The City Darkens (Raud Grima Book 1)
Page 6
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome, Jarldis,” the robot said.
~~~
The Temple was to the northwest of the palace, and while to the south of the palace lay multiple walled residences of the richer Heléseyan merchants, to the north more impossibly large buildings towered high. The Temple reached higher than any of them, however. Three avenues met at the Temple, coming from different directions. There seemed to be a purpose to each side of the building, but I couldn’t tell for sure, and there were no signs explaining anything. All around the periphery of the Temple grounds stood linden trees at even intervals and comfrey plants in concrete planters with raised triangle designs on their sides. I had forgotten that lindens and comfrey were sacred to Tyr, but I recognized the trees from my childhood home in Asterlund, where they grew on our estate. Somehow I doubted that they kept honeybees at the Temple, although I recalled that our groundskeeper had favored the little white linden blossoms for his bees. And I remembered the cook making a tea from the blossoms, as well, which she swore helped with headaches. We didn’t have lindens in Söllund, however, so I had never had a chance to test her assertion myself. We had a few comfrey plants, which I used to make a skin salve. I stopped by one planter and ran my fingers lightly over the bristly leaves. They made me think of gardening alongside Gasi, and home.
But the more I gazed at the lindens and comfreys, the more uneasy I became. At first, I couldn’t place why, and then it came to me. The lindens and comfreys bloomed, the lindens covered in creamy yellow blossoms, the comfrey in pinkish-purple. And it was winter, still. It was cold, and in corners of adjoining buildings, snow accumulated in drifts. If Mother Tora wanted to complain of something unnatural, she need look no further than the lindens and comfreys by the Temple.
People streamed in a sparse but steady line from one side of the temple, so I joined those headed towards it. Many carried baskets or boxes. Deliveries? Tithes? I couldn’t be certain, and I didn’t want to ask for fear of raising eyebrows with my ignorance. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, even though I believed I was in the right. I was justified in seeking legal redress—I was Bersi’s mother. Reister had no right to take him from me, to send him away somewhere without telling me where. I hoped they would punish Reister for what he did, but some of the fire from the morning was going out of me, leaving cold desperation. I just wanted my son back.
None of those headed for the Temple were robots, which made me think they were more likely carrying tithes. But that puzzled me. So many donations. Was there a festival of Tyr coming up soon? None that I could remember, but I wasn’t very familiar with Tyr’s calendar. In Söllund, we paid tribute most frequently to Alfódr, Baldr or Frigga. At least I had the ruby jewelry, if it came to it.
At the towering doors stood two novices who seemed to be directing those headed in. I waited my turn, and then faced the one on the right.
“State your business, daughter,” said the novice in a tone of exaggerated solemnity. I frowned at him. Daughter? Tyr was not the father-god, Alfódr was. I’d only ever been referred to as “daughter” by vigjas of Alfódr and Frigga.
“I am here to appeal for legal redress,” I said, hoping they would not turn me away.
My hope was answered.
“You seek the Officers. Enter, cross the Great Hall, take the corridor to the left all the way to the end, and you will enter their wing. In future, enter through the doors on the north side, daughter.”
“Thank you,” I said and hurried by him. He was probably five years younger than me. It was too strange to be called daughter by a young novice of Tyr.
The Temple’s Great Hall surpassed the palace’s in size. I looked up and discerned that the top was the roof of the Temple itself, and, like the walls, it was made of glass, so sunlight poured in. The floors were cold marble, in shades of grey and violet, with joints between the panels made of bronze.
When I reached the corridor the floor inside was carpeted in purple velvet and the walls were papered with a light violet pattern of stylized linden blossoms and leaves. The sconces were triangular.
The corridor opened out into a large room, about the size of the palace ballroom. Like the ballroom, it had raised platforms along the walls and large chandeliers, although these weren’t crystal but made of panes of glass in prism shapes. There was a large table on one side of the room and on the other stood several bookshelves—there was something odd about them, but I couldn’t think what. Men with slicked hair wearing charcoal gray uniforms with purple trim and bronze upward-pointing arrows on their collars walked back and forth busily. They often stopped by a large chest of drawers that stood against a wall next to the shelves where they placed folders of paper they carried.
I headed for them, and one of them broke off from their activities and met me.
“State your business,” he said brusquely.
I blinked at him. “I have come to appeal for legal redress of a wrong committed me.”
He gave me a nod. “Follow me.”
He led me through a door on the opposite side of the room. I found myself in a small room with a table and a bookshelf next to a smaller version of the chest of drawers against one wall. The table had two chairs opposite each other, and he gestured to one.
I was surprised he didn’t pull it out for me. I knew I had dressed well enough to show that I was at least as wealthy as a jarldis, even if my clothes alone couldn’t identify me as one. But that seemed to make no difference to him in his manner. I sat down and straightened the chair myself.
He went to the chest of drawers.
“What is the nature of the offense committed against you?” he asked, producing a pad of paper and a fountain pen from the top drawer, and taking the seat opposite me.
“My son has been taken from me.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Very well, then. State your name and title for the record.”
“I am Myadar Sölbói. Jarldis Myadar Sölbói.”
His eyebrows climbed higher. “I have heard nothing of the abduction of a jarl’s son.”
“It happened last night.”
“What is your son’s name?” he asked, making notes.
“Bersimund Sölbói.”
“His age?”
“Five.”
“Describe what you know of the crime.”
I took a deep breath. Now that it came to it, I felt shaky. Telling the story would be like reliving it. I let out the air I’d sucked in and tugged at the ends of my left glove, pulling it off. Courage, Myadar, I told myself.
“I put my son to sleep in my bed last night. We had traveled all day to reach the palace in time for the coronation, and he was very tired and—and a bit upset. His father wasn’t happy with us. After I put him to bed, I went to the coronation ball. When I returned to my apartments, my son was still asleep in my room, but my husband, Reister Sölbói—”
“The jarl?”
“Yes.”
“Continue.”
“Reister and his mother, Jarldis Tora Sölbói-ald, they were already there and they were talking. And Reister said he was sending him off, and I wasn’t sure who he meant.” I pulled at a thread in the hem of my glove. I couldn’t hold it while my other glove was on my hand, so I removed that one as well. “He meant Bersi—Bersimund, of course. He had arranged for someone to come take him without my knowledge. I confronted him, but the people came and—there was a woman, she was awful. She went right into my room and the two men she was with—they held me and kept me from stopping her. I would like to charge those two with assault, Officer. I have the bruises on my arms to prove it. She carried my son out of our apartments forcefully, and I begged them all to stop, but no one listened! And now I don’t know where my son is. I want him returned to me immediately.”
The Officer tapped the end of the fountain pen against his chin and gazed at his notes. “So… you are here to file a complaint against these men you say bruised your arms?”
The Officer grimaced and shook his head. “Jarldis Sölbói, you mentioned that you traveled here to attend the coronation? I suppose you must have traveled from a province? Somewhere fairly distant?”
I frowned. “Yes, but I don’t see how that has any bearing—”
The Officer held up a hand. “Please, allow me to explain.”
I gripped my gloves in my right hand and covered my mouth with my left. I felt like words would come bursting out of me if I didn’t.
“From time to time we’ve had similar problems to yours arise among visitors to the capital, people who ordinarily live far from Helésey. Oh, soon the Law of Tyr will be established throughout the provinces, but in the meantime, those who were not here during the transition really should make it their business to study the ordinances. You’re quite lucky I’m the one who took your case, Jarldis. You could be sanctioned for ignorance of Tyr’s laws. Imprisoned, even, for making a false accusation, and against a jarl—it could have gone very badly for you. But I understand—”
“Wait,” I said. “What? Sanctioned? For a false accusation—?”
“Imprisoned for a false accusation—”
“What false accusation?” I demanded.
“You said you came to report the abduction of your son.”
“I said he had been taken from me, that I don’t know where he is.”
“Yes, but you accuse your husband, Jarl Sölbói, of the abduction, in essence. You say he ‘sent him off.’” The Officer peered at his notes.
“Yes.”
“Jarldis Sölbói, a child is under the authority of his father. A father may dispose of a child as he sees fit. No doubt he arranged to have your son enrolled in a school. You said the boy was five, after all. Most children from noble houses are sent away to school at the age of four.”
“But it was done against my will. He can’t take my son from me against my will!”
The Officer shook his head. “Jarldis, you are also under your husband’s authority.”
“What?”
“It is the law of Tyr,” he said, opening his eyes wide and giving me a pained smile. “This is the sort of thing people from outside Helésey are unaware of.”
“I should think so! What do the vigjadises of Frigga have to say about this new law?”
The Officer leaned back, the smile leaving his face. His eyes were cold and he gazed at me, holding the pen between the forefinger and thumb of both hands. “Jarldis, again, I really must say, you are very lucky to have me here, and not some of the other Officers. That sort of blasphemy would not go unpunished among many of them.”
“Blasphemy?” My head was spinning. The world had gone mad. It was like he spoke another language, for all I understood of this exchange.
“The other gods have been outlawed, for they take away from the glory of Tyr. Tyr is the only true god, Jarldis. I know the Conversion has yet to reach the provinces, but you really must take care to learn all about it now that you are here. Blasphemy is a serious offense. Many unrepentant blasphemers have already been arrested. So many that—well. Suffice to say that they are being dealt with. Harshly.”
I stared at him. His slicked back hair. His cold eyes.
“Tyr will tolerate no blasphemers,” he said. He stood and stepped back to the bookshelf next to the chest of drawers. I realized now why I thought the bookshelves in the main room were strange—this one had the same quality. All of the books on the shelves were identical. They were all bound in the same purple-tinted leather. They were all of the same size. They all had an upward pointing arrow on the spine.
He took one down and handed it to me. I accepted it from him. I wanted to refuse, or shout at him, or beg him to help me, but his words had stunned me and I was afraid of what would happen to me if I rebelled. Tyr will tolerate no blasphemers. But what about Bersi? I couldn’t just give up! Never get him back? I thought of the rubies. If I offered him the jewels, would he change his attitude? The look on his face dissuaded me.
“Read that,” the Officer said with a gesture towards the book he’d handed me. “It’s the Book of Tyr. It contains the many revelations of High Vigja Galmr. You should study it, Jarldis Sölbói. Learn what it means to be a good servant of Tyr.”
“When… when did the Conversion take place here in Helésey?” I managed.
“About two months ago, officially, but Tyr had been ascending for some time,” the Officer said.
Two months. Could so much change in two months? And hadn’t the robot told me the police were replaced by Officers of Tyr two months ago? What happened? How could this be possible?
I nodded and stood from my chair. I felt sick and I wanted to throw myself at the Officer, shake him, beg him to help me. But I was afraid. And something in his eyes told me he had decided to be magnanimous in forgiving my ignorance. He might change his mind in a moment, I could see that. And who would help me then? Reister? Reister might be glad enough for an excuse to end our marriage—if one could still do such a thing under Tyr’s new laws. I gripped the book. I would study it. I had to learn how this new society worked. I would find a way to plead my case. I would get Bersi back.
“Thank you for the book,” I said.
The Officer gave me a sharp nod and opened the door for me. Considering he hadn’t pulled out my chair when we first came in, I knew this was not a polite gesture. It was an official dismissal.
I hurried out of the Temple, clutching the book. I exited on the north side, and for a moment I was bewildered as to where I was. Then I walked the length of the Temple and as I reached its corner the palace came into view.
I wasn’t ready to return there. I had to think. What could I do next? Appeal to the konunger? But he had made that comment at the ball about wives and husbands, and I sensed that he was behind Tyr’s ascension. Nes-Konunger had been ill for some time. Perhaps as jöfur, Eiflar had begun this “Conversion.” But why? Why outlaw the other gods—that was blasphemy. If Eiflar was pious, as surely he must be in his own strange way, wouldn’t he fear offending them?
I stopped walking between a linden tree and a comfrey planter, no longer wondering at their blossoms—but looking up, I noticed a ball of mistletoe in the branches of the linden. It was odd to see it there. Mistletoe was a parasitic plant that usually attacked hard wood trees like oaks, not soft wood lindens. None of the other trees had any, I noticed as my eyes flicked from one to the next. What did it mean? Nothing, I supposed. I rubbed my forehead. I was getting a headache. My hand was cold and it soothed my skin.
Bersi. Where was he? Was he alright? Was he crying for me? Oh gods. I had to find him. I had to get him back.
And when I did, then what? I couldn’t go back to Söllund, could I? Perhaps Reister wouldn’t come after us. But I knew that he probably would. No. I couldn’t risk it. I had to accept that my life as mistress of the estate in Söllund was over. I covered my eyes with my hand. I would miss it. I would miss it so much. But I must accept that it was lost to me.
As I lowered my hand from my face, I stared at the comfrey bush. I wished that I stood in my garden, wished that Gasi would appear, wished that these last few days had never happened. Then I turned my eyes to the linden tree.
Asterlund. Of course. I would find Bersi and we would flee to Asterlund. My family still lived there. My father. My sisters and brothers, although all of them were married now. They wouldn’t understand what had happened. They all thought me a grand jarldis without a care in the world—powerful and stately. They would think it a great honor that I attended the coronation, that I was summoned to court. But I would make them understand. They would see. They would hide us. We would be safe there.
The realization made me feel better. Some of the tension left my neck and shoulders. Now, all I had to do was find Bersi. And puzzl
e out a way to flee to Asterlund. But first things first. I had to find Bersi.
~~~
“Where have you been?” Reister demanded immediately as I entered our apartments. He was waiting for me in the entrance hall.
The sight of him startled me, but I tried to hide it. Reister could be dangerous—I had seen him in more than one fit of rage in Söllund—but I found that he was quicker to violence when his victim showed fear.
I frowned at him and held up the book. “I went to the Temple of Tyr, if you must know. I wanted to pray for the return of my son.”
Reister snorted.
“Since when are you so pious?” he scoffed.
I looked away from him. “Where is he, Reister? You must tell me. You can’t keep me from my own son.”
Reister stepped over to me, close to my side. “Myadar, understand me. You are my wife. You are not free to come and go as you choose. I have been waiting for you for over an hour! My mother says you refused to see the fabrics she ordered.”
“I don’t know anything about her fabrics,” I said, keeping my voice steady, although his proximity was starting to unnerve me. “I went out, it’s as simple as that.” I tried to walk past him.
Reister grabbed my wrist and yanked me back to him. He held my forearm against his chest, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Myadar, you will obey me, or you will learn to regret it.”
I closed my eyes, willing my breathing to stay even. “Release me, Reister.”
He jerked my wrist and grabbed my chin with his other hand. My eyes flew open. He held my chin in a steely grip. “You listen, Myadar. You have been invited to a soirée tonight with Jarldis Vaenn. You will allow my mother to help you prepare for this soirée. You will not embarrass me again. You will do as I say.”
“Why should I?” I breathed.
Reister’s eyes widened and he squeezed my chin so hard I was afraid he would shatter it.
“You don’t frighten me,” I murmured. “I don’t care what you do to me.”
Reister thrust me away from him and I stumbled, landing on my knees. He was breathing heavily. He stood over me, glaring. His eyes were calculating. I tried to decide whether to stand up. I would make myself vulnerable if I did, and he was likely to lash out. At least in this position he felt he had the upper hand.