Chapter sixty-two

Gorodnikov

 

Castanus lay back on his couch. He sipped his dark red wine and pronounced, a propos of nothing.         

‘The past is beautiful and it is a great boon to live a very long life’

Dom was used to this sort of thing from his mentor, but this really was out of left field. He was full of sea bream and apple tart, though, and felt ready for anything.

‘What do you mean?’

‘If enough time goes by then what has gone before, at least, begins to make sense – like a huge painting that seems like nothing more than a blur of colour with your nose up against it but which gets clearer and clearer as you move away from it’

‘So what’s in the painting, Cassie?’ Dom always enjoyed his gods-father when he was in his cups.

‘Ah, good question – ask me again when I’ve taken a few more steps back’

Castanus’s face fell.

‘My dear boy – so much to see – but whatever else you do you must avoid the worst vice of all’

‘What’s that?’

‘Pity... If you stare at the world for long enough that is the first thing that wells up every time: pity for long lives spent unhappily; pity for the foolishness of everything young; pity for dreams unfulfilled and the inevitably of death; pity...’

He stopped.

‘I could go on, but only at the risk of going on...’

Dom smiled, but he wasn’t convinced.

‘Isn’t pity the thing that spurs us on to act? When we see someone suffering’

Castanus shook his head theatrically.

‘No – that’s reason. Pity just makes one feel awkwardly superior. Reason tells us when acting would be useful’

Dom was about to refute this point with all the force that half-a-bottle of Vino Dolce can provide when the mail paper arrived. It had two lines on it:

Dom. Laurence needs you to cast a spell so that he can blink to you trace. Now. Viola

He passed it over to his gods-father. He studied it for much longer than it really required.

‘Your commanding officer calls’ he said, with a smile that was almost a smirk, ‘as I knew she would, eventually…’

 Dom hurried to a drawer at the back of the room. He fumbled in it and pulled out a candle. ‘Epikaio!’ he commanded and a tiny sphere of light formed on the candle wick. He was still standing holding the candle when his friends appeared, in their strange connected stances.

Hardacre eyes darted round the room. He radiated embarrassment.

‘I am so sorry we had to do that, Master Dominic, Major Viola was quite insistent’

Potentilla, who had been drowsing through the hybrids’ conversation on another couch, jumped up as if to tackle intruders. Seeing only friends she let out a whoop of joy and ran straight over to them. She embraced all three, before Hardacre had the chance to extricate himself. He assumed that expression of a man stoically enduring a painful thorn extraction.

‘What are you all doing here?’ asked Dom, warily, but, inside, his excited heart was saying time to go and discover the world again.     

Viola removed Potentilla’s arm and took a step back. She spoke crisply and confidently.

‘Ortia is in danger. We need to go there are soon as possible’

Castanus had remained supine in his couch. He looked up at them.

‘Major Viola, Mr Hardacre and Dr Fielding, I assume?’

‘You must be Dominic’s gods-father’ said Viola

Castanus got up, slightly awkwardly, from the couch.

‘I have that considerable pleasure. And you must be the elf with some quite extraordinary abilities…’

Viola glared at Dom. He shook his head vigorously. Castanus, seeing this interchange, backtracked rapidly.

‘He’s told me nothing specific, of course – just his general impression. I know that he loved working for you…’

Viola swept away this persiflage with a wave of the hand.

‘…loved working for me…?’ she muttered, ‘…as far as I’m concerned he’s still working for me’

‘Yes, ma’am’ whispered Dom, only half ironically.

 ‘We have to save Ortia’ Viola continued

Hardacre coughed.ō

‘What Major Viola means to say, I think, is that we have to get to Ortia because an old friend of…’ he thought about this for a moment, ‘…of ours has told us that he is in trouble’

‘Who’s that?’ asked Dom

‘Rem’ answered Kath without further explanation.

Potentilla widened her eyes exaggeratedly.

‘Rem…’ answered Potentilla excitedly, ‘of course – who else could be a friend of all of us? Is he alright?’

‘We don’t know’ answered Hardacre, ‘we had a message from him yesterday, but nothing since’

‘Possibly because he fears the security of using mail papers…’ said Kath, ‘…and we haven’t sent one back for the same reason.’ She glared at Viola.

Dom had heard of Rem, but he remembered almost nothing about him, other than that Kath was very fond of him and that he had helped them in Melloreis. It didn’t really matter. He turned to Castanus.

‘Cassie – can you arrange a fast coach to Ortia?’

Cassie nodded.

‘Of course, my dear boy. I can arrange almost anything’

‘How long will it take?’ asked Viola

‘Two days to Amansk, another two on to Ortia. Depends somewhat on the weather’

‘Be kind to the poor horses…’ muttered Viola. No-one really heard her.

‘Will we need to stop for the night in Amansk?’ asked Dom, wondering if he’d be able to see Toby and Lily, but half hoping that there wouldn’t be time.

‘No need for that’ answered Castanus, ‘You only need to change the horses there. It should only take twenty minutes. Uncomfortable, of course, but the swiftest way’

Viola looked puzzled. Ever since her encounter with the Primes reality had been coming back in quanta.

‘Is Marthian still there?’ she asked

Hardacre shook his head.

‘No, not now’ he explained, ‘it seems the Emperor has reinstated her’

Viola smiled.

‘That’s such good news!’

Hardacre allowed himself a half-smile. He offered some more information.

‘I think the note from Rem was in the Proconsul’s handwriting…’

Kath showed Viola the note.

‘Oh’ said Viola, ‘so he must have dictated it to her…’

‘So it seems, Major’

Hardacre thought for a moment and then turned to Dom.

‘And in the interests of clarity, and returning to your earlier question, Master Shavosky, I need to tell you that Princess Lily is no longer in Amansk. You were, perhaps, intending to pay her a visit…’

Dom was shocked and surprised.

‘Where is she then?’

Hardacre began to realise that he was digging a hole for himself. How could he refuse to tell Dom the truth without causing additional, unnecessary, anxieties?

‘She has gone to study in Eth City’

‘Study?’ Dom bleated, ‘study what?’

Hardacre frowned. The hole was rather deep now.

‘I am not at liberty to say…’

Anger flared inside Dom.

‘What have you got to do with it?’

‘Nothing’ admitted Hardacre, but he couldn’t resist adding a whispered, ‘fortunately…’

 ‘Then why are you not permitted to say?’

‘Council orders’

Confusion had begun to replace irritation in Dom’s mind.

‘What, by the Emperor’s gods, has the council got to do with it?’

‘I am not permitted to say’

The penny dropped in Dom’s head; but it seemed like an extraordinarily exotic coin.

‘Is she in Eth City studying to become a witch?’

Hardacre voice turned tundra cold and dusty dry

‘I am not permitted to say’

‘Who’s Princess Lily?’ came a little, slightly tremulous voice. Dom turned to Potentilla. She was staring at him.

‘She’s just a friend…’

 ‘How do you know her?’

‘I grew up with her. Praefectus Arnon took me in when I was orphaned, she’s his daughter. She’s like a sister to me’

Potentilla narrowed her eyes.

‘Why haven’t you mentioned her to me before? I thought Arnon only had a son – your friend Toby… And how does Laurence know all about her?’

Dom felt a dull pain in the pit of his stomach. Was there a difference between omission and lying? If there was, why was he feeling so guilty?

‘I didn’t tell you because I thought you might not like it…’

‘Like what? You said she was like a sister…’

‘She was, mostly…’

‘Have you ever kissed her?’

Vila was standing with her hands in her hips. By now she’d had enough.  She snarled at both of them.

‘Stop this – both of you. I will not have people arguing about nothing in my team. Whoever this Lily girl is, and whatever she is to Dom, she is now hundreds of miles away, and nothing to do with our present problems…’

Potentilla scowled at Dom, but said no more. Dom was relieved, but he knew that he hadn’t yet heard the end of it. He was beginning to dread the journey.

Hardacre turned to Castanus.

‘Citizen Castanus’ he said, ‘If you would, kindly arrange our carriages’

Castanus hurried out. The mood of those left behind was not perfect. Dom still had many questions to ask Hardacre, but he expected no answers, while Potentilla stood facing Dom, forbidden to pursue her grievances. She stood like a boxer, resting between rounds, eager to lift up her gloves again.