Red Palace

by Sarah Dalton

  Allerton mumbles something that sounds a lot like “young love”. Then he says in a louder voice, “Very well, Mae Waylander, I think it is time to refrain from beating around the bush, don’t you? I’ll swiftly begin. First of all, I did not set this curse. It is, however, interesting that you mention the Nix. What a horrible little trickster that thing is. Perhaps you’re right about that, but we’ll come to it later. Now, the reason for my current… transient form… is all down to you, my dear. As you know, us Borgans come from a long line of craft-born protectors. We worship the craft. We worship you in a way. We might not live as worthy believers in a monastery like the rather pedestrian priests west of the river Sverne, but we have a spirituality they will never comprehend—”

  “Get on with it,” I snap.

  Allerton’s amber eyes are hooded as he flashes me a glare. It sends a shiver down my spine.

  “I am your protector, Mae, at least for now. And as your protector, I am linked to your spiritual being. That means when you are in turmoil, your soul summons me. The curse does not allow me to enter the palace, so as your loyal subject, my soul has been ripped from my body to come to your aid.”

  “Your soul?”

  “Yes, dear Mae. I lay quite dead at the Borgan camp. Fortunately, I was able to forward a message to the others informing them of my departure. I’m sure they won’t have burned my body.” He lets out a laugh, but this time there is little humour in it.

  “Will you return to your body?” I ask.

  Allerton rustles his sleeves as he puts his hands together. He purses his lips and narrows his eyes as though assessing me. A strange question enters my mind: Am I worth dying for?

  “I don’t know,” he answers. “This has not happened for centuries. We have written records of the craft-born going back three hundred years, and there is but one mention of a soul-tear.”

  “What happened? Did the Borgan survive?”

  “It didn’t say.”

  “Why hasn’t it happened for such a long time?”

  Allerton sighs. “A number of reasons. It takes a large amount of power to summon a soul-tear, and most of the craft-born in recent times simply haven’t been powerful enough. You’re different, Mae. Don’t ask me why you are more powerful, because it is something I cannot answer. For a number of generations, the craft-born has lived in the Red Palace as a court member. They’ve lived sheltered lives where they do not need their Borgan aids. There have been some to reject the Borgan protectors all together.” Allerton clucks his tongue in annoyance.

  “Well, seeing as you kidnap the craft-born when she is sixteen, did you really expect anything less?”

  “We don’t always kidnap, dear child. It just so happens that the situation called for urgency this time around. The king was trying to marry her off to his son. We had to act fast before she was trapped.” He tucks his hands into his sleeves and turns his head away. “I don’t think you appreciate how dangerous this is for me. My body is left vulnerable.”

  I let go of the skirt and my hands flop to my side. I had no idea that my gift could do something like this. I had no idea that I could cause this. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, at any rate. You should make the most of my presence, as we do not know when or if I will return to my body. I may be taken from you at any moment.”

  At one time I had wanted Allerton dead. Somehow that seems childish now. If I had accepted my responsibility earlier on in my life, I would know how to control my powers. That could have saved a lot of people pain. It might have stopped the king dragging Aegunlund into the dirt. He has been consumed with maintaining the strange mechanisms in the castle at any cost, even the pollution of his capital city. The castle was modified to run with the craft, something that the inventor—Beardsley—created with the last craft-born.

  “Now, now. You’re not telling me that you are sad for me?” Allerton steps towards me and for the first time since we have met, I don’t feel the urge to move away from him. “I seem to remember a rather fierce young woman with a knife at my throat.”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’re not a killer.” He smiles, and this time it seems genuine. The sarcastic twitch is gone. “Now, I know you don’t exactly like me, and I don’t blame you. Your father was never meant to be harmed, and I’m sorry about what happened. However, I’m afraid that the world is much bigger than you and your father. It contains far more than that, and you are the centre of it all. It’s a considerable destiny for one small person like you. Together we will take that destiny one step at a time.”

  It could be the kind words or the tired expression on Allerton’s face, but I begin to soften towards the man. “Thank you,” I manage.

  I hear a sound that winds the tension in my body until I feel twisted up like the tree branches in the Waerg Woods. From somewhere in the castle comes the familiar click-ick-ick-er-ricker-click-ick-ick of the Nix, just like in my first vision with Cas.

  “Do you think it’s hunting me?” I whisper.

  Allerton frowns and stares out towards the silent furnaces. “I don’t know about that. You’ve faced the Nix before haven’t you?”

  I nod my head.

  “Yes, I can see from your expression. There is no creature as despicable as the Nix. But we both know that it does not attack straight away. We are safe for the moment, Mae. It just wants you to know that it is here.”

  “I know,” I whisper. I cannot get the thought of its black body out of my mind, or the way it showed me my greatest fear. When I had woken up with the sharp shard of stone pressed to my wrist, I had never felt so ashamed and so terrified.

  “This will be a difficult fight, Mae. Do you think you are up to it?”

  My fingers tremble at the thought of facing the Nix again. “If Cas needs me to do it, then I will defeat that monster once and for all.”

  “First, you need to move these people to safety,” Allerton says. “I don’t know what the Nix is playing at, but if it is trying to get to you it will use any means possible, and that includes using people you have a weakness for.” He lowers his head and regards me with hooded eyes. A shudder runs down my spine as I realise he means Cas. “Is there somewhere you can put them?”

  “Beardsley’s room,” I reply at once. “I can lock them in while we hunt the Nix.”

  “Mae, you won’t be able to move all these people. You’ll have to take the ones most important.”

  I stare down at the bodies by my feet. They wouldn’t all fit in the office and I know it, but at least I can move Cas and his family to safety. I just have to pray that the Nix will not bother with the members of court either not familiar to me or of high importance in the realm. Even so, my throat tightens at the thought of leaving them there.

  “I’ll take the royals to Beardsley’s quarters and then we’ll just have to block the basement off the best we can,” I say.

  Allerton nods with approval. “Well then you’d best begin.”

  *

  After an inspection, I figure out how to rearrange the tiny room to accommodate the royals. It means shifting much of Beardsley’s work to high shelves and piling it up outside the door, but it gives us just enough floor space to move the sleeping bodies.

  I use a coal cart to lift them, which helps a great deal. But still, shifting the king takes considerable effort, and I’m sweating and aching by the time it’s done. They will have to slumber side by side until I can break the curse. It might make for an interesting awakening, but what else can I do?

  After the others are safely locked away, we move out into the hallway. There, in the darkness, my fingers search the dirty alcoves of the wall for a lantern and a match. Without Beardsley’s overhead lights, the castle corridors are dingy, full of shadows and stuffy. When I find the match, my hands shake and it takes two attempts to light the flame. I remove the lantern from the alcove and hold it aloft, preparing myself for the sight of the Nix.

  Allerton’s soul remains
my one companion. I let out a sigh of relief.

  “I’ve never seen you afraid before,” he remarks. “It doesn’t suit you.”

  “You don’t even know me,” I reply.

  “I saw you face the man you believed ordered the death of your father without a hint of fear. I know you are brave, deep down.”

  I ignore him and grip the hilt of my sword in my free hand. “Let’s find the monster and kill him. We don’t have to talk on the way.”

  “On the contrary. You need to develop a plan. You will not win in a sword fight with the Nix. For one thing, you cannot swing that sword, it is far too heavy. Another thing, your powers need to develop to defeat it. I believe I am right in saying that you have not mastered fire yet?”

  I attempt to jut out my chin in a confident fashion, but Allerton sees right through me.

  “No, you have not mastered fire yet. Come. We must find a safe space where we can begin.” He ushers me away from the long hall towards a chamber.

  “Begin what?” I ask.

  “Your training of course.”

  My jaw drops. “We can’t train while the Nix is roaming around the castle.”

  “Mae, you know full well that it will not attack for a long time. Instead, as you attempt to hunt it, it will continue to wear you down with visions of fear. Before you know it you are a jabbering wreck who can’t do so much as create a waft of air with your craft.”

  I know he’s right, but still it feels wrong not to act straight away.

  “You are a brave girl, Mae, but there is more you need to learn. You need to learn patience and cunning, and I am exactly the kind of person to teach you. Plus, I have a secret weapon.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “I know the Nix’s greatest fear.”

  I turn to him in shock. “You do?”

  “Yes, I certainly do. Now, let’s find a safe place to train. Preferably a large room with a lock.”

  For the first time since the curse fell on the castle, I smile. “I know just the place.”

  I swish my ridiculous dress as we take a left turn down the corridor. The Red Palace is an ancient castle, modified by an inventor called Beardsley. He placed strange locks on all the doors, large loops made out of brass. Each is a puzzle that fits together by sliding pieces into each other. I have lived in the castle for a little over two weeks, and in that time I have explored much of the palace by hiding and watching the others enter the different rooms. By being the eyes and ears of the castle, I’ve managed to memorise many of the strange combinations.

  The old layout is traditional, and one I have taken interest in. Back in Halts-Walden, Father made me read books on the subject of the monarchy, and being in a place filled with history is like having a living connection to my dead father. I know that the palace is laid out in wings, with the royal chambers in the East Wing, and the guest rooms in the West Wing. Also on the east side is the ballroom, the kitchens, the engines and the servant quarters, however they are spread over three floors. On the west side there is a library, a throne room, the chapel and the medical ward, where the palace apothecary treats severe illnesses. With the servants living mainly on the east side, it is the part I know best. And I know one place where we can lock ourselves away from the Nix.

  “I’m taking us to the queen’s chambers,” I say.

  “Well, very fancy indeed,” Allerton says with a giggle. “I would have dressed up for the occasion if I’d known.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “This is serious, you know. There are people’s lives at stake. I need to learn how to kill that deformed slug and learn it fast.”

  Allerton lets out a loud guffaw that makes me start. “Deformed slug! Well I never, what a wonderful description of the Nix.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously,” I reply, turning my face away so that he cannot see my lip twitch with amusement.

  We approach a large brass door covered in connecting brass rings. Each ring has to be turned into an interlocking pattern to open the door.

  “Can you hold things?” I ask Alleton.

  “I think not,” he replies, raising the skin on his forehead that should be his eyebrows.

  I place the lantern on the ground and begin to work on the lock. I have to move each ring to fit into a sequence. The sequence is marked by notches. Since living in the castle, the queen is the only member of the royal family to let me into her chambers. She had invited me to help style her hair before an evening meal. I’m terrible at any kind of hairstyling, and can only imagine that she had invited me to her chambers for the sole purpose of showing me how to enter her room. I wondered why at the time. Now I believe she predicted that something would happen to her. Why would she think that?

  It is heavy work. Without the power running through the palace, I have to rely on brute force. Years of tree climbing has given me some upper body strength, but I have little weight to put behind it. Each movement on the rings leaves me with a coat of sweat on my forehead that I have to wipe away with the sleeve of my dress.

  “Allerton, if I can fall through you, you can walk through walls. Why don’t you go in there and inspect the chambers. The Nix could be lying in wait, and all this effort would have been for nought.”

  “Very well.” He bows his head and moves towards the wall. I detect some reluctance, and can imagine that walking through a wall might feel very unnatural indeed. I find myself gritting my teeth as he dips a toe into the bricks.

  It’s with some relief that I see him disappear into the room.

  “All clear,” comes a voice.

  With a great shove, the last ring falls into place and there is a loud clunk as the mechanism comes undone. Now I can press the doorknob and enter the chamber.

  The door swings back with a long, drawn out creak. I hurry to re-set the mechanism, locking us in and the Nix out.

  “Those locks are very curious,” Allerton says. “Why would a king want each room in the palace so guarded? I know kings are by their nature a target to usurpers and whatnot, but this is another level of paranoia. Are all the doors like this?”

  I shrug. “I guess so.”

  “Doesn’t it strike you as odd?”

  “This is the first palace I’ve been to,” I reply. “Everything strikes me as odd.”

  The truth is that I have thought about the strange mechanisms on the doors. All I know is that the king asked Beardsley to design the palace in a very specific way. He must have a reason for doing that.

  “Well, this room is large enough to begin training,” Allerton says.

  The queen’s chambers are larger than the tavern in Halts-Walden. She has a private commode, a large four poster bed with stunning drapes hanging from each corner, and an intricate rug covering the stone floor. One wall is filled with her private book collection, which gives the air that not unpleasant must-scent from old books. There is an ornate mahogany desk and a large trunk. The wardrobe is almost the size of the hut I lived in with father. I run my hand down one of the bed posts, wondering how many queens have slept in the same bed, touched the same smooth wood.

  The last time I entered these chambers I remember the queen rambling as she spoke. She sat at her dressing table and asked me strange questions:

  “Have you ever wished to be a princess?”

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to be queen?”

  “I would rather ride Anta to a faraway land.”

  “Do you think you would make a good leader?”

  “I… don’t know, Your Majesty.”

  “What do you think of leaders? Do you think they are above the law?”

  “No.”

  “Would you challenge authority if you felt they were doing something wrong, something that could put the realm in danger?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  That conversation seems far away. Long ago. I felt at the time that she was trying to test my nature, to see if I would make trouble for the castle. Now I think she might h
ave been trying to tell me something.

  Allerton paces the room with his arms folded in his robes. “I think we’ll be safe here for a while. The Nix will not be able to manoeuvre through that door. At least I hope not.”

  “What does it want from me? Why doesn’t it kill me and be done with it? Why did it show me those things?”

  “What things?” Allerton sweeps across the floor, his amber eyes fiercely highlighted by the sun streaming in through the windows.

  “When we were in the Waerg Woods it poisoned me and showed me a future I… I…” I grip my eyes shut. It isn’t a memory I like to remember. The Nix showed how I would drift apart from Cas, become his servant, and watch him marry Ellen. In a fit of despair, I attempt to take my own life in a servant room here in the Red Palace.

  “You know the Nix is a trickster,” Allerton says. His voice is calm and slow. “You know that you cannot trust the things it shows you. Why dwell on it, girl? Why do that to yourself?” I drop my head as he examines me with those preternatural amber eyes. The queen’s four poster bed acts as a seat for me as I almost collapse into the soft bed linen. “Ah, I see. I see very clearly and I’m not at all surprised. You hold the prince in your heart. It’s a weakness to do so, of course. As protectors of the craft-born we are taught to prioritise our beliefs. The craft is more important than the heart. Your love for your father almost twisted you into a killer, Mae. What makes you think that the love for this boy will not corrupt you in the same way? Unrequited feelings are as dangerous as anger, if not more so. You could become a bitter hag, a resentful woman, instead of the powerful leader you should be.”

  “So the vision could come true? But you said—”