Relic

by Bronwyn Eley

  ‘The last one used to be a florist.’ Lirr’s voice was soft, and while she didn’t use his name, I knew she knew what it was.

  ‘There are new clothes for you in the closet. When they need altering, see the Clothier.’ Lirr put a hand on the doorknob and slowly backed out of the room, pulling the door behind her. ‘Come find me if you have questions.’

  Questions. Where to begin?

  They could wait until tomorrow.

  ‘One more thing.’ Lirr’s body was half out the door. ‘The servant bathhouse is just down the hall – take a right. You might want to clean up a little before tomorrow.’

  I ran a hand through my hair. It caught in a knotted clump, and Lirr smiled.

  When she was gone, it was too quiet. Closing my eyes, I longed for the old sounds of home. Right about now, on a normal night, Kye and Rhey would be under their covers, avoiding sleep by telling each other stories. Their not-so-little voices would drift down the hallway.

  Elias would be stumbling in, much to Mother’s relief, drunk, injured or resentful, but safe. The neighbours above would be trying to put their young children to bed. We always knew when they succeeded when the ceiling suddenly fell silent.

  Not to mention the forge. While at work, the familiar jolt, jolt, jolt always set my mind to rest. It was a sound I would likely never hear again. I brought my hand down on the wooden bed frame. Thud.

  I couldn’t stand hearing only the sound of my ragged breath.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  Chapter 5

  Sometime in the night, when the stillness became unbearable, I took the new clothes from my closet and worked my way through the dark halls.

  I was pleased to find the bathing room empty. The bath was in the centre of the room, backed against part of the wall. Steady water trickled from a hole. As the water rose to the top, it caught in small gutters lining the edge of the bath and washed away, disappearing back into the wall.

  Heat rose off the water, thin clouds hanging limp in the air. I couldn’t remember the last time I had warm water surrounding me. It simply took too long to heat enough water for a family of five to bathe.

  Satisfied that the door was firmly shut, I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor. Tossing aside the rest of my smoke-infused clothes, I braved the heat. I could feel every inch of my skin as I slowly submerged my body and did my best to remove as much of the dirt as possible.

  The water kept me afloat as I watched reflections dance on the ceiling. I would have stayed there forever, but I knew dawn was approaching.

  I hurried to change, inspecting the clothes I had dragged from the closet. Plain black pants; flat shoes, meant for soft work; a deep green cotton shirt; a blue sash to wrap around my waist. They fit perfectly.

  The clothes were pristine, barely a thread out of line. Even the shoes were free from scuffs. I brushed my fingers over the crest of Lord Rennard’s household on the shirt. I didn’t need to look at it. The eagle grasped a stone. Everybody knew that. I wondered what their family crest looked like before the Relic came into their possession. The symbol was appropriately placed directly above my heart. Nothing else was meant to matter as much to me. Not anymore.

  I remembered the way to the kitchens. It was easy – I had been navigating the winding alleys of the Lower Quarter since I was old enough to walk. The sunlight was barely visible, but the kitchen staff had clearly been there a long time. The boy looked tired but alert. Aber didn’t look up from his bench but called for a man named Fec to bring me the Lord’s meal.

  Fec dropped his mallet and hurriedly brought me the plate and cup. He didn’t bother to greet me. Sweet smells drifted upwards and I dared a quick brush of my finger against the bread, feeling its warmth, before making my way up the stairs to the dining hall.

  Lirr had instructed me – no need to knock. Thanks to the low ceiling and lush rug underfoot, the room was intimate and quiet. Flames hung from the walls in decorated lanterns, but all the candles covering the long table where Lord Rennard sat were unlit, apart from the one closest to him.

  I counted twelve chairs and wondered how often he dined with people. At the far end, at the head of the table, Lord Rennard remained transfixed on the papers in front of him. The honey-yellow of the stone winked at me in the light of the candle. Not expecting a greeting, I moved closer.

  It was like approaching a building ablaze with skin-searing fire. The closer I got, the hotter the air felt against my skin, urging me to retreat while I still could. My breath caught as the heat invaded my throat. My movements slowed, as if wading through hot mud.

  Lord Rennard didn’t look away from his readings but moved back in his chair, making a space in front of him. I steadied my shaking hands, not wanting to spill his breakfast on the first day. Or any day.

  After lighting more of the candles, I stood to the right of his chair, a step behind, just as Lirr had advised. Out of his sight, where I could work to control my trembling hands and fight my heavy eyes.

  Lord Rennard ate in silence. He took a bite and then read. Another bite and more words. Time dragged. I moved slowly from one foot to the other, feeling an ache growing up each leg. Heat rose from somewhere inside my body and moved quickly until it reached my head. Sweat dripped down my back. I tried to ignore my pounding head, but the heat was unrelenting. I found my thoughts lingering where I didn’t want them, on all the things I left behind, all the things I never did.

  I sighed.

  Lord Rennard stopped mid-mouthful.

  Shit.

  Closing my eyes, I waited. For what, I wasn’t sure. At a rustle of paper, I opened my eyes. He continued his meal without a word, but his silence had said plenty. I knew I had to be more careful.

  ‘Do you read, Kaylan?’ His murmur caught me off guard. He shifted ever so slightly in his seat until finally, I found my voice.

  ‘Not much, my lord. Not since my schooling, at least.’

  ‘Your parents,’ he said. ‘Don’t they have a library at home?’

  I held back a retort. We couldn’t waste money on such things. One year, Elias and I went in together and bought Kye a book on horticulture when he started showing an interest, but that was a special occasion. Kye had potential. He not only showed an interest, but a rare skill for the craft. We knew nurturing it would give him his best chance.

  He’s waiting.

  What I thought and what I could say were completely different things. I was so used to speaking my mind with Tosh, but it was a habit I would have to break here.

  ‘A small collection, my lord,’ I replied at last. ‘Nothing as grand as yours, I’m sure.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he murmured, turning back to his meal.

  He ate quickly. Following his gesture, I removed the empty dishes and headed for the door. Each step brought relief and I let out a quiet breath. Lirr had said to rest as much as possible. Perhaps I would take a moment near the kitchens before –

  ‘Kaylan,’ Rennard called distractedly. I paused and looked over my shoulder. His eyes were still fixed on his papers. ‘Meet me in the stables as soon as you are done.’

  ‘My lord.’ I bowed my head. Pointless, as he wasn’t looking anyway. When he said no more, I hurried out of sight and kept moving until I was in the stairwell.

  I stopped, pressing my back against the cool stone, and released a trembling breath. How was it possible that I had only been in his presence for half an hour and already I was feeling so weak?

  How was I going to get through this day? Not to mention every day that followed, until there were no more left.

  Deciding against angering my new master by being late, I settled on a fast walk all the way to the stables. I wanted to look around – Lirr hadn’t given me a tour of the grounds last night, instead taking me to a window and pointing out the stables – but there was no time.

  My stomach ached, protesting the speed at which I’d inhaled my breakfast. Aber hadn’t been in the kitchens when I’d gone back. Fec had been kind enough to
hand me a small plate, but warned me that in future, my morning meal had to be before sunrise. Before Lord Rennard’s. Aber wouldn’t allow it, he told me, if he were here.

  I tried to concentrate on my destination and not on the way my stomach had been knotting ever since I arrived. Not from the fear. Not from the pain. Not even from the knowledge that every moment I spent with Lord Rennard was a step closer to death. I was unsure of myself for the first time in my life. This job would lead me nowhere good, and yet I already felt the pressing urge to make a good impression.

  A ridiculous concern. Why bother? It wouldn’t save me pain. It wouldn’t give me more time. I guessed the only thing it would do right now was help my family. My good work would reflect well on them all.

  I never bothered with manners with Tosh. He didn’t extend the courtesy; neither did I. The difference was that I never feared Tosh. For all his bitterness, violent outbursts and harsh words, he never hurt me. I didn’t care what he called me. I didn’t flinch when he came near. I just wanted to be left to my work. And despite our bickering over the years, I knew Tosh respected me. He never said it in so many words, but his actions confirmed it.

  That life – that Kaylan – was gone.

  Lord Rennard was waiting when I arrived, but didn’t seem bothered by my arrival, one way or another. He leaned against a stable door, arms crossed. Behind him was a dark-brown horse. He extended a hand and ran it along the horse’s neck. The creature, beautiful and at ease, welcomed his touch.

  My fingers trembled as I tacked her, stumbling every few seconds, as if I barely remembered the procedure. I wanted to apologise, to say it had been nearly three years since I had ridden a horse – as many years as it had been since my father died. There was no way we could ever afford a horse; there was no reason to have one. We were considered lucky to even ride one, the few times it happened, thanks to my father’s friendly relations with one of the Noblemen.

  Lord Rennard didn’t comment, even if he did notice. ‘I ride almost every day and expect her ready when I do,’ he said.

  I nodded as I placed the horse’s numnah on her back, quickly followed by the saddle. She was a tall horse, but luckily I had enough height on my side to swing the saddle on. Once the girth was tightened, Rennard moved forward to assess his beast, stroking her mane.

  ‘Ask me her name.’

  I stared blankly. I had never worried before about how to frame my responses. But then, I’d never had to worry about offending the most powerful man in this land.

  ‘May I ask for her name, my lord?’

  ‘She doesn’t have one.’

  Frustration boiled within me and I bit my lip to stop a retort. Then why ask?

  ‘It didn’t seem fit to demean her with some ridiculous name, one I would use to call her to me,’ he continued. ‘If she wants to come, she will come.’

  Curious, that he didn’t see the horse as just one more thing he owned.

  ‘I know my Master of the Hunt has his own little name for her, and I put up with it, merely because I’ve known him since he was a child and he does his job well. I see why it might bring pleasure to other people to label such incredible creatures with these names.’ After a long pause, he continued. ‘It makes them feel bigger, you see. More important than the creature. It lessens her to be nicknamed.’

  He laid a gentle hand on her stomach. I continued my task, sure that I was merely meant to listen and nothing more. When it was done, I took a step back and kept my gaze elsewhere, hoping to appear respectful, not uncomfortable.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he swung his body gracefully onto the mare and stroked her mane. ‘Can you ride?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s been years, but yes, my lord.’

  He nodded and then gripped the reins. ‘I won’t be long. When I return, I would like this book on my desk in the study.’

  Leaning down, he handed me a small folded note. Before I could ask him more, he took off out of the stables.

  I exhaled. Opening the paper, I read the note.

  Lissafel’s Triumph.

  I had never heard of it. Not that I expected to. The books we read in school were limited. I had never needed a book to learn in the smithy. Tosh would have used books to keep his fire alive, if he had any.

  I hurried back to the castle, hoping I could find someone to give me directions. As I turned a corner, I spotted two people resting against the wall. Their frantic whispers ceased the moment one of them saw me and the two sprung apart almost instantly. One of them, a guard, pushed away from the wall, his eyes travelling over my body. The other man, dressed in a simple servant’s outfit of browns, creams and yellows, hurried off down the hallway without looking back at me.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ I began. ‘But I –’

  ‘You didn’t,’ the guard said stiffly. ‘Move along.’

  What had I just walked in on? Something serious, clearly.

  ‘Actually, I need directions to the library,’ I said. ‘An errand for Lord Rennard.’

  The guard looked reluctant to linger, but I was hoping the name of our illustrious leader would be enough to get him to help me.

  The guard rolled his eyes. ‘End of the hall to the stairwell, third floor.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I hurried past him toward the stairwell, not eager to prolong the awkwardness. I followed his directions to a small yet intricately designed door marked with a simple wooden sign.

  Inside was magnificent. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves wrapped around the edge of the circular room. The only source of light was the windows directly opposite the door, also floor-to-ceiling. Row upon row of bookshelves created a lot of dark space.

  We were clearly in one of the castle’s turrets. The centre part of the room was sunken, housing a simple table, host to a mess of books and papers, with ringed steps leading down to it.

  Thump.

  I jumped away from the sound.

  Thump. Thump.

  To my right I spotted a man high on a ladder, throwing books to the floor. He hadn’t seen me yet, muttering incoherently and sighing every few seconds. He descended slowly with one book tucked under his arm. He collected all the remaining books at his feet before he noticed me.

  It was obvious he knew who I was right away. Not because his eyes filled with pity. No, for once, there was a whole new expression. His eyes were wide and glistening with excitement, a small smile on his lips. It was refreshing, if not a little unsettling.

  ‘Well, you drew the short straw, didn’t you?’ he huffed, his voice racing to be heard. ‘Can’t be sad about it, though.’ He shook his head, running a hand through his black hair. ‘Not sad, sorry.’

  ‘I don’t want your pity.’ I crossed my arms as he shook his head again.

  ‘Of course not. Think about it this way: you’re doing the rest of us a favour. Not that I would be chosen. My job –’ he gestured with his free arm ‘– is too important.’

  He released the books onto a tidy table and began sorting them. ‘Did you want something?’

  ‘Yes. Lord Rennard wants a book called Lissafel’s Triumph.’ I pulled out the note. Ignoring my outstretched hand, the strange man moved toward a ladder on the other side. Climbing it swiftly, he pulled a heavy leatherbound book from its place and brought it to me.

  He went back to sorting, picking up one book and putting it down, shaking his hands out before picking up another. There was something mad in his movements, as if he couldn’t hold in his anger or panic. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but held himself as though his body hurt with old age. His black hair was cut unevenly and too short. His distracted eyes were rich and warm, the colour of honey. A rare sight in this city. Like Lirr, his skin was darker than mine, a deep and rich brown.

  ‘What is the book about?’ I asked. He took a moment, movements frozen, head cocked in my direction, as if an echo of my question was finally reaching him.

  ‘Lissafel was a very intelligent ruler. Killed his first man when he was eleven. Won his first battle
when he was thirteen. Had sixteen children from six different wives. Outlived them all.’ The strange man chuckled, amused by his story of a man who sounded more cruel than intelligent.

  ‘A little light reading?’ I mused, moving toward him. Startled by my sudden appearance by his side, he eyed the arm’s length between us. ‘Doesn’t sound particularly interesting to me.’

  He scoffed. ‘There’s a unique difference between our Lord and you, Shadow.’

  I swallowed. Now that it was my position, I could see how the word Shadow was upsetting. ‘And what is that?’

  ‘He is powerful.’ The man leaned forward. Those unsettled movements were in his eyes too, darting slightly left, right, left, right, nearly too subtle to notice. But up close, it was all I could see. ‘And like all powerful people, they simply want more power. Lissafel knew about power. He knew how to control people, use them to get what he wanted.’

  He broke his stare, picked up a book and moved to the other side of the table.

  ‘So Lord Rennard is looking for more power?’ I asked, already knowing the answer was yes. He was right: all powerful men wanted more. Still, I was curious to hear this man’s thoughts.

  ‘How would I know?’ he responded with a shake of his head. ‘It’s not my place and it’s certainly not yours, Shadow.’

  ‘Stop calling me that,’ I snapped. His eyebrows shot up in amusement.

  ‘Don’t expect any decency in this place.’ He kept his voice low, reminding me of Lord Rennard’s low rumble. ‘After all, you’re here to die, and not a single person is lifting a finger to change that.’ He pointed a harsh finger at the door. ‘Especially not them.’

  I dropped my glance, unable to face his shining eyes.

  ‘Do you know what you’re in for, Shadow?’ he asked. I clenched my fists, pleased when he spotted them, then confused when he smiled. ‘If you’re going to get upset over name-calling, you won’t last long.’