by Sarah Rayne
As Reflection progressed down the stair, the musicians quickened the flourishing music and there was a flurry of instruments that sent banner-like sounds into the waiting Banqueting Hall. The leaping fire-gown swirled and the thin, light wrap which cloaked it swished and the people of the Court fell to their knees.
Floy and Snodgrass, sons of a world where nearly all men were equal, stayed where they were, although Snodgrass inclined his head a little because, after all, this was their hostess, by all accounts a lady it would be better not to offend. Floy remained standing upright and, when Reflection looked across at them, grinned at her. At once, Reflection walked across the floor towards them, as if her attention had been caught, the flame-gown swishing on the polished surface. She held out a hand and Floy, amused at himself, raised it at once to his lips. He saw the fire-gown’s sleeve slip back over the dainty wrist and saw the tiny, curling flames rear back a little.
‘I am glad, madame,’ said Floy, urbanely, ‘that you are able to control the more active sections of your gown.’
‘Oh,’ said Reflection at once, her eyes fixed on Floy, ‘oh, this old thing. Oh, I promise you it is the veriest rag and it is only that it was the first thing to hand when I opened my wardrobe this evening.’ She stayed where she was and her eyes raked Floy from head to toe. Her smile widened a little and there was no question but that she was thinking: dear me, here is an attractive plaything. There was something childlike about the sudden, intense interest and the lack of any attempt to conceal that interest.
‘Do tell me,’ said Reflection, after a moment, lowering her voice thrillingly, ‘do tell me, are you merely travellers, or something more interesting? I am always interested in travellers,’ said Reflection and widened her eyes a little.
Floy said, ‘We are filled with gratitude for your hospitality, Madame,’ and Reflection at once said, ‘Oh, I am the soul of hospitality, everyone will tell you that. No one is ever turned from my doors, you know.’ And drawing closer, ‘Do tell me where you are from,’ she said.
‘We come from Tara, Madam,’ said Floy, and Snodgrass bobbed his head in agreement. ‘With,’ said Floy, documents from Inchbad.’ He knew a brief moment of gratitude that the Gnomes’ designs and Goibniu and Inchbad’s letters had been tucked safely in Snodgrass’s cloak and that, although they had been soaked in the River of Souls, they had dried out quite successfully.
‘Inchbad,’ said Reflection, purring. ‘The dear creature. You must tell me all about Tara.’ And then, ‘I thought you were not simply chance-met pilgrims. I can always detect — ’ she paused, and then went on. ‘I can always detect quality,’ said Reflection.
Floy said, ‘We have deliberately sought you out, madame. Can you think it otherwise?’ He grinned. ‘Also, we have braved the clutches of the Frost Giantess to reach you.’
‘Oh, that creature,’ said Reflection, dismissively. ‘Oh, she is the greatest nuisance. Nothing but trouble, for if she is not eating all the best young men around, she is doing unspeakable things to their bodies.’ She paused and studied Floy. ‘You appear remarkably unscathed, sir.’
‘I escaped within inches of my life,’ said Floy gravely, and Reflection narrowed her eyes.
‘I should like to hear of your adventures,’ she said.
‘It will be my pleasure. But,’ said Floy, ‘to begin with, we must discuss matters of business. Also, we were to meet two of our party here?’ He stopped, and Reflection furrowed her brow slightly.
‘I do not think we have had any other travellers arrive here lately,’ she said. ‘But they may still be on their way, for it is easy to miss the road.’ She drew a little nearer and Floy was conscious of the warm, musky perfume emanating from her skin. ‘I have deliberately cut myself off from the normal travel routes,’ said Reflection, thrillingly, ‘although, of course, people still manage to reach me.’ Again, it was the pleased child, proffering a clever deed for praise.
Floy said, ‘I see. Yes, that is possible.’
‘No one would be turned away,’ said Reflection earnestly. ‘I do promise you that.’
‘Your hospitality is famous, madame,’ said Floy, who was finding this rather superficial, rather insubstantial conversation remarkably easy. ‘And your legend goes before you.’
Reflection looked pleased.
‘And,’ said Floy, ‘you should know that we have brought from Tara the designs for the new Crown Jewels for your daughter — ’
The smallest frown creased the smooth brow again. ‘Such an ageing word,’ said Reflection. ‘Daughter. And, of course, she is the merest child. As for marriage, well, it is quite absurd, but there it is. I am not one to stand in the way of anyone’s happiness. And child brides are quite the fashion you know.’
‘Of course,’ murmured Floy.
‘I was one myself,’ disclosed Reflection.
‘Indeed?’ said Floy.
‘I was a babe, no more, when that creature Fael-Inis took advantage of my innocence,’ said Reflection. ‘I was seduced by an unprincipled stealer of virtue! Oh, I shall have my revenge, make no mistake. But in the meantime,’ said Reflection, apparently recalled to a sense of her surroundings, and certainly recalled to a reminder that she had marked Floy out as a possible lover, ‘in the meantime, I have sought to hide my disgrace from the world, along with the poor child who was the result of my sin — ’ She broke off and eyed Floy. ‘I promise you it is all true,’ said Reflection in a very different voice, and it was the engaging child again, solemnly promising to tell the truth, holding out a secret to be shared.
‘I am sure it is. And your — self-imposed enclosure is a very luxurious one,’ said Floy.
‘I cannot live without beauty about me,’ said Reflection firmly. ‘And when you have reached my level in sorcery, people expect certain things. Feasts and banquets and pageants. And you would not believe the amount these things cost! I have removed myself from such sordid subjects,’ said Reflection. ‘I cannot give of my best to my calling if I am constantly harried. I told them all that. I said, “You may do as you wish, but do not trouble me with your columns of figures and your nasty accounts.”
‘Also,’ said Reflection, ‘I was brought up always to have the best, and one becomes accustomed. And Flame, poor child, had to be given some kind of life.’ She drew a little closer and glanced over her shoulder. Floy and Snodgrass, fascinated, did the same. ‘It is most unfortunate,’ said Reflection in a dramatic whisper, ‘that the child's parentage will not permit of her joining with a Human without having first bathed in the Fire Rivers of her father’s country. You take my meaning, sirs?’
‘Really?’
‘She has missed so much,’ said Reflection, her huge dark eyes still on Floy. ‘It has meant that so many suitors are quite ineligible, because the ceremony of bathing in the Fire — oh, it is ruinously expensive. Well, I doubt there is anyone in Ireland who could afford it. I could not afford it,’ said Reflection firmly. ‘I have told Flame so. “My dear,” I said, “if you are ever to be joined with anyone, it will have to be with a very rich person indeed, for your father will delight in charging us the earth for the Fire River ceremony. I should be a positive pauper, if I had to foot the bill, and the mere thought is enough to send me into a shivering wreck,” I said. And that,’ said Reflection, ‘is positively the only reason I entertained Inchbad’s suit, because he can afford the Fire River ceremony and still have a king’s ransom left over. But I daresay you will know this if you are from Tara.’
‘We are the souls of discretion,’ said Floy, gravely, which, as Snodgrass was to remark later, might have meant anything at all.
‘Inchbad has made his mind up that he will have Flame,’ said Reflection, with one of her shrugs. ‘And who am I to stand in the way of such an advantageous alliance for the child? Well, we shall discuss it later,’ she said, and studied Floy thoughtfully again.
‘For the moment, we shall eat and drink and dance. Dear me, it is all so tedious. Really, I do not know a quarter of the people he
re tonight. But it is expected of me and, as I have always said, who am I to disappoint my people?’ She smiled benevolently on them and moved across to where a group of hopeful young men were waiting.
‘Well,’ said Snodgrass. ‘What now?’
‘No Fenella,’ said Floy, dropping the light, frivolous pose he had donned for Reflection. ‘I think we can believe Reflection.’
‘I don’t much care for this place,’ said Snodgrass, doubtfully. ‘It’s got a nasty feeling of decadence to it.’
‘Yes.’ Floy was still scanning the assembly and, as he did so, a slender girl with Reflection’s glossy hair and pale skin entered the Aurora Hall from a door at the far end.
Floy stood very still. He saw the golden eyes and the slightly reckless tilt to the girl’s head; the faint impression that she might see things other people could not see, or dance to music that no one else could hear. As she walked through the great Banqueting Hall the impression strengthened. There was an other-worldliness about her, as if she was not altogether real and might vanish at any minute.
Floy thought: she might be made of moonlight and starlight and the golden fire cressets that lit the Palace of Wildfire.
The Palace of Wildfire …
Fael-Inis’s daughter!
* * *
Flame was quite surprised to be sought out by the young, dark-haired traveller. Usually people were so dazzled by Mother that they barely saw Flame at all, which generally pleased Flame who did not much like the people Mother asked to her banquets anyway. In fact, it was the gods’ mercy that the Robemaker had not turned up tonight, which happened sometimes, especially since Mother had recently discussed with him the possibility of his taking Flame in marriage.
The traveller was different to the usual guests. He had come straight to where Flame was watching the dancing and had asked her to dance, and then grinned and admitted he might not be very good at dancing because, where he came from, they did not have this kind of dancing. In fact, they did not have dancing at all. Perhaps they might sit and talk?
This was instantly intriguing, because Flame had never heard of a place that did not have dancing and feasts. It might be interesting to hear more about it.
It turned out to be very interesting indeed. Flame took him out into the gardens, away from the dreadful music and the lights, so that he could see the Fire Court blazing against the night sky which was what people often liked to do.
‘Astonishing,’ he said in a voice that sounded as if he might really have been thinking: Hideous, and Flame glanced up at him hopefully, because she had long since suspected that the Fire Court was extremely ugly, but she could not be sure about this on account of having nothing to compare it with. It would be extremely interesting to talk to someone who might be able to tell her for sure if it was as beautiful as Mother’s followers said, or simply downright grotesque.
They sat in one of the remote comers of the gardens which Mother had not yet spoiled and where there were sweet-scented night roses and honeysuckle and Flame asked to be told about Tara, which was where she thought the young man had come from, and heard, instead, about a strange world called Renascia and about a dark and fearsome Lodestar which had swallowed it up, and about how Floy and his sister and their two friends had fallen into some kind of Golden River and passed through Time.
‘We were rescued and brought here by Fael-Inis,’ said Floy, watching her closely.
Flame said, ‘Oh!’ in a rather breathless voice, and clapped both hands to her cheeks which had suddenly grown warm. She had pretended for years that she would run away to Fael-Inis who would welcome her, but it was not really possible.
Or was it? Seated here with Floy it seemed, in some inexplicable way, to be more possible than it had ever seemed before. Was it because Floy had escaped from his world into another world? Or was it simply that he was proving that other worlds existed?
There are other worlds, thought Flame, entranced. There are other worlds and people live in them and sometimes move from one world to another. She turned her mind back to Floy, wanting to hear more about Renascia, which was quite different from anything here.
It seemed that Floy had tried to change things; he had been on the governing body of his people — there had been something called a Council of Nine and they had not liked it when Floy had tried to introduce new ways, or replace the old laws with new ones, all of which Flame thought sounded rather sensible and interesting. It was fun to try new ideas. In the end, said Floy, he had fallen out with the Council, because he had challenged too many of its traditions.
‘Really challenged them?’ said Flame, hopefully, hardly daring to believe that he would turn out to be a genuine rebel.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Floy, and grinned again. This time it was the grin which Fenella had always called the buccaneering grin, the pirate who had wanted to turn Renascia upside-down.
‘I was a rebellious leader,’ he said, and this time Flame heard the amusement and the touch of selfmockery. It was absurd to think: this is how my father might sound, but she found that she was thinking it. Because Floy is a nonconformist, a defiant challenger of the shibboleths …
Floy is a rebel … Flame sat back, savouring this, and staring at Floy in delight.
Floy smiled, enjoying her strange, ethereal quality; seeing how her hair had red lights in it and how, as well, her eyes slanted and shone exactly like her father’s. Her skin was a warm golden colour, as if whatever had laid its burnishing fingers on her hair had let the colours run into her skin as well.
Fael-Inis’s daughter, born of a long-ago night when he was lured into a sorceress’s bed … I wonder what the truth of all that really is, thought Floy. I wonder why I am finding her so extraordinarily beautiful, when I did not find her glittering mother in the least bit beautiful?
But he only said, in a conversational tone, ‘The Fire Court is a remarkable place,’ and waited for her response.
‘It is believed to be beautiful,’ said Flame, politely, and then, ‘I do not have anything to compare it with, of course.’
‘No.’
‘I think it’s loud and vulgar,’ she said, defiantly, silently willing him to agree, and Floy saw with delight that her chin tilted in exactly the way her father’s had done and that her eyes sparkled with his golden luminosity.
‘I would not have said vulgar precisely,’ said Floy, and Flame felt the tendrils of disappointment uncurl, because, after all he was going to be just like the rest.
‘I would have said garish and pretentious and barbaric,’ said Floy, and Flame sent him her sudden blinding smile, because it was all right again.
Flame said, confidingly, ‘I sometimes pretend that I’ll run away.’ It was not something she would normally have disclosed to somebody she had only just met, but it would be all right to say it to Floy who had challenged his people and had been branded a rebel.
‘How?’ Floy seemed to be listening quite seriously, as if it might be entirely possible, and Flame was encouraged to expand.
‘I’d go by night,’ she explained. ‘Or perhaps early morning when no one was about.’ She leaned forward, clasping her hands about her bent knees. ‘Then I could be sure of not being missed and brought back. You can have no idea how — how dreadfully boring it is living here, with only Mother’s stupid admirers and people who don’t dare to oppose her, and nothing but horrid, glittering banquets every night. I’d like to see the other worlds. I’d like to travel to them and see how the people live, and find out about them.’
Fael-Inis’s daughter, travelling all the worlds like a will o’ the wispy slipping in and out of Time as effortlessly as her father, the rebel angel, did …
Floy said, in a voice carefully devoid of any expression, ‘Then why don’t you?’
‘Runaway?’
‘It would be easy,’ said Floy. ‘We could be out into the night and gone.’
‘Over the hills and far away,’ said Flame, and her voice was soft and her eyes held such delight that
Floy knew that the image of those other worlds, and of the will o’ the wisp creature that longed for them, had been a true one.
‘Into Fael-Inis’s country and safe,’ he said to test her and, at once, the golden delight leapt to her eyes and he saw that she had meant it about running away, that she was not just being whimsical to attract his attention.
‘It is not so very far,’ he said.
But the habit of years held. Flame said, ‘It isn’t possible.’ And looked at him and waited for him to say that of course it was possible, that anything in the world was possible.
‘Why isn’t it possible?’ asked Floy, and Flame gazed at him in purest joy. ‘It wasn’t possible for my sister and me to travel from another world here,’ said Floy. ‘And yet we are here.’
Flame drew in a deep breath and started to say that it was a difficult, dangerous journey to Fael-Inis’s Palace, when a blaze of light erupted on the other side of the garden and people started screaming.
Chapter Thirty-eight
To begin with, nobody in the Aurora Hall had realised that anything was wrong. The banquet had finished; everyone had enjoyed it and they had been getting ready to dance, because the musicians had struck up for a roundel of the grand old Bedchamber Chase. This was greeted with cheers, because everybody liked the Bedchamber Chase, which was performed to extremely sly and saucy-sounding music and which required the participants to dance in and out of every bedchamber in the entire Court, meaning that if you happened to just stay on awhile in a bedchamber other than your own, (or even more than one) nobody noticed. It was all very friendly.
And then, just as the line for the Chase was assembling (the bailiffs had been a bit out of line, which was only to be expected, of course), people had begun to notice that Madame was nowhere to be seen, which was rather odd. Madame might be anywhere at all, of course, and it was nothing to do with her people; but it was unusual to find her not in place to lead them in the Bedchamber Chase and it was very unusual indeed not to see her waiting at the head of the gold staircase, watching everyone assemble.