The trek back across the broken land was harder, not least because the three soldiers couldn't stop looking over their shoulders. Behind them old men finished dying; above them the sun beat down strongly from a sky so blue that painters would sob tears of job just looking into its endless depth; and somewhere not far enough away the things in the stone circle watched. The soldiers could feel their hunger, as though the lives of the old men were just an appetiser before the main course was brought out. The land had dried, the mud was solid and corrugated, almost jaggedly irregular in places. Where before they'd struggled to drag their boots free and place them for each step they now rocked from side to side trying to find flat places to stand, or at least slopes not severe enough to sprain ankles and pull tendons. A dry wind had started blowing, strong enough to push them sideways if they stood still, making footing harder still to find and each step treacherous. What had taken hours on the way out took practically a full day returning, and when the land finally subsided and it became hard to tell which way was North, South, or even up, they stood together for a few minutes. Above them the sky scintillated, the deep blue of ancient summer warring with the icy grey of Polish winter, and they shared two cigarettes, all they had left, between them. The de facto leader checked his watch, a small bronze pebble of a thing kept in his breast pocket. "Five minutes to midnight," he said slowly. "Almost the Feast of the Smith."
In the Palace of St. James the staff were moving near continuously. Three hundred guests were in for the Vulcan's Eve Feast and they were being served a five course meal. A battery of dumb waiters were continually filled with hot food and unloaded from empty plates and dirty cutlery. The kitchens were wreathed in smoke and steam, smelling like a barbecue with roasting meats and vegetables being hauled from ovens and piled high on serving dishes. Voices were kept low except for the Chefs de Cuisine whose orders could be heard in the corridors outside, calling for this, that, and the other. Elizabeth walked past, and immediately started salivating. The King's kitchen prided itself on its work, and everyone who'd been invited to a Feast or a party could testify that the pride was justified.
She crossed to a door in the side of the corridor that looked ignored and unused. People without access to the Power would have walked past with a sensation in the back of their mind that there was something odd about the wall there, but not worth inspecting. The door opened easily as she touched the lock with the Power, sliding a tiny crystal bar back and triggering a spring mechanism, and she stepped through to the base of a stone staircase. This was narrow enough that only one person could use it; her shoulders rubbed against the walls and meeting someone on it meant someone going backwards to one of the small recesses set every other floor to allow for transversal passage. It smelled like damp hay; the stables were somewhere close by underneath, she thought. She hurried, not particularly liking the slightly confined space and the staleness of the air. Four floors up she opened another door using the Power, and stepped out into a larger corridor. She shivered with relief, a completely reflex action. "This area is off limits tonight," said a soft but firm voice next to her. She turned; a guardswoman was watching her, her eyes alert and her body tense, ready to act. She had a King's surcoat on, indicating that she belonged to the Household Guard, but she was also wearing a purple wristlet that indicated she was working for the Lords Thaumaturgical. "I'm meeting Lord Vileburn," said Elizabeth, noting quietly to herself that this was actually a wish rather than a statement of pre-agreed intent. "He would have told us that," said the guardswoman. She didn't sound angry, she sounded almost bored. "There's a guestlist?" Elizabeth couldn't help herself, for all that she knew it might sound sarcastic. "There's always a guestlist," said the guardswoman. "If you're ever put on one you'll learn how they work." "But not tonight," said Lord Vileburn, opening a door behind the guardswoman and stepping out. "The guests here tonight would not be pleased to see you, I'm afraid. I can, however, step out for a moment and show you the view from the West balcony here; it is lovely on Vulcan's Eve."
Oops, forgot to comment at the top -- please excuse me using up three comments! I've seen your update to Empires, and really liked it. Great continuation of the scene, and a very satisfying cliff-hanger to end on too! It will be later in the week when I get to it as I fly to Kiev today for the board meetings, but I will get there :)
Greg - no worries about the three comments. Glad you liked what I did. I'll get to October's addition once I finish catching up on comments. Which I plan on accomplishing within the next few days.
If all goes to plan, which it likely won't.
Anyway!
Hmm, intrigue upon intrigue. Deeply curious about what comes next, and what exactly Vileburn is up to. And who he's up to it with.
4 comments:
The trek back across the broken land was harder, not least because the three soldiers couldn't stop looking over their shoulders. Behind them old men finished dying; above them the sun beat down strongly from a sky so blue that painters would sob tears of job just looking into its endless depth; and somewhere not far enough away the things in the stone circle watched. The soldiers could feel their hunger, as though the lives of the old men were just an appetiser before the main course was brought out.
The land had dried, the mud was solid and corrugated, almost jaggedly irregular in places. Where before they'd struggled to drag their boots free and place them for each step they now rocked from side to side trying to find flat places to stand, or at least slopes not severe enough to sprain ankles and pull tendons. A dry wind had started blowing, strong enough to push them sideways if they stood still, making footing harder still to find and each step treacherous. What had taken hours on the way out took practically a full day returning, and when the land finally subsided and it became hard to tell which way was North, South, or even up, they stood together for a few minutes. Above them the sky scintillated, the deep blue of ancient summer warring with the icy grey of Polish winter, and they shared two cigarettes, all they had left, between them. The de facto leader checked his watch, a small bronze pebble of a thing kept in his breast pocket.
"Five minutes to midnight," he said slowly. "Almost the Feast of the Smith."
In the Palace of St. James the staff were moving near continuously. Three hundred guests were in for the Vulcan's Eve Feast and they were being served a five course meal. A battery of dumb waiters were continually filled with hot food and unloaded from empty plates and dirty cutlery. The kitchens were wreathed in smoke and steam, smelling like a barbecue with roasting meats and vegetables being hauled from ovens and piled high on serving dishes. Voices were kept low except for the Chefs de Cuisine whose orders could be heard in the corridors outside, calling for this, that, and the other. Elizabeth walked past, and immediately started salivating. The King's kitchen prided itself on its work, and everyone who'd been invited to a Feast or a party could testify that the pride was justified.
She crossed to a door in the side of the corridor that looked ignored and unused. People without access to the Power would have walked past with a sensation in the back of their mind that there was something odd about the wall there, but not worth inspecting. The door opened easily as she touched the lock with the Power, sliding a tiny crystal bar back and triggering a spring mechanism, and she stepped through to the base of a stone staircase. This was narrow enough that only one person could use it; her shoulders rubbed against the walls and meeting someone on it meant someone going backwards to one of the small recesses set every other floor to allow for transversal passage. It smelled like damp hay; the stables were somewhere close by underneath, she thought. She hurried, not particularly liking the slightly confined space and the staleness of the air.
Four floors up she opened another door using the Power, and stepped out into a larger corridor. She shivered with relief, a completely reflex action.
"This area is off limits tonight," said a soft but firm voice next to her.
She turned; a guardswoman was watching her, her eyes alert and her body tense, ready to act. She had a King's surcoat on, indicating that she belonged to the Household Guard, but she was also wearing a purple wristlet that indicated she was working for the Lords Thaumaturgical.
"I'm meeting Lord Vileburn," said Elizabeth, noting quietly to herself that this was actually a wish rather than a statement of pre-agreed intent.
"He would have told us that," said the guardswoman. She didn't sound angry, she sounded almost bored.
"There's a guestlist?" Elizabeth couldn't help herself, for all that she knew it might sound sarcastic.
"There's always a guestlist," said the guardswoman. "If you're ever put on one you'll learn how they work."
"But not tonight," said Lord Vileburn, opening a door behind the guardswoman and stepping out. "The guests here tonight would not be pleased to see you, I'm afraid. I can, however, step out for a moment and show you the view from the West balcony here; it is lovely on Vulcan's Eve."
Oops, forgot to comment at the top -- please excuse me using up three comments! I've seen your update to Empires, and really liked it. Great continuation of the scene, and a very satisfying cliff-hanger to end on too! It will be later in the week when I get to it as I fly to Kiev today for the board meetings, but I will get there :)
Greg - no worries about the three comments. Glad you liked what I did. I'll get to October's addition once I finish catching up on comments. Which I plan on accomplishing within the next few days.
If all goes to plan, which it likely won't.
Anyway!
Hmm, intrigue upon intrigue. Deeply curious about what comes next, and what exactly Vileburn is up to. And who he's up to it with.
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