Chapter twenty-eight

Ortia

 

Aurelian waited patiently for Antonius to look up from his desk. He was quite used to this – the proconsul loved to keep people waiting.  

The desk was very well organised. There were piles of paper each neatly bundled with string and an army of eager clerks who came in and took old bundles out and replaced them with new bundles. It was all seemed very efficient but Aurelian wondered what could be written on the papers. Marthian never seemed to have anything much on her desk, except for the occasional letter or a few stray petals.

He sighed and the proconsul finally looked up. His face was stern. ‘Is the waiting wearying you, general?’ he asked.

Aurelian felt like saying, ‘well, of course it is…’ but he resisted. His concerns seemed petty compared with the Lady’s evident anger.  He forced himself to behave.

‘Not at all, sir’ he said, snapping neatly to attention and saluting with great precision. He was rather good at these professional niceties.   

As was usual when they met, Antonius was obviously a little discomforted by any display of his general’s martial punctilio. Quite unintentionally Aurelian had given the impression that things were a little more savage here, right on the edge of civilisation, more militaristic and more regimented. Where Senator Antonius came from the responses of subordinates was generally both more louche and a bit more ironic. He hadn’t had much experience of proper soldiers.  

‘I’m glad to hear it…’ he said. Any irritation that he had been feeling had apparently evaporated.  His gaze lingered on his visitor, as it always did. Aurelian knew that his secular commander could make no sense of him at all. It always gave him a morsel of grim satisfaction.

‘So, how can I help you, my fine soldier?’

Aurelian took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy at all.  

‘I have a message from the Lady, sir’

Antonius frowned – this was another large area of incomprehension.

‘Oh, really?’ he said, shaking his head and pursing his lips, ‘Why will she not communicate directly with me?’

‘I have no idea’ said Aurelian, ‘but I think you should listen to what she said’

The proconsul forced himself to smile graciously.

‘Of course, of course – what is it?’

‘Well…’ Aurelian hesitated; he had no experience of bringing bad news to an enemy. He felt that he should be enjoying it far more than he was.

Antonius’s irritated look began to creep back into his face. His eyes strayed down to the columns of figures that he had been so carefully studying. Aurelian could see that one of columns was headed ‘number of sewage pipes’.

 ‘General… please… spit it out’

Seeing no alternative Aurelian did as he was told.

‘The Lady says that Marthian must be reinstated as proconsul…’

Antonius looked up again but his expression was blank. He was clearly having problems keeping up.

‘Could you say that again, general?’

‘The Lady does not accept your right to rule as proconsul, sir’

Senator Antonius’s eyes narrowed and sweat pricked on his brow. He pushed his chair back and stood up, quite suddenly extremely irritated.

‘What is this’ he asked, his voice very loud, ‘some form of jest?’

‘No, not at all, sir. I am simply reporting what the High Priestess said to me…’

Antonius leaned forward and laughed. It was a nasty laugh, high and strained.

 ‘Nonsense – this is some delusion of your own making, or of your exiled lover’s…’

He barked the words and then stopped himself. Once again he forced himself back to calm. He smiled sympathetically.

‘Sadly, I think that the strain of events have become too much for you. Perhaps a period of leave would be appropriate? We might even be able to arrange a trip to Amansk, perhaps?’

Aurelian breathed in deeply. He hadn’t finished. He tried as hard as he could to keep his tone even.  

‘I must reiterate, sir, that none of this comes from me. I promised to pass on this message exactly as I received it.’

 ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Just as I have just said – the Lady believes that the city can only be saved with Marthian as proconsul’

‘Saved from what?

’I have no idea, sir… that information was not passed on to me…’

 ‘Oh dear that is very unfortunate. I wonder what I can do to bring her around? I certainly don’t want the animosity of the local cult if I can help it in any way…’

‘It’s not my place to say, sir’ Aurelian said softly, ‘and… I have more of the message to pass on’

‘Is that so, general? Well, please hurry, I have a lot of important things to do today. To be honest, I think that you’ve made your point only too clearly’. He looked longingly back at his orderly columns of figures.

‘I’m sorry sir, but I think it is probably rather important’

‘Of course, of course…’ said Antonius, impatiently.

‘I was instructed to tell you that if the Lady’s request is refused, then there will be serious consequences’

Antonius laughed his hollow, venomous, laugh again.

‘I am the chosen delegate of the Emperor and the local interpreter of his commands. To contradict me is impossible – the Emperor will not allow it’

‘Of course, my lord’ Aurelian said, nodding in total agreement, ‘However, I think that the high priestess will expect an answer…’

‘To what, exactly, general?’

Aurelian was feeling the awful irony of him carrying this message more and more intensely. But he suspected that his choice as messenger was no coincidence.

‘Umm – I suppose she wants me ask you:  will you step down and allow Marthian to take back the proconsul’s position?’

Antonius’s mouth dropped open. He rubbed his eyes in astonishment.

‘I’m sure you have something more useful to do too general…’

Aurelian would have been happy to turn away and abandon this apparently pointless and painful conversation but he was literally compelled to carry on.  And he knew well enough who was compelling him.

‘Will you?’ he asked, with growing fear.

Antonius detected a change in his general’s tone, which was disconcerting, but he had to keep control. The answer was obvious. He spoke in his most sonorously powerful voice.

‘Of course not, general, and I really don’t want you to mention that again…’

Without any warning, without a flash, a bang or even a sigh, the senator disappeared. For a brief moment Aurelian almost thought he had been picked up by the hair and dragged upwards and away, but that couldn’t possibly be true. The general was left standing in the empty room wondering exactly what would happen next and what on earth he was expected to do about it.  

Chapter twenty-nine

Amansk

 

Lily ran down the stairs and collided with Marthian near the bottom. She’d been hoping to intercept the post before her mother got to it, as this was Thursday, the day that she usually got a letter from John. They were never very long letters, but it was amazing how just a few lines could keep a young witch’s flame burning.  Natasha had a shrewd idea that something like this as going on, but she hadn’t told Lily off directly yet. So, if she could get to the letter first then the problem could be made to disappear  for another week.  

 ‘Lily!’ said Marthian as the girl blundered into her. The princess started to apologise but then stopped herself.

‘What are you doing sitting at the foot of our stairs?’ she asked, as if that completely excused her reckless descent.

Marthian looked up a little sheepishly.

‘I was just coming to see your father and Captain Henryck, and suddenly…’

‘Did you have a funny turn?’ asked Lily, ‘my auntie used to have those… well, actually they were only just before her heart gave out’

Marthian scowled and could think of nothing to say. Lily looked a little worried.

‘Do you need a glass of water? You do look very pale…’

Marthian waved her hands up at Lily, shaking her head all the while.

‘No, it’s alright – I don’t think a glass of water will help’

Lily squeezed past the sitting elf and plonked herself beside her.

‘What happened?’

‘I’m not sure… I suddenly felt a jolt’

Lily scanned her up and down. She didn’t see anything very helpful. 

‘Are you sure it wasn’t a funny turn? It sounds like it might be one…’

Marthian had to stop this – it wasn’t the sort of rumour that she would want spread round Amansk – exiled imperial elf has paroxysm. Reluctantly she decided to be honest.

‘I think it was a bolt of magic’ 

Lily’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened to their full extent.

‘Really? That’s amazing. Did someone cast a spell on you?’

‘Possibly…’

Lily resumed her inspection: Marthian could see that she was now desperate to diagnosis the magical effect.

‘What did it do?’

‘Well, I don’t think it did anything…’

‘Oh – that’s a pity…’ Lily’s voice dwindled away. ‘I’m keen on magic, you know’

Marthian smiled.

‘Yes, you have mentioned that before’

Marthian got up from the step, hoping that they could leave the whole thing there. Lily looked up, startled.

‘Where are you going?’  

 ‘To my meeting’

Lily stood up and took hold of Marthian’s sleeve, very gently. She had a slightly pleading look in her eyes.

‘What was that magical bolt, proconsul?’

Marthian sighed. It was going to be impossible not to tell anyone and Lily was the closest thing she had to a confidante.

‘I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, not even your parents, and especially not your brother.’ She turned to impress on her the importance of this request, ‘it’s not something that I want everyone to know’

‘Tell me! Go on, tell me!’

‘Do you promise, your highness?’

‘Yes, of course, I’ll do anything to find out’

Lily was now almost jumping up and down now with the excitement. In contrast, a pit seemed to be opening up in Marthian’s stomach: why hadn’t this happened when she’d been alone? She scanned round to check that no-one else had come into the hallway.

 ‘It was a message’ she said, very softly

Lily looked disappointed.

‘Oh, right’ she said, ‘who was it from?’

‘I’m not really sure, but it was probably someone very important’

‘And what did it say? Was it in a strange language, or in code?’

Marthian shook her head.

‘No – just in plain Visneorian’

Lily’s face looked downcast again, but she still wanted to hear the whole story

‘So – what did it say? Was it something secret and vital?’

‘Well, possibly’

‘Please, go on, what did it say? Was it hard to understand?’

Marthian waited a split second, still wondering if she should tell. 

‘No, not hard at all’ she murmured, ‘it just said – come home’

Chapter thirty

Tamaranti

 

The light was fading by the time they saw the curve of Tamaranti harbour.  The long seafront was a crumbling tumble of broken rock and vegetation; where once boats had been tied up there were now long rows of Maritime Pines, looking as though they had grown up from the sea to conquer the land. Viola had no idea where they were going to moor.

The rowing had eventually worked out well enough. Potentilla was a quick learner and as she was as least as strong as Dom they soon developed a reasonable stroke pattern.  Also, the skipper had been right about the flatness of the stretch of ocean; there was scarcely a ripple on the surface of the sea.  The sun set slowly as they made their way towards the dark land.

Viola stood uncomfortably in the back of the boat, scanning the horizon with great care. She knew that they would have to find a place to land soon but the options seemed very limited: as they got closer there were fewer and fewer mooring places. None of them liked the idea of having to pull themselves ashore among tangled thick vegetation in the dark.

Kath had been persuaded to sit up in the boat and was staring out to sea. The fear of being followed had temporarily trumped her thalassophobia. The fact that she had seen nothing suspicious at all, however, had not quietened her worries.

‘Can we please hurry?’ she moaned. Everyone else ignored her. Dom was beginning to tire and he was amazed to see that Potentilla seemed to be able to keep up a steady stroke for as long as it might take. He needed a brief rest but was astonished to find that he didn’t want to admit to having less stamina than she had. He wasn’t generally a competitive person, but for some reason – this was different.

The dark pines loomed ever higher above them and Viola knew that she would have to make a decision very soon. Why had she chosen this bit? All there seemed to be was an awful thicket of roots and bushes.  Eventually she saw a small gap in the foliage and what seemed to be a stretch of intact dock.  As it turned out it was fairly easy to glide the boat alongside the rocky surface and tie it up on a cracked mooring post. 

Dom jumped up onto the shore and held the boat steady while the others scrambled off. Kath nearly tipped the boat over in her rush to get out but in the end they all made their way safely to dry land. Kath kissed the ground beneath her feet and began to giggle uncontrollably.

‘Shhh’ whispered Viola, ‘let’s keep a bit quieter until we know exactly where we are…’

Kath shot Viola an aggrieved glance but shut up. Dom peered round in the half darkness.  His voice was even quieter than Viola’s.

‘We can’t leave the boat here…’

Viola nodded and the four of them pulled it awkwardly out of the water. They dragged it a few dozen yards up the beach. There was no obvious path leading down to this part of the shoreline so they flipped it on to its front, piled some dead branches and leaves on top of it and left it. Only a very keen eyed searcher would have any chance of finding it.

The sun was very low on the horizon by now and there was very little light. They tried to make their way up into what they assumed would be the ruins of the town, but they got no farther than a few dozen yards up the slope.  Potentilla was keen to light a couple of their lanterns and struggle on, but Viola wouldn’t allow her to, and so they slept in the middle of the fringe of maritime pines, wrapped up tightly in their blankets under the clammy dark trees. 

 

***

Viola awoke with a start: there was no-one on guard! It was still dark. She sat up and looked around – there was nothing to see, but she could hear faint voices. 

‘It be elves’ said one voice in rather rough Archaic Elven.

‘Aye, it be likely’ said another, even softer, equally coarse, voice, ‘they must have come in that boat we see there’

‘Aye, surely it is so…’ said a third voice

‘What are they doing now, coz?’ asked another

‘I cannot see, but I think they sleep – all is quiet – we should rest ourselves until they are awaking’

Viola felt suddenly cold; these voices seemed very old and somehow strange. Where exactly were they coming from?  By a strange trick of the night, or of the forest, it seemed that they were almost immediately above her. She stood up with immense care, somehow avoiding the many sticks and branches underfoot, even in the dark. She strapped on her short sword, equally noiselessly. She knew that if she made any sound then her companions would awake, and then they would make far too much din and alert the speakers.  She shivered – she really wanted to find out who they were before her party was awake.

As her eyes became accustomed to the light, she realised that it was now the earliest morning twilight and that, in fact, she could see clearly enough. She waited until she heard the voices again and made her way carefully towards them. In this light she was almost invisible and she made little noise, but she still could not see the source of the voices.  Eventually she slipped out into an open area beyond the fringe of pines. She stood at the very edge of the trees straining to listen again. That was odd – the voices still seemed to be above her – she could only conclude that whoever it was must be sitting in the trees. Sighing, she stepped out into the grassy ride and turned to look up.

‘Hello?’ she said, firmly but not too loudly and in Archaic Elven. As she spoke, some exceptionally small green birds were startled out of a tree and flew off over her. They landed on a bush a few feet behind her. There was no reply.

Viola stared up intently at the tallest and broadest tree in front of her, hoping to see a tree house or a platform, but there was nothing. There was no way that anyone could have been up there. What was going on?

A soft voice came from behind her, ‘What art thou looking for, elf maid?’

Viola drew her sword and pivoted towards the voice. Again, there was nothing, just the bush full of the little green birds.

‘Who’s there?’ she asked, suspecting witchcraft of the worst kind.

The birds in the tree fluttered briefly up from their perches in the bush. It sounded uncannily like laughter.  She felt so spooked that she nearly ran back to get help. Then she looked at the birds a little more closely and a thought occurred to her – they were no larger than her fist but they were undoubtedly parrots. And couldn’t parrots sometimes talk? She felt foolish but she said it anyway.

‘Is it you talking, little birds?’

The parrots jumped up again on their bush – they were definitely laughing.

‘Of course it is we’ said the plumpest of the birds, ‘who else would be here, in this forgotten place?’

Viola slid her sword back into her sheath and bowed low.

‘I have no idea who or what you are’ she said, ‘but I am delighted to meet you’

The little cloud of birds flew over to her, squawking their greetings in a cacophony of words and squawks. Soon she was covered with green parrots, which clung on to her tightly but not too painfully. She began to laugh, in a mixture of bewilderment and delight.

‘Be careful’ she said, ‘I’m quite fragile’

 The plump bird looked down from where he was perched on the top of her head.

  ‘We mean thee no harm, we give thee our troth. But may we ask thee a question?’

Viola wondered what sort of question would be of interest to a parrot, but she nodded her agreement.

The bird stared straight into her face with his big upside down olive eyes.

‘Why hast thou left us here for so long?’

Chapter thirty-one

Ortia

 

Aurelian ordered his troops to search for their missing proconsul. They went through every nook and cranny of the palace, sent troops into every public building, and appealed to every citizen, but there was no sign of him.

After that, and with great reluctance, Aurelian hurried to the temple. The High Priestess was waiting for him, it seemed – she was sitting in the entrance portico talking with the most senior of her priestess, but she shooed them away politely when she saw him.

 ‘You came quickly’ she said, ‘for that, thank you’

‘If course I came quickly’ he said, struggling for breath, ‘what have you done to him?’

Aquilegia stretched up to her full height – and then the Lady filled her. Her voice resonated around the ante-chamber.

 ‘The senator has been sent home’ she said

‘And what exactly do you mean by home?’ asked Aurelian, carefully

‘Back to Visnea, whence he came’

The Lady left Aquilegia and she fell forward slightly. She rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand.

‘But what are we meant to do now?’ asked Aurelian.

 ‘The Lady wants you to take up the post of Dictator, until Marthian returns’

Aurelian felt as if someone had just thrown a brick at his stomach. He let out an involuntary little cry, but his reflexes made him snap to attention. He assumed his most military voice.

‘I respectfully ask that you withdraw that request… ma’am’

Aquilegia looked completely confused.  She was still rubbing her head and her voice wavered slightly.

‘What is that you are calling me, General?’

‘It’s “Ma’am”…ma’am’

‘But, why are you calling me that?’

Aurelian shrugged.  He was struggling to keep an edge out of his voice.  

‘Who else is in charge, then, High Priestess, if it’s not you?’

Aquilegia screwed up her face in concentration. She was very pale.

‘You’re in charge, General – that’s what I was just saying…’

‘But a Dictator can only be appointed when we’re at war…’

‘Yes, of course. The Lady considers the Emperor’s actions to be an act of aggression. We need to defend ourselves’

Aurelian shook his head very vigorously.

‘No, no’ he moaned, ‘that’s suicidal nonsense’

‘Nonetheless’ murmured the High Priestess solemnly, ‘It is the Lady’s will’

‘But we will be crushed.’

‘Perhaps, but the Emperor cannot destroy the Lady – he knows that’

‘But he can easily annihilate the city. Is that what the Lady wants, to live in a wasteland?’

Aquilegia was steadfast.

‘He would not dare!’

Aurelian began to feel his whole world career away from him. He had somehow to get it back under control. There was only one thing that he could do that might have any chance of achieving that.  He couldn’t decide not to serve.  He waited a moment to summon up all his strength.

‘I will assume the post of dictator, as you request’ he said

Aquilegia smiled in relief.

‘But… with certain conditions. ma’am’

The High Priestess’s smile disappeared.

‘What conditions, general?’

‘That you will accept all my decisions regarding the running of the city and that you and the Lady will keep out of things until all possible political solutions have been explored’

Aquilegia considered this carefully.

‘The Lady will not be content until Marthian is returned as Proconsul’

‘And neither will I’ said Aurelian, ‘but that may not be possible’

‘You must make it so, general’

‘But if I cannot, then some compromise may have to be reached, will it not?’

The High Priestess shook her head emphatically.

‘No compromise is possible on this issue. It is a matter of faith’

Aurelian frowned so hard that his face seemed to harden. There was nothing else to say. ‘Yes ma’am’ he muttered and started to walk away.

Aquilegia moved forward to embrace him. She looked up at him with her blue-grey eyes.

‘I am sorry, general. I really am. You must understand – I can only do my spiritual duty’  

He broke free as gently as his anger would allow.

‘Well, ma’am – I’d say that that is a very dangerous duty indeed’

He stomped off without looking behind him. He really didn’t want to give his new employer any encouragement at all.

 

***

The reluctant Dictator returned to the Proconsul’s Palace and began work immediately. First, he sat in the proconsul’s office and wrote some letters: one to the Emperor; one to Marthian; and one to Bellis, Proconsul of Monurbis. They all said the same things – that he had been appointed Dictator by the Lady, that he had accepted only reluctantly, and that he would only serve until the proconsul returned.  To Marthian he added a strong recommendation that she should stay where she was until she was recalled by the Emperor. It was very hard to write those words, as he desperately wanted her back, but he knew that if Ortia were to survive that he must do nothing to aggravate either the Emperor or the Lady. To Bellis, he requested that they should meet as soon as possible.

 After that he sat in the office wondering what to do next. He had no idea how to run a city, and no experience of the administrative and political duties that that task involved.  He wondered how long would be before the populace as a whole knew what was going on and how they would react.

He looked around the room and wished that it could be like it used to be, full of Marthian’s things. His first instinct was to remove everything belonging to Antonius and to dump it somewhere. He even got as far as piling up the ledgers full of figures that the senator had been studying so avidly, but then he stopped himself.  His military training kicked in – it was not the business of a soldier to interfere with the administration of a province, and, despite what the High Priestess had said, they were not at war. He made a decision: he was a general and would behave like one. One by one he replaced the ledgers carefully back to where they had been on the desk, then he went to the window and looked out into the garden. Erik was doing an excellent job of keeping it tidy and it was full of spring flowers. At least this part of Marthian was safe for a while.

 He turned and nodded to the proconsul’s chair. Then he picked up his jacket and walked to the door. He opened it and took out the large iron key from the keyhole. He stepped out of the door and shut it. Then he locked the door with and put the key in the pocket of his jacket.  He would return it to the proconsul whenever he or she returned, but until then he would rule the city from his headquarters. And he would take no more orders from the Lady – his commanding officer was the Emperor, and for good or bad he would obey him. He just hoped that he would see sense soon.

Chapter thirty-two

Tamaranti

 

The leader of the parrots examined the group. He could see four humanoids but could only sense two and a half elves, which was puzzling him, but he pressed on anyway.   

‘We have waited for many ages, but finally you have come’

‘Have of us?’ said Potentilla, ‘that is verily good!’

They were sitting in a clearing in the great Oketian forest while the parrots squawked around them. Viola tried to ignore her lieutenant and concentrate entirely on the matter in hand.  She was wondering where Potentilla had been taught any of the old tongue, and really wishing she had never been taught a word of it.

‘Are you sure that you really know who we are?’ she asked, carefully

‘You are elves and our lords’ he said, trying to stay still (something that little parrots find very hard to sustain).

 ‘Some of us are elves’ said Viola, ‘but some of us are humans’

The birds squawked around and there were fragments of conversation.  Two things were obvious – first, that they had no other language than the elven one and second, that they had no idea what humans were.

‘How long is it since you last saw any elves?’ asked Viola

‘They lingered long here after the building’ said the parrot leader, ‘but they finally withered away many generations ago’

‘How many generations do you mean?’

‘Twenty of our generations – which be two thousand returning springs, as close as it can be told’

‘You live to be a hundred years old?’ asked Kath, astonished. It had taken her until now to understand the birds’ elven. 

The plump parrot jumped across to where Kath was standing. He fluttered round her several times with his head cocked, which looked really rather difficult to do.

‘Who art thou?’ he asked. Kath was transfixed by the tiny bird.   

‘Thou hast no odour’ 

 ‘I don’t?’

‘Only natural things smell of nature, thus thou must be made, as are we, the Micropsitta. What is thy made name?’

Kath was startled by both the bird and the question.

‘Kath…’ she said, ‘umm…  I suppose’

The parrot nodded, apparently satisfied.

‘We welcome the tribe of the Kath’s – may they forever prosper.’

The birds fluttered around the two apparent humans and greeted them. Dom understood very little of this (as his mage studies had only just begun) and so he bowed rather formally and smiled.  The parrots, however, seemed confused as they twirled around him. They started to twitter to each other in uncertainty, but fortunately they were tweeting too softly for anyone to understand what they were saying. 

‘I think you’re confusing them’ said Viola, laughing.

The plump parrot chased the other parrots away – he clearly thought that they were being rather rude. They made their way into the oak trees behind the party’s head and continued to chatter, but now they were too far away for anyone to care.

‘How may we serve thee?’ asked the parrot leader.

 Viola stared at the little bird. She had no idea how to deal with this and so tried a rather formal response.

‘Well, first, we should introduce ourselves – I am Captain Viola of the Visneorian army, this is Lieutenant Potentilla, my aide-de-camp, and we have with us Dr Katherine Fielding from Eth and Mr Dominic Shavosky from Gorodnikov. And you are?’

The parrot cocked his head to one side, clearly completely confused by all this information.

‘I am Barysomos[1]  and these are my tribe, the Micropsitta. What tasks would thou likest us to accomplish?’ 

‘Well, you could tell us something about where we are, I suppose, but we really aren’t your elven masters’

Barysomos looked even more confused. He jumped up on to Viola’s shoulder and smelled her again, this time lingering a little longer. He dropped back on to the ground, hopping and squeaking.

‘Thou art mistaken – thou art of their race and thou smellest most sweetly of them. Thou art our liege lady’

Viola sighed – what on earth did they mean by that? A small ball of fear began to gather in her belly.

‘I am not’ she said firmly, ‘I am a soldier in the Imperial army – we are not of the same lineage’

Kath was standing, thinking.  She waved at Barysomos.

‘Barysomos’ she said, ‘would, you, umm, thou… care to smell Lieutenant Potentilla too?’  

The portly bird looked up at Kath and then up at Viola. He was clearly awaiting instructions.

‘No, don’t’ blurted out Viola, ‘leave her alone!’

Kath studied Viola’s face carefully. She spoke very precisely, and in Visneorian.

‘What’s wrong, Vee? How could that hurt?’

Viola looked pale; she shook her head very slowly.

‘I don’t know – but, nonetheless, I don’t want him to do it’

‘Let’s get on…’ she said to Barysomos, ‘can you tell us exactly where we are?’

The parrot relaxed a little; he seemed happiest when receiving direct orders.

‘Thou art on the skirts of the port of Tamarix, long days now abandoned, but once the main harbour of the architects’

‘Who were the architects?’  asked Kath, ignoring a sharp glare from Viola.    

‘The first elves’ said Barysomos, ‘those who came to make this world, create its form and then depart’

‘So – they created it and then left?’ continued Kath

Barysomos squawked sadly and lowered his head.

‘Some left, but many stayed. Even architects come to their mortal end, however, and so then they too departed ’

Kath had heard some of this before – in legends of the beginnings of her world, but she had never before met creatures who claimed to know those who had helped to make it. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Viola still looked anxious and impatient.

‘So, what did you do to help the architects?’ Kath asked

‘We carried messages throughout the cities’ replied Barysomos, plumping up his feathers and hopping to attention. 

Viola smiled thinly, despite herself. She held her hand up gently to the parrot and translated what had just been said for Dom’s and Potentilla’s benefit.  Then she turned back to the little bird.

‘You must have been of inestimable service to them’ she said, bowing.

‘Mayhap, but the city fell away many springs ago and now we are without employ. So thy coming is a great boon to us, my lady’

Viola’s vague fears began to transmute into something more tangible.

‘I am not your leader – I told you that… I really am not’

Barysomos forced himself to be completely still again. His spoke as clearly as he was able.

‘That is not thy choice, liege lady – the creators owe a duty of care to the created. It has always been so…’

Viola wanted to shout out ‘no! This is nonsense’ but then she looked at the parrot sitting patiently on the ground. She didn’t think that he was capable of telling an untruth. And then she knew in her heart and in her mind that this was her responsibility. However, and like so many time before, she had no idea why.  She took a deep breath.  

‘Yes, of course’ she whispered

Kath poked her in the ribs. 

‘What are you saying?’ she gabbled in Visneorian, ‘we can’t possibly look after them!’

‘Shush - not now!’ hissed Viola.  She knelt down in front of Barysomos.

‘The first thing that I need you to do is to take us to the old north road – the road to Klethropolis’

 ‘Why?’ asked Barysomos

‘Because we have to find someone there’

Barysomos shook his head; his body shivered slightly.

‘There is no-one there now’ he said, ‘that city was abandoned even before Tamarix’

‘Well, you may be right’ said Viola, ‘but we need to go there and see for ourselves’

‘The way is hard. I am not sure that we can fully guide thee’

Viola turned to look behind her at the apparently endless oak forest. They could walk through it quite easily but how would they know where they were going – it just looked like infinitely repeating patches of vegetation.   

‘Well, all I can ask you to do is your best…’ she murmured

‘Of course, my lady…’

There was silence for several seconds, and then Barysomos cocked his head upwards into the sky. 

‘Before we go out from here to find the way, can I ask thee a final question?’  

‘Yes, of course’

‘Why do you have an Odonata following you?’

‘A what?’

‘That black dragonfly that hovers high above us. What is it for?’

---

[1] Which means ‘heavy body’ in AE

Chapter thirty-three

Kinspit

 

It was the afternoon of the party and Hardacre had managed more than an hour in the garden. During that time he had weeded a flower bed and raked some debris from the front lawn.  The front path surroundings now looked acceptable, and he was briefly very pleased with his exertions. However, he was distressed to find that, even at that moment, his thoughts turned back to Viola and her explorations.  He had been convinced from the beginning that she was behaving foolishly and this made him worry more and more as the days wore on. 

Hardacre had, of course, been invited to Kathleen’s and Tom’s betrothal party but had politely declined. He had written a long letter, however, sending his best wishes and expressing his (genuine) pleasure at the happy event.  He had not considered it rude to decline the invitation– in his mind the opposite would have been true, accepting the invitation would have been ungracious and acting far above his station. In addition, of course, he hadn’t forgotten his ‘work-to-rule’. He had no desire to be among a gaggle of witches all of whom could probably find innumerable new things for him to do.

After the garden he returned to the kitchen table to study his notes about Macrocephalos, the naga and other related matters. He hoped that somehow this might put his mind at rest, or provide some more clues as what it would be sensible to do next. He had a mutton and vegetable casserole on the hob and stirred it every now and then with a big wooden spoon. The smell was wonderful, and assuming that Mr Ismay didn’t reappear suddenly, he would be able to make it last several days.

On a big sheet of paper he had drawn nine circles, each labelled with a thick ‘N’. Above each one of the circles he had written a number – all of the prime numbers from thirteen to eighty-three (given his affiliations he was not at all surprised to find the nature of the first enneic prime).  He knew from what the Kinspit naga had said that she was guarding a prime, but he had no idea which number it was, and, in any case, he had no way of knowing whether the identity of particular numbers was relevant. The only other thing that he knew was that Viola and her team were heading towards Klethropolis, where she expected to find another naga, which would also, presumably, be guarding another prime. He really knew that he had to show all of his findings to Mr Ismay as soon as possible, but he was torn between two sacred duties – to his master and to his friend. While Mr Ismay was away this wasn’t a large problem, but as soon as he returned then he would feel obliged to tell him and that thought was causing him some pain.  He hated to let anyone down.  

Hardacre had heard nothing from Viola for three days, not since he had written to her advising her to give up her quest. He could guess how well that letter had been received and he hoped that the only reason she hadn’t written was because she had not worked out how to respond. There was a deep part of him, the part of himself that he couldn’t really admit to existing, which wanted to blink to where Viola was and try to help her in any way that he could. But all his training and the dictates of common sense would not allow this. It simply wasn’t done to rush off without permission, and, in any case, he had no trace to teleport to. He did the only thing that he could do, which was to write Viola another letter, pointing out that unless he heard from her soon that he would have to tell Mr Ismay everything.  After that, all he could do now was wait and hope for the best. 

He ladled out a portion of the casserole into a bowl and placed it by his notes. He sat down and read through the notes slowly, dipping his fork into the bowl every now and then and eating at the same slow speed. This year really was turning out to be rather trying,