There was a knock at the door and Melantha, the steward, stuck her head through. “Vita. Help me with breakfast, please.” To Chema and Shilly she added: “The mage is up and asking for you two. I think he intends leaving early.”
The steward backed out and shut the door. Chema offered to help her dress, but Shilly said no. She forced herself out of bed and into her clothes. Her leg complained at being moved and the rest of her joined in. She could have stayed in that warm, soft bed all day, given the chance. Negotiating two flights of stairs with her crutches didn’t make her mood any better. Only when she reached the dining room and saw the generous spread waiting for them did she begin to feel like being awake. There were bowls of eggs, porridge, crispy-fried bacon, mushrooms and fruit. Not a spice stronger than pepper to be seen. Her mouth watered at the sight and smell of it.
Chema loaded up a plate and followed the sound of voices into the next room. Shilly juggled a bowl and a serving spoon and her crutches, all at the same time, not having much success with any of them.
“Can I help you with that, Shilly?” asked a voice from behind her.
She looked up with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. It was Tait, dressed in a less elegant version of his warden’s blue robes. He had no torc around his neck, just a simple necklace of glass beads. “Thanks.”
He took the plate from her. “What are you after?”
“Some toast and eggs.”
Tait served her what she asked for. “What about a drink while I’m here? They have freshly squeezed orange juice, or coffee.”
“Just water. Thanks again.”
He poured her a glass. “We didn’t get a chance to talk last night,” he said. “I wanted to say how good it is to see a familiar face here.”
She shrugged awkwardly, afraid to admit to the same feeling. It was better to seem worldly-wise. After all, they were both well travelled now. “You were probably the last person I expected to see.”
“Yes, well. Who’d have thought either of us would get this far?” His smile was warm and open. “I’m just glad you’re doing okay.”
“Apart from this.” She swung her leg like the dead weight it was.
“You’re on the mend, anyway. Come on. You look like you could eat a camel.”
He indicated the door, and she crutched through it. Everyone except Sal was seated around a very long table, and her hosts welcomed her to breakfast when she appeared. Even the mage nodded politely as she took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Tait put her plate and glass in front of her, then took his own seat not far away. Vita nudged her as she went past with a load of dirty dishes, and Chema rolled her eyes.
“I was just saying,” said Radi Mierlo at one end of the table, opposite Manton Gourlay, their nominal host, “that I’m looking forward to seeing the Nine Stars. It’s somewhere you hear about all the time, but never visit. I don’t know why the Advisory Synod conducts their meetings so far away from everywhere. They make it very hard for the ordinary person to be part of the decision-making process.”
“We have elections,” said Skender, through a mouthful of bacon. His hair was standing on end at the back, and his father tried in vain to pat it down.
“Yes, but to be part of the discussion, to see the faces of the Judges as they consider their decisions, to have the opportunity to speak…” Her face was alive with the thought of it, reflecting an internal vision that probably, Shilly thought, had no bearing on what the reality would be like. “That would be a supreme moment.”
“It’s a long and difficult journey,” said the mage.
“It can’t be that bad. Some of the members of the Synod are very old, and they make it there every month.”
“They are there, yes, but there are ways to make the journey easier.” The mage considered his words carefully. “Ways we will not have access to. We can only take the road.”
“And it is a long and difficult one—yes, you said.” Radi Mierlo was clearly enjoying the verbal sparring. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other then.”
“Great,” said Skender, rolling his eyes. “That should be fun.”
“Who says you’re going?” asked Raf, always ready to provoke the boy. “I’ve a crate for you back at the Keep, strong enough to keep you in until your dad gets back.”
“I have to come!” Skender exclaimed. “Dad. You can’t really be thinking of—”
“I’m not, son,” said the mage. “You can come along, if you behave.”
Skender whooped with joy, and Raf looked surprised and more than a little disappointed.
“Really?” he asked.
“Really,” said the mage, with a resigned look. “It’s time Skender saw where his future lies. And I know most of my colleagues are eager to see how the latest Van Haasteren has turned out.”
Shilly concentrated on her food while talk rolled around her. She hated morning people, and Sal’s grandmother was most definitely one of them, directing conversation with a firm, occasionally unsubtle, hand. Shilly wondered how Manton Gourlay put up with her, and supposed that this was one reason why people in the Interior didn’t like her or her family. Luckily for Sal, he had inherited none of her arrogance. Shilly doubted she could have stood more than a day on the road with him otherwise.
“Where is Sal?” she asked, the thought of him making her wonder, and the fleeting, irritated look on his grandmother’s face made speaking up worthwhile.
“Upstairs,” said Shom Behenna. “He’ll come down when he’s ready, I’m sure.”
“We’re going to see the Mage Erentaite after breakfast,” said Van Haasteren, “to discuss the Synod’s intentions. Sal has assured me that he will attend.”
“Not much point going without him,” said Skender, still flushed at the thought of the journey.
“Indeed,” said Shom Behenna. “Or Shilly.”
“Of course. What about you, dear?” Radi Mierlo asked the question lightly while she stirred a glass of a potent-smelling hot beverage. “No one’s asked you what you think about going to the Nine Stars.”
Exactly, she thought. I’m just dead wood. But she didn’t say that. “I didn’t know I’d be going.”
“I’m sure they’ll need you to testify.”
“Well, I don’t really know what to expect, so I don’t know how I think about it.”
“What about going home, then?” There was a glint in Sal’s grandmother’s eye. “How would you feel about that, if you had the chance?”
Shilly felt like she’d been led into a trap. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on her as though her answer was critically important. She couldn’t understand why it should be. Wasn’t it obvious that she missed her home? At the same time, though, she had worked very hard to find herself a teacher of the Change, and she wouldn’t throw that away in a hurry.
Besides, she thought, who said she would go with Sal, if he was sent away? It was him they wanted not her.
“I’ve been there, you know,” said a soft voice from the far end of the table. Manton Gourlay had uttered his first words of the morning. Everyone who had previously been watching her leaned closer to hear what he had to say.
“Where have you been?” Radi Mierlo prompted.
“The Strand,” he said. “Went there on a delegation with Mage Seto. Remember him? Complete fool, but knew how to drum up patrons when he had to.”
“And what did you think?” asked Shom Behenna. “Of the Strand, I mean.”
“It’s a wonderful place. Well worth the effort. Wouldn’t want to live there, though. Too soft. Too much water. Life’s too easy. Give me sand and the sun over a sea breeze any day. And fish?” He pulled a face. “But the Haunted City is interesting. Never understood how the place managed to look so beautiful yet so ugly at the same time…”
The memory overwhelmed him and he trailed off into silence. For a moment no one spoke. The thin, wasted man stared vacantly into space, saying nothing at all—yet still commanding more genuine interest than the wo
man at the opposite end of the table.
“Well,” said Radi Mierlo. “Thank you, Manton, for sharing that with us. It has certainly brought back memories of my own. I must tell you about a wonderful restaurant on the Laudato Promenade, where we used to meet the Grey Wardens of the Novitiate for dinner. Do you know them, Warden Behenna? They were very influential in my time.”
And she was off again, tugging the reins and cracking the whip over the conversation until she had broken its spirit. Shilly watched Manton Gourlay retreat back into his shell and felt sorry for him. She didn’t doubt that Radi Mierlo was bleeding him as dry as she wanted to bleed Sal.
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, for Tait caught her eye and shrugged meaningfully. She smiled back, and he toasted her with his glass of juice.
Shilly returned her attention to her meal, hating the warm flush rising up her neck and into her cheeks. She didn’t hear what Sal’s grandmother had to say after that, and she didn’t much care, either.
The meeting with the Mage Erentaite took place in a large, temple-like structure on the far side of the city. A motorised vehicle was waiting for them when they stepped out of the house. The driver handed the wheel to Manton Gourlay, who explained that he had bought the bus in a distant, lawless town called Mayr and occasionally enjoyed taking it for a drive. It was easily large enough for the entire party, comprising the Sky Warden and his assistant, the Stone Mage and his entourage, Shilly, and Sal, and Radi Mierlo.
Sal emerged as promised at the last minute, looking tired and small but determined, like an animal wrapped defensively around itself. He said nothing, just walked out of the door as soon as it opened and headed out to the bus. He appeared to have slept in his clothes. Although Shilly sat near him in the vehicle, he said as little to her as he did to anyone, giving nothing freely. His attention was drawn tightly inward—but at the same time he was aware of everything around him. Shilly could practically hear his mind ticking over, analysing everything, thinking every action through.
He was up to something, she thought. Once she might have tried to get him to tell her, but things had changed. There were too many people around, for one, and she had learned at the Keep just how good he was at keeping secrets from her. She was still angry that he had taken some of the credit away from Sky Warden Behenna for saving her.
“Did you sleep well, my dear?” his grandmother asked him when they were settled in their seats and Gourlay pulled smoothly away from the curb.
“I slept enough, thank you,” he said, with equal measures of distance and politeness.
“I’m sorry you missed breakfast.” Radi Mierlo radiated nothing but concern. “If you’re hungry, we can—”
“I’m not hungry,” he interrupted her, his eyes flicking for a split second to the Mage Van Haasteren, “but thank you. Again.”
She pulled back with a slightly pained expression, and Shilly wondered how deep the socialite facade went and where the real woman began. Was she really hurt that Sal had rejected her, or just bothered that Sal wouldn’t cooperate in her grand scheme? Shilly couldn’t decide which.
She tried to catch his eye but he wouldn’t look at her. Feeling hurt, she retreated into her seat and folded her arms. Had Skender told him about the Taking? She doubted it, but could think of no other reason for him to be so cold to her. She hadn’t done anything to him. It was the other way around, if anything: it was he, after all, who had considered leaving her behind while he went gallivanting after his family. It served him right, she thought, whatever happened.
The bus bounced and rattled through the streets, adding more smoke to the miasma that already filled the city. Shilly was glad when they arrived. Skender’s father had described the place where the elderly mage awaited them as a communal hall for philosophers and physicians. The Grand Minster, as he called it, looked like nothing so much as a giant, up-turned flowerpot with ornamental spires added as an afterthought. Four wide archways led into the interior, a maze of halls and corridors, many of them open to the “sky” above. The air was thick with incense; brands burned at every corner, barely making up for the smoke they issued by giving a little extra light.
The Mage Erentaite rose to her feet as a hooded guide showed them into the minster’s heart. She wore the same black robes as before, only this time they were trimmed in red, and her eyes were the same unbroken white. Over her patchy scalp she wore a skullcap with the same colouring that somehow managed to make her look even smaller and more frail than before. Her expression was tight-lipped and her blind eyes seemed to see everyone with perfect clarity.
She spoke without welcome or preamble.
“On behalf of the Synod, I witness the request from Sky Warden Shom Behenna to speak before the Judges of the Interior. It is his wish that two children be returned to the Strand, their place of birth, whether it is their wish to be so returned or not. Do I speak correctly?”
“What?” blurted Shilly. “Two—?”
An urgent hiss stopped her in mid-sentence. Radi Mierlo was glaring at her, and she fell into a shocked silence.
“Do I speak correctly?” the elderly mage repeated.
Behenna stepped forward, bowed formally, then answered in a clear voice. “Yes, Stone Mage Jarmila Erentaite. You speak correctly. I appreciate that the matter is a sensitive one. That is why I have taken it through the correct and proper channels. I pursue this request in the hope that it will be heard with all due compassion and impartiality.”
The warden stepped back, and the Mage Erentaite regarded him coldly with her blind stare. “This is more than just a dispute over custody or citizenship. You realise that, don’t you?”
“My only concern is for the wellbeing of the children. I trust that is your concern, too.”
“I have no doubt about my concerns,” she said, and for a moment her cool reserve gave way. Shilly saw impatience pass across the elderly mage’s features, followed almost immediately by weariness. Then the formal mask returned. “Very well. The case will be heard. Present yourself to the appropriate place at the next full moon for the Synod to hear your petitions and for the Judges to determine which has the most merit. Any decision made at that time will be final. Do you agree to this?”
“Yes,” said the warden, but the question was directed to everyone, not just him, and the Mage Erentaite required them all to answer.
“I will abide by the wisdom of the Judges,” said Radi Mierlo with smug certainty.
“This is a waste of time and resources,” said the Mage Van Haasteren irritably. “The children have already been accepted into the Keep—”
“But they haven’t taken their robes yet,” said Behenna, “so no oaths have been sworn in, or to, the Interior.”
“Your opinion is noted, Mage Van Haasteren,” said the Mage Erentaite, her expression clouding again. “Do you agree to abide by the Judges’ decision?”
“I suppose I have no option.” He didn’t look happy about it, though.
“Thank you. What about you, young Skender?”
“Sure.” The boy nodded vigorously. “I’ll agree to anything if it means I get to go to the Nine Stars.”
“And you, Shilly of Gooron?”
Shilly was brought out of her shock by the mention of her name. “Me? I didn’t know I had a choice.”
“We would never deprive you of the freedom to choose to speak to us,” said the elderly mage.
“So they’re not just going to tell us what to do without asking us first?”
“No. They will listen to anyone who agrees to abide by their judgment. Do you agree?”
She wanted to tell the Judges that she didn’t want to go home, that the Keep might not be perfect but it was all she had.
“I have to, I guess.”
The elderly mage nodded. “Sal Hrvati,” she said, last of all. “Is this the name you choose—not Mierlo, Sparre or Graaff?”
Sal stood a little straighter when attention shifted to him, last of all. “Yes.”
“And
how do you decide?”
“First, I want to know something. Will the Judges kick us out even if we don’t want to go?”
“If that is their decision, yes.”
“So you want me to agree to be sent back to the Strand against my wishes.”
“If it comes to that, Sal, yes, in exchange for being allowed to testify on your behalf.”
Sal took a deep breath. “I will never return to the Strand except by my own free will,” he said, “so I can’t accept what you’re asking me to do.”
“Is that your answer? Think very carefully about it. Understand that by refusing to accept the Judges’ decision you also rescind the right to speak in front of them.”
“I understand.” Sal held the steady gaze of the elderly mage without blinking once. “I do not agree to your terms.”
A wave of surprise spread through the guides and attendants in the room. Shilly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her face flushed with a mixture of anger and shame. Why was he being so stupid? Where did he find the courage to stick so stubbornly to his principles? If he was hoping to embarrass the Judges into rejecting Behenna’s case, or banking on his silence to speak more loudly than words, then he was taking an awful chance. If it didn’t work, he would lose his last opportunity to speak out against Behenna, to tell the Judges what had happened to him and his father, and to Lodo. The Mage Van Haasteren might know, and so might she, but it wouldn’t have the same impact as it would coming from his lips.
“So be it,” said the Mage Erentaite. Shilly couldn’t tell what she was thinking, whether she was annoyed by Sal’s reticence or hiding admiration behind her stern mask. “Your refusal is noted. You will, however, be required to attend the hearing anyway. Your presence has been requested by the Synod.”
The Sky Warden and the Sun Page 28