Our guide lifts the metal knocker, announcing our arrival. Shuffling movements sound within, and the door opens, revealing a long flagstone hallway, hung with faded tapestries. A fine layer of dust shrouds everything. An apparition in white robes, wearing a white veil, glides towards us. I start back from the Veiled Sister. Once the stewards of the Starshrine, Talini’s great temple, the order sought refuge in Galtair after they were forced to abandon the old capital.
‘We’re… we’re here to see the Arx Magnum,’ I stutter.
The sister motions for us to follow her down the musty corridor but doesn’t utter a word – likely bound by the vow of silence her order’s renowned for. The air chills as we approach a vast, hexagonal vestibule. There’s the distant thump of slow, regularly planted footfalls. Blayze reaches for his axe; Maris tightens her grip on her sea-spear.
The Arx Magnum rounds the corner, resplendent in jewel-encrusted robes edged with mottled-silver frostfang fur. Older than my father, but of similarly stern countenance, his hair is bone-pale and closely cropped. Like the gatekeeper, his skin resembles the grey stone of the city, and his dour expression is similarly intractable. A ragged scar slashes his right cheek. His style of dress resembles something my grandfather might have favoured. Fashions change neither drastically nor fast in Estelia, but there’s something antiquated about it. And when I look past the jewels, richly-embossed velvet and liberal use of silver thread, the robes are worn through in places.
Much like our surroundings, his appearance is splendid, showy even, but faded, coming apart at the seams.
I don’t like this. Perhaps it’s his resemblance to my father, perhaps I’ve been primed by the walls of hostile eyes that tracked us through the city, or perhaps my imagination is getting the better of me again, but he makes me uneasy.
He stares at us in silence, his eyes lingering on the Outrealmers – Briar, Delphine and Serafine seem to hold a particular fascination. They must sense it, for they shrink into the shadowed corners of the vestibule.
Then he smiles, and it’s like a taper’s been lit in a darkened room.
‘You see? Quite amiable.’
Orthriel might be convinced, but I don’t trust the change. It’s too extreme – the smile too oily.
I don’t dare read his thoughts though. Not even his aura. I can’t know how much the Arx Magnum understands about the ways of the Branded, whether he’ll realise what I’m doing when my eyes mist over. Being caught spying on the inner workings of his mind is hardly going to win his favour.
‘Welcome to Galtair,’ he says at last. ‘I’m Deimos Rigel, Defender of the Last City. I see you’ve already made the acquaintance of one of our sisters.’ He motions for her to withdraw, and she slinks noiselessly from the room. ‘It’s been too long since we welcomed a Stellarion here.’ His voice is cold, jagged as an iceberg. ‘Orthriel, a pleasure to see you again.’ He inclines his head towards my Guardian. ‘Come through to my study.’
‘Some members of our party require immediate rest. The journey was taxing,’ I say, as we follow him down another narrow, winding corridor.
He nods. ‘I shan’t keep you long. You did well to reach us – few manage it.’
Astrophel replies, his tone cautious. ‘We tethered our horses a moonsrising’s walk from the city gates – five beautiful Lulanian greys. They couldn’t manage the last of the climb. Perhaps riders could be sent to see them safely returned to the nearest village?’
The Arx Magnum turns to him. ‘You take a keen interest in their welfare, then? Your name, sir?’
‘Astrophel. Lord Astrophel Vesparion.’
‘Ah – betrothed to the Princess.’
‘Perhaps you knew my father? He was stationed here at one time.’
‘Vesparion…’ The Arx Magnum steeples his brows. A moment later he sucks in a breath. ‘Ah yes, Caelum Vesparion. Sent to quell the last mountain rebellion. A decent swordsman – met a sorry end though, if I’m not mistaken. Flamefever, wasn’t it?’ The Arx Magnum shakes his head. ‘Water under the bridge now. Long sunrings have passed…’
A mountain rebellion? He must be mistaken. Astrophel’s father was posted to Galtair to gather troops to rout an Oralian rebellion. He contracted Flamefever fighting the menace of the Fire Clans.
I turn to my betrothed. His jaw’s clenched, but his face shows no other expression. This isn’t news to him? Clearly, my father doesn’t keep secrets from his silver-eyed boy.
‘You must visit my stables while you’re here.’ The Arx Magnum flashes that slippery grin again. ‘Rare breeds are a hobby of mine; I’ve amassed quite the collection. Good, strong specimens. Even reared some to withstand peak altitudes for short periods.’
Astrophel bows. ‘It would be an honour.’
We arrive at a thick door, banded with metal. The Arx Magnum pushes it open to reveal a large rectangular room. It reeks of sweet incense and bears a passing resemblance to Izarius’ chambers in terms of clutter, but instead of astronomical apparatus and books, this room is littered with hunting trophies: hoarclaw tusks, iskselk pelts, frostfang claws, and preserved body parts from species I can’t identify.
Tansy’s face crumples and Briar refuses to cross the threshold. Even Serafine is hesitant. She swoops down from Blayze’s shoulder and perches on the chair nearest the door as we file towards a richly carved desk.
Astrophel runs his finger over a jawbone containing long, curved teeth, which lies atop it. ‘Cragstalker?’
The Arx Magnum lowers himself into a high-backed chair and licks his upper lip. ‘Indeed. A rare specimen, one of my favourites.’
‘I thought I saw one as we approached the city, but it must have been a trick of the light. At the Asteum, we were taught the species is extinct…’
‘A handful still roam these parts, though most now comprise my personal collection.’ The Arx Magnum waves towards the snowy skins that line the floor. Tansy shudders. ‘More likely you saw a frostfang. They look similar from a distance, and desperation is making the vermin bold. The dogs range further and further south to hunt.’
