by R A Lindo
The family who created the small, circular, leather-bound artefact on the table by the fire, and who also run the shop bearing their name in Founders’ Quad. Francis Follygrin was the old man who provided the last piece of the puzzle: the final fragment of a lethal artefact, allowing us to rid the Society of evil.
It was Francis that malevs and captors sought out in the past, wondering why he’d vanished from Society life for decades, leaving people to think he was dead. It was also Francis who’d explained a life overseeing the continued imprisonment of an evil fragment in a secret cell hidden within Follygrins.
His was a life sacrificed to protect the Society, and one rejected by his granddaughter following his death. Sianna Follygrin … changed almost beyond recognition … the luminous eyes and voice remaining. A life forever altered by her grandfather’s sacrifice.
“Sianna,” I say. “Sianna Follygrin.”
This gets her full attention, brushing her greying hair away from her striking face, turning her gaze onto me. “We meet in different circumstances, Guppy.”
“Thanks for coming out to help us. It’s pretty wild out here.”
The first smile touches a face that was once lit with life. “Only on the outside. You make whatever life you choose once settled here. Drink up while it’s hot, then I can show you around and, perhaps, guide you on to the person you’re seeking.”
“So, Neve is hiding out here?” Conrad asks.
“Yes, Conrad. Neve is here but she’s worked hard to create a maze around her, meaning you need to tread carefully. The one thing The Royisin Heights shares with its inhabitants is a shifting mood. Neve has no intention of being captured so, naturally, her mood will change once cornered.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got a plan to draw her out of her?”
“Drink up,” Sianna says again, the old light returning to her eyes as we do, making me hope the maze she’s referring to isn’t hidden in the remedy we’re sipping — potentially brewed to send us off into a dreamworld where nightmares await on the other side.
23
Passage to Danger
Thankfully, I don’t wake up hours later in a dungeon with silent witches and wizards for company. The remedy tastes sweet — a blue concoction I’m not familiar with but drink anyway, confident that Sianna Follygrin remains a trusted comrade with no intention of putting us in danger.
That remains to be seen, of course, because she’s suggested a path to Neve’s hideout, probably accessed through one of the six passageways all leading in different directions. As the fire crackles, I glance down each passageway, seeing either darkness or glittering light, nothing else to go on so I invest in a little more patience — not my strong point — enjoying the blue remedy in my teacup until Sianna decides to tell us more.
“Have you been here long?” Lucy asks, probably trying to gain a greater understanding of our relationship with Sianna.
Lucy and Noah came into the fray after the last big battle, joining the Night Rangers when different factions formed to keep an eye on things. I rarely talk about past conflicts because you never know who’s lost loved ones — each family in the S.P.M.A. having comrades and captors alike.
Take my family, for example, the Graylings. I’m a Night Ranger and Jacob’s a teacher, but our mum’s a Melackin now, rehabilitated after an act of betrayal. It’s the same in all families: all marked in some way by shadows and sin when you take a closer look.
“Just over a year,” Sianna replies, adjusting her floral dressing gown as she moves closer to us. “It feels longer but The Royisin Heights have that effect on you.”
“Is that why the sky moves so quickly?” I ask, putting the teacup on the small table to my left.
“The sky is as changeable as the weather, Guppy, sometimes fast and other times completely static. Then there’s the weather that can shift in minutes and form for months. I’ve watched blizzards morph into desert terrain in the space of a few hours.”
“And you like that…? The randomness of the place, I mean?”
“That’s precisely why I like it. If you remember, I lived a very contained life, looking after my grandfather in his secret chamber hidden within Follygrin’s. It took its toll: a burden only lifted after my grandfather’s death. I’m free here, unburdened by a duty that ultimately robbed my grandfather of life — a choice he made willingly, of course.”
“It just seems so remote,” Lucy adds. “Beautiful but silent. Does the loneliness not get to you?”
“The internal and external worlds of The Royisin Heights are vastly different, Lucy. Out there is a barren, unforgiving landscape, drawing few witches and wizards. However, inside each of these mounds of earth is a blank canvas, allowing the creation of any world imaginable: the very freedom I’ve long desired.”
“And the passageways?” Conrad asks. “Are they part of your creation?”
“Of course. A blank canvas is absent of all forms, Conrad. The passageways offer me a kaleidoscope vision of my surroundings, pivoting my perspective in a multitude of ways. No two days offer the same vision — the lack of windows offering a formlessness connection with the outside world.
The passageway behind me leads to a stained-glass floor, looking down on the lively underground of The Royisin Heights, where those who seek comfort in company gather.”
“Is that where we’ll find Neve?” I ask.
“It’s where she’ll appear when she’s unable to cope with the silence. Wherever Neve is, she’s a guest in another dwelling. Of course, The Royisin Heights covers a vast distance, meaning she may appear in the underground section today, tomorrow or, perhaps, when more time has passed.”
“But you think she’s going to appear sooner rather than later?”
Sianna gestures to the Follygrin on the table next to my teacup — her family’s invention to offer insight into a moving, mercurial world. “Her brother, Odin, is hiding between Drandok and here,” she adds, “aware that Neve has sleeping soldiers on her tail.”
“I thought he was using the Invisilis charm to cover his tracks?” Conrad states, moving his hands closer to the flickering fire.
“He is, but when a certain group of people change their daily rhythms, it suggests they’ve been called upon. Your journey here is a change in your rhythm, for example, normally gliding through the sky over The Society Sphere to more gentle realms like The Shallows. Arriving here has caused a mild commotion below.”
Sianna glances at the concrete floor, signalling a moving universe beneath. I’m keen to inspect the stained-glass floor in the passageway behind her, but the offer isn’t forthcoming so I rest in the leather chair, listening to the soft lilt of her voice as the sky rushes past overhead: a sky drawing our feathered friends’ attention, thankful for the rest.
“Odin feels his chances are better out in the wilderness, drawing on favours or fear to find shelter. It’s where the likes of Alice Aradel hide out until something draws them back to The Society Sphere — desperation or desire forcing them out of their hiding place.”
“Who’s offering Odin shelter?” Lucy asks, putting her teacup on the floor.
“Alice’s old crew … one of whom is Odin’s cousin, Eschen Blin. The group has been wary of Odin since his training as a Domitus. I imagine he hasn’t told them about his quick exit from Drandok, no longer able to ride the Silverbacks into other realms.
Odin’s arrogance is his greatest weakness, meaning he will use Alice Aradel’s old mob to gain access to the underground world of The Royisin Heights, where hiding in plain sight is relatively easy.”
“Disfigurement charms?” I suggest, remembering Alice Aradel’s deformed face when we bumped into her in Poridian Parlour. She didn’t look particularly pleased to see us but, then again, neither did Joseph Flint — the eccentric wizard returning to his routine of talking to himself in The Chattering Tap.
“Indeed, Guppy. Disfigurement charms can disguise any witch or wizard. With the right contacts, you can blend in with the cr
owd, stretching out the days before fate closes in on you.”
“But you’ve got the stained-glass floor,” Lucy adds, glancing in the direction of the passageway, “meaning you’ll know when Alice Aradel’s old mob arrive — probably with someone else in tow.”
“Odin,” Conrad adds, standing to signal the time for action. “Can we see the stained-glass floor?”
“You can,” Sianna replies, “but first you’ll need to activate your Quivvens.”
“Why?”
“Because, as I said, my home offers a kaleidoscope of visions, meaning there are no barriers to what lies beyond. The stained-glass floor will give you a window into underground life here; your Quivven will illuminate all other visions, formed in glass fragments buried in the walls.”
Conrad’s already got his Quivven out, burying the small, brass artefact into his neck. The Quivven kicks in when your penchant’s powers fade — any journey beyond The Society Sphere requiring the protective and illuminate powers of a Quivven. Once buried under my heart, the artefact glows the colour of my penchant stone: a soft, topaz-blue glimmering near my heart.
Lucy places her Quivven in her forearm and we’re ready to inspect the underground part of The Royisin Heights, safely cooped up in Sianna Follygrin’s cosy home: a young woman who arrived here to escape a life of perpetual duty. They say once a Society soldier always a Society soldier, and I wonder if Sianna’s going to find the peace she hopes for out here.
The passageway we step into remains in darkness initially, our Quivvens the only thing illuminating the space. I can see the faint outline of the stained-glass floor but nothing moving beneath it. The fragments of glass buried in the walls glimmer as I turn to inspect them, understanding what Sianna meant by the need for our Quivvens.
This particular artefact has two benefits: protection and image mapping. The protection is symbolised by the glowing colours beneath our skin, the image mapping happening when we close our eyes.
I discovered the Quivven’s second magical power in the throes of battle, when we entered a realm of blinding light called Varakel. The light was designed to put off visitors looking for a famous beast, blistering in its intensity to the point of critical injury if you kept your eyes open.
That’s when the art of ‘fighting blind’ was explained to me. In times of need, your Quivven illuminates your surroundings, mapping the territory in intricate detail, meaning darkness or blistering light can be easily overcome. Standing in the dark passageway, I close my eyes and wait for my Quivven’s magical powers to kick in — faint, blue light forming, stretching into fine lines.
The light settles until the fragments of glass buried into the wall become a colourful movie of a thousand parts … each piece of glass offering a different aspect of life in The Royisin Heights. It’s a unique surveillance device devised by a woman whose family created the Follygrin. Sianna is well conditioned in secrecy, understanding the link between living as a recluse and having a vantage point on the outside world.
After all, your hiding place is only as good as the security that surrounds it — Francis Follygrin knowing this better than anyone. Sianna’s grandfather lived as a ghost for decades, guarding a fragment of dark sorcery in a sacrifice as great as any I know. Sianna has her own hideout now, implementing the same window onto the world that the Follygrin provides: a touch of magic offering a vision of all things magical.
I wonder if this glittering passageway looks out onto the Society as a whole, believing it probably does, allowing Sianna to stay in touch with the world she’s distanced herself from. I’ve never understood why people don’t just return to the above-ground world, having had enough of magical living. I couldn’t but nor could I live such an isolated existence without family and friends close by.
Maybe when I’m older I’ll have had enough of all things magical, although I can see myself teaching with Jacob if that happens, wanting to hold onto the coat tails of wonder. I hope that day never comes but you never know in life — the reason I try to squeeze every moment of joy out of each day, reminding myself that standing in a kaleidoscope passageway is way better than dodging curses and creatures on the battlefield.
We’re only tracking down a comrade who’s anger’s got the better of her, meaning if she doesn’t make an appearance soon we’ll say our goodbyes and head back to safer realms in The Society Sphere. There’s a globe-shaped building in The Winter Quarter, for instance, and a friend hoping to get his first kiss on a glittering bridge.
“Pinch your skin where the Quivven’s buried,” Sianna advises, “capturing the light in your hand.”
I glance at Conrad and Lucy, never having heard of this trick before. Conrad tries it first, smiling as a tanzanite glow shimmers in his closed hand. Lucy and I do the same, copying Sianna as she kneels and places the captured colour of her Quivven onto the stained-glass floor, keeping her palm pressed down as the floor fills with light.
“Reminds me of The Floating Floor,” Conrad whispers as he kneels beside me — a reference to the magical floor in The Cendryll, creating an illusion of water when you walk across it. The Floating Floor has its own secrets although my attention is firmly fixed on what’s about to revealed below: the underground world of The Royisin Heights shimmering into life.
24
The Hidden Few
I study the gathering of well-dressed men and woman standing in what can only be described as a ballroom: a grand building dominated by chandeliers. A cocktail bar runs around the circumference of the underground space, drawing crowds to their preferred section. Kneeling to inspect the space more closely, I wonder what magical tonics are being mixed by the bar staff: remedies for recluses and people on the run.
Part of me wonders why the Society would allow such a place to function, blatantly offering tonics to the desperate, but that’s only my perception; I imagine Sianna will tell us more in due course. There will always be places where the less savoury characters gather, either in plain sight or hideouts such as the underground chamber of The Royisin Heights.
Society elders are not naïve enough to think peace is a permanent state of bliss; it has to be managed via monitoring and clear messaging, dealing with the wayward in a variety of ways. The glamorous space viewed through the stained-glass floor is one of these ways: a place where quiet revelry and mild mischief are managed until judgement arrives in the form of Night Rangers or sleeping soldiers.
Judgement is closing in on Neve and Odin so there’s no need to rush into an unfamiliar place, so I decide to sit cross-legged on the floor, studying every figure who enters and leaves, wondering what disguise Neve is using to hide her movements. There’s also Alice Aradel’s old mob to look out for: Eschen Blin, Roland Gupp, Morval Crake and Golen Rais.
Eschen is the most likely to make an appearance — the cousin of Odin and Neve who, according to Sianna, has provided Odin with shelter with the aim to conceal him in the shifting world of figures visible through a stained-glass floor. They obviously can’t see us looking down at them because no-one looks up. I also wonder if they can hear us due to Sianna explaining how each cocktail of remedies disfigures in different ways: temporarily, of course.
You could say this secret hideout is the perfect place for the creative witch or wizard, able to use their imagination and wit to evade those tracking them down. Unfortunately for Odin and Neve, we’ve bumped into an old comrade on our arrival in The Royisin Heights — Sianna Follygrin — as skilled as anyone in the art of covert movements.
If Sianna has created a way to observe her surroundings, I’m confident she also knows the best way into the underground ballroom, hosting a crowd of well-groomed witches and wizards.
“How do you find who you’re looking for?” Lucy asks, sitting alongside me on the stained-glass floor.
“You study the extent of the disguise and ease of movement,” Sianna replies, pointing to an example of this theory. “The lady who has just arrived to our right. Her make-up is lightly applied but the hair isn
’t her own … her pale, freckled complexion suggesting a redhead hiding within a mass of black hair. Secondly, she heads straight to the cocktail bar nearest to her — the rash remedies section — giving you the desired disfigurement in one gulp.”
“So, what does that tell us?” Conrad asks, tapping his feet as he considers Sianna’s method of identifying Society targets.
“That she’s arrived here in a hurry, maybe unsuccessful in securing shelter along the way. Remember, most inhabitants of The Royisin Heights seek peace and sanctuary, having no interest in engaging with others. The people you see below aren’t part of this group who live in the mounds of earth decorating the landscape. They are the moving feast … entering and exiting through the four doorways to seek transformation and configuration.”
“Configuration?” I query, managing to suppress a sneeze.
“Adapting their plans to lengthen their time here,” Sianna replies, “normally meaning entering into deals with those offering shelter and passage to wilder realms.”
“Who are the people who offer the deals?”
“The Domitus until recently … Odin and Neve arriving on their tamed Silverbacks to intimidate and negotiate … transporting the desperate to remote realms for a price.”
“Like Alice Aradel,” Lucy adds.
“Yes, Lucy,” Sianna replies as she clicks her fingers, causing the stained-glass floor to fade away. “Alice arrived here some time ago, realising her time was up in Society Square. Luckily, she hadn’t carried out any serious crime— the rumour of her planned kidnapping of your young wizarding crew being hard to prove.
There’s no way back to the heart of the S.P.M.A. for Alice, however, meaning an increased reliance on groups like The Domitus to keep her hidden: a plan that only ever had a certain amount of life.”