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| +Hollie | Feb 2 2009, 09:23 PM |
Resident Brit
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Chapter 3 The palace of the Family had stood for far longer than it had belonged to them. Once, more than a century ago, it had held each of the seven Families in turn: 7 years for each Family. That was the way that the Kingdom had been ruled. It was strange to think, now, that each dark stone had once belonged to nobody. The tapestries, paintings, statues - each and every one of them were now Earth Family property. The war in which his great-grandfathers had seized power had been fought long before Psio’s time, but sometimes he wondered whether it had really been planned correctly. Why hadn’t they simply waited until it was their turn to rule, and then killed the other Families? It would have been much less expected then. He didn’t voice this thought aloud, of course. Still, their success sometimes seemed more like an accident than a brilliant war of strategy. Now, if he had been in charge, it would have been very different. If he had been alive then, though, Psio would have died far too early to solve the problem the Family faced now. He mentally cursed. That foolish child. What in earth’s name had possessed him to betray, not only his family, but a hundred years of history? Family member or not, though, Psio would see to it that he was punished accordingly. He really felt sorry for PZ’s father. Some people had even dared to blame him for his eldest son’s actions. Psio had seen to it that they were punished accordingly, too. PZ’s actions had been a disaster for the Family. On the positive side, they were quickly regaining ground. Soldiers had been dispatched to every district to stop trouble, and Psio already had plans for PZ’s Fire districter co-conspirators. Especially the one they had in custody. The Fire district would be seeing that little piece of genius very soon. Providing the king didn’t object, but that was unlikely in the extreme. Psio knocked politely on the door to the king’s room - not the throne room, that was far too large for two people. You never knew who was hiding in the corners. No, the king spent most of his time down here, overlooking the elaborate gardens. He said it helped him to plan. A deep voice said, “Come in.” Psio entered. The king smiled in greeting. “Ah, Psio! I hope you have good news.” “I do, your majesty.” Frowning, the king replied, “You know I told you to ignore the formalities. We are family.” Psio didn’t like ignoring the formalities. He enjoyed inventing formalities, just to watch people stumble. But ignoring King Feez was never a good option, whatever your relation. “If that’s how you want it, brother.” Feez sighed. “It’s an improvement. What news do you have?” “PZ and the young Fire districter escaped from Helma. But we have the young districter’s boss in custody. His name is Wirt.” “Wirt?” The king frowned slightly. “Should I know that name?” Psio remembered mentioning him to his brother previously. “It might be familiar. He’s the Fire districter who’s always trying to cause trouble.” “Ah, that one.” Psio swallowed as his brother’s eyes glittered. “Your plans?” “W-well . . .” He didn’t mind admitting that King Feez, his brother or no, sometimes scared him. The fact that he could be pleasant, and often was to close family, could never make him forget that his brother was essentially a soldier. A powerful, intelligent and utterly ruthless soldier. “We’ll wait for a few days, maybe a week, loosen security just a little - let the Fire districter lead PZ home. Then we announce Wirt’s execution. The Fire district gives PZ up, he’s spared. Well, not killed publicly at any rate.” “You think this will succeed?” “There’s a very good chance of it. The Fire districters admire Wirt greatly . . . the Fire Overseer never could bring him in and keep him there. I think he gave up in the end.” Feez chuckled, making Psio’s skin crawl. “Not bad, for an orange merchant! I’m tempted to kill the man myself.” Psio swallowed nervously. He knew all too well the fights to the death Feez enjoyed with the odd criminal who captured his interest. He had never lost yet. “I-I don’t think that would work quite the same, sire.” He was too fast too follow. Before Psio knew what was happening, a knife had passed over his shoulder and buried itself in the door behind him. “You’re doing it again, Psio,” Feez said. “You know how that annoys me.” He tried to keep his breathing steady. “Sorry, brother.” “Not to worry. Just watch your tongue next time. What about the other Fire districter?” Psio frowned outwardly, but he was secretly glad of the change of subject. “Oh, Reaver. We got a name from the keeper, but we don’t know much else about him. Wirt won’t say anything, despite my best attempts to persuade him.” “Hmm, shame,” Feez said thoughtfully. “What happens if your plan doesn’t work, Psio?” There was that look again. The dangerous look. “Wirt is executed. Then we move on to Plan B. Starve it out of them.” “Is that the best you could come up with?” Feez asked, unimpressed. Then he smiled, making Psio shudder. “No, brother. I’ve got a better back-up plan for you . . .” * PZ glanced up at the sky. It was so . . . bright. Tonight was a full moon, and the sky was scattered by literally hundreds of stars. He’d only seen a sky like that for the first time a week ago, and it still amazed him. Most rooms of the palace were lit, day and night, not to mention the display of candles on the roof. That had been his father’s idea, a tribute to their ancestors. PZ thought watching the stars would have been a better use for the roof. Reaver had probably seen skies like this his whole life. PZ guessed that was why he was annoyed with him for being so distracted. Not that the district wasn’t a new experience for him either. He just preferred to dwell on the more pleasant ones. It stank of smoke and filth, and although Reaver assured him it wasn’t all as bad as this, PZ had a difficult time believing it. It wasn’t the Fire district’s fault (except for the smoke). It was his family who had reduced them to this level. How do they live with it? He was surprised that nobody had tried to get rid of the Family sooner. As they started to turn the corner of an alley, Reaver suddenly pushed him back, holding a finger to his lips. A man in dark clothing walked past. Reaver quickly peered around the corner, and then nodded that it was safe to continue. PZ followed him. It had been like this since they’d entered the district earlier that night. Reaver knew a lot of people in the district. He didn’t want any of them to recognise him: they all knew he was supposed to be with Wirt in Helma, and somebody would start asking questions about his new friend. Reaver had noticed that there were more soldiers about, although they didn’t look like they were searching for a traitor to him. Maybe Reaver was overreacting after being in an Earth city, where you normally never saw any sort of threatening presence. “How far to this friend of yours?” PZ asked, breaking the silence. Reaver glared at him, but then just sighed. “Ten minutes, tops. Keep quiet, though. We’re in the better part of town - where the barracks are.” PZ automatically glanced around, suddenly nervous. No wonder Reaver had insisted they enter at night. The Fire districter continued to lead him through the streets, taking special care around the barracks. PZ relaxed a little once they had passed it. He glanced at the stars again. He’d heard that they were supposed to make symbols in the sky. He couldn’t really see any. Was that a bad sign, or were they always that hard to see? PZ was so distracted that he almost missed Reaver turning down a tiny side street. No, it wasn’t even a side street. I was barely wide enough for him to walk through, and the only thing there apart from brick walls was a door. Reaver knocked, loudly. The noise made PZ jump, and he wondered what happened to being quiet. Why does he suddenly feel safer here? Nobody answered the door. Reaver didn’t bother to knock this time, he banged on the door with both fists. “Open up before I have to burn the door down!” That got a reaction. The door opened so suddenly that Reaver nearly smacked the man that it had revealed. PZ guessed he was at least double his age, probably closer to 40 than 30 - his hair was just starting to grey at the temples. He stared at his visitor as though he was seeing a ghost. “Reaver! It’s really you?” “Who else would it be?” Reaver snapped, “Come on, Kamai, let us in. I really need your help.” “Don’t talk like that to me,” Kamai growled, slapping Reaver gently across the head. But then his expression suddenly changed. “I thought you were dead, you little bastard. Don’t do that again.” “Dead?” Reaver echoed, now sounding worried. “Kamai, what happened?” The older man seemed to shrink. “You don’t know, do you . . . you really do need my help. You’d better come in.” He held up his light, shining light further into the tiny space, where PZ was hanging back. “. . . Your friend, too.” It took a second or two before PZ caught up and followed Reaver through the open door. When Kamai had first opened the door, he hadn’t been able to see the light at his side, and he’d simply assumed that it was a gas lamp or something. But it wasn’t. The tiny ball of pure light, now floating in midair near Kamai’s head, followed them as he led them to a table. Kamai was a Light. But what was a Light doing in the Fire district? Edited by Hollie, Feb 3 2009, 04:34 PM.
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Known as Haar on Brand of Flame. Bitch.  Formerly Margaret Thatcher, Aleksandr | |
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