by Matthew Ward
We reached a stone bench set opposite a pool of crystal-clear water. "Do you mind if we sit a while?" Koschai asked. "I think my legs have finally realised just how far we've walked."
"Of course not."
The Tressian lowered himself onto the bench, and I sat alongside.
"So you must have known about the serathi long before Adanika brought you here?" I asked.
"No, not all," he replied. "Zorya never once told me what she was, or from where she had come from. It was only after I came here and saw the drudges that I truly understood what she was."
"Do you know how she came to be in Tressia?"
Koschai shook his head. "No. She had no memory of her life before I found her."
"Have you ever asked the serathi if they know anything?"
He snorted. "Many times, and each time I've been told no drudge has ever left Skyhaven. They're quite insistent. It doesn't matter how I rephrase the question, that's the only answer I get."
"Maybe you're mistaken, and they're simply too polite to tell you."
Koschai shook his head. "Please understand, I admire the serathi, and I'm grateful for how they've treated me, but they're somewhat inflexible – especially when it comes to admitting that they're wrong, or they risk such an admission by inference."
"I've seen a little of that already."
"That, I can believe."
We sat in silence for a time, staring out across the waters of the pond. The wind picked up, and with it the air grew colder. A small tremor, more imagined than felt, shook the ground beneath my feet.
"I've been trying to make a decision," said Koschai.
Something in his tone put me on guard."About what?"
"About you, my boy, about you." I started to speak but he held up his hand for silence. "I don't understand you, Edric. Instinct tells me you're an honourable man. The serathi see value in you. Adanika, in particular, trusted you enough to bring you here." He flexed his fingers in frustration. "But you've not been honest with me. I've tried to work out why, and I must confess I don't like many of the answers, so I'll ask you straight out. Why didn't you tell me that you knew Arianwyn?"
"I don't know..."
Koschai cut me off before I could finish. "No. Do me the courtesy of not wasting time with a denial. That was not your first encounter with a drudge. Do you really think I could spend ten years with serathi and not become attuned to the sound of a reply that only flirts with the truth?"
It was odd, for all the steel in Koschai's voice, he didn't sound angry, disappointed perhaps, but not angry. "That's your proof?" I asked, spreading my hands. "My lack of surprise?"
"You're doing it again," Koschai pointed out. "It didn't work before. It won't work now. But let's try something else anyway. I've spoken of my daughter a great deal. What do you suppose would be the most natural question to ask, if only to be polite?" He paused. When I gave no answer, he ploughed on. "You never asked Arianwyn's name, but then you didn't have to – you already knew. Also," he went on heavily, "you're wearing my ring."
I followed his gaze down to the band of silver and sapphire upon my left hand, and knew there was little point in further concealment. Mostly I was glad for a reason to end the charade. A deception that had begun out of cautious distrust no longer served any purpose. This man knew altogether too much to be anyone other than who he said he was.
I met Koschai's gaze. "That was careless of me."
"Yes, it was. That ring's been in my family for generations. I couldn't help but recognise it. I gave it to Arianwyn when I left for Selann, so it's curious indeed to find it here."
"Is this what this tour of Skyhaven's been about?" I asked. "Giving me the opportunity to trip myself up?"
"Partly that, and partly an opportunity to get a read on your character. I don't think you stole the ring. I took care to build a number of mechanical... disincentives into my home – more than enough to guard against intrusion. Besides, any thief professional enough to lay his hands on it would have shown more interest in Skyhaven's wealth. Oh, not in an obvious way, but I've seen enough of them at work to recognise the signs. Besides, your father was one of the most honourable men I've ever met, and I doubt the apple has fallen far from the tree."
My thoughts touched briefly on my brother's spiral of madness and cruelty. "You might be surprised."
The Tressian's brow furrowed. "Perhaps, but there's also Arianwyn's judgement to consider. If you didn't steal the ring, then you must have been given it. She'd never have sold it for want of money – there's wealth enough in our family to last a dozen lifetimes." His lip twisted into a half-smile. "She must be very fond of you."
"She is, and I of her." I felt a pang. I'd been away too long.
Amusement played across Koschai's face. "Then for goodness sake, my boy, why didn't you just say?"
"Because I wanted to be certain that you were who you said you were." The explanation felt ridiculous now I gave it voice.
Koschai didn't seem to think so. "Ah... I suppose that is a reasonable precaution. I assume I've now passed your test?"
"As completely I've failed yours." I fell silent, and backtracked along our conversation. I hadn't been the only one who'd been less than forthcoming. "Wait, you knew my father?"
"Why so surprised? You of all people should know this world can throw up perils that transcend borders. Aldor was a good friend. Your uncle too, for that matter."
"He never said any of this to me."
"He probably saw no reason. It all happened before you were born, before even I found Zorya. Before now, I don't think I've spoken of those times to anyone who didn't live through them – I certainly never told Arianwyn. I hoped she'd be able to live a quieter life than we did." He sighed. "I lost my beloved Karah so long ago. Your mother has left us too, I imagine. With Quintus gone, Eirac's the only one of us still living."
I wondered just how broad a net he was casting with the word 'us'. "And you, of course."
"I'm not sure these reanimated bones really qualify," Koschai said sadly. "Although I suppose I shouldn't complain. I daresay I'll have the opportunity to do something useful before whatever the serathi have done to me finally wears off."
Lost in thought, he stared back at the pond for a moment, or at least in the direction the pond had lain. As we'd been speaking, a mist had sprung up around us, and I saw little beyond the far side of the path.
I desperately wanted to know what Koschai alluded to. Eirac had once dropped similar hints but Koschai's words implied a broader scale to those matters than my uncle ever had. However, exploring the past would have to wait. The present had mysteries of its own.
"Before that happens," Koschai began, his voice and manner more upbeat than they had been for some minutes, "perhaps you'd do an old man a favour and tell me a little of the woman my daughter has become? You could start by filling in some of those glaring gaps in the story you told me yesterday."
I smiled, and told Koschai much that I'd earlier withheld. I spoke in greater detail of the battle with Malgyne, and not just of Arianwyn's role, but of those played by Zorya and Constans. I also gave a fuller account of my own actions, and of how I'd never have become involved if Arianwyn hadn't sought me out that one rainy evening six months ago.
But I did more than speak of events. I relayed also Arianwyn's character as I saw it. I told Koschai of the quiet wisdom with which she had accepted her lineage, and of the strength she had found to control her magic. I spoke also of how she'd helped me escape the cycle of resentment and self-pity in which I'd become trapped, and of the kindness she'd shown when I'd scarcely deserved it.
Koschai listened intently and, I believe, with pride. Only once did he interrupt, and that shortly after I revealed to him that it had been Arianwyn for whom Quintus had sacrificed himself.
"My apologies, my boy," he said softly. "You were quite correct when you told me that Quintus died a good death. It would appear I owe him a debt I can never now repay. Constans, well, he was always d
estined for a bad end, so it's heartening to hear he found a rather better one. Hopefully now he's found some peace."
I then spoke a little of the aftermath of Malgyne's defeat. I explained how Arianwyn had taken a seat upon Tressia's council, and of the work she did in order to restore hope to the Republic and its people.
"And she's finally learned to control the magic?" Koschai asked.
I hesitated, but it was a fair question and Koschai would likely find out before too much longer. "Not as such. As far as I know, she hasn't tried to use it since that day in the cathedral."
"I'm surprised. I confess it took me a while to see our magic as anything more than a curse. But she always embraced it as a birthright."
"In our final battle she... overreached herself. The rest of us very nearly paid the price. I've not seen her use the magic since. I don't know if that's because she can't, or because she won't." I sighed. "I've tried to get her to talk about it, but sometimes..."
Koschai smiled sadly. "Her mother was the same, bless her. Always determined to correct the flaws of others, less willing to talk of her own."
He held out a hand. A ball of glowing white light materialised in his palm. It hovered there for a moment, then suddenly took on the form of a young woman. I saw the shrewdness in the girl's eyes, the awkward bearing of her stance, and a smile so joyous it could only have been given freely and out of love.
"Almost all of my family have wielded magic, to one degree or another," said Koschai. "That's Sidara's legacy, you see. That, the hatred of those she cast down, and the mindless idolatry of my countrymen." The last words were bitter, and I didn't have to wonder why. "I never truly mastered it."
I pointed at the image. "Is that Arianwyn?"
"It is, or at least, it was. Ten years is a long time, but she always had such a wonderful smile..." He trailed off, and I wondered if he was thinking about whether he would ever see that smile again.
"She still does. You could see it yourself," I suggested softly. "She's not given you up for dead. If I understand Azyra correctly, the serathi don't intend to remain apart from the world for much longer, so a reunion need neither be fleeting nor temporary."
"You're probably right," Koschai agreed. "I confess I'm nervous all the same. I shall think on the matter. Are you married, you and she?"
I shook my head. "No. My own destiny is muddied at present, and I've never thought it fair to involve Arianwyn without a lasting resolution. Besides, she once told me of her fear of being crowned 'Queen Arianwyn of the former Tressian Republic'. I'm not sure 'Empress Arianwyn of the Golden Court' would be any more pleasing."
"You might be surprised," Koschai murmured. "To be enthroned by a populace who think you divine is one thing; taking your rightful place alongside someone you love is another entirely."
"Perhaps so, but I confess I'm nervous all the same. I shall think on the matter," I said, purposefully repeating the Tressian's earlier words.
Koschai gave me a wry smile. "Moments of happiness don't last forever, Edric. Take care how many you squander, lest you end up like me." He shook his head. "You know, I sometimes wondered what manner of man she'd fall in love with, and how I'd feel upon meeting him. I must confess, this is not a scenario I envisioned."
"And how do you feel, now the dreadful day has come?"
He laughed. "Like a man who's been dead for a decade, but I suppose that's only to be expected. Don't worry, I'm not going to challenge you to a duel or ask the serathi to throw you over the edge. For what it's worth, it would appear that my daughter has chosen well."
It was a gracious complement, especially given how much I'd concealed. "I hope so."
"You don't need to prove anything to me, my boy," Koschai said. "If what you've told me of my daughter is true, then you'll have much more to fear from her, should you disappoint."
We both fell silent for a time after that, Koschai turning to his own thoughts and me to mine. Whatever comfort I'd given the older man, I'd roused a terrible homesickness in my own heart.
"You both look so sad." A musical voice came from the skies above. "I do hope that Koschai has not been upsetting you." The mists above parted, and Elynna landed gracefully beside us, her wings outspread and her face bright with excitement.
"No, not at all," I told her. "We were just thinking."
Elynna frowned. "That is scarcely better. A day such as this should be spent in celebration and the doing of great deeds." So saying, she danced along the path, arms and wings swirling eddies in the mists.
"A day such as this?" I asked. There was no answer, so I tried again. "What's so special about today?"
This time, I managed to get Elynna's attention. She came to a stop and faced me. As she did so, the tip of her outstretched wing caught a nearby statue full across the back of its head and knocked the whole thing to the flagstoned path. It split into five pieces with a dull crack.
"Never mind," she said carelessly. "The drudges will fix it, as always."
"What's so special about today?" I asked again, louder this time.
"There is no need to shout," Elynna admonished. "I hear you perfectly. I am simply not answering. It would spoil the surprise."
Belatedly, I recalled the mild tremor of earlier and looked again at the mist. Except it wasn't a mist, I realised – we were passing through the clouds. "Skyhaven's descending, isn't it?"
Elynna made a moue, clearly unhappy I'd realised what was going on. "That was not polite of you, Edric Saran, not polite at all. But yes, the serathiel has decided that the time has come for us to return to the world, and desires your presence. Yours too, Koschai, if it pleases you."
I'd hoped to return to Jamar, and see if he'd made progress with Irina, but such was not to be. "Desires my presence, or orders my presence?" I asked Elynna, who regarded me with rapt attention.
"Let us compromise on 'requests'," she replied innocently. "She will be very disappointed if you are not there at cloud break. Very disappointed indeed."
Jamar and Irina would have to wait.
Eight
Koschai and I struck a brisk pace, but it wasn't fast enough for Elynna. She kept pace as we travelled, sometimes on wing, sometimes on foot, but always chivvying us to greater speed.
As the cloud thinned and it became increasingly obvious we weren't going to arrive before the appointed hour, Elynna became increasingly agitated. Her unhappiness only increased when the last skeins of cloud cleared from Skyhaven's towers, and we emerged into the gloomy light below. Failure now unavoidable, Elynna ceased her attempts to speed us along, and lapsed into a sullen silence.
We followed the riverside path, always heading toward the island's prow. Somehow it seemed fitting to think of Skyhaven as a ship, given that it ploughed the air currents much as a caravel or drakeship ploughed the ocean's waters. As we passed through a vineyard, I saw a half-dozen drudges busying themselves with harvest. I tried to picture Zorya doing such work, but the image refused to come.
At last, we left the riverside and climbed a spiralling stair that rose to meet the outer wall. We passed through a series of golden gates, each attended by a pair of masked graces. I assumed there was something significant about the symbolism of our ascent, but I couldn't determine what, and Elynna didn't seem in the mood to explain.
By the time we'd passed through the sixth gate, we were level with the ramparts. By the time we'd crossed the threshold of the seventh, we were high above them. A long causeway, itself parallel to the outer wall, stretched before us. Without a word, Elynna led us across to an eighth and final gate. Beyond the slender golden railings, the river rushed out through a wide arch in the outer wall, where I assume its waters fell as rain on the lands below.
There were no guardians on this final gate. It was not solid, but wrought from a series of golden bars that gave the impression of ivy climbing around rows of slender saplings. Beyond the gate lay a wide stone platform, suspended a breathtaking distance above the rushing waters of the river. Opposite, stood an
other gate and beyond that, the mouth of another causeway. Four serathi stood beside that gate, and they watched us curiously as we entered.
In the centre of the platform sat a circular dais, and sunk into that dais was a vast pool. Its diameter was easily twice the breadth of Skyhaven's widest street, and I estimated at least a hundred serathi could have stood shoulder to shoulder about its rim. The serathiel sat upon a throne, set at one end of the pool. The throne appeared woven from many strands of glittering black metal, all rising up and twisting together like the branches of a petrified tree. It was a peculiar sight, but not unappealing. Two graces stood silent at her side.
Azyra gazed at me. "I had hoped you to arrive sooner."
I offered a short bow. "My apologies. I'm afraid we were some distance away. We came as quickly as we could."
"The fault is not yours," the serathiel assured me. "Elynna could have brought you here much more swiftly, had she only thought to request aid."
Elynna hung her head in shame, and moved to join the group of serathi by the far gate, chased every step by Azyra's disapproving stare.
I drifted closer to the pool to take a closer look. At once, I realised there was something peculiar about the water, but there was more to it than that, far more. The image reflected by the pool bore no resemblance to my surroundings. Instead, the waters showed an impossible image; one that looked directly down on stone buildings, streets and people hurrying hither and yon.
Azyra rose from her throne. "It is the Farsight. It allows us to see the world below. Tell me, do you recognise the place it shows?"
I didn't, not at first. Then, as my mind matched my current perspective to what I might have seem from ground level, realisation dawned. Was there no end to Skyhaven's wonders? "It's Salkard," I breathed. "Can this show you anything?"