Only one man, Julian’s friend, Sir Ander Martel, the baby’s godfather, knew Cecile, knew her father, and knew or was able to guess both sides of the tragic tale. He tried at one point to tell Julian that Cecile had done this for his sake, because she feared for his life. The moment Sir Ander mentioned her name, Julian told him coldly that if he wanted to continue to be friends, he would never speak of her again. Julian de Guichen would eventually learn the truth, but, sadly, only on the night before his execution. Too late to tell his son.
Stephano, growing up, knew he was different from other children in that he did not have a mother. He was not particularly bothered by this lack. He and his father were extremely close. Sir Julian always refused to speak ill of Cecile, but Stephano’s grandfather felt no such compunction. When Stephano was twelve, his embittered grandfather summoned the boy to his study and told Stephano the truth-his side of it, which had been further tainted over the years by a hatred of King Alaric and his mistress, who, on the death of her father, was now the wealthy and powerful Countess Cecile de Marjolaine.
Sir Ander, as Stephano’s godfather, could have told the boy what he knew, but that was the time Julian’s friend and patron, the Duke de Bourlet, had openly split from the king. The seeds of rebellion were being sown. Sir Ander did not like King Alaric, but he believed a man should be loyal to the Crown and, although he knew the duke was in the right, in that he had been goaded past endurance into fighting, Sir Ander did not join in the rebellion. He and Julian remained friends, though they were on opposing sides of the terrible conflict.
As Stephano sat in the carriage, his hat on his knee, he heard again his grandfather’s bitter, hate-filled tirade against his mother, words forever seared in the boy’s memory. He was jolted from his dark reverie when Rodrigo got into a heated argument with the carriage driver, claiming that the man was deliberately taking them out of their way in order to charge them more money.
“Look, Stephano!” Rodrigo cried, pointing out the carriage’s glass window, “Look where this son of a goat has taken us! Out past the Rim!”
The continent of Rosia was surrounded by an ocean of air, as were all the continents-the Seven Sisters-of the world of Aeronne. The air, the Breath of God, with its magical properties, was the “sea” on which floated the continents and islands that made up the world of Aeronne.
Similar to the water in the greater inland seas and lakes, the Breath had currents and moods. The wispy, peach-colored mist of a calm day could quickly darken to the deep reddish orange of a coming water storm with winds that would whip the surface of the Breath to a froth, lifting the heavier clouds from below to wreak havoc with the controls on an airship.
The mists that were wispy and thin as silken scarves grew thicker as one sank deeper into the Breath, becoming almost liquid at the bottom, or so learned men theorized. No one knew for certain what lay at the bottom because no one had ever been able to penetrate that deep and survive.
Where the Breath met the shoreline of the continents was called the Rim. To sail beyond the Rim meant leaving land behind and venturing into the mists of the Breath.
The view out the carriage window was spectacular and, as always, caused Stephano’s heart to contract with both pain and pleasure. When he had been a Dragon Knight, riding the thermals of the Breath, flying among the tendrillike mists, he would always take a moment to view the continent from this angle: the jagged edges of distant mountains, the green of hills, the smoky haze rising from the multitude of chimneys, the airships of all sizes and types sailing in and out of the bustling port of Evreux, the capital city of Rosia and one of the largest and busiest ports in the world.
He and his dragon mount, Lady Cam, would always share this moment. He would laughingly point out his family’s former small estate, tucked somewhere in those green hills, and she would, with more gravity, mention her family’s estate in the Montagnes Imperiale, the mountain range which the dragons called home. The two would ride the mists, knowing themselves-in the dragon’s grace and beauty and Stephano’s skills as a rider-superior to those who were forced to rely on wood and magic and silk balloons to sail the Breath.
Lady Cam was dead now. She had died in battle eight years ago, struck down by friendly cannon fire from a ship of their own fleet. She had died and so had the Dragon Brigade. And so had Stephano, in a way.
Stephano looked at the clouds and took note of the wind speed and the direction the wind was blowing, and then endeavored to make Rodrigo understand that the carriage driver knew what he was doing. Given the conditions, he was taking the best route to the palace.
“Otherwise, the ride would be bumpy. We would be blown all over the sky, and you would be air sick and complain about that,” said Stephano.
Rodrigo gave way with such good grace that Stephano suspected his friend had started this row simply to shake Stephano out of his gloomy mood. By that time, they were once more over land and the palace was in view.
The Sunset Palace was a breathtaking sight, whether seen by day, suspended in the air above the lake, mirrored in the waters below, or at night, when its lighted windows, shining in the darkness, rivaled the stars. The palace was, as its name implied, most beautiful in the twilight, when magical constructs set in the walls reflected the colors of the sky, causing the walls to change color from pink to orange, purple, and blue.
Simple in design, the palace was a square with a tower at each of the four corners. The entrance consisted of another, smaller square constructed inside the first, with a smaller tower at each of those four corners. The palace’s beauty lay in the graceful magnificence of the towers and the fanciful construction of the one hundred chimneys, each of which was of a different design, so that the palace, from a distance, resembled the skyline of a city.
The Sunset Palace was the largest floating structure in the known world. The construction of the palace had started during the reign of King Alaric’s grandfather. He had died while the building was still on the ground. Alaric’s father, the late king, had brought crafters from all over to place the magical constructs that had at last lifted the palace up to the heavens, elevating the King of Rosia to a somewhat equal footing with God.
Stephano noted that several of those fancy new warships drifted in the air near the palace, keeping constant vigil. The ships used the liquid form of the Breath, known as the Blood of God, to stay afloat. The liquid was stored in lift tanks in the hull near the base of the wings and ballast tanks on the mast, which meant the ships had no balloons, only sails. Faster and lighter, these were the ships that had replaced the Dragon Brigade. The navy stood guard because the palace had minimal defenses. Though the towers and walls were strengthened by magical constructs, they were mainly for decoration. Most of the magic went into keeping the palace up in the air. The warships and the palace guards, mounted on wyverns, patrolled the perimeter, turning away those who did not have business with the royal court.
A series of buoys, marked with different colored flags, floated in the sky, forming lanes through which carriages were funneled. The large and splendid carriages of the nobility, sometimes drawn by as many as four wyverns, entered one lane. Delivery vehicles entered another. Hired hacks traveled yet another. Stephano’s carriage took its place in line with those.
When they reached the arrival point, a palace guard looked inside the carriage and, recognizing Rodrigo, exchanged a few pleasantries and waved them on. The carriage flew to the entrance and dropped down onto the open-air paved courtyard. The wyvern rested, tucking its head beneath its wing. The driver dismounted and lowered the steps. Rodrigo and Stephano descended. Rodrigo paid the driver, who touched his hand to his hat and, prodding the wyvern into flight, sailed off.