CHAPTER THREE - BREAKFAST AT THE WINTER PALACE

The smell of toast and bacon wafted from the kitchens, drawing the guests down from their rooms in ones and twos. Sorcha had found herself unable to sleep after DeSilva left and was among the first up when the sun rose. She went downstairs wearing the Silvan outfit but hung the mask at her belt before showing her face in the kitchen.

She ate with the handful of female staff in the kitchen before the main meal was served. She was surprised to find Vari herself in command of the kitchen, with Vashta and Fethne apparently drafted in to help. Sorcha's first sight in the kitchen was of the blind girl washing up, working deftly by touch and breaking nothing.

"I told them I had my own servants to make breakfast," Vari said, by way of greeting to Sorcha, "but I'm only the mistress of this house, apparently my word means nothing."

Sorcha pitched in, joining the meal and helping prepare the next round for the later risers. With the shortage of staff, everyone took breakfast in the kitchen, DeKellia and Drake arriving together, then Charn, and DeSilva shortly afterwards.

Sorcha put her mask on quickly, stoically ignoring any odd looks thrown at her by the others in the kitchen. Charn did not notice Sorcha in time to see what she had done; seeing her in Silvan mask and uniform, the Diva grunted approval. “Good to see you wearing something decent.”

“Did you sleep alright, Charn?” DeSilva asked, slyly.

“Not a wink. Sat up all night. Thinking.”

Charn looked away, having no interest in talking to him at all. DeSilva mimed slumber behind her back, sniggering. Sorcha put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of DeSilva and clipped him around the ear with her hand. DeKellia noticed and concealed a smile.

"Is there a plan,” DeSilva asked his father, “or are we just enjoying ourselves for once?"

"Both," DeKellia said, "which is the best way. Kalidor and Kam are assessing our defences, we're organising an ambush, the girls are planning a party. Usual business, normal day."

“Kalidor reappeared?” DeSilva asked, with his mouth full.

“Was there any doubt he would?” Vari enquired. “He showed his face an hour ago, ate three raw eggs and a side of ham, then snuck off again.”

“Raw eggs?” DeSilva grimaced. “Well, I know he's a Dacoit and they're supposed to eat raw food, but even eggs?”

“How are the party plans?” DeKellia asked his sister, changing the subject.

“I have sent invitations to Karvallion and Kern,” Vari said, “to see if we can finally resolve matters. They will be here this evening. Monte, I thought that you and Noth might favour us with some entertainment.”

“Alright,” DeKellia said, leaning close to talk privily with his sister. "But I have a favour to ask; you must enjoin Charn to wear a dress tonight. She'll try and come in boots and spurs, but you'll ensure she's suitably presented?” He glanced up and added, “Sorcha too, if possible.”

Sorcha looked up at the sound of her name, but DeKellia and Vari's conversation slipped into more complex Kellion than she could follow, discussing arrangements for the party later that night.

Unnoticed, Sorcha slipped out of the kitchen through the back door. Outside, she took off her mask and found herself in the Palace grounds. Snow lay thick on the lawns, the wind off the Moruna stirring up a white mist that occluded the horizon. The Palace seemed to exist alone in an island of white, but Sorcha knew that beyond the boundaries of the fog, outlaws, and rebel knights, Kraag barbarians and Darian invaders, roamed the icy fields of Kellia.

A speck of colour moved on the snow a few hundred yards off. Gradually it resolved into the figure of a knight in red armour, trudging back across the snow from the outermost perimeter of the Palace grounds. Sorcha stood where she was on the frosty patio before the lawn, shivering a little but not uncomfortably cold. Kam had evidently been out in the snow for hours; ice rimed his armour and stream rose from the slits of his visor.

“Are we safe?” Sorcha asked, then felt silly to ask; moments of real safety had been few and fleeting since she first set out on adventure.

Kam Daishen shrugged, dislodging a small cascade of snow from his shoulders.

“The Palace could not hold off an attack in force. It is indefensible.” The knight's voice echoed hollowly within his armour. “Against one foe, perhaps, but not two. The grounds are too extensive, the outer walls too low and far-flung. We have too few men, too few cannons, too little ammunition. Only fear that Vari herself would be harmed holds the enemy at bay.”

“So, what are we to do?”

“As we plan; the Palace is not a fortress, but it may be a trap. We shall see if Vari's suitors can be lured away from their men.”

“Then you'll kill them?”

Kam shrugged again. “It is not my preferred work. My brothers will perform any assassinations that might arise. If it comes to open battle, then yes; I will kill Major Kern and Lord Karvallion.”

Sorcha thought that Kam spoke too lightly of killing the Darian Kern but did not say so; her own experiences had entrenched the certainty that Darians were utterly formidable. Kam seemed to sense her unspoken thought.

“I am the Order of One,” he said. “I am Kellia's First Knight and champion of the realm. It is written that none shall come against a knight in arms and withdraw unscathed. This you already know.”

“Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean...”

Kam raised one gauntleted hand to still her, but the words gushed forth unbidden:

“...It's just that there are two armies nearby and a bunch of refugees on their way here, there's going to be a battle and we're just sitting here eating breakfast and planning a party!”

“Because battle is fruitless in the field when we are so outnumbered. Would that it were otherwise, but our weapon in this fight is cunning, not courage.” This time, Sorcha detected the mighty Daishen's frustration.

“Was there another woman besides Vari here last night?” Sorcha asked, trying to change the subject. “I could have sworn...”

“It is not your concern,” Kam Daishen said, abruptly. “Be more attentive to your own secrets.”

Sorcha flushed, irrationally certain that Kam was referring to her activities in the night. Her only thought then was to speak to DeKellia, to find out who else knew. Leaving Kam Daishen on the terrace, Sorcha hurried back through the now empty kitchen.

On the verge of searching the entire Palace, she froze. She would inevitably encounter DeKellia again before the end of the day, but if she ran frantically from room to room, she would be as likely to meet Charn first. Sorcha could already see herself blurting out the truth to the Diva: “I was looking for DeKellia because he caught me and DeSilva screwing each other’s brains out and I wanted to be sure he didn't tell you!”

Muttering to herself, fighting for calm, Sorcha paced the kitchen for a few minutes, her fingers fluttering unconsciously on the mirrored mask at her belt. She felt again the walls beginning to close in on her, but she could not bolt back out through the kitchen door to the lawns without running into Kam Daishen again.

Instead, she fled into the Palace, looking now not for DeKellia or anyone else, but for the way up to the rooftop. For all its luxury, the Palace was nominally a castle; hidden among the wide main halls and plush chambers were narrower passages and spartan defensive chambers. Sorcha found a narrow spiral stair and followed it to the battlements.

The huge central dome of the Winter Palace was ringed in ramparts, with a causeway wide enough for two to walk abreast. Sorcha caught her breath at the view. The Palace was impressive enough from any angle within or without, but from the roof the full size and grandeur of the place was revealed.

Sorcha walked a full circuit of the dome's rampart, taking in the panorama. The wind was fearsome and the walkway slick with ice; Sorcha had to keep one hand on the battlements and watch her footing to walk safely.

West, she could see clear to the inland cliffs bordering the Moruna. Pine forest sheltered in the lee of the cliffs, a patch of living darkness against the uniform whiteness of the snow. Sorcha frowned, peering into the distance until she was sure of what she saw: smoke rising from among the trees, almost too faint to be seen. One of the armies waiting outside the Palace? Sorcha hurried on around the rampart, looking now for any sign of the other force besieging Vari's home.

North lay only the foothills and rising slopes of the Psarrion Mountains. East lay the River Kessel and then the most southerly arm of the Psarrions, blocking off the view of Silveneir's northern provinces. Sorcha did not linger on that view but went to the southern outlook.

Here the wind was less, not fully abated but still more sheltered than the northern side. The lowlands of eastern Kellia stretched to the forest on the horizon. Beyond the forest lay Narillion, the ruins of the city lost to distance but the smoke of her burning still staining the sky. Between the forest and walls of the Winter Palace, Sorcha clearly saw two military encampments a few miles apart. To the left, nearer to the river, the outlaw army of the Darian Major Kern occupied a sprawling encampment in the lee of the forest. Northwest, the knightly camp of Lord Karvallion was smaller and more orderly, visibly better entrenched; even at a distance, Sorcha could see cannons dug-in around the perimeter and men on patrol, black specks moving against the snow.

She studied the view. There were the two main encampments, and there, in the forest to the west, a third. She had been raised to think like a soldier. Her clan had hired tutors from the capitol, a retired army officer to teach history and strategy, an alcoholic Diva to teach sword, an old cleric for literacy and religion. All three had been veterans, and not so very long ago their lessons would have told Sorcha all she needed to know. But all she could recall now were their names, nothing they had ever taught her. She tried to focus on the view and succeeded only in thinking instead of her night with DeSilva even as she groped for the answers that she knew lay in the very terrain around her.

She shook herself, beginning to shiver in the cold, and moved to go back inside. Even as she turned from the battlements, she spotted DeSilva himself emerging from the stairwell. He waved when he saw her.

“One of the servants said they saw you heading up here. Shouldn't you be getting ready for tonight, fixing your make-up or something?"

Sorcha leant against the rampart to look at DeSilva, pretending she had not just that very second been thinking of him. "What do you want?" She asked, coldly.

"Fresh air and some peace for my head. What are you doing up here?"

"Thinking."

DeSilva smirked and joined Sorcha by the battlements, looking out across the view. "Last night..."

"I don't want to talk about it."

DeSilva said nothing, resting his elbows on the battlements to pack his pipe, his face sombre now. Sorcha waited until he struck a match before she spoke again.

"I had a lover in the harem.”

"One of your clan?" He was assuming that in her captivity, Sorcha had sought comfort in the arms of another woman.

"No, a Naril Darian."

DeSilva put fire to his pipe and waited for her to go on.

"That was the way they did it; we were all Odacon's slaves, but each of his men would train one girl.”

“Not exactly lovers then, is it?”

Sorcha answered obliquely; "You don't know how strong a Darian is, not really. I don't even know his name. He had a tattoo on his neck; the number thirteen. But he protected me, taught me... Everything we did last night...”

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know. He died.” She felt tears well up, sudden and unexpected. “I don't even know why I'm talking about it."

Sorcha put her hands to her face and began to cry. DeSilva put his arm around her, and she buried his face in his chest.

At last, she looked up and whispered, “I'm very confused, Monte. I don't know who I am anymore.”

His answer was to kiss her. She responded, but his embrace grew fiercer. When he pressed her back against the rampart, she pushed him away.

"Not here."

He laughed, still holding her loosely. “No, it's far too cold up here. Tonight.” He kissed her again briefly and added, “You're wanted downstairs now; my aunt Vari is looking for you.”