“You guys are fucking with me,” said Trypp, getting more and more frustrated at what he believed was a prank being played on him.
Neenahwi stepped in front of him. “Trypp, relax. Look at me.” He saw his friend take a deep breath and concentrate on his sister. She smiled at Trypp, matching his gaze. “Keep looking. Keep looking,” she whispered.
Slap. She swiped Trypp open-handed across the face. Motega laughed. He couldn’t believe Trypp had walked into that one.
“Ow! What the f—”
“Do you see it?” she asked. Trypp’s mouth hung open and he walked toward the tower.
“Wow,” he exclaimed. “Where did it come from?”
“It was probably always here,” said his sister. “Just hidden, I guess. Only people with the magic eye could see it unless it is pointed out.”
“I didn’t really want an answer you know. I was just savoring the moment.” Trypp walked over to a wooden doorway set in the tower’s wall, stroking it with his fingertips as if to check that it was real. Motega joined him. The door was old but showed no signs of deterioration. There was no handle but there was a keyhole, and a shape engraved on the door that looked quite familiar to him. In fact, he’d spent more than a few hours as a child staring at this design when being lectured on the various parts of the palace he wasn’t supposed to explore.
“Neenahwi, does this look like Jyuth’s amulet to you?” he asked.
She hurried over from her circuit around the tower and took a closer look. Meanwhile, Trypp crouched down by the keyhole, rummaging around in his pockets.
“I think it does,” she said. “Was this his tower?”
“Well, there’s one way to find out,” said Trypp grinning, as he pushed open the unlocked door. “After you, my lady.”
Neenahwi stared at the crack of the open door, apparently in two minds whether or not to enter. Motega stood just behind her with Midnight; he was itching to see inside and the soldier seemed curious too.
“Wait, who is this?” Neenahwi spoke to Motega but jabbed her thumb in the direction of the other woman.
“I’m Midnight. I’m in the Ravens.”
“Midnight, huh. Did Morris give you that name?” asked his sister, looking her up and down, obviously noting the color of her skin. Midnight nodded. “How very original. What do you call Morris? ‘Shriveled-old-cock’?”
“No. We call him Sarge.” She spoke with an accent that Motega couldn’t place, but she obviously hadn’t picked up a sense of humor yet. He and his sister exchanged a look.
“Do you vouch for her?” she asked him. He nodded. “Alright, then. You can come. Who wants to go first into the magical invisible tower?”
No one moved. Motega wasn't the biggest fan of running into places where there could be wizards of uncertain intentions, not after being cursed as a child. But he took a deep breath, unslung his axes from their holsters, and used one to push the door wide. It smoothly swung open, but it was pitch black inside; the light of day didn't seem to penetrate past the doorway.
He took a step inside, expecting to have to wait for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark. Instead, he found it was lit by brilliant daylight that streamed in through windows, which had definitely not been visible from the outside, set around the circular room. He walked over to the window and looked out. Redpool was not there, which was a surprise as he remembered leaving it just a few moments ago. Instead, Motega could see green grass stretching out to where the red cliffs dropped away to the sea below, gulls flying in the air above.
“Wow,” said a voice from behind him. Trypp. “Now this is a wizard’s tower.”
Motega turned and took in the rest of the room as the others entered. The ground floor of the tower was a single room, much wider across than the tower had appeared to be when they were outside. Rough wood floors beneath his feet, a hearth and cupboard on one side was probably the kitchen, and tapestries depicting herbs and small woodland mammals hung on the walls in the spaces between the windows. Everything was tidy and in its place, without a spot of dust or sign of neglect. Did whatever magic that hid this place preserve it too? Or was there a person responsible? He did not put away his axe as he eyed the stone staircase that disappeared up to the next floor.
“What is this place, sis?” he asked.
Neenahwi shrugged in reply as she walked around the room, eyes wide and brows raised as she took it all in.
“So, why isn’t your tower bigger on the inside than the outside?” Motega smiled and winked at Trypp, who smirked in return, picking up on his point. Any time was a good time to needle his sister.
“Shut up, Motega. I have no idea how this is possible.”
“Come on, Trypp. Let’s go and see what else is in this place. Maybe there is a bag that’s bigger on the inside than the out.” His friend laughed at what had become an inside joke; Trypp, sore from having to leave behind a small fortune in some ancient tomb, had once drunkenly wished for a “bag-of-holding-everything”. Motega had wished for a puppy he could put in his pocket.
“Don’t take anything,” warned Neenahwi as Motega and Trypp ascended the spiral staircase.
It opened out onto a small circular landing before continuing up. He examined the landing; the interior wall was made of the same wood as the floors and set around the landing were a series of doors, each with a name inscribed in different handwriting.
Serenus. Wilpert. Tarra. Ridwan. Kirjath. Jyuth.
Jyuth?
“Neenahwi, I think you better get up here,” he called down the stairs.
She climbed up the stone steps and joined him in staring at the door, nodding her head. “It’s got to be,” she said, more to herself than to Motega.
“What? Do you know what this place is?”
“I think this is where Jyuth learned magic. A long time ago.” She spoke in a hushed whisper, almost reverential. She raised a hand to brush her fingers over the inscription; he could tell that beneath the calmness, she was excited about their discovery.
“How do you know?”
“He gave me a letter before he left and he mentioned his teacher. Someone called Myank. And, I saw something in my Quana. A vision of Llewdon torturing another one of Myank’s students.”
“You didn’t tell me about that…” Motega’s brow furrowed. He and Kanaveen had listened quite intently to Neenahwi’s vision when she had returned from her Quana. It seemed odd that she would have left out any detail about Llewdon given her vow to exert revenge on the Emperor of Pyrfew.
She looked him in the eye. “You’re thinking what else didn’t I tell you.”
“Yep”
Neenahwi looked pained. “There’s some things I can’t tell you now. I will do, I promise. But what I told you about Llewdon killing his own people. That was all true. He thought this Myank might have ascended to become a god. Whatever that means.”
Motega nodded, a little disappointed at being left out. He and his friends didn’t have secrets. He thought back on those secret conversations Neenahwi and Jyuth used to always have. He’d felt excluded, pushed away; so he left. But things were different now, he had only just got Neenahwi back and he was older now. “I’ll wait until you’re ready. But know, you can tell me anything.”
His sister nodded and gave him a half smile. “Let’s go see what’s waiting for us upstairs.”
He followed his sister up the stairs this time, Trypp and Midnight coming up behind. The next floor was one large circular room again. To one side was a table, a single chair, and six stools of simple construction. Tall shelves, fitted to the circular wall, stood nearby piled with sheaves of paper. On the other side of the room was a circle of cushions on the floor around a solitary cushioned ottoman. Motega was getting a little spooked now. It certainly did not feel like this place had been abandoned for hundreds of years.
Neenahwi walked over to the shelves, entirely focused on the pieces of parchment and the knowledge that could be contained within. She took a stack to the table, sat
down, and began looking through each piece in turn, organizing them neatly into piles. Motega and Trypp wandered around the edges of the room, looking at long strips of parchment tacked to the wall, adorned with sketches of creatures, mundane and magical, with arrows and labels scratched around diagrams that neither of them could read.
“Boys,” said Neenahwi. “Could you help me carry this stuff? I’d love to spend more time here but we really should go and check on Uncle Uthridge. I can read it later when we know he’s alright.”
Motega and Trypp exchanged a look. Boys? But regardless, they trudged over to help.
“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” said a voice from the stairwell. A man, as ancient and as solid as Mount Tiston, flyaway grey hairs framing his peak in place of snow, stood there.
He held a broom.
And it appeared he meant business.
“I’m afraid you can’t take anything from this tower. But you are welcome to stay for a while,” said the old man, with the conviction of someone who would prefer to handle things peacefully but would be more than happy to consider alternatives if needed.
Motega realized that if this man was the occupant of the tower then it probably didn’t look too good that they were going through this stuff. Nonetheless, his hands went for his axes. Trypp had a knife in his hand already. The man with the broom did not walk any further into the room. He just stared at Neenahwi; his gaze locked on hers.
“You’re the man from outside,” said Neenahwi. “Who are you?”
He barked out a laugh. “I’ve served the tower for a long time, miss. Back before there was a city, when there was only a fishing village down by the bay. Back before all these other towers popped up. That people made without really thinking why. I am the Caretaker. Think of me as this tower’s guardian.” He looked at the broom in his hand. “And, I guess, its custodian.”
“You’d stop us taking anything?” asked Trypp tentatively. “Are you a wizard too?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Then how would you stop us?” Motega shot his friend a glance. He wasn’t sure about goading a man so apparently ancient.
“I don’t know. No one has tried in ten centuries. Of course, most people can’t find this place. I’m actually interested to know what would happen if someone tried. My master told me that I would be able to stop any thieves.” He smiled as he added, “Would you like to try?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Neenahwi. “Do you mind if I read them here? Take some notes?”
“Of course not. And it would hardly be fair to you after others have done the same.”
Motega could almost see Neenahwi’s ears prick up as she whipped around. “May I ask, who was it? When were they here?”
“I didn’t ask, or I don’t remember. I’m not sure which. He was a terribly polite fellow though.” The Caretaker shook his head at what must have been his forgetfulness. “Not sure when either, but I do remember there were two armies fighting outside the walls.”
Motega wasn’t sure that narrowed it down. It had been more than a dozen years since there had been a fight over this red city, perched on the edge of the Sapphire Sea; but that wasn’t the first time. He was hardly a scholar, but he had to bet there had been other conflicts, and given the Caretaker’s memory problems who knew when that could have been. Nobody spoke for a while. His sister was deep in thought. Probably wondering who this previous visitor could have been and what they would have discovered.
“Can I offer anyone a cup of tea?” asked the Caretaker, breaking the silence. There were perplexed nods from his friends and sister.
“Neeni, don’t you think we should go back and check on Uthridge? What if that thing has gone back?”
She sighed. “Yes, you’re right. Caretaker, can I come back later? Will I find this place again?”
“Of course, miss. Once you’ve seen the tower, you won’t be able to un-see it. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t start pointing it out. I’d rather not become a tourist attraction.”
Neenahwi nodded, getting up from her seat, and the four of them made a move toward the exit.
“I’ll have the kettle on ready for your return,” said the old man brightly. Motega thought the Caretaker seemed quite excited at some company.
“Three priests beat two dragons. I win again,” said the Caretaker, sliding over the small wooden coins to his side of the playing area.
Motega had lost again at Spires. In fact, over the course of the day, he’d lost three in four of the games that he and the Caretaker had played while Neenahwi read through piles of parchments and loosely bound books, scribbling notes that were frankly illegible whenever he looked over her shoulder. He thought that her handwriting would have been much neater given how much practice she’d had.
They had returned to the tower the next morning after visiting their two patients. Uthridge was fine. Or at least, by the time they got back he was adamant that he was fine, even though all of his hair, including his elegantly maintained white-whiskered mustache, had fallen out. He complained of little more than a headache, and there were no visible wounds inflicted by the not-Chatterwick. In fact, Uthridge was most concerned about the death of his Major and the need to replace him. They knew the creature was still out there, so Uthridge issued an order that all Edland soldiers should always be accompanied, traveling in pairs or ideally threes, even to the privy.
Motega and Trypp had also told Neenahwi about Florian as they had returned back to the garrison down the Steps from the city proper to the Harbor, intent on completing their rounds of visiting their injured friends. When they had reached the infirmary, Florian was sitting up in bed, regaling his neighbors with tales that were at least half true. It was good to see him in fine spirit again. They all talked. Florian winced and held his side when he laughed. Before they were ushered out by the quite attractive nurse, Neenahwi had bent over Florian, murmured thank you, and kissed him on the cheek.
Motega had been processing that while playing cards with the old man. It was apparent that the ‘thank you’ had been for what she thought was Florian saving her brother again. That was fine. But a kiss? However brief, Motega had seen the look of delight and surprise on Florian’s face as Neenahwi stepped away from the bed. He was pretty sure that when they were younger, Florian had a crush on his older sister. Motega wondered if it still lay inside his best friend. He wasn’t going to talk about it with her though, he was certain she didn’t know. No need to make things awkward. Best to ignore it and see what happens.
“Three knights,” said Motega, laying his cards down on the table. “Beat that.”
“Oh, I shall. Royal family,” said the Caretaker, laying down a king, queen, prince, and princess. “One more to me.”
“How are you so good at this?” asked Motega in exasperation. “It’s not like you get visitors very often to play against. It must have been ten years at least since anyone came here. What do you do? Practice against your broom?” He nodded to the broom that was between the Caretaker’s legs, leaning against his chest.
“Oh, I don’t play against my broom. We have to be on the same side.” Motega couldn’t help but nod at the serious answer to his silly question. “You may be my first visitor who knows how to play spires. The last ones had never seen the cards before. They did teach me how to play a game called Tiles though.” Tiles. Not a game that was common to Edland, or even much of the Sapphire Sea. In fact, it brought back memories from a long time ago, when someone had tried to teach Motega how to play tiles. A girl, her name long forgotten, conjured to entertain him when he, his sister, and Kanaveen had been held in a gilded cage in Fymrius, capital of Pyrfew.
“Why don’t you put your broom down when you play? You were even carrying it when you brought the tea,” asked Motega, his inquisitiveness getting the better of his manners.
“Oh, I can’t do that. When Master Myank left this tower, he said I was to look after it. Gave me this broom and said that I should alwa
ys have it.”
“What does it do?”
“I don’t really know. But if he said to keep a hold of it then that is what I have to do.”
This all sounded very bizarre. Was it really a magic broom or had this Myank just played a terrible trick on his housekeeper? “So… do you sleep with it?”
“Oh yes, I don’t think sleep is an excuse to stop following instructions. I strap it to my hand. That way I don’t let go while I am asleep. It did take some getting used to.”
He shook his head at the image of the man sleeping with his beloved broom. He thought about asking if he’d given it a name, but he probably didn’t need to know that. Besides, Motega’s legs were cramping from staying sitting for too long. He squirmed in his seat.
“Another hand?” asked the Caretaker.
“Not right now, I need to stretch.” The Caretaker nodded and levered himself up to his feet with his trusty broom. He offered more tea and Motega and his sister gratefully agreed. The old man disappeared down the stairs and Motega found himself repeating his actions from earlier, wandering around the outside wall of the room, gazing at the succession of hanging paintings until he was stood before a large map of the Sapphire Sea painted on animal hide.
He had found himself drawn to this map a few times. Something was nagging in the back of his mind. It wasn’t just that there were cities on this map that he’d never heard of before. Most of the countries and places had similar names to what they did today. Ioth was there, and so was a Red Pool, though it wasn’t marked as a city. Carlburg was Carl’s Burg but Bolswick was entirely absent. Which didn’t surprise him from what he had seen of that piss-pot city in the past.
He looked at the space in the center of the Sapphire Sea where there was an island. He knew that place and the town that was there which shared a name; Hyfil. But on the map, the town did not exist and the island was labeled Starras. It wasn’t that it was called something different that was troubling him;, rather, Motega knew he had seen it somewhere before. But from where wasn’t coming back to him. He ceased his review; he usually found it best to put these things aside when his brain wasn’t working. He would remember eventually, probably when he was doing something completely different.
Ioth, City of Lights Page 10
