Such concerns are soon banished from her mind, for the eyes of the Shining City are upon her. When she speaks, they will listen. And, at her request, every word will be spread throughout the remains of the Empire, via chips whispering into the mind, via runners, traders and all of the networks at the disposal of the Lenses.
Her own chip feeds the words of the speech to her now. She knows what to say but, as Obeisance tells her, only the ear hears the words. It is up to her to win their hearts.
She looks for support, a last boost of confidence before beginning.
She finds it in a pair of amber eyes watching from several steps down. Her father appears strange dressed in armour. Even groomed in the style of the city, he stands out, uncomfortable. Despite all the honours, she knows he’d much rather be at home, tending goats and making wonky additions to the house.
The thought makes her smile. She is both surprised and warmed to see him there.
Her father smiles back.
It is enough.
She takes a breath and begins to speak, holding up the sword. ‘Our war with the infernals has been over for ten years. The Breach remains sealed. But the wounds from those times still linger.’ For the briefest of moments, she pauses, searching for any kind of reaction. There is none. ‘The south has been ravaged by war. When the demons first came our people called to the Shining City for aid and we did nothing. Time and again they repeated that call. Time and again, we did nothing. Now, we have to put that right.
‘Some of our colonies, like Sonorous, felt abandoned by the Empire, and so they left us. And they were right to be angry because we let them down when they needed us the most. We’ve lost Sonorous now, just as we’ve lost the southern Empire. But it isn’t too late to form bonds with them again and make amends. They don’t need our swords anymore but they do need our help.
‘You see, the world out there has been forced to change. There are new powers across the sea, human, demon and half-breed, and wonderful mixes of all three. Some of those powers stood with me against the worst the Breach had to offer.’
She falters, her gaze travelling across the hundreds of staring faces. Only her father’s head moves as she speaks, nodding, encouraging. The others, in their multitude, are motionless, their expressions frozen. Do they agree with what she is saying? Do they even understand?
‘We can no longer see the infernal simply as our enemy. Some are hostile, yes. But not all. And some of them have extended their hands to us in peace.
‘In New Horizon, our people were made into slaves and it was not the might of the Empire that freed them. It was an infernal. It was not the Empire that tended their wounds or saw them fed and clothed, it was an infernal.
‘I’m going to go south again soon to visit our estranged people. But I won’t be marching at the head of an army, I’ll be going there as a friend.
‘If we want to find our place in the new world, we need to change too. We need to find a new way. To that end, I’ve arranged a gathering of the greatest leaders of the age. Together we will find a way to live and work alongside each other. Put the past behind us and make a better future for our families and friends, together.’
There is no applause when she finishes, no sign from the crowd that they have heard.
Her father smiles up at her, eyes scrunched with pride.
She wonders whether to go off-script, to say more, find some way to reach past the numberless masks, inscrutable, and get a reaction.
In her hand, the sword begins to hum.
She looks at it.
It is looking past her, looking up.
So is Obeisance, her father, and the crowd.
Twin shadows lengthen, falling across her, making her shiver. Behind her, something moves between her and the suns, red and gold, something vast.
As realization dawns, the assembled drop to their knees, a great wave of dominoes, toppling together.
Vesper does not need to turn round to know what is happening.
She turns anyway.
The sanctum of The Seven, a cube of shining metal – one mile across – is rising. Turning slowly as it goes, the Sanctum blocks out the suns.
Everyone watches the ascension, open mouthed, confounded.
A curve of blood-red light peeks from beneath the cube, glimmering, then a second of gold can be seen. Clouds part long before the cube reaches them, seeming to bend away, reverent.
Still higher the cube floats.
None dare take their eyes from the sight. Unspoken questions hover on the edge of lips. What does this mean? Is it a sign of The Seven’s triumphant return, or of worse things to come?
Like a balloon on an invisible string, the colossal cube continues its journey, straight up, until it appears smaller, a silver moon joining the stars.
When it is nothing more than a glinting speck in the sky, attention returns to the top of the steps. Vesper looks across the sea of faces, licks lips suddenly dry. She has no idea what to say. No pre-prepared speech is fed to her via her chip, and she has no insight into The Seven’s actions.
Seconds tick by, agonizing, slow.
A bead of sweat appears on Vesper’s forehead and runs down to her ear.
Her father gives her a nod, then, after a beat, raises his eyebrows and circles his hand three times.
She opens her mouth, takes a breath … and then Obeisance speaks.
‘People of the Empire, attend to me. For truly, today is a day of greatness. The Bearer stands before us all and asks us to rise and meet the challenges ahead. And behold! The Seven have risen, an inspiration to Their people. For Their eye is upon us, and They expect only the best. We must not disappoint. Go now, back to your duties, and carry the words of the Bearer with you, and the grace of The Seven in your hearts, and know that They are watching.’
In orderly rows, the crowd disperses. Fervour fizzes within measured steps.
Obeisance turns to Vesper. ‘It seems The Seven do not leave you to toil alone any longer.’
‘It’s true,’ she replies, forcing a smile. ‘We’re very lucky.’
But the sword in her hand suggests otherwise, its eye still staring at the sky, troubled.
Vesper meets her father on the outskirts of the Shining City. It is the first time she has been alone with him since she left on her great tour five years ago. It takes a moment for her to marry up the man standing before her with the image of her father. The amber eyes are the same but they seem to have been transplanted into a different face, a younger one. Long hair has been trimmed short, stubble banished. Though the collar is loosened, his clothes are crisply cut, a symbol of the Winged Eye woven into the shoulders. The scarring on the side of his head has been treated. There are still stripes running into his hairline but they are less stark than she remembers them. His frame is fuller too.
‘Wow,’ she says.
When he steps towards her there is no sign of his limp and when he hugs her, she is lifted from the floor, just as she was as a child.
For a few precious moments, the worries of the world disappear, unable to break through her father’s arms. She hugs him back, fierce.
The sound of a nearly human shout makes her jump. It comes from the other that has been waiting for her to come out of the city, and Vesper’s face shifts instantly to delight. The kid has grown, become a buck. The buck stands tall, struts proudly where once he scampered. Where the kid’s bleat was cute, endearing, the buck’s is a thing of horror. Sometimes a shout, sometimes closer to a scream, not quite a goat’s call but neither a man’s. An awkward, ugly, in-between noise. Vesper alone finds it charming.
The