Chapter 88
Pierre chose a council room in the southern tower of Chambert’s inner ring. He had taken a table up there and every day he spread on it the old, pre-War map of Franária. Light slanted in through windows shaped like spears and spread on the irregular terracota floor. People brought chairs, some tall, some with arms, there were even two plush chairs.
‘Different chairs for different people,’ Pierre said with that smile of his.
When Neville arrived for that afternoon’s meeting, Pierre was talking to the mad messenger Menior, whom Neville thought was the sanest person in that council. Luc came in next, saying that he had given up on everything, didn’t care for no one, but spent every night looking after the Accident, who had not recovered his consciousness, in spite of the efforts of Master Healer Marie, who came from Tuen every day to look in on him.
Thaila and the Eslarian arrived. Neville thought they were mad because the had already ade a revolution, failed, lost everything, but insisted on fighting for a broken Franária. Even the Grey One sneaked in to sit between Líran Storyteller and Gaul of Tuen.
Menior had ridden north to find out where Fulbert was. Menior was still dusty from the journey.
‘King Fulbert left no man, woman or goose to defend the Halls of Snow or Beloú,’ said Menior. ‘He marches to us with everything Patire has. Around finve thousand men.’
‘How many men do we have between Chambert and Tuen?’ asked Gregoire of the Frontier. Neville hadn’t noticed him standing there, in Pierre’s shadow.
‘Three thousand,’ said Gaul of Tuen.
‘But we have the walls,’ said Gregoire. ‘We’re safe here, right?’
‘We are,’ said Pierre. ‘The problem is all the villages between Fulbert and Chamberd. We have to intercept them.’
‘We wouldn’t be able to take more than two thousand men with us,’ said Neville, ‘if we want to leave Chambert defended.’
‘There are soldiers in Debur,’ said Pierre.
‘Neville is a hero in Baynard,’ said the Eslarian. ‘My daughter is one of the faces of the rebelion. If you two are together, Debur will follow you.’
Thaila touched Neville’s arm.
‘What about Henrique?’ asked Gregoire. ‘What about Olivier?’
‘How much time do we have?’ asked Pierre.
Neville wondered why Pierre as addressing the Grey One. Even more surrpising was the fact that the Grey One replied:
‘I promise you Fulbert is still far away. He will take his time in every village, killing slowly, torturing the very last mouse.’
‘The Prince is right,’ said Menior. ‘Fulbert will torture the villages one by one. He won’t move on until he is certain everyone is lynched.’
The Prince? Not possible. That little grey man was the King od Patire’s youngest son?
Frederico and the sun light sneaked out of the round room while the others planned routes, organized tastks. Thaila and the Eslarian left early to get supplies for her and Neville’s journey to Debur. Pierre spoke with Menior, Líran observed, Neville gave instructions to Gaul and Lu before he followed Frederico, the Grey. He bumped onto Gregoire on his way out.
‘Do you know where Frederico went?’ asked Neville.
‘I think I saw him going to the apple orchard. Why? Is everything all right?’
Neville pushed Gregoire aside and ran down the stairs.
‘Wait, what are you going to do?’ Gregoire ran like Neville, who went out into the night like a wolf.
Chambert was a static whrilwind of buildings and parks, vast orchards, paved paths and smooth lawn (prinkled with colourful little flowers now that the spring stretched its roots over Franária). The air vibrated with bees.
The night dressed Chambert in shadows. In the orchard, Frederico picked an apple blossom and sniffed it. He sneezed three times. Must be alergic to beauty. One last ray of sun clung to the very top of a tower, then sprang into the air, and the night turned blacker and blacker, like fainting. A woman in white zigzagged between the apple trees toward Frederico.
Vivianne wasn’t exactly gracious, punching the air with tension, but neither was she diselegant. Wild, maybe, with the cosmig charm of a wild doe.
Frederico raised a hand against her.
‘Come closer and I’ll sneeze.’
Vivianne didn’t seem to understand or care.
‘Where is everybody?’ she asked.
‘In a meeting.’
‘Where?’
‘It’s over,’ said Frederico. I could tell you what was said, if you wish.’
‘You were there?’ she didn’t even try to hide her surprise.
What must she make of him? Then again, what did Frederico expect? All he did was to grey in the corners. He refused to cross the corridor of his nightmare and come back to this dry world without Faust, without the Old Woman.
He told Vivianne about Fulbert and his invasion.
‘I told Pierre that Fulbert is still far, savouring his every kill.’
‘Frederico, are you from Patire?’
Frederico moved his head in surprise.
‘I forgot. You weren’t in the meeting.’
‘How could you forget if you’re telling me what happened there?’
‘You might have noticed,’ said the prince, ‘that lately I’ve been somewhat distracted.’
‘Did you say in the meeting that you are from Patire?’
‘It was Pierre and Menior who said it. They adrressed me by name ant title. Líran already knew me, but I think Neville was very surprised. There he comes.’
‘Name and title?’ said Vivianne. ‘You are Frederico of Patire.’
‘And Neville saved my life. Look how he comes. He was so keen on keeping me alive, dragged me here, now he wants to kill me, like he did my brother.’
Neville’s black, powerful figure came down the orchard followed by a much weaker form, that of Gregoire. Neville reached Frederico and stood very tall over the prince.
‘Do you regret saving me?’ Frederico was smiling.
Neville’s fists opened and closed.
‘Frederico was telling me about the meeting,’ Vivianne said, putting a lot of calm in her voice.
‘So?’ asked Frederico. ‘Are you going to kill me?’
‘I didn’t kill your brother.’
Frederico blineked three times
‘I didn’t kill your brother,’ said Neville. ‘I didn’t even know about Faust’s death until I came to Tuen.’
‘You invaded Patire,’ said Frederico. ‘You went south of the Oltiens and killed my brother in the vale that connects Anuré to the Halls od Snow.’
‘I invaded Patire, yes, but through the Frontier. We destroyed Lencon to reach Anuré. My mother was there, as was the Eslarian. I didn’t kill your brother.’
‘You dare lie to me about this.’
‘I tried to kill Faust of Patire for seven years. I wish I had killed him. Forgive me, but I truly wanted to kill Faust. But it wasn’t me. I would have killed you too, part of me still wants to, just because you are Fulbert’s son.’
The black archer and the grey prince stood in a paradox where each wanted to kill the other, couldn’t, but didn’t know hoe to move on. Vivianne noticed Gregoire standing behind Neville, signalled him to say something, add a soothing voice to the flamed argument. Do something.
Gregoire lifted his shoulder. Like what?
Anything!
‘You know,’ said Gregoire. He took a few steps back, perfectly aware that the other two men had forgotten about him. ‘Not all of us are meant for action. I mean, look at Pierre and look at me. I am as out of context as a sunflower in love with the moon. Maybe Frederico is also out of place.’
Vivianne made a face. What are you saying?
‘Then why are you here?’ asked Neville.
Excellent question. To crawl out of the Frontier all the way here just to remain in Pierre’s shadow.
‘I’m here because of you,’ said Frederico. ‘You dragged me here.’ He nudged his arm.
It was Vivianne who eas out of place, far from her books. When was the last time she sat down with some thrilling architecture? She wanted to find Pierre, Líran or Coalim, someone who would know what to do. She thought about leaving those three in the orchard, look for her friends, but Neville and Frederico were still stuc in that wishful killing. They might remain there forever.
‘I need help with something I found,’ she said.