by Jeff Wheeler
“These are the ceremonial robes of a Shaliah,” Morwenna explained, gesturing to her pale silver gown and high girdle. “They are sacred healers in this society. I adopted the disguise because it allows me to wander wherever I wish. Come, we’re at the edge of the zenana. We cannot get there through the ley lines.”
Trynne adjusted the strap across her shoulder, feeling the bulk of the weapons in the lute case thump against the small of her back. She also stroked her arm, feeling the straps holding the Tay al-Ard beneath the garment, grateful for its reassuring presence.
The little shrine with the fountain sat amidst a park full of willowlike trees with deep green foliage and fragrant blossoms. The plants and flowers were unlike any she had seen in Kingfountain, and the enormity of the park was very striking. Everywhere she looked, there were people walking, exercising, and enjoying the beauty of the place. Some were even playing musical instruments. There was no debris anywhere along the grass-lined path. The grounds were immaculately kept, and extended almost as far as the eye could see.
Morwenna walked along a paved footpath that led toward a long wall of trees. Trynne had no idea what kind of trees they were, but the leaves were red and jagged and looked like fire. It was lovely beyond anything she’d seen before. Beyond them, Trynne could smell a lake and hear the ripples of the water lapping against the shore.
“The zenana is over there,” Morwenna said, pointing toward the enormous lake through the trees. “They’re still building a bridge to connect the island to the mainland, but that will take years. You can see the part they’ve completed over there.” She gestured to it, and Trynne saw the sweeping archways extending into the waters. It only went partway across, but the portions that had been completed were intricately carved.
“How do we get there?” Trynne asked, glancing backward to see if anyone was following them. The garden had dozens of people, but it was vast enough to feel empty.
“There is a harbor right there,” Morwenna said. “They have stone boats. That is the only way to cross. Men are not permitted to enter the boats without a scroll showing the royal seal. Women can come or go as they please, or so I’ve been told. Do you know the word of power for languages?”
“Yes,” Trynne answered.
“Good. I thought so.”
They agreed to wait until they crossed the waters of the lake, as some magics did not work over water.
“How can their boats be made of stone?” Trynne asked. “Don’t they sink?”
Morwenna smiled. “Not this kind. They are powered by Fountain magic. You will see them shortly, just past the trees. Follow me.”
They passed the row of fiery-leaved trees before reaching the calm, placid lake. It was like a huge mirror, and she felt it radiating magic like the grove in the woods in Brythonica. It was a hallowed place, a place of great power, and forbidding. The water ripples were small, for there was very little wind. An octagonal tower rose in the center of the lush, green island, and the multiple levels were bedecked with curving, slanted roofs. Each layer of the tower grew smaller as it went up, ending in a sharply sloped roof crowned with a steeple of gold. The columns supporting the roof were painted red and the windows were of colored glass. Farther down the hillside, there was a wall that encircled the entire island, level with the shore. There were a couple of small square stone huts with similarly shaped roofs perched atop the walls, and Trynne could see guards standing there. The same fiery-red trees lined the walls, each placed a measured distance from the others. The spacing and detail were impressive.
“That’s the zenana,” Morwenna said, pointing to a nearby dock. “See the boats? There is one always coming and one always going. See how they float on the water?”
Many passengers dressed in silks were getting into the boat from the dock, and if Trynne craned her neck, she could see another vessel skimming the surface of the lake from the island. The boats were more like barges, except longer, and they were indeed made of sculpted stone. The prows jutted up in a circular design, carved with images of waves and the crashing sea. Two layers of compartments were constructed atop the stone platforms, made of a series of arches, and the whole structure was topped with a triangular roof. The arches were open and the sturdy pillars provided support.
“Amazing,” Trynne whispered, shaking her head.
“They glide on the water like ducks,” Morwenna said. “You can feel the Fountain magic coming from this place.”
“Where is Gahalatine’s palace?” Trynne asked.
“You can see it better from the lake,” Morwenna said. “If we hurry, we can get on that one before it leaves. There are no rowers. It is powered by magic. If we go to the upper level, you’ll have a perfect view.”
The two young women hurried their steps until they reached the pier. The sun was just starting to appear on the horizon. It was dawn, not nightfall. It felt a little strange, but it was also thrilling.
Only women were at the dock, and no one gave her or Morwenna a second look or even asked them a question as they boarded the vessel. All of the guards protecting it, Trynne realized, were women too. They had an array of weapons, including broadswords, staffs, and long-shafted spears. Some of the women making their way to the barge looked frightened. Some looked eager. Others were nervous.
Trynne remembered that it was a sanctuary for women, that Gahalatine offered his protection to any women who sought refuge. How difficult would it be to find Lady Evie amidst so many?
So far, Morwenna had proven herself to be a reliable guide. There was nothing in her manner to suggest there was anything untoward about her motives. She boarded the barge ahead of Trynne and took the narrow steps to the upper deck. Trynne was fascinated by the paintwork on the stone columns. From a distance it had seemed like ivy vines, but she realized on closer inspection that the leaves were all painted. There were benches in the interior of the barge and less than half were filled. The warrior protectors walked among the girls, gazing beneath the benches to be sure no one was hiding there.
Trynne mounted the steps and joined Morwenna and several other maidens at the upper level.
“That is the Forbidden Court,” the poisoner murmured softly, nodding toward the north side of the lake. The view was better from the second level of the barge, since the boat was taller than most of the trees lining the lake. Trynne’s mouth gaped a little. The main palace was enormous, a dozen times larger and grander than Kingfountain. And the city that hunkered beneath the shadows of its massive walls was larger than any city she had seen. It glittered with gold as the buildings’ roofs captured the flaring sunlight. Pree and Kingfountain pressed together could only have occupied a tenth of the space of this one city. There were homes and palaces and manors and buildings all crowded against one another, arranged in orderly sections of rows that crisscrossed the view. From the distance, she could see specks of movement, little ants that in fact were people. She had never been to so grand a place.
“Gahalatine built this?” Trynne whispered in awe.
Morwenna stood near her. “The imperial palace used to be south of here. All of this has been built since he became emperor. He is the greatest king who ever lived,” she said in an almost reverent tone. Then she smirked. “Or so they would have everyone believe.”
The barge lurched as it began its journey across the lake. There was no noise, no grunting of oarsmen. The barge just glided from the docks at an even pace, as peaceful as a swan.
Trynne stared at the massive city, comprehending at last the vastness of Gahalatine’s resources. And this was only a portion of Chandigarl’s wealth. He had claimed dominion over dozens, if not hundreds, of other kingdoms. And he had turned his eye at last on Kingfountain, determined to overthrow the Argentine dynasty.
How could they hope to defeat him?
Morwenna crossed to the other end of the seating area, hands clasped behind her back, staring at the magnificent city. A woman bowed her head respectfully to Morwenna, as if she were a great dignitary. What wa
s Morwenna thinking about as she gazed on the court?
Gahalatine was in search of a Fountain-blessed wife.
Wasn’t that what Reya and Rucrius had said? Perhaps that was the only motive Morwenna needed. Trynne could not imagine being the lady of such a vast empire. Averanche was more than satisfactory to her. But perhaps Morwenna craved what she did not.
It was while she was staring at the poisoner that they passed a barrier of some kind. It was invisible, but Trynne felt it rush past her. It was insubstantial, like smoke, but Trynne recognized it as magic. There were other protections surrounding the island and the lake, and they had crossed them.
Trynne blinked, seeing Morwenna’s disguise had been stripped away. She stood as her true self, hands behind her back, her hair falling down around her shoulders.
“Mofa!” someone shouted in warning, pointing at Morwenna.
Two of the warrior maidens were already on the upper deck on patrol and both whirled around. They drew weapons and rushed the poisoner.
I’ve discovered my prison was on an island. After I overpowered the man sent to question me, I stripped away his silver mask and cloak. His face was painted over, and the sight of it nagged at my memory. I’ve known people who could disguise themselves, but I cannot recall what or who they are. The man is dangerous—I could sense that just from staring at him. So I switched clothes with him, locked him in my irons, and put my mask on his painted face. I left the dungeon without being stopped and now find myself in a palace of some kind. It is very opulent, and everyone’s clothes are rich and decadent.
There are many women here, but I do not feel safe. I feel at any moment I will be discovered and killed. I need to get off this island before they discover I’ve escaped. I cannot trust anyone. This place feels wrong.
I look at my face in a mirror. I don’t know myself. Why do I have a patch of white in my hair?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Zenana
The two guardswomen rushed Morwenna, and before Trynne could react, the poisoner struck the first in the throat with the edge of her hand. The second leaped at Morwenna with a flying kick, but the poisoner ducked the blow. The two became embroiled in a battle of punches and kicks that lasted only a few moments before the second guard collapsed, dazed from a blow to her stomach.
The sound of another guard vaulting up the steps filled Trynne with a feeling of panic. Morwenna vaulted off the railing, catching hold of the pillar that held up the roof overhead, and twirled down as she descended to the lower level. Several passengers rushed to the railing, shocked by the poisoner’s sudden flight, and Trynne wondered what she was supposed to do. Should she flee as well?
Had Morwenna known that her disguise would be dispelled crossing the lake? Surely she should have after her many visits to the Forbidden Court. Trynne felt more confused than ever by the poisoner’s motivations.
The two fallen guardswomen struggled back to their feet, their expressions full of pain and anger. A third reached the top of the steps, and one of the passengers spoke to her in a foreign tongue, gesturing down the ramp.
Trynne heard a commotion down on the lower deck, followed immediately by the splashing of water. Rushing to the nearest railing, she looked overboard and saw Morwenna’s dark hair against the green water, sinking lower and lower as she swam. Another guardswoman jumped in the water after her. It was obvious that they were not going to let Morwenna escape so easily. Trynne’s heart beat wildly. She had the Tay al-Ard, so she would hopefully be able to escape. Had Morwenna abandoned her, knowing she’d be captured? Or was she trying to save her own skin and allow Trynne to continue with their mission to save Lady Evie?
Most of the girls who were sharing the deck with her were shaking with worry—some talking amongst themselves, others isolated and fearful. Trynne did not have to try very hard to look agitated. She continued to watch from the railing, trying to see what would happen to Morwenna and if she’d be caught. The stone barge did not halt or change direction, even though one of the guardswomen was overboard.
Surprisingly, no one had accused Trynne of being in league with the girl who had jumped off the barge. No one had tried to speak to her. After several more moments, Trynne began to calm down. She was grateful she’d relied on Rani Reya’s clothes to disguise her. If she’d used the ring, she too would have been discovered.
As the barge approached the island, Trynne observed how the guardswomen gathered together near the lead end of the craft. They were talking furtively amongst themselves. The woman who had jumped overboard was still missing, and their voices were edged with worry. As Trynne and the other passengers approached the dock, they found servants, all female, waiting for them. At least one was dressed as a Shaliah, which Trynne recognized as being like Morwenna’s disguise. The barge slowly glided to a halt at the platform. Water lapped against the stone hull. None of the passengers were allowed to disembark until the leader of the guardswomen explained the situation to the warriors on the platform. After a few moments of discussion, the women were permitted to leave.
Once Trynne was on the stone quay, she followed the others toward the outer wall of the island, which she had seen from a distance. She invoked the word of power xenoglossia, so that she’d be able to understand and communicate. The spell worked instantly, and she suddenly understood the conversations of the girls around her. They were discussing the disruption on the ride, weighing the possibility that the girl who had jumped overboard had been sent to try to kill someone in the zenana. Most of the girls were uncommonly pretty, Trynne noticed, and through their hushed conversations, she could tell some had come to try to win Gahalatine’s heart.
“Have you seen Gahalatine at the Forbidden Court?” one of them asked. “He is the most handsome man. He still has not chosen a wife.”
Another voice said excitedly, “He must choose one soon. The Mandaryn demand it. If he does not choose for himself, then one will be chosen for him from the zenana.”
“I hope he chooses me,” whispered a shy girl, eliciting peals of excited laughter.
Each step along the wharf toward the wall filled Trynne with excitement and dread. She did not know where she was going. She did not know how she was going to find Lady Evie. But she felt a growing confidence that the Fountain would guide her. Even though one wrong step could kill her.
The path toward the tower at the summit of the hill was sheltered by enormous trees bedecked with green spear-shaped leaves. Colorful birds with curved beaks perched in the branches, squawking incessantly, and the buzz of insects filled the air. She saw clouds of mosquitoes just off the side of the road, but there were none on the trail itself. The path was bracketed with stone obelisks carved into faces, and she sensed Fountain magic flowing from them.
Chandigarl felt like another world, and she was reminded of stories she’d heard as a child from Myrddin of other worlds that he had visited. None of the other girls craned their necks to see the monkeys clambering in the branches. But Trynne could not stop watching their antics as they pried fruit from the trees and hunkered down to devour them.
The air was so heavy with moisture that Trynne was sweating openly as she walked, but the loose silks of Reya’s clothes helped prevent her from overheating. The massive tower at the top of the hill loomed ahead, the decoration and carvings gilded with pure gold that dazzled the eye. She saw no men along the way, only women who bowed and greeted the newcomers as they passed.
As they came nearer to the tower, the noise of the birds and monkeys was joined by a sorrowful melody of flutes and lutes. Voices joined the instruments in song, though they didn’t sing words—they simply matched the pitch of the music.
A series of majestic fountains converged at the top of the hill, in front of the tower. Trynne stared with surprise as she watched shoots of water spurting up from the floor, forming pillars like upside-down waterfalls. There was an open pathway through the pillars, but the sound and the size of the display was impressive. The grounds of the zenana were larger tha
n the palace of Kingfountain.
As she entered the tower, she felt the richness of magic, but there was also something strange in the air. It was difficult to define, but it made her wrinkle her nose. The opulence of the decorations was beyond imagining. Glittering chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and the marble floor shone with light. Trynne arched her neck, gasping when she saw that the tower was open in the middle, all the way to the sky overhead. On each floor, the rooms had been built around the open space, layer by layer, floor by floor. There were plants and birds inside the tower, man-made waterfalls, and decorative fountains more elaborate than anything in Kingfountain.
There were women everywhere she looked—most bent in conversation or showcasing some skill or other. Some of the women were hurrying about, delivering chalices and cushions and trays of fruit. The servant girls wore rich garments and displayed obsequious courtesy to those who had come to the zenana for sanctuary. But her first impression lingered. Something was wrong there. The sense wasn’t coming from a specific person or from an object, but it was persistent and undeniable.
The place had been built as a sanctuary for women. Reya had told her that the noble daughters of the realms Gahalatine had conquered had been brought there, and she could see that many of the women in the zenana were indeed of noble birth. There were girls with outlandish headdresses, some literally burdened with necklaces and bracelets that lined their arms from wrist to shoulder. An air of haughtiness, pride, and splendor pervaded the tower. Trynne saw women coming in and out of rooms on the higher levels. There were people everywhere. Her heart sank as she realized just how difficult it would be to find Lady Evie.