by Jeff Wheeler
There are those at the court of Kingfountain who are pressuring the throne to negotiate a limited peace. They know that if I am successful in crushing our foes, power will have shifted irrevocably into my hands. So I must tame my enemies before peace ruins all my plans. The stone is tipping. It will fall. All it needs is another strong push.
—Leon Montpensier, Duke of La Marche
CETTIE
CHAPTER SEVEN
HARBINGER
Cettie’s visions came in her sleep. There was no warning beforehand. They differed from normal dreams both because of the strange perspective—she was never a part of the visions, only an unseen observer, sitting on what she could best describe as a whorl of golden light—and the clarity of detail available to her scrutiny. The visions also showed her, with perfect accuracy, places and things and people she’d never seen in real life. In her studies at school, she had learned about the court of Kingfountain. She had even seen etchings of it. But this was no etching.
Cettie hung in the air over a great waterfall that roared violently as the waters plummeted down the embankment. Several iron bridges crossed the mighty river at different intervals, each thick with carriages and foot traffic. A sunlit building sat on an island amidst the river, a sanctuary dedicated to the Fountain, with a gleaming silver spike rising from the highest turret. Though she had not devoted much study to other worlds, she instantly understood the significance of the place through her power as a harbinger. She could hear the magic emanating from it, a glorious cacophony of music that thrilled her to her core. The city was built up on either side of the river as well as a lower portion beneath the falls. But the lower portion looked just as beautiful as the residences above. They weren’t tenements like the Fells. No, the city was proportioned with straight streets and hundreds of businesses. There was commerce, yes, but it wasn’t the sole fixation of the populace. She saw people reading books as they walked, people pausing to greet one another.
Just like in her previous visions, she could focus in on small details, so much so she could even read the name of the book held by one of the men. And when he spoke, even though she didn’t know the language, she understood every word.
“Good afternoon, Cregg, did you hear the news from up in the palace?”
“What news, man?”
“The emperor’s daughter, Seraphin Fitzempress, has arrived. She’s meeting the prince this very day.”
“Do you think they will reach a peace, then?”
“I hope so. We can’t afford another loss like the last one.”
“True, my good man. But how long would the peace last?”
Cettie never heard the other man’s answer, for the vision pulled her toward the palace. The castle that held the court of Kingfountain had stood for centuries. The shingles over the parapets were practically new, though, and the banner of the royal family flapped in the gusty breeze of the heights. She could see down into the middle of the castle, where circular walls surrounded various grounds and gardens. The golden whorl brought her over the first wall, and she saw a small company walking in one of the many resplendent gardens. A bubbling fountain caught her eye, and then, much to her excitement, she saw her friend Sera speaking to a handsome man. The two were in deep conversation, but Cettie was so taken by the sight of her friend, grown up and elegant in her stately gown, she didn’t pay attention to the words. Her heart leaped again when she saw her guardian standing to the side in dress uniform, speaking to a small group of men. He was at the court of Kingfountain!
With that realization, the vision ended, and Cettie sat up in bed, breathing fast. She was back in her room again, thick with shadows. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest. After pulling aside the blankets, she got out of bed and hurried to one of the eastern windows and parted the curtains. There was a touch of blue on the horizon, but it was early still. Even so, she quickly put on her dress and shoes and tidied her hair. Once she was prepared for the day, she took her keys, the keys of the household, and fastened them to her belt before heading down to the kitchen. Not even the cook was awake.
Cettie walked through the empty corridors, keeping them dark except for what little natural light was let in by the gauzy curtains. The entire house was still, and she felt the assuring presence of the Leerings as she passed them. The house was aware of her. She felt its magic prodding her, trying to anticipate her next request. She trod lightly, not wanting to wake anyone else. Nervous agitation filled her chest the closer she got to the door leading to the Control Leering. The house was in order. The servants had done their work, and she was pleased with it. But she was still concerned about what she’d learned of Stephen from Mr. Sloan. Fitzroy needed to know, no matter how much she hated being the bearer of bad news. And he needed to know about her vision too.
Finally, she reached the door. After sorting through her keys, she inserted the proper one into the lock and twisted it. The door opened, and the short hallway beyond it grew brighter as she stepped inside. She strode down the corridor to another door, though this one did not require a key. She thought the command word, and the lock yielded to her.
Though she’d been in this room countless times, she was still in awe of it. This was the storage area for the Control Leering that kept Fog Willows afloat. If anything were to happen to it, the entire manor would come crashing down. Being the keeper of the house was a momentous responsibility, one Cettie felt keenly.
It was an octagonal room with dark wood wainscoting. There were no other doors leading in or out, no windows. The Leering was carved into a stone about as high as her chest, although it sat on a recessed platform and she had to go down two steps to reach it. The grave face was that of one of Fitzroy’s ancestors. Whenever she looked at it, she imagined Fitzroy’s stern father, even though she knew it wasn’t him. This Leering had kept watch over many generations of Fitzroys.
Cettie steeled herself against her unease and reached out and touched the Leering. She closed her eyes and sank deeply into herself.
Father—are you there?
She waited, keeping her thoughts from drifting. Inside this room, she was connected to all the Leerings of the manor. This was the one that controlled them all, the top of the hierarchy. With it, she could see into every bedroom and discern whether the occupant was awake. It gave her considerable power and knowledge. It was a trusted responsibility.
Cettie, good morning.
The connection between them firmed, and it suddenly felt as if they were standing in the same room. Fitzroy was touching a Leering in the stateroom of his hurricane. But the two Leerings were connected, bringing the sound, smells, and vision of each place. His desk was covered in its usual spread of maps, and she saw the storm glass sitting covered on the table.
Now that they were connected, they spoke as they always did, although they could have communicated directly with their thoughts.
“I was afraid I’d wake you, but it doesn’t look like you’ve been to bed yet,” Cettie said, noticing he was still wearing his uniform, although the jacket buttons were loose.
“Ah, sleep. I miss it dearly,” he said with humor. He was exhausted. She could see it in his eyes, his haggard expression, his unruly hair.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, feeling sympathy for him and guilt that she’d had a good rest.
“There is much to do before a battle,” he said firmly. “Orders to be given. Communiqués to dictate and then seal. The privy council wants to meet before the battle, but I fear I cannot get away.” He shook his head. “But those are my concerns. You wouldn’t have summoned me this early if it wasn’t important. It’s good to see you, Cettie.”
“I miss you,” she said, feeling the pangs of his absence. “And I miss you even more now. I had a vision last night. I just awoke from it and came hurrying.”
His eyebrows narrowed with concern. “I thought so. What news, my girl? Anything that can help us win this fight?”
She shook her head. “I’ve already told you about the upcoming battle. It is going
to happen in spite of the storm. That has not changed. No, the vision I just had was of Sera.”
“Really?” Fitzroy said with interest. “What did you see?”
“I saw her at the court of Kingfountain. I’ve never seen Kingfountain before, of course, but somehow I knew. I saw the river, the sanctuary, the castle. I saw her walking in the garden with a man. And I saw you there.”
He was stunned into silence.
“The first word that comes to mind is impossible,” he said with a low chuckle. “This war feels unending . . . and Admiral Lawton told me recently that Sera is still in confinement at Pavenham Sky. But perhaps it is true. Perhaps we will reach an armistice after the battle.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Or perhaps it means that we must take the war to Kingfountain. Some enemies will not sue for peace unless they themselves are threatened. Our world has shouldered the greater burden in this conflict. They’ve attacked us. Maybe your vision means that must change.”
Cettie bit her lip. “I don’t think so, Father. I heard people speaking in the streets. They were talking excitedly about Sera’s visit. They wanted the war to end too.”
“I hope it is true,” Fitzroy said with relief. “I am weary, Cettie. This responsibility would have been difficult even as a younger man, which I am no longer. It troubles me that we must keep this secret between ourselves. Any success we have won can be attributed to you and your abilities. Not mine. I get weary of the flattery and praise. And the mistrust. Oh, Cettie, I am not bred for war.”
Tears stung Cettie’s eyes. Through the Leering, she could feel his emotions, his agitation, his anxiety. Through the Leering, she lent her strength to him, giving him a portion of her power, sharing it with him.
“Cettie, no,” he said sorrowfully as he realized what she was doing.
“Please let me,” she asked, her throat catching. Weariness filled her soul as she took a portion of his exhaustion from him. But she would be able to rest. She would be able to sleep. It was a small thing.
As his limbs filled with strength, he gazed at her through the Leering. “You are too kind to me, Daughter.”
She shook her head. “You gave me everything. I will always be faithful to you.”
“I know,” he said with a humble smile. He sighed again. “Give my love to Maren. I wish I had more time to speak with her.”
“She loves getting your letters. I don’t know where you find the time.”
“Neither do I. I’m afraid they’re incoherent at times.”
Cettie grinned through her tears, shaking her head. “Be safe. General Montpensier doesn’t know about the storm coming. Take advantage of it. I have no doubt you’ll succeed.”
“I will. How is everyone there at home? Is Anna well?”
He didn’t know about Phinia and Malcolm’s visit. He didn’t know about Stephen or about his debt. She found she couldn’t burden him with the information after all. He carried enough.
Lady Maren summoned Cettie to her room before breakfast. After receiving the summons through a Leering, Cettie went to her mother’s room and gently knocked on the door before entering. Lady Maren was up and dressed, looking more agitated than normal.
“Thank you for coming, Cettie. I had a thought I wanted to share with you.”
“What is it?”
Maren stood by the mirror, putting in a set of simple earrings. She was never ostentatious, although the family’s wealth was prodigious. “I’m sure Stephen will be sulking today. He may not even come to breakfast, and if he does, he may cause another scene.” She glanced at Cettie in the mirror. “I thought we might preempt it.”
“How so?” Cettie asked with curiosity.
“He shouldn’t have insisted on a ball and tried to usurp your authority. After meeting with Mr. Sloan yesterday, I begin to understand why he’s been acting so poorly. When Stephen is agitated, the whole world knows. What if we invite the Patchetts over for dinner tonight? That way we can get to know them. They are our new neighbors, after all. It would give Stephen something to look forward to.”
Cettie felt a hint of unease, but the plan was sensible. “What if he tries to create an informal ball?”
“That’s very different than inviting all of our friends and acquaintances over for an event. You and Anna used to dance with Adam when you were younger. It wasn’t a ball.”
Cettie felt the need to squirm at the memory. She had danced with Adam many times. But not since the final celebration at Muirwood. Three long years had passed since she’d seen him in person, but at least they all heard from him from time to time. She treasured each letter he sent to her and kept them in her desk to reread whenever she was missing him.
“You don’t like the idea?” Maren asked, her brow wrinkling. She had misinterpreted Cettie’s reaction.
“I think dinner is a good idea,” Cettie said. “I’ll have Mr. Kinross send the invitations out directly.”
“Thank you,” Maren replied. “I think it will help ease the tension.”
“I’m sure it will. I’ll get on it straightaway.”
“See you at breakfast shortly.”
Cettie nodded and left the chamber. It was a good idea for them to meet their new neighbors. They would never live up to the jovial company of the Hardings, but she was relieved the house was finally lived in again. She found Mr. Kinross outside the sitting room and explained Lady Maren’s request.
“Of course, ma’am,” he said. “If they are not otherwise engaged, I’m sure they will attend.”
“Good morning, Cettie!” Anna called out from inside the room. She had an eager expression on her face. “Mr. Kinross brought me a letter from Adam just now! I’m going to read it to everyone during breakfast. It’s been so long since we’ve had news from him. Aren’t you excited?”
Anna’s words hurt like a dagger plunged into her heart. Another letter had come from Adam Creigh. Only he’d sent it to Anna, not to her. Her torture was acute.
“There’s one come for you too, miss,” said Mr. Kinross in a low voice, meeting Cettie’s anguished eyes. He gave her a knowing smile as he slipped the other letter to her.
The paper burned her fingers when she touched it. And she felt her cheeks start to flame.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE STEWARD OF GIMMERTON SOUGH
Cettie knew Fog Willows from one end of the estate to the other, but if she had to choose a favorite room, it was probably Fitzroy’s study. It was this room where the Mysteries had first coaxed her into an understanding of quicksilver. The rain lashing on the window that overlooked the docking yard had inspired her to track it with her measurements. And it was also the place that reminded her most of the man she had chosen to be her father. So that was where she went to seek a quiet refuge to read Adam’s letter.
She nestled on the window seat, running her hand over the folded letter as she thought about the breakfast they’d shared as a family. Anna had read her letter from Adam to everyone and had sworn he was the bravest man in the Ministry of War. Cettie had watched Stephen’s look of envy build, but he was wise enough not to say anything derogatory about a man risking his life in the war between worlds. Phinia had been keenly interested as well—for she knew her sister’s heart. Malcolm kept asking for more toast.
Cettie looked at how Adam had written her name—Cettie Saeed of Fog Willows—on the folded paper. It wasn’t a hastily scribbled note. He’d taken his time to measure out the letters properly. She bit her lip, thinking herself a fool for delaying, and carefully broke the wax seal.
Dear Cettie,
I hope I do not smear any blood on this note. I had four surgeries this morning alone to remove bits of metal that were infecting wounds. It can safely be stated that I’ve seen more patients in one week here in this ministry than I would have in a month anywhere else. Although I was discouraged at first at being sent to serve in the war, it has provided invaluable experience. In short, it will make me a better doctor.
Thank you for the kind notes you have
sent repeatedly. I cannot tell you how I treasure them and other news from Fog Willows. Remember when we went to see the crows together years ago? Sometimes it is only the memories of the past that sustain me.
The suffering is beyond anything I could have imagined. I do what I can. We all do. But it wears on the soul. So much needless death. I try to be positive in my letters to Anna and Lady Maren, but I’ve always felt that I can be my true self with you. That you will not think less of me for admitting that at times I’m quite discouraged this conflict will ever end. But, as we learned at the abbey, it begins with a thought. There are rumors that we might sue for peace. We could all use a season of peace.
I’ve heard that Gimmerton Sough has finally been let. Perhaps it is an idle rumor. Do tell me if it is true and what kind of people they are. I’ve enjoyed serving under Captain Harding as his ship’s surgeon. We see a great deal of action. Please don’t worry about me. I would rather be here than at one of the regimental hospitals. As you may know, we are preparing for another engagement. I cannot say more as our letters are sometimes intercepted. I hope this one makes it to you. When this conflict is over, I hope I’m still welcome at Fog Willows to visit you and the Fitzroys before opening a practice down in the Fells.
With warm affection, Adam Creigh
She was about to read it over again when she felt the odd sensation of being watched. Glancing up from the paper, she noticed Stephen standing in the doorway, arms folded, staring at her intently.
“From Mr. Creigh?” he asked in a low voice.
Cettie’s immediate inclination was to flush and get flustered, but she mastered herself and rose from the window seat. “It was, actually,” she said pleasantly.
His brows needled together. “You didn’t share it at breakfast like Anna did hers. You didn’t even mention it. I wonder why.”
She was on her guard immediately. “Is there something you want, Stephen?” she asked him, keeping her tone easy and unconcerned.
