Chapter fifty-two

Kinspit – the University Senate Building

 

They gathered in the Great Hall of the chancellery on the fifth floor of the Core Building.  John had brought George and Huw with him. He had chosen George because he was the oldest, a former president, and well known to the mages; Huw because he had been very keen to be involved. John assumed that it was because Huw was Stephen’s apprentice, and Stephen had been the biggest elf-lover within the coven. They had both come at the last moment and there hadn’t been time to prepare.

They sat in the enormous hall, usually used for formal dinners and graduation ceremonies, with the three witches on one side of the long table and the mages on the other. The table hovered just below waist height, it was clearly made of a long plank of Zymena wood. It was more impressive than practical; if you paced a notebook on it and tried to write then the table would bob up and down. It was like trying to write on a big floating cork.

They sat there uncomfortable; waiting for something to happen. Huw looked particularly nervous to John, and he wondered about the wisdom of including him, but if he wasn’t allowed to pick women (those were Agora rules) then the choice was fairly limited.

Choron, the Strategoi of the Kinspit Mages, rose and spoke to them in a very soft voice. They strained to hear him.

‘Greetings to all who gather in this place,

Mage and witch; occupants of Skiophos

We come here now to speak of doom and power

The hour approaches…’

‘…fear stalks us daily’ added the elf sitting to Choron’s left. Choron glanced at his colleague and continued.  He raised his voice a little.

‘And now you seek our hasty counsel, men

Made to see just parts of dappled worlds

Care not to see their fabricant corrode

Hope not to have their tiny realm destroyed

‘tis unsurprising; no doubt alarming         

But what business is it to worry us?

When you know we can leave at any time’

 He stopped, as if waiting for that truth to sink in.

‘Now introduce yourselves you witch children,

And tell us why you need to speak to us’

‘I’m John Ismay, president of our council’

This simple sentence was greeted with gales of laughter, not unfriendly but undoubtedly unflattering.

‘I don’t understand…’ John spluttered

‘…no, of course you don’t…’ chortled Choron.

George whispered in his ear.

‘You were up a syllable…’

John turned to glare at George.

‘What?’ he hissed

‘Blank verse…’ he explained

‘What?’ John repeated, just a little more desperately

‘Iambic pentameter, only… At an Agora; age old tradition’

John’s lips thinned to a line.

‘You bloody well talk. You seem to know what you’re doing’

George frowned and nodded uncomfortably. He turned to Choron.

‘I am George Blackthorne, we have met before’

The laughter died down and Choron smiled approvingly.

‘Indeed we have, old friend; well met I say’

George smiled formally.

‘Well met, indeed, but times are running dry,

Forces move, deadly forces, threatening’

Huw looked even more bewildered than John. He sat, clearly hoping that no-one would address him. Where by Jones is Owen thought John, I should have brought him.

‘I am Glossion…’ Said a younger elf, sitting to Choron’s left.

‘…the historian’ completed Choron emphatically, as if they should all know who he was.     

‘And I am Tachys,’ said the third elf sourly, ‘no historian’

‘Tachys is a judge’ explained Choron, ‘but slow to condemn,

Despite the promise of his given name’

There was another academics chuckle. Choron smiled a self-satisfied smile.

They don’t care thought John, they don’t care if this world lives or dies. Perhaps they already think it’s doomed.

 ‘Are your fellow witches tongue tied or tired?’ asked Choron of George

George shook his head; tension was making his words come out awkwardly.

‘Waiting for the right moment to chip in,

John Ismay here and Huw Hargest, their names’

‘The hargest name to remember, I think’ said Glossion, smiling at his own wit.

There was another brief flurry of laughter.

John was bored with this; they had to get on to something substantial. He tried again.

‘The risks are greater than you seem to think

Our foes’ actions may bring us to the brink’

Choron’s face fell and the three elves stared at each other, in evident disbelief.  A silent disapproving space opened up between the two parties.

‘It mustn’t rhyme…’ whispered George, ‘they think that’s very vulgar’

John sighed but he was determined to try to save the moment.

‘I am sorry, I am but a rough sod

Dug up, discarded, from some stony ground

And I am like this world, just a plaything

It seems, for gods and elves. All the same

I love this world where we were coarsely made

And would have you help me save it…’

He paused, groping for the remaining two syllables.

‘…I will’ said a small voice from the far side of the hall.

The mages gasped in unison. All eyes were drawn across the room to the origin of the words. Choron’s voice cracked with apprehension.

‘You are not permitted here, my lady’

A small round elf-woman, apparently in her very early twenties, appeared from behind a curtain. She looked particularly well-fed. She was wearing a loose purple robe and a circlet of laurel leaves around her head. Her voice dripped with disdain.

‘This is my grandfather’s possession, is it not? I can do anything I want here’

 Choron stood up and bowed to her, extremely formally, as did the other two elves, each one trying to outdo the last in the depth and sincerity of their bow. John could sense that they were terrified. Despite her appearance, this was someone very important. John waited a moment, stood up and bowed himself. Who was she? He made an educated guess.

‘My lady, I have met your grandfather, and your father too, if I am not greatly mistaken’

 The girl’s expression shifted from contempt to suspicion.

‘How can you have? They are in the Other Place; they would never come anywhere near here…’

Glossion was shaking his head slowly. His voice dropped to a whisper.

‘Princess Sophia, ‘tis unbecoming,

 To consort so freely with a base one’

‘Who is she?’ whispered George to John. John responded aloud and in the Old Tongue.

‘Sophia Palaeologus, I assume; daughter of John Palaeologus; granddaughter of the Basilieus in Epipelagia’

A smile broke out on Sophia’s face. It turned her instantly from a spoilt child into a very grown up woman. Her blue eyes narrowed; intense and dangerous.

‘My Uncle John’ she said, ‘but yes, you are otherwise correct’

‘Why are you here?’ asked John, happy to be free of the strictures of elven poetics.

Choron, however, struggled on, talking across his princess.

‘She is on leave to here from… somewhere else.

She isn’t meant to be in here at all’

‘They mean’ she said, crisply, ‘that I am in exile’

 ‘Why?’ asked John

‘I won’t follow the rules…’

‘I can see that’

Choron stood up and waved her away; this clearly took a fair amount of moral courage. Sweat had broken out on his brow.

‘My Lady, I must tell you once again,

You have no formal status in this place’

Sophia snarled at him; for a moment it was if she were a she wolf protecting her cubs. Then John realised, she wasn’t fat at all, she was several month’s pregnant.

‘I order you to stop that stupid way of talking. In my realm no-one will claim superiority by the pattern of syllabic stresses in their sentences’

The sweat began to form a glassy sheen on Choron’s forehead. But he struggled on.

‘This is an Agora, the rules are set

By our ancestors, not by my wishes’

She smiled and then she shifted, without warning or signal, into a leopard. Her belly was still full; her coat was a glossy gold with pure black spots. John was in awe – he had never seen such a smooth transition into animal form. This was not just a princess; she was a mage of extraordinary power. John felt a chill in his bones – not another enemy, please…

Sophia padded towards Choron. He lifted his hands up and gabbled.

‘Of course, your highness. We will talk in prose

If that is what you really want from us’

She shook her big feline head and pawed him where he stood, gently, with her claws retracted.

‘I am sorry, your highness’ whimpered Choron

The leopard pulled back her paw and returned to elven form. She stood there completely naked, with her belly taut and full. She nodded at her fallen robe, expectantly. Huw got up and handed it to her reverentially. Another chill rippled through John. What is going on?

‘Huw?’ he said

‘I’m sorry, John,’ Huw muttered.

John still had no clear idea what was happening but he knew enough.

‘You fool’ he hissed, ‘you bloody fool’

Sophia stared at Huw and beckoned him towards her.

‘Huw, ignore him. Come with me – I’ll look after you…’

Huw walked over to her eagerly. She squeezed his hand as he approached. He turned back and stared at his former friends. His eyes beseeched them.  

‘She can stop the Voice – I no longer hear it. I know that she will be a wise and mighty ruler. Please listen to her’

‘Ruler?’ asked George, who was the only one still sitting, ‘ruler of what exactly?’

Sophia thought about this in a very studied way, as if no-one had ever asked her this before.

‘Of elves and humans’

She stopped for a second as a shadow of uncertainty flickered over her face.

‘If they will have me’

George started to respond, ‘but…’, and then he stopped, clearly thinking better of it. John sighed in relief. Not the right time to get into that he silently agreed.

Sophia ignored him. She lowered her arms, palms outwards as if beckoning them. Her voice became very gentle.

‘I just popped in to request, esteemed mages, that you provide whatever help you can to  support Mr Ismay’s coven. I hear that they are our only hope’

The mages murmured and looked at each other, but none of them said anything. Sophia waited. Choron was the first to break the silence of mutterings.

‘But, your highness… We are all agreed that Skiophos is doomed’

The others hummed in vague agreement. Sophia showed her teeth again.

‘My kingdom cannot be doomed – I have only just decided to acquire it’

Choron looked around the table. No-one seemed at all keen to respond to that. John smiled sympathetically; he felt sorry for him even though he had revealed himself to be both unreliable and obfuscatory.

Choron sighed.

‘As you wish your majesty…’

Queen Sophia turned and led her consort away. Huw didn’t look back again. At the door, at the far end of the long room, she turned and boomed back at them.

‘You can all stay here until you have sorted something out’

She swept out of the room, her robe flashing purple in the magecraft light. The mages and witches slumped back into their chairs, and began again.

Chapter fifty-three

Kinspit

 

Bentley opened the door, not hiding the fact that she was delighted to see them

‘Dr Fielding, Mr Hardacre! I see that you have found each other…’

Hardacre frowned momentarily

‘Yes, Miss Bentley – but Dr Fielding will need rest, food and…’

He sniffed the air suspiciously,

‘…A change of clothes’

He looked beyond Bentley towards the study. There was someone behind her.

‘Major Viola’ he said, without a blink, ‘it appears that you will need one too’

Viola smiled sleepily at him. She had been dozing in a chair in John’s study and was still wearing her battered jacket.

‘Laurence…’ she said, but before she could say anything else she was engulfed by Kath, embracing her. Kath had moved so rapidly that for a moment it looked like they might topple over. Bentley smiled and Laurence frowned. They both waited until the embrace was over.

‘I thought you might be dead!’ said Kath

Viola disentangled herself and shook her head. She studied her friend. They both looked gaunt and dishevelled.

‘What has happened to you?’

Hardacre interrupted them.

‘Later; we can discuss it later. For the time being you both need baths and sleep. After that we can review what has happened’

He turned to his assistant.

‘Bentley – could you prepare the rooms and some clean clothes, please. I will make some dinner. On this occasion I will relax timing and sartorial requirements. Come and eat it when you will’

 

***

Several hours later, Viola and Kath were tucking into a lamb stew, resting their bowls on their knees. They had occupied John’s study and commandeered two of john’s dressing gowns; they were both ravenously hungry. Bentley went back and forth with tea and crusty bread. It was some time before they could manage a coherent conversation. 

Viola had to be coaxed. Bit by bit, however, she told Kath the outline of what happened to her in Klethropolis – the destruction of the Prime, the half-remembered chaos that followed and the entry of the new Prime.  At first Viola had been uncertain what to tell, but in the end she divulged as much as she could easily remember – after all, if she couldn’t tell Kath, who could she tell? These were vital secrets but they had to be shared if they were to be understood. Everything was hard to pinpoint though – it felt as if the memories were being forced down the wrong end of a telescope.

Viola looked around the room and realised that something was missing.

‘Where are Tillie and Dom?’ she asked

Kath frowned.  

‘They went back to Gorodnikov; Dom was still very weak’

‘Why did Tillie go back with him?’

‘Because she’s in love with him, why else?’

Viola sighed,

‘I’d forgotten about that. Anyway, we need both of them’

Kath laughed; Viola was taken aback.

‘Why are you laughing?’

‘Because I’ve realised that this is going to go on forever, isn’t it, whatever it is we’re doing. They’ll always be something else to do, some other secret to uncover’

Viola’s face fell; she had taken it for granted that they’d continue the quest for the fire snakes and what they guarded.

‘Yes, of course, we still have to save the Primes, if we can’ murmured Viola, ‘and help the Grey Wanderer, although it’s not clear to me who that is. The new Prime said he worked for him, or something similar, and that he had a plan to save the world from the Archwitches’

Hardacre came in at that moment carrying a pile of ironed clothes in a wicker basket. He immediately began to retreat.

‘Do you know who the Grey Wanderer is, Laurence?’ asked Kath, nodding at him that he should stay,

Hardacre stopped, clearly torn between answering and continuing his withdrawal

‘You know a little of whom he is, I think, Dr Fielding – don’t you remember Rem talking about him?’

‘His god…’ said Kath, ‘…of course. What does he have to do with any of this?’

Viola shrugged.

‘I have no idea’

This exhausted this topic for the time being. Hardacre began to back away again.

 ‘Please stay, Laurence, I would like you to hear what happened. And, also, I wanted to ask you something. After Bea destroyed the Prime she tried to kill me…’

Laurence stood stock still. His manners were now overbalanced by his curiosity.  

‘How did you survive, Major?’

Viola’s tired mind struggled to remember. It was all very hazy. There was a long pause.

‘Someone helped me… A tall woman… Somehow she cast spells from a long way away… And she sent an extraordinary little animal that absorbed magical energy, or did I just dream all of that?’

‘Celia…’ murmured Hardacre, ‘… and that was Boo, her Tupaia’

‘What?’ asked Viola,

‘Celia’s a council member, and Boo – well, she helped me in Monurbis, although she didn’t intend to…’

‘What?’ repeated Viola.

‘It doesn’t matter’ murmured Hardacre, ‘I’ll explain some other time’

Viola smiled grimly. Another memory sparked in her mind, unbidden.

‘There was another name that the new prime mentioned – some sort of leader of a group. “Braith” – that was the name’

Hardacre jerked forward in surprise. It was about the most astonishing thing that Kath and Viola had ever seen him do.

‘Who?’

Viola stared at him.

‘I have no idea. Is that someone you know?’

‘I met her once and she saved my life…’

‘Who is she, then?’ asked Kath

‘She is the leader of the Radical Numerologists… They are tied in with the Primes in some way, through a an elven scholar named Macrocephalos’

‘Intimately tied in it seems. The new prime was sent by them – he said so himself’

It took a few more minutes of explanation for Hardacre to understand this. But he seemed to cotton on very quickly.

‘So…’ said Hardacre, very calmly, ‘the Primes hold this world together, as we suspected, and Bea is destroying the Primes. But it seems that someone else is replacing the Primes or at least the Klethropolis one…’

Viola’s face darkened. A mixture of anger and guilt flared in her mind.

‘And we led Bea to the Prime… We could have doomed the world…’

Hardacre put down his ironing. He stood for a moment with his hands by his sides considering the elf’s statement.

‘No – that isn’t a fair summary Quiena bid us find the Primes – I assume because she feared they were in danger. We could not know what that danger was, and perhaps neither could she…’

‘But nonetheless…’ murmured Viola

Hardacre shook his head, quite sternly.

‘The worst that one could say was that the threat was made more immediate by our investigations, but it is presumably Bea’s intention to destroy all the primes, and she clearly has the wherewithal to locate them. We need to find a better way to protect them…’

‘Wouldn’t it be better just to leave them alone?’ asked Viola

Kath thought about this for a moment.

‘Only assuming that the Numerologists know where they all are…’

Hardacre nodded. He continued Kath’s train of thought onwards.

‘The problem will arise if Bea knows where a Prime is and the Numerologists don’t…’

‘How can we know that?’ Viola asked

Kath laughed.

‘You could try asking Bea’ she said, ‘or…’

‘We could ask Braith’ said Hardacre

‘But where is she?’ asked Viola

Hardacre shrugged, almost imperceptibly.

‘Nobody knows. John asked me to find out but I got caught up in other things. I think that Councillor Williams was given my job’

‘Has she found Braith?’ asked Viola

Hardacre frowned.

‘I doubt it. She is… unpredictable’

Kath spoke with an exaggeratedly soft voice.

‘Sometimes, Laurence, your… organisation… give the impression of being a bit…’

Hardacre nodded and finished her sentence

‘Slapdash, unfocused… uncoordinated… are those the sorts of words that you were seeking, Dr Fielding?’

‘Possibly…’ conceded Kath

Viola, however, had jumped far ahead of them both.

‘We need to go and talk to Councillor Williams’

She thought for a second.

‘With your permission, Laurence…’

Hardacre’s face hardened with barely concealed psychic pain. His interests were severely conflicted. His response was pitched somewhere between a question and a request.

‘We should, perhaps, wait for Mr Ismay… It’s not in my remit to give permission…’

Viola shook her head.

‘We can’t wait – we need to go – we have to talk to the Numerologists as soon as we can. Everything could fall apart at any second. We’ve already wasted too much time’

‘What about Tillie and Dom?’ asked Kath

‘We’ll pick them up later’ said Viola

‘And you’re just assuming that I will come with you?’ asked Kath

‘Yes’ said Viola absentmindedly.

‘It would be nice to be asked’ mumbled Kath, but she showed no other signs of dissent.

‘Where does Councillor Williams live?’ asked Viola

Hardacre was still struggling.

‘In Tribyth – a town to the north west of Eth City… But…’

‘Can you take us there?’

Hardacre’s lips narrowed into a thin line.

‘I still think we should wait…’

‘Well, I’m worried that we can’t. I need to find Braith as soon as possible – if they don’t know where the other Primes are, then we need to tell them, as far as we can’

Hardacre allowed himself a single, deep, sigh. His words were squeezed out of him with the utmost reluctance.

‘I can take you there – there’s a beacon at Councillor Jenkin’s house in Eth City. It’s only half-a-days travel from there. However, you must both have a good night’s sleep’  

Viola smiled. She was so relieved.

‘Thank you so much, Laurence’

Hardacre managed to respond with a curt nod. No answering smile even flirted with his lips.

‘No reason to thank me, ma’am’ he said, ‘I’m just doing my duty’

Chapter fifty-four

One dream, two dreamers

 

The steps led down to a sea cave, just as they had suspected; the sound of lapping water greeted them as they made their way gingerly down. This was unlike any sea cave that Celia had ever seen in her waking life, however, its walls were lined from floor to roof with shelves of books. She recognised it immediately – it was where she had hidden something in an earlier dream. Her memories came flooding back.

The air around them popped – the spell that had distorted their speech was broken.

She turned to Viola.

‘The note!’ she shouted, ‘I wrote a note…and I put it in your book!’

Viola blinked at her.

‘What?’ she asked

‘I was given instructions telling me how to get to Kratos’s island headquarters. I wrote them down in my dream and slipped them inside a book…’

Viola looked out over the vast space and the hundreds of book within it.

‘…but which book?’ she asked

Celia scanned the walls from left to right. Viola followed  her gaze.

‘I don’t know’ she said wearily, ‘I can’t remember’

‘Who gave you the instructions?’ asked Viola

‘A tall black elf – he called himself Ko-yo, or something similar’

‘Rhopadon’ whispered Viola, ‘the Imperial God of Misrule, the deity of tricks and mishief… That’s one of his names’  

‘I could tell he was a god…’ murmured Celia, ‘…and he was certainly tricky…’

‘Why did he tell you about Kratos’s headquarters?’

‘I’m not sure – everything is hazy… Perhaps he doesn’t want the world destroyed?’

‘He’s usually worshipped by the feckless, the amoral and the narcissistic… I doubt that he’d care’

‘Anyway… I need to remember this book… I think it was a history of some kind, or a collection of folk tales, perhaps… maybe something secret?’

‘What language was it written in?’

Celia struggled to remember.

‘Elven – Archaic Elven – and it was about Adrial, the old Emperor, and… Ophia’

‘Ophia?’ murmured Viola

‘Yes – she’s an old Elven god… they call her the Paramount Architect’

Viola nodded, a faint smile flickering across her lips

‘I know that’ she said, ‘but what does that have to do with me? An Emperor and a god aren’t my concern’

Celia frowned and nodded her agreement, it all seemed very strange.

‘What book would it be?’ Celia asked, but a name was already forming in her mind. It began with a “kappa”.

‘Kaltrops? Is that it?’

Viola corrected her, reluctantly.

‘Kalappos, it must have been him – he’s a famous Archaic Elven historian of the Empire’

Celia nodded eagerly.

‘That’s it. It was something called Secret History, I think’

Viola frowned deeply. 

‘I don’t think I like that name at all…’

She stopped and then continued softly, as if to herself.

‘But the New Prime told me to seek my hidden past – perhaps it’s revealed in Kalappos’s history…’

‘What?’ asked Celia, completely bemused.

Viola ignored her confusion.

‘What did it say in the book?’

Celia sighed.

‘I can’t remember – it was something to do with the god and the emperor, as I said – perhaps it was about Dwarven Magic…’

‘Whatever it’s about it’s clear that we need to find the book – for both of our sakes…’

 Celia nodded. She looked out over the stretch of water that separated them from the bookshelves.  She knelt down and dangled her hand into the water. She whispered ‘fferra’, waited a few seconds, and then pulled her hand back out again.

  The water in front of them froze instantly. It formed a bridge from where they were standing across to the thin ledge than ran alongside the bookcases

   Celia stepped on to the ice gingerly, but more confidently as she was certain that it would take her weight. Viola was temporarily distracted wondering how spells worked in dreams, but then she realised that it didn’t matter, as long as they could find the book. Celia half walked, half glided, to the side of the cave.

She looked back at Viola. ‘I think I’ve remembered where it is’ she shouted. Viola stepped, with even more care, on to the ice. She picked her way towards the witch. 

Celia had shuffled a few feet down the ledge.  She was pointing at a book with both hands. Viola hurried to join her.

  Celia took the book out of the bookcase and showed it to Viola. Viola stared at the spine with great puzzlement.

‘Western folk songs and tales? That’s not It, is it?’

Dismayed, Celia snatched it away from Viola and opened the book to show the title page. She read:

Kalappos of Oikonde – Secret History;

Being the Concealed Part of Skiophographia with Historical Facts Best Kept Hidden

Here Bound Separately For Ease of Reading.

Published on the Fifth Day of March in the Nine-Hundredth year of the Reign of the Basilieus George Palaeologus

Published Exclusively in Epipelagia

[NOT LICENSED FOR SALE OUTSIDE HELIOS]

 

‘It is the history book – look…’

Viola shook her head.

‘I can’t read it… It’s not appearing as it should to me’ she insisted, ‘tell me what page it is so that I can find it in the waking world. Then read out the page.’

Celia opened the book at where she saw a book mark. The mark, a square of paper fell out. Viola caught it before it flew off into the sea.

‘That’s my note…’ gulped Celia

‘One thing at a time’ whispered Viola, hoarsely, ‘read out the page’

Celia began to read it out in the original Archaic Elven

‘A the top of the page there’s a header. It says “Kalappos secret history – page fourteen-thousand, thirteen hundred and three, bound addition”’

‘How will I remember that?’ Viola asked

Celia shook her head.

‘I’m not sure – but perhaps if you write it down straight after you wake up?’

‘I can’t remember the whole page’

There was a noise behind them, a roaring that was increasing in intensity.

Celia turned her head. The sea was bucking tumultuously.

‘Give me my note, quickly’ she demanded

Viola handed the note over, but all the time she had her eyes fixed on the history book, which unfortunately she still couldn’t read.

Celia looked at one side of the note and then the other. Her hands were a blur.

‘It’s blank…’ she said, despairing.

Viola reluctantly tore herself away from the book and looked down at the square of paper.

‘No it isn’t – it has some instructions on it…’

The roar had become almost unbearable – they had to shout to be understood. They both looked up. A wall of water had formed some way out beyond the cave entrance. It was heading towards them at a ferocious speed.  

‘Tell me quickly’ shouted Celia, ‘someone is trying to shut down the dream!’

Viola read rapidly out loud. It was a struggle – Celia’s handwriting was scrawled and approximate and the note was in Ethian.

‘Make for the Green Isle of Hoy. Sail to it from the east, round it thrice anticlockwise on the north side, and then bear due south for a day. Don’t be distracted by anything…’

If there was any more of the note they would never know. The huge wave came in and engulfed everything. They felt nothing of the wave’s power or texture – it was only a dream after all. The books and the cave and the house and the island, they all dissolved away.

Isolated now in their own realities, they woke up instantly. The tangled spells were broken. Their shared dream was gone forever.