Queen of faces, p.6
Queen of Faces, page 6
‘Dearest mother,’ I said. ‘A fine morning, is it not?’
She ignored me, scanning a sheaf of papers floating before her. As usual, she was wearing a designer chassis. A tall, perfect beauty with milky-white skin and sweeping blonde hair, fastened into a military bun. Flecks of gold leaf shone in the whites of her eyes, a modern imitation of a star-woven body. A dozen blue lanterns hovered around her like balloons, made almost weightless by her Codex, Stone Feather.
My mother’s Pith was nearing seventy, but her face resembled a woman in her mid-twenties. She’d purchased this body just last month, selling her former one that was starting to look thirty.
‘I thought you might want to bid me farewell,’ I said. ‘Fling some more insults my way. Blight on my family, lazy cretin, the usual.’
‘Speak quickly or not at all,’ said my mother. ‘Commonplace derailed a train this morning, while you frittered away the hours.’
‘The culprit?’
‘Korin Nameless. A Shenti bombmaker, working on their payroll. Fifty of my sailors are dead, and nineteen fabricated bodies are missing. I find myself far too busy for your buffoonery.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You’ve done a marvellous job quelling the anarchy. I could smell the smoke from our swimming pool.’
My mother sniffed. She was hovering over the water, her toes grazing the surface. She was just high enough to look down on me. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’ve been thinking of joining Commonplace,’ I said. ‘After you kick me out. Make friends with the pissy Humdrums in the streets. They let mages in, don’t they? You just have to hate Paragon enough.’ I raised a finger. ‘When the mob storms Hightown and buries you in your own treasure, keep an eye out for me. I’ll be looting the nearest oyster bar.’
My mother stared at me, refusing to bite at my mockery.
‘Call this farce off,’ I said. ‘Unless you want another kid in the hospital.’
‘This kid has defeated you by more than fifteen points in the written portion of this contest.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘You found a proper bookworm to embarrass me. But that –’ I pointed at the Everautumn – ‘is no classroom. All that academic nonsense means nothing if I win today. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the second-best fighter in my year.’ Only Adam Weaver could consistently trounce me. ‘I know eighty-six different spells, not counting my Codex.’
‘Eighty-six spells, and not a lick of sense.’ Disgust radiated from her face. ‘You let a novice take your hand, maim your fiancé.’
‘The freak is dead. What does it matter?’ The illusion girl had just got lucky, anyway. I’d been practising my water magic, and hadn’t even drawn my sword.
‘A basic patrol and you failed even that. I spent a fortune on the latest chassis model—’
‘That I never asked for.’
‘Because I thought it might cover for your mediocrities in class, your hollow work ethic, your simple mind.’
Bile rose in my throat. I fumbled for a witty retort, coming up blank.
‘But you squandered that too. Replacing your body cost this family a fortune. More than you will ever earn in your life. You’ve left me no choice.’ She sighed. ‘You are no fit daughter for a plumber. How do you think it looks when you’re the offspring of an admiral? A descendant of Westyn the Last King?’
‘An idiotic rumour,’ I said. ‘If Father ever had royal blood, it was only a few droplets. And I’d have even less.’
‘Either way,’ she said. ‘Your failure remains.’
‘You think this bookworm can replace me? Can they host a banquet or dance at a ball? Can they manage land or grow our wealth? Can they play politics or bring glory to our house?’
‘I don’t know,’ said my mother. ‘Can you?’
‘It isn’t fair.’ I raised my voice. ‘If Father were around, you never would have—’
‘No,’ she said. ‘But he’s gone. A madwoman burned him alive, then sent him back to me in a flour sack. He should have been here to shoulder your burdens, but he’s dead and you’re alive, and there is no fairness in this world. Khaiovhe taught me that lesson. And I’ll teach you, one way or another.’
I had never known my father well. He had poured all his time into his teaching, instructing the next generation of mages while my mother ran the Home Fleet. When one of his students went on a killing spree, he’d gone after her with a retinue of mages. We all knew how that one ended. She’d named herself Khaiovhe, the words for black wraith in the old tongue. After my mother got the telegram informing us of his passing, she had visited a random prisoner in his cell, where she’d rolled up her sleeves and calmly beaten him half to death. And when the funeral came, she’d banned everyone from attending except her. I’d been locked out of my own father’s burial.
Eight years after his death, my mother was still furious. And now her rage was spilling on to me again.
‘You won’t take this from me,’ I said. ‘This is my birthright. My legacy.’
‘A man is entitled to nothing but his wits,’ she said. ‘Body is a privilege. Memory is a privilege. Name is a privilege. You don’t deserve any of them.’
I shrugged, and stomped up the woven stairs, pushing down the pit in my stomach. It felt like I was sleepwalking on a lake bed, swept by invisible currents. My mother had refused to bend, as expected. Still, it had been worth a try.
Because if I lost, I would get Ousted. I would be exiled from my family and banned from seeing my friends or Samuel. The challenger would take my body, my Paragon slot, my fiancé and my name. I would be replaced, as per ancient tradition.
Normal families just disowned their children. Caimorian nobles went a hundred times further.
I emerged from the stairway, fifty feet over the misty lake. A circular platform stretched before me, woven from the branches of the Everautumn. Samuel sat in raised seating to the side, his face a stony mask. Above him, an audience of nobles had gathered. At the far edge, I spotted two Shapers from the House of Faces, hidden beneath massive, oversized cloaks. Denis Sutcliffe, chief of the Eldritch Guard, sat beside them, glaring at me with cold blue eyes. Headmaster Carriwitch himself sat next to him, examining a leaf from the tree. He popped it into his mouth, munching thoughtfully.
My enemy sat cross-legged on the far side of the woven arena, wearing a slender tunic and slacks. A boy. My mother wanted to replace me with a boy. I’d known about it for weeks, of course, but it still stung. A quick riffle through her office had turned up his file: a talented young mage she’d found in a village somewhere. A prodigy so gifted they’d spotted him even before he could take the entrance exam. His gender was only a mild objection, so long as he was willing to play the perfect daughter. My mother’s mirror image, a role I was uniquely ill-suited for.
And the upstart, to my irritation, was breathtakingly gorgeous. Tall, strong, with tousled brown hair and lean muscles. His skin was perfect, smooth, and his features hinted at androgyny: a rare sight in Caimorian fashions. What’s more, when you looked closely into his sharp green eyes, you could see it: the faint glimmer of tiny stars. I growled. How did this penniless rat get his hands on a star-woven chassis? Even I didn’t own one of those.
Did my mother think this would faze me? Send a boy, I thought. Send a monkey for all I care. Without Paragon training, this boy was likely to be lost in a real magic duel. But if my mother had selected this boy, she must have thought he was special.
Still, he might not even have a Codex. Most mages didn’t. You could learn every spell in the world from the books, and never birth a unique one of your own.
Although, even without a Codex, my father had been the deadliest fighter in the country. Second-deadliest, after the woman who killed him.
I stepped forward, slapping my cheeks. Samuel smiled at me, filling me with warmth.
My mother floated above the stands. Her voice rang down on us. ‘The great families of Caimor are forged in merit, not blood. When our branches grow rotten, we trim them. We are the prodigies of man, born to reveal the truths of heaven and earth. Minds like burning stars.’
‘Minds like burning stars,’ the challenger and I said in unison.
I gazed up at the morning sky. A giant serpent floated over the lake. It stretched more than sixty feet and had flattened its silver body to be as wide as my chest.
An oracle snake. It slithered through the clouds, lifted by some invisible force.
The animals were incredibly rare. I had only seen them in photographs. But, according to superstition, they only showed up before pivotal events in history.
They were very good omens. Or very bad.
My eyes swept over the platform, the twining branches of the Everautumn woven under our feet. I noted my supply crates on the edge behind me, and my opponent’s: the weapons we’d use for our duel. As my mother droned on, I closed my eyes and pictured sleeping for another minute, another hour. A balm for my aching eyes, my throbbing head.
You could have had a week’s worth of sleep. Months, once you tallied all the time I’d wasted. I wrenched my eyes open, willing them to stay.
‘—the first to touch the lake will be the loser. May you strive to be an Exemplar.’ My mother looked at the boy she’d groomed to replace me. ‘First combatant, are you ready?’
The pretty boy nodded, sinking into a low combat stance.
‘Second combatant, are you ready?’
‘Yes.’ I bounced on my feet, light on my toes like a boxer.
‘Begin!’
As my mother opened her mouth, the boy was already moving. Holding his stance, he whipped up his arms. In the blink of an eye, a massive wave of water blasted out of the lake, rising behind him. He swung his arms forward, and the wave rushed towards me, twenty feet high and nearly as wide as the arena.
I dived to the side, dodging the thunderous surge. The water roared past me over the platform, splashing into my hair. I reached my Pith into the crates behind me, holding them in place so they didn’t sweep over the edge.
The boy shoved his palms forward, and a column of fire shot from his hands. I bobbed and wove round the flames, feeling the heat on my face.
The flames stuttered, an opening. Before he could blink, I was sprinting at him, closing the distance in a fraction of a second. Up close, my sword would make quick work of him.
When I was an arm’s length away, the boy flicked his wrists at me. A gust of wind slammed into my chest, throwing me to the far side of the platform. I skidded on the rough floor and hissed, the air knocked out of my lungs.
But I didn’t have time to catch my breath. More fireballs shot towards me, scorching the woven branches of the arena. I flipped up on to my feet, dodging them, and a wave of heat seared into my back. Then I sprinted at him again.
He flicked his wrist, and a second gust of wind blasted into me, throwing me back like a twig in a hurricane.
I slammed on to the floor, gasping, out of breath. Prophets damn him. The boy had raw strength with his Physical magic. More strength than me, probably. A repulsive natural talent. No wonder my mother had found him. Time to change things up.
‘Good morning, Ori,’ I said.
Ori’s face went white – and raw, ugly pleasure flooded my veins. I wasn’t supposed to know his name. Adrenaline surged through my mind. Liquid joy, sharpening my senses, tuning out every distraction.
‘I did a spot of research when I learned my mother was teaching you.’
I rolled under a swarm of icicles. One of them grazed my shoulder, cutting open my sleeve.
‘I wondered. What sort of monster would rip a teenage girl from her family?’ I smirked. ‘So, I learned about your family. Your Humdrum family.’ It was a weak insult. Humdrums birthed powerful mages all the time. But Ori might feel insecure about his roots. Especially considering what else I’d found.
I broke open a crate of sand, forming a cloud to block his vision. It vibrated with my voice, one of the many spells I’d learned recently.
‘Your mother was a drunk. Your father left when he got her pregnant.’ Ori threw a fireball at me, and I danced around it. ‘Your sister raised you, bled for you. Now she’s in the hospital, and you’re abandoning her.’ I snorted. ‘Your daddy’s genes, I guess.’
Ori lowered his stance, hurling fireballs from his fists. I curved round them with ease, spinning like a ballroom dancer.
‘My family, on the other hand.’ I gestured to myself. ‘We cofounded Paragon. We crossed the ocean and brought fire to the desert. We slew giants and raised empires out of the mud.’
Ori clenched his teeth and kept attacking, his blasts getting more and more reckless, failing to hide his anger. His chest rose and fell, out of breath, and sweat coated his shirt.
‘That is the legacy your greasy fingers reach for,’ I snarled. ‘The name you wish to steal.’
Finally, Ori’s anger got the better of him. For the first time in our bout, he rose from his stance and charged across the platform towards me.
Just as I’d expected.
I extended my Pith towards two Voidsteel cables behind me, into the oak rods tied to the ends. I couldn’t use magic on the Voidsteel, but I could move the wood they were attached to. At my command, they shot out of the backs of the crates and through the branches below us, hidden from sight.
Ori sprinted towards me as I raised the cables behind him on the far side of the platform. He leapt at me, and I dropped them on to him from above. One looped over his chest, another round his neck. I yanked the wooden batons at the ends, and the cables pulled taut, wrenching him to a halt.
The boy gasped for air, choking, wheezing. He pulled at the cables, to no avail. He shot fire at the rods, but they darted out of the way. A second passed, then another, as the oxygen drained from his body, one choked breath at a time.
Desperate, Ori clenched his fists, straining his neck. The ground shook beneath us, and something rumbled from under the lake.
Ori jerked his arms up, and a massive boulder rose behind him, the size of a horse. Water dripped from its jagged edges, and algae covered its surface. He must have torn it right out of the lake bed, lifting it five whole storeys up the side of the tree.
Still choking, Ori whipped his arms forward, and the boulder shot at my face, too heavy to block, too wide to dodge.
It was finally time.
I reached into my pocket and drew out a folded slip of paper, smaller than my palm. It unfolded itself, straightening into a flat, narrow blade as wide as my finger and longer than my arm. I engaged my Codex, Folding Edge, making the paper razor-sharp.
A slow, calm breath escaped my lips as time stretched to a crawl.
Then I whipped the sword down and sliced the boulder in half.
The two pieces shot past me, careering into the lake. Ori thrashed on the cables, gasping and wheezing, shooting icicles wildly at me. I darted forward, dodging with ease, and slashed the blade across his face, a thin cut from forehead to jaw.
‘I am Lady Nell, of the House Ebbridge.’ I smirked. ‘And you are not worthy.’
The boy went limp on the rope. The icicles dropped to the floor, shattering over the branches.
I smiled at Samuel, and his eyes flashed with pride. He had taught me the spell with the cables, an ace to keep in my back pocket. I’d won, and I hadn’t even needed my wings.
In the stands, my mother shook her head. Killing was forbidden in Ousting duels. Let him go, she said with her glare. If he dies, Commonplace will have a field day in the papers.
I shrugged and kicked the sleeping boy off the platform. A gentle splash rang out, the sound of a body hitting the lake.
I blew a kiss in his direction and waved farewell.
One by one, the muscles in my body relaxed, like scales on a keyboard. Sweat stained my white cardigan, and I wheezed, out of breath. Not bad, Mother. In her shrewd loathing, she had given me an actual challenge.
Next year, she would try Ousting me again, and I would have to study better. But for now, I would trudge back to Paragon and eat breakfast with Samuel. Pancakes, perhaps, and some pickled asparagus on toast. I would return to my life and squeeze out what pleasure I could.
Now the real work would begin.
Something hard collided with the back of my neck, and my vision blurred. Seconds later, a steel rod slammed into my throat.
I gasped, doubling over. A figure rose on the far side of the tree, lifted by his sweaty clothes, blood streaming from a thin cut on his face.
Ori wasn’t unconscious. He had never touched the lake. Water magic. He’d used a spell to splash the liquid beneath him, making it sound like he’d fallen in. Faking the noise of his defeat.
He jabbed his hand forward, and a lightning bolt screamed from his palm, blasting into my chest.
Fire burned through my nerves. The world spun around me, blurry at the edges.
I reached for my magic, willed my limbs to move. But the lightning had numbed my muscles, sapping the strength from my mind. Pain stabbed into my body like needles, shattering my focus.
Ori made a gesture, and my clothes pushed me to the end of the platform.
Samuel gazed into my eyes, shaking, powerless. I’d known him since before I could walk. In our final moments, I wanted to think of him, of laughter and kisses, of summer picnics and ballroom dances. Every breath, every whisper.
But I thought only of my mother, and the words that served as her parting gift. Body is a privilege. Memory is a privilege. Name is a privilege. You don’t deserve any of them.
As I fell towards the water, I knew she was right.
i dreamed of blood, of failure.
I writhed on the cobblestones, screaming. My severed right hand lay in a puddle. Beside me, Samuel clutched his leg, his trousers stained with crimson.
Down the street, a girl in a stolen chassis darted away from us. In just three minutes, she had destroyed my life, my future. Simple fool, my mother’s voice whispered. Simple fool.
