"I've never been to Otherworld. I don't know what'd happen if I and my 'other' met, but I've never wanted to take the chance."
That made sense, or at least as much as any of it did. "Last of all, you don't bleed. Eternals don't bleed for the same reason they don't breathe, except out of habit. It's because you're not truly alive. Not in the same manner as the rest of us, anyway. And as far as I know, you can't be killed, which is why we're having this chat."
"It would seem I've been quite careless." Constans looked at me for a long moment. "What happens now?"
"That really depends. As I said, your actions have been markedly different to those of other eternals I've met – which is, by the way, why I haven't already hacked you into pieces and burned the remains. Another point in your favour is that Arianwyn clearly trusts you. So here's the deal: I want to know what your interest is in all of this."
"Or else the axe and the bonfire?"
I nodded. "Or else the axe and the bonfire."
I'd expected Arianwyn to object, but she said nothing. Was she content that Constans could give me a convincing answer or was she just a bit curious as to where this was going?
Constans swung his legs off the table and smiled. "Would you believe it's all about family?"
I stared impassively back and said nothing.
"I've been watching over the Trelan line for centuries. I suppose I've not made a very good job of it, given that Ari here is apparently the only one left, but the bloodline excels at getting itself into trouble."
"Any of them know?" I asked. "Arianwyn excepted, I mean."
"When I started out, no one. I took care to take different names and alter my appearance, but as the generations passed, a few Trelans managed to see the truth. Ari's father was one of them." He took a deep breath. "In fact, I think he was the only one who ever dug deep enough to discover who I really was. He was always a little too clever for his own good."
"You still haven't told me why you've chosen to do this."
He sighed. "I was getting there." He looked at Arianwyn, as if by giving her his full attention she'd somehow hear his next words before Jamar or I. "I'm sorry, Ari, for not telling you earlier." He paused. "Years ago, I made a terrible mistake. I've been atoning for it ever since. There was a war and I chose the wrong side; more than that, I revelled in it. I could say I was fooled or that I was corrupted, but I'm not sure it would be the truth. My sister, though, she never stopped believing that I could be saved, and in the end her love brought me back. When I found out I'd become an eternal, I resolved to repay that faith by serving her descendants as best I could."
I saw from his eyes that there was much more to that story, but I sensed the missing details didn't matter overmuch. All save one, that is. "You've not taken the name Constans Reveque," I said. "You are Constans Reveque."
"The original," he admitted. "Sidara was my sister."
I was prepared for the admission, but it still took me by surprise. As much as anything, it was the knowledge that I was talking with a man who'd existed for hundreds of years. "The missing portrait in the gallery, that was you, wasn't it?"
He nodded. "After Koschai worked out who I was, it seemed much easier to remove the picture than to keep disguising myself."
"Why didn't you just do that earlier?"
He shrugged. "There was a joy to the deception, at first."
Constans' revelation didn't just explain the missing portrait, it also explained his attitude to Sidarism. Every time he'd railed against Olvas and his fellow worshippers, it had always been about Sidara's divinity, or about the Sidarists putting words into her mouth. He didn't object to the suggestion to Sidara had possessed some kind of power, as Arianwyn had until recently. He knew that power had been real. Given Arianwyn's conflicted feelings for her ancestor, would she see this revelation as an opportunity to learn more, or as a betrayal by the man she'd always known as her cousin? I was jolted from the thought by the sound of a slamming door. Arianwyn had already gone, neatly answering my question.
Constans stared at the closed door with regret. "I always meant to tell her, but the right moment never arrived." The smile returned. He was all business again. "So, do I pass the test?"
I looked at Jamar. He nodded, his opinion mirroring mine.
"Yes," I said. "For now, at least..." Constans grinned and slid off the table. "...but the first thing you're going to do is find Arianwyn and talk this out. If I'm right about what's coming, it'll need all of us. I can't have you not talking to each other."
"I shall seek her out immediately, although from the look on her face I might be better off with the axe and the bonfire." He stopped halfway to the door. "A thought occurs to me. What do I tell anyone who wonders why I'm not dead?"
"That's your affair," I said, without sympathy. "However, I don't think any of the constables know about your spectacular descent, so you should be able to convince them that your wits were well and truly clouted out of you. I will be telling Quintus the truth of things, however."
"Very well, a deep and abiding slumber it shall be. I must admit, I've rather dreaded this conversation, hence the ridiculous charade." He waved at the table that had so lately served as his bier. "I'm not even sure what I planned to do next. I've been very foolish."
"We've all had our moments over the last few days," I assured him. Jamar coughed. "Apart from Jamar, that is. Besides, it's hard to let go of secrets long kept, I know that as well as anyone."
Constans grinned. "In which case, can you at least tell me why Arianwyn is so put out? I'd expected her to be displeased, but it seems I badly underestimated the depth of her reaction."
I hesitated. She'd clearly not yet spoken to Constans about the increasing burden of her heritage, but he needed to hear it from her, not me. "You'll have to ask her."
Constans looked at me curiously for a moment, then let the subject drop and left the room. Beckoning to Jamar, I went to find Quintus. It was time he knew what was really going on.
*******
The guard captain waited in the courtyard, which was now clear of bodies. Only bloodstains and fragments of sentinel remained to show that a battle had taken place. There was no sign of Arianwyn and Constans, but I expected that particular conversation might take some time. That in itself wasn't a massive concern, because there was plenty to fill Quintus in on.
The guard captain's eyes widened as I approached. I checked my advance and then realised he was looking over my shoulder. "What in all the worlds is that?"
Shouting broke out behind me. I turned to see why.
Zorya stood silhouetted in the open gateway of the keep, staring out into the sunlit courtyard with a measure of suspicion. In turn, she was stared at with outright hostility by the handful of constables still in the courtyard, two of whom were cautiously advancing on her, swords drawn.
"Stand down," I shouted. "She's not going to hurt you." As I'd expected, the constables completely ignored me.
"You heard his lordship," Quintus bellowed. "Weapons down!"
This time, the constables' compliance was immediate, and Zorya serenely made her way to my side.
"I asked you what it was," said Quintus, too quietly for any of his minions to hear.
I smiled, remembering my first introduction to the sentinel. "Her name is Zorya. She's the seneschal of this tower, and has something of a way with wounds. She's offered to tend Lieutenant Nierev, if you'll arrange an escort."
Jamar smiled broadly.
Quintus' eyes flicked to Zorya and then back to me. "Does it speak?"
[[I speak.]]
"I should be polite to her if I were you, Quintus," I cautioned. "Less than an hour ago I saw her dismantle – more or less literally – the strongest man I've ever met."
Quintus was back on balance almost immediately, and beckoned to a nearby constable. "Dazarov! Come here lad, quickly. I want you to find this... lady... a hood or veil so she can travel without attracting attention. Then take her to Nierev's house and give h
er any assistance she requests, do you follow me?"
The youthful constable nodded and led Zorya away, a look of wonder on his face.
"Now, if you've quite finished trying to fluster me, perhaps you'll tell me what's going on?" Quintus asked acidly.
He led us up onto the outer walls. It was clear he didn't want any of his constables, or worse still the engineers who had just arrived, to hear anything he hadn't personally vetted.
I told him everything: Solomon, Malgyne, Constans, Alfric, Arianwyn, Jack... Everything. To his credit, Quintus took it all in his stride, with only the occasional disbelieving outburst, and I felt that these were more because he thought they were expected, rather than because he didn't believe me. I didn't tell him what I believed I knew of Solomon's, Jack's and Malgyne's plans, as I wanted to wait until the others had returned before launching into that particular discussion. I still had time, I reassured myself. It was afternoon and midnight was still many hours away.
Quintus didn't object to my withholding information, but then I'd already given him plenty to take in. He puffed on his pipe and looked out over the city. "I thought I had a firm grasp on how the world worked, but I don't know anything, do I?"
"I'd not go that far," I said. "There's just more going on than you or I ever realised."
Jamar spotted Arianwyn and Constans crossing the courtyard, and called for them to join us. There was a certain reserve between the pair. They were clearly uncomfortable in one another's company, but I hoped that would pass.
"Has Arianwyn told you what's really going on?" I asked Constans.
"Not a thing," I said. "We've had other matters to discuss."
Quintus raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing I haven't told you," I assured him.. And then the moment couldn't be put off any longer.
"I don't know how or when it began," I started, "but I at some point Jack decided to invade Otherworld. Malgyne, perhaps understandably, didn't react well to this and the two have been fighting for control ever since. Only recently, and by recently I mean about a decade ago, something changed. Jack started winning."
"Why ten years ago?" asked Quintus.
"I'll come to that later. Anyway, Jack started to win and he's been winning ever since."
"Which is why we saw those statues and the strange plants in Otherworld," said Arianwyn.
"Exactly. Whatever it was that altered the balance, Malgyne realised he was in trouble. That's when he started masquerading as Sidara in the Archimandrite's dreams, and convinced him to build that cathedral."
"Sorry, savir, I'm not following," Jamar objected. "How does building a cathedral help Malgyne?"
"Because I think it's one end of a bridge between here and Otherworld. Arianwyn and I have seen the other end being constructed, and it was almost complete."
"But a cathedral?" Constans said. "And to Sidara, of all people? Why her?"
"Why not?" replied Arianwyn. "Can't you imagine how easy the Sidarists would be to manipulate? Once you've got one of them convinced he's genuinely working in a holy cause, the hard part would be behind you."
"There's another thing in there as well," I said. "The last time Malgyne reached out his hand into the living realm, it was Sidara who defeated his champion. I can well imagine Malgyne's not above adding petty flourishes to his schemes."
"Fine," said Quintus. "Let's assume you're correct. How does Solomon fit in? "He patted the portalstone." And this lump of rock, for that matter?"
"I'm afraid, in this specific instance, our own feelings about Solomon blinded us to what he was attempting. Somehow, he'd discovered Malgyne's plans and started searching for the pieces to the portalstone. We all thought Solomon wanted to use it to access Otherworld for his own purposes, and perhaps he did – maybe it was searching for the portalstone that alerted him to Malgyne's plan, rather than vice versa."
"You think Solomon was going to use this to close Malgyne's bridge?" asked Constans.
"That's precisely it. I wouldn't be too quick to reappraise his character. I'm sure he'd have found a way to work the situation to his advantage. The blackmail possibilities alone..."
"So you're saying all we have to do is complete Solomon's plan, and the problem goes away?" Quintus asked.
"Not exactly. I doubt we've time to figure it out from first principles. No, we need to stop the bridge being completed on this side, which means stopping the consecration ceremony tonight."
Quintus sprang to his feet, anger in his face. "You arrogant bastard! You couldn't have told me this right away?" He left the ramparts at a run.
"What?" I called after him. "It's hours until midnight."
"Yes, my lord," he bellowed up from the courtyard. "But they've brought the service forward to dusk – less than an hour away!"
I swore viciously and scrambled to my feet. That was what Olvas must have meant about an amended invitation, only I'd been so busy fretting about being forced to join him in prayer that I'd not paid attention. I could only hope my stupidity wouldn't make us too late to stop what might already be happening.
*******
Quintus ran on ahead with several of his constables, whilst the rest of us followed at a more sedate pace. Jamar and I were weary from our earlier race across the city, whilst Constans still hadn't fully recovered from the aftermath of his fight with Balgan.
"Just because I'm eternal," he'd said testily, "doesn't mean I'm invulnerable. Wounds still hurt and they still take time to heal."
Only Arianwyn was capable of matching Quintus' pace, but she preferred to stay with the rest of us. She spent the entire journey examining and probing the portalstone, but to no avail.
"With time to study it, I might be able to get it to work," she said finally, "but not now."
I fervently hoped we wouldn't need it.
That hope was dashed when we reached the cathedral. Apparently Tressians loved an excuse to celebrate, and the square was packed with cheering crowds. A ring of praetorians stood around the Shaddra, and another around the front of the cathedral. Doubtless, there were hardcore Sidarists present, but the vast majority were almost certainly just citizens who were looking to be part of something bigger than themselves.
"Do you know what this reminds me of?" Arianwyn asked quietly. "Otherworld. It's the same mindless mob, with dark guardians arrayed around the places of power."
I wanted to tell her that she was being fanciful, but the words died on my lips. Just how completely did the living realm mirror into Otherworld? I was distracted from that chain of thought by the sight of Quintus some way ahead of us. He had to have been there for at least ten minutes now, and yet he was barely closer to the cathedral than we were.
"He'll not make it," said Constans. "We have to do something."
"Like what?" asked Arianwyn with a crossness born of desperation. "If Quintus, of all people, with his uniform and his sword, can't get through that sea of humanity, what chance have we got? Wait... Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I have an idea," I said, "but you're not going to like it."
She looked at me for a moment, sensed what was in my mind, then shook her head. "No. No, I'm not doing it."
"Not doing what?" asked Constans, confused.
"My hair's not even the proper colour," Arianwyn protested. "It won't fool anyone."
"You think anyone's going to notice?" I asked. "They're all waiting for a miracle; we're going to give them one. Just bring forth enough of the magic to manifest that halo I saw in the vaults, but not so much that you hurt anyone by mistake. Especially me," I added, seeing the look on her face.
"Actually, it might work." Constans had finally grasped the idea. "And I don't think we have any other choice."
"Fine, I'll do it," said Arianwyn. "But I don't know how long it'll last. You'd better stay close to me." She lowered her voice, and looked me square in the eye. "You do know I'm going to kill you for this, don't you?"
I heard a touch of humour in her voice. At least, I hoped so.
> "It's my sincere hope we live long enough for you to try, Miss Trelan."
Arianwyn didn't reply. She passed the portalstone to Jamar, then closed her eyes and started to mutter under her breath. As I watched, her body began to glow with a hazy white light. It grew stronger and more vibrant until it hurt my eyes to look directly at her.
"Is it working?" she asked, her eyes still squeezed shut.
"It's working," I assured her.
A wave of consternation flowed through the crowd as nearby citizens tried to make sense of what they were seeing.
I nudged Constans in the ribs. "Don't let them to come to their own conclusions. Let them know what they're seeing."
He gave me a look much like the one Arianwyn had recently given me, then addressed the crowd in strident and charismatic tones. "People of Tressia, rejoice! Sidara, Lady of Light, has returned to you on this day of days! Make way! Make way!"
The crowd around us fell silent. For a moment, nothing happened, then people began to shuffle away from us.
"It's working," I hissed at Arianwyn.
"Then why are we standing here?" Her voice could have curdled milk.
We set off through the crowds, who were only too eager to part. Constans led the way, repeating his proclamation whenever our progress stalled. He glanced back at me at one point. "You do know I'm going to kill you for this, don't you?" he asked, deadpan.
"I'm afraid you'll have to get in line behind your 'sister' here." I led Arianwyn by the hand. I couldn't have pulled free even if I'd wanted to, so tight was her grip on my fingers. Jamar brought up the rear, his eyes searching the crowd for trouble. Fortunately, the Tressians' acceptance of the situation seemed total.
Even Quintus – earthy, no-nonsense Quintus – looked momentarily awed as Arianwyn glided past him. Then the guard captain saw who was leading 'Sidara' towards the cathedral, scowled, and stomped in our wake. The strangest part was that it all occurred in silence, there was no chanting or shouting, just a reverent hush preceding us through the crowd.
The sun set as we climbed the cathedral steps, the sky transmuted into a lurid red by its fading rays. The praetorians parted as easily for us as had the rest of the assembled masses. Almost before we knew it we were inside.
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 30
