by Patty Jansen
“I could provide you with a good illusion that would make you look like someone who could get into the dungeons. All you have to do is maintain it. That should be easy after I’ve trained you.”
“Deliberately use icefire? Under the Senior Knights’ noses?” Isandor found it hard not to laugh. This was getting ever more ridiculous.
“Then what are you doing with your leg? What were you doing back there in the meltery?”
“That was—”
“Icefire, strong and clear. You used it to scare that bully.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“No, I know. That is where the problem lies, I’ve been trying to make it clear to you. You’ve been doing it and you have no control over it. One day, you will be found out. Or someone will betray you, like that halfwit friend of yours.”
“Carro? He will never betray me.”
But a twinge of discomfort tugged at him Carro had said such strange things recently.
“In the end, it comes down to a simple thing: children are killed and harmed because they were born with strong Thillei blood. You have the chance to help me save some of them. Will you do it?”
“If I help you, I will be cast from the Knights.”
“You don’t belong there anyway.”
“Who are you to say where I do and don’t belong?”
“You don’t get the opportunity I’m offering, don’t you? If you help me, I will give you real power.” That last bit was almost a whisper.
Real power, like the old king, who had murdered thousands of people.
That was enough. Isandor strained his muscles to get up. “I’m going. I’m sorry, but I can’t do what you want.” He tried to sound angry, but he thought he sounded scared more than anything. “I’m an Eagle Knight and I will obey by their laws. The Knights serve the Queen with honour. They wouldn’t do anything without her approval.”
“Stop your naive daydreaming. Do you know how much power one fifteen-year old girl has over an ages-old institute of men?”
Isandor shivered uncomfortably, remembering the thin figure of a young girl standing alone before a coffin. So lonely, so small. Jevaithi.
“Do you see that I’m right?” Tandor said.
“I don’t see anything except that you’re telling me stories so I will come with you. I don’t know what you want, but I don’t like it. Find someone else to bother.”
Isandor rose from the table, catching glances of fellow patrons.
“Good night, Tandor.”
He turned and walked back to the door. He expected a shout, but none came. He opened the door and let himself into the cold night.
When he looked over his shoulder, Tandor was still sitting at the table.
Chapter 12
* * *
THE FOOTSTEPS OF HIS HARD-HEELED riding boots echoing against stone walls, Carro strode through the corridor. His cloak flapped behind him. His riding harness creaked. Polished, clean, his hair slicked and bound by a leather thong. He’d done his best to clean himself and look good, as if any amount of cleaning chased away the ominous feeling that had become infinitely more ominous since his return to the eyrie.
When the Tutor had said the high command wants to see you, Carro had expected to deal with the Senior Knight who dealt with Apprentices.
Instead, the Knight at the entrance to the command centre had informed him that he was to see Supreme Rider Cornatan himself. Carro hadn’t dared to ask why.
His face tingled with cold from the flight back to the eyrie and the air in the corridor did nothing to dispel it. Here, in the lower levels of the eyrie, warmth was as sparse as furniture.
Eagle Knights lived hard, simple lives. There was some aspect in that he liked. He had never felt comfortable with his father’s opulence or his sister’s obsession with clothes and hair ribbons.
Obedience, Honour, Honesty, Humility and Silence. He mumbled the Knights’ mantra silently, as if to remind himself of the meaning of those words.
He had violated several of them in fighting with Jono. The Knights lived for punishing each other. There was a certain humility, obedience and silence in being fucked in the arse, but honour and honesty?
It hurt, that was all he knew, on more levels than one.
Yet, if he ever wanted to be someone in the eyrie, he’d have to endure it. This was what older Knights did to younger ones. Fit in, shut up and don’t show your weaker side.
He failed in all three accounts.
* * *
Carro stands in his father’s room. His father has the account books open on his desk. Long lines of figures stretch across two pages.
Do you think I’ve calculated this right, Carro?
Carro hesitates.
Well? You tell me. You are so learned. There is mockery in his father’s voice.
I’d need to figure out the numbers. I need time.
You need time. Ha, that’s right. You have so many books, and you still need time to work out a calculation.
He laughs. He doesn’t need to say that he thinks the books are a waste of Carro’s time. Carro has heard it all before.
The books tell him that in the days of the old king, people had machines that could work out sums, but telling his father would make him sound cocky. Some things are not worth the punishment.
* * *
Carro stopped, counting the doors he had passed since coming down the stairs.
Two, three four, five. That’s what the guard said: the fifth door. This one had to be it. Just a solid door, no different from the previous one, or the next one.
He knocked, and waited, glancing left and right into the featureless corridor.
Strange, he’d have expected guards. The Tutor Rider responsible for Apprentice Knights had guards outside his quarters. So why didn’t the Supreme Rider have any?
Before Carro could knock, the door clicked and opened. A dark room yawned beyond, polished stone bathed in emerald light.
No one met him in the door opening, and no one spoke, so Carro stepped inside, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness.
A stone chair stood in the middle of the room like a throne on a dais of black marble several steps high and with corners that looked sharp enough to slice skin. There was no other furniture.
A voice said, “Sit down.”
Except there was nowhere to sit. The room was square, and entirely made out of black marble of the kind found in the mountains. The walls, too, were smooth, reflecting the soft green light.
The voice said again, “Sit down.”
On the throne.
It seemed obvious. It was some kind of interrogation chair. Maybe the chair would get hot, like the chairs he heard they had in Chevakia. That would be his punishment. Pain and suffering. Rider Cornatan wouldn’t even have to set eyes on him.
* * *
The tutor stands at the window, reduced to a silhouette against the low sun. The man’s shadow falls over Carro’s work book, obscuring the print. He squints against the page, trying to read.
What does it say? The tutor’s voice is harsh.
It’s a history of Tiverius.
The tutor drags a chair near the fire so that it stands on the middle of the carpet like a throne.
Sit here. Read it.
Carro sits and takes the book on his knees.
Sit up straight. The cane descends on the desk with a thwack.
Carro stares at the long Chevakian words.
If you make one mistake, I’ll hit you. I’ll tell your father.
Carro wants to shout that he hates his father. Why does he have to learn Chevakian? His father hates the Chev
akians. No Chevakians ever come to the City of Glass.
They would die if they did. He wants to die.
* * *
Gingerly, Carro climbed the dais, and sat down in the regal chair. The cold stone bit through his trousers, but he sat up straight as if he was a king.
Just like Jevaithi.
There was a tiny noise which made Carro straighten his back even more. He would not be seen slumping in the seat. His heart thudded against his ribs. Punishment would not be far off.
But nothing happened, and his back became stiff and his buttocks very cold. What sort of punishment was this? The sort of unfathomable thing his father did.
* * *
Carro stands in the dining room. The dining table is so high that he can barely see what’s on top of it.
His mother sits in the seat closest to the fire, his sister next to her. Neither says anything, but his mother looks at the floor.
Carro’s boots leak melting snow onto the carpet, growing brown puddles seeping into the precious wool.
The door clangs behind him. His mother flaps her hand, and all of a sudden, Carro is lifted off the ground by the maid.
He kicks and screams while she carries him across the hall. The maid opens the front door and dumps Carro on the ground. Shuts the door. The lock clicks.
Carro bangs his fists on the door, but no one comes. Shivering, he sits down on the mat. It is wet and soaks freezing water into his pants. He draws his knees up to his chest, and waits. He doesn’t have his coat. The wind cuts through his thin shirt. It is snowing.
* * *
A rumbling of stone on stone made Carro start. He turned, but the back of the chair blocked his view. There were footsteps, long and slow, hard heels on stone. Carro straightened, staring ahead, his hands on the armrests. Don’t show your fear. There was a swish of a cloak, the creaking of leather, and jingling of metal rings. It was said that although Supreme Rider Cornatan was too old to ride eagles, he wore his riding harness every day.
“Boy,” said a voice that chilled Carro with its reminiscence of his father. “I’m glad you could come.”
“Yes, sir.” How was that for a sarcastic answer? The Supreme Rider was glad to see him punished?
There was a soft laugh, not unfriendly. “You have quite a lot of courage, for an Apprentice.”
“Sir?”
“Quite a few discipline issues, too, I hear.”
“I am sorry. I was not in my right mind. I’d been drinking.” He didn’t like this brand of humility. Jono had needled him on purpose.
“I accept your apology.”
There was strange tone in the voice that puzzled Carro. Amusement, affection almost. Since when did the Supreme Rider concern himself with individual Apprentices?
“But that is not why I want to talk to you.”
The Supreme Rider came from around the back of the chair.
Carro met the sky-blue eyes and then dropped his gaze, the wrinkled but powerful face etched in his memory. He pushed himself up from the chair. How had he ever thought he was meant to be sitting here?
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Stay seated.”
“I’m sorry I got in a fight. I’m sorry I hit Jono.”
“Forget Jono.”
“Sir?”
“If Jono works hard and holds up the Knights’ ethic like his father, he might get somewhere. For now, he’s insignificant. Did you really think that’s why I wanted to talk to you?”
“But I did start a fight. I’m not always very nice.”
Rider Cornatan chuckled. “None of us are. If we were nice all the time, we would never get anywhere.” He stopped in front of the dais, meeting Carro’s eyes with his light blue ones. “The old king, for example, was a dreadfully mean person, but he was so powerful that even his family didn’t dare disobey him. At the very end, he locked himself in the palace and sent his son and his daughter-in-law away. He said it was for their safety, but it was to distract the guards, so they were killed while he himself stayed in the palace.”
Carro remembered the story, but he had thought the king had sent his family away and stayed in the palace as ruse, so that they could flee safely and that the unborn heir to the throne would survive. But he didn’t dare disagree with Rider Cornatan’s version. In fact he hardly dared breathe. Why did the Supreme Rider mention this?
“You know the story?”
“I do.”
“Because you read the books.”
“Yes.” Carro looked at his knees. He wasn’t sure if it was a reprimand. No one read those books in the City of Glass.
There were steps on the floor, and a hand touched his arm, weathered and wrinkled.
“Don’t be shy. I’m impressed with you.”
“Sir?” This visit was starting to puzzle him more and more. No one had told Carro he was impressed. No one. Ever.
Rider Cornatan smiled, and he looked more like a favourite uncle than a feared leader.
“I’ve brought you here, because I need you for a special mission.”
Special mission? “Sir?” Doubt hovered in his mind again. He was only an Apprentice. What did he know that would make him eligible for a special mission?
“You haven’t noticed I’ve already sent you on some unusual tasks?”
“You mean—when you . . . I went with the Junior Knights to the markets?”
Had Rider Cornatan selected him for that task? Carro felt sick. By the skylights, what was this going to be about? Who was he going to betray now?
“That was just a small job, that you handled well, I heard.”
“Wasn’t that because I am from the Outer City? That’s what I thought.”
“It was, but it was also because you are a very special young man, although I don’t think anyone has mentioned it to you yet.”
“Special?”
Rider Cornatan nodded.
Special as in good-special or bad-special?
“Come, boy, I’ll show you something.”
Carro rose from the cold stone chair, his head still reeling. Something very odd was going on here. There had to be a catch somewhere, there had to be.
Chapter 13
* * *
RIDER CORNATAN LED CARRO through a corridor made of dark stone into another room, also illuminated with the same eerie green light. The polished black marble on the floor contained the shapes of leaves and many-legged creatures such as Carro had never seen. The room was bare except for a table in the middle.
On a table lay a variety of things Carro surmised must be weapons. Long sticks of metal, glinting in the emerald light that radiated from the walls. On the end of one of the sticks was a glass bulb with many carved facets.
Carro wanted to ask about it, but Rider Cornatan strode past the table and pressed a panel on the opposite wall. At his touch, an entire section of stone slid aside to reveal a hidden room.
There were four men in the room, two of them grey-haired Senior Knights in uniform. They stood near a stone chair similar to the one in the room where Carro had waited. On this chair sat a man in black, his hands and feet tied down by leather straps threaded through rings on the armrests and base of the chair.
The second-hand merchant who sold the books.
His eyes widened when they met Carro’s, betraying an expression of utter panic. He was sweating, his face pale.
The man showed no signs of torture, but there was a strange apparatus on a table behind the chair. The last man wore a green protective suit with a helmet. The dark visor showed only his eyes. He was laying out snaking leads and sharp metal implements on the table with a heavily gloved hand.
Carro’s knees felt weak. Oh, by the skylights. Was this all his fault because he’d betrayed the merchant? His dagger burned against his thigh. He felt like grabbing it and cutting the merchant free.
Rider Cornatan was talking to the Senior Knights.
One of them said, “Is that the boy?”
Rider Cornatan nodded, and his expression turned hard, as if he defied anyone to comment.
“You see, boy, what we’re trying to do here is something very new. You will witness our first true application of knowledge we’ve acquired over the last few years. The Thillei have been saying it for a long time—”
“The Thillei? But I thought there weren’t any left—”
“No visibly recognisable ones, no, but there are those who still practice the Thillei ways, and we might as well call them by their name.”
Carro whispered, “The Brotherhood.” He didn’t dare look at the merchant.
“Very good.” Rider Cornatan smiled first at Carro, then at his Senior Knights, as if he had proven a point. “Whatever can be said about the ways of the old king, the truth is that he had a vision for this land. When the Knights took over, they, naturally, abandoned his plans, but it has not been to the benefit of our land. Our people are poor. We no longer trade with our neighbouring nations. Instead, they laugh at us, and have erected barriers at their borders. They wish to ignore us and cut us out as if we were a festering sore.”
He turned back to Carro, more intent than before. “It is said that because our land is frozen, we have nothing to offer, but that is a lie. We have much, and it has been right under our noses all the time. The power we call icefire can be used to drive machines that do incredible things: dig the ore out of the ground and make it into useful things, heat the caverns under the city and grow exquisite crops, then build fast trains to take produce to the borders. We have everything we need: we have water and we have unlimited energy. Why should we deny it exists?”