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For the castle Ezrest, in its sprawling glory, a couple of additional dwellers were nothing. Its vast halls and innumerable chambers could have swallowed a dozen or two without a hitch, never growing any more crowded or lively, never losing its somber dignity.
Yet the two who passed through the main gate on the last night of the Silver Eve seemed to fill the entirety of royal domain with their presence. The air itself was abuzz with recognition and alarm. Any wall, when Eoleo pressed his hands against it, felt taut like a muscle, ready to repel the strange force. There was no magic in the castle Ezrest, this maxim remained true as ever, but simple absence gave way to an incessant struggle of suppression. With everything around him engaged in a silent battle, it was no wonder Eoleo found it something of a challenge to keep his mind on his lessons.
As soon as he was dismissed, he sprang up, reveling in the disquiet and eager to track it down to its source. He wondered if he could really manage to find the way simply by following those cryptic vibrancies. That, however, didn’t prove necessary as Bergren, who was waiting by the door, grumbled, “Library” with a long-suffering air before Eoleo could as much as utter a word.
Library was but a short way down and across. Drinking in the surrounding sense of urgency, Eoleo flew through the hall, ducked around the pillars, compressed his descent downstairs into a dozen of wild leaps. Before the last corridor, however, he halted and made sure to tread to the door at its far end with light, careful steps. His forethought didn’t go unrewarded: Riliphin, who was wont to hear anyone approaching from fifteen paces away, didn’t notice his arrival at all. The door was ajar, so Eoleo quietly stopped at the entrance, taking the opportunity to observe.
Riliphin was sat at the table near the southern window, engrossed in a book. Several more waited neatly stacked by the side. He was perched on the edge of the chair, almost sideways – a stark contrast with his usual deliberate carriage. It appeared, Eoleo thought, as if he had lowered himself onto the seat semi-consciously, already taken in by the book. His face betrayed nothing other than deep concentration. For a couple of minutes Eoleo watched his eyes move down the page and his lips part now and then, as if to form some word or another.
Then, abruptly, it came to an end – end of a page or a chapter, possibly. The spell broke; Riliphin lifted his head to look around the room and discovered he was being watched. He all but jumped to his feet, then froze in uncertainty. Eoleo had managed to convince him that living in such proximity, they could stand to drop at least some of the formalities. But the absence of greetings and bows had, apparently, left vacant space to be filled.
“I’m terribly sorry to intrude,” Eoleo began earnestly – not in that he felt much regret, but in admitting he had indeed intruded on something. “My excuse is that I come on an errand. Lady Mother wondered if you enjoy music. We are to have some tonight, at suppertime, to entertain the company – perhaps you would like to listen?”
As he spoke, he watched Riliphin’s face phase through several subtle expressions before settling into the anxious frown Eoleo was already well familiar with.
“Please, let Her Highness know I do much appreciate her invitation, but I’m not certain I can freely attend such gatherings.”
“Oh, naturally. There are a few chambers not in use that open into the hallway right next to the gallery. The sound will carry quite perfectly. Everything shall be easy to arrange.”
“You’re very kind,” Riliphin said. As it was neither acceptance nor rejection, Eoleo resolved to take it for the former. Considering the matter settled, he could now focus on what had piqued his interest from the start – the book.
Riliphin, his alertness now fully restored, didn’t fail to notice where Eoleo’s eyes fell.
“Lord Beldaruit requested something to read on the subject of celestial bodies. If it’s no trouble, I’d like to take those…” here he touched the top book of the stack, “…or some of those, to his quarters.”
“And this one you have chosen for yourself,” Eoleo remarked. He walked up to the table and picked up the abandoned book, half-closing it to glance at the title. The moss green cover, velvety as a whiskerkitten, with its worn golden plates and dark engraved letters made him pause in surprise. Eoleo recognized it instantly, of course. Anyone would. All the images that were lurking inside flashed before his eyes, otherworldly and enthralling: the floating orbs sprouting lush meadows, the vines that caught on the fallen king’s scaly skin, the silverwood branches encasing a single dazzling star. Eoleo couldn’t recall when he had last read all those legends but they stood in his memory vivid and clear. Maybe that was just the way with them: nobody could tell for sure when they read them the first or the last time, but everybody knew the Witch of Thristas or the Silverwood maiden.
Of all the books to examine with such keen, close attention, this one certainly didn’t belong to the top of the list.
Suddenly aware of how distracted he was growing, Eoleo blinked the images away. Riliphin remained just as he had been: locked between the table and the chair, running a finger along the spines of the astronomy tomes. He had made no hasty attempt to disappear this time, which was very pleasing. Eoleo smiled at him.
“If you don’t mind me asking, are the stories new to you? They are very famous in our parts.”
“Not at all. We used to read them back at school.” Eoleo, now determined to keep his focus, only allowed himself to linger on the word for a moment before shelving it for later. Even though one only ever heard about masters and apprentices, witches had schools too, as it turned out. But Riliphin wasn’t done talking yet. “Although these are… rather different from what I remembered.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, for one thing, I don’t recall so much detail on the King’s early conquests. Then there are some additional characters, like the Ruler of Gallar…” Riliphin turned to the book, flipping through the pages absently, more in contemplation than for reference. “I’m not explaining it well, I’m afraid. It’s not so much about the specific differences, but rather a general impression one gets from the story.”
For just a moment he looked up, their eyes meeting, perhaps for the first time that afternoon. Eoleo, however intrigued, kept cautiously silent. He was starting to get a grasp on it, a little. Right now Riliphin was more likely to continue his musings uninterrupted, not urged on.
“To me, it always seemed like hubris was the reason behind the King’s downfall. Here, on the other hand… I’d say he fell victim to an unwise choice of supporters.”
“The Witch, you mean!” Eoleo intercepted before he could help himself.
“The Witch, yes… although the Ruler of Gallar and the Council also did their part. The King had plenty of rampant ambition, same as in our tale, but also plenty of ill-wishers determined to exploit it.”
Something stirred in Eoleo’s mind all of a sudden, something that felt like a very distant memory. It came in bits and pieces: the wind moaning outside, the dozy warmth of fireplace and his father’s side, the glints dancing on the gilded vignettes around the text… He was tracing them with his finger, not bothered to read and only half-listening to the voice above because the story was so familiar – even at that time. But then they made it to the end and…
“You’re reading it the same way as Lord Father, then,” Eoleo said slowly, unraveling the recollection. “He also asserted that the King of Dadah had it coming, since he let his judgment get clouded by sentiment and relied on the wrong people. All kinds of sentiment, really – hubris, like you said, and impatience, and misplaced trust…”
He stopped, feeling like his memory-fueled reverie was getting too close to an aimless ramble. Riliphin kept his eyes steady on him though, with an inquisitive tilt of his head.
“Are you not in agreement with this view?” he asked.
“There’s no use in disagreeing with it, for it’s a correct one. That said… perhaps I would have liked your version better. Is the outcome the same?”
“It is.”
“A shame, truly,” Eoleo laughed. “Well, in any case, I find it reassuring to know one story can differ so between its incarnations. Maybe somewhere, in the domains most remote, there’s an alternate ending that suits me better.”
“From what I have heard, these legends traveled far and wide for centuries, recited from person to person,” Riliphin pointed out. “Some of the scribes who put them in writing must have been acquainted with variations that had strayed away from the source.”
Beyond the window, past the town’s walls, a vast valley rolled gently southwards, to the Cladd territory. On the opposite side, the Golden Plains stretched out far as the eye can see. The ever distinct murmur of the sea brought to mind the Dragon Isles, cradled among its waves. How odd and how interesting it was, Eoleo thought, that the people scattered across the many lands of Zozah believed they all knew the same ancient tale, which, upon scrutiny, turned out a nesting of many different ones.
“Say, if it’s not too much trouble, could you bring me a copy from the Great Hall the next time you go there? I’m eager to compare now.”
Riliphin gave an odd look at that, one Eoleo didn’t quite manage to decipher – could be confusion, could be apprehension.
“I’ll keep your request in mind,” he said quietly. “Excuse me, I really should be going to deliver the books now. Lord Beldaruit doesn’t enjoy reading in candlelight.”
“Do allow me.” Eoleo made for the forgotten stack, gathering half of it into his arms. He lingered for a moment before picking the green velvety book to add to his share. “Do you think it possible for me to get properly introduced? I’ve heard many tales about Lord Beldaruit, it would be quite a thrill to meet him in person.”
Riliphin hesitated.
“I think it might be better to consult your father first. His Highness appears… reluctant about visitors. He found my presence in the healing spire objectionable until very recently.”
“Undisturbed rest of the patient takes priority, of course,” Eoleo agreed amiably. “Never mind, we have plenty of time ahead.”
He followed Riliphin out into the hallway, curious to see which way he had taken from Lord Beldaruit’s quarters. It wasn’t the route Eoleo would have chosen himself – not the most convenient, picturesque or, for the matter, secluded – but he didn’t mind the several additional minutes it would give them before they reached the healing spire and had to part ways. As they left the towers occupied by the Ezrest family behind and got closer to the realm of medics, hallways grew busier. Riliphin drew into himself, as much as he could without losing posture: head lowered, books pressed close to his chest. Eoleo felt a passing regret that he wouldn’t be able to act as a screen for reasons that were purely dimensional. The cloak he gifted might have been of some help; however, Riliphin appeared to have it reserved for outside use.
Soon they stopped at the tower’s base, where a winding stairway started. Passing the books, Eoleo searched his mind for anything else he would like to say without delay. Depending on how lax his father chose to be about visiting hours and how taxing the evening’s obligations would turn out, the two of them might end up mostly apart until the next morning. The golden crown on the book cover caught his eye and the sight of it sparked an idea that eclipsed all the others.
“You didn’t say anything about the Witch,” Eoleo remarked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The witch from the same legend. Was there anything different about her?”
Riliphin stared at the book that was now in his arms for a few silent moments.
“Well… in the book I used to read back home she appeared rather late in the story. I cannot say anything in particular stands out.”
A reasonable course of action after such a reply would be to drop the subject. Nevertheless, Eoleo felt inclined to push on. What he had wanted, he now realized, was an answer to another, less general question. And if he just got it, nothing would vex him – the dancing, the lessons, the sleep; he could do it all while turning that answer over and over in his head.
“The King and the Witch… Would you say they were ever allied, in true sense of the word? Or did she always carry that plan of killing him eventually?”
Riliphin was nestling the books secure in the crook of his elbow, as his other hand grasped at the robes to keep the hem from getting underfoot. His gaze kept slipping upwards, into the abyss of the spire he was about to start ascending. It seemed particularly dark from their current spot near a window: the low sun pooled in, making every golden thread of Riliphin cloak glisten in a way almost painful to the eye. He glanced back at Eoleo’s intent look, and his face was mesmerizing in its unusual serenity.
“Why, yes, I suppose that was the intent from the start.” He bowed his head before moving onto the first step of the stairwell. “Thank you for your help.”
After the first turn Riliphin disappeared from sight. Yet Eoleo didn’t stir from his spot for a while, watching the glimpses of white robes flash at each bend of the spiraling stairs and vanish again in the deepening gloom of the tower.