by Matthew Ward
I took a long step forward to stand between the two women, or more precisely between Zorya and Emmeline's sword. "It's alright. This is Zorya. She's Arianwyn's servant. I told you about her."
Of course, I hadn't given Emmeline any indication of what to expect, and what had seemed like a harmless practical joke had backstabbed me in spectacular fashion. There was a lesson to be had there, I was sure.
Emmeline's expression remained fixed about three inches to the left of my head, on a direct line to Zorya.
"What is..." There was the slightest of pauses. "She?"
Impressive. Whatever other conclusions Emmeline might have jumped to, she'd not made the common mistake of assuming Zorya was a thing, rather than a person.
"Zorya's no danger to me, or to you." Or so I fervently hoped. From the guarded look in Emmeline's blue eyes, she didn't believe me, but that was a common affliction in folk unfortunate enough to make my acquaintance, so I didn't hold it against her. "Put the sword away."
A touch of colour lit Emmeline's cheeks as she sheathed the weapon. "My apologies. It would appear I've overreacted."
"No harm done."
Emmeline turned away, setting the door upon its latch and opening the drapes that lay across the entrance hall's window.
"I suggest we retire to the sitting room," I said, "and you can be introduced properly. With your permission, of course, Zorya?"
Zorya didn't respond. When I turned around I discovered the reason for her silence was a simple one: she was no longer there. I swore softly under my breath. She must have slipped away into the servant's passage when Emmeline had been occupied with the door.
"Wait here, I'll be back," I set off into the servant's passage at a run.
I needn't have bothered. There was no sign of Zorya anywhere. A glance at the coat hooks near the kitchen door told me also that there was no sign of the shawl and hood that the sentinel wore when she ventured outside the house.
It was all inconvenient, most terribly inconvenient. Zorya had clearly gone out into the city, but I'd little chance of catching her now. Besides, she'd hardly have left if she'd had any intention of continuing our conversation. I'd have to wait until she returned. Assuming she did.
Frustrated by the turn of events, I trudged back to the entrance hall far slower than I'd left, and was greeted by a thoroughly embarrassed Emmeline. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. That was foolish of me."
"It was," I agreed, "but it doesn't matter. You didn't scare Zorya away, believe me. She chose to leave."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure. She's worried about something. I can't say what, exactly, but it certainly isn't you."
Emmeline bristled, and fixed me with a stare as rigid as any I'd ever had off Zorya. "I'd have defeated her, had she been a threat."
I smiled. "Confidence is all well and good, Miss Orova, but arrogance is more dangerous than any sword. Some opponents in this life are beyond you, and Zorya would have proven to be such a one, I think."
"That is your privilege, Ambassador," Emmeline said stiffly, ignoring my sage advice just as I had when my father had first given it to me. "You forget I am a Sartorov Paladin."
"Whatever you may be in the future, today you are a squire to a Sartorov Paladin," I corrected. "And I've no doubt at all that you'll one day make Torev proud, if only you learn your limits. You haven't seen what Zorya can do. I have."
For a moment, I watched the emotions play over Emmeline's face. She was so desperately sure of her ability, but wanted my approval too. In the end, pride lost the battle, and she bowed her head in contrition. "My apologies, Ambassador. You are correct, of course."
"Twice in one day," I murmured absently. "A new record."
"Your pardon, Ambassador?" Emmeline asked, looking up sharply.
"It doesn't matter. And I've lost count of how many times I've told you that it's 'Edric', not 'Ambassador'."
Emmeline's brow wrinkled. "Master Torev was most clear I should address you formally at all times, out of respect for your rank."
"I'll bet he did," I muttered. Torev knew how much I loathed my title. I swore I heard his laughter echoing around me. "Edric will do."
"But Master Torev..."
"Need never know. You can go back to calling me Ambassador when Torev arrives. Until then, it can be our secret."
For a moment I thought that Emmeline would refuse, but then she gave a conspiratorial smile. "If that is your wish, Edric, then it's not for a lowly squire to disobey, is it?"
"Not quite how I'd have put it, but it'll do," I told her. "I suspect it'll be some time before Arianwyn comes home. You'll find the sitting room through that door on your right. Get yourself settled while I find us something to eat, and I'll tell you a few stories about Zorya."
A quick raid of the larder turned up a mismatched but filling meal of apples, smoked fish and day-old bread. As we ate, I divided my time between coaxing a semblance of life into the fire in the sitting room grate, and telling Emmeline of Zorya.
In the first task, I was barely successful, even though Arianwyn had tried to teach me the knack time and again. Princes were seldom called upon to display such skills – which in no way diminished my enthusiasm. I could set a wood campfire well enough, of course, but the Tressians preferred to light their hearths using small chunks of blackstone, though I was never sure why. It burnt longer, true enough, and the acrid smell was not entirely unappealing, but it was most unwilling to take the initial flame. Emmeline offered to help, but I growled at her to leave me be. Then I spilled blackstone across the hearth. On the other hand, I did finally manage to get the fire going.
I saw more success with my second task. With the fire lit, I retreated to an armchair and recounted much of what Zorya had done during Malgyne's invasion of the city. How she had overpowered and killed Balgan, a brute of a man who'd already shrugged off the worst that myself, Arianwyn and Constans could manage, and of how she'd single-handedly brought down the bridge over the Estrina.
"That was Zorya?" Emmeline leaned forward in her own chair. "I'd heard it was struck by cannon fire."
"You heard wrong. It was all Zorya's work."
"I'm starting to understand what you meant earlier."
I hoped so. I hadn't spoken of the sentinel to impress the young woman, but to make sure she understood the potential danger. I wasn't thinking about Zorya particularly – although the lingering sense of unease was still there – but the drudges of Skyhaven, who might soon be walking Tressia's streets. A little preparation never hurt.
Emmeline was attentive in a way that betrayed her staid and sheltered upbringing. From our conversations en route from Tarvallion, I knew she hadn't ever left the city before pledging herself to the Sartorov Paladins, and wouldn't have experienced much that was out of the ordinary whilst within its walls. I wondered if Torev knew what he had on his hands. Given half a chance, I suspected Emmeline would travel the length and breadth of the world, just to take in its wonders.
We'd been talking for some hours when a rattle of the latch announced that Arianwyn had at last returned. When she entered the sitting room she had the look of someone who'd spent entirely too much of the day arguing with idiots – but as she'd spent the day in council, that was hardly a surprise. Nonetheless, her presence lit up the room – or at least it did for me.
It was strange how the details of another faded from the mind, even when the subject of the memory was so dear to one's heart. The Arianwyn who entered the room was identical to she whose image I'd carried in my mind's eye since I left the city. There was the deceptively delicate face, framed by tightly-ringletted brown hair, and the cool, watchful eyes. Her mouth was ready as ever to twist into a smile as it was a scowl of disapproval – the latter expression having seen more use than the former this past day, if I was any judge.
But I'd forgotten other things, or at least they'd faded during the time spent apart. The warmth of the smile that was never far away. The radiance. The calmness. A depth of conviction that sha
med my own meagre reserve. All these came flooding back as Arianwyn entered the room, so vivid upon their return that it seemed impossible that I'd forget them ever again.
"Edric, you're back. "She moved across the room towards me, her blue velvet dress shimmering in the firelight. Like all of her clothes it was cut in a style that had passed out of aristocratic fashion a decade ago. "I thought I'd lost you for a few more weeks, at least."
I rose to embrace her. "Circumstances have changed a little."
For a long, glorious moment, we held each other close, and I remembered how much I'd missed her.
"Edric?" Arianwyn whispered.
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you're back, but did you have to empty the scuttle all over the floor?"
I stepped away and gestured towards Emmeline, who had also risen to her feet.
"This is Emmeline Orova," I told Arianwyn. "She's Torev's squire. Emmeline, it is my honour to introduce Lady Arianwyn Trelan."
Emmeline bowed her head and bobbed her knees in a stylised curtsey. "It is an honour to meet you, Lady Trelan."
Arianwyn laughed. "No titles, please. I'm sure you're on first name terms with Edric. What serves for Hadari royalty is sufficient for me."
"Of course, Lady... Arianwyn," Emmeline corrected herself. "I've heard you speak at council many times. I was very much impressed that you convinced them not to tear the Cathedral down."
"It wasn't easy," said Arianwyn. "Too many saw it as a symbol of defeat and foolishness. But it was built to bring hope as much as anything else. Goodness knows we need some of that now."
"We may be about to get more than we can manage," I muttered.
"Pardon?"
"I'll tell you later."
Arianwyn shot me an appraising look, but didn't press the matter. "Anyway," she continued, addressing Emmeline. "I do what I can, which is little enough these days – at least since Karov and Magorian have started opposing me in almost everything. I spent most of the day failing to convince the other councillors to open up the vaults, and use some of that wealth to hire building crews from our neighbours. There's more gold down there than the most despotic of kings could spend in a hundred lifetimes, but they won't touch it. They'd rather the whole city fell into ruin...." She broke off, perhaps having realised that she'd been speaking ever more loudly and energetically.
"Perhaps it's not about the gold," Emmeline suggested. "Perhaps some of the other councillors fear you usurping their positions. Not that I'm suggesting you are, of course," she added hurriedly.
"Aren't I?" Arianwyn asked, amused at the squire's obvious discomfort. "I sometimes think it'd be better if I had the power to make things right around here." She sighed. "But even if I did, it wouldn't fix anything, not for long. Besides, I once had a dream that involved me, a crown and a cheering crowd. I didn't much care for it."
"Nevertheless, lady, I appreciate what you've done, and so do others. I'm sure you'll make the council understand in the end."
"Perhaps I will," Arianwyn allowed with a brilliant smile. "Although I doubt your father will be pleased. After Karov and his lapdog, Lord Orova is about my fiercest critic."
"I find that my father and I agree on very little. He'll be appalled to learn I've spoken with you." She smiled wickedly. "Which will make the telling all the more enjoyable." She glanced at the window. "It's growing dark. I'll take my leave now, Edric, if you don't mind."
I tore my attention from Arianwyn. "I thought Torev told you to stay with me?"
"Then this can be another thing we keep from him," Emmeline rejoined.
Arianwyn raised an eyebrow at that. "Do you have anywhere to stay?"
"My family lives a few streets from here," Emmeline replied. "While my father may or may not be pleased to see me, he will at least let me stay long enough to properly decry the error of my ways, and to lament the company I've been keeping." She seemed quite pleased by the prospect. "Should I look for you here tomorrow, Edric?"
"Here, or at the embassy," I said.
"Then I shall bid you both good evening."
Arianwyn joined me in bidding Emmeline farewell, but when I took a seat at one end of a generously proportioned couch, she busied herself in closing the drapes and repairing the damage I'd caused the fire. Outside, hooves crunched on gravel as Emmeline led her horse away.
A short time afterwards the grate was blazing with light, and Arianwyn judged her repairs complete. Shrugging off her boots, she sat next to me on the couch. I put my arm around her, and she leaned into me, hoisting her feet up off the floor.
"I can't help but notice that you've picked up a younger and prettier bodyguard." Arianwyn's tone was heavy with mischief, but fortunately bereft of suspicion.
"Torev insisted I not travel alone."
"Where's Jamar?" Arianwyn twisted abruptly to face me. "He is well?" Her concern was genuine, and not just because the two of them had spent the last few months conspiring to make me a better person.
I winced at the memory of my last conversation with Jamar. "He's well on the way to Tregard, or at least I hope so. It's been an interesting few days."
Arianwyn got the full story about Skyhaven, warts and all. Well, almost the full story. I held nothing back about the serathi, about the drudges, the balnoth or the Reckoning. I told her about Calda's near death, her miraculous recovery and our subsequent quarrel. I even told her about the cat that had startled me when I'd prowled the golden streets. But I said nothing of Koschai.
My reticence wasn't because I worried about her reaction, but because I couldn't pass up an opportunity to test that the older man was who he said he was. If Arianwyn expected to find her father aboard Skyhaven, she'd be more susceptible to being taken in by an imposter, or so I reasoned. Perhaps I just didn't want to distract my beloved from our reunion with news of another to come. A selfish motive, undoubtedly, and only a shade worse than one rooted in suspicion towards a man who had shown me only friendship.
Arianwyn listened closely as I talked, occasionally poking at details she thought I'd skimped on. She was particularly interested in the serathi, and quizzed me relentlessly about their names and personalities, only to subside into disappointment when she realised how few of them I'd actually gotten to know.
"Have you asked Zorya about these 'drudges'?" she asked.
"She left without telling me anything. She's scared of something."
"I've a hard time imagining that," Arianwyn said thoughtfully. "I'll talk to her when she returns. She's started walking the gardens at night. I think she finds it soothing. She'll have gone no further than that."
I wasn't so sure, but there was little point arguing, so I just shrugged.
"Do you trust the serathi, Edric? Do you believe them?" Arianwyn shifted position so she could look at me whilst I answered.
"I don't know. My heart wants to, but my head just can't quite resolve their intentions with their actions."
"What about this Azyra, then? This 'most beautiful of the serathi'?"
I smiled. I'd known when I coined the phrase earlier, that it was going to come back to bite me. "She's the biggest mystery of the lot. Adanika, I think I understand. Elynna, too, wherever she's vanished to. But Azyra? It's like there are two or three different versions of her, and it's impossible to tell which one you'll be speaking to."
"You said earlier that she'd once had two sisters, now lost. Could she have somehow inherited a facet of their personalities when they died? I've heard legends of similar things happening."
That was an interesting thought, and one I'd never have considered. It was an insane concept for a rational mind, of course, but I'd seen too much to any longer consider myself to have a truly rational mind.
"You'll soon have an opportunity to judge for yourself."
"They're going to think that the Radiant is Sidara. You know that."
I didn't have to ask who the 'they' were. It was almost every living soul in the city, and for a good distance beyond. Most Tressians placed their hope i
n Sidara's return – just one of the reasons why the Cathedral they'd raised in her honour was such a powerful symbol.
"I had thought that far ahead, yes, but that's a problem that I'll let the serathi solve. At least you'll be off the hook. No one'll be interested in Sidara's descendant of when there's a chance the original is returning."
"It's not a joke, Edric." Arianwyn sat upright and fixed me with a not-entirely friendly look. "What if the serathi use the Radiant's similarity to Sidara as a means of influence?"
"I'd thought of that, too, and have no solution. Not yet. We'll just have to see what happens."
"Let's hope we've time," Arianwyn muttered darkly. "You hungry?"
"Famished."
She grinned. "Good, then you can help me prepare something, as you've seen fit to empty the larder and scare the servant away."
*******
Arianwyn put me to shame by setting the kitchen hearth alight without so much as a false start. For all her talk, I contributed nothing to the culinary effort – which was in fact simply a leftover stew she reheated over the roaring flame. As she stirred the pot and the aromas grew steadily thicker and more enticing, she split her time equally between asking me more questions about Skyhaven and complaining about the state of Tressia's council. The latter was mostly a catalogue of failings common to the proud old men who made up most of that august body, or at the very least of young men who had only old ideas to share.
"At least they agreed to have the Tower of Stars repaired," I put in.
"They did," Arianwyn agreed, "but it's still far from certain I'll be allowed to reclaim it once the works are complete. It's so frustrating." She gave the pot a vicious stir.
Conversation drifted to the Empire. Arianwyn asked after my uncle, and one or two of the other worthies she'd come into contact with during official business.
"The Emperor still wants to abdicate," I said.
"But you don't want him to?"
I shrugged. "I don't know any longer. If Jamar's starting to lose his patience, perhaps it's time I listened. Would you come with me if I did?"
