At the beginning of November the wind blows cold across Lake Berren, flattening the reeds and encouraging the otters to retreat into their winter dens. The autumn storms strip the leaves from the trees everywhere, except around the lakeside where the alders hang on to their foliage for a little longer. For the occupants of Amansk, the low pink-cream city nestling neatly on the south side of the lake, this is the beginning of the coldest part of the year. It is often said that the wind that blows, frozen, over the mountains is sent by the Tlaxacans, in the far south east, who somehow malevolently cool their hot tropical air before throwing it at their northern enemies. But this ignores the realities of both geography and geopolitics: the wind flows down from the sea along the valley of the great lakes, and the Tlaxacans care almost nothing about the tiny human habitation protected from them from by the huge peaks of the central range.
On the lake’s southern shore, Lily wrapped
herself in her big coat and shivered ostentatiously. Lily’s governess, Miss
Victoria Jenkins, frowned at her for the twentieth time on their walk. She had
taken her down to the lake shore to provide her with a ‘brisk final seasonal
walk before winter really establishes itself’ and her charge was very bored.
Bored as only a restless fifteen-year old can be: bored by her provincial life,
by her parents and most of all by her mostly stuffy, mostly foolish, governess.
She had dawdled behind Victoria and she
wasn’t walking fast enough for either of them to feel warm. Their Sunday walk
was always achingly long: three miles along the shore, two up the wooded hill
to the north west of the city and then two more down through scattered farms
back to the residency. On a warm
summer’s day the walk was at least enlivened by plants and animals, but this
late in the season there was nothing to see, and so there was nothing to do
except trudge and stamp along miserably.
Victoria waited for Lily at the base of the
hill, tut-tutting and making an impatient face.
‘Hurry up, Miss Lily, or we’ll run out of
daylight’
As Victoria turned to climb up the hill, Lily
made a very specific two-fingered gesture at her. Her timing was superb; her
hand was back by her side a split second before Victoria had turned back to
her, expectantly. She was hardly ever caught.
They slogged their way up the hill and away
from the raw wind. Victoria made a half-hearted attempt to continue telling her
charge about the history of the north barbarian states, but even she was too
cold to summon much enthusiasm up for the topic.
‘How much of that do you remember, Miss V ?’
asked Lily, trying to divert herself.
‘None of it’ said Victoria, ‘that was more
than a thousand years ago. I’ll clearly have to set you a lot more history
assignments…’
Lily glared at her governess’s back.
‘I meant to say – I’m amazed by how much you
remember of what you were taught. I suppose that you must be very clever’
Victoria smiled.
‘Yes, I really am’ she said, ‘but the world
doesn’t seem to have realised it yet’
Lily scrambled up the hill a little faster.
Miss Jenkins was a tall, broad-shouldered, woman and her body heat was
substantial, particularly when climbing a hill. Getting a bit closer might be
the only way to get a little warmer. Lily imagined her hands slowly turning
blue under her sheepskin gloves.
‘So
why don’t you have a job in Eth then, Miss V, teaching someone with a lot more
cash?’
This wasn’t the first time she’d been asked
this question, or the last time that she’d lie when answering it.
‘It’s hard to find a good job teaching a lady
of quality these days. All of the ducal families have long established family
governesses’
‘So, I count as a ‘lady of quality’, do I
Miss V?’ asked Lily.
‘Yes’ answered Victoria. She paused.
‘In Amansk, anyway’
Lily sped up past Victoria so that she could
look at her face.
‘Was that meant to be witty, Miss V or horrid?’
‘It was meant to be funny, I suppose. But it
was certainly more witty than your childish quip about my age’
Lily hated most of her lessons, and so, by
definition she hated all of her tutors, but Miss Jenkins, who was her permanent
governess, did often make her laugh,
which was certainly a saving grace. Also, she would tolerate a small amount of
teasing.
‘You can’t be a day over 60, Miss V’
It was Victoria’s turn to glare. Lily laughed.
‘Do
you want me to have to talk to your father again, Lily
‘It depends what you’re going to say to him.
Anyway, he’s too busy being king. If you’re anything like me then you’ll hardly
get a chance to talk to him anyway’
‘He’s not a King’ explained Victoria
patiently, ‘you know that. He’s the Praefectus, that’s more like a prince – a
prince of the Confederacy of Oket and a client of the Emperor’
‘It’s all very dull, anyway, as far as I’m
concerned’
‘No it’s not. It’s a very important job and
your father does it well. And you are second in line to inherit the title. If
anything happens to your brother, then you’ll be in charge’
Lily laughed at this thought.
‘Something happen to Toby? Never – he’s as
strong as an ox and he can’t wait to take over. He’ll be there when Daddy dies,
even if it has to be as a ghost’
Victoria sighed. They had reached the
thickest part of the woods. The trees were grey and skeletal, but the
visibility here was still poor. At least it was all downhill from this point
on.
They began to plod down the long hill that
led back into town. Victoria was too tired to respond to Lily’s latest rudeness
about her brother. They lapsed into silence, both of them imagining a warm
sitting room and hot tea.
A man stepped out of the trees. He loomed
into their space with the low sun behind him, and for a split second they
couldn’t see him at all clearly. He bowed low. All that they could see of him
now was a shock of greying jet black hair.
‘Who are you?’ exclaimed Lily, her stomach
suddenly falling into her legs.
The man straightened and smiled – they could
see him very clearly now – he smiled a very broad smile which was attractive
for all the wrong reasons. He was dressed entirely in black: cape, jacket and
culottes. He was one of the tallest men that either of them had ever seen. This
was striking, but perhaps even more diverting was the very sharp sword that he
held in his left hand.
‘My name is Gerard Hoffmann’ he said in a
broad Formorian accent, ‘and I am delighted to meet you both’
Victoria instinctively reached for her short
sword and then realised that this might well have worked, but only in a
distant, much earlier, life. Of course, here and now, she had no sword. Gerard
hesitated, examining her gesture with interest, but then chose to ignore it.
‘What do you want?’ asked Victoria, making
herself as large a target as possible. Lily sheltered behind her.
Gerard pointed the sword at them. His broad
grin flickered slightly and his deep blue eyes blazed. He leant forward to
address them as if about to ask one of them politely for the next dance.
‘To kidnap you, dear ladies. Why else would I
go to all this trouble?’
2 Amansk – city and independent state within the Oketian Federation, formerly a province of the Visneorian Empire. It broke free of Imperial control in 104 PS after command and supply problems in Gorodnikov, the regional capital.
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