The Mystery of Ys |
Loneliness is a state of mind
|
The Mystery of Ys
Introduction:
Alfar and Human come from the same stock. After the last Ice Age, the Alfar evolved faster but were fewer in number. They retreated ever westward before advancing humanity, but were pushed up eventually against the shores of an ocean that they could not cross. They withdrew into forests and mountains and avoided contact with humans. Some, desperate for their children to survive, stole human babies and left their children in their place. The human children were raised as their own.
In the 22nd century, genetic scientists realized that some humans had traces of non-human bloodlines. Special Division was set up to investigate these lineages, locate any full-blooded survivors and offer them legal recognition and protection.
As compensation for millennia of persecution, Alfar were offered their own (small) territories, called “Domains”. The establishment of the Domains was a considerable cause of resentment amongst the general populace, particularly those who were displaced. Some Alfar retreated within their new territories, shunning contact with the outside world.
A few Alfar, with Brynnr Domain being foremost amongst them, are determined that Alfar traditions and values will play an important role in the new “pan-human” society.
Alfar and Human come from the same stock. After the last Ice Age, the Alfar evolved faster but were fewer in number. They retreated ever westward before advancing humanity, but were pushed up eventually against the shores of an ocean that they could not cross. They withdrew into forests and mountains and avoided contact with humans. Some, desperate for their children to survive, stole human babies and left their children in their place. The human children were raised as their own.
In the 22nd century, genetic scientists realized that some humans had traces of non-human bloodlines. Special Division was set up to investigate these lineages, locate any full-blooded survivors and offer them legal recognition and protection.
As compensation for millennia of persecution, Alfar were offered their own (small) territories, called “Domains”. The establishment of the Domains was a considerable cause of resentment amongst the general populace, particularly those who were displaced. Some Alfar retreated within their new territories, shunning contact with the outside world.
A few Alfar, with Brynnr Domain being foremost amongst them, are determined that Alfar traditions and values will play an important role in the new “pan-human” society.
Prologue:
“Ygraine?”
He couldn’t help himself. When he came around the corner of the battlement and saw the woman looking out to sea, his heart shifted suddenly and he thought for one moment that his sister stood before him once more.
The woman turned from her contemplation of the ocean and looked at him. It was not Ygraine. Of course it was not Ygraine. She had died years ago, lost and alone, far from her clan. He should never have let her travel so far from home.
“Aria of Brynnr, sir.” she said, inclining her head courteously. He wished he could turn and walk away without speaking, but that would be an insult. He had invited her diplomatic party here after all.
Aria looked at him with frank, but she hoped polite curiosity. She saw before her a tall courtly man with sad dark eyes. Chief Councillor Victor. She wondered what he had seen when he looked at her. Ever since she came here she had been looking for some tendril of recognition or attachment, something to tell her which of these remote people were related to her mother, to her.
Aria could not remember her mother at all. At home there were no recordings to help picture her, just the memories of Poppa and Lady Mother Bibiane. Being brought up by Lady Bibiane, at first she had not wondered at this. Alfar did not make recordings of the people they loved in the way that humans did. But later she wondered why Poppa had not done so. Then on her betrothal, she had been told the truth. Her mother was a woman of Ys. She had been a rarity amongst Alfar, a woman with a deadly genetic disease. She had been forbidden to marry and have children, but allowed to travel to other Domains while she still had her health. Then she had met Lady Bibiane, and been given hope that her disease could be cured. She had been secretly introduced to Poppa, and they had fallen in love and married. Poppa had worked frantically to find a cure, but it was not to be. She had died before Aria was two years old.
According to Ys, Aria had no right to exist.
He couldn’t help himself. When he came around the corner of the battlement and saw the woman looking out to sea, his heart shifted suddenly and he thought for one moment that his sister stood before him once more.
The woman turned from her contemplation of the ocean and looked at him. It was not Ygraine. Of course it was not Ygraine. She had died years ago, lost and alone, far from her clan. He should never have let her travel so far from home.
“Aria of Brynnr, sir.” she said, inclining her head courteously. He wished he could turn and walk away without speaking, but that would be an insult. He had invited her diplomatic party here after all.
Aria looked at him with frank, but she hoped polite curiosity. She saw before her a tall courtly man with sad dark eyes. Chief Councillor Victor. She wondered what he had seen when he looked at her. Ever since she came here she had been looking for some tendril of recognition or attachment, something to tell her which of these remote people were related to her mother, to her.
Aria could not remember her mother at all. At home there were no recordings to help picture her, just the memories of Poppa and Lady Mother Bibiane. Being brought up by Lady Bibiane, at first she had not wondered at this. Alfar did not make recordings of the people they loved in the way that humans did. But later she wondered why Poppa had not done so. Then on her betrothal, she had been told the truth. Her mother was a woman of Ys. She had been a rarity amongst Alfar, a woman with a deadly genetic disease. She had been forbidden to marry and have children, but allowed to travel to other Domains while she still had her health. Then she had met Lady Bibiane, and been given hope that her disease could be cured. She had been secretly introduced to Poppa, and they had fallen in love and married. Poppa had worked frantically to find a cure, but it was not to be. She had died before Aria was two years old.
According to Ys, Aria had no right to exist.
Arrival at Ys
The diplomatic party arrived at Ys in the late morning, the wind cold in their faces, although the weather was bright.
The last stage of the journey had been brief; a few hours journey by horse from the Alfar guest-house to the borders of Ys. They had ridden their horses along minor country roads and through one small white village to get here. Children had run alongside them until called back by their parents, who looked at the procession with cold expressions that Aria had not encountered before.
Nothing signalled the border of Ys Domain. The fields on one side of the border were indistinguishable from the fields on the other side. But road signs disappeared and soon the road surface did too. Then they encountered bollards installed across the muddy road which prevented road vehicles from going any further.
They reached another white village, where a representative of the human population came out to greet them, and directed them on to the castle by the sea.
They passed through the thick woods at the back of the village which protected it from the North wind and emerged onto an expanse of heather which overlooked the blue of the Celtic Sea. Their destination loomed against the sky; a castle on the edge of the cliffs, with a group of stone buildings huddled against it.
Castle? More accurately, the remains of a fort; partially restored. Aria had done her research, she knew about Ys, but the reality was unnerving.
Ys Domain was tiny.
It was perhaps the size of five large collective farms. Apparently some ten Alfar families remained here, along with some human families in the village they had passed. No bright little seaside villages were located nearby, although the tantalising lights could undoubtedly be seen at night. This was a lonely place. And the Ys had locked themselves in here for nearly seventy years.
The last stage of the journey had been brief; a few hours journey by horse from the Alfar guest-house to the borders of Ys. They had ridden their horses along minor country roads and through one small white village to get here. Children had run alongside them until called back by their parents, who looked at the procession with cold expressions that Aria had not encountered before.
Nothing signalled the border of Ys Domain. The fields on one side of the border were indistinguishable from the fields on the other side. But road signs disappeared and soon the road surface did too. Then they encountered bollards installed across the muddy road which prevented road vehicles from going any further.
They reached another white village, where a representative of the human population came out to greet them, and directed them on to the castle by the sea.
They passed through the thick woods at the back of the village which protected it from the North wind and emerged onto an expanse of heather which overlooked the blue of the Celtic Sea. Their destination loomed against the sky; a castle on the edge of the cliffs, with a group of stone buildings huddled against it.
Castle? More accurately, the remains of a fort; partially restored. Aria had done her research, she knew about Ys, but the reality was unnerving.
Ys Domain was tiny.
It was perhaps the size of five large collective farms. Apparently some ten Alfar families remained here, along with some human families in the village they had passed. No bright little seaside villages were located nearby, although the tantalising lights could undoubtedly be seen at night. This was a lonely place. And the Ys had locked themselves in here for nearly seventy years.
The invitation to Ys
Aria and her husband Griffin of Albion Domain had been stationed at the Special Division base near Perche Domain for six months when the call came through for applications for the diplomatic delegation to Ys.
She had put their names forward immediately. Here was her chance to find out more about her mother; perhaps a chance to confront those who had directed her to accept her fate without protest. And if Aria found that they considered she should never have been born and were prepared to act on their belief; well then, she would know.
She had contacted her guardian the Alfar notable Lady Bibiane of Brynnr; and discussed the decision to join the delegation at length. Lady Bibiane was concerned for Aria’s safety, but said she understood. Indeed she would have done the same – confronting the shadow instead of spending her life looking over her shoulder, waiting for it to come up behind her.
“Should I advise Special Division about my association with Ys?” Aria asked. “But I’m worried that I might be eliminated for that reason. And we may not be chosen anyway.”
“No. The fewer who know, the better,” advised Lady Bibiane. “Be discreet always. Let others speak before you do. If you find out nothing, that may be a good sign, that your mother is forgotten to them. Then you may live your life free of any thought of them.”
Privately Lady Bibiane believed that if Ys had taken the step of re-initiating contact with the outside world, they would snatch at the chance of any contact with Brynnr, the wealthiest and most influential of the Pan-European Domains, even if it were only through the human ward of a Brynnr councillor.
She was correct. Aria and Griffin were deemed acceptable, in fact had been selected personally by the Chief Councillor who had invited the diplomatic party to Ys. Apparently he was intrigued by the marriage of a human brought up in Brynnr and an Alfar from Albion.
The rest of the tiny party consisted of the Envoy herself, Mistress Bevan, a senior career diplomat from Special Division with obscure non-human bloodlines, and a young woman called Swanhilda who had recently graduated from Marais University with a degree in medieval languages.
Aria was puzzled by the inclusion of this last member of their party. According to her admittedly sketchy knowledge, no-one in Ys spoke anything other than a modern language, apart from the old songs and poetry which were part of Alfar tradition. Aria’s friend from Marais University Sylvie Chirac was actually acquainted with Swanhilda and Aria had quizzed Sylvie about her. Sylvie had become acquainted with Swanhilda during her occasional short sojourns at Marais University while Sylvie pursued her continued studies there. She had decided to employ her tracking abilities in “forensic literature”. Apparently there was an entire Special Division department dedicated to trolling though old literature searching for references to non-human peoples. Sylvie found her tracking sense invaluable as she found she could detect when documents had been handled by “others”. Of course, she had to physically handle them for that sense to work. She became acquainted with Swanhilda as she often needed a translator – even if she located a document handled by an “other”, she couldn’t read anything but a couple of modern languages. Why had Swanhilda, an ostensibly fully-human woman chosen to study almost dead languages that only a few Alfar spoke anymore?
Aria glanced at Swanhilda riding before her in the procession. They had reached the guest-house by military transport, and then prepared to ride for the last stage of the journey since motorized vehicles were not allowed within Ys. They had all donned formal Alfar robes in deference to their hosts before mounting their horses. She and Griffin wore the cream and gold of a young married couple. Griffin also wore the discreet black and silver armband of a Special Division diplomatic security officer. They both wore their weapons concealed beneath their robes; in Aria’s case, in defiance of the convention that diplomats were unarmed.
Mistress Bevan led the procession with Swanhilda and Aria behind her, and Griffin taking the rear position with the packhorse. Apparently the honourable Mistress Bevan was well used to travelling by horse and set a steady pace.
Aria dropped back to ride beside Griffin. She leaned towards him and murmured quietly “Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a white horse. With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she will have music wherever she goes.”
“What?”
“It’s an old nursery rhyme. But doesn’t it fit Swanhilda exactly?” She nodded towards the lady in question, regal and upright on her white horse. She was actually riding side-saddle, like a lady of old. Aria was wearing split-skirts, far more comfortable. Her back would be killing her if she had to ride like that.
She moved back beside Swanhilda before Mistress Bevan noticed and turned to scold her back into position.
And then the end of their journey was before them. They rode out of the woods behind the human village, and there beyond an expanse of wind-blown heather was Ys, a tiny collection of buildings in honey-coloured sandstone huddled against the remains of an old fort perched on the cliffs overlooking the Celtic Sea.
She had put their names forward immediately. Here was her chance to find out more about her mother; perhaps a chance to confront those who had directed her to accept her fate without protest. And if Aria found that they considered she should never have been born and were prepared to act on their belief; well then, she would know.
She had contacted her guardian the Alfar notable Lady Bibiane of Brynnr; and discussed the decision to join the delegation at length. Lady Bibiane was concerned for Aria’s safety, but said she understood. Indeed she would have done the same – confronting the shadow instead of spending her life looking over her shoulder, waiting for it to come up behind her.
“Should I advise Special Division about my association with Ys?” Aria asked. “But I’m worried that I might be eliminated for that reason. And we may not be chosen anyway.”
“No. The fewer who know, the better,” advised Lady Bibiane. “Be discreet always. Let others speak before you do. If you find out nothing, that may be a good sign, that your mother is forgotten to them. Then you may live your life free of any thought of them.”
Privately Lady Bibiane believed that if Ys had taken the step of re-initiating contact with the outside world, they would snatch at the chance of any contact with Brynnr, the wealthiest and most influential of the Pan-European Domains, even if it were only through the human ward of a Brynnr councillor.
She was correct. Aria and Griffin were deemed acceptable, in fact had been selected personally by the Chief Councillor who had invited the diplomatic party to Ys. Apparently he was intrigued by the marriage of a human brought up in Brynnr and an Alfar from Albion.
The rest of the tiny party consisted of the Envoy herself, Mistress Bevan, a senior career diplomat from Special Division with obscure non-human bloodlines, and a young woman called Swanhilda who had recently graduated from Marais University with a degree in medieval languages.
Aria was puzzled by the inclusion of this last member of their party. According to her admittedly sketchy knowledge, no-one in Ys spoke anything other than a modern language, apart from the old songs and poetry which were part of Alfar tradition. Aria’s friend from Marais University Sylvie Chirac was actually acquainted with Swanhilda and Aria had quizzed Sylvie about her. Sylvie had become acquainted with Swanhilda during her occasional short sojourns at Marais University while Sylvie pursued her continued studies there. She had decided to employ her tracking abilities in “forensic literature”. Apparently there was an entire Special Division department dedicated to trolling though old literature searching for references to non-human peoples. Sylvie found her tracking sense invaluable as she found she could detect when documents had been handled by “others”. Of course, she had to physically handle them for that sense to work. She became acquainted with Swanhilda as she often needed a translator – even if she located a document handled by an “other”, she couldn’t read anything but a couple of modern languages. Why had Swanhilda, an ostensibly fully-human woman chosen to study almost dead languages that only a few Alfar spoke anymore?
Aria glanced at Swanhilda riding before her in the procession. They had reached the guest-house by military transport, and then prepared to ride for the last stage of the journey since motorized vehicles were not allowed within Ys. They had all donned formal Alfar robes in deference to their hosts before mounting their horses. She and Griffin wore the cream and gold of a young married couple. Griffin also wore the discreet black and silver armband of a Special Division diplomatic security officer. They both wore their weapons concealed beneath their robes; in Aria’s case, in defiance of the convention that diplomats were unarmed.
Mistress Bevan led the procession with Swanhilda and Aria behind her, and Griffin taking the rear position with the packhorse. Apparently the honourable Mistress Bevan was well used to travelling by horse and set a steady pace.
Aria dropped back to ride beside Griffin. She leaned towards him and murmured quietly “Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a white horse. With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she will have music wherever she goes.”
“What?”
“It’s an old nursery rhyme. But doesn’t it fit Swanhilda exactly?” She nodded towards the lady in question, regal and upright on her white horse. She was actually riding side-saddle, like a lady of old. Aria was wearing split-skirts, far more comfortable. Her back would be killing her if she had to ride like that.
She moved back beside Swanhilda before Mistress Bevan noticed and turned to scold her back into position.
And then the end of their journey was before them. They rode out of the woods behind the human village, and there beyond an expanse of wind-blown heather was Ys, a tiny collection of buildings in honey-coloured sandstone huddled against the remains of an old fort perched on the cliffs overlooking the Celtic Sea.
Arrival
A group of around ten people waited in the road where it terminated at the courtyard in front of the fort. A tall handsome man in old-fashioned formal robes stood at their centre.
The diplomatic party stopped at Mistress Bevan’s sign, and Griffin handed the packhorse reins to Aria and moved up beside the Envoy. They slowly approached the waiting reception group together, stopping around ten feet away. Mistress Bevan gave the traditional Alfar greeting, a formal request for hospitality to weary travellers. Griffin watched the group carefully for their reaction. He could see nothing but curiosity and cautious welcome, but he remained alert.
The tall man stepped forward, giving the traditional words of welcome, and invited them to dismount their horses and enter the hall, where refreshment would be offered.
Mistress Bevan spoke the words of acceptance, and signalled her party to dismount.
People came forward to assist them dismount and take the reins of the horses while others removed the saddlebags. The tall man assisted Mistress Bevan personally, and then turned to lead them into a building in front of them. Those carrying their possessions followed them into the hall, laying them inside the entrance before departing.
As they passed into the building, Griffin walking behind Mistress Bevan and looking around him, he saw people standing in door stoops regarding them with undisguised curiosity and what seemed to be excitement. He looked up at a building opposite and noticed a woman’s face watching them from a high window. She ducked out of sight as he looked up. That was odd. He made a mental note of the location of the window.
In the formal dining hall the tall man welcomed them again to Ys, introducing himself as Chief Councillor Victor. He directed them to sit at a long table sited on a low dais at the head of the room. Eventually they were all seated, Victor at the centre with his aide on his right side, and the Envoy in the place of guest of honour on his left. Swanhilda was seated next to the Envoy, and Aria and Griffin together beside the aide. All of them were facing the room.
Others then started entering the room, each being introduced briefly by name as they came in and were seated at long tables set at right angles to the dais. When all were seated, there was a short pause then other people starting bringing in food. It was hard to tell, but Aria thought that the diners were all Alfar, and the servers human. When the tables were laid, the servers departed. The last server pulled a lever on a clock by the door. Dawdling over a welcoming meal was not encouraged if that meal was not a formal dinner. The little clock would chime after half an hour, signalling the end of the meal.
Victor rose, and asked all present to rise and toast the visitors. All at the tables sitting rose, raising their cups and giving a traditional response.
The proffered meal was simple, consisting of bread, with cheese and fruit. Drink consisted only of water. This was a traditional welcoming meal, where the visitor “took salt” with their hosts. Victor handed a small dish of salt and oil to the Envoy and she dipped a small piece of bread into oil, then into the salt and ate it. There was an art to dipping the bread, enough to show that salt had been eaten, but not enough to make one choke unbecomingly. Victor then partook of the salt, and then the dish was passed onwards to Aria and Griffin then returned to the aide and Swanhilda, who all followed the ritual. They all took a liberal swallow of water afterwards.
Ritual satisfied, everyone sat down again and starting eating and talking quietly, most of them looking with interest at the visitors. Victor and the aide made polite small-talk with Mistress Bevan and Swanhilda, enquiring about their journey. That left Aria and Griffin free to observe the company. Aria viewed them with frank curiosity. Alfar valued formality over courtesy, so she had not been brought up to disguise her interest in other people, or feel embarrassment at being scrutinized by others. Griffin observed them more discreetly, looking for their reaction to the visitors and in particular for interest in his wife. His time in human company had made him value courtesy more than he had formerly but in this case he found the absence of the human need to either disguise or pretend interest in others useful.
A tall handsome woman with dark eyes and a family resemblance to the Chief Councillor was seated close to the head table. She wore fine robes and looked important. She spoke irritably in a low sharp voice to the server, who appeared to be used to this treatment. Next to her sat a man with long white hair who looked similarly unimpressed with the proceedings. They had risen a little reluctantly for the toast, Griffin had thought. The woman might have been the one he spotted in the window. The head table had empty chairs at the ends. Griffin wondered if they had a right to sit there and if so, why they did not.
He did not observe any overt animosity directed at any of the visitors, although the talk at the tables was obviously cautious. When the clock chimed softly, the meal came quickly to an end.
Everyone stood, bowed to the head table and then started filing out of the room. There was a brief moment when Griffin thought some-thing of interest might happen, when the dis-satisfied woman and her companion pushed to the head of the line and exited the room without looking backwards. There were a few angry glances directed their way, but nothing was said and the rest of the company departed with just a few murmurs of conversation.
The diplomatic party stopped at Mistress Bevan’s sign, and Griffin handed the packhorse reins to Aria and moved up beside the Envoy. They slowly approached the waiting reception group together, stopping around ten feet away. Mistress Bevan gave the traditional Alfar greeting, a formal request for hospitality to weary travellers. Griffin watched the group carefully for their reaction. He could see nothing but curiosity and cautious welcome, but he remained alert.
The tall man stepped forward, giving the traditional words of welcome, and invited them to dismount their horses and enter the hall, where refreshment would be offered.
Mistress Bevan spoke the words of acceptance, and signalled her party to dismount.
People came forward to assist them dismount and take the reins of the horses while others removed the saddlebags. The tall man assisted Mistress Bevan personally, and then turned to lead them into a building in front of them. Those carrying their possessions followed them into the hall, laying them inside the entrance before departing.
As they passed into the building, Griffin walking behind Mistress Bevan and looking around him, he saw people standing in door stoops regarding them with undisguised curiosity and what seemed to be excitement. He looked up at a building opposite and noticed a woman’s face watching them from a high window. She ducked out of sight as he looked up. That was odd. He made a mental note of the location of the window.
In the formal dining hall the tall man welcomed them again to Ys, introducing himself as Chief Councillor Victor. He directed them to sit at a long table sited on a low dais at the head of the room. Eventually they were all seated, Victor at the centre with his aide on his right side, and the Envoy in the place of guest of honour on his left. Swanhilda was seated next to the Envoy, and Aria and Griffin together beside the aide. All of them were facing the room.
Others then started entering the room, each being introduced briefly by name as they came in and were seated at long tables set at right angles to the dais. When all were seated, there was a short pause then other people starting bringing in food. It was hard to tell, but Aria thought that the diners were all Alfar, and the servers human. When the tables were laid, the servers departed. The last server pulled a lever on a clock by the door. Dawdling over a welcoming meal was not encouraged if that meal was not a formal dinner. The little clock would chime after half an hour, signalling the end of the meal.
Victor rose, and asked all present to rise and toast the visitors. All at the tables sitting rose, raising their cups and giving a traditional response.
The proffered meal was simple, consisting of bread, with cheese and fruit. Drink consisted only of water. This was a traditional welcoming meal, where the visitor “took salt” with their hosts. Victor handed a small dish of salt and oil to the Envoy and she dipped a small piece of bread into oil, then into the salt and ate it. There was an art to dipping the bread, enough to show that salt had been eaten, but not enough to make one choke unbecomingly. Victor then partook of the salt, and then the dish was passed onwards to Aria and Griffin then returned to the aide and Swanhilda, who all followed the ritual. They all took a liberal swallow of water afterwards.
Ritual satisfied, everyone sat down again and starting eating and talking quietly, most of them looking with interest at the visitors. Victor and the aide made polite small-talk with Mistress Bevan and Swanhilda, enquiring about their journey. That left Aria and Griffin free to observe the company. Aria viewed them with frank curiosity. Alfar valued formality over courtesy, so she had not been brought up to disguise her interest in other people, or feel embarrassment at being scrutinized by others. Griffin observed them more discreetly, looking for their reaction to the visitors and in particular for interest in his wife. His time in human company had made him value courtesy more than he had formerly but in this case he found the absence of the human need to either disguise or pretend interest in others useful.
A tall handsome woman with dark eyes and a family resemblance to the Chief Councillor was seated close to the head table. She wore fine robes and looked important. She spoke irritably in a low sharp voice to the server, who appeared to be used to this treatment. Next to her sat a man with long white hair who looked similarly unimpressed with the proceedings. They had risen a little reluctantly for the toast, Griffin had thought. The woman might have been the one he spotted in the window. The head table had empty chairs at the ends. Griffin wondered if they had a right to sit there and if so, why they did not.
He did not observe any overt animosity directed at any of the visitors, although the talk at the tables was obviously cautious. When the clock chimed softly, the meal came quickly to an end.
Everyone stood, bowed to the head table and then started filing out of the room. There was a brief moment when Griffin thought some-thing of interest might happen, when the dis-satisfied woman and her companion pushed to the head of the line and exited the room without looking backwards. There were a few angry glances directed their way, but nothing was said and the rest of the company departed with just a few murmurs of conversation.
The briefing
Victor rose, and extended his hand in a courtly gesture to assist Mistress Bevan to her feet. The aide extended the same courtesy to Swanhilda. Aria accepted Griffin's hand and they rose to their feet as well.
“You must all be weary,” he said. “The guest housekeeper will show you to your quarters where you can unpack in peace. There will be a formal dinner tonight to welcome you properly, but before then I would like if I may to visit you briefly to go over the proceedings for tomorrow?” Mistress Bevan nodded, and Victor said, “In an hours’ time, then?”
He departed with the aide, leaving them with the housekeeper, a competent-looking woman of middle age who smiled at them and directed them to follow her. Three of the servers returned and retrieved the saddlebags, following them at a respectful distance.
Their quarters consisted of a comfortable suite of rooms within the same building. When the housekeeper had left with the servers, Griffin walked through all the rooms examining them carefully. When he returned he made the hand signs which indicated that he had found no spy devices, but there was a place where a spy might observe them. Mistress Bevan nodded, and instructed them to freshen up and then report back to the parlour for a briefing. They were occupying this entire floor of the building above the dining hall, which appeared to be the old officers’ quarters of the fort, renovated and modernized as self-contained guest quarters. Mistress Bevan and Swanhilda had sleeping quarters off the little parlour in which the housekeeper had left them. Aria and Griffin had sleeping quarters a little way down the passage on the other side of the cleansing rooms and a tiny kitchen. Their quarters were surprisingly comfortable. Mullioned windows looked north across the courtyard to the buildings opposite. The afternoon sun was streaming in, lighting up the white-washed rooms and making the sandstone buildings glow with warmth.
Aria bounced on the edge of the large bed and signed a question to Griffin. He nodded. “It's alright to speak here,” he said.
“This is a comfortable prison.” she stated, and he smiled in affirmation.
“Comfortable or not, it's still a prison. I wonder who is desperate to leave, and who wants to keep them here?” he replied. His smile took on an edge, his slightly elongated canines showing.
“It’s up to us to find out.” stated Aria.
On their return to the parlour, they found Victor there already, outlining the plans for the next day. The Council would convene, and Mistress Bevan would hear their petition to Special Division. Then the negotiations would begin.
After he had left, Mistress Bevan informed them that Swanhilda would attend the meetings as her official recorder. She turned her hand out to show them the little device she held in her palm. It was a voice scrambler. If anyone was positioned somewhere listening, all they would hear was a low murmur. Electronic unscrambling, if they had such, would be useless.
She sat down in a chair and indicated that they do the same. The high backs and wings handily blocked the view of anyone who might be able to lip-read. Very thoughtful of their hosts, she thought to herself. They were obviously not as well-versed as others at spying on their guests.
“You, my dears,” she said nodding at Aria and Griffin, “I would like to be my eyes and ears. Since you will not be attending the Council meetings, I would like you to talk to as many people as possible and then report back to me each evening. I want to know how the people of Ys Domain, both Alfar and human, feel about Ys being re-integrated with the outside world. Who welcomes it, who fears it, and why. There is more going on here than we have been told, I am sure of that.”
“Be assured, I want the best possible outcome for everyone here. That is all.”
Aria nodded. This was perfect. This is why she had come. She could hardly wait for the morning.
“You must all be weary,” he said. “The guest housekeeper will show you to your quarters where you can unpack in peace. There will be a formal dinner tonight to welcome you properly, but before then I would like if I may to visit you briefly to go over the proceedings for tomorrow?” Mistress Bevan nodded, and Victor said, “In an hours’ time, then?”
He departed with the aide, leaving them with the housekeeper, a competent-looking woman of middle age who smiled at them and directed them to follow her. Three of the servers returned and retrieved the saddlebags, following them at a respectful distance.
Their quarters consisted of a comfortable suite of rooms within the same building. When the housekeeper had left with the servers, Griffin walked through all the rooms examining them carefully. When he returned he made the hand signs which indicated that he had found no spy devices, but there was a place where a spy might observe them. Mistress Bevan nodded, and instructed them to freshen up and then report back to the parlour for a briefing. They were occupying this entire floor of the building above the dining hall, which appeared to be the old officers’ quarters of the fort, renovated and modernized as self-contained guest quarters. Mistress Bevan and Swanhilda had sleeping quarters off the little parlour in which the housekeeper had left them. Aria and Griffin had sleeping quarters a little way down the passage on the other side of the cleansing rooms and a tiny kitchen. Their quarters were surprisingly comfortable. Mullioned windows looked north across the courtyard to the buildings opposite. The afternoon sun was streaming in, lighting up the white-washed rooms and making the sandstone buildings glow with warmth.
Aria bounced on the edge of the large bed and signed a question to Griffin. He nodded. “It's alright to speak here,” he said.
“This is a comfortable prison.” she stated, and he smiled in affirmation.
“Comfortable or not, it's still a prison. I wonder who is desperate to leave, and who wants to keep them here?” he replied. His smile took on an edge, his slightly elongated canines showing.
“It’s up to us to find out.” stated Aria.
On their return to the parlour, they found Victor there already, outlining the plans for the next day. The Council would convene, and Mistress Bevan would hear their petition to Special Division. Then the negotiations would begin.
After he had left, Mistress Bevan informed them that Swanhilda would attend the meetings as her official recorder. She turned her hand out to show them the little device she held in her palm. It was a voice scrambler. If anyone was positioned somewhere listening, all they would hear was a low murmur. Electronic unscrambling, if they had such, would be useless.
She sat down in a chair and indicated that they do the same. The high backs and wings handily blocked the view of anyone who might be able to lip-read. Very thoughtful of their hosts, she thought to herself. They were obviously not as well-versed as others at spying on their guests.
“You, my dears,” she said nodding at Aria and Griffin, “I would like to be my eyes and ears. Since you will not be attending the Council meetings, I would like you to talk to as many people as possible and then report back to me each evening. I want to know how the people of Ys Domain, both Alfar and human, feel about Ys being re-integrated with the outside world. Who welcomes it, who fears it, and why. There is more going on here than we have been told, I am sure of that.”
“Be assured, I want the best possible outcome for everyone here. That is all.”
Aria nodded. This was perfect. This is why she had come. She could hardly wait for the morning.
Ys is a hard nut to crack
Aria walked swiftly along the path back to the castle town, her light spring-season robes swishing softly around her legs as she strode along in the cool evening air. She was frustrated. The diplomatic party had been here two weeks, and little progress had been made, on all fronts.
Each day was the same. The council convened, Victor and his aide put forward the advantages for Ys citizens to have dual citizenship with France, Mistress Bevan supported him and outlined what Special Division would do to assist, and then the opposition would rail about loss of sovereignty and dignity, and the downfall and subjugation of Alfar to humans. There was a solid group of councillors in support of re-integration, two resolute opponents and a vacillating group who wavered back and forth between the two opposing camps. That was the problem. The Council needed a clear majority to carry the resolution for re-integration. Two opponents could be defeated. All of the vacillating councillors needed to be persuaded to vote firmly for re-integration.
Unsurprisingly the opponents were the dis-satisfied woman, now identified as Liriel, Victor’s mother; and her supporter was Gladron, the previous Chief Councillor. They had been deposed from their positions of control about a year ago, and had been fighting Victor ever since.
The sticking point was that Victor was proposing to offer the French government a marine reserve in perpetuity off Ys, in return for twenty years fishing rights income plus dual citizenship for Ys citizens. The opposition councillors were resolutely opposed to giving anything up at all. They pointed out, rightly, that Ys had been offered dual citizenship as part of the settlement, but this had been refused by Ys itself. As for the few unregistered Ys citizens abroad in the human world, they were so few, who cared?
Aria had not uncovered a single clue as to the identity of her mother. It appeared that having consigned her to await her fate in a House of Contemplation across the sea, Ys had buried Ygraine’s memory as if she had never existed. Perhaps as Lady Mother Bibiane had said, Ygraine was forgotten to them entirely and Aria could leave Ys behind her and forget them as thoroughly as they had forgotten her mother. As Lady Bibiane had directed, she waited for some-one to let slip a piece of information first. But her mother had left Ys more than two decades ago. Aria could not think of any way to discuss, however discreetly, events of that took place so long in the past.
However, there were more recent departures that occupied people’s minds. Nobody liked to talk about it, but Ys was bleeding people.
Each day was the same. The council convened, Victor and his aide put forward the advantages for Ys citizens to have dual citizenship with France, Mistress Bevan supported him and outlined what Special Division would do to assist, and then the opposition would rail about loss of sovereignty and dignity, and the downfall and subjugation of Alfar to humans. There was a solid group of councillors in support of re-integration, two resolute opponents and a vacillating group who wavered back and forth between the two opposing camps. That was the problem. The Council needed a clear majority to carry the resolution for re-integration. Two opponents could be defeated. All of the vacillating councillors needed to be persuaded to vote firmly for re-integration.
Unsurprisingly the opponents were the dis-satisfied woman, now identified as Liriel, Victor’s mother; and her supporter was Gladron, the previous Chief Councillor. They had been deposed from their positions of control about a year ago, and had been fighting Victor ever since.
The sticking point was that Victor was proposing to offer the French government a marine reserve in perpetuity off Ys, in return for twenty years fishing rights income plus dual citizenship for Ys citizens. The opposition councillors were resolutely opposed to giving anything up at all. They pointed out, rightly, that Ys had been offered dual citizenship as part of the settlement, but this had been refused by Ys itself. As for the few unregistered Ys citizens abroad in the human world, they were so few, who cared?
Aria had not uncovered a single clue as to the identity of her mother. It appeared that having consigned her to await her fate in a House of Contemplation across the sea, Ys had buried Ygraine’s memory as if she had never existed. Perhaps as Lady Mother Bibiane had said, Ygraine was forgotten to them entirely and Aria could leave Ys behind her and forget them as thoroughly as they had forgotten her mother. As Lady Bibiane had directed, she waited for some-one to let slip a piece of information first. But her mother had left Ys more than two decades ago. Aria could not think of any way to discuss, however discreetly, events of that took place so long in the past.
However, there were more recent departures that occupied people’s minds. Nobody liked to talk about it, but Ys was bleeding people.
Ys cracks open
Griffin had uncovered more than Aria. He had become friends with three young Alfar men who plied him continually with questions about life outside Ys. Although Ys did have Alfar visitors, few native Ys travelled outside their tiny borders. They were not physically constrained, but they did not have the knowledge or resources to leave. Desperate, some had left anyway.
A few had gone to Broceliande, never to be heard from again, since Broceliande had snapped shut, tighter than Ys had ever been. It was rumoured that Victor had found places outside Ys for some of the exiles. The young men knew he had travelled outside, to investigate other Domains and to initiate contact with Special Division.
Now only about ten Alfar families remained, and were outnumbered by the human residents.
And it wasn’t just the isolation that was driving people to leave. Strange things had started happening.
The main source of income for the community, fishing rights leased to independent fishermen, had almost dried up, due to a campaign of harassment against the fishing boats by persons unknown. Nets were ruined while cast out at sea, and some-one who fell overboard had drowned. He was known to be a strong swimmer so his death was considered a bad sign by the fishermen. They had demanded compensation for damaged property, and the refund of unused leases when they left to fish elsewhere.
Ys had had a small fishing boat of its own, now lying at the bottom of the narrow harbour beneath the fort towers. It had sunk during the last winter storms having pulled free of its ropes and smashed against the rocky harbour walls. Pulled free? The boys had laughed harshly and said everyone knew the ropes had been cut clean through.
And then there was poor Tomas… Tomas had been found drowned on the rocks, at his favourite fishing spot. His fishing line was wound around his legs. It could have been an accident. But no-one went fishing there anymore.
His grieving widow and son had been the latest to leave Ys. Victor had arranged for them to leave, it was thought to Strasbourg, where it was rumoured a small contingent of exiled Ys were living.
Griffin had gone fishing with the boys, an occupation he equated unfavourably with watching grass grow, but better than waiting around the settlement for nothing to happen. Mistress Bevan and Swanhilda were locked in the Council chamber having the usual unproductive meeting no doubt, while Aria herself had spent much of the day as usual, in the schoolhouse with the children and their teachers.
Soon after their arrival, she had decided to walk to the human settlement and look around. It had not been expressly forbidden though she suspected that some amongst the Alfar would not be happy at her freely conversing with the human inhabitants of Ys. Walking through the fields confirmed her initial impression that humans now outnumbered Alfar, and did most of the work in the settlement although she thought she spotted some Alfar working alongside them, distinguishable only by their clothing. They all looked up at her passing and stared at her with curiosity though none approached.
Reaching the village, she heard children’s voices coming from a large building. She peered curiously through the open doorway, thinking how similar it was to the country school she herself had attended during her childhood in Brynnr. The teacher had looked up and almost burst out laughing at Aria’s face peeping around the door. At this, the children had surged out of their seats despite their teacher’s protests and run outside to gather around Aria, asking questions and tugging at her robes.
The teacher followed them calmly and introduced herself as Eleanor, one of the parents who took turns teaching the children. Aria apologized smilingly for the disruption but Eleanor seemed undisturbed and suggested that she stay and talk to the children about Brynnr and the Special Division. She smiled and said that they rarely received any visitors from outside although the human community could move freely between Ys and the outside.
So Aria had stayed for an hour, and promised to return the next day. Somehow she went there most days, and was greeted with reproach if she had not managed to visit the previous day. She had noticed a couple of Alfar children, quieter and more formal than the human children. Eleanor had taken her aside and asked her not to mention seeing them there. Their presence was frowned upon by some of the councillors. Aria could soon guess which ones. Occasionally she noticed some of the older Alfar slipping into the schoolhouse to use the library. Today she had spent a couple of hours teaching the children songs and dances from Brynnr, and had spotted the former Chief Councillor, of all people, leaving the library room. He had given her an odd considering look as he left.
So, yet another day was coming to a close, and she was no further to finding anything about her mother. Occupied by her thoughts, she found herself on the path along the cliffs. She looked ahead and frowned, seeing movement on the cliff ahead of her. Drawing closer, she made out Victor and Swanhilda carefully descending a rough path to the water below. Now what on earth were they doing together? She peered over the edge of the cliff. They had reached the rocks at the bottom, the sea boiling around them, and then picked their way around the point, Victor carefully helping Swanhilda. She had no scruples about trailing them, but if she followed, they might catch her out as they returned. Where were they going? There was nothing down there but more rocks. They were out of sight and would remain so until their return, unless… She raced along the path, staying away from the cliff edge so they would not catch sight of her, until she reached a spot where she thought she might be able to see them. She dropped to the ground and wriggled through the heather and peered across the narrow strait to the opposite point. Yes, there they were. They were standing on the rocks at the base of the cliff looking out to sea. Aria turned her head and looked in the same direction. She could see nothing but the ocean and a faint smudge of land on the other side of the large bay. If only she could hear what they were saying. If she could scramble down behind a nearby ridge, she could get closer without them seeing her. She moved back from the cliff edge and wriggled to the head of the ridge. Swiftly she divested herself of her outer clothes and re-strapped her weapons to her waist. Her soft boots with their traction soles and her strong hands would get her down the cliff. She scrambled as quickly and quietly as she could down the cliff, and crouched behind a clump of rocks as close as she dared to them.
They were just standing there, looking out to sea.
Then a white body burst of the water and sat on a rock not six feet from Victor.
A Sea Queen.
For a moment, Aria was frozen with wonder and delight. A Sea Queen! They were real!
Then she remembered to listen to their conversation, but the sea was too loud and smothered their words.
The Sea Queen’s voice was low and hoarse, as if she was unused to speaking. The cadence of her voice sounded strange and foreign.
Victor’s spoke hesitatingly, his deep voice carrying across the waves, but Aria was still unable to make out what he said. It sounded like another language.
Swanhilda stepped up beside Victor and started speaking. The Sea Queen looked at her, seemingly unsurprised to see her there. Aria could not understand a word that Swanhilda spoke, even when her light voice carried across the water. So, that was why Swanhilda the speaker of ancient tongues was here.
Victor spoke again, and the Sea Queen responded angrily, and then dived into the water obviously done with the conversation. Swanhilda looked reproachfully at Victor, probably telling him he was no diplomat.
Aria waited for them to make their way back around the point, then scrambled back up the cliff, retrieving her outer robes, her mind full of speculation.
Did the Sea Queen have anything to do with the strange things that had been happening to Ys?
A few had gone to Broceliande, never to be heard from again, since Broceliande had snapped shut, tighter than Ys had ever been. It was rumoured that Victor had found places outside Ys for some of the exiles. The young men knew he had travelled outside, to investigate other Domains and to initiate contact with Special Division.
Now only about ten Alfar families remained, and were outnumbered by the human residents.
And it wasn’t just the isolation that was driving people to leave. Strange things had started happening.
The main source of income for the community, fishing rights leased to independent fishermen, had almost dried up, due to a campaign of harassment against the fishing boats by persons unknown. Nets were ruined while cast out at sea, and some-one who fell overboard had drowned. He was known to be a strong swimmer so his death was considered a bad sign by the fishermen. They had demanded compensation for damaged property, and the refund of unused leases when they left to fish elsewhere.
Ys had had a small fishing boat of its own, now lying at the bottom of the narrow harbour beneath the fort towers. It had sunk during the last winter storms having pulled free of its ropes and smashed against the rocky harbour walls. Pulled free? The boys had laughed harshly and said everyone knew the ropes had been cut clean through.
And then there was poor Tomas… Tomas had been found drowned on the rocks, at his favourite fishing spot. His fishing line was wound around his legs. It could have been an accident. But no-one went fishing there anymore.
His grieving widow and son had been the latest to leave Ys. Victor had arranged for them to leave, it was thought to Strasbourg, where it was rumoured a small contingent of exiled Ys were living.
Griffin had gone fishing with the boys, an occupation he equated unfavourably with watching grass grow, but better than waiting around the settlement for nothing to happen. Mistress Bevan and Swanhilda were locked in the Council chamber having the usual unproductive meeting no doubt, while Aria herself had spent much of the day as usual, in the schoolhouse with the children and their teachers.
Soon after their arrival, she had decided to walk to the human settlement and look around. It had not been expressly forbidden though she suspected that some amongst the Alfar would not be happy at her freely conversing with the human inhabitants of Ys. Walking through the fields confirmed her initial impression that humans now outnumbered Alfar, and did most of the work in the settlement although she thought she spotted some Alfar working alongside them, distinguishable only by their clothing. They all looked up at her passing and stared at her with curiosity though none approached.
Reaching the village, she heard children’s voices coming from a large building. She peered curiously through the open doorway, thinking how similar it was to the country school she herself had attended during her childhood in Brynnr. The teacher had looked up and almost burst out laughing at Aria’s face peeping around the door. At this, the children had surged out of their seats despite their teacher’s protests and run outside to gather around Aria, asking questions and tugging at her robes.
The teacher followed them calmly and introduced herself as Eleanor, one of the parents who took turns teaching the children. Aria apologized smilingly for the disruption but Eleanor seemed undisturbed and suggested that she stay and talk to the children about Brynnr and the Special Division. She smiled and said that they rarely received any visitors from outside although the human community could move freely between Ys and the outside.
So Aria had stayed for an hour, and promised to return the next day. Somehow she went there most days, and was greeted with reproach if she had not managed to visit the previous day. She had noticed a couple of Alfar children, quieter and more formal than the human children. Eleanor had taken her aside and asked her not to mention seeing them there. Their presence was frowned upon by some of the councillors. Aria could soon guess which ones. Occasionally she noticed some of the older Alfar slipping into the schoolhouse to use the library. Today she had spent a couple of hours teaching the children songs and dances from Brynnr, and had spotted the former Chief Councillor, of all people, leaving the library room. He had given her an odd considering look as he left.
So, yet another day was coming to a close, and she was no further to finding anything about her mother. Occupied by her thoughts, she found herself on the path along the cliffs. She looked ahead and frowned, seeing movement on the cliff ahead of her. Drawing closer, she made out Victor and Swanhilda carefully descending a rough path to the water below. Now what on earth were they doing together? She peered over the edge of the cliff. They had reached the rocks at the bottom, the sea boiling around them, and then picked their way around the point, Victor carefully helping Swanhilda. She had no scruples about trailing them, but if she followed, they might catch her out as they returned. Where were they going? There was nothing down there but more rocks. They were out of sight and would remain so until their return, unless… She raced along the path, staying away from the cliff edge so they would not catch sight of her, until she reached a spot where she thought she might be able to see them. She dropped to the ground and wriggled through the heather and peered across the narrow strait to the opposite point. Yes, there they were. They were standing on the rocks at the base of the cliff looking out to sea. Aria turned her head and looked in the same direction. She could see nothing but the ocean and a faint smudge of land on the other side of the large bay. If only she could hear what they were saying. If she could scramble down behind a nearby ridge, she could get closer without them seeing her. She moved back from the cliff edge and wriggled to the head of the ridge. Swiftly she divested herself of her outer clothes and re-strapped her weapons to her waist. Her soft boots with their traction soles and her strong hands would get her down the cliff. She scrambled as quickly and quietly as she could down the cliff, and crouched behind a clump of rocks as close as she dared to them.
They were just standing there, looking out to sea.
Then a white body burst of the water and sat on a rock not six feet from Victor.
A Sea Queen.
For a moment, Aria was frozen with wonder and delight. A Sea Queen! They were real!
Then she remembered to listen to their conversation, but the sea was too loud and smothered their words.
The Sea Queen’s voice was low and hoarse, as if she was unused to speaking. The cadence of her voice sounded strange and foreign.
Victor’s spoke hesitatingly, his deep voice carrying across the waves, but Aria was still unable to make out what he said. It sounded like another language.
Swanhilda stepped up beside Victor and started speaking. The Sea Queen looked at her, seemingly unsurprised to see her there. Aria could not understand a word that Swanhilda spoke, even when her light voice carried across the water. So, that was why Swanhilda the speaker of ancient tongues was here.
Victor spoke again, and the Sea Queen responded angrily, and then dived into the water obviously done with the conversation. Swanhilda looked reproachfully at Victor, probably telling him he was no diplomat.
Aria waited for them to make their way back around the point, then scrambled back up the cliff, retrieving her outer robes, her mind full of speculation.
Did the Sea Queen have anything to do with the strange things that had been happening to Ys?
Strange events
When Aria entered the guest parlour, she found Griffin had returned from his fishing expedition and was talking excitedly to the Envoy. Swanhilda was there too, looking calm and unruffled, as if she had not just been speaking to a being straight out of legend.
Yet another strange event had transpired. One of Griffin’s companions had spotted something swimming beneath their dinghy and was leaning over the gunwale peering into the water when a blow struck the boat from beneath, sending him flying into the water. He was floundering in the water, trying to get back to the boat when he disappeared suddenly as if pulled under the water. The occupants of the dinghy looked around them frantically, but in a moment he reappeared gasping and sputtering, too far away to have swum that distance in the few seconds that he had been gone. He shouted for help, yelling that something had grabbed him around the waist and dragged him through the water. They rowed swiftly to him and pulled him into the dinghy, returning at once to shore. Another of the boys insisted that he had seen a white hand reach up and grip the gunwale just before the blow had struck. They were all unnerved and shaken. The young Alfar who had fallen in the water swore that he was never going near the sea again.
Aria was longing to speak to someone about the Sea Queen. She was sure all these strange events were connected to her. No-one, no thing had been attacked on land. Did the Envoy know? If not, why had Swanhilda not told her? Well, it was Swanhilda’s responsibility to inform the Envoy of what was going on. Aria was just an accidental observer. But she would tell Griffin.
As soon as they were alone in their quarters Aria swiftly recounted her strange encounter as they changed into their formal robes. Griffin was incredulous at first but reluctantly came to the same conclusion as Aria; the Sea Queen and perhaps others of her people were behind the attacks on Ys – and Victor, and almost certainly others in the Council were hiding this from their own people as well as Special Division. Swanhilda had apparently not told the Envoy, as surely this would have altered the negotiations. Perhaps her loyalties had been swayed by Victor?
The formal dinner in the communal dining-hall was as tedious as ever. They could not converse freely while in the company of their hosts; although Aria noticed that the company had thinned out a few days after the diplomatic party’s arrival; most people obviously preferring to partake of their meals in their own homes, in human rather than Alfar tradition. Polite small talk had run out swiftly, although Victor and his aide usually found some topic of interest about the outside world with which to interrogate them. And tonight she noted with irritation that Liriel and Gradlon were whispering together and staring at her throughout the entire meal. Griffin had noticed too, and was stiff with tension.
One other thing about the formal dinners had bothered Aria from the beginning.
Plenty of fresh produce from the farms and glasshouses of Ys was served, but no seafood.
Yet another strange event had transpired. One of Griffin’s companions had spotted something swimming beneath their dinghy and was leaning over the gunwale peering into the water when a blow struck the boat from beneath, sending him flying into the water. He was floundering in the water, trying to get back to the boat when he disappeared suddenly as if pulled under the water. The occupants of the dinghy looked around them frantically, but in a moment he reappeared gasping and sputtering, too far away to have swum that distance in the few seconds that he had been gone. He shouted for help, yelling that something had grabbed him around the waist and dragged him through the water. They rowed swiftly to him and pulled him into the dinghy, returning at once to shore. Another of the boys insisted that he had seen a white hand reach up and grip the gunwale just before the blow had struck. They were all unnerved and shaken. The young Alfar who had fallen in the water swore that he was never going near the sea again.
Aria was longing to speak to someone about the Sea Queen. She was sure all these strange events were connected to her. No-one, no thing had been attacked on land. Did the Envoy know? If not, why had Swanhilda not told her? Well, it was Swanhilda’s responsibility to inform the Envoy of what was going on. Aria was just an accidental observer. But she would tell Griffin.
As soon as they were alone in their quarters Aria swiftly recounted her strange encounter as they changed into their formal robes. Griffin was incredulous at first but reluctantly came to the same conclusion as Aria; the Sea Queen and perhaps others of her people were behind the attacks on Ys – and Victor, and almost certainly others in the Council were hiding this from their own people as well as Special Division. Swanhilda had apparently not told the Envoy, as surely this would have altered the negotiations. Perhaps her loyalties had been swayed by Victor?
The formal dinner in the communal dining-hall was as tedious as ever. They could not converse freely while in the company of their hosts; although Aria noticed that the company had thinned out a few days after the diplomatic party’s arrival; most people obviously preferring to partake of their meals in their own homes, in human rather than Alfar tradition. Polite small talk had run out swiftly, although Victor and his aide usually found some topic of interest about the outside world with which to interrogate them. And tonight she noted with irritation that Liriel and Gradlon were whispering together and staring at her throughout the entire meal. Griffin had noticed too, and was stiff with tension.
One other thing about the formal dinners had bothered Aria from the beginning.
Plenty of fresh produce from the farms and glasshouses of Ys was served, but no seafood.
Show-down on the battlements
Shortly after retiring to the guest parlour, Swanhilda informed the company that she intended to take a walk in last of the twilight before retiring.
Aria waited until she had left, then casually suggested to Griffin that they too, go for a walk before retiring. She turned and smiled at the Envoy, asking if she wanted to accompany them. As usual, the Envoy was occupied writing up her evening report to her superiors in Special Division diplomatic headquarters. As Aria fully expected, she declined and told them to go on without her.
As soon as the door to the parlour closed behind them, Aria signed to Griffin that they were following Swanhilda. He raised his brows but said nothing, swiftly following on Aria’s heels.
Aria tiptoed quickly to the stairwell and peered down. No sign of Swanhilda. No sound of the entrance door closing. So, she had taken the stairs to the flat rooftop that led to the battlements along the fort sea walls. That was just as she had suspected. They quietly trod up the narrow stairs to the roof, staying cautiously back to keep out of their quarry’s sight. Reaching the door that gave on to the roof, Aria whispered to Griffin that she would take the lead as her night sight was better. She paused and peered around the archway and saw the dark shadow that was Swanhilda had reached the sea walls snaking along the cliff edge. The twilight gloom wrapped the world in deep shadows but the moon was rising rapidly, painting a shimmering path on the black waters of the calm sea, and lighting Swanhilda’s way adequately even for one without the enhancements to vision that Aria possessed. Swanhilda looked back once in their direction then walked on far too swiftly for a casual stroll. She was heading for the door of the tower stairs which would take her down to ground level. At the foot of the stairs was a small door allowing access to the cliff path outside the walls.
Aria was tense with excitement, certain that Swanhilda must intend to make her way back along the cliff path to another meeting with Victor and the Sea Queen. She passed a dark gap where an inner stair descended to the courtyard. So her goal was indeed the tower. Aria and Griffin were poised to follow her the moment she reached the tower, when suddenly a tall shadow lunged from the inner staircase, seizing Swanhilda and pushing her against the battlement wall. Swanhilda shrieked once in shock, and then engaged in a near silent struggle with her assailant who was obviously trying to push her over the battlement to the rocks below. Heart pounding, Aria sprinted along the rooftop with Griffin close behind. But it was not they who were to be Swanhilda’s rescuers.
There was a roar from the tower door, and Victor emerged, dashing towards the struggling couple. He seized the unknown assailant and threw him against the inner wall. The unknown collapsed and lay still. Victor looked down at him a moment, then turned to Swanhilda, putting his arm around her shoulders and anxiously inquiring if she was all right. He turned in surprise as Aria and Griffin ran up, but before he could say anything, there was a scream of rage behind them. Liriel burst onto the walkway from the inner stairway and bent over the fallen Gradlon, who was now shakily trying to sit up. She looked up at her son and began to berate him.
She accused Victor of betraying them, sharing the secret of Ys with an outsider and a human at that. They were intruders, and weren’t wanted. They should be ‘encouraged’ to leave.
She looked up at Aria and Griffin.
“You should know,” said Liriel, nodding curtly at Aria, as if clinching an argument, “That..spy.. is your own sister’s child. The union of a flawed Alfar and a human!” She was almost shouting. She cast Aria a contemptuous glance. She was probably sorry that it hadn’t been Aria walking alone on the battlements.
“She never arrived at the House of Contemplation! I needed to know…” she stopped herself. “When I found out, I interrogated her escort. She insisted on making the last part of the journey on foot, alone. But they saw a skimmer rise from the woods nearby. I was never able to find out more… until now.”
Victor was bewildered. “How did you interrogate them? You’ve never left Ys… you used the comm in the schoolhouse.” Ygraine’s escort would have been from Cawdor, an open Domain. They had comms, just like anybody in the outside world. Anybody that is, except stubborn Alfar who supposedly refused to use human technology.
She flushed. “It was necessary!”
Victor turned to Aria. “You are… my sister’s child?” He felt numb, light-headed.
Aria squeezed Griffin’s arm, to prevent him from speaking.
Let them speak first, she thought. How insightful of you, my Lady Mother.
“It is true,” she said calmly, “that my mother was an Alfar.” She turned to Liriel. “But why do you believe that I am your granddaughter?” She used the word deliberately, sure that it would inflame Liriel to indiscretion.
“You are not my granddaughter!” Liriel almost spat the words out. She turned her back deliberately on Aria and addressed Victor.
“I knew that Ygraine had become fast friends with Lady Bibiane just before she disappeared. That lady I have now found out became co-guardian of the child of a human servant and his dead wife six years later. I could find out almost nothing about the wife – something almost impossible in human society …And Lady Bibiane has a skimmer.” She said this last with portentous import.
Aria nearly laughed out loud. So, Liriel had simply jumped to conclusions on a thread of almost ludicrously thin proportions. And come upon the truth almost by accident. How deliciously ironic.
Victor’s face fell at Liriel’s ridiculous utterance. He looked angry and hurt. He opened his mouth to speak but looked uncertain of what to say.
‘Time to bring the curtain down’, thought Aria. She turned to face Victor, who still had his arm around Swanhilda’s shoulders.
“I believe it may be true,” she said. “My mother’s name was indeed Ygraine, and she came from Ys… that is all I know. She left her past behind her when she married my father, who was indeed human. But not a servant!” she said firmly, directing a fiery look towards Liriel.
Victor took a deep breath, like a sigh. “We must talk later,” he said to Aria. “But now…” he turned to his mother and her companion.
“You have done ill. You have kept the truth from me about my own sister, and broken our laws of hospitality. You investigated our guests without their knowledge, why I do not know; even attacked one. You have harmed Ys, all because you could not bear the thought of change.”
Liriel opened her mouth to retort, but Victor raised his hand to stop her. “You can explain your actions to the Council tomorrow. Be prepared to be convincing.” He did not sound encouraging.
Drawn by the commotion, the Envoy had appeared soon after Swanhilda’s scream, and stood apart from the group watching and calmly observing the situation. She looked with interest at Victor’s arm around Swanhilda’s shoulder.
“It seems my team have some explaining to do themselves’, she said. “Tomorrow’s Council meeting will be… interesting.”
Aria waited until she had left, then casually suggested to Griffin that they too, go for a walk before retiring. She turned and smiled at the Envoy, asking if she wanted to accompany them. As usual, the Envoy was occupied writing up her evening report to her superiors in Special Division diplomatic headquarters. As Aria fully expected, she declined and told them to go on without her.
As soon as the door to the parlour closed behind them, Aria signed to Griffin that they were following Swanhilda. He raised his brows but said nothing, swiftly following on Aria’s heels.
Aria tiptoed quickly to the stairwell and peered down. No sign of Swanhilda. No sound of the entrance door closing. So, she had taken the stairs to the flat rooftop that led to the battlements along the fort sea walls. That was just as she had suspected. They quietly trod up the narrow stairs to the roof, staying cautiously back to keep out of their quarry’s sight. Reaching the door that gave on to the roof, Aria whispered to Griffin that she would take the lead as her night sight was better. She paused and peered around the archway and saw the dark shadow that was Swanhilda had reached the sea walls snaking along the cliff edge. The twilight gloom wrapped the world in deep shadows but the moon was rising rapidly, painting a shimmering path on the black waters of the calm sea, and lighting Swanhilda’s way adequately even for one without the enhancements to vision that Aria possessed. Swanhilda looked back once in their direction then walked on far too swiftly for a casual stroll. She was heading for the door of the tower stairs which would take her down to ground level. At the foot of the stairs was a small door allowing access to the cliff path outside the walls.
Aria was tense with excitement, certain that Swanhilda must intend to make her way back along the cliff path to another meeting with Victor and the Sea Queen. She passed a dark gap where an inner stair descended to the courtyard. So her goal was indeed the tower. Aria and Griffin were poised to follow her the moment she reached the tower, when suddenly a tall shadow lunged from the inner staircase, seizing Swanhilda and pushing her against the battlement wall. Swanhilda shrieked once in shock, and then engaged in a near silent struggle with her assailant who was obviously trying to push her over the battlement to the rocks below. Heart pounding, Aria sprinted along the rooftop with Griffin close behind. But it was not they who were to be Swanhilda’s rescuers.
There was a roar from the tower door, and Victor emerged, dashing towards the struggling couple. He seized the unknown assailant and threw him against the inner wall. The unknown collapsed and lay still. Victor looked down at him a moment, then turned to Swanhilda, putting his arm around her shoulders and anxiously inquiring if she was all right. He turned in surprise as Aria and Griffin ran up, but before he could say anything, there was a scream of rage behind them. Liriel burst onto the walkway from the inner stairway and bent over the fallen Gradlon, who was now shakily trying to sit up. She looked up at her son and began to berate him.
She accused Victor of betraying them, sharing the secret of Ys with an outsider and a human at that. They were intruders, and weren’t wanted. They should be ‘encouraged’ to leave.
She looked up at Aria and Griffin.
“You should know,” said Liriel, nodding curtly at Aria, as if clinching an argument, “That..spy.. is your own sister’s child. The union of a flawed Alfar and a human!” She was almost shouting. She cast Aria a contemptuous glance. She was probably sorry that it hadn’t been Aria walking alone on the battlements.
“She never arrived at the House of Contemplation! I needed to know…” she stopped herself. “When I found out, I interrogated her escort. She insisted on making the last part of the journey on foot, alone. But they saw a skimmer rise from the woods nearby. I was never able to find out more… until now.”
Victor was bewildered. “How did you interrogate them? You’ve never left Ys… you used the comm in the schoolhouse.” Ygraine’s escort would have been from Cawdor, an open Domain. They had comms, just like anybody in the outside world. Anybody that is, except stubborn Alfar who supposedly refused to use human technology.
She flushed. “It was necessary!”
Victor turned to Aria. “You are… my sister’s child?” He felt numb, light-headed.
Aria squeezed Griffin’s arm, to prevent him from speaking.
Let them speak first, she thought. How insightful of you, my Lady Mother.
“It is true,” she said calmly, “that my mother was an Alfar.” She turned to Liriel. “But why do you believe that I am your granddaughter?” She used the word deliberately, sure that it would inflame Liriel to indiscretion.
“You are not my granddaughter!” Liriel almost spat the words out. She turned her back deliberately on Aria and addressed Victor.
“I knew that Ygraine had become fast friends with Lady Bibiane just before she disappeared. That lady I have now found out became co-guardian of the child of a human servant and his dead wife six years later. I could find out almost nothing about the wife – something almost impossible in human society …And Lady Bibiane has a skimmer.” She said this last with portentous import.
Aria nearly laughed out loud. So, Liriel had simply jumped to conclusions on a thread of almost ludicrously thin proportions. And come upon the truth almost by accident. How deliciously ironic.
Victor’s face fell at Liriel’s ridiculous utterance. He looked angry and hurt. He opened his mouth to speak but looked uncertain of what to say.
‘Time to bring the curtain down’, thought Aria. She turned to face Victor, who still had his arm around Swanhilda’s shoulders.
“I believe it may be true,” she said. “My mother’s name was indeed Ygraine, and she came from Ys… that is all I know. She left her past behind her when she married my father, who was indeed human. But not a servant!” she said firmly, directing a fiery look towards Liriel.
Victor took a deep breath, like a sigh. “We must talk later,” he said to Aria. “But now…” he turned to his mother and her companion.
“You have done ill. You have kept the truth from me about my own sister, and broken our laws of hospitality. You investigated our guests without their knowledge, why I do not know; even attacked one. You have harmed Ys, all because you could not bear the thought of change.”
Liriel opened her mouth to retort, but Victor raised his hand to stop her. “You can explain your actions to the Council tomorrow. Be prepared to be convincing.” He did not sound encouraging.
Drawn by the commotion, the Envoy had appeared soon after Swanhilda’s scream, and stood apart from the group watching and calmly observing the situation. She looked with interest at Victor’s arm around Swanhilda’s shoulder.
“It seems my team have some explaining to do themselves’, she said. “Tomorrow’s Council meeting will be… interesting.”
Epilogue
Some traditions weren’t worth hanging onto.
Victor sat at an old desk with his hands cupped around a small player. Beside him a latticed window looking out over the sea, blue and innocent over its secret.
A painting of Ygraine smiled down at him from the opposite wall. She was holding her baby in her arms. It was a gift from Aria’s father. He had kept it secret along with a few other recordings, against the day when they need be hidden no longer.
The Envoy had departed, the negotiations successfully concluded. The Council had reacted with shock to the actions of Liriel and Gradlon. And the exposure to Special Division of the deliberate omission of Drowned Ys from the original settlement had left the Council embarrassed and in a weakened position. Victor had seized the opportunity to persuade the undecided councillors to endorse his position, giving them no time to change their minds. The agreement had been ratified, and the two remaining opposition councillors had been exiled from Ys on the same day. They had been directed to live in the same House of Contemplation to which Ygraine had been consigned.
With their departure, any remaining opposition had collapsed.
Swanhilda remained in Ys to continue the negotiations with Drowned Ys. For now, the presence of the Sea Alfar would remain a Special Division secret. When finally revealed to human society, there would no doubt be a furore of excitement and interest. Ys needed time to prepare for that day.
At his request and the consent of the Envoy, Aria and Griffin had stayed for some time after her departure; and Aria had told Victor what she knew about her mother, though that was little enough, for Aria had been barely two years old when her mother had died; but it was of some comfort to him that his sister had found herself champions who fought for her life, and a loving home . Lady Bibiane had visited at Victor’s request, arriving in her own skimmer to the great excitement of all the children and not a few adults. She had brought the gift of the picture, and recordings of Ygraine.
Alfar had long memories, and claimed not to need reminders of loved ones. But Victor had been more than glad of these gifts, brought to him by the wonder of human ingenuity. He had asked Swanhilda to be present when he played the recordings. She had laid her hand on his shoulder and he had covered it with his own as he watched Ygraine play with her child, and heard her voice once more. The tiny player now had pride of place in a decorated box on his desk.
His niece and her husband had departed, returning to the Special Division base in Perche. Now that Ys was no longer a prison, its population was burgeoning. Exiled Ys were returning, and the Council had agreed to build a sanatorium for Special Division, bringing employment to Ys and connections with the outside world.
On High Summer’s Day, he and Swanhilda would be married, and their marriage would be a grand celebration of the freedom and unity of Ys; attended by the entire community, along with representatives from Special Division, Swanhilda’s family, and his own newly discovered family.
Victor sat at an old desk with his hands cupped around a small player. Beside him a latticed window looking out over the sea, blue and innocent over its secret.
A painting of Ygraine smiled down at him from the opposite wall. She was holding her baby in her arms. It was a gift from Aria’s father. He had kept it secret along with a few other recordings, against the day when they need be hidden no longer.
The Envoy had departed, the negotiations successfully concluded. The Council had reacted with shock to the actions of Liriel and Gradlon. And the exposure to Special Division of the deliberate omission of Drowned Ys from the original settlement had left the Council embarrassed and in a weakened position. Victor had seized the opportunity to persuade the undecided councillors to endorse his position, giving them no time to change their minds. The agreement had been ratified, and the two remaining opposition councillors had been exiled from Ys on the same day. They had been directed to live in the same House of Contemplation to which Ygraine had been consigned.
With their departure, any remaining opposition had collapsed.
Swanhilda remained in Ys to continue the negotiations with Drowned Ys. For now, the presence of the Sea Alfar would remain a Special Division secret. When finally revealed to human society, there would no doubt be a furore of excitement and interest. Ys needed time to prepare for that day.
At his request and the consent of the Envoy, Aria and Griffin had stayed for some time after her departure; and Aria had told Victor what she knew about her mother, though that was little enough, for Aria had been barely two years old when her mother had died; but it was of some comfort to him that his sister had found herself champions who fought for her life, and a loving home . Lady Bibiane had visited at Victor’s request, arriving in her own skimmer to the great excitement of all the children and not a few adults. She had brought the gift of the picture, and recordings of Ygraine.
Alfar had long memories, and claimed not to need reminders of loved ones. But Victor had been more than glad of these gifts, brought to him by the wonder of human ingenuity. He had asked Swanhilda to be present when he played the recordings. She had laid her hand on his shoulder and he had covered it with his own as he watched Ygraine play with her child, and heard her voice once more. The tiny player now had pride of place in a decorated box on his desk.
His niece and her husband had departed, returning to the Special Division base in Perche. Now that Ys was no longer a prison, its population was burgeoning. Exiled Ys were returning, and the Council had agreed to build a sanatorium for Special Division, bringing employment to Ys and connections with the outside world.
On High Summer’s Day, he and Swanhilda would be married, and their marriage would be a grand celebration of the freedom and unity of Ys; attended by the entire community, along with representatives from Special Division, Swanhilda’s family, and his own newly discovered family.
Dahut swam through the ruins of the drowned city of Ys, observing the abundance of sea life that had returned once the fishing boats had left.
The Chief Councillor of Land-Ys had promised that this tiny bit of the coast would belong to the Sea Alfar; that it would theirs alone, and no-one would be allowed to disturb them here. No more fishing by the land-peoples. All he asked in return was that they refrain from beaching dolphins and the like along the coast. The locals found that disturbing. Land-people were so sentimental. Well, her people could hunt at sea.
It was good, but still not enough. This territory was tiny. They wanted more.
That human woman who spoke their air-tongue, she had said she represented the World Government but was just an interpreter. Others would negotiate a treaty with the Sea Alfar, acknowledge their existence at last and agree on the extent of their territory which would be protected under World law.
Her lip curled slightly. This wasn’t the end. The entire sea was their territory, and land-people were intruders. They would be made to acknowledge that eventually. But one bit of territory at a time…
The Chief Councillor of Land-Ys had promised that this tiny bit of the coast would belong to the Sea Alfar; that it would theirs alone, and no-one would be allowed to disturb them here. No more fishing by the land-peoples. All he asked in return was that they refrain from beaching dolphins and the like along the coast. The locals found that disturbing. Land-people were so sentimental. Well, her people could hunt at sea.
It was good, but still not enough. This territory was tiny. They wanted more.
That human woman who spoke their air-tongue, she had said she represented the World Government but was just an interpreter. Others would negotiate a treaty with the Sea Alfar, acknowledge their existence at last and agree on the extent of their territory which would be protected under World law.
Her lip curled slightly. This wasn’t the end. The entire sea was their territory, and land-people were intruders. They would be made to acknowledge that eventually. But one bit of territory at a time…