Enchantress (The Evermen Saga, Book One)
Page 3
Ella had left the sky temple years before; she never finished her studies and would never get a letter to say she had. How could she let this happen! Why hadn’t anyone told her!
"I… I don’t have my letter with me," Ella said.
"Well, you had better go and get it then. Perhaps you should return home and come back tomorrow. Enrolments close in a week, so you have plenty of time to deposit your gilden with one of the lenders and come back a little more prepared, eh?"
Ella nodded and turned away. It didn’t take her long to realise there was only one chance left to her. A member of the court, the clerk had said. Lady Katherine!
A woman entered the market square where Ella was searching every face in hope. She looked up, and Ella’s breath caught. Then she slowly released it — it wasn’t her.
For the last six days, Ella had waited in hope, searching the market for Lady Katherine from morning to night. And now the week was nearly up — tomorrow, enrolments would close.
If Ella didn’t see Lady Katherine today, she decided, she would go to the Crystal Palace, no matter what trouble it got her into. With a letter of introduction from the High Lord’s wife in hand, Ella would at least get her chance to sit the entrance examinations.
Nevertheless, the idea of presenting herself at the Crystal Palace and demanding to see the High Lord’s wife filled her with dread. Please, let her come today!
A thin man with a ragged beard and a hooked nose came up, pawing through Ella’s flowers with one hand while his other hand held a mug of steaming coffee. His name was Harry Maloney and he was a buyer — someone who didn’t hold any of his own stock but sourced stock when other merchants had particularly large orders come in. He was a notorious gossip, and seemed to spend as much time in taverns as he did working in the market.
"Ho there, Ella. Anything good today? You’ll need to step up, I should say, what with the funeral. Let me add that I’ll buy all you’ve got and all you can get." He put down his mug, examining Ella’s wares with both hands now. "I’m sure you’ve heard the news. Good for the flower business, funerals are," he chortled.
"News?" Ella interrupted. "What news? What funeral?"
"You haven’t heard? The High Lord’s wife, Lady Katherine. A ferryman found her body in the Sarsen, late yesterday evening. She drowned, still in her bedroom slippers. The funeral’s tomorrow. It’s a big job but there’s going to be a lot of gilden in it."
Ella didn’t hear Harry’s next words. She sat down heavily on a crate, staring into nothing. Lady Katherine wouldn’t be coming today.
2
The artificers use lenses of curved glass in their work. This enables them to draw runes so tiny they can hardly be read.
— Diary of High Enchantress Maya Pallandor, Page 356, 411 Y.E.
ELLA stood high on the Tenbridge, leaning out over the water. She stared into the turbulent river far below and imagined the sensation of falling — flying through the air, as light as a bird for an instant, before the icy water slammed into her body and drove the air out of her lungs.
She caught a strange look from a passing man and realising how she must look she straightened, looking away from the river and up at the rising sun, amazed that such a sad day could be so full of promise. She considered her options. She needed a letter from a priest or a noble, but she didn’t know any nobles, and Father Morton would never help her. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, he’d thought she was foolish to give up her studies and it seemed he was right.
Looking down at the Sarsen one final time, she saw the water splash against the ferry boats, knocking them against each other. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone, who knew what had happened and could give her some reason behind why her friend and only supporter had died.
Ella’s brow furrowed. Fergus — that’s what Harry had said the ferryman’s name was.
She turned and descended the bridge the way she had come, where a narrow staircase led from the foot of the bridge to the dock. By the time she reached the waterside she was out of breath, but she had met a ferryman on the way who described Fergus to her and told her where she could wait for him.
Huddled against a low wall to escape the biting wind that came off the river, Ella finally saw a thick man with a bald pate help an older couple disembark from his rocking boat. He fit the description, and she walked over before her courage failed her.
"Excuse me," Ella said.
"Where will it be, lass?" the ferryman said, holding out his hand. "Here, jump on."
Ella stepped down into his boat, and before she knew it he had pushed off and they were heading out into the river.
"Well?" the ferryman glanced at her as he gave a few sweeps at the oars.
"I’m very sorry. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just wanted to talk to you."
He snorted. "You can talk to me all you like, provided you pay the fare. You want a tour of the river then? It’ll be two copper cendeens for a start. I know all about the city, the palace, the bridges; no one knows Sarostar better than me."
"Here." Ella handed him two copper coins. "Is your name Fergus?"
He froze, and then began to row furiously, turning the boat around. "I think I know what this is about, here, take your money, young lady." He returned the coins. "I don’t want any of your questions." The oars churned the water into foam, and Ella was almost thrown out when the boat hit the dock with a clunk.
"Please, she was my friend. Won’t you at least talk to me?" Ella pleaded.
"There’s nothing to say." He held the boat fast to the dock. "She must’ve fallen into the river. It’s a sad story. On your way then."
"Harry Maloney said she was in her bedclothes," Ella persisted.
Fergus put his hand to his temple. "Harry Maloney says a lot of things."
"Is it true?" Ella still hadn’t stood up from her seat in the boat.
Fergus blew out of his nostrils. "Yes, it’s true. Now, will you leave me alone? Do you understand the position I’m in? The High Lord’s men made it clear I wasn’t to say anything to anyone." He shuddered. "She fell in the river and drowned, that’s the story. Me and my big mouth, Harry got the truth out of me. I’m going to go and see him now and tell him…"
Fergus stopped talking; he was looking over Ella’s shoulder. Ella followed his gaze, and a chill ran through her spine.
The first thing she noticed about the man on the Tenbridge was he was wearing a sword. She’d never seen someone who wasn’t a soldier or a palace guard with a sword. He wore it comfortably, and walked with a smooth grace. He was tall and broad, with a wide scar on his cheek, and he was clearly heading in their direction.
Fergus pushed away from the dock and began to row. The ferryman was looking anywhere but at the swordsman, and Ella could almost believe Fergus hadn’t seen him. The swordsman held up his hand for them to stop but his words were lost on the wind.
"Who is he?" Ella asked. Fergus’s face had paled. "Aren’t you going to stop?"
Fergus put his back into the oars, staying silent until some distance had grown. "His name’s Jarvish. Rogan Jarvish," he spoke in between strokes. "He’s one of the High Lord’s men, and let’s just say he’s not the man you send to have a polite conversation."
"Aren’t you going to talk to him?"
"No, I’m going to pretend I didn’t see him." Fergus grimaced. "I think I’m overdue to visit some family in Halaran. Long overdue."
Ella watched as Rogan came to the dock, dropped his arms, and stood watching them silently. For some reason she thought it was her he was watching, rather than Fergus. The swordsman finally disappeared from view as they rounded a bend. Ella shivered in the chill air and tried to think of something to say to Fergus, but no words came to her mind.
Ella felt she was losing control of events. Her whole life there was always something she could do, some path she could take. Just this morning she’d had a plan. Now what should she do? She was even being warned not to ask about what happened to Lady Katherine.
"Whatever happened to the High Lord’s wife, I’m going to stay quiet," Fergus said, echoing her thoughts. "I promise you that." He pulled up at a narrow pier and helped Ella disembark, refusing her money. "Young lady, I would advise you to do the same."
~
IT was the morning of the funeral, and the last day of enrolments at the Academy of Enchanters. As the sky grew lighter, the clouds parted, and the sun burst over the horizon. Alturan funerals were always held early, when the Lord of the Sky touched the world with his majestic palette. Rather than death being an end of things, it was a beginning.
Townsfolk gathered on the banks of the Sarsen, walking in singles and pairs, groups and families. Their mood was sombre — children stayed close to their parents, and husbands and wives held hands. Many of the men had doffed their hats, and the women carried green branches. From the variety of clothing and badges it was clear that every kind of resident was represented, from craftsmen to lords, farmers to priests.
They lined both sides of the river, and crowded on Sarostar’s closest bridges. At the appointed hour a clear note sounded, and the shining walls of the Crystal Palace lit up with colours of emerald. In the palace grounds the fountains burst their boundaries to rise ever higher, and the crowd gasped at the fleeting beauty of the moment.
Tied at a small pier and hidden from the townsfolk, a stately barge of pale wood bobbed on the water. Ella touched a finger to her flower arrangement. There, it was perfect.
The palace guards had been reluctant to let Ella through, but one of them had convinced his fellows to relent. The young woman with the beautiful flowers just wanted to leave something special for Lady Katherine. It would be cruel to turn her away.
Looking at the barge, Ella thought about the woman who would soon be placed among the flowers, ready to drift down the Sarsen on her final journey. Again and again she remembered the conversation from two years before. Why had Lady Katherine said goodbye to her that day? What had really happened?
The sound of voices broke the stillness of the setting, and Ella suddenly had a strong feeling that she didn’t belong here, coupled with an urge to flee. The sound of two men talking grew louder. Ella desperately looked around for somewhere to hide. She heard footsteps and the rustle of clothing, and in a flurry Ella climbed onto the barge and hid under a rail.
Ella’s heart raced in her chest and her breath came short. What was she thinking? If the guards caught her here they wouldn’t just be angry, they would see it as a violation, and she would be severely punished. Terrified of any sound she might make, she put her hand in front of her mouth to quiet her breathing. She peeked out from her hiding place through a crack — hopefully the men were just passing through.
A man was looking right at her, only paces away! No, he was looking at the barge. He wasn’t a guard either, he was a noble, that much was certain, with a patrician nose and tailored dark clothing to suit the occasion. He was old, but not as old as Uncle Brandon, and he looked sad.
A second man had his back to her but then he turned, and suddenly Ella couldn’t look away. This man was smaller, and his features were lined with age. His hair stuck out in tufts and a green ceremonial cloak covered his clothing, the Alturan raj hada — a sword and flower — prominent on the breast. An immense collar framed his head. It was the High Lord Tessolar.
Ella felt an overwhelming longing to run, even if it meant them seeing her for the briefest instant. She didn’t belong here.
Then the man in dark clothing spoke, "’Tis better this way. I know that isn’t what you want to hear right now, but it is better for you, and better for Altura."
Ella froze.
Tessolar sighed, "I suppose you’re right, Devon."
"We would have had to put Katherine on trial. The people would have been devastated."
Ella couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Trial? For what?
"Why, Devon? Why did she do it?" Tessolar clenched his hands into fists.
"I cannot say," Devon said, shaking his head.
"She was not happy, no, don’t tell me otherwise, I know. There was little love between us," said Tessolar. "But this?"
"I don’t know what I can say, High Lord. At least let it be finished, here, today."
Tessolar nodded decisively. "Promise me, Devon. Promise me this will stay secret between us. I want her remembered by the people the way she was."
Ella’s cramped foot was growing numb. She moved slightly and brushed against a piece of wood holding a latch propped open. The latch began to swing closed but she placed her foot in the way, and instead it crashed onto her foot.
"Did you hear something?" Lord Devon said. "It came from the barge."
He began to walk towards where Ella hid. Her protection was scant at best; if he took one more step, he would see her.
A new voice spoke. "My Lords, please, they are bringing her down."
"We should take our places," Lord Devon said, turning.
Tessolar assented, and they departed the area.
Ella sighed with relief and hopped out of the barge. She ran until she found a guard, telling him she was lost. Grumbling, he let her out and she rejoined the townspeople on the bank of the Sarsen.
Ella’s heart raced, more from fear than exertion, but she felt safe in the crowd. She looked on as eight soldiers carried a cushioned litter on their shoulders. They walked down to the grassy bank below the palace, taking perfectly synchronized steps. High Lord Tessolar walked beside them. His face was bowed and his expression was masked by the great collar.
Lady Katherine’s body lay on the litter, and as she came closer, the crowd sighed again. She looked more beautiful than ever, and a sob was heard from more than one quarter.
The white barge drifted to where the solemn litter-bearers silently waited. Lady Katherine’s body was placed carefully on the barge. When the bearers had again resumed their places by the river, the barge left the bank, glowing symbols on its decks giving the vessel the ability to move under its own power.
Ella stood with the crowd and watched the barge approach. Flowers covered the vessel from one end to the other. Her eyes misted as it came ever closer, and she squinted against the strong morning light, trying to find the special arrangement she’d made. There it was!
Ella wondered what terrible secret it was that Lady Katherine had taken with her, what crime it was she had committed. The vessel passed from view and Ella turned away. It was done, she could go home now. She would keep the secret. No one would know.
As she moved through the crowd, Ella’s skin prickled and she felt the horrible sensation of being watched. Then she saw him. It was the swordsman from the river, Rogan Jarvish; he stood motionless, staring directly at her. Then he began to push through the crowd, moving towards her.
Fergus’s warning still fresh in her mind, Ella turned and ran, weaving through the crowd. She glanced over her shoulder. He was catching up to her!
People grumbled and made injured sounds, but they got out of her way. With a burst of cool air, she was suddenly out of the crowd while he was still tangled in the mass of people. She began to run in earnest now, ignoring the startled looks of the townsfolk. She darted down an alley, and then popped out in the Poloplats, and soon she was among the maze of market stalls and tented areas.
Ella risked a backward glance. She couldn’t see him anymore, but just to be safe, she entered a cloth seller’s display area, and remained until the merchant realised she wasn’t going to buy anything and sent her on her way.
~
ELLA’S mind whirled. She needed to talk to her brother, but the morning was passing and with her home far from Sarostar’s centre she would need to hurry.
She crossed the Sarsen at the Winebridge and passed through the city’s outskirts. Soon patches of grass began to show through the stones, the
large houses of craftsmen and landowners were replaced by simple cottages on farmland, and the street became a road. When the pasture turned into rugged grassland, and the massive trees of the Dunwood grew closer, she knew she was nearly home.
Ella’s path followed the stony stream and took her to the little bridge. She caught the stench of burning coal long before seeing the small house. Ella hated the smell, and one day she promised herself she’d buy a set of heating stones. Still, the price of essence had gone up again and enchanted items were more expensive than ever.
Ella found the old pail lying on its side and took it down to the stream. The rope tied to the handle was broken, so she was forced to wet her tunic in the process, but she filled the bucket with clear water and struggled with it to the door of her home.
A sign over the door proclaimed the house Mallorin, a name that meant "forest home". It was still early, so she opened the door quietly, but even so Uncle Brandon was sitting by the open stove, toying with something in the light cast by the burning coals. There was no other light in the room — it was still too cool to open the wooden shutters — and he appeared to be in another world. Ella set down the pail.
"Uncle!"
Brandon started. He was an old man now, but then again, he’d always been old, for as long as Ella could remember. His eyes were rheumy and the skin on his hands was dry. Ella couldn’t imagine him as a soldier, but that’s what he had been, a sergeant in the Alturan army. She called him Uncle, but she knew they weren’t really related.
"Shut the door, Ella. You’re letting the heat out." He looked at the bucket in her hands. "Don’t worry, I’ll shut it."
Ella was careful to avoid sloshing water all over the floor. She filled the heavy iron pot with water and added oats and a sprinkling of salt from their meagre store. Brandon took the pot from her hands, carefully resting it over the coals. Ella’s eyes smarted from the acrid smoke.