The Witch of Glenaster (9 page)

In truth, there was some doubt
creeping into my heart about whether I really had the strength, or the will, to
kill the Witch of
Glenaster
. She was so old, and I so
young, and full of the hubris of youth; but even so I knew I could not just
walk up to her house, or wherever she lived, knock on the door, and put a stake
through her heart. I had to be fully prepared. That might take months – years
even. How could I wait that long? I would have to face her as soon as I could,
whatever the consequences.

“Many in the Court are in her
service, whether by their own will or by hers,” said Thomas, when I asked him
about the Witch. “Everyone watches everyone else, and no one trusts anyone.” He
looked down, his face grave.

“But why won’t they do
something?” I asked. Magnus lay curled up at my feet, fast asleep. We were sat
in the evening sunlight, in a small, sheltered glade. It was five days since we
had left the
Moonland
, and the going had been slow
through West Cross, with its dry fields and dirt tracks. We had followed the
Old Road at a steady pace, Thomas always allowing Magnus and
I
as much rest as we needed, but keen to get going again when we had slept our
fill. We were tired but determined, and had a good supply of provisions that
Cornelius had given to us, and though I could have done with a change of
clothes, I felt at peace, embracing the rhythm of the road. But always the fear
of the Watchers haunted us, and once or twice we stopped while Thomas scanned
the country through which we had just passed, looking for signs of pursuit.
There seemed to be none, and it would only be the odd cart or labourer around
the next bend, and not an assassin, and so we would eye them warily, and make
our courtesies. But at night Thomas grew troubled, and slept little, his eyes
always on the south, and the strange shadows cast by the moon.

“They are all afraid,” he said,
answering my question with a shrug. “Once, long ago, the empire was a great and
noble place, where you could travel the roads in safety, and the emperors were
known as men who were learned and just. But then they became lazy, in mind and
body; and they neglected their books, and their people, and were interested
only in enriching themselves; and the roads and bridges started to crumble for
lack of repair, and thieves started to reappear on the roads; and the Witch of
Glenaster
awoke again, and her shadow spread slowly from
the North. All of this took many years, for what one man builds, another can
destroy; and some destroy quickly, with weapons and machines; and some more
slowly, because they are weak, and they do not cherish those things they have
inherited. So it is with the emperor. He is not a bad man; but he is weak, and
the men surrounding him are greedy and selfish, and care only for their own
advancement. The Witch flourishes because good men do nothing to stop her, and
the less they do, the stronger she becomes.”

A nightjar trilled its low, dry
notes nearby, and I thought about what Thomas had said. Then I asked him:

“Has a woman ever sat on the
throne?”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Well, the Witch would like
to…”

“I do not mean the Witch – I mean
a woman, any woman. Me, perhaps…” And I blushed as I said this, and wished I
hadn’t, for the words came out in a rush, and I was glad it was getting dark.

Thomas laughed, and the laugh
became a cough as he smoked one of his filthy cigars.

“Well, no woman yet has, and
they say there is a good reason for that…!” He chuckled. “But I would gladly
serve a woman – if she was strong, and could stand up to the Witch.” And he
laughed some more, and then was silent, and smoked softly for a time.

We were late getting up the
next day, and my shirt was sodden with dew when I awoke.

“Two more days’ travel,” said
Thomas, stretching his long frame by the remains of the fire. “Two more days,
and we should reach the Bowl.”

“What is the Bowl?” asked
Magnus, as we packed up our things, and continued back to the path.

“Well,” said Thomas, “the Bowl
is a large pool, just south of the City. It is a good league across at its
widest point, and fifty feet down at its deepest, and it is always flooded, so that
it forms a natural defence against enemies approaching from the south. The city
itself is built on two hills: the Twin Hills, they call them. And at the
highest point lies the Keep, where the emperor has his apartments, and can look
out across the land for many leagues; and around the Keep are the great palaces
and courtyards of the Citadel, where his retainers live, and where the Court
conducts its business. It is like a city within a city.”

“Have you ever been inside?”
asked Magnus, screwing up his eyes against the glare of the autumn sun.

Thomas took his time before
replying.

“Many years ago, yes,” he said
quietly.

By late morning, with the Road
broadening out somewhat, and the trees beside it becoming less dense, we
emerged on to the wide fields of the Middle Lowlands. It was all flat from here
to
Ampar
: the Lowlands had been drained many years
ago, and were made up of pastureland, divided by dykes, and fringed with
willows and reeds. Here and there a cow stopped to gawp vacantly as we passed,
and by the evening we had spent many miles, and the boom of the bitterns sung
us to sleep in a hollow behind a small tree.

Magnus had been complaining of
his feet, and removing his shoes I could see that they were sore; Thomas
applied some ointment, which stung a little, and made Magnus cry, and the next
day Thomas carried him for a while. We saw there were orchards along our way,
and took a detour to collect as many apples as we dared, and that morning ate a
good breakfast, the fruit sharp and refreshing in our mouths.

Magnus’s feet slowed us down
some, though we found a deserted farmhouse in which to sleep, and even Thomas
took a proper rest. One more night and we would reach the Capital.

It is supposed that Alan, the first
Emperor, chose
Ampar
as his capital city because of
its position: two great hills in a flat landscape, lying along the main
trade-route between the Old Kingdoms of the North and South, and straddling the
Fern, one of the world’s great rivers, that now swept through the Capital’s
northernmost reaches. A more romantic interpretation is that he had fled this
way during the wars against the warlocks of the Dying Sea, and had been given
shelter by the people here when in fear for his life. Whatever the truth, the
city had grown large and powerful in the centuries since, and its towers and
castles were sung about across the world; for even those who had never been to
Ampar
, and never would, knew of the Street of Dancers, or
the High Bridge of Socus, suspended in the clouds like a tightrope, as if
placed there by God Himself.

 We were weary and with
angry stomachs, after another day of hard walking, and Thomas in particular
looked tired and stiff after carrying Magnus on his back. I reproached my
brother for making him carry him all that way, and he was protesting at me with
defiant words, when Thomas told us to both to be quiet, and crouched low to the
ground, facing back the way we had come.

“Are there others?” asked
Magnus, in his direct way, and I hushed him with a sweep of my hand. But Thomas
answered him just as directly, by nodding, and standing up to face us.

“A day behind us, at least;
maybe more,” he said, “but moving fast.” He squinted slightly against the
sunset, and his face made a grimace. “We can only afford a short rest tonight,
then we must move on. It will take a good two hours at least to walk round the
lip of the Bowl, and then we have to persuade the guards at the South Gate to
let us in to the city.” He scouted briefly about him, then selected a ditch,
away from the Road, which looked a likely hiding place.

“There,” he said. And we
obeyed, clambering quietly in, our bodies too tired to complain. Thomas kept
the watch, and I thought him superhuman to go without sleep in such a way. But
as I gazed southward, I thought I saw strange lights moving with an unnatural
speed against the dying light, and all the time gaining ground as they crept,
steadily, in our direction.

Thomas woke us early, as he had
said, and seemed full of worry. We felt dirty and sore, but he told us there
were many places in the city where we could bathe - all day, if that was what
we wished - but when I brought up the subject of money he simply waved away the
question, as if it did not matter. Magnus and I shared a look.

The Bowl was quite as wide and
impressive as we had been told, though the water in it looked foetid and black,
and Thomas warned us away from it. We walked listlessly around its edge, Magnus
stumbling once or twice and almost falling in; but already, through a long line
of poplar trees, we could espy the South Gate - and beyond it the towers and
palaces of
Ampar
, Capital of the Known World.

There seemed some kind of
commotion at the gate, till Thomas explained it was the changing of the guard,
and such fussy ceremonies were common in the city.

“It keeps the emperor happy,”
he explained. And I felt a growing relief as we approached, that here we could
rest, and I might find some of the answers I was seeking. And then I thought of
my parents, and home, and I started to weep, and Magnus also, when he saw my
face; and gripping each other’s hands we marched towards the Capital, Thomas at
our side, and the cold sun at our backs.

The changing of the guard was
complete by the time we arrived, and we stood, the three of us, in the shadow
of the South Gate, its high oaken door ribbed with bolts and hinges in wrought
iron, and much decorative work upon the fabric: snakes, bulls, strange men with
lions’ heads; and in the centre, a carven image of a terrifying face, vast and
forbidding, leering and baring its teeth to us as we stood beneath it.

Thomas told us to wait while he
approached the guards and spoke with them, and, though he tried to hide it, I
could see he was nervous. There were six of them altogether, three on each side
of the gate; four were as still as stone in their sentry boxes, the other two
were manning the gate itself, shifting from foot to foot as they watched Thomas
come towards them. I cast my eyes up, and saw there was a small guard-tower
above, and at least two more guards looking down from it. I supposed there were
many more, also, hidden out of sight behind the high wall of the city. They had
tall plumes in their helmets, whose peaks were pulled down low over their faces
so you could hardly see their eyes, and their uniforms were smart and brightly
polished, their boots like black mirrors.

Thomas was a while talking to
them, and I began to worry. Why was he taking so long? It was a full fifteen
minutes before he returned, fanning himself with his hat and muttering quietly
under his breath. And then, as he approached, he smiled, and clapped us both on
the shoulder.

“Good news! They will let us
in. They took their time about it, but I can’t blame them for their caution.
They are just going to instruct the doorman now.”

It was another ten minutes or
so before anything happened, but then from within the walls a scraping - of
bolts loosened, and latches unfastened - fell on our ears, and we saw the two
halves of the Gate fall inward, the horrible face split in two, and the city
within reveal itself. And so we walked forward, and it devoured us.

Nowhere
I had
been prepared me for the chaos that met me as I entered the Imperial City for
the first time.

I had thought the crowds in the
Hale Trading House great, but now they seemed small and the epitome of
orderliness compared to the strange and frightening throng I now witnessed. On
every side were people and languages of every custom and nation, and their talk
and habits seemed alien and unfriendly. The air was thick with a sweet-smelling
dust, and, self-conscious as I was, I thought every person I saw knew I was a
stranger there, and was inwardly laughing at me for my awkwardness. I felt I
had been decanted into a bottle of rich wine.

We were in a large open space,
at least two acres in size, and framed by the wall through which we had just
passed, with pillared cloisters on either side, where people wandered or
loitered. It seemed half the main space was taken up with market stalls, some
brightly coloured and inviting,
others
shabby and
forlorn.

Up ahead of us, a good quarter
of a mile from the gate, was a large set of broad steps which fanned upward
towards a second level, where more people scurried and half-walked, half-ran
about their business, careless and unheeding of those in their way. As I took
all of this in, my head ached and my guts rolled with fear, and I heard the
gate boom back in to place, and I knew we were here for a while now at least,
that this was our next future.