At the door of the Duke’s study, Ivaia waits while one of the Palace servants announces her. Inside the room, the Duke stands up from behind his desk. “Welcome back, my Lady. Please, take a chair. First, I’d like to state that I am not expecting you to respond to what I am about to tell you. You may say nothing at all, if you choose. This is a message for your aunt, Lady Elavandra, to relay to her husband.”
As soon as the Duke mentions her uncle, Ivaia’s shoulders tense and her pulse picks up speed. The words aren’t surprising - Aunt Ela guessed that the banquet invitation was a prelude to negotiation. But…
He’s demonstrating how serious this is. Last night, he treated me as an honoured guest. Now, he offers me nothing apart from a chair, as if I’m an envoy from a hostile force. Which I am, perhaps. Is he going to show mercy? How much? And what conditions will he impose?
She sits down opposite the Duke, clasps her hands together tightly and tries to look patient and calm.
The Duke also sits down. “I want your uncle to present himself at my court and do three things,” he says. “Confess his part in the plot, ask for my pardon and give his word that he will obey the laws of Tuarensi in the future. Once he's said all of that, I will pardon and free him - there will be no further consequences for what happened in the past. I understand that your family may not trust my motives. But my request for a confession is not a trap. I am prepared to guarantee my side of the bargain in writing. Or proclaim it publicly, if necessary.”
Ivaia nods, to show that she has understood.
It seems he really does want to end the feud. Even the demand for a confession is reasonable - it would provide some clarity for the people of Tuarensi. But…
“Your offer is magnanimous, your Grace,” she says. “As long as we assume that my uncle is guilty. What if he’s innocent, though? Is it fair to force him to lie for a chance to live with his family again?”
Why am I taking this risk? My aunt will be appalled if she ever hears about this. But perhaps my uncle would want me to speak.
The Duke leans back in his chair. He rests his hand on the desk, taps a finger once against the dark polished wood and gazes at Ivaia for a while before he speaks. “You do not have to answer this question - I promise that I won’t draw any conclusions from silence. But I am curious. Do you really think it’s possible that your uncle is innocent?”
“I know I’m influenced by childhood memories - my uncle always seemed to be filled with life, laughter and generosity. The only thing that ever made him angry was injustice. Or any sort of unfairness, really. So I find it almost impossible to believe that he would try to harm you and your brother in revenge for something your father might have done.”
She looks down at her hands as she continues talking. She’s used to her family talking around serious topics or minimising them, and she realises she’s fallen into that habit herself, saying the word ‘harm’ to a man who was stabbed in the back and very nearly killed.
“I know the evidence. The surviving assassin claimed that my uncle hired and paid him. That could have been arranged, using disguise or coercion. My parents’ departure, though… Their passage was booked days before the attacks, and timed too conveniently. It’s very hard to explain unless my father knew in advance. But what I wonder is… Could it have been my father’s plan alone? What if my uncle wasn’t involved at all? It would explain why my uncle pleaded not guilty but refused to give any other testimony at his trial. He didn’t want to perjure himself but did want to protect his younger brother. Perhaps he thinks you’ll put more effort into pursuing my father if you believe he was the only one responsible.”
I should feel like a traitor for saying this. But it’s the only explanation that’s ever made sense to me. I don’t want it to be true… but I owe it to my uncle to suggest the possibility to the man who controls his fate.
“Interesting,” says the Duke. As usual, his tone is emotionless, leaving open the question of whether he’s being sincere or sarcastic. “But rather far-fetched, I think. It would imply that your uncle has remarkably little confidence in his brother’s ability to remain hidden in a foreign country.”
“If you’re so certain, your Grace, then why is my uncle still in prison? You could have made this offer of a pardon two years ago. He would be free or dead now, but not locked up alone, day after day…” Is my uncle still a man filled with life, laughter and generosity? Can those traits survive the isolation that’s been inflicted on him? Aunt Ela only ever mentions his physical health… “Your delay suggests a man with doubts. Or a mind that’s changed.”
As soon as she’s spoken, Ivaia asks herself what she was thinking. Why couldn’t I just nod and say thank you, rather than risk angering him? Maybe he uses that emotionless voice deliberately, to provoke other people into trying to get some sort of reaction out of him… If so, it’s certainly worked on me.
“That’s a-” the Duke begins, then cuts himself off. His voice is just a little quieter when he starts speaking again. “That’s not a question I am willing to answer at this time. Do you have any other questions, my Lady?”
“None, your Grace.” She pushes back her chair and stands up. What had he been about to say to her? “I will take your message to my aunt. Thank you.”
The Duke stands up as well. “My Lady… Ivaia, if I may. You don’t have to go back. I mean, not permanently. I gather that your aunt has been placing tight restrictions on all your family still living in Tuarensi. I believe you’re rarely allowed to leave the estates? I assume she wants to reduce the risk of people acting rashly or drawing suspicion. Understandable, but it seems unfair. If you wish, I can order you to attend my court.” He smiles for a moment. “It needn’t be as unpleasant as it sounds. This palace is overlarge and half-empty. You could have a suite of rooms here and hardly ever see me.”
“I… I will need some time to consider, sir,” Ivaia says. “Perhaps when you’ve received an answer from my uncle, I’ll be able to decide…”
I’ve spent so long hating all my aunt’s rules and instructions, and now I’m being offered a chance for freedom, but…
She tries to picture herself accepting. It would seem like a betrayal. The Duke is suggesting a pretence, but Ivaia will know the truth even if her family never guesses that she was summoned to the Palace because of a choice she made.
I can’t agree until I’m sure I can trust this man. What’s his motive? Kindness, or an attempt to weaken my family by dividing it?
It could be both. It’s easy to imagine his Grace having six or seven different reasons behind everything he says.
The Duke nods. “I understand. It’s your choice. And will be, always.” He glances at the necklace Ivaia is wearing. Then he picks up some papers from his desk, sits, and starts to read.
He noticed that I’m wearing the necklace he gave me. And I assume he wanted me to notice that he’d noticed. And…
And there’s no point wondering about the Duke’s motives any more right now.
Her talk with him has been a distraction - and almost a welcome one, despite the main subject of the conversation - from the other message she received earlier that morning. The Duke’s summons created a stir at home when it was delivered during breakfast, but Ivaia was expecting it. She had not been expecting the letter she found on the carpet just inside her bedroom, as if it had been pushed beneath the door while she slept. She mentioned the note to no one, and she could not think of another reason to ask if anyone had heard or seen anything unusual during the night. How did the note arrive?
She’s trying not to think too much about that question - all of the answers that have occurred to her so far are at least slightly troubling.
She realises that she knows one side of the letter from memory, without having made a deliberate attempt to learn it:
You have found each other. Now you must hide each other, or your enemies will find you and enslave you. Choose a place out of sight, stand facing each other at equal distances and recite the words on the other side of this page in unison. Focus your minds on each syllable that you speak. When you are done, burn each page before you leave.
The words on the other side were written in a different ink - blue with occasional blotches of fiery red - and were in some language Ivaia has never seen before.
She curtseys to the Duke even though he is no longer looking at her, and walks out of his study. I need to talk to Karalisel and Farenthar. What do we do about this letter? Should we actually follow those bizarre instructions?
She hopes they understood the cryptic hints she tried to give them during the carriage ride last night - Rodairos was sleepy but not actually asleep, and she didn’t want him to hear her arranging a meeting with strangers…
Karalisel spots Farenthar standing on the other side of the square in front of the Palace, and she starts hurrying forward, dodging among the various well-dressed people walking in different directions. She’s assuming he received a letter too, but she wants to be sure. I never thought anyone would send me anything as strange as that… What should we do? There’s really no information for us to base any decision on. Except for what we witnessed last night, and I barely understand any of that. Although…
Farenthar sees Karalisel approaching, and he waves to her. I need to talk about that letter. Can we really trust a warning from someone who doesn’t even reveal their name? This feels like deception. On the other hand…
Ivaia nods to the footmen who open the front doors for her, and then she quickly steps out of the Palace and looks around at the busy sunlit square. Good, no sign of our carriage driver. And there are Farenthar and Karalisel. Maybe they’ll have sensible thoughts about this letter. All I can think about is one word. ‘Enslave’.
Ivaia notices the actor and walks quickly down the Palace steps. She’s glad she dressed plainly today despite her audience with the Duke - the combination of dark brown and brick red in an unornamented style allows her to cross the square and approach Farenthar without drawing too much attention. How should I greet him? Perhaps with some light, ironic words before we start discussing anything serious?
“Did you get a weird letter?” she asks him as soon as he’s within earshot.
Karalisel reaches the other side of the square in time to hear Ivaia’s question. “I received a letter,” she says quietly. “And yes, ‘weird’ would describe it.”
“And mine completes the set, I assume. Do you have time to talk? And would either of you object if we go somewhere out of the way? I’d rather not be overheard on this particular topic.”
“I have a carriage, but I’ve told our driver that my audience with the Duke will take several hours, and that he should find some distraction or pastime - or just a place to get a drink… So I’m unescorted, in the city,” she adds in a quieter voice, as if talking to herself.
“I know a place - a small park, not far from here. Public but usually not busy. Our company rehearses there sometimes when the weather is good.”
In normal circumstances, I would be backing away quickly. Getting involved in any way with a rebellious young noblewoman is not a wise idea. But a chance to talk about that letter seems more important than anything else right now…
He glances at Karalisel and Ivaia to check that they’re happy with his suggestion, and then he leads them around one of the grand buildings facing the Duke’s Palace across the square. They walk over wide streets and a few narrower ones, follow cobbled alleyways between old shops, and go down a few steps to the riverside park.
As usual, the park is quiet - one courting couple is standing arm-in-arm beneath a tree, and two men dressed like merchants are engrossed in conversation as they walk together along a path. Nearby is a sturdy wooden bench, large enough to sit three people comfortably.
Farenthar glances at the bench, but he knows he’s too tense and restless to be comfortable seated. He takes out the letter from a pocket inside his jacket. “Are yours just like this?”
Karalisel stands next to Farenthar and holds her letter up alongside his.
“Same words, same ink, same handwriting.”
Ivaia is briefly distracted by the ever-shifting glimmers of sunlight reflected from the surface of the river. A tributary flows through our estates, she thinks. It’s not as though I can’t look at a river at home. But it’s always the same banks, the same trees, the same…
She hears the baker’s words half-echoing her thoughts, and she quickly turns away from the river. She holds out her letter. “I assume mine’s the same too.”
“So, what do you think?” Karalisel asks, speaking softly but rapidly. “Do we follow the instructions? This all seems… bizarre and suspicious. But I have to confess I’m curious. Last night, I felt as though as I was seeing things in a way I never have before… I want to find out if these words will actually do anything.”
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think we should. One word in that letter seems as though it’s been chosen specifically to manipulate me. And perhaps they think I’ll sway the two of you.” She shakes her head. “I’ll want to know a lot more before I’ll be comfortable with speaking a single syllable of that weird text aloud.”
“And I’ll want some evidence that it will actually help us. I’m worried that we’re being tricked. What if that text does something… but it’s something… different?”
Karalisel nods. She understands their worries - the letters do seem to be trying too hard to persuade, without revealing anything useful. But…
I want to learn more about what I thought I saw when I looked at that singer! And how could she just disappear like that? …Am I too curious? It’s entirely possible.
“But what if the warning is true? If someone will be looking for us now… Is there any way we can protect ourselves? Or hide?”
Our ignorance leaves us fairly neatly trapped… I know one thing about whoever sent us these letters: I really don’t like them.
“If there really are people with… unknown powers, we have no idea how to protect ourselves. Or hide effectively. And we still need to eat. The Duke was generous, but the money he gave us won’t last forever. I’m already on the brink of losing my job with the company, for nearly missing the start of the second act last night. If I try to go into hiding…”
“Perhaps… the Duke’s generosity could help us again,” Ivaia says, although her voice clearly reveals her own doubts. “He’s just offered me a place at his court. If I accept, it’s likely he’ll allow me to bring along a couple of… well, hand-picked servants is how I’d describe you, I suppose. We could all live at his Palace. Having enough to eat won’t be a concern, at least. And…” Her tone becomes even more doubtful. “If we told him everything, perhaps he could help us further. He seems like a man who collects information… He may have knowledge, secret contacts…” She shakes her head, no longer sure what she’s suggesting.
Farenthar can’t help grimacing. “I’m sorry, my Lady. That sounds like avoiding slavery by volunteering for it. To me, his Grace seems like a man who will ruthlessly exploit any advantage he can. Perhaps he’ll be polite and generous about it, but…”
Ivaia looks around the park. It’s a peaceful place. The trees and the river are beautiful. But suddenly it seems very exposed. Are those people really merchants? And who’s in that rowboat?
“I don’t like the idea much either. But it’s an idea. Let’s not dismiss any choices too quickly. Why don’t we go back to my carriage? We could drive around the city and talk for as long as we want to. At least we’ll be less visible.” Although it’s obvious which family owns the carriage…
Karalisel nods again. “I think we should keep discussing this.” She’s not quite so alarmed as Farenthar seems to be by the suggestion of seeking the Duke’s aid - they hardly know the Duke at all yet, but if they have a chance to talk to him for longer, it may be possible to judge his trustworthiness… “Let’s go back.”
When Karalisel, Ivaia and Farenthar arrive back in the main city square, the Haldizi family’s carriage is ready outside the Duke’s Palace, and the driver is seated, waiting with reins in hand.
He must have found the nearby entertainment rather dull. I hope he hasn’t been sitting up there long.
Farenthar hurries forward, nods to the driver and holds the door of the carriage open for Ivaia and Karalisel.
Karalisel climbs into the carriage, sits down and brushes her fingertips over the dark blue velvet of the cushions. Last night was the first time she’s ever ridden in a carriage. It still seems like something that shouldn’t be allowed. This carriage is too fine for a baker, even when I’m not covered in flour.
Once they’re seated, she glances sideways at Ivaia and then across at Farenthar. “I think…” Karalisel begins, but realises she doesn’t know what she thinks.
At least the Duke seems to want to keep this city safe and prosperous, she might have said if doubts hadn’t interrupted. And that’s more than we can say about the anonymous people sending us letters.
Keep this city safe… And there’s the source of my doubts. Even if the Duke’s motives are relatively good, what could a new sort of power tempt him to do? Especially if he believes his city or his family are under threat.
She remembers his blandly spoken words about the possibility of executing that guard.
“I think… it can be an easy choice to seek help from someone who already has authority. But maybe it would be better to make sure we know the Duke very well before we give him any hints about things he doesn’t already know.”
She puts her hand back down on the cushion to steady herself as the carriage starts moving forward.
Farenthar nods. He agrees with everything Karalisel just said, but he does not respond - he doesn’t want his distrust of the Duke to push him into trying to control the others. At least, not more than I’ve done already with my first reaction to Ivaia’s suggestion.
So what do we do? Should I ask to be driven to my rooms so I can collect some belongings? What would I actually want to take with me? He glances through the window and notices the carriage is travelling along a street that’s not familiar to him.
“My Lady… Where are we going? Did you even give any instructions to the driver?”
Seeing Ivaia’s frown, Farenthar doesn’t wait. He reaches up to hit the ceiling of the carriage with the palm of his hand, loudly. And when, after a few moments, the carriage hasn’t slowed, Farenthar unlatches the door and leans out, holding tightly onto the back of his seat for support. “Hey!” He leans further and turns his head, trying to get a clear view of the driver.
The driver also leans sideways. When he looks at Farenthar, the driver’s eyes seem inhumanly large, and they are completely black apart from scattered flecks and swirls of dark red, green and blue.
Somehow, without losing his balance, he reaches down with one hand and slams the carriage door shut, quickly and forcefully enough that Farenthar has no chance to brace himself and resist - instead, Farenthar is pushed back into the carriage.
Even though there’s no sign of what could be causing it to move, the latch on the inside of the door closes itself.
Chapter Two
Karalisel:
Ivaia:
Farenthar:
Farenthar doesn’t think; he just moves, reaching for the other door, flicking back the latch and launching himself sideways. While he’s in the air, some memory of stage fights makes him twist so he can land on his shoulder and start rolling. Moments later, he’s upright without even a graze on his hands from the cobblestones, and he sees the carriage moving away from him. Can those eyes be real? What happened to the driver? Ivaia and Karalisel… they’re going to escape too, aren’t they?
What have I done?
There are passersby staring at him, and some of them are walking hesitantly towards him. Farenthar dodges past and starts to run after the carriage.
“Wait! What are you doing?” But Farenthar has leapt out of the carriage before Ivaia can even finish asking her question.
When he looked out the other door, what did he see?
Should we be trying to escape as well?
Ivaia glances towards Karalisel. The baker is small, and she appears delicate - a fall from the carriage could seriously injure her.
The carriage door is still open, swinging on its hinges. Ivaia leans forward, hoping to see if Farenthar is all right, but the carriage has moved away too quickly. While reaching for the handle, Ivaia looks again at Karalisel.
“Maybe he saw something that… proves we’re being abducted?” She shrugs. “I’m curious. Meeting whoever-it-turns-out-to-be will be more interesting than meeting the cobblestones, I’m sure.” Speaking a bit more quietly, she adds, “I think I already know what the cobblestones will be like.”