Eagles and Swans
Chapter 22: The Demolition of Strongholds
While the audience rose to join the applause and petals were tossed over the crowd, Ruthenia leaned back and folded her arms.
“Congratulations to Lord Anio and Lady Cathia! Aren't they lovely?” Kamaro was answered by more cheers and applause. “My dear little nephew Anio himself. I never imagined he would get married before I!” He flicked his hair out with a grin that won him more laughs, loudest of all from the married couple.
Someone came to take the seat beside Ruthenia, brushing out his robes. She stole a glance rightward, and at once her heartbeat began to roar. It was the Archbishop. Going rigid, she turned quickly away.
For a minute she stared resolutely forward, watching Kamaro strut across the stage with yet another crowd-rousing tale. But with the golden lights blurring before her eyes, she grew angry with herself.
Clenching her jaw, she turned, and found Archbishop Tiel already watching her.
Looking her parents’ killer in the eye did not feel the way she’d expected it to. Nothing about him screamed of evil. His eyes were unrevealing grey, like overcast sky, and now that she could see the lines on his face, she also saw that he was infuriatingly ordinary.
“Good evening, your Holy Grace,” she murmured. She gripped the edge of her seat and tried to feel anything, any of the things she wished she did and thought she should—anger, betrayal, anguish—but somehow she could not find it in her.
Against the sound of the audience’s laughter, Tiel’s voice was quiet as a dove's. “Good evening, ma'am,” he said. “You are?”
“Ruthenia.” Her legs were trembling to flee.
His eyes lit up briefly. “Ruthenia,” he repeated solemnly. “I have known of one other who bore that name. She would be about the same age as you are now. Pray tell, are you she?”
“Who?” she muttered. “I’ve never talked to you before.”
“A child I was asked to save from the streets.” He studied her face with a bizarre, unfamiliar kindliness. “The daughter of the two revolutionaries executed in the Year 485. She was gone when my messengers went in search of her. Tell me, are you she? Did she live after all?”
Ruthenia could not find an appropriate answer to give, not within all the rage she’d hoarded over all the years.
“I...I did,” she said.
He smiled. “Then my heart may rest at ease at last.”
“But I—I don’t understand. What do you mean, you were asked to save me? You delivered the clergy's ultimatum, you—”
He shook his head, eyes clouding up with the memory. “I am so sorry, my child. My heart weeps for your mother and father, too. I never wanted them dead.”
She felt those words slowly demolish her thoughts, the warmth drain from her body. “Then who did it?” Now that she was here, facing the man who had been there, seated in that white throne of power, she wanted an answer. “Who ordered my parents dead?”
“Not one person,” Tiel replied. “But everyone, the machine, acting in concert. The diarchs wanted an answer from the clergy. But the clergy was divided. So we cast votes on the matter. To the last day the halls were full of argument, more than should ever visit a holy establishment. We gave them a recommendation pieced together from the opinions of fifty.”
Two months ago, Ruthenia would have spat accusations, would have cursed the way he tried washing his hands of their blood. Today, she wasn’t sure where to point her rage. Her throat hurt with the beginnings of a fathomless grief, but she couldn’t fashion it into a blade as she normally did. She could not lash out at this man. Not even after six years of longing to.
“How…why are people killed in Ihir’s name?”
“Because everything can be made a weapon in the right hands,” he replied.
How could it be that she had misplaced him in this? She would once have called him a barefaced liar. But had she, in the firestorm of her agony, been the one who had misunderstood?
Ruthenia only nodded blankly, and brought her attention back to the stage, just in time to watch Kamaro close his latest comedic anecdote. The applause and laughter ascending resoundingly around them, drowning out the boom of her heart
*
With the close of the ceremony, the gathering was ushered out of their seats and towards the staircases at the back of the hall, one row at a time.
“Could we leave for few minutes?” Ruthenia whispered to Aleigh as they rose. Her head was still awhirl. “I just need some fresh air; I won’t be long.”
“I could show you to the boulevard,” he replied. “There is time yet before the banquet begins.”
Following the rest of the royals, they made for the corner of the hall and down the staircase. Arriving in the atrium below, where casement windows gazed out on the palace grounds, Aleigh stepped away from the streaming guests and waved for her to follow. Together they crossed the atrium to the foyer, the entire marble hallway faintly reflecting them.
It seemed the press had swarmed to the banquet hall, so there were few intrusions as they went. Paintings hung between the atrium windows. Ruthenia walked briskly until she was ahead of the Arcane Prince.
They passed a scant few guests on their way to the exit. Some were journalists in discussion; she’d come to recognise the badges of commission they wore. They lifted their eyes as the Arcane Prince passed, one scrambling pointing in their direction, but they hastened away before anyone could approach. A huddle of men in suits stood sipping wine by a painting of a fruit bowl. One woman was studying a portrait of Eduro, first king of Astra, lit from below.
They passed through the glass doors that hung open, stepping out into the breezy night. Bursting into the darkness, Ruthenia drank in the air, arms spread out. The sky was purple and only just beginning to glitter.
Down the steps she raced, coming to a stop near the bottom to gaze out over the palace grounds. Stars pricked through a thin gauze of clouds, visible between the towers and blocks above. Where the stairs ended beneath, a boulevard of trees was lain out, a fountain sparkling at its centre, and the breeze carried the fresh scent of the garden in bloom.
She paused for a while, letting the wind wash over her. She let the memories of the Archbishop and of the dizzying camera flashes soak out of her. A brief while later, she heard Aleigh arrive beside her.
“I don’t feel right here,” she said. “I used to hate the people who lived like this, and yet…I'm starting to see the allure. My friends would be furious if they knew where I am.”
“The palace is indeed…opulence incarnate.”
Gaze sweeping the grounds once again, she heaved a sigh. “It’s hard to imagine having such a huge home. Where did you live, before Aligon became Arcane King?”
“In the Lantern District,” Aleigh replied. “My mother was the chief administrator. She has a manor there, with a beautiful garden.” When he fell silent, the rustle of leaves from the boulevard trees rose to fill it.
“And meanwhile, I was pickpocketing to stay alive,” she laughed. “You had everything I ever wanted. And everything I did not. Everything.”
“I wish I had recognised this shameless excess sooner. Then I might have understood how it made me who I am.”
“It's almost like the ignorance was crafted, deliberately,” she asked. “I guess those walls weren't just made to keep strangers out. They kept you in, too.”
He nodded, a breeze setting his hair aflutter. “I never thought it unusual, either,” he replied, walking to the edge of the step to face the wind. “You were committing petty theft long before I was allowed in public unaccompanied. Afternoon detours…failing grades…I was never allowed those. Casual friendships. The freedom to move.”
Ruthenia scrunched up her face. “You ever tried defying your family?”
“When I was five, perhaps. But my father would lock me in the punishment room from lunch till dinner, and that taught me not to.”
She grimaced. “Punishment room?”
“Oh, a repurposed closet with the lock on the outside.” He laughed bitterly. “It taught me to Weave light early.”
Ruthenia cringed. “Ugh, the men in your family are such characters.”
“I am one of them, too.”
“But you're willing to change. And I think that makes all the difference.”
Silence fell over them. Water burbled. Two people were drinking on the boulevard, laughing and tiptoeing on the edge of the fountain pool.
“You won’t live here forever, will you?” she said. “Where do members of old royal families go, once their terms are over?”
Aleigh gazed up into sky beyond the palace tower. “We will probably return to the Lantern District, unless one of our relatives takes the throne next.” he replied. “But I mean to find employment, perhaps as an archivist or a secretary for a ministry.”
“A secretary!” Ruthenia laughed. “That’s a little far to fall, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps, but I wouldn't mind falling.” He paused in thought. “If it means no press and no brothers breathing down my neck.”
She shook her head. The whistling gale carried the cold of the mountain. “I really misjudged you. You're nothing like the person I thought you were.”
“I think we have both misjudged each other, then.”
They stood in a comfortable silence for a while, gazing down at the palace grounds. “What's the time?” asked Ruthenia then, glancing backward at the lights in the lobby.
Aleigh glanced up at the tower. “Time for dinner, I reckon,” he said, turning around so the wind was to his back. “Let us return.”
Together, they brisk walked through the lobby, crossing the atrium and passing through the heavy double doors behind the curving staircases, where other guests were gaining clearance. The guards, both unarmed, nodded to the two as they passed.
The ceiling soared, and the bustle of conversation engulfed them in a tide. They followed the right wall, circumnavigating the crowd. Ruthenia stumbled in her boots as she dodged around other guests. A scintillating chandelier the size of a rowboat hung from the ceiling on an ancient golden chain, the pale vaults painted like the sky, arching three stories above their heads. Between towering pillars, windows almost the entire height of the hall gazed out into the night as it fell upon the palace grounds. Balconies with marble balustrades overhung the hall left and right, and thirty round tables, draped with red, surrounded a gleaming lake of marble floor.
A rousing bowed-string hum ascended from the orchestra as its instrumentalists tuned on the velvet-carpet stage. A swirl of aromas suffused the air, of roasted meats and rich sauces mingled with wines. To the left of the stage stood a table two-thirds laden with full wineglasses, already thronged by drinking guests.
Being with the Arcane royal family meant, as expected, a table at the very front of the hall, right beside the orchestra and the wine. Ruthenia checked the empty places one by one until she found the one with a small card bearing her name. To her left was the Arcane Prince’s seat—and, beyond him, the Arcane Queen and King. Ruthenia turned to her right, but the guest had not yet arrived; the name the card bore was Hespera Arbel.
Shrugging, she dropped into the cushioned seat, and unrolled the serviette in a flourish that had Queen Xenia giving her odd looks.
Chatter rose amongst guests as a great pair of wooden doors slid open and waiters in black tailcoats came wheeling trolleys in, great platters and shiny domed covers rattling. A gloved hand placed a steaming bowl on the table before her: a creamy soup with white chunks of something inside.
Ruthenia only barely stopped herself from picking up the bowl and slurping its contents up. A flash lit the surface of her soup, and she straightened, to find that the journalists and photographers were thronging the edges of the hall behind velvet barricades, their cameras flashing like lightning across the hall.
Hespera arrived minutes later, upon her husband’s arm. She was a slender woman of tall stature, blonde and pale as her siblings. Ruthenia watched as she seated herself, beige gown shimmering, then turning to her with a brief “good evening" that startled her straight.
“Oh, good evening to you too,” Ruthenia answered, staring dumbly at the lady’s offered hand before remembering the gesture and taking it with a lowering of her head. She dropped the hand almost too eagerly, and met the woman’s eye again. “You’re the mother of Lord Anio? Congratulations to your son!”
Lady Hespera took in the words with a brief smile. “I have never seen a man more eager to be married,” she said.
“Well, then, he is in for a very happy life hereafter.” She glanced about the table; the wedding couple sat to the right of Hespera’s husband—chairs pulled together, almost no space between them.
“Smile for the papers!” the exclamation made Ruthenia look up and stare wide-eyed as the grinning man pointed his lens at them. A white flare exploded from the xenon flash above the wooden camera box, freezing her into silence.
“Bloody—” She quickly pinched her lips shut, fuming with her fists clenched. “I wasn’t ready for that!”
“Good evening to all our beloved guests,” Kamaro’s voice turned all their heads, pushing the camera flash out of her mind. The master of ceremonies stood atop a black dais, arms held out in welcome. “Thank you, once again, for attending the wedding of Lord Anio Veritian and Lady Cathia Argola! Before dinner is served, I would like to offer the stage to the wedding couple themselves. I’m sure we all want to hear from them, don’t we?”
He waved at their table a bow, and the pair stood to uproarious applause, scurrying to the dais. Stepping up to the fore, Cathia and Anio took turns shoving each other to the front, to a smattering of laughs, until Cathia stepped forward.
She brushed her hair behind her ear, beaming widely. “Hello, everyone!” she said. “Thank you for joining us tonight, you’re all wonderful! This is my first time attending an event so grand, and I must say I’m soundly impressed! They weren't kidding about palace parties.” Her laughter was met with applause. “Now, I’m sure most of you know by now that I’m not from around here. In fact, I was born in the New Town!”
Ruthenia's head perked up at the mention, then she felt silly because her accent should have given it away.
“Nothing ever came easily to us. I studied hard as a child. My parents gave everything they had so I could have a future loftier than their own. My sister landed work with the royal orchestra, who are here with us today, by the way! And she worked so hard to cover our bills—I used to sit in the and live in the music and smile, knowing she was making something so beautiful while keeping us fed.”
She waved at a table beside their own, and the room erupted into applause.
“So, skip to a a decade later, and I've met Anio in an apprenticeship at an editorial company,” Cathia went on. “What was he doing, training to be an editor, you ask? He wasn't: he was the founder's son. And I was their first employee. One thing led to another, and here we are now. And I hear a few of you are wondering if I married this man for his deep, deep pockets.” A murmur swept the audience, punctuated with laughter. She cast a glance at Anio; he grinned back. “And I hear it’s a big debate these days, with you Arcanes—whether it's good to marry out of the big families. I hadn't any idea, for the longest time. Anio was simply the loveliest, warmest, most wonderful person I’ve known—” she jabbed him with her elbow— “aren’t you, beautiful?”
“And here I thought the only thing I was good for was holding your books,” he answered with the grin, and a look almost flirtatious. The two leaned in for a kiss that received growing applause as it grew increasingly fervent. Ruthenia looked away. Catching his breath after they had drawn apart, Anio continued. “Thank you, Cathia, my love, for your extremely flattering words. I’m delighted to finally be marrying you after we first talked about it five years ago. And I look forward to living the rest of my life with you.” Amid coos and sighs, he took her about the shoulders and pressed his cheek against her head. “More importantly, I am looking forward to tonight.”
“Oh, I know,” Cathia replied, placing a hand on his back.
“Oi, there are children here!” yelled Kamaro as he rose from his seat. The laughter that came now was the loudest yet. “Alright, now, thank you, Lord and Lady, but before you begin discussing your plans,” the master declared as he joined them, “shall we begin tonight’s dance, Lord Anio and Lady Cathia?” They nodded eagerly, stepping out onto the gleaming floor, hands locking. With a flourish and a grin, Kamaro gestured at the orchestra.
Across the hall there was an uncanny hush, as a stir of flutes and guitars ushered in the introduction of the very first dance.
The first dance of the night was not unlike the Helika Waltz, though it wasn't precisely the same. Ruthenia began to pair the steps to her memory of the dance. But the melody was spirited and wild, and its various more dignified steps were substituted by twirls and leaps. Anio and Cathia, so lost in their tiny heaven with every star in their eyes, spun and leapt like sparrows beneath the giant chandelier, capturing every gaze in the room.
The music swelled, and the spirit of the dance began to catch on like fire. Other guests began to join Anio and Cathia: nervous nobles, husbands and wives, pulling each other out into the light—they left their seats one by one, entering the breathless whirling dance.
“Ruthenia,” said Aleigh with a tap on her arm. “You will find your opportunity to speak to my brother when he leaves the table to dance.”
Ruthenia nodded. “How will I get his attention?”
He pondered. “I am sure at least one among the dances tonight will be a quadrille. An exchange of partners will be inevitable. You could single him out then.”
“I don’t know that one.”
“That does not matter. Have him leave the dance if you must.” Aleigh’s expression grew stern. “All that matters is that you decide what to say to him beforehand. That is all I ask.”
While the melodies began to entice their guests onto the floor, Ruthenia sat wolfing down dish after sumptuous dish. Soup was followed by a salad appetiser—lettuce, tomatoes and dried fruit drizzled with a tangy white sauce. The main course, roasted steak soaked in pepper sauce, got all over her hands and serviette despite her most valiant efforts. She wiped her hands every few mouthfuls, Hespera watching with a permanently furrowed brow.
Some part of Ruthenia, which stood apart from all the luxury and havoc, saw and knew that she should not be here. Not when her friends were robbing and killing to stay alive. But it was easy, too easy, drenched in these lights, to lose oneself in them.
“Oh, Ruthenia, please have my share,” Talia declared across the table in the midst of a course of beef dumplings. “I try not to have too much beef, but I'd be loath to have these go to waste!” Ruthenia looked up just in time to watch the Arcane Viz pouring dumplings into her bowl, eyes widening by the second.
“Thank you!” she gasped, swallowing a mouthful. “Thank you, that's enough—”
“A little more?” She poured two more dumplings over while, beyond her, her husband Coro watched with concern.
“Yes, that's more than enough!” Ruthenia exclaimed, pulling her plate away. It wasn't the worst predicament—their fried goodness was a symphony on her tongue.
She nodded, before shoved her last dumpling into her mouth.
The fourth course was served in the midst of merry dancing: raw fish in citrusy sauce. Ruthenia found it off-putting, but the nobles seemed absolutely delighted when the waiters uncovered the platters.
“Fresh from the sea, the way I like it,” sighed Aligon, taking a good whiff of the plate before him. Ruthenia turned at the sound of his voice.
“What a rare catch,” said Xenia. “Fish aren't typically on menus these days. The new maritime regulations are doing the industry no good.”
“Indeed, indeed.” She made out Aligon’s reply through the din of clinking forks, leaning a little closer. “The entire matter has weighed upon my mind, but tonight isn't the time for moping!”
“Didn't you mention there might be a solution on the horizon?”
“Oh, yes! The Ministry of Maritime Defence has noted that a dubious new tool has recently made itself available for the purposes of an investigation.”
“Is that so? How odd.”
“Yes, the office received the blueprints for a most interesting machine: a flying camera.”
Ruthenia fell silent, insides twisting up into knots. She dipped the slimy slabs of fish in the citrus sauce, but continued to watch the Arcane King and Queen.
“Well, surely that machine is illegal!” she heard Xenia gasp.
“Ah, but that is where the matter becomes complex, for the machine’s engine is powered by Thread.” He paused to slurp up a long filet, sauce dripping. “How clever. I reckon this may come down to interpretations of scripture and law.”
The Arcane Queen frowned. “Doesn't that make the machine doubly illegal?”
Aligon paused after swallowing. “Why, I cannot say! Either it is twice as illegal, or not at all. You know I would like to fortify the trust of the Ihirin this early in my term, but recently, with the...business with the biochemical laboratory, I suspect I could lose Candelabra town.” Ruthenia’s every muscle tautened.
“Did you not control that story?”
“Yes, but—” He fell silent. Ruthenia went rigid as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Oh my, a wren on the windowsill?” The king turned to Aleigh, who pointedly ignored him. “That lovely lady over there ought to mind her boundaries.”
Xenia’s eyes had followed her husband’s. Cold sweat broke out on Ruthenia's back, but it was too late to pretend otherwise. She glared right back, lifting her fork to her mouth.
“Aligon,” Aleigh put in, “surely you do not intend to allow the crisis to persist unactioned?”
Ruthenia bowed away as the Arcane King’s gaze left her. She proceeded with the meal silently.
“Of course—what would diarchs be if they did not have plans?” Aligon replied, assuming his brilliant tone once more. “Astrans are already suspecting Lilin. The mass dreamings have made sure of it. And we must face it: her reawakening has disrupted all livelihoods that depend on the Argenta Sea, and we cannot to outlast nor avert a problem imposed by a deity. It is starting to appear that the only answer…is to slay her.”
There was a collective intake of breath.
Aleigh shook his head. “Who could do that? Deities are gathered and maintained by their wills. The only way for one to die is for them to desire death.”
“A pity, then,” answered Aligon, hands outspread. “If Lilin is, indeed, intent on bringing death upon our nation, then we must drive her to death first.”
Ruthenia longed to scream in answer, to throw a plate at his head, but for Aleigh's sake, she said nothing.
For a moment, Aligon considered his brother like a raptor considered its prey—then turned to Xenia, rising from his seat with a hand extended. “I tire of this discussion. Let us go dance, my love.”