Page 43 of Apple Boy

“Aye. I was here.” He said gravely. Ivon paused for a moment’s thought and then said, “You know your father became Duke of Thorn because he was born before me.” I nodded.

“Mother said we fought like dogs to be first out of her belly and all that separated us was a fart and a push,” he informed matter-of-factly. Adam let out a guffaw and then, embarrassed, put his hand to his mouth. Ivon snickered fondly.

“Brioc won that damnable fight because he’s an old windbag, and so, yes, by rights he became Duke.”

I had heard this tale many a time when my father and uncle were in their cups, with Ivon theatrically jesting ‘If I’d just broken wind I could have propelled myself out of mother’s belly first and claimed my destiny.’ As a child, the vision of that had always made me fall off my chair with laughter.

Ivon’s expression took on a solemn cast, and he continued, “When we heard that dear Aleccio was assassinated Brioc sent me to Serein to reclaim our brother’s body and bring him home. That is why I was in the city. I remember the overland journey from Thorn as my darkest days. Our party traveled down the City Road, and yet as soon as I passed through the west gate, my memories became befuddled. At the time I’d thought I was overwrought by grief.”

I found this deeply troubling. I knew little to nothing of magical practice, but I wondered if it were possible to cast an enchantment over a whole city. I could imagine that this kind of sorcery would take an incredible amount of power, and if the legends were true, the only sources of such power were a commanding mage, or the giant Star-fall stone that once stood atop the Great Council’s tower.

“What do you believe Osia’s agenda is?”

“Mah boy. That very subject kept me awake most of the night.” Ivon said wearily. “They want to bleed the city dry. What occurred aboard the Trojan Star is unprecedented. War is coming, of that I am sure. The kings have wronged Thorn, and they are seeking to goad the new council of Serein. They did, after all, send a ship laden with gold that, if the ship had found its way to the port, would have been discovered full of decaying corpses. If that is not a threat, I don’t know what is!”

“I agree. I do not believe those men were supposed to live; many were close to their end when I saw them three weeks ago.”

Suddenly, I felt Adam twitch beside me. He spoke urgently. “Do you know of our burial rights, my lord?” Ivon met Adam’s eager eyes and said, “Go on…”

“We burys our dead with the treasures they passed with so they can barter beyond the veil,” Adam informed gravely. “IF there’s gold in them boxes its cursed gold they was sendin’. No matter what riches are in those boxes, not a soul from Erias would touch cursed gold, not even the beggar's starvin’ in the gutter.”

“Really?” I was intrigued by this tradition. It was not so in Thorn. The ground was frozen for half-a-year, and there was no way we could bury our dead beneath the earth. The dead were stripped of all belongings and wrapped in fine white cloth to purify the soul, and then cremated.

“So, a man who dies with, say a fine knife and a pouch of silver in his pockets is buried with it?” I queried.

“Yes, of course, I’ve heard that no one dares touch a dead man’s treasures in this province”, Ivon said.

“Ma used to tell us stories—scared the shite outa me when I was a nipper, so they did—of spirits returning to take back their treasures from those who stole from their coffins.”

I found it to be a curious twist that if the Trojan Star made it to port the traditions of Erias would have seen the Great Council forced, not to send the Kings gold fot minting, but instead to bury the gold with the bodies of the dead slaves. The kings must have thought it a delightfully cruel jest. I felt sick.

“It is clear that plans and preparations must be made, for I do not believe the royal brats will be pleased when they find out their cursed ship vanished and their plan came to naught.”

“Uncle!” I reprimanded for his rhetoric was treasonous.

“I am in my own carriage and will speak my mind, nephew!” Ivon blustered. “The Kings have pushed their hands into the hornets’ nest, mah boy, and all that can come from it is a world of noise and pain!”

Ivon slumped back in his seat and worried his temples. “I feel a headache coming on and the day has not yet begun,” He grumbled.

I shot Adam a concerned look. He snuck his hand into mine and gratefully, I squeezed it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE TOWER

The Great Council’s tower loomed above us rising into the cloudless, cerulean sky. The shadow that it sent over the city was a puzzle to my eyes, for no matter how far our carriage traveled it felt to me like the silhouette never moved and a lengthy journey remained before we would reach the tower base.

I dozed for a few minutes, waking with a start when our carriage halted abruptly. I dragged the curtain aside and peeked out of the window to see we had stopped at the tall iron gates to the citadel wherein the tower stood. High walls of amber colored rock were topped with delicately wrought iron spikes preventing any from entering—or leaving. Our carriage was surrounded by uniformed guards wearing dazzling yellow metal helmets with red plumage, cardinal red cloaks, and bright brass chest plates beaten with an impression of the tower itself in the center. A short pleated skirt was worn over knee length trews, and tan leather boots with laces crisscrossing over calves and thighs. Short swords dangled from belts, and I near jumped from my skin when one guard drew his sword, stepped forward, dragged open the coach door, and poked his weapon inside.

“State your names and business,” He demanded roughly. These guards were on high alert, and I wondered what their orders were—did they know trouble was coming? Adam’s thigh pressed to mine, and I could feel his muscles flex and tighten with fear.

“Sheath your sword, damn you!” Ivon bellowed as he fumbled in the breast pocket of his frock coat. He retrieved a square letter sealed with black wax. I saw the impression of the tower in the seal. Ivon thrust the note to the guard who broke the seal, unfolded it and read as Ivon spoke in an outraged tone.

“I am Lord Ivon Aelingof Thorn, this here is my nephew Winter, Count of Skraedig, and the young man is his companion, Master Adam Sewell. As you can see by that missive we have an official meeting with the Great Council, so please, put that damnable sword away, and do not delay us any further.” The guard looked up from the thin sheaf of paper, gave us all the once over, then handed the note back to Ivon. He nodded and closed the carriage door. A sharp bark of “GATES” saw them slowly screech open to permit us to enter the citadel.

I was surprised to see that once we had passed through the gates and our view was no longer obscured by the tall stone walls, that we still had a journey ahead of us until we were at the tower itself. I’d expected to see a busy courtyard with numerous outbuildings, guards, messengers, and servants running about their business, but all I observed within the circular walls of the citadel was a vast, flat, barren space paved in smooth multi-hued stone laid in rings of white merging to honey, tan and darker the nearer we traveled to the epicenter.

Approximately a mile away, the Great Council’s tower reached up into the heavens. There was not a soul on foot, not a horse tethered, nor a tree to tether a beast. I could not fathom how this huge, relentless wasteland was at the center of all things in the wondrous city of Serein.