‘Lady Ayla,’ her mate said softly. ‘Time to go.’
She regarded him steadily. In this form, she found him strange and distant: an incomplete creature, limited to a single way of being. Yet the scent of his skin was familiar, and the rhythm of his heartbeat. He was still the father of her children. So she allowed him to touch her neck with gentle fingers for a moment before stepping back.
Out of the way, she told the Helmsmen. She didn’t wait to see if they had obeyed, simply brought her wings down in a powerful stroke and launched herself into the air.
As she rose, Arkannen dwindled below her until she could see the whole of the city: seven rings full of beauty and wonder, industry and ambition and thousands of human lives. Fierce pride and renewed determination gripped her, because this was hers. All of it. And if she had to, she would defend it to the death.
The air changed as she moved away from the city, becoming colder and fresher. Now it tasted of grass and dung, not coal dust and smoke. Southern Mirrorvale wasn’t flat and fertile, like the east, which supplied Arkannen with much of its best fruit and grain; it wasn’t as rich in timber and coal as the west. It was hill country, inhabited largely by farmers whose small, hardy sheep and cattle were left to graze as they wished, and dotted with market towns where the people spun wool and made the finest cheeses in Mirrorvale. Hard lives, perhaps, but safe ones; yet only a little further south, the hills became less grassy and more unfriendly, rising up into the natural barrier that formed much of the border between Mirrorvale and Sol Kardis. Those hills were the source of all the little streams and tributaries that eventually combined to form the river that passed outside Arkannen’s eastern wall; they were also the territory of the patrolmen, whose constant, bitter defence against Kardise incursions was the very thing Ayla was hoping to bring to an end.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to fly anything like that far. She’d barely travelled a quarter of the way between Arkannen and the southern border when she spotted the ambassador’s airship approaching. Easy enough to identify it – a government ship always displayed the Kardise lion on its envelope, distinguishing it from the striped red and white of a merchant, the gold circle on green background of a passenger ship, or the single plain colour of a wealthy family’s personal skyboat. Ayla focused her senses on the airship as the two of them drew nearer to each other, listening through the growl of the engine for the voices of the people who rode in the gondola. All speaking Kardise, of course, but she’d been perfectly taught.
‘Sir? Look.’
‘Is that –?’
‘Gods. She’s bigger than I thought.’
‘I daresay she can hear you, you know.’ That voice was calmer than the others, with a warm hint of amusement. ‘They say Changer senses are ten times more acute than our own.’
Make that fifty, Ayla sent into their minds in the same language, then listened to the silence with some satisfaction. Speaking like this, silently, had been another aspect of her gift she’d been late to discover. Her father had been able to do it, but she’d never managed it – something he’d blamed on her hybrid nature, just like her inability to manipulate fire. But once Miles had put her straight on that score, three years ago, she’d begun to wonder if this was another skill that she’d given up on simply because her father had convinced her she was an inferior kind of Changer. And sure enough, as her comfort in her own second skin had grown, she’d found herself able to communicate at greater and greater distances – until now, if she could hear someone talking, she could make them hear her.
Welcome to Mirrorvale, she added, and caught one of the Kardise swearing under his breath.
‘Thank you, Lady Ayla,’ the calm-voiced man said, ignoring his compatriot. ‘I am Carlos Tolino, ambassador for Sol Kardis.’
He’d switched to pleasantly accented Mirrorvalese, which was polite of him. She wished she could see into the gondola – but unlike the smaller ships, this one was fully enclosed, and even Changer eyes couldn’t see through solid wood. She’d have to wait to assess the man until they were both back on the ground.
Pleased to meet you, she told Tolino.
‘Likewise. I hope you will pardon my aides. They are not used to dealing with people of your … stature.’
Yet you are?
He laughed. ‘No. I have not had the pleasure of visiting Mirrorvale before. But I believe I’m old enough not to be startled very much by anything. Even such a wonder as you.’
By now she had reached the airship. She circled it effortlessly, close enough to pierce the envelope with her spiral horn and send everyone in the gondola to a fiery death on the ground below, if she so chose.
Allow me to accompany you back to the city.
‘Thank you,’ Tolino said. ‘That would be most kind.’
As she headed back in the direction she’d come, she heard one of the Kardise swearing again.
She escorted the airship to Arkannen, as promised; yet once it began to descend towards its allocated docking station in the third ring, she left it behind. Tomas and the Helm would meet the ambassador and his party on the ground – she had seen the carriages waiting. Their journey up to Darkhaven would give her time to Change, get dressed, and be ready to receive her guests.
She was at her station outside the door to the great hall before two chimes had passed, wearing the kind of long, flowing dress that her father had always insisted she wear and that she’d barely spent any time in during the past six years, because they were so impractical as garments for Changers. The entire thing felt heavy and hampering, tangling around her legs in an irritating fashion. Still, formal occasions called for formal clothing. Warmly amused voice aside, she had no idea what sort of man Carlos Tolino might be, and there was no point jeopardising a possible peace treaty with the chance that he’d object to a woman wearing trousers.
To begin with, automatically, she faced the postern gate; it took her a while to remember that, because of the carriages, Tomas and his men would bring the Kardise in through Darkhaven’s vast main gates. The latter had been rarely used in her father’s time, and she’d found no reason to change that – the postern was far easier to manage for people on foot, as most of the tower’s inhabitants tended to be, and Ayla herself could take off from the central square in creature form. It would have been different if they’d used other methods of transport – carriages, horses, mechanical cycles – but Darkhaven didn’t own more than a single carriage and pair. Tomas had hired the other two from somewhere in the city.
Of course, visitors arrived in carriages, but Ayla couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a visitor. The Nightshade overlords might make state visits to Mirrorvale’s neighbouring countries, and travel the land to fulfil their duties to their own people, but their home remained private. If the stories were true, for centuries that had been by mutual agreement. Back when there were forty or fifty Changers living in Darkhaven, each spending as much time in creature as in human form, it wouldn’t have been a place that many ordinary folk dared venture. Yet now … looking around the square through new eyes, noticing a few cobwebbed windows and the occasional tuft of grass springing up through the cracks in the stone, she wondered what the ambassador would think of Darkhaven. Was it still imposing? Or would he see the worn and shabby seat of a once-great civilisation, a place as much in decline as those who ruled it?
She glanced over her shoulder at the six Helmsmen behind her, three to each side. They must be fed up with waiting by now, yet they didn’t fidget or whisper amongst themselves; they remained facing forward, as solid and reliable as the steps beneath her feet. At least she could be proud of the Helm. They knew how important this was, and they wouldn’t let her down. Six men, one for each of the first six rings of the city, with herself to represent the seventh; Tomas and another six gone to meet the ambassador. There was tradition in it, as there was in everything here. And although Ayla had broken many Nightshade traditions in her lifetime, she found herself obscurely reassured by this one. She might be the l
ast full-grown scion of a fading line, but she had the weight of history behind her.
Before she turned back around, she noticed that one of her six men was a woman, and couldn’t resist giving her a small smile. Ree had saved her life, three years ago; it wasn’t the sort of thing one forgot. And besides … now that Ree was a fully fledged Helmsman, Ayla had the chance to talk to her sometimes, when Ree was on duty at the tower. As much as she loved Tomas, it was nice to spend time with another woman every so often.
Ree smiled back at her – very briefly, as though she thought it was probably the wrong thing to do in such a solemn situation – and Ayla faced the entrance once more. By the time the lookouts at their post above the main entrance called out and ran down to swing the gates open, she was thoroughly cold and fed up with waiting. Still, she summoned another smile as she descended the steps. This was her first chance to assess the ambassador using her human senses. She couldn’t let frozen fingers distract her from that.
She scanned the men who were emerging from the carriages, picking out the ambassador straight away. He was of medium height, brown-skinned and dark-haired like so many of his countrymen, with intelligent, jet-black eyes and a kind expression. Ayla hadn’t expected the kindness, not in an ambassador. He was dressed without ostentation, much like Ayla herself, although the fabric of his tunic was rich and a Kardise lion worked in gold adorned his belt. As she approached him, he returned her smile with what appeared to be genuine warmth. Encouraging.
She flicked a glance at Tomas, standing at the front of the Helm escort in his full captain’s uniform – because if anything had occurred to make him uneasy on their way up from the third ring, she’d be able to tell. But his face was untroubled, and he gave her the barest hint of a nod. Doubly encouraging.
By now she had reached the carriages, so there was no time left to consider the other men who had made the journey from Sol Kardis – the guards and aides, the ones who had been alarmed by her presence in the sky. They would have to wait.
‘Don Tolino,’ she greeted the ambassador, with her best attempt at a Kardise bow: dipping her knee, rather than bending from the waist, and ducking her head.
‘Lady Ayla.’ In return, he touched his fingertips to hers in the Mirrorvalese fashion.
Both countries’ honour thus satisfactorily upheld, Ayla gestured back up the steps. ‘Shall we …?’ The two of them climbed towards the formal doors together, with their respective protectors close behind.
‘Disheartening, is it not?’ Tolino murmured, with the same hint of humour he had shown during their airborne conversation. ‘All these people hard on our heels, just waiting for us to try and kill each other.’
She couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Sadly, yes. Though you, at least, shouldn’t take it personally. The Helm are trained to perceive everyone as a potential threat.’
‘I assure you, Giorgi does not mean anything personal either.’ Tolino threw a surprisingly mischievous look over his shoulder at his burly bodyguard. ‘He is merely labouring under the uncomfortable awareness that you outmatch me in every single way. Your power is far beyond anything Sol Kardis has to offer.’
‘Which is why we are here,’ Ayla agreed with a certain amount of malice – thinking of all those failed assassination attempts – but he only nodded.
‘Which is why we are here. And for my part, I am thoroughly grateful for it. Conquest does not suit my ideas of what is best for Sol Kardis at all.’ He curled a smile at her like the bow on a birthday gift. ‘Trade is far more profitable than war. Don’t you agree?’
‘Very much so.’ They had reached the great hall, where Ayla had planned to install the ambassador and all his aides for their initial conversation. A massive, echoing room – imposing, certainly, but also chilly and inconvenient – where the two of them would face each other amid frozen splendour and beneath the watchful eyes of twenty people … Impulsively she turned to Tolino. ‘Would you … perhaps we could retire to the library? Just the two of us. An informal talk, a drink to warm us up … tomorrow is early enough to begin the formal negotiations. And I’m sure your men could do with some refreshment after their journey.’
It wasn’t the plan. She and Tomas had agreed that their approach to the Kardise should be polite, but not friendly; that they shouldn’t offer anything more than the minimum of courtesy. Sol Kardis might be the larger country, but it was also in the wrong: though none of the councillors with whom she’d corresponded had ever admitted sending assassins her way, it had been an unspoken truth between them that the Kardise were making overtures of peace only because more violent methods had failed. Mirrorvale might desperately want to accept the peace, because it couldn’t afford the war, but that was all the more reason to give the impression of cool strength rather than fawning desperation.
Still, plans changed. Don Tolino seemed a pleasant man, and one who was as intent on creating a working treaty as Ayla. If the two of them could agree certain things now, alone and without a score of interruptions, then tomorrow’s negotiations could become no more than a rapidly concluded formality.
‘I would be very happy –’ Tolino began, only to be interrupted by his bodyguard.
‘Sir, if I may … I am not sure it would be a wise idea.’
‘Oh, nonsense!’ Tolino’s eyes met Ayla’s in a moment of shared ruefulness. ‘No doubt Lady Ayla will guarantee my safety.’
‘But sir –’
Ayla looked at Tomas. He didn’t like it either, she could tell. Once they would have argued about it, though never in public. But now, he simply scanned her face before moving his fingers in the small, private signal they had developed between them: the one that said I trust your judgement, and I’m letting you take the lead.
‘If it would make you feel more comfortable,’ he told Giorgi, ‘you and I can scan the room for concealed weapons together. And while Lady Ayla and Don Tolino are conferring, we can guard the door.’
‘Thank you, Captain,’ Tolino said firmly, with a quelling glance at his bodyguard. ‘That sounds more than adequate.’
Tomas murmured something to one of the Helm, who left his station and disappeared in the direction of the kitchens. By the time Tomas and Giorgi had finished checking the safety of the library, the oil lamps had been lit, a fire had been kindled in the grate and a maid stood patiently beside the two armchairs that faced each other in the centre of the room. Tomas looked at Ayla, eyebrows raised a fraction.
Thank you. She wished she could speak it into his mind, as she would have in Alicorn form, but he nodded as though he’d heard her anyway. Then he saluted, backed out of the room, and left her and Tolino alone.
‘Take a seat,’ Ayla said. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’
‘Thank you. That would be most welcome.’
‘There’s spiced fruit, or ale …’
‘Taransey, surely,’ Tolino said with a smile. ‘One cannot help but be curious about a liquor that isn’t supposed to leave its country of origin.’
‘Of course.’ Ayla nodded at the maid, who dropped a curtsey before leaving the room. Then she sat down opposite the ambassador, resisting the urge to touch her hair or fold her arms or smooth out the fabric of her unaccustomed skirts. He looked at her expectantly.
‘I hope we can reach an agreement, Don Tolino,’ she said. ‘The unnecessary loss of life at our shared border –’
‘Yes.’ His levity vanished, Tolino sat forward in his chair. ‘Utterly stupid, I agree. You have to understand, Lady Ayla, that my government has been divided on the issue of Mirrorvale for decades. We have debated and wrangled, back and forth, yet nothing was ever decided – and all the while, good men died for nothing.’
It was possible he was genuinely unaware of the assassination attempts, Ayla thought. Hard to be sure, without knowing exactly how the Brotherhood – the shadowy power behind the Kardise government – controlled their councillors. Which also raised the question of whether the Brotherhood were behind this attempt at peace, or whether the governm
ent had managed to overcome their inaction of their own accord.
‘But you have reached a decision now,’ she said, gently probing.
‘Reluctantly, yes.’ He sighed. ‘I won’t lie to you: a vociferous faction is still against this treaty. But they are now a minority.’
‘They won’t interfere?’
‘Ah, no. We are a democracy, Lady Ayla. The majority rules.’
A majority can be bought, Ayla thought – but she didn’t say it. Whether the Brotherhood had forced a vote for peace or whether it had happened despite their machinations, the outcome was a favourable one.
She opened her mouth to say something more, but at that point the maid returned with a silver tray that bore a bottle of taransey and two glasses. Accepting Ayla’s thanks with another bobbed curtsey, she placed her burden gracefully on the small table between the two armchairs and looked up.
‘Would you like me to pour, ma’am?’
‘No, thank you,’ Ayla said. As the maid left the library for the second time, Tolino raised an eyebrow.
‘You’re going to pour it yourself?’ he teased. ‘Should I be afraid of poison?’
‘I thought, given your curiosity, you might like to study the bottle.’ Handing it to him, she added drily, ‘You’ll notice the seal is intact, so if I’m going to kill you, it won’t be with this.’
He took it, examining the thick wax seal with its finely patterned imprint of seven concentric circles, the complicated design of knotted, coloured string. Almost impossible to recreate, though people had tried over the years. ‘Taransey has acquired almost legendary status in Sol Kardis, you know. I hear a bottle can sell for thousands on the black market. You could make a fortune if you were to lift the export ban.’
‘But then there would no longer be a legend,’ Ayla said.
‘You prize stories more highly than gold?’
She smiled. ‘Given what I am, how could I not? It isn’t the Nightshade wealth, such as it is, that’s kept Sol Kardis at bay all these years.’
Tolino lowered the bottle to look at her. She returned his gaze without speaking. After a moment, he nodded and passed the taransey back to her. ‘Then by all means let us drink, Lady Ayla. I am most curious to see how well the reality lives up to the legend.’
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