I slept.
I woke well past noon. I opened the wall-door completely by accident, but Devna was right: there wasn't any great magic to it. It seemed to only take a wave of a hand and a desire to open it.
I went down the same set of mighty stairs and roamed. I saw fairly few people on the way, but some chattered to each other when I passed them. I found the kitchens but didn't know any of the smells. There were soups, but I couldn't guess what was in them. A few people gestured to loaves of bread I reckoned had only been out of the oven for moments, but their idea of bread was different from mine.
I thought of what Devna had said about simple food. In a wide, open courtyard, I found the garden he'd mentioned. I picked things I recognized and ended up with a tidy pile. I didn't often have a bellyful of berries and nuts for a morning meal, but I reckoned nothing would seem quite right anyway. Some of them were richer fare than they looked, so it took an annoying stretch of time just to eat.
No one followed me when I left the courtyard. No one crowded me, but everyone watched me. Eager folk always set my teeth grinding. Their manners apparently kept them from actually speaking to someone who wouldn't look at them. I had a more important task than talk, anyway. I needed to learn every inch of the place. I couldn't count the rooms, but I learned all the turns of the halls and corridors and nooks. I remembered distances by wall hangings and little fountains or tapestries and framed maps.
At one point, I stopped in a little corridor that had many banners and crests on display. Some were dirty, like they'd seen real use. I reckoned one even had blood flecks on it. They all looked old, and not just because of the fading cloths. The ideas themselves looked ancient somehow.
Footfall broke through my thoughts. I took the quickest little glance. It was a woman, lithe and strong like a soldier, but in a fine frock. I tried to ignore her as much as I had the others, but she wasn't deterred. "I call this the Hall of Summoners," she murmured.
She fingered the edge of a banner, which had many stars stitched on a black background. "These are the foundations of all legends. No symbols are older than these."
"As far as you know," I grunted. I stared closer at the detailing. "Reckon most other Adicans won't agree with you. Reckon you e'nt Adican, though."
"And what do you think about it?"
I blinked. Had it been what it had sounded like? I shrugged. "Everyone's a damn fool any angle you look at it. No one knows everything and more's lost than most folk will admit to. It must be, innit. The world's too big to only be what it looks like it is today. But it e'nt their fault if they don't know they don't know."
"And fools who can admit their foolishness are rarely what they seem."
I frowned. "How did you –" I didn't know how to ask what I meant to. I looked at her properly. She had a sad air, but she smiled. "Who are you?"
"Most of our people call me Nomli."
"Are you Michen's kin?"
"Not of his blood, no."
"A stepchild, then."
"His family scattered long ago. His blood relatives are few. He loves all of us dearly, but he never calls me a daughter. He wouldn't dare try to replace his own children."
She walked to another crest, one with great ocean waves. It had fine beading and stitching that made the waves look deep, like a hand could reach in and come out with seawater dripping from it.
My nose prickled. For an instant, I smelled the water. "What–"
"It was wrenching enough to leave his homeland, but it almost broke him to lose his children. His magic was divided and distracted after that. The only thing that held him in one piece was Biyaño." She glanced all around the building. "He wanted to have a fitting place established when they came back to him."
YOU ARE READING
The De'Nauguath Chronicles - Book 1: The Summoner's Daughter
FantasyAbandoned a decade ago in a sprawling, decaying city and fostered by a brutal merchant, Sóra Lightfoot's life is filled with silent agonies. Free to wander but bound by strange promises, she is little better than a slave. With few joys and fewer all...