Chapter thirty-four

Castle Uberwald

 

At eleven pm on the night following their conversation, Gerard sneaked Otto into the part of the castle occupied by Lily and Victoria. It was easy because there was only a skeleton-staff of elderly retainers left to guard the place. If any Ethian general had been seeking the perfect time to take the castle, it was now.

Gerard and his guest made their way to the front door of the women’s apartment, creeping through the pitch darkness spread everywhere by a November night. Gerard was enjoying this very much; he hadn’t done this sort of thing for years.

He knocked on the door with a percussionist’s flourish.  There was a considerable delay and then they heard Victoria’s voice outside the door.

‘Who is that at this ridiculous hour? Why can’t you leave us in peace?’

‘It is I – Gerard’

‘What by the gods do you want?’

 ‘I have a distinguished visitor for you…’

 ‘Are you drunk, Mr Hoffman? I should warn you that I have many items in here that would make excellent weapons and I would be delighted to have the opportunity to use them’

‘No, no’ laughed Gerard, ‘you won’t need any weapons. I have Grandmaster Kantor here. He is seeking an audience with the princess’

There was silence from behind the door, initiated by a sharp intake of breath and a cry of ‘no!’.

‘Kantor? Did you say Kantor?’ asked Victoria

‘Yes Miss Jenkins – the Grandmaster of the Knights of the Pale Flame’

‘He can’t come in – I’m sorry. This is an inappropriate time’

Gerard shrugged – he’d been paid and so he didn’t care either way.  He turned to whisper to Otto.

‘We can’t break this door down and sooner or later someone will hear us. I think that it might be time to call it a night’

Otto shook his head. 

‘Try again!’ he commanded.  Gerard took two steps back away from the door and sneered.

‘You try yourself’ said Gerard, ‘I’ve fulfilled my contractual obligation’

Otto looked at him disdainfully.

‘Well, you can go then –I’m sure that I can find my own way back…’

Gerard was tempted to agree to this, but it was probably best to make sure that Otto got out of this part of the castle without being seen.

‘I’ll wait for you out here…’ hissed Gerard, ‘…don’t be long’

Gerard took a few steps back into the darkness in the corridor and seemed to disappear. Otto was impressed despite himself. He returned to the door and knocked on it softly.

‘What now?’

‘It’s me, Otto’ he whispered with his face as close to the door as he could manage, ‘let me in, Vicky – Hoffmann has gone’

There was another long pause and then Victoria opened the door a sliver. As she peered out a thin shaft of light illuminated the black corridor. She saw Gerard very briefly as he shifted to avoid the sudden splash of light. She wondered how much of this he had heard.

‘It is you!’ she said, very quietly, ‘how can that be?’

‘It’s a long story’ said Otto, ‘but I can only tell it to you let me in’

 

***

 

As soon as Otto had entered the apartment Lily had woken up. She came down into the hallway from her room, dressed in a purple dressing gown, and demanding to know what was going on. Otto and Victoria both shot looks at each other both begging and promising each other not to reveal any secrets.

Otto bowed low. Lily stood up straight and showed her appreciation for this gallant gesture by smiling graciously. 

‘Who is our visitor, Miss?’

‘I think you’d better ask him that yourself,’ said Victoria, uncertainly, ‘to be honest I have no idea who it is that he claims to be’

‘I am Otto Kantor, Grandmaster of the Knights of the Pale Flame’

Lily looked confused. She scanned him up and down, noting his clothing.

‘So there’s a crimson flame and a pale flame…?’ she ventured.

‘That’s right, your majesty, we represent complementary organisations, united in our desire to serve the Emperor’

‘Really’ said, Victoria, almost under her breath ‘how extraordinary!’

‘Why are there two groups of knights?’ asked Lily, ignoring Victoria as far as she could, ‘wouldn’t it be better if everyone joined a single army?’

Otto looked at her with a very serious expression. He chose his words carefully.

‘There are differences of – shall we say – emphasis, between the two groups. The Crimson Flame Knights concentrate on the active pursuit of feats of arms, of heroic interventions and of territorial re-conquest. The Pale Flame Knights, on the other hand, believe in the less direct qualities of ascetism, meditation and the spiritual life. We believe in using our souls in the pursuit of the Emperor’s will’

‘Do you not have an army, then?’ asked Lily

‘An army?’ asked Otto, rhetorically, ‘we do have an army, yes, princess, but we fight only when we feel the spirits demand it and if the war is just’

‘Why are you here now, then?’ asked Victoria.

Lily glared at her and Otto ignored her. Lily seemed to have forgotten her plight, briefly, in the excitement of being referred to as a proper princess.

‘So, what role do you have in this particular – umm – military thing?’ she asked

‘We are observers and spiritual guides’

Victoria had had enough of this nonsense. She pushed Otto back a step and interposed herself between him and Lily. 

‘Did you advise the Baron to kidnap Lily and me? Was that your suggestion?’

Otto took another step back and held his hands out to preserve his personal space. He looked enquiringly into Victoria’s eyes. He was clearly shocked.

‘Kidnapped?’ he said, ‘what do you mean?’

Victoria shook her head several times.

‘Don’t pretend to me that you didn’t know that we’ve been abducted. Why do you think we’re up here at all?’

Otto looked round at Lily, who had now reverted back to petulant teenage girl and was standing with her hands on her hips, looking angrily at him.

‘I really didn’t know’ he said, ‘I only know that you’re here because I happened to see you when I arrived’

‘How can that be true?’ barked Victoria, ‘you surely have the confidence of the Baron, don’t you?’

Otto looked away from Victoria and back to Lily. Both women had now folded their arms and were standing together.    

‘Is it true, Princess?’ he asked, ‘Have you been kidnapped?’

Lily laughed.

‘You’re not a very clever Grandmaster are you?’ she said, relaxing a little from her confrontational pose.

‘Perhaps not’, admitted Otto, ‘when I asked von Eisen about your presence here he simply said that you were betrothed to his nephew. I just thought that it was dynastic politics – I didn’t realise…’

Lily sprang forward and grabbed his hand. He bowed again rather awkwardly.

‘I order you to help to free us’ she said, ‘that horrid Baron is going to attack Amansk and I bet that my father won’t fight back because he’s scared of something happening to me’

Otto blinked a few times but was temporarily lost for words.

‘Well, grandmaster, will you help us, or not?’ demanded Victoria

Otto groaned slightly and brushed his hand across his now sweaty forehead.

‘I don’t think that I can,’ he said, ‘this is the Baron’s castle and there are strict feudal rules about not trespassing on a fellow knight’s hospitality. Also, he is my peer, only just below the Emperor. I cannot easily go against his will’

‘So, you think that the Emperor approves of kidnapping and annexation, do you?’ asked Victoria

‘It’s not really annexation’ he argued, ‘Amansk is an Imperial city’

‘No it’s not’ shouted Lily, ‘it’s my father’s city’

Otto shrugged, his long blond hair shaking over his shoulders.

‘Well, I do not think the Emperor would accept that’ he said, picking out every word very carefully.

‘What about the kidnapping?’ asked Lily, her voice rising in tone, ‘you have to do something about that!’

Otto had now regained his composure. I looked back at Lily with unwavering eyes.

‘I will talk to the Baron when I have the opportunity and make clear my opposition to any abduction that might have taken place. However, I’m in no position to do any more’

Lily advanced on Otto menacingly. Victoria responded instantly, walking over to Lily and gently pulled her back from the knight: it would not be becoming for a princess to slap a grandmaster, however entertaining it would have been to watch. Lily fell into Victoria’s arms weeping.

‘It’s so unfair!’ she yelled, ‘why won’t anyone help us?’

Victoria glared at Otto; his face was flushed and damp.  

‘This audience is at an end’ said Victoria, firmly.

‘Lily – go to your room. I will come in to comfort you in a few minutes’

Lily ran back into the depths of the apartment, leaving Otto and Victoria facing each other.

 

‘What are you playing at?’ asked Victoria

Otto was looking back at the door, wondering whether Gerard was trying to listen at it.

‘I’m not playing, Vicky – it’s all true’

‘What – that you’re a spiritual knight? It seems rather unlikely. You must have changed a lot!’

Otto turned to look at her and nodded intently.

‘I have. Anyway, that was twenty years ago; people alter considerably in that time. Just look at you!’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

She looked down at herself shamefacedly and the realised that he didn’t mean her physical appearance. He’d hardly looked away from her face the whole time he had been in the apartment. He had never been a shallow person and maybe he hadn’t even notice that she had been considerably narrower the last time they had met.  

‘You’re babysitting a princess’ he whispered, ‘that didn’t seem like a job that would have suited you twenty years ago’

Victoria glared at him and put her hand to her mouth.

‘Be quiet’ she commanded, ‘Lily doesn’t know anything about that…’

 Otto looked slightly ashamed.

‘I’m sorry’ he said, very quietly, ‘you know I wouldn’t do anything purposely to hurt you. I still remember…’     

Victoria made a motion with both her hand and head for him to stop.

‘That was all a very long time ago and, I’m sure you recall, it ended badly for everyone ’  

‘And you’ve turned your back on all of that have you?’ he asked

‘I had no choice, as you know. I was expendable…’

Otto fumbled for the words.

‘We could have run away together’ he finally said, and it seemed to both of them that time had suddenly jumped back.

His look became imploring. Victoria remembered that look very well. It was time to stop all of this nonsense.    

‘How many times do I have to tell you – I was using you. You know that I had my orders’

Otto shook his head unbelievingly.

‘You were a truly marvellous actress then’

 ‘Yes, well, maybe I was. We were taught lots of useful things at the academy – not just spying and sword craft’

Otto’s face had turned from red to grey, but he held his ground. It was so many years since he had last seen her, but his feelings were the same.

‘I still don’t believe you’

‘Then you are deluding yourself Prince Otto, just as you did then. I was employed to turn you, and now it seems that I may have only succeeded in addling your brain. If you had really believed in the things that you professed to value then then you would have found a way to change things for the better, instead of just giving up…’

‘It was too difficult – there were too many hard minds to change…’

Victoria dismissed him with a wave of her hand. She seemed as cool as ice, but her heart was thumping so loudly that even if she had wanted too she could never have let him come any closer for fear of him hearing it.   

 ‘Anyway, how can we have this conversation here, twenty years on?’ she asked, ‘surely you’ve moved on from that?’

Otto considered this, remembering the well of years that had opened between them.

‘Well, I have embraced poverty, celibacy and self-control,’ he eventually said, ‘do you know why? Can you guess?’

Victoria’s mouth was set into a hard line. This had to stop before it ran out of control. Her only concern must be Lily.

‘I don’t want to know:  not now – not ever’ she said. She knew she had no choice but to turn away from him.   

There was the noise of restrained coughing outside the apartment. They both turned towards it.

‘I’d better go’ said Otto, ‘that fool Hoffmann is just outside’

Victoria had had enough anyway. She walked forward and opened the door.  Otto made his way to it reluctantly.  

‘You have to help us – you know that you have to – not for me, but because it’s the right thing to do’ said Victoria

‘I can’t’ said Otto, sadly, ‘I really don’t think that there’s any way that I can… ’

Victoria pushed him out of the door without another word and slammed it. As soon as the door was firmly shut she went to find Lily, who of all the people in world needed her most.  

Chapter thirty-five

The Exotic Stack Room, Kinspit University

 

Kathleen walked down an apparently endless broad staircase; she stopped counting at nine hundred wooden steps. The stairs appeared to be suspended over a vertical stairwell stretching down below her, as dark as night. Every now and then the staircase opened on to small landings with a variable numbers of doors off them. Each door was labelled in archaic eleven with letters, with omega at the top and slowly working down to alpha. After that were miscellanea, and then the stack rooms, each again labelled in reverse order, alphabetically. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs it was icy cold.

On the way down past the main library levels, she met a total of three elves and one human walking back up the stairs each on their own. They all nodded in passing: clearly a human woman walking down this staircase wasn’t a particularly unexpected sight. She wondered what they had been looking up and consoled herself with the thought that it probably wasn’t as unusual as what she was going to read.

Finally she came to the red door at the end of the staircase: it was embellished with white tracery of a beautifully rendered magnolia tree. She turned to look back up the stairs and wondered how long it would take to get back up to the top. She regretted not having any lunch before rushing down there.

The red door had a big black sign on the wall next to it that said:

AUTHORISED PERSONS ONLY: ENTRY ONLY BY TICKET

There was no obvious door handle, so Kathleen just knocked. The door swung open, revealing a very large airy room full of dim magical light. There were rows and rows of shelves and cabinets. It looked very like John’s old Deep Vault, which had been destroyed a few months previously. She knew all about this sort of room.

‘Hello’ she shouted, ‘Anyone there? I’m looking for the stack librarian!’

There was no sound. She was reluctant to go into the room without permission, as she knew that stepping over the threshold would be stepping into a folded space, which was always a risky business. She’d rather be invited in – who knew what guarding mechanisms might be in place?

‘Can I come in?’ she shouted again. She peered into the shadows – no-one appeared to be moving.

It was time to do something useful. She dipped her hand into a small pocket in her bag and pulled out a tuning fork. She struck it on the wall and listened to its tone. Then she repeated the action but this time let the end of the fork just protrude into the stack room. The tone wavered and then died, quite suddenly.  She was right about the room, anyway – a tone made in this universe died in a folded one. She just hoped that nothing else would.

‘Librarian’ she yelled, more loudly, ‘is it safe to enter your extra-dimensional space?’

Again there was no response. Perhaps the curator was at lunch?

Kathleen put her hand inside her coat and took a small box out of an inner pocket. She hated using this thing, but it seemed like there wasn’t much choice.  She opened the box – inside it was a small silver moth, crumpled and apparently dead. She took it out carefully and put it on her hand, then she lifted up so that it was at the exact point where the two separate dimensional spaces met. She lifted her other hand up so that the moth had no choice but to fly into the room when it was activated.

‘ddeffro’ she said

The moth struggled up on to its six legs and then took off, flying straight into the stack room. It fluttered gamely for a few seconds and then dropped like a feather on to the ground and lay completely still.

She heard a deep female laugh from the half-illuminated stack room.  A voice appeared in the silence, but there was no body that appeared to be attached to it.

‘Very good, Dr Mannings’ she said, ‘expert preparation and just the right level of caution’

‘Can I come in now?’ asked Kathleen, intensely annoyed by the death of her poor moth, ‘or do you intend to kill me too?’

The voice laughed again. It was a brittle, empty laugh.

 ‘No – that was just a trick. You’re perfectly safe – we don’t tend to kill our visiting scholars... all that often’

‘How do I know that it’s safe?’ Kathleen asked

‘I’m a University employee’ said the voice, dry as dust, ‘your safety is in my contract’

Kathleen still looked sceptical. She took a step back.

‘And’ continued the voice, ‘Mr Ismay would come looking for you eventually, and there would be a serious diplomatic incident’

‘Show yourself first’ demanded Kathleen, ‘I want to know who and what you are’

‘Have it your way’ said the voice.

The librarian uncoiled from her position hidden behind a cabinet. She was a ten foot long python with bright green eyes. Her serpentine head rose up to the level of the door and swayed backwards and forwards in front of Kathleen’s pale face.

‘I’m a Naga’ she said, ‘we guard the lost things that are not meant to be found’

Chapter thirty-six

Amansk

 

Arnon had no choice but to allow the Crimson Knights into the city. They marched in and politely demanded food and lodgings. The Praefectus had to manage this as best he could: there were various hotels and hostels and large houses, but it inevitably meant some lodgings in private homes. A huge sense of dislocation and violation hung over the city. A very few, still resisting, troops and some rich families fled to Gorodnikov – Dom and Toby were among them.   

The Knights were well behaved and well mannered, but their sense of right was very strongly developed. They were on their imperial crusade; they were off to smite the enemy: any that stood between them and their goal were either misguided or obstructive. 

Arnon’s two concerns were to discover the whereabouts of his daughter and to get the main mass of the army to move on as soon as possible. He still hoped for assistance from Gorodnikov or Eth, but it was likely that any such help might take an age to come.

Meanwhile he was brooding over tactics. He had managed to preserve a cache of weapons in the cellars under his residency, mostly by insisting that he should retain his personal bodyguard and the use of his home. In addition, he had had no desire to have Gaius captured by the knights, so he had paid Lucian to hide him somewhere in his fish warehouses, imagining that that would be the last place that the Baron would look for a renegade Ortian.  The beauty of Lucian was that the knights half-thought that the merchant was on their side, as they couldn’t quite imagine anyone who was motivated entirely by financial gain.  

 

The Baron sent Balliwick to talk to him. The Ethian aristocrat was in a very jolly mood but was trying half-heartedly to cover it up. He was clearly buoyed up by the knights’ early successes.

‘Bad luck, old man’ he said, a half smile forming on his lips, ‘a very tricky situation to be in. I’m awfully sorry that it’s come to this…’

Arnon was standing in the hallway of his residence; he had no desire to talk to this ridiculous man.

‘Where’s my daughter?’

Balliwick looked surprised.

‘Did no-one tell you?’ She’s still at Castle Uberwald. The Baron thought that it wouldn’t be safe to repatriate her while there was a risk of military conflict. She’ll be returned as soon as is feasible. I saw her a few days ago – she’s fine; such a spirited girl’

Balliwick took a few steps back, as if anticipating a sudden onslaught and his smile died on his face. He glanced over at the knights who were minding him; there were six of them and they were reassuringly solid. Arnon didn’t move, however: he was angry but not surprised. Anyway, what was the point of wasting his violence on this sycophant? He was contemplating bigger targets.

‘You cannot rely on my continued co-operation unless you return her as soon as possible. You can tell your master that’

Balliwick tiled his head sympathetically. He relaxed slightly and the flickering smile returned to his face.

‘I will’ he indicated, ‘but I’m not sure that he’ll believe that there’s anything that your forces can do, now that he has control of the city. But, I will tell him, I promise’

Arnon knew this was true, but found it hard to face up to his complete failure. They had bought his quiescence by their cowardly act of abduction, but it hadn’t made any difference, Amansk would have fallen either way. Perhaps now there would at least be less bloodshed. They would surely go away eventually.

‘Why am I not permitted to speak to the Baron?’ he asked.  The grandmaster had been in the city for more than a day and he has come nowhere the residency.

Balliwick finally let his smile flower fully.

‘He’s not stayed here, of course. That would have been foolish with winter approaching. He wants to push on to take Monurbis while the weather is still clement in the north. I’m afraid that he left me to smooth over… umm, how can I phrase it… any remaining political problems’

‘So, are you in charge of the occupying forces?’ asked Arnon, a sudden hope quavering his voice.

Balliwick shook his head and laughed in a rather mannered way.

‘Of course not’ he said, ‘I’m no military commander...’

He turned to the oldest of his knight-guards and gestured him forward. The knight was pale and tall, and he looked exquisitely cruel. Disappointment crushed Arnon’s heart.

‘This is Hendryck. The Baron has appointed as Marshal of the city, in absentia’

The new Marshal bowed stiffly and then nodded, almost imperceptibly.

‘Praefectus’ he growled, ‘it is a great pleasure to serve alongside you’

He turned to the west, as if in an ancient storybook of imperial chivalry, and saluted, his right hand resting exaggeratedly against his forehead, palms outwards, in the prescribed way. Arnon had read about the Imperial salute, but had never seen anyone in the city do it before, except as a joke or in a play.

Hendryck peered across at him, puzzled.

‘Praefectus’ he said, quietly, ‘I am thanking the Emperor for his benedictions…’

Arnon felt like saying ‘go ahead, don’t let me stop you’ but then he thought of Lily and the city. He sighed softly and then followed the Marshal’s lead, turning in the same direction and then saluting, bending his arm so that the back of his hand wiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘A very functional salute for a hot climate’ he thought bitterly, but again he said nothing.

The two city leaders were now standing facing the open door of the kitchen. He could see the cook staring anxiously at them though a curtain of hanging pots and pans. He smiled at her reassuringly and she disappeared from view.

Arnon kept his position but turned his head to look at Balliwick. He was leaning against the table and smirking. He seemed to be enjoying himself again. Arnon had already decided that however cruel Hendryck might turn out to be, he was probably a better man than this shallow popinjay.      

‘What about you, Lord Balliwick, won’t you join in the benediction?’ Arnon said, pleased to find an outlet for his anger, ‘I’m sure that you have a lot to thank the Emperor for...’

Balliwick’s expression changed very abruptly, and for a moment a look of intense hatred swept over it. Arnon wondered for a second whether this look was for intended for him and then he realised that it was clearly directed at the Emperor. He was surprised and disquieted – why had he elicited that reaction?

A moment later Lord Balliwick’s face resumed its normal lazy complacency.  He pushed himself up and swung slowly round to be very approximately facing west and then slapped his forehead with the back of his hand, just as if he were swatting a large fly.

Arnon looked at Hendryck to see if he had noticed this blasphemy, but the Marshal was lost in his thoughts. He looked as if he was in a trance, staring through the kitchen onwards, in his mind at least, to Visnea and the sanctified Emperor.

They stood there for a while, with Arnon’s eyes flickering between the upright knight and the lolling lord. In a perfect world, he thought, neither of them would be in his perfect world.

‘Hail the Emperor!’ barked Hendryck

‘Hail the Emperor’ said Arnon, quietly but without rancour; he had absolutely nothing against the Emperor.

Balliwick mumbled something which certainly ended with the words ‘the Emperor’ but whose first word was, Arnon was quite certain, not ‘hail’.

Arnon saw an opportunity.

‘Lord Marshal’ he said, ‘I wonder if I could talk to you on official Imperial business?’

Hendryck, turning from his reverie, smiled stiffly and nodded.

‘Yes, of course. I would be happy to speak to you’

 Balliwick resumed his irritating smile and his semi-reclined position against the hall table. Arnon stared at him and then over at the Marshal.

‘I did say Imperial business’ indicated Arnon, ‘so only Imperial citizens should be present’

Balliwick suddenly woke up to what was happening. He was startled up from his relaxed pose again. He looked irritated but also there was a sparkle in his eye as he looked at Arnon. This was clearly the first time that it had occurred to the Ethian that the Praefectus had any political skill at all.

Balliwick narrowed his eye and caught Hendryck’s gaze. There was an unspoken, rather tense, conversation and then the Ethian relaxed again. He turned to leave.

‘I’ll leave you two loyal servants of the elves to have a chinwag’

He left the room with the same boyish lolloping gait that he had arrived with.

‘I’ll go and see if anyone has tracked down your son or Lieutenant Gaius. I’m sure you’ll be very pleased to hear about the whereabouts of both of them’

Then he left, taking three of the guards with him.

Chapter thirty-seven

Oikonde

 

Hardacre teleported to the main square in Oikonde[1]; he had been there twice before, running errands for his master.  He knew its layout well enough – it was a grey city nestling against the endless Parorian forest. It was quiet, full of fully-fledged ‘ancient elves’, who acted and spoke far less often and thought far more slowly than those in Kinspit or in the west. Hardacre didn’t mind this at all; after Potentilla anything slow was good.

John had arranged that he should meet Eukalia, their contact in the city. She was an old friend of John’s who used to be a scholar in Kinspit, but was now some sort of town councillor. He knocked on her door and she hurried him inside – humans were rare in Oikonde and not always welcome.

Eukalia had a small trim house. She taught the local school children Visneorian, and for a few more advanced ones, or those contemplating a career in business, a little of the barbarian tongue.

She led him into her living room and cleared a space on a chair, which had been strewn with schoolbooks.  

‘Sit down, Mr Hardacre’ she said, ‘it’s very nice to see you again. It seems like you’re popping over here all the time’

The last time Hardacre had visited the city was seven years ago.  He had got used to this sort of thing.

‘Would you like some wine, or some fruit juice?’ she asked

‘A fruit juice would be fine’

Eukalia went and got the drinks and they sat in companionable silence for a while. Hardacre sipped his pineapple juice and wondered where exactly the pineapples had come from: Babalia or Helios?

After a while, Eukalia finished her glass of wine and poured herself another one.  Hardacre stared out of the window at some beautiful blue climbing leadworts; maybe he’d ask for a cutting – he was sure that they’d grow well in his garden, given its mild climate nearer the coast.

‘Are you hungry, Mr Hardacre?’ she enquired.

‘A little peckish, perhaps’ he admitted.

Eukalia went into the kitchen and came out with some flatbread and sun dried tomatoes.  They sat chewing the bread very slowly while Hardacre made appreciative noises. Only when all the food had been eaten and all the drink had been supped did Eukalia talk to him.

‘How can I help you, Mr Hardacre?’

Now that she had come to the point Hardacre felt slightly disappointed that the pace of life was going speed up again. However, he did need to press on.

‘I need to have an interview with the Archon’ he said

Eukalia looked a little confused or startled, Hardacre couldn’t quite tell which.

‘Archon – here?’ she asked

Hardacre thought carefully – was she covering up what she knew or was she genuinely ignorant of the Helian Archon?

‘I’m looking for the ‘Archon of the Folds’ ’ he said, ‘do you know where I can find him?’

This time the silence that fell between them was more charged, and more full of uncertainty. The minutes began to pile up around them. 

 ‘I’m not sure…’ she said, eventually, ‘how do you know about him?’

‘Mr Ismay met him in Helios’  

‘Oh, right’ she said, her eyes widening slightly.

‘Do you know if I could arrange a meeting with him?’

‘Well – that’s one of the things that it’s really hard to judge…’

‘What do you mean, madam? Is the Archon hard to find? Is he still trapped in Helios?’

‘No he’s here. I’m sure that I saw him in town just a few days ago. I think he can come and go through the Folds as he wishes’

‘So I can see him?’ asked Hardacre, ‘is that what you’re implying?’

Eukalia nodded and looked embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry if this is a difficult subject to discuss, Councillor’ said Hardacre, ‘are there some who are not permitted to know about the existence of the Twin Worlds?’

Eukalia poured herself another large glass of wine. Hardacre was guessing that she was not normally such an enthusiastic drinker.

‘It’s not quite like that... it’s more that we haven’t been very forthcoming about telling the Skiophoikos about Helios’

Hardacre smiled thinly but said nothing.

‘There are complicated reasons for our reticence, Mr Hardacre’

‘I’m sure, madam. Mr Ismay has uncovered some of them, I’m certain. Perhaps those reasons do not need to detain us for too long today…’

‘No, I’d like to explain. I feel very bad about having mislead a dear friend, even for a short time’

She wrinkled her nose in concentration.

‘Twenty years – is that a long time in human chronologies?’

Hardacre’s turned this over in his mind. Twenty years of white lies – was that what it was? Or was it twenty years of deliberate obstruction? The intention made all the difference, but he wasn’t here to judge.

‘It’s fairly long, councillor…’  

‘Well, either way, I was one of John’s tutors when he enrolled at the University. He was an exceptional student, as I’m sure you know’

‘Yes, I do know – I walk past his degree certificate hanging in the laundry room every day’

‘The laundry room?’ asked Eukalia, wonderingly, ‘that’s an odd place to hang such a coveted document’

Hardacre shook his head and sighed.

‘If we are going to turn this conversation into a discussion of Mr Ismay’s psychological quirks then we will be here for a very long time, Councillor. Perhaps we could return to the main theme of our discussion?’ 

Eukalia grinned and her face relaxed a little. Hardacre hoped that now he’d finally get some useful information.

‘As I said – we haven’t told people in Skiophos, as a general rule. When I say people I mean both humans and elves, although I suspect that the Emperor and the Imperial aristocracy must know something. Anyway, the truth is that I am from Helios, I was born there, and a small number who teach at Kinspit are from there too. We have established Oikonde and Kinspit as our bases in your world, but we have kept quiet about our true provenance for fear of the consequences of revealing them’ 

‘What are those consequences, madam?’

‘I am not entirely sure, as I am no cosmologist, but I think that this reality is made in some way that is different from the other realities and that an excessive mixing of the worlds would be catastrophic. I’m not really sure…’

Hardacre watched her speaking carefully. He was fairly sure that she knew a little more than she was saying but probably not enough to warrant making her struggle any further with her conscience.

‘That’s why I would really appreciate the possibility of an audience with the Archon – he is sure to know what is going on’

Eukalia nodded – it looked a little like she was conceding a game.  

‘Given what you already know’ she admitted, ‘it would seem foolish not to propose a meeting. We really have no desire to get on the wrong side of your…umm… group’

Hardacre could see the dreadful word ‘coven’ lurking unsaid in her speech. The fear of human witches was just, to an archaic elf, a dreadful extension of the fear of barbarians with swords, breaking and burning their neat white cities. This wiccaphobia[2], though, was worse, as it undermined the elven monolithic sense of superiority: all the evidence suggested that witches were more effective than mages, at least at anything practical or immediate.  

‘We would be very grateful if you could arrange a meeting, Councillor Eukalia, very grateful indeed’

‘And you will stay here as my guest until I can arrange it?’

Eukalia’s look was pleading, which surprised Hardacre. Then he realised that she was now beholden to them: she felt guilty as a teacher and a friend and she really wanted to make up for it. The last thing that Hardacre wanted was to stay in Oikonde as someone’s guest: he had four people to look after at home himself.    

‘Of course’ he said, smiling diplomatically, ‘I’d be delighted and honoured to be your guest’

 Eukalia looked pleased and relieved. She stood up.

‘I will prepare some lunch and then I will find the Archon. What should I say you want to talk to him about?’

Hardacre breathed in and considered what he had been asked to do. It did seem like a rather tricky mission. 

‘Tell him that I need to go and examine the Folds’ he said.   

 

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[1] Oikonde is an elven city one hundred and fifty miles east of Kinspit. It has a population of a few thousand and is one of the few places where only Archaic Elven is spoken.  It is considered to be a bit of a ‘spooky’ place and few humans ever go there.

[2] Wiccaphobia – fear of witches and witchcraft.