Darksong

by Isobelle Carmody

  The two gates opened smoothly and Kalide led them through a stone archway into an enormous hall filled with people hurrying purposefully to and fro. Natural light fell through fabulous stained-glass skylights onto the mosaic floor, and Glynn was reminded of a very old, ornate European railway station.

  Three men in long tunics came forward with stern expressions, but they carried chits and scriber’s twigs rather than weapons and they bowed to Kalide far more respectfully than the legionnaires below the stairs had done. He responded in what appeared to be his habitual high-handed manner. ‘I claim these people as my mother’s guests. Their leader has suffered much in her crossing to Ramidan, and must recover herself. Your formalities can be taken care of later, in the privacy of the Iridomi enclave where she and her party are to guest. For now we will need a sedan chair.’

  ‘Very well, Sire,’ said the more powerfully built of the three after the slightest hesitation. ‘These people are your responsibility, until they are properly registered.’ He lifted a hand and a servitor hurried forward. ‘Summon a sedan chair. At once.’

  Four well-muscled men soon appeared bearing a sedan chair for two and the Prime helped her mistress into the seat. At a sign from Kalide, she climbed in beside her mistress. He went ahead then, and the sedan chair bearers followed in his wake, leaving the draakira to trail along behind in an uncertain pale-faced straggle. Glynn prayed they did not have much further to go and wondered wearily whether practice would render the use of her unusual abilities less taxing; she had yet to discover whether it was only a matter of training unfamiliar mental muscles, or whether she was trying to bend her mind’s elbow impossibly backwards.

  ‘As I told the officials, you will be staying in the Iridomi wing of the palace.’ Kalide’s voice floated back to her as they passed out of the room into a passage. He was now walking alongside the sedan chair. Glynn set herself to memorise their route, but they had turned twice and she had forgotten whether the first turn had been left or right and she wondered with a sick feeling if she had actually done herself some irrevocable damage. Perhaps, like the body, there were things the mind simply could not do without harming itself.

  ‘… that every sept has a wing within the palace where the highborn and important sept officials stay when they are posted or invited to the palace,’ Kalide droned on like a tour guide. ‘That area of the palace they traditionally inhabit is regarded as sept land, and sept law operates without interference there. Officially you are merely passing over palace land on the way to Iridomi land and you will not be permitted to go about the palace freely until all of the formalities have been observed.’

  As they came out of a passage into a courtyard criss-crossed with paths, she noticed that the red dusk glow was fading into violet evening. The paved path Kalide had chosen led them to a lavishly carved, round-topped entranceway wrought in pale gleaming stone, where, somewhat to Glynn’s dismay, two green-clad legionnaires stepped smartly forward and touched their swords to their foreheads. She realised that she had been a fool not to expect that there would be guards and forbidden places within the palace when she had so blithely planned to slip away and see the soulweaver – always assuming the soulweaver was available, given the rumour that she was implicated in the assassination attempt against Tarsin. It was beginning to look as if, even within the palace, it might be difficult to consult the woman.

  Kalide accepted the salute of his sept legionnaires with a languid wave of his hand and they entered another circular entrance hall. Two more legionnaires bowed low and presented their swords before allowing them to proceed. As they entered Glynn heard the gasps of several of the other draakira before she entered and her own breath caught in her throat at the sight of green legionnaires stationed shoulder to shoulder around the entire hall, all armed and stiffly at attention. There must have been two hundred of them.

  ‘My mother’s honour guard. Welcome to Iridom,’ Kalide said with an amused malice that told Glynn this display was no accident.

  5

  Life ran from Shenavyre swift and red,

  and all Lanalor’s mighty skills could not stem the flow.

  Then did he remember the Unykorn’s healing horn.

  He ran to the edge of the Great Water and sought to unbind the

  Unykorn,

  but to no avail, for nothing made of the Song

  could unmake that which was yet unmade.

  Only then did Lanalor understand the use that had been made of him.

  LEGENDSONG OF THE UNYKORN

  It was some moments before any of them noticed the woman approaching them across the highly polished green and gold mosaic floor. This, as much as anything, revealed the mental state of the delegation, for she was strikingly clad in a dazzling green sheath and a long, heavy-looking train whispered along the polished floor behind her. Rather than affecting the huge headdresses that the Iridomi women and some men wore over shaven heads, this woman wore a smaller helmet, revealing sections of her scalp painted in an intricate green pattern reminiscent of Celtic crosswork, which carried onto the edges of her face and eyes, giving way at last to shimmering green make-up. There was a long plait of dark hair either attached to the helmet or drawn through an opening, which fell over her shoulder and brushed the floor when she made a low obeisance to Kalide.

  ‘Sire.’ Her voice was submissive and pleasantly husky.

  ‘The guest apartment is prepared for my mother’s guests?’ Kalide demanded.

  ‘I have seen to it personally,’ the woman answered gracefully. ‘Shall I conduct these honoured guests there? Your mother bids me say that she desires a word with you and would have you hasten to her.’

  A nasty look crossed the handsome features. ‘And would you presume to hasten me, Aluade?’

  ‘Sire …’ the woman stammered, her cheeks paling. ‘Sire, I am nothing but the mouthpiece of your esteemed mother in this.’

  ‘Be careful you do not exceed your duties, Aluade,’ Kalide said. ‘It is not your place to greet my mother’s guests. However you may precede us in case all is not in readiness, so that I need not summon you for punishment.’

  The woman bowed again, her forehead almost touching the floor. ‘I am sorry if I have displeased you, Sire,’ she whispered.

  ‘Proceed,’ Kalide instructed the bearers, ignoring her. Glynn followed with the rest, disliking the Iridomi man more at every moment. The woman was probably not a servitor, because Kalide treated servants as if they were beneath his notice. Given the woman’s lavish appearance, she was probably serving in some sort of honorary capacity, like ladies in waiting served the English queens, which obviously made her important enough to be a target for Kalide’s bullying.

  Trailing the others in Kalide’s wake, Glynn discovered that again her weariness was fading.

  They entered a windowless passage with a continuous frieze running along the lower section of both walls. Above, hung at close intervals, were literally hundreds of visioncloths lit by strategically placed candles in sconces. As with almost all other visioncloths Glynn had seen, these were both exquisite and unfinished to greater or lesser degrees. The Sheannites who produced the weavings worked while entranced, and it was rare for a vision to last long enough for a work to be completed. Lev had told her that some people believed the unfinished aspect of visioncloths mirrored the bit of humans left incomplete when the Song of Making faded during their creation. He had claimed that true collectors of the art eschewed all but a few famous complete examples, believing that their importance lay in the fact that, as one wondered about the unfinished visioncloth, so one grew to encompass one’s own incompleteness.

  Glynn realised that the gaps in the weavings had long since ceased to strike her as flaws or absences. Those gaps demanded something of you, just as Lev had said. They had passed perhaps fifteen visioncloths, before her sluggish mind woke to the fact that none featured the ubiquitous Unykorn, nor his companion, Shenavyre, who so eerily reminded Glynn of Ember. The visioncloths within the hall w
ere all of natural scenes – waterfalls and fiery lakes; a purple desert that glowed under the blue and green Keltan moons; the fantastical natural ice sculptures of the perilous Turin Straits; a hillside covered in rare blue sether; a ship on the rising indigo waves of a storming; a waterfall that looked as if it were on fire.

  Of course, given that this was the Iridomi part of the palace, it would have been odd if there had been visioncloths promoting Darkfall’s view of the Firstmade. Even so, it said a great deal about the extent and complexity of Coralyn’s loathing of the soulweavers, that she would go to what must have been a considerable effort to amass such a huge collection that avoided any depiction of the animal. Before this, Glynn had seen no weavings that did not feature the Firstmade of the Song and, more often than not, Shenavyre as well. No doubt it was due to the famous loyalty of the Sheanna isles to Darkfall that they produced images of those two as monotonously and faithfully as mediaeval painters in her world had produced the madonna and her child.

  The passage turned and ended in a beautifully carved double door which was flanked by two more Iridomi legionnaires.

  ‘This will be your accommodation while you are on Ramidan,’ Kalide said, making an expansive gesture as the heavy doors were thrown wide. Clearly he was awaiting a reaction, but the Prime and the other draakira were entirely preoccupied with aiding their mistress from the sedan chair. Whatever drug the Draaka had taken enabled her to sit and move and walk, but perhaps it was beginning to wear off, for she was now slumping against the Prime, her knees buckling.

  The draakira led their mistress up the short, wide flight of steps to what seemed a common feature of upper-class Keltan architecture on all septs: a wide, deep entrance chamber from which ran several doors. This one featured an exquisite, flower-shaped pool with a bud-like fountain rising from its centre, entwined with fiery red lily-like blossoms. The roof directly above the fountain rose into a small, high dome of darkish glass. If it was coloured as Glynn suspected, the foyer would be gloriously illuminated when Kalinda was directly overhead.

  ‘I bid your delegation welcome on my mother’s behalf,’ Kalide said pleasantly. ‘I think that your mistress will find these rooms equal to anything Acantha could offer.’

  ‘That is for her to say,’ the Prime said. ‘Her accommodation?’

  ‘Through any of these doors. Through that door are humbler adjoining apartments for those who serve her,’ Kalide explained. ‘I will leave you now, but do remind your mistress when she is recovered that you are within the Iridomi section of the palace, and must therefore obey Iridomi laws until such time as you are permitted the freedom of the palace.’

  The Prime scowled. ‘Do you mean to say that we are imprisoned here in this apartment until these delayed formalities are completed?’

  A faint smiled lifted the Iridomi’s lips. ‘The details that the gate officials will want are only part of the formalities, and indeed they are the least of them. Until you are presented to Tarsin, you are not permitted to move about outside the Iridomi apartment assigned to you and, as I said, you are subject to Iridomi law. Aluade will instruct you upon this so that you do not transgress.’

  The Iridomi woman stepped forward eagerly, but the Prime regarded her so coldly that she faltered. ‘Unless bathing and sleeping breach Iridomi laws, we need no instruction this night.’

  Kalide shrugged. ‘As you will.’ He made an imperious signal to Aluade, who hurried across the foyer to draw open long curtains. A giant window was revealed, offering a panoramic view of palace grounds and the citadel, now shadowy in the fading dusk. The horizon, outlined in crimson, was all that remained of Kalinda, and Glynn had a sudden vivid memory of the manner in which Fomhikans sang their response to the splendour of Kalinda’s passing.

  ‘I will leave you now to enjoy my mother’s generous hospitality,’ Kalide said rather smugly, for even the Prime gazed out the window in awe. He moved to the door and then hesitated rather theatrically before turning back to speak again. ‘It was anticipated that your mistress might prefer to be attended by her own people but, if she desires servitors, Aluade can arrange them as well. This night, perhaps, you will enjoy your own company.’

  ‘I will apprise my mistress of your efforts when she is recovered,’ the Prime said, turning from the window to face him, her expression once more bland.

  Kalide nodded and flicked a curious look at the still veiled and cloaked Draaka swaying between Mingus and the Prime, before departing.

  The legionnaires pulled the doors firmly closed and Aluade approached the Prime. ‘Once you have bathed and refreshed yourselves Lady,’ she told the Prime, ‘a welcoming feast has been laid out for you in the south garden which is within the Iridomi quarter. The chieftain will not attend you at this time, but …’

  The Prime snorted rudely. ‘Have food brought to these apartments and laid out for us in some communal area. We will need no feast where there is so scant a welcome. Bring bread and honey and fruits and vegetables cooked lightly and without rich sauces. Bring neither cirul nor any let milk. Fresh water that has been boiled and chilled will suffice. Once that is done, you need not return before tomorrow morning. I assume our baggage will be brought once it arrives?’

  Aluade nodded. ‘As you wish, Lady,’ she stammered, bright spots of red in her cheeks. ‘But if you will permit me …’

  ‘I permit nothing at this time. And you will address me as Prime,’ the Prime added.

  Aluade bowed again and withdrew.

  ‘Thank the Chaos spirit we are here, though I fear matters are not as we were led to expect,’ the Prime muttered. She turned to the assembled draakira and said, ‘Our mistress will wish to respond to this passive hostility. Two of you will stand guard on this side of these doors at all times. No one is to enter without being searched and politely but thoroughly questioned,’ she added pointedly. ‘Tow, you and Sulia will take first watch. Make sure you are in place before that creature returns or any other servitor. At first light, Raslek and Nevia will relieve you. You will use the rooms through there.’ She pointed to the door at the side of the entrance, which had been indicated by Kalide. ‘Go there now. Eat when food comes. Bathe and sleep so that you will be ready to serve your mistress when she requires you. Assemble here when I ring the summoning bell for the morning rite.’

  The draakira filed out through the door and Glynn made to follow them, but the Prime rapped out her name. She turned with a sinking heart, but kept her head low when she spoke. ‘Yes, Prime?’

  ‘It appears your presence might be of some use after all, since you appear to have been less affected than others by the crossing. Find a bathing chamber in these rooms and fill the bath. Make the water hot and close the door so that the steam will build up.’

  Glynn was dumbfounded but the Prime had already turned away to speak to Mingus. Shifting the feinna gently to one arm, she hesitated, unable to believe that she was really supposed to set off and explore the apartment just like that. But when the Prime did not turn back, she took a deep breath and entered the nearest passage. A lit lantern hung on a hook a little way along it and Glynn took it, for the way ahead looked dark.

  Having no better method, she began her search by opening every door that she came upon. Initially, she found nothing but what seemed to be dozens of audience chambers of varying sizes and atmospheres. Some were grand and formal while others were small and intimate, but all were lavishly appointed. She could get no sense of the size or configuration of the apartment, because many of the rooms joined other rooms and most of the connecting halls and passages were somewhat curved, but it was clearly enormous. The bestowal of such an apartment on the delegation was at odds with the guards at the door and Kalide’s manner. But as she passed through room after room, Glynn began to realise that there was something almost overwhelming in the mass of rich tapestries, thick woven rugs, embroidered silk cushions, carved furniture and the ornaments and statues scattered about. It was as if the scale of wealth was intended as a velvety reminder
to the Draaka that the power behind such a magnificent gesture could as easily crush as compliment.

  Yet what need had the chieftain of Iridom to offer a veiled threat to a woman she had never met, and one she presumably wanted as an ally? It was common knowledge that Coralyn loathed Darkfall and wanted the soulweavers disbanded just as the Draaka desired an end to the spiritual dominance of the soulweavers over Keltor. The purposes of the two women were at least seemingly in accord, which explained why Coralyn had invited the Draaka to Ramidan.

  On the other hand, perhaps it was not so simple, for the Draaka would have gone on working against the soulweavers without any approach from Coralyn. Maybe the chieftain wanted to introduce the Draaka to the citadel and her son, in an attempt to increase the cult’s sphere of influence, and hence the harm it could do to Darkfall. Or perhaps the Chaos spirit really had influenced the Iridomi chieftain to issue the invitation. Even so, none of these possibilities explained this aggressive display of hospitality. Or, Glynn thought glumly, maybe it is just me who feels threatened by all of this.

  She had passed through three luxurious bedrooms before finally discovering an enormous bathing chamber. The bath was actually big enough to qualify as a small swimming pool, and was at the centre and base of a series of shallow steps, wide as the terraces of a rice paddy. Glynn put the still-sleeping feinna-He down against the wall just inside the door in her bundled cloak, and lifted the lantern glass to light the candles standing on spiked pedestals either side of the door. Mirrors set into the wall behind the pedestals magnified the light and filled the room with a flickering honey glow. The bath, tiled in glimmering gold tesserae, was the sort of bath that Cleopatra might have used.