Wolf Wing

by Tanith Lee

  It reached us in five minutes. Inside was a grey oldish man and two younger grey rowers, to match everything else.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ said the older grey man, who is her steward here. ‘A pleasure to see you again.’

  And, like the prince he actually is, Argul nodded graciously, and shook the man’s hand. ‘This is Ert,’ Argul introduced him. And us: ‘The ladies Dengwi and Claidi.’

  Both Dengwi and I bristled.

  ‘Madam,’ said Ert to me. ‘Madam,’ he said to Dengwi.

  ‘Neither she nor I,’ I said, ‘is a Lady Anything. Just call us Dengwi and Claidi, please.’

  But he never does. We both stay firmly ‘madam’. And Argul stays sir. (Which is why, Argul says, he doesn’t bother to try to keep telling Ert not to, any more.)

  Anyhow, just then, Thu eagerly jumped in the boat, nearly knocking Ert and the rowers into the lake. Perhaps the boat smelled of fish or something.

  There aren’t any lifts in her house. There are flights of marble stairs. And on each staircase, at one side or sometimes in the very middle, is fitted a sort of rail, and down this comes suddenly whizzing, appallingly fast, a kind of throne.

  That’s how she appeared to us.

  We were standing in the room we’d been taken to, looking at the stairs, and next the rail hummed, and then down the rail tore the throne at nine hundred miles an hour. It was made of gold-plated wood (they all are) and in it sat Ironel, grinning at us, as she rushed nearer and nearer.

  That grin. Her teeth were no longer the pearl teeth Ustareth made her that she couldn’t eat with. No, they were proper false teeth, looking very real, and well able to deal with food, as I saw later.

  (Both these astonishments Argul apparently saw before, but never mentioned to me. He said, ‘I didn’t think you’d want to know.’

  ‘But you said you’d seen the pearl teeth,’ I complained.

  ‘Well yeah, I did. They’re for public display, or making some sort of point. And she wears them too because of Ustareth. That’s all.’) All this was said later.

  Right then the throne landed in the room and came to a halt. Ironel stood up and walked over to us.

  She used to look tall. She doesn’t now. Have I grown taller? Perhaps, Argul has. Her scrunched-back iron hairstyle and her hard paper face, they were the same. Only they too looked more little.

  The black cane going tap-tap on the floor, that was unchanged.

  ‘Madam,’ said Argul. And then, shocking me despite everything, ‘Grandmother.’

  It was what Nemian had said. Both Nemian – and Argul – have a right to say it, she is ‘Grandmother’.

  Only it made me go cold.

  But, she’d helped us. Even me she had helped, or so it had seemed.

  ‘Argul,’ she said. Him first, of course. ‘And are you still calling yourself that? Still Argul? Not altered your name yet to something more suitable and princely? I made a list for you, splendid ancient names from the Towers. You might like to glance at it sometime. Choose one.’

  He laughed.

  She didn’t mind. She likes him anyway not being scared of her.

  ‘Grandmother,’ said Argul, ‘I like my own name.’

  ‘Well, well,’ she said.

  Then she gave him her hand to kiss and he took no notice and put his arm round her and kissed her cheek. (What does that feel like, I wonder? Toughened parchment? Cement?) She enjoyed all that too.

  Oh, he knows how to handle her.

  But then, just because he can, it doesn’t mean Argul (my Argul) is two-faced, like every other man and woman of the Towers.

  Thu was quite genuine, anyhow. He hadn’t been keen on the throne-rail, he didn’t care for Ironel. He’d walked back, and now stood by me, growling softly.

  So then Ironel saw me.

  ‘Ah. Claidi.’ She seems to see I too want my own name, despite her letter.

  ‘Madam,’ I said. That was all.

  ‘Something’s upsetting your dog,’ she said.

  ‘You, madam.’ Too late. I’d said it.

  ‘I?’ She cackled her cackle. ‘I?’ Ironel cranked her head round. ‘And this is Lorio’s daughter.’

  I couldn’t even look at Dengwi. I felt what happened to her face, her expression.

  Something clicked home in my brain.

  ‘So you do know,’ I said, ‘what Jizania told everyone last night.’

  ‘I do know, since Jizania was told to say it, and I was told she would say it.’

  I heard Dengwi catch her breath. Before I could shout Told by WHO? Dengwi said, ‘Madam, are you saying it isn’t true?’

  Ironel looked Dengwi up and down. ‘How should I know? I have nothing to do now with your House-in-Garden. But I’ve seen a picture of Lorio. You have a look of him.’

  OF COURSE she said absolutely NOTHING about why we were there.

  We ate dinner in a big cold room that looked out over the dismal lake, as night came down and thankfully hid everything.

  It was to be the first of several such grisly meals, full of foul food and talk about everything but her summons.

  (By now I know why Ironel kept us waiting. But it doesn’t improve things much.)

  The first meal was tasteless; later ones would have the tastes of all the wrong things – too salty, too sour or sweet. And the whole house smelled of damp and mud. The high spot of that first evening’s entertainment was when she took us to look down a spiral stairway into the lower storey, at the flooded rooms shining faintly in lamplight from above. Now and then some big, vicious-looking black fish would shoot out of the water, then spear-thrust down again. They too had teeth. (Thu brightened up, but sulked when I dragged him away.)

  Argul and Ironel did talk. He told her things about the Hulta, Peshamba, and other places. Not the north. They didn’t discuss the City or Towers much either. Never mentioned the Law. That was all settled, it seemed. (???)

  He didn’t say anything about her summons to us, and nor did I, until she said now she was going to rest, and Ert would show us our rooms when we were ready. Then I said, trying to be Social, like Argul,’ We’ll sleep better if we know what you wanted to tell us.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ she rejoined.

  ‘Why didn’t you try to get it out of her?’ I cried, when Argul and I were in our extra-icy bedroom, lovely with draughts, and either mice or fish rummaging about behind the walls.

  ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘She wouldn’t have told us.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But she hasn’t told us anything.’

  ‘And she still hasn’t after you asked her.’

  ‘She’d have told you.’

  ‘She will tell me. In her own time.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Why,’ he said, ‘are you in a hurry to know?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘Like she said,’ he answered quietly, ‘maybe we’re happier not knowing.’

  ‘Then why did we come here?’

  He didn’t reply. Oh of course we had to come here and find out, and of course we didn’t want to, not either of us.

  As if we already knew. As if someone had whispered it to us when we lay asleep.

  The others arrived two days and two nights after this.

  It was raining, but I’d gone out for a walk with Thu. No one had mentioned I might fly to the shore, my ring supporting both Thu and me. The boat was produced at once. And when I got out, and hauled the dog out – he just loved this boat! – it waited there at the flood-side for us to come back.

  I stalked over the unpretty landscape, holding up an umbrella, while Thu bounded in all directions at once, or so it looked. The open country called – he didn’t mind how desolate it looked. It was a race-track.

  Argul and I – we hadn’t talked properly. He had seemed very shut-in again. This was beginning to remind me, against my will, of Venn. Venn’s silences, his brooding and bad-temper. Argul didn’t get angry. But I’d never – had I? – felt this shuttin
g-out before. Not before Peshamba.

  He guesses, I thought, what we’re going to be told, this news we have to wait for. But he hasn’t told me what he thinks it is.

  As for Dengwi, she’d shut herself up in the room Ironel gave her. When I looked in, D was always sewing things, or else doing complex, impossible-looking exercises on the floor. Bending her body into a backward hoop, standing and walking on her hands – I’d been all admiration, but then I saw she just wanted me to go.

  So I was alone up on a slope, looking down towards the lake, when I saw the carriage bumping along.

  It had come out of a gap between two other highish slopes, across the lake. In the misty sludge light, I couldn’t make out much about it.

  ‘Thu!’ I yelled. He barked. It was his ‘in a minute’ bark. ‘No Thu. Now!’

  I felt I ought to get back to the house. Because in all this forlorn emptiness, where else could that carriage be going?

  They pulled up by the lake, when the boat, now with us in it, rowed over to fetch them. It was a round dark carriage with huge wheels, and drawn by four enormous, ungainly birds, harnessed two by two. They had black bodies and pinkish-white necks, and long pinkish legs, and weaving heads all beak and irritation. They looked bottom-heavy, as if water had been poured down the necks and collected in the bodies, unable to reach anywhere else.

  ‘What are they?’ I asked Ert. Despite calling me madam, or Lady Claidi, he seems all right.

  ‘Ostriches, madam.’

  I’ve heard of ostriches, I think. Didn’t know they were quite so – unusual. (But they can certainly run fast – the carriage had rattled along.)

  Thu growled.

  ‘Shut up, Thu. They’re ostriches.’

  Then the carriage door opened. The ostrich-driver(?) went round and put a step thing against the doorway, and now two people got out and walked over to the waiting boat.

  ‘God, I’ve ricked my back, I knew I would,’ the young man lamented. ‘Bloody carriage.’ He glared at the ostriches and the ostrich-driver, but disdained to comment further. The wonderful young woman at his side said nothing.

  Then he glanced over at us.

  ‘Oh, Ert, isn’t it? The boat’s a bit crowded. Did you need to bring all these people – and that dog – my wife’s got her cat, you know, we don’t need a fight on the lake.’

  I caught Thus collar.

  ‘Yes,’ drawled the man to me, ‘keep hold of it.’

  Thu actually was fairly relaxed. Perhaps cats bother him less than fish?

  No, I was the one now who was unsettled and might begin growling.

  He remembered Ert, but not me. No, not even after everything he’d done to try and ruin my life. The lies and betrayals, the sheer nasty petty nasty pettiness—

  It was Nemian.

  And the woman, exquisite Moon Silk.

  They got into the boat. Nemian sat as far off as he could from Thu – or me. She said nothing.

  He was wearing a coat of the richest black fur (just knew it wasn’t fake) and black, black trousers and boots with designs sort of carved in them. And this velvet shirt, blue as the sky here never is, with streaks of satin somehow run through it. She was in white, again, this time with small polished stars fallen from heaven and scattered over all. Oh, her blue-ink hair, her flawless, primrose-cream skin, her graceful neck gracefully nestled by the slim grey cat with tilted violet eyes.

  His hair is gold, still.

  He’s still an okk.

  And she – well, she’s like a beautifully bound book full of a few blank pages.

  They said nothing to us, to each other, nor we to them, as the men rowed us across.

  The entrance to the upper ‘dry’ house stood open.

  We got off at the balcony which had become the improvised landing-stage.

  ‘Flooded again,’ said Nemian in disapproval. He assisted Moon Silk on to the balcony and they went inside. I followed, with Ert and Thu.

  At the staircase that had the first whizzing throne, we waited. Obviously N and M knew the Ironel-Appearance Drill. Then he turned and looked at me. ‘Don’t you have somewhere to be? Some duty to perform? You needn’t stay to wait on my wife, she doesn’t like strange servants.’

  I heard Ert’s mouth opening, and put my hand on his arm. Yes, he is all right, he shut up. I said, meekly, ‘Princess Ironel says I must.’

  ‘Well I say you mustn’t.’

  The total tronky beast. If I’d been a real servant here, what was I supposed to do now, risk Ironel’s wrath or his?

  I simpered. (Surprised he didn’t remember me from that. I’m sure I must have simpered at him when I thought I had a thing about him. Dreadful thought.) ‘No, my lord. I really must stay.’

  ‘Now look here—’

  Then came the noise of the throne-rail.

  At once, Nemian forgot me.

  He turned his handsome useless head back towards the stair. And we all watched in suitable awe as Ironel rushed into view.

  ‘Grandmother!’

  Yes, it does remind me, that way he is with her, of someone confronting their personal goddess.

  She rose from the seat and gave him her hand. He kissed it. At least he didn’t kneel down this time, this wasn’t a public occasion.

  ‘Thank you for asking us over,’ said Nemian. ‘The City is so dreary these days.’ He added, ‘Your servant-woman there doesn’t know her place, however. She insisted on disobeying me.’

  Ironel darted me a razor glance.

  ‘That’s true. She’s an impertinent wretch. Which is why I like her.’

  Deflated, Nemian cast me his own look of Great Personal Annoyance. ‘You should punish her, Grandmother—’

  ‘I should do as I wish. Enough. Let’s go upstairs.’

  So she dismissed him. Were she and I in an alliance against Nemian? Doubtful.

  She was back in the throne-seat and already speeding off up the stair, around a curve in the marble, and out of sight. We had to climb the stairs. Nemian droned on about having put his back out in the carriage. Ah, such a shame. Moon Silk just glided up. Thu and I stamped, an army of two.

  At the top, we went into the gallery that overlooks the lake from floor-length windows. And there were Argul and Dengwi, looking out, already assembled, you might say.

  Nemian swore when he saw Argul. Quite spectacularly. Argul, Nemian had apparently remembered.

  Argul looked across at him and his face registered very little, as it generally doesn’t when he’s dealing with an enemy. Just the long look down his nose.

  But Nemian blustered,’ What is this barbarian oaf doing here in your house, Grandmother?’

  And I rejoiced, because that meant Nemian still knew entirely nothing about anything.

  I didn’t even mind when she told him.

  ‘He is neither. He too is my daughter’s son.’

  ‘Alabaster only had one child – me!’ squealed N, childishly.

  (‘Yes, after you, once would be enough,’ remarked Argul mildly.)

  ‘You forget,’ said Ironel, ‘my other daughter.’

  ‘Uzziyiff? She was exiled—’

  Oh, he really didn’t know a thing. Even her name.

  ‘Exile did not prevent her,’ said Ironel, ‘from producing her second son.’

  Nemian flailed, mentally and physically. We all watched. Even Thu, and the cat.

  ‘No – no. If that’s true – that would make him my—’

  Nemian, really appalled. Quite a sight.

  ‘Your cousin. You are correct.’

  ‘He’s a bandit-barbarian. He’s half horse and with the brains left in the horse’s backside.’

  Argul moved across the floor so fast, so effortless, I think he partly used the Power sapphire to do it. But his reflexes are a fighter’s, maybe it was only that.

  He caught Nemian by the fur lapels and slapped him open-palmed across his face. Nemian reeled – it had looked more effective than any punch. When Argul let him go, he nearly fell over. Until Th
u, who had decided to growl after all, now launched himself and landed smack on Nemian’s velvet chest. Then Nemian did go over flat, and Thu stood on him, rumbling in his face. Nemian screamed for help.

  We all stood there. And I thought, I never saw Argul get angry like that for something so stupid – now is he going to let Thu kill Nemian – Do we definitely want that?

  Argul said, ‘Thu. Off. Good boy.’

  Ironel had loved all this. Loved it.

  Had I? I don’t know.

  Dengwi moved over to Thu and smoothed his head, and his hackles went down.

  Nemian went on lying there, too scared, slapped or surprised to get up.

  ‘Shall we have tea?’ twinkled Ironel.

  And at that moment, exactly then, there was a terrific bang from above.

  Everyone, even Nemian, goggled up at the ceiling.

  It had sounded like a flying cow, or several flying pigs, landing on the roof, which over this gallery was flat.

  ‘Princess,’ said Ert, ‘I’ll go to see what’s happened.’

  But he didn’t have to.

  What had happened was about to show itself to us.

  At the long windows, washed by falling rain, a flounder of darkness and brightness, like massive wings.

  Then, through the glass we saw them, poised there in the air, staring in at us with enraged white or black faces, framed by soaking wet, mud-splashed hair and clothes. The cursing one was Venn, and the shouting one was Ngarbo from Chylomba. It was Raven Winter though, flaming mad, who kicked in the window with one blow of her furious boots.

  US

  Not every window will open for a Power jewel, it seems, not if the window doesn’t open anyway, and the gallery ones don’t. Naturally very aggravating, if you have been out in the rain for hours, and before that been knocked about all over the sky by tempests and storms – not to mention a seasick balloon.

  Yes, that balloon we’d seen was them.

  But as so often, I’m ahead of myself.

  I must put all this next bit down very carefully.

  I’d told her to go and see Venn at the Rise. I’d said, Winter, use your Power necklace and fly over the sea, the same as Ustareth did. Go and meet him – he’s gorgeous.