by Matthew Ward
She sighed. "You know I can't answer that question."
"Why not?"
"Because this is too large a decision to be left riding on a choice I might or might not make, Edric. It has to be something you want to do. Something you're called to do."
"I don't think it'll ever be that," I replied gloomily. "But it might end up being something I have to do."
"There are very few things in life that we have to do," she chided. "Just things we choose to do for the right reasons, and things that we refuse to admit we did for the wrong reasons. You'll know when you're ready." She gave the pot another stir. "I think this is as edible as it's going to get. Grab some bowls, would you?"
I picked my way across the kitchen. careful not to collide with the two bronze statues in front of the fire. They were fashioned in the shape of a magnificently-maned lion, but their poses suggested them as carelessly content as any domesticated cat. They weren't actually statues – well, not as such – but guardians Arianwyn had adopted at the height of Malgyne's invasion. They hadn't moved for months. Arianwyn's magic had sustained them. When she stopped using it, the guardians had grown more and more sluggish until, one day, they had simply curled up in front of the biggest fire they could find, and gone to sleep.
We sat down at the kitchen table to eat, and it soon transpired that Arianwyn had done herself a disservice – the stew was perfectly palatable. Once we'd finished eating, she and I returned to the sitting room and talked long into the night. Midnight approached, with no sign of Zorya. I could feel sleep crowding in on me, and I knew it was time to leave.
"You can stay," Arianwyn offered. "Zorya may be absent, but I can find my way around well enough to organise bed linen."
"I should return to the embassy," I said reluctantly. "I'll need to see how things lie there tomorrow, and I may as well make as early a start as I can. Besides, you don't need my nightmares waking you."
"If you insist," Arianwyn said. "Emmeline will be most disappointed. I got the impression she thought she was being awfully discreet."
"We all lose our illusions sooner or later. I'll have to leave the horse here, if you don't mind. There's no stabling at the embassy."
"I'll see to it. Be off with you, if you're going."
I kissed Arianwyn farewell and headed off into the night.
*******
With little traffic to bar my progress – save for a few lone travellers and a pair of patrolling constables, there was no one in sight – I quickly crossed the Silverway River and reached the cathedral square. It was thronged with people, many of them in white robes. Apart from those horrifying days when the dead reigned in this part of the city, I'd always found Sidarists holding vigil here, waiting for a sign of their Lady's return. Now, as before, they gathered by lantern-light at the foot of the gnarled tree sitting a few paces from the cathedral steps, awaiting revelation.
Would they be standing there if they knew the Cathedral's construction had all been part of Malgyne's plan to destroy the living world?. Probably not, and none of us who knew the truth were in any hurry to propagate it. Arianwyn was right – the Tressians needed hope.
To my surprise, few of the Sidarists were chanting their dreary hymns. Most stared up at the twin bell-towers in rapt silence. On a whim, I ambled over to the closest group and asked what had them so enthralled.
"It's the Angel of the Cathedral," said a slender man who had the kind of perennially down-trodden face that could only belong to a clerk, or possibly a junior council lackey. "She was seen again yesterday."
Bemused and cheered in equal measure at mortals' ability to take comfort in the strangest of imaginings, I left the Sidarists to their strange vigil. So the story went, the angel had watched over the cathedral during its construction. Of course, the building was now long-finished, so I assumed that if the angel remained, she did so out of guilt over the purpose to which Malgyne had put her charge. Then again, I'd certainly seen no sign of any angel during the fighting in the cathedral, and Ashana knows we could have used one on our side.
Heading south, I reached the battered trestle that had replaced the bridge over the Estrina. This crossing was far less durable than the one Zorya had toppled, and as a result was barred to wagons. All cargo had to be taken by sea around the Silverway docks – a situation hated by the city's merchants, and adored by the fleetmasters and docker's guilds.
This district had borne the brunt of the fallen invasion. I'd missed those fights, and was glad to have done so. Calda had claimed Torev's cannons had done more harm to the surrounding buildings than to the fallen, and certainly many of the houses in this district had been pulled down simply out of a fear they might topple over.
As I passed the hollow facade of what had once been a well-to-do townhouse, two shadows plucked themselves free of the inky mass within and walked smoothly into step. My mind had wandered far afield, and to my shame there was a hand locked around my right arm and a knife at the small of my back before I could react.
"Keep walking." One thug directed me to an alleyway with a sharp tug on my arm. "And keep your hands away from your sword."
Silently, I obeyed. I'd as long as it took for us to reach the alley to think of something. In the open street I'd a reasonable chance of running clear, if I could get free, but the confines of the alley would make things rather more difficult. Indeed, it was entirely possible that there were others lurking in the darkness, at which point my chances of escape would rapidly diminish to nothing.
"What do you want?" I asked quietly.
"Quiet." The thug jabbed his knife a little. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to make his point.
"Your blade looks like it'll be worth a few crowns," the other thug hissed. "Besides, you're going to help us send a message, Ambassador."
It didn't sound like the message was one I'd be given the chance to deliver verbally. I should have stayed with Arianwyn.
The alleyway was less than a dozen paces away. "Are you sure...?"
"Quiet!" spat the thug with the knife.
I threw my weight against the weaponless thug. It was the last thing he'd prepared for, having expected me to pull away if I were going to make any attempt to escape. Taking advantage of his divided balance and attention, I slammed my knee hard between his legs. He whimpered, let go of my arm and sank to the floor.
"Right! I'll 'ave you for that!"
I spun around to find the other thug bearing down on me. I twisted to one side, letting my attacker's momentum carry him past. By the time he'd turned to face me, I had my sword free of its scabbard and held at guard. The thug advanced another step. Then, recognising the disparity in our weapons, he turned and fled, leaving his comrade to my mercy.
Said comrade was on his feet and staggering away when I reached him. When it dawned on him that he didn't have the necessary speed to escape, he drew a dagger. I swept the weapon from his hand with the flat of my sword and closed in.
*******
A few minutes later, I marched my unwilling companion in through the front door of the city's main guardhouse. He was still having difficulty walking, not least because there was one of my hands locked on his collar and the point of my sword in his back, but I felt no sympathy. Nor, it seemed, did the immaculately tabarded sergeant behind the reporting desk, who had cheerfully taken the wretch off my hands. I'd hoped to speak with Captain Nierev, but it seemed she was off duty, for a rarity. Nonetheless, the sergeant sympathised about the rising level of crime in the city, nodded seriously at my suspicion that this had been no random attack, and promised that the matter would be looked into.
A little while later, I passed through the iron railings and up the short flight of steps leading to the Hadari embassy. The building was neither so large nor so glorious as its predecessor, being a mere three story townhouse, rather than a mansion set within its own grounds, but I was heartily glad to see it nonetheless.
"Good evening, Jarok," I greeted the guard standing sentry on the top step. The street was regularly patro
lled by Nierev's constables, but Jamar was prepared to take no chances with the embassy's safety – particularly given the fiery fate that had befallen the last one. Come night or day, rain or sun, there was always a guard on this door, the golden scale armour and green silks of the Hadari royal guard both a warning and challenge to Tressia's less honourable citizens.
"Good evening, Ambassador." Jarok gave a small but respectful bow. "And welcome home. Is the havildar not with you?"
"He's on other duties for the time being. We shall have to manage."
"Of course, Ambassador." He opened the door.
"Has there been any trouble while I've been away?"
"We had a one-man protest a few days ago. I felt sorry for him."
"What happened?"
"He ranted and railed for a bit, which we ignored until he started prising cobbles out of the street and throwing them at the embassy. Rovir – he was on guard at the time – decided enough was enough, so he disarmed the fellow and held him until the constables arrived."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"A few bruises. Rovir was not of the mind to provoke a scene."
I nodded my approval. The last thing we needed was to appear unbound by the laws of the city. "That was well done. We need to show similar restraint in future."
"Of course, Ambassador. I shall inform the rest of the household."
"Thank you. Could you also let them know that we are likely to have visitors in the morning?"
Jarok offered a knowing smile. "Certainly. Would that be Lady Trelan, Ambassador?"
"Probably, but there's also a strong possibility that a Lady Orova will be looking for me. Please ensure that she's shown every courtesy."
"It shall be done."
Bidding the guard goodnight, I passed inside.
Two
I passed another bad night, riven with nightmares about Constans and Otherworld. Even so, the dreams weren't entirely as they'd been before. This time, when I looked down at myself, I saw only the pale and shrouded colours of a ghost. This time, I was as dead as Constans, or as any of Otherworld's inhabitants. That realisation jolted me back to wakefulness in time to hear a soft knocking at the door.
"Ambassador? Might I come in?"
The voice was that of Aldan, the master of the household. He was a retired member of the Hadari royal guard, hand-picked for the job by Jamar for his masterful ability to keep things running smoothly.
There was another knock. "Ambassador? May I enter?"
I glanced at the pile of covers I'd thrown to the floor at some point during the night, and at my hands, which were still shaking. I didn't doubt Aldan's discretion, but I didn't want anyone to see me like this.
"Not at the moment," I replied, reasonably steadily. "What is it?"
"Lady Trelan has arrived to see you, Ambassador."
Wiping sweat from my eyes, I peered at the window. It was still dark outside. Arianwyn was much earlier than I'd expected. Still, I was awake now.
"Please tell her I'll be down shortly, if she doesn't mind waiting, and ask one of the maids to run me a bath."
"Certainly, savir. The water is being brought up as we speak."
*******
A half-hour later, I was feeling almost my old self.
As I dressed – it felt good to be out of those travelling clothes and into the silk robes that befitted my status – I noticed a book on the bedside table. That by itself wasn't so very unusual, but I could have sworn it hadn't been there when I'd crawled into bed.
Puzzled, I picked it up and turned the slender volume over in my hands. It was bound in red leather and gloriously titled in a flowing Tressian script I couldn't read. The author's name was in less eye-watering letters – he was one Eldor of Kyme, but I hadn't heard of him any more than I recognised the book.
I riffled the pages, but there was little of immediate interest. Nonetheless, I took the book with me when I headed down to breakfast. Whoever had placed it in my room had done so for a reason, and I was curious to know why.
I left the room and headed downstairs. Aldan awaited me at the bottom, and bowed low in greeting before returning to his customary erect posture. "I took the liberty of allowing Lady Trelan into the dining room, savir."
"My thanks." I held up the book. "Did any of the servants enter my room last night? I found this at my bedside."
"I don't believe so, savir, but I shall make enquiries."
"If you would, please."
Aldan bowed and retreated deeper into the embassy. I'd little doubt he'd find out if one of the other servants had indeed placed the book in my room and, if they had, then why.
Despite the modest size of the house, the dining room was huge, easily able to accommodate twenty or thirty guests at the oval table. I was supposed to use it for wining and dining the Tressian elite, but seldom did so. I wasn't one for small talk, or the observance of Tressian customs, which would have been a problem if the Tressians had felt the need to hold me to their standards. That they hadn't was proof enough that they were still wary of causing offence.
When the Tressians had given the building over to be used as an embassy, I'd left the adornment of the interior firmly in Aldan's hands. The end result, in the dining room at least, was a peculiar clash of cultures. The sculpted plasterwork about the fireplace and the ceiling was still present, as was the deep vermillion wallpaper. However, the portraits of stern nobles and idyllic landscapes had all long since gone, replaced by tapestries showing scenes from Hadari legends. One portrayed Astarra and Ashana as they quarrelled over the length of the days and nights.
Golden statues sat around the edges of the room, each rendered after the form of one of our many gods and goddesses. Ashana and Astarra were there, as were Jack, Malgyne, Astor and the Nameless Lady of the Deeps. Sidara was present also, rendered in white marble. As was traditional, the Lady of Light's hands were spread in benefaction, her beautiful face serene. Aldan had retained her out of respect for potential guests, and even given her pride of place in the room, stood as she was behind my chair at the head of the table. It was a nice touch, though it offended the traditionalists amongst my household who didn't see why we should grant such status to a foreign deity.
Arianwyn sat at the far end of the room, in the next chair down on from my own. Before her sat a steaming mug of asran tea, and a plate piled high with krai – a mix of spiced meats and vegetables that served as a common breakfast in my homeland, but which most Tressians considered too indelicate for their first meal of the day. Not so Arianwyn.
"Good morning," I said, making my way down the table."I didn't expect to see you so early."
"Zorya isn't around," Arianwyn rose to greet me with a kiss. "I knew I'd get a better meal here than I could hope to prepare for myself."
"And my being here had nothing to do with it?"
"Well, perhaps a little," she allowed, sitting down. "I doubt Aldan would have let me in otherwise."
I took my seat, placing the book on the table beside me. A footman entered the room and began arranging the necessary cutlery and crockery for my own breakfast.
I still found it remarkable I had servants at all. In my last embassy, I'd rated a mere three bodyguards and had been forced to recruit Tressian staff out of my own pocket. Now there were over a dozen members of the royal guard at my beck and call, and Aldan held court over twice as many footmen, maids and clerks. It was a daunting thought that when – if – I became Emperor, the number of men and women employed to attend my needs would rise rather sharply again.
"Zorya hasn't returned?" I asked between mouthfuls of food.
"Not so I know." Arianwyn chased the last scrap of krai around her plate with a crust of bread. "To be honest Edric, I'm worried."
"Have you checked the Tower of Stars? She might have gone home."
"That did occur to me." Arianwyn took a small sip of tea. "But I can't look for her until later. One of Karov's heralds came to the house. The councillor would like to see both of us, as soon as pos
sible."
"Is it about the serathi?"
"I suppose it must be," Arianwyn replied. "I daresay Torev sent a herald ahead."
"Is it to be a full council meeting?"
Arianwyn shook her head. "I don't think so. Likely Karov wants you to give a little more context to whatever it is he's learnt. That way he can manage the council's reaction more skilfully to avoid causing panic."
"Or parlay the situation to his own advantage."
"That too. What's the book?"
"I'm not sure." I passed it over. "It was at my bedside this morning."
"The Great Powers of the World," she read aloud. "It looks old, though it's also mass-printed, rather than hand-copied, so I'm surprised I haven't seen one before."
Sitting back, Arianwyn flicked through the pages. Choosing one apparently at random, she sat and read quietly whilst I finished up my breakfast. No sooner had my fork hit the plate than the footman was at my side to remove the plate.
"Find anything interesting?" I asked.
"You might say that," Arianwyn said wryly. "Listen. 'One day, the accord will be broken. There shall be a Reckoning.'"
A sudden chill danced along my spine. Now more than ever, I knew the appearance of the book was no coincidence. I turned to the footman. "Would you ask Aldan to join us, please?"
"Yes, savir." The footman bowed and left the room, closing the double door behind him.
"I don't like this very much." Rising, I stood behind Arianwyn and tried to read the words. I needn't have bothered. They were in old Tressian, a language I could just about interpret when spoken, but whose cursive flourishes always gave me a headache. I could recognise some common phrases, but that was about it.
"It's interesting." Arianwyn flicked through more pages. "The words are Tressian, but the names are Hadari. Look." She pointed at a series of squiggles no more or less intelligible than any of the others.
"You'll have to tell me."
"This is Astarra, whilst this is Ashana. A Tressian would refer to them as Lumestra and Lunastra. Those names don't appear here, but the Radiant and the Celestial do."