The Silence of Medair

They passed through a series of small courtyards to the stables, and Medair overcame her tendency to dwell on every change by noting instead the interest the Keridahl Avec’s return provoked in all who saw him. She began to dredge up her lessons on Ibisian court custom and attempted to apply them to what she now faced. It no longer seemed to be considered poor manners to stare at a person one was not conversing with, unless everyone here was deliberately being rude. The White Snake habit of "not looking" at the Imperial Heralds had been difficult to take in Medair’s time, but it was disconcerting to see the custom so altered. Since the focus of attention was shared between her and Cor-Ibis, Medair could only assume that her actions in Kyledra had not been kept entirely secret.

The stables of the White Palace had grown. They extended into what had been an exercise yard and a wall had been taken down to allow access into former gardens, now converted into open space for working the animals. It was all continually disorienting for Medair, whose memory latched onto anything familiar while her eyes found strangeness around every second corner. She wanted so much not to be here.

"You will be tired after the journey, Kel ar Corleaux," Cor-Ibis said, though it was only mid-afternoon and they had not set a difficult pace. "Avahn will show you to your room." Then he was gone and she had only Avahn to deal with.

After disposing of an errant retainer with a soft word, Avahn indicated a direction. "Would you prefer we pretend not to have noticed how the palace effected you?" he asked, voice muted as he escorted her through the maze of corridors, annexes, halls, courtyards, galleries, winding stairs, dead-ends and other sundry features which made up the White Palace.

She raised a shoulder, struggling for calm. "It makes little difference, Avahn. I made no secret of not wanting to come to Athere."

"You said Athere was out of your way, Medair. Not that it would pain you to be here." He paused, weighing his words. "You have been here before."

She wished he would leave it be. "I told you that as well. Why question me, Avahn? You know I don’t want to speak of my past."

"Or your future. Or anything, in fact. You’ve grown even more close-mouthed, these past days. Because of Athere, because of the palace." He reached out to touch her arm, swiftly and briefly. "I think I want to apologise. I’ve been treating you as a game, your secrets as a challenge. My cousin was right again – I had mistaken you. You have been rational and resigned and I didn’t realise that we dealt with something which could make you look so…lost." He offered her a smile, young and genuine. "If you are to leave soon, then I would have you remember me as a friend, not one who made what is apparently an ordeal even more difficult for you."

Medair was touched. "Your questions haven’t hurt me, Avahn," she said, truthfully. "I won’t remember you harshly."

He smiled, then was mercifully silent as he led her to the section of the palace which Medair recalled as being haunted by the ambassadors and Dukes of the Western lands. The apartments of the Keridahl Avec, Medair judged, stretched over at least half of the fourth level of the massive Lothra Tower. Only the Fasthold, the main donjon of the palace, was larger than Lothra. It was a most desirable section of the palace.

The rooms given over to the Cor-Ibis family were decorated in a markedly Ibisian manner, with iridescent screens, ornaments of opaque crystal, and furniture of spare and elegant line. In the blunt solidity of Lothra Tower the kind of furnishings which had so perfectly suited The Avenue in Finrathlar looked out of place. As Avahn opened the door to her room, she reflected that she had fallen in with perhaps the most traditional of the Ibisians in this time. The Cor-Ibis family had succeeded in retaining purity of blood and obviously revered the customs and trappings of their lost homeland. She could not decide if this made it easier or more difficult for her to deal with them.

"I’m not certain if we will eat here or in the Vestan Hall," Avahn informed her. "Whatever the case, we dine at sun-down." He gestured with one hand, down the hallway to where the sky shone blue through an archway leading onto a balcony. "My cousin has gone, you understand, to report on the events in Kyledra. The Kier may wish to speak with you and…" He shrugged. "I am not one to guess at the Kier’s wishes."

"So cautious Avahn? That’s unlike you."

"Not really," he replied, bowed with graceful formality, and left her alone.