Anna von Wessen (14 page)

But word of the strange situation had begun already to circulate through the castle, initiated of course by poor Golkin, whose head had been nearly impaled by Valo’s bolt. He rushed down from the tower upon Ephram’s arrival, to drink a cup of tea with shaking hands, and to tell his mate, Ilsa, every detail of what had happened.

From Ilsa, who was the head overseer of the servants, the story spread quickly – and it was not long before it reached Anna’s ears. She had been unable to sleep, and was playing at billiards alone on the first floor, pretending that Greyson was there, when Ilsa and Filipovic (both of whom believed, like everyone else, that Greyson was killed) rushed past in the corridor, talking excitedly. Anna gave ear to their conversation, but caught only ragged fragments of it; and so was immediately worried for Greyson, thinking that perhaps he
had
been shot through with a bolt. So she shifted to the tower, and there found Ephram. It was the first time she had visited the tower at night; and the torch upon the wall cast far more light than the distant window ever had.

“What happened?” Anna cried, pushing through the small crowd to reach the mutilated door. It stood open to the torchlight, with the Aera still hanging there above it. “Is he all right?”

Greyson’s small voice came to her, then, telling her that he was well. Anna clapped a hand over her mouth, and fell back against the wall, unspeakably relieved.

“Everything is fine, Anna,” said Ephram. He came to put a hand to her cheek, and then to pat her shoulder. “Nothing has happened.”

“May I see him?”

“Of course.”

He moved aside; and Anna went into the room. Greyson came running straight for her.

“What happened?” he asked. “No one’s told me anything. Why have they opened the door? And why is there a hole in it?”

“I heard only that Valo shot a bolt into the tower,” Anna replied. “That’s what made the hole. They’re fixing it now.”

Greyson looked with wide eyes towards the door; and then fell to searching for the present wherabouts of the missile, in the walls of the cell. “Is that what all that noise was?” he asked.

“Apparently.”

“Oh! I thought, at first, that Ephram had come to kill me. But then I saw him standing, out in the hall – and I figured that couldn’t have been what it was.”

Anna studied his face for a long moment; and then leapt to embrace him. “I thought something terrible had happened!” she said. “I thought you were –”

But she was interrupted, then, by a loud instance of throat-clearing from just behind her. She whirled around, and saw Ephram, there in the doorway. Again he
hem-hemmed
, so as to ascertain that he had both her and Greyson’s attention.

“All right in here?” he asked stiffly.

“Yes, Ephram,” Greyson answered quietly.

In the glow of the torch, Ephram looked carefully into Greyson’s face. He could see him perfectly; but still, as if he were not satisfied, he took a match from his pocket, and lit it. He came forward, and stared at Greyson for a long while. Of course none other could see into his thoughts; but we know that he was thinking, of the wild Lumarian named Menuch who had once been his right hand in all things. Ephram had taken him, and alongside him many other of the savages who inhabited America; and with them he had built his house; with them he had fought against the Narken.

Menuch was slain in the year 1938. He left behind him a single child, whom he had sown not three years earlier; and this child and Anna were raised up side by side, always the most sincere and loyal of comrades. And yet – this child grew to be nothing like his father. Ephram had something of a soft spot for him, because Anna loved him, and because he himself had loved Menuch. But still he was greatly disappointed. 

So Ephram looked now upon the product of this child. “I have been thinking these past several days,” he began. “Still I must think a little more, I believe – but for now, Greyson Menuch, would you like to come out of here?”

“Would I – would I –”

Greyson could not even finish his sentence; but merely fell down on his knees, and crawled to Ephram’s feet, where he remained so long and pathetically prostrate, that Ephram seemed almost to take pity on him.

“All right, Greyson Menuch,” he said. “Up on your feet! Compose yourself, my boy.”

Greyson nodded frantically, as Ephram took down the Aera; then went tripping on his way out of the room. Ephram stood quiet for a moment or two, looking towards the crumbling hole in the cell door, until Anna spoke his name.

“Yes, my dear?” he replied.

“Thank you. Thank you, Ephram.”

Ephram smiled; and Anna went forth to take his hand.

~

The very first thing which Greyson wished to do, upon being finally released from the tower, was to go out into the castle grounds, and there to walk about in the sunshine. But the night still lingered; and so he waited with Anna by a window till the first rays of dawn, and when they appeared, flew out into their waiting embrace. He had lain for weeks upon a stone floor in a black room; and it was some hours before he would assent to come in from the warm light. But finally there came a messenger out to the place where he and Anna were strolling, who informed them that Ephram desired Greyson’s presence in the royal chamber.

Greyson looked all of a sudden rather ill; but Anna put an arm round his shoulders, to brace him up. Together they followed after the messenger, across the East lawn, through a narrow side entrance, and down the winding halls to the great chamber where Ephram was awaiting them.

“Greyson Menuch,” boomed Ephram from his throne, the very moment he spotted the trembling fellow, but a tiny speck in that vast doorway. “Come hither, my boy.”

Greyson began on his way down the room, with Anna keeping pace a little behind him. Greyson did not appear comforted, but Anna was much relieved by the absence of the guards from their places between the pillars. Yet this relief seemed almost entirely to fall away, when she saw that Vaya Eleria occupied the space where Valo had last stood.

“Greyson Menuch,” Ephram repeated, when that unfortunate fellow had arrived finally at the foot of the throne; “it is the law of this castle, that what sentences are issued here in the royal chamber, shall be disputed only here, and nowhere else. That is the reason why I have called you to me.”

“Yes, Ephram.”

“Have you anything to say for yourself, my boy?”

“Y-yes,” stammered Greyson, as he took another tentative step towards the throne. “I am very s-sorry, Ephram, for all that I have done. I know that I have committed a terrible crime. If I could do it all over again, surely I would not repeat my mistake. But, since I cannot do it over, I can only assure you that never, never again will I do any such thing – or any other thing which I know that I shouldn’t. I solemnly swear it. You have my word.”

“You speak well, Greyson Menuch, for such a craven little fellow,” said Ephram, with something of a thin smile upon his face. “I think very much that I believe you, when you swear such a thing to me.”

“Oh!” cried Greyson, dropping for the second time to his knees before the King. “Oh, Ephram – you can believe it, sir, you can! Never again will I disappoint you! I promise you, Ephram.”

Vaya Eleria, who had stood silent thus far through these proceedings, with the shadow of rather a smug grin upon her lips, began here to look a little ruffled. She leant forward, and whispered something into her father’s ear. Ephram frowned, and looked at her curiously, but ended by shaking his head.

“Greyson Menuch,” he said, “I have thought long over this matter – and what with the earnest pledge you have given this day, my decision is made. Your imprisonment, bestowed upon you for the crime of rousing a sleeping Lumarian, is hereby abrogated.”

Greyson floundered up the steps to the throne, on one knee and one foot, and held his shaking hands out to Ephram. Ephram smiled, and clasped them heartily.

“Thank you, Ephram!” Greyson cried. “I owe you my life, sir. Forever – forever, sir – will I be in your debt.”

“Those are wise words of repentance,” said Ephram. “But dawdle no more, dear boy! Run along to the kitchens, where I am sure they will be able to find you something left over from last night’s feast.”

Greyson’s eyes opened wide, and he smacked his parched lips. Without another word, he turned on his heel, and flew from the chamber. Anna made to follow after him; but she was called back by the raised voice of Vaya Eleria.

“Stop there!” she called. “Stop there, and turn around.”

Anna turned back to the throne, but favoured only Ephram with her waiting gaze.

“Father,” said Vaya, looking down at Ephram’s bewildered face; “Father, what is this? You release him from his bondage? You told me not that you would do any such thing.”

“I had only just made up my mind,” answered Ephram.

“Did you not think that I should have some say in the matter?”

Ephram looked long at his daughter, seemingly unable to reconcile her current perturbation with the calm and reasonable temperament which she had offered to him all that morning.

“And would your decision, Vaya, have differed from mine?”

“Yes!”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you. You told me, only a short number of hours ago, that you were become glad to have been awakened. Did you lie to me?”

“No, Father – I did not lie to you. My present sentiments on the matter, however, have very little to do with Greyson Menuch’s standing punishment.”

When she spoke the words
Greyson Menuch,
her mouth puckered, and her expression became one full of disgust. It seemed hard for her to say the name, so far did she think it beneath her; and she appeared afterwards to regret it.

“Why do you despise him?” Anna asked her. “You should fall upon your knees, and give him thanks! If not for him, you should have lain forever in your tomb. You stand here now, beside your father – beside his throne.” Anna took care here, to show how little she thought Vaya Eleria deserved such a privilege; but of course she was not fool enough to say any such thing. She merely added, “For that you should be grateful.”

Vaya rounded on her, and glided down the steps to stand before her. “How dare you speak to me!” she cried. “How dare you? I do not kneel, you silly peasant, to the likes of yourself. It is you who kneels to
me!
Do it now, and perhaps my ire shall be assuaged.”

“I shan’t.”

Vaya’s eyes seemed to spark with a sort of molten electricity; and she raised her hand to strike Anna. But Anna caught her arm, before the blow was given, and thrust it away from her.

“Father!” Vaya screamed. “You will sit there, and allow her to speak to me thus?”

“I’ve said nothing to disrespect you,” Anna argued.

“Ha!”

“Anna,” Ephram said softly, holding his hand out towards her, as if to beseech her cooperation. “Do be just, Anna.”

“I am always just.”

Again Vaya ascended the steps, to stand near to her father. “I am your daughter,” she said to him. “She must bow to me.”

Though appearing anything but certain, it seemed that Ephram could not bring himself to deny Vaya this. “You must bow to her, Anna,” he said finally. “It is only a sign of respect. You yourself have just said, that you are always just. Do be just, Anna.”

“I will not bow to her,” Anna replied firmly. “Behead me now, if you must.”

“Certainly that is the most sensible thing I’ve yet to hear you say,” muttered Vaya.

“Anna!” Ephram exclaimed. “Please do not pit yourself this way against my daughter. You understand my position – do you not? Even if you do not love me in this moment – then for all the moments in which you ever have, Anna – please do this for me.”

“I won’t.”

Anna stared hard at him for a long moment, but would not look again to Vaya. She turned her back upon them, and in that instant shifted from the chamber, to the forest behind the castle – for she did not wish to be found.

XV:

The Endai

V
aya’s loathing for Anna, who to all appearances now rivalled (if not superseded) her own place in her father’s household, only seemed to increase with time. She talked freely with none but Clyde Whist; though she did speak occasionally, too, to Ari, the only one she could seem to find whose abhorrence of Anna was at all comparable to her own. But she opened her mouth hardly at all to her father, with whom she was much less than happy.

Anna returned Vaya’s sentiments with all due vigour and alacrity, and was not to be found wanting in any of the numerous little confrontations which she suffered with her. She was frequently angry with Greyson, on account of his attitude that so much contradicted her own. Undaunted by his imprisonment, he could not seem to keep from trying to impress Vaya, with what he obviously thought were very noble airs and gestures, each and every time he caught sight of her. Vaya’s feelings for him, however, seemed hardly different from the ones she bore towards Anna, and she never missed an opportunity of demonstrating her scorn for his bemused affections. But it was as though Greyson saw none of her expressions of repugnance, and heard none of her words of derision. It was as though, really, he were only looking upon the most life-like portrait of her which he had yet had the privilege to see; and he could not help himself from falling half in love with her.

No amount of scolding on Anna’s part could sway him from his belief in her perfection. He took to trying to learn the more definitive parts of her daily routes, and thereafter to lying in wait for her, so that he might shadow her every move. But she was never long in perceiving his presence. Most always she waited till they were passing a particularly steep staircase, and then shoved him down it. Once, when especially aggravated, she pushed him out of an open window.

Yet he was not deterred. These violent reactions to his presence did nothing to diminish what pleasure he found in gabbling about her, day in and day out; and Anna began taking measures to avoid him, so as not to be forced to hear a single undesired word pertaining to her greatest foe.

Approximately four weeks after Greyson’s pardon, however, Ephram made an announcement which distracted everyone from their petty tasks – and which pleased no one very much. Finally he had scheduled the meeting with the Endai. The date was set.

One week before the appointment, Anna received a summons from Ephram. She arrived presently at his study, and was thoroughly disappointed to find both Vaya
and
Valo there. Yet it seemed that she was not the only one who felt as such; for the other two were glaring at each other, with countenances which bespoke respectively of their extreme dislike. When Anna entered, Vaya favoured
her
with an identical glance, while Ephram and Valo turned to smile at her.

“I have called you all here,” Ephram began, “to discuss with you the upcoming meeting with the Endai. It is my wish to bring the three of you with me – in addition to the steward, of course.”

There was no response, from any of the parties concerned. Ephram did not look at all surprised.

“Well, perhaps we shall not discuss it after all,” he said lightly. “I have said all I need to say. You may go now.”

Anna darted away from Vaya and Valo; Vaya made to escape Anna and Valo just as quickly; and Valo shied away from Vaya, while pursuing Anna.

Ephram watched the three of them – all members of the swiftest, most graceful and fleet-footed race upon the earth, bumbling about in their attempts to avert one another – and sighed at the sight of them.

~

Ephram, Anna, Vaya, Valo, and Byron Evigan set out from Drelho some quarter of an hour before they were due in London.

“Must we board another train, Father?” Valo inquired. “Is there some waiting wonder that we would not care to miss?”

“Ah! Not this time, Valo. Come – and I will show you the way.”

The group crowded round Ephram and Byron Evigan, the better to touch their thoughts. The hall disappeared; there was a blur of the passing world; and next moment, they were standing in a secluded little lot behind the house of the Endai. Ephram motioned to them, and led them round to the front.

Everyone seemed loath to admit it – but certainly the house was just as grand (even if not entirely so large) as Drelho. It lacked something of the castle’s charm and beauty, of course, situated as it was in the heart of busy London; but for all that it was perhaps more elegant, and more cleverly built. Its covering was of hard white stucco. The windows were of uniform size and shape, all but a single large one near the peak of the long roof, which was round as a porthole, and inscribed with an ornate letter
“E.”
There was a long set of fair stone steps fixed before the double white-wood doors, up which an attendant from the house immediately came to usher them. They were taken through the doors, into a bright vestibule neither too large nor too small; then on into a hall of shining vastness. A second attendant came there to greet them. He smiled politely with the first, and began to ask whether any of them desired any refreshment; whereupon he faltered in his speech, and looked rather nervous of his blunder.

“Something to drink,” Ephram said courteously, “would be very nice.”

The attendant nodded graciously, and then hurried off to fill the request. The first attendant turned to them, and bade them follow him to the first-floor parlour, where an authority of the house would presently come to meet them.

“Have you no servants?” asked Valo, who was looking all around, and seeming not much to care for the prodigious quantity of white sunlight which was flowing through the many windows.

“We haven’t,” answered the attendant. “What things need doing, we do ourselves. Mindren was the last of our houses which made use of the Narken for servants. To antagonise them in such a way does no benefit to the war.”

Valo rolled his eyes, and sounded his annoyance slightly in the back of his throat. Ephram nudged him pointedly, and said to the attendant, “Mindren? Is that not the fortress from which Dahro hails?”

“It was the fortress of the Louisiana King, Morachi. Dahro was head of one of the exterior houses – though yes, Morachi was his King. Come along with me, now,” the attendant added, “and I will take you to the parlour.”

He led them to that room, which was very spacious, and just as clean and light as everything else had been. They took their seats of a group near the mantel.

The first attendant disappeared; and soon the second returned with a tray of beverages. He passed them round with a very friendly countenance, and then bade the visitors good day. He reminded them, before he left, that someone would be with them shortly.

“Who is Dahro?” Valo asked his father.

“Dahro,” said Ephram, “is King Balkyr’s second-in-command – his Lieutenant. His clan was the last of the American Endai, who fought the battle with the Voranu in Louisiana.”

“Am I meant to be impressed?”

“Perhaps you should be. You do not have to like them, my son – but do not underestimate them. The Endai are an old and powerful race. We do not want them for our enemies.”

Valo
harrumphed
indignantly, but said no more.

It was hardly two minutes later, when their promised authority arrived. He came with long strides into the parlour, and walked towards the visitors with an affable smile. “Welcome to the house of Balkyr,” he said. “I hope your trip went well?”

He seemed to remember, then, that said trip had not been much of a journey at all; and he smiled as if it were a prime joke. Yet he did not attempt to amend his question.

“Exceedingly,” Ephram answered simply.

“Very good!”

Anna took a moment to survey their welcome party. He was a long, lean man, with fair hair and a clean face. In appearance he rather resembled Ephram; though in demeanour he was far more jolly than a Lumarian perhaps has the capacity to be.

“It is good to see you, Dahro,” Byron Evigan said pleasantly.

“And you as well, Byron!” exclaimed Dahro. “Very good indeed.”

The Endalin sat himself down in a chair near the steward, and looked to the rest of the guests. “Now you know my name,” he said to them, “but it seems that I know none of yours. Tell me what you are called, young people.” He paused to laugh, and then added, “Though no doubt you are none so young as you look.”

Not one of the addressees made to speak; so Ephram came quickly to their aid, in an effort to avoid offending King Balkyr’s Lieutenant. “This is my son, Valo,” he began; “and this is Anna von Wessen. The last is my daughter, Vaya Eleria.”

Dahro’s eyes widened, and he looked with great interest to Vaya. “Vaya Eleria!” he exclaimed. “Why – how can that be?”

“It is a very long story,” said Ephram. “Let it suffice, that her return to me was an unexpected one.”

“Of course,” said Dahro. “Forgive me. Obviously the matter is none of my concern.”

There was a long moment of silence, wherein naught could be heard but the clinking of ice in five glasses.

~

The governing body of the house assembled some three quarters of an hour later, in the great conference room on the second floor. This body consisted of five-and-twenty Endai, and illustrated yet another difference between their house and Drelho. The legislative circle of that latter house, you may have gathered, consisted solely of its head. At present Byron Evigan made all decisions, devised all laws, and allotted all punishments which had to do with the members of his house, without ever seeking the approval or permission of anyone but himself. It was only he, and he alone, upon the pedestal of the throne in the royal chamber, when there was cause for him to be there (save of course for the little matter of Greyson’s punishment, as he had known well enough not to meddle in
that
business). Never had Vyra Iyenov’s throne had reason to be laid out again; for the steward had never taken a mate. Never did anyone stand round or behind his own throne; for he had never begotten any of his own offspring. He was the entire judge and jury, if you will, of Castle Drelho. In Ephram’s day there had been two thrones at the head of the royal chamber, with Vaya Eleria always standing just between them. Two more, in that case, with whom Ephram could converse, and from whom he could seek advice; but still the last power lay with him.

Yet it was not so, in this the house of the Endai. Its government was made up of all these five-and-twenty; and all these five-and-twenty had a hand in the supervision of their own house, as well as in that of a number of others in the surrounding towns. If a final ruling of the King’s was considered too severe, or completely erring in its direction (neither of which circumstances had ever occurred while Balkyr ruled; for he was a wise and a fair King), and then in such a case that Dahro’s own reparation proved insufficient, the members of this government had the authority to veto.

All limbs of this body, then, betook themselves on the day in question to the conference room, positioned themselves in their seats round an enormous circular table, and set chairs also for the visiting Lumaria.

It was here that King Balkyr first showed himself. He entered the room with Dahro, and came to the place where Ephram sat with the steward. He held out his hand to shake with them both, and then took his own seat before the wide window. The sun shone in over his head, making the thick locks of his long white hair appear as a fresh mat of snow. He was a very old man, perhaps eighty years of age, with liver-spotted hands and a slight bend in his back. For all that, though, he looked remarkably strong. His arms were thick as tree trunks, and his short neck could be most likened to that of a bull. His keen blue eyes were covered by a thin film, which seemed to make it somewhat difficult for him to see. When he looked to his five guests, he needed squint rather severely to make them out; but certainly his sense of hearing had not been at all diminished, for there was not a single word spoken which he needed repeated. 

This, Anna thought, was the great King Balkyr. Aged and wizened he certainly was; but still he appeared a formidable foe. All the Endai looked to him reverently, and withheld their speech till he had made his opening statement.

“There have been many matters to see to of late,” he said, “and it has been a long while since I sat here in this room. It has been an even longer while, since the Night People have come to my house.” He looked again to the Lumaria in question; and though
his smile was friendly, also it was undeniably wary. “But it seems that now the great King Ephram has returned.”

There was no scorn, no contempt in these words. They seemed more of a question than anything else.

“Only Ephram for now,” Ephram replied genially. “You should know that Byron Evigan retains his title of steward.”

There was a barely perceptible snarl of impatience from Vaya’s lips; and if no one else noticed, at the very least Anna and Balkyr did.

“For how long will this be?” asked Balkyr.

“It may be something of a prolonged state of affairs,” answered Ephram. “There are many things to consider, before a change is made.”

Though Balkyr nodded politely, really he seemed to understand this hardly more than Vaya herself did. Yet he said nothing more about it.