"Thank you Zorya," Arianwyn replied. "Something not too far from my own, if you please."
[[Of course, Mistress Arianwyn. It shall be done.]]
With a slight rustle of skirts, the statue stirred, strode briskly past Arianwyn, and halted before me. It moved smoothly, with no sign of joints nor any sound of stone shifting upon stone.
[[Greetings to you, guests of the Tower of Stars.]]
The statue bowed very slightly – enough to be polite, but not enough to suggest subservience. Now it was closer I saw that its lips did not move when it spoke – in fact, the face was immobile.
[[I am Zorya, seneschal to this household.]]
"I'm sorry Zorya," said Arianwyn. "I'm forgetting my manners. This is Edric Saran, Ambassador to the Tressian Republic."I nodded my head, still unsure how to act in front of this... whatever it was. Arianwyn gave me a pointed look but continued, "...and this is Jamar, his bodyguard."
The statue gave another polite bow, which Jamar returned by clasping his hands together.
I could restrain my curiosity no longer. "What is it?"
Arianwyn gave me a sharp look. "She, Edric, what is she. Or better yet, who is she?"
I opened my mouth. Arianwyn cut me off.
"Don't ask me again. Zorya's perfectly capable of telling you. Besides, it's rude to speak as if she's not here."
"Very well," I turned to Zorya. "Who are you?"
[[It is as I said, Edric Saran. I am Zorya, and I am seneschal here. As for your first question, I am a sentinel.]]
"I don't know what that is. Are you a living creature?"
[[I think I understand,]] Zorya paused. [[You wish to know how I function?]]
"Yes."
[[I do not know. One day, I remembered.]]
"Remembered what?"
[[Remembering. If I remembered on other days, I do not recall.]]
Zorya's voice remained expressionless, her face unchanging, but I could have sworn I was being mocked.
If the smile on Arianwyn's face was anything to go by, she at least was amused. "Thank you, Zorya. You'll have to excuse my friend, he's had a strange few days, and his manners are doubtless not all he would like. If you'd be kind enough to see to the accommodations, we'll be up shortly."
[[Of course, Mistress Arianwyn.]]
With a final bow, the statue – no, the sentinel, I corrected – started towards the stairs. I crossed to Arianwyn's side.
"I still don't understand," I said softly. "I've never seen anything like it..." Arianwyn flashed me a warning look and I held up my hands in apology, "...sorry, her, before. I spent a little time in Thrakkia a few years ago and saw the golems they use for heavy lifting, but they were dumb things of crude stone. Zorya's completely different."
"She is, but if you're asking me to tell you what she is, I'm afraid I can't help you. Father called her a sentinel, but he never explained what that meant, if indeed he even knew. Zorya's served me all my life, yet in many ways she's still a mystery to me."
"Can I trust her?"
"Oh my dear suspicious Edric," Arianwyn laughed delightedly, a sound so free and joyous that I couldn't resist smiling. "I do, certainly, but I can see how that might not be enough for you. Why don't you ask her?" Without waiting for a response, she called out. "Zorya? Edric has a question for you."
Zorya stopped and regarded me patiently.
Realising I'd been left no choice, I raised my voice. "I wanted to know if I can trust you."
[[This is another question you wish me to answer?]]
"Yes."
[[Very well. The answer is no, Edric Saran. I do not believe that you can trust me.]]
I froze. My hand fell to my sword. Arianwyn laughed.
"I fail to see the joke." I said, stiffly.
"You have to learn to phrase questions a little more precisely. Zorya is very careful with her speech, aren't you?"
[[So I have been told, Mistress Arianwyn.]]
"You see?" Arianwyn asked me. "Let me ask for you. Zorya, should Edric trust you?"
[[Yes, Mistress Arianwyn. I believe he should. But I do not believe he can.]] Zorya tilted her head ever-so-slightly to one side. [[I think he might be broken.]]
She could well be right at that, I thought sheepishly. Relaxing a fraction, and feeling more than a little foolish, I released the grip on my sword. "Teaching me a lesson?"
[[I am teaching nothing, Edric Saran. But it is possible you are learning, all the same.]]
"And you grew up with this?" I asked Arianwyn, an eyebrow raised. "How did you stay sane?"
"By choosing my words very carefully."
I realised Jamar was quietly observing our exchange. "Nothing to say?"
He shrugged. "I am your bodyguard, savir. It is my job to watch, and yours to talk." His lips twisted into a smile. "It is important one of us appear well-suited to our role at all times."
Arianwyn laughed once more, and again I couldn't help but smile. It occurred to me how much had changed between Jamar and myself in a matter of hours. Before, I'd have ignored the good-natured tone and rebuked him for the disrespectful words. As it was, he'd defused my anger before it could even get going. The old fears of betrayal and distrust were still lurking, of course, but in a world of tree demons, living statues and vengeful spirits, I was finding it increasingly hard to dislike a fellow countryman whose only obvious crime was to be a fellow countryman – especially after my meeting with Alfric.
Jamar rose to his feet. "And now, because I am a bodyguard, wounded in valiant service. I'd like to see to my injuries."
"Of course, Jamar." Arianwyn spoke hurriedly, perhaps wishing she'd pressed the point earlier. "Zorya, would you see Jamar to his quarters?"
[[Immediately, Mistress Arianwyn.]]
Jamar was clearly either wearier or more wounded than he'd let on, for his progress was halting, but Zorya always slowed to match his pace. The wooden stairs creaked and sagged under her every step – a hint as to her not inconsiderable weight.
Once they were gone, Arianwyn regarded me from behind an unreadable expression. "It will take Zorya a little while to get Jamar settled – I doubt she'll be content to let him tend his wounds alone – so arranging your accommodations might take some time. In the meanwhile, I'd very much like to hear what happened to you."
"I'm very tired and I don't feel much like talking." It was the absolute truth. But even so, I knew I sounded evasive.
"Not even if I promise a meal? Zorya keeps the larder well-stocked. I'm sure I can scrape something together. If you answer my questions now, I promise to answer yours after you've slept."
I was rather hungry – hungry enough to swing the balance. "Very well, you win."
Arianwyn offered a triumphant smile and led me away up the staircase. We passed through several corridors, each as sumptuous as the main hall, and just as impeccably maintained.
"How does this place stay so pristine?" I asked. "It must take an army of servants to keep it in this condition."
"Not at all, Zorya's very efficient, and there are a handful of others who answer to her. You may not see those – they keep to themselves for the most part."
That was interesting. One sentinel was a curiosity; several were a mystery requiring further investigation.
We entered a broad gallery, hung with portraits of what I presumed were past inhabitants. One of the very oldest paintings was missing, leaving an odd gap at one end of the room.
"You still haven't asked where you are," said Arianwyn.
"I believe we agreed I'd ask questions later. And I did hear Zorya call it the Tower of Stars. I assume it's one of the fortresses on the city wall. It certainly looks similar to the one in which I... met... Solomon."
"Yes, I'd forgotten you'd already seen one. That fortress, by tradition, is known as the Tower of Dusk, on account of it being the westernmost of the twelve."
"And this one is the Tower of Stars because...? It's not in the sky?"
She had the grace to smile at the poo
r joke. "No, it sits roughly in the middle of the span. It was named by a nobleman who thought that it sounded both poetic and majestic. It's the way of the rich and powerful – they don't need to worry about appearing ridiculous because no one dares tell them that they are. However, a later castellan had the upper floors altered to accommodate an observatory, so it's no longer an entirely ill-fitting name."
We reached the end of the gallery and entered a small dining room.
"That's all very well," I said, "but I don't understand how you're able to live here. These fortresses are supposed to be the city's last and best line of defence. The Tower of Dusk was swarming with praetorians, but this one is home to what, two of you? Five, if you include the sentinels?"
"It's a few more than that." Arianwyn gestured for me to take a seat. "But you're correct, by rights, this would be overrun with soldiery. Except that they can't get in."
"What?"
"This tower's been sealed for years. Anyone who approaches finds their mind and feet wandering elsewhere. I don't know how or why. Father suggested it was something to do with the mages of the tower's last garrison. I can get in, just as my father could. Whatever the enchantment is, it seems to recognise, or at least approve, of our bloodline. And I can bring others with me, if I wish, but no one else gets in. Apart from Constans, but then he seems to be able to get in anywhere. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I promised food." Turning, Arianwyn vanished through a small door at the end of the room.
I was speechless. This fortress, lynchpin of Tressia's defences, was unguarded? If my brother had realised an attack here would have met with almost no resistance, then perhaps the war could have been won.
But then I considered the matter more deeply. Surely the lack of a garrison would have been obvious to our scouts? Certainly the rest of the wall was well-patrolled. Was the enchantment guarding this place so powerful it could cloud the minds of distant enemies, so they discounted the possibility of attack without ever knowing why? It was a bizarre and troubling thought that led almost immediately to another: just how little did my people really know about Tressia's defences? More and more, I was learning how many lives I'd saved with a single act of fratricide.
I was still musing when Arianwyn reappeared with fresh butter, bread and a variety of meats and cheeses. Not exactly grand fare, but more than welcomed by my grumbling stomach. She'd also dug out a bottle of wine, and I was pleased to discover that it was an entirely different proposition from the malodorous red I'd endured at the Silverway.
As we ate, I filled Arianwyn in on my experiences in Otherworld. She listened with rapt attention, interrupting only occasionally to ask for extra details or clarification. I was struck again by how analytical she was. No detail escaped her notice, and on occasion she even managed to correct me on events I'd misremembered, based purely on words I'd spoken earlier.
I'd intended to give only a patchy account of the time I spent with my brother; not to be evasive or misleading, mark you, but to gloss over some of the matters Alfric and I had discussed. As it happened, I'd detailed the events surrounding my brother's death before I realised that I'd massively overstepped my own bounds. I tailed off as soon as I realised, but the damage was done, and Arianwyn was staring at me in open-mouthed disbelief.
"You killed the Emperor? That was you? I'd always assumed it was one of Solomon's agents. But no! It was his own brother! I knew your name made you part of the royal family, of course. I had no idea it was that close a..." She stopped short, spots of colour touching her cheeks. "I'm sorry, that wasn't very tactful."
I shook my head. "It doesn't matter."
To my surprise, I found it was true. To know Alfric didn't blame me for his death, and that perhaps he would have done the same had our situations and character been reversed, had gone a long way to heal the scars I'd borne these past months.
Perhaps that was part of why I was more comfortable around Jamar and had spoken so freely to Arianwyn. Or perhaps, I thought, a little of the more distrustful Edric re-emerging, there were other enchantments in the Tower of Stars, and Arianwyn had used such a one to loosen my tongue. Even I deemed that an unworthy thought, so I continued with my story – this time without interruption.
When I'd finished, Arianwyn propped her elbows on the table, then rested her chin in her upturned hands. "Whatever else you may be, Edric, you're a lucky man." She somehow managed to sound reassuring and critical at the same time. "I've heard all manner of tales regarding journeys into Otherworld, and even a few where the living converse with the dead." She frowned. "Most end very badly for the living."
I winced. "I know, but your warning went clear out of my mind. Besides, he talked to me first."
Arianwyn rolled her eyes. "'It wasn't my fault'," she said in creditable mockery of my accent, "'the ghost started it.'" Her voice returned to normal. "As I said, you were lucky. All the same, I'm glad you were able to speak with your brother." She went quiet for a moment and I knew she was thinking of her father, taken by the ocean. "I still don't understand why your sword behaved the way it did. You've no idea as to why?"
"Not a one. It's an old sword, and a prized family heirloom, but I've never heard a whisper of it having magical properties."
Arianwyn sat back thoughtfully. "Constans told me you didn't draw it when you fought him in Dalrand's study. Why?"
"Until we fought the strawjack, it hadn't left its scabbard since the day my brother died. It felt wrong, somehow, to use it for any other purpose."
"Yet you kept it with you."
It did sound ridiculous, put like that.
Arianwyn gave me a look that was half compassion, half appraisal. "From what you've told me of your brother, I don't think you should be feeling much in the way of guilt."
"Nor did he, as it happens," I shook my head tiredly. "I think I'd like to get some sleep."
"Of course, Edric. I know which room Zorya will have prepared for you. We'll go there now. Oh, and... well... I just wanted to thank you for telling me so much." She spoke quickly, clearly unsure of what reaction her words would get. "I think it's been a while since you trusted someone with so large a piece of yourself."
I said nothing. I'd half an idea I'd already said too much.
"And for what it's worth. I don't believe you're broken; at least, not in any permanent way. I think perhaps you've just forgotten you're alive." She offered a brilliant smile and the weight of my burdens lessened, at least for a moment.
She led me out of the dining room, and back along the gallery. Another flight of stairs later and we arrived at a bedchamber, its door ajar. With a final smile, Arianwyn bid me good morning and headed further down the corridor, presumably to her own quarters.
Closing the door behind me, I disrobed and, shortly thereafter, slept like the dead whose company I had so recently known.
Fifteen
I awoke to find a cleaned and pressed Tressian outfit laid out for me – a welcome replacement for my tired and battered robes. There was also food – fresh fruit, bread and cheese set upon a wooden tray, and a jug of water. Deciding I'd face whatever the day brought far better on a full stomach than an empty one, I set about my breakfast with gusto.
Only when the last crumb and drop were gone, and I'd cleaned myself as best I could, did I turn my attention to the clothes. The replacement trousers, shirt, tunic and cloak were of typical Tressian design, and ran the gamut of blacks and dark blues I'd come to expect from the better-dressed citizen. Considering the clothes had almost certainly been purloined from the wardrobe of Arianwyn's absent father, they were a surprisingly good fit. A little loose about the waist, perhaps, but nothing tightening the belt didn't fix.
It was then that I noticed that my sword had been removed – only the belt and scabbard remained. I was fairly certain that Arianwyn had taken it, or at least had instructed Zorya to do so. I was also more than a little annoyed. Hauling on my boots – these at least had been left to me – I went out into the corridor.
I h
alf expected to find Zorya, or perhaps one of the other servant-sentinels, waiting for me, but the passageway was deserted. Where did I go now? I was fairly confident that I'd find my way to the dining room of the previous night, or down to the entrance hall, but I had a feeling I'd find Arianwyn in neither place. Then I remembered I'd seen her walk further down the corridor before I'd turned in.
Thinking that a good place to start, I walked down to the door where I'd seen Arianwyn last, and rapped politely on its polished wood. There was no answer, so I knocked again, louder this time. There was still no answer, so I turned the door handle and eased the door open. Or rather, I tried to – it didn't budge an inch. I pushed harder, but quickly came to the conclusion that it was locked, rather than merely stiff. Given the condition of the rest of the Tower of Stars, I couldn't imagine Zorya allowing such a thing as rusted hinges.
Abandoning my contest with the door, I headed further down the corridor, but found my path blocked by another – this one a double-leaved monster. This too was locked, not merely by a mortise, but a heavy chain and an even heavier padlock. No one was taking any chances of intruders getting into that room.
Doubling back past my quarters, I found myself in the gallery. Again, I was struck by the gap left by the absent portrait, and took a closer look.
There were no clues pertaining to whom the lost painting had portrayed. Without exception, the others had plaques affixed to the wall, giving detail of name and lifespan, but not this one. That, to my mind, made the portrait's absence a deliberate concealment. If it was merely gone whilst repairs were made, then the plaque would have remained in place, awaiting the painting's return. I was surprised the gallery hadn't been rearranged to fill the space, but maybe the missing picture was away being reframed. Or perhaps what I assumed to be an unfortunate gap was actually a deliberate, stylistic separation between two groups of paintings.
I took the opportunity to examine the picture of Koschai Trelan, Arianwyn's father. It seemed father and daughter had little in common, for I could detect no trace of family resemblance. But then, I'd never had an eye for such things and perhaps she merely took after her mother.
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 16
