“What are you doing?” asked Aylin.
“Going inside.”
“What? No!”
“Why else did we come here?”
“To look at Kionar.”
“Yes, from the inside.”
Aylin took a step back. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“We are already here,” said Kaia, lightly placing her foot on the bridge. It held. Noting that a few chunks of masonry had fallen away from the structure, Kaia kept from placing all of her weight on it at once. She slowly dragged her other foot onto the bridge. Still, it held. Kaia hopped in place. The bridge did not crumble, and so, she proceeded.
“Come back. There are wooden stakes in the water,” observed Aylin, when Kaia was nearly halfway across.
Kaia pulled on the handle of the castle’s front door. She smiled encouragingly at the Speaker before entering.
Inside, there were spots where it grew dark. Kaia reached into her bag and removed a tinlisit from its case. The tiny room lit up instantly. Kaia stayed to her left. There were two openings in the wall. The first one lined up perfectly with another on the opposite wall, leading Kaia to conclude that it led to the watchtower. The second one led to what must have been Kionar’s great hall. Festive banners were strung up; they were either relics of a celebration long since ended or decorations in preparation for one that never was. Kaia listened closely, trying to hear the distant merriment of the Marians. What an entertainment center the hall must have been—the games, the music, the dancing, the performances.
Moving past the trestle tables and benches, Kaia arrived at the dais. A table headed by two chairs was set atop it. Kaia stood behind it and watched as the hall came to life. Clapping her hands, she ordered that the tables be taken apart to make room for the night’s pleasures. Careful with the walls. They’ve just been wainscoted—the lower half, that is, said the hosts. Yes, my lords, their guests answered. The servants scurried, removing the cups, utensils, bowls of water, and all else that remained on the tables; they retreated into the kitchen with their load. A man approached the dais. My lords, Mr. Pupayers is here, he said. Show him in, returned the lord. Five human-sized puppets, tailed by Mr. Pupayers, entered the hall. Gasps and excited squeals came forth. The figures were made to sit, and Mr. Pupayers approached the lord and lady. It was to be a spirited night!
Kaia jumped in fear. Only a rat, she realized. When she looked out into the room, the warmth had left it; it was no longer alive. Sadness penetrated her being, filling her with despair. If the sacred temple of jubilation could know no happiness, what hope was there? She would not try to revive the festivities.
Kaia made her way back to the receiving room and crossed its length. A narrow, spiral staircase was hidden in an opening adjacent to the watchtower’s entrance. Kaia stuck her head inside and looked up. Her view was limited by the configuration of the steps. She had not been in the great hall for very long. She had time, or so she told herself.
Upon climbing up to the second level, Kaia arrived at a passageway that had several doors. Each gave way to a drab, stuffy bedchamber—none as lavish as Enbeck’s. The uninspiring, uninteresting quarters were furnished with only the bare minimum—two pieces of furniture at the most. They had nothing to offer, no relics to admire.
Is not the best room always the most difficult to reach? Kaia spun around and scampered up the stairs. She recalled how tall Kionar had looked from the outside. It was to be a long way up. Kaia looked down as she climbed, focusing on her feet and paying no mind to the levels she passed. She was interrupted, however, when she had to slow down around the fifth floor, and altogether stop at the sixth, to catch her breath; her lungs burned! The fifth and sixth landings—and the hallways onto which they opened—were identical to the second, so she continued.
Triumph! When the stairs went no further, Kaia lifted her gaze. The ninth level had a single, splintered door which was scarred by a deep, diagonal crack. Kaia adjusted her grip on the tinlisit. She pushed softly on the door.
The destruction was widespread. The room’s bed was angled on account of a missing leg, there were scratch marks on the walls, and there was a hole in the floor—not a large one, but a hole nonetheless. Kaia’s first thought was that an intruding beast had caused the damage before her, yet it seemed unlikely that any creature would bypass the rooms on the lower levels and specifically seek out the one most difficult to access.
There were chests throughout the room. Some looked as though they’d been crushed, indenting near the center. Others remained unscathed. Kaia opened one belonging to the latter group and pulled out a blue dress with green and yellow accents. Beneath it was a white one with blue and grey embroidery, and underneath that one there were still more. These could fit Taria, thought Kaia, holding one up. Perchance this was Tulip’s room.
Closing the chest, Kaia turned her attention to the smiling dolls that were strewn on the floor. As she bent to pick one up, she noticed that there was something poking out from underneath the bed. It was a piece of parchment. Writing was scribbled on one of its sides. The letter was undated, but it was signed—by Tulip Filira!
***
I am afraid. King Phillip and Queen Elinor said that the flower on my back would disappear. It hasn’t. More have begun to sprout. I noticed this morning. I cried so hard and for so long that Falia was ordered to take down the mirror in my room. I can no longer look at myself. That is of little comfort. I have already seen. The images remain. They will not easily be forgotten. I don’t think that even if I tried my very hardest I could forget.
The body I live in is not the one I was born into. My tongue is forked, and my hair doesn’t behave like hair. Strangely, I can control it like I do my arms and legs, it has grown so long that it touches the floor, it has turned as green as the grass, and it has become so thick that I can no longer brush it. I am terrified. Am I turning into one of the monsters? I am certainly treated like one, chained as I am. I think I know why this is happening to me. I want to fix what I’ve done, but the king and queen don’t let me leave my bedroom anymore. They say that I am too ill. They try to trick me. I know that I am not ill! I hope that if I write everything down and confess what I’ve done this way, all will stop changing and I won’t completely become a monster.
Though I am an orphan, my parents didn’t die at the hands of the Tivmicans like everyone thinks they did. I am not a survivor of the fighting that went on between the Marians and the Tivmicans, either. I wasn’t there when it happened. That’s the truth. I was told to lie by the king and queen. They wanted me to tell everyone that the Tivmicans attacked the Marians, so I did. I don’t know if it’s true, though. I try not to be angry at them because I know that they were only scared. A lot of people were talking about getting rid of them and not having any more kings or queens. I didn’t see any harm in lying because King Phillip and Queen Elinor told me that I would be helping to bring back peace. They promised that if I did everything right, I was to live like a princess and be allowed to wear proper dresses and live in a castle. I didn’t want to live like a filthy rat anymore, pitied by all and helped by none. That’s why I did what I did.
I regret running into Falia that night. I wish she hadn’t taken me to King Phillip and Queen Elinor. Now the four of us live as do prisoners in this castle, separated from the world. The king, the queen, and Falia are changing, too—just like me. I fear that, soon, no humans shall live in this castle. I hope that this works. Please, please, please let this work. I don’t want to not be human!
- Tulip Filira
Kaia’s legs could not move fast enough. She felt an urgency to get outside, to get to Aylin. She needed to tell someone. Others had to know. The descent was significantly easier than was the ascent. She did not grow tired, nor did she run out of breath.
“What happened?” asked a worried Aylin, as Kaia shot out of Kionar.
“Tulip Filira! She lied.”
“What?”
“She was never at Tivmica. Look,” said Kai
a, handing Aylin the parchment.
Aylin skimmed the letter. “No,” she breathed. “Do you think that King Sol knows?”
“I don’t know.”
“What should we do?”
“If he doesn’t know, and we show him what we found…”
“He needs to focus on Tivmica,” concurred Aylin. “That remains unaltered by this,” she said, as she held up the letter.
“This can’t remain hidden, though.”
“And it won’t. We will only wait until after they finish with the planned repairs.”
Aylin paused to slowly reread the letter.
“Although,” said Kaia, “if he already knows and has been keeping it a secret, maybe he shouldn’t know that we know of his family’s unsavory past.”
“There’s nothing that he can do against us without injuring himself.”
“He could have us imprisoned.”
“For?”
“Subversion.”
“We aren’t trying to ruin anyone.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time that he misread a situation. Maybe we don’t have to be the ones to give him the letter,” said Kaia, looking at Insee.
“There wouldn’t be anyone to ensure him of its authenticity.”
“This doesn’t really change much does it?”
“What?”
“As far as what we know about what happened between the Marians and the Tivmicans.”
“It does change things.”
“No. Instead of it being indisputable that the Tivmicans attacked the Marians, it is now a possibility. This letter,” said Kaia, snatching it from Aylin, “reveals more about the royal family than anything else. King Phillip and Queen Elinor were never attacked by turned ones. They faked their deaths and fled here when they realized that they were affected.”
“Don’t diminish its importance.”
“That’s not my aim.”
“I don’t understand. A few seconds ago, you seemed—do you fear King Sol?”
“No! I only question the letter’s relevance. If upheaval will come, I do not want it to be in vain—over nothing.”
“It may not answer many questions, but it is relevant. Anything having to do with the massacre is relevant.”
“We should start going,” said Kaia, leaving Aylin for her mare.
Aylin mounted her star-faced stallion and brought him to a halt beside Kaia. “I could carry the letter,” she offered.
“You don’t trust me. What, do you fear that I will destroy it? Make it disappear?”
“Let me lighten your load. When the time comes, I can be the one to show it to King Sol.”
“If what you want is to lighten my load, take some of these sacks. A single piece of parchment does not weigh down on me unbearably. Lead the way.”
When they started moving, Kaia removed the parchment from her bag and pushed it up her sleeve. She resolved to tie something around her wrist—to secure the letter—as soon as there was some distance between herself and the Speaker.
Chapter Eighteen
Tivmica
“Our kindred robbed the Tivmicans,” said King Sol, “taking from them a right innate in all, a right that none in Acu has the authority to reclaim—the right to exist. Let us return as much as possible of that which was stolen. Let us restore Tivmica, so that its people may have an eternal presence in Acu. Let us declare this land a protected space belonging forever to the Tivmicans; none shall ever be allowed to settle here. That, although insultingly insufficient, is the only way that we can ensure that they continue to live. That is how we will give them life anew.”
The procession members cheered.
“Secure the perimeter,” said King Sol. The roaring of the Marians drowned out his voice.
With a nod, Aylin gave Warrin a tinlisit and rode off with Kaia. King Sol resumed his address to the crowd as the pair moved away. Gradually, his voice grew fainter. Kaia heard him explain to the gathering that they would start at the front and work their way towards the back, and then she heard no more. He was referring to the red-leaved blackwoods; they were all to be felled.
The red-leaved blackwoods—or, rather, their dead and leafless, scorched remains—were an impressive sight. They were so tall that they seemed to get lost in the clouds. Their trunks had a diameter of twenty-five to thirty feet and were oddities in that they naturally cleaved at the base, forming a vast hollow; it was in there that the Tivmicans had lived. Over a thousand trees stood within the area that was Tivmica. Felling them was to take a while, especially since Aylin’s involvement in the enterprise was virtually nonexistent. Only in the event of an emergency was she to intervene. As a matter of fact, not even food was she to provide. Three neighboring towns had assumed that responsibility; whilst the expedition had been travelling to Tivmica, meals had been supplied by whichever town they were nearest to. When someone else pays your debts, what lesson is learned? Where is the incentive to change one’s ways?
Kaia and Aylin moved quickly, dropping a tinlisit onto the barren ground every two hundred or so feet. It was the first time that they had been alone together since their trip to Kionar—after which they had largely avoided speaking to one another. Kaia had compensated for her silence by making sure that she was always physically close to Aylin; she was convinced that that was the only way her quietness would go unnoticed and no questions would be raised. Aylin seemed to be of the same mentality. Wherever Kaia went, she went; they ate together, slept together, and rode side by side during the day. Unless the Speaker followed for other reasons…
“I do trust you,” said Aylin.
“Hmm?”
“The other day you said that I don’t. I do.”
Kaia hesitated to respond. She touched the band around her wrist. It was still there. She knew not if Aylin was being truthful, but then she remembered where she was. “We will show it to him.”
Aylin’s eyes grew warm. Her entire face lit up.
Eying the wall of white to her left, Kaia reached into one of the sacks of tinlisits. Just beyond the barrier was Greyland. Kaia thought of walking into the fog. What would happen? Would she be knocked down, as happens when one tries to travel through a solid wall, or would she simply find her legs moving without making any progress?
“I lost count,” said Kaia. “Was that the eighteenth or nineteenth?”
“The nineteenth.”
“Will we have enough?”
“I think so.”
As the wind blew, a cracking sound was heard. Aylin slowed her horse. When Kaia did the same, Insee flew down and landed on the black mare’s hind quarters.
“Let’s walk them,” said Aylin. “Keep an eye turned upwards.”
“I’ll wager that the fire that charred this land wasn’t an accident.”
“I won’t be wagering against you.” Aylin put her palm to one of the trees. “I wonder when it happened. The trunks aren’t warm, so not too recently. Yet, maybe I’m wrong; the smell is strong.”
“It can’t easily be gotten rid of. When I was younger, a neighbor’s house caught fire. Their daughter, Ihray, was a friend of my younger sister’s. Don’t worry. Everyone was fine; no one was hurt. It was a small fire. Well, not small—confined. Apparently, a lantern fell over and some bed sheets caught its spark. The reason I mention it is because, till this day, Ihray complains that the smell of smoke refuses to separate itself from her toys.”
“Hmm.”
Kaia dropped another tinlisit. “How long do you think it will take? The reparations.”
“It will require the better part of one day to fell a single tree. Once it is on the ground, it’ll have to be cut into pieces small enough for transport; that will undoubtedly require, at minimum, another day. Given the size of the group that has assembled, and assuming that they average a couple of trees a day, the land should be cleared in about…a year and a half. Then comes the wall. I don’t know how tall they plan on making it. At the shortest, I imagine that it’ll be waist-high. A wall of suc
h proportions surrounding all of Tivmica…that should take…I haven’t a clue how long. There’s more to their plans. Perhaps two years for everything to be completed.”
“Are you tempted?”
“To?”
“Utter it all done.”
Aylin smiled. “Was that two?”
“No. I threw only one. It probably struck those logs.” Kaia dismounted and reached into a pile of rotting wood. Her fingers brushed up against something. It was too long to be a tinlisit. Nonetheless, she grabbed it and withdrew her arm. As soon as she identified the object in her hands, she dropped it and stumbled backwards. Could it be? Bringing her legs back under her, she picked up the dirtied thing, holding it up for Aylin to see.
Kaia strained her vision. Was that another one? She walked deeper into Tivmica. Aylin called her name, warning her not to venture too far. She wouldn’t need to. She had reached it. Kaia took up a small skull and turned towards Aylin.
“They are unburied,” said Kaia.
From where she was planted, the Speaker, with both sets of reins in her grasp, surveyed the land.
Kaia wanted to scour the area for more, to collect and cover up the cold bones. It was not her place, though. The Marians would have to decide. Still, if they did nothing, she would. One task at a time, Kaia reminded herself. She put down the skull and retook her place atop her mare.
The two young ladies rode without addressing one another—Aylin out of respect for the dead and Kaia because her thoughts demanded her attention. When the two reached the point where there were no more of the giant trees, they knew that they were back in Mar. Turning to their right, they readied themselves to secure Tivmica’s rear. Now it was Aylin who was closer to the perimeter line. She opened up one of her bags, rummaged inside, and let a tinlisit fall to the ground.
“I don’t think that this is the back of Tivmica,” said Kaia, motioning to her left.
In the distance, about five hundred feet away from the perimeter line, was a cluster of trees with leaves as red as blood and trunks as black as oblivion.
Capering on Glass Bridges (The Hawk of Stone Duology, Book 1) Page 17