by Tanith Lee
Jizania was from the Tiger Tower, but she married a prince of the House, Wasliwa Star. Finally they had a daughter, who they called Twilight.
Twilight grew up in the House, a princess, living a life of pleasures and riches. The one thing that got on her nerves was the endless Ritual, the Rules of the House. So she ignored them wherever she could. Especially she ignored the one about making friends with a slave.
Twilight’s friend was the slave Fengrey Raven. He was descended from several generations of captives from the Raven Tower. He liked Twilight, too.
By the time they were twelve, they were inseparable. When they were sixteen, Twilight told the House that Fengrey was no longer a slave, but her steward. This caused an uproar. But Jizania was powerful, and so was Wasliwa, so Twilight got her way.
Fengrey and Twilight fell for each other. She said to me she thought they’d been in love since they were children. But when they were eighteen, she told the House they were going to marry.
The House refused.
Even Jizania couldn’t change that one, and Wasliwa, by then, had died.
So Twilight and Fengrey lived as husband and wife, made no secret of it, in fact showed off, in front of all the House.
At first it was a scandal. No one would speak to them. Twilight laughed, didn’t care. Then the House decided to pretend nothing unusual was happening after all, and made out Fengrey was only Twilight’s steward still.
This went on for quite some time. Until Twilight found she was going to have a child.
Nobody in the House was allowed to have a child without permission. (!) I knew that. Slaves and servants who broke this rule were exiled at once to the Waste. Aristocrats were usually treated more sympathetically.
But Twilight’s baby’s father was a slave. Worse, a Raven slave.
The House exiled Twilight and Fengrey to the Waste.
When I was at the House, we – the servants – were told the Waste was hell-on-earth. Nothing and no one could survive in it. But in Twilight’s time – and even in mine, perhaps – the royalty knew the waste wasn’t all like that.
So Twilight and Fengrey got ready to leave.
Then the House inflicted the real punishment for their disobedience.
They were told they might not go until after Twilight’s baby was born. Then, when they did go, they must leave the baby behind, to serve the House, a slave or servant, in Fengrey’s place.
Probably for the first time in her life, Twilight had been out-thought, and truly scared. As for Fengrey, he went crazy. He had had to grow up in this House of enemies. Now they would do it to his child!
Both Twilight and Fengrey were kept prisoner. Then Twilight’s baby was born.
Twilight said her mother, Jizania, thought of the solution to the problem, and managed it.
At about the same time Twilight gave birth, so did one of the slave-women of the House.
Slaves counted for nothing. Only Fengrey ever had, because Twilight loved and valued him. So it was easy for Jizania to take the slave’s new-born child away from her and give it to Twilight.
Jizania said, ‘Make out this slave baby is yours. Beg them to let you keep it. They’ll force it from your arms. Meanwhile I will hide your real child, and see it comes to you in secret, and leaves the House with you. They can keep the slave-brat instead.’
That’s what Jizania said. That’s what happened.
Twilight and Fengrey got away, with their own real daughter hidden in a basket of clothes and jewellery.
And the slave’s child? Well, it was only a slave – the sort that wasn’t fallen royalty from a Tower. Just a slave.
You could say it was even fortunate, because rather than being a slave, it was given to Princess Shimra, who had been Twilight’s friend. And Shimra gave it to her own daughter, the unspeakable Jade Leaf, as a maid. And – that child, that slave-child – that was me.
My mother. That was my mother. My mother was an unknown slave.
Oh, I asked Twilight, Who was she? What was her name?
Twilight – I do remember her words on this – said, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know. She was a slave, you see.’
Which means – she was nothing.
Nameless. My mother, the slave. Nothing.
I think back – how can I help it – the times I saw slaves – dragging the princess about in chariots, being slapped, whipped, pushed around. Saw them sleeping in rooms like holes, in the House, in actual holes in the rotting tunnels under the Garden. Have I ever looked into my mother’s face – and not known her? And did she know me?
I always said, I was no better than a slave there. I was right.
As for my father, well, obviously, absolutely no one could know who he had been.
Are they alive – or dead?
I’ve been asking that question since I was tiny and first heard my parents had been exiled, as I thought.
Twilight said to me, ‘Probably dead, by now. A slave – unless cared for – seldom has a long life.’
After that, she was telling me how some of the other Raven Tower people had meanwhile got away, and set up a new Tower in the North – or re-settled an old Tower. I don’t know. Who cares?
I’m a slave. I’m not interested in royalty.
But anyway, this Tower was here. And Twilight and Fengrey came here, and later, after Ustareth visited them, scientific wonders took place, and they lived happily ever after, Twilight and Fengrey Raven and their daughter, Claidis (nickname Claidissa – or Winter).
Then, there in the Raven Chamber, I heard Twilight and her daughter having this exchange.
Winter: ‘I think we might let Claid keep the name, don’t you?’
Twilight: ‘Claidis is your name, Claidis.’
Winter: ‘I don’t want that name, I’ve told you, now she’s been using it all these years. She’s messed everything else up for me. At least let me keep the name that I gave me.’
Twilight: ‘Winter is a false name, my dear. Your name is Claidis.’
All this, as I sat there, broken open down the middle, stuffed with horror, and sewn up again.
I got to my feet in the end.
‘I’d like to be alone,’ I said.
Oh my. Claidi-who-isn’t, the slave’s brat – I sounded like a royal woman. A queen.
I was – dismissing – them.
Twilight didn’t react. She said, ‘Of course. But there is still a lot to tell you.’
‘I’ve heard enough.’
‘Another time, then. The girl will show you to your apartment.’
But Winter stood there in my path.
‘Aah, you feel sorry for yourself, don’t you, Claid? You little word-I-can’t-even-think-how-to-spell.’
‘Get out,’ I said softly, ‘of my way.’
The raven on her shoulder lifted its wings in alarm.
No, I’m no longer a slave.
Whatever the hell I am, I am Me.
Twilight said something to her as well. I didn’t hear it. But I walked by, through the hopping, flapping ravens. As I reached the door, one of the low flying ones gloriously relieved itself all over my shoes.
Wonder why that doesn’t happen in there more often? Some other scientific trick, no doubt.
A striped servant brought me to this room.
What shall I call myself now? I too don’t know whether I want that name any more. Claidi. It was hers, but I had to have it.
It’s obvious to me Ironel never knew – still doesn’t – that I wasn’t Twilight’s daughter. That promise Ironel had got under the Law from Jizania, to send Jizania’s own grandchild to take Ironel’s place as Law-Giver – how Jizania must have enjoyed that. Sending me. Slave-princess Claidi.
Someone brought me some dainty food, hours ago. It sits there, as I do.
Now they’re knocking on the door again.
Let them.
This room is big. A big window shows the darkening mountains. Night’s coming.
Still knocking on the door. I’ve ca
lled out Go away.
But now I think, it’s some servant, some slave. My own kind. So I’m not going to be sullen and rude. I shall go and ask them to leave me alone. And if that causes trouble, make sure it falls on me, not them.
It wasn’t a slave. It was her again. Twilight. She was alone.
‘I understand this must be painful for you. But I have to finish what must be said.’
As the dark comes, the lamps in here fade up into light. Nothing sudden. It’s lovely. I hate it.
‘And of course – Claidi – what can I say – you must keep your name.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It is your name, also. Forgive me. And forgive my daughter. She’s very angry with you.’
‘Yes, terrible for her.’
‘Let me tell you everything. You may then understand.’
‘Madam,’ I said, ‘all I want is to get out of this tronking okk’s grulp of a Tower.’
Look at her. Oh, I’d have loved to have a mother like this. What is Fengrey like? Great, I expect. Plus the wonderful Jizania as granny.
No, I wouldn’t want them. They too play with people, use us, move us about in this game the Towers like so much.
But she had sat down. As I stood, my back to her, looking from the window at the vastness of view, she’s told me ‘Everything’.
Here goes.
Ustareth, after she left the Rise, and had met Argul’s father, made contact with Twilight, here. Ustareth it was who, with her magical (scientific) brilliance, altered the ropy old Raven Tower to what it is now. Or rather, she gave Twilight the means to do it.
Twilight also made Chylomba, or had it made by machines. (And yes, the jewels on all those Hills are real ones, dug out of mountain mines, also by machines.)
Twilight speaks of Ustareth with loving regret. They didn’t meet often. But they did think up this plan – a Dream, Twilight called it.
‘The evil bullying of the Wolf Tower,’ said Twilight, ‘and of the Law. The Law, where it exists, is almost like a living thing. It rules over anyone who will allow it. Ustareth and I – we believed so strongly that no one should live that way.’
And their idea to solve this?
‘Ustareth said she and I were powerful. Not only in what we could do. In our hearts and minds. I don’t mean cleverness. I mean strength of character, will-power – whatever names one gives it.’
Ustareth had said that she and Twilight were superior in this way. They had fought the Law and won. But their children would be even better. ‘This can happen,’ Twilight assured me, earnestly.
So that meant Ustareth’s son, Venarion (Venn) – even though his father wasn’t so good. And her second, favourite son, Argul, whose Hulta father Ustareth had loved.
‘Ustareth’s plan,’ said Twilight, ‘was that my daughter should, when grown up, marry one of her sons. Both boys were older than my Clai – ‘she had the grace to hesitate, ‘my own girl,’ she went on.
Twilight explained that Winter (what else can I call her?) grew up knowing that she would one day be married either to the amazing Argul, or to almost as amazing Venn.
‘But then, in due course,’ said Twilight, ‘you met Argul. And then again, when Ironel sent you away to the Rise, you met Venarion.’
By now I’d turned round from the window, I admit, and was goggling at her.
‘First,’ said Twilight, gently, ‘you were using my daughter’s name. Then Argul became yours. Then, so far as I can judge, Venarion, too. She’s a proud, fine girl, who wanted to marry a man her equal. Are you surprised my daughter wants to kill you?’
‘How do you know all this?’ I said. ‘I mean Argul and me – Venn and me – ’ Of all the hundred questions, this one, How do you know? always seems to rear its head.
‘My dear,’ said Twilight, ‘Ustareth’s science left us all a great many means of knowing a very great deal.’
‘Ustareth,’ I said, ‘also left Argul a charm – a scientific charm – which would show him the woman who would be right for him.’
‘I know,’ said Twilight. ‘It was meant to show him, er, Claidi, that my daughter was right for him. Do you see? My daughter.’
‘What?’
‘Am I only being a foolish mother, when I say I think he might have liked my daughter considerably, if he hadn’t met you?’
‘Are you telling me – ’ I stopped. I said, ‘Are you saying the charm is also a LIE? That it somehow showed Argul I was the one for him because – only because – I’d ended up living your daughter’s life – and with my – that – name – Claidi – Claidis – Is that it?’
‘It isn’t so simple.’
‘Nothing is. Answer me!’
‘In a way.’
I dropped in a chair. Far off, I heard her say, ‘And Venarion, of course, was meant to leave the Rise years ago, and come here in the Star-ship. But he never did. He hasn’t alas, the guts Argul has, has he, Venarion? That wretched Narsident — what Venarion might have been, with another father.’
Can you follow this? I can’t. Or, I can, but don’t want to.
Then she said this.
‘In a way, I do think of you too, as nearly my daughter – Claidi. The ones who are valuable, the ones who rebel – who have stamina, cheek, courage, imagination – passion. Like Argul. Like You. Oh, my dear, in the end it doesn’t matter to us that you’re slave-born. You have passed all the tests. You have the magic spark. Look what you’ve done! Smashed the City Law – dared the Star-ship – and even after we forced the Star to come down, to test you further—
‘You forced – the Star – down—’
‘Don’t fret, you were wonderful. On you journeyed. Then came the panther that talked. Another doll of ours, one of our very best – do you remember, it even smelled as if it had been eating meat? It guided you. You showed no fear. You followed your instructions. And then when you found Argul, as you thought, you would not be put off. Wouldn’t give up.’
‘Suppose I had?’ I gasped.
‘Then,’ she said. She smiled a dark little smile. ‘You’d have been worthless.’
‘Thanks.’
‘But you see, at last we have too near perfect pairings. You, with Argul. My own – er, Winter – with Venarion. Argul is superior, and will make up for any weakness of yours. My daughter is superior, and will do the same with Venarion. Two glorious chances.’
‘For what?’
‘Ustareth and I were exceptional women, in our day. As our own mothers have been, the Old Ladies Jizania and Ironel. You and my daughter, Venarion and Argul, are also exceptional. From such a line – your children – what will they be?’
I stared at her. ‘Our children.’
‘Think. The Wolf Tower is our enemy, we are united in that. But some of us too have Wolf Tower blood. Even Argul has it.’ Speechless, I watched her glowing there. ‘Do you know about wolf packs, the real wolves? Only the best among them may become leader – the king or the queen. Only these royal animals are allowed to mate.’
‘You’re saying that if Argul and I have a child—’
‘The Future,’ she said. She was radiant as the lamps. ‘The Future must shine. You are a heroine, Claidi, and Argul is a hero. Think what your child would be.’
‘Give us a chance,’ I said wearily. ‘We haven’t even met for about a year.’
‘My dear, you wondered why they applauded you in Chylomba. This is why. You will one day be the mother of a very great woman—’
‘Or man—’
She ignored me. ‘You will be the mother,’ she decided, ‘of a Queen of the Wolves.’
After she swept out – and she did sweep, like a broom – I sat there. Now I couldn’t think at all.
Then, in the end, I looked up.
In the icy dark of the star-pinned window, a man was standing, on the window-sill outside – about a hundred feet up from the ground.
‘WE’
‘Jelly …!’
I was rushing to the window to try to open it and g
et him in before he plummeted down the Tower – and not knowing how the window opened – when it opened.
Jelly sprang through into the room.
The window shut.
I thought, insanely, He’s shorter. Taller than me, but not so tall as he was – not seven feet tall – his skin is darker – much – he’s tanned in the snow –? Why is he striding right at me?
Jelly caught me in his arms without a word.
As his mouth met mine I stopped flailing.
His mouth on mine, I knew who he was.
Into my ear he whispered, ‘Keep your eyes shut. Say “Darling”—’
‘Darling—’
‘Now listen. I know they have science here and can watch and see a lot. In this room too. Hear us as well, maybe. But hopefully not this, me whispering in your ear. Say Darling—’
‘Darling—’
‘So I can’t tell you much now. If I put you off when you ask a question – will you trust me?’
‘Darling—’
‘Good. The thing is, agree with me, but make it convincing.’
‘? Er – what, darling?’
‘Make it look as if I talk you round. Do you agree? If you agree, say my name.’
‘Argul,’ I said.
‘Best bird,’ he breathed.
He let me go.
There he was. And there Jelly wasn’t. ‘Jelly’ had been only Argul’s disguise.
‘Claidi,’ he said.
‘I – I’m not sure I can be called Claidi, any more.’
‘Claidibaabaa then,’ he said, ‘a sheep in wolf’s clothing.’
I started to giggle. Started to cry. Got myself in order. Unmistakable. No doll, but flesh and blood, and alive. Argul. Here.
In fact, I think he has grown taller. He’s eighteen – nineteen now? I suppose maybe he has. His hair is growing through quickly.
The chemical thing he now tells me he took (more of Ustareth’s sorcery) to make his tea-dark skin so pale and rough, and which also made him lose weight, is wearing off. The built-up long false chin he wore broke when the doll-Argul punched him. The swollen bruise replaced it. But chin and bruise have now vanished, along with all the bandages which were also a disguise. And he’s removed the pouches from around his eyes.