by Matthew Ward
With the fallen vanquished, there was little reason for Torev to remain in Tarvallion, but he chose to remain until late afternoon to give his troops what rest he could. It also granted the opportunity to pick my mind clean of everything to do with the serathi. Or at least, so he thought. There was no sense in giving Torev, Emmeline and Dasharov full access to my muddled insights. Furthermore, I'd no desire to panic anyone by talking about the Reckoning, nor was now the time to discuss Salkard. Instead, I talked in broad terms about Skyhaven's glories, and hoped that Calda wouldn't say anything that might prove difficult. Fortunately, she did not.
Of the three Tressians, Dasharov was the most enamoured of the serathi. A staunch Sidarist, he saw their arrival as nothing short of a revelation, and a sign that Sidara was watching over Tressia still. Not a man to lightly let near Arianwyn or Koschai.
Torev's and Emmeline's reactions were curiously alike, and made me realise how little I knew of the Sartorov paladins' doctrines and creeds. They were grateful for the day's intervention, but saw no religious significance in it. Nonetheless, they were as glad as Dasharov to learn that the serathi intended to travel on to Tressia.
When the time came to depart, Torev was quick to offer us horses and supplies. The trouble began when it became clear we were not all riding in the same direction.
I'd put this conversation off too long, I knew I had, and I realised I could put it off no longer. "I'm not coming back to Tregard," I told Calda and Jamar. "I'm going to Tressia."
Calda's good mood, which had held firm since we'd left Skyhaven, evaporated immediately. "You need to come home, Edric. Now, more than ever."
"I know, I know," I said, glad no Tressians were close enough to overhear. "This isn't forever, but I agreed to work with the serathi, and someone needs to warn the Tressians about what they're dealing with."
"Then let Torev," Calda snapped. "Your duty lies in Tregard."
"My duty lies wherever I choose. It's one of the advantages of being royalty." I broke off, realising that I'd spoken too harshly.
"So you are royalty when it suits you?" Calda demanded. "When it gives you an excuse to be anywhere but with your people? Fine. Run along and play games for your new masters. You might just find that the rest of us learn to live without you!"
With that, Calda spun on her heel and stalked off. It might have been an invitation to follow, to show that she was willing to reach out and heal our rift, but I was too angry. For what seemed a long time I stood and fumed, thinking of all the words she should not have spoken, and of all the things I should have said in reply. Then I gradually became aware that Jamar still stood at my side. "I suppose I could have handled that better."
"You both could," Jamar corrected. "She is not altogether wrong, my prince."
I suspected Jamar agreed more with Calda than with me. His softly spoken rebuke made me doubt my course far more than Calda's anger ever could.
"What would you have me do?" I asked. "The serathi are going to Tressia, so I have to go too – if only so we know what occurs between them. Calda can bring word of the serathi to the emperor..." I paused, bracing myself. "...and so can you."
"No." Jamar's response was immediate, and issued in a tone that invited no argument. "My place is at your side."
"Not this time."
"But..."
"What is my uncle to think if he learns of the serathi purely from Calda? She hates them, she's made no secret of that. If you were the emperor, and one of your trusted warleaders came to you with a tale such as the one she's likely to recount, what would you do? I need you to be there."
"To argue with Calda on your behalf?" Jamar asked mildly.
"To speak the truth," I corrected. "I'm not asking you to propagate my views, only your own. Perhaps, in my own way, I'm not seeing the situation any clearer than Calda is, but I trust your judgement. Don't let her convince my uncle to do anything foolish."
"Of the many words that describe the Emperor, 'foolish' is not amongst them."
I grimaced at the rebuke. "You're correct, of course. Will you go?"
Jamar thought for a moment. "If that is truly what you wish. But I want something in return."
He didn't clarify. He didn't have to. "The time isn't right. I'm not ready."
"If you'll forgive me for saying so, savir, I think you will always feel unready. But times change faster than people. If you leave it too long, the moment will pass and the throne will be lost to you forever. You have it in you to change the fortunes of our people. It is selfish to deny them that."
Jamar expected a rebuke for those words, I saw as much in his face. Nonetheless, he met my gaze with the dignity of a man who knew that he was unquestionably in the right. I knew that he was right too, but there was little sense in agreeing unless I was prepared to do something about it. And I couldn't, not yet.
"I need to go," I said instead. "I don't know how long it will take Skyhaven to reach the city, but I want to be there first, if I can."
Jamar nodded, his disappointment plain. "Then go. I shall do as you ask."
*******
I left Tarvallion shortly after, emotions swirling in my soul. I'd see Arianwyn again, and that thought buoyed me greatly, but the manner in which I'd so easily angered Calda and disappointed Jamar weighed me down.
At least I wasn't travelling alone. When Torev learned that I didn't intend to travel at the snail's pace of his army, he insisted the countryside was too dangerous for one man alone. It was two days hard ride to Tressia from Tarvallion and, as he put it, I could hardly sleep and keep watch at the same time. As a result, he'd insisted that Emmeline – now also clad in travelling leathers – to accompany me. I found that I was glad of the company, as I'd have otherwise spent the journey dwelling on my parting words to Calda and Jamar.
For all her privileged upbringing – not that I could really think less of her for that – Emmeline proved modest and gracious company. It also transpired that, when out of Torev's shadow, she was extremely talkative. By nightfall, I'd learnt all I could ever had wished to know about her parents, her siblings and how she had become Torev's squire. Her father disapproved, apparently, and would have much rather his daughter had thrown her efforts into the airs and graces of high society. He'd eventually relented, assuming his daughter's desires would prove fleeting as she grew older, but as I listened to the squire talk passionately about seeing the Sartorov paladins restored to glory, I suspected that Lord Orova was destined for terrible disappointment.
Torev's fears about the dangers of the journey proved groundless. We spent the first night in the wilds, setting a fire to keep curious animals away. We'd agreed to split the watch equally, but I was jarred awake by nightmares of Constans and Otherworld before midnight, so I told Emmeline to sleep through – there was no sense her staying awake when I couldn't sleep.
The next day, it was apparently my turn to talk. Emmeline questioned me about every aspect of my life. How had I come to live in Tressia? Why hadn't I left with Calda and Jamar? What was Lady Trelan like? I weathered the storm of her curiosity as long as I could but, in the end, brusquely reminded her that I'd not slept at all well the previous night, and wasn't much up to being questioned. Emmeline took no offence, and we rode in silence for the rest of the day.
As dusk fell, I could just about make out Tressia's towers and walls on the horizon. We were now on a heavily travelled road, and Emmeline readily agreed to spend the night in relative comfort. Before long, we had rented a pair of rooms tucked away in the rafters of a coaching tavern.
Emmeline saw no need for us to keep watch that night. However, I was still a little paranoid following my experiences in Salkard, so I dragged a heavy wardrobe across the door to my room before retiring. Once again, I slept a disturbed and fitful sleep, but on the other hand I awoke to discover that no one had spirited me elsewhere during the night. No one had kidnapped Emmeline either, for she was waiting for me when I emerged a little after dawn. She had been slightly worried by the strange noises coming ou
t of my room, and was only a little mollified when I explained that I'd fought with my wardrobe. She didn't seem much happier when I told her that I'd not only won, but had done so magnificently.
In the end, we passed though the East Gate and into the crowded streets of Tressia a little before noon. Six months ago I'd hated every brick and stone in this city, but now I felt as if I'd come home. I'd missed the tightly-packed townhouses, and the uneven cobbles. The bustle of the crowds? The hawkers, merchants, constables, pickpockets, Sidarists, worthies and soldiers? That I could take or leave, but the city itself evoked all the feelings that Tregard had not, and should have. Perhaps it was because I'd shed blood for this place. I'd shed plenty of blood for the Empire, certainly, but never really for one piece of it over another.
In the middle distance I saw the Tower of Stars, Arianwyn's ancestral home, still swathed in scaffolds and sheeting as engineers struggled to undo the damage it had suffered earlier in the year. There had been some talk of dismantling the structure, but Arianwyn had argued long and hard to see it restored.
"I'll be safe enough from here," I told Emmeline. "You needn't feel you must watch over me any longer."
"With respect, Ambassador Saran, those were not Master Torev words to me."
"Very well." I wondered how I'd missed that particular conversation. "You're welcome to tag along, but we won't be going directly to the embassy. I want to call in on someone first."
"Whatever you wish."
All in all, it took us the rest of the morning to reach Tressia's Northern Quarter. This was the moneyed district of the city, where the rich and the powerful kept their estates. My first embassy had nestled on the slopes of this hill, and I was sure Emmeline's family owned a fair number of the sprawling mansions lining both sides of the roadways.
Eventually, we reached out destination, a fairly unprepossessing estate tucked away on the hillside. The house at the centre was small by the standards of those that surrounded it, being a mere three stories and possessing a single modest wing. It was the gardens that made the place come alive. They were wild and vibrant, a heady mixture of hues and colours.
"It's beautiful," Emmeline breathed as we walked our horses up the broad path. "Who lives here?"
"It used to belong to Captain Quintus," I told her. "But it's Arianwyn's home now, at least whilst the Tower of Stars is under repair."
Emmeline stopped walking and looked at me quizzically. "Were you hoping to see Lady Trelan?"
"I was indeed, why?" I asked, coming to a halt.
"It's midday. She'll be in council for hours yet."
I'd quite forgotten that, but it was a small delay in the grand order of things. "Then we'll wait for her to come home. I'm sure Zorya will let us in. Have you met Zorya?"
"I don't believe so."
"You'll like her." I was looking forward to seeing how the talkative young squire coped with Zorya's serathiesque way of answering questions. That alone would make light of the time spent waiting for Arianwyn.
We reached the double-leaved front door, and I asked Emmeline if she'd mind taking the horses around to the back of the house and seeing to their stabling. As ever, the squire was cooperation itself, and vanished through the ivy-covered archway and into the rear of the grounds.
I rapped three times with the brass knocker. There was no answer. That was odd. I left it a few minutes, then rapped again, a little harder this time. Again there was no response.
Deciding that I didn't still want to be standing there upon Emmeline's return, I tried the door. It wasn't locked, and sprang open with the slightest touch upon the handle. Someone was home, at least. I couldn't imagine either Arianwyn or Zorya leaving the door unlocked. I'd once had to walk halfway back across town in order to reassure Arianwyn that the door she couldn't remember securing was indeed sealed tight. Stranger still, all was dark inside, as if none of the drapes were pulled back from the windows. Curious more than alarmed, I passed into the house, leaving the door open behind me so as to grant enough light to see by.
Other than the darkness, and the curious lack of Zorya, nothing seemed amiss. The entrance hall was as spotlessly clean as usual, the paintings and portraits in their places upon the walls, and even Quintus' strange little collection of golden statuettes was still in place on a shelf next to the cellar door. Even with him gone, it would have been a brave thief who chanced this house.
I stepped deeper into the room, heading for the to the servant's passage, when I sensed a motion behind me. Turning, I saw Zorya silhouetted against the daylight, her pleated blue skirts twitching in the draught from the door. Her expression, as ever, was that of a drudge's slightly mocking indifference, and her white hair, sculpted in the form of an aristocrat's ringlets, shone brilliantly in the rays of sunlight.
"You didn't have to creep up on me like that," I admonished.
Zorya tilted her head and regarded me in silence. This was starting to feel decidedly odd. Zorya was hardly garrulous, but I'd have expected a greeting by now.
"I was hoping to wait for Arianwyn," I said. "I've brought a guest with me. I hope that won't be an inconvenience."
Still there was no answer. For the first time in many months, I felt uneasy in Zorya's presence. Something was wrong. Something was badly wrong. "Zorya, what's happened? Is everything alright?"
At last Zorya spoke, the clipped words of her sing-song voice sounding strangely sad. [[No, everything is not alright, Master Edric. I fear it may never be so again.]]
"Why? What's happened?"
[[You know what has happened, Master Edric. They have returned, have they not? I am sorry for what must happen next.]]
Zorya reached out and closed the front door. It swung shut without a sound, plunging the entrance hall into darkness.
Part Two
Immortal Favour
It is a game, nothing more.
The pieces dance from place to place upon the board, so wrapped up in their own petty struggles they miss the truth.
~ Eldor of Kyme ~
One
Zorya was no more than a silhouette in a shadowed room.
I stood perfectly still. My eyes adapted to the darkness with their customary haste. Even so, all I saw of the sentinel was the pearlescent gleam of her eyes and hair. This gave the impression of a disembodied head floating a few paces to my front, and did nothing to quiet my nerves. 'I'm sorry for what must happen now' had sounded awfully ominous.
"You're talking about the serathi, aren't you?" I asked, trying not to think of the harm Zorya could do me were she of the mind.
The sentinel didn't reply, but nor did she move.
"I've been to Skyhaven, I've seen others of your kind. I know what the serathi did to you."
[[You know nothing.]]
"I know you were not always as you are now; that you were transformed in punishment for some crime." I was guessing at this last part, but it felt like a natural correlation. "It doesn't matter. I'm still your friend. Whatever lies in your past changes nothing about what you've done for me, or for Arianwyn."
Zorya trembled with barely controlled emotion, though what that emotion was I couldn't say. [[You do not understand. But you will.]]
I took a step towards her, mindful there was at least one small table hidden in the darkness, just waiting to take me across the shins if I put a foot wrong. "Then help me understand. Are you worried the serathi will take you back to Skyhaven?"
[[They will not.]]
They wouldn't make the attempt, or Zorya wouldn't be taken? I took another step forward. "I thought you didn't remember your life before the Tower of Stars."
[[I know what you thought.]]
I wasn't sure why I was moving towards her. Certainly I didn't have much hope of restraining her if she tried to leave, and advancing was hardly the sensible thing to do if she intended me harm. This was as unsettled as I'd ever seen her, and I had to entertain the possibility that my past experiences were not necessarily a good guide to what Zorya might do now, or
in the immediate future. I was afraid of her in that moment, a primal reaction to unknown intentions. Activity was the only way to drive back that fear, so I kept moving forward, my eyes ever on hers.
"I'll admit that I don't quite know what to make of the serathi, but for good or ill, they're coming here to Tressia. I've agreed to represent them..." Zorya's head tilted slightly, and there was something accusatory in that expressionless face. "...but I don't trust them. I'd hoped you could tell me about them, things that they wouldn't want me to know, perhaps?" I was a pace away from her now. "Will you help?"
Zorya pressed the fingertips of one hand to her mouth. It was a curiously mortal gesture, of a kind I couldn't recall her making before.
"Will you help me?" I repeated.
Zorya's arm fell to her side. [[I... You... You cannot understand what you are asking. The burden of shame has been too long borne.]]
I frowned. "You don't have to bear it alone. You once accused me of being 'broken' for attempting to do just that, remember?"
Zorya shook her head. [[You do not understand.]]
"Then help me understand." Exasperation crept unbidden into my voice. Patience, Edric, patience. Antagonising Zorya achieved nothing.
[[Perhaps you are correct, Master Edric. This day had to come sooner or later, and I am glad to have witnessed it.]]
All at once, her mood had shifted. The stranger of the last few minutes had departed, leaving my friend behind. Unfortunately, that shift brought a few challenges of its own.
"You're not talking about the serathi, are you? You're talking about me being correct?"
[[Indeed. This is truly a day of days.]]
It was a poor joke, but I found myself laughing anyway, so relieved was I to have 'my' Zorya back, if only for a while. "And the rest?"
[[I will...]]
The front door opened. Light streamed into the room.
"Ambassador?" Emmeline froze in the doorway as her eyes fell on Zorya. She swept her sword from her scabbard. "What's going on? What is this?"