The Plains of Kallanash

by Pauline M. Ross

  “What is it?”

  “It won’t be anything to do with me, will it? This – the three of us – it’s just temporary, I know that. I’m glad to be with you, but I know it can’t last. No—” He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything. It’s all right. Let me enjoy this while I can.”

  He bent to kiss her, properly this time, and there was no more talking.

  ~~~

  Mia woke refreshed. She felt as full of energy as if she had slept for days, and even the bruises from her fall seemed bearable. She put it down to decent food and a comfortable mattress. Dethin was gone, but Hurst lay beside her, curled into a ball like a little boy. As soon as she moved he woke, and smiled.

  “Good morning, warrior girl.”

  “Oh, I’m going to get tired of that, I can see. Were you very late coming to bed? I didn’t hear you.”

  “Tanist ordered me to my bed at a sensible hour, but you were away in the dreamclouds by then.”

  “So how are you this morning? Do you want to cuddle?”

  He rolled onto his back and winced. “Not sure I’m fit for much, but...”

  There was a rap on the door, followed immediately by Dethin’s head.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting, but Tanist’s asking for you, cousin.”

  “Oh, of course. Maybe a hand up?”

  Dethin hauled him upright, and Hurst began to pull his clothes together, but he suddenly stopped. “It should really be brother.”

  “What?”

  “Not cousin, brother. After all, we’re Mia’s co-husbands, aren’t we?”

  “Is that what I am?” Dethin said, his stern face lighting up like the moon. “I like that idea… brother.”

  Hurst grinned at him, and patted him genially on the shoulder before dashing away.

  “I like that idea, too,” Mia said, smiling at Dethin and reaching for her scattered clothes.

  She wasn’t sure why it should be so, because it was an odd sort of arrangement, but her two men made her happy. Hurst gave her the steady unquestioning affection she’d longed for ever since she’d married, and Dethin had been her stalwart support on the journey through the tunnel. She no longer feared him, but then he had no power over her now. She found herself quite content. The future was very uncertain, but however things turned out she hoped the three of them would stay together.

  If we live that long, she thought, dressing hastily. “Is it very late? Have I overslept?”

  “No, the sun’s not properly up yet, and there’s an hour or so before we plan to start exploring the tower. Happily, the cooks have been busy and there’s hot food ready.”

  There was porridge, of course, the staple of Skirmishers living rough, for it was easy to cook with nothing more elaborate than hot water. But the Tower of Reception was stocked with far more than coarse grains. One of the warriors had been a baker in a former life, and had organised the kitchen workers into a frenzy of baking: the result was an array of deliciously tempting breads – fluffy loaves, buttery twists, crispy rolls, nutty dark bread and sweet fruit buns. Mia worked her way steadily through a selection, spurning the hot food, while Dethin rushed about bringing her fresh butter, pots of honey, soft cheeses and a range of sticky fruit jams. Then, triumphantly, he produced the big bowl of fruit he had carefully collected for her.

  “Mmm - that was wonderful!” she sighed, trying to lick the last vestiges of honey from around her mouth and not quite succeeding. “But this—” She picked up an oddly shaped fruit. “I don’t know how they came by this. It’s a midsummer fruit, with a very short season. I’ve not had a fresh hellibar since I left the northern border.”

  “They have the best of everything here,” Dethin said. “I suppose they grow them in glass gardens somewhere.”

  Mia shook her head. “That just makes them fruit earlier, not later. This is completely the wrong time of year for it.”

  Dethin shrugged. “I don’t recognise a lot of what’s in the store rooms, but there’s a huge amount of it. We won’t starve.”

  “True enough. But it must be tricky to get it here, don’t you think? Up two sets of stairs and across the black and grey floor without getting clouted by the magical men with sticks. A lot of work for someone.”

  “Not as much as you might think. There’s a lifting device somewhere behind the kitchens that no one spotted. All the food and such like comes in that way. And the infirmary patients. They bring a boat over at dead of night once a month, at darkmoon.”

  “How did you find out all this?”

  “Tanist has been talking to Keyramon. The helpful young healer,” he added, seeing her bemused face.

  “Ah. That makes more sense than bringing things up from the tunnel. What else did she say?”

  “That this is the only occupied floor of the tower, apart from six Silent Guards protecting the Chamber of the Gods at the top.”

  “No Servants? That makes things easier.”

  “You trust her,” Dethin said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “I do. She seems friendly enough.”

  “She could be a spy, sent to feed us misinformation, or else to find out what we’re up to.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough if she’s telling the truth, and there’s no secret about our objective, is there? Besides – she’s sympathetic towards us. Not like the other one.”

  “What made you jump in like that yesterday? It seemed unlike you.”

  “It was the end of a very trying day and I was just impatient. Hurst was tiptoeing round her, and it was never going to work. She really despises us, you know? There was hostility just pouring out of her. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  He was gathering plates and bowls but he stopped abruptly. “You could feel it?”

  “Yes, couldn’t you? It was so obvious.”

  “How did you feel it?”

  She had no idea what he meant. “I – hmm, I’m not really sure. I just felt it. I knew.”

  “Like you felt that the young healer is friendly?”

  “Yes. Why? What are you saying?”

  He was frowning, deep in thought. “Interesting. You see, that’s how it is with me – with the lions, and yesterday with those keelarim. I feel what they feel – anger, mostly. Hunger, sometimes, or desire or fear. Animals are fairly primitive. But people – that would be interesting.”

  “You really think…? But…” She couldn’t quite believe it, yet it had been a very intense experience. One moment she was walking along the hallway, idly watching Hurst talking to someone, not paying much attention, and the next moment a wave of emotion washed over her, taking her breath away. So much hatred! And she knew at once where it came from. Was it possible she had some ability like Dethin’s? “But you said it was fuzzy to you, somehow? What I felt wasn’t fuzzy.”

  “When I was at the coast with my uncle, what I felt was very clear, but inland, on the plains, it was always fuzzy. But not here. Yesterday, with the keelarim – that was not in the least fuzzy.” He tipped his head to one side as he watched her. “Have you ever felt anything like that before? Strong emotions washing over you for no obvious reason?”

  Her hands flew to cover her mouth. “Yes! I have – at the Ring. But I thought…”

  All those times she’d picked up her sisters’ emotions at the Amontis House, or suddenly found herself in tears for no reason. And the time she encountered a Slave in the library, and had felt a rush of fear. But it had never happened at the Karnings, only at the Ring.

  “So fuzzy on the plains, clear at the coast and here?” she said.

  “Clear and very strong here. I think the tower amplifies it, somehow. Yesterday – that was very strong, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.”

  “You shouted a warning to us, didn’t you? When we were down in the pit, I heard your voice.”

  “Too late, though,” he said, smiling. “At first, I just got something vague, not sure what. Curiosity, maybe. Then, all of a sudden – anger, hatred. The
desire to kill. Most unpleasant.”

  “That would have been when Hurst and Gantor drew their swords. But you were able to soothe them. How do you do that? Could I do that?”

  “I don’t know how I do it,” he said, making a rueful face. “The bad feelings seem – jagged, somehow. So I try to smooth them down. It works, I just don’t know how. If that really is what you feel, then you should be able to do the same thing, with practice. Don’t worry about that, though, focus on reading what you can feel. Shut your eyes. No, just do it. Now – what am I feeling?”

  She laughed, because it was as clear as reading a book. “Affection,” she said. “And – something else.”

  “Pride, I expect,” he said. “I’m very proud of you, you know. And a little bit in awe, too, at this moment. Now, keep your eyes closed. Lukast is sitting across to your right. What’s he feeling?”

  “Curiosity,” she said at once. “And – oh!” Her eyes flew open, and she felt herself blushing. Lukast was bent over his porridge bowl, but his eyes were on her. “I can see there are going to be difficulties.”

  Dethin laughed. “You should try being near a herd of rutting kishorn. Although I suppose a roomful of Skirmishers is not that different.”

  Lukast watched them with a puzzled expression on his face.

  When Mia emerged from the kitchen, she found Gantor waiting in the hallway.

  “Come and have a look at this,” he said, waving her over.

  He was standing in front of the closed doors to the anteroom, the final step of their journey from the tunnel to the tower interior.

  “What am I looking for?” she said.

  “A way to open this door. No one thought to leave it ajar after we came through yesterday, and now it’s locked itself. We’ve found two doors leading beyond the tower so far, all locked. And none of the windows open, either. So if we don’t want to be stuck here until someone arrives from outside, we need to find a way to open this. That’s your speciality, isn’t it?”

  Mia looked up and down, but there was no handle or lock visible. “I don’t see anything useful. Is there any writing nearby?” She looked all round but there was nothing written anywhere. She stood back, hands on hips, looking carefully at the doors, but could see nothing odd about them. The wood was pale golden brown, polished to a high shine, but the doors were completely blank. The crack where they opened was the faintest vertical line. There were no hinges, no latches or handles, no hole for a key.

  It amused her a little that she was now regarded as an authority on locks and other puzzles. A very little knowledge of Kannick Old Script, which she freely admitted had not helped at all on the journey, had resulted in quite unwarranted respect for her talents. Nevertheless, she wanted to help, and an extra mind bent to the problem could hardly hurt. Gantor and Dethin watched her as she pondered the problem.

  She moved back a little further and began scanning the wall all around. As she did so, something caught her eye, some minute irregularity in the surface of the wood, at about the position where a lock might be expected. She bent down to look more closely, but it was gone again.

  “What is it? Can you see something?” Gantor asked.

  “I’m not sure…” She moved away and there it was again. She stepped closer and began to run her hands over the area. “Ah! There… an indentation. Can you feel it?”

  “No, nothing. Wait – there it is! But it’s not a lock, is it?”

  “No. Maybe it’s just a mark in the wood. But it’s very regular. It has straight edges – six or eight, maybe.”

  He thought for a moment, his craggy face creased in concentration, then said, “Wait here – I have an idea.”

  He dashed off into the bunk room, emerging not long after with a conspiratorial grin on his face.

  “Remember this?” He held up the ring they had taken from Dondro. “It’s exactly the right size and shape for this little hole.” He rotated the ring a little so that it fitted into the indentation, and with a slight click the door popped open. “Clever, isn’t it? So only those with a ring can open this door. Excellent! I’m going to try the other door, behind the kitchens. Why don’t you go and see Tanist? He’s finished with Hurst, and now he’s asking for you.”

  She nodded, and went through to the infirmary, Dethin trailing in her wake.

  Tanist was looking much better. He was sitting up in bed, honeyed bread in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, animatedly issuing instructions to anyone who came near. Two doses of amber juice sat untouched on a table nearby.

  “It’s the kilicranji leaves,” he shrugged, when Mia congratulated him. “It’s aimed at Mannigor, but it drifts everywhere. We’re all feeling better this morning. Mannigor’s still asleep, but he’s a much better colour, and see Trondior down there? Remember that nasty gash on his leg? He’s hardly limping at all today. Now, Warlord, don’t forget, when you get to the top of the tower, remind Hurst about the red sheet. It has to be in a west-facing window, remember, visible from the scholars’ hall.”

  “He knows, but I’ll tell him anyway,” Dethin said, with a slight smile.

  “Ah, here’s Gantor to fetch you. Good. It’s time you were off, you know. The sun’s up already, and you don’t really know what’s up there. Well – unless Keyramon is telling the truth. Go on – off you go. I expect a detailed report when you get back.”

  “If you want to amuse yourself while we’re gone,” Gantor said, “see if you can find out why the outer doors are locked on this side, and only the Servants’ keys open them. It’s as if they want to keep these people prisoner, isn’t it?”

  ~~~

  Twelve of them set out to climb the tower. There was no logical reason for the number, but Hurst shrugged and said that he liked to have at least a Ten at his back, and Mia was there, to her amusement, as their expert in locks and languages. That left enough down below to watch the prisoners and tend the injured.

  They walked in file up the ramp, passing the two floors Hurst had already examined, with their infirmary rooms eerie and empty, and then on upwards. None of them had any idea how many floors there were altogether, and the signs in fiery symbols on the walls were unreadable. They tried counting as they went, but they soon lost track.

  After the first two levels, mirrors of the ground floor, there was a change. Each floor after that had the same layout. Around the outside of the ramp was a wide landing with doors off it, hiding suites of rooms that looked like living quarters, each with water and hot pool rooms, the water running perpetually as in the tunnel room. Every third floor had larger communal rooms and kitchens. None of the doors were locked, so Mia’s skills were not called upon. Some of the rooms were even furnished, although with an odd collection of mismatched pieces. One room had a rug and an upright storage cupboard, another several bare wooden beds with no mattresses, and one was filled with chairs of various designs, but there was no sign of people at all. After a while all the rooms were empty, but still the ramp wound upwards, spiralling out of sight above them, in the unchanging soft glow emanating somehow from the walls. The centre of the ramp was open, so that if they leaned cautiously over the low wall edging it, they could see clear down to the ground floor far below them.

  It became a tedious chore to check every single floor for signs of habitation or threat, and made their progress very slow. But gradually, as they looked out of the windows across the lake, they saw that they were rising steadily, and were now well above the height of any other building in the Ring. Beyond the gleaming domes and spires of the pavilions and older buildings fringing the lake, the squat brickwork of newer constructions was now visible, and the orchards and estates outside the sky ship circle. Only the mountains still loomed above them.

  “It’s a fine view, isn’t it?” Mia said to Hurst as they gazed out at the lake, its water ruffled and shimmering.

  “Yes, but these windows shouldn’t even be here. You can’t see them from the shore.”

  She shrugged, unconcerned. The windows were t
he least of the oddities in the tower. “Magic?”

  “This place is weird,” he muttered.

  Around mid-morning there was a change, and they began to come across books in the rooms, not neatly arranged on rows of hooks, but heaped on the floor or simply scattered about, as if someone had dropped a pile of them and then walked away. As they climbed, there were more and more of them, in great mounds so that some rooms were impossible to walk around.

  “Any idea what this is about?” Hurst asked Mia, but she shook her head.

  “I don’t know why anyone would do this,” she added, “but perhaps this is where all the missing books from the library ended up. And have you noticed – there’s no dust on them, no decay or mould. They look pristine, don’t they? And see this one? It obviously got mouldy and crumbled around this side, but the damaged edges are clean now. No mould at all.”

  “Magic tower,” said Walst, grinning.

  “Either that or morodaim,” Gantor said.

  Mia laughed, seeing a sudden image in her mind of the strange creatures from the tunnels dusting all the books. “They must be invisible, then,” she said.

  “This place is magic,” Trimon said. “Hurst is barely limping, and we’ve been going uphill for hours.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it’s uphill,” Hurst said thoughtfully. “There’s no extra strain walking up the ramp, as you might expect.”

  They stopped for a rest, but none of them were tired so they soon carried on. Mia felt strangely invigorated. Watching Hurst, she realised that Trimon was right about him, for the limp was scarcely noticeable, and certainly wasn’t bothering him. Everyone was relaxed, too, although it should have been a tense journey, constantly on the alert for surprises. From time to time, Mia practised opening her mind to the emotions in the warriors, but she found little fear, only a strange sense of well-being. The tower seemed to have a positive effect on them all.

  They went on, searching floor after floor, and finding more and more books but no people. But then Mia began to feel something ahead of them, other minds besides their own, other emotions. She had no need to tell Hurst, though. From his position at the front he stopped and turned back.