Bredon nodded. It was all the same to him, however they approached. He had no idea what the proper protocol might be, or what might best win Lady Sunlight's favor; he was simply following Geste's lead. He was trusting the Trickster with his life-but then, could the Lady of the Season's guards be more dangerous than flying through the air on an open platform? He had already trusted himself to that.
Well, yes, he supposed they could be more dangerous, but he was resolved to trust Geste.
The platform passed smoothly over the roof of Autumn House and settled gently onto a broad stone-paved terrace, a few meters away from a wide-open doorway. Bredon saw no guards, nor any sign of life whatsoever. On two sides, the north and south, he saw forested mountains in the distance and nothing else. To the west he had a magnificent view of foothills tumbling downward, row after row, and sinking at last into a vast, desolate plain-not a grass-covered prairie like his home to the east, but a golden expanse of wasteland. He was too far up to make out any details.
On the fourth side, the east, stood the stone and timber walls of Autumn House, broken by several large openings into the dim interior.
The air around them, which had been utterly still, was suddenly moving across them in a cool breeze.
“Come on,” Geste said, stepping off the platform and beckoning.
Bredon, breathing deeply of the fresh mountain air, followed the Trickster across the terrace and through an open doorway into the largest, most luxurious room he had ever seen.
The houses in his native village were walled with various kinds of brick or woven grasses and roofed with thatch over timber. Timber was scarce and expensive in the grasslands. A room more than four meters across was a rare extravagance; his parents’ home had none over three.
This room was easily ten meters across and twenty meters long. Wide windows took up most of three walls, using as much glass as half his village-the openings he had seen from the terrace, save for the single doorway they had entered through, were all such windows, and Bredon marvelled that they could be made so large and yet not have the glass collapse of its own weight.
The floor was stone, matching the terrace, but much of it was hidden beneath fur rugs. Looking at the rugs Bredon could not identify what creature had provided the fur for any of them. A faint scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke reached him.
The sweeping emptiness of the room was broken up by half a dozen scattered couches and an assortment of small tables. The wall that held no windows consisted in large part of an immense alcove that Bredon realized was a fireplace only after he had spotted both the ash in the bottom and the flue at the back.
Tiny spots of color flitted about the room, and Bredon recognized them as the same creatures that had surrounded Lady Sunlight. She had come here. He felt the muscles of his throat and chest tightening in anticipation.
“Hello!” Geste called as they stepped inside.
“Hello, Mr. Geste,” a smooth, masculine voice replied from the empty air. Bredon looked for its source, but saw nothing. “I regret to say that Lady Sheila is not at home just now, but we expect her back shortly. Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like to wait?"
“Is Lady Sunlight here? I see some of her flutterbugs."
“I'm sorry, sir, but she went with Lady Sheila. The flutterbugs were a housewarming gift."
Bredon felt harsh disappointment welling within him.
“Damn,” Geste muttered under his breath. “Missed her!” Aloud, he asked, “But she was here?"
“Yes, sir, Lady Sunlight arrived a few hours ago. I understand she will be staying for several sleeps."
“You expect her back?"
“Oh, yes, sir."
“When?"
“I don't know, sir."
“Where did they go? Did they say?"
“Yes, sir. Lady Sheila, Lady Sunlight, and Rawl the Adjuster have gone to the High Castle. I believe they felt called upon to settle a disagreement between Brenner of the Mountains and Thaddeus the Black."
Bredon had observed this exchange without comment. He had determined to his own satisfaction that the voice was not coming from any of the walls, nor the floor, nor the ceiling. It was coming from empty air, in the center of the room, which was impossible. He also did not really know what a castle was, though he had heard the word in childhood stories. More specifically, he did not know what the High Castle was, or why so many of the Powers should be gathering there. The mention of Rawl the Adjuster, the legendary incarnation of justice and mercy, impressed him, even here in the home of the Lady of the Seasons, with the notorious Trickster at his side. He told himself that he should be becoming accustomed to these casual references to the figures of legend, particularly since he had yet to actually meet any but the Trickster, but the name still carried an impact, and it added further to his mounting burden of curiosity, so that he could hold back no longer. “Who are you talking to?” he demanded. “What's going on?"
“I'm talking to Sheila's housekeeper,” Geste replied, a trifle impatiently.
“Why can't I see him?"
“Because it's invisible."
Bredon started to protest that that was impossible, but thought better of it. Among the Powers he had no way of knowing what, if anything, might be impossible. Instead, he asked, “What's the High Castle?"
“That's the stronghold of Brenner of the Mountains, about a hundred kilometers southwest of here. And I think that's where we're headed.” He spun on his heel and marched back out onto the terrace.
Bredon hurriedly followed; behind them the housekeeper's voice called, “Safe journey, sir; I'll tell Lady Sheila you were here."
Bredon heard no command, saw no gesture, but the platform glided smoothly over to meet them.
Chapter Seven
"'…a strong head indeed, for a mortal,’ said Brenner, as he calmly stood up.
"Mighty Konnel looked up at him in shock, still just barely sober enough to realize that although the whole world seemed to be spinning, Brenner was standing straight and steady. Yet he had seen the Power down two drinks to each of his own, and all poured from the same bottles!
"'I don't understand it,’ he said, the liquor loosening his tongue, ‘I just don't understand it. I've drunk men twice your size under the table, and now I can't move, while you aren't even staggered!'
"'Ah,’ Brenner said, ‘but you can never drink one of us under the table, for we are never drunker than we choose to be. Listen, man, they call you the mighty Konnel, and you're as mighty a mortal as I've ever met, but when you match yourself against an immortal you have no chance. When we matched arms, I drew on the strength of steel as well as bone; when we tested our eyes I saw the target with more than mortal sight, and threw with the aid of demons; when we drank, a spirit in my body took the alcohol when I had had enough. Here, take my hand, and the spirit will draw the drunkenness from you, as well.'
"Konnel managed to bring a hand up where Brenner could grasp it, and suddenly the fog vanished from his head and the strength returned to his limbs, so that he felt better than he ever had before, as if the strength of the mountains themselves was pouring into him. He stood and laughed in amazement and joy.
"'There!’ Brenner said. ‘Now, go back to your village and tell them that you did as you swore to do, and that I had to cheat to best you, and you caught me at it-that's close enough to the truth, and I've no need to shame you. You're a good man, mighty Konnel, and I'd be glad of your company should you ever care to return. In your honor I swear that I shall never again send the lightning to burn your village, so long as you live there-but that your people, all save yourself, must still stay away from my mountain. And take this as proof.’ And he handed Konnel a crystal cup that shone with a light of its own and spoke when questioned.