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‘Outside,’ I said, raising an eyebrow in my best imitation of Creon’s look of haughty annoyance. ‘I was asked not to bring anyone, so I didn’t. Of course, if you’d rather see him after all …’
The hurry with which they assured me they had no desire to see any alves at all would have been amusing if not for my jumpy nerves. ‘And the bird?’
‘The bird,’ I said even more coldly, ‘is coming with me.’
Another look went back and forth. ‘The invitation—’
‘The invitation did not specify anything about non-humanoid companions,’ I interrupted, ‘only about alves and fae, and in any case, I’m not sure if Alyra would be considered a companion in the strictest sense of the word. As my familiar, she is more or less part of me. I don’t suppose your elders are so frightened of visitors they would hide away even from abird?’
They looked a little sheepish. ‘No, but—’
Alyra puffed out her chest on my shoulder, releasing a hissing sound.
‘Really,’ I said, ‘you’d cause yourself and the elders more trouble by keeping her away from me. She doesn’t take that sort of interference lightly.’
‘But the protocol—’ started the thin-lipped one on the right.
To hell with it, then. I pressed my left hand to my dress and drew a whiff of the magic it contained –softness for movement. A throwaway twirl of my right fingers, and the high wooden gate behind them flew open as if by itself.
The two guards whipped around at the creak of the hinges. ‘What—'
‘Much obliged,’ I said with deeply insincere cheer, striding forward before either of them could regain their composure and stop me.
Quite as I’d hoped, they did not raise their voices or run after me as I made my way into the hall beyond. No phoenix would voluntarily make a scene and admit defeat, Lyn’s stories had suggested: much more in line with the national character to swallow their confusion and pretend all was well, even in the face of abundant evidence to the contrary.
The octagonal hall with its domed mosaic ceiling was enormous.
Illuminated by sunlight falling through thin slits beneath the dome itself, the room was an outburst of splendour, a memorial of better and more powerful times. Mosaics on the walls portrayed mythical beasts writhing in flames and blazing wings against dark, starry skies; rows and rows of intricately carved wooden seats allowed access to more phoenixes than might currently be alive in the world. At the far side of the room, an enormous chandelier hovered above a gilded stage, dozens and dozens of scented candles spreading the heavy fragrance of incense through the room.
They sat below that chandelier, the five of them.
Two females. Three males. Some red-haired, others greying, one old enough to have gone bald. They had positioned themselves in a semi-circle on their throne-like seats, richly embroidered silk robes shimmering in the dusty sunlight – watching me as I marched down the deserted central aisle,keeping so quiet that even the soft sound of my footsteps seemed a booming drum to my ears.
A sixth seat, a simple wooden chair far humbler than the thousands I was passing on either side of me, had been placed at the foot of the stage before them.
For the bloody gods’ sakes.
Don’t anger them, Lyn had said, but this wasnothow we were going to play this game – me sitting demurely before them like a suspect waiting for the jury verdict. It took three steps to assess the situation. Three more steps to make my decision. Then, without slowing down, I kept my left hand against my dress and swung my right hand forward again, aiming for the chair this time. Another burst of softness from the velvet, and the simple seat floated calmly up into the air, settling itself gently on the stage opposite the five elders.
Their widening eyes and thinly veiled gasps alone made it worth the risk.
I strode on as if nothing had happened, ignoring their uneasy glances as I climbed the steps that looked like a later addition to the gilded monstrosity. No more wings for the males. They’d been able to fly up the platform before their bindings.
I might have felt sorry for them if not for their brusque summons, or their treatment of my friends, or their fuckery with the seating arrangements.
‘Good morning,’ I said as I reached the top of the narrow stairs, smoothing my crimson dress with my politest, most meaningless smile. ‘You were expecting me, I believe?’
That was, of course, a lie. They had expected the Mother’s witless little dove. They had expected Agenor’s barely grown daughter. They hadcertainlynot expected a mage who’d walk in with a furious tiny falcon on her shoulder and perform impossible magic tricks before even speaking her first word – amage who would smile at them with just as much venom as they wielded themselves.
The female sitting on the left was the first to recover, the corners of her painted lips twisting mechanically upwards while the others were still sending concerned glances back and forth. ‘Emelin, I presume?’
‘You presume correctly,’ I said and sat down, ignoring her sharp intake of breath that would, presumably, have led to an invitation to do so. ‘Lady Yndrusillitha, I take it?’
There. I hadn’t been browsing all those damned portrait books for nothing.
‘Ah. Yes.’ Her humourless smile turned even more mechanical. Lady Yndrusillitha, Drusa for closer acquaintances. A former friend of Lyn, I’d gathered from our conversations yesterday, although Lyn had stubbornly avoided every mention of what had ended that friendship; my suspicions did not make me look at Drusa’s tightly pinned white hair and sourly pursed lips with any more fondness.
Neither did her honey-sweet, ‘We are glad you could make it to this meeting, Emelin.’
