The stench of blood was as it had been in my dream, but even more cloying in the enclosed space.
And there were skulls, scores of them, shining with the blood that dripped on them from above. They were piled into squat pyramids surrounding the bed.
My eight-year-old daughter sat in the centre of the bed, arms wrapped around knees drawn against her chest. Her eyes stared, and her mouth was agape and trembling with shock. I swept her into my arms and held her face against me.
‘I have you,’ I said, trying to sound calm and reassuring. ‘I have you. It’s all right. I have you now.’
What had Zander invited into our home?
I ran with my child from the room, my bare feet slipping in the cold puddle of blood. In the hall, I carried Katrin to Zander’s door. The revel continued on the other side, much too loud for the number of people who could fit in that room.
I feared what I would see when I opened the door.
‘I need you to wait for me here,’ I told Katrin, and set her down.
She stood with one fist pressed against her mouth. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears.
‘I’ll get your brother and we can go.’ I didn’t understand why I had been blaming Zander for the uproar. He was only five.
I crouched before Katrin. ‘Will you be brave for me?’
She gave a tiny nod and shrank back against the wall.
I grasped the door handle, took a breath, jerked open the door and rushed inside.
The noise stopped. The room was dark. I walked forward slowly through sudden silence. I bumped against the bedside table and felt around until I located the lumen globe and turned it on.
The room was empty. There was no one here, and the bed had not been slept in.
I ran back out to join Katrin. She was gone. So was the blood that had been flowing from her room, and the red footsteps I had tracked down the floor. I went back to her door, which I had left open. There was flickering light here, but not from a burning femur. It came from a single lantern in a sconce on the outside wall.
I backed out of the room. I swayed in the hall, trying to force some sense into the world. I was fearful for my children. Where had they gone? They would be frightened. They were too little to fend for themselves. They needed me, and I was failing them.
I walked towards the staircase, determined to search, uncertain where to begin. I tried to remember where their favourite hiding places were. Was the Old Tower one? I couldn’t recall. I had no memories of them ever being in Malveil. It was frustrating. They had been here all their lives. We all had. How could I not know their habits in our home?
At the head of the stairs, I made out adult voices speaking softly below. I went down the stairs. Enough of the wall lanterns were lit for me to find my way without difficulty. I followed the voices to the librarium.
Katrin and Zander were sitting in the chairs by the window. They looked up as I entered and fell quiet.
My children were safe. My grown children. Of course they were adults. I couldn’t understand why I was surprised.
‘Father?’ Katrin said. ‘Are you well?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course I am.’ The words felt thick. My lips had to work hard to shape them.
A slight frown of concern creased Katrin’s impassive face. Zander looked worried and ashamed. Perhaps Katrin had managed to reason with him, and convince him he had been a fool.
Or maybe he feels guilty because you caught them.
Caught them at what?
‘Did we wake you?’ Zander asked. ‘I’m sorry if we were loud.’
‘No, you didn’t wake me.’ That’s a lie. His carousing could have wakened all of Valgaast.
What carousing? There was no noise. There was no one in his room. What’s wrong with you?
‘Trouble sleeping, that’s all,’ I told my children.
‘We have much to think about,’ said Katrin. ‘There is little sleep to be had for any of us.’
‘The price of duty,’ Zander mumbled.
Maybe Katrin had got through to him.
Or maybe he’s mocking you. Maybe they both are. What were they discussing behind your back? You can’t just leave them to it. They’ll start again as soon as you go. You have to be careful. They could be planning to harm the children.
‘Father?’
Zander’s voice shook me from my reverie. I rubbed my head, trying to clear it of the confusing thoughts.
‘It’s nothing,’ I said. ‘I’m just tired. Goodnight.’
I left the librarium, forcing myself to acknowledge the normality of what I was doing. I had had a nightmare. I might have walked in my sleep again. There were things happening in Malveil that I could not explain, but there were others that I could. It was the lingering effects of the battle of Clostrum that were upon me this night. Nothing more.
Yet I could not shake the taint of suspicion as I climbed the stairs once more. I told myself it made no sense. It was irrational, nonsensical. I gripped the ornate banister, forcing myself to acknowledge reality, a reality where my daughter and my son were adults.
An impulse remained at the back of my mind. I needed to talk to Eliana. I needed to know that our little ones were safe.
Chapter 11
In morning light harsh as doubt and brittle as joy, I walked slowly down the great staircase, struggling with gaps in my memory. I could recall nothing after leaving the librarium, and even then, the events of the night felt distant. My mind was holding them away, shrouding everything in the protective veil of dreams.
You’re finding it harder to decide between dream and reality. That must stop.
Then let’s decide. What was last night?
Nothing real.
None of it?
Maybe we spoke to Katrin and Zander after waking up. After sleepwalking.
That seemed reasonable. If I could accept that logic, then maybe I could rest tonight. I must have slept deeply after returning to bed, but I did not feel refreshed. I felt worn, thin, gnawed around the edges.
Katrin had already left when I went downstairs. The reassuring noises of the serfs at work on emptying the rooms filled the house with the sound of the ordinary. Zander was sitting at the great table in the dining hall, drinking a mug of caff. He looked haggard too, and more than a little embarrassed.
‘Good morning, father,’ he said.
I sensed there were things he wanted to say. I nodded. ‘Have you recovered from your excesses?’
‘Physically, more or less. And that is more than I deserve.’
I felt lighter as I sat down. This was not the belligerent, terrified Zander of the night before.
‘I apologise for last night,’ he said. ‘My actions were… intemperate. To put it mildly. Katrin spoke to me in no uncertain terms when I sobered up.’
‘You didn’t seem that drunk to me,’ I said.
‘I was drunk enough.’
‘And did she convince you that there is no curse?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. She can’t pretend our genealogy is something other than what it is.’
‘No,’ I admitted.
‘She did convince me that throwing myself on the mercy of Veth Montfor is not the best strategy for survival.’ He sighed. ‘Maybe that would be the way to ensure that our line does end.’
‘I believe unity is the best way of preventing that,’ I said.
There. Are you satisfied? Their conversation was exactly what you thought it might be. Nothing else. Why would it be about anything else? You only thought it could be something else because of the dream. All right? All right. That’s an end to things.
‘But you’re still worried,’ I said.
‘I am.’
He was being honest, open about his fears and calm about discussing them. He was not letting go of the idea of the curse, jus
t like I would not let go of the idea of Eliana’s ghost. So I decided to open up to him, too.
‘Apart from the genealogy,’ I said, ‘have you noticed anything in the house?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Have you been aware of anything… unusual?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said uncertainly.
‘Maybe you have without realising it. Have you seen things and then thought you were dreaming?’
‘Like what?’ He sounded very cautious.
I hesitated, then plunged ahead. I was committed now. ‘Like your mother.’
Zander stared at me. Silence stretched between us, growing longer, stronger, turning into a wall. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I haven’t seen anything like that. I haven’t seen anything unusual at all.’ He stopped, visibly wrestling with himself. Then he said, ‘Though what happened last night…’
‘What?’ I asked, eager. ‘What happened?’ Too eager.
‘What do you mean, what happened? Don’t you remember? Coming down while Katrin and I were talking?’
I felt my face flush. ‘Of course I do.’
‘That was unusual, father. You seemed confused.’ Another pause. ‘Are you well?’
He was concerned. He was worried about me. I cursed myself for having spoken. I shouldn’t have said anything. Not yet, anyway. I should have waited until I was sure that either Zander or Katrin, or both, had seen something. The way he was reacting was the opposite of what I had hoped. And I could hardly backtrack.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I am well. I am dealing with the after-effects of the battle on Clostrum.’ I stuck to my determination to be honest. If I said nothing, I could expect to be called to task later. ‘What I have experienced here is unrelated to that. Yes, I have seen your mother.’
I felt a reckless pride in making that declaration. I wondered if this was how Zander had felt in the Unforgiving Light.
‘A ghost?’ Zander gasped, horrified by the blasphemous thought.
‘I don’t know if that’s what she is–’
Zander cut me off. ‘Father, no!’ he cried. ‘Think about what you’re saying!’ He was shaking. He took three deep breaths and tried to speak more calmly. ‘I didn’t want to hear you last night, but you were telling me what I needed to hear. Please, please, listen to me now. You must not say these things. You must not think them. They are crimes against the Emperor.’ He took my hands in his. ‘For your sake, father, I beg you.’
‘I know she can’t be a ghost,’ I reassured him. I almost sounded convincing in my ears. ‘All I’m saying is that I’ve seen her. I also know that in at least one instance, there is no chance that I was dreaming.’
‘Have you told anyone else about this?’
‘Cardinal Rivas.’
‘Oh. Good.’ Zander radiated relief. ‘What does the cardinal have to say?’
‘He’s concerned about possible danger.’
‘He believes that you saw mother?’
‘Yes.’
That gave him pause.
‘Is it so impossible to believe?’ I said, beginning to plead. ‘If you are willing to believe in a curse…’
‘A belief which you denounced last night.’
‘I did. I still do not believe you’re right. I can’t. Why keep fighting if we are foredoomed? We must keep fighting. But I should not be a hypocrite. I do not believe you are right. I cannot state that you are wrong. Especially given what I have seen.’
Zander gazed down into his empty mug. When he looked up, his eyes were sad. ‘I would like to see mother,’ he said. ‘I wish I had. But she’s dead, father. She’s been dead a long time. She’s gone.’
‘I don’t think you understand–’ I began.
He stood up, interrupting me. ‘I must be off. I’ll see you in council.’ He thought for a moment. ‘You haven’t spoken to Katrin about this yet?’
‘I haven’t had the chance, no.’
‘I wouldn’t.’
I had no intention of doing so. I had thought Zander would be receptive to the idea. If I was this wrong about him, Katrin might well sever all ties with me.
‘I’m sorry, father, but I have to ask. Is there madness in our family?’
‘Is that what you think? Do I seem mad?’
‘I don’t know what to think. But there’s Leonel.’
‘And now me.’
He glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the librarium. ‘That would be one explanation for our genealogy. That might be our doom.’
I’m lonely.
Montfor was right, as far as that goes. I need company. I’m lonely and I resent it. The problem is, I don’t know if I can do anything about it. I don’t even know if anyone can help. Or if they want to.
I’m starting to think they may be trying to harm me. After today, given what I have seen, I think that might be the case.
That would make sense, wouldn’t it? I was foolish to think Veth Montfor came here out of the goodness of her heart. I don’t think anyone has ever confirmed that she even has one.
That doesn’t mean her advice was bad. Her reasons for giving it might be foul, but she wasn’t wrong. And I’ve been trying, these last few days, to do as she suggested.
I wonder, Maeson, what you would think if you read that. What would you think of your wife following the wisdom of Veth Montfor?
I wish you did know. You don’t, though. You aren’t here. I won’t say it’s like you never were. That isn’t true. If you had never been here, I wouldn’t be in Malveil. I wouldn’t be digging through the mountains in these rooms, hoping to find information that will mean I don’t have to worry about the future of my children. If you had never been here, I wouldn’t be torturing myself about whether I am doing enough to preserve the governorship of the Strocks, and I doubt very much that I would be receiving inexplicably friendly visits from the senior councillor.
You were here. You were here enough to change every facet of my life. I know that not long ago I was grateful for that. I don’t remember how I felt then. I don’t feel like that at all now.
Can you hear me, Maeson?
No. You can’t.
Will you ever again?
I shouldn’t let myself think that way. But I can’t help it. This is where I am now. I’m all alone. Even when the serfs are here I’m all alone, and I don’t think that’s a good thing.
I’ve tried, like I said. I’ve tried not to be alone. It hasn’t gone well, for a number a reasons. I don’t think they’re all my fault.
Montfor really wanted me to get out of Malveil. At least, that’s what she said. She sounded convincing. She must be good at making people believe what she wants them to believe, of course. But what she said seemed sensible. I hadn’t been out of the house for several days. I’m not sure how long, exactly. I’ve been having trouble keeping track of the dates since I started to feel ill, and anyway, it’s winter, and every day is a cold, windy, wet misery. There aren’t any differences that matter between the days.
This isn’t a very organised entry, is it?
Yes, then, I went out. Montfor said I should see my friends. That made me think again about how few of them are still left. I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself, though. Even if I’m finding that self-pity comes very easily.
I still know people. I have acquaintances. So I arranged to meet a few for a meal in the afternoon. I felt a bit guilty. If I was well enough to do this, I should have been well enough to resume my duties at the Administratum. But I couldn’t face those. The mental energy of riding herd on the scribes and keeping an iron grip on our tenuous, easily broken forms of order there is more than I can muster at the moment. I’m reasonably confident that I’ve delegated things well enough that matters will keep for a bit longer.
So I went out. I was about to write that this was four days ago, but I think it
might have been longer. The more I think about it, the more I’m sure it was. But I don’t know how long.
Treva Garnheim hosted. She used to work in the Estate Imperium with me, many years ago. She married into nobility too, and decided to focus her energies on the advancement of her new house. That is her duty now. The upper levels of Valgaast society are the sea in which she swims. We used to be close. We’ve grown apart. We aren’t unfriendly, though, and House Garnheim has always been allied to House Strock. When I got in touch with Treva and she suggested that she host a small gathering, that seemed like just the thing. It required no effort on my part, other than showing up.
It was a mistake to go. It felt wrong to leave Malveil. I should have listened to my impulses. I am not well enough even to walk around the grounds for more than a short while. Going into Valgaast did me harm, not good. Treva sent her car for me, and I could barely keep my head up during the ride to Garnheim Manor, on the western edge of the city. I was exhausted by the time we reached our destination. Treva’s driver almost had to carry me into the house. I was anxious too, and became more and more nervous as the afternoon wore on. I couldn’t concentrate on what anyone was saying. I knew everyone there. I had been close, once, to quite a few. On that day, though, it was as if I had never met them before.
No, wait, that isn’t quite it. It was as if I never even met them then. As if they weren’t really there. Or maybe it was me who wasn’t there. They might have been images on a pict screen with which I was simply pretending to interact. And the effort to keep up that pretence was excruciating. By the end of the afternoon, I was so tired, I was having trouble breathing. And the anxiety was developing into terror. I had to get out of there. I had to get back to Malveil.
The House of Night and Chain Page 13
