Cobweb Empire (43 page)

“Arabella!” the Count exclaimed. “Enough!
Not before these strangers! We are here to pray for Ulpheo, nothing
more! It is bad enough the entire Sapphire Court knows and mocks us
in our unfounded grief! We have no concrete proof she was
harmed—”

“Oh but we
know!
We know in our
heart, in our breast, our very gut, deep here, yes! You see,”
continued the Countess D’Arvu, staring into Percy’s eyes, and
pressing her hands with her own, “I’ve also dreamt the dream of the
Goddess—long before her blessed visage appeared before the
multitudes of the city!—and it was of her very same aspect that you
mention—it is the one rare form of hers, that can only be found in
the small statuette placed at the side of the Throne, where the
Sovereign sits! She looks upon the Goddess, I am told, and there is
something there—”

“I wish I could help,” said Percy gently,
allowing the woman to continue holding her fingers. “But in my
dream the Goddess was silent. All I can imagine is that somehow it
is a means to aid me in my quest, for I search for the Cobweb
Bride—”

“Percy!” This time it was the black knight
who signaled caution.

But Percy did not heed him. There was
something important about this thin, pinched, grief-wrung woman
before her, something that evoked confidence and trust. “We are
traveling south,” Percy continued thus. “And we have come from a
place that is very far.”

“
Percy!”

“Ah, you’re from the
Realm . . .” said the Count. He glanced back at the
knight and then the girl. “I know not who you are, My Lord—for yes,
I can see as much by your demeanor that you are no common
knight—and it does not particularly matter. There is a war being
waged, but I want no part of it, nor do I believe in
it. . . . Especially not now.”

“It seems your Sovereign has started this
particular war,” said Beltain softly.

Count Lecrant D’Arvu nodded. “Indeed it is
so, and I do answer to her in my allegiance. But in the latest
series of actions of hers, she has undermined the trust of many of
her own, including myself. The Sapphire Court puts on a brave face
and the semblance of complicity, but behind closed doors there is
weeping and dark words spoken. And Trova Square still stands in a
lake of blood, for we have had no rain . . . and no
one dares to clean the cobblestones. . . . And now,
Ulpheo!
”

“What of Ulpheo?” Beltain approached even
closer, listening, while Percy stood as she was, mesmerized, a look
of intensity coming to her face.

“Ah, you have not heard!” Count D’Arvu said.
“For you come from the other direction. Well then, if you travel
deeper south, you will come upon it within the
hour. . . . Only you will not be able to
enter
it.”

Beltain and Percy watched him with growing
attention.

“It happened on the night before
last . . . early that evening, I am told—for we were
not there to witness. Just before sunset, the Sovereign with her
dead
Trovadii army entered our blessed city, in passing.
Ulpheo met her with adulation, as she had been expected, and His
Majesty, King Clavian Sestial paraded half the forces of Balmue
before her, as they readied for the common march on the morrow.
Well, as all of this was taking place, unbelievable things were
happening outside the walls of Ulpheo. . . . All the
land, for leagues around, started to change, to grow thin and
transparent
, and then it all was gone! Only the city
remained, in the middle of this unnatural madness, standing hard
and solid, and inviolate!”

“We’ve had similar incidents in the Realm,”
Beltain said.

“Oh, but no, not like this!” the Count
continued. “Now—all those people inside the walls of Ulpheo, none
of them knew what was happening all around. Apparently, the strange
instability was taking place throughout the night, but only
outside
the walls. . . . Meanwhile, at dawn
the city awoke, and the Sovereign with her Trovadii forces
continued on their way, followed by the select battalions of
Balmue, and they all marched beyond the walls, heading north
through the now changed landscape—as though nothing was amiss.

“When the last soldier was out of the
city—and here is the part that I still question, for I simply do
not understand—it is said the Sovereign turned her head to look
back . . . and possibly she spoke words of which we
know nothing. . . . And as she did thus, Ulpheo
started to
fade
—as though it had been waiting for her to let
go, to pass beyond and
abandon
it. Thus, it too grew thin
and translucent, and the morning sun shone past layers of vaporous
streets and houses, through translucent people and beasts and
carriages, through fading walls of stone—and then it stopped. It
stopped fading, halfway, and did
not
disappear. And the city
stayed
thus.”

Beltain frowned. “How, exactly?”

“It is neither here nor there!” the Countess
interjected. “It is fixed within a mirage! No one can enter, and no
one may leave! The city with all its people is still among us, yet
it is suspended in another place, like a flimsy shadow of
itself!”

“How can that be?” Percy whispered. “We’ve
seen shadows fade with twilight, yes, but they can always be
entered—”

“Not this one!” the Count continued, wiping
his brow where sweat was beginning to sheen. “People gathered and
stood at the walls on both sides—stand even now—and it is like
glass, an unspeakable veil of some kind of physical
impossibility
. . . . Not even sound can pass;
no words can be exchanged. Those inside Ulpheo could be seen crying
out, their lips moving, their hands pounding at the empty air at
the open gates. . . . And then—as hours passed and
the morning sun rose higher, it is when they all saw
her
—they saw the face and form of the Goddess.”

“The Goddess Thesmos!” said the Countess.
“Those who witnessed it from outside the gates of Ulpheo, claim
that her form stood many stories tall, as high as the battlements!
And she too was translucent, yet golden, and her face was like the
sun. Not many recognized her at once, for she is ancient, mostly
forgotten now. . . . But once they did—apparently
the people inside Ulpheo could see her also, and they knelt in
multitudes, filled with awe, and they prayed to her. And now, those
of us on the outside of Ulpheo are convinced the Goddess can help
somehow—and everyone is said to be coming here!”

“To this temple?” Beltain frowned.

“Yes!” the Count replied.

“But we have come first, for we were already
on our way here,” the Countess continued in an urgent voice. “For
we must do this thing first, we must pray for—”

“Arabella, no!”

“My
daughter!
My sweet Leonora is
missing!” the Countess interrupted. “You’ve had your say, Lecrant,
and Ulpheo still stands at least, but I must tell our own truth
now! Just a few months ago she had accepted the honor of entering
the service of Her Brilliance, Rumanar Avalais, as her
Lady-in-Attendance. It is a rare honor, bestowed only upon a select
few, a handful of maidens of noble blood. She has been elevated by
the Sovereign, and we as a family have received many worldly
rewards, in addition to my husband’s enhanced position. But—only a
few weeks ago, we’ve stopped receiving any communications from our
child. Not a single letter! We inquired, and indeed she was not
seen around Court for at least a month. And when we arrived in
person, and begged an Audience, we were told by Her Brilliance
herself that Leonora had been indisposed and had simply forgotten
to write.”

“A minor detail, it would seem,” said the
Count. “Except, we were then not allowed to see her, under a
variety of seemingly minor pretexts—”

“That is when the dreams started! The
Goddess, she began appearing to me every night . . .
long before Ulpheo!” Countess Arabella exclaimed.

The Count nodded in resignation, then
remarked, “What kind of a thing is it, not to allow concerned
parents to see their own sickened daughter? Thus, our suspicions
grew. Formally, of course, these suspicions were, and still
continue to be unfounded. However, upon further inquiry around
Court, at my own discretion, I’ve learned a number of very
disturbing things.”

Percy and Beltain listened intently.

“We have learned something truly dark and
unthinkable about our Sovereign . . .” the Countess
resumed her telling, and her voice became a whisper. “They say—they
say that she has a
daughter
. A child of whom no one knows
but a tiny few! And that recently she has done something to her, to
her
own
flesh and blood, that is a dark and terrible thing
of the most profane black sorcery, the like of which is not
known. . . . For yes, there
is
an imperial
daughter who is kept a secret, and who is rumored to be so sickly
that she is never seen outside her own quarters, and has been thus
for as long as anyone can remember. And this daughter, it is said,
is kept under lock and key, in a hidden place underground. No one
is entirely sure where, not even the clandestine ‘ghosts’ of the
various surveillance factions who keep tabs on everything and who
know all there is to know about the world and its nether
sides.”

“In short, this daughter and her mysterious
illness is the key,” said the Count. “It is related somehow to the
disappearance of our own child. And possibly the cessation of
death.”

“Could she be the Cobweb Bride?” Percy
exclaimed.

The Countess gazed into Percy’s eyes, and
she nodded silently.

“If I am to find the Cobweb Bride,” said
Percy, “I have it in my means to take her away, to restore the
world’s death and natural cycle, and possibly to help your
daughter, if she is a part of this. I admit, I have no notion how
or what it would entail . . . or even whether your
daughter might survive or if she is already beyond anyone’s reach.
But—if you take me to the place where stands the Golden Goddess,
maybe, just maybe, we can make things right, together.”

“Impossible!” said the Count. “That would
mean getting you not only inside the Sapphire Court and the heavily
guarded Palace of the Sun, but into the exclusive Hall where the
Sapphire Throne stands!”

“Yes,” the black knight echoed him. “It’s at
the very least a mad scheme. Even I am not up to fighting off the
entire garrison of the Palace and citadel.

“Not to mention,” the Count said, “I will
have no part of such overt betrayal of my liege.”

“Speak not untruth!” the Countess said
passionately. “You were willing to do all manner of disgraceful
things on behalf of Leonora—up to and including a coup and an
outright imperial revolt—just an hour ago, as we spoke on our way
here. If getting these people into the Palace is all that is
required to find her, then we shall do it! Indeed, it will be much
easier now, since the focus has shifted and everyone is preoccupied
with Ulpheo! Once inside, let them ransack and plunder and burn the
entire Sapphire Court for all I care!”

And the Countess stood shaking with a
strange furious grief.

“I give you my word as knight and Peer of
the Realm—for that is who I am—that I will not engage in any
hostile action short of defending our lives if we are attacked.
Take us inside this Hall, and give us safe passage, and I promise
you we will be gone with the Cobweb Bride and nothing more—except
possibly your daughter.”

“Yes! Oh, yes! Please, do take away our
daughter from that evil place! You shall do it! For it is the will
of the Goddess! She came into my dreams every night, until I knew I
had to come here to her one true temple to find the
answer. . . . And the answer was
you!
See,
even now Thesmos looks down upon us! She is smiling, can you
see—there, just now—” the Countess exclaimed in a voice grown thick
with tears, again grabbing Percy’s arms, and pointed up at the
great gilded statue.

“If there is a way,” mused the Count, “it is
not a direct way. We will do nothing that is overt. I know of
places—passages that comprise a hidden network of the Palace—which
allow movement with discretion. We will utilize them.”

“Then you agree to this?” Beltain looked at
the man, evaluating him.

After a minor pause, Count D’Arvu nodded.
“Yes. We will help you. But only under the condition that once
inside you will do whatever it takes to find our daughter.”

In that moment, the sound of neighing horses
and several new voices came from outside the temple. Indeed, it had
grown somewhat loud outside. . . .

Percy looked at Beltain, then at the softly
weeping, broken Countess. “Let us hurry! I think someone’s
coming . . .” she said, for apparently indeed, other
pilgrims were arriving.

And suddenly—was it a trick of the chill
morning light through the broken sections of the temple roof, the
spinning dust motes in the air?—she thought the face of the Goddess
statue grew animated, warm,
alive
, and in her stone-and-gold
eyes was a blooming maternal smile.

Chapter
21

T
hey rode together,
Percy and Beltain, alongside the Count and Countess D’Arvu, away
from the ancient overgrown Temple Thesmophoros, and into the heart
of Balmue.

The countryside was sienna brown, and sparse
forests topped rolling hills. Sunlight filtered through nude
branches of the winter-bare trees against a pale blue sky.

Quite a few pilgrims on behalf of Ulpheo
were moving in the opposite direction, and initially they passed
all manner of mounted travelers and pedestrians entering the valley
of the temple. With such busy traffic, no one paid any attention to
the black knight or Percy, or their two companions.

At some point they came upon a road, rutted
with cart tracks, meandering around the dips of hillsides, and here
Percy touched Beltain’s arm and said, pointing into the distance,
“There. I can feel her. There lies her death—the Cobweb Bride.”