Reclamation

There was barely enough room for Cor to get the sledge through even the main streets and they raised a cloud of curses from the foot travelers as she tried. The city passed around them in a series of miniature plays. Ahead on the left, a Bonded woman argued spice prices with a peddler. To the right, two Bondless toasted each other with a crock of wine. A troop of soldiers on oxen splashed gutter filth on a cluster of Notouch and tossed loud obscenities at each other. An old man with a Teacher's suns tattooed on his palms laid his hands on a child's burned face while a woman in a saffron-colored cloak looked anxiously on. Jay heard the child's gasp even over the babble of street noises.

Cor eased the sledge around a tight corner, and the High House slid into view.

The High House was an honorary name for the King's dwelling. It squatted level with the other buildings behind its own set of carved walls. Even in broad daylight there were six guards at the gate. Cor shouted to them and they hauled back the iron gates to let the sledge through. The courtyard on the other side was empty. They saw no one until they pulled up to the stable. A couple of Bonded hustled the wagon indoors and Cor with them.

"Good luck." She waved as she left Jay on his own.

"Thanks. I'll need it."

The blood-warm rain started down before he was halfway across the courtyard. Jay ducked his head and hauled on his hood to try to keep himself dry. He peeked under the edge to get his bearings. The door lamp glimmered invitingly four feet above the courtyard.

A wind shear drove straight down out of the sky with such force that Jay staggered. He gripped the stair railings and struggled to climb up to the main doors.

This. This is what we've wandered for centuries to get back to. This is what we're ready to go to war with our own kind over. He stumbled into the doorway. I swear, if I didn't think they'd just abandon me here, I'd tell them we don't want this place. Tell them it's a dying, corroded heap of rocks. I swear the only reason I keep going is so that someone will get me off this forsaken world.

"My Lord Messenger," said a man's voice.

Jay straightened up. Your day-use name, the first of whatever series you might be lumbered with, was often not so much a name as a description. Jay's was Messenger for the Skymen and the skinny, wrinkled man in front of him was Holding the Keys, King Silver's chief secretary and step-and-fetch-it man. Next to him stood a Bonded boy carrying a basin of steaming water in one hand and a plate of biscuits in the other. A clean towel was slung over his arm.

Jay read the scene. The King wanted to see him, now. The footbath and food were the polite greeting for an arrival, but he wouldn't be given time to sit down and enjoy them.

"The King wishes you to attend her at once," said Holding, while Jay stripped off his boots and quickly rinsed his feet in the basin as the boy set it down. "She sent me to see that you do not delay."

Jay frowned. King Silver was young, greedy, unreasonable, and hadn't learned not to whine in meetings yet, but she wasn't easily panicked. He donned the pair of slippers that the boy produced from the pouch at his belt and wolfed down a biscuit that tasted like wood chips. Something must be going on. Something unexpected.

Jay followed Holding through the stone halls. The lamps in the great hall were lit. The audience was expected soon, then. The Seablades must have beaten him through the gates.

The corridors Holding led Jay through were stone-cold, despite the heat of the day outside. Coal fires in the hearths took off some of the chill but the clay statues and bas-reliefs set against the walls did nothing to soften appearances.

Holding the Keys marched Jay straight to the King's private study. It was one of the few rooms on the second floor that sported a real door. Holding knocked.

"Whoever it is, you had better have Messenger with you!" shrilled the King from the other side.

"I have, My King." Holding swung the door back and stood aside.

Jay marshaled his wits and walked across the threshold.

The study was a jumble of precious wooden furniture piled with vellum scrolls and clumsily bound books. It had been built around one of the eight "shadow pillars" that helped support the High House. Silver said her great-great-great-grandmother had ordered the House built over them, as a reminder that the Kings of Narroways were supported by the Nameless Powers.