*
The Princess was not used to sitting anywhere but in the royal box. In fact, when she'd arrived at the Smith House, the only theatre on the first pillar, she'd almost made straight for the royal seat. But Rekulen had tapped her on the arm and so she'd made for the public gallery, looking up every now and then longingly at the comfort of the royal area high above. Rekulen did not say much, nor did he reveal much of himself beneath the thick dark-blue cloak he wore. On the odd occasion his hands appeared they looked soft and well maintained with short even nails. She had yet to glimpse his face, he did not like the light or he did not like to be seen. Either way he was hidden for now.
The glamour radiated out from a thin silver chain at her neck. Evessa had told her that it would only affect her face and hair. When she'd slipped it on she'd gasped at the blonde-haired, dour-looking stranger staring back at her. Evessa told her that the glamour would remain in place as long as she wore the chain. At first she'd been petrified. If somebody noticed her missing before she left the palace would be sealed and she would face her father’s wrath.
But here the Witch-Maker helped her too. Before Esmerel left her apartments she saw the sleeping form of someone who she knew was not in her bed sleeping gently. Evessa said she would inform Trillian and her silver claw guard that the Princess was not feeling well and would spend the rest of the day recuperating.
So the Princess had left the royal apartments with Rekulen in tow. She'd been shaking as she approached the large open doors where the silver claws gathered, but there were hundreds of people coming and going for even in conflict day-to-day matters of governance continued. Besides, the claws were more interested in those coming into the Hall of Providence than those going out. Esmerel had felt like skipping once they were clear of the door and walking down the bridge out of Fenngaard. From there it had been easy, down the giant steps, across Longmoor Bridge and into Lower Palace.
Lower Palace was the unofficial name for the small area of the first pillar which was not occupied by the gargantuan palace complex. It ran all the way around the pillar and housed a number of areas. Some were the houses of the kingdom’s elite, some were small parks and others were markets for the rich. Then there was the Smith House, just before Dalgate Bridge, a large pentagonal structure built from red marble. Plays had been performed here by the most gifted of dream-actors since the days of the first Fenn.
At that very moment Esmerel sat watching The Jilted Night, a play about how night was forsaken by the day and would wallow in eternal darkness for all time afterwards. It was a seminal piece which the Princess had seen several times before but it never failed to amaze her, especially the finale when the character of night finally erupted in a volcano of darkness which swamped the stage and then the entire audience.
After the darkness had receded and the lanterns had been relit the audience started to filter out. Esmerel was not yet ready to return to the palace, however. Once they were outside she turned to Rekulen: “We will be going to the Dust Market”, she told him imperiously. As ever, he said nothing but simply nodded. I will get him to talk at some point, she mused to herself as she turned, swishing her grey cloak and walking down the road towards the Dust Market.
As they walked the rain started up again. The cloak did offer some protection against the elements but in truth it had been so long since it rained in Fenn that there was nothing in her wardrobe designed to resist a lengthy downpour.
Much of the market was covered by large canopies which had been newly built following the change in the weather. There were a whole lot of people in Fenn who were shaking their fists in the air at the Magister Elementis and his apparent failure in his primary role, but the canopy makers were not among them for business had been booming.
They called it the Dust Market for it was named after the original stall which had appeared. The first Fenn was said to have a fondness for hourglasses and the first stall sold thousands of different kinds of multi-coloured dream dust which he used in his hourglasses. Gradually many other stalls had sprung up to cater for the needs of the kingdom’s lord and lady dreams who inhabited the large houses of the first pillar.
The main currency of Fenn was the crystal chit, thin pieces of crystal-fuel, and Esmerel saw many of the glinting circles changing hands as she perused the market. Crystal-fuel was a staple source of much that a dream needed to survive. It was utilised by the vast majority of dreams who were unable to dream weave to any effective degree or whose dream weaves were not of a manner that could help them survive. Some dreams called the crystal-fuel the 'miracle metal' such were its properties.
Depending on the user, the fuel in its basic form was capable of anything that the user could conceive. The limitations were in the amount possessed and the will of the dream. The crystal was also refined so that certain types could only be used for certain things: food crystals, fire crystals, water crystals. Since the elder days the crystal had contributed to the ecology and economy of Avalen in a myriad of ways. It was harvested at Whistlewood from the Dream Sea where the Whistlers’ Guild refined it into its various forms.
The rain was beating down steadily, the first pillar was paved with blue marble, but beyond it puddles would be forming in the muddy streets of Fenn. Esmerel wondered aimlessly for a while until she found herself strolling up a plank into a raised stall. There was a sign across the top with a picture of a golden horn and the words 'Unicorn Blood' next to it. Esmerel was fond of unicorns and she had several of her own in the stables at the Palace of Princesses, so was shocked to see someone selling such a product; shocked but also intrigued as to why anyone should want to buy such a thing.
Rekulen was behind her as she walked into the large stall. It was dark and gloomy inside, the Princess could see shelves on which stood thousands of tiny bottles containing powders and liquids in an array of colours. At the far end of the stall was a table where a pale bald little man sat. He wore threadbare brown robes and his head seemed to be disproportionately large for his body.
“You sell unicorn blood?” she asked him. His pale eyes regarded her with what looked like contempt.
“Who would buy unicorn blood?” he asked in an absurdly high-pitched voice.
“Well, your sign says ‘Unicorn Blood’”, she pressed. He didn't say anything in response and in truth Esmerel was beginning to feel uneasy. Her uneasiness increased when she turned to see Rekulen slamming the shutters for the stall shut.
“Rekulen, what are you doing?” He did not answer her. “We are returning to the palace?” she said, her voice becoming shrill.
He did not answer her.
Instead he walked towards her and made as if to grab her. She struck and knocked his hood back as one of his hands clamped over her mouth. She suddenly started to feel very drowsy and weak. Darkness closed in on her vision and the last thing she saw was Rekulen’s face which had been revealed when she knocked his hood back. He is very beautiful, she thought as the dark closed in.
Beyond the Dream Page 27
