One, after all.”

Although there was no hint of a smile Nona suspected that she might have witnessed Zole’s first joke.

“We should take their robes.” Kettle led the way back to the track. “If we can find any that aren’t obviously bloody. And cut our hair like they do. You’re almost there as it is.” She glanced back at Zole’s black and bristling thicket.

“You should,” Zole replied. “You are shadowed like they are. I should be your prisoner.”

“They won’t buy it.” Kettle reached the first of the fallen Lightless. The woods were thick with the smell of death, clinging despite the wind. “The guards will know this lot by sight. I can’t believe there are so many out here that they wouldn’t. And if there were that many then there would be passwords and such. Besides, we’ll probably be spotted hunting for the entrance. I doubt it’s obvious . . .”