She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) (17 page)

He was about to say something to voice his puzzlement when the thing he was staring at beat him to it and spoke in a whisper that cut the silence of the ominous chamber.

‘What are you?’ it asked of Samuel, its voice a mix of fear and curiosity. 

There were two surprises for Samuel in this: first, the voice was that of a young woman.  Why she was sitting alone in this dark chamber, dressed in this way was unfathomable, but that was not the end of it.  The second and
even
greater surprise was that she spoke in perfect Old Tongue—the language of magicians.  It was a language lost to common folk in
a
ges long past.  For a woman to speak this, now and in such a setting, was astonishing, to say the least.  Every attempt his mind made to grasp hold of the situation only seemed to confound him further.

Samuel hesitated, not sure if or how to answer, and the woman raised herself and took a step forwards.  Most of her bulk slid away from her shoulders and Samuel realised that a good portion of her many-layered gown had been draped over the arms and back of the high-backed chair, exaggerating the size of them both.  It could once have been a decorative dress or cloak meant for the cold, but the fur was so old and matted that now it looked horrendous—as if some diseased creature had died across her shoulders and sloughed
its skin
down upon her.  She raised her arm and pointed to Samuel’s face with a long, black, painted fingernail.

‘Why have you come here?’ she demanded.  Any hint of softness from that first whisper was gone and she now spoke with a voice that crackled as if she was a hundred years old.  ‘Begone!’  The patterns drawn on her face contorted and exaggerated her features, seemingly designed to make her appear fierce and ghoulish.

‘I am Lord Samuel,’ he responded in Turian, for it seemed a sacrilege to communicate with a woman in the hallowed language of magicians.  ‘Why do you speak in the Old Tongue?  How do you know this?’

She cocked her head to the side, as if pausing to digest what he had said, before responding in her ancient voice.  ‘Don’t cackle at me, demon!  Take me to your realm if you must, but do it quickly and put this nightmare to an end so I may awake.’

‘I am no demon,’ Samuel replied, matching her now in using the Old Tongue and she took a step back in surprise.

‘You speak!’ the wretched-looking woman declared with dismay.  ‘What manner of creature are you?’

He was about to answer, when some of Riggadardian’s men came trampling down the corridor and trundled in with their lanterns and swords in their hands.

‘The magician’s found someone!’ one of them declared.  ‘Take her upstairs!’ and before Samuel could react they were bustling the woman out of the door. 

She seemed to struggle in her clothing to move at any speed, but the sight of their prodding swords kept her moving forward and she cackled and hissed at them all the way.  Samuel followed behind, taking the long and twisting path that led back to the surface, still struggling to comprehend what he had found. 

When they emerged back out onto the deck, the other survivors were squatting on their heels and eating ravenously
the
food Riggadardian must have provided, but they abandoned their feasting and stood straight on sight of the woman.  She joined them and they gathered around her, talking quietly and below comprehension, but with excitement.

‘What’s all this?’ Goodfellow asked, alerted by the commotion and coming over to join Samuel.  ‘And
what
is that?’ he added, pointing to the raggedly-dressed woman with undisguised bewilderment.

‘I think it’s a woman.’

‘Astounding.  She seems to be completely concealed,’ Eric Pot said, also coming to the join them with Grand Master Gallivan at his side.  Both of them were probing at the woman with an assortment of spells.

‘No,’ Gallivan himself answered, looking
as
curious as ever and twirling his long moustache thoughtfully.  ‘Not unless they are the best spells I have ever seen.  She has no
presence
whatsoever.  If I’m not mistaken, we have found another mystery to match that of the curious Lord Samuel.’  Gallivan looked from Samuel to the woman and back again.  ‘What perplexing times these are.  It’s not enough that we have a magician who defies all explanation, but now a woman
, seemingly cut from the same mould,
comes to our shores.  This is even more baffling than before.  Can it have any meaning?’

Samuel shook his head.  ‘I don’t know.’

‘It appears you’re not quite as unique as you thought, Samuel,’ Eric said wryly, but Samuel ignored the sting in his comment.  ‘Now we have a woman to match you.’

‘There’s something else,’ Samuel began.  ‘She speaks the Old Tongue.’

Gallivan looked towards the group and formed a spell of Listening, amplifying their whisperings to be audible to his ear.  ‘Indeed, you are correct.  Indeed, they all do.’

‘But they’re not magicians,’ Eric said, stating the obvious.

‘No,’ Gallivan mused.  ‘But they are obviously something.  I think the time has come to ask some questions.’

The four magicians went over to the group, who all looked back at them expectantly.

‘Where have you come from?’ Gallivan asked them, using the language of magicians. 

At that, one of them spoke up.  He had used some of the water to wash the grime from his face, and Samuel could see he also had olive skin and narrow eyes.  He nodded slightly before replying using perfect Old Tongue
,
although the intonation was somewhat strange and the grammar unusual.  ‘We are from the Nation of Koia.  Thank you for the hospitality of this meal.  We throw ourselves at your mercy for
,
as you can see, our vessel is in dire need of repair and we have lost our entire crew and company.  We are the last of our party and close to starvation.  We finished our water only yesterday and had given up hope.’  He looked around at the bay encircling them and the city huddled on its shore.  ‘We really had no idea we had found land until just now.  It is
,
indeed
,
a remarkable thing.’

‘How is it that you speak the Old Tongue?’ Gallivan asked.

‘I do not know this name.  I only speak what I speak.  This is our mother
tongue, which we call Koian.  I must admit, I am curious to ask how you have learnt it, in this land so far away from our own.’

‘We can discuss this later,’ Gallivan answered.  ‘What is important is that we can communicate.  I suggest you come to the palace and rest, after which time we can speak at length.  I’m afraid you will find that you have arrived at an unfortunate time and there will be many questions for you.  Are you the leader of these people?’

The man bowed his head again.  ‘Now I am.  The others have died and so I have assumed the role of ambassador.  We will be very pleased to accompany you but
,
before we submit to your requests, I must ask you, in what manner do you take us?  Are we your captors or your guests?’

‘I can see that you are in a position of need, so we will provide you what assistance we can.  You have no need to fear from us and can consider yourselves our guests, for the time being.  As I have said, we will have many questions and I will not be the one to decide your final fate.’

The ambassador seemed content with the answer and sighed with relief.  ‘That is a fair response.  I am glad that you seem to be a people of reason.  Then, given that we are indeed your guests, would you ask your men to lower their weapons and allow us to move freely?  We are simple people and the sight of such things is greatly alarming.’

‘I would ask you one more question first,’ Gallivan said.  ‘What has happened to you and everyone on board?  And why is this ship so bare?  There’s hardly anything on board except you and the clothes you’re standing in.  It strikes me as a very unusual state of affairs.’

‘We finished our food several weeks ago and have been subsisting on what we could catch from the sea, which was, unfortunately, very little.  Everyone else on the ship either died in our escape from Koia, or has perished in the time since from starvation or illness.  At one stage, we were sinking and so
we
had to throw almost everything else overboard until we discovered how to operate the pumping equipment.  Unfortunately, none of us who survived ha
s
sailing skills.  The other things we burned
,
for warmth and light and to cook our fish.  We are court officials of mediocre importance and all the important envoys amongst us have perished.  Can I ask you in return, what is the name of this land?’

‘This continent is called Amandia.  You have reached the city of Cintar, home of the Turian people and seat of the Turian Empire.’

The ambassador bowed deeply before Gallivan and made a sweeping gesture with his hand.  ‘Then we throw ourselves upon the mercy of the great Turian Empire.  I have heard of this land called Amandia, but it is unfortunate that I have not yet heard the glories of your wondrous empire.’

‘One more thing,’ Gallivan asked and the Koian man awaited the next question patiently.  ‘Who is that woman?’ he asked, pointing directly to the strangely
-
clothed woman who had been stowed below the decks.

The ambassador chuckled as if Gallivan was attempting to tease him.  He smiled broadly, but began to look nervous as Gallivan stood waiting for the answer. 

‘Surely you jest, kind Sir,’ the man replied.  ‘Don’t you recognise her?  She is God.’

The Koian survivors were taken to guestrooms in the palace and given the opportunity to clean themselves and rest.  They had taken their belongings from the ship, which consisted only of several trunks of clothing that had been piled up in the room with the woman they claimed to be their god.  Their ship, meanwhile, was anchored in place
so that
the Imperial engineers could examine it.  Such a mighty construction was beyond their knowledge, but the chance to improve their seafaring abilities could not be missed.  They
teemed
over it like baby spiders released from their eggs, marvelling at the complexities and difficulties of constructing and sailing such an enormous vessel.

A summons soon arrived
for
Samuel and Goodfellow
to attend court and they
found themselves hurrying into the crowded palace stateroom.  Once again, every notable face of the city was present and an air of excitement saturated the room.

‘Lord Samuel, Master Goodfellow, please come in and sit down,’ Grand Master Anthem called, for the pair had arrived last of all.

Eric was already there sitting opposite and he nodded unenthusiastically as they sat and adjusted their robes into place.  Chancellor Donovan was obviously already deep into discussion at that point and he continued once the room had returned to quiet.

‘So it seems, after extensive questioning by Lord Rubrick, that the arrival of these Koian representatives from the Court of Empress Moon has nothing to do with our current predicament.  We can assist them with food and shelter, but little else, for they have troubles of their own.  It is apparent that their own nation has fallen into war and they have fled its battered shores.  Before we begin our other business, the Koian survivors would like to address the court and express their thanks.  Lord Rubrick will translate for those of you of the court who may not understand.’ 

Rubrick stood and cleared his throat.  His voice was gruff anyway and so the effort seemed to make little difference.  ‘What you will hear us speaking is the Old Tongue.  It is very unusual for it to be heard by any outside the Order or by anyone who is not a magician but
,
as you
have observed
, everything in these difficult days has become very...complicated.’

All eyes turned to an antechamber door, which opened to allow the Koians to enter the main room.  They now appeared cleaned and in new clothes made to their own style and their prominent features were now more evident than ever.  Their skin was tanned deeply and their hair was black and glossy.  The men wore their hair in short ponytails that reached to their shoulder blades, while the women’s
hair
hung down to the small of their backs.  Their eyes were narrow, but their eyelids seemed oversized, making them look positively alien.  They obviously had a relationship to the people of the Spice Islands, for Master Rubrick himself had some hint of their features in his blood; however
,
the Koian faces seemed far more exaggerated and bizarre than
that of
the olive-skinned magician.