Anna von Wessen (28 page)

She screamed as Vaya clicked the ribs back into place. Vaya clapped a hand over her mouth to quiet her. But really this was not at all necessary; for in an instant she was overtaken by a powerful drowsiness that came to settle over her flushed and heated skin, till once again it grew cold. Still her chest ached, and her heart throbbed, but the bones trembled no more. Her breath came in ragged gasps, as Vaya came to lie beside her. She slipped an arm under Anna’s head, and Anna turned, almost unwittingly, to nestle her face down into Vaya’s silken cloak. The pain was subsiding. Now there was only a great, gaping quiet, which filled her with ice, and was not vanquished by the thick covers which Vaya drew over her. It was the cold that only the Lumaria know: the ironic, universally-comical cold of Hell. She lay silent, as Vaya ripped a strip of cloth from the sheet, and wrapped it round her bleeding hand.

“So cold,” she murmured. “Always so cold . . .”

Vaya took Anna more tightly in her arms, and lowered her face to kiss her neck. There was cold perspiration running all down Anna’s face, like melted bits of a vanished glacier, dripping and staining the folds of Vaya’s cloak. Vaya put a hand to her face, and kissed her lips. Anna pressed herself nearer to Vaya, till the skin of their chests touched, and the pounding of her heart seemed to shake Vaya’s very foundations. Vaya kissed her more deeply; but here Anna’s breath caught, as again the feel of the air changed round her, and Vaya’s skin beneath her fingertips grew all of a sudden exceptionally cold. She started backwards, looking down at her hands, which appeared presently not as hands of wax, not as the lifeless instruments they had always seemed to be – but rather as hands of flesh. They were covered in black, wiry hairs.

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned. “Oh, no, no . . .”

A ferocious heat came again to pervade all of her limbs, till it seemed the very blood scalded her veins. She felt the coarse hair spreading up her arms, and sprouting at the back of her neck. She rolled all in an instant off the bed, stumbled to the window; stood for a moment, with her ugly hands pressed to her face, and a horrible sensation coming to take hold of her spine, as it began to bend. Her teeth grew sharper, and longer than they had ever done before, till they seemed to stretch almost to her chin, pressing the skin till it bled. She thought very earnestly that she felt herself gaining height; but was seized as though by a cannon-blast to her middle, and so doubled over, and fell to the floor with a thud.

“Don’t – don’t look at me . . .” she groaned, as Vaya flew to her.

“Come,” said Vaya. She was pulling something from her pocket. “Put it on, quickly!”

Anna lifted her head, and allowed Vaya to slip a silver chain over her neck. “They gave me this at the Weld,” Vaya said. “For you. You must wear it, whenever you feel the coming of the wolf. As of now your sign will be the pain – for the Lumarian is fighting mightily against the Narkul. Whether this pain will always be, I cannot say. But you cannot ever change your shape, Anna! Ephram would be sure to see it, then.”

There was a brief burning as of fire, which arced all across her skin, as Vaya dropped the Turin over her head. But after that her body cooled, and the hair disappeared, as if it had been nothing but a dark, passing shadow over the white. Her heart was still. Her breath was vanished.

Vaya smoothed her hair, and looked carefully into her eyes. “There,” she said. “They are black again.”

Anna lay like a cold stone upon the floor, with Vaya’s arms close about her. Yet her face was averted towards the wall.

“There now,” said Vaya. “None of that. What’s the matter – can’t you look at me?”

Anna said nothing.

“Come, my love,” Vaya whispered in her ear. “Come back to me.”

Their lips touched; and a brief shudder moved through Anna. A faint heat came to burn in the space below her throat, but still the chain hung upon her neck, and nothing more came of it.

“Come to me,” Vaya repeated.

Anna reached for her – but without quite meaning to, shifted away from the chamber. Vaya followed her thoughts, and found her in a silver clearing, where she had made the habit recently of having her supper. They lay for a long while upon the ground, their hair turned white in the moonlight.

“I want to stay here,” Anna said.

Vaya made no argument, but only moved up beside her. “This is our secret now,” she said. “We shall guard it to the death.”

Anna shook her head sadly, and tried to push Vaya away.

“I would not let you die for me,” she said with a sob.

But Vaya only went on, as if Anna had not said anything at all.

“In all my years,” she said, “I have learnt very well how to shield my thoughts. We shall work together, you and I, to keep your own hidden from Ephram. They will try to get away from you now, when the wolf comes. So we must keep it down, down in the dark where he cannot see it.”

She rained kisses over Anna’s skin, while in one hand Anna clutched hers, and in the other grasped the Turin.

XXIX:

The Ball

M
assive and demanding though they seemed, Anna was almost straightaway forced to turn her mind from her own troubles, to focus upon the great chaos that came presently into all the halls and corners of Drelho, as it was announced that King Balkyr intended to pay a visit there. Indeed she could nearly imagine that naught at all strange had taken place those past weeks, as preparations for the Endalin King’s arrival were put into effect, and she was brought into nearly constant contact with Ephram. And, really, how could it all be true? How could she stand so near to him, and his own keen senses be crossed by some baffling curse? Surely it was not possible. Perhaps, perhaps it had been some version of the truth – but as she put it from her mind, it seemed very honestly to fade from sight altogether.

Again she was Anna von Wessen, third child of King Ephram. She sat, cool, composed and indifferent, while positioned directly in betwixt Vaya and Valo, and discussing their father’s plans. She appeared to entertain the friendliest of sentiments towards the former, while at the same time offering no indication that she was actually aware of her presence. As concerned the latter, she showed him no hostility whatever; smiled upon him when the occasion seemed to warrant it; and answered his remarks politely and concisely, seeming very earnestly to care a great deal for what he said. For his own part he was undeniably grateful that Anna had not delivered her grievance to Ephram, and that even now the King was oblivious of what unforgivable physical harm he had wrought upon her, leaving still a jagged scar below her shoulder, which she examined daily with towering rage.  For her, of course, it
was
unforgivable; but before Valo she voiced no objection whatever, and to his own mind he had indeed earned her forgiveness. So much gladness did he find in this false belief, that he did not even seem to think it at all strange that Vaya had interceded on Anna’s behalf that night. Later he would think back on it, and ponder how early it had all begun; but for the present he saw nothing.

Upon the whole, there was not a great deal to be done before the coming of the Endai. Since Ephram’s return, the castle’s impressiveness was much more carefully maintained, and on that score there was no doubt in his mind that Balkyr would be struck by how very grand it was. The dead grass of the grounds had been as if by magic changed to green, and the surrounding shacks, too ancient and significant to be conscientiously razed, were repaired as well as they could be, and appeared now as very respectable little cabins. The broken paving stones in the courtyard were all pulled up, and replaced with new black ones, square and smooth. The only thing which remained unchanged was the host of ravens that kept watch upon the turrets. They stood there always, with their wings tucked down, gazing all about with wary eyes, and looking very proud, as if aware that they were the living symbol of the undead Lumaria.

Yet still there were some wrinkles which needed ironing – and mostly these were of the intangible sort, which hovered constantly and irreparably between those who hated one another. Many of Drelho’s inhabitants loathed Vaya still, and viewed her as a traitor. As many considered Valo a fool, and sneered at him, hardly less than they did at Greyson. All were in awe of the famed Anna von Wessen, and would not have dared to cross her; though if hateful words could bring about a speedy death, then doubtless Anna would have had nothing at all more to worry herself over; for she would be lying in her own marble tomb.

These were the larger prejudices, the ones which were shared by the general populace, and could not be easily hidden. Probably, even, they were already known to Balkyr’s astute mind. But then there were the smaller fractures, which were so much more dangerous than those former, because instead of rumour and opinion they were based upon truth. Ari had detested Anna before, but did all the more now – and Filipovic had offered her a small battalion for her own purposes. Of this collective Severyk was no more; but to be sure there were the others whom Anna had pitted herself against, and still more who were loyal to these last. And so the division between Anna and Drelho began to grow. It was only their fear which held them in check; for certainly none at all were foolish enough for a moment to think, that any of them  together could overpower her. It was their belief (and what was more, Filipovic’s own) that she had absented herself early from the fight which had taken place outside the kitchens, merely for the sake of restraining her ire, and avoiding the murder of them, which would have been sure to bring her before Koro. Therefore, even her moment of weakness served to make her greater, and wiser, in their eyes.

But then, even if all this were not the case, and they believed they
could
vanquish her – how to wage war against Ephram’s love for her? Ari understood, too, that she should never be loved by Valo, anywhere near so much as was Anna von Wessen. This pained her immeasurably. But also it stayed her hand.

Ephram was aware of only a small portion of these smaller fractures and their causes; but nonetheless he worked to devise methods of minimising them, so as to make them invisible to the coming Endai, and to cause Drelho to appear as a solid, cohesive unit, that could not operate one piece without the other, and all of which pieces shared an unbreakable bond of brotherhood. Such an appearance, he knew, was all that could in any way work to sway Balkyr even farther in favour of the Lumaria. If this should happen, then perhaps the war they wished to initiate with the Narken would draw much closer, much sooner.

But these were only shadows, only outlines of thoughts. Really Ephram was most concerned with the crucial task (which he supposed rightly would be much harder than it seemed it should) of avoiding making a fool of himself.

It was proclaimed that a magnificent ball should be held on the night of Balkyr’s arrival. With him would be coming a goodly number of his house – for the purpose, he said, of establishing once more a tangible partnership between the Lumaria and the Endai, the essence of which had disappeared while Byron Evigan and Josev of Wisthane ruled England.

Byron Evigan, by the by, seemed entirely to have vanished. In Ephram’s most recent contact with Josev, he was told that the steward had gone from Black Manor some time ago. It seemed Josev had thought that he would return to Drelho; but of course we know that he did no such thing. Therefore his whereabouts were unaccounted for. Ephram said very little on the subject –  but it was clear enough, to Anna and Vaya at least, that he worried deeply over it.

That, however, is a matter for another time. Presently we shall bridge the very short gap of time, which lay before the coming of the Endai. The evening of their arrival fell upon the ninth of August. The castle assembled in the dining hall (which had been
gloriously done up with ample light and ancient decoration, and the jet floor polished till it seemed more a mirror than a floor) a whole half an hour before the appointed time, and waited anxiously for their unwanted guests. Balkyr arrived just on schedule, with the first of his great host of shining vehicles entering the courtyard at half-past seven. He and one hundred members of his house were ushered at once into the castle, with all due (and perhaps even a little more than was due) manner of state. They were announced very politely into the dining hall, and each Lumarian stood up begrudgingly to welcome them.

Another great table had been set up in the hall to accommodate the Endai. Five-and-seventy of them took their seats there, while another five-and-twenty, with the addition of Balkyr, were positioned at the King’s table. These, of course, were the members of the government of Balkyr’s house. The head table, then, was packed quite to capacity; elbows were scrunched against those of their neighbours on all hands; but there seemed no other way to avoid offending those members of either clan who believed that to be placed at any table but the King’s was a grievous affront.

And so, in this condition, a thousand Lumaria undertook the business of watching one hundred Endai being served their dinner. All was quiet for a while, with the occupants of Drelho talking only to one another, and the five-and-seventy Endai looking round uncomfortably, and eating very slowly, as if afraid that their food might be poisoned. Each member of the head table, meanwhile, was attempting with great and obvious difficulty to make conversation with those on either side of him who were not of his own race. The result was a strained, broken and discordant flow of dialogue, which everyone seemed very quickly to wish that they could leave off. The only two individuals who were displaying any semblance of easy speech were Ephram and Balkyr themselves. Both of them looked occasionally round at their own people, apparently wishing that they would all make something more of an effort for the cause at hand.

“And, do you know, I always found it rather strange,” Balkyr was saying to Ephram, in what seemed a very good humour. “Heathens and devil’s children that you all are, it is a mighty odd bit of logic, that your King of England should be named Ephram!”

“Very strange indeed,” Ephram replied genially. “But I suppose you would have had to ask my father for an explanation of
that
– and far as his decaying head is buried now beneath the earth, I am inclined to think it would be extremely difficult to persuade the mouth to answer you.”

Balkyr gave a hearty guffaw, and clapped Ephram on the shoulder.

“But then,” Ephram added, somewhat less animatedly, as he looked with disappointment towards the three whom he had counted upon most to sustain the civility of the evening, “perhaps he was aware, very much before the fact, that I would be fruitful in offspring – and doubtless just as displeased with my own naughty children, as was that biblical fellow whom you compare me with.”

He and Balkyr continued their insignificant conversation, while the silent tension which filled the rest of the hall went on for perhaps three quarters of an hour more. Just before the dance was scheduled to begin, however, a violent spat broke out between a young Endalin man, and a sour-faced Lumarian named Krim. The Endalin, it seemed, had had the ill luck to look in Krim’s general direction; and the latter had inquired immediately just at what the former was staring. The Endalin answered indignantly, and Krim merely sneered, before turning back to the conversation he had been holding with his companions. But the young Endalin was not content to let matters rest at this; he had
been insulted, and he would not let it go. He rose from his seat, and went to request for Krim to stand and face him. Krim paid him no heed, and merely went on talking; whereupon the Endalin reached to touch him on the shoulder.

Krim was on his feet in a moment. He hissed at the Endalin, while the other responded with a low, fierce growl from the very back of his throat. Dahro (Balkyr’s Lieutenant, you will remember, from the visit that was paid some time ago to the house of the Endalin King) was out of his seat in an instant, and hurrying to the Endalin’s side, to bid him be calm. But Krim moved then to shove the Endalin (whom Dahro called Jora), and it was very soon clear in what direction matters would turn. Dahro pulled repeatedly upon Jora’s arm, ordering him to stand down; but the young Endalin voiced another growl, and changed his shape like lightning into that of a very large, steel-grey wolf. He barrelled towards Krim, who immediately disappeared from the spot. Then he raced through the hall, and darted out into the corridor, seeking his foe.

Now Dahro changed his own shape. His size was much greater than that of Jora, and his fur was coloured a sort of copper that shone brilliantly in the torchlight. He followed swiftly after the young Endalin.

From her place at the head table, Anna sat staring after them, dumbfounded. The sudden appearance of the two wolfen forms upset her considerably. For a moment she was horrified; but afterwards she began thinking on their extraordinary beauty, and was envious. All in a moment, this event crushed the fond hope she had been cherishing; slayed the very idea of maintaining the present, and brought again with redoubled force the knowledge that she was neither who she had been, nor who she wished to be. She was no Lumarian. Like a clap of thunder, a vision of the Narkul form pressed into her mind, and stained her previous contentment. Held against that of the Endalin, it was hideous. She threw herself back, and clutched the arms of her chair.

But suddenly there came a loud voice, sounding clearly through the clutter of her thoughts. It was the voice of Vaya. She sat just beside Anna, on the left-hand of Ephram, and was talking very vibrantly with him and Balkyr. She was not even facing Anna. Yet she needed not see the strange expression upon her face, to know what she was thinking; for Anna’s thoughts sounded just as loudly in her own head, as they did in that of their originator. She heard them, and responded immediately, telling Anna to dam the flow, and quickly compose herself. Anna was not long in obeying.

She sat looking very calm again, and was chatting coolly with an Endalin woman on her left, when Dahro returned with Jora to the hall. Once again in their human forms, and dressed just as neatly as before, they advanced arm-in-arm. Krim had returned to his seat long before, and was gazing upon Jora with a patronising countenance. The young Endalin countered with a furious glare. But Dahro yanked his arm, and led him back to the table of the Endai, while returning himself to the King’s table. He took his seat on Balkyr’s right-hand, with his mate, Ceir, beside him.

Interested as she was in Dahro, after his unaccountable behaviour during their previous encounter, Anna had taken a long moment to assess his mate, as the Endai came marching that evening into the hall. Ceir was a tall woman, beautiful in a strange way that promised strength and fidelity rather than pleasure, with snow-white hair that fell to her waist, and blue eyes that glittered, even at a great distance. As if she perceived her attention, Ceir looked once towards Anna. Her eyes cut just as deeply as they did radiantly shine, and caused Anna to drop her gaze in an instant. She was sitting presently very quietly beside Dahro, having finished with her dinner long ago, and sometimes exchanged a word with the Endalin on her opposite hand. Anna had made up her mind not to look at her a second time; but as if entranced by the Endalin woman’s marvellous grace and poise, she looked repeatedly. Yet Ceir never acknowledged her again.