The Iron Crown

8: Saoirse

"They aren't all bad," Estel said as he shrugged off his cloak, tossing it onto the bed. "Bit stuffy sometimes, but they're good people, really." Saoirse didn't respond; she just kept her eyes on the blanket beneath her, picking at the woollen threads. The room they had been provided with was more lavish than any in her village. There were two beds, one pushed into each corner, and each was easily big enough for two people to sleep with room to spare. Even then, there was plenty of space left for the double chests at the foot of each bed, a pair of writing desks and a large bookshelf. The oak floor was polished enough to see her reflection, her own prying eyes peering back at her.

Estel continued to natter away. Trying to distract her, she reckoned, from the crushing weight that was beginning to bear down upon her shoulders.

Three villages, including her own. Estel had said all of them had been frozen over. Everyone dead. Was the same true of her own village, then? She'd seen Calder and his wife, and with sickening clarity had to admit to herself that there was no chance they were the only ones lying – stood – dead in the village square. Her parents, her grandfather – surely though they wouldn't have been caught up in it? Whatever happened wasn't natural, her grandfather wouldn't have allowed it. Surely?

Perhaps she should have stayed. Maybe she should go back and wait for them. Maybe she should go back and look. Maybe-

Saoirse ran her fingers through her hair, trying to collect her thoughts. She needed to think logically about this. If they had been inside, then they would have waited for her. If they had been outside, then they were dead.

And so they were dead, then.

A hand fell on her back as tears prickled her eyes. She hadn't even noticed Estel had fallen quiet. He hesitated to sit beside her, but then was lowing himself down onto the blankets. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. She wiped at her face and sniffed.

"What killed them?" She asked. "You know, don't you? My village wasn't the only one." Estel was quiet, then nodded.

"There is a reason we were on course to pass through your village. It wasn't a coincidence," he said. Estel sighed. "There is a lot of background, much more complicated than I can understand, really. Griga barely explained it to me. All that matters right now is there is a single individual – a merchant – who we believe to have a direct link with each..." he trailed off, as though trying to choose the right word. "Attack."

"Attack?" She turned, staring at him. "This wasn't..." she shook her head. "This wasn't an attack."

"It was," he replied firmly, "this kind of thing doesn't happen by itself. Me and Griga, we were trying to ensure it doesn't happen again." Her heart dropped.

"Were?"

"Well, Griga isn't in much of a state to continue." A soft smile flickered across his lips. "Besides, need to see you and Florin right first." Saoirse swallowed and gave a little nod. He patted her on the back. "We'll sort this all out, don't you worry about that."

Sort this all out. He spoke as though it was so simple. As if it could be fixed. Perhaps these mages could bring people back from the dead...

"Are you staying here tonight?" she asked, trying to put the entire conversation behind them. "Don't you have your own quarters?"

"No, I'll be staying here tonight - unless you are uncomfortable with that?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine." If anything, she preferred it. She wasn't so sure she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, after all that had happened. "I just thought – well – you said you were a mage, so-"

"I don't think I said I was a mage, did I?" He cut her off, confusion flickering across his features. Saoirse frowned. No, he had said he was a mage, hadn't he? She racked her memory, searching through the few brief conversations they'd had.

"Well, you said you were from the Tower," she tried.

"Ah." He clicked his tongue. "Well, I'm not actually a mage. It's something many, many of the people here will happily point out if you ask them."

"But...I thought only mages could live in the Star Tower?"

"I don't live here. Hence, no room."

"Do you study here?"

"I did, for a while. I left some years ago." Her shock must have shown, because Estel shrugged. "I'm not fond of rules. There are too many strings attached, with being a mage. Not for me." That, truly, made no sense to Saoirse. So he'd had the opportunity to study at what was, according to her grandfather, the most prestigious magic college on the continent, and he'd turned it down? All she had ever wanted was to be a mage. Why would anyone give that up?

The weight beside her shifted as Estel pushed himself back to his feet and stretched. His cracked his neck.

"I will go and fetch us something to eat and see how Griga and Florin are recovering. I would suggest you remain here and rest, I assume it has likely been a trying few days for you." He grinned and winked. "Of course, I am not in charge of you, and you are free to do as you please." Estel paused, as if to make sure she didn't want to accompany him, and then quickly said his goodbyes, promising to be back as soon as he could.

Saoirse waited until the soft thudding of his footsteps had well and truly faded before she got to work digging through her travelling bag. Idleness was a disease in of itself, her grandfather would always say before sending her off to read from whatever book he'd fetched down from the attic for that day. Anxious minds needed activity.

Her journal was a little damp, from where the snow and ice had melted through her bag. She set it down on the blanket beside her, before retrieving the little ebony box. Saoirse flicked the cover open, absentmindedly thumbing through the yellowed parchment as she tipped the dice into her other hand.

She couldn't bring herself to run through her drills or try to force the spells to work. She had hoped she would have been able to speak with her grandfather for advice, on how to improve. On how to impress the wizards that dwelt in the very tower where she now sat. Her throat tightened. She'd dreamt her entire life of being here, sat inside its walls. But it wasn't supposed to have been like this.

They were words and diagrams she knew by heart, by now, but Saoirse still took the time to study each and every letter. She managed to make it through about three pages of text, detailing some spell that would allow her to watch creatures from a great distance, before she couldn't contain her curiosity. Saoirse placed her journal open in her lap, and then took the dice in both hands. They rattled like old bones in her palms. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Where is my family?" She asked, and then let the dice fall. They were silent, as they hit the paper. She didn't want to look. "Please, tell me where they are."

E F I R U M O

Saoirse worried on her bottom lip. It had worked, just two days ago – worked far better than it ever had. She didn't know why she'd expected any different. She didn't know why she was scooping the dice up, dropping them again.

"Tell me where they are," she said, trying to keep the desperate edge out of her voice.

A O G S V K P

She didn't know why, even with that, she was picking them up again. Saoirse raised her trembling fists to her forehead.

"Please," she begged, voice barely a whisper. "Are they okay?"

I M S O R Y E