CHAPTER TWO
A Sealed Tower
I returned to the sagekeep, still in a trance from the vision in the forest. As I entered the high-ceilinged entrance chamber, shivering even in my coat, I looked around for the staircase. Someone had to know about my vision, and my mother would be the one to tell. Maybe I could even let her know about it before news of the burnt classroom traveled back to her.
I followed the path I'd taken earlier today and climbed the same black marble staircase until I reached the corridor to Vormund tower. I walked across the bridge and came to the metal doors, illuminated by a shaft of light from the small window above. My note to my mother was still there where I'd wedged it into the doors. I took a deep breath and knocked on the doors. There was only a metallic ringing, but no response. I knocked harder, pounding my knuckles on the door until they hurt.
Still nothing. I sighed. She must be in a meeting or something. I didn't want to wait to give her my news, but I didn't have a choice. Instead, I crossed the bridge to go back to the sagekeep. As I walked, I couldn't help but feel that someone was watching me. I looked up at the black obelisk that was Vormund tower, but no windows were open.
I decided to come back later. I went back downstairs and dug through my purse for the letter. At the bottom, next to the flowing signature of her scribe, the letter mentioned a room where I was to stay in the sagekeep.
It was in the students' wing, a series of identical stone rooms where the students slept and studied. According to the sages who had tutored me, the purpose of having students stay in the coldest, most uncomfortable rooms in the sagekeep was to teach us humility and reliance on the Almighty, separating us from the privileges of our parents' keeps. Our parents could bring in extra pillows and other amenities, but the rooms, beds, washstands, and chamber pots were exactly the same. Because my mother's keep was Vormund tower, and I'd never been allowed inside, the students' wing was the only home I'd known.
I arrived at the hall of wooden doors and unlit torches, passing the mead hall where we would eat our meals. It looked much the same as others I'd seen, with long rows of wooden benches and tables, and a large table at the front where the servants would distribute our meals. The rooms were farther down, each door marked with a painted number and a picture of one of the sages or philosophers of times past. My room was number twelve, and had a carving of Baldr the Peacemaker, his long hair and beard fluttering in the wind and his eyes raised heavenward.
The key that had come with the letter fit into the door and it unlocked with a loud click. The room had a small bed with woolen sheets, a wooden washstand and basin, a chest of drawers next to the bed, and a chamber pot in the corner of the room. I set my purse on the bed and opened the curtains, flooding the room with light. The window looked out over the cobblestone streets alongside the sagekeep, where soldiers in green and brown cloaks marched in patrol of the grounds.
The bordermen. I recognized their distinctive cloaks and the patch each one wore on the breast of the cloak, the Wings of Vigilance. It was strange to see the bordermen patrolling the city, though. Didn't my mother's Vormund soldiers act as guards for the sagekeep? The bordermen were supposed to be observing the forest from their watchtowers.
Now that I thought of it, I hadn't seen any Vormund soldiers yet. Where were all of them at?
My chest of clothes arrived from the docks, and I spent the rest of the day unpacking and setting up my new room. I'd become used to the process by now, so I folded dresses and shirts with rhythmic precision and put my other items in their usual places. The seal pup and nordbjorn dolls I'd had since I was a child went on the top of the desk, while my copies of The Book of Vision and The Journey of Siegfried the Wanderer went behind them.
I carried the Book of Vision mostly for reference, in case the one of the sages wanted us to read something for a class. The other book had legendary tales of warriors and heroes, though I mainly read it for its accounts of the forest and descriptions of different animals. I would spend hours reading and imagining myself out among the wild rangir or the direwolf packs that were said to roam the darkest corners of the forest.
I browsed the familiar pages of the book, looking through the drawings of boars with jutting tusks and their ancient cousins, the mammoths of the frigid tundra. A close-up drawing of a wolf's head was next to one of a pale raven with red eyes and a withered black oak. There were no pictures of Angels, though, only beasts and villages and men. It was strange to think that I might have seen something that Siegfried never had.
I put the book back and laid down on the bed, staring at the patterns in the stone ceiling. Had I imagined the Angel? If not, then why appear to me? The only reason I could think is that he wanted to deliver a message to my mother. But in that case, I wasn't sure what the message was supposed to be. A general warning of disaster?
I tried to contact my mother again three more times, but with no luck. The doors were shut each time. After a late meal in the mead hall, where I was able to miss all of the other students, I crept back to my room and fell asleep.
The next morning, I washed and dressed and got ready for the day, telling myself this one would go better than the last. I wore a purple dress with a white fox fur coat and white boots. Adjusting my hair one last time in my looking glass, I put it away and walked outside, locking my door behind me. The mead hall awaited, and with it my classmates.
The breakfast today consisted of scrambled eggs, buttered bread, and apple slices. I took my plate and walked through the crowds to find a seat at one of the tables. I'd woken up late, so most of the tables were full of students chatting as they ate.
As I walked, a murmur of gossip followed me. People glanced at me and whispered to their friends, or headed the other direction. My heart froze in my chest. Did they know I'd seen an Angel? If the students knew about it, then everyone would know about it. A girl frowned at me and whispered to her friend. I stopped for a moment, pretending to look at a sparkling chandelier overhead, and listened.
" . . . shot sparks out?"
"Yeah, I heard the room almost burned down."
"Was it that disc relic?"
"I've never seen it spit fire that like before."
I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd been so worried about the vision that I'd forgotten I'd set the relic classroom on fire. Just another thing to worry about, but a more normal thing.
I found an empty spot at a table and sat down. The only other student nearby was a dark-eyed girl with long black hair. Her eyes darted over at my arrival, but returned to her breakfast plate a moment later. She opened a massive tome entitled A Brief History of Nordgard and traced the page with her finger, reading as she ate.
I took a bite of my bread. "I'd hate to see the not-brief version," I said.
She smiled at me, but remained silent. Her sky blue dress was tailored, a sign of nobility, but she wore no jewelry or accessories, which were usually a hallmark of bordertown fashion. The dark eyes and hair looked familiar, though. I'd met a few students from the eastern tribes when I'd lived in Holmgarde, and those who migrated to Kantmarck sometimes entered the lower nobility. I wanted to ask the girl about herself, but she seemed intent on her book, so I didn't bother her.
"My, my," said a voice I wished I'd forgotten. Danelle. "Freaks of a feather do indeed flock together. Did you cook that breakfast yourself, Kaybree? It looks a little burnt."
I glanced up. Danelle and three of her friends strode toward us, all dressed in fashionable V-neck dresses. The blazing fire in the hearth allowed them to strut around in those clothes, but I still kept my coat with me, grateful for its warmth. Why can't I avoid her for just one morning? "Have you nothing better to do, Danelle, than fraternize with a low-class student like me? I thought your loving mother taught you better than that."
She glanced out the window at the knights patrolling the streets. "Speaking of mothers, I've heard that Valir is on a witch hunt. I have no idea who they'd be after. Kant Vakt is full of none but the most pious of citi
zens." She waved to her friends. "But I don't want to keep you. The two of you probably have important things to discuss."
I almost just gritted my teeth and let her leave. Instead, I edged in another barb before she could go. "Actually, we were just discussing how tasteless some of our classmates' clothing is." I eyed her low-cut dress. "You know that it's a sign of desperation for a woman to show her body? Especially when the only marriage-age men in sight are balding, seventy-year-old sages."
Danelle's lips tightened. "Perhaps discussing fashion will do you some good," she said. She walked away, with her entourage following. I let out a slow breath as I watched them go in the corner of my eye. I hoped that needling her wouldn't burn my bridges with the rest of the students here.
The dark-haired girl at my table let out a laugh. "I can't say I've seen that before," she said, smiling shyly.
"Seen what?"
"Someone standing up to Danelle," she said. "Don't you know she's an Ambros?"
I shrugged. "I guess I'm not your typical student."
"Right," she said, pushing aside a strand of hair from her face. "You play by different rules, I guess. It's still bold, though." She extended her hand. "I'm Mira."
I winced inwardly at her recognition. So much for coming in as the anonymous new student. I took her hand. "I don't think I have to introduce myself. Seems like everyone knows who I am already." I frowned. "Does everyone think my mother is a Witch?"
"I wouldn't worry about it," she said with a smile. "People call my family Witches all the time too, but nothing ever happens." Easterners were accused of cursing people with their mystical rituals, or blamed for random thefts in the cities. Perhaps this explained her willingness to understand me; both of us didn't quite mesh with the nobles' social fabric. "So what's your first class today?"
I dug out the parchment with my schedule written on it. "I think it's history."
Mira's smile widened. "So's mine! Come on, I'll take you there." She pointed to the clock on the wall, its gears clanking as it ticked. "Class starts in five minutes."
When we came to the history classroom, it was clear that our history teacher had just moved in. Leather-bound tomes were stacked against the walls in piles taller than I was, and archaic swords in jeweled hilts hung from hooks in the wall, with a few still resting on the books. A painting dominated the back wall, showing one of the philosophers of the past—Giles, maybe, or Baldr—kneeling by a stream and gazing up at the sky. Above him, the focus of the painting, an Angel stood in the air. It glowed a brilliant white, and wore a pure white robe. It hung in the air with two feathered wings sprouting from its back. Its face was as beautiful as that of the Angel I'd seen in my own vision, though he hadn't had wings.
I took a seat near the front, next to Mira, and noticed our teacher. He smiled and waved to me as he adjusted the collar of his coat. It was Jans, the new sage. I smiled back and pulled out my pen and inkwell, preparing to take notes. Danelle and her group walked in as well, but thankfully sat on the other side of the room. Jans waited for the clock tower to strike the hour, and then cleared his throat as the last bell tolled.
"Thank you for arriving in a timely manner," he said, pacing about the front of the room. "I am Brother Jans Gudsson, sent from Valir to instruct you in the history of Nordgard, starting from the time of the collapse of the Empire. In particular, I am instructed to bring you to an understanding of the pivotal role that the sages and the Angels have played in recorded history."
Jans pointed to a painting on the wall. It showed Angels flying through the sky, along with people who hurled fireballs from their hands. The streaks of fire made reddish blurs against the deep blue canvas. "Today we will cover the War of the Angels and the collapse of the Nordgard Empire, which happened roughly eight hundred years ago."
I'd heard most of this before, though I appreciated the excitement that Brother Jans brought to it. He spoke intimately of the people of the past, as if they were personal acquaintances. According to the sages, the Angels led mankind out of our primitive beginnings as roving tribes in the icy northern islands to civilized city life. They gave us visions, guidance, and even their own power. Nordgard was not a fragmented collection of kingdoms, but a great empire, ruled by the Angels and the High Emperor.
The War of the Angels ended that golden age. Those with the Angels' powers split the empire apart with civil war, and most of the great cities were destroyed over the years that the war raged on. Afterward, the Angels vowed never to grant mankind their powers again. The sages guided us since the collapse of the Empire, occasionally receiving visions from the Angels. None of this story explained the relics, though. Were they remnants of the forbidden power that the Angels had granted us, the power we used to ruin our own civilization?
Even more important to me, why had the Angels returned to attack? And why would one appear to me?
"The Angels continued to visit select sages throughout history," Jans said, writing a few names and dates on the chalkboard. Chalk dust floated to the ground as he wrote. "Though none have used their divine powers for centuries, the visions have continued. Or rather, the claims of visions. For example, Ulrich Olafsson received the vision about expanding the construction of sagekeeps into the Eastern lands in the year 341. And Bjorn Svenson claimed in 405 that an Angel directed him to our present understanding of the afterlife."
I raised my hand. Jans paused and cleared his throat. "Yes, Kaybree?"
"Well, these visions happened hundreds of years ago. Does anybody see Angels . . . today? I mean, besides the ones who attacked the city."
The class broke into murmurs, and Jans held his hand out to quiet them. "That's a good question," he said. "A decree from Valir three centuries ago states that the sages should not make public Angelic visions. So if they have been happening, then none would know. " He smiled. "Thankfully for me, this is a history course, and our material covers only up to the seventh century. Hopefully by the time I'm required to teach about the attacks on Kant Vakt, we will have a clearer understanding."
"Thank you," I said, intrigued by his words. If sages or others saw visions now, perhaps they were too afraid to speak of them. But why keep back knowledge that might prevent another attack like the one fifteen years ago?
"Due to the disintegration of the Nordgard Empire," Jans continued, "the individual governors began to exert more power over their local populace. The kings rose to power again, thus forming the world we know today, a fragmented land only united in our faith of the Almighty and His holy sages. This is why your allegiance to Valir, regardless of station, is of paramount importance to the unity of the human race."
Once class ended, I put my things away and stood to leave. "Where are you going?" Mira asked. "We have half an hour until our next class starts."
"There's something I want to check first," I said. "It won't take long."
I strode out of the classroom and into the hallway, heading in the direction of Vormund tower. I once again ascended the staircase and walked across the bridge, only to find the doors shut again. My note was still there. I raised my hand to knock on the door, but instead pressed my ear against the cool metal. Muffled sounds came from inside. I pounded against the doors again and waited for another few minutes before turning back.
Something wasn't right here. Not picking me up at the docks was a sign that my mother was too busy; not even opening the doors to her tower in two days seemed completely bizarre, even for her. I walked back across the bridge. The stones were covered with a light film of white frost, and wispy flakes of snow drifted through the air. It wasn't even winter yet, but the air was frigid, and my breaths turned to puffs of mist in front of me.
"So the tower is sealed to Lady Andreya's own daughter," said a man's voice. "I guess the rest of us shouldn't feel left out."
I whirled around, searching for the source of the voice. A hooded figure stood behind me on the bridge where there had been no one a moment before. His cloak was dark green and covered in water spots
where snow had melted. He wore heavy boots, and a long brown coat and suit of leather armor was visible as his cloak fluttered in the breeze. A borderman.
I sighed. "Do they have my face painted on the walls here?" I asked. "Usually coming to a new city means a fresh start."
"Some of us know who you are. We've been waiting for you. Judgment is coming, and you need to be ready."
My thoughts flashed back to the Angelic vision. "What do you mean?" Did he know about the vision? "And how do you know the tower is sealed?"
The mysterious borderman walked forward, boots crunching through the snow. "No Vormund soldiers have been sighted for nearly a week. There's been an unusual silence from the animals in the forest. And the daughter of Andreya Staalvoss shows up and burns down a classroom as a relic goes out of control."
I clenched a fist. Even the bordermen knew about that? "That was an accident," I said. "There's nothing connecting my coming here to judgments or anything else. My mother summoned me here, and I came. That's all."
The borderman looked out over the city, adjusting his hood. I glimpsed his face underneath the cowl. He was younger than I'd thought, maybe five or six years older than me, with a light shadow of stubble on his face and a firm jawline. "Looks like I'm not the only one who sees the signs," he said.
I followed his gaze down to the street. A carriage gilded with gold and draped with purple curtains rolled down the road, drawn by a pair of thick bull rangir. Workers put down their tools to kneel as the carriage passed. The team of rangir continued onward, heading for the sagekeep. Knights in plate armor and riding rangir dressed for combat flanked the carriage. Each knight had a black cloak on with a golden eye embroidered on the back, the symbol of Angelic vision.
"The Knights of Valir?" I asked. "Why are they here?" To my knowledge, their purpose was to protect the sages when they journeyed across the lands of Nordgard. The Grand Sage and other church leaders lived in Valir, and prospective Knights would train there, learning the scriptures and the histories the sages kept. People called them Knights of the Eye, after their cloaks.
"Father Traum is in that carriage," he said. "He's come from Valir to investigate rumors of heresy among the Order."
Heresy? Aside from Danelle, I could hardly imagine any noble accusing the Order of heresy. They protected mankind from the Angels. "My mother locks herself in her tower for a few days, and she gets inquisitors from Valir. What is wrong with this city?"
"Your mother is preparing for something to happen. She knows it's coming, and you should prepare yourself as well."
"How do I do that?" I asked. "She won't even let me into her tower."
"You don't need to go inside the tower," he said, taking a small box from his coat. He tossed it to me, and I caught it. "Just inside the archives."
I turned the box around in my hands. "Who are you anyway?"
"A messenger."
"And what message are you trying to send me?"
He smirked. "Who says the message is for you?" He strode away, walking back inside the sagekeep, his cloak flapping around his ankles.
I opened the box. It contained an ornately wrought key with a serpent's head, fastened onto a necklace. I put the necklace on, concealing the key under my coat, and followed the borderman back inside and out of the cold. If he thought I needed to open up the archives and learn something, maybe I did.
But why was Valir here? What was my mother preparing for?
Kaybree Versus the Angels Page 2
