8.

'Oh. I think the story ends there.'

Out of the haze, the soot of dreams, the fog of heaviness, Zero returned to himself. He was not in the last place of his memory. The home he'd known in the south had vanished, and in its stead was an immense, cold room, bright with sunlight, crowded with the faces of strangers… Some strangers. He squinted one such face from distorted blears into sharp focus. He swallowed, a taste of blood, a scratchy throat. He remembered… The past was still the past. Seven annuals had come and gone, a blink of his eye, a momentary memory lapse. The heart sieved what grief it could, but some forms of love went on forever.

But hatred he could always remember.

'Azkadellia.'

The Viewer stepped from Zero. He leaned into the Sorceress and meekly supplied his opinion, should it be used at all.

'A fine specimen, my lady. Be mindful, however, of his strong will. But weakness of heart has softened him considerably. His love for the mystic has made him your enemy, yet he remains true to the House of Gale. He prays the gods bless you with redemption.'

Azkadellia was absolutely delighted. 'Redemption! A holy man! I couldn't have planned this if I'd tried! It's all so perfect! The nephew of the fabled and famous Captain Dertien! The hero of the Enscommon Siege! Won't he be delighted to know you've joined the ranks of the Longcoats at last? It was his idea we capture you at all. And you were in love with one of the mystics I personally tortured and killed! My,' she smiled and shook her head at the concept, 'this is just like one of those wonderful romances of legend I used to read as a girl.'

She returned to her confidential tone. 'Crutch, was he a priest? Oh, do tell me he was.'

'No, my lady,' Crutch stuttered nervously. 'Unfortunately, he never entered the priesthood. He joined the army the day he turned seventeen.'

'Just as he said he would!' She cackled a triumphant laugh. Her assistants, the entourage of her court, smiled and were pleased, merely at the show of her extreme bliss. 'A man of his word! So much honour!' For the fun of it, she held his chin so he might look into her eyes. 'So much petty, petty honour! Where did it get you? Strapped to a chair in the Dark Tower, and about to lose every ounce of independence you've cultivated for yourself, Zero Dertien. Such a pity, isn't it? Twenty-one annuals, all so wasted.' She patted his cheek and gave a sardonically remorseful sigh.

Zero let his jaw fall to his chest. He remembered being captured… He remembered coming to the Dark Tower, a building not yet complete, but the cells… The cells were complete. 'What do you want from me, Azkadellia? I have always been a loyalist. I fought with the army to defeat the rebels. I thought I was on your side.'

'Captain Dertien,' Azkadellia halted when her assistant cleared his throat, 'sorry, Captain Zero—I forget there's two of you—you should've listened to your sister.'

He stifled his thoughts, afraid she could read into him already. Maybe not yet, but soon… If Azkadellia laid a hand on Nitten…

She puckered her ruby mouth upward. 'Cute name, Nitten. Nittie, do you call her? You quaint southern folk with your quaint little names! Nitten is the eldest, then you and your ridiculously long first name, and then your darling little brother Vier. Oh, in case you forgot, he's dead.'

Then, losing her fairness of mind, Azkadellia loosened her rage against Zero. She slapped him heartily, right across the cheekbone, and catching a bit of lip. Huffing unalterable indignation, she put hands to her hips, glaring down at him.

'Sorry now that you didn't listen to Nitten? Because she was right. The House of Gale thanks you for your loyalty, Zero Dertien. And now I'm going to show you just how much your loyalty has meant to us. Crutch!'

'No,' Crutch whimpered, but he was dragged forward by Longcoats, 'no, I won't do it! I won't do it! He's a good man! He's too good, Azkadellia, Sorceress, powerful goddess!'

But the alchemist shocked him for this insubordination. Crutch screamed. Zero struggled against his pinions. Azkadellia glared knives his direction, then to Crutch.

'You told me he was a fine specimen. An excellent choice. Why the sudden change of heart, Crutch? Were you lying to me? Do you know what happens to Viewers who lie to me?'

'If you can break his will,' Crutch stammered, panting, confused, 'he'll be ever loyal, Sorceress. But if you break his will, that will be the end of him, the end of his mind. You'll have to cover up his thoughts so deeply that he won't… You won't be able to sustain it! He'll need to be constantly looked after. You never know when the moment might come when he remembers who he is—and how much he despises you.'

But she didn't listen. All she saw in it was the challenge. She set her hands against the arms of Zero's prison. He looked into her eyes, resigned to his fate, resigned to the hatred of his innermost self. She saw the swirls of his life, the coming and going of his emotions, the love, the desire, the loss—so much loss. His lips trembled though he did not cower.

'Did you really do it?'

She liked the sound of his voice. Tentative, slow—but oh that awful yokel accent would have to be wiped out of him. 'Do what, dearest?'

'Kill him… Kill Ansley of Stirbane?'

Azkadellia's crooked smile exemplified her crooked mind. She stabbed her fingernails into the flesh of his forearms. He withstood the pain, grimacing, tears surfacing, but he never cried out.

'With my own bare hands.'

He inhaled sharply. All the annuals of not knowing, wondering what had happened to him… Now he knew. But was he so sure? Azkadellia was a mistress of lies.

The sorceress stood back, and, continuing with her tender, insidious voice, replaced his doubt with confirmation.

'His soul tasted sweet with the love he had for you. Does it comfort you to know that? The two of you, such friends, such soul mates. He left behind a body, thin with the longing of you. Nothing but a body and a dozen yellow feathers.'

And now he was sure. The feathers… Of course there would be feathers. 'Yes,' he decided to say, even if they were his final words, 'it does comfort me to know that.'

Already fond of her new little toy, Azkadellia, behind Zero, combed down his messy hair, longing for the moment when she could tell him to cut it and he would do so without questioning her authority. His only want would be to obey her without a fractious thought. He'd walk across nails for her. He'd do anything for her.

'Oh, Zero,' she sighed contentedly, 'Zero, Zero… We're going to have such good times together, you'll see! You're just as cute as a little fluffy kitten!' She lassoed her arms around his neck and hugged him with a happy chuckle. 'You're going to be so much fun to break!'

'Sorceress, no, no, no…' Crutch continuously whimpered.

Azkadellia paid him no heed. 'Now, let's get you situated, shall we? Don't worry, it doesn't hurt—not very much, anyway. And when we're done, you can tell me all you know about this wonderful man your personal history mentioned just briefly.'

Zero pretended not to notice the Viewer's shiftiness, the readiness of the alchemists, or notice that these were the last moments he might ever be himself, that he might ever want to defeat Azkadellia.

'I must know absolutely everything about him you've ever heard. That's a good place to start. And your little friend Ansley, the only friend you've ever had in the whole wide world, Captain, seemed to know him personally. The rebel leader of the north. The literary figurehead. What was his name?' She feigned ignorance, then feigned remembrance. 'That's right—Kiernan Cain! I want him! His whole family! He's been a thorn in my side for the last five annuals! And that,' she stood close to him, her hands upon his head, 'that will be your first mission as a Longcoat. Find me Kiernan Cain.'

Kiernan Cain? What did he care for Kiernan Cain? The rebel leader was in hiding, had been for annuals… No one could find him. It would take a mystic, a friend, someone who could get close to him… Zero felt sleepy, the drowsiness no doubt emanating from some sort of spell. She was clever, resourceful, evil… And something else he sensed, an unrest, a disease. She was not herself…

Sleepy… Sleepy… Go to sleep, Zero. It won't hurt if you go to sleep… But if he closed his eyes, what would he find when he opened them, who would he find when he looked into the mirror tomorrow? He couldn't go to sleep…

He had to fight. One last fight. One last…

Azkadellia's breath snagged in her throat. She jumped back from Zero. Crutch scanned the vaulted room, searching for signs of the presence he had sensed. But he saw nothing.

'What is it?' Azkadellia demanded. 'Crutch! Tell me what it is!'

'I don't know…'

Perhaps the only thing that saved Crutch from death at that very moment was the astonishment of the sorceress. For she staggered to the wall, pinned herself there, and gulped hard. All the windows of the room rattled and flung themselves open. In came a rush of wind, howling and whispering. On the current rose a storm of feathers. Yellow and black and white, a soft, unending rain upon Zero.

Crutch swished through the feathers to look down upon the prisoner. 'He's protected.'

'By what? Magic?'

'Sorceress... At some point in time, you will have to learn that love is a very powerful thing.'

She was far too abhorred by this possibility to speak.

And, trying not to gloat, Crutch watched Azkadellia. He was awed to see fear in her eyes. 'It will take you a long while to bend him to your will, Sorceress. You may never have him completely. And he will take part in the rebels' stand against you. Let him go if you wish to continue with your rule.'

But she was stubborn. She would not give him up. She'd won him. He was hers. And how could she deny such a tempting challenge?

In one final rush of wind, the last of the feathers trailed in. The entire floor of the cavernous room was covered. A carpet that encircled Zero and, from him, wound out in a definite shape of black, white and yellow wings.

Zero opened his eyes.

The world had changed.

-x-

End...

-x-

Notes
Cardinal Days... Religious holidays
Q-plat... a quarter of a platinum
Seventh month... May
Gallenwood... shrub that grows near rivers, lakes and streams. Its leaves turn bright orange in autumn but do not fall until new growth in the spring. Twigs are burned during Cardintal (one of the Cardinal Days). When alight, the wood has a scent similar to musk and lily.
Diat... pronounced with a slight "J" sound at the front.
Thiatu... thee-AH-too