Bones of the Fair

by Host, Andrea K

  "How did they die?"

  "Ah–" Aspen looked at Lady Dhara for guidance, but Kassen tugged imperiously on his hand.

  "How? They said they were all dead. All of them. Michel and Nana and even Po. I want to know."

  "Tell her." Lady Dhara's mouth was set, but her tone sure.

  Aspen's tongue clove to the roof of his mouth at the prospect of translating 'Michel and Nana and Po' into the fragments of barge and flesh tumbling in the Cauldron. At least the other two children had already gone through.

  The Guard Dog, last link on the chain, saved him from response. "The barge struck a rock and broke apart," the man said, blunt, unflinching. "They drowned."

  "Quick?"

  "Quick."

  The girl's hand squirmed in Aspen's, then she bent her head. Grateful, Aspen nodded his thanks to the Guard Dog, and was snubbed for his pains: surveyed briefly and dismissed. Aspen rolled his eyes.

  Lady Dhara started through the wall. What was on the other side? Darest might once have been part of The Deeping, the empire of the Fair, but he'd never heard of anything like this. The longer this little excursion went on, the less sense it made. At least the prospect of escape had distracted the lot of them from sniping at each other, and in the company of the Atlaran ambassador and Princess Aloren even Jurasel would surely hesitate to try to snap the Diamond's neck.

  When it was Aspen's turn to be drawn gently into pearl white he found it to be cold treacle, not quite solid enough to resist him. Hand, forearm, shoulder. Just when he was starting to think that this was perhaps not such a good idea, he felt his fingers breaking through the other side. Warm air, nothing frightening. Lady Dhara let go his hand, and he started pushing through on his own, taking a deep breath before his head went in, and concentrating on moving forward, not thinking about the tightness in his chest, and making damn sure he kept hold of the warm, wriggling fingers behind him.

  Sooner than he expected, his face broke into warmth and air. Free magic tingled promisingly at his senses and he blinked twice then gaped, disbelieving, at a valley bathed in afternoon light.

  Bizarrely, he thought of the place Rua Ketu had described, a dark grey place which judged, a place with eyes. But this was nothing like. This – huge, miles across – was a city. Flowing, ornate, lovely, and frozen white: a city of the Fair iced like a sunken festival cake.

  He turned, still pulling Kassen's hand, and looked out over a line of mountains he had recently seen from the far side. The Skorese. They'd been transported to the very north of the range.

  Sumica's heirs were scattering along a neat pathway that ran around the rim of the almost circular valley. Balustrades to either side of the path separated the sugar fondant city from grassy mountain slopes where wildflowers had almost vanquished the last of the high mountain snowdrifts. A stone-paved road led down to the foothills.

  "Sun and Moon! Thank you." With Kassen now almost completely through, Aspen let her go and took a few exuberant steps forward. They had done it. Out of the trap, back into the world. Free magic all around, ready for them to use to fly out, to let the world know where they were.

  Wherever they were. How could this place be in the Skorese? Yes, the mountains had a reputation for getting people lost, but they'd been thoroughly explored. People had flown over them, for pity's sake. You'd think they'd mention a huge valley full of hundreds of buildings! And what was with the glazing? Houses, trees, gardens: the entire thing was covered over with a white sheen a little too reminiscent of the wall they'd just passed through. Nothing moved except his fellow escapees, clumping in little groups, exclaiming. The only sound was their confused voices.

  The Diamond stood two steps down the nearest path into the valley. True to type, he was completely failing to act like a man suddenly delivered from a death sentence, instead talking calmly to the Atlaran ambassador. As Aspen started toward them, eager to hear what they were discussing, Kassen suddenly bolted to Lady Dhara's side.

  "Mama!" she cried, equal parts excited and unhappy. "Mama, the sky isn't real!"

  ooOoo

  It was true. Even as the last of the barge's survivors filed out of an obelisk set into the balustrade, Aspen realised that at least half of what he was seeing was illusion. Everything not in the valley. If you looked hard enough, peered with more than just your eyes, the sky and mountains took on a tell-tale thinness. Behind was a familiar pearly wall, rising into a grand dome. Unbroken.

  "Mount Garant," the Diamond said. "If the seeming is a true representation of our location, we are under Mount Garant."

  "What does it matter which mountain it is?" Lady Dhara was ever-pragmatic. "How do we get out?"

  "I am not able to sigil-call," the Atlaran guardsman said, breaking off an attempt. "There is a shield."

  "A major casting," Aurak Bes confirmed. "Woven all around us. It is...unusual, and massive. Power here means we are not completely closed off–"

  "But still another box." Seylon Heresar, with an air of prowling anticipation, moved down to join the Diamond and the Aurak. "I own, I prefer this one. It has a certain...sterile charm." He surveyed parklands and gardens, houses built in steps, and walkways curving down to what might well be a small lake, formed into a complex, four-sided cross. A pavilion on a small island formed a centre point. "What now?"

  "We find an exit," the Diamond said. "Or overcome this casting." He gave them an extraordinarily bland look. "I suspect that will take some time."

  Princess Aloren, sitting with an air of habitual weariness on a convenient bench, laughed. "How nicely you put it, Aristide. I do hope you mean to be an attentive host."

  Aspen gazed at her with increasing approval. Even her laughter was rich with indolent power. Rua Ketu caught his eye and rocked her staff back and forth. Comment, agreement, a little mockery. Aspen grinned in return, then offered her the same appreciative glance. She had her own magnificence, and if they were going to be here for a while...well.

  "We will have to conjure supplies," Lady Dhara was saying briskly. She reached across the inner balustrade and tried unsuccessfully to pluck a white-frosted leaf from the nearest tree. It could well have been solid stone. "Or break this preservation spell. Has anything else of this kind ever been found in Darest?"

  Given the number of spies the western lands maintained in the Darien Court, Aspen half expected the Diamond's response to be sugared with arsenic, but he merely said: "No," and turned to study the winding path below him.

  But before any of this temperamental audience could fire up, he continued: "Darest lay empty for centuries before it was given to Domina Rathen. Long enough that only vague tales remain of its occupants. I am told that during this span it was a particularly dangerous region to stray into, less...tame than much of The Deeping."

  "Which is not tame." Lady Dhara's mouth twisted.

  "It does not welcome intruders." This did have the finest dagger-edge. "When The Deeping withdrew its influence, and the land became Darest, little evidence could be found to show it had ever been occupied. Signs that the forest had once been orchard. Fragments of the foundations of settlements. Tor Darest is built on the site of one. But nothing whole. Very much as if a concerted effort had been made to erase any trace of the people who lived here. And the Fair will not talk of them."

  "Their deep, dark secret." Seylon Heresar was looking over the valley with renewed interest. "An attempt at a coup, perhaps? This land's lord deciding that they would rather not be part of an empire?"

  The Aurak moved at this. "I have long believed that it was a matter of Shaping."

  Aristide nodded. "So have I."

  This was not quite news to Aspen, who had enjoyed certain confidences from Soren about just how, during the previous autumn's confrontation, the Court of the Fair had reacted to the idea of one of their own being Shaped. Shaping was a finicky sort of casting which operated 'beyond the blood', as it were. Rather than making a plant or animal different by laying an enchantment over it, you tried to create one from the inside
out. It was a chancy, tedious and altogether difficult process which Aspen had never wanted to attempt, but which had an immense advantage over enchantment: a Shaped creature did not require any maintenance, and could have children. A new species, tailored to your needs.

  The Fair were past masters of the art. The Fair also lived centuries longer than any other people, were born true-mage without exception, and had a marked tendency to be tall and beautiful even before they had grown old enough to start improving their looks with castings. No great leap of the imagination to believe they'd been practicing on themselves.

  While the assembled clutch of royalty immediately tried to pry reasons out of the Diamond, Aspen looked about for their own representative of the Shaper art. She'd wandered a little way along the rim-top pathway, and was gazing fixedly not at the city, but out over the foothills of the mountains. As he walked toward her, Aspen decided she wasn't paying the least attention to the discussion of Darest's past.

  "'Gentian, Gentian, meek and mild'?"

  For a moment he thought she hadn't even heard him, but then her face relaxed and she gave him a sideways look. "The Arachol's Court thought that terribly amusing. There's a whole series of rhymes to go with it, which I trust Aurak Bes will not repeat."

  "Rhymes? Such as?"

  "I think I'll spare myself." She reached with one finger to touch the balcony, and Aspen saw that there was a lizard sitting there. Its resemblance to a sugar-ice decoration prompted a vague impulse to pick it up and bite its head off. But through the layer of white, he could see it really was a lizard.

  "It's alive," Gentian said, almost below her breath.

  "What does your sense of place tell you about this valley, Magister?" a distinctly Eastern voice asked. Aspen had to hide a little start of shock, for he hadn't heard the Guard Dog coming up behind him.

  Gentian gave the man one of those big-eyed, sombre examinations, then turned to look at the preserved city.

  "It feels like Darest. Quite more like Darest than any other part I've visited. It also feels–" She broke off, frowning at the centre pavilion. "It's – it's in mourning. It grieves. It isn't – it's not what I would have expected. We should go down soon."

  "Why? Is there danger approaching?" The Captain's hand went to his sword, as if Djol could think of no other solution to the unknown.

  Gentian blinked at him. "I don't know. But I think the sun is going to pretend to set in a couple of hours. And I want to see this place in its own light."

  This was a suitably nonsensical answer, but before Aspen could think of an appropriate response he noticed Prince Rydan had followed them up. A pretty youth, seventeen or so, with an air of having not quite grown into his full height. He had possibilities, but Aspen's tastes didn't run to callow.

  Captain Djol?" he said, and waited until the man had acknowledged him before continuing. "I wished to ask: those on the barge – is there no possibility of other survivors?"

  "We found many bodies, Highness," the Guard Dog replied, blunt as ever. "We had yet to count them."

  Rydan blanched. "I see. Thank you." He touched a hand to his chest, an oddly respectful gesture to give a bodyguard, and headed back to the main group. Djol followed him.

  When Aspen looked back at Gentian, he found her still gazing unhappily down into the valley. She'd turned into a proper little cloud of gloom.

  "So who do you think will win?" he asked lightly. "The Pirate or the Poet?"

  He liked her for not saying: "Who?" but taking the time to puzzle it out before turning to look at Jurasel and Chenar, standing to either side of Aloren.

  "The Playwright."

  That was a new take on Aloren, and Aspen turned the term over semi-approvingly. The Cerian princess was certainly a far cry from the inconsequential cipher he'd initially pictured. Golden Aloren. Precious Metal.

  Someone drew shield. Jerked out of agreeable fantasy, Aspen stared in consternation as shield after shield answered. An active personal defence was like a bared sword, proclaiming intent or expectation of an attack. Now that they were out of that corridor, this fractious group had access to an entire mage's arsenal to use on each other, but what in the name of the Sun and Moon had happened to set them off?

  Hurriedly using true-magic to pull some semblance of shield in place for himself, Aspen dashed back to the tight knot of royalty. From the way they were all centred on Jurasel, he must have been the first to call power. But his expression was scornful rather than combative.

  "What cause to be so white-livered?" he asked, obviously pleased by the reaction he'd provoked. "All this talk of searching about, hoping for an exit. What happened to the first option? We have our fists back. Are we going to leave this wall untested, merely because it is large?"

  He began casting, carefully enunciated word-magic. Aspen didn't recognise the spell, but Lady Dhara obviously did.

  "For Sun's sake," she said, sounding more than a little exasperated with her brother-by-marriage. "You'll just have that back in our faces."

  Jurasel, mid-spell, showed no sign of stopping to answer. A little nimbus of light began to collect about him as his words took substance.

  "It may give our investigations a starting point," the Diamond said. "Though good sense would urge a withdrawal to a safe distance."

  He drew shield and stood studying the Saxan prince: a neat demonstration of his confidence in his own defences, and the fact that he'd not leapt to protect himself the moment power had been called. Aspen was not about to make the same boast, and joined the general exodus.

  Gentian, he discovered, had remained by the ornamental lizard, and it was here that the Atlaran ambassador and his two guards stopped, along with Prince Chenar and Princess Aloren. Aspen chose the better part of valour, following Kestia and Dhara as they ushered their children well out of range. Prince Rydan and the Guard Dog, after a brief exchange with Chenar, ended up with them. Only Seylon Heresar stayed with Aristide to face the full impact of Prince Jurasel's attempt.

  It was a spell and a half. Aspen, even from a distance, could see the effort it was costing the Saxan prince. Jurasel, like most of those trapped, would be Maja not Magister: the journeyman or workman, rather than scholar rank of mage. But he seemed well equal to winding a great deal of power up into something he could hurl. And made a magnificent figure in the attempt: eyes alight, body braced for impact, smiling with anticipation. A true child of the Sun.

  The nimbus of light surrounding Jurasel intensified, sending rainbows dancing through the valley's pearly shell. The illusion of sky and mountains around their point of entry thinned, revealing more of the smooth expanse of white. The flow of sheer force began to pick out the edges of the ordinarily transparent shields which surrounded the three men, and the highlights in Seylon and Jurasel's hair shone brilliant red. The Diamond burned white.

  Jurasel released, and the bolt of force struck directly on the obelisk where they had come through. Aspen threw up a hand to protect his eyes as a lightning flash bloomed to cover the entire area, the edges of it streaming past the first group of watchers so that their shields also crackled into visibility, straining to protect. Aspen felt the remnants of the thing sweep past him, and even at this remove he had to grit his teeth and concentrate on pouring power into his shield.

  Then it was over. The light vanished, leaving only spots before eyes as keepsakes. Aspen blinked around them, checking everyone was still standing. The trio at the epicentre had not shifted, though Jurasel now bent, propping hands on knees and gasping for breath. Nothing else had changed. The obelisk was unmarked, the illusion once again tight. So far as Aspen could tell, the prince hadn't succeeded in even knocking a marzipan leaf from one of the trees.

  As shields were one by one released, Prince Chenar said, almost apologetically: "You weren't holding back?"

  Jurasel was not stung, merely grinning broadly as he straightened, stretching out muscle kinks. "No fear of that. Worthwhile in establishing that there's no value in blunt force."

&nb
sp; "And faint heart never won fair lady."

  The words, barely loud enough to hear, had come from behind Aspen, could only be from the Guard Dog, though the man did not so much as blink when Aspen turned to him. Nor was he far off the mark, judging from Jurasel's expression when Princess Aloren glided up to talk to him. It had been a wholly impressive display.

  Gentian and Aurak Bes were murmuring to each other in low tones, and Aspen hurried to catch up to them when they moved toward the Diamond.

  "As an experiment, this has been even more valuable, Prince Jurasel," the Aurak was saying. "You felt it too, Magister?"

  "What's this?" Jurasel sounded positively cheerful. "Gave you something you could use, did I?"

  Aristide nodded. "An important fact. The shielding strengthened at this point before you released, Highness. It anticipated you."

  ooOoo

  With this little fillip to digest, they started down the nearest spiralling path into the valley. Aspen wasn't altogether sure why they didn't just fly, but supposed the Guard Dog, at least, wasn't really up to it. And the prospect of flying beneath that false sky conjured up visions of mages splatting painfully into concealed objects.

  Besides, it gave him a wonderful opportunity to watch Princess Aloren in motion. It was almost as if, to spare her the effort of walking, the world shifted cunningly beneath her feet. Obliging of circumstance to dress her in that scanty scrap of silk. Jurasel and Chenar naturally strode to either side, which meant Aspen could feast his eyes on all three at once, and plot a most complex conquest.

  Between admiring glances and listening to snatches of conversation, Aspen had little attention to spare for the city. But then, with it all iced over, there wasn't a great deal to look at. You couldn't actually go inside the buildings. None of the doors would move, and the windows were blocked and opaque. At a guess they were mostly private residences, built down the slope with balconies designed to take advantage of the view across the valley. Lots of space between them, with gardens and little plazas, the occasional curving park, even miniature fields with rows of marzipan corn. Around the park of grass and low gardens edging the frozen, pocket-sized lake they discovered larger buildings, temples and palaces and such. Magnificent, silent, frosted, dead.