The Sky Warden & the Sun (Books of the Change)

by Sean Williams

  Shilly leaned forward. “We’re all staying with them?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I’ll meet them, too?”

  “Yes, Shilly. My letter included a brief description of you both, and you have been included in their return invitation. I will be there, of course. You may not have your robes just yet, but you are still my responsibility. Jarmila would never forgive me if something were to happen to you.”

  “When are we leaving?” asked Sal. Shilly couldn’t tell if he was looking forward to it or afraid.

  “In two hours. We’ll stay the night and meet Jarmila in the morning.”

  “Is two hours long enough to get past the guardians and through the Way?”

  “That’s not the route we’re taking, this time.” The mage’s smile returned, albeit briefly. “I should also explain that I am taking a basic staff with me, along with Skender. He will be too much for Bethe to handle on her own, I fear, and he does need to be set free of the cage every once in a while. He takes after his mother in that respect.” His smile slipped a notch, but he continued without taking a breath. “I have also arranged a change of attire for you, to see you through until you receive your robes. I could hardly have you meeting your family in your travel clothes, could I?”

  Not my family, Shilly wanted to say. But she kept quiet for Sal’s sake. He was having enough trouble absorbing the news without her making it any more difficult.

  “Do you have any questions?” asked the mage.

  “Only one,” she said. “When are we coming back?”

  “Tomorrow. Unless Radi Mierlo makes Sal a better offer, we’ll all be home in time for the evening meal.”

  The mage took them to their room and instructed them to pack. Their new clothes were laid out on their beds, ready for them to wear. Sal hurried off for a quick shower, and Shilly struggled into her clean leggings and overdress without anyone’s help. When she thought of Ulum, only Wyath’s elegant apartment, among the ceiling lights, inspired her to return. She would have been annoyed to go to the underground city for any reason, but having to meet Sal’s family made it doubly worse. His great-aunt, the Syndic, had been nothing but unpleasant.

  Unless Radi Mierlo makes Sal a better offer ...

  When Sal returned, the floodgates opened. “I wonder what they’re doing in Ulum?” he asked her the moment he walked in the door, as though continuing a conversation she didn’t remember beginning. “Maybe they’re traders and they’ve come to sell their goods at the market. Or they’re artists, or weather-workers, or...” His vocal chords emitted a strangled noise, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe it. They want to meet me. They’re waiting for me now. Shilly, do you think they’re as bad as everyone says?”

  “Maybe they’re mercenaries,” she said. “Swords for hire.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I have no idea, Sal. Why don’t you wait until you meet them so you can ask for yourself?”

  “It doesn’t seem real. I’m meeting my mother’s family!”

  Shilly didn’t need to respond to his outpouring of words and Sal didn’t seem to notice that she was doing little more than nodding after a while. By the time he was dressed and waiting for someone to come take them away, he had run out of momentum and fallen silent, staring at the view through the open window. She didn’t think he was actually seeing it, and his words confirmed that.

  “This is as close as I’m ever going to get to meeting my mother.”

  “At least you’re that close,” she said.

  He looked at her, then, and his focus returned from the unseeable. “I’m sorry, Shilly. I forget sometimes —”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Most of the time I don’t think of them either.” But that wasn’t true. Whenever someone mentioned their parents or siblings, her own family came to mind, the people who had abandoned her as a child because of her shortlived flashes of talent. It was strange, she thought, that these people could have any impact on her at all, since in the realest possible sense Lodo had been all the family she’d ever needed. Perhaps part of her still remembered them and missed them, even if she wasn’t conscious of it. She remembered their absence.

  Or perhaps people just responded to the idea of family, even if they had never met them — or didn’t need one. That would explain Sal’s feverish excitement at meeting his own when, really, he had everything he could ever want right where he was.

  She couldn’t share in his excitement. She was curious, but that was all. The news that they were going to Ulum to meet the Mierlos had taken all the shine off her relief on being accepted into the Keep and the other reasons for the trip. Now she was feeling as anxious as she had been before, only it was about something completely different. She had made her decision and now had to simply deal with the consequences. Sal, on the other hand, had yet to make his. Since crossing the Divide he had been coasting along with her; it had been easy to assume that he would always do so. The time had come for him — and her — to face the fact that he had at least one other option.

  Finally Raf appeared in the doorway. “We’re off,” he said. “Sorry to hold you up. Skender’s so excited he completely forgot to pack. Are you ready?”

  Shilly let him take her bag. It was much lighter than usual, containing only what she thought she might need for an overnight stay. She hadn’t had much to start with, having left Fundelry with little more than what she was wearing at the time. Sal carried his, and she could tell from the way he lifted it that he had brought everything. She could understand that, even if it stung a little. There was always a chance that he might not come back.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad thing, then, she thought, if his grandmother turned out to be no different to the Syndic.

  Raf took them to meet the Mage Van Haasteren, not down at the bridge where they had arrived, but at the highest point of the cliff face town. There, at the top of a long series of stairways — difficult to negotiate with her crutches — and on a shelf of rock wide enough to create the impression that there wasn’t a yawning gulf below, were two statues facing each other, similar in appearance to the guardians below but smaller and less weathered. Between them was an iron door, shut, with a keyhole in its exact centre. Waiting with the mage were Skender, Chema and another student called Amahl. Thin with a yellowish complexion, he was only a couple of years older than Shilly, and looked more nervous than Sal. Skender was uncharacteristically restrained, as though saving his energy for the outside world.

  “Good,” said the mage, studying them all sternly. “We’re all here. We’ll leave in a moment. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that, even though we’re no longer at the Keep, the normal rules still apply. You will be sure to represent me in a suitable fashion, no matter where we go. I have high expectations of you all only because I know that you are capable of meeting those expectations. That is why I have chosen you to come with me.” He directed proportionately more of his warning at Skender, who nodded quite seriously.

  “I think,” Raf said, “that I speak for us all when I say that I won’t let you down. I want to go next time, after all.” He shot Skender a quick wink. “We’ll be good, I promise.”

  Satisfied, the mage turned to the doors. Walking forward between the statues, both of which bowed slightly in acknowledgement, he produced a key. It fitted into the keyhole and turned smoothly. A mechanism clunked deep inside the door and the mage pushed it open, revealing a ramp sloping upward into the cliff. Then he reached up and touched a brass switch on the ceiling, awakening a series of glow stones to guide their way.

  The statues didn’t move as the students filed through behind him, one after the other, but Shilly could tell that she was being studied very closely. She assumed they would remember when she returned, with or without Sal. That she would return, she had no doubt, if the mage would have her.

  Then she was through and standing
with the others on the far side. Raf came last. The mage closed and locked the door behind him, then led the way up the slope. It was steep but flattened out after a hundred metres and widened into a large chamber with pillars supporting a high, vaulted ceiling. The stonework was elegant and very old, a faint tracery all that remained of what might once have been elegant frescoes on every surface. The walls were arched, and each archway led to another tunnel identical to the one through which they had entered.

  Looking around, Shilly quickly became disoriented. The archway to the Keep was the third from the right on the wall behind her — or was it the wall to her left? She couldn’t be sure. The glow stones in the tunnel had died, and the walls looked the same on every side.

  The mage unhesitatingly led the students across the room, through the forest of pillars, and to an archway on the far side. There he reached up again and brought another line of glow stones to life. This tunnel led downward at as steep a pitch as they had gone up before and became wide, shallow stairs at about the same time as it began to turn in a lazy spiral. Shilly tried to count how many times the passageway completed an entire circle. It might have been four when the way — or Way — ended in another door.

  The mage produced another key, opened the door, and waved them through.

  The smell of humanity and its refuse hit her first. The stench was undiminished since she had last experienced it, thick and cloying after the thin, clear air of the mountains. Sound came next. People were all around her — walking, talking, shouting, running, hammering — and their animals were with them. She could distinguish chickens, camels and desert dogs easily, with hints of emu and alpaca. It sounded like they were in the middle of a vast animal pen.

  The second-hand daylight was dim and gloomy. She didn’t realise how quickly she had become used to the serene clarity of the Keep until dunked back into the mess of humanity that was Ulum. The realisation surprised her. She longed to be back on her balcony, reading by natural sunlight again. The sooner they left, the better.

  The doorway had opened in a cul de sac lined with blank walls and sheltered from view by an overhang above. A narrow metal gate sealed the cul de sac from the street outside. When they were through that last doorway, they stood in a group together on the sidewalk and waited to be told where to go next.

  It was hotter than she remembered. Her new clothes were stiff and heavy against her skin, and she longed for a refreshing breeze, or just a moment to sit down. But the mage was relentless. He led them along the street to the nearest corner, looked around to get his bearings, then nodded.

  “Right on time,” he said as two four-seater cabs pulled up in front of them. Raf, Chema and Amahl took one; the mage travelled with the three younger members of the party in the other. He exchanged a few words with the driver that Shilly didn’t quite catch, then they were off through the busy streets, ducking and weaving among numerous other vehicles and bicycles mainly travelling in the opposite direction.

  Skender barely took his eyes off the scenery as they passed. There were shops, multi-storey residences, animal pens, administrative buildings, food and water stores, entertainment halls ... He soaked it up with rapt interest. Black-uniformed police officers, looking very much like officers of the Syndic, coordinated the traffic flow with whistles and emphatic hand signals, intervening to restore order after occasional, inevitable altercations.

  It was too much for Shilly. She stared upward at the roof of the cab and wondered what time it was in the outside world. She had completely lost track during the brief journey. It was inconceivable that they had travelled so far during their walk along the Way, but instead of letting it get to her, she resolved to learn how it was done — if only in the hope that it would help her find a way back into Lodo’s workshop. All she had to do was get through this day, and the next morning, and her position at the Keep would be permanent. The rest was up to her.

  Endure, the Mage Erentaite had said. You will find your place ...

  She clung to the elderly woman’s words as tightly as she clung to the edge of her seat while the cab negotiated its way through the city.

  After what felt like a small eternity, they pulled up outside a large, stone building in a relatively sedate suburb. There were miniature trees on the corner of each block and gas lamps at the entrance to each yard. The Mage Van Haasteren got out first and brushed down his robes. He looked around with a mildly suspicious air, then waved the others out. Shilly brushed away Sal and Skender’s helping hands, and bit her lip when she stumbled on her injured leg. The crutches fitted into their familiar places under her armpits, where her blisters had turned to calluses, and she took a few paces to stretch her good leg.

  “Is this where we’re staying?” asked Raf, bringing the others up to join them.

  “Apparently,” said the mage.

  “Very fancy. You’ll have to mind your manners, Skender.”

  The boy rolled his eyes. The building was a giant cube, with narrow windows on three storeys. There was little ornamentation to be seen anywhere upon it, but that spareness was part of its elegance. Shilly thought it looked like the sort of house an architect would build for their own home — simple, efficient, and well made — or one owned by a very wealthy person, with no need to be ostentatious.

  The mage led them along a narrow path through a gravel garden to the door. Sal’s hand brushed hers, and she was reminded of the time she had taken him to the beach at Fundelry so he could see the sea for the first time in his life. He had held her hand then, and she had been glad for the comfort it had given him. Now, even if he wanted such comfort again, she couldn’t have given it to him. She needed both hands just to walk — and she wasn’t sure she had enough strength to spare any more.

  A stone sign above the door announced that it belonged to Gourlay House. The mage knocked three times then stepped back. They heard footsteps from within, coming closer, then the lock clicked and the door swung back to reveal a woman dressed in formal attire. Her gaze swept across the small group standing at the step, and Shilly felt Sal stiffen expectantly beside her.

  “Hello,” said the woman in an imperious tone. “You must be Mage Van Haasteren.”

  “I am.”

  “Come in, please. All of you. I am Melantha, the steward of this house.”

  Some of the tension left Sal when he realised — along with Shilly — that the woman was a servant, not his grandmother. The woman held the door open until the seven of them were standing in the entrance hall. It was as spacious and austere as the outside. The walls were plastered white and the wood was dark-stained. The air smelled of roses.

  The steward took a second to look them all over. “Which one of you is Sal?”

  “I —” His voice broke, and Shilly felt embarrassed on his behalf. “I mean, I am.”

  “You’re here in good time.” She nodded approvingly, then turned to the others. “I have prepared a small meal for the rest of you in here.” She opened a door to their right and showed them a large sitting room in which a table had been laden with food. “If you require anything, please ring the bell and I will attend you. Sal will rejoin you after dinner.”

  She gestured that Sal was to accompany her and he stepped forward as though pulled by strings.

  “I will go with him,” said the Mage Van Haasteren firmly, putting his hand on Sal’s shoulder.

  “And I’m coming too,” said Shilly, crutching up on the other side, surprising herself in the process. “I don’t want to miss this.”

  Sal looked gratefully at both of them. “Is that okay?” he asked the steward.

  She smiled. “Of course. If you wish them there, they may come. Your grandmother anticipated as much. She is waiting for you through here.”

  She took them along the hallway and to a door set deeper in the house. The smell of roses grew more pronounced as they walked. Shilly was acutely conscious of the sound her crutches mad
e every time she stepped forward, clunking ungracefully on the polished floorboards, but there was nothing she could do to silence them. With a deep breath to calm herself, she plunged after Sal through the door.

  The room was as sparsely elegant as the rest of the house, lined with bookcases filled with ornaments and trophies. What little wall space remained was crammed with maps and sketches of plants. Three high-backed chairs stood in a half-circle on a thick, red rug, and in one of those chairs sat Sal’s grandmother.

  Radi Mierlo was a woman in her late fifties with long white hair held back by a silver clasp. She wore a graceful blue robe that matched the jewel in a ring on the third finger of her right hand. Her posture was straight and her skin pale. Like the Mage Van Haasteren, she appeared to have no tattoos that Shilly could see.

  The first thing that struck her about Radi Mierlo, though, was how much she reminded her of Sal. It wasn’t in her bone structure or hair, nor was it in the way she spoke. It took Shilly a while to realise that it was her eyes: they were the same blue flecked with white, like a summer sky, and possessed the same depthless quality.

  A tall, thin man with long brown hair and a drooping nose stood in one corner with hands folded in front of him. He barely glanced at them as they entered the room.

  Radi Mierlo stood with a rustle of silk.

  “At last,” she said, her voice soft and low-pitched. Her eyes scanned them, one by one, then fixed on Sal. “It is a great pleasure to meet you.”

  Sal opened his mouth, but nothing came out. There was an awkward silence until the Mage Van Haasteren came to his rescue

  “Good evening, Mrs Mierlo,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

  “And you, Mage Van Haasteren. You are very welcome.”

  “Your generosity in putting us up tonight is exceptional. The Keep maintains accommodations for our visits to Ulum, but this is infinitely more comfortable.”