Steph Swainston - Dangerous Offspring

We stared, motionless. My head felt like it was full of cotton wool. I couldn’t think: my mind wasn’t allowing me to form any thoughts. There was nothing in my head but a wondering space. I felt light on my feet and nauseous, as if my body wasn’t real. Black shadows began to gather at the periphery of my vision-I was about to faint. Everything was blurred. San only knows what Lightning must be feeling.

Tern sat down heavily. Her speech stumbled: ‘W-What has he done?’

‘I don’t know.’ I answered too quickly.

‘Deliberately. He did it deliberately.’

The Queen’s voice quivered at a higher pitch as she made an effort to control it. ‘What a way to teach Cyan a lesson.’

There was a scuffle at the end of the stands and Rayne rushed out. She grabbed the back of Lightning’s shirt and sank to her knees. She was hysterical; the ends of her open mouth were down in her jowls. Tears were running from her eyes channelled into the crevices between her cheeks and the sides of her nose. ‘Saker!’ Lightning tried to raise her to her feet but she had no strength; she just sank back.

‘Saker, what have you done? Why? Tell me you won’ leave! There’s no need t’ leave t’ Circle! You aren’, are you? Tell me you’re jus’ playing t’ system. Tell me i’s jus’ a trick. You’ll Challenge Cyan in a year’s time and bea’ her. Won’ you? Or you’ll bea’ t’ next man who’s sure to bea’ her…Tell me tha’s true! Or…or you’ll Challenge Wrenn and bea’ him, and be t’ next Swordsman. Oh yes, tha’ must be i’-so you can be together wi’ Cyan…’

Lightning supported her at arm’s length, his hands on her upper arms. Rayne kept screaming, ‘Where will you end up? I’s horrible t’ be old. I know-i’s terrible! You don’ want i’! Don’ let i’ happen! Don’ le’ time pass, Saker, you’re a’ your best! A few years and you’ll never have security again! You’ll die!…After all this time, why? Why? I can’ bear t’ be alone. Don’ leave me!’ She collapsed to her knees, sobbing, and as she did so she pulled his shirt out of his belt. She pressed his shirt tails to her cheek.

‘Come with me into the house, Ella.’

‘You were my friend!’ Her voice was ugly with distortion.

He turned her towards the palace and, speaking to her quietly, led her up the avenue towards the terrace.

I tried to hold Tern’s hand but my palms were sweating and my hands had no strength to grip. Uncertain whether I could feel her or not, I pressed too powerfully and she winced.

‘I just feel numb,’ I said. ‘I can’t allow myself to think about it…’

‘You’ll have plenty of time for that, immortal,’ said Eleonora. Cyan crept into the gold pavilion to escape the crowd’s disdain. Nobody congratulated her and nobody applauded. All eyes were watching Lightning and Rayne climb the monumental staircase onto the terrace and go through the tall open doors. They disappeared from view under the great elliptical ceiling of the dining hall.

The feast, that evening, was a solemn affair. We were back to normal food and clothes; Lightning had moved on from needing his seventh-century nostalgia as well as from needing the Circle, but his guests were embarrassed and confused. They didn’t know what to say nor how to phrase it. They didn’t know how to react, so they made their excuses and drifted away.

Lightning, at the head of the table, tried to make us feel we should celebrate, although none of us could see any cause. We were all wondering at him and frightened on his behalf. So we gave up on the feast and retired to the library.

Lightning sat at his grand piano and played so calmly that Eleonora, Tern and I thought he must be planning to get back into the Circle.

The library’s coffered ceiling had panels painted with pastoral and historic scenes. It was so lofty that a man on horseback could wield a lance in the room. The walls were covered completely with three tiers of bookshelves. Baroque wrought-iron steps could be pushed on rails along each level, leading to three rectangular balconies that stepped out, rising to the ceiling.

Eleonora was up on the first of these. She was examining the nearest shelves filled floor-to-ceiling with Lightning’s diaries-maroon leather with the dates embossed in gold. A few were of paler hue when he couldn’t find a colour to match exactly. She was flicking through one randomly; it would take years to read them all.

Tern was perched on the window seat, idly watching the stream of departing guests’ coaches fall to a trickle then sputter to a stop as the great and good of the Fourlands hurried away. Rayne had already left, with Cyan in her care, both of them crying. In two days they would reach the Castle, where the Emperor would make Cyan immortal.

I studied the panels in the stucco ceiling, Mica valley landscapes rendered in oils, more mannered and pastel-toned than the dramatic colours of real life. The same iconic images over and over, and yet again in the ceramic and champlevé enamel vases on the delicate side tables-maybe that’s the brake of Lightning’s patronage. I picked at my chair’s lavish cushioned seat, slowly creating and unravelling a loose thread. I marked imaginary lines in the rock crystal carafe of vintage port before me as I worked my way down it.

Over each lintel around the room were lunette paintings of Lightning’s other properties. I could see through the nearest door, down a short corridor lined with small bronzes, toxophilous or booted and spurred for the charge, a sinuous ormolu clock, a walnut escritoire, and through to the Great Dining Hall.

Its doorway was crowned with his coat of arms in marble marquetry, plain, veined or flecked, each from a different part of the manor, surrounded by cipolin stone wreaths symbolising the Donaise Hills. Servants were clearing away the untouched feast from the huge table and, high above them at the end of the hall, portiére curtains concealed a musicians’ gallery.

I lost track of time; it certainly felt like we had been here for hours, exchanging only pleasantries, all tacitly waiting for some kind of explanation from Lightning while he pretended not to notice. I shifted position and flapped my wings open. I scuffed the carpet with my feet; I wanted to run and shout to break the tension. I considered going for a flight to blow away the fevered stuffiness of the room.

Lightning suddenly changed the music to an expansive waltz and looked at me steadily. ‘No, I’m not disappointed with the world. I’m not tired, just bemused. I want to find out more and I need time to think.’

Finally! ‘Is it to do with what the Emperor told you, when you had dinner with him?’

‘Yes, tell us what he said. We all want to know,’ said Eleonora, leaning forward on the balcony railing.

Lightning paused, then smiled. ‘He said that you would certainly ask about it, and he would prefer it if I didn’t tell you.’

‘I’ll ask him myself.’

‘Comet, you know very well San keeps his past a secret.’

‘He told you his past?’

‘Yes. The Emperor explained it to me. He told me about the Shift as well. The things he said are just so incredible…I need time to come to terms with them. He only told me because he realised, at that point on the battlefield, that I didn’t need immortality any more. He realised I had grown out of it.’

Tern spoke up from the window seat, unable to keep the sour note from her voice: ‘Did he know you would throw the competition?’

‘I expect he considered it. He knew I was leaving.’

‘Didn’t he ask you not to?’ she urged.

He laughed. ‘San has known Rayne and I a long time, longer than anyone else in his life. He might only speak to us once a decade, but I suppose that’s as close as he gets, to friends. He knows Ella and I well, and he didn’t find this too hard to predict. San relies on people wanting to be immortal more than anything else in the world, but if one of us Eszai finds something he wants more than immortality, San can do nothing to keep him. Ten years ago, when Cyan was kidnapped by Shearwater and I set off to rescue her, I must have valued her more than immortality, subconsciously I suppose. I mean, I wasn’t aware of it at the time. So, no…I am free to change, now. I am free to understand your other worlds, feel the passing of time again.’