THROUGHOUT HER CHILDHOOD, Pharinet’s best female friend was Ellony, the eldest daughter of the Leckery family, who lived a two-hour ride away at the family domain of Norgance. Montimer Leckery, Ellony’s father, was hardly ever at home, because the emperor needed him in the army. Montimer was a great general, weighed down with medals. So, Norgance, like Caradore, was a household devoid of a patriarch. This situation prevailed in most of the noble houses of Caradore. Valraven was always the one closest to Pharinet’s heart, but she soon learned that there were some things only a female companion could provide or understand. While Valraven played boisterous games on the high moors above Norgance with Ellony’s elder brother, Khaster, the girls sat nearby, the wind in their hair, wrapped in their own feminine pastimes. Usually, this involved planning out their future lives. They would act out fantasies of love, without fully understanding what this might entail. Are we in love with each other’s brothers? they wondered, their sly young eyes peering through curtains of hair. The boys, ignorant of the intent inspection, slashed the heather with sticks to drive out snakes and lizards. One day, when the girls were eleven, Ellony announced, “I shall marry Valraven.” Pharinet stared at Khaster, to decide if she could echo this sentiment. They had climbed to one of the cloud forests high above Norgance, the boys carrying a picnic pannier between them. Much to Ellony’s annoyance, her mother, Saska, had forced them to take Ellony’s younger sister, Niska, with them. Now, the cakes and watered wine had been devoured and the boys were climbing trees. Ellony, Pharinet and Niska sat on the springy grass, making chains of flowers: red for blood and white for the sky. Sunlight came down in coins through the branches, making heat patches on their arms and hair. Khaster had jumped out of a tree and was looking up at Valraven who was still clambering. Leaves showered down and dusty twigs. Squirrels fled in outrage through the high canopy. Khaster was certainly handsome, Pharinet decided. His heavy brown hair fell over his face all the time. She liked the way he brushed it back, wrinkling up his nose and frowning. “You will marry Khaster,” Ellony said, clearly thinking her friend had had more than enough time to respond. Pharinet smiled. “Yes, I shall wear a russet gown, decorated with sea pansies, and I shall twine coral in my hair.” Ellony sighed, caught up in the image. “On my wedding day, I shall ride in a carriage drawn by eight white horses and their hooves will be gilded.” Pharinet was familiar with the picture book from which this image derived. One of her earliest tutors had shown it to her. It depicted a gleeful princess riding towards her prince. Why couldn’t she share the dream? In her heart, the dark red of her wedding dress was the deep bloodied shade of mourning, heavy with lilies of the grave, and her hair was spiked with bleached bones. It must be Everna putting these thoughts into her head. She liked to talk about death, and seemed to find it more romantic than love. “I shall marry a man who comes out of the sea,” said Niska, broken petals spilling from her fingers. Ellony made a scornful noise. “Shut up. You’re too young to think about such things. Why would anyone want to marry you? You’re like a slimy fish.” Niska shrugged resignedly. It was true she was strangely pale and her almost colorless hair floated on the air like seaweed in water. Pharinet felt she ought to defend the girl. “Perhaps she’s right, Elly. Niska looks like a mermaid.” She patted Niska’s unyielding shoulder. “Maybe you’ll find someone on the shore one day, a wounded merman needing help. He may be handsome.” “We don’t live next to the sea like you do,” Ellony said. “That’s the sort of thing that would happen to you.” She pulled a face at her sister. Niska neither smiled nor frowned. She concentrated only on the blooms in her lap. Her placid nature seemed sometimes to verge on the abnormal.
FOR A COUPLE OF years after this, the girls’ fantasies veered more towards heroes of legend. They decided that one day, they would come across slumbering, ensorcelled knights in a cave deep in the forest. Their maidenly kisses would bring heat back to the marble flesh. They would be whisked away on stallions of thunder, up to castles in the clouds, where ranks of blind witches with coppery hair would sing eternally of their husbands’ exploits. Pharinet also liked to indulge these fantasies when she was alone. Sometimes, in a sea cave on the beach of Caradore, she’d imagine her faceless hero kissing her. She would feel his hands upon her back and the tickle of his hair on her face. The feelings these daydreams aroused were strange and powerful. They made her want to laugh and run. Valraven found her once, giggling to herself and splashing her feet in a pool. Sunlight slanting through the cave mouth made watery patterns on the damp, black walls. “Pharry, what’s the matter with you?” She froze, embarrassed, conscious of her skirts hitched up to her thighs, the heat in her flesh. Valraven was framed in the entrance, the sea pounding behind him, his hair flapping in wet tendrils around his shoulders. “What have you been doing? I’ve been looking for you.” Although his eyes were in shadow, she sensed he took in her wanton appearance and wondered about it. She could not tell him what she’d been thinking. Not only were her thoughts private, she felt they might hurt him in some way. “Race you!” she cried and launched herself past him out of the cave. He seemed at once to forget how he’d found her and charged up the beach behind her, overtook her and ran backwards, punching the air. His delight in beating her was so simple and pure, so male as Everna would have said. Pharinet could have outrun him any time. She loved him so much it was like a stomach pain. Who needed heroes when she had Valraven? But he was her brother, and no one married their brother. Could she surrender him to Ellony? The idea was not entirely pleasant. She thought of the future, when Ellony would sit across a table from him at breakfast time, accompany him on visits to friends and ride with him on eager horses across the wild cliffs. Where would Pharinet fit into this picture? There did not seem a space for her. Those are my things, she thought. Ellony can’t have them.
2
TRUTH
WHEN PHARINET WAS FIFTEEN, Everna changed. Two important things happened. The first was that Everna fell in love. This in itself was a revelation, and the condition seemed to rest uneasily on Everna’s gaunt frame. Love did not suit her. Her face was not made for dreamy expressions, and her long, restless body did not fit comfortably into postures of romantic languor. The object of her affections was the son of their late father’s equerry. Pharinet failed to see the attraction. To her, Thomist was a plain, uninteresting man, who was always clutching at something; his hat in his hands, his jacket collar, the hem of his shirt. He blushed easily too, which made his scalp show through his rather thin blond hair. By this time, Ellony and Pharinet had discovered the mechanics of physical love from one of Ellony’s maids—a worldly girl—and the thought of lustful feelings gusting through either Everna or Thomist, never mind together, seemed absurd, if not obscene. The subject provided hours of merriment, which clearly embarrassed Khaster and Valraven. They would always leave the room, or wander off, if the girls started discussing the supposed minutiae of Everna’s impending sex life. At first, Pharinet thought that the other change in her sister was merely a result of the former. She seemed to become more aloof, almost secretive. At times, her eyes would shine with a private passion. She would gaze off into the distance and her lips would drop open, very slightly. It was only when Everna summoned her sister, in an unusually formal way, to accompany her on a walk upon the cliffs that Pharinet discovered the truth. Dune grasses rattled along the path as they walked and the ceaseless wind mussed their clothes and hair. Everna seemed unnaturally serious, which given she was a serious person at the best of times, meant she had something extremely important to say. “Pharry,” she said, the word like a shout in the wild air. “There is something you must know.” She is going to be married, Pharinet thought in wonder. She said nothing. Everna stopped walking and turned her sister to face her. “I have discovered our heritage.” The words hung between them, and Pharinet supposed they meant something. “What is it?” Everna gazed above Pharinet’s head, out at the ocean. “We have been dispossessed!” she hissed. An urge to laugh fought to express itself
in Pharinet’s narrow chest. Everna looked so dramatic, all wild eyes, hawk nose and flailing hair. “In what way?” she managed to say. Everna sighed. “You are so young, and in some ways, I feel I shouldn’t speak to you about this yet, but now that I know, I have to share it with my sister, whatever her age. You are a wise girl, Pharry, and even if this knowledge becomes a burden to you, I think you should know.” The first seeds of unease began to sprout in Pharinet’s mind. Everna wasn’t going to tell her she was getting married. This was more serious. She had a dread it concerned Valraven. “What have you found out?” “Look at the sea,” Everna said. They both stood in silence, Pharinet tense with apprehension. What was she supposed to be seeing? “How powerful it is,” Everna murmured. “Such strength! It is around us all the time, pounding and pounding, yet we are so used to it, we do not hear it.” For the first time in many years, an image of the dragon dream came back to Pharinet’s mind, its flavor strong and intact. “Sometimes we do,” she said. “It does intrude—sometimes.” Everna glanced down at her. “That’s true c . Perhaps you feel it already—the truth, I mean.” “I think so.” Did she? Pharinet had a feeling that whatever Everna said would not surprise her. “It concerns the emperor,” Everna said. Pharinet shuddered. Surely Valraven hadn’t been summoned to court already? “What have you heard? Has he written? Will Val have to leave?” Everna closed her eyes briefly and shook her head, her hand reaching out for her sister’s shoulder. “No, no, not yet. I’ve heard nothing from Magrast. This news came from somewhere else.” “Where? What news?” Pharinet’s heart was beating fast now, as if a creature with frantic wings fluttered in her breast, trying to escape. Everna took a deep breath, and simultaneously a fist of wind buffeted against them, muffling her words. “We have not always been favorites of the empire. At one time, Caradore was an independent state.” Pharinet did not think this particularly surprising. “At one time, the whole of the empire must have been independent states.” “Yes, I know. But remember that in order to be part of an empire, a country first has to be conquered.” Because of their father’s friendship with the emperor and their distant relationship, Pharinet had always assumed her people had affiliated themselves willingly to Magravandias. She was chilled to think it might have happened a different way. “Was there a war?” she asked, anticipating the answer with sinking heart. She did not want the history to be bloody; it would mean the Palindrakes weren’t such a privileged family after all. Why hadn’t her tutors ever told her of this? Everna nodded briefly. “Yes. There was a war. Our great-great-grandfather’s sister was a spoil of it, to cement the alliance. And other things happened too c .” “What other things?” Everna took her lower lip between her teeth. Why was she finding this so difficult? It had happened so long ago. “Pharry, something was taken from us, something very important and special.” “Money? Land?” “No! Our heritage. The old ways, the old beliefs. All gone. Our ancestor, Valraven I, was a boy when it happened. The Magravands came, led by the second emperor. They killed the Lord of Caradore, and took the boy, Valraven, as their own. It is so terrible. They made him swear an oath to Madragore that bound his dynasty to the empire for eternity. If he, or his descendants, should forsake it, then Caradore will perish in flame.? The story was terrible, Pharinet thought, but even if it was true, how could it affect them now? It had happened so long ago, and had no bearing on the present. Times change, things are forgotten. If anything, it was inconvenient to know these facts. What could they do about it now? The Magravands might originally have ridden into Caradore as conquerors, yet while their father was alive the emperor had looked upon it as a refuge, the abode of a beloved friend. “It is nothing to do with us,” Pharinet said. Everna glanced down at her. “You are wrong. It has everything to do with us, not least Val. From the day of the conquest forward, every firstborn son of our house has been named Valraven. It is to help keep something alive. They are kings, Pharry, but without a kingdom. I know you don’t want to hear these things, but you must.” “What else is there to know?” “The dragons,” Everna said, gazing out at the ocean. She lifted a hand, pointed. “The sea dragons.” Pharinet took a moment to consider these words. It had been no coincidence an image of her dream had come back to her. “What of them?” “The Palindrakes were the guardians of the sea power. The sea dragons danced for our ancestors, gave them knowledge of the ocean realm and its secrets. The women were their priestesses, and the dragon heir their spiritual son. The firstborn boy of every generation was a channel for the power. He was the lord of Caradore in more than one way. His presence ensured the vitality of the land, its security and fertility. The Magravands took this from us, because they wanted that power for themselves. That is why our father, and his father before him, was taken into the court at Magrast. Soon, it will be the same for Val. The dragon heir is a symbol, almost like an insignia of war. Whatever army he leads will win their battles.” “No wonder the emperor was so fond of Dada!” Pharinet exclaimed. Could this all be true? Everna nodded. “The dragons have sunk back into the sea. We cannot call them to us any more. The power is in the land and in our blood, but we have lost that special connection with the sea. It has been severed.” “Evvie, how do you know these things?” Everna pursed her lips. “Saska Leckery,” she said. Pharinet experienced a wave of both disappointment and relief. It was only stories, then. Ellony’s mother was like an unofficial aunt to the Palindrakes. She had helped Everna a lot since their mother had died, but despite many kind and noble qualities, had a busy tongue and an active imagination. It was well known in the district that gossip deriving from Saska was prone to rigorous exaggeration. “How does Saska know this if we do not?” “Don’t you see?” Everna snapped. “This is what our mother would have told me! Saska intimated as much. Apparently, Mama spoke to Saska about it a long time ago. She said that if anything were to happen to her, Saska should be the one to pass on the knowledge.” “I’m not sure about all this,” Pharinet said, her eyes narrow. “If it’s true, I think other people would have told us.” “Oh, Pharry, can’t you just trust your instincts? I know you feel the truth of it inside. There is more. The women of this land have secretly preserved a lot of the ancient traditions. There is a cabal of priestesses, loyal to the dragons, who keep the old ways alive. It is like a tiny flame that cannot be stoked, for then it would be noticeable, but at least it keeps the death of belief at bay. And I c .” She paused, frowned. “Have become involved in it,” Pharinet finished. Everna glanced down at her. “I’m not supposed to speak of it. The tradition has to be secret because it is opposes the law of Madragore.” “Is Saska in it?” “Yes.” Pharinet sighed. She imagined a bunch of the local matriarchs dancing in secret to the legend of dragons. It seemed absurd. How could Everna be so taken in? She doubted there was harm in it, but it seemed ridiculous too. When she thought of the emperor, she could not imagine his ancestors involved in dark or magical deeds. He seemed so light and golden. And yet, there was the dragon dream. She remembered the feelings it had inspired within her, and suddenly the secret history seemed much more credible. “You’ll have to prove all this to me,” she said. Everna smiled carefully. “I anticipated as much. You are too young to join the sisterhood, but the evidence is there on Val, if you care to look.” “What evidence?” “On the back of his neck, you’ll find the mark of Madragore. Our great-great-grandfather was branded there by the Magravand mages. The mark is passed on through the father and is part of what binds the dragon heir to Madragore. I want you to look for it. Once you’ve seen it, will you believe me?” Pharinet thought she must have seen Val naked a thousand times since they were babies. She could not remember having seen a mark. “What is it supposed to look like?” “The hammer of the god.” Everna took her sister’s shoulders in a strong grip. “Pharry, I was driven to confide in you, even though it contravenes the laws of the sisterhood. I should have waited another few years before entrusting you with this knowledge, but some instinct has forced me to speak now. You must not reveal what I’ve told you to anyon
e. Do you understand? Not even Val.” “Why not? Surely he should be told, too.” Everna shook her head. “No. This knowledge will only damage him. In a few years’ time, he will be summoned to Magrast, and must go in innocence. The priestesses work constantly to undo the magic of the mages, and one day will succeed. On that day, the dragons will rise from the sea, and the foundation of the empire will crack. Then, we shall create change. But until that moment, the dragon heir must remain ignorant of his heritage. Our great-great-grandmother, Ilcretia, initiated the Sisterhood of the Dragon, and she decreed what must be so. We have to trust her judgment, even now. Promise me you’ll keep silent. Swear on Val’s life!” Pharinet hesitated. Everna seemed panicked now, perhaps thinking she’d acted impulsively to unburden herself. Relenting, Pharinet softened. “All right. I swear on Val’s life to keep your secret.” Everna’s grip slackened on her shoulders. She bowed her head. “Good. Good. Look for the mark, Pharry.”