Chapter Two
“Gannkis tells me you managed to go as far as to The Swarm?” The voice was soft, but it still made Miriam jump. She bolted upright on the cushions and hurriedly set the tea down on the floor beside her as she looked around.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said with a nervous laugh. The fae stood in the archway leading out towards the city, watching her with an unreadable expression.
“May I join you? I would speak with you,” Aervern asked with a strange formality.
Miriam pushed down a shrug. That would have been rude, but then why was Aervern even asking for permission? “Of course,” she managed with a watery smile.
Aervern sat cross-legged at the very edge of the pile of cushions, silent for the moment as if wondering how to begin. “How are you finding my home? Do you have everything your kind requires? I confess I am not overly used to humans.”
“It’s very comfortable…”
“Yet?”
“I’m sorry?” Miriam frowned.
“You had more to say,” Aervern explained. “Do not let some odd sense of propriety still your tongue. It is very comfortable yet…?” she left the question hanging.
“I’m not quite sure what I ought to be doing.” Miriam let out a noise that could have been a nervous laugh had it just a little more courage.
“It is for this reason that I would speak with you.” The fae woman’s eyes held her own. It wasn’t just that she was staring, it was more that she obviously didn’t place any emphasis on it or understand it might be considered rude. The creatures were so very different and it showed in the thousands of tiny little ways far more than it did in the obvious things. “The feast will take place this night and I would have you as my cup-bearer but there is a deeper task I would have you perform.” She cocked her head to one side, as if thinking . “Perhaps it would be simpler for me to show you. Are you able to walk for a time?”
Miriam pulled herself to her feet. “Of course, although I walk a lot slower than I used to.”
“I will be mindful of this,” Aervern nodded.
They left in silence, taking the same winding route Miriam and Gannkis had followed that meandered towards the city centre, but then branching off towards areas that Miriam had never seen before. They passed through a long-neglected park to a series of low bridges that led them over shallow streams and then through a succession of tiny islands, each with its own marble bench or statue. Even these were marred, however, with the broken ruins of other bridges laying in the waters, the thick roots that had once supported them, twisted and wild.
Miriam looked at her often but the fae appeared content to remain silent for now and seemed oblivious to her companion’s curious glances. She gave up. If the woman wanted to walk in silence then so be it. The city was quiet, with only faint strains of music drifting on the light breeze with the faint smell of wood smoke. These fae seemed to have no particular compulsion to live close to each other, or to form neighbourhoods, she noted. Whole districts stood empty between those dwellings that she could see were occupied. The buildings that stood between them were often half-collapsed or fallen from the trees that had once cradled them. Not for the first time Miriam wondered at the place. Half the city seemed to be in ruins yet the fae seemed not to notice as they lived in opulence amongst the rubble.
As they passed over another low bridge the sound of music grew louder. Lights became visible in windows and strung across tree-born platforms. Between one street and the next the feel of the city changed. What had felt like a lifeless ruin suddenly shook itself awake and stirred to life. She glanced at Aervern only to find the fae watching her, gauging her reaction. Within another hundred yards there were fae and satyr everywhere. They wandered the streets in groups of twos and threes, lounging in the gardens as they sipped wine from wooden goblets or listened to the satyr play as fae’reeth circled the musicians in a lazy spiral.
The light from moonorbs spilled out from buildings and the aromas of roasting meat wafted from more than one doorway but without the tell-tale smell of wood smoke. Miriam turned slowly, her eyes tracing the skyline. The chimney pots over the city were scattered but smoke could be seen rising from all areas, all except this district.
“This is the enclave of those come from Tir Rhu’thin,” Aervern said in a low voice. “We will not linger here but will pass through swiftly. I would have the use of your eyes. Pay close attention to what you see. I will wish to speak with you on this.”
Miriam shot her a confused look but the woman was already moving, striding forward towards the light of the moonorbs. She did not slow but rather led Miriam at a pace through the district. In contrast to the rest of Tira Scyon this area fairly buzzed with life. Fae and satyr were everywhere she looked but far more striking were the fae from Tira Scyon. The look of awe stood out all the more strongly on their faces. That most human of expressions looked out of place on the beautiful features of these fae. Like a fire burning on the water, it did not belong.
Aervern ushered her along at a brisk pace, allowing her only the most cursory of glances as they passed through the throng. Often though, one glance was enough as the fae from Tir Rhu’thin astounded a crowd of fae and satyr by infusing long-dead series of glyphs with a trickle of power. Grime encrusted wellpumps hissed to life, throwing steam and muddy water in all directions amid a burst of laughter and delight from the throng. Moonorbs that had been kept only as a curiosity piece, flared to life after centuries lying dark and dormant. All around the fae delighted in this trinket and that as they were infused, and all about Miriam was that same expression, awe and delight. It was like being surrounded by children opening Midwinter’s gifts.
They ventured only the smallest distance into the Tir Rhu’thin enclave, turning the corners so that within five minutes they had stepped back out away from these foreign fae. Foreign fae? Had Tira Scyon become her home? The notion stilled her enough that Aervern shot her a curious look and hurried her along. She slowed her pace as they passed the first of the bridges and turned to her. “Do you understand why I brought you?”
“I don’t, mistress,” Miriam confessed, using the title before she thought and casting a guilty glance at Aervern’s face.
“The day you arrived here in Tira Scyon, when I first saw you chained to the wrist of Ileriel, you did something extraordinary.” Aervern met her eyes as her feet slowed. “When you beheld my mother, Tauntha, tell me, what did you see?”
Miriam froze, the question could mean so many things. “I saw a great beauty, mistress.”
“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” Aervern snapped. “You are not a cup or a knife. You are not my possession, human.” She took a deep breath as she waved away Miriam’s attempts at apology. “That Tauntha is beautiful is without question but that is not all you beheld. Tell me.”
“I… I saw a beautiful fae woman but, that’s not all I saw.” Miriam glanced up and Aervern motioned for her to continue. “As I looked at her, I could see that there was something surrounding her, almost like a mist. It seemed to cling to her, cloaking her like a second skin. It seemed so odd to me and I remember trying to make sense of what I was seeing, and then suddenly I could see through it and see the form that stood within.”
Aervern nodded, her eyes regarding Miriam intently. “Do you know how many fae could have pierced a glamour created by Tauntha?” She shook her head, her long hair floating in a cloud around her for a moment. “Maybe one in ten score, and then only if she was distracted. Tauntha felt you pierce the glamour. She looked at you, if you remember? For a human could do this…” she frowned, losing the thread as she stared at Miriam. “I almost wonder…” she muttered, shaking her head again.
“This is why I brought you with me today,” Aervern began again. “Ileriel’s gift,” she twisted her lips on that last word, “may be far more than she ever imagined. You see what is really there, Miriam. Eyes such as those may prove invaluable.”
“I don’t understand,” Miriam a
dmitted with a shake of the head.
Aervern looked around them suddenly, scanning the empty homes and ruins. “Come, we should not speak of this here and there is much that should be done before the feast.” She moved off, leaving Miriam to struggle behind, fighting to keep up as they headed back to Aervern’s odd home.
“Attend me whilst I change,” she instructed as they entered the house. For all her protests that she would not keep Miriam as a slave she was apparently not opposed to issuing commands. The fae moved swiftly, leading Miriam to her rooms and shedding her clothes with a casual abandon that would have shocked Miriam had she not already spent years with Ileriel. “We were speaking of your piercing of my mother’s glamour, were we not,” she asked over one shoulder as she plucked at the simple garments hanging in front of her.
Miriam nodded but the fae had already turned away. “I value eyes that can see what is truly there before them. The Returned present a challenge to us, one that has already become evident. Did you perceive this when we entered their enclave?”
“There seemed to be a lot of excitement,” Miriam said slowly as her mind raced, replaying the events.
“There is much knowledge that has been lost to us. The working of these glyphs is one of the things my people have forgotten.”
Miriam moved to a simple chair, considering Aervern’s words before she spoke. “Then surely this reunion is a good thing for your people?”
“You think they will give this knowledge freely?” Her laugh was bitter. “No, there will be a price to pay. Every service has its reward and every gift its cost.” She tugged at the shoulder of the diaphanous garment and turned to face Miriam. “Your service this evening will also command its own price. What would you have of me?”
Miriam froze, the thought tearing up from the darkest hidden corner of her mind where she had buried her hopes. Her tongue moved and she spoke without even thinking. “If I am no slave of yours, would you let me return to my world, to my home?”
Aervern smiled then, a small smile touched with regret. “I cannot.” She spoke softly, the denial delivered gently and the disappointment was a knife that thrust slowly through her flesh.
Miriam nodded once, and fell silent as her lips pressed together. Better to be still than to provide the response that this creature had clearly been looking for. She let her mouth twitch in the smallest of wry smiles. To think, she had almost begun to let herself believe that this one might have been different.
Aervern seemed oblivious to the silence and continued to preen herself in front of the looking glass. “You will need to leave shortly. Gannkis will take you to the feast. There will be preparations you can busy yourself with until my arrival.”
Miriam stood, biting down on the tender flesh inside her lip as she gave a stiff bow and left.
Gannkis was easy enough to locate. He grunted his acknowledgement of her as she entered the long low kitchens. The sight of the satyr bustling about the kitchen was almost enough to lift her mood. Almost.
“You are quite correct.” Gannkis replied to her question. The mistress will require you at the feast shortly, and doubtless there will be much that is still to be done. I will escort you now, if you are ready?” Miriam looked down at herself. She was still dressed in the black robe Ileriel had provided for her. Was this fitting for this feast? It wasn’t as if she had anything to change into and, at that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She shrugged. “I'm as ready as I can be.”
Gannkis gave her a look, its meaning lost in his amber eyes. “Shall we depart then?” He led her back out through the courtyard and towards the centre of the city at a brisk pace. Her hips were screaming within the first half a mile but Gannkis either chose to ignore her limping or, perhaps, he simply didn’t care.
She heard the noise of the preparations long before the feast came into sight. The central plaza was filled with a series of long, low tables, surrounding a central portion with other tables set into a horseshoe shape. Bright cushions were strewn about where humans would have put chairs, and the tables themselves were set low to the ground. A huge fire had already burnt down to dull coals in the centre of the horseshoe where whole deer were turning on spits, watched by a handful of satyr. Their expressions were serious, and they were clearly concentrating on the task at hand. Gannkis pointed out the long table set to one side of the plaza, filled with wine and platters of food, and left without a word, a dark look burning in his eyes.
Miriam threaded her way through the throng, ignoring the weight of the stares of the satyr around her. They worked mostly in silence with only the briefest of conversations carrying on around her. She was given no direction, and largely ignored, as she carried empty goblets and plates, setting them in place on the table.
The time passed swiftly, and as the first flutes struck up a tune the mood of the place shifted. What had become a comfortable silence for her, as she worked alone against the background of the murmured conversation of the others, suddenly became taut. A bowstring pulled tight to the lips as it strained for release. She turned, knowing what she would see before she looked. Figures were approaching the edges of the square. She watched as they drew closer, frowning as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
The closest figure seemed wrapped in a thousand cobwebs, and spiders scurried in and out of the web as she walked. Another was wreathed in a storm of fire and frost that spun about him in a tornado that just barely revealed the form standing naked and unconcerned within. Of course, Miriam nodded to herself as it became clear. This banquet could never hope to accommodate all of the fae. Only the highest echelons of fae society could hope for a seat. In her own world the guests would have been dressed in their very finest clothes, gowns that would have bought her father’s inn three times over. What need did the fae have of elaborate gowns and clothing? Instead they wrapped themselves in the most spectacular glamours they could fashion.
A fae with a tattered black cloak sank down into the cushions beside the low table and waved her over to him. It was only as she drew closer that she saw the tortured faces that screamed and writhed in the folds of the cloak. It was as if it were woven from the very fabric of nightmares itself. She fought down a shudder and hurried to fill the goblet he waved at her.
Aervern’s entrance was subtle and Miriam would have missed her had she not been looking in the right direction as she slipped in just ahead of Tauntha and Aelthen. Her glamour was simple. An elegant gown that reached down to brush against the earth. It was the colour of the true-night sky and, as she looked, she realised that no, it wasn’t just the colour of the night sky, it was the sky itself. Dark clouds scudded across it, allowing the stars to shin through for just the barest moment, leaving the beholder to wonder if they’d really seen them at all.
Tauntha was stunning as she rode in beside Aelthen. She wore no glamour save the one she always wove to conceal her real form. Instead, she rode on the back of a massive shade-cat, the largest Miriam had ever seen. The shade-cat seemed docile and utterly under her control. Its green eyes passed over the assembled fae with little interest as it yawned, revealing sabre-like fangs. She drew it to a halt with a word and a hand pressed to its broad neck, and extended her other hand to Aelthen. The horned creature dipped a foreleg in a bow as he took it, assisting her as she slipped off the side of the massive cat. Miriam could see why she had chosen to ride, standing by his side she was dwarfed by Aelthen. He stole the eye and did not share it with the smaller figure.
Tauntha slapped the rump of the shade cat, which came easily to her shoulder, and it darted away in shock, turning to give her a baleful look before running through the streets toward the distant forest.
“An impressive entrance was it not?” Aervern spoke into her ear, her breath hot on Miriam’s neck.
She jumped. “Most impressive,” Miriam replied, her keeping her eyes and voice neutral. Aervern didn’t seem to notice, pressing an ornately carved wooden goblet into Miriam’s hands. She leaned closer, her lip
s hardly seeming to move as she spoke in a whisper. “I regret the way I must act this night, Miriam. Know it is a display for the eyes that watch us. Take note of what you see and hear. I would value your thoughts.”
“I don’t understand, mistress.”
“This is the court, Miriam. The remnants of the greatest of the houses gather here at Tauntha’s call to welcome those who have returned. There are ten times a thousand tales of treachery and deceit I could tell you of the court but know this, they are watching you and I as intently as you watch them. Take note of what you see and hear, wine and pride have loosened many a lip.” She nodded towards the end of one table, to a figure shrouded in mists that seemed to emanate from the horned helmet and heavy plate armour he wore. “This fool here styles himself as the Lord of Mists. Pay special attention to him, feed him wine as often as you are able and have an ear for his conversation.” She turned Miriam, steering her with a hand on her shoulder. “The one dancing with the satyr is Dehr’mione. She is skilled at acting the fool but her mind is as sharp as any here. Be wary of her but she is another I would have you pay attention to. Note what she says if you can. If not, then note who it is she speaks with.”
With that she directed Miriam to the serving tables set to one side. “Your duties are simple enough and will leave you ample time to observe. You are to serve me before any other. You may pour wine and bring food to other fae but only if I have no need of you. Make sure my cup does not run dry and fetch me some meat once Aelthen has begun to eat. As the night goes on spend less time attending me. Your ears will catch little if they are tied to my table.”
Miriam rushed to fill the cup from the pitchers of wine, looking about her as she did. Aelthen’s fae had brought other human attendants with them. She could see the lost hopeless expression that she associated with the press of fae minds. They probably were barely even able to function, lost in the fog that filled their heads. She doubted they would even notice the glamours that surrounded them.
The Riven Wyrde Saga boxed set Page 79