Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (6 page)

‘I’ve never been in a
place like this,’ she told him.

He glanced down at her
in surprise.

‘I’ve never been
outside the Citadel. Mellia has – she’s had to go to ceremonies at
the Guild Houses with mother since her thirteenth birthday. Kerris
and I have never been out. Did you know Mellia is fifteen at the
next full moon but one?’

Grent stumbled: he’d
been staring down at Shea rather than watching where he was going.
Steadying himself, he caught the Shield Master’s eye. Garrol was
walking at Shea’s other side and listening to her
prattle.

‘You’ve never been
outside child?’ he asked.

‘Oh there are two
gardens we’re allowed in sometimes, on the roof of the third level
– that’s one level below where we live. But there’s no grass, only
poor flowers stuck in pots and things.’

Garrol exchanged a
bemused look with Grent and cleared his throat. ‘We aren’t far from
the Palace now,’ he began.

‘Palace?’ Shea
interrupted. ‘Is that like the Citadel?’

‘Well I don’t know. The
Karmazen Palace is beautiful – is your Citadel
beautiful?’

They walked in silence
while Shea considered the question. ‘I don’t think so. It’s all
grey stone piled on top of grey stone. It’s very cold in the winter
and chilly even in the summer. Is your Palace truly
beautiful?’

Garrol smiled. ‘You’ll
be able to see for yourself in a few minutes, but I’ll tell you
now. It is a red and black mountain. Karmazen means crimson in the
ancient tongue.’

They’d reached the
trees by now and were following a narrow path between straight
golden brown trunks. Branches only began to sprout from the trees
at two or three man lengths above their heads. Grent felt an odd
pang as he watched Shea’s face. She stared up, and up, marvelling
at the pale green leaves whispering and waving so far over them.
Garrol’s expression showed a momentary flash of anger and Grent
knew the Shield Master was shocked that a child could reach Shea’s
age never having stood beneath a mighty forest tree. The trees
formed only a brief barrier and they soon emerged onto a smooth
rock plateau.

The men carrying Pule
stopped so he could gaze out at the neat houses in a shallow valley
ahead. Above the houses rose a smooth mountain of red and black
stone, polished and gleaming in the sun. There was no particular
pattern to the colours but somehow it formed a mosaic pleasing to
the eye. Gossamer had halted beside Pule. She glanced at his face
and was not surprised to see tears pouring down into his
beard.

‘Is it familiar Pule?’
she asked.

The two men holding
Pule stared at Gossamer impassively. Pule stretched a trembling
hand towards the huge structure.

‘Where I was born.’ He
choked on the words and his breathing suddenly became a wheezy
rattle.

Garrol flicked his
fingers. The men carrying Pule turned at once, increasing their
speed. They hurried down a gradual slope to a black stone bridge
which spanned a river edging the first of the houses. Garrol
shrugged and followed the men.

‘Seola told us his
lungs were damaged. Our healers will be able to help him quite
considerably.’

Shea let go of Grent’s
hand and dashed ahead to the bridge. She leaned over the parapet
and gazed down at the racing water below.

‘Who is this child? Why
did she travel with you?’ Garrol looked between Grent and Gossamer
for an answer. Grent sighed.

‘It appears she ran
away and came to our quarters – Master Pule’s quarters that is.
There was no time left and Seola brought us all through the
gateway. We could never have explained her presence with us to her
mother’s satisfaction.’

Garrol frowned as he
and Grent followed Gossamer onto the bridge.

‘Her mother?’ he asked
in puzzlement.

Grent snorted. ‘Shea’s
mother is the Imperatrix Veranta of Kelshan and the Confederacies.’
He took what he knew to be a childish delight in watching the
Shield Master’s face. Disbelief, shock, and dawning horror were
revealed on his countenance.

Grent’s amusement
vanished and his tone became sour. ‘She is known as “the idiot”. I
honestly doubt if the Imperatrix will be unduly concerned. She had
publicly admitted, in the Council rooms at least, that she expected
to gain nothing from Shea as a bargaining piece in any marriage
auction.’

By now they’d reached
Gossamer and Shea who stood side by side, peering over the
bridge.

‘Not far now,’ Garrol
commented, striding up the paved road towards the Palace towering
above them. Shea hurried to catch up with the Shield Master,
bombarding him with questions. Gossamer and Grent trailed
behind.

‘Do you think that man,
or anyone else here, will understand I’m dead?’ Gossamer
hissed.

Grent shook his head.
‘No idea. Why? Is it important that people know, or that they don’t
know of your – er – little problem?’

Gossamer glared at him.
‘A very few people knew in the City and were able to stay friendly
with me, but most weren’t. They pretended they couldn’t even see me
if we met around the streets.’

‘Master Pule said you’d
done some work for Molesiffer Brak recently. Did he know you’re
dead?’ Grent was really curious. He understood Gossamer had been
cursed, then murdered, and yet still looked much the same. More or
less, he amended. But he’d never liked to ask just what sort of
existence she had. ‘I truly did forget that you don’t eat or
drink,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘I wasn’t trying to offend
you.’

She shot him a
suspicious look. ‘It’s very boring in most respects actually. There
seems to be a lot more time in each day and nothing to fill that
time with. Shopping, cooking, eating, drinking.’ She gave Grent
another wary glance. ‘I do cook sometimes for something to do, but
then I’m left with all the food. Drengle List says he enjoys the
smell. So do the local ghosts.’

Gossamer held out her
hands then touched the smooth skin of her face. ‘The curse doesn’t
completely stop the body deteriorating. Snail the Embalmer is a
very special woman. She keeps those of us who find ourselves in
this state looking reasonably normal, and she is a genuine friend.
Costs a lot of course, but money’s no trouble to come
by.’

She grinned which made
Grent nervous, but their conversation was interrupted by the Shield
Master. He stood before a high archway of stone so black and smooth
it looked like velvet.

‘Welcome to Karmazen
Palace, home of the First Daughter of Dark.’

A tall thin man stood
within the shadows of the arch. He gave a slight bow. Shea walked
towards them. She smiled at Grent and Gossamer, squinting against
the sun’s brightness.

‘He’s Corman, the
Palace Master.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I think that means the same
as a steward.’

‘Quite correct Lady
Shea,’ the man replied. ‘If you would come with me, I will show you
to your rooms.’

Gossamer shrugged and
followed the man under the archway, Grent and Shea behind her.
Corman led them up several staircases, the last flight spiralling
up in alternate steps of red and black. Along a landing they came
to a door intricately carved with swirls of trees and plants.
Corman opened the door and stood aside.

‘There are several
bedrooms, bathrooms and a sitting room. I have sent for maids – ah,
here they are now. Please make yourselves comfortable and if there
is anything you need, ask one of the maids to summon me or the
Palace-Keeper. She will visit you shortly anyway. You will be
called for dinner at sunset but some food will be provided at
once.’

The door closed
silently and Gossamer and Grent found themselves alone but for a
young maid. Shea had disappeared into one of the rooms further
along the hall with the two other maids.

‘There was something
wrong with him.’ Gossamer sounded thoughtful.

Grent, on his way down
the hall behind their maid, stopped and walked back to where
Gossamer still stood.

‘Wrong?’ he asked
quietly.

She nodded and began to
move towards the sound of Shea’s laughter.

‘But what do you mean –
wrong?’

‘It wasn’t terribly
obvious, but then, perhaps it takes one to know one.’

‘Simert’s Balls
Gossamer!’ Grent tugged her sleeve in exasperation. ‘What is wrong
with him?’

‘I’m fairly certain
he’s dead.’ She gave her sardonic grin at his open-mouthed
astonishment.

Shea popped out at the
furthest end of the hall.

‘Oh do come and look!
You can see the sea from the sitting room but it can’t be the same
sea as the one at home. It’s the wrong colour.’

Gossamer strolled on
towards the child while poor Grent stood, his lips moving as he
silently repeated Gossamer’s words. ‘He’s dead.’

Chapter
Four

As morning dawned
Gossamer sat by her bedroom window watching the light flicker over
the sweep of the ocean. It had only been two days since she had
watched dawn arrive on the dockside at Kelshan harbour. Corman had
returned to their rooms the day before accompanied by a large lady
who he introduced as Jenniah, the Palace-Keeper. There was no
mistaking her position: a large ring jangling with a multitude of
keys hung from her belt, and her whole demeanour spoke of
Efficiency. Corman departed and Jenniah explained dinner plans had
unfortunately to be changed.

‘Your three companions
are being treated in our infirmary,’ she told them. ‘Several of
those who would normally dine with guests and make you welcome here
are also recovering from a recent indisposition. It was decided
therefore that dinner will be provided in these rooms tonight. I’m
sure you will welcome a chance to rest and recover from your
journey.’

Gossamer grunted.
Jenniah’s lips twitched.

‘I have travelled a
gateway once,’ she said, and smiled broadly. ‘And nothing – nothing
- will persuade me to repeat the experience.’

‘Was that how we got
here?’ Shea asked through a mouthful of fresh fruit.

The Palace-Keeper had
arrived laden with a basket of fresh fruits and a tray of meat
pies, vegetable pies and various kinds of fresh bread. ‘To keep you
going until dinner’ she’d explained.

‘May I see my master?’
asked Grent. ‘I fear he was having another bad spasm when the
Shield Master ordered the men to hurry on with him.’

‘Indeed you may. I’ll
take you there myself when I’m sure everything is in order for you
here.’

She gathered her empty
basket leaving the great pewter tray on a low circular table. ‘Now,
is there anything else I can bring?’ She peered more closely at
Shea. ‘I believe you came with no baggage. I will send a night gown
and some fresh clothes for you. I suggest a bath would be a good
idea for you young lady and a fairly early bedtime for you
all.’

She headed for the
hall. ‘Oh. I nearly forgot. Do you see these buttons?’ she
indicated a block of stone on the wall with six different coloured
circles inlaid in the block. ‘Press these once and you will summon
the Palace Master, myself, healers, guards, maids and cleaners.
Press the button twice if you’ve made a mistake or changed your
minds. When the bells ring in our different offices we know which
rooms to attend.’ The Palace-Keeper smiled at the three. ‘I do hope
you enjoy your stay with us.’

Now, Gossamer stared
from the window and wondered exactly what she’d got caught up in.
She was almost sure Corman was dead, but in a different manner to
herself. She’d observed Jenniah closely but the Palace-Keeper was
most definitely living. As usual, Gossamer had not slept, just sat
in this same chair, and thought. Once, in the hour preceding the
first hint of light, she’d heard Shea call out. Gossamer went to
the child’s room where a lamp, turned very low, still burned beside
the bed. Shea looked flushed and her bed clothes were a tangled
mess, but she remained asleep. Gossamer had no experience whatever
with children so she left Shea and returned to her own
room.

Now she heard movement
from Grent’s room across the hall from her own. A moment later
there was a scratch at her door.

‘Come in
Grent.’

He joined her by the
window, perching against the broad sill.

‘Did you dream last
night?’ he asked quietly. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ He raised his hands in
apology. ‘I keep forgetting.’

Gossamer studied him in
the pale light. He looked tired, more tired than when he’d gone to
bed in fact.

‘I think Shea was
dreaming. I looked in on her but she didn’t wake. What did you
dream?’

‘The same dream I’ve
been having for days now. It wasn’t quite so clear this time, as if
I was looking at it through some sort of smudgy window. But I could
still hear the scream.’

‘What is the
dream?’

So Grent told her of
the young woman, the armsman and the cat, lying on the floor of a
tunnel. He spoke of the howling scream and shivered as he tried to
describe it.