Shadow in the Empire of Light

by Jane Routley

“Yes, I see that,” said Klea. She let out a sigh and was quiet and I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew it was dusk and the house was all a-bustle. The mages must have returned from the hunt.

  I dragged myself out of bed and slipped quickly into clean clothes. Klea slept on—the sleep of the exhausted, or rather the sleep of one who had consumed half a bottle of brandy. I wondered again what must be in that letter, and it occurred to me how I might find out for myself. There was a lead Klea had suggested, but which we had forgotten about in all the excitement.

  Taking care not to be seen leaving my ‘haunted’ room, since that might mean that I too would need to be exorcised, I slipped down the hall and climbed up the winding staircase into the servant’s quarters in the attic. What if the letter had never been in Toy’s possession, but had been given to her maid for safekeeping as Klea had suggested?

  As I’d hoped, all the servants were away, running around after the returning mages, leaving the servant’s quarters deserted. Having helped with the organising, I had a good idea which room Lady Chatoyant’s maid was lodged in. I crept up to her door and, emboldened by the silence of the attic, opened it without listening first.

  Hagen Stellason was sitting on the small bed, with only his trousers on; his feet and chest were bare. Nice hard body, I thought, before it occurred to me what he must be doing there. A bit of delight in the afternoon as the old saying goes. I’d seen him flirting with Chatoyant’s maid on a number of occasions.

  We stared at one another.

  He smiled, and I felt the outrage rise in me.

  “You ride rat!” I said, before I thought not to.

  He shrugged.

  “It’s Blessing time,” he said. “And Drusa is a lovely woman. And keener than some.”

  That last slighting remark bought me back to myself.

  “True,” I snapped, and managed to shrug in what I hoped was an uncaring fashion, before slamming the door and striding away with very firm steps. Nothing to show the dark disappointed feeling in the bottom of my stomach. I felt miserable for some time after, all through the bustle of getting ready for dinner, which included a battle of Imperial proportions between Hilly, Tane, and Thomas in the kitchen, and an awkward conversation with the unfortunate maid servant who’d discovered the ghost in my room.

  The poor woman, who seemed to be the first cause of the battle between Tane and Hilly, was sitting in the corner of the busy kitchen, pale, covered with Holy amulets and being fed garlic soup by Hilly to protect her from being permanently haunted.

  “It was horrible, horrible,” she kept saying. “A dead thing under your bed. All horrible and white and pale. Oh, Marm Shine, I fear for you. ’Tis some ill-omen, for sure.” She and a couple of the other servants pressed Holy amulets into my hand. I thanked them for their kindly thoughts and tucked them into my body shaper, where they stuck into me uncomfortably. It was nice of them to care.

  I spent most of that night sitting in Lucient’s room, watching him play cards with Great-Uncle Nate and some of the retainer mages. He hated cards, but had decided that this was better protection against Blazeann and Chatoyant than me. It seemed to work. Both women stuck their heads in at the door and went away quickly.

  Out on the lawn, Scintillant had organised a game of blind man’s bluff which seemed to end very early with everyone disappearing into the bushes. The only excitement occurred when Great Uncle Five wandered into the midst of it and spilled his bucket of river sludge. He called Scintillant an over-sexed rotifer, which had a certain ring to it.

  The boredom of watching cards (I mean honestly, who wants to watch when they can do?) gave me time to think over the scene with Hagen. It occurred to me that he’d been in the perfect position to search Chatoyant’s maid’s room (and indeed her person) for things she might be keeping safe for her mistress. Was I misremembering, or had one of his hands been hidden under the bedclothes—a hand that could have been holding, for instance, a letter? Since Lucient didn’t need me, I excused myself quite early in the evening and went off and searched the room Hagen shared with Great Uncle Nate’s valet. To no avail, of course. If Hagen had the letter, he must be carrying it on his person.

  When I looked in at Eff’s room to check on Shadow, he and she were deep in argument over whether adopting ghost inventions meant we had to adopt their mindset.

  “Your Empire needs to open itself more to outsiders,” the ghost insisted.

  “Not at the price of outside interference in our polity,” came back Eff.

  There was no chance of getting a word in edgeways, so I left them to it.

  Hilly had told me my own room should be safe for me now, as long as I kept the amulets with me. I still had to step over the bread and bowl of water to get in through the door, but the candles had burned down to their stubs, so there was no chance of my setting myself alight in a thoughtless movement. Klea was gone, leaving only a tumbled bedspread behind. No doubt she was off stalking Chatoyant.

  Lucky me. I had the evening free to spend time checking that my accounts were in order—a suitably anticlimactic finish to another tiresome Blessing Festival. Now all I had to look forward to was the inevitable interview with Lord Impi. He always stayed home from the hunt on the last day of the festival and looked over my books, querying every expenditure, complaining that we were wasting too much money on frivolous items such as wages and fence building and suggesting that if only I’d try harder, I could get a better price for our mangel-wurzels. Or mangel-wurzels for a better price. It never seemed to matter if I was buying or selling.

  AS I WAS dressing in a workmanlike outfit next morning, trying to find a nice balance between practical and fit for an audience with a nobleman, Klea came in the window. She was calmer than she had been the previous morning, but her news was no better. I put a quilt round her shoulders and rubbed her back. Through chattering teeth she told me that Lady Chatoyant had once again spent the night awake, drinking Nightowl and pleasuring and playing cards with a couple of young village men.

  “She must suspect I’m here,” she said. “Curse her. I must have... Do you think Lucient would be willing to act as a diversion?”

  “Maybe. Listen Klea, we may have another... Wait! What’s that?”

  Someone was pounding on Eff’s door and now I could hear raised and urgent voices.

  Fearful for Shadow, I popped my head out of the doorway. Thomas was whispering to Eff in the doorway of her room.

  “I swear to you it’s something wrong,” he was saying. “Something’s going on in the Eyrie,” he explained to me as I approached.

  “It’s just another family spat,” said Eff.

  “No it’s more than that,” said Thomas. “Lady Splendance is the one screaming.”

  “Splen? That’s new. We’d better... I’ll get some clothes on. Shine dear, would you...?”

  I agreed with a sigh, thinking Auntie Splen was probably fussing over a mouse in her smokeweed jar or some similar thing. But as Thomas and I entered the Eyrie, there was something about the sounds of the screams echoing down the tower that made us both break into a run. We arrived panting on the fifth floor to find the sound of hysterical weeping coming out of Blazeann’s room. A hubbub of people blocked our route to the door. One of them was Hagen.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, tugging his arm.

  The look on his face chilled me.

  “Lady Blazeann is dead,” he said.

  THOMAS AND I were still clutching each other in disbelief when Impi appeared in the doorway of the room.

  “Get out of the way, you useless pack of rodents!” He flapped his arms and people shrank back. “Come on, you!” he barked back into the room behind him.

  Something long, wrapped in a sheet, came floating out of the door. A body. A man’s body from the shape of it through the thin sheet. A pale-faced retainer walked slowly behind the floating body, his hand under its head, clearly using his magic to carry it. A couple of damp-eyed women retainers followed behind,
arms round each other’s shoulders.

  I huddled back against the wall to let them pass.

  “One of the retainers. Rapheal Angelus. Her bed mate,” whispered Hagen. “They were both found dead this morning. Too much dreamsmoke, apparently. Mixed with alcohol, most likely.”

  “But she doesn’t smoke.”

  “That could have been the problem. They say that you have to build up a tolerance for it. Maybe they started too strong.” His voice was surprisingly detached, but then he muttered with more feeling. “This is a disaster.”

  “Poor Auntie Splen.” I could hear my aunt wailing inside. I wasn’t sure who the other voice belonged to. It sounded like a man.

  “Poor us,” muttered Hagen. Only then did it occur to me who the next Matriarch-in-waiting would be now Blazeann was dead.

  Impi was shouting at the hovering servants and mages. At least something was normal.

  “You! Why aren’t you seeing to the carriages? And you! Get the bags packed! We’re going back to Elayison as soon as we can. And you! No one wants to see your ugly face round here! You people have got work to do. Go and do it!”

  The protective barrier of people between me and Impi broke apart and scurried away

  “You! Get Marm Eff,” shouted Impi at Thomas, and his mouth twisted sourly as he looked right at me. I made to leave.

  “No, you don’t. You get in here, Ghostie!” he shouted. “See if you can sort out Lucient. He’s making a spectacle of himself as usual.”

  Under his glare I crept into the room

  Blazeann’s room stank. She lay on her back on one side of the bed, eyes closed, horribly pale and still. Yellow lumps of vomit stuck on her cheek and lips. Her pale hand dangled off the edge of the bed.

  I’d seen dead people before, but the sight still chilled me. Such a strange absence of person.

  As I watched, Auntie Splen’s maid tried to wipe the vomit away from Blazeann’s cheek with a cloth. Auntie Splen smacked her hand away.

  “Don’t touch her,” she screamed. Her face was wet and red and puffy from weeping. She was kneeling beside the bed keening. She started shaking Blazeann and calling her name.

  Glisten, Lumina and Chatoyant were huddled by the door, but my eye was drawn to Lucient, who was leaning against the bed post, white-faced and shivering, his fist in his mouth, choking back sobs.

  Seeing him so distressed, I felt genuinely sad for the first time since I’d heard the news. I went and put my arms around him, but he didn’t respond so I leaned against his back, murmuring soothing noises at him.

  “You! Get out of here!” shouted Impi behind me. I turned my head thinking he was talking to me or Lucient, but he was confronting Lumina.

  “You can’t talk to me like that anymore, consort,” snarled Lumina. “I’m Matriarch-in-waiting now.” The look on her face spoke of triumph and the horribleness of that emotion at this time sent a shiver running down my spine. Mean old Lumina as Mater. Lady of Light! Let Splendance live for ever.

  Glisten was glaring at Lumina. Chatoyant snatched Lumina’s arm.

  “Lady Lumina. A word, if you would be so kind?” she said.

  “Huh!” said Lumina. “Do you think you’re going to run me like you ran Blazeann. Not a chance.”

  But she must have seen Glisten’s glare, because she let Chatoyant coax her out of the room.

  “My dear,” crooned Impi, leaning over Auntie Splen and taking her by the shoulders. “My poor dear! Let the maid clean her up. You don’t want people to be seeing her in this mess.”

  Auntie Splen protested, but she let Impi pull her away from the bed and manoeuvre her gently over to a couch by the wall, where he sat down beside her and cradled her head on his shoulder.

  He really liked her, I thought with surprise, having always previously accepted the family consensus that he was only after the position Splen could give him.

  “Splendance, pull yourself together. Think of the family’s honour. You are behaving like a peasant,” snapped Auntie Glisten, clearly deeply uncomfortable with all this emotion.

  Impi gave Auntie Glisten the kind of glare that would have done my heart good had it not meant that she turned her attention to me.

  Scowling, she jerked her head towards the door.

  I took a firm hold on my cousin.

  “Come on, Lu... my lord,” I said. “Let’s get you back to your room. A nice smoke will—”

  “No!” screamed Lucient. “I will never smoke again.” And he burst into loud sobs. I was astonished at how upset he was. Yesterday he’d hated Blazeann.

  “No, my dear, never, never again!” wailed Splen.

  “Hush, my dear. Hush,” said Impi, this time glaring at me.

  “My lord. This is no place for you. Please allow me to help you,” said a voice beside us. Hagen took a firm grip on Lucient’s shoulder. Between the two of us, we managed to manoeuvre the weeping Lucient out of the room and down the stairs to his own room where his servants were hovering anxiously

  “My poor lord,” cried Sharlee, putting her arms around Lucient.

  “Oh, Sharlee, Sharlee,” cried Lucient. “What have I done?”

  “Get my lord a cup of tea,” Hagen ordered Lucient’s valet. As Busy goggled in outrage at being ordered about by another mere servant, I said, “Oh, please get it, Busy. He needs something,” and he went. Hagen slammed the door after him.

  Turning the key in the lock, Hagen stepped over to the bed where Lucient was sitting with his head cradled on Sharlee’s breast. He took Lucient’s arm and shook it.

  “My lord! My lord! My lord!” The last was almost a shout.

  Startled, Sharlee and Lucient stopped their murmuring together and looked up at him.

  “Did you give the smokeweed meant for Splendance to Blazeann?” asked Hagen sternly.

  “Oh, Lady!” Lucient clutched his cheeks “Do you...? How do you...? Does everyone know?”

  “No,” said Hagen grimly. “I’ve simply put two and two together. Did you tell anyone else?”

  “I meant it for a joke, to teach her a lesson, for revenge. She was being such a dog. I never meant... I never meant to kill.... And poor Rafie. He never did anyone any harm. Oh, Lady of Light.” He burst into tears again.

  “Did you tell anyone else?”

  “Only Rafie. He was supposed to suggest a pipe to her after they pleasured last night. He knew it had been spiked, but neither of us.... He thought it would be funny if she was too smoked to... He must have been curious and tried it himself and... And he’s dead too and it’s my fault...”

  He burst into tears again.

  “A joke. A stupid joke. I never meant...”

  I stared at Hagen. My thoughts were struggling with two and two as well but they couldn’t seem to find the equals sign.

  “I believe you,” Hagen told Lucient. “That weed’s obviously more dangerous than any of us knew. Where’s the rest of it? Is this it?” He picked up a smokeweed jar.

  “No, Sirrah Hagen, this is it,” said Sharlee. “I cleaned out the jar and put the tainted stuff in here.” She put a little painted box into Hagen’s hand.

  “And Lord Lucient didn’t have any?”

  “No!” gulped Lucient, moping his face

  Hagen huffed decisively. “Right. Well. We need to keep this news secret for the moment. For your own sake, don’t tell anyone about your ‘joke,’ Lord Lucient. Especially not Chatoyant.”

  “What are you saying? Why not Chatoyant?” asked Lucient.

  “Think about it,” said Hagen. “Chatoyant gave that smokeweed to Blazeann. It’s possible Blazeann’s accident was actually meant for your mother.”

  We all stared at him, faces frozen at the horror of it all. Did he really mean someone in our family had deliberately tried to kill another member of their own family? Someone we had once shared a nursery with had tried to kill her own aunt? The household Matriarch, no less?

  “Lady of Light!” I cried. “You think Toy meant to...?”

  Chatoyant
had always seemed very ruthless. She’d seemed so confused this morning, not in control of things at all. But if she’d been expecting a death, it wouldn’t have been Blazeann’s. Not after all the effort she had put into befriending her.

  “We can’t know. She might be innocent in this. It could be Flara. Or Lumina. Maybe even Blazeann herself. They would all benefit from Lady Splendance’s death.”

  “They’d never have Flara back!” cried Lucient.

  “Or it could just have been a mixture of alcohol and smokeweed mixed with Open. That’s why you all have to keep quiet. You especially,” he said to Sharlee. “You now know too much and if it comes out, things could go badly for you. And your little one.”

  Was that a threat or a warning? I couldn’t tell.

  Sharlee looked up at Hagen with wide scared eyes, her hands clutching at her belly.

  “I will not let that happen, my dear,” said Lucient, squeezing Sharlee’s shoulder.

  “You’d best take care of what your mother smokes in future,” Hagen told him. “And everything she eats or drinks.”

  He turned to me “And you...”

  “My mouth is sealed,” I said. “But I really hope you’re wrong, because... It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “I will have the smoke weed tested by an alchemist,” he said. “If the Lady blesses us, I will be wrong. But I don’t think I am.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  WHO COULD HAVE blamed Lucient for wanting to take revenge on Blazeann? But for such a prank to end like this… Fate had played a very cruel trick.

  Lucient and I sat together for most of the morning, stunned to quiet murmuring by the events which were still raging outside the door.

  True to his word, Lucient did not smoke, but he did drink most of a bottle of wine. Frozen Hell, I even joined him in a glass, though technically it was still before breakfast for me. The thought that someone might have plotted to kill Auntie Splen sent a horrible shivery feeling creeping along the back of my neck. I mean, we weren’t the most harmonious family, but this...