by Tanith Lee
The boots with extra inches on the soles – half a hand’s height, he says – these made him so much taller, and his feet look colossally big. They’re also gone. They made him walk oddly, so he exaggerated that. He had known the Towers would be watching. There could be spies … everywhere.
‘Your hand was so cold that time at Panther’s Halt.’
‘I was scared frozen,’ he says.
‘Of the spies?’
‘You,’ he says. ‘I know you’re trouble.’
He’s telling me quite a lot, though. So these things must now be safe for the Raven Tower to know we know.
Are they listening? Watching? As I stare and stare at him, my one true love. NO ONE will ever make me think only some gadget brought me to be with him.
He’s been so close to me all this while.
‘I had to disguise myself, Claidi. Even from you. I didn’t want to involve you too soon. I didn’t know who was a spy, darling,’ he adds, to remind me we still don’t know who our friends are, but must make out we think we’re safe here. ‘These Raven people,’ he adds, looking at me, ‘darling, they’re to be trusted.’
‘Are they?’
It was easy to sound unsure.
‘Oh, they’re fine,’ he says. ‘Would I lie?’
‘Well,’ I over-act, ‘if you say so—’
‘Well done,’ he says.
‘But,’ even now I have to ask, ‘why that name – Jelly – that thing about being moulded and set by the Wolf Tower – you said you were a Wolf Tower man!’
‘I am,’ he says. ‘If Ustareth was my mother.’
‘How did you – ’ can I ask this? ‘– how did you learn?’
‘Ironel told me,’ he firmly says. He looks sternly down his nose, the way I remember.
‘But Argul – ’ I suddenly stammer – ‘Twilight Star – she wants to breed us – like graffs – like vrabburrs—’
‘Darling. Come on. Not like that. Ironel explained to me about Twilight and Ustareth’s Dream-plan. You just don’t understand yet.’
Pretend, he is saying. I choke. I say, humble, ‘No?’ Feeling them listen.
‘Raven Tower is clever. They’ve got plans, but they’re good plans. After all – you don’t mind being with me?’
‘Put like that … when you say it – ’ I gooily add, ‘it sounds heavenly.’
He is holding my hands in his. He looks at them and says, ‘You weren’t wearing the ring I gave you. Now you are.’
I thought of Blurn, accusing me of not wearing Argul’s ring. ‘I was just—’
Argul says, ‘Darling, please keep wearing it.’
Before I can make a decision if that is to do with the Towers, or that, well, he wants me to wear the ring – again someone knocks.
Probably just as well. My acting was getting super-useless.
But yes, they must have listened. Known he was here and who he is, at last.
The door flies wide.
All of them were now with us.
Ngarbo and five other men escorted them, very brave and ready. Twilight was first, with Winter walking right behind her. Then a man.
Argul bowed. ‘My Lady Princess Twilight Star! Lord Fengrey Raven!’
Fengrey? Since Argul seemed to know everything, I assumed it must be.
Fengrey Raven was stocky and muscular, with a lion-coloured skin, and black hair in a long tail high on his head. A terrific face, slanting eyes which were green – He looked quite serious, and nodded, as Twilight smiled, all charm.
But Winter pounced into the room.
‘And I am?’
She’d always thought she would get to marry Argul.
Argul looked at her. ‘Um? Sorry … ’ ever so confused.
‘Madam,’ said Ngarbo, ‘that isn’t the prisoner, Jelly. Or, it was. He’s altered.’
‘He was in disguise,’ said Twilight, ‘weren’t you? How intelligent. We heard of this alarming Jelly – none of us knew it to be you. I am impressed, Argul. But not surprised.’
‘Argul? Be careful, lady,’ said Ngarbo. ‘He gets violent, this Argul.’
‘Only when escaping you,’ commented Argul.
Ngarbo scowled, touching his cut lip. ‘Right. How did you manage this time? That prison window was a mile high.’
‘I’m fair at climbing,’ said Argul, modest.
‘You’re a mountain-deer at climbing, and in the town. I—’
Winter broke in. ‘You fooled them, Argul. You even fooled me. Jelly. Quite a victory. So sorry about tying you up. I’m Claidi, by the way.’
‘Really?’ Argul, polite.
‘He seems to know about all that,’ said Twilight.
I looked at Fengrey. He hadn’t spoken.
Then he did.
‘You must dine with us, tonight.’
His voice, and what he said, were dull. He sounded much older than he looked. Old and worn-out and – uninterested.
Well, those two, T and W, must be rather exhausting.
Winter crossed the room. She looked up at Argul. ‘Yes, you’re spectacular,’ she said. ‘But I shall prefer Venarion.’
Argul gave a yack of laughter. Stopped it and bowed again.
I never saw him bow – as himself – till today. Hulta don’t. Or have I just forgotten?
If I didn’t know, hadn’t held him in my arms – would I wonder now if this is yet another doll – another trick—
Can I trust – him?
Yes.
He trusted me. Not once has he said, Did you want Nemian?
Winter somehow was ruling the scene.
She stood between us, Argul and me.
‘Has she told you all her adventures, your Claidi here?’ inquired Winter Raven.
‘Ironel told me,’ said Argul.
‘Oh? About the Rise and all that too? About Prince Venarion – she calls him Venn, of course. She knows him well.’
A wave of fire went through me. I felt myself go red. This is just wonderful – out of the soup-pan into the stew-pot.
‘I heard about Venarion,’ said Argul. He didn’t seem uneasy, angry. But maybe, if he has heard about Venn – maybe he is uneasy and angry and only hiding it from them, or from me – or—
Winter put her arm through Argul’s. She took a step, meaning them to go on a walk, I suppose, round the large room arm-in-arm. But Argul didn’t move when she did, and so she nearly fell over. Covered it well, beaming up at him.
‘If you get tired of her,’ said Winter, ‘I’m sure there are lots of Raven girls who would like to spend time with you. Not me, obviously, I’m spoken for. By Venn. Venn can be very possessive – did you find that, Claid?’
In the doorway, Ngarbo and the other guards were blank. Twilight was smiling and smiling, enjoying this – probably still testing us all, to see how we matched up. (But they all do this, Tower people.)
Fengrey yawned.
I said, ‘It’s such a shame no one ever told Venn that you were waiting here for him, Lady Winter, so loyally. I’m sure he’d have rushed to find the Star-ship, and been over the sea to you like a shot.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But you were supposed to be me. Enough to put anyone off me, if it was you.
Catty and underhand.
But she had left Argul, she was standing with me now.
‘Shall I tell her?’ she asked herself. She considered. She said, ‘Remember that letter Venarion was sent, a flying letter, he called it. It said what a nuisance you were, Claidi, how you’d caused problems everywhere. Then insisted on being sent to him, and he shouldn’t believe anything you said, you were a practiced liar. It quite put him off you, didn’t it, for a while?’
I stared at her.
‘When I found out,’ said Winter, suddenly low and fierce, ‘old Ironel, the interfering old bag, had sent you to him – him, Venarion – my Venarion – well.’ Her voice loosened and was playful again, ‘I naughtily sent him that letter. I signed it “We” – do you recall? That sounded just like an upper authorit
y of the Towers. We. We – was me, Claidi, and it serves you right.’
How odd. Her tone all light and spiteful and satisfied. Her eyes full of tears.
She’s been hurt. Really hurt. By the Towers – Wolf, Raven, whoever. Hurt like all of us.
I looked down. When I looked up again, her eyes were dry. She was dancing off to flirt with Ngarbo, who seemed pleased, the total dope.
Twilight was leading Argul away too, and he was letting her.
I had to trust him.
Agree to things.
Fengrey looked back at me and nodded, stifling another yawn. ‘Until dinner, madam.’
‘Oh what shall I wear?’ I dimly tweeted, feeling completely shattered. (She – had been – ‘We’.)
‘Better to think,’ said Fengrey bleakly, ‘of your wedding gown.’
Did I say shattered? Now I was shattered.
I must have looked about sixteen question-marks at him. My mouth, naturally, fell open.
‘You’re to be married to Argul, I gather it should have happened before, but the Wolf Tower intervened. Now Twilight would like you wed as soon as possible. In the next couple of days.’
‘I see.’
‘Good evening,’ said Fengrey. Off he stalked, his embroidered coat and hair-tail swinging. (So I thought of the talking doll-panther in the forest, and abruptly suspected it had had Fengrey’s bored voice!)
Writing this now, I wonder if they will try to read my diary. Why not, they pry into everything else. So, it stays with me at all times, both books. They usually do anyway. And when I sleep, I shall tie them to me, round my waist. That’ll be really comfortable.
THE OVER-MARRIAGE
All that was yesterday. This morning they brought my wedding-dress. It reminds me most of the clothes I had to wear in the Wolf Tower.
Very stiff, the skirt so narrow I can hardly take a step, with a pattern like layers of silver feathers. A huge fanned-out collar sewn with pearls. There’s also a head-dress of lots of little glass drops. And – glass shoes. Well, they look like glass. I can see my feet through them, carefully tended, each with a flower drawn on, and my toenails painted silver.
I’ve only seen Argul when other people were there. Like at dinner last night, in what they call Hall Three.
Elaborate dishes of food, every mouthful tasting of something different (and odd). A huge fireplace shaped like an open mouth, with fangs. (Yuk.)
House ravens did tricks. Feathers in everything.
There was some dancing, too. Argul and I danced now and then – they asked/told us to. But they were always those dances where every other step you change partners … We only ever seemed to get to dance that kind.
Winter only danced when it was a one-to-one dance, and then she danced with everybody, except Argul. She even got her father to dance with her. After that Fengrey went off with most of the other older men, to play cards in another room.
Argul seemed completely at ease. Not ecstatic exactly, but – content. But Argul is a master of disguise of every sort.
I kept quiet. Seemed the best idea.
Only once, when we had half a second alone by a window, I said, ‘Can’t we get out of here? I mean, get away?’
‘There’s a good reason to stay.’
‘Which is?’
But Twilight had by then sailed up, smiling her smile, wanting us to meet and ‘spend a moment’ with some important Old Ladies of the Raven Tower.
I kept thinking, he had escaped them several times, run rings round them. He’d come into the Tower to be with me, protect me as best he could. But was I now holding us both back? After all, unlike him, I didn’t think I’d be much use at climbing up and down the Tower.
They let us (told us to) kiss goodnight on a staircase (non-moving) watched by about ninety people, who clapped and cried ‘By the Raven!’. (Double yuk.)
But under the noise, I said to him quickly, ‘Are we trapped?’
‘No,’ he said. Then, ‘Darling – ’ our warning code-word now, ‘Darling, you said you’d trust me.’
So ‘Darling, I do,’ I gooed.
I couldn’t sleep. I kept wondering if Argul would suddenly appear again at the window somehow. But obviously he wouldn’t risk the climb now, and he is watched. Why must we stay?
The wedding-dress and shoes – all fit perfectly. To them, getting that sort of thing right is simple.
One extra though. Me getting something right. I asked for some thread, ripped up a petticoat and sewed a pocket in the lining of the dress, down by the hem, for both these books to go in when I wear it. And if they ‘watched’ that, let them.
Apparently it’s tomorrow. The wedding.
An unappetizing man, called the Wedding Controller, came and lectured me on how I must behave during the Ceremony.
I never thought I would ever dread marrying Argul.
Now I do.
The marriage was in Hall Four.
But – Hall Four is very special.
Hall Four – is in the sky.
I should have been prepared for anything. I thought I was.
Once the maids had got me ready, I was escorted up to a terrace high up round the side of the Tower. (We went by moving stair.)
I thought this terrace was Hall Four, and was very put off, because it was in the open air. But crowds of people were there, all massively over-dressed. Little trays of sweets and beetles and other muck were going round. It wasn’t snowing, but freezing cold under the grim damson sky.
I couldn’t see Argul.
Craning about, I tried to. I thought frankly he’d spot me first, as of all the over-dressed herd I was probably the worst. I stood there, in the slim-line, overwide-collared dress and hair-thing – like some sort of sparkly Peshamban toffee-apple.
‘It’s thought unlucky,’ said Twilight, abruptly beside me, ‘for the groom to greet the bride before the wedding.’
‘That’s why he’s hiding from me?’
‘Yes. You must hide from him, too.’
‘Quite a challenge, in this outfit.’
She looked lovingly at me. Even my sarcasm was being measured and approved.
All this time, because of what Argul had said to me, I’d been trying to be adorable with Twilight. But whenever I met her – my skin crawled.
She looked glorious. What else. Her dress was scaled crocodile green.
‘I haven’t been able to prepare you for the ceremony,’ she said. ‘I think the Wedding Controller gave you some instruction?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
I thought of the stick he’d kept slapping repeatedly on his boot, instead, I felt, of where he’d like to slap it – on my hands. But the wedding was simple enough. Just another case of doing as I was told.
Among the Hulta, one of the Old Men would have married Argul to me, and an Old Woman would have married me to Argul.
Here it was apparently to be Lord Fengrey who would marry us, at the altar of the Tower god.
That had sort of surprised me. In the House, and in the Wolf Tower, there had been no gods, and seldom mention, that I ever heard, of God. (In the House, never even that.)
The way the Controller spoke of this god, though, it/he/she didn’t seem to amount to much – just some ritual object. (Although they seem to swear by it.)
I hoped they’d do the marriage soon. Wanted it over.
But I knew really, being a Tower, the marriage would be extreme in every way. Should I have guessed how extreme?
Some servants came marching along the shivering terrace, bearing what I thought was another, very big, tray.
I didn’t ask what it was, but what it turned out to be was something that they had to put down in front of me, and on to which I had to step. So, on I got.
And I didn’t say to her, either, Why am I standing on a great big tray? No doubt some other ritual, which the Wedding Controller had forgotten to tell me about.
Then something strange. There were now four Raven Guards standing, two either side of the tray. Th
ey were attaching themselves to the tray, by shoulder-harnesses, and long chains that went through the sides of it.
Ngarbo was there, and as the chains pulled taut, he said, ‘Please grasp two of the chains, lady, and hold very tight.’
I had time to think, That sounds like the moving stair again, they must be going to pick me up and carry me—
When—
Now I was a silver toffee-apple with her mouth hanging wide open in disbelief. But it was handy to have my mouth open, because in a minute I was going to want to scream my head off.
One by one, then in groups, in clusters, the people on the terrace – were rising up into the air.
They rose with the ease of blown soap-bubbles. Weightless, smooth.
Some of them were even laughing, and talking on together. So I almost thought – Do they know what’s happened to them?
And then – oh – we – we were going up too.
The four guards were lifting upwards. The tray lifted quite steadily and effortlessly between them. Not even really a jolt.
I saw the terrace leave their feet. Their feet leave the terrace. The terrace sank away and away and away
We were in mid-air.
All around us, relaxed people, rising through the sky, still having idiot conversations, of which I heard snatches. ‘Oh, I do like your sash.’ ‘Have you seen Maysel’s hair?’ ‘Oh confound it, look, I dropped my glass.’
They can fly. Somehow I’d thought it would be like birds … Why would it? They don’t have wings.
No, they ‘fly’ merely by rising off the ground, going up and up – and since I can’t, they have to carry me, on a tray—
Where is Argul? On another tray? Did he know about this – if he did, why didn’t he warn me—
In the crowd, the rising flying crowd – I still couldn’t see him. And now low cloud was swirling round us, like fog.
I’d been in the Star, and seen clouds wrap the ship round. But in the Star. Safe inside.
‘It’s all right, lady,’ said Ngarbo. ‘We won’t drop you.’
Was it mockery – or a thoughtful reassurance?
