by S J Howland
Mrs Stanton turned to include Ollie and Len in her memories. Her granddaughter’s mutinous expression promptly shattered any illusions concerning Len’s reaction to her own first visit. Mrs Stanton sighed in resignation.
‘Well,’ she said briskly, leading the way back onto the path. ‘Let’s not block the way.’
As Xander got closer, he could better appreciate the precision and detail of the stonework, and the effort that must have gone into creating this place. Each delicate-looking pillar was precisely placed, supporting the concentric circles of stone which made up the levels, and the glimmering stone itself provided some of the soft illumination inside the Pavilions, augmented by a thousand tiny glowstones suspended from the ceiling. The result was breathtaking.
The lower level appeared to function as a reception area, and was absolutely packed with people, although Xander could see a steady stream climbing the sweeping staircase to the next level. Mrs Stanton was seized upon by half a dozen ladies, all exclaiming in delight at her entrance while trying very hard to pretend that they did not notice Len’s hair. Ollie, Xander and Len were repeatedly introduced – Xander as a friend of the family, although which family was left unsaid.
Xander tried to pay attention but was distracted by the sight of glowing glass trays hanging in mid-air and slowly circulating among the guests, each carrying a variety of drinks. Particularly intriguing was a tray full of glasses of a bright blue liquid which appeared to emit tiny silver sparks, and Xander’s eyes followed it as it floated towards a prominent-looking group of people. In the centre stood a large, heavy-set man with thick, slicked-back hair, a pale corpulent face and moist red lips. He oozed self-satisfaction and Xander felt a sudden, visceral wave of intense dislike.
‘I see that the Larcius-Thornes are holding court as usual.’
Xander glanced over to see one of Mrs Stanton’s friends nodding towards the group he had been watching. The ladies exchanged meaningful looks.
‘I imagine that Thorne thinks the Council is pretty much stitched up now,’ murmured one. ‘Everyone knows poor old Barton Ferrars won’t go on much longer, and Thorne has his brother-in-law neatly lined up to take over the leadership.’
‘Can you imagine having the triumvirate of Felix Larcius, Irini Latimer and Marcus Melville controlling the Council?’ said another lady, with a delicate shiver of horror. ‘If you get one of them, you get them all. Those Families are so inter-married now it’s almost impossible to untwine all the connections.’
‘The role is largely ceremonial of course, and one wouldn’t mind too much, but they are such dreadful snobs,’ chimed in a third, and all the surrounding ladies nodded solemnly.
Conversation then veered off onto another subject and Xander was left to consider, once again, how little he really knew about this place. The crowds shifted slightly and Xander got a better look at the group surrounding Perrin Larcius-Thorne. Standing erect and immobile by his side was a tall, elegant blonde woman with an undeniably beautiful face, wearing a glittering white dress. The crowd was in constant flux as new arrivals came to greet her; most she acknowledged with a slight nod or tilt of the head, but the favoured few were graced with a cool smile and a few words. His wife’s chilly poise provided a sharp contrast to Thorne’s more effusive greetings to those who stopped to speak to him; he was clearly revelling in the attention. Xander spotted Primilla Pennicott, hovering behind the woman’s shoulder, with a sycophantic smile on her face.
After ten minutes, Mrs Stanton relented and gave them permission to look around. ‘But I want to see you in the Middle Tier when you hear the supper gong,’ she warned.
‘Finally,’ said Len, once they were out of earshot. ‘I thought we’d never get out of there. Her friends are a nightmare – all they did was stare at us.’
‘No, they were staring at you,’ Ollie pointed out mildly. ‘Not really surprising, considering. What did you expect?’
‘Actually, I was rather hoping that Gran might change her mind about dragging me along,’ grumbled Len.
Ollie just snorted in derision.
‘Fat chance.’
By this time they had climbed to the next level, where long white tables stood along each side of the room. Currently the only things adorning the tables were elaborate flower arrangements and there was nothing else interesting here, so by common accord they all headed up to the top.
As they stepped out onto the floor on the Upper Tier, Xander found it hard to hide his awe at the space before him. It was at least twice as large as the two lower levels, and the stone ceiling was so high that the small group of giants, all gathered self-consciously at one end of the room, seemed almost normal height. Round tables stood everywhere, each with a pristine white tablecloth and lit by intricately carved glowstone lanterns, while elaborate stone balustrades, low and wide enough to sit upon, enclosed the entire space. As Xander had noticed from his first glimpse of the Pavilions, there was a sheer drop from where he stood on the upper level, down to the lake shore, and the view over the lake to the trees beyond was breathtaking. As Xander watched, tiny lights began to glimmer in the trees along the shoreline opposite.
‘The Committee has spared no expense this year, it appears,’ said a familiar voice from over Xander’s shoulder. He turned to see Callan Reeve standing behind him, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his hair unbrushed as ever.
Reeve had clearly tried to conform somewhat to the formality of the occasion, but his rumpled dress clothes looked as though he had slept in them for a week. Beaming at his elbow was Petros, looking far more dapper, although his frequent tugging at his outfit betrayed his discomfort at being out of his normal attire. Xander smiled back at them both, very relieved to see at least two familiar and friendly faces amongst the vast crowd of people.
‘It’s amazing,’ Xander replied, waving his hand at everything around them.
‘I see that Lester Simm has brought his usual date,’ said Reeve, with an amused twitch of his lips.
Xander followed his gaze and saw the garishly dressed man from the Nexus tottering up the stairs on his high heels. This time he had dressed in an ostentatious electric blue jacket and a sash so liberally adorned with peacock feathers it looked like he had denuded a large flock of their tails. Heeling him was the stocky, bullish-eyed figure of Alan Latchet, wearing a clashing shade of pea green and glaring belligerently at anyone who he considered was showing insufficient respect to Simm.
Reeve drew back slightly behind a pillar, a wry expression on his face. ‘I don’t want to attract their attention,’ he explained to Xander with a grin. ‘We see quite enough of those two at work.’
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Petros. ‘They’re far too busy making up to the great and the good. Felix Larcius and Marcus Melville are over there, looking down their noses at everyone else as usual, so Simm isn’t going to notice the likes of us.’
He nodded over towards the far side of the room, where Simm was making a beeline for two tall men in the centre of another animated group. One of them was enough like the haughty woman downstairs to identify him as another of the Larcius family, although his hair was dark as opposed to her bright blonde, and so Xander assumed that the arrogant-looking pale-haired man next to him was Marcus Melville.
‘Who are they?’ Xander asked.
Reeve eyed him thoughtfully and Xander wondered whether he was revealing his status as an outlander again. ‘They’re the current heads of two of the Founding Families,’ he said. ‘They sit on the Council and spend their time interfering and creating unnecessary bureaucracy.’ He pulled a face. ‘Felix Larcius is brother-in-law to Perrin Thorne, who owns the Nexus. Despite knowing nothing about the technology, he tends to feel that that gives him the expertise to advise me how to do my job.’
As if he knew that he was being spoken about, Larcius looked over in their direction, his icy gaze sweeping across the crowds in the Upper Tier. Reeve ducked further into hiding before turning to Petros. ‘Let’s go find where your wife
and her friends have tucked themselves away,’ he suggested with a grin. ‘We may need the protection.’
With a quick lift of his hand, Reeve and Petros disappeared back down the crowded staircase and Ollie pointed over to the balustrades. ‘Let’s have a look. I heard that they hired night-glowing pixies to light up the lake.’
Xander followed him, rather glad to get out of the line of sight of the cold-eyed Larcius, and hung over the wide stone balustrade. The lake rippled softly just beneath them, and the lights he had noticed glimmering on the opposite shore were moving in gentle swirls in the growing dusk under the trees. Somewhere behind them, soft music had begun to play and Xander caught his breath as he took in the beauty of this strange place.
A chiming noise cut across the hum of chatter and laughter, and Ollie turned around with a grimace as he saw the large number of people between him and the staircase.
‘I knew we should have stayed by the food tables,’ he groaned as they headed over to join the queue forming by the stairs.
However, despite Ollie’s pessimism, it was not long before they were picking their way down the long white-clothed tables, now covered with delicious-looking food. Len was still garnering startled looks, and she kept behind Ollie and Xander as much as possible. This tactic did not prove sufficient to protect her from several of her grandmother’s relatives, who insisted on greeting her with hugs and barely concealed curiosity about her choice in hair styling. Among them was a courtly-looking man with silver hair and a judicious air, who shook hands with Ollie and regarded Len with twinkling eyes.
‘I’ve heard all about it from Thea,’ he said and then gave her an approving wink. ‘Good on you, keep the old girl on her toes.’
‘Believe me, she doesn’t need any encouragement in that, Horace,’ came a tart voice as Mrs Stanton appeared, and the man turned to talk to her, with another quick smile at Len.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Xander as he moved down the line filling up his plate.
‘That’s Gran’s cousin, Horace Peverell,’ replied Ollie, frowning slightly as he tried to balance an extra slice of quiche on the top of his pile of food. ‘He’s the head of the family and he sits on the Council, so he’s pretty important, but he’s actually really nice.’
Their plates now loaded up, the three of them headed back up the stairs. ‘Grab the first table you see,’ suggested Ollie in a muffled voice, having obviously made an early start on his food. However, when they reached the upper level it became immediately clear that every table was already occupied.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Xander quickly. ‘Why don’t we sit over there?’
He gestured with his roll towards one of the wide stone balustrades, narrowly avoiding poking an elegant woman passing in front of him. Luckily she did not notice his mishap, but Xander heard Len’s snicker from behind him. Flushing, he led the way over to a clear area away from the crowded tables and overlooking the lake. He hitched himself up to sit on the balustrade and leant back against one of the pillars, his plate propped on his lap. They were all hungry by this time, and for several minutes conversation languished as they dived into the food. Eventually, however, Xander began to look around him.
Not far away, four tables had been pushed together, and were overflowing with what were obviously the younger members of the Families. In the centre, and clearly holding court, sat a vivacious blonde girl with sparkling eyes and perfect features. As if drawn by Xander’s gaze the blonde girl glanced over, her eyes flickering over them and then away in apparent disinterest. He felt his cheeks heat. He had never been great at talking to girls, particularly ones who looked like her, and he glanced away awkwardly, only to meet Len’s knowing stare.
‘What?’ he demanded, as Len continued to eye him.
‘Please,’ she said with a withering look, and Xander felt himself flushing again. ‘I really wouldn’t bother. You have no chance and believe me, that’s a good thing. She’s a nightmare.’
Xander risked a glance back at the crowded table, and saw that the girl was leaning forward, whispering something to a rapt group of her friends. ‘Who is she?’ he asked.
It was Ollie who answered, after hastily swallowing his mouthful.
‘That’s Larissa Larcius-Thorne. I don’t really know her (‘lucky for you’, interjected Len) but her father is Perrin Thorne.’ Ollie flicked another quick glance over to the table and added, ‘That tall, dark bloke is her brother Roran, I think.’
‘Half-brother,’ muttered Len.
‘Really?’ grinned Ollie. ‘I stand corrected. Have you been delving into the society gossip pages again? Gran will be pleased.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ snapped Len, her face darkening with annoyance. ‘It’s common knowledge. That’s why his surname is Thorne. Larissa gets the Larcius from her mother, along with her delightful personality.’
Ollie laughed and leant forward, intent on continuing his teasing, but he was cut off by his cousin.
‘Great,’ hissed Len. ‘Now she’s coming over.’
Xander’s head jerked around to see that the blonde girl was indeed walking straight towards them, a cool little smile tugging at her lips. Following behind her was a gaggle of girls, all whispering and giggling. Xander looked away hastily, feeling his ears burning and hoping that his face was not as red as it felt.
‘Why, Len Stanton, I didn’t see you tucked away back here,’ said Larissa, in a precise voice like cut glass. She smiled sweetly, revealing perfectly even white teeth and a dimple that flickered in her left cheek. ‘You mustn’t feel awkward, you know. These little mishaps do happen.’ There was a wave of tittering from the assembled girls behind her.
‘What mishaps?’ said Len in a flat, hostile voice.
‘Your hair, of course,’ Larissa replied, in mock surprise. ‘You can’t mean you actually did that on purpose?’ She half-turned and called out over her shoulder. ‘Roran, do come and see Len Stanton’s hair. Isn’t it interesting?’
Her light, poisonous tone made the word ‘interesting’ sound like a horrible insult. The tall, dark boy glanced up at her appeal and then sauntered over. Although he did not immediately recognise the boy’s striking features or vividly blue eyes, Xander had a nagging feeling of familiarity and he frowned, trying to pin it down. Larissa’s entourage was fluttering as the boy approached, but his gaze flicked over them coolly, before settling on Len.
‘It’s certainly – different,’ he allowed in a bored drawl, and then looked away in clear dismissal. Xander felt Len stiffen in annoyance beside him, although her contemptuous expression did not change.
‘Isn’t it?’ Larissa agreed, smirking. She leant forward, her voice dripping fake sincerity. ‘I’m just so glad you were able to come to a Family occasion at all. I mean, you barely qualify.’
Len made a sudden movement, hostility rolling off her in waves, but Ollie was faster, gripping her arm firmly. Larissa just smirked at the success of her jab and opened her mouth again, no doubt to say something even more venomous, but before she could do so, a tall blonde woman swept up to the group. Xander recognised the beautiful, aloof woman from downstairs. Her mouth twisted into a sneer as she reached Len, the haughty contempt quite evident, before turning to Larissa.
‘Darling,’ she said, the endearment ice cold as it fell from her lips. ‘Your father is looking for you. I believe that there are some people he would like you to meet.’
Larissa smirked at Len, then turned with a swirl of her filmy dress and walked off. Immediately, Mrs Larcius-Thorne glanced at the tall, dark boy. ‘Roran dear, the dance floor is woefully unpopulated. Shall we set an example?’
‘Certainly,’ Thorne replied, extending his arm courteously to his step-mother. He escorted her over to the dance floor where, Mrs Larcius-Thorne to the contrary, there did not appear to be a shortage of dancers. There was an immediate stampede of girls to grab partners and join the dancing, all too obviously hoping for a dance with Thorne.
Left alone once more in their corne
r, Ollie grinned wryly at Len and Xander.
‘Couldn’t get her precious children away from us fast enough, could she?’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t want them contaminated by mixing with the likes of us.’
Xander was not listening. The nagging sense of familiarity he had felt on seeing Roran Thorne had sharpened into a certainty as Roran had offered his arm for his step-mother’s hand. On the middle finger of Roran Thorne’s left hand was an intricately twisted silver ring.
‘It was him,’ he blurted out.
Len and Ollie both looked at him with confused expressions.
‘Huh?’ asked Ollie.
‘It was him – the one that Flint sent to meet me when I first arrived here – it was Roran Thorne.’ Xander knew that he wasn’t making very much sense, but he was caught up in the sudden clarity. The only question that still confused him was –
‘Why on earth would Roran Thorne help you or do favours for Flint, of all people?’ Len’s sceptical voice exactly echoed the questions circling in Xander’s own mind.
‘I don’t know,’ said Xander slowly. ‘But I intend to find out.’
‘Great,’ grumbled Ollie. ‘We’ll just add it to the list of things we have absolutely no idea about.’
Len huffed in agreement, but Xander could see by the slightly absent look on her face that she was already turning the problem over in her head. She looked up suddenly and met Xander’s eyes, her smile pointed.
‘Told you she was a nightmare,’ she said.
Not long after that, Len disappeared, muttering something that Xander couldn’t make out, and Ollie decided to see whether there was any food left. Xander abandoned his plate on a handy table and began to wander around the enormous Upper Tier. He found all the more exotic inhabitants of Haven endlessly fascinating and was just angling around to get a better view of the giants when he bumped into Callan Reeve again. The engineer gave him a rather knowing look, and Xander wondered whether he had spoken with Mrs Stanton.