Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1)

by Ward, Matthew

  The cathedral was a colossal building, easily taller than anything else in the square. Its great gates were each three times the height of a man and would thus have been imposing enough even if they weren't set at the top of some fifty or so steps. There were two great bell towers – one on either side of the gates – and all manner of lesser spires and steeples cresting from the severely sloped roof. Statues of all shapes and sizes nestled in alcoves or stood guard upon the outward face of flying buttresses. Some were of phoenixes – firebirds ever-beloved of Tressians. Most were of the winged maidens my people called 'serathi'. We acknowledged them as messengers of Astarra, Goddess of Light, but did not worship them, for Astarra was ever at war with her sister Ashana, or so I'd been taught.

  Tressians, of course, didn't know any better. Somewhere along the line, it would seem they'd conflated Astarra with Sidara, which I suppose a more devout man than I might have found sacrilegious. As it was, I found it odd how the Tressians seemed unable to worship anything that did not begin and end with themselves. Astarra was a heathen deity, and therefore a superstition. Sidara, on the other hand, was a daughter of Tressia and unimpeachable. They'd even renamed Astarra's servants: in Tressia, the serathi were known as angels.

  Over the years, no small number of legends had grown up around angels in Tressia. Some folk claimed that they had been present when Sidara had first blazed her way into legend. Others even believed that one lived in the upper reaches of the Cathedral, and could sometimes be seen at night, flying around the bell towers. Tressians readily believed anything.

  I couldn't deny the statues were impressive. However, the cathedral's most dazzling feature was a great stained glass panel supported between the two bell towers. This was nothing short of a masterpiece, and one easily the size of a building itself. Raised high above the city and facing eastward, this great panel held an image of Sidara, resplendent in blues and golds. As the sun rose, its rays of light projected her vibrant image upon the cathedral square – literally bringing light to the faithful. When the bells chimed, as they did each dawn, the vibrations in the panel caused it to 'sing' with the voice of some heavenly choir. It was a little too theatrical for my tastes, but I couldn't deny the genius that had made it possible.

  I couldn't be counted amongst the faithful, but then nor was I seeking Sidara's light. I simply sought sanctuary. Though the cathedral was not yet officially completed, I knew the doors were open to all-comers. It was public enough that Balgan wouldn't attack us there, and hopefully private enough that Constans and I could talk without interruption.

  Constans, as I had expected, was less than pleased with my selection. "I loathe this building." He pointed up at the entrance archway. "Do you know what it says up there? Viselna et Garalna: 'She Watches and She Protects'. They simply can't accept that Sidara was mortal and that she died. Just like they're all mortal and that they're all going to die."

  I rapidly reappraised the wisdom of bringing Constans here. Arianwyn had warned me about his views on Sidarism, and it seemed that even our present need for anonymity wouldn't keep him from expressing those views to all nearby. Heads were already turning in our direction, so I forcibly led Constans deeper into the cathedral, hoping he would quieten. No such luck, as it turned out.

  "Who'd choose to live forever anyway?" he asked gloomily. "Even a decade changes the world beyond recognition, and seldom for the better. Can you imagine living for hundreds upon hundreds of years, watching everyone around you grow old and die, watching the things you fought for fall into dust? And then, just as you think things can't get any worse, a bunch of deluded lunatics build a religion around you. I tell you, if it happened to me I'd bury myself alive."

  I did my best to ignore him, pointedly admiring the craftsmanship on a particularly fine statue of Sidara. Her left hand was raised in blessing, her right outstretched to serve as a perch for a phoenix the size of a small eagle. Fine workmanship, but perhaps a little clichéd. Tressians loved to liken their realm to the firebirds of the Ithna'jîm deserts, so often had it been born anew from the ashes of war.

  Lacking an audience, Constans had finally subsided, but not soon enough. I heard the sound of footsteps clacking across tiles and turned to see Edroth Olvas, the cathedral's high archimandrite, bearing down on us, sky-blue robes trailing across the floor.

  "Gentlemen. This house is, of course, open to all, but I would ask that you maintain a level of decorum whilst within its bounds."

  The old man certainly looked the part, with his flowing white hair and neatly-trimmed beard lending a suitably patriarchal appearance. His physique was robust for a man of his advancing years, and I knew his first calling had been as a Sidarist preacher in the army. That had been several decades ago, and he'd dedicated his life since to the construction of the building in which we now stood. No wonder he was ill-prepared to tolerate Constans' remorseless scorn.

  "My apologies, eminence," I said. "I'm afraid my companion has endured a difficult day, and has temporarily mislaid his manners."

  Constans glared daggers at me and opened his mouth to speak.

  Olvas got there first. "Sadly, Master Reveque has expressed such views many times, so wherever his manners have been mislaid, they would seem to be very far afield indeed. He has made it quite clear he does not agree with our honouring of his ancestor and is, of course, entitled to that opinion." He smiled without warmth.

  "This is a truly incredible building," I said, before the inevitable argument unfurled.

  Constans again opened his mouth to speak. I trod heavily on his foot, and he finally took the hint.

  "Oh, indeed, ambassador, indeed," said Olvas. "It is a great compliment to hear you say so. It has been my life's work these many years, providing a suitable place where Our Lady can receive the worship she so truly deserves." He sighed. "So many long years and still not yet finished, but it will be soon. I look forward to welcoming you to its final consecration."

  I didn't want to talk about an interminable ceremony I'd not yet come to terms with attending, especially because Jamar had nagged me about it at roughly twelve hour intervals for the past fortnight. "The cathedral already looks to be complete."

  "Oh, I grant you much of it is – at least physically. But there are final details to be attended to that I wouldn't expect a gentleman such as yourself to notice."

  Funny how 'gentleman' sounded a lot like 'heathen' in that particular context. "The windows are particularly glorious."

  There were ten of them in all, two on each facing of the five-sided nave. Each captured a scene from Sidara's life in vibrant stained glass, and to a detail my countrymen would have been completely unable to replicate. In matters of art, if nothing else, the Tressians had us far outmatched.

  I only recognised a few of the friezes. The first was eerily similar to the painting at the embassy, the young Sidara protected from Kai Saran by Josiri Trelan's flashing blade and Viktor Droshna's prodigious strength. The fifth showed her and Droshna again, but this time she was a radiant young woman surrounded by a halo of white light, surrounded on all sides by cruel-faced warriors with pale skin and black armour. Josiri Trelan – her father-in-law by this time, if I remembered my history correctly – lay dying in her embrace. He was mortally wounded, laid low by the now-corrupted Droshna. The last window depicted Sidara upon the prow of a great white ship, her once golden hair flecked with grey. No one in Tressia had seen her once that ship had sailed. That mystery, as much as any of her deeds, kept the legend alive.

  "You are very kind." Olvas' tone lay a hair shy of condescension. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have duties to perform. I trust I shall not have to summon the constables to remove you." Without waiting for an answer, he glided serenely away.

  Constans regarded me with a carefully neutral expression. "You do know he's quite mad."

  I shot him a warning look.

  "No, I'm serious," Constans insisted. "He claims Sidara came to him in a dream, and commanded he build this place. I'm surpris
ed he didn't tell you."

  "Arianwyn didn't tell me Sidara was one of your forebears." I spoke carefully, not wanting to provoke another outburst.

  "No, I can't imagine she did," Constans replied. "My lineage is not something I like to talk about, and Ari respects that. I'm not a direct descendant, but she and I are family. It's one of the reasons I don't appreciate all of this nonsense." He sighed and took a seat next to me. "I do get bored of talking about myself, especially when there are more interesting topics at hand. Do you think Jerack really means to give you a day to yield the fragment?"

  "I think so. What I don't understand is why. Even after the beating Balgan's men gave it, that strawjack could have killed us both. If this portalstone's as important as Jack implied, I don't know why he didn't simply take it by force."

  "Perhaps you're protected. He did keep calling you 'Child of Ashana'. You don't happen to have divine blood in your veins? I'd keep that quiet – Olvas'll erect a temple to you in no time at all."

  "That or burn me at the stake as a demon and declare a week of feasting," I agreed. "But no, I'm as human as you are."

  Constans grinned. "Fair enough, it was worth asking. Why 'Child of Ashana' then?"

  "My people have never forgotten the gods. I was named in Ashana's sight and raised a believer. Perhaps you're right: maybe I do have a divine guardian. In the old legends, Jack was Ashana's servant in the mortal world, maybe that holds true now." I shrugged. "Or perhaps he was simply feeling benevolent."

  Constans snorted. "I don't know what tales you Hadari tell of Jerack, but his benevolence never featured strongly in our legends. Fickle would be the word I'd use." He leaned back."Assuming you are protected, this could all be a bluff on his part, an intimidation to get you to hand over what he can't – or won't – take by force."

  "Maybe," I conceded. "But you'll forgive me if that's not something I'd wish to rely upon."

  "Probably very wise. You know what this portalstone does?"

  "I don't even have the glimmering of an idea. Don't you know? Your employer dragged me into this."

  "I only know what you do. Arianwyn was studying that book when I left, but I don't know if she found anything." He regained his feet. "On that subject, we should probably be getting back."

  I stayed put. "Not just yet. You see, there's something that's been weighing on my mind for a while now." I waited for Constans to sit down. "It was you that attacked me in Stefan's library two nights ago, wasn't it?"

  I'd expected some kind of denial, perhaps even an outburst, but Constans simply spread his hands wide in slightly sheepish confession. "You worked it out, then. I thought you would."

  "I get there in the end. It all hinges around the strawjack. Arianwyn said Stefan gave her the fragment the day before he was killed. But if the strawjack killed him and it did so because it was trying to recover the fragment – the same fragment it tracked me across town to try to claim – then the fragment had to have been in Stefan's possession that night. Someone else retrieved it, and that someone was you."

  Constans nodded. "Ari and Dalrand had argued earlier that day. She wanted Dalrand to surrender the stone, and his notes, for safekeeping. Dalrand refused, so she asked me to take it. I found the strawjack standing over Dalrand's body. I tried to drive it away – I'll be wearing the bruises from that encounter for a while yet – but only succeeded in knocking it off the roof. Fortunately, the fragment was still in Dalrand's desk, so I took it. I didn't fancy going back over the rooftops in case the creature had hauled its way back up. In point of fact, I was about to slink down the stairs and make my way out the front when you crept in." He shifted in his seat. "I'm afraid I assumed you were one of Solomon's men..."

  "...which was why you tried to kill me.".

  "Well, cripple you, anyway," Constans admitted. "Of course, when I found out who you were, I knew there was no possibility of you working for, or with, Solomon. No hard feelings?"

  "I'm happy to let tonight's rescue balance the books," I said. "Of course, knowing that I wasn't in any way involved with either the strawjack or Solomon made me about the only person Arianwyn could turn to, given his lordship's influence. But she couldn't very well say that to me, so she invented the story about Quintus sending her in my direction. Whilst Quintus might be unorthodox in his methods, he's not so much so that he'd cheerfully send the victim's niece to converse with his only suspect."

  "She did wonder if you'd spot that. It seems we've been guilty of underestimating you."

  "Perhaps a little," I allowed. "But there's still something I don't understand."

  "And that is?"

  "Why approach me at all? I brought no special knowledge about Stefan's death. In fact, you already knew far more about it than I did."

  "Ah. That you'll have to ask Ari."

  "You don't know either, then?"

  "That's not what I said," Constans grinned. "But you'll still have to ask Ari."

  "Fair enough." Constans had revealed far more than I'd expected. The rest could wait a little longer. A short walk's worth of longer, in fact. I rose to my feet. "I'll do that now. Coming?"

  Eleven

  It was a cloudless night by the time we left the cathedral, well lit by a joyous moon. In an unusual stroke of good fortune, we made it back to Arianwyn's home without incident.

  Perhaps we were left unmolested because Balgan was licking his wounds and gathering more men. Perhaps whatever diversions Solomon had used to draw the city's constables away had ended – certainly we encountered plenty of Quintus' men on our walk back. I didn't much care. I'd had more than my share of fights and flights, and going without one for a few hours was a blessed relief.

  As we approached the house, I heard the scrape of bolts being drawn back. The door opened and Arianwyn stood framed in the doorway. Her skin was a touch paler than when last I'd seen her, but she seemed otherwise hale. With one last look around the street, I passed inside. Constans entered and closed the door.

  "Thank goodness," Arianwyn exclaimed, face bright with relief as she hugged Constans. "You've been gone so long. I was worried something else had happened."

  "Not at all," Constans replied, smiling. "Things were a little more... complicated... than I would have liked, but at least I found our friend. Walking the streets, he was, a poor little lamb lost in suspect company. Naturally, I felt so badly for him that I insisted he accompany me instead."

  Arianwyn released Constans and looked me up and down. Apparently, I didn't rate a hug. "Constans likes to make light of his escapades. He thinks that if I'm not there to see them, I won't realise he's lying about the danger. I assume Solomon had you."

  "He did," I said. "I owe you both. I'd not have escaped without Constans' help."

  "Nonsense," said Constans. "You'd have just slipped away when the strawjack burst onto the scene."

  Arianwyn went a shade paler. "I thought we destroyed it."

  "Sadly not," I said. "In fact, there's some suggestion it may have been holding back when we fought it." I held up my hands to forestall further comment. "But before I get into all of that..." I fished the fragment out of my pocket and threw it to Arianwyn, who caught it easily. "You dropped this the other night."

  She stared at it in astonishment. "But... Solomon captured you. Surely he searched you?"

  "Not nearly closely enough. They took my weapons, but that was it." I was reminded that while I'd retrieved my sword, my dagger was still unaccounted for. I'd probably not be seeing it again. "Actually, I had the distinct impression he didn't think you'd trust me with it – which isn't so very far from the truth, is it?"

  She had the good grace to shift uncomfortably. "It's back, and you're unharmed; nothing else matters. I admit I've been less than honest with you, Edric. I apologise unreservedly, and I will explain, I promise. But first, tell me what's happened to you."

  "I'd be happy to." I turned to Constans. "Before I do though, I wonder if Constans might do me a small favour? It's been entirely too long since I last
set foot in the embassy. Jamar, my havildar, will be getting anxious. Perhaps you wouldn't mind letting him know I'm still alive, and quite safe."

  Constans glanced at Arianwyn, and received a small nod. "Not a problem. Being your courier shouldn't be half as taxing as being your rescuer. I trust you'll both stay out of trouble until I return?"

  He was gone a moment later, the door closing behind him with a soft click. In honesty, I didn't much care how anxious Jamar became, but until I was absolutely certain I could trust Arianwyn and Constans, I wanted to have as many conversations as possible where they couldn't hear each others' stories. Who knew what interesting facts might come to light?

  I turned back to Arianwyn. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not stand around in the hallway."

  She smiled. "Actually, this is the most comfortable room in the house, but I take your point. Please follow me."

  She led me to the other end of the hall, and into a reception room so broad and high ceilinged that a respectably-sized house could have easily been built within its bounds. A series of high windows ran along the front and back walls, but even had it not been dark outside, no light would have entered through their heavy shutters.

  The room was also almost entirely unfurnished. Aside from a handful of armchairs arranged around the nearest fireplace, and a small wooden table in the corner, there was nothing. No carpets, no statuary and no paintings; just bare floorboards, basking forlorn in the light of a half-dozen lanterns similar to the one Arianwyn had used the previous night.

  "Very nice," I said equably. "I know it's not polite to ask, but has your family fallen on hard times?"

  "In a manner of speaking." Arianwyn waved at me to sit down. "But this isn't really part of it. This house..."

  "...is a distraction, a ruse. Is this where I finally get to find out who you really are?"