Moons of Carnathia, page 20
“Have you heard any of the stories about the Tower of Sky?” asked Alma. She had a faraway look in her eyes, thoughtful and full of memories.
“No,” said Zak. “I’ve only ever seen it from a distance. I think you’re the only person I’ve really known that’s even been inside.”
“The Malnians tell stories about how it once reached all the way up,” she said. “Beyond the sky and into the void.”
Zak took a closer look at it. It was midafternoon, and the positioning of the sun made it hard to look at the top of the tower directly. It almost did seem to stretch on indefinitely, and the intensity of the sun’s brightness forced him to look away after a second.
“That’s quite the reputation,” said Zak. “Somehow, I feel like the truth behind it is probably just as fantastical.”
“You’d be right about that,” said Iathia. “Remind me to tell you about it the next time I get a chance.”
Zak glanced over at Iathia, who had a grin on her face, and a strange gleam in her eyes. She was sitting on the other side of Zak, to his left, while Alma was to his right. She still had on the low-cut sleeveless green dress, and it made the two women seem like contrasting statements of sexuality. Alma gave Zak a curious look after a second or two.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Look, just follow my lead once we get to the island. You’re here in the capacity of my guardian. You won’t have to do much other than smile and keep a polite tongue.”
“Easier said than done,” said Zak. Alma stared at him blankly, and he tested his smile on her. She shrugged.
“Good enough,” she said.
Zak hadn’t realized how far ten minutes by gondola actually was, given that the Sarthal River’s current carried a ways out into the sea. The Tower of Sky looked gigantic when viewed from the city, but up close, it was massive enough to strain his neck as he tried to make out the top. A strange, irrational kernel of fear formed in his stomach, as though part of Zak was unable to set aside the idea that the massive stone structure was going to collapse in his direction, killing him as solidly as a stonefall’s landing.
The island was no more than a half mile across in diameter, with most of that being taken up by the base of the Tower of Sky. A wall looped the section nearest to it, creating a circular courtyard. A single dock, made of a strange, perforated black rock, extended out toward them. Several other gondolas were in the process of unloading passengers, and Zak and Alma waited on theirs for a spot to open up for them to disembark.
He stepped off the gondola first, reaching a hand to help Alma up. Several groups of Malnians were making their way toward the gate leading to the tower’s courtyard, all of them dressed in clothes even finer than what Alma had picked out for him earlier that day.
“Come on,” said Alma. “Just hold your head up high and follow my lead.”
“Alright.” Zak smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.
Well that certainly puts me at ease, he thought.
They walked up the beach and through the gate, and for the second time that day, Zak was caught off guard by what lay behind it. The courtyard was a work of art. To one side, he saw a curated garden, filled with perfectly manicured fruit trees of all varieties, flowers with petals the size of his hands, and tiny, seemingly domesticated birds.
The stairs leading up to the tower itself were unusually large, each step at least twice the size or more of what Zak was used to. The doors at the base of the tower were crafted in the same style of the buildings in the central city, large wing shaped slabs that slid across each other to open, rather than pushing or pulling like normal.
The Emperor’s guests milled around on the grass, which looked just as well kept as everything else within the courtyard. There were around seventy or eighty people in total, enough for lively conversation, but not so many that Zak could feel at ease blending into the crowd.
“Who are all of these people?” asked Zak. He felt stupid asking, but couldn’t help himself. Alma was scanning the crowd as much as he was, and didn’t answer immediately.
“Everyone that matters,” said Alma.
“I… don’t see the Under King of Arkaia,” said Zak. “Or any of the… Under Princes.”
Alma frowned at him, and he felt a knot of apprehension form in his stomach.
“Of course not,” said Alma.
“Why am I here, again?” asked Zak. “And, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?”
Alma looked as though he’d just slapped her in the face. It took Zak a moment to realize why. The courtyard crowd had greeted her with passing glances. He remembered how it had been on the first night he’d seen her, singing for the crowd in the tavern, the only Arkaian songstress.
“Sorry,” said Zak. “I’m just a little… out of my element.”
Alma nodded, accepting his apology. A servant walked up to her and took the ribbon-wrapped wine bottle from her hands.
“It’s alright,” she said. “I’m here because I have to be here, Zak. It’s my job. It’s more than just—”
“Alma!” A voice, firm, feminine and commanding, came from behind them. Zak turned around to see a woman walking toward them.
“Lady Tonia!” Alma bent low into a bow that almost brought her down to one knee. Zak followed suit, feeling a little bit foolish, and almost tripping himself on his sword.
“Please,” said Lady Tonia. “No need for such formalities between us, child.”
She smiled, flashing perfectly white teeth. She had long blonde hair, and wore a dress of emerald green. The sleeves were long, as per standard Malnian fashion, but the front of it was cut low, exposing a tantalizing amount of cleavage, and a long slit ran up one leg.
“And who is this?” asked Lady Tonia.
“My apologies,” said Alma. “Lady Tonia, this is Zakarias of Arkaia, my devoted guardian. Zakarias, this is Lady Tonia of Song, the Emperor’s Master of Echoes.”
“Uh…” Zak kept a smile on his face as he tried to fumble his way through an appropriate greeting. “It’s very nice to meet you, milady. Truly an honor.”
Lady Tonia extended her hand, and after a baffling second, Zak realized that she meant for him to kiss it. He leaned forward, bringing his lips down to it and trying to keep his gaze focused on appropriate parts of her body.
It wasn’t just that Lady Tonia was attractive. She was, more so than almost any woman Zak had seen before, absolutely stunning, a creature of eroticism and feminine beauty. She was more attractive than women half her age, easily, with an ample bosom and buttocks that celebrated the tight fabric of her dress. There was something in her voice, in the way she stood, in the power of her attention, and it made him feel as though he was naked in her presence.
“There is magic at work here,” whispered Iathia. “Be on guard.”
Zak let his lips linger on the back of her hand for a moment and then pulled back. Alma seemed nervous, and the emotion was contagious. He kept smiling and waited for someone to say something.
“You said your name was Zakarias?” asked Lady Tonia. “Zakarias of Arkaia?”
She looked directly into his eyes, and Zak could feel what Iathia meant. Lady Tonia was seeing beyond the surface, as though he was an open book in front of her. She could do whatever she wanted, and under that gaze, he doubted he’d have any chance of maintaining even a thread of his own will.
“Yes,” he said.
A smile spread across Lady Tonia’s face, broad and genuine, and so unlike Alma. She was open about what she wanted, and for some reason, she wanted him. The moment dragged on, and Zak began to find it hard to remember where he was or what he was doing there, or anything beyond the deep green of Lady Tonia’s eyes, and the soft cleavage of her bust.
Alma cleared her throat loudly and took Zak’s hand in hers, squeezing it hard enough to hurt.
“If you’ll excuse us, Lady Tonia,” she said, in a voice polite enough to charm the wind.
“Of course,” said Lady Tonia. The smile never left her face and she looked from Alma, to Zak, and then back to Alma. “I’m glad you’ve finally found yourself a guardian, child.”
She turned and walked away from them, her hips swaying from side to side with each step. Zak let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and felt heat rush out of his chest.
“Wow,” he said. “She’s… intense.”
Alma pulled him in a little closer and looked over both shoulders, making sure nobody else was within earshot.
“Stay away from her!” she whispered. “You have to promise me that you will stay far, far away from her.”
Zak furrowed his brow.
“Any particular reason why?” he asked.
“Dozens of them,” said Alma. “She used to be a songstress. Several of her cousins still are, and sing freely at her command.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” said Zak.
“Her sister, Amalia, is one of the Emperor’s concubines,” said Alma.
Zak nodded, not fully understanding the point that Alma was trying to make.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay away from her.”
Alma frowned slightly.
“But… do it without ending up on her bad side,” she said. “She’s the Master of Echoes. Which means—”
“I know what that means,” said Zak.
He’d heard enough stories before about Lord Emperor Altreis II, the current Emperor’s father. How paranoia had taken root in the man’s heart, and pushed him into suspecting large swaths of the city, nobility and peasants alike, of treason. He’d used his Master of Echoes, and all of the spies serving under him, like a razor, assassinating people as though he was cutting loose soured flesh.
“Will you be okay on your own for a minute?” asked Alma.
Zak started to answer, but she’d already stepped away from him, headed off toward a small crowd of people to the side of the courtyard. He scratched his head and looked around, feeling every bit as out of place as he actually was.
CHAPTER 28
ZAK
Zak walked around the courtyard in slow circles, scanning the various crowds of people and hoping for social salvation. He stood out from the Malnians and the clothes Alma had purchased for him could only do so much to change that. His skin was tanned, his hair shaggy, and even his stubble, which was currently in fashion amongst the noblemen of Mal, was a little too rugged to be stylish.
A servant stepped up to him, offering out a stone platter with a crystal glass goblet of wine. He was Arkaian, and had a familiar face, though Zak was relatively sure they’d never met before. He took the goblet and nodded to the man.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll probably need a couple of these before the night is through.”
The servant bowed, lowering his head as deeply and respectfully as he would to any Malnian. Zak frowned.
“What’s your name?” he asked. The servant flinched slightly, as though unused to receiving any attention from the Emperor’s guests.
“Danyo, milord,” he said.
Zak smiled.
“What do you know about this lot?” He gestured to the nobles of the court.
Danyo glanced from side to side nervously.
“Just act like you’re telling me about the wine,” said Zak.
The servant nodded.
“It’s the Emperor’s court,” he said. “All of the highborn of Mal, Westmark, and Far Coast.”
Zak took a sip of the wine, which had a sweet and sour flavor that flared against his taste buds.
“Is the Emperor here?” he asked. Zak had never seen the man in person before, and after thinking for a second, it seemed unlikely that he would be able to blend seamlessly into the crowd.
“No,” said Danyo. “Most of his council is, however. The man closest to the tower’s entrance, by that group of guards, is Lord Kilgrove, Master of Swords.”
Zak looked over at where Danyo had indicated. Lord Kilgrove was a battered looking man, with scars crisscrossing his pale neck almost like tattoos. He was in his mid-forties, tall, and stern looking, as though he’d been born without the requisite muscles to form a proper smile.
“Lord Kilgrove…” repeated Zak. “Who else is on the Emperor’s council? Besides Lady Tonia, who I’ve already met.”
Danyo swallowed, and nodded discreetly toward a man on the far side of the courtyard, standing apart from the crowd, just as Zak was. He was balding, and the thin wisps of hair he had left were curly and streaked with grey. His wrinkled face looked tired, and though he smiled, his eyes looked distant, as though he was deep in thought.
“That’s Zargiel, the Stonemage,” said Danyo.
“Not Lord Zargiel?”
Danyo shook his head.
“He’s no lord,” he said.
Zak took a closer look at the man, frowning a bit at his vacant, emotionless features.
What, exactly, is he then?
Somebody shouted something from one of the nearby crowds, and Danyo broke away, walking back toward a door in the side of the tower that Zak assumed was the servant’s entrance. He put a smile on his face and tried to act casual as he continued walking through the courtyard, looking for Alma.
He found her standing within one of the Emperor’s flower gardens, standing on the edge of a crowd. Zak could hear the liveliness of the conversation as he approached, and he could see that Alma wasn’t actively involved. She was almost just there as an observer, meek and quiet, a different girl from the one he’d come to know and protect.
One of the people in the crowd made a joke that he couldn’t overhear, and all of them burst out in laughter, except Alma. A few glanced in his direction. Zak made a show of lifting his wine glass up to them in salute and flashing a smile.
“You should go over there,” said Iathia, grinning wickedly. “Introduce yourself.”
“I think you’re onto something, this time,” whispered Zak.
He walked toward the group of nobles. Alma watched him approach, pleading silently at him with her eyes. Zak smiled back and felt an excited thrill run up his back. He thought of the Arkaian feasts, really more like drunken pig roasts, back in the islands. There was something open and honest about that way of doing things, without the tactful diplomacy and subtleties that the Malnians seemed to thrive on.
“Well met,” he said, stepping up next to Alma and addressing the group. “Zakarias of Arkaia. I’m Alma’s new bodyguard.”
Alma glared at him, her cheeks flushing pink against her tan. Zak extended his hand out toward the girl that appeared to be guiding the conversation. She offered back a tepid smile and tilted her hand down over his.
“You’re her… bodyguard?” The girl laughed, and from the tone, Zak placed her as a songstress. “Really, Alma? It’s refreshing to see you affording an Arkaian with such an honor, but it doesn’t seem like he has the self-awareness to adequately appreciate it.”
The group laughed, and Zak pulled his hand back. He raised an eyebrow at Alma, and she took him aside, away from the others.
“You… aren’t my bodyguard, Zak,” she said, softly. “You’re my guardian.”
“Uh…” He shook his head slightly. “I’m not sure I’m hearing the difference between the two.”
“Being the guardian of a songstress is considered a great honor in Malnia.” Alma spoke the words reluctantly, and almost looked angry, or pained by what she was saying. “Usually, a songstress has anywhere from two to five guardians. It’s considered a statement of a man’s ability if a songstress chooses to rely only on one.”
“You could have told me this earlier,” said Zak.
“And let it go to your head?” asked Alma.
Zak shrugged.
“I’m just an Arkaian savage,” he said. “I still don’t understand why this is considered an honor to begin with.”
Alma looked as though she was about to explode. She opened her mouth and then seemed to bite back her initial words.
“I still haven’t officially made you my guardian,” she said, through gritted teeth. “You’ll hold your tongue if you know what’s good for you.”
Zak was in the process of forming a rebuttal when another girl walked over, one that hadn’t been in the group from before. She was about the same age as Alma, except taller, slighter of build, and with jet black hair.
“Alma,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”
For the first time since coming to the tower and possibly since he’d met Alma, Zak saw her relax slightly and lower her guard. She smiled, and the expression fit her face beautifully, lighting up her eyes and making it hard for him to look away.
“Denala,” said Alma. She extended her arms, pulling the taller girl into a hug. The two parted after a couple of seconds, and Alma gestured to Zak, still smiling, their argument and her previous mood totally forgotten. “This is my guardian, Zakarias of Arkaia.”
“Zakarias of Arkaia,” said Denala. “I’m Denala, songstress of Far Coast. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” said Zak. He shook her hand, feeling caught off guard.
Not all of the Malnian nobles are the same, he thought. They’re just like everyone else.
“How did the two of you meet?” asked Denala. “I don’t mean to pry, honestly. It’s just that… Alma had been in need of a guardian for months.”
“Is that so?" asked Zak. He rested an idle hand on the hilt of his sword, thinking back to their first meeting in the alleyway, and wondering what kind of impact he must have left on her to end up in his new role.
I must have made a really good impression, he thought. Killing to save her, like it’s just what I do.
“Zakarias proved himself to me,” said Alma. “On the first day we met, in fact. I always told you I was waiting for the right guardian to find me, Denala.”
“And he just so happens to be the right one?” she asked, smiling. Alma looked away awkwardly, and Denala laughed.
“Oh, come now, Alma, you know I’m only teasing,” she said. “Here, let me bring over my guardian to make nice with Zakarias while we catch up.”
Denala waved to someone in another section of the courtyard. Zak heard footsteps approaching from behind him, and turned around to see Lord Byron of Far Coast walking over. He ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword, feeling the burns on his chest as though they’d been dealt afresh.
