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rainbowfic2023-08-25 08:53 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2023-08-25 08:53 pm
Tourmaline #17 [Starfall]
Name: Take to the Streets
Story: Starfall
Colors: Tourmaline #17 (home/far off place)
Supplies and Styles: Stained Glass + Portrait + Panorama
Word Count: 6040
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of mild injury, assassination attempt, mild panic attack.
Notes: 1313 Portcallan; Viyony Eseray, Seahra Jadinor, Leion Valerno, Eollan Barra, Tana Veldiner, Mierly Modelen, Laida Modelen, Nia Delant, Ranir Maraseny, Rodern Ylie, Iyana Valerno. (The start proper of the 24 years early storyline. I wasn’t sure how to do this incident and then thought about making it a Stained Glass. No need to worry about everyone in it; it hopefully works as a taster, plus more of Leion and Viyony’s family and connections, who we’ve met before.)
Summary: It’s the day of the Grand Procession and Opening of the High Chambers in Portcallan. A festival day, but someone’s got very different ideas for this year’s event…
(Stormbird 15, first day of the Little Spring)
i. Viyony (Hour 8)
Viyony opened her eyes to bright Portcallan morning light, so different from Eseray, where there was a permanent grey tinge to the day’s start at this time of the year. She closed her eyes to it, half caught in the dream from which she’d awoken. It played out again in her mind: a sudden flash of sun on a silver blade in the midst of cheering crowds, her heartbeat thumping hard in her head at the danger.
She sat up and pressed her head down on her knees. The evening before last, when Aunt Diyela had bid Viyony good night, she’d caught hold of her hand in bony fingers, and said with quiet emphasis, “We don’t dream things in Portcallan. You understand, don’t you, dear?”
It was easy enough to ignore the dream in some ways – the images remained sharp in her mind, but their meaning was opaque – but that always led to a headache. Worse, somewhere nearby, someone would be harmed by something she might have been able to prevent if this had happened at Eseray.
Viyony knew everyone in Eseray, if only by sight or repute. She could easily recognise places she glimpsed in nightly visions from the slightest clue. Being Grandmother’s heir gave her the authority to act. It wasn’t easy, but she always had somewhere to start.
Portcallan, in comparison, was vast and mostly unknown to her. It was currently packed with officials and visitors, any number of whom she had passed in the streets or glimpsed from the windows of the Gerro house, and that, she knew, might be sufficient contact to trigger her dreams. Yesterday had been the day of swearing in, with solemn ceremonies held for the members of both chambers. Today, the High Governor was to lead the annual procession through the streets to High Chamber Square to take their place at the head of the High Council, and after there would be celebrations all over the city – fireworks and bonfires on the beach, and a grand reception in the Chamber Hall.
What could Viyony do to avert danger here? She had nothing to go on; no one who would listen to her. She grimaced, and pushed back the bedcovers, thrusting the dream firmly aside with them. Time to get up, get washed and dressed for the day. Forget the way the images pressed themselves so urgently into her head and join everyone else in celebrating.
She moved across the room to survey her reflection in the mirror, standing half-awake in a cream-coloured night dress. Viyony-in-the-glass gave a twisted, wry smile. “We don’t dream in Portcallan,” Viyony told herself wryly, and turned away.
ii. Seahra Jadinor (Hour 10)
Seahra had arrived at the High Chambers two hours before she was needed. She had been ready and waiting for at least an hour and a quarter of that time. Now she was wearing a groove into the floorboards of her office, but better to be too early than risk being late.
She straightened her ceremonial blue and gold robes for the sixth time, and turned around, trying to view herself without a mirror to hand. You’re one person in a procession of hundreds, she reminded herself. Nobody will be looking at you, only at the High Governor, at the whole spectacle.
She’d been so excited to be appointed as Deputy Steward to the Chamber only a few weeks ago, but that time had been spent in preparation for the start of the government year. Running around helping the Steward to organise affairs had been easy. It was what she was good at. Finding herself yesterday, in the Empty Temple, swearing her oath with the other permanent staff officials, had brought the enormity of home and shaken her. She was the youngest person to have ever held this role. It was an honour she didn’t want to wreck, both for herself and for her family. Seahra pressed both hands to her face. Breathe in, breathe out. Keep calm. It would be fine once the ceremonial parts were over.
Why was it not the eleventh hour already? Why was this ridiculous, archaic march not yet finished? She turned in a circle and then sat down on her desk, before rising again sharply. She didn’t want to spill ink on the robe or catch a stray piece of paper on it.
Someone whistled outside the door, and she leapt up and crossed to pull it open as Leion tried to push it from the other side, causing him to half-fall into the room.
“Leio! How did you get in here?”
Leion grinned. “Oh, you know me. I turn up everywhere.” He raised his eyebrows. “You look very grand and important indeed. Should I kneel? Or merely bow?”
“Neither unless you want me to kick you,” said Seahra, but she caught at his arm. “Oh, I’m glad you came. I wish this parade was over! Why must we waste our time with this nonsense every year?”
“Tradition. Letting the people have a party. The High Councillors showing their faces to the masses. All that kind of thing.” He drew back, the laughter fading from his face. “I can’t stay – I have to get back down to Riverside in time to find somewhere to stand and wave at you as you go by. But I knew you’d be worrying for no reason –”
“No reason? Do you realise how much responsibility this role entails?”
“Yes,” said Leion. “If you don’t attend to it, some High Councillor might be lost for a sheet of paper at a vital instant, may the stars forbid.”
Seahra glared.
“Yes, all right. I’m not really here to plague you. Quite the opposite, actually – I hope.” He fished in first one jacket pocket and then the other and finally pulled out a small box with a flourish. “I wasn’t sure when to give you this – it’s in honour of your great elevation – but it struck me that now was sure to be the moment.”
Seahra opened it to reveal a small starflower on a fine golden chain. “Oh, Leio.”
“Obvious, I know,” he said with a short, awkward laugh. “But – well – for luck.”
Seahra put it down carefully on the surface on the desk, and then hugged him tightly, blinking away tears.
“Does this mean you like it?” he said as she let him go.
She turned around, putting her back to him and lifted up her thick dark curls out of the way. “Put it on. Luck is exactly what I need right now. After this, I can get back to what I’m meant to be doing – what I’m good at.”
Leion obliged, although he fiddled with the tiny clasp for long enough to worry her that someone might call her to start lining up. Then he kissed her cheek, a clumsy, rushed peck, and when she turned, winked before he disappeared into the corridor; she heard his footsteps heading away at a near run.
Seahra shook her head, but one hand went to the chain, and she smiled. Sometimes it seemed hardly any time ago that they’d been foisted on each other – she twelve and he only six – but things like this reminded her that it had been over twenty years ago. She’d looked after Leion for so long, she still found it startling when he turned round these days and did the same for her.
iii. Eollan Barra (Hour 10, and a quarter)
The rest of the family were gathering in the main upper room where there was a balcony, but Eollan hung back in his room. He leant against the window sill, watching the crowds below on Riverside with a small curl of a smile on his face. It had been so long since he’d been in Portcallan for the Grand Opening, but he was back at last. He drew back and brushed down his dark green jacket – softer material than his uniform. Stars, it was good to leave it off, to choose what he wanted to wear – and to do with his time. Seven years! He might as well have been in exile.
“You know people are waiting to see you?”
He raised his head and turned to look at his sister, Tameth, standing in the doorway. “Oh, I’ll make my big entrance soon enough, don’t worry. Who’s here?”
“The Barra cousins – Atino excepted, of course – some of the Warderns, and Tess Hyan, I think.”
Eollan raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t think Tess would be welcome.”
“The tide has come in and out a few times since you went away,” Tameth said flatly. “She doesn’t blame the rest of us for Atino’s behaviour.”
“Glad to hear it.” Eollan straightened himself. Despite his earlier thoughts, his movements were brisk, regimental. They drummed these things into you, didn’t they? “Go on. Tell Mother not to fuss. I’m not going to stay in here on my own.”
Tameth nodded and shut the door quietly behind her. Eollan returned his attention to the street scene below. The first heralds of the main processions were making their way along now – sellers of food and drink and tourist tat, one of the first music bands, and a few stray uniformed guardians, keeping their eye on the crowds.
“Civilisation at last,” he said, and smiled. He’d seen a good deal of Emoyra during his tenure in the army and a few odd places outside it, but solitary mountain or wasteland forts were uncomfortable, stars-forsaken places, one and all. Give him the noise of the crowd here, the city’s grandest buildings, and beyond that the endless sea. Portcallan was his place: he felt its current excitement thrumming in his veins as if only now was he whole again.
Now he could take hold of everything he’d learned and bring it back home with him. He was going to make a difference here, he swore it.
Then he pulled away from the window with a short, self-conscious laugh. He shook his head. First things first: go and do the pretty with the family.
iv. Tana Veldiner (Hour 11)
Tana Veldiner followed in Leion’s wake through the crowd. She’d met him coming out of the High Chambers and tagged along. When they stopped, bumping up against a knot of people between them and the side of the street, she poked him. “I thought when you invited me to come with you, you meant you had a nice Riverside upper parlour to go to!”
Leion grabbed at her arm and pulled her through a gap, finally emerging at the front of the crowd lining Riverside. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“I suppose it’ll be easier to get away from down here if there’s trouble.”
He glanced aside at her. “Not expecting any, are you?”
“No, or I’d be on duty,” she said. She was the most junior officer in the room – she hadn’t even been working for the government’s intelligence organisation for as long as a year yet – but if they were really afraid of something happening, even she would have been kept hard at work somewhere. “But there are some Rosfallen Leaguers and other disunionists around and you know how irate they are about High Governor Aradellen’s policies on that front.”
Leion rolled his eyes. “Why did I ask you to come with me? You’re going to suck all the joy out of it, aren’t you?”
Tana, who had been instinctively studying the windows and balconies above, stopped. Heat stole into her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to be a bore. One starts thinking of these things after a while in the job.” She narrowed her gaze. “Why don’t you have an invite? I was sure you’d be at the Modelen place if nowhere else.”
“Yes,” said Leion, “but they have guests and I wanted to be somewhere I could be sure of Seah seeing me when she goes past. Plus, as you say, it’ll be easier to get away afterwards. I need to find Arna – she’s standing near the Square with the children. Mother won’t be here and Tam’s in the procession anyway, so I’m trying to represent the family in two places at once, or as near as I can manage. Is that answer enough, or do you want to take me back for interrogation?”
“I don’t interrogate people,” said Tana stiffly. “And far too much of an answer, thank you. I only meant – I thought you disliked crowds.”
Leion twisted his head towards her, abandoning his attempt to wave over a seller of hot cakes that, Tana thought, was probably for the best. “What?” he said. “Nonsense! I may not have done when I was younger – you know what families are. Don’t listen to them.”
Tana shrugged. She was more concerned when he started after the food vendor again. “Leion, leave it. Goodness knows what they have in them.”
“Is there anything you don’t worry about?”
“It’s my job,” said Tana. She wrinkled her nose as he persisted in chasing after the seller despite her warnings. Really, she’d have thought after the whole business they’d both been through with Atino and everything that they’d done since, that Leion would have learned to worry more himself.
She smothered a sigh under her breath and then clapped the first straggling walking musicians. She wished she hadn’t come. It didn’t feel in the least like a holiday to her.
v. Mierlise Modelen (Hour 11, and a quarter)
“Mierlise! Careful, dear, or you’ll fall.”
Mierly continued to lean too far over the balcony, heedless of her aunt’s warnings. She was much more interested in the goings-on below now that the main body of the procession had started to pass by. She drew back only to clap the band as they halted there to perform. Her friend Nia, beside her, threw out paper starflowers, coloured in gold, white and bright blue.
“I can see blue robes behind them,” Mierly told everyone else, craning forward again.
Laida, on her other side, said into her ear, “Or it’s just more soldiers’ uniforms.”
It was about time that the main High Council should be passing by, so Mierly ignored her sister’s sarcasm. She might have made that mistake three times already, but she was right this time. She leant to her left, catching at Nia’s arm. “Yes, look!”
They all knew people in the procession, especially Seahra Jadinor, who was a friend of the Modelens, and practically a relation of Nia’s (some sort of in-law), and then neither of them wanted to miss the High Governor in her grandest ceremonial robes. Mierly also hoped despite all reason that, with all these guards and soldiers about, one of them would turn out to be Kettah Jadinor sent home for the occasion.
Nia leant in against Mierly, her pale arms close against Mierly’s warm brown, and then squeezed her hand. “I’m sure that officer is watching us.” She waved, and Mierly tried to follow her gaze, seeing a young man in the dark Rosfallen blue, frowning upwards at them. He was, she supposed, without too much interest, rather handsome.
Mierly leant even further forward, causing her aunt to gasp, far enough so that she could look past Nia to their guest. “I think it’s you he’s looking at, Imai Eseray.”
“Yes, I think he’s one of the soldiers I ran into on the road south,” Viyony said. “Captain Maraseny, I believe.” She put up a hand to shield her eyes from unexpectedly bright sunshine as it emerged from behind the clouds.
Mierly turned her head away from the soldier, but before she could exclaim at the first sight of the High Governor nearing them, Viyony gave a sudden shiver, and tugged Nia down so sharply they both fell into the floor of the balcony beside Mierly. Everyone else turned their heads.
“Get down,” said Viyony, her arm around Nia. “Everyone – move back – get down!”
Her tone was so imperative that Mierly pulled back against the curtain and dropped to her knees there, beside Laida, and she heard the movements and murmurs as most of the others did the same. She lifted her head to ask why, but something flew over the balcony, too fast to see. It hit the wall of the house with a startling thump, flaring up into brief orange flame before dying away to harmless sparks and then black dust, swept away by the breeze.
Mierly caught sight of the crowds below through the carved stone bars on the balustrade. Everyone was in motion, the bystanders merging with the marchers, despite the efforts of the soldiers and guardians, while shouts and cries of confusion and alarm rose upwards.
“Viyony,” said Laida from beside Mierly. She was still hanging onto Mierly’s sleeve. “How did you know?”
Viyony paused in the act of helping Nia back to her feet. Nia pulled faces at the state of her red dress, trying to brush away dust.
“I didn’t,” Viyony said breathlessly. “Not truly. What was it?”
Mierly risked pulling herself up enough to look over the balcony properly, but it was hard to tell. People were still milling around, although the guards were ushering away the blue-robed officials as best as they could. There were tighter, unmoving clusters of people, some of them in distinctive blue and gold robes, a little way short of Modelen House, but she couldn’t see if anyone was had been hit or fallen in the confusion.
“The High Governor,” said Laida, arriving beside Mierly. She leant out, craning her head even further, and coughed at the smoke still floating in the air. “She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
Or killed, thought Mierly, her eyes widening. Limp and crumpled paper festival flowers she’d been clutching in her hands unheeded all this while fell out onto the balcony floor, softly stolen by the wind. Everybody was thinking the same – they avoided each other’s eyes, but nobody voiced it.
“That nice captain has gone,” Nia said, oblivious to everyone else’s shared fears. Dark brown hair, shaken loose in the excitement, blew around her head. “I hope he’s all right.”
“Let’s hope everyone is,” said Laida, and she pressed Mierly’s hand warmly.
Nia was still looking out. She twisted round suddenly, to try and see upwards. “Everyone – I think the wall of the house is smoking!”
vi. Ranir Maraseny (Hour 11 and a quarter)
The 2nd Rosfallen regiment had been ordered to join the detail keeping watch on the High Council procession, while otherwise kicking their heels in Portcallan waiting to be shipped out to West Korphil. Ranir wasn’t sorry: it gave him a close view of the celebrations and he’d never been to Portcallan before. It’d give him something to write home about.
Walking slowly up and down a small stretch of Riverside, making sure the watchers kept to the sides of the street – the widest and grandest in the city – he cast an eye upwards to the balconies of the great houses that lined it. He caught sight of a familiar face in one of them and frowned. He didn’t know anyone likely to be sitting up in what someone in the crowd was busy telling everyone around them loudly was the Modelen house.
He risked another look, and recognition struck him: Imai Eseray, whom he had seen in passing several times on the way south. He thought about raising his hand to her, but wasn’t sure she’d remember him. But before he turned his attention away and back to the crowds, beginning to press forward now the main body of the procession was approaching them, Imai Eseray stared hard at him – or something beside him, he realised, and then she suddenly vanished out of sight, dragging down the girl beside her along with her.
Ranir swung around, following her gaze in search of what could have alarmed her. Nearby, one of the High Guards, carrying a silver staff had, as the musicians played, stepped aside. They were now lowering that staff, and dismantling it. The stray guard, with a quick glance at their immediate neighbours busy cheering the oncoming High Council officials, adjusted their stance, shifting their hold on the adjusted ceremonial staff, as if it were a weapon.
Training took over. Ranir moved without thought. He was at the guard’s side in an instant. He gave a yell and grabbed at them, ruining their aim as something shot out of the odd projectile weapon. People struggled to move back as the distinctive orange flare of firestone soared over the heads of the marchers, and then fell back down, as if in wicked mockery of the paper flowers others were still throwing. One stray fiery missile hit the Modelen house close to the balcony.
The attacker kicked free of Ranir’s hold on their arm, pushing away through the crowds, who were surging about, the scene rapidly threatening to turn into one of mass panic as everyone fought to get away.
“Stop that guard!” Ranir shouted, but the noise of the crowd had risen to a pitch that drowned out his voice. He forced his way through the press of people, determined not to lose the assassin.
The blue-green of the High Guards’ uniform made them easy to pick out, but as he pushed on, other guards came running towards the source of trouble. Ranir kept his eye closely on the silver of the weapon as well as the distinctive colour, doggedly behind his quarry as they made it onto the cliff top path, pushing others out of the way as they raced upwards.
Ranir didn’t stop, nor did he look back at what was going on behind him. There were plenty of others ready to help anyone who’d been hurt. He had to make sure this villain didn’t get away with it.
vii. Leion Valerno (Hour 11 and a quarter)
A low rumble of dissatisfaction passed through the crowd as the delay stretched on and the gap in the procession lengthened. A few people tried to walk out into the centre of the street to get a better look at what was coming, or not coming, towards them, while others jeered. The rumble slowly turned into something more alarming, as citizens and guardians started coming down the street instead of the expected musicians and officials.
“Something’s wrong,” said Tana, at Leion’s side. “I’d better go and see what.” She pressed her hand on his arm briefly in farewell and slipped away through the mass of people.
Leion watched her progress, his gaze narrowing. Before he could decide what to do, his first thought going to Seahra, the crowd turned from a bored set of bystanders trying to push forward onto the street into a swirling sea of panic as others came hurrying down the street, shouting about an attack.
Leion tried to edge back, but he wasn’t the only one trying to leave: he was caught in a whirlpool of people, thrust up against a bulky figure and pressed there against his side. He caught at the man’s jacket to avoid being pushed over in the closed space. The guardians had better do something, or people would be crushed. Leion gritted his teeth, trying to hold his ground and not give way to rising fear. He’d been part of a worse crowd than this, many years ago – battered and carried on by an inorexable tide of furious people, down steep roads to the sea front –
He shuddered but concentrated on breathing, ignoring people being shoved into him as they tried to pass, or pressed up against him. Fore the moment, he must only make sure he kept his head. He wasn’t a child any more.
“Hey,” said a voice, as the immediate press eased out a little. Leion raised his head, finding that the large man he’d been run into, had caught hold of him, steadying him as the crush thinned out. “You all right?”
Leion straightened himself, the heat of shame staining his cheeks. He pulled away. “Yes, yes – fine!” Then he caught his breath. “Sorry,” he added. “Thanks. Nothing to worry about!”
The guardians and soldiers had let people into the main body of the street, directing them forward, away from the stopped procession.
Leion watched them, and then grabbed at the nearest person coming down from the other end of Riverside. “What’s happened?”
“They’ve killed the High Governor! Flames everywhere!” The man pulled away. “There were people screaming – burnt, horribly burnt – let me go!”
Leion released. Ask a stupid question, he thought, and prayed to every last Power that that was only panicked hyperbole. He needed to get off Riverside and find someone who knew what the truth was. Trouble was, even now the first crush had eased out, the slow-moving crowd was blocking all the immediate exits, and he didn’t fancy trying something as desperate as jumping into the river below to make a quick escape.
That left only one option. He shuffled along with the mass of people in the street, edging away to his left as he did so, aiming for the large town houses. If the crowd got out of control again, getting shoved over the railings might not be out of the question.
Leion studied the faces watching from the balconies above until he lighted on someone he knew would help out. He slipped past a knot of people to shelter in the doorway of the Ylie house, making sure he was standing where he was visible to the family above. He whistled once, catching the attention of young Rodern Ylie. Leion waved and whistled again. Rodern’s face lightened as he spotted him, and then he vanished from the group on the balcony.
Moments later the door behind Leion opened and he fell inside as Rodern shut it behind him, bolting it after for good measure.
“What’s going on?”
Leion straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair. He felt immediately more himself out of the mass of people. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. They stopped the procession a few lengths short of where we were standing.”
“There were lights,” said Rodern. “I saw them – then everything came to a halt and then the people started going wild.”
Leion stiffened, remembering the man’s garbled talk of fire. “Lights?”
“Lights,” said Rodern, screwing up his face. “I saw them, anyway, whatever the rest of them say!”
Leion smiled at that. “They should know by now you never invent things.”
“Thank you.”
“You lack the imagination,” said Leion, but he grinned at the lad and patted his shoulder.
Someone from upstairs called for Rodern. He nodded to Leion to stay in the hallway, then hurried up the stairs while Leion fidgeted below, trying not to think about Seahra – or Tam, or Hu, if it came to that. If it was the High Governor – well, then, this might not be the last tumultuous crowd they’d see in the city for a good while, and that was the worst thought of all.
Rodern thumped back down the stairs as if he weighed twice his own weight. “They’ve started the procession again. It can’t have been that bad – some hitch.”
“Really?” said Leion.
Rodern glanced upwards. “That’s what they said. The musicians have started up again.”
“Good news, yes,” Leion agreed. “Look, I need to get out of here – I want to be sure nothing’s happened to Seah or Tam or anyone else, and I’m not sitting around waiting for the procession to go by – or not go by. There must be a back way out of here, yes?”
Rodern led him down the hallway. “It looks like it’s all right, you know. It is moving again. But if you insist, yes. It’ll get you to the three hundred steps.”
“Wonderful,” said Leion. “I was just thinking to myself I haven’t had enough exercise today. Splendid, Rodern, splendid. Lead on!”
“I don’t have to help you,” Rodern said, leading him down the long corridor that went right through the house. “I could have you kicked out.” He turned in front of the back door, blocking the way out. “What would you rather?”
Leion bowed. “Forgive me, O great Imai Ylie – and open that accursed door, will you? I’ll find a way to thank you another day – promise.”
“You don’t need to,” said Rodern, sounding suddenly serious and very young. “I hope everyone is all right. They must be, really. They wouldn’t have started again otherwise.”
“Yes,” said Leion, even though he couldn’t share Rodern’s confidence. It might only be the non-officials continuing. It might be everyone, despite everything, because of the symbolism, or the determination of High Governor Aradellen. Leion’s expression lightened. Rodern did have a point. If the High Governor herself had been badly hurt, they’d never have continued with any of it. Better to try and disperse the crowd as safely as possible and deal with constitutional issues later. It didn’t give Leion any guarantees that everyone else was unharmed, though.
He waved Rodern goodbye and found himself facing a small stairway carved right into the rock face that seemed to be for the private use of the Ylies to link to the main steps up to Chamber Square at the top. “Marvellous,” said Leion under his breath, but there was nothing else for it: he started his ascent.
viii. Iyana Valerno (Hour 14 and a half)
Festival days in Portcallan were a blessing when it came to getting through the paperwork. Iyana was one of only three people left on this floor. She’d done her duty at the Empty Temple yesterday, renewing solemn oaths as a High Justice and that was more than enough fuss and ceremony for her. It wasn’t as if she was a member of either chamber. She wasn’t expected to take part in the procession, and she saw no reason to stand around watching it every year when she could get on with something useful.
She turned over another document, and noted with satisfaction that she had only one letter left that was in want of her signature. She skimmed through it before scratching her name across the paper with her pen. She heard the light footsteps of someone entering, and felt a shadow fall over her at the desk.
“Oh, Jykaro,” she said, without lifting her head, since nobody else was likely to disturb her. “Wait one moment and all of these will be ready to send as well.”
Silence followed. Her senior secretary would never ignore her. Iyana slowly lifted her head and refocused on the room. “Oh, Leio, dear,” she said, seeing her son standing nearby with his arms folded, and an eyebrow raised as he waited for her to take notice. “What time is it? Is the procession over already?”
“I thought I’d come and tell you that Seah and Tam are still in one piece – more or less. Hu, too.”
Iyana blinked. “Is there some reason they shouldn’t be? Darling, you’re not being facetious again, are you?”
“Mother!” said Leion, perching on the desk. “You can’t be the only one in the city who doesn’t know what’s happened. You must have heard the racket earlier.”
She gave an elegant shrug and put down her pen. “Do be logical – if I knew, I wouldn’t have asked. Besides, they always make a noise during the procession – and then there are the fireworks. I had no idea.”
“Fireworks is what we’ve already had,” he told her. “Someone shot firestone at the High Governor. She wasn’t hurt, but a few others were badly burned. Seah caught some of the dust, but she’s all right. She’s in the hospital, but they may not even keep her the night. She seems to be more worried about the damage to her ceremonial robes than herself.”
Iyana stood abruptly. “Leio! I must see her at once, of course. Poor Seah! Does your stepfather know?”
Leion nodded. “Luckily he wasn’t close in the procession, so he didn’t hear straight away. He’s been to the hospital, but you know how he is with all that sort of thing. He left Seah to Ymise, much to everybody’s relief.”
“Well, now I feel terrible,” said Iyana. “Why did you not come and find me sooner?”
He glanced down. “I’m sorry. There was a lot of confusion – it wasn’t easy to get about the city. I thought Arna was coming over, and I think she thought I was, or Hu was – and we didn’t think even you could miss this.”
“The High Governor,” said Iyana, catching her breath. “Unharmed, you said?”
“Yes. Completed the walk through to the High Chambers after, no doubt much to the protests of those responsible for her safety – but it helped.”
Iyana shivered. She refrained from talking of what might have happened; of the disturbances and darker times she and Tam and others of their generation had seen. Leion was too young to really remember it, but he’d been caught up in an unpleasant incident during one of the riots and he disliked reminders of it even now.
“Don’t worry,” said Leion, sliding off the desk back onto his feet. He put a hand to her arm. “It is all right. I wouldn’t tell you so if it wasn’t. Just some idiot Rosfallen Leaguer, they say. They’ll find them all right.”
Iyana packed up her papers. “Will you come with me to the hospital?”
“I’m going to Arna’s,” he said. “Hu is in Council Chambers, now they’ve successfully made it, and of course, her little darlings are extremely excitable – and after that I’ll need to put in an appearance at the grand celebration.”
Iyana sighed, silently putting aside the idea of a family gathering after such an alarming day before it had quite fully formed. “Of course. Do take care,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Give my love to Arna. If she needs anything, tell her she only has to ask me, and as long as Seah can spare me, I shall come over myself.”
Leion broke into a smile. “I will,” he promised, and then left before she had time to consider whether or not there was anything else she wanted to say to him.
She sighed and set to work ensuring she put her papers safely away here or into her case so that she could get away and find out how Seah was, when someone else rapped at the already open door.
“Imor Valerno,” said Tana Veldiner, sounding unusually out of breath. “They told me Leion was here.”
Iyana shut away the last set of files with a snap of the drawer and turned the key on it. “You’ve missed him, I’m afraid. Is this more work you’re putting his way?”
“There’s a delicate matter I think he can help us with, yes.”
“About this attack?” Iyana hesitated to call something that sounded so very untidy an assassination attempt. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to do what he can. He’s gone to his sister’s.” She paused, realising that perhaps, that might not have narrowed it down sufficiently. “Arna, that is – but he only left a few minutes ago.”
Tana took a step back. “Imor Valerno. Thank you. I’ll find him.”
“Yes,” said Iyana. She shook her head after Tana as the door swung about in the young woman’s wake, and added under her breath, “And I’d rather you didn’t!”
She wished Leion would find something better to do with himself – all this ridiculous enquiry work that was so much less than he was capable of – and the low level administrative post he had in the council offices was worse. There was no point telling him so. It only made him all the more stubborn. That was nothing new, though, and Iyana wasted little time dwelling on it. She gathered up her coat and case and hastened away down the corridor, her mind flying to Seah. How badly hurt was she? Really, how could they all have taken so long to come and tell her? And this assassination business – Iyana’s face darkened. It had been so long since there had been trouble like this here. She’d almost begun to believe there never would be again.
It seemed she was wrong.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Tourmaline #17 (home/far off place)
Supplies and Styles: Stained Glass + Portrait + Panorama
Word Count: 6040
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of mild injury, assassination attempt, mild panic attack.
Notes: 1313 Portcallan; Viyony Eseray, Seahra Jadinor, Leion Valerno, Eollan Barra, Tana Veldiner, Mierly Modelen, Laida Modelen, Nia Delant, Ranir Maraseny, Rodern Ylie, Iyana Valerno. (The start proper of the 24 years early storyline. I wasn’t sure how to do this incident and then thought about making it a Stained Glass. No need to worry about everyone in it; it hopefully works as a taster, plus more of Leion and Viyony’s family and connections, who we’ve met before.)
Summary: It’s the day of the Grand Procession and Opening of the High Chambers in Portcallan. A festival day, but someone’s got very different ideas for this year’s event…
(Stormbird 15, first day of the Little Spring)
i. Viyony (Hour 8)
Viyony opened her eyes to bright Portcallan morning light, so different from Eseray, where there was a permanent grey tinge to the day’s start at this time of the year. She closed her eyes to it, half caught in the dream from which she’d awoken. It played out again in her mind: a sudden flash of sun on a silver blade in the midst of cheering crowds, her heartbeat thumping hard in her head at the danger.
She sat up and pressed her head down on her knees. The evening before last, when Aunt Diyela had bid Viyony good night, she’d caught hold of her hand in bony fingers, and said with quiet emphasis, “We don’t dream things in Portcallan. You understand, don’t you, dear?”
It was easy enough to ignore the dream in some ways – the images remained sharp in her mind, but their meaning was opaque – but that always led to a headache. Worse, somewhere nearby, someone would be harmed by something she might have been able to prevent if this had happened at Eseray.
Viyony knew everyone in Eseray, if only by sight or repute. She could easily recognise places she glimpsed in nightly visions from the slightest clue. Being Grandmother’s heir gave her the authority to act. It wasn’t easy, but she always had somewhere to start.
Portcallan, in comparison, was vast and mostly unknown to her. It was currently packed with officials and visitors, any number of whom she had passed in the streets or glimpsed from the windows of the Gerro house, and that, she knew, might be sufficient contact to trigger her dreams. Yesterday had been the day of swearing in, with solemn ceremonies held for the members of both chambers. Today, the High Governor was to lead the annual procession through the streets to High Chamber Square to take their place at the head of the High Council, and after there would be celebrations all over the city – fireworks and bonfires on the beach, and a grand reception in the Chamber Hall.
What could Viyony do to avert danger here? She had nothing to go on; no one who would listen to her. She grimaced, and pushed back the bedcovers, thrusting the dream firmly aside with them. Time to get up, get washed and dressed for the day. Forget the way the images pressed themselves so urgently into her head and join everyone else in celebrating.
She moved across the room to survey her reflection in the mirror, standing half-awake in a cream-coloured night dress. Viyony-in-the-glass gave a twisted, wry smile. “We don’t dream in Portcallan,” Viyony told herself wryly, and turned away.
ii. Seahra Jadinor (Hour 10)
Seahra had arrived at the High Chambers two hours before she was needed. She had been ready and waiting for at least an hour and a quarter of that time. Now she was wearing a groove into the floorboards of her office, but better to be too early than risk being late.
She straightened her ceremonial blue and gold robes for the sixth time, and turned around, trying to view herself without a mirror to hand. You’re one person in a procession of hundreds, she reminded herself. Nobody will be looking at you, only at the High Governor, at the whole spectacle.
She’d been so excited to be appointed as Deputy Steward to the Chamber only a few weeks ago, but that time had been spent in preparation for the start of the government year. Running around helping the Steward to organise affairs had been easy. It was what she was good at. Finding herself yesterday, in the Empty Temple, swearing her oath with the other permanent staff officials, had brought the enormity of home and shaken her. She was the youngest person to have ever held this role. It was an honour she didn’t want to wreck, both for herself and for her family. Seahra pressed both hands to her face. Breathe in, breathe out. Keep calm. It would be fine once the ceremonial parts were over.
Why was it not the eleventh hour already? Why was this ridiculous, archaic march not yet finished? She turned in a circle and then sat down on her desk, before rising again sharply. She didn’t want to spill ink on the robe or catch a stray piece of paper on it.
Someone whistled outside the door, and she leapt up and crossed to pull it open as Leion tried to push it from the other side, causing him to half-fall into the room.
“Leio! How did you get in here?”
Leion grinned. “Oh, you know me. I turn up everywhere.” He raised his eyebrows. “You look very grand and important indeed. Should I kneel? Or merely bow?”
“Neither unless you want me to kick you,” said Seahra, but she caught at his arm. “Oh, I’m glad you came. I wish this parade was over! Why must we waste our time with this nonsense every year?”
“Tradition. Letting the people have a party. The High Councillors showing their faces to the masses. All that kind of thing.” He drew back, the laughter fading from his face. “I can’t stay – I have to get back down to Riverside in time to find somewhere to stand and wave at you as you go by. But I knew you’d be worrying for no reason –”
“No reason? Do you realise how much responsibility this role entails?”
“Yes,” said Leion. “If you don’t attend to it, some High Councillor might be lost for a sheet of paper at a vital instant, may the stars forbid.”
Seahra glared.
“Yes, all right. I’m not really here to plague you. Quite the opposite, actually – I hope.” He fished in first one jacket pocket and then the other and finally pulled out a small box with a flourish. “I wasn’t sure when to give you this – it’s in honour of your great elevation – but it struck me that now was sure to be the moment.”
Seahra opened it to reveal a small starflower on a fine golden chain. “Oh, Leio.”
“Obvious, I know,” he said with a short, awkward laugh. “But – well – for luck.”
Seahra put it down carefully on the surface on the desk, and then hugged him tightly, blinking away tears.
“Does this mean you like it?” he said as she let him go.
She turned around, putting her back to him and lifted up her thick dark curls out of the way. “Put it on. Luck is exactly what I need right now. After this, I can get back to what I’m meant to be doing – what I’m good at.”
Leion obliged, although he fiddled with the tiny clasp for long enough to worry her that someone might call her to start lining up. Then he kissed her cheek, a clumsy, rushed peck, and when she turned, winked before he disappeared into the corridor; she heard his footsteps heading away at a near run.
Seahra shook her head, but one hand went to the chain, and she smiled. Sometimes it seemed hardly any time ago that they’d been foisted on each other – she twelve and he only six – but things like this reminded her that it had been over twenty years ago. She’d looked after Leion for so long, she still found it startling when he turned round these days and did the same for her.
iii. Eollan Barra (Hour 10, and a quarter)
The rest of the family were gathering in the main upper room where there was a balcony, but Eollan hung back in his room. He leant against the window sill, watching the crowds below on Riverside with a small curl of a smile on his face. It had been so long since he’d been in Portcallan for the Grand Opening, but he was back at last. He drew back and brushed down his dark green jacket – softer material than his uniform. Stars, it was good to leave it off, to choose what he wanted to wear – and to do with his time. Seven years! He might as well have been in exile.
“You know people are waiting to see you?”
He raised his head and turned to look at his sister, Tameth, standing in the doorway. “Oh, I’ll make my big entrance soon enough, don’t worry. Who’s here?”
“The Barra cousins – Atino excepted, of course – some of the Warderns, and Tess Hyan, I think.”
Eollan raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t think Tess would be welcome.”
“The tide has come in and out a few times since you went away,” Tameth said flatly. “She doesn’t blame the rest of us for Atino’s behaviour.”
“Glad to hear it.” Eollan straightened himself. Despite his earlier thoughts, his movements were brisk, regimental. They drummed these things into you, didn’t they? “Go on. Tell Mother not to fuss. I’m not going to stay in here on my own.”
Tameth nodded and shut the door quietly behind her. Eollan returned his attention to the street scene below. The first heralds of the main processions were making their way along now – sellers of food and drink and tourist tat, one of the first music bands, and a few stray uniformed guardians, keeping their eye on the crowds.
“Civilisation at last,” he said, and smiled. He’d seen a good deal of Emoyra during his tenure in the army and a few odd places outside it, but solitary mountain or wasteland forts were uncomfortable, stars-forsaken places, one and all. Give him the noise of the crowd here, the city’s grandest buildings, and beyond that the endless sea. Portcallan was his place: he felt its current excitement thrumming in his veins as if only now was he whole again.
Now he could take hold of everything he’d learned and bring it back home with him. He was going to make a difference here, he swore it.
Then he pulled away from the window with a short, self-conscious laugh. He shook his head. First things first: go and do the pretty with the family.
iv. Tana Veldiner (Hour 11)
Tana Veldiner followed in Leion’s wake through the crowd. She’d met him coming out of the High Chambers and tagged along. When they stopped, bumping up against a knot of people between them and the side of the street, she poked him. “I thought when you invited me to come with you, you meant you had a nice Riverside upper parlour to go to!”
Leion grabbed at her arm and pulled her through a gap, finally emerging at the front of the crowd lining Riverside. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“I suppose it’ll be easier to get away from down here if there’s trouble.”
He glanced aside at her. “Not expecting any, are you?”
“No, or I’d be on duty,” she said. She was the most junior officer in the room – she hadn’t even been working for the government’s intelligence organisation for as long as a year yet – but if they were really afraid of something happening, even she would have been kept hard at work somewhere. “But there are some Rosfallen Leaguers and other disunionists around and you know how irate they are about High Governor Aradellen’s policies on that front.”
Leion rolled his eyes. “Why did I ask you to come with me? You’re going to suck all the joy out of it, aren’t you?”
Tana, who had been instinctively studying the windows and balconies above, stopped. Heat stole into her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to be a bore. One starts thinking of these things after a while in the job.” She narrowed her gaze. “Why don’t you have an invite? I was sure you’d be at the Modelen place if nowhere else.”
“Yes,” said Leion, “but they have guests and I wanted to be somewhere I could be sure of Seah seeing me when she goes past. Plus, as you say, it’ll be easier to get away afterwards. I need to find Arna – she’s standing near the Square with the children. Mother won’t be here and Tam’s in the procession anyway, so I’m trying to represent the family in two places at once, or as near as I can manage. Is that answer enough, or do you want to take me back for interrogation?”
“I don’t interrogate people,” said Tana stiffly. “And far too much of an answer, thank you. I only meant – I thought you disliked crowds.”
Leion twisted his head towards her, abandoning his attempt to wave over a seller of hot cakes that, Tana thought, was probably for the best. “What?” he said. “Nonsense! I may not have done when I was younger – you know what families are. Don’t listen to them.”
Tana shrugged. She was more concerned when he started after the food vendor again. “Leion, leave it. Goodness knows what they have in them.”
“Is there anything you don’t worry about?”
“It’s my job,” said Tana. She wrinkled her nose as he persisted in chasing after the seller despite her warnings. Really, she’d have thought after the whole business they’d both been through with Atino and everything that they’d done since, that Leion would have learned to worry more himself.
She smothered a sigh under her breath and then clapped the first straggling walking musicians. She wished she hadn’t come. It didn’t feel in the least like a holiday to her.
v. Mierlise Modelen (Hour 11, and a quarter)
“Mierlise! Careful, dear, or you’ll fall.”
Mierly continued to lean too far over the balcony, heedless of her aunt’s warnings. She was much more interested in the goings-on below now that the main body of the procession had started to pass by. She drew back only to clap the band as they halted there to perform. Her friend Nia, beside her, threw out paper starflowers, coloured in gold, white and bright blue.
“I can see blue robes behind them,” Mierly told everyone else, craning forward again.
Laida, on her other side, said into her ear, “Or it’s just more soldiers’ uniforms.”
It was about time that the main High Council should be passing by, so Mierly ignored her sister’s sarcasm. She might have made that mistake three times already, but she was right this time. She leant to her left, catching at Nia’s arm. “Yes, look!”
They all knew people in the procession, especially Seahra Jadinor, who was a friend of the Modelens, and practically a relation of Nia’s (some sort of in-law), and then neither of them wanted to miss the High Governor in her grandest ceremonial robes. Mierly also hoped despite all reason that, with all these guards and soldiers about, one of them would turn out to be Kettah Jadinor sent home for the occasion.
Nia leant in against Mierly, her pale arms close against Mierly’s warm brown, and then squeezed her hand. “I’m sure that officer is watching us.” She waved, and Mierly tried to follow her gaze, seeing a young man in the dark Rosfallen blue, frowning upwards at them. He was, she supposed, without too much interest, rather handsome.
Mierly leant even further forward, causing her aunt to gasp, far enough so that she could look past Nia to their guest. “I think it’s you he’s looking at, Imai Eseray.”
“Yes, I think he’s one of the soldiers I ran into on the road south,” Viyony said. “Captain Maraseny, I believe.” She put up a hand to shield her eyes from unexpectedly bright sunshine as it emerged from behind the clouds.
Mierly turned her head away from the soldier, but before she could exclaim at the first sight of the High Governor nearing them, Viyony gave a sudden shiver, and tugged Nia down so sharply they both fell into the floor of the balcony beside Mierly. Everyone else turned their heads.
“Get down,” said Viyony, her arm around Nia. “Everyone – move back – get down!”
Her tone was so imperative that Mierly pulled back against the curtain and dropped to her knees there, beside Laida, and she heard the movements and murmurs as most of the others did the same. She lifted her head to ask why, but something flew over the balcony, too fast to see. It hit the wall of the house with a startling thump, flaring up into brief orange flame before dying away to harmless sparks and then black dust, swept away by the breeze.
Mierly caught sight of the crowds below through the carved stone bars on the balustrade. Everyone was in motion, the bystanders merging with the marchers, despite the efforts of the soldiers and guardians, while shouts and cries of confusion and alarm rose upwards.
“Viyony,” said Laida from beside Mierly. She was still hanging onto Mierly’s sleeve. “How did you know?”
Viyony paused in the act of helping Nia back to her feet. Nia pulled faces at the state of her red dress, trying to brush away dust.
“I didn’t,” Viyony said breathlessly. “Not truly. What was it?”
Mierly risked pulling herself up enough to look over the balcony properly, but it was hard to tell. People were still milling around, although the guards were ushering away the blue-robed officials as best as they could. There were tighter, unmoving clusters of people, some of them in distinctive blue and gold robes, a little way short of Modelen House, but she couldn’t see if anyone was had been hit or fallen in the confusion.
“The High Governor,” said Laida, arriving beside Mierly. She leant out, craning her head even further, and coughed at the smoke still floating in the air. “She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
Or killed, thought Mierly, her eyes widening. Limp and crumpled paper festival flowers she’d been clutching in her hands unheeded all this while fell out onto the balcony floor, softly stolen by the wind. Everybody was thinking the same – they avoided each other’s eyes, but nobody voiced it.
“That nice captain has gone,” Nia said, oblivious to everyone else’s shared fears. Dark brown hair, shaken loose in the excitement, blew around her head. “I hope he’s all right.”
“Let’s hope everyone is,” said Laida, and she pressed Mierly’s hand warmly.
Nia was still looking out. She twisted round suddenly, to try and see upwards. “Everyone – I think the wall of the house is smoking!”
vi. Ranir Maraseny (Hour 11 and a quarter)
The 2nd Rosfallen regiment had been ordered to join the detail keeping watch on the High Council procession, while otherwise kicking their heels in Portcallan waiting to be shipped out to West Korphil. Ranir wasn’t sorry: it gave him a close view of the celebrations and he’d never been to Portcallan before. It’d give him something to write home about.
Walking slowly up and down a small stretch of Riverside, making sure the watchers kept to the sides of the street – the widest and grandest in the city – he cast an eye upwards to the balconies of the great houses that lined it. He caught sight of a familiar face in one of them and frowned. He didn’t know anyone likely to be sitting up in what someone in the crowd was busy telling everyone around them loudly was the Modelen house.
He risked another look, and recognition struck him: Imai Eseray, whom he had seen in passing several times on the way south. He thought about raising his hand to her, but wasn’t sure she’d remember him. But before he turned his attention away and back to the crowds, beginning to press forward now the main body of the procession was approaching them, Imai Eseray stared hard at him – or something beside him, he realised, and then she suddenly vanished out of sight, dragging down the girl beside her along with her.
Ranir swung around, following her gaze in search of what could have alarmed her. Nearby, one of the High Guards, carrying a silver staff had, as the musicians played, stepped aside. They were now lowering that staff, and dismantling it. The stray guard, with a quick glance at their immediate neighbours busy cheering the oncoming High Council officials, adjusted their stance, shifting their hold on the adjusted ceremonial staff, as if it were a weapon.
Training took over. Ranir moved without thought. He was at the guard’s side in an instant. He gave a yell and grabbed at them, ruining their aim as something shot out of the odd projectile weapon. People struggled to move back as the distinctive orange flare of firestone soared over the heads of the marchers, and then fell back down, as if in wicked mockery of the paper flowers others were still throwing. One stray fiery missile hit the Modelen house close to the balcony.
The attacker kicked free of Ranir’s hold on their arm, pushing away through the crowds, who were surging about, the scene rapidly threatening to turn into one of mass panic as everyone fought to get away.
“Stop that guard!” Ranir shouted, but the noise of the crowd had risen to a pitch that drowned out his voice. He forced his way through the press of people, determined not to lose the assassin.
The blue-green of the High Guards’ uniform made them easy to pick out, but as he pushed on, other guards came running towards the source of trouble. Ranir kept his eye closely on the silver of the weapon as well as the distinctive colour, doggedly behind his quarry as they made it onto the cliff top path, pushing others out of the way as they raced upwards.
Ranir didn’t stop, nor did he look back at what was going on behind him. There were plenty of others ready to help anyone who’d been hurt. He had to make sure this villain didn’t get away with it.
vii. Leion Valerno (Hour 11 and a quarter)
A low rumble of dissatisfaction passed through the crowd as the delay stretched on and the gap in the procession lengthened. A few people tried to walk out into the centre of the street to get a better look at what was coming, or not coming, towards them, while others jeered. The rumble slowly turned into something more alarming, as citizens and guardians started coming down the street instead of the expected musicians and officials.
“Something’s wrong,” said Tana, at Leion’s side. “I’d better go and see what.” She pressed her hand on his arm briefly in farewell and slipped away through the mass of people.
Leion watched her progress, his gaze narrowing. Before he could decide what to do, his first thought going to Seahra, the crowd turned from a bored set of bystanders trying to push forward onto the street into a swirling sea of panic as others came hurrying down the street, shouting about an attack.
Leion tried to edge back, but he wasn’t the only one trying to leave: he was caught in a whirlpool of people, thrust up against a bulky figure and pressed there against his side. He caught at the man’s jacket to avoid being pushed over in the closed space. The guardians had better do something, or people would be crushed. Leion gritted his teeth, trying to hold his ground and not give way to rising fear. He’d been part of a worse crowd than this, many years ago – battered and carried on by an inorexable tide of furious people, down steep roads to the sea front –
He shuddered but concentrated on breathing, ignoring people being shoved into him as they tried to pass, or pressed up against him. Fore the moment, he must only make sure he kept his head. He wasn’t a child any more.
“Hey,” said a voice, as the immediate press eased out a little. Leion raised his head, finding that the large man he’d been run into, had caught hold of him, steadying him as the crush thinned out. “You all right?”
Leion straightened himself, the heat of shame staining his cheeks. He pulled away. “Yes, yes – fine!” Then he caught his breath. “Sorry,” he added. “Thanks. Nothing to worry about!”
The guardians and soldiers had let people into the main body of the street, directing them forward, away from the stopped procession.
Leion watched them, and then grabbed at the nearest person coming down from the other end of Riverside. “What’s happened?”
“They’ve killed the High Governor! Flames everywhere!” The man pulled away. “There were people screaming – burnt, horribly burnt – let me go!”
Leion released. Ask a stupid question, he thought, and prayed to every last Power that that was only panicked hyperbole. He needed to get off Riverside and find someone who knew what the truth was. Trouble was, even now the first crush had eased out, the slow-moving crowd was blocking all the immediate exits, and he didn’t fancy trying something as desperate as jumping into the river below to make a quick escape.
That left only one option. He shuffled along with the mass of people in the street, edging away to his left as he did so, aiming for the large town houses. If the crowd got out of control again, getting shoved over the railings might not be out of the question.
Leion studied the faces watching from the balconies above until he lighted on someone he knew would help out. He slipped past a knot of people to shelter in the doorway of the Ylie house, making sure he was standing where he was visible to the family above. He whistled once, catching the attention of young Rodern Ylie. Leion waved and whistled again. Rodern’s face lightened as he spotted him, and then he vanished from the group on the balcony.
Moments later the door behind Leion opened and he fell inside as Rodern shut it behind him, bolting it after for good measure.
“What’s going on?”
Leion straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair. He felt immediately more himself out of the mass of people. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. They stopped the procession a few lengths short of where we were standing.”
“There were lights,” said Rodern. “I saw them – then everything came to a halt and then the people started going wild.”
Leion stiffened, remembering the man’s garbled talk of fire. “Lights?”
“Lights,” said Rodern, screwing up his face. “I saw them, anyway, whatever the rest of them say!”
Leion smiled at that. “They should know by now you never invent things.”
“Thank you.”
“You lack the imagination,” said Leion, but he grinned at the lad and patted his shoulder.
Someone from upstairs called for Rodern. He nodded to Leion to stay in the hallway, then hurried up the stairs while Leion fidgeted below, trying not to think about Seahra – or Tam, or Hu, if it came to that. If it was the High Governor – well, then, this might not be the last tumultuous crowd they’d see in the city for a good while, and that was the worst thought of all.
Rodern thumped back down the stairs as if he weighed twice his own weight. “They’ve started the procession again. It can’t have been that bad – some hitch.”
“Really?” said Leion.
Rodern glanced upwards. “That’s what they said. The musicians have started up again.”
“Good news, yes,” Leion agreed. “Look, I need to get out of here – I want to be sure nothing’s happened to Seah or Tam or anyone else, and I’m not sitting around waiting for the procession to go by – or not go by. There must be a back way out of here, yes?”
Rodern led him down the hallway. “It looks like it’s all right, you know. It is moving again. But if you insist, yes. It’ll get you to the three hundred steps.”
“Wonderful,” said Leion. “I was just thinking to myself I haven’t had enough exercise today. Splendid, Rodern, splendid. Lead on!”
“I don’t have to help you,” Rodern said, leading him down the long corridor that went right through the house. “I could have you kicked out.” He turned in front of the back door, blocking the way out. “What would you rather?”
Leion bowed. “Forgive me, O great Imai Ylie – and open that accursed door, will you? I’ll find a way to thank you another day – promise.”
“You don’t need to,” said Rodern, sounding suddenly serious and very young. “I hope everyone is all right. They must be, really. They wouldn’t have started again otherwise.”
“Yes,” said Leion, even though he couldn’t share Rodern’s confidence. It might only be the non-officials continuing. It might be everyone, despite everything, because of the symbolism, or the determination of High Governor Aradellen. Leion’s expression lightened. Rodern did have a point. If the High Governor herself had been badly hurt, they’d never have continued with any of it. Better to try and disperse the crowd as safely as possible and deal with constitutional issues later. It didn’t give Leion any guarantees that everyone else was unharmed, though.
He waved Rodern goodbye and found himself facing a small stairway carved right into the rock face that seemed to be for the private use of the Ylies to link to the main steps up to Chamber Square at the top. “Marvellous,” said Leion under his breath, but there was nothing else for it: he started his ascent.
viii. Iyana Valerno (Hour 14 and a half)
Festival days in Portcallan were a blessing when it came to getting through the paperwork. Iyana was one of only three people left on this floor. She’d done her duty at the Empty Temple yesterday, renewing solemn oaths as a High Justice and that was more than enough fuss and ceremony for her. It wasn’t as if she was a member of either chamber. She wasn’t expected to take part in the procession, and she saw no reason to stand around watching it every year when she could get on with something useful.
She turned over another document, and noted with satisfaction that she had only one letter left that was in want of her signature. She skimmed through it before scratching her name across the paper with her pen. She heard the light footsteps of someone entering, and felt a shadow fall over her at the desk.
“Oh, Jykaro,” she said, without lifting her head, since nobody else was likely to disturb her. “Wait one moment and all of these will be ready to send as well.”
Silence followed. Her senior secretary would never ignore her. Iyana slowly lifted her head and refocused on the room. “Oh, Leio, dear,” she said, seeing her son standing nearby with his arms folded, and an eyebrow raised as he waited for her to take notice. “What time is it? Is the procession over already?”
“I thought I’d come and tell you that Seah and Tam are still in one piece – more or less. Hu, too.”
Iyana blinked. “Is there some reason they shouldn’t be? Darling, you’re not being facetious again, are you?”
“Mother!” said Leion, perching on the desk. “You can’t be the only one in the city who doesn’t know what’s happened. You must have heard the racket earlier.”
She gave an elegant shrug and put down her pen. “Do be logical – if I knew, I wouldn’t have asked. Besides, they always make a noise during the procession – and then there are the fireworks. I had no idea.”
“Fireworks is what we’ve already had,” he told her. “Someone shot firestone at the High Governor. She wasn’t hurt, but a few others were badly burned. Seah caught some of the dust, but she’s all right. She’s in the hospital, but they may not even keep her the night. She seems to be more worried about the damage to her ceremonial robes than herself.”
Iyana stood abruptly. “Leio! I must see her at once, of course. Poor Seah! Does your stepfather know?”
Leion nodded. “Luckily he wasn’t close in the procession, so he didn’t hear straight away. He’s been to the hospital, but you know how he is with all that sort of thing. He left Seah to Ymise, much to everybody’s relief.”
“Well, now I feel terrible,” said Iyana. “Why did you not come and find me sooner?”
He glanced down. “I’m sorry. There was a lot of confusion – it wasn’t easy to get about the city. I thought Arna was coming over, and I think she thought I was, or Hu was – and we didn’t think even you could miss this.”
“The High Governor,” said Iyana, catching her breath. “Unharmed, you said?”
“Yes. Completed the walk through to the High Chambers after, no doubt much to the protests of those responsible for her safety – but it helped.”
Iyana shivered. She refrained from talking of what might have happened; of the disturbances and darker times she and Tam and others of their generation had seen. Leion was too young to really remember it, but he’d been caught up in an unpleasant incident during one of the riots and he disliked reminders of it even now.
“Don’t worry,” said Leion, sliding off the desk back onto his feet. He put a hand to her arm. “It is all right. I wouldn’t tell you so if it wasn’t. Just some idiot Rosfallen Leaguer, they say. They’ll find them all right.”
Iyana packed up her papers. “Will you come with me to the hospital?”
“I’m going to Arna’s,” he said. “Hu is in Council Chambers, now they’ve successfully made it, and of course, her little darlings are extremely excitable – and after that I’ll need to put in an appearance at the grand celebration.”
Iyana sighed, silently putting aside the idea of a family gathering after such an alarming day before it had quite fully formed. “Of course. Do take care,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Give my love to Arna. If she needs anything, tell her she only has to ask me, and as long as Seah can spare me, I shall come over myself.”
Leion broke into a smile. “I will,” he promised, and then left before she had time to consider whether or not there was anything else she wanted to say to him.
She sighed and set to work ensuring she put her papers safely away here or into her case so that she could get away and find out how Seah was, when someone else rapped at the already open door.
“Imor Valerno,” said Tana Veldiner, sounding unusually out of breath. “They told me Leion was here.”
Iyana shut away the last set of files with a snap of the drawer and turned the key on it. “You’ve missed him, I’m afraid. Is this more work you’re putting his way?”
“There’s a delicate matter I think he can help us with, yes.”
“About this attack?” Iyana hesitated to call something that sounded so very untidy an assassination attempt. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to do what he can. He’s gone to his sister’s.” She paused, realising that perhaps, that might not have narrowed it down sufficiently. “Arna, that is – but he only left a few minutes ago.”
Tana took a step back. “Imor Valerno. Thank you. I’ll find him.”
“Yes,” said Iyana. She shook her head after Tana as the door swung about in the young woman’s wake, and added under her breath, “And I’d rather you didn’t!”
She wished Leion would find something better to do with himself – all this ridiculous enquiry work that was so much less than he was capable of – and the low level administrative post he had in the council offices was worse. There was no point telling him so. It only made him all the more stubborn. That was nothing new, though, and Iyana wasted little time dwelling on it. She gathered up her coat and case and hastened away down the corridor, her mind flying to Seah. How badly hurt was she? Really, how could they all have taken so long to come and tell her? And this assassination business – Iyana’s face darkened. It had been so long since there had been trouble like this here. She’d almost begun to believe there never would be again.
It seemed she was wrong.
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