Anna von Wessen (5 page)

VI:

The Proclamation

S
traightaway Ephram went with Adrian Ilo, and they closeted themselves in that latter fellow’s study, while all those who were already home, wearied from fighting and shocked by their losses, made their way up to bed. Before he went, Ephram ordered Valo to take their people back to Thayer Street, and there to wait up for him. Nine-and-twenty shifted from the front hall, to the vestibule below the staircase in their own home. Anna looked down with tired eyes, and saw that the checkered floor beneath her feet had been replaced with familiar, perfectly white tiles. 

“All right, Greyson?” she asked.

“Right enough, I suppose,” he answered, in a voice made small and weak from overexposure to fright. But do not think badly of him, for honestly enough, more than half of his housemates appeared even worse off than himself. They floated up the staircase like ghosts, traumatised by their own terror.

“Get to sleep,” Anna advised him, as she pressed his hand.

“Right away, I’m sure,” he said. “Will you come up with me?”

Anna was ready to follow him, but was stayed by Valo’s hand upon her arm. “Wait with me in Father’s study,” he said. “He will want to speak with you, too.”

“Just get to sleep,” Anna repeated to Greyson, with what she hoped was a comforting smile. He trudged off up the stairs, looking subtly back over his shoulder at Valo, with rather a disgruntled look upon his face.

But Valo did not notice; for he was quite busy looking at Anna, and smiling in what he seemed to think was a very charming way. And, granted, it was very charming – so much so, that perhaps someone like Ari would not have known just how to contain herself.

But Anna was not touched. She pulled her hand away, when Valo tried to take it, and led him silently to Ephram’s study, where a fire still burnt. They set themselves down in the chairs before his desk.

They were a long while waiting. When finally Ephram appeared, directly before them and seated in his great leather chair, the sun was beginning to show its faint pink radiance, at the boundary of the sky just outside the window.

“Hello, my dears,” Ephram said wearily, taking a moment to settle himself back, and pass a hand over his face. Anna and Valo shared a deferential silence.

“Adrian Ilo and I have had a very long talk,” Ephram went on. “After much debate, I have come to my own conclusion.”

Still his children said nothing.

“We will go to Europe.”

Anna and Valo did a rapid double-take, glanced confusedly at each other, and then looked back to Ephram. But there could be no misinterpreting what he had said.

“When?” asked Anna.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” exclaimed Anna and Valo together.

Ephram only gave a small smile, and then sank back in his chair, thoroughly exhausted. “We will discuss this further,” he said, “after I have slept a little. Come back to me at noon.”

“Only we two?” asked Valo.

“Only you two.”

~

Anna parted with Valo at the third-storey landing, and dashed directly for Greyson’s room. Probably she should not tell him yet, she knew; but she was so very flurried, she simply could not abstain from it.

She knocked once at his door, but pushed into the room without waiting for a response. “Greyson!” she whispered, going to the bed to prod him in the shoulder. “Greyson, wake!”

“Oh, what do you want?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Then tell me, and leave!”

He looked at her crossly out of one bleary eye.

“We’re going to England,” Anna told him.

“Fascinating, terribly intriguing! You woke me for
that?
What do I care if – wait.” He tipped his head to the side, and looked up into Anna’s face. “We – what are we doing?”

“I knew you would catch on eventually.”

So Anna sat down beside him, and proceeded to tell him the whole of what brief intercourse had taken place in Ephram’s study.

“It can’t be!” Greyson said wonderingly. “You know as well as I do, that Ephram will never return to England.”

“That’s what I
thought.
He spoke of it once before, though – just a few days ago. At the time I thought him very tired, or slightly mad. Yet he returned from Adrian Ilo, with quite the most resolute expression upon his face.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll be,” said Greyson, shaking his head. But then his face brightened, and he glanced up in excitement. “We shall go sailing, Anna!” he cried. “You and I sailing, in a great ship!”

Anna smiled in return; but needed admit to herself, that she was not quite so contented as he.

England? What should she hope to find there? It was not hers; it was not home. Why should she rejoice?

She sat back gloomily against the headboard, listening silently to Greyson’s ceaseless jabber concerning their upcoming peregrination. By now she could not even bring herself to feign enthusiasm.

At twelve she left Greyson, and betook herself back to Ephram’s study. There Valo was already waiting.

“Ah, Anna!” said Ephram, rising from his chair to cross the room. He took Anna by the hand, and led her to her seat. Before he released her, he pressed her hand affectionately, and offered her a smile free of what weight and fatigue he had seemed earlier to be feeling.

Valo eyed this little proceeding with obvious displeasure, and badly disguised malice. He seemed, at times, to mind his father’s especial treatment of Anna, while at others he did not. It was almost as if, on these particular occasions, he realised once again – and each realisation was like a fresh wound – that his father indeed and without doubt preferred Anna to himself. Perhaps it was his initial and infinite love for Vaya, whom Anna represented; or perhaps it was his little concealed disinclination towards the woman who had borne Valo, and by whom he had never originally anticipated to bear a child.

Her name (which we will give, seeing as some time ago we were free enough to provide you with the identity of his first child’s bearer) was Abigail Brown: born August third, 1884; died December twenty-sixth, 1909. She was only one of the many female slaves whom Ephram took from time to time, rendered unexpectedly pregnant one autumn, with a child he had never intended to keep. Ephram had of course never said as much; but most who knew him had inferred it. He hated Abigail Brown to no end, and kept her only, really, for that exact purpose. She was a way by which to vent his many frustrations, and he regularly abused her. We will not be so discreet as to hide the manner of this abuse from you, and we shall tell you, that Ephram kept Abigail Brown locked in a room at that very house on Thayer Street, frequently beating and raping her. Surely you cannot be overly or disproportionately shocked. After all, you must remember that humans are nothing to the Lumaria, nothing but food and occasional playthings.

Surely
we
can appreciate the magnitude of the tragedy. A beautiful, kind young woman, abducted from a happy home, a loving husband and her own dear children, only to be confined in a chamber made especially and intentionally dark, dank and cold, and mauled repeatedly by one of the very strongest creatures upon this earth. Do we not cry out at the injustice? Do we not weep? Surely we do – for if we did not, we would not be human.

But what can we expect, from someone (or rather you might like to say some
thing
) like Ephram?

Anyway – after the child was born, and Ephram discovered that it was male (this was the part of the story that he had no reservations about sharing with sincere joy), the tables turned, and he became a father once again. To have a male child, whom he could rear up in his own image – and thereby avoid any possibility of a repetition of his previous child’s indiscretion – was an opportunity he could not discard.

And so, little Valo was inducted into the high house of Ephram. He was the apple of his father’s eye, his very pride and joy, for a mere seven-and-twenty years. Then came the 1936 meeting of the Night Council in France; and then came Anna. At first Valo despised her. Slowly he began to tolerate her, then almost to be fond of her. Finally he came to love her; and presently the case was no different, excepting these bouts of spite which he experienced ever and anon. Yet his expression had turned blank, by the time Ephram left Anna, and returned to his chair.

“Have you gotten some sleep, my darling girl?” asked Ephram.

“Not much,” Anna answered.

“Ah – yes, I see. This is a very serious matter! No time for sleeping, I suppose, if it is not absolutely necessary. Well! Let us commence.”

“Why do we leave so soon, Father?” asked Valo.

“After talking with Adrian,” said Ephram, with rather a graver expression coming to occupy his face, “I decided that it was for the best. Poor Adrian! He lost nine of his clan, you know, in the battle. Our house was much more fortunate.”

“Our house is stronger,” said Valo.

“Eh!” Ephram rejoined moodily, with a dark glance at his son. “I’ll not have any such talk, Valo.”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“At any rate,” Ephram continued, “the decision has been made. I have known for some time, that such a thing may have had to be done. When we spoke, Anna, a number of nights ago, I mentioned such a premonition to you. You remember?”

“Of course.”

“Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, and clutching the desk with both hands. He appeared extremely uncomfortable; and Anna and Valo knew why. Perhaps Anna herself was most aware, close as she was to the matter. After all – how could she not descry the cause of her father’s misery, when that cause was the very image which he saw, when he looked into her own face? Truly, it might have been more painful for Anna, than it was even for him.

“Last night’s misfortune,” he went on, “pushed me past the brink of my doubt – or my fear. I am convinced, now, that we must all cross the sea. We must consult with our own; and also I suppose we must –” (his throat worked at this, and he adopted a very unwilling countenance) “– deal with the Endai.”

“And what had Adrian to say of that?” Valo asked with a grin.

“Oh – well, suffice it to say that he had nothing positive to contribute to the subject,” said Ephram. “He is supportive enough of my own departure, but he refuses to accompany me. As many hours as we spoke, and try as I would, I could not inveigle him to change his mind.”

“I imagine not,” said Valo.

Ephram sighed, and was silent for a moment. His children left him to his thoughts. Anna turned aside, but still could not keep Ephram’s tortured countenance from her mind. She felt Valo’s eyes on the side of her own face; and she knew that he envied her. But she wondered in that moment, just what there was to envy?

VII:

Over the Sea

E
phram’s house received the proclamation with varying amounts of enthusiasm, curiosity, discontent, and even sadness. Yet there was no time for any possessors of the latter two emotions much to pine, as Ephram ordered that all preparations must be made immediately, and there were for every individual any number of things to do. Ephram himself was not feeling particularly well; he told everyone from the fight, but it was essentially understood that the impending journey was weighing a heavy burden upon his heart. He remained those last idle hours solitary in his room, and did not even ask either Valo or Anna to come up to him at night. Rather they only went on with their plethora of chores, and left him to himself.

The first and most important item of business was the ordering of the ship. Perhaps you have been wondering just why a Lumarian would ever
need
the aid of a ship, able as he is to shift wherever his thoughts may take him. Well, to clear the matter up, you should know that it is an extremely delicate and complex thing, to shift clear across entire oceans. Examples of the attempt have sometimes ended in a Lumarian’s finding himself suddenly standing upon the ocean floor, from which even his strong, hard body cannot manage to escape, before being shattered by the water’s pressure into thousands of pieces. Durable in so many other respects, a Lumarian is like naught but glass to the power of water, which can prove a fittingly mortal element to the immortals born of fire.

The task of arranging the ship was left to Valo, who departed directly after his and Anna’s meeting with Ephram, to the wharf where Captain Nim made his home.
He lived apart from Ephram’s house; for he was a sailor, not a soldier. The sea was all that he had ever known. All year he was idle till the Council meeting; so he jumped nimbly down to the dock, at the sound of Valo’s call, and responded to the command as any loyal sailor would. He gave Valo the customary salute of the Lumarian navy, and promised that all would be ready by nine next morn.

Anna headed the proceedings at the manor. As it was unclear how long they should remain gone (if they were ever to return at all), she had the valuables of the house all sent away, and the furniture covered with cloths. Covered, too, were the ancient portraits which hung upon the walls. Come nightfall all the rooms save the bedchambers were locked and shuttered. Those sole exclusions would be done up the following morning.

When all this was finished, and there was nothing left for them to do, the servants were gathered together into the front hall, where the bolts on the Turins round their necks were inspected carefully, to prevent accidents during travel. Valo rented a moving van, and drove it round to the back of the manor, where all the servants were herded into it like cattle. With him he took Ari, Evin Osha, and several others of his preferred paramilitary coterie, to assist him in the transport of the Narken. At the wharf, under cover of darkness, they would be led onto the ship, and stowed away in the hold in secure cages. Anna begged off of this duty, claiming to be too exhausted for its execution, and kept Greyson at home with her. Really, she simply did not want to see Hyro and his companions being so mercilessly crammed into those metal traps, and she did not want to have to sit alone in her room, thinking that Greyson was an accomplice to such cruelty. 

And why was this, do you ask? We have told you that the Lumaria despise the Narken – have we not? And you have seen well enough with your own eyes, how Anna thus far has slain a great number of the wolves. As this is the case, what in her should rebel against mere cruelty?

Well, perhaps you have seen already that there is something in Anna rather different from all the rest; and perhaps this will serve as enough for you, in the contemplation of such unorthodox behaviour. Perhaps it will not. In the latter case, remember to be patient; for our story has only just begun.

Come three in the morning, quite everything was completed, and all were weary. Each made an unbroken line for the peace of their own chamber, and the short sleep they would find there.

But Anna knew no sleep that night. Made inexplicably hungry and anxious by the day’s events, she left her bed at four, and went out into the corridor. When she passed the door to Ephram’s chamber, she heard the horrible sound of a stifled, strangled cry; and though she closed her eyes briefly, and pressed her hand to the door, she did not knock.

She had no intention of waking Greyson. She only continued on her lonely way, down the stairs and into the entrance hall, round which all the doors were barred, and across whose walls there stretched great lengths of yellowed oilcloth. The tables had been taken away, and all the small souvenirs and bric-a-brac from Ephram’s numerous journeys were vanished. There was only the dark ceiling, and the clean white floor, above and below the vast chasm of emptiness.

Anna went out the front door, and began wandering round the city, amidst all the choicest examples of riffraff which wandered with her at that time of night. None were particularly savoury, to be sure; but her hunger had begun to sharpen again, so she picked out the least vile amongst them that she could find, who was grimy, odorous and besmirched to the most minimal extent. She knew very well that this was perhaps the last time for a very long while, that she would be free enough to commit such an illegal kill. As a result she argued not long at all against the foolishness of the act. She simply pulled the man into an alley – just as she had done with the young drug dealer the night before last – and devoured him. Again she gathered up what was left of him, and disposed of these remains conscientiously.

After she had eaten, her nerves stood on end, and she felt very riled. Her sympathy for the wolfen servants had quite vanished; and she wished presently for nothing more than a Narkul to cross her path, so that she might kill it as painfully as she could think to do. She searched for hours, shifting from street to street, smelling the air as she went. But she could find no wolves, and the night’s casualties were limited to none but the hooded gentleman of whom she had made a hasty meal.

When she returned to her chamber, the sun was already risen, and the hour was nearly eight. She cleaned herself up as best she could, then shifted back outside and ran round for a bit in the open air, in an attempt to freshen herself. It was half past eight by the time she deemed herself ready. She sat for a moment on the edge of her bed, to compose herself; and then went quickly through the process of shutting up the room. She bolted the windows, covered the bed, and peered once into the drawers of the bureau for forgotten things. Then she shrugged into a long tarpaulin greatcoat, to shield her from the rain and winds upon the ship, and took up in her hand the old portmanteau which held her clothes. Downstairs she found all the others, standing about of a nearly identical appearance to herself, and looking very much lost and despondent.

All were present, that was, except for Ephram. Anna went up to Valo, who stood near to Ari, to ask after his father; and was met with the response that he knew no more than she did.

“Should we go up to him, do you think?” he asked her.

“No,” said Anna, setting her large case down on the floor. “Let him come when he’s ready.”

Greyson, with a sleepy face, mussed hair and a rumpled shirt, sidled over to her. “What time is it?” he asked.

“A quarter to nine.”

“Ah! Fifteen minutes to go, then.”

He went to sit down upon the bottom of the staircase, leant his head against the banister, and closed his eyes.

“A useless lout you have there,” Ari said to Anna. She had marked her opening; and never did she ignore an opportunity to publicly vilipend her primary foe.

“Do you think?” rejoined Anna. “Well, perhaps. But no more so than yourself.”

She heard Greyson chuckle.

“Quiet back there, vermin!” Ari shouted. Then she turned on Anna, eyes blazing and teeth baring. “Do you think you’re something special?” she whispered. “Do you think that – only because Ephram holds you near? Well, perhaps he does. But you know it’s not you he’s holding.”

“Peace, Ari!” cried Valo, stepping forward to interpose himself between her and Anna. The latter was readying herself to spring, and the former was just beginning to show symptoms of fear and doubt, as he did so. “If you cannot manage it, Ari,” he added, “then maybe you had better go to the wharf. Ensure all is ready there.”

Ari said nothing, but stood just behind him, staring hatefully at Anna through slitted eyes.

“Perhaps I misspoke,” said Valo. “That was not a request. Go!”

Ari turned her eyes on him; but as she did so the poison dissipated, and was replaced with the worry of angering him. She disappeared silently from the hall.

“Hurray, Anna!” cheered Greyson. “You are my hero.”

Valo turned to cast him an unpleasant glance; and immediately he fell silent. Then Valo walked away from Anna. It did not escape his notice that she had failed to thank him for his intercession on her behalf. She noted his dejection, but made no move to repair it. The hour of nine was quickly approaching; so finally she resolved to go to Ephram. She did not ask Valo to accompany her, but to his express disappointment and annoyance, simply vanished from his sight.

In the hall outside Ephram’s chamber, she was just clearing her throat to request admittance, when suddenly the door swung inwards, and Ephram appeared, smiling brightly and fully bedecked for the journey.

“Are you ready to sail, my dear?” he asked.

“Quite,” she answered. She said nothing as he took her hand, but she watched him oddly, as together they made their way downstairs.

~

Anna stood long with Greyson upon the wharf, before she was fully reconciled to the obligation of departure, and had sufficiently mastered the feelings of confusion and unreality which took hold of her, as a result of looking for the first time on the ship which had saved her from death, and changed her life forever.

After debarking the ship in 1936, a small and helpless child in the arms of a Lumarian King, never again had she returned to it. She bade Ephram farewell, each year before he departed the manor; but never had she accompanied him to the wharf. Never had he asked her to; for he knew that she did not wish it. Neither did she wish, now, to board the ship, and to ride under its great canvases to England. She detained herself for a little, in inspecting the exterior of the vessel: great and grand in every way, with a mighty bowsprit extending forth like the jaw of an immense swordfish. Under it there was carved a giant likeness of Vyra Iyenov, made long ago in the days when Ephram’s love for her was new, and which faced the sea in all its coming fierceness, a guardian even in death of the King she had once called her own.

Anna was fascinated by this great carving, with details so very lifelike. Its hair flowed down over its shoulders, and its head was topped with a dainty crown. As it bobbed there above the dark water, with a stern countenance engraved forever upon it, it seemed as if it might at any moment disappear beneath the waves, like a beautiful mermaid whose true home lies far under the whitecaps.

“Are you all right, Anna?” Greyson asked finally. They were the last to board, and Nim was standing on the port deck, waving to them frantically. “Come, come!” he called, again and again as Anna stood, unresponsive and motionless. “We must sail! Come, Anna von Wessen! Come, Greyson Menuch! We must sail!”

Anna sighed heavily, but followed Greyson just the same, as he leapt onto the ship. Nim turned to them, gave them a short salute, and then hurried off into the bow.

Anna stood by the rail for a long while, even after the ship had shoved off, and had settled upon the course of its watery road. Greyson stood by her for a time, but after about an hour drifted away to inspect curiously the work of the ship’s hands. So Anna was left alone, under a sky that had no ceiling; and above a sea which, as far as she was concerned, had no bottom.

~

The daylight hours passed away with little event; but come eventide, a considerable squall was beginning to make itself apparent. The rain fell like stones, and the wind blustered this way and that, threatening a little more each moment to whisk even the strong and sure feet of the Lumaria from the deck. There were several whom Nim made use of each year, to help him sail the ship, and whom he had taught very well. They hustled and bustled all around, making securements, and doing what they could to steady the ship. The remaining five-and-twenty passengers made their way belowdecks, with the intention to await the passing of the terrible and unexpected storm.

About half the night elapsed in this way, with the crew slipping its way round the deck, and the house of Ephram sitting uncomfortable and irritable in the dining room off the galley. But finally Ephram’s impatience began to show itself, and he crowned a long fit of pacing with an actual ascent to the deck. He went surefootedly up the narrow stairway, down which a substantial amount of cold seawater was already sloshing. He called Anna after him, and together they passed into the turbulent air.

“Nim!” Ephram shouted furiously. “Someone bring me Nim!”

The old sailor appeared quickly at the sound of his master’s voice, and made as reverential a bow as he could manage, with his feet sliding all about, and his oilskin coat weighted down with water. His dripping beard hung down near the tips of his boots.