By the Burning River
***
Part One
As the son of Viell Delaunay, I have never experienced life in the great City of Elua, at least not at any time that I can recall, and I must admit that to be given the opportunity to travel with my father to visit his sister, Galienne Delaunay, the Dowayne of Camellia House, was something that I knew was not to be refused. Make no mistake, I have heard a great deal of the City of Elua, of Mont Nuit and the Court of Night Blooming Flowers, of Night's Doorstep in all its seedy magnificence. From the moment I could listen and understand I heard nothing but endless tales from my mother and her companions. I would sit beside her quietly and be enraptured as she spun stories of Elua and his seven companions and their journey across the many lands of our world, and how after all their travels they came to rest where the fabled city made merry and lived like gods themselves.
Our quiet estate in Montrève boasted nothing of the kind of things I heard from my mother's lips, and I knew that while its calm and proud atmosphere might have been enough for the likes of my brother Trémont, who spent his days in study learning the many languages of the world with a voraciousness that I understood well, the City of Elua's white gates beckoned to me with a clear and golden clarion call, urging me from my pastures to a life that I did not know but would come to love. I would lie in my bed and imagine the sights that had been described to me in vivid detail; Mont Nuit high upon its hill, glowing with the light of many candles and coloured lanterns; the crowds that lined the streets as Ganelon de la Courcel rode upon his pure white mount in a solemn procession, the Courcel Swan flying above him, his young grand-daughter Ysandre sitting precariously upon her own stallion at his side with her nurse behind her, one arm looped protectively around her tiny waist; Night's Doorstep alive with mirth and activity, tavern doors flung open to the clear night and ringing with the sound of bawdy song.
I would not have admitted as much to my family, but I yearned to see it with a fierceness. Trémont had been only once, and said that while it was indeed a lovely city, he preferred the quiet and solitude of Montrève. That was all well and good for him, but if we as brothers shared a common thirst for knowledge and all that it promised, it was the only thing in which we were similar. He chose to stay locked in his rooms for hours on end, while I saw the endless fêtes Elua was famous for as a wondrous chance to match my wits with the greatest peers of the realm, exchanging anecdotes and theories. If there was an any more pleasurable way to gain and give out knowledge, I could not think of it.
So, you can see, when my father approached me three days before the Longest Night, asking if it would please me to attend him on his journey to Elua and stay with Galienne for a fortnight, I was nearly beside myself with joy.
"Of course," I said immediately, flushed with excitement. "Of course father, it would please me greatly."
My father, Viell Delaunay, was a man of little emotion, but at my breathless statement, the corners of his handsome mouth lifted a little in a brief smile, his somber gray eyes glinting with mirth. He alone understood my hunger for life in Elua, though I hadn't said as much.
He turned away from my eager face a moment later and began gathering scrolls from his cluttered desk, once again the stern figure of my youth.
"Good, Anafiel. We will leave tomorrow, so go tell Trémont and your mother. Emilie will be in hysterics if she doesn't have ample time to change your mind."
I smiled behind his back, knowing how much my mother's protectiveness irked him, and slipped from the room without a sound.
As predicted, Emilie let loose a broken cry of dismay the moment I told her, flinging her arms around me. Trémont, sitting at a table beside the crackling fire, smiled into his wineglass, lifting a sheet of vellum to hide his face.
"It's only a fortnight," I assured her, prying her fingers from my arm gently. "And father will be with me the entire time."
"Anafiel is only three years younger than I," Trémont added, lowering the vellum. "He will be nineteen this spring. By all accounts, he should already be far from Montrève and married to a lovely young girl."
Emilie shot him a look of venom, straightening her up-tied ginger hair, which had been skewed in her distress.
"I wouldn't talk, young lad," she said darkly, topaz eyes searing him with an accusing brand. "Where's your lovely lady? Who's going to inherit Montrève, if you won't tear yourself away from those accursed books long enough to catch a girl's eye?"
"When I see fit, I will find myself a wife. Until then, learning is my only love."
This only served to flame the fire.
"When you see fit?" Emilie muttered incredulously. " 'When you see fit' is not the matter in question. If Viell hadn't given you such stubbornness, we wouldn't be in this mess! Now if you would go to the City of Elua, then we might find you a suitable wife. Anafiel needn't be bothered with such things yet. You, on the other hand could use a good whipping!"
Both of us, Trémont and I, knew she meant none of it in seriousness. Her words however, certainly put the fear of Kushiel in us, and we had learned at a young age that her vitriol could wound just as surely as a good whipping.
At this point, I was willing to say anything to make sure she didn't put it to herself to change Viell's mind.
"Then perhaps I'll take Trémont with me?" I said, meeting my brother's slightly horrified glance with a pointed stare. He saw the plead in my eyes, and reluctantly sighed, putting down the sheet of vellum in his hands.
"I suppose that wouldn't be overly unbearable." He ran a hand through his blonde curls, sighing again. "If it would please you, mother?"
Emilie looked no less mollified, but she acquiesced with a grudging nod.
"You might as well," she said. "If Viell is so determined to take you away from me than I suppose I'll have no word in it."
"Thank-you, mother."
I embraced her tightly in relief, kissing her on both cheeks with as much affection as I could muster. She sniffed, her eyes misting, and returned the embrace with as much fervor, if not more. From his corner, I could see Tremont's lips twitch in a secret smile.
"Behave yourself in Elua. There'll be plenty courtesans vying for your attentions I've no doubt." Her face scrunched up in a look of polite distaste. "Galienne must have a good score of adepts waiting to ply their talents on a boy such as yourself, Anafiel."
I laughed, kissing her again.
"Do not fear, mother. I shall prevail against the attentions of any Court Adept they see fit to throw my way."
She sank into her chair again, retrieving her needlework from where she'd dropped it.
"I can only hope as much."
We left at dawn the next day, riding out into the rising mists, Montrève slowly receding behind us as the sun rose over the mountains. There had been many a tear shed upon our departure, most of which on Emilie's part, but I was already bursting with excitement and energy, and often rode ahead in a burst of adrenaline or raised my voice to the skies in exultant verse. Trémont bore it all in silence, his mouth hiding a grin, and Viell merely shook his head, his gray eyes twinkling. My stallion however, did not appreciate me or my antics in the least.
We camped for the night under a reaching oak, lying on our backs with our faces to the sky, watching as the stars moved slowly across the blue dome above us. The next morning I was awake before either of them, eager to start the final leg to Elua, and cooked our breakfast over a small fire, readying the horses and packing my gear, tying it snugly to the freshly oiled leather saddle. Viell and Trémont took a fair deal longer than I, and so it wasn't until mid-morning that we finally broke camp and were once again on the road. I quietly mourned the loss of so much time, and knew that we wouldn't reach Elua until late evening, but said nothing in complaint. I wouldn't risk being sent back at the last moment, not when the white gates of my dreams were so close.
As it happened, late evening couldn't have been a more perfect time for us to ride into the City of Elua, tired and weary from our journey. Even I was fatigued, but that didn't keep the joy from swelling in my breast as my eyes devoured the beautiful city in all its shining glory. The streets were alive, and I could distantly see what could only be a fête taking place at the base of Mont Nuit, coloured lanterns strung around the house and glimmering like far-away stars. The music and laughter could be faintly heard from our distance, and I strained in my saddle, yearning to hear it better.
"That is where Gallienne lives." Viell pointed to a gathering of large estate like structures on Mont Nuit, and I followed with hungry eyes, trying to absorb everything about Elua with each sweeping glance.
We urged our mounts into a casual trot and slowly drew closer to where the laughter and music I'd heard was issuing from. High walls prevented me from seeing into the lively fête, but I heard the activity sure enough as we passed. A flautist was playing a lively tune, accompanied by the subtle thud of drums, and joyous voices floated on the chill air. I longed to be a part of it, but knew that I could not, and nudged my horse forward, having fallen behind.
Galienne Delaunay's residence was in fact Camellia House, as was her duty as Dowayne to live within the house, and I was surprised to discover this upon our arrival. A stable lad in livery led our horses away to be stabled and fed, and we passed under the great arch into a courtyard where a fountain bubbled quietly. There waiting was a young man of perfect beauty, as is the canon of Camellia, with curly chestnut hair and dark emerald eyes. He introduced himself as Arquis Dervant, Gallienne's Second, then led us inside to a small room where she sat waiting to receive us.
Galienne herself was no exception to Camellia's canon, and had no qualms about flaunting such beauty. She was sprawled languidly on a day bed of crimson velvet when we entered, her long hair the colour of wheat draped over her milk white shoulders. Her eyes were wide and shrewd, deep azure pools flecked with gray, and her lips were like a soft pink bow. I had a difficult time imagining such a creature as my father's sister, until I saw the same strong jaw and high cheekbones that I knew in Viell, the same golden hair, though without the beginnings of gray at the temples. She rose gracefully to meet us, stepping forward to give Viell the kiss of greeting.
"Dear brother, it has been to long." She smiled affectionately at him, his face softening in reply. "And Trémont, it is wonderful to see you."
She placed another kiss on his cheek, and then turned to me, her deep eyes sparkling.
"You must be Anafiel," she said, her warm voice flowing over me. She touched a lock of my ginger hair, smiling. "You have Emilie's hair, and Viell's eyes. You would not be unwelcome in the Night Court, I imagine."
My face grew heated, flushed with embarrassment, and I lowered my gaze, picking at a thread on my riding vest. She laughed softly, and raised my chin with one perfectly tapered finger.
"There is no need to be ashamed, Anafiel. To be a servant of Naamah in a beautiful thing, not one worthy of scorn."
"I know," I said, offering a hesitant smile in return. "My mother has told me everything about Elua and all its many customs. The Court of Night Blooming flowers is not unfamiliar to me."
She laughed again, the sound of it like harp strings gently plucked.
"I should have thought as much. You are very much alike to Trémont, as well as your father to a certain degree." She folded her hands in front of her, looking at each of us in turn. "So, do you wish to retire to your rooms? There is a fête tonight that I am to attend, though I wished to see your arrival before leaving, so I am afraid I cannot stay much longer. I can have a hot meal brought up to you, if that is what you desire?"
I knew instantly it was the fête we had passed of which she spoke, and an envy blossomed within me, a longing to go with her. Viell accepted her offer readily, as did Trémont, but I kept silent, staring unabashedly at her perfect face as if willing her to hear my unspoken plea. She seemed to understand my probing stare, for she turned suddenly to me, her periwinkle gown stirring like a sigh.
"Unless, that is, it would please you to accompany me, young Anafiel?" There was almost a mischief in her azure eyes, and for some reason I instantly adored her.
"It would please me beyond measure," I said breathlessly, looking down at my disheveled appearance with dismay. "But I have nothing ready to wear."
Galienne scoffed, tossing her mane of hair.
"You think my house ill prepared for such an event? I will have Arquis bring you something suitable. It would not do to have the peers of the realm look upon my nephew in anything less than stunning." She threw me a shrewd smile. "They would think me a rose among thorns otherwise."
I laughed in return.
Within moments, Arquis entered the room, dove gray breeches, a soft green doublet embroidered with gold and a white blouse slung delicately over one arm. They fit perfectly, which didn't surprise me. Nothing less than perfect was accepted among the residents of Camellia House, and even I, who was not counted among them, could not be attired otherwise. I brushed my hair to free it of tangles, but let it fall free over my shoulders, and Galienne gave me a tear drop diamond earring to wear on one ear.
Viell and Trémont had already retired to their rooms on the second level, so Galienne and I left Camellia House arm in arm as soon as I was prepared, climbing into an awaiting carriage. She sat across from me on the velvet seats, watching me with amusement.
"This would be your first fête, no?"
I grinned apologetically.
"Yes, it is. I've never been to the City of Elua before." This seemed to surprise her, and I hastily continued. "Of course, that is not of my choosing. I've wanted to come almost all the years of my life, but I've never been given the chance, until now."
"Well, you couldn't have picked a more wonderful time to make your first visit then. The Longest Night is two days hence, and I'm sure that would be also to your tastes?"
I'd only heard tales of the Longest Night, wonderful, marvelous tales that stirred my blood and made my eyes shine. It was a veritable legend among the people of Elua and all regions around it, a celebration that began even before Elua's time and continued today, albeit with quite more pomp and circumstance than the simple rituals of the past. On the Longest Night, all the doors of the Night Court would be closed, and all would congregate in Cereus House for the Midwinter Masque, adorned in costumes of flight and fancy, ones that spoke of myth and legend, and each person anonymous behind a glittering half-mask. That Galienne should chose to invite me made me near faint with joy.
"I am most certain that it would," I replied, beaming in the dim light. "Most certain."
We were silent for the rest of the short journey, and I watched through the curtained window life beyond the pane of glass, seeing the other houses of the Night Court flowing by in a miasma of colour and light. The carriage came to a neat halt just outside the great wall I'd seen on our ride in, drawing up to an arched doorway. With a flourish, the door was opened, and a young man in livery offered his hand to Galienne. She stepped out daintily, her crimson skirts flowing behind her and I followed, bursting with excitement.
It was all that I had imagined, and more. Lit by the luminescent glow of many coloured lanterns, the courtyard we passed into was alive with sound and movement. All around me beautiful men and women stood in clusters or lounged on couches, holding glasses of deep violet wine and small platters of decadent looking food. In one corner, a quartet of mandolins played, accompanied by the flautist who's gay song I had heard, and in the center of the courtyard a great bonfire roared in a small pit of coloured pink stone, warming the otherwise chill winter air. I was entranced by it, and simply stood staring at the lovely scene, as if watching a detailed painting come to vivid life. Galienne chuckled at my side, pushing gently at my elbow with one gloved hand.
"Come with me, Anafiel," she said, leading me forward. "I'll introduce you to my friends and fellow peers."
She pulled me forward onto a patio near the rear doors, where a small group of men and women sat, engaged in a lively debate. Their voices died as we approached, and one woman, a tall, finely boned lady wearing gold brocade rose to her feet, smiling warmly.
"Galienne, my dear it's wonderful to see you." She gave Galienne the kiss of greeting, then turned to me, her pale blue eyes intrigued. "And who is this charming young sir?"
I bowed gracefully, taking her hand and kissing it.
"I am Anafiel Delaunay, Galienne's nephew."
"Are you really? I'm Cecilie Laveau-Perrin. I must have met your brother, last spring. Trémont Delaunay, I believe?"
"Yes," I said, feeling a spark of recollection. "I seem to recall your name."
"How could anyone forget your name, dearest Cecilie?" a dark-haired man behind her drawled affectionately, lifting his wineglass. "I daresay every man, woman and child in Elua knows who you are and would do well not to forget it!"
The rest of the group laughed at this, and I immediately felt my heart swell. These were the kind of people I had so longed to know and talk with; to match my wits with in heated conversation. This was the life I had never known, but always secretly desired, even before I knew it in the tales my mother would tell. For the first time in my life I felt truly content in every fashion, truly at home. I knew that while I had been born and raised in Montrève, my heart belonged to Elua, and nothing could ever claim its place.
The rest of the evening passed in a frantic blur to me. I sat with Galienne, Cecilie and their companions and talked long into the night, taking glass after glass of wine and only feeling my adrenaline burn faster with it. I was on fire, burning with passion. Olphain Clielle, longstanding friend of Cecilie, shared my love of poetry and verse, as did his lover Jolet d'Antremont, and the three of us became quick friends. I think by the time Galienne and I were in our carriage returning to Camellia House I was at the height of my elation. She listened sleepily as I told her everything Olphain, Jolet and I had discussed, of the things Cecilie had told me of her time as a Cereus adept, and let me babble without comment.
Only when I opened my mouth to begin a tirade on D'Angeline poetry did she raise one hand to halt me.
"Stop, Anafiel." She smiled, her sultry eyes drooping slightly with fatigue. "You should rest. There will be plenty time for talk tomorrow, and surely you haven't already forgotten the Midwinter Masque?"
"No!" I assured her vehemently. "No, of course not!"
And how could I? All that I had done until this time surely all led up to the night I would experience the celebration as old as Elua himself, who had founded the city that stole my heart and filled me with wonder. Nothing else would ever compare to the Midwinter Masque, of that I was sure.
We reached Camellia House when the hour was well past midnight, and I retired to my room after kissing Galienne on the cheek in thanks, pulling off the finely crafted attire and laying it gently over a chair by my window. I fell onto the goosedown bed with a satisfied sigh, pulling the curtains around it with a weary arm. The moon's light filtered gently through the sheer fabric, settling like a whisper on my pillow, and as I lay my head on it, it seemed to caress my face, soothing me into exhausted slumber.
The darkness of sleep claimed me with insistent fingers, and I fell forward to it, knowing for the first time in my short life pure content.
End Part One