Broken Shadow

by Jaine Fenn

  She had so many questions, but he didn’t have long now. Her job was to listen.

  He noticed her again, and said, “The world is changing, Dej.”

  She nodded. This was what he needed to tell her. “In what ways?” she prompted gently.

  “Ways we can’t be sure of. That’s the problem. But a lot of us have felt it.”

  “When you say ‘us’…”

  “Seers. Old seers, in tune with the world. Perhaps it’s not so much changing as fighting back…” He frowned, then said, “Worlds have cycles. This one does, anyway. Long slow cycles, so slow we don’t notice they’re happening. Even with a memory going back over a thousand years.”

  “But you’re sure.”

  “As I can be. Have there been any changes in the weather in the shadowlands?”

  “The weather? Well… when I left the crèche, a couple of years back, there was a drought. And again this year. Is that what you mean?”

  “That could be part of it, yes.”

  “Is this something to do with the Harbinger?”

  “The Harbinger? Oh, the wandering star, you mean.” He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. It hasn’t been visiting the skies for long, no more than four centuries I’d say. So maybe, by some unseen means.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Jat, but there’s a lot you don’t know.”

  “An near-infinite amount. And yet I know too much.”

  “So what else is happening with these changes? I’m thinking it’s nothing good.”

  “Oh yes. Nothing good.” He slipped into silent contemplation.

  “Is this place, this city, deserted because of the cycle, the bad stuff happening?”

  “It is, Dej, yes.” His voice was a whisper now.

  “So what happened here?”

  “People left.”

  “Why?”

  “There were not enough of us.” He seemed half lost in memory, barely aware he was talking to her. Slipping away fast.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The skykin are dying, Dej.”

  “Is it some disease?” Was she infected? Her hand went to her stomach. Would it harm her baby?

  “Not a disease. More complicated… Our animuses. The world has finally noticed what we’ve done… the crime against it.” He was getting breathless again. She made herself wait in silence until he got his voice back. “This is… you need to know… ah, no time. Not sure you’d understand. There is one way, but… you don’t deserve any of this, but if it’s what the world wants, I have to…”

  “Jat!” He was leaving her, his voice a dying murmur. She covered his hand with hers. Perhaps responding to her touch, he opened his eyes.

  “I’ve travelled so far…” He focused fully on her. “You too, to come here.” His gaze dropped to where her other hand rested on her swollen belly. “But you have to go back now.”

  “Back where?” Not to Etyan. Never to Etyan.

  “The child. Can’t survive out here.”

  “I’ve got shelter, I just need to feed–”

  “No!” His vehement whisper stopped her. She could feel him fighting to stay conscious. “You can’t do it alone, Dej…” His hand, under hers, quivered in agitation. “Find a crèche. Please. Promise me.”

  “I promise. Now stay with me!” His eyes had closed again. “Jat! No!”

  He sighed, an oddly contented sound.

  She waited for the next breath.

  It didn’t come.

  “Not yet, damn you! Not yet!” Grief and frustration warred in her.

  But he was gone.

  With a certainty she hadn’t felt in weeks, she knew what she had to do now. And she needed to hurry.

  She fetched her knife.

  CHAPTER 44

  Rhia offered to watch Kerne while the servants went to the restday service. He was sleeping a lot at the moment, and drowsy and confused whenever he awoke.

  On their return Markave entered the room where she sat with the boy. “I have a favour to ask.” He sounded uncertain.

  “Ask away, please.” Every conversation changed things between them, as he became more used to treating her as a sort-of equal, and she came round to thinking of him as more than a faithful servant. But it would take time.

  “Will you pray with me, for Kerne’s recovery?”

  “Pray?” She prayed in public when required, and that was what this was, in effect. “Of course, if you wish me to.”

  So they knelt, and clasped their hands, and Markave asked the First to show mercy and save his boy. Rhia joined in when he spoke the ritual lines to open and close the prayer, and tried to compose her mind and face accordingly. This was, she reminded herself, for Markave as much as for his son.

  When they straightened Markave said, “I would like to ask you something personal, Rhia.” He still said her name like it startled him. “If you don’t mind.”

  “You are my husband. You can ask me anything.” Just as the word “husband’ startled her.

  “Yes. Of course. It’s just… Do you really not believe in the First?”

  “Ah, an easy question.” She considered how best to put it. “I believe in the possibility of God, but am unsure of such a being’s reality. And as the First is worshipped, and with some of the acts done in His name, I cannot give Him my allegiance.”

  “Forgive me, but that sounds like arrogance.”

  “Perhaps it is. Or perhaps, if those who claim to serve the First were not intent on destroying me, I would be better inclined to respect their rules.”

  “I should not have asked.” He got up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Although it is restday I still have duties to attend to. I will return to watch Kerne when I am done. Unless you wish otherwise?”

  “No. Of course. Do what you need to do.”

  Markave left without another word.

  Firstday was agony. For months she had been trying to complete her celestial model and now, with the demonstration done, she could not bear to look at it. She copied some more papers, and sent them off with Brynan to the palace, then whiled away the day reading random writings from the enquirers, not really taking anything in. When darkness fell and the sky remained cloudy she got a rare early night, alone again, as after she and Markave had been seen to spend their wedding night together, he had suggested he rest in his room when he was not watching Kerne. She had agreed without argument.

  “We have reached a decision.”

  Rhia made herself breathe, deep and even, deep and even. With the rains gone, the weather was hot and close; she had been summoned back after a late lunch and the small courtroom felt uncomfortably stuffy.

  Cardinal Vansel continued, “Each judge will speak their piece, so you may understand what has been decided and why, starting with myself. As a representative of the Church it will not surprise you that I am not able to accept this complex and preposterous theory.”

  “You saw the evidence for yourself, Holiness!”

  Beside her, Sur Lectel suppressed a groan at her outburst.

  “Kindly do not interrupt. What I saw is irrelevant. The First can make the world appear any way He wills it. If He wishes us to see half-lit spheres in the sky, we will. If He wishes to hide the celestial settlements on the Moons from our gaze, He will. However such deception is more suited to the wiles of the Last. I suspect that the Great Deceiver has acted upon your mind, which, whilst surprisingly sharp, is still that of the lesser sex. You have been taken in. Your theory has no merit. And I believe that to pursue it further may imperil your very soul.”

  Rhia seethed but stayed silent. She had expected something like this.

  Lord Jertine spoke up next. “Whilst I respect his Holiness’s judgement, I am not obliged to agree with it, and indeed I do not. I cannot claim to comprehend the intricacies and implications of the idea that we live on a globe that orbits with others in a vast nothingness, but your demonstration impressed me, and everything you showed us supported
your theory. I was particularly taken with your sightglass; should you be in a position to make another, I would be most interested in owning it. But as for the theory, I am willing to accept its validity, even if its detail escapes me.”

  Rhia found a smile stealing onto her face.

  Vansel looked to his other side. Tethorn steepled his fingers and said, “I too see the merits of your theory.” Rhia stifled the urge to laugh aloud. They believe me! “However, there are many unknowns, such as where the Harbinger fits in–”

  “I would happily–”

  Rhia bit her tongue at Vansel’s raised finger.

  Tethorn continued. “I also share some of His Holiness’s concerns regarding how complex such a universe would be, and how impersonal; like some great mechanism running on by itself. I cannot see why the First would create such an untidy and hardto-grasp arrangement. Last but not least, I have looked at your detailed workings and, frankly, they do not work. You also seem to have changed your mind, and started trying to make your mathematics fit orbits which are not circular – even though the model shows them as being so.”

  “But it represented the–”

  “Silence, if you please!”

  Rhia recoiled. Her heart had been sinking at Tethorn’s words, and she felt Vansel’s reprimand like a blow.

  Tethorn concluded, “Whilst this theory is intriguing, I cannot give it my belief or support.”

  Rhia just stared at him.

  The cardinal said. “Two out of three of us must agree for a decision to be reached, and such is the case. Your theory is ruled a dangerous delusion, with no basis in the reality we live in or in the all-encompassing mind of the First.”

  “May I speak?” Her voice was shaking.

  “Briefly, if you require clarification.”

  “I do. You are, I believe, telling me that I am deluded, possibly that I have been tempted to my delusion by the Last, and that my ideas have nothing to do with the world as you see it.”

  “That is one way of putting it.”

  “Then can I go now?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “If I am harmlessly crazy, or at least inclined to credulity, then is there any reason I cannot return to my foolish diversions? If I feel the touch of the Last in my thoughts I will of course seek spiritual guidance.” Her voice sounded shrill in her ears.

  “No, you may not go. We have not delivered our judgement.”

  “But surely there is nothing to judge! I am just a foolish woman who does not know her place, and therefore not a threat to the natural order the Church seeks to maintain!”

  “That your ideas are delusions does not make them acceptable.”

  “What? Either my theory is true, and I must prove it does not offend the Church or it is false, and therefore inoffensive by definition. You cannot have it both ways!”

  “That you would spread such lies is not acceptable. Doubts would be raised, questions asked. This cold, mechanical universe is not one we wish to live in. All writings and other items pertaining to your theory will be destroyed under Church supervision–”

  “No!”

  “–and you will swear on the Book of Separation that you will never undertake to recreate them. Furthermore, representatives of the Church will search your property and confiscate any other papers deemed to stand against our teachings.”

  “You cannot do this!”

  “We most certainly can. And if we wished we could impose further punishments, including a fine and public penance. Do not tempt me to do so.”

  “A public penance. Hah!” She felt light-headed, infused with a cold, surreal fury. “If I have to crawl between every church in the city in my underwear with ash in my hair, aren’t you worried that people might start asking questions about what I did wrong?”

  “Countess, do not push me! You will come away from this with your life and, hopefully, your soul. Be thankful for that.”

  “But this is my life! You are taking everything that matters from me.”

  “Sur Lectel, please remove the Countess from the courtroom and explain that due process has been followed and judgement given. Either that or I shall send a clerk for the guards.”

  “I’m going!” She shook her head. “You’ve won!”

  Outside, Sur Lectel strode in her wake. When it became obvious he was not going to leave her alone she turned on him, uncaring that they were in a public corridor. “How can they just take everything like that!” But even as she spoke she knew she had lost; had, perhaps, been bound to lose from the day Cardinal Marsan had read the charges.

  “You will not want to hear this, countess, but perhaps this is the best outcome we could have hoped for.”

  “Really? Because that’s not how it feels.”

  “I understand your anger, but think of the price you could have paid.”

  “I would have died for the truth!”

  “Which the Church would then have suppressed anyway.”

  “Maybe. I… Can I appeal?”

  “You know you cannot. Not after a grand trial.”

  And even if she could, the process would be slow; it would be too late to save her papers. “This was what they planned all along, wasn’t it?” Some of the fury was draining away.

  “Perhaps.” Sur Lectel glanced around; the corridor was empty. Even so he dropped his voice. “The Church wanted to prove their point, but they might have baulked at putting a high noble to death.”

  Rhia answered in a venomous whisper. “Certain individuals in other Houses would have been quite happy for that to happen.”

  “Which is one reason it did not, if I may be blunt. The Church would not want to be seen to do the dirty work of the Houses major.”

  “Politics again! Does no one care for the truth?”

  Sur Lectel said nothing. “All right. You did what you could. I am going home now.”

  But home no longer felt like a haven.

  What the trial had really been about, what had really offended the Church, was how her theory challenged the shadowkin’s exulted status. Vansel had said it himself: this cold, mechanical universe is not one we wish to live in. She had questioned the idea that the world – the universe – existed to serve, test and please the tiny, brief creatures who lived in it.

  She had feared she was facing faith, which could not be reasoned with, but she was also facing arrogance, the innate sense of superiority in those who would not brook being mere observers of a cosmic miracle. She had been doubly damned to fail.

  She could not face her study. Until today, surrounding herself with accumulated learning had been her comfort. Now much of that learning was going to be ripped from her, destroyed and lost forever… seeing what she was about to lose would be salt in an open wound.

  Instead she asked Markave to distract her with a game. He fetched the board and pieces for set-squares, which had been her favourite as a girl.

  They played in silence a while, though Rhia’s mind was only half on the moves she was making.

  “What is it?” asked Markave gently. He had been about to win, which never happened.

  “The judges ruled against me today.”

  “No!” His face fell into lines of horrified dismay. “Will they…?”

  “Oh. No. I’ll live. Survive, anyway. But they’ll take my papers. My work, Markave. It’ll all be lost.”

  Finally the tears came. She had been strong before, held herself together for her people, her House and her work. But the world didn’t care for her people, her House or her work. It had trampled over it all. A few leaky sniffs, then the damn broke, and she was sobbing and wailing like a hurt child.

  She felt arms go around her, and flinched, then relaxed. Markave held her, not tight but enough for her to know he was there for her, while she cried her heart out.

  CHAPTER 45

  A note sealed with the Church’s Pillar of Light arrived the next morning. Markave had spent the night in her room, having helped her up to bed, and continued to hold her until she f
inally slept. He was there when she awoke, and she managed a smile for him. She had lost a lot, but not everything. Not everyone.

  Her hands shook as she opened the note, and what little peace she had salvaged overnight left her as she read:

  In accordance with the judgement given on the 9th day of the 1st month of the year of Separation 5362, the writings of Rhia Harlyn on the nature of the universe are deemed to be inaccurate and fanciful fabrications, an affront to the civilised state of man. As such, they are to be disposed of discreetly, along with any related devices or other writings on similar matters deemed to likewise cause offence.

  Offence to whom? Vansel had said the Church could, and would, take whatever they wanted of her work but seeing it written down was a knife to her heart.

  The process will begin this afternoon, when Church representatives will call to collect all writings on the misguided celestial theory discussed and dismissed during the recent trial. They will return the next day to go through any and all other works held at the countess’s city property.

  The countess should be aware that due process will be followed.

  Meaning: don’t go running to the duke. Even he couldn’t help her now.

  Any further writings not currently at the townhouse will also be examined and, if necessary, destroyed. If any such writings are held at other Harlyn properties the countess must send for them. Let it also be noted that those writings given to your lawyer, and also those sent into the keeping of His Grace the Duke in express defiance of the Church’s admonitions, will be gathered and destroyed.

  “No!” Had Francin betrayed her? No, he’d never do that. Even without her papers, her mind was of use to him. And they were family. But someone had. She raised her head and met Markave’s eyes, where he sat on the edge of the bed. “When you took my papers to the palace who did you give them to?”