by Drew Wagar
Ioric looked about to refute her, but she had already moved on.
‘Come, pray tell who is this and their fearsome beast?’
Zoella looked up into the woman’s face, seeing blue eyes sparkling. The woman radiated confidence, standing straight with her shoulders thrown back, her posture firm and upright. Zoella felt small and unkempt next to her.
Ioric turned slightly. ‘Her name is Zoella, she has accompanied me from the sunward. Saved my life by slaying a molossc in the bogs. The beast goes by the name of Raga. Zoella, this is my daughter, Liana Tiamoi.’
Zoella curtseyed. Liana held out her hand and Zoella gently took it.
Zoella felt Liana’s thumb run quickly over her knuckles before letting go. There was a strange sense of presence, inquisitiveness, concealment and planning. A faint metallic tang of something undefinable. It was gone before Zoella was able to study it.
What was that?
Raga growled softly from beside her.
‘And does Zoella have a tongue?’ Liana said, releasing Zoella’s hand with a sweet smile, unfazed by the big carn.
‘If it be pleasing, your Highness.’
‘Your Highness?’ Liana laughed. ‘I might be a Princess, but Lady will do for now.’
‘My apologies, Lady Liana,’ Zoella answered quickly. She felt her face flush with embarrassment.
She saw Liana’s eyes briefly look up and down her body. Zoella was acutely conscious of how dirty and grubby she must appear. She felt foolish carrying her bow with her still.
‘I imagine you have some interesting stories … Zoella, was that your name?’
Zoella nodded slowly. ‘Yes, my Lady.’
‘I would have her join our household,’ Ioric said. ‘Will you see that she is given accommodations?’
Liana looked surprised. ‘Join our household?’
‘Her father petitioned me for a place at court,’ Ioric explained. ‘I agreed, she saved my life, it seemed only fitting.’
Liana looked distinctly unimpressed, spinning around to face Ioric, her dress billowing out briefly. ‘Without my say so? I have no need of more staff, it’s expensive enough keeping those we have, without taking in waifs and strays from the lowlands …’
Zoella’s mouth fell open in surprise, but she held her tongue.
‘She will be a maid,’ Ioric said. ‘I have decided. It is done.’
‘And what can she do?’ Liana demanded.
‘She is skilled with the bow and the knife,’ Ioric said.
‘Much good that will do in the household,’ Liana scoffed.‘ Can she cook?’
‘After a fashion,’ Ioric answered.
‘Can she dress a Lady, make a bed?’
‘She learns quickly.’
‘And etiquette, she knows it well, I assume?’
Ioric lost his temper. ‘Enough of your prattle! She joins the household!’
Zoella watched how Liana’s expression affected an air of patience in dealing with unreasonable requests. Every movement enhanced the impact she had. A little flick of the hair, a roll of the eyes, a pout …
She riles him deliberately. She knows how to anger him …
‘Very well then,’ Liana said. ‘If I am not to be consulted or given a choice, I will just have to do my best, won’t I? Don’t blame me if you get served cold chai.’
Zoella caught a faint grin on Torin’s face, hastily concealed.
‘I won’t be here long,’ Torin said, taking the opportunity to join the conversation. ‘King Marek asks me to leave within two stretches for Varda.’
‘So soon?’ Liana answered.
Ioric nodded. ‘The witches demand it.’
‘You must have food and entertainment whilst you prepare.’
‘That will not be necessary,’ Ioric replied. ‘A little rest is all we require …’
‘Nonsense! If you will not let me run the household as I see fit, then you will at least eat with the family and the court. Torin, tell him.’
‘We need to …’ Torin began.
‘Besides,’ Liana said, now ignoring both of the men and turning to look at Zoella. ‘It will give me a chance to be entertained by our new maid and her wilderness ways. I want to hear your stories so very much. That will be such … fun.’
Zoella didn’t know what to make of the smile Liana gave her, keeping her expression neutral.
Ioric looked at Torin, who shrugged.
‘Torin must leave on time,’ Ioric said.
‘Of course, of course!’ Liana replied. ‘Come, there is much to be done. Dinner will be at the last chime. Go wash from your travels. I will see you later.’
Liana strutted away, leaving the two men behind.
‘Looks like I’ll see you for dinner,’ Torin said with a sigh.
‘She doesn’t change, does she?’ Ioric grumbled.
‘Not in the least. Still, there are worse things in the world. See you at the last chime, brother and welcome to Viresia, maid Zoella.’
Torin gave a bow and left.
‘There,’ Ioric said, when Torin had walked away. ‘My happy family.’
‘Your daughter is interesting,’ Zoella said softly.
‘Liana?’ Ioric laughed. ‘She is concerned with nothing but appearances; you don’t need to worry about her. She will look after you, or I will hear about it. Come, let’s get washed and dressed at least.’
Ioric led her away. Zoella felt Raga growl beside her.
I know Raga. I know.
The carn could sense what she could sense. The feeling of deception was all around her, like a sodden damp veil of gloom.
Zoella had been assigned quarters in the halls a tier below the palace. She had never enjoyed such treatment before. Fresh cloths were provided for her. Food for herself and Raga had been left on a small table to the side. She ate hers ravenously.
A tub of hot water was placed before a small fire in the room with a small leather bag of sweetsand. She used it to good effect, scrubbing herself clean in a way she had never been clean before. The sweetsand foamed and stung the scratches on her skin, but it was very effective at removing the dirt. She was surprised to see that she still had a strong tan, but she guessed she’d been outside for several passes now.
She climbed out of the tub, dried herself and dressed. Alongside, Raga was sprawled in front of the fire, clearly enjoying a rest. The old carn had never left her side once in all this time and it was clear he didn’t intend to. Zoella rested a hand on his flank.
Sleepy, worried, don’t like this place …
Zoella had to agree. The King was mad. There was no other word for it. She had sensed little from him but confusing and spiky emotions that flung off from him in all directions. Ioric had seemed relieved that she’d made a good account of herself, but, truth be told, she wanted to stay as far from him as possible.
It was he that ordered the banishment of my guardian; that sent those guards to look for me. Because I have this power …
Clearly it was something to do with this mysterious land of Drayden. Zoella had never heard of it, but that meant little, her knowledge of the land outside her home town was virtually nil. What had Torin said?
Varda is where people go to disappear into Drayden …
The feeling of deception still lay about the place, vague and indefinable. She wondered if so many plots and games were being played that she’d never be able to distinguish anything. There were too many people about.
Ioric lies to his brother and daughter. A warning for me not to trust them too I guess …
Liana had no good intentions for her either.
A knock came at the door. Raga growled softly. Zoella opened it cautiously to see Ioric standing outside.
He too was washed and clean, now dressed in a smart uniform, a sword in an impressive scabbard at his side. He looked very smart.
‘My Prince,’ Zoella said, with a bow.
‘Enough of that. You saved my life remember? I am in debt to you.’
Zo
ella looked nervously up and down the corridor outside.
‘I do not want to go to this … dinner.’
‘I cannot excuse us, alas,’ Ioric said. ‘I must be welcomed home formally by the King and Liana must socialise. Try to say as little as you can. As a new maid you would be overwhelmed by this, it’s only natural you would feel ill at ease. A young woman would say little, I’m sure you can act that part.’
‘I won’t need to act!’
‘We will leave as soon as we can politely depart. Do you know the saying “Be as peaceful as a flit on the wing …”?’
Zoella nodded. ‘…and as cunning as a cainar on the prowl.’
Ioric smiled. ‘The intrigue is tiresome, but we must navigate it to solve our riddles, Zoella. Come.’
Zoella, with Raga padding quietly at her side, followed Ioric back through endless corridors and into a great hall. Shutters were pulled at windows to seal out much of Lacaille’s light, the interior lit by candles and urns from which fires blazed. The atmosphere was smoky, enhanced by perfumes and fragrances that made Zoella’s nose twitch and her eyes water.
The hall was decorated in much the same style of the throne room; with tapestries and murals lining every available surface, but unlike that room, this was full of people. Zoella could see dozens of them, dressed in elegant robes and dresses. They all wore masks in the fashion of creatures she knew, here a carn, there a fellin, a dach, one was a creature she had only heard tales of – a phaunt, huge and plodding … she even saw a tall thin pair dressed as marsips. The people seemed to mimic the behaviours of the creatures they had chosen in the way they moved. Here marsips: quick and nervous. There a carn; prowling around the edges, looking in for prey …
‘The court of Scallia,’ Ioric said under his breath. ‘Lords and Ladies that vie and compete for the King’s attention. Fawning imbeciles for the most part, but some are clever and dangerous. Beware.’
The bustle of conversation was loud around her, but she could also hear music, being played by a group of musicians standing in an alcove along one side of the hall.
At the far end, still glowering, the king sat on a throne, his head propped up on his hand, an elbow on the arm of his throne, his eyes staring down the hall towards her. He wore no mask.
Ioric made his way forward, making small and idle conversation with various worthies around him. The assembled people would nod at Zoella, but to her great relief, none of them spoke. Raga’s low growls seemed to keep them at bay.
‘So farmer’s girl,’ a voice whispered beside her. ‘Ready to serve our household are you?’
Zoella turned and looked straight into the face of a golden haired fellin. She gave a gasp before recognising a mask. With a giggle the owner pulled it up. It was Liana, Ioric’s daughter.
‘Startled you, did I?’ Liana asked. ‘You screech rather like … a marsip. Funny don’t you think? I expected more of the great warrior who rescued my father from such a fearsome beast. Perhaps you are not so brave after all?’
Zoella forced herself not to argue. ‘I had my bow then and a fellin is a more deadly creature than a molossc.’
‘You’ve seen one, I suppose?’
‘I have.’ Zoella glared at her, deciding to fight her corner. ‘It leaps higher than a man, with claws half a hand in length, teeth sharper than fine knives.’
Liana seemed unimpressed. ‘And I suppose you have slain one of those too?’
Zoella shook her head, looking at the fellin mask in Liana’s hand. ‘Not yet, but I would should I be threatened by one.’
Liana laughed.
‘Such spirit … from a maid.’ Liana’s face turned stern. ‘Do not forget your station, despite your favour in the eyes of the king. You will have to work, there is no shirking in my household.’
Zoella shrugged. ‘Work does not scare me. I will do as I am bid.’
Liana smiled and then leant in close.
‘I know not who you are,’ she whispered. ‘But a word of advice, Zoella of the sunward vales. Secrets do not last long in Viresia.’
Liana straightened and raised her voice.
‘Come to me at the first chime and we will familiarise you with your new duties.’
Zoella watched as Liana moved away and was soon lost in the throng of people.
Trumpets sounded and conversation slowly faded away around her. The King got slowly to his feet, assisted by two aides. Zoella watched, fascinated by him.
So old!
The King spoke, his voice still powerful, if a little unsteady. Zoella could see a goblet in his hand. Wine slopped from it as he tottered slightly.
‘I welcome back my eldest son and heir, Prince Ioric, to my court.’
Zoella saw Ioric step forward and bow the knee.
‘He has ventured far, seeking to defend the borders of our realm,’ the king continued. ‘Or so he claims. Hunting for sport I suspect.’
There was a titter of laughter around the hall.
‘Father …’
‘Let me speak!’ the king hissed, waving Ioric away and then gesturing to the court around him. ‘And then, upon his return he was set upon, by a beast so fearsome I cannot speak its name.’
Zoella heard the congregation around the king gasp in mock surprise, recoiling from his words.
‘Yes, a fearsome beast! But you see him here, hale and hearty, but not by his own prowess, no! He was rescued. Yes! Rescued!’
Oh no …
Zoella thought that Ioric’s face was commendably blank, but she could see his jaw was tight and clamped firmly closed.
‘A warrior of some renown naturally? One of Scallia’s finest men at arms you would think, yes? They stand amongst us now, within this very room and yet you have not recognised them, have you? Eh? Have you?’
The king staggered forwards before regaining his balance. The congregation looked around at each other, feigning entertained bemusement. A brief hum of conversation washed over them.
The king laughed.
‘Step forward, Zoella, saviour of the Prince!’
So much for staying unnoticed!
Zoella swallowed and took a step forward. She focused on the king, on putting one foot in front of the other without stumbling. Raga came with her, growling at the people who turned to look at her in surprise. They backed away to either side, muttering, laughing and pointing.
Zoella arrived at the foot of the throne and knelt before the king, head bowed.
‘Such has my line become that it should be rescued by such as you,’ the king said. Zoella dared not look up.
‘Yet that does not take away from your deeds, little one. I would have your service, Zoella. Perhaps you can save the kingdom where others have failed!’
More laughter reached her ears. Zoella looked up to see the king offering her his hand. She looked uncertainly to her left where Ioric remained on his knees, but he did not look back. She reached out and took the king’s hand.
She felt his thumb squeeze roughly across her knuckles and fingers and heard a mutter, but couldn’t catch the words.
‘I am at your service, king Marek of Scallia,’ she said, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could.
The king nodded.
‘Then swear, Zoella. Swear that you will be loyal to house Tiamoi.’
Zoella kept her gaze locked on the king’s ancient face, noticing the wrinkles, greyness and jowly skin hanging from his bones.
‘I so swear.’
‘Swear that you will defend our royal line.’
‘I so swear.’
‘Swear that you will defend our interests, defend our people, our cities and our lands against all that would do us harm.’
‘I so swear.’
‘Your solemn duty so to do, until one of our line or death releases you.’
Zoella swallowed. ‘I so swear.’
King Marek pulled her to her feet with such strength she almost overbalanced, in a moment she was turned around, facing a sea of masked faces all turned to her
.
‘All hail Zoella, saviour of the Prince and servant to house Tiamoi!’ the king roared.
The response came from all within the hall. Raga growled and then barked loudly.
‘All hail Zoella!’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Daine, Capital of Drayden
Round 2306, Eighth Pass
From a distance it would have been reminiscent of a bird, silhouetted against the bright sunright sky, a black shape, slowly growing in size. To watchers at the temple it could be seen turning in the air, alternatively rising and falling and then banking around air currents and thermals as it crossed the hard terrain beyond the city of Daine.
Yet there were no birds on Esurio, the creature’s true nature became clear as it continued to grow, closing at a rapid pace. The wingspan was extensive, easily five times the length of a woman laid lengthways with her arms and legs outstretched.
Merrin stood atop the temple, watching the dach as it slowed into a banking curve, dropping one wing and circling lower. Where the herg had a stocky build, the dach whilst related was a more delicate animal. Its fans served as wings, stabilised by a whip like tail. The creature was streamlined and lightweight, though still impressively strong. Merrin could already see its wings were flushed with red. Even with the cooling of the wind at such speed the creature had been ridden hard, clearly the messenger was in haste.
Astride the dach, Merrin could make out the messenger, whose goggles caught the light of Lacaille and reflected it back during a sharp turn. The dach was descending fast. Merrin stepped aside as it thundered down, furiously back-winging to shed its velocity, clawed feet outstretched to grip the surface below.
Even before the dach had stopped the messenger sprung down, pulling off goggles and headgear to reveal a worried looking youthful face. The dach sank down full length on the ground, exhausted.
‘Priestess Mira?’ Merrin asked, ‘What has happened? Why are you here?’
‘An urgent message, Priestess Merrin.’ Mira answered after a peremptory bow of acknowledgement. ‘As we feared. Unrest in Varda. It was almost a riot! They’re refusing the search.’
Merrin paused for a moment.
‘We must tell the others, quickly now.’
Dust swirled and dirt sprayed from wheels as the pair of chariots rounded the corner of the muddy track in the centre of the amphitheatre. Both chariots were sliding across the rough ground as they careened around the track, pulled by a pair of furiously galloping hergs apiece. They were dangerously close, barely a hands-width apart, racing around to the cheers of the on-looking crowd.
