Law of the Wolf Tower: The Claidi Journals Book 1 by Tanith Lee (black authors fiction txt) 📕

Ironel Novendot said to me, also glancing sidelong, ‘And how is Jizania these days?’

That was so much what had been on my mind, and I said at once, ‘Blooming.’

‘Blast the creature,’ said Ironel, snapping her pearls spitefully. ‘Wouldn’t she just!’

‘I’m afraid,’ I said, sadly, ‘she forgot to send you her regards.’ (Forgot a lot of things, I mentally added. Like the fact she and you seem to know each other.)

But Ironel only sucked her drink again.

‘One day,’ she said to me, ‘you too will have to live on muck like this. Has he told you my age?’

She waited. Old People often like you to be astounded by their ages. I said, ‘No, madam.’

‘One hundred and seventy,’ she informed me.

Well, I didn’t believe her. She wasn’t more than ninety-nine, I’d have said. But I widened my eyes and exclaimed, ‘A great age, lady.’

‘You too,’ she said, ‘will reach a great age, here in our City. And you too will end as I am, drinking slops.’ And she smiled again, pleased at the idea.

A curse?

No, it seemed to be simply a fact.

I went colder, far colder, than if she had cursed me.

Nemian said, ‘She doesn’t know yet, Grandmother.’

‘Doesn’t she? Nice surprise for her then. How did you get her here?’

Nemian shot me a little-boyish, rueful look. He seemed to be saying, I just know you’ll forgive me, Claidi. He actually said, ‘Well, madam, I lied to her a lot.’

‘And with your pretty face,’ said Ironel, happier by the second, ‘the poor little fish was hooked.’

My mouth didn’t fall open. And I didn’t throw up on their shoes. I remain proud of both these things. I was so afraid, I felt as if I was floating in the air inside a ball of ice. Struck dumb, I couldn’t question them. So I stayed mercifully silent.

Nemian said, ‘When Jizania’s people shot the balloon down – not in my plan – I thought I’d had it, I confess. But luck was on my side. And Jizania stuck to her vow – once I’d shown her the flower. It’s just possible she might have forgotten, if I hadn’t. Her mind isn’t as sharp as yours, Grandmother.’

They smirked at each other.

Then Ironel said, ‘I must show Claidissa the garden of Immortal flowers.’

I couldn’t work any of it out. Sometime one of these monsters was going to have to explain it all to me. Not only had I been made a fool of, I was a fool to start with.

Strangely, I had then a sudden image of Argul. He’d never have been caught out by such people. He’d have known what was going on. But in such a situation, he would have been terrific, I just knew. This is hard to describe, but all at once, I seemed to myself to become Argul. I wasn’t Claidi any more, but him, tall and strong, confident and clever. And brave.

I looked at them with Argul’s eyes, and I said, ‘This wine’s rather bad, isn’t it? Perhaps you’re just used to it. But really.’ And I upended the glass-full and poured it on their horrible floor.

They both gaped at me. What a sight.

At that moment, a bell rang.

Everyone looked, even they did. Through a gauzy curtain came two new slaves, bowing. And then this girl.

She was – I don’t know where to begin. I’ll try. If you took one new-born primrose and mixed its colour in the purest cream, that was her skin, the exact shade, and as smooth. She had black-blue eyes, slanting upward at the outer corners. She had blue – must have been black – hair that hung straight as sheet metal to the backs of her knees. She wore white, and the rain must have drenched her and then turned to opals.

‘Ah, now,’ said the old witch, Ironel. ‘Here’s Moon Silk.’

This girl, Moon Silk, came along the floor, gliding on perfect moon-pale feet.

And Nemian gave a sort of strangled cry. And down his cheeks ran more rain, only this was tears.

He left me, he left his fearful grannie, and he strode to the exquisite girl and raised her into his arms. He kissed her. It was – a kiss.

Despite everything, it startles me to have to report, I felt as if I’d been hit in the stomach.

And Ironel said, not needing to, as he hadn’t needed to name this awful Tower, ‘How touching. Lovers re-meeting. Nemian and his young bride. They were only married, Claidissa, a month, before he had to leave us on his quest for you.’

She told me. (Ironel.) She must have loved it. I tried to be Argul, still, but he’d never have got in this mess. In the end I just had to be Claidi, and listen, and cope as best I could.

It’s soon told, though she went on and on, embroidering bits lovingly. Lingering. Watching me to see if I’d cry or jump about.

Before, she took me with her, alone, along the top storey of the Wolf Tower. From various windows she pointed out ugly important buildings. The other three Towers, for example, in the three other quarters of the City. They are the Pig Tower, the Vulture Tower, and the Tiger Tower. You’ll probably see at once, the Tiger Tower used to be Jizania Tiger’s. Where Jizania was born.

Ironel also showed me a courtyard in which, in four grey stone vases, grew the brilliant red flowers with juicy leaves. One of which Nemian handed Jizania in the House Debating Hall.

Meanwhile, downstairs, in the Wolf Tower, Nemian would be blissfully alone with his wife. Moon Silk. Ironel kept going back to that.

But she slipped up there. In the end, I got used to it.

Let’s face it, too, he was a rotten husband. Married one month, and the moment he had the chance, off with a Hulta girl. He’d led me on because he had to. But there was no excuse for that.

We were by then seated in Ironel’s apartment in the Tower, in another far-too-large room, that echoed.