Cymru - Chapter 3

AWEN

Tregwylan’s corridor-streets were almost exotically beautiful. The walls were made of smooth sandstone that was inlaid with marble patterns that swirled along the walls, reminiscent of the sea that pounded the city’s foundations. Intricately arranged clay pipes ran down the walls carrying water from the Rain Harvesters to the lower levels, and at evenly spaced intervals small ornamental fruit trees grew out of squares of earth cut into the stone floors. A richly-woven carpet runner covered the centre of each street, making them look far more like corridors.

“Like I say, the lower levels look nothing like this,” Aerona said conversationally. “You probably won’t be shown them. Although I notice that your flying leathers may need re-waxing.”

“Oh yes,” Awen said sincerely. “I’d much appreciate getting them done here before I leave. Are your specialists on the lower levels?”

“Naturally,” Aerona said. “I’ll show you to them afterwards; although first, you simply must see our fishing tower.”

“I’d love to,” Awen said lightly. It was a decidedly pleasant charade all round; Awen found herself instantly liking Aerona, who seemed to have personality oozing out of her very skin. She wore the standard Rider’s uniform, but a Tutor’s sash over the top and the beads she wore were the deep green glass and amber of a Woodscrafter. She wore them well; her complexion was unusually dark, like bark and honey. The greens contrasted beautifully.

They came to a slightly curved oaken door with the words ‘Fishing Tower’ carved elaborately into its surface and inlaid with gold leaf. Aerona pushed the door open and gestured Awen through; once in, she closed the door again hurriedly. Above them, seated on perches around the round tower walls, were hundreds of cormorants, their necks carefully ringed. A set of spiral stairs led up, and Aerona led Awen swiftly up them.

They reached the top, where a giant archway window opened onto nothing. Aerona leaned against the wall beside it.

“Safe room,” she said. “No one can get in here through anywhere but the door, which we’ll hear, or this window, in which case they’re a cormorant. And I’m fairly sure we’re safe from them.”

“I don’t know,” Awen said mock-doubtfully as she eyed the nearest bird. “You hear funny things about Archipelagan birdlife.”

Aerona chuckled softly, and looked out over the moonlit water below them.

“Other than ornithology,” she said. Awen sighed.

“I’m from Casnewydd,” she said, watching Aerona carefully. It was habit: she automatically found herself trusting the girl, but she could never quite turn that part of herself off. “Over the past two years, Lord Flyn’s behaviour has been… concerning. Something at the last Archwiliad worried him, I think. Either way, I’ve been sent here to speak to Lady Gwenda before the Wrexham Wing arrives tomorrow.”

“Oh, I was so hoping I was wrong,” Aerona sighed. She looked resigned as she glanced at Awen. “What’s he really planning?”

“I’m not absolutely sure what his ultimate goal is, yet,” Awen confessed. “Though I’ve a pretty good idea. He thinks – or says he thinks – that there’s some kind of conspiracy going on to overthrow the Senedd and de-power the Sovereigns.”

Aerona winced. “Oh,” she said. “That’s not good.”

Awen smiled slightly, knowing what effect her next sentence would have.

“It’s led by Lady Marged.”

Aerona nearly choked. “Marged? Knits scarves for all visiting Riders Marged?”

“The very same,” Awen said dryly. “Though we both know there’s an awful lot more to her than that.”

“Well, yes, but…” Aerona trailed off, staring at the sea. “What could she possibly gain from de-powering herself? From starting the Wars again?”

“Well, she wouldn’t be de-powering herself – just everyone else so she can gain power. Archipelagan cities do need an awful lot of supplies to survive, after all; even when twinned with Aberystwyth like Caerleuad is. And if every other city hands power ‘over to the people’ and becomes a disorganised anarchic mess, she’s essentially ruler of the land.”

“How exactly does she plan to do this?” Aerona asked.

“I have no idea, actually,” Awen said frankly. “Lord Flyn wasn’t utterly clear on that. By dressing it up as some impressive and important new governmental system, I think. Although I do know that she’s already been spreading Dissenters into other cities. Travelling as bards, mostly. Telling people that only they should have the power, and not the Sovereigns.”

Aerona seemed to muse over the whole thing for a few seconds, and then looked back at Awen.

“So what’s Lord Flyn doing?”

“Launching his own counter-conspiracy,” Awen grimaced. “And here’s the thing. What he’s suggesting is that we can only keep Cymru out of war and how things used to be by cementing the power of the Sovereigns. He wants a single power – bigger than the Senedd, just one person – to be responsible overall for selecting the Sovereigns of each city. The Sovereigns would become regents, and they’d all answer to him.”

“And he wants to be the person in charge of that?” Aerona asked. Awen nodded.

“Difficult, isn’t it?” she said wryly. “Because on the surface of it the choice is anarchic war-profiteering under Marged, or monarchy and order under Flyn.”

“But you think there’s more,” Aerona said. It was more a statement than a question.

“Flyn is ambitious,” Awen said quietly. “And I can’t help but feel that this could just be some elaborate power play on his part.”

“Does he have proof of Marged’s power play? Or anti-power play, or whatever.”

“Yes,” Awen said heavily. “Apparently she spoke to a few Sovereigns two years ago about it, and we have caught several Dissenters sent from Caerleuad. However, the details are all terribly vague.”

“Gwilym’s father,” Aerona murmured. “The last Sovereign of Aberystwyth. He was behaving very strangely with Marged last year before his death.”

“I’m flying to Aberystwyth tomorrow,” Awen said. “As part of the Wing. I may have to see how much Gwilym knows.”

Aerona stared down at the sea for a few moments, her expression clouded.

“I just can’t see it,” she said at last. “Not Marged, you know? She bakes biscuits for her servants. She knits hats for the orphaned children in Aberystwyth. I just don’t see this without some ulterior motive that’s inherently lovely and full of kittens.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Awen grinned. “Or, well, not exactly maybe, since I didn’t think of kittens, but that’s certainly the gist of it.”

“Can you get out to speak to her?” Aerona asked. Awen shook her head.

“Not without drawing suspicion. It rests on Gwilym. I’m hoping he’s impressionable as well as young.”

“Yeah.” Aerona sighed, probably at the thought of the kittens in specially knitted hats actually being war-profiteering spies. “What are you telling Lady Gwenda, by the way?”

Awen pulled a face. “That Wrexham will join the cause as long as she has. They’re already mostly convinced by Flyn because of his bloodlines – he’s border stock. And that she’s to help convince as many Archipelagan cities as she can to join in.”

Aerona sighed as the clock on the Landing Tower chimed midnight.

“Alright. I think I’d best get you to Gwenda, or she’ll start getting suspicious,” she said gloomily. “You’re going to have to let me know how it goes with Gwilym, though.”

“I will,” Awen promised. She meant it.