by Matthew Ward
Six
I think I managed about an hour of sleep that night before the nightmares drove me back to wakefulness. I could have tried to resume my slumbers, but knew from bitter experience that bad dreams would be lying in wait. Never one for walking into an ambush, I wearily hauled myself out of bed. If I couldn't sleep, I'd at least do something useful.
I moved into the main chamber, moving slowly and quietly so as not to wake Jamar. As it happened, I needn't have bothered. He stood, fully-clothed and shoulder propped beside the main door, looking for all the world as if he'd been waiting for me all night, which I could well believe. Was I that predictable, or did Jamar just know me very well? I chose the latter, and less problematic, of the two answers.
"Where are we going, savir?" he asked.
"How did you know I'd be up?"
Jamar shook his head in amusement. "You've not slept properly for weeks. It seemed obvious tonight would be no different. So where are we going?"
"We're not going anywhere," I said. "I'm going for a walk."
He nodded. "Then I'm coming too."
"I'm afraid not. I need you to stay here."
"My prince..."
"You're not coming. Apart from anything else, I'd rather avoid being noticed – that way, we don't put the permissiveness of the serathi to the test. I'm afraid, Jamar, that stealth is not something you were built for."
Jamar smiled. "You may have a point, savir. But with two men come two pairs of eyes and ears, and twice as many chances to detect danger – or something of interest."
"True, but one of us needs to be here, where the serathi can easily find him, in case there's a change with Calda."
Jamar frowned.
"Don't worry, I'll be back again before you know. If Koschai or any of the serathi come looking for me before I return, don't cover for me. Just tell them that I've gone out for a walk."
"Are you sure? It might be wiser to tell them that you're asleep."
I shook my head. "At this point, the more honesty we can muster, the better. Distrust will only make things more difficult."
"Whereas being caught wandering across sacred ground, or loitering in the serathiel's boudoir, will engender nothing but respect and friendship."
"Under those circumstances, I can claim ignorance." I hoped I sounded more convincing than I felt. Jamar had an uncanny knack of being right. Or maybe I just had the same for being wrong. "Not that I intend to go anywhere near the serathiel."
"Very well, my prince," Jamar said, unhappy but accepting. "Do you mind at least telling me what you're looking for?"
"I don't know. I just want to take a bit of a look around without one of the serathi close at hand."
"Do you suspect them of concealing anything?" Jamar rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Not in so many words. However, there's something strange about the serathi, and I think we'd be well served not to rely solely on what they tell us."
"If they're keeping something from you, they'll not be best pleased if they find you wandering about."
"How can they take offence?" I countered. "We've not been forbidden from exploring Skyhaven. They've gone to some lengths to treat us as honoured guests."
I didn't say that it was likely that the serathi, as unused to guests as they were, simply didn't recognise the need to set boundaries. If that was indeed the case, it was possible – unlikely, but possible – that I'd receive no warning, and just be disposed of, quietly or otherwise.
"Let us hope that the serathi understand the distinction between assumed consent and unspoken censure," Jamar replied wryly.
"I still need you to stay here."
"I know. But see that you do nothing foolish, lest you force me to equally unwise deeds."
I couldn't help but smile at that. The words were halfway between a threat and a promise. The threat wasn't aimed at me, but the serathi; immortal beings or not, they'd be well-advised to not provoke Jamar's ire. The promise, on the other hand, reminded me once more why I was lucky to have Jamar as a friend and protector.
*******
Once outside, I set off for the serathiel's tower. Though I'd no idea what I was looking for, it seemed that the centre of Skyhaven would hold more interest than its outskirts. The lamps that the serathi used to light their buildings and pathways cast plenty of shadows, and I kept to these as often as I could. From time to time, I heard the voices of serathi on the path ahead or behind me, and on those occasions I waited silently in the shadows until the murmur of conversation faded.
In this manner, I came at last to the base of the serathiel's tower, and quickly abandoned all hope of entrance. I'd wondered if there would be entrances at street level, and indeed there were – after a quick circuit of the building, I counted at least four. Unfortunately, each was guarded by no fewer than four graces and, though I wasn't sure of much about Skyhaven, I knew absolutely that I didn't want to do anything to antagonise the serathiel's bodyguard. I could have asked for admittance, and it might well even have worked, but the whole purpose of this moonlight stroll was to take a look around without the serathi knowing.
Abandoning my designs on the serathiel's tower, I stood in a patch of shadow, my eye drawn to a mural painted onto a nearby wall.
The wall belonged to a tall and elegant tower, which in turn was part of what I assumed to be a temple of some kind – though I confess I'd no basis upon which to make such a comparison. The mural showed a beautiful young woman with dark hair seated upon a throne much like the serathiel's. Her arms were outspread in benediction, whilst all around her, serathi knelt or bowed in fealty. Even the serathiel, rendered in uncanny likeness, had bent her knee. Rays of light surrounded the young woman, banishing the darkness that lurked upon the edge of scene. Moved by some instinct, I took a step closer. Standing behind the young woman, artfully hidden by subtlety of colour and hue, was a dark-haired woman of middle years, her arms spread in pose that echoed that of the younger. This woman too was beautiful, and about her head was a golden halo – the Radiant, for a certainty.
What was I looking at? A rendition of prophecy concerning the Radiant's return, or some historical event recorded for posterity? Had the Radiant once grown from girlhood to womanhood, a child become a god? Such was the tale of Sidara, the ancestor-goddess so revered by the Tressians. Few outside the Republic considered her a deity at all, but a historical figure whose tale had been twisted beyond all recognition by men and women desperate for a saviour.
Over the years, the Tressians had subverted the image of the serathi, renamed them as 'angels', and recast them as Sidara's emissaries. Perhaps the Radiant and Sidara were actually one and the same. Perhaps the Tressian priests had simply clad their Lady of Light in the raiment of an older power. It was intriguing, especially as Koschai and Arianwyn carried Sidara's blood in their veins. Did the serathi know that the man they'd rescued from a watery grave was a pretender's heir? It was amusing, in a bleak sort of a way.
So intent was I on the mural that I nearly missed the blur of white that sped across the flagstones and vanished into an archway. But only nearly.
I was instantly on edge. It hadn't been a serathi, it was far too small for that. I guessed it to have been no taller than my knee, but beyond that I'd no idea what it was.
Putting my hand on my sword, I moved to investigate. I didn't feel like I was in immediate danger; though why I thought that, I couldn't explain even to myself. Indeed, I was more curious than anything. I sidled up to the archway, and poked my head around the side. There were no lamps in the passageway beyond, but I made out a spiral stairway leading steeply downwards. I also saw the white blur shoot out of sight again, as if it had somehow conspired to linger on the stairs long enough to let me catch a glimpse of it. Sensing I was deliberately being led on a chase, I descended the stairway.
I emerged into a narrow, lantern-lit chamber that was little more than a long corridor with a spiral staircase at either end. A large leaded window, one pane open to the cool night ai
r, occupied most of the wall to my left. By contrast, the wall to my right wasn't a wall at all, but a series of spaces divided by steel bars. Oh, the overall effect was graceful enough, with delicate knotwork fashioned into the fabric of the bars, and each keyhole encompassed by a pair of cupped hands, but it was still a space designed for function and durability, rather than any other purpose. There were a dozen such chambers in all. Sat in front of the third, and staring at me with a mixture of curiosity and disinterest, was a white cat.
I almost laughed with the ridiculousness of it all. This was what I'd pursued? It was somehow both reassuring and disappointing that amongst Skyhaven's wonders, there was something so mundane as a cat. I'd not seen anything in the way of animal life since arriving, but that hadn't meant it wasn't there. Cats were nocturnal creatures, after all, and had little reason to be about in the day. What did it eat? I supposed that if there were cats, there could equally be rats, birds or other suitably pounceable prey close at hand. Certainly the serathi seemed to dine well, and the scraps from their tables would be a feast to a colony of rodents.
The cat stared at me with that peculiar disdain only cats can manage.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "Have I disturbed your hunt?"
My companion didn't deign to reply, but abruptly turned its back on me, hopped onto the window sill and jumped out into the night.
"Suit yourself." I moved deeper into the gaol. That it was a prison seemed obvious. No matter how prettily wrought, a cage seldom looks like anything other than a cage. Thinking of cages, or more properly those individuals who deserved to languish in them, where was Torvald Korag?
I'd last seen him when Adanika had carried him away, and had rather expected he'd been brought to Skyhaven. The serathiel had even said that he was still on Skyhaven, so where was he, if not under lock and key? It was possible there were other gaols on Skyhaven, but it seemed unlikely. Why would a people united in the Radiant's light need them?
I didn't much care whether Torvald lived in captivity or had been executed. I'd no doubt that if Calda, Jamar and I brought Scarface back to Tregard in chains, my uncle would have ordered him executed for his crimes. But his fate went well beyond my own desire for justice. As a man of some seniority in the Cult of the Burning Lord, his mind must have held a wealth of information. If he was dead, that information was irrevocably lost, and that could have far-reaching consequences.
Was this cult an isolated group, or were there others like it in the Contested Lands, or even in the more civilised settlements within the Tressian Republic and Hadari Empire? For that matter, what was the Burning Lord? Unless my eyes had deceived me – and I still wasn't sure that they hadn't – there had been some kind of stone giant awakening in the cultists' temple. If there was one, there were probably more. Though I'd have once found the idea laughable, I now had to consider the possibility that there could be an entire race of these things buried beneath the world I knew.
I still hoped I might find Torvald alive on Skyhaven, and persuade him to give up a few answers in exchange for me speaking to the serathi on his behalf. I'd no intention of intervening thus, of course. Torvald deserved his fate, and I'd make no effort to see him spared from it. However, it would have been nice to have a little more information. The more I knew, the more complete a picture Jamar could bring to my uncle and the Golden Court – assuming I could get him to travel there in the first place. It was one thing to leave me unprotected in order to carry Calda to safety, quite another entirely to abandon us both to act as messenger. I suppose in a way I'd been hoping for some hint of a dire threat; if the Empire really was in danger, Jamar would have quickly seen the greater need. As it was, I'd probably have to order him to leave, and resorting to such measures always made me feel like I'd failed.
With no reason to linger any longer, I left as quietly as I'd come. Again, I had the nagging feeling that everything that I was doing was being watched; though by whom, or from where, I'd no idea. Given my past experiences, it could have been anything: the cat, a serathi, a Great Power, or just my own overactive imagination at work once again.
As it transpired, no watcher – silent or otherwise – came to my notice as I moved back through the gaol. Halfway back to the stairs, I changed my mind, and instead moved to the stairway at the far end of the room. I'd had no particular destination planned, so what was the use in retracing my steps? Dawn was coming, and coming quickly, but I still had a little time to look around.
At the summit of the second staircase was a chamber like no other I'd seen on Skyhaven. It was a large, circular room, its floor marked by a series of concentric brass circles that gleamed brilliantly in the light of the firestone lamps. The ceiling was the inside of a dome, beginning a little above my head where the stairway emerged, and rising to roughly three times my height in the centre. The walls were unadorned stone, stark in their simplicity. By contrast, the underside of the dome was decorated with yet more stylised murals.
Facing me in the very centre of the room stood a golden metal casket, not dissimilar in aspect to the 'liberated' Ith'najim sarcophagi I'd seen in the Tressian Museum of Mythicana. It was rendered in the aspect of a smiling serathi, her wings gathered and her arms folded across her chest, and a crest – no, a halo – of burnished gold set above and behind waves of chestnut hair. I'd seen this woman portrayed on many of the murals around the building, and I realised that this was intended to be no mere serathi, but the Radiant herself.
I briefly considered that this was indeed a sarcophagus, and held the Radiant's remains. If that was true, it would not only flatly contradict the serathiel's claim that the Radiant was returning, and also, perhaps, the imminence of this 'Reckoning' as well. I'd never have a better chance than now to dispel the theory. That was probably why, without giving thought to the consequences, I opted to open the casket.
There were three heavy hasps along one side of the sarcophagus, and an equal number of hinges set opposite along the other. The lid was heavy, but moved willingly on its oiled hinges. I'm not sure what I expected to discover inside. I certainly didn't think it would empty, but empty it was. All that stared back at me was a space that could have comfortably accommodated my entire body, had I fancied trying it out for size, which I decidedly did not. Belatedly, I decided that this was a good thing, given the horror that might have awaited if a body had lain within and had toppled onto me as I opened the lid. Even if a serathi hadn't caught me in the act, I could think of a dozen ways in which they might have found out, and that was if I'd managed to haul the body back in place. Granted, I'd have caught the serathiel in a lie, but events would take a fraught turn.
The inner walls were metal, formed into a series of horizontal grooves that ran head to foot. I couldn't think what purpose they served, unless perhaps the periodic thickening of the metal gave the casket additional structural strength, but art was odd like that, and the casket's positioning in the centre of the room suggested it commanded a certain admiration, if not reverence. I looked up at the apex of the dome above my head, and saw a circular pane of polished glass directly above my head. Perhaps sunlight flowed into this room during the day and illuminated the casket, but even if that were true it didn't tell me why.
I shook my head. I was either missing something, or was obsessing over an irrelevance. Neither was a good use of my limited time. Dawn was coming, and it'd be far harder to sneak back into my quarters when the sun rose. A few hours sleep wouldn't hurt, either.
I eased the lid closed, and turned my attention to the murals on the ceiling. Unlike the others I'd seen around Skyhaven, here it was obvious that the pictures told a story. It took me a while to find the starting point, but I finally discovered it on a panel above the door by which I'd entered. There a man – or at least what I assumed to be a man, for he was robed and hooded all in black – his hands bound by chains, stood before a gathering of three serathi who could only be the three Speakers of the Courts of Heaven. The Radiant was part of proceedings too, presiding over the
group from on high, with another trio of serathi gathered close about her. One of these was clearly Azyra, making the other two her lost sisters – a trio of serathiels? Taken as a whole, the scene was clearly a trial of some kind, though I could make no more of it than that.
The second panel showed the same man, still bound, enfolded in the Radiant's arms. The serathi watched in rapt anticipation. One serathiel whispered to another, conveying a secret now lost. Something about the expression on her face made me linger on that panel for a moment. Or was it not the expression, but the face itself? I wondered. Though I couldn't for the life of me place why, there was something familiar about that serathiel – some trick of the smile perhaps. On the other hand, given the style of the artwork, foibles of character were as likely to be a trick of the painter's trade as they were an accurate rendition of the subject. Was I looking at a scene of redemption, the accused cleansed or absolved of his sins, or was the Radiant smothering the unfortunate fellow? Probably not the latter, I decided, though it brought a ghost of a smile to my lips.
The third panel added credence to the idea of redemption, with the serathi and the Radiant restored to their original positions, and clearly rejoicing. The man in black was gone, replaced by an identical figure robed in white. His hood was gone; his face plain to see and fixed in a beatific smile that, for my tastes, was just on the wrong side of discomfiting. A true convert to the Radiant's ways, I guessed. Looking again at the odd smile on the man's face, I decided I'd be quite happy to maintain my lapsed worship of Ashana.
I glanced at the next panel, and was disappointed to see it was so damaged as to defy much scrutiny. The three serathiels had now become one, and the Radiant was no longer present, but beyond that I couldn't even make out what other figures were present, let alone the intended narrative.