Citadel of the Sky (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 1) Page 7

  He could always choose to avoid the Blood, but she could not. Both the Logos and the family magic would always be with her. Shanasee, her older cousin, refused to use her magic, but the mark of it was still under her skin, and she was still called to the phantasmagory. And once the plepanin woke someone to an awareness of the Logos, the awareness could only be suppressed, not sent away again. Death was the only escape, and the path most of the previous Blood Logos-workers had chosen. But half of those normal human initiates died too, and she was still glad she’d survived the first few minutes.

  As she entered the ladies’ residence hall, movement against the wall caught her attention. Down the hall was Jerya and Iriss’s quarters. A Regency guard was staring straight ahead outside the door. But on the wall she passed swirled the fading taint of an eidolon. It looked as if something had pressed against the wall until it passed through, invading the suite.

  Kiar’s stomach twisted in a sudden rush of anxiety. The wall bordered Iriss’s bedchamber.

  If it’s just a remnant of something Jerya did, there’s no harm done by the asking. She darted to the suite door, and the nearly-dozing guard jerked his head up and held out his hand. “The Princess has retired for the evening.”

  Her anxiety exploded into hot worry. “Actually retired or just shut you out?” she snapped.

  He yawned. “It’s the same thing as far as guests are concerned.”

  A vision of Tomas’s brutalized body rose in front of her and she put her hand on the door handle. The guard looked alarmed. “What are you doing, Your Ladyship? I can’t let you—” He grabbed her wrist as she pushed the latch down and opened the door.

  The sitting room on the other side of the door was dark, lit only by the faint light from the cloudy night visible through the large windows. But to the Logos-vision, light was just another piece of information, rather than a means of illumination. She lunged forward, twisting her wrist out of the guard’s grasp. He shouted, but she ran across the room to Iriss’s door.

  She flung the door open and shrieked at the eidolons writing around Iriss’s form. The young woman was drifting in midair, limp in the arms of one of them, a terrifying parody of a lover’s embrace. Other dark shapes swirled around her, twisting away at Kiar’s cry. One of them immediately faded away, but the one holding Iriss remained, as did another smaller one.

  Her shout turned into a sob and she flung out her own eidolons, swords to stab, shields to interpose themselves between the monster and Iriss. The smaller eidolon caught one of her swords and reversed it to point at her. It looked at her, saw her, with intelligent eyes no eidolon had.

  She gasped, and a dark tide of fear rose over her vision. The larger one lowered its top portion to engulf Iriss’s head. Desperation overwhelmed fear and she launched herself at the monster, trying to twist the Logos around her as she’d seen Twist do so many times before. There was a horrible wrenching sense of disjuncture and–

  She felt the Logos reject her request as impossible, more than impossible, indescribable. Something vast and alien opened around her. For the space of a missing heartbeat, she was painfully cold. Then she gasped for breath, standing with Iriss in her arms, the eidolon monster she’d replaced draining inside of her, swallowed down to the place where her own eidolons came from, just as if she was putting away one of her own weapons.

  The other monster leveled the sword at her and readied a thrust. She stared, her limbs and mind stiff with shock and confusion. Then Jerya’s eidolon, an iridescent falcon, soared out of the darkness, silent talons tearing at the monster, ripping its essence to shreds.

  Still fighting to pull breath into frozen lungs, Kiar stared at Iriss in terror. She could see through the Logos that Iriss was dying, her life leaking away through injuries inside her. There were words she could say—words that would at least slow the leakage and bind her life more strongly to her flesh. But her mind was so cold, and the words that spilled out of her were simple, no more than animal cries to the Logos.

  Then the Logos twisted on itself, and the Royal Wizard appeared beside her. His glance seared her as he reached for Iriss. Hot tears burned her face as she released the Regent. She watched as he whispered to the Logos and the words merged with Iriss’s form. The leak slowed and stopped, though the strange hidden injuries remained, perverting her essential structure.

  The inscribed orb in a sconce on the wall flickered to life, shedding a warm yellow glow. Somebody’s cold hand took her own. She wrenched her gaze away from the still form of Iriss. Jerya stood next to her, eyes wide, face white. Helplessly, Kiar squeezed the princess’s hand.

  Jerya said, “Is she…?” She closed her teeth over her lip and looked between Kiar and Twist.

  Twist placed Iriss on her bed and said. “She’s alive, but not by much. There’s something wrong with her. I’ve stopped it from getting worse, but I don’t know how to repair it.” He looked at Iriss one more time and then turned his attention to Kiar. “What in the name of Night did you do? I felt it. The Citadel probably felt it. Whatever it was, never, ever do it again.”

  Kiar said, “There was a monster attacking her. I tried to do your trick, to move to inside it. But it was an eidolon, not of the Logos. The Logos got confused.”

  He closed his fingers around her arm and shook her gently. “For an instant, you stopped existing. Never again. Tuesday.”

  Jerya released Kiar’s hand and moved to her Regent’s bed. Light and noise filled the sitting room as other people arrived to see what the commotion was. The guard was pointing fingers and Kiar stared at Twist, wanting nothing so much as to hide and sob. But Jerya was the one who needed to be allowed to hide and weep. It was up to Kiar to answer the questions.

  She tilted her head back, blinking rapidly. There was a fresco of the Firstborn Atalya in her guise as Spring on the ceiling, and she concentrated on the greens and blues until the tears were under control. Then she shrugged out of Twist’s grip and said, “I have to go explain. Stay here, see if you can do anything else.” And without letting herself look at him, she went out and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter 7

  Courtroom Drama

  Tiana sprawled on her bed, every coverlet kicked to the floor, pressing her hands to her eyes. “How can it almost be Antecession? It’s so hot.”

  “I’ve picked out something cool for you to wear, Your Highness,” said Misa, her maid. She held up a white frock that was barely more than a shift.

  Tiana said, “I refuse to believe that Jerya actually means to get up and go to the Justiciar’s Court after last night. It’s unthinkable! She can’t have had any sleep. I didn’t, anyhow.”

  From the entrance, Lisette said, “All the same, she’s expecting us to meet her at the door in half an hour.” Tiana looked at her. Lisette had made an effort to appear respectable, but even with Misa’s help, she looked pale and fragile. Two eidolons flanked her in the doorway, a wolf from Yithiere and a hunting cat from Cathay.

  Last night, right after Iriss was attacked, the Chancellor had decreed that not only would the Regency guards continue their watch, but each Regent needed two eidolon guardians who would always be with them: one from their own charge, one from another member of the Blood.

  Tiana pressed her fists into her eyes again. She couldn’t make eidolons. She was oh-so-talented with emanations, as long as she could map the action onto her own body’s movement. But eidolons? They were the most basic magic. Children of the Blood invented them when ordinary children invented imaginary friends. She’d never even managed a firefly.

  It hadn’t ever bothered her much, either. Until now. After they’d finally gone to bed, it was that, and not the heat, which had kept her awake until the sun rose.

  “Come on, Tiana. I’m tired, too. But today will be a distraction,” Lisette said. Tiana could tell she was trying to sound cheerful, and guilt stabbed at her. She rolled to her feet and let Misa dress her, staring anxiously at Lisette the entire time. Lisette hardly seemed to notice; when she w
asn’t talking to Tiana, her gaze was far away.

  When Misa was done, Tiana said, “That’s one way of looking at it. Lisette—” and she stopped. How could she say, I’m sorry I chose you, so long ago, and put you here, now, in the path of a monster? She didn’t know who she’d be without Lisette. She really didn’t want to find out.

  Lisette’s blue eyes met her own. “I’m worried about Iriss, too, but I’m sure everything will be fine. We’d better hurry if we want some food before Court starts, though.” Tiana took a deep breath. Everything would be fine. She’d just have to believe that. Anything else was a short walk to madness.

  By the time Tiana and Lisette made their way down to the back entrance to the Hall of the Justiciars, it was as hot as high summer, despite being deep autumn. Their light clothing was already beginning to stick to them.

  Tiana groaned and pulled her frock away from her skin. “Today is going to be miserable.” She flapped her hand at her face.

  “That’s right, keep your spirits up,” said Kiar, standing at the open double doors. “I looked inside and there’s hardly anyone there today. But Jerya’s already in the Royal Box, so we’d better go in.”

  A guard in a Justiciar tabard, standing at attention beside the double doors, had been watching them with undisguised curiosity. Finally he said, “If I may ask, what is Her Highness here for today?”

  Lisette smiled at him. “The princess wishes to observe the Court in action.”

  The guard chuckled. “It’ll be an oven in there today. You might want to come back on a cooler morning. Though I don’t think the work of the Justiciars will ever be the kind of entertainment a princess would enjoy.”

  Still smiling, Lisette said, “Nonetheless, today they will start observing the court. But your consideration is appreciated.”

  As she passed him, Tiana told the guardsman, “Believe me, we’re not here for our own entertainment.”

  Inside the Hall, it was cooler than the outdoors; the stones and dark wood absorbed heat slowly. At the back of the hall, where the princesses entered, there was a raised dais with six chairs arranged around a crescent table. There was another, higher dais behind it, but it was empty. Close to the dais were raised boxes with cushioned seats, one for the Royal family and another for various honored guests across the Hall. Closer to the front entrance were three rows of benches on each side. There were also desks lining the walls between the boxes and the dais, out of casual sight of the plaintiffs and petitioners.

  It was only partially populated. The front doors of the Hall were still closed, and clerks and other officials were at their desks at the back of the Hall. The dais was empty, though Tiana did identify the door she thought the Justiciars must arrive through. There were only a few people on the benches. Jerya was in the Royal Box, all alone.

  Tiana climbed the steps to the Box and settled into one of the plush seats. “Who uses the benches? I thought petitioners stood in line.”

  Jerya said, “People who don’t want to stand in line can have a servant stand in line for them. The servant introduces them when they get their turn to present before the Justiciars. And other observers are permitted.”

  Tiana leaned back in the seat and then leaned forward on the railing. “I’ll try not to fall asleep,” she said doubtfully. It was quite a comfortable seat, and it was already getting warm. “Are we early?”

  Jerya said, “I don’t know. I thought this was when the Justiciars arrived.” She chewed her lower lip, staring at the door.

  Kiar yawned. “It used to be. I don’t know why it would have changed.”

  Jerya turned to look at Kiar, sitting behind her. “What did you learn from Twist yesterday?”

  Kiar ducked her head. “Nothing. Except that he’s been investigating something and thus been busy.” Her mouth twisted as if she’d eaten something sour. “You’re probably better off asking him yourself, Jer. Or writing a letter. Questions from me he’ll just treat as lessons.”

  Tiana said, “Iriss hasn’t woken up?”

  Jerya looked away. “No. She hasn’t. Thank you for your concern.”

  Lisette touched Tiana’s shoulder. “Tiana, let’s change places so I can sit beside Jerya. I can take notes for her.”

  Jerya lowered her voice. “Yesterday, I had a theory. I didn’t expect the theory was completely accurate, but it was proven wrong when Iriss was attacked. Whoever it is, whatever it is, it wants to kill our Regents. They want to provoke us into misbehaving and use that against us. So please, no matter what happens today, we must keep our tempers.”

  Tiana, next to Kiar now, on the second tier of seats, noticed a guard opening one of the two front doors to look down the Hall before closing it again. “The Justiciars are late.”

  “Yes,” said Jerya, settling back in her chair.

  Lisette said, “What did you find in Tomas’s notes?”

  Jerya squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “He wasn’t worried about the troubles. He was very interested in Vassay. He admired their recent achievements. That Collegium….”

  Kiar said, “Who wouldn’t? They can work the weather with the Logos. They don’t have our recent heat problems.” She sounded impressed.

  Jerya said, “Yes. They do amazing things. But Vassay replaced their nobles with scholars, and their King with the Collegium. And Tomas was working on a plan for relieving the Blood of its exclusive burden.” She fell silent, and Kiar and Lisette both frowned.

  Minutes crawled by. Tiana watched Kiar rub her eyes, pinch the bridge of her nose, watched how perfectly still Lisette sat, looked at how Jerya’s eyes closed. Finally, the door at the front of the Hall opened at an unseen signal and a line of servants and peasants were allowed to shuffle in, stopping at a line of white tile on the otherwise dark floor. Through the far door flowed in observers, half-filling the rows of benches, more nobles in light, fine clothing.

  Only then did the door near the dais open and the six Justiciars pace in. Each seat on the Council was appointed by one of the Great Dukes of Ceria. Tiana knew all of the Justiciars by face and name, though they impacted her social circle only indirectly.

  Leading the procession was Lord Terence Aubin of Borzee. He was the eldest on the Council, a grizzled old man with a neatly trimmed, snow-white beard. He’d observed at her Regent auditions when she was seven.

  After him was Lord Donatien Wichard of Kanura. His hair was still dark, and Tiana had attended his third wedding two years previously. In the middle of the procession was the only woman on the Justiciar’s Council, Lady Rosalyn Scott of Ardoza. She was an attractive, older woman with blond hair tied back, and was a particular friend of Tiana’s old tutor.

  Walking close behind her was Lord Warrane Dunstan of Dalein. Of him, Tiana only knew that he was some kind of radical and that he had terrible taste in friends. Second to last, there was Lord Millard Bellamont of Ingae. He was a thin, middle-aged man with a bald pate. Tiana had encountered him at the theater occasionally. Finally, there was young Lord Jasper Gueran of Hypana. He’d only been appointed two years ago and Tiana had visited him when he first came to the Court, seeking stories of her mother, who made her home at the Court of Hypana.

  Of the Justiciars, only Lord Jasper glanced at the occupied Royal Box as they took their seats, and his expression was concerned. A guardsman with the insignia of a captain appeared at Jerya’s elbow then, and said quietly, “The Justiciar’s Council welcomes you to their audience hall, but we wonder which case brings you here today?”

  Jerya said, “No specific case, Captain. I’m here in response to the Crown Regent’s death, to observe the Council.” She offered the captain a charming smile, which he did not return.

  He lowered his voice. “Lord Ferya left much of the day-to-day work to the Council, Your Royal Highness.”

  Jerya said, “I believe that is traditional, yes. However, I should still like to acquaint myself with the current situation in my country, as presented by her people.”

  His eyes narrowed. �
�I see. May I inquire how long you plan on making your observations?”

  Jerya’s chin tilted up imperiously. “As long as I feel like it. Your name, Captain…?”

  The soldier inclined his head in a scant bow. “Captain Urhal, Your Highness.” He turned and vanished into the dimness of the hall as the first of the petitioners addressed the table.

  Jerya and the other young women turned their attention to the court, but Tiana observed the path of Captain Urhal instead. He made his way to the work desks at the back of the Hall and spoke with a red tabarded clerk. The clerk wrote something down and discreetly delivered the message to Lord Donatien. Lord Donatien read it, glanced up, met Tiana’s gaze, and then looked down again. He scribbled a response and passed the note back to the clerk, who went back to his desk. And that seemed to be the end of that.

  Then there was nothing to do but watch the petitioners. The first petition of the day was a pair of minor nobles who wanted their offspring to inherit both of their estates, despite the fact that they were in different duchies. Lady Rosalyn assigned a clerk to research their request and instructed them to come back when the clerk was done with his signed and sealed testimony. Meanwhile, Lord Donatien and Lord Warrane had a whispered conversation.

  The next petitioner was the formal presentation of a report by the army quartermaster on the disposition of uniforms. Tiana amused herself by whispering comments to Kiar on his uniform, until Jerya turned around and glared at her. This report was lauded by Lord Jasper, who sounded as bored by it as Tiana had been. It too was passed off to a clerk.

  Then it was an irate complaint of highway banditry. Lord Terence assigned a clerk to this one, looking tired already. After that was a return petitioner, with a clerk’s testimony on his request to allow splitting his lands between his daughter and his son. He shuffled to the line and passed a scroll to a waiting clerk, who read it aloud: a short description of the tax and military history of the estate, a description of its crops, and a note that the family didn’t have any distinguishments from the past three generations. Lord Millard and Lord Donatien consulted on this and then Lord Donatien denied the request.