Anna von Wessen (21 page)

And so the numbers of the Lumaria began to grow. You must remember, too, that excepting those killed in battle with the wolves, or by some other violent means, the Lumaria are an immortal race; and while the wolves perish of sickness and old age, just as the humans do, this is one weakness which the Lumaria do not suffer. Therefore the new members they obtained were not lost like the children of the wolves. After only ten years, it is granted, the result was not staggering – but come only a few more of those years, and the Lumaria would begin to grow exponentially.

So it was a start; and it was, besides, the only option presently available to the Lumaria. The business of transforming a human into a Lumarian is a sticky, tricky one at best, and is hardly ever attempted. The gathering of the wild Lumaria into a single coalition was an improbability which bordered on impossible; though that was not to say (as evidenced by Koro’s own remark on the subject) that the Night Council was not always knee-deep in the formulation of new methods by which to draw them in. Year by year small hosts of them were taken into the Council, to be grouped into a nameless state which was not, as yet, by any means large enough to require representation (its population was hardly equal to that of the state of Delaware), or its own appointed sovereign.

Perhaps you see, now, that the situation of the Lumaria was a doubtful one. All the more disappointing, then, did it make the recent verdict of King Balkyr. The only thing that could make his decision worse, would be if he were somehow to learn (and surely someday he would) of the yearly mass propagation. If he should learn of it, there was little doubt that he would act immediately to end it; for he worked carefully to regulate the numbers of the Lumaria, just as he did to keep watch over the sources of their food. And yet, he lacked so much success in this latter occupation, that it was no real wonder he knew nothing of the former. Still – by the time the Endai should finally twig the whole matter, it was the sincere hope of the Lumaria that they would be strong enough to stave their enemies off.

This suffices, we think, as an introduction to the business of the Lumarian nursery. Now that you are familiar with it, no doubt you will understand all the more clearly, the following words of Ephram.

“We know not exactly how it happened,” he said. “Around noon today, a pack of Narken was spotted at the edge of the grounds. Now, you know that this is not such a novel thing in itself – surely no one has forgotten the incident which took place only a matter of weeks ago, wherein three foolhardy members of this very house were found ripped to shreds, by two wolves which were afterwards killed. But to come in broad daylight? Of course I should have known it was a trick; yet the usual protocols were followed, and the situation was investigated. Six wolves were found on the perimeter; all of them were slain. But they put up a foul chase, and most of the guard was preoccupied in pursuing them – when suddenly there were screams heard from inside the castle. They were those of Ilsa, it seems.”

He paused; shook his head; and then went on: “Well – when the screaming sounded from the front hall, a commander of the guard sent a group to see to it. They found Ilsa there, all alone, and torn apart.”

“There were wolves in the castle?” Anna asked incredulously.

“So it seems.”

“But – how did they get in?”

“I know not, Anna. I know only that, after they mutilated poor Ilsa, they managed somehow to gain all twelve storeys – whereafter they broke into the nursery, and murdered every child in it.”

“How could they have known? How is it possible?”

“Yet another question I cannot answer.”

“Did you find the wolves? Have they been killed?”

“Yes. They are dead, and burning in a heap out in the grounds – but still this does not bring back our children.” He sank down in his chair, and passed a hand over his face. “I have sent word to Koro,” he added, “and to Josev. A whole host of messengers has been dispatched, to warn the heads of all the houses. If the wolves have begun with us, surely they mean to run afoul all over the country, exterminating the newborns. And who knows? Maybe this horror will not restrain itself to England. The sovereigns of the Council have been notified, in any case.”

“But now that we know what they’re thinking,” said Vaya, “surely it will not be so easy for them to continue the slaughter?”

“Not so easy, no,” answered Ephram. “But not impossible. The Narken are ignorant, servile beasts – they will do anything their leaders bid. If that thing is to sacrifice themselves for the furtherance of their own race, probably they will not bat an eye. Besides – what numbers they lose can be got back in a very short time, and trained up quick.”

“Surely Koro has some sort of plan?” asked Vaya, not without a measure of bitterness.

“Perhaps he does,” said Ephram. “But whatever it may be – certainly I cannot fathom it yet.”

No one made any rejoinder here; and after a long moment of silence, Ephram began to speak again, almost as if to himself this time.

“Wolach knows, after all, what he is doing. He knows we mean to increase our numbers. He knows, too, that if he wants to overtake us, he must do it within these next several years. I would not be surprised if
he
were the hand behind today’s puppet show.”

Valo laughed aloud; and three grave faces turned towards him. His smile faded a little, and he squirmed in his seat.

“But Father,” he said; “surely you do not mean to say that
Wolach
has orchestrated this thing – from Belgium?”

“Belgium lies merely across a narrow channel of water,” Ephram replied. “Why do you disbelieve it?”

“It only seems a strange move for him to make.”

“Strange, perhaps. But then – that may be exactly what makes him think it so ingenious.”

“I still don’t understand how he would have learnt of the nurseries.”

“While I put very little stock in the greater part of his race,” said Ephram, “I do by no means underestimate the brilliant evil that is Wolach. Wilem was not – but Worgan and Worgach were the same. And Wolach, I do think, is the worst.”

“I
think,” said Valo, “that the whole thing is much simpler than that.”

“Pray deign to share your lofty thoughts with us,” said Vaya with a smirk.

Anna glanced at Vaya, and smiled in return, as Vaya winked an eye at her.

But Valo ignored Vaya. “I think,” he repeated, “that it was the servants.”

“You think it was the servants,” Ephram echoed.

“Yes,” said Valo. “The servants.”

“Do you think I have not considered that?”

“Well, I don’t –”

“Do you think I have not accounted for that – and acted accordingly? Do you think they are not being interrogated, this very moment we speak? Do you think that, if they have accomplices outside the walls of this castle, I shan’t find them out?”

Valo hung his head, and glared at the floor. It seemed he had been wanting very badly for this nugget of wisdom to affect his father rather more deeply; and then for it, in the process, to bring an admiring word from Anna’s lips. All these hopes, however, were dashed by Ephram’s response; and Valo fell silent for the remainder of the meeting, tapping the toes of his boots angrily upon the floor.

XXII:

Flesh

A
fter quitting Ephram’s study, Anna intended to return to her chamber; but urged by a sudden strong interest, she went alone up to the twelfth floor.

The nursery corridor was empty now. It was dark, too, with all the torches standing black and empty along the walls. No more children; no more light.

Anna went through the open doorway of the nursery, and found herself standing in a very large chamber, with small crib-like contraptions lying broken and scattered all across the floor. There were two great wide windows in the left-hand wall, through which there poured bright silver moonbeams over the whole ghostly scene. Yesterday one hundred children lay here sleeping; and this night there was naught but silence. One hundred little lives snuffed out, like so many flames of a candle.

But then – how was it that they had got their start? There was someone who needed die, for each and every one of them to live. This thought forced Anna’s feet to trace themselves back out into the corridor; and then to stand for a long, silent while outside the door to the neighbouring chamber. It was in this room where one hundred women died, each and every year. It was in this room where
their
lives were snuffed.

Anna could not bring herself to open the door. But she wrapped her hand round the knob, and leant her forehead down against the wood, as if somehow communing with the lost and lonesome spirits which were trapped inside the room.

She turned her face, to press her cheek against the door; but started back quickly, when she felt something wet touch her skin. She looked through the darkness, but saw nothing upon the door; reached out and touched the wood, but felt no moisture there. Yet still there lingered a dampness over her cheek.

She reached up a hand, and put it to her face. A thin line of wetness marked it, which began from the very corner of her own eye. She leapt back even farther at this, bewildered and affrighted by the strange event. And even as she made her way through a fit of frenzy – yet another droplet, a true and unquestionable tear, slid down her cold cheek.

“Anna?”

The voice came from just behind her. She whirled round in surprise, and found herself looking upon Vaya Eleria. She reached up as if to brush the hair from her face; though really she was only ascertaining that there was naught left to be seen of the water that had fallen from her eyes.

“Are you all right, Anna?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very well.”

“What are you doing up here?”

Anna shrugged.

“Well,” said Vaya, as she went to lean her shoulder against the jamb of the nursery doorway, “I suppose it’s the same thing that brought me here. It’s a sadness, to be sure – but it inspires a morbid curiosity nonetheless.”

Anna looked questioningly at the side of Vaya’s face; but Vaya did not turn towards her.

“I don’t suppose there’s much use in lingering,” said Vaya. “It does no good to what’s lost.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” Anna answered quietly.

Now Vaya did turn to her; but only to fix her with a most piercing pair of eyes, from which she instinctively shrank.

“Are you sure you’re quite well, Anna von Wessen?”

“Perfectly.”

Anna did not at first intend to say more; but she was presently inspired with a curiosity which she could not slough off, and which partially served to dispel her own troublesome thoughts.

“I only wonder,” she added, “why you even care.”

Vaya looked at her blankly. Their two sets of eyes remained locked together, as they viewed one another through the short stretch of darkened corridor.

“You wonder,” echoed Vaya, tonelessly, “why I care.”

“Yes.”

A short pause; and then Anna continued, “Although I don’t mean to say that I mind it. It’s only that I asked you just yesterday after the cause of your change of temperament – and you could give me no clear answer. I said before (and I say again, though I’m not sure why) that I don’t mean to doubt you. But I can’t help feeling I am leaving myself subject to some treachery.”

“Some treachery?”

“Of your own.”

“Of my own.”

Anna smiled thinly. “Showing yourself a parrot won’t help me to trust you. You must say something for yourself.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“You must do better than that!”

Again, Vaya turned her eyes towards the broken nursery, and stood silent for a little, with a countenance so very clouded and dark, that Anna would have given much to be able to penetrate her thoughts. But alas, it was a task for which she was no match.

“I admit,” said Vaya, “that I have given you every reason to distrust me. I thought very earnestly that I hated you, when I learnt of your existence. I did all I could to prove it to you. But only recently I have changed my mind – or realised, rather, that I never hated you at all.”

“Never at all?” Anna rejoined doubtfully.

“Never at all.”

“Then what is it that you think of me?”

Vaya looked directly into her face. “I think,” she said slowly, “that for someone meant to be my replacement – well, you are not very like me at all.”

“I would tend to agree with you.”

Still they stared at one another, for a very long moment; till finally they both began to smile, and then to laugh.

But Vaya was the first to turn sobre. “I mean what I say,” she told Anna. “All of my two hundred years, I was cruel and hardhearted; inflexible and arrogant. From the moment I woke, still I have been all those things. Honestly, I do not want to be them anymore; but I fear that it may be too late for me to change.” She peered into Anna’s face, and her dark eyes seemed to brighten, as if the cloud that had covered them was moving away. “But you,” she went on, “you are very different from me. Never have you
shown me unkindness, unless I showed it first to you. Even when I did such terrible things to you – still you never reciprocated, as I would have done.”

Anna knew not quite how to reply to such a thing. It seemed very much to be a compliment; and all she could think was to say “thank you.” Yet she did not even say that. She only took the opportunity the silence offered, to look more closely into Vaya’s face. Standing so near to the doorway, the moonlight of the open nursery splashed faintly into the corridor, and lit up the floor between them with a dim silver glow. Vaya’s face was half in shade, half without. She appeared very dark, and very full of shadows; but her black hair shone as if sprinkled with stardust. For by no means the first time, Anna made note of how very beautiful she was. But now the observation did not irk her, did not ruffle her pride as it had done before. Presently, rather, she was almost struck by it, as if by a lightning bolt that she should have seen coming – but somehow did not.

“It’s getting late, I think,” said Vaya. “It’s been a very long day. Goodnight, Anna.”

She vanished immediately, and Anna was left looking at the place where she had stood, feeling very puzzled. Even with the absence of the woman, there remained a spot before her eyes that glittered like diamonds – where Vaya’s hair had gleamed with diffused moonbeams. Anna shook her head confusedly, and shifted from the corridor.

~

In her chamber, she tried to sleep, but found that she could not calm herself enough to do so. What she had thought was a dream, and had been beginning to suspect was
not
a dream, was now all too clearly a reality. All her body felt as if it were afire. Her skin blazed with heat; and she imagined that it left scorch marks upon the sheets. She tossed this way and that, tugging at her hair and squeezing her eyelids shut; and she knew not whether it were the tears that had returned to her eyes, or a surfeit of strange sweat which came to run all down her cheeks and throat. She lay twitching upon the mattress, twisting the bedclothes in her hands, and – breathing. She was breathing; and she was breathing very hard. She put a hand to her chest, and felt a steady
thump-thump-thump
, as the lonely organ behind her breastbone began to pump.

How was it so? Surely she did not know. She could not even bring herself much to wonder, so much pain was she in. All her limbs ached as they burnt. Her heart pulled like a stone upon a string. She was soaked through with perspiration. She looked out into the darkness of the room, grasping at the thick, sweltering air. She could hardly even see the hands that she stretched forth. Her eyes had for the moment lost their keenness, and she could make out only the faint flashing of white fingertips, groping the surrounding black.

She wished for something to pray to. She prayed that she
could
pray – but who would listen? Who would listen to the likes of herself? Who could tell her what was happening?

She pressed a pillow over her face, and screamed. But she could do little at that moment to change the state of her affairs; and though she racked her brains with all her might, she could think of nothing to be done, and no one to go to. If only there were someone, someone to whom she could speak . . .!

But no. She knew that she could not; and she could not decide, even if there
were
someone, what questions she would ask. It was a fearsome plight. And yet, as we can do as little to help her as she could to help herself, we shall move to recount an evening nearly a fortnight later, when she found herself sitting at the King’s table, in timing with the expiration of the banquet which Ephram and his small party had partaken of at Night House.

Ever and anon her eyes strayed to the empty seat of Byron Evigan, and she could not help but feel a dull sort of pity for the vanished steward. She imagined him, turned away from Josev of Wisthane (as surely he had been), and wandering alone through the strange wide world, where there was no place for him anymore. Century upon century he had passed within the walls of Drelho, as had his father before him; and so suddenly he was ousted! It was an unsettling thing to marvel at, how very quickly such an ancient being could be unbalanced. Anna thought of her own years, which in comparison seemed relatively few. She was unnerved by the slack hold she seemed to have upon certainty – most especially if her recent horrors proved themselves as more than temporary insanity.

And it seemed that they would; for at that very moment there was a most peculiar thing taking place. She looked down at the meat upon her plate, and prepared to go about the eating of it; but found that she could not. For quite the first time in her life, the sight of it served not to whet her hunger – but merely to make her dizzy and sick. She speared a tiny piece of the bloody stuff, brought it to her mouth, and swallowed it quickly. She felt her stomach roll, but gave no outward sign of it. She made a show of scrunching and twisting her countenance, as if the reason for pausing her meal had only to do with the deep and serious contemplation of something. But really she was looking into the faces that filled the hall, and noting the emptiness of the eyes, all turned to small pools of blackness while their bodies fed. She saw the thin lines of blood, which trickled down from the corners of countless mouths.

And these sights served only to enrage her. She was full to bursting with white-hot fury, which travelled all up and down her body, extending to the very tips of her fingers and toes. It seemed, lately, that all she was, was angry – unbelievably and uncontrollably angry. It was not a mild anger, oh no, not a shallow anger past the surface of which she could still raise her head, the better to see in which direction she was haphazardly barrelling. It covered her like a powerful suffocation, inhibiting her entire capacity to reason and to think. She would feel her eyes begin to roll, and to fill with that familiar liquid darkness. All her calmness and restraint disappeared in these moments, and was replaced by an intense wildness, which made her feel as a caged animal that could not break free.

It was a strange, inexplicable, and frightful thing. Most frightful of all, was not knowing what it was.

She was startled from these thoughts by the voice of Valo.

“You’ve not touched your food, Anna,” said he, as he stared at her strangely from across the table. Ari sat as always at his elbow, and was scrutinising Anna with a pair of eyes which appeared, in her overwhelming desire to find fault somewhere with her old adversary, almost intelligent.

“Anna?” came Greyson’s small voice from her left-hand. But she did not answer him.

She looked down again at the meat; knew that she must lay hands upon it, and eat what she could; but there was no bringing herself round to it. When Valo repeated her name, it was all she could do not to reach across the table, and lay hands upon
him.
Before she could think on it (for no doubt she would have decided to do it, no matter how unseemly it appeared), she cast a hasty glance towards Ephram, who was engaged in conversation with Vaya Eleria. Anna peered once into Vaya’s face; but Vaya did not notice her. So she shook herself; shifted from the table; and arrived in the weapons room.

She knew that she must be quick. She went to the wall, took down a sword, and hefted it in her hands. She took hold of the hilt, and turned the blade in towards her stomach; but found that she could not finish the deed without a fair share of hesitation. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and gave a mighty shove.