by Matthew Ward
Calda was not impressed. "Fine. You want to talk about reality, and not stories. What about the drudges? They've taken thinking, living people and turned them into those... those things. They've stolen their souls, just like in the tales."
That last comment threw me, because it wasn't an association that I'd made. Perhaps Calda was correct. Perhaps I was being selective in my observations.
The pause, and the doubt on my face, only convinced Calda she was right. "And what of Salkard, erased from the map at a whim? Is that benevolence? Is it?"
"So you're telling me that you'd have let Scarface live? That you'd not have done whatever it took to end the cult? It seems to me that the serathi haven't done anything you wouldn't have done yourself."
Her frown deepened into a glare. "I'm telling you nothing of the sort. I'm telling you these creatures don't mean us well, no matter how charming or helpful they might appear. I'm telling you that you're a fool to trust them. They're demons, Edric, and they have you snared."
Now I understood Calda's mood, or I thought I did. She'd spent years fighting the enemies of the Hadari Empire, but they'd been mortal foes who bled and died in a manner she understood. The serathi, friendly or not, were another matter. Worse, they were servants of a being that many of our legends painted as a jealous and devious deity. I didn't believe those legends – I never had – but clearly Calda did. For the first time in all the years I'd known her – possibly for the first time in her life – Calda was scared. Worse, she didn't like being scared, which made her all the angrier.
"Do you think I don't know how miraculous my recovery is?" Much of the anger was gone from Calda's voice now, but she was no less driven. "I remember the cold, the pain and the fever. I remember wishing for it to end, one way or another. And then it did. Don't you see? Astarra heard my fevered prayers and answered them. I'm whole again, and it cost me my soul."
I wracked my memory for any trace of the legends our people told of Astarra, looking for something that could give my dear friend a chance of peace. For long moments, I could think of nothing, my search in no way aided by Calda's distraught expression. Then, in a flash of inspiration, I had it. "How do you feel? Physically, I mean?"
Her brow unknotted as anger slid into puzzlement. "If you must know, better than I have for years. Why do you ask?"
"If your recovery is, as you say, a boon from Astarra, shouldn't you be crippled in some cruel way? Those are the legends I recall – the dancer made lame, the artist made blind, the warrior who could no longer hold a sword," I said, selectively quoting some of the nastier outcomes. "Astarra's favours never came without an immediate price. Yet here you stand, hale of body and mind. Well, the latter as hale as ever it was, anyway... So what price has she extracted?"
The anger rushed back. "You're not taking me seriously."
"I am. I truly am." I held out both hands in what I hoped was a calming gesture. "I just don't agree with your reading of the situation, that's all."
Calda turned sharply away. "You don't understand."
I bit down a sigh. Calda and I had argued many times, sometimes over matters of importance, mostly over the most inconsequential of things. This definitely fell into the former category, but there was a vehemence to her mood which I'd seldom encountered.
I put a hand on her shoulder. "What can I do? Tell you I don't fully trust the serathi? Well I don't. I think they've the potential to cause as much harm as they seek to prevent, and I certainly don't believe they're being fully honest with me. I haven't agreed to work with them because I believe in them. I've done so in order to watch them." I realised I too had raised my voice, and paused to calm myself. "But there is one thing the serathi have done I'll never be able to repay. They brought my sister back to me. As far as I'm concerned, that's a fine gift, and one requiring me to extend them the benefit of doubt."
Calda fixed me with an unblinking stare. "And if I'm right?"
"Then I promise you, we'll find a way to stop them."
"Just the two of us?"
I shrugged. "If need be, and if we can avoid fighting each other long enough. However, I think we can cast our net wider than that, don't you, warleader?"
At last, she offered a small smile. "You might be right, ambassador."
*******
A few hours later, Jamar had recovered enough to move around. Despite his injuries, he gave no indication of being in any great pain. All in all, he was far more cheerful than he had any right to be, just as he was far less injured than he had any right to be.
I'd hoped to speak to Jamar privately, to hear his account of what had happened in Calda's room. It wasn't that I disbelieved Calda – there were few people I trusted more – but I could well believe her perceptions were muddied by the nature of her awakening. Sadly, this was not to be.
Scarcely had we welcomed Jamar back into wakefulness, when I heard the main door to our quarters open. Leaving Calda and Jamar in the latter's chambers, I slipped into the common room to find Adanika and Elynna waiting. Adanika, a paragon of politeness as ever, greeted me with a small bow. Elynna, offered no greeting, her hands working anxiously behind her back. She was clearly impatient to be elsewhere. Calda and Jamar entered the room a moment later, the former less than happy to find the serathi present.
"The Courts of Heaven have been arraigned. You are all required to attend," Adanika announced. "Elynna and I will guide you there."
"You don't have to come," I told Jamar softly. "If you need to recuperate..."
"Of course he has to come," interrupted an indignant Elynna. Clearly I'd not spoken quietly enough. "The serathiel has ordered it."
Adanika waved her sister into silence, but the damage had been done. I decided to say something before Calda could. "He doesn't have to come," I said, my eyes on Elynna. "Does he, Adanika?"
"He does not, if he is unwell," she confirmed. "I am sure proceedings will not be hampered by his absence."
Jamar cleared his throat. "As it happens, I think a little fresh air will do me good."
With a knowing bow, Adanika left the room. I motioned for Jamar and Calda to go ahead of me, then followed.
*******
There had been a marked change in the weather during my time indoors. Gone were the oppressive clouds, and their wintery embrace. In their place the skies were as welcome and as brilliant as only the unexpected winter sun can achieve.
Jamar had lingered to wait for me, but Calda and Adanika were already some paces ahead. Elynna's eagerness – or fear, I couldn't work out which – had already carried her from sight.
"You might have spoken up before," I whispered.
Jamar shrugged. "Ah, but then I wouldn't have seen who won the battle of wills. I'm impressed, my prince."
"You'd be less impressed if Calda had decided to argue the point."
"True," he allowed. "She does appear to be most unhappy."
"That she does. Can you keep her away from Elynna? If those two get talking I dread to think what might happen."
"I shall do my utmost, savir," Jamar assured me. "Why, what will you be doing?"
"I want to talk to Adanika."
Jamar nodded, and lengthened his stride. A moment later, I saw him tap Calda politely on the arm, and soon the two were lost in quiet conversation. I looked for Elynna, but saw no sign. Puzzled, I jogged a few brief steps to reach Adanika.
"What happened to your sister?"
Adanika's lip twitched. "Walking is slow, and Elynna does so like to fly. I suggested she might meet us at the Courts."
As ever, I'd the sense of undercurrents swirling beneath Adanika's words. "It's probably for the best."
"Indeed."
Was it my imagination, or were the streets emptier than normal? We'd not passed even a single serathi so far. "I'm sorry about Irina."
"Why?" asked Adanika. "You barely knew her, and are not her killer. I thank you for your kindness, Edric Saran, but it is needless. I have shed what tears I will. In many ways, it is for the best."<
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Even for a serathi, the response was heartless. "What do you mean?"
"Your friend seems improved, but I do not think she cares for us."
"It's all something of a surprise to her," I said diplomatically. Adanika hadn't even attempted to evade an answer – instead, she'd ignored the question entirely.
"And yet it is not for you. Interesting."
There was only really one question I'd wanted to ask Adanika, and there was no sense putting it off any longer. "Tell me, were all the drudges once living people?"
Adanika stiffened. "I am not permitted to talk about that."
Her response was more enlightening than any direct answer. "But you're not surprised by the question, are you?"
"Little you ask surprises me any longer, Edric Saran."
"But you know why I'm asking, don't you? You know what I found."
"I am not permitted to speak of that either." Her tone was almost pleading. "I cannot be seen to influence your testimony to the Courts of Heaven. Ask me anything else, and I will tell you what I can."
That made a certain amount of sense, I supposed. It was infuriating, but my annoyance was balanced by the fact that Adanika had just implied she'd be more forthcoming, if only I chose another topic. This was not an opportunity to pass up.
"You said that you didn't believe I'd killed Irina. Do you think either of my friends did? Is that why we are summoned to the Courts of Heaven?"
"This too, I cannot speak on."
That was ominous. I was certain that Scarface, or rather the drudge that had been Scarface, had killed Irina, but perhaps the serathi did not. Did they believe that Jamar or Calda had slain her? Did it mean that even though Adanika thought me blameless, other serathi did not? For that matter, what exactly had Koschai told Adanika of what he had seen? I hadn't asked him, as it hadn't seemed important. It did now, but there was nothing to be done.
"Will you at least answer a question that has nothing to do with Irina's death?" I asked, hoping to have more success with a fresh topic.
"That is certainly possible," Adanika said warily.
"Very well." I thought back to earlier that day. "Why are you so fascinated by my sword? You hardly needed it against Korag's men, and Myrzanna's sword was close enough at hand when the balnoth appeared. So, why the interest?"
In truth, I'd little hope that Adanika would respond at all, and that I'd find little in the way of an actual answer if she did.
"It is... complicated," Adanika said. "The weapon has been long in your family, has it not?"
"It has. How do you know?"
"It resonates with the souls of those that have wielded it, men and women who have fought in noble causes, or for the love of kin." A faraway look came into her eyes. "By touching the sword, I touch those souls. I find it... stimulating."
I didn't disbelieve the answer; I just didn't understand it. "I've never noticed anything."
"You would not – mortal senses are such poor things – but they are there nonetheless. Generations of your family have wielded that blade, and it is heavy with their stories. Even without touching it, I hear the echoes."
There was a sadness in Adanika's voice now. I'd the sense she longed for the heritage we mortals took for granted, all the small joys and sorrows that gave life texture. She could observe these things from a distance, and even feel their resonance in my sword, but never truly experience them.
Looking beyond the serathi's melancholy, I found she had given me the keys to a mystery. On those occasions where I'd been forced to tread the paths of Otherworld, my sword had exhibited supernatural properties that it had failed to replicate in the mortal realm. I'd never understood why, though I'd been presented with many theories. Now, I felt like I knew the truth. If there were still echoes of the previous bearers within the blade, it meant that when I fought in Otherworld, where the spirits of the dead still had power, I wasn't fighting alone, but alongside generations of my forebears. It was a heady thought, and a humbling one.
"Is this true of all swords?"
"It is true of all metal, to a greater or lesser degree," she clarified. "It resonates freely with the soul, but only profound emotion creates a lasting connection. This is not entirely of surprise, surely. Do you not have stories of cursed and blessed heirlooms?"
"Yes, of course we do, but I've never placed much faith in them."
Adanika smiled. "Edric Saran, though touched by Great Powers and living in the company of angels, remains sceptical?"
"I make no apology. Just because some fantasies are grounded in reality, it doesn't mean that all such things are. Anyway, I thought you preferred to be called 'serathi'?"
"Ah, but they call us angels in Tressia, do they not? Perhaps I am simply seeing how the name suits me. What do you think, Edric Saran?"
"I think I see you as Adanika first, and a serathi second. What the Tressians choose to call you – or not – matters little to me."
"A good answer I think, Edric Saran," Adanika said approvingly. "I am myself first and a serathi second. Indeed, this is how the serathiel sees me also, though she is seldom pleased by the evidence of her eyes. But I am surprised to hear you talk of the Tressians with such scorn, for scorn there was in your manner, if not your words."
The question, though unspoken, was obvious. "I don't disrespect the Tressians," I said carefully, "but their beliefs. They've always placed too much faith in Sidara. It would serve them better to place their faith in steel."
"Koschai has spoken of this Sidara. They call her the Lady of Light, do they not?"
"They do indeed. I suspect it will come as something of a shock when your sisters descend upon them as heralds not of Sidara, but of the Radiant."
"Perhaps, but is it not possible that these people, so desperate to believe in something greater than themselves, will embrace the Radiant as enthusiastically?"
"You haven't seen the fervour with which they treat Sidara."
"You speak harshly. Have you no friends amongst the Tressians?"
We passed from the shadow of a building and into the brilliant blue light of morning. For a moment, I felt moved to speak of Arianwyn, but something in the serathi's tone put me on guard. Her interest was a little too insistent, and there was something else too, though less easily explained. "One or two," I said instead. "Some believe profoundly, others rather less so."
Faced with an answer worthy of a serathi, Adanika made no reply. Strange how spending time on Skyhaven had taught me to talk exactly like my hosts. It was a habit I'd have to unlearn, and quickly, when I left. I couldn't imagine Arianwyn being terribly impressed by it. On the other hand, as she'd grown up with Zorya and her drudge's precise interpretation of language, Arianwyn would probably cope rather well with my serathiesque evasions. Coping and tolerating were, of course, quite different things.
With such thoughts to dwell upon, I found that the rest of the journey passed swiftly, if not pleasantly. I'd expected to find Elynna waiting for us, but not Koschai. Nonetheless, there he was, waiting in the shadow of one of the colossal statues at the foot of the serathiel's tower, standing a notably cautious distance from the graces who stood guard before it.
"I'm sorry that you've been dragged into this," I said.
He held up his hand in greeting. "Actually, I haven't. Apparently I'm optional, but I've never seen the Courts of Heaven at their work, so Adanika arranged for me to be allowed entry." He shrugged. "It also means I'll be able to lend you what support I can, if things go poorly."
"That's very kind of you," I said, and it was. Even limiting himself to speaking on our behalf, Koschai was taking a risk – he had literally nowhere else to go save Skyhaven, and he couldn't afford to offend the serathi. Despite that, I'd the distinct impression that he meant to go further, if the need was there. I just hoped that such drastic measures would prove unnecessary.
"Would it be improper if I asked you exactly what you told the serathi?" I asked.
"Probably," he said, "but I can assure yo
u I relayed only what I saw and heard. I can't, of course, guarantee that the serathi's interpretation of events will be the same as mine, my boy."
That was a cheery thought, and no mistake. It also, absolved Koschai of any blame if things went, as he put it, 'poorly'. Was he hiding the fact that he'd said something damning about either myself or my companions? I shook my head to clear it. The situation was difficult enough without me growing suspicious of a man who'd done nothing but try to help me since my arrival. That said, a rebellious corner of my soul insisted there was no better disguise for ill-intentions than the cloak of a friend.
"I must leave you now," Adanika announced. "Elynna will escort you in when you are summoned."
Calda glowered at her. "A fine help you've been, I don't think."
"I can say nothing that will help." Her piece said, Adanika took wing and vanished into the skies.
"And how about you?" Calda asked of Elynna. "Can you tell us what will happen next?"
Elynna gave the matter some thought before replying. "You will stand before the Courts of Heaven, and they shall judge your words."
"That's it? That's all you can tell us?" Calda said incredulously.
Elynna looked deeply hurt. "It is more than I should have told you."
"And we're grateful. Aren't we, Calda?" I asked pointedly.
"Inexpressibly." The reply came through gritted teeth.
It was a graceless answer, and grudgingly given, but it seemed to cheer Elynna, who beamed, and offered up a further nugget. "It has been years since so full an assembly has been called. It should be quite the spectacle."
"I think, on balance, Adanika had the right idea," said Jamar gloomily.
At some unseen signal, the graces standing before the gates pushed them open, and Elynna led us into the courtyard beyond.
Twelve
I don't know what I expected from the Courts of Heaven. I'd a fair idea of the setting, of course, as it was there that I'd first met Azyra, but that had been in darkness, which had doubtless done much to forge my impression of an austere and cheerless space, bereft of colour. What I encountered this time was entirely different.
