Cymru - Chapter 19

AERONA

Awe-inspiring.

It was the only word that ever came to mind for most. The smooth stone walls rose out of the crests of Eryri, expressionless and grim and pitted with row upon row of windows, marking out fifteen, twenty, twenty-five floors above the rocky ground and casting long shadows down the steep mountain slopes to the lakes below. From around halfway up the walls the small teeth of landing runways jutted out every few floors, the specks of merod flying back and forth in the late afternoon light just visible from above. On the top two levels the bustle could be seen clearly as the landing runways became far bigger and far more elegant, designed for accomodating official carriages and entire Wings and presently being prepared for the fast-approaching Archwiliad, carpets plush and tapestries being cleaned and hung; and then, finally, on the roof the great swirls of coloured glass reared up in their intricate weave, catching the end of the day's light and gleaming in a dazzling array of hues that marked out the Great Shrine to Rhiannon, and proclaimed the entire structure's identity.

"By the gods," Gareth whimpered quietly as his head poked out of the window, allowing him to take in the whole spectacle below and before them. Aerona glanced over at his pale face and wide eyes, his body trembling in the cooling air.

"Welcome to the Union, Gareth," she smiled softly. He met her eyes, looking completely stunned, and Aerona laughed gently. "It's alright," she called over the hiss of the canopy valves as they started descending. "It takes everyone like this first time. Even the Sovereigns." Well, especially the Sovereigns, really, but that was the point. It was to remind them to stay in line.

"Are there - ?" Gareth broke off and swallowed, staring at the base of the massive squared edifice beneath them. "Are there... any doors? Down... at the bottom?"

"No," Aerona said. She wondered how he'd take that. Some people found the Union's impregnability from the ground reassuring, but someone without any access to flying transport of their own could well feel imprisoned there. "No, the only way in is by flight, and then you need to get through several levels of Riders. Even Sovereigns struggle." Even I will at first, she thought privately, but didn't share it. "You'll be safe there."

"They can't get me in there," Gareth said, his voice strained and eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching walls. "I'll be safe. But what... What about Mam? And -?"

"It's okay," Aerona said quickly. "Honestly. I can't - I can't promise you they'll still be okay right now, Gareth, but if they are then Leader Awen will find them and get them out safely. I can promise you that."

He nodded, his drawn face looking even younger than he had in the tiny cell in Aberystwyth, and Aerona's heart ached all over again.

"That's what I'm worried of," he said, his voice almost lost over the gas cannisters. "I keep thinking they're... that they're already..."

"Gareth," Aerona said firmly. "Listen. I know it's hard, believe me, but you can't accomplish anything by dwelling on that. All you can do at the moment is look after yourself, and that's the best thing you can do for your family too. And to do that you have to try to stay positive."

Gareth nodded miserably, and huddled back into the carriage, hugging his knees to his chest. Aerona sighed quietly, and nudged Briallu forward to being level with the Driver. She was a middle-aged woman, tough and weathered and apparently with the upper body build of a weight lifter, and she smiled slightly at Aerona as she moved in.

"Which runway, Rider?" she called out across the gap between them, necessitated by Briallu's outstretched right wing. "One of the carriage ones? They look like they're preparing them, mind. We could fit on a lower one."

"No," Aerona called back, screwing up as much of her courage as she could and trying to push the spiking adrenaline back down away from her heart. "The lowest carriage one. This is important."

Important enough that for once Aerona was going to get to actually legitimately use one of the Union's top entrances, and actually have an audience with the High Council. Like all Intelligencers she'd spoken to Councillor Rhydian plenty of times, but always covertly to deliver reports. Ordinarily she’d still have done this secretly, but the whole situation had moved forward sufficiently that they could be slightly more open now, or at least they could here. Nowhere was more secure than the Union.

They dipped down to the broad runway on the east side of the Union, the carriage canopy briefly gleaming in a dazzling array of red and blue as the dying light shone through the glass of the Shrine before the shadow of the walls fell across them. Aerona pushed Briallu forward in front of the carriage and watched nervously as the stablehands saw them and backed hurriedly off the runway, glancing at one another in obvious confusion at their arrival. Someone would have darted off to alert the Guard Riders, Aerona knew. It was a shame she wasn’t an Alpha Wingleader; they got to go wherever they pleased in the Union, whenever they liked. They also tended to actually speak to the High Council in person from time to time. And they had nerves of steel.

Although, Aerona taught six-year-olds, and arguably they were worse. She straightened her back as Briallu pulled into a hover and dropped gently to the runway carpet, and walked her forward firmly to meet the two Riders standing in the Landing Tower doorway.

“Welcome home, Rider,” one stated as Briallu halted, snorting. He was quite possibly the biggest human being Aerona had ever seen, with a roughly-squared jaw and more hair in his black eyebrows than Aerona probably had on her entire body. His voice was deep and rumbling, tone wary, but not unfriendly. That was a good start. “What brings you to the Union?”

And how to handle this? Normally it would have been a job for her brightest and most aggressive be-nice-to-strangers smile, but that would have belied the urgent tone. Mentally Aerona sorted through her box of smiles, cursed it for being a disorganised mess despite being imaginary and gave up in favour of an expression she hoped looked suitably ‘gravely urgent’.

“Aberystwyth state business,” she hedged, “but with a complication. I need to speak with High Councillor Rhydian immediately, and I need secure accommodation for one person.”

The guard Rider stood straighter, his eyebrows somehow managing to move even closer together, and he glanced at his companion who was suddenly stepping forward. She was a slender woman, around mid-thirties and with the same predatory grace Aerona had spent the day seeing in Awen and Madog, which probably meant ex-Wingleader. Her beads were the solid black and gold wires of Guard Riders, and Aerona briefly checked the wires on both of them. Her luck was against her. Neither were Intelligencers.

“Who’s with you?” the woman asked now, her grey eyes piercing. Aerona glanced back at the carriage.

“A witness,” she said, thinking fast. “And a would-be assassin. He needs guarding, for his own sake as well as ours. And I need to speak with Councillor Rhydian. Immediately.”

“About what?” the woman asked, but she flicked a hand at the enormous Rider who obediently vanished. “Councillor Rhydian is extremely busy with preparations for the Archwiliad at the moment.”

“I know,” Aerona said heavily, and a quick rummage produced her Ruefully Apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. And I’m not sure how much is for non-Riders to know.”

It worked. The Rider glanced at the stablehands in the tower behind her and the Driver in the carriage seat before nodding, dropping the questions.

“Very well,” she said, standing aside and gesturing forward the stablehands. A girl no older than seventeen stepped forward to gently take Briallu’s bridle. The Rider turned and shouted something over her shoulder and her massive counterpart reappeared, flanked by two more Guard Riders and accompanied by a pair of shackles. Aerona sighed as the stable hand led Briallu quickly into the Tower. Really, considering the week the poor boy had just had the last thing Gareth needed were more chains, but it couldn't be helped. As the harness was unhooked Aerona dropped down and turned back, in time to see Gareth meekly climb out of the carriage behind the massive Guard, hands pulled down with the weight of the shackles and eyes fixed on the floor.

"Be gentle with him," Aerona called back, unable to stop herself. "It's... complicated."

"So it seems." The ex-Wingleader gave her a searching look for a moment before inclining her head abruptly in a sharp follow-me gesture and marching away. She was fairly tall; Aerona had to jog the first few steps to catch up. "My name is Bethan, by the way."

"Aerona." And no Salute, Aerona noted. Apparently Bethan was not happy about the amount of secrecy. Which meant they would probably be taken to a discretely secure room somewhere to wait for Councillor Rhydian and carefully questioned some more. Still, it could have been worse; the Union itself was perfectly lovely, even if the 'Welcome home' she'd been thrown wouldn't apply to her until after she'd spoken to Rhydian.

Next time, Aerona thought idly, she was bringing the children. Nothing hurried people up more than a roomful of bored six-year-olds.

There was no slope down to the door of this Landing Tower, no sense of going lower. The doors were on the same level and opened into a broad corridor that did, actually, make Aerona feel very much at home, since they were so strongly reminiscent of Tregwylan. The rainwater pipes were familiar decorations, threading their copper roots through the marbled stonework of the walls and sometimes gurgling quietly as they passed. Internal windows opened onto courtyards and training rooms, the sills and frames edged with meraden motifs and all with proper glass panes to buffer against the wind. They passed meeting rooms and offices; libraries and classrooms; recreation rooms and testing rooms, almost all of them filled with at least one occupant, working dilligently away. Riders and clerks bustled past them as they wound their way through the maze, none sparing them even a second glance. The whole atmosphere seemed... busy. Which made sense, Aerona supposed. There was a lot to be done before an Archwiliad, in paperwork if nothing else.

They reached the end of their corridor after three turns and at least five hundred metres and Bethan shoved the ornate double doors in front of them open. They stepped through and Aerona found herself looking at the Spiral Stairs once again.

It was said there were none like them anywhere else in the world, and Aerona could easily believe it. The Spiral Stairs were huge, each step a good eight metres long and comprised of a solid slab of stone, overlaid with a stunning ceramic mosaic in jewel-bright greens and blues. The steps were fixed firmly into the outer wall of their spiral and danced their way around an intricately carved central stone column, its diameter so vast Aerona could have made all of the children spread their arms out to embrace it and their fingertips would only just have met. Its surface was grained to look like wood, as though it were the trunk of some colossal tree. Instinctively, Aerona looked up. The Stairs blocked her view to the floors above, but she knew that not so far above her head the central column divided and stretched into 'branches', forming the framework of the Great Shrine. And below them...

A long way below them its roots sank into the earth, and hid the Archives. That was going to be fun later.

"This way, Rider," Bethan said, striding across to move down the Stairs. "Since the situation is somewhat... unclear, I'll put you both in the same place for now until Councillor Rhydian can be found."

"That's fine, honestly," Aerona told her with her best Earnest Voice. It wasn't much of a struggle; she really did want to keep Gareth close by for now. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Bethan gave her another odd look, and them they were making their way down the Stairs, everyone automatically moving into an orbit around the central tree-column that made the depth of the steps perfectly fit their stride. Aerona loved the Spiral Stairs. Tregwylan needed some. Maybe she could forge some Edicts in Lady Gwenda's name and get some made, although that was quite dishonest even for an Intelligencer, and she spent enough time trying to encourage honesty among the children to feel very guilty about the hypocrisy. And really, unless Tregwylan plonked another Great Shrine on top, it would probably be heretical in some way.

They only went down three floors, and then Bethan was leading them through some slightly-less-ornate doors and into a corridor that looked onto some deeper courtyards. It also looked into altogether more rooms containing weapons and diagrams of anatomy and such that Aerona remembered well from her childhood, and she really hoped Gareth didn't look. He also didn't need reminding of death and maiming right now. Although for that reason Aerona was very, very glad they weren't any deeper in the Union, where Riders like Awen learned how to interrogate prisoners. Those rooms weren't pretty.

Finally they stopped at a bend in the corridor, and Bethan pushed open a door to a room that was presumably a classroom normally. Apparently it was undergoing an Archwiliad-related transformation, though; most of the desks had been neatly stacked into a corner, ready to be removed, with only three or four left in the middle of the room arranged in a square. A few chairs remained around them, pushed carelessly aside. Aerona could hear Gareth shaking again, the heavy manacles clinking slightly as he did so, so she straightened her back and marched directly in, trying to look slightly more confident than she felt. Was it time for her Brightest Smile yet? Probably not.

"Sit," Bethan said, stopping in the doorway. "We've already sent for Councillor Rhydian; hopefully he'll be here soon."

"Thank you." Aerona pulled out a chair as the enourmous Rider guided Gareth in creditably gently, his two massive hands dwarfing Gareth's thin shoulders, and steered him towards the chair. He sat trembling, staring at the floor as the Guard Rider backed up against the wall beside the door, simply watching. Aerona pulled another chair up alongside Gareth's, and put a hand on his knee reassuringly.

"It's okay," she murmured quietly. "Really. You're safe here, even if it doesn't seem it now. Once I've spoken to Councillor Rhydian it'll be fine."

"You said a would-be assassin?" Bethan asked, her voice tinged with frustrated perplexity. Her eyes slid to the Tregwylan liveries. "And this is Aberystwyth state business?"

"Yes," Aerona nodded. How much could she say here? Well; the attempt on Lord Gwilym was hardly a secret. "He tried to kill Lord Gwilym yesterday."

Bethan's searching gaze intensified, looking over both of them alternatingly with one eyebrow raised. The enourmous Guard by the door tensed up, an automatic reaction. Aerona fought to stay calm, and offered a small smile.

"I did say it's complicated," she said apologetically. "I -"

"He tried to kill the Sovereign of Aberystwyth," Bethan said slowly and deliberately. "And now you've brought him here for safety. As a would-be assassin and... as a witness."

"Yes," Aerona sighed. "It's -"

"What could he possibly have witnessed other than his own attempt at murder?" Bethan asked. "Why is he here?"

"Well," Aerona started. "That's sort of why -"

"I mean, I understand that Lord Gwilym has so far been comparitively popular in Aberystwyth," Bethan continued. "As much as he can be in not quite a year in power, anyway. I'm not sure how many citizens are likely to be hammering down the cell doors to get to his killer, though. Unless you think Lord Gwilym himself is likely to be hammering down the doors?"

"Um," Aerona said. "You're not actually interested in an answer, are you?"

"No," the massive Guard chipped in from the wall. "She's not. She does this sometimes, don't worry."

"Idris," Bethan snapped, and he shrugged, smiling slightly as he pulled out a length of knotted string from a pouch on his belt.

"You do," he told her, pulling his hair back into a rough ponytail that his beaded braids fell straight out of and swung loose around his collar bones. He seemed almost nonchalent, although he was broadcasting his distrust of Gareth fairly clearly still. "Whenever you're irritated. It's -"

"Irritated?" Bethan said, appropriately irritated. "He tried to kill a Sovereign and we're -"

"Well, see, that's my point," Idris said, studiously re-knotting the string behind his head. "We don't know the situation -"

"No!" Bethan said, aggrieved. "We don't! Which is why - !"

"But you don't let them answer." Idris finished with his hair and dropped his hands back to his belt, looking at her mildly. "Doesn't strike me as the best way of learning what's going on, is all. You not listening to the answers."

"Outside," Bethan commanded darkly, and Idris sighed before trudging out of the door. Bethan glanced at Aerona and Gareth as she started to follow. "We won't be a minute," she said. "Are you okay with him?"

It was a somewhat redundant question, really, since even Siona wouldn't have had a problem with Gareth right now, but Aerona smiled her Encouraging Smile anyway and nodded.

"We'll be fine!" she said. "Do go on."

Bethan nodded curtly and then she was gone, the door clicking firmly shut behind her and not-quite-entirely muffling the angry conversation that began on the other side of the door. Aerona shifted her attention to Gareth instead. He was hunched miserably into his chair, hands clenched into fists and his chin almost touching his chest. A tear-track had stained one cheek, and closer inspection showed that his eyes were glassy and full. Aerona squeezed his knee where her hand still lay and sighed quietly.

"It's okay," she said gently. "Honestly. Once I've spoken to Councillor Rhydian everything will be fine, and he'll be here soon."

Gareth nodded, and sniffed.

"I didn't want to kill him," he said, almost mutely.

"I know," Aerona said. "And soon everyone else will know. And you didn't kill him, Gareth. His death isn't on your conscience."

He nodded again, eyes on the floor; and then, with an effort, he tried to sit up straighter and look around the room. It reminded Aerona of Morgan when he was down, but determined to pull himself back up again. She felt a swell of pride for him.

"It's so big here," Gareth said. Aerona followed his lead and smiled.

"Isn't it?" she grinned. "They say it was built at the same time as the Sixteen Cities, and it is similar. I'm from Tregwylan, but even we aren't as big as this. And we certainly don't have anything like the Great Shrine, or the Spiral Stairs."

"I went into Casnewydd once," Gareth offered. His eyes tracked the meraden motif carved into the stone work at the top of the room. "There's nothing like this there. I heard - I heard once one of the merchants saying about the Stairs. He said they were the hidden wonder of the world."

"It's been said," Aerona agreed. "Very few non-Riders get to come here even, much less non-Cymric people. If everyone could see the Stairs, I'm told, they'd be Wonder number eight."

"I liked them," Gareth said quietly, the echo of remembered awe in his voice. "They were so big."

"They are," Aerona agreed. They were. It was a fair assessment. Gareth looked thoughtful for a moment.

"They seemed different, though," he said, and looked quickly at Aerona. "I mean - I know they're bigger and that, and the tree in the middle and stuff, but normal twisty stairs... they're..."

Interesting, Aerona thought. It was a shame Gareth hadn't been Union raised. He had an observant streak that could have been beautifully honed.

"You're right," she said calmly. "Did you notice how they're different?"

"They go the wrong way," Gareth said, and then looked mildly horrified. "I mean - not wrong, I didn't -"

"It's okay," Aerona giggled. "I know what you mean. And yes, they do. It's about defence, you see? Normally spiral staircases go clockwise, so that right-handed swordspeople at the top have an advantage. Usually any invaders come from the bottom, see?"

"Oh," Gareth said. He thought for a second. "But there are no doors on the floor here..."

"Exactly!" Aerona beamed. "Well done! I'd give you a gold star, but I don't have any. And you're not six, I suppose. Yes; the Stairs are defended from the base."

Where the Archives were. The base of the Union was the realm of the Intelligencers, accessed from the Great Shrine of Rhiannon via the anti-clockwise Spiral Stairs. Aerona had never known whether the Intelligencer beading wires had been made anti-clockwise because of the Stairs or vice versa, and considering how long ago the Union had been founded it was unlikely they would ever know now. But to Aerona, the Stairs represented everything she was as a Rider and a human being, and everything her role should be.

"Are there -?" Gareth began, and then stopped as the voices outside abruptly stopped. The door bounced abruptly open and suddenly Aerona found herself on her feet with no conscious input from her brain and Saluting as Councillor Rhydian entered the room.

He was into his fifties, at least physically, but his obvious strength and vitality belonged to someone at least twenty years younger. In height he stood a bit shy of six feet - probably an inch or two off Lord Gwilym, if they'd been standing together - and his build was of wiry muscle, not too broad and not too slim. His hair was a faded red, thinning rapidly at the crown, and like all Councillors he wore a torque, a fairly simple metal circlet with coloured glass bands to represent the beads he no longer wore. His clothes otherwise were almost a standard Rider uniform, all comfortable worn-in leather and long coat, and he stubbornly still had the outdated Caerleuad liveries on them from when he'd been Alpha Wingleader there. His face was rugged and square-jawed, beard clipped short, with a long-healed white scar running from his left temple to just below his earlobe. His grey eyes crinkled merrily as he returned her Salute, a broad grin lighting up his cheeks.

Aerona wasn't fooled. She liked Councillor Rhydian, truly she did; but he was on the Union High Council. Assuming she survived her career on the active front line, which wasn't tremendously likely, this was what Awen would be some day. The High Council only took the best, and to be the best you needed to have a steel door somewhere behind your eyes where you could turn yourself off and do whatever had to be done. Aerona could see it already in Awen; she could see it doubly in Rhydian. This was a dangerous man.

"Rider Aerona!" he said happily as he gestured her vaguely towards her chair and shoved the door shut at the same time. "It's been a while! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"A number of things," Aerona said wearily as she sat. She put a hand on Gareth's shoulder and squeezed. "Firstly; the Casnewydd Alpha Wing. Have you been told about their Deputy?"

"By their Leader," Rhydian nodded, his expression switching to serious as abruptly as if he'd taken off a mask. "I got her report this morning."

Well, obviously. There was no way Awen would waste time falling to pieces about her traitorous Deputy, after all. That would involve taking time for herself. Aerona nodded.

"Right," she said. "Well, this is Gareth, who's from Casnewydd. He was the one-" who tried to kill Lord Gwilym? Assassinate him? Shoot him? "-with the bow in Aberystwyth last night. Deputy Owain gave it to him, and instructions on how to get into the hall."

"I see." Rhydian's face didn't move a muscle, his expression completely neutral. "Go on."

"We think Deputy Owain was -"

"Owain," Rhydian interrupted. "He's been stripped of that title at the very least. Carry on."

"We think he was acting entirely on his own initiative there," Aerona continued, glancing slightly at Gareth. "But before that he was taking orders from Lord Flyn."

"To do what exactly?"

"Well," Aerona sighed. "That's a bit complicated."

Although it didn't take long to explain. Rhydian sat impassively throughout it, studying her with slightly disconcerting intensity at a few parts but saying nothing, merely nodding here and there. Something hardened ominously in his eyes when Aerona reiterated Gareth's personal story and the plight of his family; only a small change, but it made Aerona's adrenaline jump again as it poked at her fight-or-flight response. She managed not to overly stress the point that Owain would probably want Gareth dead. He'd had enough for one day, really. Even a gold star couldn't compensate, especially when you weren't six and you'd not actually been given it, anyway.

"I see," Rhydian said again when she'd finished. He was looking at the ceiling, one scarred hand rubbing absently at his beard. "You did the right thing to come here, then."

"Thank you, Councillor," Aerona said. It helped to settle her slightly jittery nerves somewhat. He flashed a grin her way and then stood and strode to the door, knocking on it twice. Bethan opened it and Saluted.

"Councillor?" she asked. He threw out a Salute back and then turned and gestured to Gareth.

"This boy is to be unlocked and then made comfortable in secure accomodation," Rhydian ordered. It wasn't imperious, or even especially commanding, but it was another indicator of the type of person Rhydian was. It was the tone of a man who'd spent his entire life giving orders, and barely knew how to communicate any other way. When he spoke, he expected to be obeyed. "He is to be treated as a witness, not a criminal. He's been officially pardoned. Understood?"

"Understood, Councillor," Bethan Saluted, and then moved into the room to Gareth, her expression considerably softer than it had been not ten minutes before. "Come on. Let's get you settled, and then we can go and see what the chefs are serving."

"Really?" Gareth stood uncertainly, looking back at Aerona. She beamed at him.

"It's okay," she said happily. "Told you! You'll be fine. I'll be sticking around, don't worry; I'll see you later."

Gareth nodded and turned to Bethan, who put an arm round his shoulders and steered him to the door.

"Idris has the keys; we'll get those off now..." she said, and then Rhydian was pushing the door firmly shut behind her again and turned back to Aerona.

"Good work, Rider," he said quietly, and Aerona tipped her head.

"Thank you, Councillor," she said. He rummaged in the pocket of his coat for a second and withdrew a thin rectangle of wood, about the size of her palm, and handed it to her. She took it without a word and he nodded.

"Stay as long as you need," Rhydian said and paused, one hand on the doorhandle. "Although, be sure to report to me before you leave, understand?"

"I will, Councillor," Aerona promised, and after the customary exchange of Salutes he left, leaving Aerona to look at the slim wooden permit. On it, in beautifully looped writing, the words "All Area Access - permisson of Councillor Rhydian" had been carefully carved and burned into the wood. The back contained a single stylised rendering of a meraden, its wings arcing to form a circle around its body. Aerona sighed, and slid it carefully into a belt pouch.

It was time to pray to Rhiannon. And then she was going to the Archives.