“For the Five Heroes who founded Hightspall. Though back then they were still known by their real name — the Five Herovians.”
“Why the change?”
“The Herovians fell out of favour, but a nation has to have its heroes.”
“And a five-sided spike.”
“Like a nail through the celestial dome,” said Holm. “An insight into the way they viewed the world, if you like.”
She did not care to dwell on that. “I don’t understand what holds it up.”
“Arches are strong. And the weight of the spike on it only makes it stronger.”
“Even the strongest stone will break if you put a big enough load on it. So the Cythonians say, and they’re masters of stone.”
Holm shrugged. “It’s stood for a very long time.”
“How do we get in?”
“We walk across the central arch. The shortest one.”
“Aren’t there guards, or gates?”
“There used to be. During the Two Hundred and Fifty Years War, and for a while afterwards, there were five Guardians, but then Tirnan Twil fell on hard times. Anyway, once the Cythians were defeated, Tirnan Twil faced no threats.”
“Why not?”
“How would anyone attack it? Every approach runs along a cliff like this one, and from their cliff-top guard posts intruders can be seen coming for miles.”
The broad ledge ran in a gentle curve out of sight. They reached the first arch which, though it appeared slender from a distance, was twenty feet deep and fifty feet broad. And the way across it was blocked.
“Every piece of stone in the arches is shaped to interlock like a three-dimensional jigsaw,” said Holm.
“Like the pieces of the heatstone helmet you made for me,” said Tali.
“Where do you think I got the idea?”
They passed the second arch, which had the same cross-section as the first but was shorter, and reached the third, the central arch. It crossed the chasm at right angles and was shorter yet, and unblocked. Holm headed across the arch, which had neither rail, kerb nor gutter.
“I wouldn’t fancy walking across this in a high wind,” said Tali, plodding after him and trying to look neither down nor up.
“Nor snow or ice. But I dare say one gets used to it.”
At the other end, a large wooden door stood open. It was so old that the surface of the wood had weathered into corrugations along the grain, leaving little fibres standing out from the surface.
“After you,” said Holm.
She didn’t move. “Surely we can’t just walk in unannounced?”
“If they didn’t want us to come in, they wouldn’t have opened the door.”
A shadow passed across the sun. Tali shivered and looked over her shoulder. Again she felt as though someone was watching her, but there was nothing to see. Nonetheless, she felt as though she was an intruder, open door or not.
She went through and was immediately struck by how thick the walls were, and how small the rooms. Or room, for there was only one on this level. It was also shaped like a five-leaved cloverleaf on the inside, and each embayment contained an ancient tapestry depicting the life and glories of one of the Five Heroes. In the centre, a fixed steel ladder ran up vertically through a hole with the same shape.
As Tali studied the tapestries, the feeling of being watched grew until all the skin on her back crawled. She turned, looked across into the embayment on the other side, let out a yelp and instinctively sprang backwards.
Its tapestry depicted a man with the heavy-jawed, florid face she remembered from the Abysm — the face she had seen contorted in agony on the opalised figure of the First Hero.
Axil Grandys.
CHAPTER 45
A cool hand on Tali’s elbow steadied her, and a soft, amused voice said, “He affects many visitors that way. A formidable man, our Axil Grandys.”
She turned to see a neat, compact fellow dressed in an embroidered shirt and yellow pantaloons, and soft white shoes with the tips curled up.
Her face must have indicated surprise because he said at once, “You thought we would dress like monks? This is a place of scholarship, my lady, and preservation. Some people do worship at the altar of the Five Heroes, but I do not. My name is Rezire, and I am the curator. Your companion I remember from several visits, long ago. Greetings, Holm.”
Holm bowed. “This is the Lady Thalalie vi Torgrist. But she answers to Tali.”
Tali shot him a furious glance.
“We deal in truth here,” said Rezire, who had intercepted Tali’s glare. “Visitors must give their real names.”
He returned Holm’s bow, and bowed to Tali. “You are welcome, Lady Tali. But you have come a long way, with some urgency. If you would follow me.” He turned to the ladder.
“How does he know that?” Tali said under her breath.
“Every visitor has come a long way. And considering how badly the war is going, our visit is bound to be urgent.”
“I trust you have no fear of heights,” said Rezire. “The design of Tirnan Twil, while breathtaking, makes no concession to practicality. The walls must be thick to support the weight, which leaves no room for a staircase.”
He went up the ladder, which ran vertically for thirty feet before passing through a six-foot-high hole in the ceiling, with no more effort than walking from one room to another. Tali followed wearily, then Holm.
“Is it too much to hope that Grandys’ stuff is on this level?” she said quietly.
“If memory serves me,” said Holm, “his journals and papers are on the fifth level, and various devices, artefacts and memorabilia are on the floors above that.”
“You remember,” said Rezire, beaming down at them.
“I should have warned you, my Lady,” he added politely. “The shape of the rooms focuses sounds to the centre, and upwards. There are few secrets in Tirnan Twil, but if you care to keep yours, make sure you’re above anyone who may overhear you, rather than below.”
The embayments on the second level had widely spaced, curving shelves made from thick glass that had developed a yellow tinge with age, though most of the shelves were empty. Tali looked into the embayment on her left. It contained only a pair of red shoes, the leather cracked, the toes scuffed. They were oddly shaped, almost square, with black laces.
“This room contains the oldest relics we have. Personal objects brought by the Five Heroes from our ancestral homeland,” said Rezire.
“Why so few?” said Tali.
“Space on the First Fleet was limited: one chest per person.”
“Even to the Five Heroes?”
“They were just ordinary citizens then.”
“Whose are these?” She indicated the shoes.
“They’re Syrten’s baby shoes.”
“Baby shoes!” Tali echoed. “They’re almost as long as my shoes. And three times as wide.”
“Syrten was an unusual man. Unique.” Rezire turned away. “Over here we have the wooden flute carved for Lirriam by her grandfather, and — ”
“Alas, we must take the tour on our next visit,” said Holm. “Our time is short, and our enemies many.”
The third level contained items of personal adornment owned by the Five Heroes — amulets, rings, torcs, armbands, anklets, and other items, mostly in heavy gold, though to Tali’s eye they looked crude and unfinished.
“They’re very… um…” said Tali.
“You find them a trifle rustic?” said Rezire, frowning. “You may say so. We believe in plain speaking here.”
“They not what I’m used to, after Caulderon — ”
“And Cython?” he said coolly. “The Herovians of old were craftsmen, but all their craft went into weaponry. Arts and crafts that were over-ornate, or sophisticated, offended them.”
“They would have found much to be offended by in Palace Ricinus,” said Tali. Everything in the palace had been elaborate, yet beautiful. And now it was all gone.
Every floor had one or two librarians or curators, silently dusting, polishing or writing in ledgers. On the fourth floor, which was empty as far as Tali could tell, three yellow-robed pilgrims knelt in the embayment on the right, facing each other, eyes closed.