Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (8 page)

But both Chindar and
Corman nodded.

‘Dark meant night in
Kelshan?’ Chindar asked. ‘And plots are laid at night, wickedness
planned – that sort of thing?’

‘More or less,’ Grent
agreed.

Corman sipped from his
goblet then stared into Grent’s eyes.

‘So the Dark equates
with bad in Kelshan? And I presume light equates with
good?’

Grent nodded
warily.

‘Where did you come
from?’ Corman asked.

Grent was thrown off
balance by the inconsequence of the question. ‘From Kelshan, as you
know. Through a gate . .’

‘No, no. You,
personally, where did you come from?’

Grent frowned. ‘I don’t
know. Master Pule took me in when I was barely more than toddling.
He’s always told me he found me in the gutters of the Oyster
District.’

‘And did you get there
by magic Grent, in a blinding flash of light?’

‘Well of course not. I
suppose my mother was some poor young girl, or a whore, unable to
support both herself and a child, so I was left in the street.’
Grent felt no resentment in the conclusion he’d reached long ago.
Master Pule had tried to help many girls in difficult circumstances
and taught his apprentice a deep tolerance of such
matters.

‘We approach closer to
the truth,’ said Corman quietly. ‘Now, where did you come
from?’

Grent thought hard
before he answered this time. ‘I came from a woman’s
belly.’

Corman seemed pleased.
‘Indeed. From the darkness of a womb you came forth. Now tell me,
where do plants – vegetables, grains, fruits, weeds come
from?’

Understanding was
creeping upon Grent. ‘From the earth.’

‘From the belly of the
earth, the soil, from the Darkness beneath. So then Grent, must the
Dark be always bad?’

‘When you put it like
that, of course not.’

‘It isn’t how I put it
Grent, it is how it truly is. Tell me, is light always beneficent?
Think of light: the blaze of a fire, sweeping uncontrolled through
a forest, through a town. Light: searing from the sky to destroy
crops and turn good soil to dust.’

Corman fell silent,
sipping from his drink, allowing Grent to readjust many of what had
been accepted truths. Finally he sighed and looked between Chindar
and Corman.

‘But the Darkness also
has to do with death, doesn’t it?’

Corman shrugged. ‘We
are born from the Dark, we go back into the Dark when we
die.’

‘Or not, as the case
may be,’ Chindar interposed with a grin.

Grent decided he had
nothing to lose. ‘Gossamer Tewk, and my master, say that you are
dead Master Corman.’

The Palace Master
smiled. ‘So I am. There are subtle differences to death in this
Realm. Some of us have a degree of choice. I chose to continue in
the physical world as I believed I had much more service to give to
the First Daughter and Mother Dark herself. The Dark apparently
felt the same and I have been permitted to remain. I suspect for
this particular period in our history, but I am not privy to such
knowledge.’

‘I’m dead too,’ Chindar
offered. ‘Quite a lot of the residents here are dead
actually.’

Grent suddenly felt
quite faint and Corman moved quickly, tilting his goblet to Grent’s
mouth.

‘Thank you, I’m so
sorry.’ Grent licked his lips. ‘What is that?’

‘Ah. It’s blood.’
Corman hurried to explain further in the face of Grent’s pallor.
‘Goat’s blood, diluted with spring water. It has a tonic effect,
although I admit it is an acquired taste for the
living.’

Grent wished he could
imitate one of Gossamer’s more scathing glares but suspected he
just looked rather sick. He swallowed hard.

‘If I swear to serve
this Realm, will I never leave it?’ he asked.

Corman resumed his
seat. ‘Waxin Pule was born here,’ he pointed out.

Grent considered. ‘Was
he a spy then?’

‘No.’ Chindar’s tone
was definite. ‘He was instructed to keep watch, to send warning if
Kelshan ever decided to invade this Realm. He became a member of
the Imperium Councils, an Advisor to the Imperator Jarvos, but
never did he seek out information to use against
Kelshan.’

Corman grunted. ‘He
can’t even tell us the full complement of armsmen available to the
Imperatrix for her “expeditionary force.”’

‘But he has now left
Kelshan, and stretch my imagination as I might, I cannot see him
being able to return now. So will I live out my days here
too?’

Corman and Chindar
exchanged glances. ‘That is not for us to say. But by your own
admission, Waxin Pule is your only tie – you have no family to
worry over. Your master is here. You have known the herb woman
Nenat most of your life I understand, and she will not return to
Kelshan.’

Grent frowned. ‘I
thought she came from this Realm anyway?’

‘No. She was born to
one of the wild clans far to the north. Their wise ones know much
of the ways of power. They can travel – some of them anyway. What
we call gateways they call portals and the constructing spell is
differently cast.’

Chindar nodded his
agreement with Corman’s words. ‘She could use a portal to return to
her clan, but I do not believe she would do so at this
time.’

Grent stood up. ‘May I
speak with you again on these matters Palace Master, when I have
thought on all you have said here?’

‘Any time Grent, any
time. What will your answer be to Waxin Pule? He asked you to serve
the Dark, didn’t he?’ Corman smiled and Grent realised he shouldn’t
be surprised that the Palace Master knew far more than he logically
should.

‘I believe I will swear
to serve,’ Grent replied. ‘You are quite right to say there is
nothing, and no one, to whom I need to return to in
Kelshan.’

He followed Chindar
towards the door but stopped and turned to Corman again.

‘Gossamer Tewk is dead
and yet she cannot drink or eat.’

‘Perhaps I should have
a talk with her.’ Corman laughed. ‘I don’t eat much these days –
the odd tasty mouthful very occasionally. But the blood drink is
most beneficial. Yes, I should have thought to speak to her before
now. And before you go back to Waxin, did you take any meaning
regarding the guard who came to escort Gossamer Tewk and the Lady
Shea?’

Grent shook his head,
vaguely recalling a handsome man, around
thirty-years-old.

‘His name is
Jemin.’

‘Oh.’ Grent waited but
nothing more was forthcoming so he followed Chindar out into the
library.

Chindar took him
through a maze of passages and up several flights of stairs until
Grent recognised the wide frescoed corridor which led to the
infirmary. Grent began to thank Chindar and then gaped.

‘Jemin?’ he managed to
gasp. ‘The Imperator Jarvos’s son? That Jemin?’

Chindar patted Grent’s
shoulder kindly. ‘Exactly.’

Chapter
Five

When Gossamer, Grent
and Shea arrived back in their rooms for lunch, it was a very quiet
affair. All had a great deal to think about. Even Shea’s hearty
appetite was subdued as she went over and over what she’d learned
from Jemin. Uncle Jemin. She had an uncle! She felt a twinge of
regret that Kerris wasn’t here. Kerris was not yet old enough to
become another Mellia. Shea had a sneaking feeling that Kerris
would have welcomed this adventure. And what Gossamer had told her!
That needed a lot of thought.

Gossamer went straight
to her own room and sat on the bed, staring at her hands. It had
been extraordinarily difficult to explain to the child that she,
Gossamer, was dead. Gossamer had never before had to explain her
situation she realised. People just knew. There were those who’d
read of her murder in one of the many news sheets that proliferated
in the City, and had then been horrified to meet her strolling down
a street. There had been a few, a very few, others who had simply
accepted the fact of her death. Waxin Pule, the herb woman Nenat,
and Snail the Embalmer had shown her a certain sympathy but then
got on with the practicalities of existing as she now must.
Explaining to Shea had shaken Gossamer far more than she cared to
admit.

After a lengthy
silence, Shea began to talk to Grent of the guard, Jemin. Grent put
aside his worries over what serving the Dark Realm might actually
involve, and listened closely to Shea’s report. Jemin had told of
his childhood in the fortress in the heart of Eagle Mountain, told
of being aware from a very early age of his household being
constantly alert for infiltrators who intended him harm. His
father, Jarvos, managed to visit once or twice each year when he
and his court hunted through the lower reaches of Eagle
Mountain.

Jarvos had also written
regularly to his son. Only as Jemin neared his eighteenth name day,
and Jarvos neared his death, had those letters contained explicit
warnings against Veranta. Seola had visited Jemin throughout his
youth and had been present when news of Veranta’s accession reached
the fortress. She had already discussed this eventuality with
Jemin’s devoted and loyal advisors – now the time came for Jemin to
choose his future.

He could remain in the
fortress in Eagle Mountain and live as a recluse, suspicious of
every stranger, of every gift sent to him from the Citadel. He
could dispute Veranta’s accession and raise the disaffected clans
against the Imperium. Or he could exile himself in the Dark Realm
and allow Kelshan to remain at peace. Jemin chose exile. Over the
last fourteen years he had reached the highest standard in armed
and unarmed combat, had learned from impartial but highly
intelligent tutors, and had been kept informed of events in Kelshan
through reports by Seola and several of her colleagues. The Dark
Realm never allowed many of its citizens to go into Kelshan, and
those that did were under stringent rules of conduct whilst in the
Confederacies.

Shea told Grent a few
of the things her mother had done within her own family. She wasn’t
shocked, she was fully aware of what her mother was capable of. But
she had been surprised to learn that her grandfather Jarvos had
three sisters. They had fully approved of the arrogant and bullying
ways of their niece. But they had suffered bizarre, and fatal,
accidents soon after Mellia’s birth.

Mellia’s father had
been an insipid but very wealthy banker, but he had not survived to
learn of his daughter’s birth. Kerris’s father was not known for
sure: Jemin told Shea bluntly there were half a dozen possible
candidates for that honour.

‘And me?’ Shea asked,
her voice as steady as she could make it.

‘Your father was a
member of a delegation sent by the wild clans to Kelshan for
parley. As far as is known, he still lives.’

‘What is his
name?’

‘His name is Cawlin and
he is of the Weasel Clan.’

She had never heard of
the Weasel Clan. Indeed, she’d not known the clans had separate
names, but she determined instantly to discover all she could of
the northern people, those of the Weasel Clan in
particular.

Parts of this she
related to Grent. He opened his mouth to say something but the
sound of the outer door stopped him. The Palace-Keeper appeared in
the sitting room.

‘I will take you to the
First Daughter’s chambers if you’re ready?’

Gossamer joined them
and Jenniah led them along a corridor on the same floor as their
rooms for some distance. When they reached the foot of a broad
staircase she halted. She gestured up the first curving flight of
black steps to where a solitary guard waited.

‘On you go. Don’t
worry, the First Daughter is such a dear. You have no need to fear
her.’

Gossamer said nothing.
A dear? The ruler of the Dark Realm a dear? She feared she was
beginning to miss Drengle List’s conversation. They climbed four
flights of the curving staircase, a single guard at each landing,
until they reached a huge, double-leafed door. Grent stared at it
as they approached. He was sure it was wood, a pearly grey such as
he’d never seen, but carved with an overlapping scale pattern. Two
guards stood in front of this door, their swords drawn, resting
point down between their boots. When Gossamer, Shea and Grent came
closer, the guards raised their swords, holding the blades upright
before their faces in salute.

The doors were opened
from within and Corman stood to one side, gesturing them in. He
took them along a passage as wide and high as the great door, until
it opened into a large room. At the far end a hearth held a blazing
fire, they could feel the heat from where they stood. There were
several people in the room, some of whom they’d not yet met, but
Waxin Pule and Nenat were there with a woman in the brown robe of a
healer. The Librarian Chindar leaned over the back of a chair
talking to Seola. But the three new arrivals had seen the slender
figure of the woman in a great carved chair drawn close to the
fire. The woman was talking to Jemin and another man but now turned
to smile at Grent, Gossamer and Shea.