The Grand Design (29 page)

Lorla couldn’t help but be intrigued. “Part of what?” she asked eagerly. “Something important?”

“You’ll find out in time, when my father is ready to tell you. But I want your promise, Lorla. You musn’t say anything to my father about what I tell you.”

“I won’t.” Lorla leaned forward, anticipating the story. “Promise.”

Nina glanced around the room suspiciously. Lorla loved the intimacy of it. “Have you heard about my Uncle Eneas?”

“He lives in the Gray Tower,” said Lorla, remembering what Enli had told her. “He’s your father’s twin.”

“That’s right. And you know how similar they are, just like in that painting in my father’s study. You’ve seen that, yes?”

Lorla nodded. “I’ve seen it. I don’t like it.”

“Nor do I.” Nina laughed. “My Uncle Eneas doesn’t come around here very much: In fact, I haven’t seen him for years. He and my father don’t speak anymore. Not since they killed my mother.”

Astonished, Lorla fell back in her chair. “Killed her? You said your father loved her.”

“Oh, he loved her. Loved her to death. She was a lovely woman, and she had many suitors, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. Lady Preen was here in those days. She tells me things. But my father wasn’t the only man who loved Angel. So did Eneas, his brother. They fought over her hand for many months, and it drove them apart.”

“How?” Lorla asked.

“Uncle Eneas was jealous of my father. He never forgave him for marrying my mother. He accused him of stealing her away from him.”

“Did he? Steal her, I mean?”

“I don’t know, really. But I doubt it. My father is a good man, Lorla. Dangerous sometimes, but honorable. You’ll learn that when you get to know him better.”

“
If
I do,” sulked Lorla. Without Lokken and Kareena around to attend her, she craved the attention of adults, anyone who knew her true nature. “But tell me more,” she said. “What happened to your mother?”

“As I said, Uncle Eneas thought my father stole Angel from him. So one night he came to Red Tower to steal her back. He and some of his men snuck in and tried to take my mother away. They almost made it, too.” Nina’s face went ashen. “But only almost.”

“Tell me.”

“There was a fight. When they got her outside the tower, my mother screamed. No one really knows how, but she managed to shout for my father. My father’s guards heard her and pursued Eneas and his men into the night. They were on horses and riding fast. It was very late and dark. My father ran out of the castle after them, but …” Nina’s voice trailed away.

Lorla waited a polite amount of time before speaking. “But what?” she asked. “What happened?”

“My mother fell from the horse,” said Nina blankly. “Broke her neck. Lady Preen says that my father found his brother bent over Angel, weeping. She was dead and all Eneas’ men had gone back to Gray Tower, but Eneas had stayed to confront my father. They carried her back here together. She’s still buried on the north side of the castle, overlooking the sea.” Nina made a pale glance at Lorla. “I was so young then. Barely six years old.”

Lorla bit her lip, wanting to comfort her new friend and not knowing how. Nina’s pretty face had lost its glow. Lorla slid out of her chair and went over to Nina, offering her a weak smile and an uninvited touch.

“That’s very sad,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for you. And for your father.”

Nina took Lorla’s hand and squeezed it warmly. “That’s dear,” said Nina. She patted the space next to her on the big chair. “Here, sit with me, Lorla. You can comfort me, all right? Lord, I’m such a silly fool. It’s been so long, and I never really even knew her!”

“But that’s what it’s like,” said Lorla. She got into the chair and pressed against Nina’s warm body. “For
me it is. I think of my mother. My father, too. But I don’t remember them much. I don’t really remember anything. I just remember leaving Nar City and—”

She stopped herself. Nina was staring at her again.

“So what happened then?” Lorla asked, anxiously shifting subjects. “Did your father fight with his brother?”

“No,” said Nina. “They never fought. But every year on the anniversary of Angel’s death, Eneas would come here to Red Tower and beg my father to forgive him for what he did. And every year my father shunned him. Finally Uncle Eneas stopped coming around. He used to give me gifts when he came, to try and make up for what he had done. Like that was possible! Wretched man.”

“But he doesn’t come here anymore?”

“It’s been years. Five at least.” Nina pointed with her chin toward the raven in its cage. “Cackle was my last gift from Eneas. After that I never saw him anymore. He and my father haven’t spoken since.”

The story was profoundly sad, and for some strange reason Lorla wanted to weep. But she did not. She was resolute, just as they had taught her to be. Special girls like Lorla needed to be strong. So instead of telling Nina how she really felt, she said the only thing that came to her lips.

“Cackle was a gift? That’s strange.”

Nina laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. But Eneas raises ravens. It’s a pastime of his. He’s very good at it, I’ve heard.”

“Raises them? What for?”

“To defend his castle. My father says that Eneas has trained his birds to fight like falcons. Eneas calls them his ‘army of the air.’ They’re all over Gray Tower, guarding it from invasion.”

“I don’t believe that,” Lorla laughed. “It’s impossible.”

“It’s true. My father told me so. Everyone knows about it. Except you, of course. You don’t know much about Dragon’s Beak, do you?”

“No,” Lorla had to admit. “But it’s a good story. And I like birds. I wish I could see Eneas’ tower.”

“You’ll have to make do with Cackle, I’m afraid. Besides, I’d bet Cackle is smarter than any of Eneas’ other ravens. Father has spent a lot of time with him, training him. Cackle likes Father better than he does me, I think.” Nina turned to smile at the bird in its cage. “Don’t you, my darling? You love Father, don’t you?”

The bird said nothing, but Nina’s smile didn’t dim.

“Cackle’s been a good friend,” she said. She looked at Lorla. “I know how lonely Red Tower can be, Lorla.” She squeezed Lorla’s hand again. “Are you lonely?”

The pointed question made Lorla grimace. “Yes,” she admitted. “A little.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be so bad for you. You’ll be going to Nar City eventually, and until then you and I can be friends. All right?”

“I would like that,” said Lorla. “Very much.”

“Good. Then you can start by calling me Nina.
Just
Nina. Friends don’t use titles. And I won’t call you princess, all right?”

Lorla laughed. “Fine … Nina.”

“And you’ll be patient? You won’t go looking for my father anymore?”

That question was more difficult. Lorla needed Enli desperately, to find out what arcane work he and Master Biagio had planned for her. But Nina was watching her, waiting for an answer, and Lorla didn’t want to jeopardize her new friendship.

“All right,” she agreed. “I won’t go looking for Duke Enli anymore. But can I stay here for a while? Look at some of these books?”

“Is that all you want? To read?”

“For now,” replied Lorla evasively.

Nina gestured to the bookcases crammed full with manuscripts. “Pick one.”

It was all the encouragement Lorla needed. She leapt from the chair and headed for the closest bookcase, climbing the shelves like a monkey, the only advantage to her embarrassing body.

G
ray Tower stood on the north fork of the dragon’s tongue, alone and frigid on an outcropping of rock. Like its brother, Enli’s Red Tower, Gray Tower was a stoic place. It weathered storms without a blink and ate the salty lashings of the ocean. It was, like its red brother, built to separate its lord from the people he governed, to keep him high and far away from the peasant stock that toiled in his fields. Duke Eneas loved his Gray Tower. He loved the view from its high perches, and its grounds filled with oak trees, and its tall iron gates, always guarded by his raven-faced soldiers—those men of the fork who pledged themselves to his defense and wore the black armor. They were loyal and devoted to their eccentric master, and Eneas treated them handsomely for their service. All of the north fork were contented. And Gray Tower was well protected, not only by the guards in their
metal garb, but by Duke Eneas’ greatest accomplishment, a force he had literally grown himself.

His army of the air.

It was an affectation, really. Eneas knew this but liked the ring of it. Five hundred ravens. They were the terror of the populace. All of Dragon’s Beak knew about the army of the air, and none dared come to the tower unannounced lest they wished their eyes pecked out. Duke Eneas slept well in Gray Tower, safeguarded from his brother’s harmful intents and any foolhardy invaders. His army of the air protected him. They were his children and they did his bidding, for he was their God and mother, and Eneas needed only to flex a finger or whistle or turn his head to make them understand. It was a gift he had enjoyed since boyhood, one that Enli had envied and feared, and in these years of solitude from his brother, Eneas appreciated his dominion over the ravens. Five hundred pairs of eyes watched over him. In Gray Tower, Eneas could rest.

He had not always feared his brother. Once, the siblings had been the best of friends. They had shared every secret, and had grown to love and respect each other. Their mother had been sainted, a precious jewel of a woman whom they’d both adored, and they had wept together at her passing and at the death of their father, crying in each other’s arms, unashamed of their tears. In the early days of Arkus they had both been loyal to the emperor and his Black Renaissance, and they had flown the Black Flag proudly, divided by the channel of water but always together in spirit. They had separate castles but not separate lives, and they wrote to each other often. They spoke of governing the nation their father had bequeathed them and they quibbled over where to find the best wines. Like soldiers together in a crusade, they were closer than blood.

But that was long ago, before Angel had come between them.

Like most evenings in Dragon’s Beak, this one was
pensively quiet. The sun was slipping down and painting the sky crimson. A determined breeze chilled the grounds around Gray Tower, pulling at the tree branches and the cloaks of the guardians pacing through the courtyard. Ravens cawed and waddled along the bricks, pecking at the seeds lodged between the cobblestones, ruffling their feathers in deference to the cold. Near the far end of the courtyard a fire blazed in a pit as wide as a man, its flames warming the ravens gathered around it. Beside the pit was a three-tiered shelter, open mostly to the elements but breaking the winds that blew in from the sea, protecting and warming the duke’s precious birds. Like the ravens, the fire was tended constantly. Duke Eneas spared no expense for his army of the air, and paid his handlers well to endure the cold with the birds. Just now the shelter was sparse of ravens, but Eneas knew they would gather when the sun disappeared, and would sleep near the warm glow of the fire, protected from the worst winds. They were hearty birds, and because they were pampered and adored they never strayed far from the tower.

As he did every night before retiring, Duke Eneas walked the grounds of Gray Tower, his bearded face hidden from the cold by a thick wool cloak. On his shoulder was his ubiquitous companion, Black, his lead raven and closest friend. Eneas spoke softly to Black as he walked, telling the bird about his backaches and the other ailments of growing older, and generally expending energy on nonsense. As always, Black listened. He was a fine bird, worthy of his status, and all the other ravens followed him, for they knew that Black was favored. To mark his status, Black wore a thin silver chain around his neck, just tight enough to keep it from coming off in flight. A small medallion dangled from the chain bearing the crest of Dragon’s Beak. Black was clever and a good companion, and Eneas often abused the bird’s silence. When he was sad, as he was tonight, Eneas would talk without end.

“Winter’s coming,” Eneas murmured. They had rounded the front of the sprawling yard and were heading toward the fire pit and shelter. Black didn’t stay outside with the other birds, though. He slept beside Eneas’ bed and ate his meals with the duke. For Eneas, Black had replaced Enli as his brother.

When he heard his master’s comment, the raven ruffled his feathers. “Cold,” clipped the bird. Eneas realized he did not really know what the word meant. He had just heard Eneas use the term often enough. Eneas put his gloved hands together and blew into them.

“Aye, cold,” he agreed. He paused in the courtyard to look at the sun and study its descent. He didn’t like winter anymore. His body rebelled against the cold. And he wondered as he shivered if Enli suffered as he did, or if his twin had better escaped the ravages of time. Angel had died in the winter, and whenever the unwelcome season came Eneas relived those horrible days and martyred himself over his beloved’s death. That day, everything had died. He stared at the sun and saw Angel’s face in it.