by Tanith Lee
I made the wrong decision, it goes without saying.
Leaping from the bed I sprang doorwards, caught my foot in my nightgown and plunged head-first among the orchids. There was quite a row as vases spun in every direction – nothing breaking, only going bang-boingg as they rolled into other things. Since I was now lying on the carpet, the light again went out.
The thick rug, and even the orchids, had broken my fall, and I didn’t have time to worry about a new bruise-collection, because right then I heard the window swing wide.
I vaulted up and around – the light exploded back on – and I screamed at the top of my voice.
The thing in the window, now stepping through into my room, held up a shapeless wodge that might once have been a hand. Out of the shapeless bulb of head, a voice said sorrowfully, ‘Please shut up.’
I started a second scream – which stopped in a croak.
‘Yes,’ said the sorrowful ghost-monster. ‘Thank you.’
‘…Jelly?’
He sighed.
My eyes were better used to the light now, and I could finally see that what was there was not a demon or ghost, but a tall man, his hands and face wrapped in bandages, leaving just slits for eyes and mouth—
‘Jelly – what did they do to you—’
‘Never mind,’ he said, quite crisply now.
‘They said they missed with the guns—’
‘Yes, they can’t shoot,’ he said. Smug?
Right then, perfect timing, someone thundered on my door.
‘Jelly – hide – get under the bed. I’ll get rid of them.’
As he crawled from view I lugged the covers across, then pelted to the door, trying to find excuses as I went for the din I’d made – sleepwalking? A very bad dream—
Outside stood two ladies in beribboned wrappers and hair-curlers.
‘This is too much,’ said one.
‘Far too much. Even if you are who you are.’
‘Who am I?’ I blurted.
They blew down their noses like annoyed horses going ptusk!
‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’
‘You had a tantrum earlier,’ they said, more or less as one. ‘Throwing things and screaming. We guest-prisoners do get upset. We understand. And that one was before dinner. But now it’s long after midnight.’
‘Yes, I see. I should have thought. No tantrums after midnight.’
‘Do your screaming by day,’ said the more curled lady. ‘Perhaps you’d care to join us when we do it. Poppy,’ she nudged the other lady, ‘has even found some breakable plates. And she’s an excellent screamer. My knack is tearing pillows with my teeth.’
‘Oh – excellent.’
They were chummy now, smiling at the thought of the jolly plate-throwing, pillow-ripping Tantrum Party we were going to have.
‘Nighty-night!’
We waved good-bye around the door. I shut it and went back to Jelly.
As he crawled out, I felt new alarm at his bandages.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Obviously not. However, let’s get on.’
I sat down, and he sat down on the next chair. He handed me several folded papers.
‘What is this?’
‘A letter.’
Well, I could see that really. It was even sealed. White wax, with the shape of a bird in it.
‘Who is it from?’
‘Suddenly you can’t read?’
‘I can read. My own language, anyway.’
‘Then read it. It’s in your – this – language.’
‘Whose seal is it in the wax? A bird – a raven?’
‘Vulture.’
Still I sat there.
Jelly said, sounding grumpy, ‘Before she married Khiur of the Wolf Tower, she was from the Vulture Tower. Ironel.’
Somehow I often forget about the Vulture Tower.
Trying to forget about Ironel, perhaps.
He has brought me a long, long letter from Ironel. Venn’s grandmother, and Nemian’s. (Argul’s, too.)
The woman who was Wolf’s Paw, giver of the Law.
‘You’re sure this is for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it poisoned?’
‘I hope not. It’s been in my pocket for months.’
‘What does it say?’
‘Claidi –’ Exasperated, he had called me by the only name I think of as mine.
It made me act. I tore the letter open.
It’s very long. I read it all, somehow, in silence. Then again.
After that I got up and walked up and down.
Then, I read the letter again.
He remarked, ‘The more you read it, the more it will say the same things.’
‘Why didn’t you give me this before?’ I said.
He didn’t say, I’ve been trying to for the past hour.
‘The time was never right. You were often spied on.’
‘Now it is?’
‘Now it’s the only time left I can.’
‘You know what it says?’
‘Maybe.’
‘How dare you know! Did she tell you – did you read it —’ I was being very unreasonable. ‘I’m being unreasonable. Would you like something? A cup of tea – food—’
‘Eating through this bandage will be rather messy, don’t you think.’
He wasn’t talking to me as he had. Probably we’ve got past all that. I’m past everything now.
I read the letter again.
My dear Claidissa, it began, I hope this finds you well—
Of all the—
I mean.
Rather than copy it all out here, I’ll just put down the ‘facts’ (?) as Ironel gives them to me, all in her handwriting, formal yet as curly as the hair of Poppy and her friend. And also decorated in phrases such as, ‘Your time among us, which was of such flower-like interest to us both.’
Flower-like interest – I’d been tricked, lied to, imprisoned.
Like now.
The Wolf Tower had made me follow Nemian to their Tower. The Raven Tower has made me follow Argul – who wasn’t Argul, but a doll – to theirs.
What Ironel says is this:
First she reminds me of her family tree, her marriage and the results, which are here as I copied them into my other book, but with the other information I’ve gained since.
Basically Ironel had two daughters.
One (Alabaster) married a prince of the Wolf Tower and had a son, who was Nemian.
Ironel’s other daughter was of course Ustareth. Ustareth was married to a prince of the Vulture Tower. He had that foul name, Narsident. Their son is Venn – that is, Prince Venarion, born at the Rise.
After Ustareth left the Rise – and Venn – she called herself Zeera, met Argul’s father – and their son of course is Argul.
Ironel tells me all this, including about Argul. So she knows Argul is her grandson too!
‘He helped you to leave the City and the Wolf Tower,’ she says. ‘A valiant and practical young man. As I would expect, seeing he is my daughter’s other son.’ Typical. Even Argul is only any good because he is related to her.
But then comes the rest.
According to Ironel, she is not the one who sent the balloons after me, to capture me and take me back to the City for punishment. (She just vaguely says that others in the Wolf Tower, more Lawfully minded and unkind than she, wanted that.) Ironel says that, when she found out what was planned she hired Hrald and Yazkool, paid them to re-abduct me. Then whisk me over to the Rise and to Venn, where I’d be safe.
Can this be true?
She did it – to protect me? Why? Oh, she gives a reason. I am, she says, Twilight’s daughter. And Ustareth and Twilight, when at last they met, were dear friends. They had for so long admired each other for their individual rebellions against the Tower Law, and the House Rules. After meeting, they thought up some scheme or plan …
What plan? Ironel goes vague again. She grandly says, it’s to do with Family,
and the Future.
But anyway, getting me locked in the City cellars for fifty years wouldn’t be part of U and T’s plan at all. So she, Ironel, had me rescued.
During the kidnap, I recall Hrald and Yaz being nasty about Ironel. I thought they were trying to see if the others would agree, and help double-cross her. But now I think they were just trying to see how far the others would take her part.
Ironel says she has learned since (how?) that I’ve left the Rise, come back, and got myself involved in searching for Argul at a town called Halted Panther. (Am childishly glad she’s at least got the town’s name wrong.) But obviously she sent the letter and Jelly after me there.
Then she says this.
‘I fear, by travelling further north, you are going in quite the wrong direction. Argul, after leaving his people, has made his way back to our City. To the Wolf Tower. He came straight to me. If you value him, then you must add this extra gold to his crown. He came disguised, evaded all attention, misled my slaves, and found me alone. He then declared that he was only too aware the Wolf Tower must have taken you. Even the faked diary had not fooled him for an instant. He had simply pretended to believe in your faithlessness in order not to involve his people in the plot, and so keep them safe from us. (His people are these horse-riders – Hultarr, are they called? Ustareth was always irritatingly untalkative about them, with me.)
‘Argul, then, came to me on his own. He said he would buy you back from us with Hultarr wealth, which I gather is considerable. Or we might have him in your place, if we let you free at once. I replied that now, surely, we had both you and he trapped in the Tower, our prisoners. He said we might try to take him prisoner, if we wished. He would enjoy the exercise of killing every one of us.’
She sounds proud of him. It – the letter – sounds real. I can just hear him, wonderfully bluffing like that.
Then she adds, all casual, she knew by then he was Ustareth’s son. Again how? Had Ustareth told her all those years ago – but when? (She says Ustareth mentioned the Hulta …?) (Let’s face it, the Towers seem always to know almost everything.)
Of course, being U’s son, and more important, Ironel’s grandson, he’s matchless.
She is not going to have him harmed.
I want to believe all this. Believe that he believed in me.
Ironel continues that now Argul is living in the Wolf Tower with her (bet he loves that) and knows he is a prince.
If so, why didn’t he send me his own letter, with hers?
Did she ‘forget’ to put his letter in?
‘The man by whom I send my letter,’ she says, ‘may also be trusted to give you word from Argul.’
And why hadn’t Argul come with Jelly – or instead of Jelly?
I look at what she says about that. It’s too dangerous to allow Argul into the North. (After he got into the Wolf Tower??) Since I, that is me, have gone unwisely rushing off in the wrong direction, fooled by the rumour that Argul put about that he would be going that way. (Which he did to protect the Hulta, throw the Wolf Tower off his track.) But it seems the North is a Bad Idea.
‘The North is Raven country. The Raven Tower is strong. Though they would be your friends, I am not sure of them in the case of my grandson.’
So there we are. She wouldn’t risk Argul, and he did what she said. And – the Raven Tower are my friends, are they? Is this because of Twilight?
I don’t trust Ironel. I never have.
But Argul seems to have done.
Then there’s Jelly. Can’t trust Jelly, can I, even with this message from Argul.
Disturbingly, she ends her letter with this:
‘Claidissa, when you entered the Tower that day, boldly wearing before me Ustareth’s own diamond ring, which of course my grandson, Argul, had given you, I knew it at once, even in its Hultarr setting. So you see, Claidissa Star, I could have crushed you then, if I had wished to. But no, I let you break the Law in pieces. I let you escape. Think of that, when you are deciding whether or not I may now be believed.’
Her name is signed all coils and flourishes.
She then adds this.
‘Argul – such a barbaric name. I must advise him to choose another. Something more civilized.’
That is so – like her. So – true.
SAYING GOODBYE
No time … The sky was getting lighter between the roofs of Chylomba. A couple of those huge birds I’m always seeing here, were soaring over. What on earth were they? I stood glaring out.
‘Go on then, Jelly. What message did Argul send me?’
Jelly made a slight noise, a cough or grunt. But I didn’t care any more about his injuries.
‘Said he hoped he would see you soon.’
‘Why didn’t he come with you? Is he a prisoner of theirs – of the Wolf Tower’s?’
‘No,’ said Jelly.
I turned and glared at him. What a sight. Like this though, he doesn’t seem so overwhelming. Even his feet seem to have shrunk. Slumping in his bandages, pathetic.
‘If it were you, Jelly, would you trust Ironel?’
‘Who else is there?’
‘Quite.’
I don’t feel relieved or even very upset. Mostly furious.
‘It’s getting light. You’d better go,’ I said.
‘Not going to hide me, then?’
‘Look, Jelly, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me today. Ironel says the Raven Tower is my friend – because Twilight is there and she’s my mother, presumably. But then there’s Winter Raven, and she can’t stand me. So you’ll probably be better off getting out. Can you find a horse?’
‘Mmmn,’ said Jelly.
He got up.
Stooping – he must be badly hurt? – he made me feel guilty after all.
‘I’ll go the way I came,’ he said.
‘Oh, look – have some breakfast first, or a new bandage or something –’
He swung out of the window. Is he hurt? Could he move like that, so agile, if he were?
‘So long, Claidibaa!’ he rasped, as he slid away down the roof, dislodging quite a lot of snow. Slipping over an edge – he just dropped into the dawn below. I suppose he’s all right? Didn’t hear a crash or anything.
Claidibaa – how does he know to call me that? (Argul has talked to him.) How dare he call me that? (How dare Argul tell him –)
No time either for sleep.
I got ready, putting on another of the showy dresses from the cupboard. I walked up and down before the cupboard mirror. Am I a princess?
My bag was packed, and I put in the letter. Then, I took out the ring, the diamond. Ironel had known it, had she? I slid it on to my finger. It felt right, as it always had.
Full light had arrived, as much as you get here on a normal day, when the old man knocked on my door.
He brought me tea and some hot bread. About the only things I could face.
‘Thank you for all your kindness,’ I said. ‘It has helped.’
He smiled.
I said, ‘Look, I’m sorry – that man, the Raven Guard who brought me to the Guest House. He said your name but I didn’t catch it. What are you called?’ Somehow, it didn’t matter now, asking.
Nor did he look fed-up. I’d known he wouldn’t. He said, ‘I’m Hedee Poran.’
‘And – I’m Claidi.’
‘Yes, I know. Lady Claidis Star.’
‘Well … If I’m ever back this way, I’ll drop in if I may.’ He said, gently, ‘It would be a pleasure, madam.’
‘Claidi, please.’
‘Claidi, then.’
He went out, and I was glad I’d asked his name. I might never see him again.
Five minutes after, a brisk Raven-Guard-knock announced Ngarbo, and Vilk (unfortunately), looking brushed and polished. Even Ngarbo’s swollen eye had opened up a lot.
‘Are you ready, lady?’
We went downstairs. I said to Ngarbo, ‘That servant man is first class. He must be ninety? Should he be workin
g so hard at his age?’
‘He likes the work, he’s said so. Chose it. Caring for the guests. Some of them even call him by a nickname, they’re so fond of him.’
We went round a corridor-corner. Vilk said, ‘Old fool. Brought here by mistake is how I heard it.’
Turning another corner, there was Poppy, her curlers under an ice-green butterfly of veil. She fluttered at N, but also at repulsive V. Then pattered up to embrace me.
‘Buck up, lady,’ said Vilk, to her or me, ‘we haven’t got all year.’
Poppy was offended.
‘I was only saying farewell, noble Raven.’
‘You’ve said it now. Three or four times you’ve said it.’ Poppy said, ‘Now I’m upset. Oh, other noble Raven,’ looking piteously at Ngarbo, ‘would you be so kind as to tell Heepo I’ve been upset. He’ll bring me a cordial.’
‘That’s it, Heepo,’ said Vilk. ‘Old stick from that jungle place oversea.’
‘No, a cordial,’ bleated Poppy.
We were walking on, Ngarbo promising to tell Heepo on the way out, and I was breathing so fast I thought I’d burst.
‘Heepo,’ I finally managed. ‘His name’s Hedee Poran.’
‘Nickname. He was once servant to a prince, some kid, couldn’t or wouldn’t say the whole name. It got shortened to Heepo.’
Dear old Heepo – Venn had said that. For Heepo had been Venn’s servant, carried off, as Hrald and Yaz had been – but years before them. Fifteen years or more.
‘I must say good-bye to Heepo,’ I declared.
‘Now, she’s doing it,’ growled Vilk. ‘He’s only a damned servant. Forget it. We’re already late.’
I stopped.
When they too stopped and looked at me, I thought of the incredible Old Lady at the House, Jizania, supposedly my gran, if Twilight is my mum. I put on an air of royalty as I had put on this dress.
I stared at Vilk.
‘You know who I am, now.’
‘No—’ he started.
‘Be quiet,’ I said. ‘Twilight Star shall be told how you behave towards her favoured guests.’
Ngarbo was solemn. Too solemn?
Vilk looked nasty, but Vilk always looks nasty.
They took me to the room with all the raven carvings and paintings. They waited in the doorway, while one of the girls fetched Hedee Poran.