All the Paths of Shadow

“It’s not a voice you need to hear,” said Kervis. “None of us hear it, do we, Mage?”

Meralda rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh, we all hear it, but I’d appreciate it if you gentlemen would pretend you didn’t.”

The guards smiled and nodded.

Meralda raised an intricate glass and brass device to her lips. “I told you to wait until I called you,” she said. “Unless you saw something threatening. Have you seen something threatening, Mug?”

“Um, no. I just wanted to be sure this thing works.”

“Satisfied?”

“Being quiet now.”

Meralda lowered the device and sighed.

The box quietly gathering dust on aisle ten, shelf twenty-two, slot fifteen had been marked simply ‘Vars. Notes.’ It had contained a stack of old parchment pages from which the ink had long since fled.

But the box had a false bottom, and wrapped in silk Meralda found a pair of identical glass devices. Pushing a copper switch on the side of either one while speaking caused the other to sound with the speaker’s voice, and no method Meralda tried was able to eavesdrop on the conversation. Even the jewel was detectable, if one knew what to look for. But Tam’s device might as well be made of ghosts and shadows.

Which made these either handiwork of Tam herself, or something even older she purloined and kept hidden.

Meralda grinned.

One day, I’ll hide them again myself, and thus snub my nose at the Official Inventory.

“We heard the king will be there,” said Kervis, in a whisper.

Meralda nodded. The king’s note had been terse, but at least informative. Inspect the stands and the Tower, it read. Discuss final instructions for loosing the shadow moving spell, etc. etc.

And all done under heavy guard. Meralda wasn’t sure what message Yvin was trying to send by going through with such a risky meeting in the first place, or to whom the message was meant. I have quite enough to worry about without involving politics, she thought. That’s the king’s problem.

I just have to see that Tirlin doesn’t erupt into flames and doom before Yvin delivers the first word of his speech.

The pay master’s wagon rattled and lurched, its iron wheels raising sparks on both sides as the driver urged his eight horse team faster and faster. Built to carry gold, the pay master’s wagon was armored, sturdy, and nearly unstoppable, although its ride was anything but smooth. The thundering hooves of the guards weaving expertly about the wagon added to the din, leaving Meralda thoroughly bruised and nearly deaf by the time the wagon reached the last street before the park and began to slow.

The Bellringers kept their eyes on the windows, wary of every passing shadow. The guards seated across from Meralda did the same.

The wagon rolled to a halt. The hoof beats surrounding it slowed and finally stopped as well.

Orders were shouted. More guards, this time on foot, rushed to the wagon. After a moment, Meralda’s door was opened and the captain, himself, peeked in.

“We’re here,” he said. “Looks safe enough, at the moment. Yvin is waiting.”

Meralda clambered down from the tall, iron-clad wagon. A breeze ran through her hair.

The Bellringers followed and took up positions on either side of her. The guards formed two lines about them, and with a nod from Meralda the party started down the walk.

The guardsman immediately to Meralda’s right smiled at her and winked.

Meralda grinned and blushed and nearly stumbled.

Donchen kept in perfect step with his fellows.

“Been a lot more trouble for the Vonats,” said the captain, as he ambled beside Meralda. “We had to break up a fight between them and some of the Hang five-master crew last night, in fact. Of course I couldn’t understand what was being said, but it seems some bad blood has sprung up between them. I wonder why that is?”

“I’m sure I have no idea,” said Meralda.

“No, of course not, you wouldn’t. Still. Someone sent a spell their way that filled their sheets with bed bugs and their shoes with centipedes. They lodged a formal complaint with the Accords Hospitality Commission, did you know that? Threatening to sue Tirlin.”

Meralda kept her face carefully blank. “I’m sure the king will launch a formal investigation,” she said. “Such mischief cannot be tolerated.”

The captain nodded. “Student pranks, I’m thinking.”

“Precisely.”

The Tower still loomed, dark and brooding against the clear blue sky, but the park, itself, was transformed.

The stands that Meralda had last seen as skeletons of lumber were complete, making a half-circle around the Tower that rose up and up and up, nearly as tall as the Old Oaks themselves. Fresh white paint gleamed in the sun, and atop the tallest ranks of seats a hundred pennants waved and snapped in the cool midday breeze.

The King’s Rise faced the stands, engulfed in the shadow of the Tower. Painters still worked furiously about it, hanging from ropes and racing across scaffolds as they hurried to complete the rise’s red, blue, and gold color scheme in time for the Accords.

Standing, hands on hips, at the base of the rise was King Yvin himself. Even from a distance, Meralda could make out the tapping of the royal foot and the glower of the royal face.

“I’m not late,” she said.

“Pardon?” asked the captain.

“Nothing.” Meralda forced a smile. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

“So that’s clear, then,” said the king. He leaned on an unpainted stretch of the rise’s upmost rail and stared at the Tower’s black bulk. “You accompany me up here. I sit. You move the shadows. I thank you, you take to the stairs, the band strikes up, and I stand up and start when they finish. That about it?”

Meralda nodded. Something in the king’s weary tone and wary eyes troubled her far more than usual.

I suppose I’m not the only member of the court with a burden, these days.

“And you’ve taken steps to solve our other little problem.”

Meralda realized she’d been wondering all day just how she’d reply to that very question.

“I have, Your Majesty.”

The king grunted. “Finally. Brevity. The rest of the court could take lessons from you, Mage.” He stared for a moment longer. “You don’t like me very much, do you, Mage Ovis?”

“Sire?”

“You heard me.”

Meralda’s mind raced. “I hardly even know you, Sire. As a person.”

The king nodded. “That’s true enough.” He flicked a scrap of wood off the rail. “Did you know old Fromarch threatened to renounce the robes if I didn’t approve your appointment?”

“He did what?”

The king chuckled. “I’ve never seen the man so angry. He was ready to throw away a lifetime of hard work for you.” The king shrugged. “I had an epiphany, right there in the Gold Room. I don’t think anyone ever felt that passionate about His Majesty King Yvin the Sixth.”

“I don’t know what to say, Your Majesty. Except that I’m glad you’re wearing the crown right now. I can’t think of a better head to go beneath it.”

“Same thing my wife said. Must be a bit of truth to it, then?” He managed a weary grin. “I want you to know, Mage, that however the Accords go, I’m glad Fromarch fought so hard to put you in those robes. He was right. For once.”

Meralda put her hand on the king’s where he gripped the railing.

“I want you and the queen to come down to the laboratory, after the Accords,” she said. “Mug can play us some music. I can show you the relics.”