The City Under the Ice by Barbara Bretana - HTML preview

Chapter 61

Blackfin’s smile when he saw me was ecstatic. Almost as if he knew I would become what I now was. I landed on the topmost tower of the Emperor’s Palace in the Capital, bypassing all the guards and security that I knew must surround him. Not to mention the spells he paid sorcerers to protect him with against assassins and rivals.

The Wizard knew to the minute when I was to land and was waiting for me. Dressed in a dark cloak with a hood covering his eyes, he greeted me with, “put this on over your wings.”

I folded them against my back and the feathers caressed me all the way down to my ankles, stopping just short of the ground. With a cloak on, I looked normal. I had expected them to disappear once I’d returned to the Wizard but they were stubbornly tangible and solid.

“What happened to me?” I asked him and was ready to duck if he meant to hit me. To my surprise, he only stroked my wings through the wool of the cloak.

“You have become a daemon, Tobias. By your bloodlust, the curse and the taking of your great-grandfather’s blood with the Jade Dagger, you transformed your human soul into a demon creature of the dark side of Magic. A being written of in legends as far back as pre-cataclysm times. A creature thought to be mystical and unreal such as vampires, werewolves and demons. Even magic was thought to be fake but we, you have proved those old legends were and are true. You are the father of a new species and I will use you to make me God. Emperor is too small a title for one such as me.”

I stared at him wondering why his words had no meaning to me; I cared nothing, for the words had no emotional impact. I followed him to his apartments where he fed me; put me to rest until he would wake me for my next task.

*****

I woke because someone kicked me in the foot and opened my eyes on a wary young servant’s face. He was Ehrenburg born and bred from his accent of broad vowels and drawn out sibilants to his dark hair and ice blue eyes. He was very---pretty. I knew him for a city-born peasant elevated to the ranks of Imperial Household staff. He wore the dark blue livery of breeches and boots of the In-Between ranks---those privileged few who were allowed to roam between the Palace and the Grounds, between the working parts of the estate and the inner floors. He had the soft effeminate look that Blackfin favored and was obviously one of his trusted---catamites.

“Lord Blake bids you to follow me,” he started and then burst out in a frightened tone. “If you touch or harm me, he will defend me.”

“He would not spit on your corpse,” I returned bleakly.

“He loves me!” the boy protested, his eyes wounded and doubting.

“Blackfin loves only himself and his grandiose dreams.” I climbed to my feet, stretched to find my cloak gone and my wings as plain as the freckles on his face. His eyes grew round, large as plums and nearly as dark. He opened the door and I stepped out into the corridor that was not surprisingly, curved to follow the shape of the tower and was made of plain stone. The mortar seems were so tight that not a thin sheet of paper could fit between and when I ran my hand on the stone roughened surface, I felt the presence of magic in the very fabric of the rock.

The carpeting underfoot was thin, just enough to take the chill off and prevent dirt and wet from making the paving stone slippery. I felt sorry for the poor serfs who had to traipse up although stairs to serve the room's occupants. I bet the tea was served always cold.

As if he had read my mind, the boy said, “Lord Blake doesn't eat or drink up here. He rarely is in chambers; he prefers the chalet on the slopes of Mount Ehren.”

“What's your name?”

“I won't tell you my name. You could conjure with it,” he defied me. I used my allure on him but Blackfin had spelled him against it. So he cared that much for the soft little teenager.

“I'll call you Aladar, then.”

“What's it mean?”

I didn't tell him it meant toad but just smiled and that was scary enough to shut him up. I followed the convoluted way through the palace's upper floors, towers and lost passageways even though I could both smell and sense the Wizard's presence. We stopped at the end of a dark passageway flanked by impressive metal clad suits of armor mounted on horses that guarded a set of doors that would not have been out of place on a grand cathedral. They were bound in brass, the locks steel not iron and spelled with a ferocious gargoyle that threatened me. I remembered another such place and wondered idly what had become of Connacher's undead girl servant. He knocked and the door swung open. I waited and he did not enter the room, merely stood behind me as I walked through.