‘If I had known you possessed such a fascinating collection of books, I would have angled for an invitation sooner.’
Ayla blinked at him. ‘We don’t entertain much,’ she said faintly.
‘No, I suppose not.’ He glanced sidelong at her, and some of the tension returned to his shoulders. ‘Sorry, was that rude? I am not used to associating with royalty. And for a small woman, you are really quite intimidating.’
Does he always say exactly what he’s thinking? Ayla stifled a giggle. Her father would have hated the man, but she was enjoying herself. Which was odd, because she didn’t usually tolerate much in the way of insolence. As Miles had said, she was a small woman, and that meant she had to assert herself if she wanted to be taken seriously. Of course, her ability to become a vast winged unicorn with a horn that could cut through steel tended to help with that. Yet she had no desire to put Miles in his place. He was so very earnest.
‘Did Art tell you why I summoned you?’ she asked, and he nodded.
‘Someone wants to kill you. And you think I can help.’ A fleeting pause, before his expression changed comically. ‘Help you, I mean, of course. Not them.’
‘Quite,’ Ayla said. ‘You may be aware that for hundreds of years, it was thought that no weapon in existence could harm a Changer creature – until firearms came along. Now I have been informed of a possible attempt on my life, and I wondered if there might be something in alchemy that can protect me.’
Miles nodded again. ‘It is certainly possible. Art said that you said …’ He stopped, grimacing. ‘Sorry. That sounded like playground gossip. But I gather the Change is in some sense an alchemical reaction?’
‘I suppose so.’ Ayla hesitated – yet she would have to tell him everything she knew, if she wanted him to help her. Shoving aside her doubts, she plunged ahead. ‘Actually, I think the important part is that alchemy is how Changers were created in the first place.’
‘Really?’ Miles leaned forward, a spark of interest brightening his voice, his entire demeanour changing in the pursuit of knowledge. ‘Your bloodline was altered by alchemy? Can you tell me how that happened?’
He wasn’t Mirrorvalese by birth, Ayla knew that much – so he had no reason to be familiar with Changer history. Truth be told, most Mirrorvalese weren’t either. It was one of those things she’d had to learn at her father’s insistence: Nightshade secrets she’d been convinced she’d never need to know. Maybe he’d been in the right, on this point at least.
‘I can’t tell you much about the science,’ she said. ‘From what I understand, the first Nightshade overlord killed the alchemists who made the discovery, to make sure it wouldn’t be shared.’ Catching Miles’s almost imperceptible flinch, she added, ‘I feel I should reassure you that I have no intention of doing the same, whatever you find out.’
He smiled, but it wasn’t altogether convincing. Still, he’d relax as he got to know her. Probably.
‘In those days, Mirrorvale was divided into fiefdoms,’ she said. ‘A bit like the Ingal States, I suppose, only the lords were at outright war with each other. And none of them had any perceptible advantage over the others, so their armies kept fighting and dying for nothing. A woodland here. A handful of fields there.
‘Like the rest of them, my ancestor wanted Mirrorvale for himself. So he gathered together as many alchemists as he could, from across the country, and set them to work. Yet instead of immortality, he was seeking indestructibility.’
She paused, but Miles was listening with rapt attention, so she went on.
‘He got what he wanted, more or less. Through the alchemists’ work, he became a Firedrake the size of which has never been seen again, with a wingspan capable of blocking out the sun. And he hunted down all his rival lords and rained fire upon their armies until they were utterly defeated.’
‘Strange, that you should be proud of such a history,’ Miles murmured, then blushed. ‘I mean –’
He doesn’t hold back, does he? Beginning to see why absolute bluntness might be a wearing characteristic to have around all the time, Ayla gave him a tight smile. ‘My father considered it one of the greatest moments in the Nightshade annals. I don’t claim the same, but I don’t regret it, either. How could I? If my ancestor hadn’t triumphed, his line would have ended and I would never have existed.’
‘Of course. Yes.’ Miles lowered his gaze. ‘I apologise. Please go on.’
‘There isn’t much else. He executed the alchemists who had helped him. He had Darkhaven built as the new seat of power in Mirrorvale. Over the generations, Arkannen was laid out according to his design.’
‘I expect it was the alchemists’ design, rather than his,’ Miles said. ‘I had already noticed that Arkannen is built upon alchemical principles, and that would explain it.’
Ayla hesitated, torn between renewed offence on her progenitor’s behalf and sheer raw curiosity. But her desire for knowledge outweighed the need to defend a centuries-dead forebear, and so she echoed, ‘Alchemical principles?’
Miles’s smile transformed his rather lugubrious face. ‘Well, Lady Ayla, it really is fascinating. You know, of course, that Arkannen’s seven rings correspond to the seven alchemical elements –’
‘I thought there were five,’ Ayla said stupidly. ‘Flame, ice, wood, wind and steel.’
‘Those are the five material elements, but there are also two spiritual. Boros and auros, or creation and destruction. Birth and death, if you will.’
‘Then Arkannen’s seven gates –’
‘Are named after the elements of alchemy,’ Miles finished for her. ‘And each gate incorporates the alchemical substance that represents its element. Not only that, but the gates are set at different points around the circle in such a way as to counterbalance the influences of the countries surrounding Mirrorvale.’
That was far too abstruse for Ayla. She managed a faint, ‘Oh?’
‘Certainly! We have Parovia to the east, held in tension by the Gate of Steel to the west. Sol Kardis balanced by the Gate of Flame … I must say, Lady Ayla, it comes as some surprise to me that these details are not intimately known to your bloodline.’ He met her silent stare, blushed again, and added hastily, ‘That is, I mean to say –’
‘It’s all right,’ Ayla said, taking pity on his obvious discomfort. ‘I’m sure you’re right. We should know these things. But I fear that over the centuries, my ancestors have focused more on concrete power than abstract knowledge.’
‘To their detriment,’ Miles agreed, but so enthusiastically that it was hard to take offence. ‘Knowledge is what leads to power, after all.’ Then a thought seemed to strike him, and he leaned forward in his chair.
‘Tell me … if an alchemist created Changers, what is to stop someone repeating the process? After all, hundreds of years have passed since then. We know more about alchemy than we ever have.’ He frowned, gaze turning inward; his voice fell to a murmur. ‘In fact, I find it highly improbable that no-one has made a similar discovery since. There must be more to it than that.’
He was an intelligent man, even if he did have a knack of putting his foot in his mouth. Ayla could remember asking the very same question of her father, back before her mother died and Florentyn became focused on his children’s flaws to the exclusion of all else.
The other part of it is Darkhaven, he’d said. Darkhaven and the city that upholds it. We are tied to it, and it to us. If one falls, so does the other.
Given what Miles had just said about Arkannen being built on alchemical principles, he was halfway to working that out for himself. But Ayla didn’t think she should tell him, all the same. The conversation had already cut close enough to the heart of the Nightshade family’s secrets. And besides, it wasn’t as if she really knew what it meant for her bloodline’s fate to be so closely bound to Darkhaven’s – only that the tower and the city enhanced Changer power. Somehow.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘That will do, for now. We’ve discussed my family histor
y and its connection to alchemy. You know something of what I am. Do you think you can help me?’
‘I believe it is possible,’ Miles said cautiously. ‘I would need time to talk further with you, to perform some tests, and to think … but what you ask is not beyond the bounds of possibility.’ His eyes unfocused again. ‘It will certainly be an interesting experiment.’
When it seemed he would say nothing more, Ayla prompted him, ‘Good. Then how often can you come?’
‘What? Oh.’ He spread his hands. ‘I have my work at the university, my teaching, and I will need time to think about the problem you have set me … perhaps every week? I am not sure that visiting you any more frequently will help me come up with a swifter solution.’ He hesitated. ‘Though I realise it is urgent, so if necessary I could give up my job …’
‘No need,’ Ayla said quickly, swallowing her disappointment. She’d hoped he would be able to work faster than that – perhaps come up to Darkhaven every day until an answer was found – but she couldn’t ask him to abandon his livelihood. Not when they didn’t even know whether their research would bear any fruit. ‘I’ll see you this time next week.’
After he’d left the tower, she sat for a while and thought back over their conversation. She couldn’t tell yet whether it would come to anything more than an interesting diversion, but one thing was for sure: it would be interesting. And with any luck, it would be more than that.
At least she could feel that she was doing something to preserve her own life.
‘I met Bryan’s partner – Miles – when I was walking down the hill this morning,’ Tomas said later. He and Ayla were sitting together in the music room, one of the smallest of Darkhaven’s formal rooms and the one that had always felt most comfortable to them. At least, Tomas was sitting. Ayla lay sprawled beside him on the chaise longue, her cheek resting on his thigh. She was surrounded by so much ritual and structure, so much deference, that she took her freedoms wherever she could find them.
‘He told me you’d asked him up here,’ Tomas added, playing with a lock of her hair. She turned her head to look up at him.
‘I thought he might be able to find a way of shielding me. You don’t have any real defence against a pistol, so maybe alchemy …’
His mouth drew down at the corners, and it dawned on her that she’d essentially just told him he couldn’t do his job. But he didn’t dwell on it for long.
‘It’s sensible, I’m sure. The more we can do to protect you, the better.’ He tucked the stray lock of hair behind her ear and added gently, ‘When were you going to tell me?’
Ayla bit her lip. She wasn’t even sure why she hadn’t told Tomas about her plans with Miles. It wasn’t as if she’d wanted to keep them a secret – and even if she had, she wouldn’t have been able to, not with Tomas and Bryan working so closely together. Not with the Helm searching everyone who came through the gate.
‘To be honest,’ Tomas said, ‘I wish you hadn’t brought someone new into Darkhaven without mentioning it. Even if it is Miles. We don’t know him, after all.’
This. This was why she hadn’t told him.
‘Bryan does,’ she said softly.
‘Yes, but I just … eighteen months isn’t long enough to really know someone.’
She smirked at him, thinking of the bare week they’d spent together before she invited him to live in Darkhaven. ‘Hypocrite.’
‘Point taken.’ His answering smile was reluctant, but at least it was there. She hoped that was the end of it. Yet after a while, he took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. ‘The thing is, Bryan and I were talking about this only yesterday. The idea that an assassin might have been sent here years ago to insinuate himself into our lives, awaiting the command to act. And Miles isn’t Mirrorvalese, is he? In fact, Bryan told me himself that he leaves the country on a regular basis.’
‘I thought he was Parovian,’ Ayla said doubtfully.
‘Yes. So did I. But if he really is playing a long game, he’d know how to set a good cover story.’
Ayla sighed. ‘In that case, who’s to say it isn’t you?’
She meant it as a flippant remark – obviously – but he frowned at her as if he feared she might be serious. That drove her to sit up and face him head-on.
‘Tomas. Honestly. Of course I don’t really think –’ She shook her head, words deserting her, and finished with, ‘Just stop it. You can’t keep suspecting everyone.’
‘I have to,’ he said. ‘Better to be too cautious than not be cautious enough.’
‘You really think someone would go that far? Form a lasting relationship with the sole purpose of getting closer to me? Surely you trust Bryan’s judgement better than that.’
For a moment Tomas was silent. Then he said thoughtfully, ‘I heard a story, once. Back when I first came to the fifth ring, before I even joined the Helm. There was a mercenary here from one of the Ingal States, and he told us how the second son of one of the lords there won a neighbouring state for his father. He spent fifteen years working his way up from boot boy to butler, just so he could win a place as a trusted servant in the rival lord’s own demesne. And then he spent the next ten years sending information back to his father.’ He shrugged. ‘If anything, forming relationships with people is the mark of a good spy … or a good assassin.’
Ayla couldn’t argue with that. Oh, she didn’t believe it: she found it simply impossible that awkward, earnest Miles Tarantil, dedicated academic and long-term partner to one of the fifth ring’s most respected weaponmasters, intended to kill her. But she couldn’t argue with Tomas’s determination to prepare for all eventualities.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll be careful. And it’s not as if he’ll be able to sneak any weapons past your guards, anyway.’ Then, because she couldn’t help herself, ‘Though you realise I sent for Miles. He didn’t suggest it himself.’
Tomas nodded. ‘Then what gave you the idea that an alchemist might be able to help you?’
‘You did, actually. You told me something once about …’ She stopped, then added more slowly, ‘About Bryan’s partner Miles and what he does at the university.’
‘Hmm. It’s tenuous, but it can’t be discounted.’
More than tenuous. If Miles really were an assassin, he’d gone about his task in so roundabout a way as to be almost incomprehensible. But Tomas was frowning at nothing again, looking so careworn that she reached out a thumb to rub the deep line from between his brows.
‘I’m not going to give up on this, Tomas,’ she said softly. ‘I think the potential benefits outweigh the risks. But I will be careful. I promise.’
His gaze refocused on her. ‘You’ll do whatever you must to be safe?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then please … stay in the tower. Keep talking to Miles if you want to, but please don’t come wandering down to the fifth ring with only a single guard for protection.’
So Bryan had mentioned that. Ayla let her hand fall back down to her lap. ‘I’m beginning to feel as if you don’t want me to do anything. You want me to lock myself away and let the men take care of everything for me.’
‘That’s exactly what I want,’ Tomas said. ‘And if your father were still alive, I’d be requesting the same thing from him.’
She released her breath in something that wasn’t quite a laugh. ‘You think he’d have listened? More likely he’d have torn you apart.’
Tomas shook his head. ‘Whatever else he may have been, Lord Florentyn was a just ruler.’
‘Really?’
‘In many ways.’
He was serious. Ayla shook her head in disbelief. ‘But after what he did to you –’
‘What he did was fair,’ Tomas said softly. ‘Your father could have executed me on the spot, after your mother died. It was his right, and well within his capabilities. But even in grief, he understood it was an accident.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘Your father never killed people for things they couldn’t help, Ayla.
Only the choices they made.’
She was silent. She’d never thought of her father that way before. But if there was one lesson she really should have learned by now, it was that people usually turned out to be more complex than she gave them credit for.
‘So what would you say to him, then?’ she asked. ‘If it were his life under threat?’
Tomas met her gaze. ‘I’d say, you can’t die. You’re the single most important person in this country. You have to do whatever it takes to stay alive.’
Looking at him, Ayla felt the weight of resignation settle in her bones – because he was right. Of course he was right. It was just hard, after three years of relative freedom, to have it taken away from her again. A prison always seemed smaller the second time around.
‘All right,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll stay in Darkhaven. But Tomas …’ She leaned forward until her forehead touched his shoulder and she felt his arms enclose her. ‘I hope you find this assassin soon.’
‘So do I, Ayla,’ he said, and kissed the top of her head. ‘So do I.’
NINE
On the first morning of training, Ree woke before dawn. She was still tired, but as soon as the significance of the day hit her, she knew she’d never get back to sleep. Her blood was fizzing too fast through her veins for that. So she lay in her narrow cot bed – standard issue for all new recruits – and gazed out of her tiny window at the night sky. She still wasn’t used to that sky. She was used to deep, deep black punctuated only by the tiny crystalline twinkles of the stars. But the sky above Arkannen was thick with grey smoke and yellow with the light from the street lamps. She wondered if there was a single shred of real darkness anywhere in the city.
This is the day. She’d been trying not to think about it, but it was there all the same. Today is when you find out whether you’ve created yourself an impossible dream, or whether maybe, just maybe … But she ruthlessly squashed the rest of that thought, because she didn’t dare to hope. She kept imagining the weaponmasters – or worse, the Captain of the Helm – taking one look at her and telling her to go home. Or perhaps she’d get as far as the first sparring session, make an utter fool of herself against a far better opponent, and get kicked out straight away. Because the trouble was, she had no way of knowing how good she was. She’d only ever fought her tutor. Maybe they’d both been labouring under a delusion.
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