And though Allessia laughed too, deep in her stomach a cold fear swirled like ice in dark waters.
‘What is it that disturbs you so, my child?’ said Camellia, clearly sensing her emotion.
‘I do not know,’ said Allessia. ‘I just have this feeling of, danger.’
Camellia moved closer and stared deep into her eyes. ‘Yes, there is always danger, Allessia. But take this promise from me, for I know it to be true. You shall find happiness, my child. That is your destiny.’
Allessia smiled, forcing the doubt that lay deep within her to stay hidden.
‘Now, let us eat,’ said Camellia, ‘for I am famished.’ And she reached out a hand and finding an apple took it to her mouth.
The flash of yellow was so brief that Allessia did not have time to stop the action. ‘There is something on it!’ she cried, and Camellia pulled the fruit away from her mouth. As the apple fell to the floor, Allessia could see an insect upon Camellia’s tongue, it’s back arched as it drove the sting home.
‘No!’ Allessia cried, reaching forward instinctively, but Camellia had shut her mouth, and when she opened it again it was to deliver a scream of pain. The door flew open and her femones gathered around her in a flurry. Then came the clatter of guards as they too rushed into the room. The insect was pulled from Camellia’s mouth and stamped to death, but her face was already turning blue and her eyes stared wildly as she grabbed at her throat, her breath now seeming to be trapped within her. At last a bodycian arrived and sought desperately to restore breath to her lungs through a small tube, but somehow Allessia knew that nothing would save her. And so it was, Camellia’s body finally becoming frozen in death before them.
‘Ditch Wasp,’ said the Bodycian, looking down at the remains of the insect. ‘Autumn makes them vicious as they sense the coming of Winter.’
And Allessia stared at the tiny creature, unable to grasp the reality of a world so cruel that a being so tiny and unthinking, could have robbed her of such a companion.
Lady Camellia lay overnight in the small Castell Chapel, wild crocuses and bright red autumn fruits gathered around her body. She had been dressed by her femones in a violet satin robe, her long black hair brushed, braided, and filled with autumn poppies. As was the custom, her eyelids had been stitched together with violet silk, for no longer would she have need of mortal vision.
The funeral pyre had been constructed in the inner ward of the Castell, the whistle of wind and flurries of thick snow falling over the sad gathering that already stood waiting in silence.
‘It is time, Lady Allessia,’ said Commander Underworth gently.
‘Is death always so sad?’ asked Allessia, turning to an old man’s face that held a look of deep despair.
‘No,’ he replied, ‘not all. Some are a blessed relief, and often a mercy for a loved one or a friend. But such a death as this, a death so untimely, so cruel, and so unforeseen. Yes, such deaths as these are always sad. But,’ he said, easing his creaking bones into moving once more, ‘she would not have us dwell too long on that which cannot be undone.’
And so Allessia stood and moved to one side, watching as six guards lifted the flower strewn wooden coffin onto their shoulders before slowly carrying the body of the former Queen Camellia to her final ceremony.
Allessia could not watch as the deep orange flames began to scorch the air, but held her head high, staring up through the growing column of smoke and into the stars beyond. She saw a million tiny shadows swirling high in the sky above her, the presence of the Royal Honeybees comforting this new sensation of loss.
The next day a bright clear sky greeted Allessia when she awoke, and she took no time to dress and leave her room. Only a circular patch of blackened ground gave witness to the life of her departed friend, the rest of the Castell now being covered in crisp white fresh snow. She lifted her skirt and forced her way through the deep drifts to stone steps that led to the top of a high battlement. The Green Sun seemed motionless in the open sky; a beautiful light bathed the snow-covered treetops that lay over the steep hillsides. The thin air almost took her breath away, but the sensation was exhilarating. She felt alive, and despite her loss, filled with a wondrous sense of anticipation. She looked down the frozen gorge to the river below, the angry water now gushing only through broken channels of misshapen ice. Soon even these would be stilled and silence would descend on this cold world. As she stared into a nature she had never imagined, she saw something small fall onto the cold stones beside her. She knelt down and saw the body of a single honeybee, and as she went to pick it up there fell another, and then another, the frozen sky beginning to reap a deadly harvest.
‘Help me!’ she cried, and the silence was broken by shouts of alarm.
‘It is too cold for them to withstand,’ said a young captain, who had been one of the first to rush to secure the safety of the young lady in their care. ‘They must return to their hives, or they will surely perish. The air you feel today is as nothing to that which awaits us.’
And so Allessia called her beloved to her, and as they came, the guards stepped back in amazement as she disappeared into a massive ball of life.
‘I cannot come with you,’ she whispered, sensing their desire to carry her away. ‘But wait for me, and I will come one day soon.’
And the Royal Honeybees did as they were bade, the wishes of their Queen the very nature of their being.
Allessia watched until the sight of the huge swarm disappeared into the horizon. For the first time, she felt truly abandoned. Her parents were lost to her, and she was now far from home in a strange new world. Lady Camellia, a person who had filled her with a supreme sense of belonging, had gone, and now the sweetest creatures she had ever known had been sent away. It was almost too much for her to bear. But somehow she knew that despite her inner turmoil, she must remain calm. Many eyes already seemed to be looking to her for that.
She turned and watched the soldiers as they continued their duties, Sir Horace Underworth barking orders to secure the Winter Castell against the cruel blast of weather soon to fall upon them. But Allessia could see no one that could provide the companionship she so desperately needed. And so, she turned once more to stare over the battlements, the panorama of wildness seeming lonelier than ever.
That evening Allessia joined a company of young soldiers around an open fire, even sharing a sip of their nixtar when Underworth’s back was turned. In the warm glow, she looked bewitching, with all hearts smitten by her presence amongst them. But she was playful too and teased them all, laughing out loud as they bantered freely with the young girl who seemed to know just what to say to coax them into reaction, her status momentarily forgotten in the warmth of youthful companionship.
‘And you,’ she said, turning to a junior ranks officer whom she had seen out of the corner of her eye slowly manoeuvering himself into her close company. ‘How many beasts have you slain?’
He blushed. ‘I have not slain any, Your Lady. Not yet, that is.’
And his companions laughed.
‘Then how shall you save me?’ she said, with a twinkle in her eyes. ‘For there are giant beasts in these woods, I hear, and I am but a young girl, and so weak and helpless.’
‘And pretty,’ came a cry from beyond the fire.
‘Yes, and pretty too,’ said Allessia, ‘and certainly worth protecting, do you not think?’
‘I would lay down my life for you,’ said the young man, staring at his feet.
At this his companions roared with laughter, but when they had finished Allessia beckoned the young man to sit next to her, and feeling as full of youthful mischief as it was possible to be, she kissed him on his cheek.
‘There,’ she said, ‘that is your reward. Just in case I do not the find time as we are both being torn to pieces.’
And everyone cheered and laughed except the young man, a radiant smile fixed upon his face and his embarrassment completely forgotten in a single moment of such wonder.
The n
ext morning the sky was black and low, the light hidden and a thick dark mist covering the gorge like a blanket. The temperature had dropped even lower, and as the morning wore on a thick snow storm lashed the Castell walls like a tempestuous sea. Allessia stared through the glass of her window, remembering her room in the Seventy-Third Wing of the Palace and the familiar sounds of her drollups as they rushed to dress her. How long ago and distant it all seemed now, as if a memory of another life
There was a knock at the door and Olarra, one of Camellia’s femones, entered with a tray of autumn fruits. Since Camellia’s death her femones had entered a short period of mourning. When they were released from this duty, Allessia was hopeful that she might find a companion within their number. Someone with whom she could share her fears.
‘The weather worsens, My Lady,’ said Olarra, bowing.
‘Sir Horace has informed me that we must expect to be cut off completely for some months,’ said Allessia. ‘I am wondering what we shall find to do in such a forsaken place.’
‘We have found two rooms of interest, My Lady,’ replied Olarra with a smile. ‘A library and a music room. But the former only contains books on military practice, and the music room contains but two broken fanjos.’
‘Then we shall all have time to learn about warfare,’ Allessia said, ‘and take turns to master the fanjo.’
And they both laughed out loud at the absurdity of their situation.
But that night as a lone owl called from a distant hillside, such a sense of danger welled up within the pit of Allessia’s stomach that she lit a glowick to rid her room of the darkness. And when she heard scratching noises from far below her window, she reasoned with herself sternly.
‘Just my imagination,’ she whispered.
But the sound of her window opening and a dark figure climbing into her room, was more real than any dream could be.
She screamed and ran for the door, but the intruder plucked her easily from the floor and carried her towards the window. She turned her head and saw several guards, alerted by her cries, charge into the room, and then she was outside, a strong hand gripping her waist painfully as her captor began to climb down the high wall on a rope. She looked up as a guard pushed his head through the window.
‘Who goes there!’ he shouted.
There was a sudden swish and he fell away, his head sliced clean from his body and falling past Allessia in a flash.
‘They are taking our Lady!’ she heard a voice cry out, but no more faces appeared through the window.
She turned to look at her captor, but as she did so her forehead hit a stone ledge with such a thud, that she fell into unconsciousness.
Chapter 32
It was not until the Green Sun cleared the distant horizon that Cardinal Oblong finally reached the Hivedom. Lord Hardknot watched the heavy open carriage moving slowly through the hives, a thick white mist trailing from the mound of ice that had been packed around the frozen body within. Darrius Slate had prepared the Infusion Chamber and instructions had been issued to clear the passageways to allow His Mostfull easy access to the Deep Hives. The focus of all Hardknot’s years of hatred for the Holy Church of Afterwards was approaching his destiny as last. The moment would have been perfect, the thought of the pleasure to come almost beyond bearing, but for a sudden awareness of fresh danger in the Kingdom. And despite his efforts to identify the source, a nagging sensation, just out of focus, was still all he had come to know.
Hardknot stayed on his balcony for a while, allowing his mind to roam free over every possibility. At last, still frustrated, he made his way to the Infusion Chamber.
When he arrived, Slate had already begun the slow process of removing the Cardinal’s clothes, the warmth from several glowicks being directed at the cloth by several drollkeepers waving fans.
‘We shall have only a limited time to safely complete the task, Your Lightness,’ Slate whispered to Hardknot, as both men observed the rich colours returning to the vestments of Church High Office.
‘Take no chances,’ said Hardknot. ‘I would have him safely immersed before there is the slightest risk of any contamination.’
Slate bowed then walked forward to oversee the operation even more closely.
Hardknot stayed to watch as gentle hands went to work to remove the cloth from the bloated body before them. At length Oblong was naked, though still as white as ice and as rigid as a board. Then he was raised into the air by several ropes and pulleys, moved over the Infusion Chamber, and gently lowered into the golden liquid.
‘The recovery process will take some time, Your Lightness,’ said Slate, once Oblong was safely suspended. ‘We must first restore warmth to the flesh at a controlled rate before the infusion tubes can be inserted. Then, and only then, can we attempt the restoration.’
Hardknot walked towards the glass, the huge distorted face before him filling him with the deepest loathing. But beyond the loathing, incalculable pleasure.
‘Call me the moment you are ready to proceed,’ he said, as he walked away.
Lasivia was still sleeping when he entered her chamber on the Last Descent. The small group of femones he had brought to care for their new mistress bowed nervously before him. Not one of them dared ask the reason why they had been brought to such a place, nor why the lady in their care displayed so visibly, and so quickly, the signs of childbearing.
Hardknot lifted back the cover and placed a hand upon her distended stomach. He felt the power of creation that moved within her, and it was hungry for life. He looked at her breasts, their once proud perfection already stretched beyond repair by the demands of such a selfish nature. They were not necessary, he thought, for no milk would be required to suckle the creatures that grew within her. Would Lasivia survive the final process of transplantation, he wondered? For when spring arrived, more than one thousand Surrogates would be required to accept the Jazpah embryos growing within her. Lasivia was strong and, if She willed it, perhaps the flame of life would remain once her womb had been emptied of its contents. But maybe death would be a better fate, he thought, there being no doubt that Lasivia’s beauty would be ruined for all time.
Lasivia opened her eyes and saw her lord and master. ‘I feel dreadful,’ she whispered. ‘What is happening to me?’
‘You must rest,’ said Hardknot gently, ‘and all will be well.’ And he stroked her beautiful auburn hair until she fell into a fitful sleep once more.
Hardknot left the Hivedom and went to the Board of Doings. It was time to advise the High Sirrels of a new ‘Precedent’ to be set down for all time in the Books of Doings. Archfrantic Thunderbrow’s face lived up to his name as he listened in silence to Hardknot’s words. Archfrantic Hogstone, Primary Recorder for the Board, dared venture a question of the lofty figure before him, a figure who every member of the Board now knew to be in total command of the City and all its forces.
‘Say you, that this new Ceremony of Prime Union,’ Hogstone asked, his large brillbird quill visibly quivering in his hand as it hovered over the page, ‘will be a Wedding, and a Coronation, combined?’
Hardknot smiled, a rare smile that only thinly disguised his contempt.
‘It shall be so, Your Great Sirrel. A union of King with Queen, and of King with State.’
‘But,’ continued Hogstone, glancing at this companions. ‘Where is the Precedent?’
‘It is standing here before you,’ said Hardknot, ‘and speaks the words that cannot be denied. She will be recognised, and He will be chosen.’
The faces of every member of the Board went ashen. For a moment, there was silence, and then Thunderbrow, leaning forwards and rubbing his ring-encrusted fingers together so that the knuckles cracked, spoke in a voice as somber as the grave.
‘You quote…the Awkward Verses?’
Every member of the Board crossed themselves with the sign of Them for protection.
‘You have no need to shield your souls, Great Sirrels,’ said Hardknot. ‘For that which was taken into
the darkness by the Holy Church of Afterwards, will now be brought into the light from whence it came. The glory of Reformation is upon us. Your job this day is merely to record its propriety.’
Hogstone wavered for a moment, but with no other voices prepared to raise objection, he lowered the quill and began to write in a slow even hand.
Hardknot left the Board in high spirits, and after visiting several nobles in the Palace to check on preparations for the ceremony, he returned to the Hivedom and the Infusion Chamber once more. As he entered the gloomy chamber he observed Cardinal Oblong through the thick glass of the Infusion Tank, his mouth opening and closing like a drowning fish and his eyes wide with fear. His vast naked body floated easily within the clear golden liquid, his arms sweeping in circles as they searched for purchase, again and again, like those of a newborn child. Surrounding him a mass of black tubes disappeared into all his bodily orifices.
‘The process is proceeding well, Your Oneness,’ said Darrius Slate proudly, coming to his side. ‘Since warmth was restored and the subject recovered consciousness, he has responded well. The infusion of life is almost complete.
‘And without objection?’ asked Hardknot.
‘No indeed,’ replied Slate, ‘for there was stubborn resistance to several of the deeper tubes. But His Mostfull is not the most agile of subjects, and ways to enter him could always be found.’
Hardknot smiled, the words almost more than he could bear.
He walked to the glass and their eyes met, and as they did, Oblong’s anger flashed like a storm as he recognised the face of his tormentor. He writhed and thrashed, his mouth opening as if screaming words, but not a sound could be heard.
‘Well, Your Mostfull,’ Hardknot whispered against the glass. ‘All will soon be in its rightful place.’
‘Shall we proceed, Your Lightness?’ said Slate, clearly anxious to ensure the viability of his most prestigious subject to date.
The Lords of Blood and Honey (The Kingdom of Honey) Page 25
