Queen of faces, p.37
Queen of Faces, page 37
‘A magical reset,’ said Sophie. ‘Of his memory and personality.’
Ebbridge shrugged. ‘The lag did try to mug me.’
Liar. ‘And if I’m not interested?’
‘That would be unfortunate.’ His face fell. ‘My family would have no choice but to warn Paragon of your repulsive character. You’re an eastern dog, so you’re already on thin ice.’
He was right. One word from him and Sophie would be expelled. What little magic she’d learned would be wiped. She’d go back to being a functional Humdrum, if they didn’t throw her in prison.
The woman was still bleeding. If Sophie waited too long, she would go into shock.
Ebbridge unscrewed a tiny silver container. It looked like a lip balm tin. A slender, pale worm thrashed inside, barely thicker than a hair. He picked up the creature by the tail. Then he held open his eye and gently lowered it in. The worm wriggled into the gap between his eyeball and socket, invading his skull. He blinked, a grey tear trickling down his cheek. Then he exhaled, shoulders relaxing.
‘Spirit Larva,’ he said. ‘They induce joy and heighten intellect for up to a week before they dissolve. Twenty thousand apiece.’ He smiled at her. ‘I take them every night.’
This man wielded so much money. So much power. Against such weight, she might as well be fighting the tide.
‘So.’ Ebbridge extended his hand. ‘Tell me, mongrel. What does your future look like?’
Sophie stared into Roger’s bloodshot eyes. He stared back, pleading.
Waves crashed against the seawall. Professor Ebbridge gazed at her, moonlight shining off the slivers of gold in his eyes.
Sophie swallowed the bile in her throat and stepped forward to shake his hand.
Four years later, Sophie graduated from Paragon via the Physical track and joined the Eldritch Guard.
She told the story of the redemption camp to anyone who would listen. The starvation, the torture. Her father’s execution, and her impossible escape.
Nobody cared.
People made noises of sympathy, of course, pitying expressions from nobles. Hatred for the foreign emperor and the nation Caimor was fighting.
But when Sophie went into details, everyone changed the subject. When she pressed the issue, they dismissed her, accused her of embellishing.
No one believed what she’d been through, what was still happening to Humdrums all over Shenten. No one cared. Sometimes, after Paragon cocktail parties, she could spot Roger at the back of the room, mopping the floors and sweeping up scraps. A crooked-nosed janitor, his memories and personality erased. He was unsettling now, a hollow shell who muttered cryptic riddles, with no sign of the kindness he’d once shown her. Sophie always avoided him.
She coped by training, making herself strong enough to break through any cage. She discovered, then mastered, her Physical Codex, Darkfire, a black flame that burned hotter than any other.
Then she’d got a job in foreign intelligence. During a field mission, a bomb had caught her head-on, and the Eldritch Guard had offered her a star-woven chassis to replace it, on account of her stellar service. A breathtaking, eternally youthful face, pulled out of a museum somewhere. Half Shenti, a feature that cut its sell value by a factor of ten.
Sophie wanted to refuse, to spit in their faces. I’m Shenti, she wanted to scream, not some cheap cocktail to be watered down. But she needed it. Merely half a Shenti body was more palatable to her colleagues. And she needed promotions to access the evidence she was hunting for.
Two years later, she had it.
Sophie stepped off the blue filigree elevator, into the headmaster’s office at the top of the administrative building. The space looked less like an office and more like some ancient observatory. The room stretched several storeys high, sunlight pouring in through windows. A globe hung from the ceiling, a vast metal sphere engraved with the continents of the world. Silver bookshelves rose from behind the desk.
Of course, all of it paled before the old bearded man in front of her. He leaned back on his chair, wearing a bathrobe, bare feet resting on his smooth wooden desk. A gramophone played a piano solo, and he nodded along, sipping tea and perusing a book.
‘What are you reading?’ said Sophie.
Headmaster Carriwitch beamed, sitting up. ‘Shellfish Secrets: 100 Recipes for Crab. Riveting.’
‘We’re at war,’ said Sophie. ‘And you’re reading a cookbook.’
Carriwitch chuckled.
‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘I’m rather old, and we move slower than you saplings.’ He gestured towards a seat in front of him.
‘You seem rather intent, young lady. So, I’ll try not to fuss around. What do you have for me today?’
Sophie sat down and showed him her evidence. Pages and pages of it.
‘So, in summary,’ she said. ‘The Shenti are operating over five hundred redemption camps, most within Shenten itself. As per the emperor’s new system, dissidents, the homeless, and the mentally ill are exterminated via labour and starvation.’ She took a deep breath. ‘At least two thousand civilians are killed there every week.’
Carriwitch laid a hand on his chest. ‘This is excellent work, Sophie. Thank you. It is a great horror you have uncovered.’
‘Uncovered?’ said Sophie. ‘I was in one of them. I’ve talked about it for years.’ She struggled not to raise her voice.
‘But forgive me –’ Carriwitch folded his hands – ‘these camps are almost entirely composed of Humdrums, yes?’
‘That’s correct.’
An ominous feeling sprouted in Sophie’s gut, twisting like a snake.
Carriwitch closed his eyes. ‘The Treaty of Silence is . . . rather strict. Our world must be kept separate from the Humdrums, for their safety and ours.’
‘But we’re not separate,’ said Sophie. ‘Parliament is filled with noble mages. And we fight in the war against Shenten.’
‘We can fight Shenti mages, as you and your comrades have bravely done, but it must be secret. Do you know why the Treaty of Silence was formed?’ Carriwitch sat forward. ‘When the Star Prophets drowned, the survivors blamed mages for the devastation. A great war was fought, and the Humdrums forced us into hiding. To survive, we made ourselves invisible to ordinary minds. To expose us is to end us.’
‘Even if we can’t act,’ said Sophie, ‘what about our Humdrum military? We could get them to bomb the rail lines and roads leading into the camps.’
Carriwitch sighed. ‘As you’re no doubt aware, the fortunes of war have turned on Caimor. We can focus on Humdrum charity when we’re not on the verge of destruction.’
They’ll all be dead by then. Sophie clenched her fists.
‘I know how much pain you’re in,’ said Carriwitch, his voice calm. ‘But if peace were easy, we’d never have to fight for it. By maintaining balance, we – and the Treaty of Silence – are protecting the lives of millions.’
In Sophie’s mind, she saw Professor Ebbridge’s face, lips parted in a vicious smile.
Who are you protecting, Headmaster? she thought. Who are you protecting?
Sophie had gathered evidence of these atrocities. But she’d never planned beyond that. The truth was enough, wasn’t it? Faced with proof of a living nightmare, people wouldn’t just sit there.
‘Life is so complicated these days.’ Carriwitch sighed. ‘I must confess, I wax nostalgic for the days of my youth. The world was so much simpler.’
The world was never simple, Sophie whispered in her mind. You just thought it was.
She stood, bowed and left the office.
Sophie gazed over the cliff, into the white haze below. Snowflakes dusted her hair, a storm passing through the mountains.
If she took another step, she would break the Treaty of Silence. She would destroy millennia of secrecy in an instant. Mages from every corner of the oceans would hunt her as a criminal.
But still, she couldn’t turn back.
Sophie unfurled her wingsuit and jumped off the cliff.
On the snowy tundra, hundreds of prisoners trudged forward, forming rows round a hill. Snowflakes drifted around them, the air still, the sun glaring behind clouds. A silver oracle snake wound back and forth in the sky, tranquil.
The prisoners all knew what was coming. They’d been to this hill before. So, they didn’t react when the guards dragged a bleeding man to the tree stump.
‘This locust tried to steal food from the storehouse!’ a guard cried. ‘His treacherous sloth festers from within. He lacks the discipline, the intellect, the moral spine to be a patriot!’
‘No!’ the prisoner yelled, his voice hoarse. These were his last words. He was going to make them count. ‘I fought for the emperor, for Cao Hui! I fought for his vision, to take what is ours by right. To find our people a new home as the waters rose.’
‘Silence!’ A guard kicked the prisoner’s face.
The prisoner spat up blood and kept going. ‘And now that I’m no longer useful, I am sent here to die.’ He looked at the guards, at the prisoners. ‘Is this the world we dreamed? What was the point?’ he said, wheezing. ‘What was the point?’
The other prisoners just stared at him, exhausted. Snowflakes collected on their withering hair.
The guards ignored him too. How many times had they heard rants from locusts, cries of regret and despair? The words of the dying meant nothing. They knew their role and were filling it. That was all.
The guard by the stump lifted his broadsword.
The prisoner screamed, his voice cracking. A raw, animalistic noise. Raging at his life cut short, at his complicity, at his powerlessness.
Sophie screamed with him, and set the world on fire.
The sun went dark. Black flames washed over the executioner, and he dropped to the ground, his skin charred.
The sword fell from his hand, spinning through the air.
Sophie’s hand reached out of the storm and grabbed it.
Time slowed. The guards stared at her.
Then Sophie screamed again. Nineteen spears of Darkfire shot out, crashing down on nineteen guards from above. They died before they hit the ground. The flames vaporised the flakes in the air, turning the snow into steaming puddles.
Two of the watchtowers opened fire with their machine guns. The rounds bounced off her invisible bullet shield like raindrops against an iron roof.
Sophie flicked her wrist, and a pair of black fireballs slammed into the towers, exploding with a dull boom. She took to the skies, flying over the camp. A few touches of metal magic, and the radios were broken, stopping any distress call.
Then came the simple part. She burned the guards. She flew through the snow, raining down wave after wave of dark flames. An angel of fire and rage.
The guards were Humdrums. Men and women from another world. They hadn’t even seen a mage in action before, much less fought one. They had no spells, no Voidsteel, no training to deal with someone like her.
Killing them was easy. Easier than every battle she’d fought. As she burned, a cloak of green lightning wrapped round her shoulders, enveloping her like a funeral shroud. The second branch of her Codex, infusing her mind with insight, burning visions of her past and future.
Sophie barely noticed, even as the strength of her flames doubled. She had work to do.
Once she sealed the gates, the guards’ own fence now locked them in. Some of them tried to climb it, frying on the electric wire. Some attempted to take hostages, but she jammed their guns or pulled the knives out of their hands. The smart ones went to their knees and begged: a shrewd tactic, but futile. Either way, they all burned.
When she finished off the guards, she gathered the prisoners around her and told them the best routes to escape Shenten, to find smuggling ships and make it south-west to Caimor’s lines. Then she extended her hand, and the fence ripped itself open like an old shirt.
As the prisoners fled, she consulted the maps in her memory. The next closest redemption camp was Luoyesong, thirty-two miles to the east. They had no idea she was coming.
Shenten’s battle mages had scattered over the oceans, across the war’s front line, fighting Caimor’s mages in secret. It would be at least a week before they could move against her. She could burn many redemption camps.
The Treaty of Silence would burn too. But that was fine.
Sophie flew into the snow, seeking her next pyre.
Basilisk, Lampago and Ouroboros squads had been hunting Sophie for four weeks.
The chase had spanned glaciers, mountains and rivers. She’d liberated countless redemption camps already, fighting off Humdrums and mages along the way.
But her goal had made her easy to track. At the next camp, Lianhua, they were waiting for her.
Even during a war, the Eldritch Guard could spare three top-ranked squads to hunt down one of their own. Sophie wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or repulsed.
The battle had been long and brutal, lasting weeks throughout Shenten. Sophie and the Paragon mages fought in bamboo forests, burning them like matchsticks. They fought on snowy tundras, turning them black and dead as charcoal.
And now they’d cornered her here, some unnamed lake deep in the Yachi Mountains.
Cliffs surrounded her, steep rock faces extending from the shore to a dozen snowy peaks. Mages in blue robes stood on the ledges, boxing her in. The other two squads approached her in a circle. The lake had frozen over, so they didn’t even need a Water Walk.
Sophie sat on a barren island in the middle. She hunched over, catching her breath. Her robes lay in tatters. Her raven hair was tangled, stained with dried blood. One of her ribs had broken. And a knife had grazed her neck, leaving a red scab across her trachea.
Sophie exhaled, her chest in agony, her breath fogging the air.
The main group stopped, and the tallest member came into view.
Grey hair. Round, innocent eyes flecked with gold, and a warm smile. A vintage body, but still in good shape.
Professor Tybalt Ebbridge. Her old boss.
‘This is the part where I ask you to surrender, so I can tell Carriwitch I did everything I could.’ Ebbridge adopted a sympathetic look. ‘He’s heartbroken, by the way. Won’t even look me in the eye.’
‘You think I won’t come quietly?’ Sophie’s voice was hoarse.
Ebbridge laughed. ‘You’re such an angry little dog. I was surprised you didn’t attack me all those years ago, that night with your Humdrum boyfriend. Honestly, I wish you had. The world would be a lot simpler with you in a prison cell.’
‘The world was never simple,’ said Sophie. ‘You just thought it was.’
‘You know what you’ve done, don’t you?’
‘I saved people,’ said Sophie. ‘Thousands of them.’
‘Is that what you’re telling yourself?’ Ebbridge raised an eyebrow. ‘You went mad. You burned every Humdrum in sight, soldiers and civilians. You made mountains of ashes. They’re calling you Khaiovhe now. It means “Black Wraith” in the old tongue.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Sophie. She’d expected a smear, a cover-up, but nothing on this level. ‘You have no proof.’
‘Sure I do,’ said Ebbridge. ‘Qinhua. Hengshui. Meidong. Just a few of the cities you burned to the ground. All civilians.’
Sophie’s throat clenched. ‘I work in intelligence,’ she said. ‘Caimor burned those cities.’ Conducting secret air raids with firebombs. Starting firestorms on windy days, trapping neighbourhoods in massive rings of flames.
Now they were pinning their war crimes on her. And the Shenti would go along with it, most likely: a black-eyed fire demon made for excellent propaganda. She could see the threads of the lie wrapping round her, choking her.
‘And,’ said Ebbridge, ‘as revenge for your little tantrum, a Shenti Sinew mage massacred one of our Humdrum fleets. With her bare hands. You shattered the Treaty of Silence. You exposed our world to the Humdrums, and now they’re going to burn it.’
‘Some things,’ said Sophie, ‘deserve to burn.’
‘This is your legacy, Sophie. This is how history will remember you. You’re the villain, and I’m the hero. You’re darkness, and I’m light. You’re a dog, and I’m royalty.’ His eyes flashed with inspiration, and he smirked. ‘If all your memories are erased, and your personality flattened, the Eldritch Guard has ruled you may live.’
Like Roger, thought Sophie.
‘A peaceful life. A blissful quiet in the hollow of your skull. Perhaps I’ll pay you a visit someday. Kick off a whirlwind romance.’
Sophie’s calloused fingers dug into her leg. The rage made her want to scream.
But it was almost time.
When the Eldritch Guard had arrived, they’d scanned the area with magic, looking for traps and hidden enemies. They would have noticed a sunken metal ship at the far end of the lake. A cursory check would confirm no souls were hiding there, no large weaponry.
Why bother with a closer look? They had the numbers, the experience, the raw strength behind them. And Sophie was on the verge of death.
So, during their conversation, they wouldn’t have noticed the underwater boat breaking apart. The particles of cordite rising from the lake bed, packing into bullets.
A dozen rifles slid together in the icy water, each loaded with a Voidsteel bullet, kept dry with magic. They floated under the ice, separating. Aiming at their targets.
‘You know,’ said Sophie. ‘When I was working in foreign intelligence, I found some curious insights about Paragon. Things that would make you all question everything you’ve ever fought for. Things that would turn even your stomach, Professor.’ She shrugged. ‘But that’s a moot point, I guess.’
‘Why?’
‘Because none of you are leaving here alive.’
Ebbridge jumped back, fleeing. The other mages shot forward.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze, and Sophie saw the faces charging at her. Her former classmates. Marcus Corby, who shared her love of bread pudding. Violet Larch, who brought grown men to tears with her piano, and Lydia Barnes, the class fool. Their bodies looked young, but Sophie saw the years in their eyes. The exhaustion, the fear, the cold obedience. They knew their role, and were filling it.
