“I expected something of the kind,” said Dain. “There was a reason, after all, that I wanted her for myself. But you have not told me why the sixth is absent.”
Several of the Lumaria glanced at one another, as Biscayne set down his knife and fork. Dain watched them carefully, quite aware that there was something which they would rather not have said. She waited for Biscayne’s response, curious to know whether he would lie to her.
Wise as he was, however, it seemed that he would speak plainly, and that way chance his fare. “Zana remained behind at Death Rock,” he said simply. There appeared to be naught of anxiety in his face; but Dain could see the way that his lips twitched, ever so slightly at the left corner, and the way that his eyes became just a little rounder, as he waited for her to respond.
“My invitation was clear,” said Dain. “I requested that all members of your company meet me here for the night meal.”
“I know, Sorceress. It is not that Zana did not want to be here – but the girl is currently in a sickly state, and we all thought –”
“Wait a moment,” said Dain. “Was it Zana you said?”
“Yes, Sorceress.”
“Again, I may be wrong in my thinking – but I do believe that she is the one who was imprisoned by your own people. For the murder of your father, was it not?”
“You are not wrong,” said Biscayne. “But she has been free for over fifteen years.”
“Not long in the life of a Lumarian. And she is one of the oldest, is she not?”
“She is.”
“Do you trust her with the keeping of the Auren?”
“Completely,” said Biscayne. “It is only that we all thought it best for someone to keep a watch upon her. Otherwise, she may have inflicted some kind of harm upon herself – or wrought some sort of mischief in the tunnels.”
“You doubt the transformation?”
“No, Sorceress,” said Biscayne quickly. “I do not. It is only a strange process, full of miscalculation and incorrect estimates. Zana’s observation of her is only a precaution.” He took a short breath. “After all, mistress – I would not want your plans to be spoiled through some fault, some unnecessary mistake, of our own.”
“You speak seamlessly, Biscayne. If I did not know you so well, I would be satisfied with your words.”
“And you are not, Sorceress?” he asked respectfully.
“No, I am not. I watched you with the Auren, that day in the forest, just as the infection was beginning to take hold. The explanation you gave her was appropriate and to the point – but it seemed that Zana became too involved in the process. It is true that, out of respect for you, I keep my sight from Death Rock. But the absence of this member of your company confirms suspicions which I already had. It takes much for the Night Council to put one of its own into bondage; and this fact does little to reassure me of her trustworthiness.”
“I understand, Sorceress.”
“If this behaviour continues, I shall have to break my pact with you, and begin keeping a watch upon your House.”
Biscayne said nothing. He did not try to argue, or to make an excuse for Zana. He knew exactly, what the Sorceress was referring to; for he himself had had doubts these past days about Zana, and about her close association with the girl. Her watchful eye went far beyond the purposes of observation, and sometimes seemed as even an attempt to comfort the girl.
But that was not their task. They had already played their full part; and as of now, the girl should have been locked into a solitary chamber, deep within the tunnels, and given increasing portions of raw meat at predetermined intervals. She should have been completely alone, as she underwent the transformation.
“I will speak to her myself,” said Biscayne. “You need not worry any more about it, Sorceress.”
“I will cease to worry,” said Dain, “when I am given proof that your sister is aware of her duties. I have the utmost faith in you, Biscayne – but I will speak to Zana myself. Go now, all of you. Send her back to me.”
Biscayne nodded without speaking, and it was all but obvious that he would have rather done anything, than that thing which the Sorceress asked of him. He was not one, however, to risk her temper at such an inopportune moment. So he rose from his seat; and at that all of the others stood. He bowed to the Sorceress, and the rest followed suit. A moment later, they were gone.
~
Biscayne parted with the others when they entered the Mountain, and went at once in search of Zana. He would have looked in on the girl beforehand, but he was already certain that, if he found Zana, he would find the girl. The thought brought a feeling of unease into the pit of his stomach, and brought him even more distress concerning Zana’s fate in the Sorceress’ hands.
At that moment he saw Lokin, his second-in-command, walking down the opposite side of the hall. Biscayne stopped him and asked:
“Where is Zana?”
“In her chamber,” answered Lokin. “I saw her pass in about an hour ago. She had the Auren with her.”
There was a look of repugnance upon his face. Biscayne understood that, should the Sorceress put questions to the occupants of the Mountain, there would be many who spoke out against Zana. There were many more of those who despised her, than those who loved her.
Biscayne had been King of Death Rock Mountain for a mere five-and-twenty years, having taken the place of his father, Tokain. He (and in fact most members of the Lumaria) had been brought into the world through the sowing of seed into human women. The King himself was obligated to sire at least one son, and would impregnate a human woman of his choosing, bringing her afterwards back to the Mountain for the three-month gestation period. No woman survived the birth of a Lumarian child. As it grew, it would begin to feed on the flesh within its mother’s body, devouring the woman from the inside out. Most women begged for death during this process, and were sometimes already dead by the time of the birth.
Biscayne’s own mother had survived his delivery, and had in fact lived a whole two weeks after it. Eventually, though, her half-eaten innards became riddled with infection, and she perished as all the others. Biscayne could remember sitting upon his father’s knee as a boy, listening to the story of his mother’s death. He remembered the way his father smiled and laughed, and clapped Biscayne upon the back, as he described the way that she died.
“You did quite a job on her, son,” he would say. “Most vessels are granted a quick death – but you kept her round until the very end! You should have seen the way she suffered, son. You would have been proud of yourself.”
Though he had been pleased with his father’s pride, Biscayne had never been quite sure how he felt about his mother’s death. He tried to look upon it quite the same way as his father did, and always laughed along with him, when they spoke about it – but he had never truly gained much satisfaction from it. Guilt, of course, would have been a stretch; but he had never come even close to being proud.
Though he would have never admitted it to his father, he sometimes wished that he had had a chance to meet the woman who gave birth to him. He had never asked, but he often wondered what her name had been. Yet these thoughts would have been a sign of weakness in his father’s eyes, and Biscayne had always been very careful to keep them to himself.
Especially now, at this stage of his Kingship, he often worried over the siring of his own son. It was one thing to kill a human quickly, for the purpose of food; but this was another thing entirely. And there was no telling, of course, how many attempts he would have to make (for the frailty of human women often rendered them incapable of a full gestation).
And what if he were to have fifteen daughters, before he finally received a son?
Shaking away the thought, he remembered what had made him think of his father in the first place. Tokain was King of Death Rock for one-hundred-and-eighty-three years, and spent one-hundred-and-fifty-six of those years waiting for Zana to become his Queen. She refused him every time; but he never sought another. H
e was the only King in Death Rock’s history (which stretched back through twelve centuries and nine Kings, before which that people had dwelt in the House called Frólyn) who had never taken a Queen.
There were few women in that House who would have denied him; for he was a mighty warrior, and was just in the way of the Night People. Though there were many more members of the Lumaria in those days, they were also more dangerous times, with battles being fought between separate Houses, and even amongst a single House which was divided against itself. Death Rock, though, was the largest House since the days of Sodow the Red. He had been named thus by the streets of the greatest human cities, which had run red with their blood when Sodow attacked. He had been a great protector of his people. Tokain was his great-great-grandson, and the generations that separated them did little to diminish their resemblance. Upon becoming King, Tokain’s first act had been to invade the land of Wisthane, a great enemy of the Night People. He overthrew its central city, and took it for himself, spreading his House Westward, and thus making it a greater fear for human peoples.
Tokain was three hundred years old when Zana killed him. She did not try to hide the fact that she had done it, her own chamber and clothing being covered with his blood. She said that he had come to her that night, and had threatened her with death if she denied him again. She tried to flee, she said – but he had gone mad, and would not let her escape. She cried false tears when she was questioned, and spoke of a remorse which none could believe. But she was one of only three members of the House who were older than Tokain himself; and it would have required absolute certainty on the part of many, for her to be executed. She was charged by the Night Council with the murder of their King in her own defence, and was imprisoned in the dungeons of Death Rock for half a century afterwards.
Biscayne was not of age to assume his Kingship, till she was quite halfway through her sentence; and could not free her, even after he had been named King. What could his people have thought of him, had he released without cause she who slayed his own father?
He could not deny, however, that he was as entranced by her as Tokain had been. When she was released from her imprisonment, he kept his distance, not wanting to spoil himself too early in her eyes. Yet she was something of a tarnish on the silver side of his House, and was looked upon by many as a traitor and a harlot (though he, for one, had never heard proven a single instance of this latter claim). But Biscayne’s love for her was still a blazing fire – and there was nothing he could do to put out the flame.
Yet things were much different than they had been. When Tokain died, Death Rock lost the sway that it had held for so long over the other Houses. There broke out a massive war amongst them all; and more than two-thirds of the Lumaria were killed. Death Rock conquered by a very small margin, and drew forth all of its brothers and sisters who had been misplaced. Some chose to go out on their own, and even today there were rogues who wandered about the land, sleeping in the forests and creeping into human towns to capture food. Without the protection of a House, many of them were killed as a result of their hunting. But still they would not come to Death Rock.
Nowadays, the Lumaria were a hidden race, enshrouding themselves in mountain rock as a shield against humans. They numbered in the thousands, but were too few to wage any kind of war against the human race. So when Dain Aerca came to power, and offered them her protection in return for their service, Biscayne accepted with very little objection from his people.
Some of them still blamed Zana for their situation. They loved and yet they hated Dain Aerca, grateful for her Power, but resentful of its hold upon them. It was all Zana’s fault, they said. If not for her, Tokain would be still their King, and they would have nothing at all to fear from the humans.
Perhaps, they said, they would have even eradicated them by now.
Biscayne did what he could to shield Zana from their wrath; but she made it clear from the start, that she did not desire his hand held constantly over her. If they wanted to kill her, she said, then they could do as they wished. She would not be his Queen. She even went so far as to hint at his own demise, should he push her too far in the matter. Biscayne’s quick temper, which in any other circumstance took so little to be ignited, was always slow to burn when it came to Zana. But now, as he appeared before the door to her chamber, he found himself utterly livid. If her behaviour caused the Sorceress to kill her, he would never forgive her for it.
Without announcing his presence, he pushed open the door to the chamber, and stepped inside. The place was dimly lit, the candles in the golden chandelier above his head burning low in their brackets. As he moved forward, and his anger began to fill the room, there was a great rush as if from a mighty wind, and the flames leapt up towards the ceiling. It appeared as though a fire had been started in the very middle of the room, and the place was filled with orange light.
The Auren lay prostrate upon Zana’s bed, wrapped in its crimson velvet covers, and seemingly unconscious. Zana sat in a great winged armchair beside the bed. She watched Biscayne without emotion, examining his wild fury with a vacant expression.
“You appear angry,” she said simply. “Since you have delivered your wrath directly to me, I can only assume that I am the one who made you thus. What have I done now, Biscayne?”
“How can you ask that – when you are doing it at this very moment?”
She nodded. “I assume that you are referring to the Auren.”
“What else?”
“You seemed not overly concerned before now. I can only think that the Sorceress has produced these new thoughts.”
“She has produced nothing,” said Biscayne. “And I have been aware of your behaviour for days now. In all respects, Zana, this girl is a prisoner! You cannot bring her into your chamber, and lay her down upon your own bed.”
“I was a prisoner once,” said Zana. “You took pity on me, then. Why can I not do the same?”
“That was much different. You committed a crime – but you were ever a Lumarian. This girl is not!”
“She will be soon.”
Biscayne ran a hand through his hair, and turned from Zana, so that she might not see the tears in his eyes. “The Sorceress has brought your behaviour into question,” he said softly. “She requests you at Grénha.”
“Now, I expect?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose I cannot refuse. I will ready myself, and then I will go to her. Leave me now.”
Biscayne whirled about. “Have you lost your mind? I cannot let you out of my sight!” He took a moment to collect his wild breath. “I can only do so much for you, Zana.”
“I understand that,” she said. “But I wish to prepare myself alone. Wait outside the door, if you like. Does that sound fair to you?”
“I suppose,” said Biscayne.
“Close the door behind you.”
~
Zana rose from her chair, and went to her closet. She pulled out a long gown, coloured all scarlet, and dressed slowly.
Only to think of the idea, of being at the mercy of a pathetic creature like Dain Aerca, caused the very fibres of her skin to quiver with rage. She was nothing but an Auren. An Auren who aged, just like a human – and who would have done just as well for dinner as any human. If she were just an Auren, and without the protection of the Dark Prince, who dictated her movements, Zana would have stamped her out years ago.
If she had chosen, it could have been she, in the service of the Prince. It could have been she who ruled the Night People, and the wolfen men from Hartha. It could have been she – but she had made it clear that she would bow to no one. For this characteristic, she had already refused the hands of two Kings of Death Rock, had been locked away for half of a century in the depths of the Mountain, and had declined the Prince’s offer to be his earthly missionary.
But that was no matter now – for she had no choice but to report to the summons. After she had readied herself, she went back for a moment to her chair and sat down,
the better to see the face of the Auren. Her face was twisted as if in pain, and her eyes twitched back and forth behind the lids. Her sleep was not an easy one.
Zana had spent the hours of the evening studying her sleeping thoughts, and doing what she could to ease their misery. But now she watched the woman’s face, and was struck by a kind of pity, which she had never felt before for any living creature.
It troubled her immensely.
She watched the Auren for only a moment more, before she got to her feet; for she was loath to have Biscayne enter again. She closed her eyes, and departed from the chamber in a swirl of fire and stone.
~
Dain Aerca retired to her chamber, being fully aware that Zana would take her time in arriving. She knew much more about her than she had shared with Biscayne – and was fully aware that the centuries-old, self-assured thorn in her side would feel no need to rush on her own account.
She settled herself for the moment into her chair, occupying herself with a glimpse into the Sphere. There were no more questions now, nothing more to draw forth from its hiding place. All was clear, as she shifted her gaze from place to place; and each scene pleased her infinitely.
After so many hours spent toiling away before the cursed object, she felt that it was the very least she deserved.
Her eyes wandered, quite naturally, to Eredor. She looked first to the two visiting Aurens, who slept in rooms side by side on the fourth storey of the castle. It seemed that the first slept deeply, and was unafflicted by tortured thoughts or tremors of the night. The second, however, lay on her back in the great bed of her chamber, looking up at the ceiling as if it held the secret of her destiny. Her eyes were wide, and her body shook. Her face and neck were coated in a thin sheen of sweat.
Satisfied with the Auren’s troubled mind, Dain looked to the Princess. Her chamber was filled with bright light, and she sat at her desk, scribbling away upon a pile of shuffled, rumpled papers. Her concentration was deep, and her face was drawn with lines of intent. Dain stared at her for many minutes. She was caught by admiration, yet still filled with an obligatory kind of dislike. She tried to see past her face, to the mind beyond it; but could not understand the full workings of it.
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