“Have you ever felt fear?”
Wrenn hesitated, wondering what the best answer was. I knew that doubt well; in my initiation I had to confess all kinds of crimes to the whole Circle. I saw from his panicked expression that we seemed more forbidding and the Throne Room door looked tempting. I thought he was going to make a dash for it.
“Yes…” he said eventually. “I have never been as frightened as I am right now. But I master my fear.”
San asked, “Do you have a partner to bring into the Circle?”
Wrenn shook his head. He tried to smooth over his exhaustion with confidence but it could still be seen like the shape of wings under velvet. “I’ve made no time in my life for girlfriends.”
There is no way you can lie with the Emperor’s gaze on you; it’s impossible to hide anything. Wrenn squirmed uncertainly and stared at the floor. “You want me to tell? I spent my nights in the brothels instead. Well, it’s easier. I’ve been planning this Challenge for years; I couldn’t afford the time to have relationships.”
We all privately remembered how terrible it is to speak alone in that vast space and felt sympathetic. I had witnessed the ceremony as an Eszai three times before, firstly when Tern joined at my wedding, and most recently when Ata Dei became Mist. I glanced at Mist; she looked shifty, probably recalling how during her initiation she tried to lie but instead found herself confessing that she murdered her husband for his place in the Circle.
San stated, “You swear to serve me, in my service to the Fourlands, in god’s name, for as long as I give you life.”
“I swear,” said Wrenn, forcefully.
The Emperor raised his right hand, bony fingers and prominent joints. “Come forward.”
Wrenn climbed the dais steps, wondering at the great transformation about to take place. I could practically hear him thinking:
The Emperor extended his hand to Wrenn. Wrenn grasped and pressed his lips to it for a second. The Circle took him in.
Wrenn looked up finally to the Emperor’s eyes. San announced, “Now you are the Swordsman. Your name is Serein.”
A smile broke slowly over Serein’s face. He dropped to his knees at San’s feet, in silence. Then as if he could not bear such close proximity to the Emperor and aware that the rite was over, Serein quietly backed down from the dais, turned and passed the benches. We all stood as he passed. Lightning and Rayne glanced at each other; they had felt the ripple in the Circle as San made the exchange: one out, one in. After the transfer they’d feel Wrenn’s presence as slightly different from Gio’s, like a new person joining an inhabited room. Serein walked down the aisle, seeming to diminish in size, and left the Throne Room by himself. Lightning would join him outside; he made it his responsibility to greet new immortals and give them some much-needed advice. One by one we bowed to the Emperor, who was always last to leave the court, and followed Serein. As I passed through the door I grabbed two pocketfuls of confetti and glitter, swept up my hands and threw it over our heads.
A babble of a hundred conversations hung in the air of the Great Hall. I wanted to climb up to my rafter where I customarily sit, legs dangling, to watch the party. But I couldn’t do that with my arm around Tern. I led her through a dozen conversations.
“Is he here yet? I want to meet the boy. I’ve questions to ask him…”
“He’s twenty-five, bless. How rare it is to be so adept so young.”
“Try the smoked venison, it’s excellent.”
“Eleonora? Busy revitalizing the kingdom. She’s good, by god, I only hear praise.”
“But the court’s full of scandal. What she does with chambermaids, I-”
“‘For an Eszai everything is easy.’ Ha! How can they think that?”
“Look! There’s Comet. He’s back!
The Emperor was seated at the high table on a raised stage. He did not touch the feast before him. Tern swayed her skirt a little to the music-a young lad slammed away at the piano, lissome women in jasper red played fiddle reels.
Confetti on the carpet, candelabra; people leaned on the oak paneling, kissed under the arches. Frost was building a cantilevered bridge out of forks and salt cellars. Rayne and Hayl played chess with marzipan pieces on an enormous pink and yellow cake shaped like a chess board.
What platters and plates and bowls of food! There were sugared almonds, edible stars, spiced wine, iced wine, spring water, wheat beer and cream liqueur. There were flambeed swordfish, sliced lengthways on silver trenchers.
There were packets of Cobalt cigarillos on the table for those who wanted them. Boar pies-speciality of Cathee, charcoal-roast mushrooms, fat onions, saffron rice from Litanee, steak that juices up your mouth. There was peppered asparagus and kale from the Fescue fields; squash, tomatoes, baked potatoes cracked and oozing butter, Shivel cheeses like crumbly drums with fat blue veins. There was fruit: glazed, glace, covered in cream.
There were warm loaves, soft inside and smelling sensual, lobster claws pickled from the Peregrine coast, poached pike from the river. Northern exotics like pinnacle rabbits spirited in from Carniss, eels from Brandoch, Awndyn salmon and sundry seafood.
East into Awia, the spices were wilder-fenugreek and turmeric dhal, moist cake with nutmeg and cinnamon sultanas. The best coffee from Micawater, prime grapes plump with juice, olives like slick jewels, floury chorizo sausages in net bags, artichokes you had to be Awian to understand, pizza, prosciutto, ciabatta and more olives.
Tanager crispy duck, all kinds of little birds, larks in pastry, magglepies, dumstruks and starlings caught on lime and cooked on the branch because Awians consider falconry insulting. There were peacocks couchant looking haughty with their skin and fantails replaced. There were crackling hogs with grafted wings and bemused expressions. Bustards were stuffed with turkeys stuffed with pheasant stuffed with partridge stuffed with quails stuffed with chestnut-cutting into it revealed layers of meat like tree rings and was more than I can face. A swan glided up the high table, by gingerbread with silver metallic icing that the Emperor quite ignored.
Eat, eat, eat. Immortality in gluttony. Watch out for checkmate on the marzipan cake!
Lightning noticed us and remarked to Serein, who was gorging on sliced beef and fruit sauce in a wood bowl. His chest was broad and his arms well-defined muscle. He held himself tensely, trying not to dissipate under the tide of strange things, expressive people. Serein’s regime of training had not prepared him for the duel’s aftermath-he was the center of attention but he still felt alone. If he wished himself back in Summerday now, he would feel much worse when he bore the responsibility of command on the battlefield.
Aside from his skill in archery Lightning has cultivated many social talents. It was said of him that if he was in the building no woman would ever have to open a door. He was dapper in black tie and a raised-and-slashed celadon silk shirt, his wings sticking out the back. Some people say that wings have become smaller over millennia because they can’t be used and as Awians, especially non-aristocratic ones, intermarry with humans. Whatever the truth, Lightning’s wings were distinctly larger than Wrenn’s.
“Serein Wrenn,” Lightning said, “may I introduce you to our Messenger and Lady Tern? Comet can fly; I think that’s because he takes things too lightly. He will carry your letters anywhere in the Fourlands, and will help if you need translations, so don’t hesitate to ask.”
The frontier boy bowed, steering back his sword hanger with his left hand and staring at me. I tolerated the usual scrutiny. People don’t notice the subtleties straight away but they find my leggy proportions jarring. I shook his hand. “I’m impressed-nobody can be taught to fight like that.”
“Comet Jant Shira. Lady Tern. It’s an honor to meet you,” he said, looking as if he meant every word of it. His eyes were so wide I could see all the whites around the blue irises. He was wired on anxiety. He could not put a foot outside the narrow sphere of etiquette for fear that he would say or do something dreadful and be rejected from his hard-won place in the Circle, without ever knowing why. His fear was unfounded because only another Challenger could replace him, but he was almost frozen by the manners he imposed on himself.
A servant passed by, carrying a salver of champagne flutes. I took the whole tray from her, balanced it on one
