Kingdom of Scourge and Shadow (The Sightstone Series #1)

Chapter Six: Judith

"And as he died, he cast a curse upon the land, sinking darkness into the very power at the heart of the world, and, when he died, he took with him Saint Elaine, leaving their descendants to carry on their legacy. His heir was imbued with all his power, while hers received a different gift, less precious, perhaps, than her mother's, but less terrible, too, and less terrible than the darkness that Unnamed Saint passed down, the darkness so few others possess."

-from the Lives of the Saints, Vol. I of the Caedish Scriptures

***

Judith's first glimpse of Kesseldam took her breath away. She'd never understood why it was called the Pale City, but the sprawling expanse of marble and pale limestone buildings, with their blue slate roofs and white-painted trim, made it abundantly clear. In the faint sunlight that broke through the grey clouds above, the city was a shimmering white, speckled heavily with greenery–vines climbing buildings' facades, little squares and parks crammed into every available space, wide boulevards lined with trees, and, of course, the massive park called the Queensroad Gardens that ran through the center of the city.

Before the Draft, Judith had only been to Kesseldam, the Caedish capital, once. She was too young to remember it, though her father told stories of visiting the Royal Botanical Gardens and the Playhouse and the King Martin Museum. But, as her ship docked in the harbor and the city rose up before her, built into the sides of the massive hills that formed a sort of basin around the bay, vague memories began to rise to the surface.

Travellers always said that Kesseldam was the most beautiful city in the Northern Lands, and Judith found herself agreeing with them, though the only other true city she'd ever seen was Almburgh. The greenery, the white stone, the blue roofs, all looked like something out of a fairytale, something magical, and even the sight of the Royal Palace on a hill at the center of the city, surrounded by the Queensroad Gardens, wasn't enough to dim her excitement.

Kesseldam was a melting pot of cultures, much like Caedland itself. The city's name came from old Caedish, a bastardization of Rjikean, which had once been spoken more widely across the Northern Lands than it was now. The architecture was magical and delicate and graceful, rather, Judith thought, like a wedding cake, and completely unlike the storybook cottages and manor homes of the rest of Caedland.

As she wandered through the harbor, past docks and taverns and the harbormaster's offices, she passed ships from every kingdom she could name. The long, low, Skellan ships, with their figureheads carved like mythical beasts and their brightly-colored or striped sails. The sleek, trim, many-masted clippers belonging to Rjikean merchants, their hulls polished to a shine, their many sails trimmed. The imposing, delicate, blue-and-gold-painted frigates of the Caedish navy, all flying Caedish flags with pride. The big, deep-bellied galleons that carried passengers and cargo to and from the colonies in the Southern Lands. Even the lovely Araiyan feluccas that Judith had seen so rarely in Anrath's little harbor that bore spices and silks and coffee and luxury goods, with their colorful sails looking like a sunset against the white clouds of the other ships' sails.

As she walked, Judith heard sailors shouting to each other in a myriad of languages. She heard Common, yes, as familiar to her as breathing, coming from the Caedish and Saroviyan ships. She heard the swooping, dancing lilt of Skellan, also familiar; you couldn't grow up near the Skellan border without learning to speak their language. She heard the sharp, stilted sound of Rjikean, almost recognizable as she picked out certain words also used in Old Caedish. She heard the musical, floaty sound of Araiyan, nearly familiar, as, centuries ago, South Caedland had been settled by Araiyan refugees, and their culture had been absorbed into Caedish culture. She even heard the strange, unfamiliar, sharp, musical sounds of Rajani, which she couldn't understand at all.