by Chad Huskins
Of Vaedris, Drea had discerned only that she had aspirations to some kind of greatness. She was viciously proud, and an avowed believer in the teachings of a book called The Way, which apparently instructed men and women on how to compose themselves if they desired power. She claimed that all the Syphenus adhered to it.
Vaedris often quoted passages from The Way, or one of its Nineteen Precepts. She was ready with such a quote one evening while they were weaving, when Deadoris pressed Drea to know what sort of man she thought she could marry, and Drea had answered honestly, “Someone I can love, I suppose.”
When Vaedris heard that, she instantly quoted The Way. “The Fourteenth Precept states it clearly: ‘You can have love, you can have power. But you cannot have both.’ That is a lesson we should all take to heart.”
Drea had looked at her. “What if one doesn’t desire power?”
“Then one allows themselves to become a victim to circumstances,” Vaedris supplied instantly. “For it is impossible to be without power and make any changes to one’s life, or to other’s lives. One must have influence.”
“And controlling of people?” Drea said. “Controlling citizens of a city, for instance? Is that the influence you mean?”
“That,” Vaedris said. “But also the influence one gains through others, such as family, friends, even enemies.”
“But you think it’s impossible to have both the love of another and influence over the masses.”
“ ‘Having to manage the love of many, in the pursuit of power, leaves no room for intimacy with a single partner.’ The Fourteenth Precept is clear on this.”
“You’re very ready to quote The Way to justify a great deal,” Drea said. When Vaedris fixed her with a look, Drea recovered quickly. “I do not say it to suggest that you’re wrong, new-sister, but I wonder at why the book has such a fixation for you.”
“The Way was written by Orick Syphen,” Vaedris said. “One of my ancestors. More than eight hundred years ago. And it has served the Syphenus well.”
Drea nodded. “Indeed, anyone can see that it has.”
The women went silent for a time. Finally, Vaedris pointed at the threads in Drea’s lap, and said, “You’re doing it wrong. Here, let me show you.”
The rest of that day was spent with Vaedris conducting Drea’s work, and appraising her closely by looking over her shoulder. Often, Drea’s new-sisters would stop her and adjust her technique with the bronze spindle, with which she spun the wool into yarn.
Vaedris sternly showed her how to take a few inches of ready-made wool, and attach it to the end of her spindle—as though Drea didn’t already know how to do this. Then she showed Drea the proper way to use a distaff to spin the wool, which, Drea had to admit, was far more precise and efficient than she ever could have done. The way Vaedris flicked the wool threads to overlap them was very impressive.
If nothing else could be said of her, Vaedris Syphen knew how to weave, and her creations were immaculate. A true artist.
Drea thanked her new-sister for any advice on her technique, never losing her temper. Just beneath the surface, however, Drea’s anger was mounting. With each passing day, it built up more and more pressure, but she managed it.
She had no other choice but to manage it.
The next day, during her harp lesson, Drea paused in the middle of the piece that Ustus had prepared for her and turned to look at Osween, who was seated nearby evaluating her technique. “Taja,” she said, “does House Syphen have a library?”
“Of course it has as library,” the governess said tersely. “What sort of question is that? And to ask it in the middle of Ustus’s teaching!”
“Sorry, Taja.”
“And what do you want with a library?”
“To increase my knowledge of musical theory. Ustus has said it would greatly help in my overall grasp of melody and rhythm.”
This seemed a passable enough excuse, because Osween nodded curtly, and said, “If you think it’ll help. The library is on the west wing of the house, just beyond the aviary. You can visit it later, after you’ve finished helping your new-sisters with the weaving. Am I understood?”
“Of course, Taja.”
Drea did as she was told, and once she was done helping Vaedris and the others, she went straight away to the library. Drea could smell the aviary and hear its birds chirping and cawing long before she got there. It was an immense open-air cage, with a domed ceiling that captured the sun at noon. She saw tropical birds that weren’t native to Drith—surely they had been brought over from other continents, by soldiers returning from some far-off war. She also saw the sparrows and pigeons, which she was so fond sketching.
She found the library, and was astonished by its size. It took her almost an hour of walking down each aisle of scrolls and each row of leather-bound tomes, but eventually she found what she was looking for. Drea had told her governess that she meant to find a book on musical theory, and that was true, but she also had been keen to find a copy of The Way.
The Way was a large book, easily a thousand pages, held together by iron rings. Its cover was black, with the words of House Syphen written there: We never shall perish. The book’s pages were brown and brittle.
Definitely an ancient tome, Drea surmised.
There was a large metal clasp binding it shut, but Drea easily undid that. She cracked it open. She could smell the age of its pages, she could feel time in their brittleness.
She looked at the inscription written inside, over the sigil of the White Boar. It read,
Through my words, I create actions.
Through my actions, I gain influence.
Through my influence, I am granted power.
Reading that, it reminded her of Vaedris’s words earlier today, about how important having influence over others was if one wanted to obtain true power.
Drea found a table to sit at. There was an electric globe mounted to the wall, which she switched on to scan the first few pages. The book’s introduction appeared to be a treatise of sorts on how to comport oneself in the company of others.
She read the First Precept, which said, Distill the Glamour. Choose what image it is you are trying to put forth. Is it matronly or pious? Politician or general? Businessman or lover? This image is called your Glamour, and it is paramount in understanding The Way.
“Strange,” she muttered to herself. “A book that wants to teach deception to its reader from the very start.”
Drea read it for a few minutes, but then she noticed that it was getting dark already—her search of the library had taken longer than she’d reckoned. She closed the book and took it back to her cottage. She fell asleep, and she saw the Man in the Charred Temple only briefly. He was smiling at her…
The next few days were little different for Drea. She got up, she took her lessons with Osween, she threaded with her new-sisters, she went to bed. She thumbed through The Way, wondering if there was more in the Syphenus library she might find helpful in understanding her adoptive family.
Most libraries of Major Houses keep a genealogy of the House, she thought. A family record. She resolved to go searching at some point, for she was fascinated by Vaedris’s story of how Phaedos Syphen had appeared out of nowhere seventeen years ago. I should like to know more about who he is, and where he comes from.
On the tenth day of her wardship, Drea received her first visit from her foster father. Lord Syphen paid a visit to Drea and her new-sisters while they were all threading. The ladies set their epinetrons aside and stood up to receive him properly.
“Vaedris,” he said. “How goes your work?”
“Quite well, Uncle. My sisters and I have been getting acquainted with our new-sister.”
“Very good. And how is she doing?”
“A most diligent worker. And a very fascinating conversationalist, it turns out.”
“Is that so?” said Lord Syphen, scratching his chin thoughtfully, and flashing the darklight of his many rings. “Well, I kn
ew from the first time I met her that she would be a nice addition to your sewing circle.”
“She has been, Uncle. You were very wise to bring her to us.”
Lord Syphen looked at Drea.
“Thank you again, Lord Syphen,” Drea said, bowing. “Your charity has brought me a new family.”
Lord Syphen appeared to be about to say something else, but he was cut off by Daedoris, who asked, “How does your work go in the Senate, Uncle?”
He sighed. “Well enough. There’s been some resistance to the idea of a Triumverate, but it’s a small matter.”
“Why would that be?” asked Drea. The words were out of her mouth before she could take them back. “That is…if Imperator Fedarus has been judged a tyrant, then his death was lawful. Any one of the Thirteen Heroes ought to be trusted to rule over Drith.”
Lord Syphen looked at her, assessing her. “Politics is a bit more complex than just killing a man and taking his seat, my dear,” she said. “People can stand behind you and cheer you as you kill a tyrant, and they may applaud your courage—but then they wonder what else such courage might compel you to do.”
“Oh, you don’t have to explain politics to Drea, Uncle,” said Saephis, reaching over to brush Drea’s hair behind her ear like she was some pet. “She perfectly comprehends politics. Why, she’s even lectured us on it.”
“Is that so?” Lord Syphen said.
Drea blushed, and averted her gaze until the senator left on some other errand.
The next day, Drea finally received a letter from Thryis. Fengin brought it to her at the Hour of the Wolf, just after sunset. When she thanked him for bringing it so quickly, Fengin told her that it had actually arrived eight days ago, but that he’d been given instructions to hold onto it until Lord Syphen could be sure that neither Drea nor Thryis were thinking of running off together. Apparently, her dutiful studies with Osween and her attentive ways with Lord Syphen’s nieces had built little foundation of trust.
Drea read the letter, cherishing every word,
My Drea,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I was quite offended when I was dismissed so outright from the house, leaving you alone with Lord Syphen. But I am sure he will read this letter before it gets to you, so to you, Lord Syphen, I say only that I am displeased with how you handled my Drea’s custody and interrogation, but I will forgive the offense this one time.
Drea had to laugh. Who else but Thryis would speak down to the lord of a Major House, especially one of the Thirteen Heroes who had just slain an Imperator? And the fact that Lord Syphen had almost certainly read this, and yet still allowed Drea to read it, just showed that he feared Thryis’s wrath none at all.
The letter continued,
To you, Drea, know that I am always your friend and ally. I will guide you in any way I can and offer a shoulder to cry on, but I will also do as you ask me. Whatever Drea Kalder does, wherever she goes, Thryis Ardenk does and goes. Every fool knows this.
Contact me at your earliest convenience, and I will be glad to pay visit to your new home. I know that you are still adjusting, and that Lord Syphen will want everyone in his House to get to know his new ward, so I will not trouble you with a visit for a while. Besides, my family and I are busy with work on the Great Generator.
But just remember, whenever you see the lights flickering in your cottage, know that that’s your Thryis, working hard to keep your lights on at night.
Yours faithful,
Thryis
Drea sighed and kissed the letter. It was as though a weight had been lifted. This was exactly what she had needed to hear after nearly two weeks spent in exile with her new family.
At that moment, as if by fate, the electric light on the wall flickered a little. Drea looked at it, and imagined that it was Thryis saying hello. Thryis worked hard on the Great Generator, bringing electricity to the whole city, so there was a decent chance that the flicker had actually been her work.
I should go visit her. It’s going to be months before she can find a day off from her work, and I can’t wait that long.
Drea recalled the last time they had kissed. She wanted to arrange another one.
In the meantime, Drea got out a piece of parchment and wrote a letter back to Thryis. She left the cottage to find Fengin, and sent him off to deliver it. After that, she returned to her cottage and did some sketching.
At around the Hour of the Pig, Drea finally decided to get some sleep. However, she found herself tossing and turning, unable to drive certain thoughts from her mind. Drea’s mind was filled with several phantom fears, and so she got up, lit a lantern, and stepped outside to clear her mind.
Drea wandered across the lawn, passed the horse stables, and then entered the house proper. When a house guard happened by her, he asked, “And where are you going, luv?”
“I can’t sleep,” she said.
“So you go off wandering alone in the night?”
“Is House Syphen not safe and secured by your hands?”
“It is.”
“Is it against rules for me to wander about my new home?”
“It isn’t.”
“Well then,” Drea said. “I suppose I’ll have a turn about the aviary. I often find night birds soothing.”
The guard watched her go, saying naught else. Drea passed through the aviary and stopped by the pigeon coop. She reached her fingers through the cage to pet the head of one. “Your kind always find the way home, don’t you?” Drea whispered to it. The bird cooed at her.
Drea walked through that aviary, marveling at birds with gigantic plumes. She passed into another corridor, and before long she found herself inside the library. The genealogy books were easy to find, and by lamplight she perused through a few dusty tomes.
Each book covered a different decade of family lineages, and though some pages were torn or missing, the records were remarkably detailed. Some of the more prominent Syphenus even had small portraits done of them.
Drea moved all the way to the end of the bookshelf until she came to the one dated farthest back—over eight hundred years before. She opened the book to its one and only entry. The first-ever recorded member of the Syphenus family: Orick Syphen, the author of The Way.
Orick Syphen’s portrait was of a bearded, eagle-eyed man, with a bald, egg-shaped head. As an artist herself, Drea recognized what care had been taken to capture every nuance. And, though the parchment was weathered, someone had lacquered it in order to keep it somewhat protected from time and neglect.
As Drea looked at the image, something bothered her about it. The family resemblance was striking. Certainly one could see similarities to Vaedris and her sisters, but the man’s face…especially the eyes…
It’s the very image of Lord Syphen himself, she thought. Without the beard, of course. The two could be twins.
Drea flipped through other entries until she came to another such portrait. This one was of a man named Bor Syphen, and he had a trimmer, more manicured beard, though he still had the same egg-shaped head.
Drea happened to look at the date of Bor Syphen’s death, as well as the cause of his death: Death by foul play, the entry read. Murder.
She flipped through a few more portraits, and Drea began to notice a trend. Three out of every five read, Death by foul play, while the other two would read simply, Lost, or Gone missing.
After each of these deaths, the records showed a new patriarch emerging, one looking roughly the same as the last. Usually, there was an uncertain date of birth—a new patriarch simply appeared out of nowhere and took over the family.
Peculiar, she thought.
Drea replaced all the genealogical books and did some more perusing. Not too far from the family records, Drea came upon an aisle that was covered in an inordinate amount of books on geology. There were all sorts of books dissecting the numerous kinds of rocks and soil. One book, called The Essence of Stygian, focused solely on stygian stones.
Drea opened it, and fou
nd that it was a long essay on the studies of darklight. Darklight, the introductory text said, is the trapped fell-light that comes from Underrealm. Some seawaters are known to have trapped darklight, but it is most easily found in three types of stygian stones: crixstones, jypsite, and bluestones.
Drea stopped to think about the jewelry she’d seen most prominent among the Syphenus. They certainly had a predilection for stygian stones.
Stygian stones, she read on, are necessary if one wishes to perform the four types of Arcana: those being Conduction, Divination, Alchemy, or Cursing. Different stones have different uses. For example, an Alchemist will need jypsite to activate certain chemical mixtures, while Conductors will require bluestones to fuel their demonic bindings, Cursers need crixstones for each cursed ability, and Diviners will need a variety of stones for fortunetelling and projections.
Stygian stones eventually run out of darklight, though, and it’s often necessary to find new ones for…
Suddenly, Drea’s ear was drawn to a noise. It sounded like galloping horses. She replaced the book and took her lantern to the nearest window. From there, she could see to the front of the house, to the driveway at the main door.
On the driveway, Drea saw a familiar sight, and one most welcome. It was a clockwork carriage coming to a halt. And, stepping out of the carriage and into the light emanating from electric globes across the lawn, was her father’s oldest friend and business partner, Lord Markus Dustrang.
Barely able to contain her excitement, Drea rushed out of the library, through the aviary, across the lawn, and into the back entrance of the house. She hurried past a pair of slaves that were on their way to receive Lord Dustrang.
By the time she got to the foyer, Lord Dustrang was just stepping through the thin clouds of steam being produced by the door’s opening. Drea set her lantern down and stood before him, beaming, all manners.
Markus Dustrang looked preoccupied with something, his face worrisome. But when he laid eyes on Drea, his expression softened. “Drea? Drea girl?”
