The Grand Design (28 page)

Much to her surprise, Lorla found that the north side of the castle was much the same as the rest of the place, although slightly colder and quieter. The familiar sounds of castle life fell off behind her as she made her way down the halls, all lit with oil lamps that stained the ceiling black with soot. The walls were faded brick, and family memorabilia lined the way, old swords and suits of armor guarding closed doors, each baring the furious reptilian crest of Dragon’s Beak. Lorla moved silently, suddenly frightened. She thought to try one of the doorknobs, then hesitated. She didn’t want to startle Duke Enli or get him angry. But she didn’t want to turn around, either. That strange loneliness pushed her on, deeper into the forbidden halls. She glanced behind her uncertainly and was relieved to find no one there. She felt tiny, ridiculously out of place, as though the house were made for giants. The doors loomed up, taunting her to try them. Lorla reached out for one cold doorknob and gave it a wary turn …

… and found the room exquisite.

She stood in the threshold, wide-eyed and thunderstruck. Before her was a magnificent chamber, with a high ceiling like a cathedral and walls lined with endless bookcases, all stuffed full of manuscripts. Light flooded in from two tall windows, setting the mahogany shelves aglow, and a monstrous hearth blazed against the western wall, crackling comfortably and filling the room with heat. Above the hearth was another of the duke’s curious artworks, this one of a golden-haired woman, her green eyes looking down serenely on Lorla. Near the window were two big chairs, more enormous than Lorla had ever seen. Soft and lulling, they beckoned Lorla to rest on them, to pull a book from the shelves and lose herself in their leather embrace. In the center of the room, near a table and some neglected teacups, was a pedestal cage housing a sable-feathered raven that squawked when it noticed Lorla. Yet despite the bird and the blazing hearth and the dirty teacups, the room seemed empty. Lorla stepped unsteadily into the chamber, leaving the door open behind her. The raven watched her, its beady eyes tracking her every move.

“Hello?” called Lorla softly. “Is anyone here?”

To her great relief, no one answered. The library was indeed empty. Again she chanced another step. The raven gave a disapproving caw. Lorla put a finger to her lips.

“Shhh,” she ordered. “Be quiet. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to look around.”

Her eyes scanned the towering bookcases. There was a ladder for reaching the highest shelves. Up and up they went, touching the ceiling. Lorla spun around to see them all, an astounded smile on her face. Enli had said nothing of
this.
There were already books aplenty to occupy her in the other rooms, but this was spectacular. She laughed, unafraid of who might hear her, and the raven joined her, cackling.

“How lovely!” she exclaimed.

As she spun she caught a glimpse of the portrait, watching her.

“And you, lady. Who are you?” she asked the painting. The woman’s face was bright like the sun. Her long, golden locks fell on her shoulders and emerald dress, and her ruby-painted lips seemed to move with smiling animation. Her green eyes were lashed long and sensually, and they watched Lorla without judgment. Lorla walked up to the portrait, craning her neck to see it better.

“You’re very beautiful,” Lorla whispered. A forlornness washed over her. “Who are you?”

She wished the portrait could answer and ease her solitude. But the painting was only a painting. The raven rustled its feathers noisily. Lorla turned from the portrait and went to the bird, studying it. Its black eyes turned on her, full of mirth.

“Who are you?” it said in its startling bird-voice. Lorla jumped back, delighted.

“You can talk?” she asked. “That’s wonderful!”

“Wonderful. Wonderful. Who are you?”

Lorla laughed and clapped her hands. “Oooh, you’re so beautiful, bird. What’s your name?”

“Wonderful. Wonderful.”

“Yes, yes,” said Lorla. She tried to talk slowly so that it might understand. “What is your name?”

This time the bird only cawed, stretching out its wings with a bored yawn.

“My name’s Lorla,” she said, pointing to herself. “Looorlaa. Can you say that?”

The bird said nothing.

“All right then, don’t talk. I don’t care.” She turned around and pretended to ignore it. A second later it spoke again.

“Lorla.”

“Yes!” cried Lorla.

“Angel! Angel!” cawed the raven. It shuffled back and forth on its perch impatiently. “Wonderful.”

Lorla brightened. “Angel? Is that your name?”

“Lorla. Wonderful.”

“No, no, not me. Is that your name? Angel?”

“Angel,” the raven echoed. “Angel.”

Lorla put her face to the cage and smiled at the bird. “Well, hello then, Angel. I’m pleased to meet you. I’m new here. Did Duke Enli tell you about me?”

The bird said nothing.

“I’m Lorla, from Goth. Well, from Nar City. That’s where I was born, I think. But I moved to Goth to live with Duke Lokken. Now I live here in Dragon’s Beak. But not for long. Duke Enli is taking me back to Nar City soon. Angel, have you ever been to Nar City?”

“No, he hasn’t,” said a voice. Lorla jumped. In the doorway was a young woman, fresh-faced and lovely. “He hasn’t been anywhere but Dragon’s Beak,” she said, stepping into the room. “He was born here. Like me.”

“Who are you?” Lorla asked.

“I should ask, rather, who you are, don’t you think? But I already know who you are … Lorla.”

She was stunning. Worse, she was exactly the woman pictured in the portrait. Lorla stared at her, oddly terrified.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“That’s right, you shouldn’t have. Didn’t anyone tell you this part of the castle was forbidden?”

“I was just looking around,” Lorla explained.

The young woman undid the latch on the raven’s cage and put her hand inside, offering the bird a finger. The raven jumped on and she pulled it out of it cage, whistling gently to it. Lorla watched, fascinated. The bird was perfectly tame and cocked its tiny head for the woman to scratch it.

“My sweet one,” she purred happily. “Did Lorla frighten you?”

“I didn’t,” said Lorla indignantly. “I didn’t even touch him.”

“Lorla,” cawed the raven. “Wonderful.”

The woman smiled. “Cackle likes you, I think.” She reached out her hand and touched Lorla’s shoulder. The bird hopped on. Lorla giggled excitedly.

“Oooh,” she cooed, feeling its scratching talons through her dress. The sensation wasn’t painful, just strange. The raven began nibbling on Lorla’s hair.

“Cackle?” said Lorla. “Is that his name?”

“Yes,” replied the woman. “We call him that because of his laugh. Have you heard it?”

Lorla nodded, carefully so not to disturb the bird. “I think so. But I thought his name was Angel. He told me so.”

“Oh, no,” said the woman. “That’s not his name. That’s just something he says sometimes, when people look at the painting.” She gestured to the magnificent portrait above the hearth. “
That
is Angel.”

“That’s you,” said Lorla. “Isn’t it?”

“No. My name is Nina. That’s my mother. Her name was Angel.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Lorla said. “And you look just like her.”

Nina reached up toward the painting, then withdrew her hand. “It’s my father’s favorite painting. He has so many of them, but only this one of her.” Nina turned to Lorla and frowned. “You shouldn’t be in here. Duke Enli wouldn’t approve. This is his private library.”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” said Lorla. She turned her shoulder toward Nina, offering her the raven. “Could you?…”

With an outstretched finger Nina summoned the bird, who leapt from Lorla’s shoulder back to its mistress. Nina stroked its head, looking at Lorla for an explanation.

“I shouldn’t have come here, I know,” offered Lorla. “But I was looking for Duke Enli. I have to speak to him. Do you know where he is?”

The woman grinned. “Do you know who I am, Lorla?”

“I don’t think so,” said Lorla. “Should I?”

“Duke Enli didn’t mention me?”

Lorla grimaced, perplexed by the odd question. Duke Enli hadn’t really mentioned anything. If he had, Lorla might not have come here, looking for answers. “You’re Nina,” she said simply. “That’s all I know.”

“Lorla, I’m Duke Enli’s daughter. I live here with him. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”

“His daughter?” asked Lorla, embarrassed. “Lady Nina, no one tells me anything. I’m too little to get much interest here. I’m very sorry.” She made a poor effort at curtsying. “I’m pleased to meet you.” She looked up from her bow nervously. The duke’s daughter was smiling.

“You have an honest face,” said the woman. “I think I can trust you. But you shouldn’t take lightly what my father orders. He’s a very private man. He doesn’t like having people in this part of Red Tower. Hardly any of his servants are allowed in here. If he told you not to come, you should have listened.”

“But I needed to see him,” Lorla argued. “I need to talk to him. Lady Preen says he’s going away soon. And he’s supposed to be taking me to Nar City. I want to know what’s happening.”

Nina’s face dimmed a little. She put Cackle back in his cage, then went to sit in one of the chairs by the window. She sighed and stared at Lorla pensively, as though thinking very hard. Finally she stretched out a hand.

“Lorla, come here,” she said gently. “I think we should talk a little. Like girlfriends, all right?”

“Yes,” said Lorla. “Yes, I’d like that.” She went and sat beside Nina, jumping into one of the chairs. Like
all the duke’s furnishings, this one swallowed her. “What do you want to talk about, Lady Nina? You can tell me anything. I’m good with secrets. They taught me about secrets in Nar, how to keep them and all. I won’t tell anyone.”

Nina’s expression was haunted. “Yes, I believe that,” she drawled. “Tell me something. Do you know why you’re here?”

Lorla shrugged. “Your father the duke is taking me to Nar City. I have work to do there for my master, Count Biagio.”

“What kind of work?”

“I don’t know,” answered Lorla honestly. She didn’t like sounding ignorant, but she thought it best not to lie. “Your father hasn’t told me yet. That’s also why I’m looking for him. I’ve been here a good while now.”

“How old are you?”

It was the same tiresome question everyone asked. Lorla answered, bracing herself for the reaction. “I’m sixteen.”

Nina’s eyes went wide. “Sixteen? But that’s impossible. I mean, look at you.…”

“I’m sixteen, Lady Nina. I’m sure of that.”

The lady arched a brow. “Yes. Yes, of course you are. I meant no offense, Lorla. But when my father told me you were here, he wouldn’t tell me why. I thought you might know. I’m sorry.”

The apology wasn’t necessary; Lorla rarely took offense. “I know that I’m different, Lady Nina,” she said. “Please don’t act uncomfortable around me. The others here do, and I don’t like it.” She leaned forward in the chair. “You’re very pretty. Like your mother. I wish I were like you.”

Nina chuckled. “But you are pretty, Lorla. You’re very pretty.”

“No,” said Lorla darkly. “I’m pretty like a little girl is pretty. I can never be like you. You’re …” Lorla searched for the word. “Full.”

Nina blanched. “Full?”

“You’re full grown, up top. And taller than me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be taller. But I’m special. You see? I’m very special. That’s what they say about me in Nar City.”

The duke’s daughter put up her hands, unwilling to listen further. “Lorla, stop. I shouldn’t have asked you anything. I’m sorry. Let’s not talk of this anymore.” Nina tried a crooked smile. “No one here talks to you, you say?”

“I think they’re all afraid of me. But I don’t know why.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” said Nina gently. “They probably just know my father brought you here, and don’t want to say anything wrong to you. My father can be very strict. The servants are afraid of
him
, not you.”

“Afraid of him? But he’s so nice. And he talks to me, because he knows what I am. That’s why I wanted to see him. Can you tell me where he is?”

“You can’t see him, Lorla. Not today. Lady Preen was right. My father
is
going away for a little while. Not too long, but he’s very busy. He won’t be able to speak to you.”

“But it’s important,” said Lorla earnestly. The big chair tried to hold her back as she leaned forward imploringly. “Can’t you tell him that for me? Or can your mother?”

“Lorla, don’t ever say that again,” ordered Nina. “My mother is dead. You must never speak of her in front of my father. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” said Lorla, confused. “All right.” She glanced up at the portrait of the beautiful Angel, her eyes darting between Nina and the painting. They were so much alike it disturbed her. “I won’t mention her to your father. I promise. And I’m sorry for you, Lady Nina.”

“That painting is all we really have of my mother.
My father cherishes it. That’s why he keeps it in here, to himself. He loved her very much.”

“What happened to her?” Lorla asked. “Can you tell me?”

“That’s a long story. And I’m not sure it’s suited to someone so young.”

“But I’m not so young, remember? I’m sixteen. Almost a full woman like you. How old are you? Seventeen maybe?”

“Eighteen. And you should mind your manners. It’s not polite to ask a woman her age.”

Frustrated, Lorla folded her arms. “If I had a mother, I’d talk about her,” she said. “I wouldn’t hide her from people. And she’s such a pretty woman. She should be in the main dining hall or someplace better than this. It’s not right to lock her away in here.”

Nina chuckled. “My, you don’t talk like an eight-year-old, that’s for sure!”

Lorla grinned. “I’m surprised your father didn’t warn you.”

“Oh, but he did. Well, sort of. He told me you were smarter than you look.” Nina sighed. “I’ll tell you about my mother if you want. It’s not such a great secret. Lots of people know the story of Dragon’s Beak. But you can’t tell my father I told you. He wouldn’t want me telling this story, not to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I think he has plans for you. I’m not supposed to know because I’m his daughter and he protects me from things, or at least tries to. But there’s a lot going on in the Empire these days, and my father is part of it. You’re part of it too, I’d wager.”