Byzantine Purple

Chapter XVI: About Time

Dressed in gold and silver, Aladár Kolosy stood in front of an open field on Kis Svab hill, trying to ignore his surroundings: strangers dressed in garish doublets, loud chatter, smudgy traces of slippers and a tickling scent of myrrh. He was a spectator who listened to pointless conversations and felt the cold breath of autumn wind on his hollow cheeks. Behind him, a loud female voice asked someone: "Do you believe lightning-bearers have two lives? Can a lightning-bearer replace his life with someone else's?" He flinched, cursing his sensitive hearing and mediocre sight.

Aladár hid under a crooked tree, his tired eyes studying uneven clusters of grass and soil under his shoes. People approached him, but he did not care. He shook Lehel Varga's hand with rude indifference when the man expressed condolences, telling Aladár just how highly he had regarded his sister. Oh, they all did, didn't they? He nodded absentmindedly, lifting his gaze and seeking his father.

Vajk Kolosy, a tall, elegant man with long grey hair and hazel eyes, held himself with an air of undeniable authority. Sending nods of acknowledgment to his guests, he approached Aladár and seized him by the elbow.

"Aladár, I don't know where you are, but you are not here." Nails dug into his arm through the sleeve of his jacket, hurting, nudging him forward. "We'll get through this. We must."

Aladár did not answer: his father could not fathom what boiled beneath his mask of brittle ice. Nobody could. Aladár was fed up with his posturing, with his politics and with the disasters that it brought along. Hajnal was right. He had to put an end to this gruesome charade, he had to find a way to shake off the iron grab of this apathetic crowd, even if it meant entering their game. He nodded to his father, then squinted against the setting sun. All reason left him when he discerned a tall female figure in the distance.

"What is she doing here?" he hissed. "For Ancestors' sake..."

Vajk tried to stop him of course, but he ignored his father, rushing forward despite his warning.

"Aladár!"

"I don't give a damn, father." Quickening his pace, Aladár reached a meandering path that led downhill and he barred the woman's way. She wore a simple black and red dress, clutching white flowers in her hands. Suppressing bitter anger, Aladár barely stopped himself from shoveling the bouquet down her throat. He hated every fine feature of her narrow face, especially her spiteful light-blue eyes. She was Adeona Lascari, and she looked every bit as arrogant and pretty as her granddaughter Amaltheia.

"Lady Lascari," Vajk Kolosy popped from behind Aladár's back, "I haven't been expecting you." The three of them stared at each other in silence and suspicion.

"I am not surprised," Adeona Lascari uttered, her teeth gritted. "I know exactly what you're thinking, Kolosy. Neither you nor your son are subtle." Her fiery gaze pierced Aladár, but he did not flinch. He had learnt her energy-twisting tricks well enough: after all, he had spent years living side-by-side with her kin and sleeping with her daughter.

"If you've come to impress," he spat out, "it's hardly the place."

"I haven't come to glare at you," she snorted. "I don't care about your pathetic suspicions. The two of you can investigate whatever you like. Those who killed your Hajnal used the blood of my kin. They have tainted my name. That is the only thing that bothers me."

"Is it possible to taint your name more than you have done already?" Vajk Kolosy's lips twisted in a derisive smile. Finally, he too remembered who she was.

"Careful, Vajk!" Her flaming stare shifted from Aladár to his father. "I have come to say I had nothing to do with that murder. Neither did my children. Especially Lorei." She gave Aladár a pointed stare. He returned it with insolence he did not know he had in him.