by Matthew Ward
Only to discover that the treaty had already been agreed.
"It seemed expedient to proceed without you," Azyra said apologetically. She was the only serathi in attendance, with Isari presumably having been released to other duties. "And in truth you have missed very little. Lord Karov and Councillor Magorian now know the full danger of the Reckoning, and have sworn that Tressia and Skyhaven will now stand together against it, and against all other threats."
"Including the Empire, if necessary," said Magorian, earning a look from Karov only slightly less savage than the one I shot both of them.
"You've nothing to fear from my people," I said coldly. "I thought you and I were allies in this matter?"
Azyra smiled beneficently. "Councillor Magorian's enthusiasms change nothing between you and I, Ambassador. Once your Emperor joins with us, all three parties shall be united. It will be a wonderful day."
"Indeed it will," I agreed cautiously. I wasn't at all happy with this turn of events, but I didn't want to give Karov and Magorian more of a victory than they already had. I recalled Myrzanna's words. You are a pet who dares to think himself our equal.
"There is but one matter left to be resolved," Azyra announced. "That of justice for the unfortunates of Salkard. As we speak, the perpetrator is being brought to the place of execution. I would be greatly pleased if our honoured guests would bear witness."
Karov and Magorian agreed immediately, whilst Koschai said nothing. Arianwyn caught my eye, and I found that I could not remain silent. "I apologise for the impertinence, serathiel," I said, "but I understand Myrzanna still protests her innocence."
"You have spoken to her?" Azyra asked.
I braced myself. "I have. I hope this does not cause offence."
The serathiel offered a wintery smile. "It does not, but I doubt we need hark at her protestations. The Courts of Heaven have found her guilty, so guilty she must be."
"Nonetheless..."
"I must ask you to not make this more difficult than it already is, Ambassador," she interrupted coldly. "It is already more than I can bear to see a sister lost in this manner, and so soon after poor Irina's death."
"Of course, my apologies." I felt useless.
The serathiel smiled her forgiveness, and beckoned to a handful of drudges who brought plates of fruit, and goblets of wine. It seemed distasteful to eat, drink and make polite conversation as the minutes of Myrzanna's life ticked by, but I soon remembered that I hadn't yet eaten that day, and put aside my misgivings. Starving myself altered nothing.
The serathiel walked over whilst we were eating. I thought she intended to make another apology, or at least a justification for speaking with the Tressians in my absence. Instead, she plucked a goblet from a nearby tray and offered it to Arianwyn. "I am sorry we have had so little opportunity to talk, Lady Trelan."
"Arianwyn, please." Arianwyn politely accepting the proffered drink. "I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that in the future."
"I very much hope so. May I say how pleased I am that you and your father have found each other again."
Arianwyn glanced to where Koschai was again arguing with Karov. "You're very kind. Thank you for looking after him all these years."
"A pleasure, my dear; think nothing of it."
Arianwyn took a sip of wine. "May I ask you a question?"
"Of course," the serathiel answered, a touch warily, I thought.
"You singled me out in the council chamber. I was wondering why?"
Azyra relaxed very slightly. "You were born with magic, were you not, child?" She smiled at Arianwyn's look of surprise. "Yes, I thought so. I tasted it in the air from the moment I saw you. I assumed it natural for a mage of your power to rise to high rank. Mortals are seldom blessed by such a gift. I regret if I caused embarrassment."
Arianwyn shook her head. "It just surprised me, that's all. As for the magic, I'm not really that powerful, and I don't use it any longer."
"But you should. Magic such as yours was the Radiant's gift. It should not be squandered, or lie silent."
"I relied on it too much. I grew overconfident, and a good man died."
"Only because you were unskilled, my child. I could teach you how to harness it properly."
Arianwyn thought for a moment. "I couldn't ask you to do that."
"I make the offer freely. I am the ruler of Skyhaven, but the Radiant's servant. It is my duty to help you."
"I'd heard that the Radiant was dead," Arianwyn said carefully.
Azyra laughed with such suddenness that everyone turned to look at her. "And who told you that? Myrzanna, perhaps?"
"She seemed quite clear on the matter," I said carefully.
"Poor Myrzanna, ever ready to see things only in shades of black and white. The Radiant is not dead, she has merely taken another form, and she will return to us, that much I can assure you."
"Nevertheless, I must still refuse," Arianwyn said politely.
The serathiel was not offended. "The offer will remain open indefinitely, my child. You have only to ask." With that, she set off across the room, and began a conversation with Magorian.
Koschai rejoined us a short while after, but in a mood so black he wouldn't speak. I assumed Karov had disappointed him very greatly – remarkable, given the time span in which he'd had to work. Arianwyn too was silent, mulling over her conversation with the serathiel.
In time, we finished eating, and the drudges bore the remains away. It was growing dark – somewhere along the line I'd completely lost track of the hour – and the serathiel announced that Myrzanna's execution was imminent. Without further ado, she led us out of the Courts of Heaven, through the very gate Myrzanna had been brought in from during the trial, and down a long, winding flight of stairs.
We emerged into a room not unlike the one I'd discovered on my midnight walk about a week ago, the room where I assumed condemned men and women were made into drudges. It had the same concentric brass circles on the floor, the same domed ceiling and a plate of polished glass set at the ceiling's apex. This chamber, however, was much larger than the other – it had to be, for no less than fifty serathi stood silently in attendance around the perimeter. Azyra motioned that we should take our places amongst them, and then crossed solemnly down to the centre of the room, where Myrzanna stood.
The former Speaker for Retribution stood in the very centre of the room, directly beneath the pane of glass. She was still bound with silver, and three lengths of the rope – one from each wing, and another from her hands, were held by three silent drudges, standing just beyond the outermost of the brass circles set into the floor.
"Myrzanna, you have been found guilty of terrible crimes," Azyra intoned, "and your punishment is at hand. Have you anything to say?"
"Would there be any point?" Myrzanna countered, proud to the last. She took her eyes off the serathiel, and stared at me. I knew what she wanted, and gave her a long, slow nod. "No." Myrzanna returned her gaze to Azyra. "I have nothing to say to you; to any of you. Let us be done."
Azyra bowed her head. "Very well, sister. I am sorry." She raised her voice. "Sisters, here before us is a sinner who cannot be atoned through servitude or penance. Only cleansing light can deliver her now." The plate of glass in the ceiling glowed a cold and angry amber now. "I call upon the Light of the Radiant to save our sister, burning away the wicked creature she has become, so that we might remember her as she was."
A column of brilliant white light enveloped Myrzanna. For a long moment she stood there, twitching with obvious pain, but deathly silent. Then, at last, she screamed – a deep, wrenching sound that set my teeth on edge. The light grew brighter. Myrzanna's dress billowed with flame. Her skin set alight.
Karov and Magorian looked away. Koschai and Arianwyn raised hands to shield their eyes. I kept watching, compelled by some elusive feeling to witness the serathi's final moments. Perhaps I somehow knew what was to happen in the days ahead, that I could feel destiny crowding in on me. Perhaps I felt
it was my duty, given the promise I'd made. Perhaps I just wanted to be sure that Myrzanna was truly gone.
I don't know how long she endured under the Light of the Radiant. I just know that I wanted that horror ended far sooner than it did. At last, the light pulsed one final time, then faded into darkness. The only trace to show Myrzanna had ever been there were the scorched remains of ropes in the drudges' hands.
*******
Their treaty agreed, and Salkard's justice at last delivered – at least so far as they knew – Karov and Magorian returned to Tressia shortly after Myrzanna's death. Arianwyn and I stayed behind a while longer. In theory, this was so she could spend a little longer with Koschai, but as her father spent most of the time apologising for Karov's behaviour, they didn't discuss very much at all.
It was fully dark and the moon was high overhead when we finally returned to the stepping gate and its cordon of graces. Koschai and Arianwyn embraced, and the older man apologised to me once more.
"You will come and see me again?" Koschai asked Arianwyn.
"Of course I will, father," she replied, taking his hands in hers. "I just wish you could come home."
"So do I, my dear, so do I."
Arianwyn and I passed through the stepping gate. Koschai had been the only one to see us off. Neither Azyra, Isari or any of the other serathi had bothered to say farewell.
I realised something was wrong as soon as I stepped out into the palace square. It wasn't the fact that Skyhaven had gone. Azyra had promised the city would withdraw, and I knew enough not to question her honesty on such trivia. Even the absence of the crowds wasn't a great surprise. With Skyhaven gone, there was no longer anything to keep them here. Save for a few clusters of droning Sidarists, there was hardly a Tressian in the square. No, the oddity was subtler than that. So subtle it took me a few seconds to realise what it was.
Arianwyn was much quicker. "Where are the graces?" The guards Azyra had left on the Tressian side of the stepping gate were nowhere to be seen.
"Perhaps they aren't necessary any longer?" I looked uneasily around.
There wasn't a constable nor a praetorian in sight, which was most unusual, not to say discomfiting. Nor could I see any sign of Emmeline, who should have been awaiting my return. I did see a large group of Sidarists a few dozen paces away. They regarded us with what could charitably be called 'distaste'. I doubt they approved that heathen like me had seen such welcome from the serathi.
"Azyra did say she hoped your people could guard this end of the gate," I said.
"Then where are they?" Arianwyn asked. "I can't imagine Karov risking anyone with a passing fancy getting loose on Skyhaven."
A dozen Sidarists broke off from the main group and drifted purposefully towards us. "You're right. We should go."
"Where to, the palace?" Arianwyn had either seen the approaching Sidarists, or picked up on my mood.
"No. It'll be locked at this time. Our friends over there will reach us long before we get anyone to answer. I mean, it's possible that they just want to bend our ears about your ancestor, but..."
"Quite." It said a great deal about Arianwyn's level of concern that she didn't react to my needling about Sidara. "I'll settle for anywhere we can find a constable at this point. Cathedral?"
"Sounds good to me." Was it my imagination, or had the Sidarists picked up their speed a little? "Lead on."
We set off at a gentle and unconcerned pace, heading in a direction that was coincidently the fastest route away from the approaching Sidarists – if indeed they were Sidarists. Why we didn't just go back through the stepping gate, I don't know. I think we were both more than a little convinced we were imagining the threat, and didn't want to look foolish over a misunderstanding.
By the time we reached the square's edge and the roadway that would carry us to the Cathedral, I'd almost convinced myself I'd imagined the danger. Unfortunately, we'd not made it far into the streets beyond when a half dozen black-garbed figures ghosted from a nearby alleyway.
Even in the dim glow of the street's firestone lamps, it was obvious that these were not harmless wanderers, or even optimistic footpads. They were tough, scarred and absolutely sure of themselves in a way that marked them out as something very dangerous indeed.
I had my sword out before any of them could reach me, for all the good that would have done. Six to one odds – or even six to two, if I counted the unarmed Arianwyn – were hardly a cause for optimism. Unfortunately, those odds dropped even further when one of the ruffians grabbed Arianwyn by the arm and dragged her towards him.
"Now then," he said. "There's no need for any unpleasantness. You're coming with us, nice and quietly. Just put the sword away, and it can happen in a civilised fashion. Well, mostly civilised."
I made no move to comply. There were five swords in a line in front of me, and another at Arianwyn's throat. The threat of my own blade seemed to be the only thing keeping them at bay.
"Do you know who you're dealing with?" I asked. There wasn't much chance he could be intimidated, but it was worth a try.
"Oh I do indeed, Ambassador," he said genially. "You and Lady Trelan seem to be attracting quite the attention at the moment. Though why anyone thought that she was so dangerous, I don't..."
He broke off with a howl of pain as Arianwyn thumped her head back into his nose. Before the others could react, she tore free and pushed past them, her arm reaching for mine.
I lunged at the nearest ruffian, aimed a kick at another, then grabbed Arianwyn's outstretched arm and pulled her clear. As we fled, I caught a glimpse of the Sidarists – now wielding a wicked array of knives and swords most unbecoming for devotees of a great healer – hurrying forward to help their accomplices.
We'd made it a few desperate paces when some instinct made me turn around. As I did so, the knife of one of the false Sidarists lanced past my ribs. I clubbed the man down with the hilt of my sword.
"Who are they?" Arianwyn asked, scooping up the fallen knife.
I pulled her further down the street. "I don't know."
Some kind of quarrel seemed to have broken out between the two groups of pursuers. Two of the white-garbed men were down, and from the fury of the blows being exchanged I doubted that they'd be the last.
What was going on? I'd assumed both sets of thugs to be part of a single, larger group, but unless they had the shortest tempers I'd ever encountered, that now seemed unlikely. But this wasn't the time to dwell on the matter. Five of the false Sidarists were still following us, and I didn't want to risk a fight unless there was no other alternative.
Arianwyn and I thundered along for all we were worth, desperate to stay ahead of our pursuers. They were fast, much faster than us.
One threw his arms around me, and bore me painfully to the ground. Arianwyn's borrowed knife gleamed. There was a yelp, and the weight on my back vanished.
I hauled myself to my feet. Another of the false Sidarists swung his sword at my head. I parried, but clumsily. A flash of pain burst behind my eyes as his blade glanced off mine and sliced into my scalp. Dizzy, I back-cut at the man. He went backwards with a scream and lay still.
That left three, plus the one Arianwyn had wounded. It'd be enough of a challenge even at the best of times. With my head ringing from the previous blow, and my left eye all but blinded by the blood gushing from my wound, the best of times were far behind us.
I parried another thrust, but it was so very hard. My limbs felt like they were moving through mud. The sights and sounds of the night felt unreal, as if happening to another man. How deep had that blade gone?
Two attackers closed in. I blocked another strike, but the impact struck my blade aside and knocked me sprawling.
Before my assailants could finish the job, Arianwyn stepped between us, her silhouette bright in a world bounded by shadows and slipping into darkness. It struck me that she seemed thus because she was trying to draw upon her magic, but it had been too long. The halo of white light aside, nothing happe
ned.
"We only want him, Lady Trelan," I heard one of the shadows say. "We're not here to kill you. Just leave."
"No," said Arianwyn, her voice cold and clear.
"Suit yourself."
The circle of shadows drew inward.
Stand up, Edric! I railed silently.
My limbs wouldn't respond. Arianwyn would die, and then I would die. I had to do something! Still my arms and legs refused to obey.
The dull double-thud of my pulse echoed through my head, faster and faster, louder and louder. No. Not my pulse. Hoof beats. They were muffled, just as all of the sounds around me were muffled.
Something large shot past to my left. I glimpsed a drawn sword, and a shock of blonde hair. A gurgling scream came from somewhere in front, as did a thud of a body hitting the ground. Steel rang upon steel. Another thud, and panicked footsteps fled into the night.
Faces crowded in on me. Arianwyn was on the left, her worry plain even through fog encroaching on my sight, and on the right was...
"Emmeline? Where have you been?" I asked. my tongue swollen and heavy in my mouth.
"Torev ordered me to report to the Tower of the Moon," growled. "Except he didn't – the herald brought forged orders. I'm sorry, Edric. I came back as fast as I could."
"It doesn't matter," I told her, and it didn't. Not now.
I was about to make a joke about how I felt fine, but then I realised that I didn't feel much of anything at all. I closed my eyes, and didn't open them again for a long time.
Seven
I have only the haziest memory of what followed. There were fragments of dark and light, of faces and voices, and of whispered conversation. I've no doubt some were figments of restless dreaming, or of nightmares brought on by fever. Constans' presence in some remembrances indicated as much. The nightmares were ill-inclined to leave me alone even as I slid into death, or so it seemed.
Arianwyn was there, of course. Sometimes her face was tear-stained. At others it was resolute, impassive. Others came and went with the darkness crowding my vision, all of them staring down with pity or concern. Torev was the only exception, for I have no recollection of seeing him wear anything but the most jovial of expressions.