Hesther saw little of it, just as she saw little of sleep, food and thought for anything other than the Ascendants. When she did rest, images of them crowded her mind and she often cried out as loud and frightened as they sounded, lost in whatever battle was taking place inside their bodies.
From the third day of solasrise it had taken them all so quickly. Hesther could not shake the memories. The three boys had sat around Mirron's bed, watching her writhe, wail and moan. All of them had laid hands on her, tried to comfort her, but their words had lacked conviction and Hesther had seen the fear of anticipation on their faces as plainly as if it were being played out now. In their development as Ascendants, what happened to one of them happened to all of them.
So sad. That youthful male excitement and wild imagination about soon being able to take on the form of tree, horse or anything they touched was shattered so quickly. Replaced by a dread knowledge of what was to come.
It was no surprise that Ossacer had succumbed first. Always so sensitive, his understanding of the state of Mirron's body gave his mind the knowledge to move him parallel with her. And with his constitution so poor, their fear for his life was great. Arducius and Gorian supported each other as best they could in the day they were alone together before Arducius collapsed quite suddenly in the colonnaded gardens.
But by the time Gorian fell into unconsciousness, he was no longer scared but angry. He was certain that this was the path to greater power and understanding and he felt helpless because it was something over which he had no control. Kessian had spoken to him at great length but it did little but force him into impenetrable introspection. He was a troubled boy, beginning to believe his ability was about to desert him.
When, three days after Arducius, the pain of his sensations began to overwhelm him, he had smiled and cried in relief.
'But what relief is there now, my nephew?' whispered Hesther, smoothing away the damp hair from his raging brow.
All the Ascendants were in the same room, deep in the villa. Here, their occasional screams would not worry Westfallen's people or alert suspicions in strangers. In the sixteen days since all of them had been like this, fighting with themselves and beyond the help of man and God, there had been no change in their condition.
In the calmer moments of their torment, when their every muscle had not been tensed and their faces contorted and frightening, they could be cleaned and cared for. Water and liquefied foods, vegetables and bread mainly, could be encouraged down by stroking throats. Limbs could be exercised against muscles cramping and withering. Genna Kessian and the surgeons had established strict routines and all of those charged with watching the children knew them minutely.
'Hesther?'
Hesther glanced across at Shela Hasi. Poor Shela, who was sitting in a chair by Arducius's bed. She had driven herself harder than any of them, almost blaming herself for their condition. Their words of comfort did little to appease her guilt.
'Sorry, just talking to Gorian. I wonder if speaking to them helps them.'
'Anything's worth trying,' said Shela.
It was late afternoon and a quiet period for the Ascendants. They had been fed, had their limbs manipulated and had been changed into fresh clothing. Yet even while they weren't moaning or speaking gibberish, their rest was uncomfortable, disturbed and worrying for all who watched them. Genna Kessian and Andreas Koll had withdrawn to try and rest. Meera Naravny and Jen Shalke were due in soon.
It was almost impossible to keep Meera or Gwythen away from their children. Upsetting too for the mothers of Arducius and Ossacer. Ordinary folk touched by lasting ability who trusted their children to the Ascendancy Echelon as all who participated did. The identity of their fathers was, and always would be, kept secret from the children. It was knowledge unsafe for them to know.
Hesther looked back down at Gorian. His head was laid to one side, his mouth was moving and there was a line of drool running on to his pillow. She wondered where he was. Whether he was really in pain or whether his loss was in confusion of the mind and body. An inability to understand and control the sensations that poured through him.
The door to the scented room opened and Kessian walked in. His movement was terribly slow and pained. His face was drawn and white. His eyes were sunken and dark and his frown perpetually deep. The Ascendants were killing him as surely as his long, long years. Willem was with him, another old man looking so much more aged than his years but finding in himself the strength on which Kessian relied to get around when Genna was sleeping.
Hesther's heart went out to him and she rushed across the wooden floor to him.
'Oh, Ardol, you should be resting. Here, lean on me. Willem, get to a chair. You look exhausted.'
'Resting?' Ardol's eyes were damp and his expression desperate. 'How can I do that? How can any of us?'
He moved his hand from Willem to Hesther and let her help him into the room. Its brightly decorated walls depicting animals, flowers and fish still smelled of fresh paint. His sticks rattled on the floor. Hesther tried to direct him to a chair but he resisted.
'Let me look on them all. Let me see if there is any sign.'
Hesther shepherded him along the line of beds. She felt the sag in his body and heard the sigh on his breath. And like every day when he visited, the tears rolled unchecked down his cheeks. It was the worst part of each day for any who walked with him.
Kessian stood on the precipice. Not knowing if he was about to lose all for which he had worked all his life. These four represented his final chance to see a true Ascendant. Those born since were showing no signs of breakthrough. Finally, he let her guide him to a richly upholstered armchair into which he folded with a desperately tired breath.
'You have to believe this is part of their growing. You have to believe this will conclude with true emergence and that everything we have seen before was a mere prelude,' she said, kneeling in front of him and placing her hands on his knees.
Kessian looked at her, imploring. 'When will it end?' he said, all power gone from his voice. 'How can we believe this is right, good and proper? How can God be putting them through this? How can we stand by?'
'We stand by because we can do nothing else. We have entered the unknown and we must have faith. God will not desert us and we, the Echelon, will not desert you. We are all prey to despair but we must not let it consume us.'
Kessian covered her hands. 'Hesther, you are so strong. At least I know I leave the Echelon in the best of hands.' His eyes moved to the beds. 'I so want to see them smile just once more.'
Hesther forced a smile on to her own face. 'You will see so much more than that. Your return to the earth is not quite so imminent and well you know it.'
A knock on the door, quiet and respectful. Shela rose and opened it. There stood Kovan and Netta Vasselis. Son and mother. He was tall and handsome in the image of his father, she graceful and still so beautiful. Both had been of such unwavering support in these awful days. Days in which the Marshal himself had been detained in Cirandon on urgent Conquord business before travelling to Glenhale. They waited on the threshold, carrying fresh flowers from their walled garden.
'Is it convenient to visit?' asked Netta.
'I hardly think the wife and son of our beloved Marshal need permission,' said Hesther, getting to her feet and smoothing her dress.
'You overstate our importance, Hesther,' said Netta, smiling. 'And you know what I mean.'
'Come in,' said Hesther. 'You know you're always welcome.'
Netta walked to the nearest bed to stand by Shela, who was once again with Arducius. Kovan ignored all the boys, walking the length of the room to where Mirron lay, currently very still. He grabbed yesterday's flowers from the vase and thrust the new ones in rather crudely. He sat on the wooden chair at the head of her bed and laid the discarded blooms on the floor.
'No change?' he asked, picking up one of her hands and stroking
it.
Hesther shook her head. 'No, Kovan, I'm a
fraid not. But I'm sure somewhere inside, she's the better for you being with her.'
Kovan blushed and smiled. Netta walked over to Hesther.
'You should let me take my turn here,' she said quietly. 'You all look so tired.'
'We couldn't possibly,' said Kessian, not rising from his chair. 'The Echelon must deal with this, though where we'd be without your support, I don't know.'
'I do understand,' said Netta. 'But if you change your mind . . .'
'You'll be the first to hear,' said Hesther. 'But we pray every day that this nightmare will end.'
'We are at the House of Masks each dawn and dusk doing the same.'
'And that is where your presence is most valuable,' said Kessian. 'The fact you are here and public in your support keeps our people with us.'
'I'm sorry I brought this on you.' It was Kovan's voice carrying across the room in the hush.
'Don't blame yourself,' said Kessian. 'We've been through this, Kovan. This isn't your fault.'
'I've been thinking,' said Kovan. 'If I hadn't done what I did in the orchard, perhaps she could have learned a little more and dealt with it better. I feel like I triggered the change.'
'Change?' asked Kessian. 'You think it so, do you?'
'What else can it be?' He shrugged. 'If it were not, then we should all be scared for their lives, shouldn't we? Rather than waiting for them to awaken.'
Kessian chuckled. It was a sound that filled Hesther with warmth and hope.
'Your uncluttered vision is a blessing, young man,' said Kessian. 'And be assured you didn't trigger this. It was surely a coincidence, something to do with their age and the stage of their development we had reached. After all, if you did trigger it as you imagine, then why are the other three not still standing, eh?'
'We know so little,' said Hesther. 'For all Gorian wrote, he didn't see this in any of his subjects, nor in himself. This is uncharted in all our existence.'
Kovan looked over at them dubiously. ‘I don't know. Coincidence, accident or destiny. The distinction is slight.'
Hesther turned to Netta and whispered. 'He's a deep thinker, isn't he?'
'He has a sharp mind, if a little frivolous yet,' said Netta, pride shining from her.
'He will make a fine Marshal, when he is called,' said Kessian.
They fell silent for a while, all watching Kovan speaking quieter words to Mirron and cooling her forehead with a dampened scented cloth.
'You know he paces the gardens just waiting until he can come here again,' said Netta eventually.
'Does he know he can never be a father to her children?' Kessian's voice was barely audible.
Netta shook her head. 'We've spoken to him but he's seventeen, Ardol. What does he care for the demands of the Ascendancy? He thinks he can change anything and everything that he wants. But he'll understand as he grows up.'
'Poor lad,' said Hesther. 'Forbidden love.'
'Don't worry about him,' said Netta. 'He doesn't see it that way. And when his infatuation wanes, she'll be left with the closest of friends and he with an understanding of the Ascendancy better than any outside of Westfallen. It may prove invaluable in future years.'
Hesther watched him. His face was full of his adolescent passion for Mirron. She couldn't agree with Netta, not with her assumptions of the future anyway. This didn't look like a love that would fade easily. It was a while before she realised what she was seeing. Kovan was speaking quietly to Mirron, his face close to hers and both his hands covering one of hers. Mirron's free arm rose sleepily from her side and her hand stroked his face. He gasped a laugh.
'What are you doing here?' she asked, voice clear and even.
'Hello, beautiful,' he said.
Hesther and Shela were both running to Mirron's bedside. Netta had stayed to help Kessian up and he was shouting hoarsely for someone to get Gwythen. Mirron looked completely bemused. She had stayed staring at Kovan, whose smile would have lit up the darkest night, but she focused on Hesther now. A frown creased her face.
Hesther looked down at her. 'Your eyes,' she said, unable to help herself. 'They're beautiful.'
And they were. They seemed to shine and they modulated through every colour of the rainbow. It was quite extraordinary.
'What's going on?' asked Mirron.
She looked about her now, tensing when she realised she was not in her own room and seeing the three boys to her right.
'Do you remember what happened when you were awake last?' asked Kessian, coming to the foot of the bed.
'I— What are we all doing here? What's wrong with them?'
'In a moment,' said Hesther. 'Answer the Father.'
'I couldn't make it stop,' said Mirron. 'It wouldn't go away and it washed over me. You were there, you must have seen.'
'We did,' said Kessian. 'And do you recall anything of what you have been through since then?'
Mirron giggled. 'I've only been asleep. And I feel fine now.'
'It's been much more than that.' Kessian's tone stifled her laughter. 'You lost consciousness on the third. It's now the twentieth.'
Her jaw dropped and after a moment she mouthed the phrase, 'Seventeen days?' Kessian nodded.
'And your brothers are still suffering. Did you suffer, Mirron? What do you remember?'
Mirron looked again at the other Ascendants. She shook her head. 'All I did was learn how to make it stop. No. I don't mean that. It never stops. I mean, learn how to bring it under control, like the fire and the rain I already can. But it seemed like a short time. Seventeen days? And what about my eyes?'
'We'll show you a mirror in a moment,' said Kessian. 'Tell me how you feel now?'
Mirron paused and thought. A warm yellow chased across her irises before settling to a gentle, pulsing blue. 'I can feel it all, like warmth here.' She touched her stomach. 'And here.' She touched her head. And then she moved her hand from Kovan's and held them both up, wiggling her fingers. She stared squarely at Kessian. 'And I can hold it all here. All of it.'
Chapter 35
848th cycle of God, 20th day of Solasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy
The first of Yuran's hastily assembled citizen militia had already left Haroq City with the brief to defend their own lands. They had armour and weaponry supplied free by the Haroq City armoury. The money in their purses had been taken from the levy chests. The Marshal was delighted with the immediacy of the results. It was a risk, he knew but the easing of the tension in the city had been reason enough.
He had given back the defence of his country to its people despite the weight of manpower under the Conquord banner in Tsard. And while his militia didn't have the newest armour or the keenest blades, what they did have was a renewed belief in their Marshal. And because Yuran had sent each unit out with well-trained guardsmen, they felt they had the means to make a difference.
The riots and demonstrations had quickly subsided and Haroq had returned to a calmer state. Now would be the testing time. He awaited militia reports on how deeply the Tsardon raiders had penetrated and in what numbers. He needed them to encourage the people back to their homes to harvest the crops before dusas froze the ground once more. He needed them to see wider civil disobedience subside.
Yuran was enjoying a late supper with Megan. He had broken the seal on some fine wines and ordered his cooks to make classic Atreskan and Tsardon delicacies. The windows of the grand vaulted dining hall were all thrown open on the night and Yuran was enjoying the air free of the sounds of dissension and violence.
Try as he might when the Estoreans came to visit, he could not get on with eating in the reclined position, so he faced Megan across a
proper table with high-backed straight chairs. Candelabra burned aside the night and servants stood at the tapestry-hung walls awaiting his signal. It was the Atreskan way. Throat-of-the-goat, it was practically everyone's way, barring the Estoreans and the puppet Caraducians, wasn't it? 'Marshal?'
'Sorry, Megan, I was miles away.' 'You were shaking your
head. Is something wrong?' 'No. No, of course not,' said Yuran. 'How could there be anything wrong?'
Megan wasn't just bright, inventive and intelligent. She hadn't merely saved his city and maybe his whole country from the price of continued civil war. She was also quite, quite lovely. Perhaps it was the wine clouding his vision but this adviser seemed genuinely happy in his presence. Not nervous or awed. And she hadn't reacted with anxiety when he had requested she join him. More like she expected and looked forward to it. Perhaps it had been part of her plan all along.
Yuran would be happy if that proved to be the case. He raised his goblet and sipped again.
'How are you finding the goat's heart flambe?'
'Interesting,' she replied. 'Not what I'm used to, my Lord.'
'Please,' he said. 'This is an informal supper. My name is Thomal.'
Megan blushed and nodded. 'Thank you,' she said.
'It is the least I can do for the saviour of my nation.'
'Oh, I think you're going a little far,' she said. 'Perhaps just the city for now.'
Yuran roared with laughter and Megan joined him. He wagged a finger at her. 'That is what I always saw in you. You are honest and you are unafraid.'
'I am a proud Atreskan, my L— Thomal. Anything that keeps our country safe, I will do.'
'Then perhaps I should send you to speak for me at the Advocacy. Perhaps the Del Aglios woman would listen to you more seriously than she does me.' He realised halfway through that he was serious.
'If you wish it,' said Megan.
'Though I would not wish you to be far from me for too long,' he said, almost whispering.
Megan's head dropped and he was speared with regret.
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