Anna von Wessen (18 page)

There were several nods.

“Certainly Ephram knew, when he parted with Adrian Ilo some months ago, that the fellow’s chances were not good. Earnestly he pleaded for him to accompany his house to England – but his pleas were denied. It is an unfortunate thing to have to relate; but I tell you now, that Adrian Ilo’s house has fallen.”

Anna sat stunned. As Koro went on, she watched Ephram’s face carefully, and noted that it was creased with pain.

“The result of this loss,” said Koro, “is that the Lumaria have vanished from America. Or, at least – surely there are none who are loyal to
us.
Any who dwell there are naught but wild rogues, and are more than useless. There is nothing to keep the wolves in check; nothing to make them understand our strength. Maybe they will turn their attention from their own land, and begin glancing across the sea. They will see their brother Wolach there – and maybe they will wish to join with him. Should that event come to pass, we shall suffer a mighty onslaught, the likes of which we have never yet known. Perhaps then the Endai will change the tune to their self-righteous song.”

“It seems a shame,” said Eirich, “to have to face the magnitude of loss which will be engendered by such an attack. Is there no way to persuade the Endai to join us?”

Koro shook his head. “For now, brother,” he said, “the Endai are little more than our enemies. They shall require careful handling from now on.”

“And is there no way to get around their guard?” asked Ursula. “Is there no way to stage an assault – without their cooperation?”

“We shall only go on as we have,” answered Koro. “It is too late to ferret out all those which have already gained a foothold – but Ursula, Ria, the vigilance of your armies has protected your own countries well from the wolves. Maintain the watches at your borders, and kill all those who try to enter. Abrast will go on with his war against Trydon, and will slaughter all those wolves who come before his soldiers. As for myself, Ephram, and Josev – we will do as we have done for centuries, and will kill every Narkul on sight. Eirich and Devin will do the same.”

These two latter sovereigns nodded solemnly.

“The only thing we cannot do,” Koro continued, “is gather all our forces together – and march upon the wolves as a single deadly wind. Should it become known that we are
seeking out
the wolves for murder, and not simply defending our strongholds from their influence, then we shall have the Endai to do battle with, as well. We need not that added burden.”

“But the wolves multiply so quickly!” Devin exclaimed, in rather a defeated tone of voice. “To go on defensively will be to cause irreparable damage.”

“We all know this, Devin,” Koro said calmly. “But there is naught to be done for it at present. The main thing, now, is to focus on building our own numbers. We must do whatever we can – entice them with whatever we can think of – to call the wild Lumaria to us, and to draw back the nations we have lost. It is that which we need to think of.”

There were a few minutes, here, of silence, interspersed with a resumption of paper-shuffling.

“Next on the table,” said Koro at last, “is the awakening of Vaya Eleria.”

Every head in the hall turned to Vaya. Vaya, however, merely leant back in her chair, and fixed her eyes on the far wall.

“It is well for us, then,” said Koro to Ephram, “that you have brought Vaya Eleria to table this day. There are certain conditions, certain stipulations, upon which her remaining with us entails. Already I spoke to you concerning them; but now, with your leave, I shall share them with the Council.”

Ephram nodded stiffly.

“As you all know, Vaya Eleria was executed in 1750, for the crime of consorting with the Narken.” Koro made no reference, here, to the manner in which said execution had been performed; made no remark concerning the fact, that perhaps Ephram was also to blame for what had passed. “Some number of weeks ago, she was raised by a member of Ephram’s own house. That Lumarian has been dealt with by Ephram, however, and is not an issue at hand.”

“Then Vaya Eleria will remain awake?” asked Ria.

“Of course
she
would be the one to ask,” muttered Vaya.

“I have decided that she will,” replied Koro.

“But none of us have been heard on the matter,” pursued Ria.

“This being such a sensitive case, and one so personal for Ephram – he and I discussed it at great length, and I have exercised my right to decide for the Council, in a matter which relates to none of you in particular. This is not a political issue, Ria. Rather it is an ethical one.”

Ria acquiesced – though clearly she was not pleased.

“Anyway,” said Koro, “the provisions stand as thus.”

He turned for the first time to the side of the table where Vaya sat with Anna. “Vaya Eleria,” he said, “come hither.”

Vaya rose with a stoney countenance, and went to the place where Ephram sat.

“You shall stand here by your father,” said Koro, “and you shall swear on his own honour to the following conditions. Do you understand, Vaya? Surely you must know that you ruined his honour once. You would not willingly do it twice?”

“No,” Vaya answered tonelessly.

“Then, Vaya Eleria – you must swear before the Council that you shall never again have any relations, of whatever degree or nature, with the Narken. Do you swear it?”

“Yes.”

“You must swear, too, to abide by King Ephram’s laws and statutes at Drelho, and never to break them, by any unseemly conduct whatever. You shall remember, this time, that a father’s command is more dire than that of any other. Do you swear to adhere to this maxim?”

“Yes.”

“Thirdly – it was your father’s plan, I know, to allot you the title of Queen, more than two-and-a-half centuries ago. Being, however, currently at the beginning of what I deem a trial of honour, you shall not again be eligible for that title, till the year 2050. Do you understand?”

At the first two stipulations, Vaya had not batted an eyelash; but at this she blanched visibly.

“Do you understand, Vaya?” Koro repeated.

Vaya nodded resentfully.

“Say it aloud.”

“I understand.”

“Good! The matter is settled, then. You may return to your seat.”

XVIII:

Spirits

T
he ramble of the Council seemed to go on for an eternity; but finally its prisoners were freed. At Koro’s signal, Anna and Vaya fairly leapt from their seats, and proceeded to bound from the hall. Yet they were halted almost immediately by Abrast, who entertained a significant curiosity concerning the “second daughter of Ephram,” whom he had heard very little about. He seemed to have no words for Vaya, though; and she continued her exit from the hall in just as haughty a manner as she could muster, if only in an attempt to prove that she cared not at all what anyone thought of her.

Anna was detained for an insufferable period of time, first by Abrast, and then by Eirich and Devin. The daughters of Ria stood round her with strange smiles which were half-childlike, and half-grown; and she was glad when finally Ephram came down from his seat, with Koro and Josev, to stand beside her; which at least made the inquisition somewhat more tolerable, with his own answers sometimes available to give her tongue a rest from its wagging.

When the guests were ready to depart, Koro came to stand with them, at the place where they had all entered the night before. He bid each of them farewell; but kept Ephram with him longest, and when all others had gone, finally turned to him, and said, “Until next time, dear Ephram.” Then he looked to Anna, and added (in what were the first words he had thus far spoken to her), “And you, Anna von Wessen! It was a sincere pleasure to meet you.”

He reached out, and took hold of both of Anna’s hands. Anna returned the gesture reluctantly.

“And Vaya,” Koro added, seemingly as an afterthought; “you will remember all we spoke of? I trust that you will.”

Vaya made no response, but only glared at Koro, with eyes perhaps just as unsettling as his own. The King offered a smile, which really consisted more of the expression of a frown; and then turned from his last three guests, who were immediately released from Night House by a soldier alongside the wall.

             
~

In the empty entrance hall of Drelho, Ephram parted with Anna and Vaya, so as to go looking for Byron Evigan.

“Goodnight, my dears,” he said. “Do wish me luck, in what will most certainly prove to be an immensely unpleasant conversation.”

“Good luck,” said Anna and Vaya in unison.

“Thank you, my dears!”

He attempted to smile; but still his face was stained with a grim expression, as he marched off in search of the steward.

Anna looked to Vaya, and stood silent for a moment. She pressed one hand awkwardly to the side of her neck, and laid the other over her elbow, in an attempt to adopt a casual stance; but really she only looked ridiculous. She was not certain whether
Vaya wished to hear from her, and would think it rude if she did not issue a simple goodnight; or, moreover, congratulations on Koro’s recent decision.

“Well – goodnight, Vaya,” she said, as she turned finally to go.

“Wait a moment.”

Anna looked back.

“Would you – would you like to sit up for a drink?” Vaya asked, in rather fumbling tones.

“I suppose so.”

“Come up to my room, then.” She paused, and looked across the dark hall. “But let’s take the stairs. I would rather walk.”

So Anna followed Vaya to the staircase; and together they climbed to the seventh storey. At the fork of halls which would have led left to Anna’s own chamber, Vaya took a right, and proceeded on to the end of the way. There she pushed open a heavy door, which she held aside for Anna’s passage.

It was in this chamber, you will remember, that Greyson found the golden ring. When Anna entered, she saw the dusty dressing table, in the exact place where Greyson had told her it stood. The glass above it was covered with a dirty film. All the surfaces in the room, in fact, looked as if they had been rained upon with a thick layer of white snow. After Vaya woke, and opened the chamber herself, she refused to have it cleaned. There was something in the dust and grime which made the room appear dead; and loath was she to have it wake. She wanted not to see her own reflection in the glass. She was pleased with the brown cloud that hovered over it, in which she could barely discern even the movement of her own limbs, when she rose from the old dressing table. In the drawer of the table, once more the ring was locked away; for Vaya had retrieved it from the crypt.

“You may sit, if you like,” she said to Anna, as she motioned to a pair of chairs between the bed and the window. Anna set herself down in the nearest of them, and fell to looking again about the room.

The bed stood at the centre of the wall opposite the door. To its left hand were a few mismatched items of furniture: a tall chest of drawers, a little table with a vase of dead flowers upon it, the dirty dressing table and the chairs. To the right, there was a large rectangle of vacant space, with a short sideboard at its edge, and a great thick curtain of crimson drawn across the wall. The bed itself was dressed in the same shade of blood, and was rumpled and unmade.

“This chamber is rather a disaster,” Vaya announced suddenly, as she followed the direction of Anna’s eyes. Her voice, though, was far from apologetic. Rather she seemed to admire the forlorn condition of the place.

“Not so much,” Anna lied.

“You think not? Well, it was my intention just the same.”

“And why was that?”

“My reasons were varied.”

Anna looked to the vase on the table. “But I would think,” she said, “that those flowers would have disintegrated by now.”

“Certainly they would have, if they had been here since 1750.”

Anna examined uncomprehendingly the dry, withered plants. “And how long have they been here?”

“Since I returned to the castle. A servant brought them in, I believe.”

“Why do you not throw them out? They’re quite dead.”

“I looked at them for a bit, when they were fresh – but they were rather too bright for my taste. Now they are much nicer, I think.”

“I
think,” said Anna (perhaps somewhat boldly; and afterwards she could not for anything understand why she had said it), “that probably it has something more to do with the simple fact that they
are
dead, than with any improvements which their death may have made in their appearance.”

She ventured a smile.

“Probably you’re right,” said Vaya. For the moment, at least, she seemed not to mind the boldness. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes.”

“What will you have?”

“Whatever you plan to get for yourself.”

Vaya went to the narrow sideboard; but stood before it for a long moment, staring at the crimson curtain. Certainly Anna had paused to wonder over its purpose – but because it was anything but clear, she had quickly dispensed with the activity. Presently, however, Vaya gazed at the thing for a very long while, before finally shaking her head, and reaching for a squat decanter filled with clear liquid. She poured two measures into a pair of glasses. 

“I hope that those glasses,” said Anna, “aren’t as dusty as everything else in this room.”

For the first time, Vaya smiled. “They’re clean enough,” she answered, as she carried them across to the place where Anna sat. She passed one to Anna, and then sat down in the neighbouring chair.

“And what am I drinking?” Anna asked her.

“Rum.”

“Ah! The first choice of pirates, I believe.” She tasted the stuff, and leant back in her chair. “Though, if you think of it, we ourselves are hardly different from pirates. We take what we want, when we want – and we even own ships! All we need is the hats, really.”

She fell silent, and scowled darkly across the room.

“It seems that our visit to Night House,” said Vaya, with something of a knowing smirk upon her lips, “has put you in rather a foul mood.”

“Oh, no! What would make you say that?”

Vaya continued to smile lightly, and proceeded to empty her own glass. “It’s infuriating, really,” she said. “We need drink a dozen of these blasted things, before we feel even the slightest effect. I think, sometimes, that I would rather possess a human capacity for spirits.”

But Anna did not reply. Still she was slumped down in her chair, and staring blankly into the veil of shadows by the door.

They sat in silence for a long while. Vaya went to the sideboard, and fetched the decanter of rum, from which she refilled their glasses each time they showed themselves empty. When the decanter was drained, she went for another bottle, this one containing an amber liquor.

“What’s that?” Anna asked.

“Whiskey.”

“Well, there’s something to be said for variety, I suppose.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

This question made Anna raise her head quickly, and cast a searching glance into the seemingly benevolent countenance of Vaya Eleria. She answered somewhat from under a hanging cloud of uncertainty (the shade of this cloud must have been apparent, for Vaya was watching her curiously), but she answered just the same: “When the last bottle disappeared, I began to feel slightly more content.”

Another silence ensued. It was Anna who broke it.

“And how are
you
feeling?” she asked.

“Glorious.”

“Truly?”

“Of course not. I was humiliated before the entire Council – I was undermined by that Spanish snake. And Abrast, do you know, used to fawn at my very feet. What a lickspittle he was! Now he doesn’t even find it necessary to look me in the eye.” She paused, and glanced down into her drink. “Of course I expected nothing different from Koro. But from the others – well, I may have anticipated just the slightest semblance of respect, if only for my father’s sake.”

Anna watched her face carefully. It was such a different thing, then, from the fiery depiction which she had seen so often in her portrait, that she had difficulty believing even that it was the same face. There was no shadow of rage, no show of bravery. Rather she only looked hopeless. Anna considering bringing to her attention, that at least she was alive still; but somehow even this did not seem enough.

“I am sorry for you, Vaya,” she said.

Vaya looked up quickly. “Sorry for
me?
” she returned. “Why should you be sorry for me? I brought it all upon myself – did you not know?”

“Whatever you did,” Anna said quietly, “it was not worth what was given you.”

Vaya appeared thunderstruck. She looked long into Anna’s face, as if trying (quite as Anna had done before) to decipher some trick there.

“Why would you say that to me,” she asked slowly, “after the way I’ve treated you?”

“Was it really me, Vaya, that you were seeing – or was it only what I stood for?”

Vaya rose from her seat, and went to stand near the sideboard. She slammed her glass against it; and it shattered in her hand.

“It was you I saw,” she replied harshly. “Are you so foolish, that you allow a little rum to wash away your common sense?”

Anna left her seat, and set her own glass down beside the dead flowers. “Perhaps it was the whiskey,” she said softly, as she vanished from the room.