\hypertarget{chapter-47-culmination}{%
\section{Chapter 47: Culmination}\label{chapter-47-culmination}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``Do not call a man loyal who still draws breath.''}

-Dread Emperor Terribilis II
\end{quote}

There'd be no replacing the whistle, and I'd long ago resolved to keep
it for a particularly black day, but there'd be no replacing Thief
either. I stood by my decision. What had once been Akua's aspect had
yanked the entirety of the Wild Hunt through Keter's wards and whatever
other nasty surprises Neshamah had awaiting people trying to reach his
city through otherworldly means, unharmed. I'd address the Wild Hunt in
a moment, though. I had a set of scales to even first. The sorceress
who'd been breaking Thief apart had hastily ended her spell when the fae
came out of nothingness, then panicked when I broke the ward. The
remaining three casters that'd been keeping me imprisoned staggered at
the backlash, and in that moment I acted. One step, the sorceress raised
a hand towards me. Two steps, her lips began to form a syllable in the
mage tongue. Three steps, my fingers clasper her wrist and with a sharp
squeeze I shattered every bone. Face paling, she mastered the pain and
got the first word of her incantation out. Four steps, I pivoted and my
elbow ploughed into her throat. The windpipe was crushed instantly, and
as she choked and fell I straightened and gently set my hands against
her temples.

One simple twist, and the neck broke with a crack.

``Thief, get out of here,'' I called out calmly. ``Hear me now, Rider of
the Hunt: no prisoners.''

That was the kind of feast the Wild Hunt lived for, and they wasted no
time digging in. Larat had hacked through the heads of two of my former
jailors within a heartbeat of my finishing the order, grinning nastily,
and the rest of them charged with wild hoots as they fell upon Malicia
and her men. Vivienne tried to get up but her limbs were shaking too
badly. I cursed under my breath -- I might be able to walk off mage
lightning, these days, but my companions were another story -- and
strode over to help her up.

``Will you be able to escape on your own?'' I softly asked.

``Just give me a moment,'' she rasped. ``I still feel like my skin is on
fire.''

She was burned badly, skin charred in strange patterns all over her body
where the lightning had struck, and for a Named she'd always been on the
fragile side of the scale. Not for the first time, I mourned that none
of my powers were geared towards healing in the slightest. But Thief was
wounded, not crippled, and I trusted she had the will to press on after
the worst of it passed. Letting out a laboured breath, she pushed me
away.

``Kill the Empress,'' she said. ``I'll live.''

She'd do more than that, if I had anything to say about it. The moment
Masego had healed her back up to fighting fit, I was going to teach her
to hold her own in a fight if it was the last thing I did. For too long
I'd waved the matter away, dismissed as largely unimportant since she
wouldn't be fighting on the frontlines anyway. That'd been naïve, and in
retrospective a very dangerous kind of arrogance. We wouldn't always get
to dictate the nature of our fights with our ever-rising count of
enemies. Today had been a harsh reminder that Vivienne's lack of skills
with arms wasn't just fuel for verbal roughhousing, it was a dangerous
liability.

``Keep out of sight,'' I ordered, keeping the thoughts away from my
face.

The entire aside couldn't have taken more than a few moments, yet in
that span the skirmish had already turned into a siege in miniature. The
last of my surviving jailors was dead, his corpse impaled atop the lance
of a dark-skinned fae who carried it along like some sort of gruesome
trophy. Yet the Empress' people had responded to the appearance of the
fae with the steady hands of veteran killers. Colourful curtains of
light had been spawned, overlapping and forming a sort of six-cornered
shield over the entire delegation, and still a pair of Malicia's
warlocks were casting. The Hunt had not laid idle, of course. It tested
the defences, but found blades and spears could not breach it, nor could
the fae sorceries at their disposal. I recognized the wards, or part of
them at least. Akua had used similar ones, called them `revolving
wards'. A common innovation of her and her father's, crafted to deal
with the powerful but terribly direct sorceries of the Summer Court. I
was less than surprised Malicia's people had gotten their hands on the
ward schematics, or adapted them to her purposes. And yet I was not
worried, because one fact stood above all: the Praesi were defending,
but they were no longer moving. No matter how tall the walls, fortresses
always fell. Larat joined me as I strode towards the front, blade
dripping with blood.

``A most pleasant excursion, my queen,'' he mused. ``Shall we give the
dead a taste of our mettle as well, after these vagrants have been
cleared out?''

``We're not picking a fight with the Dead King,'' I flatly said. ``He
makes sport of the kind of people that bled you when we assaulted the
Proceran camp. Behave, Hunstman.''

``I always do,'' Larat assured me with a too-wide smile. ``My fellow
riders are chipping away at this lovely turtle shell, one sliver at a
time. Patience will deliver us the promised deaths.''

``Let's see if I can quicken that,'' I replied.

The Empress had holed up behind a fortress, hadn't she? I could batter
away at it, sure enough, but Black had always told me that the most
dangerous of all siege weapons was a mule carrying gold and a promise. I
cast a look at the Empress' people, looking for a weak link. None to be
found, sadly. They were all calm confidence incarnate. Didn't matter,
though. The masks were pretty enough, but I could smell fear's dark
stirrings beneath them. The Wild Hunt parted for me, and standing before
the Praesi I cleared my throat.

``The first three to surrender get to keep their lives,'' I announced.
``Excluding Malicia. I'll swear binding oath to it, with an agreed-upon
phrasing.''

None replied, but I saw eyes narrow. Yeah, that was sounding quite
tempting at the moment wasn't it? Praesi loyalty was something of a
contradictory term.

``An empty offer,'' the Empress said. ``She cannot breach the wards.
Regardless, there would be immediate consequences to such a decision.''

The Sentinels stirred to drive the point home. She'd not accused me of
lying, because she wasn't a fool: these were mostly practitioners, so
they knew I had enough fae in me I couldn't break an oath even if I
wanted to. As long as the phrasing held, which was on them, they'd be
spared. So instead she was playing on fear and pride. For once, the
battlegrounds were familiar to the both of us.

``You thought that about the last set of wards,'' I said. ``Look behind
me. There's a few corpses telling you otherwise. Sure, she could turn
the Sentinels on you, but the moment the bubble is down she'll have
bigger problems than you. Is she really going to attempt an execution
when she's up to her neck in the likes of this guy?''

I pointed a thumb a Larat. The fae who'd once been the Prince of
Nightfall idly touched the blood on his sword and brought it to his
lips, licking it off with relish. As far as I knew he didn't, uh,
actually drink blood so that was purely to fuck with their heads. Good
show, my treacherous lieutenant.

``This is not my true body,'' Malicia reminded them.

She did not need elaborate on the possible consequences of betraying a
still-living Empress. There was an entire hall of forever-screaming
heads in the Tower that served as a constant reminder. And still, the
pair of warlocks who'd been casting had stopped. Momentum was on my
side.

``Sure, she rules for now,'' I said. ``How long is that going to last?
She's yet to win a battle and most her army's deserted to other banners.
Spend a year or two in Mercantis, wait it out, and you can come back to
the Tower to make nice with her successor able to boast you turned on
her. Hells, if you've got issues with Mercantis I'll find you something
to do in Callow. I've always a need for mages, and the pay will be
generous. I'm sure most of you have respect for Malicia. It's not
unearned.''

I paused and smiled thinly.

``Are you really willing to die defending that hill, though? Because if
I have to breach this ward myself, I'll not be in the mood for easy
deaths.''

``I would keep a few as playthings, my queen,'' Larat added cheerfully.
``It has been ages, since we've had proper entertainment.''

I shrugged, watching the faces of the Praesi.

``My mercy has a time limit, ladies and gentlemen,'' I said. ``Now's not
the moment for hesitation.''

I met Malicia's eyes calmly. There was no appreciation for what I'd done
there to be found, not when it was turned against her. The Empress paid
lip service to the treasured Wasteland principle of `iron sharpens
iron', but when it came down to it she never settled for anything less
than a victory. No matter how long that victory took to snatch. If it
was Callowans I was dealing with, one of them would have cursed and
folded. But I was dealing with Praesi, a people that had turned betrayal
into art back when most of Calernia still used iron. One of the curtains
vanished, and a Soninke in robes ran for it. That first betrayal was the
collapse of the dam, no one wanting to be the soul that didn't qualify
as one of the first three, and within a heartbeat all the curtains of
light save one were gone. A loyalist, how quaint.

``Kill,'' I ordered the Hunt.

I had no intention of offering any of them safe harbour in Callow, and
they really should have extracted the oath before turning on Malicia.
They'd feared the Sentinels both too much and not enough. The Empress
stood tall and proud in a man's body even as it all went to the Hells
around her. I advanced, slowly but surely. The Tower's personal guards
held the fae back, long enough that one of the traitors turned her cloak
again and began reinforcing the ward, but a silver arrow took her
through the throat and that was the end of that. The Sentinels began to
break. Their armour held against even fae armaments, and their blades
scythed down a handful of fairies, but lances and swords and arrows
found weaknesses and exploited them ruthlessly. The fleeing Praesi were
ridden down mercilessly, until all that remained standing was the
Empress and a single sweating mage. I suspected the Hunt could have torn
through that ward easy as turning a hand, but it had been left to me by
the twisted fae understanding of respect.

``I wonder,'' I said, looking Malicia's simulacrum in the eyes, ``if I
can reach you in Ater through this puppet of flesh. Shall we find out?''

She met my gaze unflinching.

``No,'' she replied, and the simulacrum dropped.

Ah. Well, that also worked. The last living Praesi turned fearful eyes
on me.

``I surrender,'' she said.

Then the arrow took her in the throat. A perfect arc, one I hadn't seen
coming until the last moment and that had sailed right through the last
ward unhindered. She was dead before she hit the floor, the light
curtain vanished.

``And once again, Archer saves the day,'' Indrani called out from above.

She was standing on the lower reaches of the pyramid, posing
triumphantly bow in hand. Before addressing that -- and Gods, was I
going to address that -- I walked over to Malicia's living but insensate
simulacrum. My boot came down, pulping the skull, and then again over
the throat since it usually paid to be thorough. I'd have to clean my
boots later, I mused, or the stench would be horrible.

``Indrani, get your ass down here,'' I screamed.

I turned to look around for Thief, but she was nowhere in sight.

``Vivienne,'' I said. ``Still here?''

The other Callowan winked back into sight, still looking half-dead from
her hiding place behind a column.

``Good,'' I said. ``Collect all the corpses. I don't want to risk any
surprises. And strip away the Sentinel armour, please. It can take fae
blades, it must be worth a fortune.''

I would have felt worse about looting the dead if Praes hadn't looted
Callow for two decades without a care in the world. I'd call it
reparations and leave it at that. Thief weakly nodded, and I left her to
the grisly work as Archer pranced her way down her perch. She saluted
when she approached, using the wrong hand for a legionary's salute and
the wrong angle for a Callowan formal greeting.

``Ready to report, Your Queenliness,'' she announced.

``Where the Hells have you been?'' I asked flatly.

``Doing what you told me to,'' she mused. ``Which was, and I quote `take
a walk and do whatever comes naturally'.''

I closed my eyes, pained on a metaphysical level. So she'd been the
hidden knife I remembered thinking about in one of those unlocked
memories. We must have gambled that without an actual plan about her
involvement, she couldn't be predicted by the Skein. Which made sense,
but had pretty badly failed. \emph{Starting the fire was two birds with
one stones}, I thought. The smoke trail had been bound to get her
attention and get her to come running.

``If you spent the entire time drinking and just now shot that woman,
I'm docking your pay,'' I told her as I opened my eyes.

``Hey,'' she protested. ``I did lots of stuff that wasn't drinking.
She's my fourth kill of the day. Well, third and a half really.''

``Tell me you didn't assault the Dead King's patrol,'' I asked.

``Nah, they never got close to me,'' she said. ``But while you lot were
busy throwing down with the giant rat, the Praesi tried to pull a fast
one. At least I think so. Two Sentinels carried out some sleeping woman
earlier, so I took care of it.''

My brows rose.

``Was it a simulacrum?'' I asked. ``The woman, I mean.''

``Dunno what that is,'' Archer cheerfully lied. ``But if it was, it's
double dead. Cut off the head after just to be sure, as is our crew's
policy.''

Damnably, I could not refute that. The brains and bone shards all over
my boot made it impossible.

``I think I'm supposed to congratulate you on a job well done,'' I said
after a moment.

``Oh, it was a labour of love,'' she dismissed. ``But do praise me.
Loudly and elaborately.''

I did not reply, and allowed the silence to stretch.

``You wench,'' Archer accused me.

``Namecalling is beneath us,'' I gravely said.

She flipped me the finger and I smiled.

``You got any idea what we're supposed to do now?'' she finally asked.

``I think that --'' I paused when I saw movement out of the corner of my
eye. ``Hey, you. Give Thief that corpse.''

The dark-skinned fae I'd seen carrying around a dead Praesi on a lance
earlier looked quite displeased at the order.

``He's not dead yet,'' the Rider replied.

``Then finish him off and hand him over,'' I patiently said.

``It was my kill,'' the fae protested.

``If I have to come over there to settle this, I'm going to make you
\emph{sit} on that fucking lance,'' I grimly replied.

With ill-grace, the fae ripped out the Praesi's throat and dropped him
on Vivienne's feet. I'd have to remember to ask Larat the Rider's name
later. That kind of discipline case was best nipped in the bud. I turned
back to Archer, who looked rather amused.

``Right, so I think we're supposed to gather at our escape route,'' I
said. ``That's where Hierophant and Diabolist will be, anyway. Did you
run into Adjutant?''

``On my way here,'' Archer replied. ``That was also where he was headed,
though I don't know what that location is.''

``Neither do I,'' I admitted. ``But Thief should. We'll move out after
she's taken all the corpses.''

``I love it when you talk dirty to me,'' Indrani said, waggling
eyebrows.

Ugh, the wench.

---

Vivienne was well enough to walk at a decent pace without my support by
the time we reached our `escape route', which turned out to be the front
of the Silent Palace. The fires had long been put out, but the place was
still crawling with undead. Masego was having a pleasant cup of tea at
an iron table, a full service having been put out for Akua and Hakram as
well. Athal, to my surprise, was seated at the edge of the table as well
though unlike the others he was silent. I heard snippets of conversation
from the other side of the plaza, snorting when I realized they were
having a very civilized debate about the influence of sorcery on the
development of the early Dread Empire. Hakram was actually winning, by
the sounds of it, which was just delightful in so many ways. Our
advance, three Named surrounded by the honour guard of the entire Wild
Hunt, hardly went unnoticed. Neshamah's armies gave us no trouble, which
I took to be a good sign. We might have gotten away with murder. Well,
murders technically. But it was really the one that mattered. Although,
since Archer had killed a puppet as well\ldots{} I'd never really
thought, growing up in Laure, that I would one day have a mental debate
about whether you could kill the same person twice. Truly, villainy had
expanded my horizons.

``Catherine,'' Masego greeted me, then glanced at my boots. ``You seem
to have had an eventful day.''

He seemed much better than the last time I'd seen him. The sweat and
pallor was gone, though the impression of frailty was not.

``We ran into the Empress,'' I lightly said. ``She'd fallen down some
stairs.''

Athal's head lowered, hiding his expression.

``What an unfortunate accident,'' Akua mildly said.

``Indeed,'' Hakram agreed. ``We can only hope the Dead King will be not
be too affected by that tragedy to resume negotiations.''

I grunted in agreement, dropping into an iron chair on the other side of
the table. Vivienne and Indrani followed suit.

``Found Thief for you,'' I told Athal. ``Sorry we didn't stick around
for the guards, but I was sure I'd seen her skulking about.''

The dark-haired man bowed to me, then offered me a smile.

``It was no trouble, Great Majesty'' he said. ``I had to interrupt the
search myself, as I was given other instructions.''

``Oh?'' I said. ``Anything interesting?''

``Ensuring no bedroom was touched by the flames,'' he replied. ``Though
I was told that should you wish for different accommodations this can be
arranged.''

``We'll be fine,'' I said.

``He would not participate in our debate,'' Masego said, almost
complaining.

``It's always awkward to enter a conversation after it's already
begun,'' Hakram said, immediately pushing aside the unspoken reprimand.

Unlike Hierophant, he understood the weight of our words towards the
servant the Dead King had `gifted' me. The Wild Hunt settled around us
as an honour guard of sorts, valiantly ignoring the pretty salacious
jokes Indrani was making about fae flexibility and its many possible
applications. I'd been about to reach for a cup of tea myself, when
Athal suddenly left his chair to kneel and press his forehead against
the floor. I looked to the direction he was facing and my eyes widened.
A single undead was approaching, which was unusual in and of itself. But
what worried me a lot more was the massive\ldots{} pressure I could feel
coming off what looked like a perfectly normal Keteran foot soldier.

It looked like the Dead King had come to visit.
