The Starfall Knight (13 page)

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Rika asked.

“Important business,” Olban said.

“Probably about trade and economics,” Devan said.  “Boring things.”  He peered at the head of the table.  Sister Alessa – still mismatched in her patchwork robe – was deep in conversation with Arnst and Romaine.  Jarrell and Arlena were seated next to Brother Vantanis while a couple other masters were located at the edges.

“You fancy her?” Rika said.  “She’s a Sister of the Moons.”

“Don’t mean she’s chaste,” Olban said, gesticulating with a quail leg.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” Devan said.  “No, she seems different, doesn’t she?  Both her and Brother Vantanis.”

“You just want her to be different.”

“Can you imagine either of them working alongside Brother Julan?”

Rika pursed her lips.  “No, I suppose not.”

The council pages cleared the plates in readiness for the next course.  Around them, the soldiers and Devan’s squadmates caroused in complete obliviousness to the guests further along their table.  Devan didn’t mind another distraction for Terson and his friends.

“Devan, look.”  Rika nudged him with an elbow and Devan peered over her shoulder.

Councillor Arnst guided Sister Alessa towards the guests seated on their side of the table while Councillor Arlena led Brother Vantanis down the other.  “They’re talking with all the guests.”

“You mean the upper-tiers?” Devan said.  “They won’t get past halfway.”

“I don’t know,” Rika replied.  “You want to bet?”

“I’ll bet my dessert.”

“What is the dessert?”

Olban interjected, “Mango and tapioca pudding or a fruit platter with goat-milk yoghurt and a hint of baked cinnamon crunch.”

The Councillors guided Alessa and Vantanis to the next guests – commerce guild members, if Devan’s memory served, and they were chatting with no end in sight.  “I’ll take that bet.”

Rika nodded.  “You’ll see.”

Alessa and Vantanis moved onto the next set of guests and Devan frowned.  Benton and Captain Marzell stood up and greeted the guests.  Rika kicked Devan in the shin as Benton gestured to the end of the table.

“Here are some of my squad,” Benton said to Alessa.  “Sergeant Lora, Rika, Olban, Devan, Mikkis, Lei, Vannton.  The others are scattered amongst the soldiers.”

“Oh, so you’re not one and the same with the others?” Alessa asked.

“No, Sister,” Benton said.  “The rangers are distinct from the Centaran military.  Although we do share some resources, our duties and jurisdictions are separate.”

“Fascinating!”  Alessa nodded and smiled at Devan.  Her dirty blonde hair had been washed and splayed over her shoulders like golden sand.  “Good evening – Devan, is it?”

“Yes, Sister.”  Devan rose from his chair, placing his napkin on the table.  He ignored a smirk from Rika.

“Are you and Captain Benton related, by any chance?”

“We are brothers.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Alessa said with a gleeful clap.  “It must be wonderful to work closely with family.”

“It’s not without up and downs,” Devan said.  “How are you finding Centara?”

“It’s very different from Dwer.  We are a simple community.  I hear that there is even a sculpture made of andonite!”

“Yes, the Rose of Andon in the upper tier.”

“I should love to see it.”

“We will arrange a tour, Sister.”  Councillor Arnst guided Alessa back to the head of the table.  “Come – it looks like our next course is served.”

“Lovely to meet you all,” Alessa said with a bow from the neck.

“You too,” Devan said.  He sat down as Benton gave him a wry smile.

As everyone returned to their seats, Rika grunted.  “Looks like I’m going to be dessert-rich.”

Olban chuckled.  “Who cares?  Devan is going to be Alessa-rich.”

“What?” Devan said.  “Do you think...?”

“Don’t play dumb, Devan.  It’s exactly what you wanted.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rika snorted.  “Your big moon-eyes matched your moon-addled brain.”

Chapter Seven

Alessa peered at her reflection in the mirror and tied back her hair.  She couldn’t remember seeing a mirror of this quality in Sirinis – all they had were polished metal and the occasional dark glass scraps.  She shrugged to herself and let the morning sun warm her clean skin.

The Centaran Councillors had constantly apologised for the accommodation but Alessa could not fault the feather mattress and pillows, the sheets and the spotless polished floorboards.  Arnst had said that these were pages’ quarters but Alessa couldn’t quite believe that their young novices lived in such luxurious rooms, even if the latrines were shared.

A knock sounded at the door and Alessa opened it.  “Good morning.”

Devan bowed slightly.  He wore a plain tunic and trousers with leather boots.  A full rucksack hung over a shoulder.  “Good morning, Sister Alessa.  Are you ready for our journey?”

“Of course.  Do you need help with that?”

“It’s fine.”

Alessa shut the door behind her and Devan led the way out of the Council building.  They chatted about last night’s feast, Alessa surprised that Devan had found it just as extravagant as she had.  As they left the Council grounds, the morning sun peeked over the tall buildings of the middle tier, spilling light and warmth over the main avenue.

“Are you sure I’m not intruding?” Alessa asked.  She had not seen much of the city, having arrived after dark yesterday.  The wide streets and tall buildings were just as she had read in her father’s texts.

“It’s a pleasure,” Devan said.  “Although, I must admit I was surprised that everything was arranged to quickly.”

“I must take some of the blame.”  Alessa smiled as sweetly as she could.  “When Marshal Romaine mentioned that you were taking leave, I thought it was an opportunity to learn more about your city.”

“No need for excuses, Sister Alessa – like I said, it will be a pleasure.”

Devan led Alessa along the Avenue of Tiers, ascending to the upper level of the city.  The road wound between merchants, craftsmen and artisans.  There were no street-side stalls, only open store-fronts.  Alessa scoffed at the overpriced silk, a fruiterer hawking individually packaged rock-melons and an array of bracelets that she could’ve sworn had been traded by the Sirinese.

“Here we are.”  Devan gestured as the road opened into a plaza with the famed andonite sculpture dominating the centre.  “Berengar’s Plaza and the Rose of Andon.”  As its name suggested, the andonite resembled a blue rose with its stem extending underneath the fountain pool.  Pipes were attached to the Rose of Andon, spouting water that trickled back into the surrounding pond.

“It’s beautiful,” Alessa said.  “How?  I thought andonite was too dangerous to cut or break.”

“The vein was formed as you see it,” Devan said.  The glowing pulse of the andonite reflected from his cheeks.  “The dirt and rock was simply cleared away.”

“And these pipes?”

“Just part of the same heating system.  But made to look like a fountain.”

Alessa nodded.  A gaggle of children marched past with a matronly woman at the head of their column.  They paid no mind to the Rose of Andon, simply another part of their city.

“Thank you for showing me.  It’s truly a wonder.”  Alessa shot a smile at Devan.  “Now, this Ledge?”

Devan led Alessa to the lower tier of the city, wending through the citizens on their morning errands.  Farmers drove livestock towards the marketplace while children scurried to their classes.  The guard patrols were prominent during their walk – some marched in pairs on the smooth cobblestone streets while others were stationed at cramped booths that were nothing more than shelters in times of inclement weather.  They wore blue tabards and were more modestly equipped compared to the Centaran soldiers – the guards wore chainmail shirts or leather cuirasses and were armed with pikes and a dagger.  Most were either very young or simply fat – Alessa didn’t think the Sirinese would have any trouble overpowering them.

They exited the city through the main gates and Devan immediately headed onto a side-road that cut through the outer borough.  Alessa wondered at her study of the city guards – for the time being she needed to follow through with the information that Tarius wanted, as well as keep up appearances for Dene and Nasius, even though she wasn’t sure of helping them just yet.  No, although Alessa still wanted to escape to Centara, she had to pick her moment.  She still needed to be rid of Sirinis.

The road curved north and the houses of the boroughs slowly gave way to cottages with vegetable-patch gardens.  Devan said something, breaking Alessa from her examination of a yellow fruit hanging from a tree.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she said.

“How did you end up with aerock Dwer?”

“My father and I were from another small aerock,” Alessa said, recalling the story her and Vantanis had agreed upon.  “I can’t even remember its name – I was a child.  Anyway, my father had a calling and he followed it.  I suppose becoming a Sister was inevitable.”

“It’s not something you wanted?” Devan asked.

“It’s all I’ve known.”  Alessa shrugged.  “Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” Devan said.  “We have a moon temple in the city.  Brother Julan is nice enough but you’re not like him or Brother Vantanis.  Like other moon worshippers, they seem happy, content.  You, Sister Alessa – you’re yearning for something.”

Alessa didn’t respond.  Her secrets, not just the ones she needed to hold against Devan and the Centarans, weighed upon her.  But there was no reason for him to suspect anything.

Devan continued, “I saw how you hovered over the room before we left, how you look at all the people and the food.  Even the way you looked at the lemon.  You want more.”  He kicked a stray twig from the path.  “Don’t worry – I won’t tell anyone.  But I guess no one would object if Brother Julan had a successor.”

“Thank you,” Alessa said.

Devan marched on, the weight of the rucksack seemingly insubstantial to him.  Alessa couldn’t imagine hiking with a weight like that but she was not a ranger.  They continued onwards, the edges of the northern borough petering out to foothills that bordered alongside the edge of the aerock.

“I’ve always wondered,” Devan said, “why the three moons are hardly ever seen together.”

Alessa smiled as if it were a question she had been anticipating but her mind raced, recalling every scrap of information that she had read in her father’s texts.  “Well,” she said, stalling for a few more moments, “it is said that the moons were once gods who wandered the aerocks.  Upon creating humans and life, they retreated to the place beyond the clouds above.  Aer, the overseer of the skies, weather and life.  It is blue, almost invisible in the day but distinct at night.  Vaere, the embodiment of dirt, our aerocks and hope.  And Tyn, the red moon of fire and vengeance – unmistakable in day or night even as a new moon.”

“Were they really gods?”

“I don’t know,” Alessa said.  “But it would explain why Tyn and Aer are often together, for fire needs air to live.  Aer and Vaere do not co-exist well – they are opposites.  Tyn and Vaere have a love-hate relation.  Dirt can smother fire but fire can smelt metals and create glass.”

“I thought you believed that the moons were truly gods,” Devan said.

“Moon worshippers study the moons, the phases and their rise and fall.  The stories and myth are nothing more than a cultural interest.  If they are truly gods, they have not made themselves known as far as I can tell.  Have they?”

Devan shook his head.

The road ascended with the foothills of the northern edge of Centara, the woodlands growing sparse and the vegetation reducing to clumps of brush and grass clinging onto the wind-bitten dirt.  With the hills rising higher to the east, Alessa had never seen such a stark beauty on an aerock – not even in the lush lands between the way-station and Centara city.  If anything equivalent existed on Sirinis, Alessa knew that it would be taken over by refuse dumps as soon as her people found it.

Another gust of wind forced Alessa to squint as the view opened onto the northern edge of the aerock.

“The Ledge,” Devan said. 

A slab of smooth rock lay embedded into the ground, overhanging the edge of the aerock.  The main Council Hall could have fit onto the slab and perhaps more, as dirt and grass covered a portion of it.  A young man and woman rose from a picnic rug and they waved at Devan.  There were several other groups spread out along the block – why anyone would find this blustery edge of the aerock enticing, Alessa would never know.

“Tayu, Rika – this is Sister Alessa.”

Tayu had black hair and an intimidating physique.  “Good morning, Sister Alessa.”  His voice, however, lilted with a foreign accent.  Judging from his dark features, he was from an allied aerock, not Centara itself.

“Very pleased to meet you,” Rika said.

“Good morning,” Alessa said, shaking their hands.  “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Our pleasure,” Rika said.  Like Tayu, she was the same age as Devan – four or five years older than Alessa.  Rika was slim and had mousey hair that was common amongst the Centarans.  “We met briefly at the Council feast.”

“Of course,” Alessa said.  She couldn’t recall Rika – there had been too many introductions – but she shared the wiry physique of Romaine, the Marshal of Rangers.

Devan unshouldered his pack and gestured for Alessa to seat herself on the rug.  Rika settled back with a lute, plucking a nameless tune, while Tayu offered a mug of sparkling wine to Alessa.

“Thank you.”  Alessa sipped the wine, the tart fruitiness reminding her of the immense Council feast.  “So, Tayu, are you a ranger as well?”

Tayu laughed.  “Oh, moons no.  I work in the mines underneath the city.”

“How did you come to know Devan?”

“Tayu and I grew up together,” Rika said.  “We lived in the same district.  We met Devan during our ranger training after his aerock joined Centara.”

“But you’re not rangers?”

“No,” Devan said.  He offered to Alessa a bowl of prawn dip with toasted bread triangles.  “In Centara, ranger training is mandatory for all youngsters from ages twelve to fifteen, even while they are apprenticed elsewhere or continuing formal schooling.  True ranger qualification takes another three years.  I came from another aerock, so I took a year and ended up meeting Tayu and Rika.”