Animals had never been comfortable around her, always shying away, or barking, or taking to the wind. The birds in the aviary on the palace roof were no exception, fluttering away to the highest branches. To Queen Anja Tellador this was no bad thing; instead, it was a reminder that she could not presume the loyalty of all her subjects, or rest easy thinking that the valley was content and safe and amiable. Where there was deference there was also desire and greed and scheming, with hidden motivations presented as obedience and fealty.
Her life was one of being surrounded by sycophants, tiresome in their praise and eagerness, all except for those precious, honest few such as the small birds that twittered away, caught between her and the walls of their beautiful prison. Anja liked to sit on the bench at the centre of the aviary, large palms and fronds enveloping her in the dense, moist, greenhouse environment, eyeing the birds as they watched her in turn, enjoying the rays of sun filtering through the leaves and branches. The birds longed for an escape, desperately hoping for the sky to open and welcome them into a new, better world; but the way remained closed, as it always had done, as it always would do. The birds were born into their microcosmic glass enclosure and died there, buried back into the soil. Such was the way with small things.
Another approached through the greenery. Anja recognised the clipped, staccato footsteps, each impacting on the ground for only a slivered moment. "Pienya," she said, remaining seated.
The girl bowed her head. "My queen," she acknowledged.
"You are well?"
"Yes, your majesty."
"Very good." Anja knew she could rely upon Pienya Martoc like no other. She had raised her, after she was orphaned. The girl's parents had been in the queen's entourage, after all, and while she could easily have been rid of the whole affair without further ado it had pleased her to offer hope to the child. Old enough to be useful yet still young enough to mould, Pienya had proven to be a wise investment over the years as she had increased her skills and risen to a position of influence alongside Fenris Silt and his King's Guards. Pienya might be a King's Guard by title, but she belonged to her queen. "What of the prisoner?"
"I know he is in the theatre district," Pienya said with confidence, "but locating him is proving complicated. There are other factions at play - my informers think he's with one of the gangs but there was a violent incident which has got the whole of the slums on edge, making it difficult for us to find him without the lot of them going to ground. And then there's men from the north."
Anja sat upright and clasped her hands on her lap. "The north? The baron's men?"
"Probably," Pienya said with a frown. "Possibly others. I haven't confirmed those reports yet. There's more activity on the streets than I'd like. We're not the only ones hunting for the boy."
"It would seem you have a careless mouth in your house, Pienya."
"I'll find out who is leaking information and ensure it doesn't happen again."
"I'm sure you will, my dear," Anja said, smiling. "Be sure to keep the king updated on all these matters."
"I shall."
Standing and stepping away from the bench, Anja looked up again at the nervous, fidgeting birds. "This leak," she said, "do not consider it your own weakness. Men are flawed and easily manipulated; disloyalty is inevitable - it is what we do once we know that defines us as leaders. That is where your responsibility lies."
Pienya twitched and looked over her shoulder, back towards the entrance to the aviary.
"My daughter is here," Anja stated. "We will continue this discussion another time. I hear that Roldan Stryke returned last night from the ice plains - seek his aid with finding the prisoner. He's an expert tracker."
With another small bow of her head, Pienya turned to leave, just as Kirya pushed her way through the swaying foliage. "Captain Martoc," Kirya said, somewhat startled and not seeming entirely pleased with the encounter.
"Princess," Pienya said simply. She paused long enough to acknowledge the other girl, then departed. They were both so close in age, Anja noted, both products of courtly life and her care, yet so entirely different. She knew that there was a rivalry there, almost as between siblings, and it was something she had allowed to develop over the years. For Kirya, Pienya was a constant reminder that anybody could achieve greatness through hard work and toil. Conversely, Pienya was kept in her place and away from delusions of grandeur by the simple fact of her birth and her inherent inadequacy compared to Kirya's bloodline. There was no friendship there, but they helped each other in spite of themselves, each pushing the other to new heights.
"Mother, have you heard?" Kirya exclaimed, evidently dropping Pienya from her mind. "The airship returned with Roldan and the explorer - they have arrived!"
Such youthful exuberance. "Of course I have heard," she said. "It is a wonder that the entire valley has not heard, given your father's excitement. It took all of my efforts to stop him from bursting into the man's chambers in the middle of the night."
"That would have been an unusual welcome."
"Fenris would have been most displeased," Anja said. "Your father is meeting with our new guest later today, I believe."
"Yes," Kirya said breathlessly, "I think Fenris was going to question him this morning, find out more about how he got across the mountains."
The queen took a few paces across the gravelled path, taking hold of a waxy leaf and rubbing it thoughtfully between thumb and forefinger. "I know you have both put much hope in this man's arrival," she said, "but exercise caution. There may be much deception in his claims."
"It all adds up, mother," Kirya insisted. "The way he was found at the foot of the cliff, broken ribs and frostbitten. His physical appearance, all the details he knows about the Headland and the oceans. Imagine! He's seen oceans."
"The condition he was found in is compelling, you are correct," Anja said. "Though could be the result of any idiot becoming lost on the outer ring. As for the details you speak of - stories are an easy product of an idle mind."
"I want to believe him," Kirya said, "and I can't wait to see him. I've never seen anyone with skin like his. I can't even imagine it."
Frowning, Anja sighed. "I still counsel caution, especially in that regard. Your father I fear has not fully considered the implications of this man's arrival and the risks of introducing him to the populace."
"Perhaps," Kirya said, shrugging, "but the risk in doing nothing and just carrying on as we are would be greater."
"You are probably right," Anja said, "but these matters often have consequences we are unable to see until we are committed and it is too late to alter course. The way being open to the south changes the fabric of our entire society. There will be ramifications."
Kirya would not understand, of course, her head instead occupied with theoretical possibilities and utopian scenarios quite unbefitting a practical queen-to-be. Her daughter's daydreaming and optimism would be her undoing, Anja was sure of it. If only she could absorb some of Pienya's practical rationalism and see the world for its awkward, difficult reality.
Rumour had it that the Barrier Mountains were open. This had never happened in Queen Anja Tellador's lifetime. It had not happened for half a dozen generations, at least, since the end of the war and the sealing of the valley. Scholars and geologists and theologians had long debated what had happened but all were in agreement on one inescapable fact: the valley was isolated and the mountains were entirely impossible to navigate. It was not a matter of skill, or endurance, or technology, but of active blockage and resistance. Paths of ascent would last only half a day before being destroyed by the overly volatile glacier, while blizzards would whip up without warning and smash airships upon the frozen cliffsides. Some said it was the unique shape of the valley, drawing in unusual air currents and forming cataclysmic weather anomalies; others thought it was remnants of old magic at work, actively altering the landscape to prevent successful traversal; some claimed it to be the will of the gods, those divine hands keeping the valley safe and secure and protected.
For Anja Tellador the truth always lay halfway between rumour and fact, legend and history, belief and science. The arrival of Tranton Seldon would settle some arguments and create new ones. Looking at her daughter, so unready and naive, she feared for the future of her line and the mechanical crown. Seldon had advanced and accelerated matters. They would need to move quickly, with surgical precision, to ensure that stability and power prevailed.