Into the Shadows by Linda K Hopkins
Chapter 4
Lark was descending the grand staircase the following morning when she saw Val coming up, his hair slightly mussed and his shirt hanging loose. He stopped when he saw her and gave her a shallow bow.
“Ah, the Ice Queen. You’re up early.”
She gave him a slow perusal. “And so are you, your highness. Attending to matters of importance, are you?”
“Yes, since they are regarding my own state of contentment.”
“Of course. Then don’t let me you delay you.”
“You’re not. Why don’t you join me for breakfast?”
“I have a breakfast engagement.”
“A cup of tea, perhaps?”
“Another time, Val.”
“Are you going to hold those cuffs against me forever?”
“I’m sure I will forgive you in due course, if you remove the magic.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Then I suppose I will hold it against you forever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be off.”
He held out a hand to stop her. “Where are you going?”
“If you must know, I’m looking for a footman to deliver a note.”
“You do have a handmaid, do you not?”
“Yes, well, she was otherwise occupied.” In fact, Lark had decided it was easier to pass the note along herself than endure Neta’s disapproval of her task of finding someone to collect the herbs. “I’m on my way out anyway, so it seemed a simple enough thing for me to pass along the note myself.”
“I see. And who is this note for?”
“I don’t see that it is any of your concern, Val.”
She began to step past him, but as she did, he plucked the note from her hand, his eyes narrowing as he read the name on the envelope. “Why are you sending letters to Lieutenant Rill?”
She snatched it back angrily. “Because he is a friend and I need his help.”
“His help for what?” He leaned closer. “Do not forget that you have been claimed.”
She stared at him icily. “As if I can forget. I need Rill’s help to retrieve some herbs for my mother.”
He took a step back and smiled. “Indeed? You could ask me, you know. I am to be your husband.”
“Since when did you ever lift a finger to help anyone but yourself?”
“Come now, you know how fond I am of Lady Finch. She was like a mother to me when my own passed away.”
“You’ll find someone to retrieve the herbs for Mother?” she asked, suspiciously.
“I will. And in return, you’ll give me a kiss.”
She looked at him incredulously. “Give you a kiss? Why would I do that?”
“To thank me. It shouldn’t be too hard, Lark. Other women find it quite easy to kiss me, and soon we will be sharing far more than a kiss.”
She raised her forearms. “Do you shackle those other women to get them to do what you want, or is that privilege reserved for me?”
“You know, Lark, those cuffs are my way of protecting you. People will know who you are and will avoid doing anything to hurt you.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“You need to stop doubting me, Lark. I only ever want what’s best for you. But enough of this. Give me a kiss and I’ll find someone to retrieve the plants for you.”
Stepping closer, he took her by the arm and drew her into an alcove. Placing his hand beneath her chin, he raised her face as he lowered his lips and slanted his mouth across hers; he pulled away a moment later, his eyes glinting as he looked at her.
“The idea is for you to kiss me back,” he said. “I might as well be kissing a statue!”
“I realize you’re used to far more willing participants,” she said, “but I am not one of the city whores.”
“Dammit, Lark, do you have to be so difficult? You’re to be my wife!”
“You keep telling me that I’m to be your wife, but you treat me like a common prisoner by putting cuffs on me! Take them off, and you’ll get your kiss!”
He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You agreed before hundreds of people that you would accept my claiming token. How can I respect you when you won’t even honor your vow?”
She stared at him in astonishment, then turned to leave. “Let me know when you have the herbs,” she said as she stepped out from the alcove and headed back down the stairs.
The few hours between appointments were taken up with dress fittings and discussions about the floral arrangements, both of which interested Lark little, although she did acknowledge that her dress was beautiful and flattering. Made from silver chiffon, it had narrow jewel-crusted straps and a deep V neckline which accentuated her bust. A wide jeweled belt wrapped around her waist, while the soft fabric fell in gentle folds to her feet, hiding the plump rolls that she wished would simply melt away. The dress was finished with a train that hung from her shoulders and trailed along the floor. The fabric swayed gently around her feet as she moved, but try as she might, she could not muster up excitement for the beautiful garment.
It was three days after her discussion with Val that Lark finally had a few hours to herself. She had been waiting for an opportunity to visit Master Clem, Lenora’s chief archivist, and she sat impatiently as Neta fussed around her. When Lark was little, the old man would invite her into his office and allow her to peruse his books of Cambrian folklore. He was an expert on Valorian history, noted for his wide-ranging knowledge of all things Valorian, but it was the history of magic that most interested her today.
Her route to the library took her through the old city, where those who had survived the War of the Ancients had resettled after leaving the ruins of Citadel. Located along the banks of the Cambria, the first buildings had been humble dwellings of wood, but these had vanished as bigger, grander buildings of mountain stone took their place along the river. If the stories were to be believed, however, they were nothing like the buildings of Citadel, the greatest of Valoria’s cities, built during the golden age of magic. Instead, the people arriving in Lenora had to depend on their own strength and skill to raise the new city.
The carriage lurched to a sudden halt, and Lark grabbed the carriage handle to prevent herself sliding from the seat. Shouts reached her from the street and she pulled aside the curtain to see a man standing in the road, gripping the shoulder of a young boy. The boy’s dark hair and tan skin announced him as Rhymer, and Lark dropped the curtain and leaned back in the seat. The boy had obviously been caught stealing, a common activity for Rhymer youth who sneaked into the city. She heard her driver instruct the man to move out of the way, and a few moments later the carriage swung back into motion.
They drew to a stop a short while later outside the city library. From the outside, the building was very ordinary – plain white walls with functional doors and windows – but the dull façade hid a glorious interior where the annals of history had been preserved for hundreds of years. Stepping through the doors, Lark paused to take in the scene that spread out before her. In the middle of an enormous room stood a raised dais – the holy ground of the archives. Here, dozens of scholars worked in silence at desks that stood in neat rows, while waiting around the edges, pages dressed in white stood in readiness to dash off and retrieve a book or manuscript when needed by the scholars. A glass dome, hundreds of feet high, allowed light to filter into the center of the room, while all along the outer walls, row upon row of books and manuscripts stood on thick wooden shelves. The building was four storeys high, and from where she stood, Lark could see the balconies that ran around each level, overlooking the central hall. Spiral staircases rose in each corner, allowing access to the levels above, and it was to one of these that Lark headed, walking as quietly as she was able so as not to disturb the silence that reigned over the hall.
Clem’s office was on the fourth floor, and twice she stopped to catch her breath as she made her way slowly to the top. Turning to the left, she headed along the worn carpet and came to a stop outside a scuffed wooden door. Rapping firmly, she waited as the murmur of voices came from within. It took a few moments before footsteps were heard and the door was opened to reveal a young man. He frowned as he took her in.
“I’m sorry, Master Clem is too busy to see anyone,” he said, closing the door in her face. She put out a hand to stop it.
“Master Clem will wish to see me,” she said firmly. “You can tell him Lady –”
“He is not to be disturbed,” the young man interrupted with a scowl, pushing against the door once more.
“Who’s there, Heath?” a voice called from within. “Is that Lady Snowlark? Let her in!”
“But, Master,” he began, “you have –”
“I always have time for Lady Lark! Now don’t keep her standing there! Open the door!”
“My apologies, my lady,” Heath said, stiffly, “it’s just that Master Clem’s very busy.”
“Of course,” Lark said. “I won’t take much of his time. Now put on the kettle and make us some tea, before leaving us to some private conversation.”
“Better do as she says, lad,” Clem said, moving around a cluttered desk and heading to where she stood. “Lady Lark is to be your queen one day.”
“Of course, Master,” Heath said with a slight bow. His gaze darted to Lark for a brief moment, his expression shrewd, before he turned and headed from the room. The sound of a kettle being filled reached their ears as Clem indicated a chair for Lark to sit.
“Who is that?” Lark asked. “He wasn’t here the last time I visited.”
“It’s been a while since you visited,” Clem chided gently. “He started working for me about six months ago.”
“Where did he come from?”
“Somewhere up north. Sorafen, perhaps. Definitely somewhere in Eldora. He’s very thoughtful and methodical, which are useful traits when dealing with all the documents we have here. I find myself relying on him more each day.” He leaned back in his chair as Heath returned with a tray of tea things and carefully placed it on the table between them. Clem’s spectacles had slipped partway down his nose, and his gray hair was in disarray, but Lark knew that behind the humble exterior lay a sharp mind. He handed her a cup of tea as Heath left the room. “I’m delighted to see you, my dear, but hearing how busy you’ve been of late, I think you must have a very particular reason for coming here today.”
“Perhaps I just wanted to visit with an old friend,” she said.
He leaned forward and patted her hand. “That’s very kind of you, Lark. Now what do you want to know?”
“Well …” She hesitated, wondering how much to reveal. “I am wondering about the magic that used to be in Valoria, and what happened to it.”
“Magic?” He looked startled. “Whatever brought this on?”
“I, er, overheard someone say that there are still some magic makers left who practice in secret.”
“Who said that?” he asked sharply. He rose and checked outside the door, before shutting it firmly. “Is this one of Pip’s tales?”
“Well, no, it wasn’t from Pip that I first heard it.”
“Hmm.” Clem picked up his teacup and leaned back in his seat. “There’s not much to know, quite frankly. As you’re already aware, Citadel was destroyed in the War of the Ancients, along with all the books and records of the Cambrian people. Nothing was left. And the people that survived wanted to forget, not remember. It was years before anything was written down. When it was, magic was barely mentioned.”
“But there must be something!”
“Piney mentions a stave, while other sources talk about a wand, or an orb. One manuscript mentions an object that glowed and contained a great deal of power. But where it came from, and what happened to it, are shrouded in mystery. We assume that magic helped to build Citadel, since from all reports it was magnificent beyond belief, but we have nothing to prove that this was, in fact, the case. The ruins have been examined, of course, and we can tell that Citadel was a great city, but no more than that. We’ve even searched the Rhymer records, such as they are.”
“Rhymer records? Why?”
“At that time, most Rhymers resided in Pendora, far enough away from Eldora and Citadel to remain neutral during the war. They had no skills or power that the Ancients desired, and they were left alone. It was thought that they might have records that would shed light on our Cambrian cities.”
“I take it they don’t?”
“No. They clearly did not concern themselves with Cambrian affairs. The only mentions they made of us refer to the business dealings between our peoples.”
“We have business dealings with the Rhymers?” That was a surprise.
Clem smiled in amusement. “They ceased long before the war. As time went by, the Cambrians had no need for the Rhymers, or the goods they had to offer. Some trade resumed after the war, but by then, relations between our peoples had deteriorated to the point where neither wanted to extend them.”
“Is that when they started to attack us?”
“They had some petty grievances which served as a starting point. Their discontent increased as time went by.”
“And now they want to start another war?”
“So it would seem.”
Lark took a sip of tea. She had not come here to discuss the Rhymers. She cast back her thoughts to what Clem had said about magic. “Could it be that the magic was not truly destroyed?” she asked. “That it’s still around, just to a lesser extent?”
“There have been no reports of that.”
“But that could be because it’s been outlawed. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still exist.”
“True. But as you have pointed out, no-one is going to advertise the fact that they have magic.”
Lark finished her tea and placed the cup on the table. “Why was magic outlawed?” she asked. “It seems like a drastic step, given that it had already been destroyed.”
“There is some debate around that. It seems that King Valor was concerned that if magic was practiced, it would make us a target for another attack, and having just come through one war, he didn’t think his people could manage another.”
“But the Ancients had been destroyed!”
“Other enemies could rise up, Lark. The Kingdom of Raynor is just across the ocean.”
“The Raynorians have little reason to attack us.”
“True. But that might not be the case if we still possessed magic.”
“I suppose you have a point. But how does someone practice magic? And how could it have been destroyed?”
“That is not something that I can answer, Lark.”
Lark selected a cookie from the plate that Heath had brought with the tea and nibbled it slowly.
“Do you think the Ancient in the mountains was around in the war?” she asked. “It was a very long time ago.”
“It’s possible, although it would have been very young. The writings we have suggest that all the Ancients died in the war.”
“But as you said, those were written long after the fact. And in all the chaos, one may have slipped away.”
“Scholars have long speculated that some might have survived and fled. Killing so many of the beasts was a tremendous feat.”
“How exactly were they killed? I know the king devised some sort of weapon, but what was it?”
“A massive spear that could pierce the Ancient’s armor. The king had his engineers design a special launching device that could hurl the spears across a great distance. Dozens of the machines were built and placed in strategic positions around the city and surrounding countryside. Each spear had a thick chain attached to it to drag the creatures to the ground. They put up quite a fight, if the reports are to be believed, and it was in the last battle that the city was destroyed, everything burned until it was just a pile of smoldering ash.” Clem removed his glasses and carefully cleaned the lenses with the edge of his sweater. “It wasn’t just the Ancients that died that day, but more than half our people as well, including the first queen.”
“First queen? Valor had more than one wife?”
“Yes. You and the prince are descended from his second wife, Queen Rose.”
“And there were no children?”
“Not that we’re aware of. Cedar mentions a son, but none of the other writers mention children from the first marriage, so if there were any, they must have died in infancy.”
“But I’ve never even heard of another wife! I’m sure there’s no mention of her in the family history.”
“It doesn’t seem to be very well known. I suppose the fact that she didn’t produce any heirs meant that she wasn’t worth remembering.”
“That’s terrible!”
“Queens are meant to produce heirs, my dear,” he said gently.
“Yes.” She rose from her seat. “I have taken enough of your time. I fear that if I remain much longer, your assistant will chase me out!”
Clem laughed. “He’s very protective, to be sure, but I don’t think he’ll chase you out.” He walked with her to the door. “Don’t be such a stranger, my dear. You know I always have time for you.”
She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t work too hard, Clem. And I’ll look for you at the joining ceremony.”
“I will be there,” he promised as she stepped from the room and made her way thoughtfully along the passage.