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

crazy thought came to me. Perhaps Jizania Tiger would make me one of her own maids. They were of a rarer breed than us, they didn’t even use the Maids’ Hall, but had their own rooms in the Old Lady’s apartment.

Why such an extreme of good luck should come my way I couldn’t imagine. This kept me cautious.

Then she said, without warning, ‘And what did you think of the enemy-invader, the young man called Nemian?’

Did I go red? Somehow not. I think I was too surprised.

‘Er – well – he er – well he’s – er—’ cleverly said I.

‘A very awful enemy, wasn’t he,’ said Jizania. ‘I’m sure you were terrified.’

It seemed daft to lie. Her eyes seemed to say she could read one’s mind.

‘He looked just like the princes here,’ I said. ‘Well, actually, better.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘very fit and bold. And that hair.’ She sounded younger than ever when she said this, only about fifty. I blushed after all. She took no apparent notice. ‘And the flower he brought from the Waste. That was a shock, wasn’t it, Claidi? Did you ever guess things might grow there, beautiful healthy things?’

‘No, madam. I thought the Waste was all poisoned.’

‘Some of it. Some.’

There was a gap then. My eyes roamed uneasily. She had a spectacular indigo-feathered bird on a perch, which sat looking at me with wise old eyes like hers.

All at once, Jizania Tiger rose, with a stiff old grace.

‘Come along,’ she said, as I scrambled up. Naturally I didn’t impertinently ask where we were going.

Where we went however was through the room and a door, and down a back stair, a winding cranky stair with only the narrowest windows. Several floors must have gone by, and then she took a key from a bracelet, and unlocked a narrow door.

Outside the door was a hanging. Brushing that aside, we were in the Black Marble Corridor.

It’s not a lovely place. They send you there at night for lesser punishment. Strange eerie sounds come through holes cunningly cut in the walls, and there are dim-lit dismaying pictures of executions and people being cast out into the Waste, crying and pleading not to be. I’d sat here on the floor as a kid more than once, and had nightmares afterwards, as they know you will.

At the end of the long corridor is a courtyard, and in that, the Black Marble Pavilion.

Another key from the bracelet opened the door to the yard.

Huge paved slabs sloped away to the Pavilion. Its black columns hold up a black cupola. Between the columns run black thick bars.

Above, the sun was shining, but the Pavilion looked like total darkness. I couldn’t see through the bars and columns to anything.

But Jizania Tiger, with only me to attend her, went sailing out on the paving.

Immediately two House Guards came striding around the Pavilion.

They saluted and stood to attention for the Old Lady, but as she got near, one shouted:

‘Wait, please, madam. The enemy prisoner is here.’

She just gave a nod.

‘Why else am I here?’

‘It’s this, madam. The prisoner is an alien from the Waste. It would be better if you—’

‘Tottered back to my easy-chair?’ Her voice sliced him in two. He lost his stern military stance. ‘Don’t presume, my lad,’ said Princess Jizania Tiger, ‘to give orders to an Old Lady of the House.’

Now there was creepy-crawl rather than salute. ‘Excuse me, madam.’ (The other Guard was grinning.)

She swept on, and I with her.

Nemian was around the other side in the Pavilion-cage, where the Guards had been. Maybe they’d been insulting him, or just talking. Surely someone must be interested in the Waste just a teeny bit.

He stood there inside the bars. His coat hung over a bench. He looked – overpowering, so close. So I couldn’t even squint at him.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Hallo, madam. A great lady, and a girl in a blue dress with green hair tangling from a blue scarf.’

I could feel him staring at me, a long, long gaze. He, who would never have glanced my way.

‘She is Claidi,’ said Jizania Tiger. And next she said, ‘Claidi for short, that is. Her full name is Claidissa Star.’

My head shot up. I goggled at her. Most unbecoming I must have appeared. I had no words. I’d even forgotten the gorgeous Nemian.

Was that – that – my proper name?

My arm aches from writing so much. But I can’t stop. There isn’t time. The moon’s moved. Can I squeeze the rest in before I have to go down?

For a minute, dazzled by the new name, I didn’t take in what the princess and the prisoner were saying to each other. They were talking about something.

I sort of came back to hear him say, ‘It’s kind of you to inquire, madam. I wasn’t seriously injured, no. A handful of bruises, a scratch or two. The balloon brushed against some of your trees in falling, and I was able to swing out on a handy bough. Then the balloon veered again and crashed at quite a distance. I was damned lucky.’

‘Lucky but damned?’ said she.

Nemian smiled, and I saw him colour very slightly. My heart turned a somersault. I’d certainly remembered him again.

‘Pardon my rough language, lady,’ he said. ‘I’ve been travelling some while, and lost my good manners.’

Then his eyes came back to me. For a moment they held mine and I seemed to be sinking in them. (Still can’t recall their shade – blue – grey???) (Soon I’ll know.) Then he smiled such a smile. And I thought, I really am not going to be so totally, tiresomely soppy. So I frowned at him in a grave and ugly way. And he laughed. And I turned my head. (Childish. I’d run out of ideas on coping.)

Nemian said to the princess, ‘She seems to have had enough, Lady Claidissa Star.’

‘I expect she wants her tea.’

‘Then please lose no further time in seeing she gets it.’

I found she was turning me with her slender claws, and we were