The Grand Design (50 page)

Now Gray Tower beckoned in a way she hadn’t expected. Memories rushed over her, long forgotten. She stared at the tower and felt its pull, and wondered if her life would change if she went there.

Or end.

“We go on,” she said softly. Her voice was hardly audible over the wind.

“Go on?” said Grath. “Go where?”

“To the tower.”

“No. Forget it.”

Nina was resolute. “I’m going. Come with me if you want. Or stay, if you’re afraid. I’ll return to Red Tower on my own.”

There was a grumbling from the mercenaries. Grath brought his horse in close to Nina’s, leaning into her so his men wouldn’t hear.

“Listen, you little wench,” he whispered. “I’ve brought you this far, but that’s enough. There’s nothing in the tower worth seeing. Don’t make me drag you back to the south fork like some child.”

“I want to see it for myself,” Nina said.

“There’s nothing to see, you stupid girl! Just bodies. You want to see bodies? Take your fill of them here!”

Cackle ruffled his feathers, but Nina was adamant. “I’m going, Grath. With or without you.”

The Dorian’s face reddened. “You do, and so help me I’ll—”

“What, Grath? Haul me back to Red Tower like a sack of grain? I don’t think so.” Nina sharpened hard eyes on him. “If you touch me, I’ll tell my father you mistreated me. Raped me, even. He’ll tell Biagio, and you won’t get paid.”

The menace in her voice made Grath hesitate. He knew Enli worshipped his daughter, and without Enli’s goodwill, Biagio’s purse just might not open. In the end, Grath relented.

“There’s nothing to see,” he warned again. “Nothing but those god-cursed birds. If they attack us—”

“They won’t,” Nina assured him. “Cackle will protect us. Stay close to me and nothing will happen.”

They were bold words, and Nina could tell the mercenaries questioned them. She herself questioned them. Though she had been but a child of five when last she’d seen Gray Tower, she remembered Eneas’ ravens like a terrible nightmare. The memory of a thousand black eyes blazed in her mind. But only for a moment. Gray Tower awaited, and maybe some answers with it. Her father’s treachery had left a vacancy in her soul. For the first time in her life, she doubted about him. Or maybe it was simply the first time she had courage. She didn’t really know. But her sheltered life had come to a ruinous end, and she wanted someone to blame.

“Let’s go,” she ordered, spurring her horse up the road toward the keep. It was a long way off, through a narrow lane dense with trees. The wind picked up as she advanced. Grath and his Dorians grumbled but followed, and soon they had left the town behind, wandering into a thicket of trees canopying a winding road. Nina’s horse snorted unhappily. On her shoulder, Cackle let out a long, low whistle, a habit he’d picked up from Duke Enli. Nina cupped her hood around her face to stave off the cold. It had been many
hours since they’d left the south fork, and her hands ached beneath her gloves.

Grath rode up beside. “You’re a fool, girl,” he sneered. “You’re chasing ghosts. I tell you again, there’s nothing there.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

Grath answered with a grimace. “I fear nothing. But we’re wasting our time, and it’s god-damn cold out here. Maybe dangerous, too. For you.”

“That’s why I brought you; to protect me. Now stop talking. Your breath makes me sick.”

They rode awhile longer. The lane was black with pines and rough with swales, and the branches knitting overhead bore heavy loads of fallen snow that sometimes gave way onto their heads. Here, they were nearing the tip of the Dragon’s Beak. Nina could sense the faint tang of salt in the air, and the sound of distant surf whispered in her ears. She spurred her horse to a quicker pace, eager to be out of the cold.

At last, the corridor of branches opened, spilling them out into Gray Tower’s shadow. The keep rose up high above them, abandoned, desolate, and bearing the scars of a thousand storms. Nina stared at it, shocked and amazed, drowning in a flood of reborn memories. Emotion choked her, and were it not for the arrogant Grath watching her, she knew she would have wept.

“Father,” she whispered. “What have you done?”

Gray Tower responded with an empty silence. Across the uneven meadow leading to the keep, Nina could see the remnants of battle, the broken bodies of the castle’s defenders fallen in the snow and the weapons left to rust on the ground, useless. The meadow itself was churned by horses’ hooves, eaten away by rushing beasts and strewn with great clods of earth. Beneath the snow, dead men lay against each other, misshapen mounds of white bent in impossible angles. When the winter ended and the warm weather came, there would
be disease here, maybe even enough poison to reach across the channel. Her father would be horrified, she was certain. Grath had done a very poor job of cleaning up. She scanned the castle grounds, hoping for a sign of life, any small, surviving thing, but saw nothing moving across the field.

Except for the ravens.

They were everywhere. Huge and black, they toddled along the bodies and stone fences, oblivious to the cold, pecking at the corpses and peeling off long strips of flesh. Their shining plumage caught the sunlight like a big, sable ocean. Some of the birds noticed the intruders and turned their corvine eyes eastward, spying Nina and her troops. A fearful tremor moved through the mercenaries. Nina swallowed hard. The sight of so many of the frightful things made her heart flutter. They were monsters, freaks of Eneas’ careful breeding. Every alcove was covered with them, every fence post swathed in black. One by one they picked up the signals from their brothers, turning to regard Nina and the Dorians.

“Good God,” murmured Grath. “Look at them all. Just waiting.”

“We should go,” insisted one of the mercenaries, a notion echoed by his comrades. Grath silenced them with a sharp look.

“Quiet, you idiots,” he rumbled. Then he turned to Nina, saying, “They’re right. Let’s go, girl, before they eat our eyes out.”

Nina stroked Cackle’s plumage. “I’m not afraid. You can stay behind if you wish. All of you can. But I want to see what’s in the castle.”

“Why?” asked Grath, exasperated. “There’s nothing there!”

“There is,” Nina replied. “I have memories here.” She smirked, realizing how stupid that must have sounded. “Go if you want, Grath. I’ll be safe. And I
don’t want to startle them with so many riders. Take your men and go back into the woods. I’ll be out for you soon.”

“No,” refused the soldier. “I’ll go with you, though God curse me for it. I’m supposed to protect you.” He sighed, miserable with the duty. “You’re sure that bird will protect us?” he asked, pointing at Cackle.

“I’m sure,” said Nina. She wasn’t really, but saying it made her feel better. Cackle was lead raven now. And the army of the air did nothing without the lead raven’s order. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she warned the bird. Cackle bobbed on her shoulder, understanding.

Nina gave her horse its head and began moving toward the tower. Grath kept well behind her, making certain the ravens in the yard could see the bird on her shoulder. There was some fluttering of wings and staccato caws. Nina fought to quell her growing fear. Beneath her, she could feel the trepidation of her horse as it, too, watched the rapacious birds. She heard Grath’s desperate whisper behind her.

“God, look at them all.”

“Quiet,” she snapped. Any small sound might disturb them, sending them to flight. But Cackle was on her shoulder, perched proud and commandingly, and the ravens in the yard noticed the lead bird and the golden chain around his neck, and soon settled into a uniform disinterest. Nina’s racing heartbeat slowed a bit, relieved. Up ahead, she could see the tower’s door, blown open wide and buried with snow in its threshold. There was a dead man in a heap barring the way inside. An enormous raven stood on his head, comically oblivious to its gruesome perch. Nina steered her horse through the courtyard, careful to avoid the thickest patches of ravens. The way was choked with bodies. Eneas’ men had numbered maybe two hundred at best, and Biagio’s mercenary force had obliterated them. Now, amidst his bloody handiwork, Grath was
stoic. Like one of the dead, he seemed not to notice anything. Or to care.

The ravens around them broke ranks, letting them pass. Nina drew a sigh of relief as she reached the tower. In the doorway, the last raven stared at them from atop the dead man’s helmet, cocking its head inquisitively. A sudden, angry bark from Cackle sent it flying off. Nina smiled at her pet.

She and Grath trotted past the dead soldier and through the gate. Once inside, Grath dismounted and closed the castle doors, sealing them off from the birds. The hall went dark with shadows. Nina slowly slid off her horse. More than ten years had passed since she’d seen this great home, and the sense of it now was overwhelming. The sound of herself laughing as a child echoed in her mind. Exposure to the weather had ruined the carpet and pulled things from the wall, but it was still her uncle’s house, even after so many years.

“Uncle,” she said meekly, hoping his ghost was home. “It’s me.”

Unsure where to go, Nina stood there for a long moment. She pulled the hood off of her head and shook the dampness from her hair. She clapped her boots on the floor to dislodge the snow. She did all these things as a ritual of homecoming, a vain attempt to make some sense of the destruction and fractured bits of her past. Down the hall, light flooded in through broken windows. Like its twin, the Gray Tower had a simple layout. There wasn’t much to the place, just a tall spire ringed with rooms. Across the hall was the library, and her uncle’s study. Past that was the kitchen and dining hall, a big and jolly chamber where she had once sat with her father and uncle and listened to them laugh together over pints of beer. She remembered that now with an ache.

“I want to find my uncle’s rooms,” she said softly.

“This is madness. What’s your point, girl?”

Nina shrugged. “Maybe nothing.”

It was impossible to explain to Grath. No one could understand the hollowness her life had become, the mystery of not knowing. Only Lorla had come close to understanding, and she was gone now, part of her father’s impenetrable schemes.

“Stay here, Grath. Look after the horses. I won’t be long.”

Grath balled up a fist. “No, Nina! Now this is enough. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Don’t open the door,” Nina warned, ignoring him. “You might not be safe without Cackle.”

“Damn it, Nina …”

“Stay,” she ordered, then drifted down the damp corridor. To her relief, Grath didn’t follow. A thousand thoughts came at her at once, glad and mournful memories she had thought buried a decade ago. There were more bodies in the hall, servants that Grath had slaughtered, even an old woman Nina thought she recognized. She paused over the lifeless body, unable to recall the name but sure she had worked in the kitchen. Once she had served Nina carrot soup. Now she was dead. An enormous puddle of dried blood framed her face, gluing her hair to the floor. Nina forced herself to look away.

“Uncle,” she called out, sure no one would answer. No one did.

She had to find his rooms. She rounded a corner and found herself near the stairway for the spire. The granite treads rang with echoes of her steps. As she ascended, Nina ran her hands along the curved wall, tracing it with her fingertips and pulling in more memories of a child who had once loved to play here. Finally, she came to the place where Eneas’ rooms had been. She remembered them vividly. He had gargoyles on his balcony. The stone creatures had been gifts from Arkus of Nar himself, made by the great artist Darago.
Nina stepped into the hallway and laughed. Her uncle had hated those gargoyles.

“We’re very close,” she said to Cackle. “I can feel it.”

Cackle dug his talons deeper into Nina’s coat. The bird seemed uneasy, understandable in this place of corpses. But here, on Eneas’ floor, there were no corpses. No broken windows, either. Doors had been kicked in and the place had been searched, but it seemed to Nina that most of Gray Tower’s inhabitants had rushed downstairs to defend their home—and meet their deaths. She drifted silently across the corridor, studying the burned out sconces and narrow windows, and remembered the place where Eneas’ bedchamber waited, around the corner near a bookcase filled with musty manuscripts. As she rounded the bend she saw the bookcase with its carelessly stocked shelves, and the sight of it made her want to weep. There was her uncle’s bedchamber, its door flung wide. A collection of things spilled over its threshold, the remnants of Grath’s search for hidden survivors. Nina approached the room with dread, fearful of what she might find.

Eneas’ ghost was not present to greet her. There was only more destruction—an overturned bed that might have hid a frightened child, some papers sprawled on the floor by the wind from open balcony doors, and the sight of Dragon’s Beak beyond the balcony, lying like a white wasteland. Nina stepped into the chamber, holding back a rush of tears. The girl she had been had grown to a woman without her uncle, and she grieved for the lost years.

“Father,” she whispered. “You are unholy.”

Only a devil could do such a thing. Her father had sold his soul for revenge. Now he would return to a Dragon’s Beak ruined by his own hand, and the peaceful place that it had been would be a mournful hellhole, ruled by a tyrant and Biagio’s iron fist. At last the tears came, rolling down Nina’s cheeks. She wanted to hate her father, but couldn’t. She wanted to save her
uncle, but couldn’t. Helpless, she crumpled to her knees amidst the blowing papers and the wind, and buried her face in her hands.

Lost in her sorrow, she didn’t know how long she cried. Time was crawling here, or moving backward. But when she opened her eyes again the tears had stopped. They were pointless, she told herself. Tears didn’t bring back the dead. Nina was about to rise when she glimpsed a piece of paper stuck to her boot. She picked it up and inspected it, recognizing her father’s familiar handwriting.

Dear Father
, it read.

Please help. I am outside the castle near the main road. Your brother is pursuing me. I know who I am now. Please come.