by Tom Lloyd
Natai Escral, the Duchess of Byora, was easy to pick out. She was sitting on a throne, with a child with a piercing stare squeezed in beside her and a well-dressed woman standing on her right.
I thought she didn’t have any children, and her main advisors were men? Our intelligence seems to be out of date, he thought.
Sergeant Kayel took up position to the left of the duchess, next to the child. Both women wore heavy gold jewellery and richly coloured dresses, one green, the other a deep pink. Oddly, the older duchess displayed far more cleavage than her advisor, who wore such a high neck it looked like her chin would be permanently tilted into a haughty poise.
In the shadows at the back of the room was a nursemaid, who stood with hands together and eyes on the ground, presumably there to step in if the child grew fractious. By her stood a functionary of some sort, trying to look impassive and reserved but succeeding only in looking constipated. Amber’s gaze passed over the nurse without recognition, even as Nai beside him yelped as though stung. The Menin officer shot him a look and Nai took the hint.
The weight of their combined gazes was like a hot southern wind on Amber’s face and he cleared his throat nervously, feeling suddenly ill at ease. ‘Duchess, I bring a message from Kastan Styrax, Chosen of Karkarn and Lord of the Menin,’ he said, bowing low.
‘You’re an unusual sort of messenger,’ the haughty advisor commented, inexplicably giving Amber a broad grin. The woman looked genuinely pleased to see him, as though she and Amber were old friends.
‘And you are, Madam?’
‘Lady Kinna,’ she said, scratching at her neck through the material of her dress, ‘Principal of the Closed Council.’
‘What is your message?’ the duchess interrupted softly, her fingers idly tousling the child’s hair.
Amber hesitated before responding; he wasn’t experienced with children but this one’s unblinking stare was beginning to unnerve him. The duchess’s calm detachment didn’t surprise him at all, but weren’t young children supposed to fidget and squirm rather than take an interest in politics?
‘Lord Styrax sends you his greetings,’ Amber said at last, ‘and invites you to join him as his guest tomorrow for lunch in the Library of the Seasons to discuss terms.’
‘Lunch?’ The hint of a smile appeared on the duchess’s lips. Something about the expression transformed her face and Amber realised the duchess’s age had not diminished her sexual allure a jot. Her knowing playfulness immediately brought Horsemistress Kirl to mind. ‘Your lord is sure of himself then.’
Amber coughed and tried not to stare too hard at her. ‘With respect, your Grace, he’s sure of his armies. We took Tor Salan in a day and its defences were greater than yours. The Circle City is divided and weak in comparison, but he does not wish undue bloodshed.’
‘Why come to us for talks?’ Lady Kinna asked. ‘If he has so easily conquered Tor Salan, why bother to speak to us first? Surely if he could so easily prove his power he would have done so already, and imposed his terms afterwards.’
‘Tor Salan wouldn’t have surrendered - the Mosaic Council was too sure of its defences. You have nothing comparable to be overconfident about.’
‘Or he has overextended and hopes to bluff,’ the duchess pointed out.
He inclined his head to accept the possibility. ‘Lord Styrax isn’t a man in the habit of making threats he cannot carry through. If any of the three principal rulers do not attend, he will assume your quarter is hostile to his plans, but my lord hopes you will attend the meeting; it will lose you nothing.’
The duchess leaned forward, her face betraying her curiosity. ‘Does your lord believe we will simply hand over our city to him?’
‘I bring the message, nothing more. I’m empowered only to tell you that Lord Styrax intends you to remain as ruler of your city, with Fortinn under the command of an overseer appointed by him.’
She sat back and thought for a long moment, all the while running her fingers through the child’s curls. The distracted movement did nothing to interrupt the child’s intent stare and it was Amber who felt the urge to squirm.
‘Very well, tell your lord I shall attend.’
Amber bowed. ‘I am instructed to accompany you.’
‘Out of the question,’ she snapped with unexpected anger.
‘As you wish,’ he said bowing again. ‘With your permission I will instead spend the morning praying at the shrine to Kiyer of the Deluge located on the mountain side of this tower.’
His words had the desired effect and the duchess, with a look over to Lady Kinna, shrugged and nodded. She stood, helping the child off the throne too with far more care than was required for a child that age.
‘As you wish; Jato will show you and your servant to a room and see to your needs.’
At the mention of his name the functionary hopped forward, bobbing his head like a starling. Without looking back the duchess headed for the main stairway, leading the strange child by the hand. Lady Kinna followed a few paces behind the pair, but paused long enough to smile at him again and add, ‘Don’t oversleep.’
Amber didn’t move for a moment, trying to fathom whether the woman was insane or he had somehow met her before and forgotten. His train of thought was interrupted as Nai plucked his sleeve urgently.
‘Come on, we need to talk.’
Amber smiled grimly. ‘We really do.’
CHAPTER 29
Waking early, Amber had scrubbed his body over the washbasin and was halfway though dressing when a servant knocked on the door. She was blonde and a bit too curvy for Amber’s tastes, but she didn’t once look him in the eye as she carried in a tray bearing porridge and wide bowls of black tea. The first was too bland, the second too bitter, but the room was a chilly place and he gulped both down eagerly. He was eyeing Nai’s food when the portly necromancer emerged from the sleeping cell opposite his and gave a small cheer at what awaited him.
A tall window at one end of the thin room admitted the only light. The windowless bedroom had been an unnervingly dark place in which to sleep, so Amber, feeling foolish and cowardly, had gone to sleep with the candle stub still lit.
‘Bit too much like prison cells for my liking,’ Nai said in between mouthfuls.
‘At least they let us out this morning.’
The night had been far from restful. Once Nai had warded the room against eavesdroppers they had talked for an hour or more, and Amber’s head had been awhirl by the time he turned in. Nai had recognised the nursemaid at once, even if Amber hadn’t - he could barely believe how much she had changed. But the necromancer had no explanation of how she had ended up in Byora -even Zhia Vukotic had presumed Haipar died in the fighting.
That hadn’t been the only revelation of Nai’s to stun Amber. That Zhia herself had been party to the conversation he’d had with the duchess, courtesy of Lady Kinna’s eyes, had also come as something of a surprise. He didn’t know who the child was, or the big sergeant, Kayel. All Nai could tell was that there was some link between the two of them - it was fading with time, but there was a clear residue of some magic that had been done. Similarly, the information that Legana, the Farlan spy, had killed Mikiss in their rented rooms was given without explanation. Nai had claimed the Lady herself had been present in their rooms, only a few days before she had been killed in the Temple District.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Amber began slowly. ‘This link, it’s fading, right?’ Nai looked up from his bowl of bitter tea and nodded. ‘Can you do anything to increase its strength?’
Nai pursed his lips in thought. ‘Mostly likely it would probably replicate the spell.’
‘Didn’t seem to hurt the first time round,’ he said dismissively, ‘and I reckon this link might come in useful, so I don’t want to lose it.’
‘It’s not going to disappear any time in the next month,’ Nai said with a shake of the head. ‘The spell is ended and there’s nothing draining the energy other than normal attrition.’
&nb
sp; ‘Good, Lord Styrax might be keen to keep track of that sergeant.’
‘Why?’
‘Do you remember when we were taken by Zhia? When that lost lamb of hers, Doranei, came to visit he was looking for someone in particular, someone he was sure had been seen going into that house. I always thought it was just too convenient that we got hit the first night we were there.’
‘You don’t think it was simply mistaken identity?’
‘Who attacks a necromancer without making damn sure there’s a good reason?’
Nai nodded. ‘And if you were leading someone to attack a necromancer - whether to set them against each other or just poke a stick in the hornet’s nest - you’d not rely on a passing similarity, not if you had the skill to make sure.’
‘That King’s Man always gave me a strange look when he thought I wasn’t looking. Never liked to have me behind him. I noticed that. What if that was because of the link? What if he was reminded of Kayel every time he looked at me, and Kayel’s someone he wants to kill?’
‘So who is Kayel?’
‘Haven’t got that far,’ Amber admitted, ‘but according to Doranei, Azaer was behind everything in Scree. Not sure if I believe that, but he did.’
‘Kayel is a disciple of Azaer?’ Nai mused. ‘Lord Styrax would certainly be interested to hear that whatever part the shadow is playing.’
Amber’s face became glum. ‘Let’s hope Kayel don’t find out in time. Gods, I hate having my swords out of reach.’
The journey into the mountain turned out to be encouragingly uneventful. Amber and Nai went directly to Kiyer’s shrine at the back of the Ruby Tower, then had to wait for over an hour before anyone else turned up. The two soldiers posted at their door had followed them, but made no attempt to restrict their movements. Nai was reluctant to enter at first. He told Amber that the shrine had been de-consecrated, that there was no fragment of the spirit of the Goddess residing there any longer. Unsure what to make of the information, Amber had ended up pacing the room and muttering to himself until the duchess and her small entourage arrived.
When she did finally appear, the duchess was resplendent in a riding dress of emerald and cream, and a glowing firegem the size of a quail’s egg was hanging from her neck. Oddly, she wore a dirk at her hip, hanging alongside a green cloth bag of similar length.
‘The guardians of the library demand you hand over your weapons before you enter the grounds,’ she explained, seeing Amber note the weapon. ‘The first time I went unarmed the poor fool looked like a lost puppy when I gave him nothing; it cheers them up to have something to be officious over.’
‘What about my weapons?’ Amber asked as the little boy from the throne room trotted in. He was wearing a miniature guardsman uniform, and much to Amber’s surprise he was gently ushered over to the duchess by the savage-looking Sergeant Kayel.
The duchess pointed to Kayel and Amber saw the man had a long wrapped bundle in one hand. ‘Kayel has them.’
On cue Kayel slung the strap over his shoulder, all the while keeping his sword-hand free and near the grip of his bastard sword. Keeping his eyes on Amber, the sergeant produced a key and locked the shrine door behind them, handing the key to the duchess. Now that Amber was paying attention he saw the sparkle of gems set into the hilt of Kayel’s sword.
He wears that and still they think him a sergeant? What’s wrong with these people?
‘You’re bringing your child? We’ll be walking for miles.’
‘Ruhen comes with me,’ she replied fiercely, bringing the boy close to her side. ‘He is a perfect child, and will not complain.’
Amber didn’t push the matter, a little taken aback by the passion of her reaction. ‘No Lady Kinna?’
Her expression softened as soon as the subject was diverted. ‘Lady Kinna will not be necessary; we keep these trips to a minimum number. Sergeant Kayel will come along to keep an eye on you, and he will carry Ruhen, should he tire. Now, Major, if you please; that stone font should slide towards me quite easily.’
The Menin soldier set to work, noting the grooved track in the floor. He gripped the ornate handles bolted into the font’s sides. The font had a wide basin to catch the water Amber guessed was poured to accompany prayers. In keeping with the theme of lapsed piety, the silver jug he would have expected to see in the shrine had disappeared, doubtlessly stolen once the chapel had been de-consecrated.
The font’s large square base concealed a wrought-iron spiral stair leading down to an unimpressive passageway. As the duchess walked to the top step she produced what looked like a small iron mace from the cloth bag, except bound within the head was a piece of cloudy quartz shaped like an egg. Extending past the egg were two steel prongs that appeared to be a tuning fork - and indeed, now the duchess was tapping the prongs delicately on the wall. As the note rang out the quartz began to cast a bright bluish light over the room. She handed the strange implement to Sergeant Kayel and produced another for herself.
‘Far more practical than pitch-soaked torches,’ she said as she reached the bottom of the steps. ‘Do remember to keep up; you’ll find it terribly dark by yourselves down there.’
Amber didn’t reply. He had a tinder-kit and candles, in addition to Nai’s magery - but there was only one passage leading to the library, so they didn’t have much choice anyway. He quickly caught them up and moved ahead as Kayel stepped to one side and motioned him to pass so he could be watched.
The passage through the mountain, two yards wide and at least seven high at its peak, was so smooth it had to have been magically made. It sloped down for about fifty yards before turning sharply right, heading south-east towards the library, and beginning a long climb upwards. Setting a brisk pace and trying hard not to think about the countless tons of rock above, Amber headed into the darkness.
After an hour the passageway ended in another sharp right turn. Past the corner, Amber found a tall pair of doors secured by a brass latch. Opening them he found an identical pair five yards further on, except the second set didn’t budge when he tried them.
‘They’re barred,’ the duchess told him as Kayel set Ruhen down on the ground and shut the first pair of doors behind them. ‘There is a chain by your servant’s shoulder, pull it and you will signal our presence.’
Amber did as he was told. A bell pealed solemnly from somewhere above the door, and within a minute he heard the clunk of bolts being withdrawn. The door jerked open and light flooded the room. For a moment Amber couldn’t see anything, then he made out an indistinct white shape standing in front of him.
Despite knowing what to expect he still gave a cough of surprise. The Litse white-eye was tall and slender, except for a chest deep enough to rival a Chetse’s, and hair nearly as white as his skin -but that all paled into insignificance when set against the crucial difference between Litse white-eyes and all others: the pair of grey-speckled wings neatly folded on his back.
‘Natai Escral, Duchess of Byora, welcome,’ the man intoned, his expression blank. ‘Please hand me your weapons.’
‘Good morning, Kiallas,’ the duchess replied breezily, unbuckling her dirk, and handing it to him. ‘How fares life in the library?’
Kayel looked less than pleased as he handed over his weapons and the bundle containing Amber’s scimitars, but the only reaction Kiallas gave was to frown when Amber had nothing to hand over.
‘The library endures as it always has,’ Kiallas replied, disinterested. He didn’t look like much of a scholar; his breastplate of shining steel had the rune of Hit, God of the Wind, emblazoned upon it. Intricate scroll-work detailed the edges of his breastplate, his vambraces and greaves, and the latter were topped with a small wing-shape that protected his knees.
A quiver full of javelins hung from his belt, but Amber was more interested in the pole-arm resting comfortably on his shoulder. Not as long as most spears, it had a curved head the length of a short sword; the major, trained to fight with scimitars, could well imagine Kiallas in flight, th
is weapon slashing beneath him.
‘Still as engaging as ever I see,’ the duchess said with forced cheer as she made her way around the white-eye and out into the daylight. ‘This view, however, more than makes up for the lack of conversation.’ She stretched her arms up and took in a deep breath before turning to look for Ruhen. ‘My dear, come and see the Library of the Seasons.’
Amber and Kayel followed the boy out as Kiallas turned to descend the grey stone steps cut into the bedrock that led down to a stretch of meadow and a low-walled garden full of withered brown plants that a wingless boy was hoeing without apparent impact. Beyond that was the first of half-a-dozen enormous white-stone buildings that Amber now saw dotted the whole crater-like opening.
There were vertical cliffs on all sides, hemming in a space Amber guessed to be more than half a mile across - a valley like a dented bowl sheltered by the surrounding cliffs. Looking down on it all was the black dragon-tooth of Blackfang’s single peak, rising from the apex of the valley’s dented wall. He could hear falling water, and he saw the thin blade of a river flash behind the largest of the buildings, a huge six-sided construction with a green-furred copper dome and wings extending from three of the sides like an crippled insect.
None of the buildings were even remotely similar to each other. The nearest to the party was low and wide, with half of the second floor exposed to the elements. Furthest away, stepped levels crept up the cliff-face beside the enormous double-archway that led down into the Ismess quarter of the Circle City. There were dozens of figures in white visible, mostly without wings but all blonde - pure-blood Litse. Amber recalled his briefings; it was usually only the white-eyes who carried weapons, but clearly the presence of Lord Styrax and his attendants had stirred them up, for all the adult males nearby were armed, despite looking somewhat awkward.
‘Remarkable,’ Nai said, moving up beside him. He held his hand out, fingers splayed, and moved it through the air as though dipping his fingers into a stream, ‘Nothing, nothing at all.’