Page 15 of Aubade Rising

Chi An Mor is holding its breath. Since the Kevren Gwir claimed responsibility for the attacks on Athnavar and the other cities, a sombre mood has enveloped the palace whilst we wait for more news.

Small groups of courtiers huddle in stairways, whispering increasingly outlandish theories.

The snippets I overhear are fuelled by speculation and anxiety over more attacks.

I flit between bouts of paranoia, jumping at shadows, and unease.

Selfishly, I feel safe in my new home but worry for Cedar and the Aubades on the other side of the river.

It is not a time to make new acquaintances at court and I find myself the subject of increased scrutiny as I pass by the cliques.

Before I was an inconvenience to be erased as soon as possible but now, I am despised.

I could be a threat. Everything about my clothes, my attitude and my family history are up for judgement and debate.

My refusal to allow my vote to be bought at the Concord meetings is not helping my reputation and the pressure to succeed in the laboratory is stifling.

To make matters worse, since the winter solstice, Pentargon has been besieged with vicious storms which have rendered the whole archipelago inaccessible.

Dervla’s been trapped away on business, unable to return.

Diogel has been apologetic but no cajoling has changed his stance that ferrying me to the laboratory would be a gamble with death.

Each morning, I venture to the quay, only to be turned away.

I must have made a particularly pathetic sight yesterday when I made my latest plea because he offered to share his lunch and invited me into the boathouse for a cup of seaweed tea. It was the first conversation I’d had in over a week.

The isolation feels more acute with Haelyn actively evading me. To start with, I didn’t think it was personal – the news about Kevren Gwir rattled us all – but yesterday she turned round in the doorway when she saw me and braved the elements outside.

I miss her chattiness; she’s a balm to the unwelcome faces at court.

I miss her endless stories and light-hearted gossip about the Mordros at court.

It reminds me that they are human after all.

Above all, I miss her absolute conviction that everything can be solved if you find the right book. I need her confidence right now.

I resolve to corner her today and get her to talk.

There’s a Concord meeting scheduled and when the weather is this bad, she cannot hide in the Koes Dowr.

She will be in the library. I head to the kitchen on the way.

If all else fails, she won’t be able to resist telling me off for eating in the library. Dropping crumbs is my last resort.

The library is lit with an eerie yellow glow from the oil lamps that struggle to remain aflame on each stack of shelves – an impractical quirk and a reminder from another time.

One where our kingdom was splintered into fiefdoms and when Chi An Mor was a central stronghold where relics were preserved and guarded fiercely.

Zephyrs were essential custodians of knowledge, capable of smothering an open flame in an instant.

With Haelyn in charge, the tradition continues.

I wander through the stacks, tracing my fingers over the name plaques for each subject.

I’ve never ventured all the way into the caves, worried I would lose track of time and struggle to find my way out of the darkness.

But today, I know Haelyn will be working as far in as she can to discourage people from finding her.

Steeling myself against the thought of getting lost, I recite the categories as I pass, hoping they will linger in my brain so I can find my way out again.

The peace I find is surprising. Books are quiet company and I brush past the last of those written in modern language and on to titles which mean nothing to me.

Aubades aren’t allowed to have written records of our history.

We have fragments of stories, folklore, passed down through generations but the Mordros are different.

They are prolific journalists, archivists and curators, meticulously maintaining records of their rule over Trevesiga.

Wrapped in a heavy outdoor cloak, hunched over a study desk in the gloom is Haelyn.

Her magnifying glass pores over a handwritten text and she is totally engrossed.

My deliberate cough reverberates through the stacks, announcing my presence and she startles.

Once she recognises me, her mouth twists defensively and she closes the book, stepping around the side of the desk farthest from me.

I’ve got her cornered though, trapped by the bare rock behind the desk, glistening with condensation in the lamplight.

“Sage, this isn’t a great time. I have to go.” Haelyn looks towards the books strewn over the desk and then back to me. She must see the stubborn look on my face because she resigns herself to this conversation, sitting back with a heavy sigh.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” I try my best to mask my hurt.

Her face softens at my question and she chews on her bottom lip before making a decision.

She holds her hand up to quiet me and I feel a strong breeze blow past me, whistling through the stacks behind.

Haelyn cocks her head, listening intently.

As the wind returns – blowing my hair in my eyes – she nods, satisfied. “We’re alone, we can speak freely.”

A faint scent of parchment and pine lingers in the air as my brain stutters. “That was an impressive piece of magic.”

“Thanks. My attitude is what secured me the role here. Unfortunately, using it is necessary for this conversation; I can’t risk us being overheard. You have to promise not to share this with anyone?”

“Your attitude?”It’s the first time I’ve encountered the term.

“I’ll explain later. I guess I owe you that much after avoiding you. Do you promise?” I notice the dark circles under her eyes and nod quickly. I wait patiently for her to continue and she gestures for me to sit. She’s at home hidden amongst the books.

“Kevren Gwir means old truth in old Mordrish. It used to be the name of a fanatic group that believed in a different way to channel and wield magic. They believed magic should be for everyone. I’m talking about a long time ago though, over a hundred years.

I found out about them because I stumbled across a reference to them in a text in Tanwen Library, before I came here.

The original uprising started there.” She takes a breath, her shoulders lower as she unburdens herself.

“They were murdered. Disbanded during the last attempt at an uprising. But now they’re back.

Or the rebels have taken that name to carry on their mission.

Either way, I panicked when I heard that name.

I was worried I’d come under suspicion. Bear in mind it’s my hometown.

I am terrified of being accused of being a rebel.

Things might be different with King Cado on the throne but people are still tortured for information. ”

I privately grimace to myself, wincing at the memory of my muscles spasming and twitching under the Almanac’s instruction.

“Thank you for sharing. I won’t say a word.

” I try to smile reassuringly but feel my face freeze halfway, unsettled by the memory of my interrogation.

Haelyn returns my attempt at a smile, but our mouths fail to fully rise as we consider the implications of Haelyn’s position on the Concord and her association with the rebels, however tenuous.

“So, what is an attitude? Tell me more?” I try to change the topic but my effort at distraction is weak and Haelyn remains tense.

“It’s not a secret per se…” She looks around and I feel the artificial wind ruffle my ponytail and chill the back of my neck.

Evidently satisfied, she reaches into the bag resting at the foot of her desk and pulls out a large, aged tome.

“This book is the authority on the subject. Magical attitudes were well documented before the Difan was introduced.” King Feoh, was responsible for invading Trevesiga and putting Aubades in their rightful place.

A paranoid dictator, determined to solidify power in Trevesiga, he created the first decree segregating our classes.

Splitting people by magical ability and forcing subservience is easy when you have fathomless quantities of power at your fingertips.

“Every Mordros has an attitude although the ruling families are discreet about theirs. Few records exist of Zephyrs with them, even fewer of Aubades.” She coughs delicately, avoiding my stare. “I think there has to be a certain amount of magic stored for an attitude to manifest.”

“People’s power can manifest differently,” she continues.

“They inherit a particular skill or trait, like the ability to use wind to sense other’s presence, to shut off breath and suffocate or to carry their voice in the breeze over large distances.

These are Zephyr attitudes, but this book states the Mordros have them too.

” Another way Aubades are outmatched then.

“I’m starting to learn about them myself, I can lend you the book once I’ve finished. ”

I half-heartedly accept in order to spare her feelings, not really wanting to learn more about what I will never achieve but recognising she’s offering me an olive branch to repair our friendship.