Nights of Villjamur (34 page)

'Yes.' Times were awkward all right. He would prefer to be in control of the raids on Varltung, or else remain here to stand by the new Empress, but this threat, on one of the fringes of the Empire, appeared urgent, and what the hell could be causing it anyway?

'Why all this effort to subdue Varltung now? This Freeze could last thirty-odd years, and much of the Empire will be changed as we know it. Hell, there may be no Empire left when we come out of hibernation.'

As Urtica met his gaze, it seemed a gust of wind came in from somewhere, flickering shadows adopting new postures across the old walls. 'Commander Lathraea, I don't think you fully understand the purpose of the Jamur Empire?'

'I'm not sure I follow.'

'I didn't think so. What does an empire do We extend ourselves, we acquire new territories. We take control there. We grow. We make progress. We seize the world for our people, and we give them additional wealth as a reward. You're a military man, commander. I expect better of you than to doubt our purpose.'

'Bohr, we've not had a skirmish in years - except for that incident on Daluk Point, of course. And the lack of military action has been a
positive
thing. We've found more diplomatic ways to establish relationships with tribes locally. You think I've risen to the top of my career by rearing to fight everything I come across?'

'Did it never occur to you that you've risen so far so quickly because you were adopted by a wealthy family? That's how things work in Villjamur. I'd hoped for more from you, Commander Lathraea. There's a population of some millions out there that it's our responsibility to feed and nurture. We need to raise them from the squalor of their mud huts, and give them a better quality of existence. Your role isn't that of politician, but as a guardian of the Empire. That now means going to Tineag'l, to prevent a bigger threat than even the Varltungs may prove.'

The chancellor had a valid point, even if Brynd didn't trust him, wondering how much of what slipped off his tongue was sincere. There were far too many bizarre happenings recently to trust the politicians, and perhaps the recent cycles of the moons were affecting more than just the weather. Maybe they were creating some kind of insanity across the Boreal Archipelago, generating a subtle tension you couldn't perceive exactly. And in the years to come, things would only get worse.

Jamur Rika perched on the windowsill staring out across the early morning snowflakes sifting through the air in thick flurries, collecting on the rooftops, on stationary carts, upturned barrels, walls. People were shuffling in and out of bleak streets and alleyways, avoiding the worst of it, miserable faces sheltering from the sky, only children looking up with glee, maybe not understanding what it meant.

She could breathe the tension even from up here.

All a necessary distraction, but she had to turn around and face her bed chamber eventually. It was so unfamiliarly full of luxuries that weren't her own - not that she'd possessed many before anyway. Leading a life studying Astrid had meant little need for such accoutrements. Purple furnishings, numerous gold and silver objects that she had no idea how to use, that perhaps had no real use anyway. Over there was the white silk gown she must wear for her father's burial in the crypts. Its layered silk was so much richer than the simple, black cotton she wore to sleep in.

And why should those refugees have to suffer when she enjoyed all this? She wanted to help them somehow, had already drawn up an idea to present to Chancellor Urtica at the earliest opportunity. To feed them, send aid, a food package from the city, from the new Empress. A positive move that would say she was trying her best. Even after only a brief moment back in Villjamur, it seemed as if the Council made all the decisions. But if she was going to insist on one thing it would be that.

Sleep hadn't come easily. Innumerable criers had stalked the evening until late, announcing her father's funeral to the echoing walls, their clear voices filtering through to her dreams, filling her slumber with visions of death and rebirth.

Rika felt trapped in a place that wasn't home, with such great responsibility. Jorsalir training had at least given her the luxury of accepting her fate. Now she felt such a longing, but for some time she didn't know what for. Perhaps she missed the remoteness of Southfjords, where there was little to occupy her mind except the daily texts, interrupted with a few thoughts of her sister. That those days could never be repeated made them all the more desirable. She must seek out a priestess in this alien city, so that she could have the benefit of Astrid's aspects to guide her through this difficult period.

*

She couldn't let her past go. She had tried for so long to avoid it, had perhaps even fled the city to escape thinking about it. Always, when abroad, her life came back to her in images:

Shafts of sunlight bleaching stone floors. Eir crying after being covered in flour in the kitchens. Pock-faced tutors issuing grammar instructions whilst it rained. The first time she ever saw a garuda. The day the tapestries caught fire in the dining hall. Two servants kissing with intensity against the wall of one of the studies. On a balcony eating an apple in the fading autumn heat. A city cat licking the sole of her bare foot - its tongue strangely rough.

Rika and Eir had played frequently about Balmacara from a young age. There were so many corridors to explore, so many rooms that meant nothing but the challenge of exploration, tall windows offering vistas of Villjamur's great bridges and spires, and they were curious young minds with endless days ahead. Time was not a concept with which to be concerned.

Many of the city guard were charged with their protection, soldiers humbled by nursery duty. She often wondered what these towering, muscular men, swords at their waists, must have thought of these two tiny girls in ridiculously expensive dresses. Their training left them somehow inadequate for this new duty. She remembered the glances when two new guards were asked to watch them as they played. The men would look at each other, shrug, then merely stand there. By the end of the day they would inevitably be on their hands and knees, Eir and Rika riding their backs, brandishing wooden swords, and their mother would burst into the room laughing. The guards would retreat later, blushing.

Rika laughed.
I bet they enjoyed it really.

They would try to lose them, Eir and Rika, try to vanish and cause panic. Once Eir managed to hide for an entire afternoon on top of a bookcase in one of the libraries whilst soldiers trotted along the corridors, checking every room, and their mother would vacillate between annoyance and worry. Knowing where she was, Rika would slip in every hour with some sweets for her.

'Are you coming down yet?'

'How long has it been?' Eir had said, brushing down a cloud of dust with the side of her arm.

'You should come down before they clip you round the ear. Eir. Ha! Ear Eir! You're named after an ear!'

'Shut up or I'm never coming down. Worse, I'll say that you scared me up here, and made me stay here and cry for ages.'

'You wouldn't,' Rika said.

'I would. So how long has it been?'

'Four hours.'

'Give it at least two more. This book is good. The sweets are good. Anyway, I like the fuss being made. Makes a change.'

Eir had always been the one less likely to follow instructions, the younger sibling, testing the rules that had been first set for Rika. And she had a point: they would often be ignored. They were children, so she should not be so harsh on them. Their father was busy being Emperor. A tough man, he shouted at them and their mother for no noticeable reason. Then there were the beatings, memories she tried to repress. One could see the neglect upon her mother's face, the withered features while in conversation with him, occasional bursts into tears as she sat staring out of the window. She had been beautiful. Sleek black hair, a pretty, oval face, tall and regal. Such dramatic clothing. Girls would help her select outfits, make-up, jewels, perfumes. Every bit the Emperor's wife. To Rika women were worth more than just sporting trinkets, being repressed by a man, trapped by a family. Back then Rika would sit on her bed, dazzled, feeling lucky if her mother tried some of her items on her, smiling. She remembered her breath smelled of mint leaves--

A knock at the door.

For a moment she considered not answering. If she remained seated here by the window with her memories, it was possible that her day wouldn't even begin. As soon as she got up, events would inexorably be set in motion - events that would lead to her being declared sovereign of the Jamur Empire. Instead she could just sit here and stare out at the city, allowing the hypnotic flakes of snow to take her mind away.

Easy to understand why her father had eventually become insane.

'Rika, are you awake? It's Eir.'

'Just a moment.' Rika rose to let her sister enter, pleased it was not another stranger.

Eir marched to the centre of the room, a heady waft of perfume following. She was wearing an outrageously fashionable red gown, high collar, black sleeves, her hair slick with oil, her face made up like nothing Rika had ever seen before. A fake red tundra rose nestled on her breast.

'You're not even dressed,' Eir observed.

'No, I'm not,' Rika sighed. 'I was watching the snow and just thinking.'

'You'll have plenty of time for that,' Eir said. 'We've got decades yet to go blind from the whiteness of it all, they say. The Night Guard and Council are assembling, as are all the major families.'

'I've got a little while yet before I need to get there,' Rika said. 'I'm not sure how I'll cope here, with all the fuss they make. How does one get anything done with so many other people interfering?'

'I simply don't know,' Eir confessed, now sprawling across the windowsill. 'It's kind of fun to have such a bother made of us from time to time.'

Rika smiled. 'You've become such a spoilt little brat.'

'Don't . . . you're sounding like Randur.'

'Who's Randur?' Rika demanded.

'No one.' Eir clenched her hands in a nervous manner.

'Indeed.' Rika took a step closer. 'He wouldn't be that young braggart strutting about these halls flirting wildly with every woman he meets, would he? I have certainly noticed him. Don't tell me you're predictably falling for his charms too?'

Eir laughed. 'You've hardly been here so how could you even think that. No, I can barely stand having to dance with him.'

'So you're close to him, are you? Is this a frequent occurrence?' Rika folded her arms.

'He's only my instructor.'

'Is he at least any good?' Rika enquired.

'
He
seems to think so, at least.'

'He's certainly a pretty man,' Rika conceded, inviting her sister to open up to her obvious infatuation.

'Don't let him hear you say that. He'd not let you forget about it in a hurry. Anyway, I don't want to discuss him.' Eir stood up. 'Now how soon can we expect you to bless us with your presence?'

'Just give me a few minutes. I'll be down.'

Eir kissed her sister on the cheek, went to leave.

'One moment,' Rika said.

So many years had passed, and she now considered how her little sister had developed into an attractive young woman. Rika walked over to her, grasped her hands. It felt easy to be open with her. 'Eir, I'm scared, at times, that I don't think I can ever be an Empress. I'm not strong enough to do this. I just don't have the experience--'

'Rika, you're the bravest, most sensible woman I know. You left this city to spend your life on a fringe island with nothing more than a few peasant farms and Jorsalir structures for company - that in itself takes quite some strength of purpose. You have spent time studying religion, so you possess a moral code that frames your thoughts. And, besides, now that father's gone, it may be fun because everyone will want to impress you.'

After a brief silence, Rika said, 'Are you sad? I mean, that he's gone?'

Slowly, Eir put her arms around her shoulders, and Rika enjoyed the warm embrace. To be able to be close to her sister again moved her. They held each other for a minute. Eir whispered, 'I only feel upset because of the relief he's gone, and because now I might have to start growing up and taking responsibility.'

*

To Rika's surprise, hundreds of people turned to face her as she stood at the top of the stairway leading down from the balcony, and the noise they made was alarming. It wasn't as though this would be quiet, the death of the only person in the city that had been known to everyone.

Those who weren't military wore vivacious dress, like her sister, that strange tradition in Villjamur to wear the brightest colours to see off the dead. There would be no morbid reflection here, guaranteeing a funeral day more colourful than any normal one.

At the foot of the stairs was a wheeled catafalque bearing a wooden casket.

Her father's body.

Although she knew she should, she didn't really feel all that much for him any more, but why was that? Had she spent so long alienating herself from the more basic human emotions that now she didn't know what to think, or was it a relief at the passing of this man who had been so cruel to her mother, a man who had loved no one but himself?