Untitled (45 page)

"Of course you know I had to Stare you yesterday," Pardock said as they plunged into the green.

"Yes. I hope I passed your test."

"You have a lot in your past, obviously, which I won't go into now with my son present. You have a vile temper, a sharp tongue, and a copious jealous streak … but you truly do love my brother and wish him nothing but the best. You wish to be his Countess and bear his children. That is good enough for me. Dav is big enough to deal with your temper and tongue and jealousy on his own, I suppose."

"Would you raise a sword should I have failed your test?"

"Yes. I've done it before. Surely you know that."

"Then, we are in agreement. We both love Dav, you as his sister and I as his future countess, and we both want nothing but his health and well-being."

"Agreed. I will happily pass the baton in this case."

They smiled at each other and continued down the path.

"I will instruct our seamstresses to begin making you your gowns. House Blanchefort doesn't have a single pre-set color, unlike House Vincent with blue all the time—I must say I get a little tired of blue sometimes—so you may take your pick."

"Is wearing a Blanchefort gown a prerequisite to being a countessin-Waiting?"

"Yes it is," Pardock said with a tone of finality. "The moment he asks and the moment you say yes, you will be wearing a Blanchefort gown."

"I'm partial to black, as I'm certain you can guess."

Pardock shook her head.

Enoch trailed closely behind them. He was a thin, handsome boy wearing blue Vincent leggings. The blue image of an axe was embossed on his shirt. Being so young, he had that typical "unfinished" look that all Elder-Kind youths had, not shedding it fully until about the age of thirty.

Enoch stared at Syg.

"Lord Vincent," she said after a bit. "You appear to have a question. Please, fire away, sir."

He paused a moment. Then he asked, "Did you fight my uncle?"

"Enoch, what did I tell you?" Pardock said.

Syg laughed. "It's all right, Countess. Yes, Lord Vincent, I did fight your uncle, of a sort. It was a fight of good against evil, of light against dark. We fought with words and ideas, with love and patience against vileness and rancor."

"And what happened?"

"Well, obviously, good won and evil fell away. The prize was my heart and my soul. Your uncle defeated me and in the process, he saved me … and I am his forever. I'll fill you in on a secret: I never had a chance against your uncle. It was never a fair fight."

"You don't want to kill him?"

"Only occasionally."

Syg and Pardock laughed.

"I want to fight a Black Hat. I want to win her heart forever, if she is as beautiful as you," Enoch said.

Syg blushed. "You're too kind, sir. Then I would listen to your mother and do as she says, and listen to your uncle, learn from him, become a man like he is, and I am certain you will easily win such a fight."

Eventually, they came to a large courtyard. A tall, thin figure sat slumped on a stone bench near a weathercock.

Poe, Lady Poe of Blanchefort.

Poe the Sad, they said.

Crazy Poe, others said.

"Poe?" Pardock said. "Poe, dear, you have a visitor."

She looked a lot like Dav, tall and thin. She had short blonde hair with wispy blue streaks in it. Her expression was vacant, eyes halfclosed in long slits. She mumbled and drooled.

She was wearing a green gown—simple, yet elegant and finely made. A Blanchefort gown. Syg looked at it. She supposed it could be worse. Wearing one of these will be a small price to pay to keep Dav and his sister happy.

As long as they didn't try to make her wear shoes. That's where the trouble will start.

"She is like this often," Pardock said. "And then she is better for a while."

"How have you helped her in the past?"

"Our father left instructions upon his death. He said to take her to the grove on days when she cannot stand, and when she starts speaking in tongues, to leave her."

"And if I am following correctly, Sadric's Rain begins shortly thereafter, yes?"

"Correct. I'm not a fool. I know the Rain comes from her, but I've not witnessed it firsthand. So, you are thinking that Lady Poe's condition and you, as a former Black Hat, are somehow related?"

"I am … and now that I see her, I'm convinced that's the case."

"And you can help her?"

"I can."

Syg approached Poe and slowly sat down.

Gently, she placed her hands on Poe's thin face. "Ah," she said. "There is a cover here." She used a tiny bit of Silver tech and loosened the cover. With one easy motion she pulled it off, revealing a huge sweaty, angry black Shadowmark—a much larger one than Syg's.

"Elder's balls!" Enoch cried. "She's a Black Hat!"

"Enoch, don't be silly—and watch your language, boy!" Pardock said.

"She's not a Black Hat. She could have been one, but she's not. This is a Shadowmark, just like mine. It's basically a birthmark. If you are born with this, then you have Shadow tech flowing within you. Somehow, Poe was born with this and was not abducted into the Black Hat Sisterhood. Your father must have protected her from the Black Abbess, and that was a brave thing for him to do. It's the unmarshalled, uncontrolled Shadow tech within her that is creating this problem. I'm amazed she has lived this long without proper training."

"Can anything be done for her?"

"Yes, yes, certainly, but first she'll need to be rid of this excess Shadow tech. She is rife with it." Syg loosened Poe's gown and placed her hands on her thin ribs. "Can you smell it?"

Enoch leaned forward to smell Lady Poe, and Pardock cuffed him on the back of the head.

"I'll need someone to open her mouth and hold it open."

Enoch came forward again, head still smarting, closely watching his mother, and gently opened Poe's mouth.

"Get ready for some rain," Syg said.

"Will this be safe for my son?" Pardock asked.

"It's metabolized. All of the toxins remain within, and it's safe in this state."

In a moment, thick gray mist came pouring out of Poe's mouth, quickly filling the courtyard and the grove beyond.

They stood in the dense mist.

"You smell that, mother?" Enoch asked, flush with excitement. "I smell it!"

"Quiet, you!" Pardock said in the fog, groping around, trying to find him. "Blanchefort women do not create strange smells. Do not forget that!"

"Is this Shadow tech?" Enoch asked in the fog, unable to contain his excitement.

"It is. Shadow tech, in a harmless misty form … the poor dear. This will take a while," Syg said.

"Is it … is it going to change into some sort of terrifying, snorting beast? Mother! Mother! I'mgoingtofightmyfirstShadowtechmonster!" Enoch cried, running his words together.

"Get back to the castle, boy!" Pardock shouted in the fog. "The only thing you're going to be fighting is the back of my hand when I locate you!"

Syg, hearing Enoch's excitement, manipulated some of Poe's misty Shadow tech into a twisting, smiling insect that looped and cavorted in mid-air.

"Do you see that? Do you see that? I'm going to get it now!"

"No you are not, and you will not enjoy the light of day for months after I get hold of you. Sygillis—Sygillis of Metatron, are you behind this?" Pardock yelled.

Giggling, Syg, vanished the insect.

"Awww!" Enoch cried.

Suddenly, Poe began speaking. She spoke in an ugly, sinister voice.

"S
ygillis of Metatron. I am coming for you! I am going to kill you! Hahahahahahahahahaha
!"

"Who am I speaking to?" Syg asked quietly.

"Y
our enemy! Your rival!"

"It's Marilith!" Pardock shrieked, frantically groping for Enoch in the fog. "I'd know that foul voice anywhere!"

"D
ear Pardock, do not think that I have forgotten about you. After I have killed her, I will kill you too. It's long in coming! I hold you responsible for everything!"

Poe tried to rise up, but Syg held her down. "I'
ll allow you to run, Sygillis of Metatron. Run away and hide and you may live!"

"I am not going anywhere. If you are seeking to drive a wedge between me and my Lord, then you have made a mortal enemy today, Marilith. I will meet you wherever you choose, and we will settle this. And be fair warned: only one of us will be walking away when it's over."

"It
will be settled with your death. I will give you no peace. I will hunt you down."

"Incorrect. 'Tis I who will be hunting you down. 'Tis I who will be giving you no peace. Let us meet. Let us fight like women."

"H
ahahahahahahaha
!"

The voice faded, and Poe's open mouth gushed fog.

After a time, the fog stopped and Poe opened her eyes. They were Dav's eyes. Syg felt a twinge; how she missed him.

"W-Where am I?"

"In the grove," Syg said.

"Who are you?"

"A friend. Someone who loves your brother. Someone who is like you and wants to help. You needn't endure this alone any further, Lady Poe."

Syg, finding her hand in the fog, took it and placed it on her Shadowmark. "I am going to teach you how to live with this … the Shadow tech. It will turn to silver, and it is a wonderful thing—you'll see. Today is the last day you will ever be lost in the fog."

"You're … Sygillis, the Black Hat who wanted to kill my brother?"

Syg smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't, isn't it? I guess it's a good thing your brother is such a wonderful, charming man. I love your brother very much, and I am going to help you."

Syg helped Poe stand, and together they carefully exited the courtyard, shrouded in fog.

* * * * *

They made their way back into the castle, Poe following Syg like a lost kitten, hanging on her every word. Syg had suggested that they wait until the next day to begin her training, that she should rest today, but Poe didn't want to. She wanted to begin immediately.

Syg relented and asked Poe to change into something comfortable and to meet her in Dav's tower. There, they would begin her first lesson. Syg changed into her favorite outfit, her Chancellor's bodysuit—she had about twenty of them —and waited for Poe. Enoch wanted to come and watch, but Syg forbid it, told him it wasn't safe. Pardock dragged him off by the ear.

After a bit, Poe appeared, wearing a light red and blue Blanchefort gown. Syg looked at it. The style was simple, yet elegant and pleasing. The style was starting to grow on her. She began forming ideas as to what she wanted hers to look like.

"You aren't going to want to wear that," Syg said.

"Why not?" Poe asked, looking down at her lovely gown.

"Because, as of right now, you are a Shadow tech novice. Shadow tech is very bad for clothing. It eats through it. It creates ugly permanent stains, and I don't want to see your gown ruined. You are going to want to wear something light and out-of-the-way, like what I am wearing. Here …" Syg gave her a spare bodysuit, and though Poe felt shy about wearing such a tight-fitting, stretchy garment, she went into the bathroom and put it on.

"Also," Syg said, "don't bother putting your shoes back on. Shadow tech is very much a thing of feeling, and in order to better control it at this early stage, you are going to need to firmly feel the floor beneath you—and that means bare feet."

"A-all right," Poe said, a little dubious, through the door.

"If you are anything like your brother, then I know that you are probably loath to be parted from your shoes. Getting Dav out of his boots is like fighting a major battle all the time."

Poe laughed and emerged from the bathroom. She was finally dressed to Syg's liking and shoeless, and Syg stepped out onto Dav's balcony, into the wind, and bade Poe to follow.

"I am not going out there, Lady Sygillis," Poe said.

"Why not?"

"Because I am afraid of these heights. Because it is four thousand feet to the rocks below."

Syg smiled. "Lady Poe, here is your first lesson, and I don't want you to forget it, because it's important. Fear is what Shadow tech feeds on. If you feel fear, your Shadow tech will consume it like candy, and you right along with it. The Black Abbess … she made us do … terrible things. She starved us, pitted us against each other, made us crawl in the dark, made us fight—and these weren't innocent wrestling matches either. These were fights to the death, but all that had the effect of removing fear from us. We are fearless, and it's out of necessity. You cannot hope to control your Shadow tech if you're afraid of everything."

She walked out onto the creaking balcony and climbed up on the rail, her hair waving in the strong wind, the long drop yawning behind her. "You must not fear—and if you master your Shadow tech, you'll have nothing to fear, ever again." She paused a moment. "Come out here—feel the wind. Know that nothing can harm you."

Slowly, tentatively, Poe stepped out onto Dav's creaky, lofty balcony, probing its strength with her pale feet. "I-I always begged Dav to get rid of this insane balcony. Our g-grandfather Maserfeld put it here."

"Why, tell me?"

"This tower was once used for guests, so the story goes. Our grandfather put guests he didn't like in this room. He hoped they would become possessed by some Blanchefort ghost and suicide off of it. Dav has always loved this balcony. He and Lady Hathaline."

"What about Hathaline?" Syg said quickly.

"They sat out here, jumping up and down, making it creak and rock, hang over the side, falling off and Wafting down, and sending signals to each other. They'd wrestle on it too. I'm certain they have told you that you—"

"That I look like her … yes. I suppose I can't help but feel a bit jealous that he was so close to her."

"Well," Poe said, sitting down, not wanting to stand, "He never asked her to marry him. She was his friend, though she wanted to be much more. You look exactly like her, but you do not act her at all, I can tell that already. She was a bit … arrogant. Very Blue."

"I've heard. Dav promised to take me to Castle Durst when he returns. We are going to determine if I am a daughter of House Durst. I must be."