Matthew Elmslie's Blog, page 5

Summer 1: grouse

Most beloved Zann,

Lord Clear hadn’t given up. He couldn’t use the Beast of Crideon to hunt down any rebels, but he had other ideas in mind.

The first thing he did was to release a flock of prosecution grouse. These were some medium-sized pink birds who would fly around the city until they found someone who was guilty of something. The bird would fly around their head, and squawk, and follow them home, until one of Lord Clear’s squads of greenfolk soldiers came along and took the person away.

Well, of course, there are two big problems with this plan. First, Crideon is a relatively law-respecting city, but even so, there are thousands of people around who are guilty of something. The birds didn’t get ten feet out of their traveling cotes before they were harassing some poor street vendor or truant kid. And second, there are plenty of people here who know what a grouse tastes like when you season and roast it properly, and were eager to demonstrate their knowledge.

So that didn’t work. Neither did the mirror puppets, the soup mice, the sauntering traps, or the fart magistrates. But as little success as he was having, Lord Clear was no fool. He had been studying the laws of Crideon, and he had found something that really seemed like a winner to him…

Love,

Ybel

Spring 90: moss

Dearest Zann,

I don’t remember waking up. I do remember some muttering about ants, and some pain under my arms. And then, a while later, I was awake, and I had been awake for some time.

When I started thinking, I realized that I was in some chamber in Ambe’s lair. I was on a pallet on the floor and there was moss on my neck and chest. It was dark. Tharus was there, dangling from a fat rope that was swagged across the chamber.

“You’ve been down for a while,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Weak,” I said weakly and scratchily. “And scratchy.”

“Well, you’ve got a right to. You know how long you were down in that hole?”

“Couldn’t tell.”

“It was about three days. Much longer and thirst would have finished you. Did you try drinking your own piss? I know some fellows try that when they don’t have water.”

“No. Doesn’t work. Learned in army.”

“Anyway. We couldn’t find you, and I was the only one they could spare to really search. So Ambe gave me a little magic fan. Helped my nose search out older smells. I was all over the palace trying to find your trail. My advantage was I could ignore all the usual places you’d go, because we already knew you weren’t there. Finally I got a whiff of you down below Comet Halls, and then it was easy. You smelled pretty ripe.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome. The trouble was hauling you up out of there. I could climb up and down pretty good, but I couldn’t carry you while I did it. So I got some rope and tied it around your chest and pulled you up that way.”

“Thanks for saving me. This moss for?”

Tharus shrugged, which looked unnatural for his anteater shoulders. “I think it’s putting water back into your body. I don’t know why you can’t just drink it. Anyway, there’s water next to you if you want. Go slow, you don’t want to puke.”

I looked. There was a pitcher of water and a mug. I wanted to drain the whole thing, but I sipped obediently. It felt wonderful. I cleared my throat. “Is there food?”

“Probably. Ambe will be back soon. We’re all pretty busy around here. Even me.”

I nodded. “What’s happening? What has Lord Clear been doing?”

He shrugged again. “A little of everything. He hasn’t been back to the palace, which I appreciate. Right now I think he’s in the ruins of Cas Crid calling himself the King of Crideon.”

Love,

Ybel

Spring 89: scritch scritch

Dearest Zann,

My vision of myself in Lady Lightcandle’s scullery was the last thing that happened before I became delirious.

After that, I only remember despair. I knew enough to know that there was nothing I could do to save myself, and that terrible things were happening elsewhere. For some reason I kept imagining Jhusdhe’s face. She was as disapproving as ever, but not afraid or alarmed about anything. I asked her for help but she ignored it.

And I heard the scritching of the rats getting louder.

Love,

Ybel

Spring 88: scullery

Beloved Zann,

This is the vision I had, lying on the floor of the oubliette, dying of thirst in the dark. Maybe I’ll tear this page out later; it could get me killed if anyone saw it. But I know I have to write it down for you now.

My mind was trying to find anything to fill the darkness, to make sense of the lack of everything around me. All was stone and pain and need and black. I was thinking of my childhood, of you, of Wande, but it was all gone as quickly as I could conceive of it.

And then it all went away, and I was back in the great house of Lady Lightcandle. I hadn’t known her name until now. I worked as a servant in her manor during the Great Nap. I knew I had, but I only remembered a few details, and never so clearly as this. The Lady herself was tall for a lauran, and beautiful, which they all are, and stately, which only some of them are. I worked in the kitchen, mostly scrubbing pots. I can’t imagine I liked it, but it was the Great Nap: none of us were paying enough attention to know whether we liked anything or not. I remember the kitchen was a sunny, clean place with flowers at the windows. It was a lauran house; even the scullery was nice.

But this particular day there were important visitors. I never found out who they were, but thinking back on it, it must have been one of the Valnelatar family. I can’t imagine the house going to such trouble for anyone else. The cooks were running all over the place preparing their fanciest dishes. The flow of pots through my scullery increased to the point where I could hardly keep up with it. And I overheard one of the lauran servants saying something about “permission to make the Sauce”.

I didn’t know what it was at the time. I still don’t know all that much about it. But I could tell he was saying something important, and even though it was the Great Nap, I was curious.

That evening, the two senior cooks, both lauran, shooed everyone else out of the kitchen. I could hear them murmuring to each other as they prepared this special brew. It seemed very delicate. I suppose, from where I was, I had the perfect place to eavesdrop from, but if I learned any details of how the Sauce was made, I’ve forgotten it. A servant called from outside the kitchen, “Is it ready? The mushrooms are being served!” The cooks couldn’t really go any faster, but I could tell that they were working urgently. I could smell the spices. Ginger, or an ingredient much like it, and then something earthy, and a third thing that I couldn’t actually smell but that my nose knew was present. I wanted some.

I know now that the Sauce is the highest form of lauran magic, that it’s the summary of the highest potential of their people, expressed in the form of food. It is only ever to be made in small amounts, and is only meant for the delectation of the royal family and their chosen intimates. The recipe is a secret only revealed to a few, and those few can be killed out of hand if they pass it on to others. It is certainly not for humans. I heard a story once of two humans who were speculating about the Sauce, and one said he’d like to try pouring some on his skillet cakes, and a lauran overheard them. Killed them both for daring to aspire so high.

Anyway, one of the cooks finally said, “There! Perfect!” and the other one fetched a tray. I leaned over my basin so I could peer through the doorway at them without looking like that’s what I was doing. The first cook balanced a small silver sauce dish in the center of an ornate tray, and put a long spoon in it. The second cook said, “I’ll clear the way!” and bustled out of the kitchen. The first cook followed, carefully, but caught her foot on the edge of the mat and stumbled a little. The long spoon clattered to the floor. “Piss from the stars!” she said, put the tray down delicately, and got a clean spoon. She flung the first spoon into a water-filled basin, with all the other saucepans they had used, retrieved the tray, and hurried out.

The kitchen was empty. I slipped in and picked up the basin of dirty pots that had been used for preparing the Sauce. It was my job! There was no trace of the Sauce itself in any of the pots or sauciers or cocottes. The cooks had been too thorough about rinsing them. But I could see the long spoon in one of those pots, leaning against the side.

It had a thick red drop halfway up the handle, above the waterline. A dark red drop.

I didn’t hesitate. I caught the drop up on a fingertip and put it in my mouth.

And the world opened all around me.

It tasted like everything. Everything good, bad, strange, and familiar. I don’t mean it wasn’t a good taste; it was wonderful. But all the bad tastes were in it too, and that was fine, because they weren’t bad anymore. It tasted like the hottest fires and the most soothing cool water, the sweetest delicacies and the richest broths. And the taste was only the start of it, the door that the Sauce opened into my mind.

Everything I looked at showed me hourglasses and spirals and rainbows, salty and smooth, fragrant and melodic. I could hear the colours and feel the flavours. I could see the stars that were blocked by clouds and the clouds that were blocked by stars. The gods themselves were skeletons of numbers, clad in sugar; the earth was a riot of crystal and lust; time itself a laughing waterfall of lambs and war and textures.

But the edges of my perceptions were ragged. All that was before me was disintegrating in my eyes and ears. I could see myself, the cluster of eyes and arms and knives and leaves that made me Ybel. And I could see the Sauce, and that I was trying to touch the Sauce and it was trying to touch me. And we were touching, in some places. But there were other parts of me that could never touch it. Parts of me that just weren’t right, or at least they didn’t fit right, or shone with the wrong light. And I knew I could never truly, fully, experience the Sauce unless I changed. Became a different person.

I came back to myself. I was, again, a half-asleep servant in Lady Lightcandle’s scullery. I looked for another trace of the Sauce among the pots and pans. Nothing.

I don’t remember anything about how I came to leave Lady Lightcandle’s service. I know that I did change myself, not long after that. (I’m still changing, I suppose.) I don’t know all the details about that time. And eventually I found myself in the Wallentorp army and the Great Nap ended.

And now I need to taste the Sauce again. I went to Crideon because it was closest to the Valnelatars’ palace. And I accepted Candur’s offer of a place in the Rosolla Guard to get into the palace. I’m a patient man. I’m ready for the experience, now, and I just have to find a way to do it. It could take a very long time. But I can do it.

Or, at least, I could do it if I wasn’t dying in an oubliette less than half a mile from the Valnelatars’ High Kitchen.

Love,

Ybel

Spring 87: boot

My dearest Zann,

I just spent a couple of hours trying to throw my boot up the hole of this oubliette. It didn’t work. I can’t see well enough to know whether I just can’t throw it that far, or if the passage has a kink to it that’s blocking my throw.

I’m hungry and thirsty. I’ve heard rats in the distance, but none right in my chamber. If I can lure them in here, that’s a potential food source if I can bring myself to kill one and eat it raw. There were times in my life when I was rough enough to do that, but I don’t know if I can now. I’ve been trying to suck some water out of the trickles in the rock walls, but it’s disgusting and it doesn’t work. I don’t think I got more than a few drops.

Sleep was difficult. No matter how I tried to arrange myself, I was still lying on or against bumpy rocks. At times I couldn’t tell whether I was waking or sleeping. They looked the same and felt the same.

What was Lord Clear doing while I was down here? I didn’t imagine that he’d just give up after I spoiled his first plan. He must have a thousand ideas for crushing the people of Crideon. Who would stop him?

When you’re in the dark for that long and you’re hurt and sleepy and thirsty and troubled, you start to see things. Your mind tells you you’re seeing things in the darkness that aren’t there. What I saw was Lord Clear stalking down Council Street, a terrible sword in each hand. All of the people on the street, running from him, were cut down for him to step over. Then Ran threw a rock at his head. It cut his cheek, and Lord Clear stabbed him in the heart. Jornay shouted and charged at him, and Clear opened his throat while looking in another direction. I couldn’t stop seeing it. It was everywhere I looked, even when I closed my eyes.

I felt like I had to do something. But I couldn’t get out. I needed help. Wasn’t anyone looking for me? They must be. I called out again, “Hoy!” but it came out as a quiet croak. I grabbed the coin around my neck and shouted with all the strength I could summon, “Hoy!”

But there was no answer.

And then I really started to see things.

Love,

Ybel

Spring 86: curtainwall

Most cherished Zann,

I was crouching in the dark, feeling very sorry for myself, and I started thinking about the border-bridge piece Ellewen had been fidgeting with.

Where had he gotten it?

He didn’t keep the border-bridge set at the Public Bureau. It was in his little room nearby. In a carved case on his table. He wouldn’t take just one piece with him out of the room. And he didn’t take the whole set out. So how did the piece come to be in his hand?

Also.

The specific piece was the rear curtainwall. It was a strictly defensive piece, and one of the less important ones. It was a piece that you don’t bother playing unless your position in the game is quite safe.

I thought about this for a long time.

I thought about how subtle Ellewen could be, and about how the two of us spoke when we would talk together.

In the end, I decided that it might be wishful thinking, but probably he had used a tiny amount of lauran glamour, enough to trick my eyes but not Lord Clear’s, to make me think I saw the gamepiece in his hands, and he drew my attention to it, and he was trying to tell me that I was safe. I cried again, for relief, but also from frustration, because obviously I wasn’t safe. Ellewen had been wrong.

I called up through the open pit. “Hoy! Is anyone there? Hoy!”

I tried again, a couple of minutes later.

And some hours later.

I was starting to get thirsty.

Earlier, I had thought that there was no light coming in from above. Now that my eyes were more used to the darkness, I could see that that wasn’t quite true. There was a little bit of light. I could see a round circle of grey above me. Very dim. I could see it, but I couldn’t see anything by its light. I didn’t cast any shadow in it.

My leg hurt.

The skeleton, or skeletons, on the floor… how long have they been here? The palace was only a few years old. But some of the walls and doors down on this level looked like they were centuries old. Did the greenfolk build the palace, or just bring one here that had already been built? There sure hadn’t been any dungeons in these hills for them to build the palace above.

I couldn’t count on anyone coming down to this part of the palace. I needed to make a plan.

Love,

Ybel

Spring 85: creature

Most loved Zann,

Lord Clear grabbed a fistful of my neck, and hauled me out of the side corridor. The expression on his face hadn’t changed in the short time I’d known him, but now I could see some differences. He was very angry with me. His face was tighter around the eyes and there was almost some colour in his skin.

“Ordinarily I would have opened you up from throat to cock by now,” he said. “But you’re one of Ellewen’s pets. And I think just barely highly enough of Ellewen not to slaughter his creatures.” I choked and coughed and struggled to breathe as he dragged me down the hall by the throat. “Here we are, I think. This one smells unpleasant enough.” And he threw me.

The light was very dim and I was disoriented. So I couldn’t make very much sense of what was happening to me. I know now I flew through the air, hit a wall, and slid down it into a dark hole in the floor. I bounced down this hole to a chamber at the bottom, hitting hard, hurting my leg.

I lay in the damp darkness, gathering my wits. Lord Clear didn’t say anything. I could hear his footsteps getting quieter.

He was right about the smell. There was something nasty down here. Rats for sure. The rest could just be old dead rats and rat cack. That would be bad enough. And it was dark. Rainy night at sea dark. I looked up to see if any light was coming down from the little corridor beads, but if it was, it was too faint for me to make out.

I had hit the stone floor painfully. I cautiously extended my leg. Moved my foot. It hurt, but didn’t seem broken. I shifted my shoulders and sat up slowly. Scrapes and bruises, I thought, but nothing worse than that. I stood. Unsteady. The floor was roughly flat, uneven. There was some stuff on the floor; I’d figure it out later. Feeling before me, I stepped forward until I found a wall. It was wet. I felt all the way around. It was a small chamber with no doors. It was, I knew, an oubliette. Drop someone in from the top and forget about them.

The things on the floor. I waved my foot around until I felt something move when I hit it. I picked up whatever it was. Bones. Bones and rags. How many dead people were down here with me? I couldn’t tell. One or two.

I thought of you.

I didn’t want to die down here, but I couldn’t think of what to do about it. Call for help? Climb? Find a secret door? Calling for help might work. The other two certainly ought not to. But, whoever came down here? The guards sure didn’t.

People would be looking for me. I was supposed to be coordinating the whole Lord Clear situation! Candur would know something was wrong. Maybe Ambe could find me magically. Wande wouldn’t just shrug her shoulders when I didn’t come home tonight. Ellewen…

I wondered about Ellewen. Why did he send me away with Clear so easily? Did he not know what kind of person Clear is? Or… I almost couldn’t say it to myself.

Or maybe he just didn’t care about me.

And then I cried for a while.

Love,

Ybel

Spring 84: oops

Most loved Zann,

Lord Clear strode down through the staircases and corridors of Comet Halls, with me tagging along behind. We were soon far underground. He didn’t speak to me, even to ask me the way. Which was fortunate, because I had never been down in this part of the building before. We were passing strange vaults and chambers, archways that beckoned and oubliettes that lurked. Lord Clear never hesitated, knowing exactly where he wanted to go. Sometimes I had to skip into a run to keep up.

I hadn’t even tried to keep track of where we were or how to get back. We were moving too quickly through too much unfamiliar ground for that. I had counted staircases, though, and knew we were seven storeys below ground. Lord Clear stopped.

The corridor we were in was about to turn to the left. There were no doors near us. The only light was from one of the tiny glowing glass balls set into the wall every twenty feet or so. I almost asked him why we had stopped here.

“Corporal Ybel.”

“Lord.”

“Stand in this corner, an it please you.”

I did so.

He drew his sword, and pressed its sharp point to my forehead. Blood trickled into my eyes.

“That you are a Rosolla Guard I know. That you are a friend of Ellewen I also know. But otherwise, what kind of man are you?”

I was cold with sweat. “I’m a. I’m not a very good kind of a man, lord.”

“No? That’s a shame. But tell me this. Are you an obedient man? Are you loyal to those who command you?”

I didn’t have to hesitate. “I am, lord.”

“Are you sure? Think carefully. A truthful answer is wiser for you here than a pleasing one.”

“Yes, lord. I am both truthful and loyal, lord.”

“Well.” He sheathed his bloody sword. “I shall hold you to that. Follow.”

He continued down the corridor. I followed, pressing a handkerchief to the cut in my forehead.

Our destination wasn’t much farther. It was a little side passage off a much wider corridor. It led, with an occasional jog to the left or right, about twenty feet with a slight downward slope, to a grille. “Look inside,” Lord Clear said.

“I can see nothing, lord, it’s too dark.”

“I suppose that’s true. Just a moment.” I could tell he was reaching into a small satchel at his side. “Here, take this, and unwrap it.” He passed me a small object wrapped in leather.

I slipped off the leather bag around the thing. It was a wooden box, larger than my hand. The hinged top opened easily, and inside was a large brass key, glowing green.

“Now look,” he said.

Holding the key up, I peered through the bars of the grille. There was a large chamber beyond, with its walls all covered by protective symbols that reflected to me in the green light. And there was a large pile of something against the far wall. “There is something there,” I said. “I can’t see what it–wait, it’s moving.”

It was moving. It was some kind of great animal, that had been sleeping, but the touch of the green light on its back had roused it. It turned and growled, low. Stalked toward the grille.

It was a vast pig, covered in gray fur, swelling in size as it approached us until its back threatened the ceiling. It had four heads and dozens of legs. The stench of its breath staggered me. I didn’t need Clear to name it for me; I had seen enough images of it since I had come to the city.

“It’s the Beast of Crideon!” I said. “How–“

“Oh, you know it. I was wondering if you would. Now do what I say.”

“How does it come here? It was bound centuries ago! It–“

“Yes, very good, Corporal, I’m not here for your questions. Attend. My people cannot do this. Only a man of Crideon. I cannot touch that key, nor command the Beast with it. Do you see?”

“Yes! Yes!” I would have said anything. The great boar was smashing at the grille with its tusks, charging at it. The grille held, but I seemed to feel every impact. Lord Clear was undisturbed.

“Hold the key up–not like that, like you’re brandishing it. You must say this with some force, some charisma. None of this trembling. Better. Now, hold the key up, and say the following. ‘In the name of Kutor the Hunter and Valo of Walls…'”

“In the name of Kutor the Hunter and Valo of Walls.”

“…I call forth the Boar of the Cridiy…”

“I call forth the Boar of the Cridiy.”

“…to visit destruction on all men and women who would rebel against their lawful lords the greenfolk. Be free from your bonds!”

I stepped forward and threw the key through the grate. It passed harmlessly through the body of the Beast and tinked against the far wall. The Boar continued to gnash against its magical cell. I thought that the whole building was shaking from it.

“Oops,” I said.

Lord Clear’s hand was on my throat, leading me away. “Corporal. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Lord.”

“You have told me falsehoods–“

“Not really.”

“–and created a great deal of additional work for me. The first part of which is, how to dispose of you.”

Love,

Ybel

Spring 83: blithe

Most beloved Zann,

I thought that one useful thing I could do was to ask Ellewen what he knew about Lord Clear. So I left the guardroom and strolled down to the Public Bureau. Thinking back on it, I probably wasn’t as cheerful and blithe as it seems to me now. But I wasn’t on my guard to any great extent.

Ellewen was the only one working at the Bureau when I got there; Ebe and Rodara must have been taking a break or something. But a lauran, a greenfolk, was talking to Ellewen, and Ellewen was laughing. He beckoned me forward when he saw me.

The other greenfolk turned. He was tall, handsome, and well-dressed, with dark blue hair and a slightly weatherbeaten face. I knew who he was before I knew who he was. My feet made shuffling noises as I restrained myself, twice, from running away. “Ellewen,” I said. “I thought I’d come down and see how you were.”

“Of course,” he said. “Lord Clear, this is my friend Ybel. He’s a corporal in the palace guard. Ybel, Lord Clear, one of my fellow enthusiasts about the land of Crideon.”

“Lord,” I said. “Welcome to Hand Extended to the Dawn.”

“Corporal,” Lord Clear said, in a friendly enough voice. “Palace guard, is it? That would be… the Rosollas? Is that fellow Burrisker still commanding them?”

“No, lord. Not for some time, I think.” I hardly recognized the name. He wasn’t the one before Candur, I knew that. The one before that? I didn’t think so.

“So. You’re still a useful fellow, Ellewen,” Lord Clear said. “As it happens, I’ve great use for a palace guard at the moment. Would you mind if I borrowed yours?”

“You’d do better to ask him,” Ellewen said. “I’m certainly not his commander.” Ellewen seemed easy, even though I knew he saw the sudden fear in my eyes.

“I do have duties to return to, lord,” I told him.

He uncurled himself from where he was leaning against the Bureau. “And that’s why you can afford to come down and lounge your time away with young Ellewen here? No, no. You have all the time in the world. No, Ybel, nothing will do but that you accompany me on some private errands I have.” His giant hand closed over my shoulder. “All well?”

“Your servant, lord,” I said. I glanced back at Ellewen. He seemed very unconcerned about my fate; he was playing with a border-bridge piece and making it walk along his knuckles.

“Ellewen, always a pleasure catching up with you. Do try not to immerse yourself in failure and misery any more than is absolutely necessary. Perhaps I’ll look in again while I’m here.”

And he took me away.

Love,

Ybel

Spring 82: Clear

Dearest Zann,

We had a sudden council meeting today in the guardroom. Candur and all of his senior people, plus representatives of the various ambassadorial guards, and the Qualisons from in town. He would have invited the Immaculate Zone if he knew what it actually was. Because Lord Clear is visiting.

Castellan Senrralar told Candur yesterday. I hadn’t heard of Lord Clear but it seems he’s the most deadly dangerous of all laurans. He just kills people all the time. The king summoned him for reasons that Candur doesn’t know but that may have to do with the unrest in Crideon. He’s going to be here tomorrow, and that means that nobody is safe.

So Candur explained the situation to all of us around the room. He told us when Lord Clear was arriving, and when he was expected to leave, and how large his escort would be, and where in the palace he would be staying.

“What does he look like?” Delega said.

Candur pointed at her approvingly. “Tall, well-built, handsome, dark blue hair. Deep voice. Well-dressed. Carries no visible weapons, but many invisible ones. Some old scar tissue around his eyes.”

“Are we allowed to kill him?” asked Lieutenant Praff, using his serious voice.

“That’s not the question,” Candur said. “If you did kill him, it might mean trouble for us, but I don’t mind some trouble. The problem is that he’s too dangerous to fight. I don’t want you trying to kill him. I want you keeping away from him. There’s no telling what he might do. So keep away.”

One of the Amaydyan guard officers, a woman named Wryth, said, “That is easy to say. One cannot keep away from the man if he is talking to a person one is guarding. If he is dangerous, then very good, one needs a tactic that can be used against a dangerous man.”

Ambe spoke up. “I might be able to come up with something. Some kind of charm.”

“You might,” Candur said. “But Lord Clear is also a powerful wizard.”

This produced a period of low grumbles around the table.

Tharus, hanging off of a flagpole above Praff, said, “Who’s he loyal to?”

Candur paused, and said, “That’s a good question. I don’t know the answer. Any more questions? Ideas?”

There weren’t any.

“Then go and get ready. If you want to pass something along to me, find Ybel here. We’ll coordinate everything through him. Anything useful, you’ll hear from me.”

I didn’t mind that. What I minded was the danger. What danger was there in coordinating things with other guard forces? I didn’t know. But I knew there was some. And for a brief second I thought, better me than someone else. Before I came to my wits, I thought that.

Love,

Ybel