Chapter forty-one

Visnea

 

There was no time even to exchange shocked glances about Marthian’s replacement, it was clear that the Emperor wanted them to move on to their own stories. Throughout the whole time that they were recounting their adventures, however, they all thought of the proconsul, back in Ortia, and how unfair this was to her. From that point on all three of the friends made a silent compact to only say good things about their young leader.

Talking slowly and clearly, Kath told the Emperor her story. She chronicled the progress of the party to the wall, the loss of Lucius, and her unfortunate scramble through to the other side.  Then she recalled her meeting with her plains-dweller guide, Rem, and how he had guided her past Portalis until they had been captured by the Ortians. After that she described the trial and their subsequent escape to Melloreis with Viola and Hardacre, where their explorations had inadvertently triggered an alarm cloud that had summoned Whitecloak and his armies from the Far East.  In all of this description Kath had often remained vague about exactly who had done what – they had agreed long before that they would leave no-one vulnerable to a charge of incompetence or negligence.

Pallatian interrupted only occasionally, usually to discuss political points or to ascertain the exact conditions in Ortia. He had allowed Kath to give a very detailed account of her actions, and seemed unperturbed by the times when the party’s behaviour had been rash, ill considered, or downright dangerous. It was, Kath thought, as if he were listening to a story of things that had occurred a very long time ago and so were past judgement.  

Viola was asked to continue the narrative once the alarm cloud had been triggered. She described the opening of Quiena’s Vault and the mechanical elephant that was in it. At the first direct mention of Quiena the Emperor stopped her to ask some questions.

‘Major’ he said, ‘are you sure that the structures were built under Quiena’s direction?’

‘Yes, my Lord’ Viola said, ‘Dr Fielding ascertained that very early on, and we experienced her magical effects throughout our time in Melloreis, and, of course, at the Wall’

Kath nodded her emphatic agreement.

‘And these magical effects were of a kind that Dr Fielding would define as “Dwarven Magic”, were they?’

‘Yes, my lord – the dead dwarves that we found were clearly carrying Dwarven Magic documents. We think that they were trying to fix, or start, the Autelephas’

Pallatian asked no more questions and the storytelling seemed to have stopped for the time being.  During the pause, the Emperor spent a long while studying Viola’s face and she wondered what he was looking for. Finally he spoke again, clearly choosing his words  carefully.

 ‘Are you a worshipper of Quiena, Viola?’ he asked

Viola was taken aback. She’d never felt herself to be religious in any way, but she was well aware how things would look to outside observers. She had had that strange dream in the vault at Melloreis, where Ophia had given her the passwords for the Bell Tower, and then she had just known, somehow, how to command the sphere in the Wall. It seemed like the goddess was communicating with her, and she did not object to that at all, there was never any compulsion. However, she had no idea what any of it meant.

‘No, I’m not a worshipper, my Lord’ she said flatly but with complete honesty. Pallatian seemed quite happy with the answer and he indicated that Viola should continue her story.

Viola began to realise how much harder it was going to be to tell the story from this point on. Should she mention Flavia’s death, and all the details of Perclivius’s revolt? They had said that they would tell the Emperor everything, but now she was faced with telling him about a killing, which might be interpreted by a hostile observer as a murder. She felt suddenly and unreasonably irritated with Kath – all she had to tell was the wonderful story of Rem and her final defeat of Whitecloak. Viola’s story seemed much muddier and much less honourable. 

All this meant that Viola stumbled somewhat through her account of Flavia’s death, the meeting with Fred and Potentilla, the invasion of the Tlaxacans, and the entrance into the Bell Tower. She scarcely mentioned the dream, which had been the key to getting into the Tower, and put down her ability to open the door into the Tower to a lucky guess. She was fairly sure that the Emperor would be well aware that her story was not the entire, unalloyed, truth.   

Whatever Pallatian was thinking, however, he didn’t interrupt again until Viola described the appearance among them of John Ismay. His ears seemed to prick up when he heard the name. This may or may not have been the first time he had realised that the leader of the Hybitor had been involved in the resistance to Whitecloak.

‘So, what was Mr Ismay like?’ asked the Emperor, ‘I have only met him twice, and only in passing.  And to be honest with you, I did not really know what to make of him – he seemed surprisingly frivolous for a global leader.’

Viola hesitated, seeing a trap ahead. What did Pallatian want her to say?

‘He was resourceful and brave’ she replied, quietly, ‘as was Mr Hardacre – they were a formidable team’

Viola began to feel very uncomfortable. She was recounting her story to the highest authority in the land, and she should have been able to pour everything out in an unrestrained stream of truth. But now she was talking about the leader of a rival, even if allied, organisation of barbarians, and thinking of how essential he had been to their cause. And these implied criticisms of her human friends stung her surprisingly deeply. All she wanted to do now was to present John in the best light – it seemed only fair – but it also seemed plainly treacherous. She felt like saying ‘you weren’t there, you don’t know how perilously close it all was, it’s no wonder that we want to stick together; it’s no wonder that we want to paint things in the best possible light.’ but she found herself unable to say anything at all for a moment.

Pallatian smiled, clearly sensing Viola’s discomfort even if he didn’t understand it.

‘I’m sure that they were formidable – I have heard that they have considerable talents’

Viola felt a spark of irritation again – this seemed like damning with faint praise when this man, and perhaps even more, his valet, had saved the Emperor’s eastern provinces from destruction.  Viola felt her throat go dry and raw; she really wished that she could stop talking now.  Then Pallatian asked her the worst question of all.     

‘So, does Ortia have any contacts with the Hybitor, now?’

Viola thought immediately of the constant flow of mail papers between Ortia and Kinspit. Should she tell the Emperor about them?  There was no doubt and no hesitation – she had no intention of telling him. It was then that Viola realised where her loyalties lay: she would always be happy to lie to protect her mistress. 

 ‘Contact with the Hybitor?’ she said, confidently, ‘no, I’m sure she hasn’t. Anyway, why would the Hybitor be interested in Ortia?’

Kath caught Viola’s eye for a second and they knew that they had suddenly become part of a conspiracy, perhaps even, in a small way, a rebellion.   

The Emperor turned to talk briefly to General Titanius and then gestured to Kath. She blushed slightly, but Pallatian seemed to have either not noticed or he didn’t care. He asked her to continue the story.

The rest was easy. She recounted the massive struggle against Whitecloak, each one of their roles, the death of Fred and Whitecloak’s final defeat by the Autelephas. After she had finished the three Imperial dignitaries showered them with praise and many questions concerning the exact nature of Whitecloak’s being and his demise. The enormity of the achievement and the completeness of the eventual victory seemed to overwhelm them.

After that most of the questions were about the fate of Ortia, and this was easier, as none of the travellers had been there during the siege. They also took the opportunity to praise Marthian’s role very highly, but the Emperor seemed rather uninterested in this. They wondered if he’d rather not hear about the efficiency of the sitting proconsul when he had a replacement all ready and waiting in the wings.

Finally, three hours after they had started, Viola was able to finish the story with their trip back through the Wall to the capital. Pallatian seized on this eagerly again.

‘So, Major’ he said, ‘you know how to control the Wall?’

Viola looked blank: what did he mean?

‘I’m sorry my Lord?’ she asked, hesitantly

The Emperor looked tired. He came straight to the point.

‘You were able to get through the wall, using some link you have with Quiena – is that correct?’

Viola shuffled in her chair. How was she meant to answer that?

‘I seem to know how to control the spheres inside the Quienimon Gate, yes’ she said, picking each word with great care.

‘How do you know?’ asked Titanius, ‘that’s quite a skill’

Viola sighed.

‘I really don’t know how I know – I just know’

Pallatian stared at her for several seconds and for perhaps for one tenth of one of those seconds there was a strange look that she couldn’t identify. In any one else it might plausibly have been interpreted as fear. Viola was utterly dumbfounded but she tried as hard as she could not to react in any way.

‘And Dr Fielding used her knowledge of Dwarven Magic to open the doors, yes?’ asked Pallatian

Kath nodded, not liking the way this was going at all. She was certain that she was about to be sucked into something unpleasant again.
Pallatian and Titanius had another, longer, whispered conversation. It seemed that they agreed on something.

‘Well, we are grateful that you do know,’ said Pallatian, ‘and we would like you to put your knowledge to even better use than you have already’.

Viola tensed – she wondered what was coming next.

‘Yes, my Lord’ she said, ‘what do you wish me to do’

‘I want you and Dr Fielding to open the main gates so that I can send an army to relieve Ortia. I have been hearing very disturbing reports of a barbarian invasion from the north’

Viola’s group looked over at each other in shock.

‘What invasion?’ she asked, her voice wavering.

‘It is an invasion of a renegade martial order known as the Knights of the Crimson Flame. They claim to be devoted to reconquering East Visneoria in my name, but in reality they are simply greedy barbarians, just like all the others that have claimed to supprt us over the years’

‘How do you know this?’ asked Viola, her heart sinking.

‘We have our own knightly order, a group who are genuinely dedicated to the wellbeing of the Empire – the Knights of the Pale Flame. Their leader, Prince Otto Kantor, sends me detailed reports. Sadly his army is small, but he does what he can to deflect the crimson hordes’

There was silence as the travellers imagined the city under siege yet again. Viola thought of Marthian and Aurelian: she hoped that they were safe.  

‘How soon can we set off?’ asked Potentilla, getting up from her chair.

The three wise elves on the dais laughed kindly.

‘With the greatest respect’ said Titanius, in a surprisingly gentle voice, ‘I think it’s time for you to go for some officer retraining, Lieutenant. You have done excellent work, but you really are not needed anymore.’ 

Viola stood up – she’d really had enough. She was hungry, tired and exceptionally irked.  She saluted the Emperor as formally as she could manage.

‘I can’t countenance any change in my team at this stage, my Lord’ she said stiffly, ‘so, with your permission, I and my two companions will go and get ready’