by Anna Eluvae
* * *
The greeting they got at the town of Bordes was much more pleasant than the one they had received upon their arrival in Meriwall. The story of Dravus's battle with Zerstor had reached them almost two weeks ago, and they had been eagerly awaiting the illustrati. As they were making dock and waving to the crowds who had gathered to see them, Dravus rested his hand on the small of Nemm's back. She gave him a faint smile he was sure was calculated for the audience, which was nonetheless gratifying; it meant that he was performing his role in their fake romance correctly.
Dravus by now had a suit of armor that could almost entirely cover him. There were still gaps at the joints, but all of his limbs were covered in solid shadow. He had taken a look at the map of the world; the story had likely not yet spread too far east of the algalif's court, though it was unlikely that those countries would take as much interest in things which had happened a world away. The colonies to the west would receive word in some weeks time, but they were not yet so populated that any illustrati felt compelled to make the journey out there. Nemm had warned him that a time would come when his power began to plateau or even wane, but for now he was still on the upward climb, feeling better and stronger with every day that passed. It would be some time before he was forgotten in Genthric and the story of Zerstor's death was replaced by some new tale.
If they had any cargo to speak of, they would have sailed up the Elnor River and used a series of canals and locks to arrive at Parance. That route took three days though, in part because of the numerous stops that would need to be made, as well as having to deal with the Iron Kingdom's customs office at every step of the way. Instead, they made port at a smaller city that served as a point of defense for the river. They hired out horses, and left the Zenith behind.
"Better for us to run," said Nemm. She patted the flank of her horse and made kissing noises to it. "I can outrace a horse. We could be there in four hours instead of ten."
"Running is unseemly," said Lexari. "That aside, it's been some years since we've been to the Iron Kingdom, and we need to get the lay of the land. The greeting we've had so far has been pleasant enough, but if we're here to gather information, it would do us good to speak with the locals. The Iron King has not been seen for at least a year, and I'd like to know why that is before we get to Parance, or whether that's still true."
"He's old," said Wenaru. "He's been old for a very long time. It might be that he's on his deathbed."
"Which means a succession crisis," said Nemm. "A change in power that's far less clear-cut than the one we just took part in. I'm hoping we'll be gone from the Iron Kingdom before that happens, if it happens."
"The Iron King has no sons?" asked Dravus. "No daughters?" Everyone else had gotten up onto their horses. Dravus was giving his a skeptical look. It had a white diamond shape on its forehead, with a dull look in its eyes. Dravus had never ridden a horse before.
"It's the opposite problem," said Nemm. "The Iron King has many sons and many daughters, by many different women. There's no question about which heir is legitimate, because none of them are; the Iron King never married. There will be dozens of illegitimate claimants, each arguing over how theirs should be the new bloodline, or more likely, going at each other with muskets and bayonets. The Iron King keeps his power close to him. Even if he designated a successor, I doubt that the transition could be handled smoothly."
"We can be part of that story then," said Lexari. "Assuming that it happens while we're here. It's nothing to fear." He looked over at Dravus. "You've never ridden before? You could have said."
"Sorry," said Dravus. "I … I somehow thought that it would be easy." He looked over the unfamiliar assortment of leather and metal that was somehow wrapped around the horse.
"You sit in the saddle," said Nemm. "We're not going to do any heavy riding today, not if we want to speak with the locals along the way. I can hold the reins for you, and all you'll need to do is stick your feet in the stirrups and try not to fall out. These aren't even illustrati horses; you should see the beasts that equine illustrati can make, given enough time."
Dravus climbed up by placing one hand on the pommel and one foot in the stirrup. He tried to remind himself that he was stronger than the horse. If he fell, he would bruise nothing but his pride; he'd taken falls of several stories and had no broken bones to show for it. The horse seemed unimpressed by him, but after Nemm grabbed its reins, it trotted along. Dravus tried his best to look dignified.
Dravus had always thought of the Iron Kingdom as a place of rust and steam. The stories there always took place in mud and squalor, and if not there, then in the foundries where men with great scars worked with molten iron. Dravus saw none of that as they traveled. There were fields with furrows of damp dirt and small houses beside them, with long stretches of woods and the roar of the river beside the road they traveled. It didn't seem much different than Torland, nor even all that dissimilar to Genthric. Dravus wondered whether life was similar the world over. If you went to the fields around Maskoy, would you find that the only difference was the crops that were grown? Would the people speak with a different accent, or a different tongue, but ultimately follow the same patterns? All the differences he spotted seemed superficial as they traveled down the road. It was easy to imagine that aside from landmarks like Laith's Face, the countries of the world had more similarities than differences.
He would change his mind when he saw the city of Parance.
Chapter 13
Nemm held the reins to Dravus's horse as they made their way through the Iron Kingdom. They were following the curve of the Elnor River, which made a snake-like path towards Parance. After the first hour, Dravus's legs began to get sore from riding. The fresh air and open fields were starting to lose their appeal. At heart, Dravus was a creature of the city. He was more comfortable when in a canyon formed by two looming buildings than with fields around him, never mind the creature he was sitting on.
"Have you been keeping up with your reading, young Lightscour?" asked Lexari. He looked perfectly serene and comfortable on his horse. It was as though he was preparing to be immortalized in a painting. Neither he nor Nemm were using their stirrups; they simply let their feet dangle free.
"Mostly," said Dravus. He'd spent his nights on the ship reading in the darkness. "I brought along The Five Questions and Greenwich's Treatise on Theological-Political Structure."
"Very good," said Lexari. He patted the flank of his horse. "Pay attention to what Mayhew has to say about the nature of fame."
"Mayhew is out of date," said Wenaru. The bad mood that had been hanging over him since Torland was now faded to a slight stuffiness.
"He seems to be more concerned with questions than answers anyway," said Dravus. He'd been reading the book only sporadically. It was now stuck in his saddlebag, along with a few other possessions, mostly clothing that Nemm had helped him get fitted for, all in rich purples.
"Even his questions are out of date," said Wenaru. "If I recall correctly, he spends a great many pages talking about the importance of asking the right questions, but he fails utterly in putting that to practice. 'What happens to unclaimed fame?' It implies that fame is ordinarily claimed. A more precise wording wouldn't have put forward a hypothesis in the same breath as the question. Mayhew came from a school of pure reason though. He didn't engage in real experimentation. It would be foolish to expect better of him."
"Should I not read it?" asked Dravus.
"It's foundational," said Wenaru. The pretense of hostility had been dropped, which Dravus was thankful for. "Later writers will reference Mayhew often, so you need to know what he said before the counter-arguments written decades later make sense. What's needed is for a clever man to write a new book which does not rely so heavily on the thinkers of the past. I did as much for a number of areas of biology." He sniffed the air. It didn't seem to agree with him, as his nose crinkled.
"Are you pleased to be back in your homeland?" asked Dravus. He wonder
ed whether they would see the hospital where Wenaru had done his work. He hoped that he would be spared that.
"Homeland," said Wenaru with a bitter laugh. "When I was young, home was the Highlands of the Iron Kingdom. When I was growing, it was a school where my peers vanished one by one as the years passed. After that, my homeland was entirely contained within a hospital. Now I don't have a homeland, Lightscour. There is nowhere for me to return to."
Nemm coughed. "And your own home Dravus?" she asked. "It will be quite some time until we return to Genthric, do you miss it more than you thought you would?"
"No," said Dravus. He was thankful for the deflection. "I had friends there, but …" When he thought of them, he thought of sharing in the glory of his power, or showing them the incredible feats that he was capable of. He didn't imagine asking them how they had been. It was hard to say that he'd missed them at all.
"You had friends," said Lexari. "But you were already detached from your life when you left. You were a feather floating in the wind, ready to be drawn into our wake. I have said before that it was fate, and you do nothing but confirm it." He let out a throaty laugh, as though this were a grand joke.
"My sister," said Dravus. "Anna. I don't miss my father or mother, or my brothers, or Nilda. But Anna I miss. I wish I could hear how things were going back in Genthric just so I could know what she might be up to."
"Yet you've sent no letters," said Nemm. She clucked her tongue. "If you miss her so much, it would be easy enough to include mail to her in with the packet service we send to the Sovento States. Letters take a long while to make their way to us, given that we travel so quickly, but it's better than nothing."
"I suppose," said Dravus. In truth, it was one of those things that he had been putting off because he didn't want to do it. There was nothing that he could write to Anna that would make her truly proud. He might have described climbing the cathedral, or looking at Laith's Face, but there was little of what he'd done that he would have wanted to repeat to her. He was an illustrati, which was supposed to mean that he was a hero. Yet from the moment he'd watched Zerstor fall to the ground, he hadn't done one unambiguously good thing. Anna would surely hear the stories of what Lightscour had done; perhaps it was better for her to believe what the bards said instead of the truth. Putting such lies to paper directly seemed to be a line that was better left uncrossed.
They stopped at a ferry crossing for lunch. This was a great cause for excitement from the locals, who crowded around the horses as Nemm and Lexari stepped off.
"I think a midday play would be suitable as a warm-up for Parance, don't you think Lightscour?" Lexari asked with a wink.
"A play?" asked Dravus.
"I think you'll know your part, hrm?" asked Lexari. He held his hands out in front of him with his palm up. Light sprang forth from them, displaying a scene that was familiar from the first night at Amare's Theater. Lexari and Zerstor were both rendered in white light, showing the moment when they had first spied each other in Genthric.
"There he was," said Lexari. The show at Amare's had a choir singing an old song, but here, in the presence of no more than two dozen people, Lexari could speak to all of them. The figures he was controlling were no more than a foot high each, more like puppets than the gargantuans that had been appropriate for a crowd of eighty thousand. "Zerstor had come to Genthric, jewel of the Sovento States, seeking to end my life for good. Four times we had fought before. Though he had gotten the better of me two of those times, I'd been the decisive winner the other two. We saw each other at nearly the same time. When our eyes locked, we knew that this was the day it would end, one way or another."
The figure of Zerstor pulled back his hood. Two small children standing near the front gasped. Lexari waited a beat before letting the figures run towards each other with weapons drawn. What followed was a beautiful fight reminiscent of dancing. Dravus was certain it had almost no basis in reality. Lexari's luxuriant voice continued all the while, providing a narration to the back and forth, leading up until the moment that Lexari fell from the sky with specks of light falling off behind him.
"Little did I know that I had a shadow that day," said Lexari.
He nodded to Dravus, who had no idea what to do. Almost on instinct, Dravus formed a figure of shadow in his hands. That wasn't something that he'd ever done before. He had once tried to make a fifteen foot tall shadow to match the ones he'd seen Lexari produce, but he hadn't been able to stretch his power quite so far. His foot-tall creation was crude and utterly insubstantial. With a little bit of work as Lexari continued to narrate the losing fight, Dravus made his figure more representative of himself, more muscular and with just a bit of curly hair on his head.
The small version of Lexari quickly lost a hand and dropped his spear of light, which was Dravus's cue. He moved closer to Lexari, and sent his small figure of shadow running across the open air to pick the spear of light up. The rendering was imperfect, but no one seemed to notice too much; this impromptu show was far beyond what anyone would have hoped to see at a ferry crossing. The small figure of shadow touched the small spear of light, which disappeared. Dravus hesitated for a moment before realizing why; the figures they'd both made were insubstantial, easy to put a hand through. They couldn't meaningfully interact. Dravus had his figure generate a small spear of shadow, then go fight with Zerstor. It was a sloppy, poorly choreographed fight, but when the spear hit home and Zerstor exploded with light, the crowd cheered as though they'd just witnessed a masterpiece performance.
Nemm was ready with spiced lamb between slices of bread when the show was over. She had already eaten, which meant that she was ready to distract the crowd with sculptures of glass and small trinkets to hand out. Wenaru moved through the small gathering asking whether anyone needed medical attention, which they were much more receptive to than the people of Torland.
"You could have given me a little more instruction," said Dravus between bites. "We could have planned that together beforehand, while we were on the road."
"There was no risk," said Lexari. "Perhaps you forget, but I do this for a living. If you had proven unable to rise to the occasion, I would have picked up the slack. If you had failed, I would have been ready with a recovery, or a jape at your expense. It would more firmly have established you as my apprentice. I don't think that would have been a bad thing at all."
Dravus ate in silence and tried to think about that as a positive. It was difficult not to come to the conclusion that Lexari had wanted him to fail, the better for Lexari to drive home a narrative that served him. The question was why he'd done it for such a small group of people. This became considerably clearer when they'd gotten back in their saddles and returned to the road, having left the score of people behind them much happier than before.
"How many of the king's men did you count?" asked Nemm.
"Three," replied Wenaru.
"There were spies?" asked Dravus.
"Spy implies many things," said Nemm. "Were there men who report to the king's spymaster? Yes, of course there were. We just came to a ferry crossing next to one of the most important roads in the whole of the Iron Kingdom. It would be foolish not to have eyes there. But that doesn't mean anything untoward is happening. If directly asked, two of those men would readily admit to making extra coin on the side for a bit of service to the Iron King. The third one is there to watch the other two. He would be much more reticent with information, probably a minor illustrati with some small amount of power."
"But if we know there are spies, what's the point?" asked Dravus. He wished that he had paid more attention to the crowd so he could make a guess as to who the three men had been. Wenaru had been touching many people, though he asked for their consent first. Seeing which had accepted and which had not would have been a vital clue.
"For us, there's little point," said Nemm. "A letter addressed to the Iron King's spymaster was likely sent immediately when we brought ship in to Bordes, and we've sent our own letters an
nouncing our arrival in any case. For others though, the spies are a vital part of tracking the comings and goings of important people, especially illustrati. If information can be gleaned about their personal matters, all the better. The Iron King will get a report about what we did for lunch, which will let him know that we're playing the part of demure guests in his country, come to pay a calling and, perchance, to renew what contracts we have with them."
"Except that if the Iron Kingdom is the power behind the assassins, we're walking right into the lion's den," said Dravus. He felt vaguely unsettled, and not just because of the swaying of the horse.
"Just so," said Lexari. "Assassins, or a succession crisis, or possibly both." He sounded quite happy about the prospect.
* * *
They came around a bend to find themselves staring straight at Parance. They continued forward, but if Dravus had been in control of his own horse, he would have stopped to stare, if just for a while. The buildings were tall enough to beggar belief. Some of the ones near the center of the city seemed to stretch up hundreds of feet in the air, not just spires like a castle might have or the rooftops of a cathedral, but entire livable spaces with clear windows and terraces. In other cities a tall building was likely to be a landmark. In Parance, there were dozens of them, possibly hundreds, all huddled together. The city was dotted with small plumes of smoke, which gave it a smell that was obvious even at a distance.
