The girl steadied herself, reassured perhaps by Isak's equally startled expression. She looked him over quickly, then said, 'Tila, my Lord, my name is Tila Introl. I am to be your personal maid.'
Isak had no idea why he needed a personal maid, but she was pretty so he had no complaints. He looked around the room for a way to open conversation, prodding absentmindedly at the blood-stained bandage around his left hand. Then the books caught his eye once more.
'Can you read?' he asked, nodding his head encouragingly towards the dusty tomes.
'Of course, my Lord. My father has an extensive library.' She sounded a little surprised.
'Your family has money?' he asked, bemused at the idea that his maid was highborn. No one else could afford any sort of library.
'Yes, my Lord. My father is Anad Introl. He is Gatekeeper of the City, and a member of the city council.'
'Does that mean I should have heard of him?' Isak asked.
'No, my Lord,' she said with a worried expression. Isak forced a
smile at her; he'd snapped because he was tired. Tila looked a little uncertain, but she returned it; Isak had always been able to elicit a mile from people, even his father sometimes, despite his unwilling-ness to like anything about his son. Carel said it was part of being a white-eye: after all, men had been willing to rush to their deaths at Lord Atro's command; Lord Bahl was considered withdrawn, practically a hermit, yet his presence was enough to command complete attention and obedience. Carel had told him that every white-eye he'd ever met, no matter how brutal, possessed some remarkable redeeming quality.
Isak was pretty sure he could start to put people at ease by making them laugh, so Tila's hesitant smile gave him hope. The last thing he wanted was a maid who hated white-eyes.
'It's traditional for the palace maids to come from the noble families,' Tila began hesitantly. 'Lord Atro initiated it as a hostage system so he could keep control of the nobility, but the tradition has continued. The rest of the palace has proper servants; we're only here in the main wing. Sometimes it feels more like a finishing school. Readying us for being married off.' She looked down at the bed. 'I'm sorry, my Lord. I've been chattering away; I'll finish here and get out of your way. We were all instructed to keep from wasting your time-'
'You aren't in my way,' he replied quickly, 'and as for wasting my time, you probably have far more idea than I do about what I'm meant to do with it. I know what a Krann is, but not what will be expected of me. Can you tell me anything?'
'No, my Lord, I'm sorry.' The girl shook her head. 'I was just woken to make your room ready; we weren't even told to expect you. I'm sorry it's dusty and bare in here, but Lord Bahl is the only one who can bring us up and he's been in the forest for weeks. There is a library, on the second floor; I could try to find you some lore books, I suppose.
The Chief Steward will know but… well you don't want him to
think you're in his pocket. The only other person is Lord Bahl; he was once Krann, but I wouldn't dare ask him.'
Why not – does he beat the servants?' Isak asked, on more familiar ground now.
‘No my lord,' Tila replied quickly, 'Lord Bahl is good to us; he doesn't even notice us most of the time, which suits me fine. But you do hear stories-'
'What sort of stories?' he said, annoyed at his own ignorance – even the maids knew more than he did.
'Well-' she sounded a little dubious, as if unsure of how much she should say. Spreading gossip was dangerous, but if the new Krann was going to survive in the palace, he had to know.
She took a breath and started, 'Stories about what he did to the last lord, to Lord Atro. I suppose it's romantic, to avenge the death of one's lover, but-'
'But?'
She looked disinclined to go further, wondering if she should even have started this conversation.
'What sort of stories?' Isak pressed her. 'What happened? When?' Herman had banned all talk of white-eyes around Isak; though tales of blood and violence were a staple diet at the fireside, Isak had never been welcome. All this was completely new to him.
'Surely you must know?' she started, but as she saw him stiffen, she quickly continued, 'They say that three entire streets were destroyed in the battle. It ended in Cornerstone Market and bits were found as far away as Myrenn Avenue. Atro was hacked apart, and they say that when they tried to gather all the pieces together to bury them, half of them were burnt.'
'Is Myrenn Avenue far from the market?'
Tila gaped. 'Far? It's more than two hundred paces! Two hundred paces – for pieces to fly through the air!'
'Oh that's easy, I can do that.'
A look of panic flashed over her face, but Isak smiled as she started back and she realised that he had been joking. Tila gave a hiss of exasperation at her own gullibility and opened her mouth to retort when the words died. Isak's own smile faltered as he realised she had checked herself, remembering her position in relation to his: she was a maid, noble-born or not, gossiping to the new Krann rather than attending to her duties. She pushed errant strands of hair back behind her ears as she turned back to the bed and tugged the sheet flat with a practised hand.
Her tasks finished, Tila straightened her dress and then sat down on the floor facing into the dark circle there. She didn't seem to trust the magic that held it, though the platform was solid and secure. Isak looked at her, but now she kept her eyes lowered.
'Do you want to go back down again?'
she twitched at the sound of his voice, then forced herself to look at him. 'How, my Lord? Lord Bahl is the only one who can take us. The Chief Steward is still up there, so no doubt he will be down soon’
'I can take you down,' Isak said brightly. 'I'm pretty sure I can do what he did. It didn't look that hard.'
'Didn't look that hard?' Tila looked shocked. 'It's magic, so what's so simple about that?'
Isak paused. When he'd entered the circle below and watched Bahl trigger the magic, it had looked simple; it had felt to him as if the tower had welcomed him with its secrets. How did you explain that without sounding like a madman? She would think he meant that the tower had spoken to him, but it wasn't that it was alive, not at all, just that he thought it was able to recognise someone like him. Isak hadn't felt as though he had been Chosen until the magic of the tower had treated him as such. He'd bluster the rest for a pretty face.
'If you don't know anything about magic, then I can't really explain it to you.'
'Well, I suppose you are white-eye. "Pretty sure" – what exactly does that mean?' She still sounded unconvinced.
'Well, if it doesn't work we'll fall hundreds of feet and die – but I really think I know how to do it. Don't worry,' he added, with what sounded like entirely too much enthusiasm for her liking. Grabbing her arm he pulled her up and into the centre of the room. Tila yelped and tugged away, but Isak was so intent on what he was doing he didn't even notice her efforts.
Closing his eyes, Isak visualised himself standing alone in the tower. As the dry scent of the air receded from his awareness, he felt only the warm presence of Tila's arm under his fingers. As he tried to focus, the warmth slid down his fingers until the tips became hot. Tila flinched slightly as he let go of her arm, but she had the sense to keep quiet rather than break his concentration. Then her presence faded from his awareness and he was left disembodied and alone. An image of the symbol drawn in the room below appeared in his
mind.He felt the cylindrical tower, so still and strong about him, the air motionless on his skin while the wind outside tore upwards past windows and beyond the conical peak that pierced the clouds, symbol flexed gently as he focused on it, the outstretched wings flickering as the wind felt its call.
Isak chanced a breath. Now he could see how to release the wind, to channel it through the symbol and into the chimney. He was sure he could control it, but he wanted to enjoy the sensation for a while first. The magic he'd sensed vaguely over the last few years was suddenly within reach and under his control; it set every nerve-ending aflame and made him want to laugh with delight. Finally he reached out to the symbol and gently took hold of it. At his touch, the symbol quivered, trembling as it held back the eager wind. He clasped it for a moment as an understanding of the magic in it poured into him, then he opened it, and a broad grin appeared on his lips as the first feathers flashed around his chest and down his spine.