Flame's Shadow

by Anna Eluvae

"I just don't see it," said Dravus.

  They went back to their guard duty after the recess was over, and stood around patiently while more lines were gone over one by one. The Flower Queen would have some veto power over the Council, but this power wasn't absolute. There were disagreements and clarifications to be made about the scope and nature of this veto, and the possibility of a "soft" veto wherein the queen would fail to exercise her right yet still hold up the process without saying no. It was unbelievably dull, and by the time they were into the fifth hour (and onto their second recess) Dravus had lost all semblance of interest. He wasn't native to Torland, and if their internal politics were slight one way or the other, it was never going to matter to him. This time it was Lexari who pulled him aside.

  "I need to be able to take part," said Lexari. "I gave Darkheart as much instruction as I could, but he's rolling over to every new suggestion."

  "Is that so bad?" asked Dravus, but Lexari's face told him that was the wrong question.

  "The future of the country is decided here today," said Lexari. "We're acting as mere guards, here to protect against knives, but it's the words that are doing the heavy lifting."

  "It will be alright," said Dravus. "It's a terrible story anyway. No one will praise you for setting a cap on taxation. They'll only care that you were here at all, if that."

  Lexari scowled, but if there was anything more that he had to say, he was cut short by Chester's loud voice calling for a return to the documents.

  By the time night fell, Torland had a constitution, with the ink still wet on it. There was no attack, and after they'd come back to Grayhull, there was no fresh disaster waiting for them. Nemm seemed mildly disappointed, and Lexari was still upset by the fact that he had been excluded from proceedings. So far as Dravus could tell, the proceedings had gone exactly to plan, with no drama to speak of.

  * * *

  "Chester Welling is a mystery," said Nemm. She sat down to breakfast with Lexari and Dravus, with a stack of papers in her hand. Two days had passed since the new agreement was put into place, and the first Parliament of Torland was already meeting in a warehouse, with plans for a new building to house them being hurriedly drafted. "At first I thought that it was just a false name, but it's not. Supposedly, he grew up in Meriwall before traveling abroad with a sum of money given to him by the crown. His wife died young, when a supply of improperly stored gunpowder was ignited on accident. It's impossible to say whether that actually happened or not, given how long ago it would have been, but none of the older people I spoke with remember anything like that happening. It seems that this was a story that he told about himself that everyone believed."

  "Does it matter?" asked Dravus. "It's over."

  "Of course it matters," said Nemm.

  "I agree," said Lexari. "This man is an agent of our enemies."

  "There's peace now," said Dravus. "And you said we're only staying until Wenaru's trial is over."

  "The man has access to Harbinger artifacts," said Lexari.

  "Or connections to the Iron Kingdom," said Nemm. "We can't rule that out. At any rate, the man who called himself Chester Welling has disappeared. He told people that he never wanted any power for himself, and didn't want to make himself into an illustrati by virtue of his role in the Council. He sailed off, though the reports about where he went disagree with each other."

  "You think he might be the man that Wealdwood spoke of?" asked Lexari. "No, of course he is. Our adversary."

  Dravus was silent, but he wasn't quite certain that he agreed with any of what they were saying. They had started with the idea that what was happening in Torland was part of an overture on behalf of the Iron King, a way of weakening the country in advance of an invasion, or a way to give himself some excuse for war. Yet if this old man who went by Chester had been a part of some plot, and he had accomplished what he set out to, then the end game of the plot seemed to be a practically bloodless revolution. A dozen people had died, and a few buildings and businesses had been burned to the ground, but everyone had already agreed that it could have been much worse than it was. There didn't seem to be any disagreement about the fact that the Flower Queen was a terrible and ineffectual ruler, and now rule had been more or less stripped from her.

  "Where do we go next?" asked Nemm. "When the trial is over, we have our options. I might try to narrow down Welling's destination, but for all I know he might have left us a dozen false trails."

  "If he'd wanted to burn down the city, he could have," said Dravus. "If the intent was to open up Torland for attack, it failed. Why follow?"

  "We've been attacked by assassins twice now," said Nemm. "Once in Genthric, once here. The Phoenixes will never be tried for their crimes, that much is clear, but justice isn't what we're after."

  "It's the story," said Lexari. "The adversary. If this worked out in his favor, then all the more reason to go on the offensive."

  "Alright," Dravus frowned.

  Yet if he looked at the end result, he couldn't help but get the feeling that perhaps he was on the wrong side.

  Chapter 11

  Dravus stood on the roof of Grayhull Palace, and flapped wings made of shadow. He'd made them as long as he could, stretching them out to nearly three feet each. That wasn't quite as long as Lexari's were at their full extension, but it was as much as Dravus could manage before they began to lose coherence. He had grown more powerful in the last two days. He'd mentioned as much to Nemm, and she had pulled out a map of the world to show him the slow spread of his story. The most likely cause for the increase in fame was that one of the packet ships had finally reached Maskoy, and the death of Zerstor had become known to the people there. Dravus had tried making the wings before, but had never managed to create anything worthwhile. Now he had wings that looked respectable.

  "Do those things work?" asked Flame. The queen's alchemist had followed him up to the roof, completely unbidden, and she had watched him carefully as he'd set to work crafting his wings. It had taken him half an hour before he had something that seemed right, and Dravus had nearly forgotten that she was there.

  "No," replied Dravus. "I mean, I haven't tried, but I don't think they would. Lexari spends a half hour making his in the morning, and he's had decades of practice. His are also larger. There's something internal to them that makes them capable of lifting him up."

  "Have you asked him for help?" asked Flame.

  "No," said Dravus. "Partly because I'm worried that he would refuse me."

  "The wings are one of his three great insights," said Flame. Fire licked her bare skull. "It would be understandable if he wanted to keep the secret. Flight is a powerful ability. The fact that he's the only one that can do it is a source of great fame."

  "What are the other two?" asked Dravus. "The penetrating strike must be one of them, but …" Dravus shook his head. "I should know this. I've been too busy reading the histories of the people of Torland to absorb all of the stories about my traveling companions."

  "Oh, the third is a secret," said Flame. "That's the rule of three. The power to fly through the air like a bird, the power to bypass any armor, and a third so dangerous that he never uses it."

  Dravus immediately thought back to the first fight between Lexari and Zerstor, and the moment that Lexari had seemed to turn into light. Nemm had said that it was impossible, and Lexari had never offered comment on it, but Dravus had never really stopped thinking about it.

  "If the wings don't work, what's the point?" asked Flame.

  "Image," said Dravus. "Lexari spreads his wings to show off for the crowds, even when he's not using them to fly. Obviously shaping the wings is the first step towards flight, but in the meantime, perhaps I can fake it if I need to. That would be a good story, wouldn't it, if Lexari's apprentice managed the feat in a matter of months instead of the years that Lexari took?"

  "It's a good story for you," said Flame. She shook her head, causing the flames to twist. "It's not a good story for Lexari. It overshadows him.
" She smiled. "Appropriate, in terms of domains, but no one ever made friends through surpassing their contemporaries."

  A few days ago, Dravus might have argued that he and Lexari were already friends. Now, he was less sure. "Well, odds are I won't be able to fly without years of careful training. Lexari made a study of flight. He figured out how to build his wings by looking at birds, and he sat down to do some complicated math that I'm sure I'd need months to understand, let alone to apply it to flight. I'd probably also need considerably more standing than I have now." Dravus wondered whether any of that would placate Lexari. Flame was right; wings were unique to Lexari, and someone else having them was a threat of sorts, even if they didn't work.

  "I never asked after you," said Dravus. "After the fires." That seemed like it was weeks ago, but it had only been a few days. Life moved faster as an illustrati. Soon they would be leaving this place, and the whole course of their adventures in Torland would be like they'd lasted for years, or possibly like it had all been over in the blink of an eye. "How have you been faring?"

  "Oh, it was hard on me," said Flame. She shifted in her seat. "I had always liked being an illustrati."

  Dravus had a feeling that this was why she'd followed him up to the rooftop. "You don't like it anymore?"

  "That man's hands on me," sad Flame. "When he was trying to kill me. He was trying to use flame to do it, and if I'd been anyone else, he would have succeeded. And then going into those burning buildings to put out the fires, worried that a wooden beam was going to hit me in the head so hard that it would kill me … well, you can imagine. I'm sure you saw the state I was in afterward. I kept thinking about the men and women who were in their homes, far enough away that they didn't even have to worry about the fires. They could sleep through the riots altogether. They had a low enough standing that they could simply let life pass them by. I envied them. I don't think I've really stopped envying them."

  "Ah," said Dravus. He couldn't confess to having felt the same. "Well."

  "I remember what it was like before I was famous," said Flame. "I think perhaps you're the only other illustrati at court that shares that memory. The queen, I love her dearly, but she was born into the fame and power. Most of the others as well. They were the sons and daughters of nobility, with their names being known to hundreds of thousands days after they were born."

  "We don't have that in Genthric," said Dravus. "We have nobility, and the senatori, but they don't introduce their children to the world until after their tenth birthday. I think I've heard it's too difficult to control a child if they have an appreciable amount of standing."

  Flame frowned. "It's supposed to help keep a baby healthy."

  "Well, I don't know," said Dravus. "As you said, I'm new to this arena. I didn't have much interaction with Genthric's illustrati beyond a single morning. Maybe there's a reason they do it that way."

  "Either way," said Flame. She shifted her dress around and smoothed it out. "The men and women here are born knowing who they are, and they are, in large part, invariant. The stories that they tell about each other, or about themselves, are centered around personalities and ideas that have been in place since childhood. They're not naturally kind to outsiders like you and I. Even after five years in the court, and serving at the pleasure of the queen."

  "We're kindred spirits then?" Dravus asked with a smile. Flame's face was serious though, and she nodded.

  "I know you're leaving soon, just after the trial has concluded, but I thought you might understand me better than they do." She smoothed down her skirts again, and then ran her fingers through the flames on her head. "I'm leaving this life behind."

  "Leaving?" asked Dravus. "You can't leave. The queen needs you. You're valuable."

  "The hair will be the hardest part," said Flame. "Did you know I shave my scalp every morning? My hair is immune to the fire, and to have real hair layered beneath hair of flames didn't look pleasing. I'd had the idea early on. One day I just —" she ran her hand over the flames, and where her hand passed, only bare skin remained. "If I don't want people to know that I'm an illustrati, I'll have to stay bald until the hair grows back in. Perhaps I'll take to wearing turbans."

  "Why are you going?" asked Dravus.

  "I've said, haven't I?" asked Flame. There was a faint look of puzzlement on her face. "I was thinking of all the people in their houses. The ones who could go back to bed and forget that anything was happening."

  "You want to be poor?" asked Dravus.

  "Oh, well of course I won't be poor," said Flame. She seemed mildly alarmed by the thought. "I'll be selling all the dresses, and the jewels, and I am still an accomplished chemist, after all. I won't be poor. But I will be unknown. The fame will fade, with time."

  "You won't be asked to fight fires anymore," said Dravus. "How often do you really get called upon by the queen? How often has your life been in danger, before the events of today? There were many in the court who stayed behind."

  "It's sweet of you to try to talk me out of it," said Flame. "The Flower Queen would appreciate it, I'm sure. But no, I've already thought of every objection you might raise. My mind is quite made up. You're right that there were those who stayed behind at the palace, but they were there for the purposes of defense. It doesn't matter whether they were cowards or not; if the conflict had reached them, they would have been compelled to action. I want to live a life free of that compulsion. I want no one to depend on me, or really to think of me at all."

  Dravus looked at Flame carefully. She had a calmness to her that he hadn't expected following the night of the fires and what he'd seen of her afterward. Now it was starting to make sense. Flame hadn't gotten over anything. She had instead decided on a drastic course.

  "People will eventually forget me," said Flame. "The queen will find someone else to refine her flowers into narcotics, and the court will have a new alchemist. My hair will grow back, and my powers will fade, until I can no longer hold a flame in the palm of my hand."

  "I don't remember life before fame so fondly," said Dravus. "Some of that was my own fault though."

  "Well," said Flame. "At least wish me luck?"

  Dravus nodded. "Good luck."

  "And if you ever decide that the life of stories is too much for you … well, perhaps you'll come across a lowly alchemist who you carried across the city one night." Flame moved towards him and kissed him on the cheek, and after she had left, Dravus could still feel the spot of warmth.

  * * *

  A building was being constructed to house the Parliament of Torland. The plans were still in flux, but a site had been agreed upon. Three banks had been burned to the ground on the night of the Five Fires. That prime real estate might have seen the banks risen again, if not for the agreement that the Parliament needed to be located somewhere that spoke to its stature, and the general disarray that the loss of dozens of ledgers had caused.

  There was no question of waiting until the Parliament had been built. It would have taken far too long, which would have left Wenaru stuck in his nominal prison for months if not years. More importantly, it would have blunted the impact of the story far too much. However, not being entirely without a sense of drama, the first Parliament of Torland had chosen to hold the trial on the site of the building.

  The wreckage was quickly torn down and carted off, and the ground was swept and tamped down. There were places where the floor plans of the gutted buildings were still visible, and the lot still smelled strongly of ash, but that was all part of the theater of it. A new foundation would be built on top of the old. Years down the line, the first Parliament would be able to tell people how they had been there when Wenaru Mottram had been put on trial, and how that trial had been the first real action that the Parliament had accomplished, pushing Torland into the modern era of democracy. The foundation of the Parliament was first and foremost the people, and before there had been any no-doubt iconic building, it had been the people who did the business of government in the dirt and
ash. Some of the new ministers were saying that already.

  Chairs were brought in from all over the place, and a quick stage was built for the judge, witnesses, and the defendant. It quickly became clear that this was a moment which was to cement the Parliament in history, and so great care was taken to getting the seating right; it was naturally going to translate over into the full Parliament, and there were inevitably going to be paintings. They ended up with two columns of seats which angled towards the stage, each with a large number of rows. There were many ministers, the better to reflect the diversity of Torland, never mind that the first Parliament was composed almost entirely of the Council of Laborers.

  One of the benefits of holding the trial on an empty lot was that it allowed the public to freely watch. Just beyond the line of demarcation that showed where the trial would take place, there was a noisy crowd that watched the proceedings with considerably less decorum than the ministers were trying for. This was almost certainly by design, the better to give the ministers a sense of legitimacy simply by contrast.