37: THE STAR COURT

(Therin’s story)

Returning to the Well of Spirals proved easy. If Doc missed anyone with Chainbreaker’s illusions, they didn’t call for guards. Neither King Kelanis nor Queen Miyane showed themselves.

But as soon as they passed back through the vané equivalent to a Cornerstone gate, Therin noticed a different problem.

This wasn’t Saraval.

They stood at ground level, and the weather remained temperate and mild. This city wasn’t burned, but had long since been abandoned. Great swells of ivy grew up over otherwise surprisingly pristine walls. It looked like the same city Doc had shown Therin using illusions, the Kirpis city he’d once ruled.

Valathea raised an eyebrow at her husband.

“This is the only undefended gate I know back to the Manol,” Doc explained. “Plus I need to pick up a few things.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it undefended,” Valathea said. “And Therin might be able to pass safely, but you won’t.”

Therin felt a flash of unease as he realized what they were talking about. The city had struck him as familiar the first time he’d seen it, but without the overabundance of wildlife and weeds, he hadn’t possessed the context to identify it. “Wait,” Therin said. “Is this Serafana?”

Both vané paused.

“Yes,” Valathea answered, “it is. I admit it’s upsetting to see it this way…”

“We used this place for practice,” Therin said. “I mean, the Academy sends students here to show them how dangerous wards can be. No one’s ever made it inside.”

“Yes, that’s because we didn’t want them to,” Doc said. “We always held out the hope we’d come back.” He scowled at the cityscape surrounding them. “It was either ward the place or destroy it.”

“While I’m thrilled you went with option A,” Therin said, “no student of the Academy has successfully breached the defenses here in five hundred years, and there’s a Quuros military contingent stationed here to make sure no one tries on their own.”

Doc shrugged. “Yes? Unfortunately, to return to the Manol, we’ll need a gate the Manol vané aren’t guarding. My palace is the only option.”

Therin started to ask how the Manol vané wouldn’t know about this and immediately corrected himself. If he had a secret way into another Royal House’s grounds, he wouldn’t have told them either. “This remains the most heavily trapped land in the whole world. How do we plan to get past all this?”

“You don’t,” Valathea said. “I do. And then I’ll lower the wards for you.”

Without waiting for them to respond, she began walking from the “building” where they’d arrived (really an outline of columns) toward what was clearly the palace. Everything was still and quiet, save for birdcalls and the wind rustling through the leaves.

“It’s fine,” Doc said, tapping the fingers of one hand against the palm of the other. “She’ll be fine. The Eidolons won’t attack her.”

“Eidolons?” Therin raised an eyebrow. “You mean the Watchers?”

“Sentries,” Doc said. “Wards. They’re—” He made a vague gesture toward a roof.

A statue stood there, as if watching over the city ruins. It resembled a giant hooded robe filled with nothing but shadow and darkness, so concealing that the figure within couldn’t be discerned. The stonework was cunningly wrought to resemble fabric. Even after centuries, it looked freshly carved. Two gigantic wings made from stone sprouted from the creature’s back. There were more statues besides—winged lions, serpents, gryphons. All of them seemed too new to match the city’s wear.

Therin recognized the statues from his short-lived student days. They stayed inanimate as long as no one trespassed into the city proper. Then they proved all too capable of devastating action. Every student knew stories about the poor idiots who thought they’d found a way to sneak into the vané city and came across the Watchers instead. And never came back.

One of the hooded stone figures began to move.

“Doc, they’re activating,” he told his friend. “I hate to point this out, but centuries of Academy student meddling might have messed with who these constructs recognize as safe.”

“What?” Doc looked over, surprised. “That’s not possible. Valathea is cleared to enter—” The statue spread its wings. “No!” Doc ran after Valathea.

“Oh hell.” Therin ran after him.

Valathea hadn’t gotten far. She’d paused at a broad thoroughfare, both feet on a rosette carved into the road. Ahead of her, a winged stone lion prowled the streets, tail twitching. To the side, the stone Eidolon they’d seen earlier approached. It clearly didn’t think she was a friend. “Terindel, no—stay back!”

“Like hell I will. The cleared wards have been reset.”

“Yes,” Valathea said. “I noticed. If only I could cast spells.”

Therin slid his sight past the Veil and looked at the creature. It was indeed stone, or rather a cement mixture of limestone and clay. Unfortunately, dealing with inorganic monsters wasn’t his forte. He did best with living monsters. And he didn’t know if Doc could use illusions on such a creature. Therin suspected no.

Therin looked around. There had to be something …

Trees. They were surrounded by trees.

Therin cast an unsubtle spell, wrenching a nearby redwood’s base, weakening the cell structure so the tree became too heavy to support itself. A loud, cracking boom sounded through the forest as the tree came crashing down. Toward them.

“This isn’t helpful, Therin!” Doc shouted. He grabbed Valathea and ran.

“No, wait!” she screamed.

Small lights bloomed into brilliance all around them, the entire promenade space filling with glowing threads reminding Therin of nothing so much as Watchmen trip wards. As soon as Doc saw them, he drew short, stopping just a hair’s breadth before he interrupted a magical beam.

The ground shook as the tree fell onto the path behind them, smashing the statue.

If only that had been the only Eidolon.

A robed stone Eidolon flew in their direction. As it closed, the Eidolon gestured toward Doc with both full, thick sleeves—still absent of limbs—and a massive flurry of delicate rose petals poured out. The huge mass moved like a living thing. Therin didn’t need to be told this wasn’t a good thing.

“If you have a plan on how to deal with this,” Therin shouted, “you might want to do it now!”

Doc looked back over his shoulder and spotted the crushed winged lion. “Therin, put your hand on the statue’s head!”

“What? But why?”

“Just do it, hag head!”

Therin wasn’t thrilled about this idea. Running back to the tree put him closer to the robed Eidolon advancing on their position, closer to the petal storm. But he had to trust Doc knew his business. Therin ran to the broken statue and set his hand on the lion’s forehead. A soft glowing light sprang up from the lion’s stone forehead, outlining Therin’s hand and highlighting his finger bones.

“Now what?” Therin shouted back.

“Now order the other statues to stop!”

Therin did … and the statues stopped.

They froze into position, hovering, every single one looking in Therin’s direction. The petal cloud paused midair, each delicate flake spinning idly in position even as the mass kept its shape.

The forest settled into quiet again.

“What just happened?” Therin retreated to Doc and Valathea.

“You were right,” Doc said. “Some enterprising Academy student must have modified the wards to allow Quuros royals to control the security grid. Except they didn’t turn off the previous restrictions. So the only one capable of resetting the wards was someone who’s both a blood relative of the Kirpis vané royal family and a Quuros Royal House. Which isn’t either of us.”

“Would you mind terribly shutting off the wards?” Valathea asked. “We shouldn’t stay here all day.”

“How do I do that?”

She pointed to the Eidolon hovering in midair. “Go tell it we’re your friends and are to be allowed access. Then tell it to reset the defenses to their original parameters.”

So Therin did this thing.

Afterward, they went down a stone-lined road to the main palace.

Therin found the condition of the grounds amazing. True, plants had grown up all over the place, with vines covering the buildings, but no plants had broken up sections of road or toppled walls. No stonework had degraded. Paint had faded, wood had rotted, any furniture had long since turned to dust and dirt, but the shell lay perfectly intact.

Once they entered the main palace, Doc held up a hand. “One moment. I’ll be right back.” He ran down a narrow hallway.

“Should we follow…?”

Valathea looked both concerned and curious. She seemed to have no more idea what Doc was up to than Therin did. “He’ll be right back.”

Doc returned a few minutes later, carrying a small metal box, the surface enameled to look like a starry night sky.

Valathea’s eyes widened. “The Star Court? You’re bringing the Star Court?”

Doc nodded as he shoved the entire box into his pack. “Consider it insurance. I think the time’s come.”

“What’s the Star Court?” Therin asked.

Both Doc and Valathea paused, as if they’d just been caught in an embarrassing and compromising situation.

“It’s a funny story,” Doc said. “Remind me to tell you sometime.”¹

“For now,” Valathea said, “the transport circle is this way. Let’s return to the Manol, shall we?”