Staring into the unicorn’s eyes, Ember murmured, ‘Looking at it … makes me feel strange.’
‘It would be strange if you were not affected. The threads of this visioncloth were dipped in crushed darklins. That alone would make a tapestry priceless, even if it were not a visioncloth. It is the darklin dust which calls your eyes, for it casts out minute soulweaving particles. Usually the dust is added afterwards, for so few visioncloths are finished that it would not make sense to use the precious crushed stone in the making phase. But in the case of exceptional visionweavers such as Galen and Leandra, the threads were dipped before being woven. Lanalor himself commissioned this piece and it is said to be the finest rendition ever made of the Firstmade.’
There was a small silence, then Alene pulled Ember round with a jerk to face her. Ember felt a terrible wrench of sorrow.
‘I must find …’ she stopped, wondering what she had been about to say. The words had seemed to rise from somewhere deep inside her.
‘Come,’ Alene said softly. ‘Do not stare too long at the visioncloth. They have been known to steal a person’s wit with their beauty.’
Ember shuddered. ‘I … I’m fine. I just hope I never have to pretend to be a visionweaver.’
Alene had been giving her lessons each morning on how to behave in court during an audience, just in case she had to be presented to Tarsin.
‘You need only worry about being a convincing Sheannite,’ Alene said.
‘I understand that,’ Ember said, ‘but why can’t I just be one of those Sheannites Tareed told me about who make rugs or rope? Something less important.’
Alene sighed. ‘Unfortunately the die has been cast and there is no going back. Now let us do some more work. Today we will discuss Sheanna and its weavers. The more you know, the easier it will be to imagine yourself a Sheannite.’
Ember sighed inwardly as Alene told her to go and bring back a woven map of Keltor from one of the other rooms. She had studied the map but Alene’s form of teaching involved endless repetition. Unrolling it, her eyes went first to the isle of Ramidan. Of the seven islands making up the main land mass on Keltor, it was the smallest but one. Like earth, the planet was mostly water. The largest island was Iridom, it being more than ten times the size of Ramidan. Tarsin had been born there and his mother, Coralyn, ruled Iridom still as its chieftain. It had a huge population, being composed of crowded cities surrounded by dense miasmic swamplands. Fomhika was next to largest and featured one major city, a few villages and immense tracts of pasture and crop lands. Myrmidor was about half the size of Fomhika, but was very mountainous. Most people lived in its port town or in coastal villages. Within its almost enclosed bay was the smallest island – a tiny misty smudge marked as Darkfall. Vespi, shaped like the head of a sickle, was the nearest neighbouring island to Ramidan. Furthest away from Ramidan was Sheanna, and next distant were Acantha and Myrmidor. There were some smaller islands marked on the map, but Alene had not bothered to speak of them. She said Ember did not have to know much about any island other than Sheanna because Sheannites scarcely travelled.
‘Find Sheanna,’ Alene instructed now.
Ember obediently located the very small cluster of islands which collectively passed under the title of Sheanna, wondering if it was possible to be bored by a place she had never seen. Alene began to speak of the weather there, which was apparently very nearly subtropical, as on Iridom. Weather on Keltor seemed to have no pattern or reason for its wild fluctuations from island to island. It was not at all like weather on earth and seemed to operate in some completely different way. Chilly Acantha, for instance, was closest to tropical Fomhika. Tareed had tried to explain how it worked, but Ember had ended up hopelessly confused.
‘To really discuss the weather you need a Vespian scholar and philosopher,’ Alene had comforted them both.
Alene moved on to explain that all of the tiny Sheannite islands were part of one larger land mass which had sunk, leaving only high points above the water. The largest central island was dry and inhabited, and the rest were tidal islands, swallowed and regurgitated daily by the sea’s ebb and flow. Alene called the sea the great water.
‘The outer islands are farmed by the Sheannites. When the tide comes in, it covers the low islands, depositing sea grasses, which are snagged when the tide recedes. The Sheannites collect the grasses, which are then dried on racks and treated with an Iridomi potion to soften and whiten the fibres. They are then woven into cloth or rugs or even rope, depending on the fibre quality. Only the finest skeins are used to create the visioncloths.’
‘And they are called visioncloths because they are made by a weaver in a weaving trance,’ Ember finished wearily.
‘All Sheannites may vision as they weave,’ the soulweaver continued as if Ember had not spoken. ‘But not all manage to hold the vision long enough to complete the work. Once the trance is broken, the weaving cannot be finished. Sheanna is littered with incomplete visioncloths.’
‘What causes the visions?’ Ember asked curiously. ‘Do the weavers induce them with some kind of drug?’
Alene smiled. ‘The trances are natural, but to hold them long enough to complete a visioncloth takes great strength of will. Some manage only one visiontrance in a lifetime, while others vision often. Only the Song knows what triggers them. Perhaps Shenavyre knew, since it is said the Firstmade taught her to vision and sew, so that she might record its stories, but she never passed on the knowledge.’
‘And … I’m supposed to be a visionweaver?’ Ember asked faintly.
‘It will not be hard, I promise. Little will be required of you if you are presented to Tarsin and his court. Sheannite shyness is legendary, as is their dislike of speaking lightly or without reason. And it works in our favour that you have the look of a Sheannite. They are a slender, small-boned people with pale skin. As you know, you resemble Shenavyre who is the most famous Sheannite of all, though of course we will not be emphasising that.’
Ember smiled. Poor Tareed was fascinated by her resemblance to the girl in the tapestry.
‘The soulweaver says I am too literal in my translation of the old myths, and maybe I am,’ Tareed had confessed the previous night. ‘But I am certain your coming and looking so like Shenavyre and being a stranger, means the Unraveller will come soon.’
Alene reached out and touched a strand of Ember’s hair. Ember flinched away involuntarily, not entirely convinced the woman was not a mind-reader. There were certainly enough odd abilities among Keltans for this not to be extraordinary, but the one time she had asked, Alene had only said solemnly that she could not read Ember’s thoughts.
‘They won’t expect me suddenly to have a trance, will they?’ Ember asked unhappily now, thinking again of the exquisite unicorn tapestry.
This time Alene laughed aloud. ‘Child, Sheannite visionweavers are prized throughout Keltor, and highly honoured. It is rare that Sheannites come to the citadel, as Asa said, and if you are called up to see Tarsin in his court, no one would have the temerity to suggest you perform like a trained aspi. In the remote likelihood they did, you could simply refuse. No one would accuse a Sheannite of behaving badly. You may be silent and mysterious and ignore anyone who asks awkward questions. No one will take offence.’
‘Won’t people be suspicious because of the veil?’
‘There will be no veil.’
‘But what about my eye?’
Alene frowned. ‘We will bind your head in a Sheannite head-dress, and mask the side of your face, covering your blind eye.’
‘Won’t wearing a mask be even more noticeable than a veil?’
The soulweaver shook her head. ‘Masks are more the fashion in the citadel than elsewhere, perhaps because so few have more to hide than those who dwell here. It is true that Sheannites do not wear masks, but we have already let it be thought your illness has somehow deformed you, to explain the veil. It is assumed that the mask covers the scars you bear.’
‘It sounds compl
icated,’ Ember said doubtfully.
‘This is a complicated island,’ Alene responded. ‘I wish we could have avoided the palace, but that was not woven for us by the Song. Now we must do the best we can to keep you safe until we can get you off Ramidan.’
Tareed returned, unlocking the door and relocking it carefully behind her.
‘Good.’ Alene greeted her return with brisk decisiveness. ‘It is time we prepare Ember to transform herself into a Sheannite, in case she must be presented at short notice. With Tarsin that is always possible. Besides, I have been thinking it might be wise to let her be seen here in the apartment. Feyt says that keeping her entirely hidden is causing a lot of talk. Bring the mask I wore to the last grand hall.’
Tareed fetched it and Alene used a small knife to cut the mask deftly in two. She pressed one half over Ember’s cheek and eye but it was too wide and flat in shape to fit neatly. The soulweaver held the mask over a candle, working it with her fingers until it fitted snugly. Then she attached it to Ember’s hair.
‘It looks so outlandish,’ Ember worried, staring into the mirror.
‘It will look well enough once we have dressed you in a visionweaver’s head-dress,’ Alene soothed. ‘And do not judge it strange until you see what others wear. Here, extravagance is very fashionable.’
Tareed plaited Ember’s hair into single tight strand, then encased the plait in a long purple sleeve. Her neck and head were then bandaged in purple and a long, cobwebby violet cloth was draped over the top of her head and held in place by a close-fitting circle of woven flowers.
Gazing into a mirror brought by the myrmidon, Ember decided that she looked like Maid Marian in mourning, but the purple-tinted colours of the head-dress did make the mask seem less extreme.
Finally Alene had Tareed produce a dark-violet dress that fitted Ember’s arms and breasts snugly, then fell in heavy soft folds to the ground.
‘You do look wonderful,’ Tareed enthused. ‘Just like a visionweaver. Even the mask does not look out of place …’
Alene reached out then, and ran her fingers over Ember’s face lightly but thoroughly. Then she frowned. ‘If only all would go well …’
‘You could soulweave if you want to see what will happen …’ Tareed suggested.
Alene shook her head. ‘I dare not scry the future here where I might be interrupted at any moment by one who knew that waking me in the midst of a trance would kill me.’
Ember was startled to see she was serious.
‘Once, a soulweaver in a trance was revered,’ Alene said sadly. ‘She could stand weaving in the midst of a busy crowd. People would walk around her with lowered voices. If it rained, she would be sheltered. If it was hot, her lips would be moistened. None would dream of harming her, but now …’
Absently, the soulweaver ran a fingertip over the scar on her cheek. It had all but disappeared but she was looking drawn and had lost weight since coming to the citadel.
There was a knock at the door and Alene motioned for Tareed to answer it. Ember rose to withdraw, but the soulweaver shook her head, as ever seeming to intuit everything that was going on around her. ‘Put on the light veil. We might as well test out your disguise.’
Doing as she was bid, Ember felt unnerved. She had felt safe hidden under the opaque veil and the thought of exposing her face, even masked and lightly veiled, frightened her. Instinctively she moved into the shadows beside the window.
Tareed admitted a young man with flat brown hair. He bowed slightly to the amazon, who beamed at him.
‘Kerd,’ Alene said, sounding pleased.
Ember had heard the name, but he had crossed the room before she remembered this was the name the girl Unys had given to her despised suitor.
He took the soulweaver’s hand and bowed low over it.
‘Well Sung, Kerd,’ Alene greeted him. ‘This is a pleasant surprise. I heard you had left to cross to Vespi the day I arrived in the palace. Have you returned so soon?’
‘I did leave,’ Kerd agreed, ‘but when I heard from Revel on the Stormsong that you had come to the citadel, I turned back immediately. Your presence brightens these rooms.’
‘Gracefully spoken,’ Alene said smiling.
Kerd blushed rosily and, shifting a little, caught sight of Ember. He regarded her for a moment, then his eyes widened. ‘You are the visionweaver, Revel spoke of?’ Half a statement and half a question.
Remembering the soulweaver’s advice, Ember merely inclined her head slightly. To her gratification, this seemed enough.
‘Since my return to the citadel, I heard you were ill. But I am glad to see you are recovered,’ Kerd said respectfully.
‘Ember is not recovered, Kerd. She is simply not in pain right now,’ Alene said gently. ‘I hope Tarsin will permit her to travel while she is well. I am sure Revel mentioned that I had asked her to carry Ember to Myrmidor where she might seek healing from the white cloaks.’
As ever, Ember was startled by the effortlessness of the soulweaver’s lies. Looking into her face you would think she never spoke anything but the truth.
‘She said you had asked her to carry the visionweaver, but she did not say where or why.’ Kerd gave Ember a look of gentle compassion. ‘I am truly sorry for your sickness, Lady. It is a shame you have been kept here for so many days. Perhaps I can speak with Tarsin on your behalf. I would be glad to offer passage direct to Sheanna on my own vessel.’
Ember expected Alene to jump at the offer since they had lost the chance for her to travel on the Stormsong, but she was wrong.
‘I thank you, Kerd, but Tarsin will do as he thinks best,’ the soulweaver said briskly. ‘Now, tell me. What is the purpose of your visit at such an early hour? I am certain you did not delay your crossing to practise courtly manners.’
Kerd blushed again. ‘I do not have courtly manners, I fear … but you are right. I wanted your advice on a matter of some importance.’
Alene looked resigned. ‘Unys?’
Kerd’s blush deepened as he nodded. Ember saw Tareed scowl as she went out of the room.
‘Come to me tomorrow in the afternoon and we will have time to talk,’ Alene said. ‘I am shortly going to make a formal request to see Tarsin.’
‘You will supplicate?’ Kerd sounded shocked.
‘Tarsin summoned me to the palace, but he makes no move to see me. Therefore I will seek him out. I know it is provocative, but I weary of being held here.’
Ember was startled. Alene was going to seek an audience with the Holder? That must be why she wore such an ornate overdress.
Kerd nodded, frowning. ‘I suppose you know what is best. I will leave you to dress. I know these preparations take much time.’ He bowed again and let himself out.
Alene’s face was a study of exasperation. ‘That boy would be insulting were he not so desperate to please. That is his trouble with Unys of course. She is so used to Iridomi charm and deception that she has no way to recognise or appreciate simple honesty. He would do better to treat her as badly as she treats him.’
‘Why didn’t you let him talk to Tarsin about letting me go?’ Ember asked.
‘I do not want Kerd involved because that would mean Vespi is involved and, for many reasons, Vespi must be seen as neutral, despite its loyalty to Darkfall.’
The politics of that were beyond Ember. ‘Won’t Kerd be on Coralyn’s side if he ends up with Unys?’
‘That is what Coralyn intends, but Kerd is not poor Ranouf, to be seduced into losing his honour. Kerd is less a stickler for what is correct than his father, but he is Vespian to his bones.’
Ranouf. Ember reflected on the name. What had Tareed told her of the man who bore it? Something about Tarsin’s mother, Coralyn, seducing him to do something against his Vespian honour, but she could not recall what.
‘Kerd understands the need for Vespian neutrality. His passion for Unys will not change that,’ Alene went on calmly.
‘I don’t understand how Vespi can be neutral and lo
yal to Darkfall.’
‘Vespi must be seen to honour and obey both Tarsin and Darkfall. In many ways, Vespi is the key to power on Keltor because they control the crossings. Others have always taken their lead.’
Tareed entered with three glasses of a frothy sherbet drink, and a steaming jug balanced on a tray. She seemed disappointed to find Kerd had gone, but there was another knock at the door as she set the tray down on a table, and she hurried to open it. Ember let her veil down just as a tall, extremely good-looking man came in wearing a jade cape to match his eyes. He had long blond hair falling loose about his shoulders but for one thin plait hanging either side of his face, and reminded Ember of a Viking. He strode across the room and swept the soulweaver into an enthusiastic bear hug.
‘Bleyd!’ Alene cried. ‘Put me down, you Fomhikan oaf!’
‘You wound me deep with your cruelty!’ the man said dramatically. ‘Should you command it, Lady, I will cut my heart out in remorse.’
‘Bleyd! For Shenavyre’s sake, set me down.’
‘Your desire is my command.’ He set her down gently.
‘I desire that you be serious,’ Alene snapped in exasperation. ‘Where have you been?’
The smile faded from his face. ‘Away trekking. Anything to get a break from this place and its endless intrigues. And speaking of that, although I am glad to see you, what are you doing here? I thought you had decided it would be wiser to remain in the hut.’
‘I had, but circumstances forced me to come into the citadel. I did not plan to come to the palace, but we were seen and, before I knew it, Asa was bearing down on me with a summons from Tarsin.’
‘I can not think of anything important enough to bring you into the citadel after the last time. How do you imagine you would be able to come and go like any maidservant? You should not have come. It has grown much rougher, even here in the palace. Gutter attitudes prevail and are openly voiced. I heard a balladeer sing a story that named the Unraveller a fire-breathing demon. It was very effective. Two children had hysterics.’
‘I am less certain that abandoning the citadel was wise in the light of all this,’ Alene said in a troubled voice. ‘It may be that I retreated at the wrong moment, leaving free reign for Coralyn and her rabblerousers. Perhaps I should have stayed and fought them.’
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