The Fall of Ventaris

by Neil McGarry

  Duchess smiled ruefully, remembering something Minette had said. “I’ve heard that the facets never confuse ‘prophecy’ with ‘charity.’”

  Jadis laughed richly. “Just so, Duchess of the Shallows, and yet I think you may find them more forthcoming than you expect. For I believe you have already met one of their order.”

  “I spoke truly when I told you I thought the woman at the party was a facet, but I don’t know any more than that. I never saw her face.”

  “But she most assuredly saw yours.”

  She considered that. The facets had suggested to Hector the idea of sending her to steal the baron’s dagger, and then helped her escape his manor house. Minette herself, wise in the ways of Rodaas, had remarked upon the cult’s evident willingness to aid Duchess’ cause. And now she knew that the dagger was a holy relic of Mayu...well, that made the attention of the facets even more significant. Perhaps there was something here she could turn to advantage. A thin hope, to be sure, but then it would hardly be the first time she’d acted on a hunch. She gave the keeper a polite nod. “Most go to the Sanctum of Anassa for wisdom, but I see it may also be found within the Gardens of Mayu as well. You have my thanks, First Keeper. I believe I owe you a favor.”

  He tilted his head in a bow. “I’ll remember that. Still, you enter the house of Wisdom better armed than you might have been.” He grinned. “And perhaps that is payment enough.” He led her back towards the Godwalk, and as they approached the arch his coterie reappeared, although she had not seen him summon them.

  “Be careful, child.” he said as she passed through the arch.

  “Careful of what?” She smiled, trying to seem casual. “How dangerous can they be?”

  “Only as dangerous as anyone in this city with wits and a tongue,” he replied, turning and guiding his flock back into his Lady’s green embrace. “Which is to say extremely.”

  * * *

  When she had first come to the Shallows, Noam used to take her and his family to street plays, sometimes even closing the bakery for an hour or so. Noam never closed the bakery, which had signaled just how fond he was of these outings. His wife used to grumble about lost business, and Lani and Jossalyn would complain loudly, but the old baker had paid them no mind. Duchess had loved to watch the plays as well, and those performances were the only time she’d ever felt close to Noam.

  The actors were often the same but the stories varied: a brave hero might beard a dragon in its den, or a clever sorcerer outwit a demon from the deepest hell. In one tale, the main character had been murdered and returned as a vengeful ghost, dressed all in gray and white, and the other actors had all pretended he was invisible. They did not hear his words nor respond to his actions, and although the stage had been crowded it had been as if he stood alone. It had not been her favorite tale, but she had never forgotten it.

  Leaving the Gardens and heading back to the crowded Godswalk, she felt like that actor, wandering in a world that lay parallel to the one in which all others lived. She spoke to no one and no one spoke to her, and she had eyes only for the pale marble steps which led to the Sanctum of Anassa.

  She forced her way through the crowd of petitioners gathered before the steps. Those who sought the grace of the Lady’s wisdom might cry their need for hours, days or weeks. From time to time a facet might emerge from the sanctum to dispense advice to this or that petitioner, but none could predict if or when this would happen. Wisdom, it seemed, was a fickle mistress.

  Bodies pressed in from all sides, but after years of navigating Market Square Duchess was an experienced shover. Her slenderness also served her well, and she slipped from gap to shifting gap, always moving towards the steps. The air was filled with the sounds of shouted pleas:

  “My son is still missing for half a year now! I beg of you to tell me what happened to him!”

  “The men who robbed me! They’ve ruined me! Taken everything! Tell me where the bastards are!”

  “Why such suffering? Why such pain? What have we done to deserve this? Speak your wisdom, goddess! Tell us!”

  She seemed to be the only one with nothing to ask, but of course that was not true. She would never dream of shouting her need, not in public. Even on the Godswalk, ears were everywhere.

  When she reached the head of the throng she saw that the doors to the Sanctum were still attended by facets, dressed as always in blue and white, wearing ivory masks that revealed only one eye. They watched the crowd impassively, identical in form as if they were one person reflected in otherwise invisible mirrors. The petitioners stayed several paces away from the steps, as if to come closer would offend the Lady of Wisdom. Now that Duchess was in place she was uncertain how to proceed. Few were allowed inside — Lady Agalia had been one — and she did not know the protocol for seeking admission.

  But Jadis was right. Like Agalia, she was known here. She stepped forward, into the gap between petitioners and stair. Voices raised in supplication trailed off until all she could hear was the sound of her own footsteps on marble. Behind her, the mob held its collective breath. The facets were ten steps ahead of her. Now eight. What would happen when she reached them? Here was mystery, then, just as Jadis had preached. The uncertainty between one step and another. Five steps more and she would have her answer, but for now both she and the crowd were united in not knowing what would happen next.

  The facets strode silently forward with perfectly matched steps, so smoothly they seemed almost to glide over the marble. The crowd aahed and drew back, but Duchess went on: one step, then another. She stopped as the women flanked her, three on each side, and for a long moment all was silent. Duchess herself hardly dared to breathe. The smooth white masks, each left eye a solid oval, revealed nothing. Then, all at once, each lifted an arm and pointed towards the doors. She felt her left leg lift almost of its own volition, followed by the right, and then she was climbing the steps. The facets turned and followed wordlessly, and she told herself that if the facet she knew as Lady Anasssa had spoken to her at the baron’s party, she would want to speak to her again. She would hear her petition.

  But how to find her?

  The doors swung open noiselessly to admit her, and inside she found four more facets, more reflections of the ones behind her. They stepped forward, each lifting a gentle hand to her face. Remembering Agalia, Duchess closed her eyes and felt a touch, one on each eyelid, gentle as a kiss. When she opened her eyes these facets had formed around her to escort her deeper into the Sanctum. The first six remained outside, and as the doors closed behind her Duchess lost sight of them.

  They followed a wide, white hallway, adorned with gauzy blue hangings and illuminated by torches that somehow burned white, set in sconces of beaten silver that further enhanced the pale light. The white floor was swirled with blue, as if some great hand had somehow stirred the color into the marble. The air was cooler than outside and smelled of salt. Five pairs of footsteps, four perfectly matched and one errant, raised echoes as Duchess and her escort passed arches and doorways here and there, opening on chambers in which Duchess glimpsed other facets, gliding about on whatever business was required of the followers of the Lady of Wisdom. None of them so much as glanced at her as she passed.

  Finally they came to a wide, circular chamber, at least sixty feet across, beneath a great domed ceiling, supported by pillars that seemed too slight to support such weight. The wan afternoon light drifted in through portals cut into the ceiling, making the torches seem even paler. The room was composed of concentric circles of white stone like stairs, broken only by channels of clear water that trickled down to the center of the room, fully twenty feet below the level on which Duchess stood. She could see other entrances along the walls, where other facets occasionally passed, moving with serene grace. As they entered, Duchess saw movement from the far side of the room, and realized the walls were a mirror created from a single curve of glass, impossibly smooth. Here her escort stopped and pointed, all four of them, towards a lone figure seated be
low.

  Duchess descended the stairs, hearing only her own footsteps and the gentle music of trickling water. Looking back, she saw her escort turn and leave the room through the door through which she’d entered. The landing at the bottom of the stairs was circular, perhaps twenty feet across, much of that space taken up by a shallow pool, fed by the water that trickled down from the upper levels. To either side of it were two strange chairs, each shaped like a double U, one facing upwards over one facing down, carved of white wood and attached at their bases. One was occupied by a facet, so Duchess perched awkwardly on the other, feeling as though she might fall over at any moment.

  The facet said nothing, and after a long moment Duchess ventured to speak. “Thank you for meeting with me.” The woman made no reply, but tilted her head at an inquisitive angle. In the mirrored wall another facet followed suit. Unnerved, Duchess nonetheless took the motion for encouragement. “Are you...the same person I spoke with at House Eusbius?” The facet simply looked back with one brown eye and said nothing.

  Very well. “I’ve come to...a friend of mine, a good friend, she...” Duchess cast about, uncertain how to proceed in the face of such total silence. She took a deep breath and started again. “I want a prophecy.”

  The facet seemed to smile beneath her mask. “So you do not wish to receive wisdom, but to use it?” She sounded the same as Lady Anassa, for whatever that was worth. “There is a word for those who try to use the gods for their own ends.”

  “Rodaasi?” Duchess asked, unable to stop herself. The facet, amazingly, laughed like the water bubbling along the channels cut into stone.

  “A close enough name for hubris. If all those who cried for our counsel had such wit, they might find us more willing advisers.” She folded her hands neatly on her lap. “What use do you have for Anassa today?”

  Duchess swallowed. “The friend I mentioned is a weaver, but she cannot practice her trade because the guild will not grant her a license.”

  The facet watched her, unblinking. “And you think to find such a license here?”

  “No. But I think that if Anassa spoke for my friend, the guildmaster — Gloria Tremaine — would listen.” Duchess held her breath. Had she committed blasphemy? It was said that Anassa’s prophecies could be bought for gold, but then again much of what was said up and down the hill was fiction, not fact.

  If the facet was offended she gave no sign. “Tremaine is numbered amongst our followers, yes, but as the gods give, so do they take away. What do you offer in exchange for our Lady’s gift?”

  Duchess shifted on her awkward seat, feeling a bit more comfortable with this turn of conversation. She was an experienced haggler, and if this simply came down to give and take, she’d be fine. “What would Anassa have of me? I don’t have much gold now, but if this friend receives a license, she and I will — ”

  The facet shook her head. “What Our Lady wants shan’t be found in your purse, nor on the looms of your weaver.” She seemed to weigh Duchess with her one-eyed gaze. “When are we most alone?”

  Duchess was taken aback; this question sounded familiar. “Is this some riddle?” When the facet did not answer, Duchess ventured, “When we die, I suppose.”

  “If the keepers speak truly, at that moment Mayu is beside you with her dark lamp, to light the way.” When she saw Duchess had no response, she went on. “Family, friendship, life and love...all these are experienced in another’s gaze. Only truth finds us when we are alone, stripped of friends, lovers, lives and lies. That moment of knowing is when we are most alone.” Duchess had no reply, but the facet did not seem to need one. “When we name a thing we define what it is and what it is not. It is then set apart, and alone. To name a thing is to know it, and to know it is to have power over it.” She leaned forward, sure in the seat of her strange chair.

  Duchess hesitated. “I thought you already knew. Why else admit me to the Sanctum?” The facet said nothing, but her silence was itself a demand. “They call me Duchess. Of the Shallows.”

  The facet shook her head. “They call me many things, as well. They call me Lady. They call me Wisdom. They call me bearer of the shard, and facet, and fool and monster. They call me liar when I will not tell them what they think they wish to hear, and they call me destroyer when they know in their hearts I speak the truth. But none of these are my name.”

  Old terrors rose up inside her, and every lesson Noam had taught clamored for her to refuse, to keep her silence. She was Duchess and had never been anything else. Her throat felt tight and her skin seemed to tingle with strange power. She must never tell, not anyone...

  “Your name.” The facet’s voice was gentle as a whisper and hard as iron.

  Duchess bit her lip. Minette knew her name, and had always known, and now Lysander as well. Her House was gone, and those who remembered its passing had long ago ceased to care. There was no threat, and yet all she could think of was Noam’s training...and Jadis’ warning. She sat in that room of reflection and running water with the unasked and unanswered question like a living thing and the single eye of the facet gave no quarter. She could come up with a lie, but to what end? She sighed. Her request had been made and the price set forth. All that remained was to pay it.

  “My name... is Marina.”

  The facet straightened in her chair, suddenly bereft of all grace, and lifted one hand to her throat, where she plucked at the collar of her robe. Looking up, Duchess saw that the facets passing before the doors to the great chamber had all stopped and were looking directly at her. She felt a chill and wondered if she had somehow offended, and if she would ever leave this place alive.

  “Marina...Kell?” the woman asked.

  Duchess’ stomach fluttered. “Yes.” In the long silence that followed Duchess had the most curious feeling that she was somehow being discussed, and yet the priestesses made no sound. “How did you know?”

  The facet did not reply, and a moment passed in silence, and then another. The only sound was the bubbling of water and the beat of Duchess’ own heart. Then the priestesses at the top of the stairs began to move once more, and the moment passed.

  The facet folded her hands in her lap once more. “You shall have your prophecy,” she said, her voice as gentle and certain as ever. Then she simply stared as if Duchess were a stranger. When it became clear she would say no more, Duchess rose to her feet, backed away across the landing and up the stairs.

  When she reached the top she was met by the same facets who had escorted her, or at least she thought it them. She glanced over her shoulder as they left the great chamber and saw Lady Anassa — if that was who she was — sitting motionless near the pool. Her one eye followed Duchess as she passed from sight.

  They made their slow way back through the Sanctum, but at the doors the facets turned and barred the way. They made no move to restrain her, but stood so that she could not pass. She watched them warily. Perhaps she had seen or heard something that no outsider was allowed to know. When the followers of Anassa died their remains were brought to the Sanctum and never seen again. Was she to suffer the same fate?

  There were footsteps behind her, and she turned to see yet another facet approaching, carrying in her hands a silver platter. Upon it were two tightly rolled scrolls, both tied with blue ribbon and one sealed at both ends with white wax. Her prophecy, she realized.

  The facet held up the platter and said nothing, and when Duchess gathered up the scrolls, she turned and moved off. In a coordinated motion, the four facets stepped aside and pulled open the doors, admitting the late morning sunlight and the shouting of the petitioners on the steps of the Sanctum. The shouting died when the doors opened.

  Silence lay heavily on the Godswalk as, carrying the scrolls, Duchess descended the stairs, watched by a thousand eyes. The crowd parted as she passed, as if she were a ghost from a play whose stage was all the world.

  Chapter Thirteen: A herald of change

  “What a pleasant surprise,” Duchess said, only half m
eaning it. In the week between waking up in Ferroc’s basement and finding his way back to her, Pollux had found new clothes somewhere, and new boots as well. Her florin had probably had something to do with both. She was actually not surprised to see him. One of the nice things about being on the Grey was that when a man unknown in the Shallows asked after your whereabouts, you heard about it long before he actually found you.

  Luckily, the same was true of known men as well, for Antony had also been looking for her that day. Forewarned was forearmed, and she’d had her story ready. “Good news, Antony,” she’d said, all smiles and confidence. “I’ve talked Julius down to eighteen florin, and I think I can get him down a few more before I’m through.” She handed over two florin, gotten from the sale of Darley’s pendant plus a little from her own purse. “I just need a bit more time to wear him down.” Antony had seemed to accept this tale, but there was a hint of suspicion in his manner as he’d backed out her door. Still, he’d gone, although the grim promise of his return hung in her apartments long after.

  She felt slightly safer with Pollux here, no matter how changed his appearance. His long hair had been dyed a rich brown, and with the close shave the keepers had given him, he looked completely unlike the man she’d found in Takkis’ hold.

  She gestured for him to enter and then crossed the room for cups and the flagon of wine she’d purchased yesterday. “Care for a drink?” Pollux nodded and took a seat across from her, with his back to the wall, she noted as she poured. A warrior’s instincts, indeed.

  In all honesty, she was glad of the company. Her time on the Godswalk, within the temples of both Mayu and Anassa, had been unsettling, and it was good to focus on this world rather than the next.

  She sipped carefully, but Pollux did not drink, instead staring into his cup. She waited for him to begin, and he did not disappoint her. “You told me, that night in the cellar, you wouldn’t ask for anything I wasn’t willing to give.” Then he met her gaze, cool and perhaps even a bit contemptuous. “I’m not a redcap or some Wharves thug.”