“Welcome, Your Highness,” she said, curtsying deeply. “I am Lady Zella, chatelaine and secretary to the late Archduke Toneus.”
“I wish the circumstances were happier ones.” Klia passed the wreath to Brescia and waved Seregil and the others forward. “This is my wizard, Lord Thero of the Third Orëska, and his apprentice, Mika of Rhíminee. This is my friend, Lord Micum of Watermead, and these two fine gentlemen are the new masters of Mirror Moon: Barons Seregil and Alec.”
“You’re most fortunate, my lords,” said Zella. “Mirror Moon is one of the prettiest estates on the island, and it’s been well maintained by your steward, a man named Dorin.”
“Send word to have the house opened for them,” said Klia. “I want to inspect it at some point on behalf of the queen.”
Their horses were brought for them, and they started off for the governor’s mansion. Scattered knots of people greeted Klia, who cut a fine figure on her favorite horse, Moonshine—an Aurënfaie stallion with a glossy night-black coat and silvery white mane and tail. Many of the former slaves fell to their knees, thanking Klia and tossing flowers. Elani might be queen, but it had been Klia who had purged the island and freed them.
“Welcome back, Your Highness, and bless the Queen!” one old ’faie woman wept, holding up a small nosegay of spring wildflowers.
However, Seregil noted that many of the townspeople were eyeing him with curiosity or outright hostility. Those of his own kind looked away, ashamed, he knew, for a countryman to see them in such a state. Unfair or not, living in slavery brought shame on an entire clan.
As they rode through the streets it was also not lost on Seregil that there were few men among the well-wishers, and even fewer who appeared to have Plenimaran blood. Looking up, he saw faces at windows, and sensed the fear and uncertainty that underlay the welcome. Kouros had been in Plenimaran hands for several generations, and seeing a royal commander with soldiers was still cause for alarm, especially after Klia’s last visit.
Deep Harbor was an old city, with a jumble of architectural styles from differing times and cultures. Children, dogs, and sheep scampered before their horses, and the breeze carried the smells of salt fish, smoke, seaweed, night soil, and foundry smoke. Many of the larger houses appeared to be empty, abandoned no doubt when Klia had routed the Plenimaran inhabitants.
“The man who claims to have seen the spirit that night, is he still in your custody?” Klia asked as they rode along.
“He awaits questioning, Your Highness,” Zella told her. “Though you’re not likely to get much sense out of him.”
“But he’s not the one who’s mad, right?”
“No. At least I don’t think so, but he was deeply shaken by the experience and has difficulty talking about it.”
Klia nodded. “We shall see.”
The governor’s villa was several centuries old, built during one of the many Plenimaran occupations. Three stories high, it was made of the native limestone. The main house was a large block, with square towers on either end and a steeply pitched roof. The lower windows were barred and a high wall surrounded the grounds, giving it the air of a garrison, which it in part was. There were stables, a large garden, wells, and some pasturage inside the curtain wall, and a line of barracks was built along one side, where Klia’s riders were to be billeted.
Inside the house was more welcoming, with a great hall done in dark woods, and a huge fieldstone fireplace that would have fit a bull on a spit for roasting. A cheerful blaze crackled there now.
Servants took their baggage and led them to their rooms. Seregil and Alec were given one at the front of the house, next to the one Klia and Thero would share. Micum’s lay just across the corridor, with a trundle bed for Mika. The furnishings in Alec and Seregil’s chamber were Plenimaran in style, with carved wooden shutters to fold around the bed and posts carved with what appeared to be demons or monsters of some sort. A fire crackled in the fireplace under a mantelpiece carved with mythic sea monsters. More sea beasts were painted in bands on the walls.
“Ugly, but serviceable,” Seregil remarked, tossing his cloak aside.
“It’s not so bad,” Alec said, though he guessed that anything Plenimaran would be ugly in Seregil’s eyes.
A servant came to the door. “I’m Marten, my lords. Lady Zella has assigned me as your personal servant. I’m to guide you to the bathhouse whenever you are ready—”
“I’ve been ready since we got off the boat,” Seregil said with a chuckle.
“Your baggage has not yet arrived, but will be here quite soon. I can provide you with robes in the meantime.”
“Excellent. When our trunks arrive, please bring down clothing suitable for tonight’s feast.”
Marten led them back the way they’d come, and down a covered walkway behind the house to a pleasant bathhouse. The men’s chamber was a bit primitive by Aurënfaie standards, just a hot room with individual tubs and a few attendants. Micum, Mika, and Thero were already there, soaking happily.
“I can’t believe I got here sooner than an Aurënfaie,” Micum remarked; the ’faie were famous for their love of bathing, and Seregil was no exception.
“I wonder if it’s quite up to your standards,” Thero remarked as he washed his face. “No scented oils or flowers in the water.”
“It’s warm and it’s clean. That’s all I care about at the moment.” Seregil stripped off his traveling clothes and sank into the tub beside Thero’s with a long sigh of satisfaction.
“You have a lot of scars!” said Mika. “Were you in the war?”
Seregil smiled. “No, but I’ve had an interesting life. I’ll tell you stories sometime.”
Alec took the tub by Micum’s. Unbinding his hair, he sank under the water for a moment to wet it. Some helpful servant had left a jar of soft soap on a stand by the side of the tub. “I hope we talk to the man who saw the ghost soon,” he noted as he lathered up. “I’d like to know one way or the other what we’re dealing with.”
“It certainly sounds as if something shook him deeply,” said Seregil.
“And there’s the guard in the madhouse.”
Micum shook his head. “I don’t want to bet my life on the words of a frightened man or a lunatic. Do you?”
“They’re all we have to work with,” Seregil said with a shrug. “We’ll speak with them both before we go up to Menosi.”
“Can I go, Master Thero?” asked Mika. “I’ve never met a mad person before.”
“I don’t think that would further your education at this point,” Thero told him. “And don’t forget to wash your ears.”
“But I can come to Menosi, right?”
“Yes.”
“I want to see a ghost!”
“Perhaps you will, but you must be patient and careful. Ghosts are nothing to be taken lightly.”
The feast that night was an intimate affair, just Klia and her party, Lady Zella, Master Hasen, the mayor of Deep Water, and his wife Loena. Both Hasen and Loena were native islanders, with the dark eyes and fair skin that spoke of generations of mingled heritage. Kouros had changed hands many times, seen Skalan and Plenimaran settlers come and go, but the islanders themselves persisted, making do as best they could.
“Tell me how your city is faring,” Klia said to the mayor as they dined on the local spring lamb and blue-tail grouse stuffed with ewe’s-milk cheese and figs.
“Well enough, Your Highness,” he replied. “Governor Toneus was a fair man, and a good one.”
“How did he compare with the Plenimaran governor?” asked Thero.
“General Rugo left us mostly to our own devices, so long as we paid our taxes and no one made trouble.”
“His wife was the soul of charity,” Loena added. “She saw that the poor were fed, and organized a hospital in town when a bout of plague swept through. And she brought in a real physician, dear Doctor Kordira.”
“A Plenimaran?” asked Alec.
“Yes, and she’s a very good woman, regard
less of where she came from. She saw our youngest through milk fever last spring.” She smiled at Mika. “You look about his age. Perhaps you can come to play.”
Mika’s mouth was full, but he nodded politely.
“Tell me, Your Highness, even though you fought the Plenimarans, didn’t you now and then meet a good one?” asked Hasen.
“There’s goodness to be found in all places,” Klia replied. “Many of their officers were men of great honor on the battlefield.”
“I noticed some former slaves at the waterfront,” said Alec. “Were there many here during the occupation?”
“Oh, yes,” the mayor replied, as if he’d been asked about the weather. “Shameful, the way some of them were treated, but most of the masters were kind.”
Alec’s gut tightened; he’d experienced such “kindness” for himself, and so had Seregil. As he was searching for a response that wouldn’t be utterly rude, Seregil set his cup aside and leaned forward in his chair.
“All kindness goes out the window when you put a metal collar around the neck of another person. Those poor broken souls with the scars of bondage still showing didn’t look as if they’d been overwhelmed with kindness.”
The mayor blinked in surprise. “I meant no offense, Baron. I was only saying that some treated their slaves better than others. Surely that counts for something?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
There was an uncomfortable pause, then Micum said, “The Plenimarans are particularly brutal with Aurënfaie, so Baron Seregil feels very strongly about the matter.”
“Ah, of course.”
“Forgive me,” Seregil said, all gracious apology now. “I didn’t mean to spoil anyone’s appetite. Lady Zella, I’m most curious about the oracle site. I understand Governor Toneus was in the process of restoring it, along with Menosi.”
“Only the façade was finished, I’m afraid. The precinct was so overgrown he had to employ a diviner to find it. The interior of it is actually a series of three caves. The tunnels leading to the inner ones had been blocked. The workmen had just gotten them all cleared a few days before Toneus died.” She sighed. “At least he lived long enough to see the wonders there. They’re very beautiful. After the deaths, the workmen wouldn’t stay there or at Menosi, so all work has stopped. Now that you are here, Princess Klia, I’m sure things will return to normal.”
“And the oracle doesn’t speak anymore?” asked Alec.
“No, my lord, not for centuries, though there are those who claim to have had significant dreams sleeping there.”
“Indeed?” said Seregil. Perhaps a night there was in order at some point. “Do you have any histories of the island?”
“Most documents have been lost over the years, with one battle and another. But Doctor Kordira has made a study of it. You should speak with her.”
“Thank you, my lady. We will be sure to.”
“The archduke did amass a sizable collection of artifacts, however,” said Zella. “Perhaps you’d like to see them after dinner, Highness.”
“I’d be most interested,” Klia replied.
When everyone was relaxed and chatting over the nuts and sweet wine, Mika was allowed to stand on a chair and demonstrate a few of the spells he’d learned: rolling a hazelnut across the tablecloth, lighting a candle by snapping his fingers, and drawing patterns on the air with his wand.
“Such a talented boy!” Loena exclaimed, clapping her hands with the rest of them. “You really must come and visit my son Hamit.”
“If time allows,” Thero said. “Thank you, Mika. Say good night and go up to bed.”
Well rehearsed, Mika bowed to each guest and dutifully went off with a servant woman.
When the child was gone, Klia brought the conversation around at last to the governor’s death.
“Mayor Hasen, I’ve been sent by the queen as interim governor until the new one arrives with the queen this summer. While here, I am tasked with ascertaining the circumstances of Governor Toneus’s death. What can you tell me?”
“We warned him the ruins were dangerous,” Hasen replied. “No islander will go there.”
“Dangerous how, exactly?”
“Well, of course, they’re very old. The buildings that are still standing are in a hazardous condition. Stones fall at the slightest breeze. And there are places where the ground gives way to underground rooms or tunnels.”
“Or graves,” Loena said with a shudder. “And of course, there are the mine shafts riddling the hills. People are always falling down them.”
“I understand the mines are still active after all these centuries?” said Micum.
“Oh, yes,” Hasen replied. “It’s supposed that was why the Hierophantic people settled here for so long—in addition to the oracle. The soil was fertile then, and there were forests. We still have some good grazing land. The sheep, goats, and horse stock here are from very old bloodlines. Some say the black-tail sheep were brought over in the Migration. You’ll find you’ve come into some of the best horses, too, my lords.”
“The Mirror Moon herd is well known for its beauty and stamina,” added Loena. “I ride one myself.”
“You should turn a good profit in Skala, with the right representatives,” Hasen added with a wink.
“Queen Elani has been most kind,” Seregil replied. “But we were talking of the poor governor’s demise. The most extraordinary rumors are going around Rhíminee. What exactly happened?”
“I suppose you’re referring to the ghost stories, my lord,” said Zella.
“It does sound a bit far-fetched.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you were from here,” said Loena. “Even the Plenimarans stayed out of the ruins.”
“If it’s so dangerous, why was Governor Toneus so determined to rebuild there?” asked Alec.
“He didn’t believe the stories, you see,” Hasen replied. “He made a great deal of progress before his death, too. The Hierophant’s palace is safe and beautiful again, and the precinct of the oracular site. He preserved all that he could of the original architecture and monuments, clearing away the decrepit houses and building new villas. I went up there a few times with him. There are some impressive things there, and a marvelous view.”
“The Hierophants built their monuments and palaces to last the ages,” said Zella.
“What about the person who claimed to have seen a spirit?” asked Alec.
“Poor Corporal Karis,” Zella replied. “He’s downstairs in the cells.”
“Cells?” Klia asked.
“It was the only way, Highness. At first I gave him a room, but he tried to leave Deep Harbor twice before we finally locked him up.”
“I shall speak with him in the morning.”
“As you wish, Highness. I thought tonight you’d like to go over the late governor’s papers. He had the whole area mapped. I’ve laid the pertinent documents out in the library. It’s just down the corridor from your room, together with the artifacts I mentioned.”
“Yes,” said Klia. “But what about the reports of people going missing since Toneus’s death?”
“Rumors!” scoffed Hasen.
“I wish that were so,” said Zella, “but I’m afraid those are true. Upward of a score of people have vanished around Menosi—workmen, soldiers, shepherds, and travelers—though it’s not known for certain what happened to them. You see, that’s why the workmen fled, and the soldiers are only there because they’re ordered to be. It’s thought that some of them simply ran away out of fear and are hiding in the hills somewhere. That’s all I know, but you can speak with the officers in charge when we get there.”
“If you will kindly excuse us, Highness, it’s time we were getting home,” said Hasen, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “And I must say, this has always been a haunted island. I’ve seen a few strange things in my day, I admit, but nothing that ever hurt a living person. This business with Toneus is horrible, and I have no explanation for it, but don’
t limit yourself to thinking spirits did it.”
Klia smiled. “Thank you, Mayor. I’ll keep an open mind.”
The antechamber of the library had been turned into a sort of museum. The room was lined with shelves on which a diverse collection of oddments was on display. There were corroded buckles that might have once adorned a harness, the rusted remains of knives and swords, clay buttons, bits of painted pottery, small statues, and pieces of carved stone. Beautifully worked bits of gold jewelry lay in velvet-lined boxes. Earrings shaped like stylized leaves lay next to a circular brooch made in the shape of a snake biting its own tail. Other brooches and pendants were more stylized designs, including many spirals.
“This all came from the palace?” asked Klia as she perused the collection with interest.
“From there and the city. And these bits were found at the back of the oracle’s cave.” Zella led her to a shelf near the library door. There were bits of colorful dripstone, some like melted wax, others in the shapes of striped daggers or delicate straws. “The inmost chamber, the third, lies below two others. There are ancient paintings on the walls, dripstone formations, and many of these.” She pointed to a line of tiny votive figures in the shapes of horses, birds, arrow points, and serpents. Most were made of clay, but there were a few fashioned from copper, green and pitted with age. In the center stood a box made of polished burl wood, six inches square, with a bronze lock plate.
“The excavators found most of these, though the archduke punished those caught looting the caves. There may have been more things of value that were smuggled out before Toneus realized they were doing it. There is still something quite surprising there, but I’ll let you discover that for yourselves. The city and palace were looted ages ago. Most anything of real value has been carried off. Except this.” Zella drew a small key on a chain from the neck of her dress and unlocked the square box. Lifting the lid, she showed them a woman’s golden arm ring covered in delicate tracery. It was slightly bent, and scratched in a few places, but it was still beautiful.
“That’s a pretty piece of work,” Micum remarked.