Page 21 of Among the Burning Flowers
‘I would not stake your life on it.’ Priessa made for the doors. ‘They must ready a coach for you.’
Marosa continued to watch the city, feeling its incessant shivering beneath her palms.
When Queen Rozaria had decided to raise the Palace of Salvation – a tower house like nothing the world had ever seen – she had hired the finest Hróthi masons to realise her plans. Those Northern builders knew what it was like to live on sleepless ground, for theirs was a land ruled by fire mountains, smoking with hot springs. They had carefully mapped the city, ensuring the foundations were built on solid rock, away from the abandoned mines that webbed Cárscaro. The tower had been made to stand the test of time, and so it had for centuries.
When Priessa returned, she was breathless and flushed, curls spilling out of her braiding cap. ‘His Majesty has ordered that we stay here,’ she said. ‘We are to wait out the earthquake.’
‘Then we shall,’ Marosa said. ‘Sit down, Essa.’
Priessa sank on to the bed. Marosa knelt before her and grasped her trembling hands.
‘My friend,’ she said, ‘it will be all right. We are safe.’
She had told herself the same tale for years; she knew how to make a lie sound convincing. Priessa mirrored her nods. She had comforted Marosa many times when she was frightened.
Cárscaro did not cease its shaking. Marosa and Priessa lay abed together, not wanting to lose their balance by standing, trying to sleep through the quivers and jolts. Marosa gazed up at her canopy, remembering every other small quake, all the way back to her childhood. Her mother must have been afraid, the first time she had felt one after her marriage.
At last, around two of the clock, Cárscaro fell silent.
A knock startled them both upright. Priessa unlocked the doors to admit Ermendo.
‘What news?’ Marosa asked him.
‘There is some minor damage to the city,’ he said, ‘but not to the Palace of Salvation.’
‘Thank the Saint.’ Priessa pressed a hand to her middle. ‘Is everyone all right?’
‘Yes, my lady. Some of the merchants have already taken their coaches and left, but I suspect they’ll be the laughing stock of Cárscaro once they’ve returned. True paragons of courage,’ Ermendo said drily. Marosa smiled. ‘Would you care for some wine, Donmata?’
‘Yes.’ Marosa rubbed her eyes. ‘Thank you, Ermendo.’
Priessa returned to her side, a little paler than usual. Marosa nudged her.
‘You see?’ she said. ‘It was nothing.’
‘I am not sure of that. First the Tundana, and now this,’ Priessa said, her tone clipped. ‘When you are crowned, you must choose a new capital, for all our sakes.’
‘Hush.’ Marosa laid a warning hand on her arm. ‘Do not imagine his death.’
Priessa glanced away, composing herself.
Ruzio soon came upstairs with honey wine, stuffed olives, and white cheese. Yscabel came after her with bread, followingher older sister, as usual. There was more than a decade between them.
‘Yscabel, you should go back to sleep,’ Priessa said. ‘Your night duties begin next year.’
‘I didn’t want to be alone.’ Yscabel curtseyed. ‘I know I must disappoint the Knight of Courage, but … the tremors frighten me, Lady Priessa. I would stay, if it please the Donmata.’
Yscabel had turned fourteen only the month before. When Marosa nodded, Priessa beckoned her to the table.
‘Very well,’ Priessa said. ‘Let us honour him with bravery now.’
By then, it was almost dawn. They ate and drank and spoke of gentle things. As they grew tired and made to recover lost sleep, a roll of thunder came, making the city shudder again.
Marosa returned to her window. Her ladies came to join her, pressing close on either side. She heard the rattle of tiles on the rooftops, then a rumble as deep as the mines beneath Cárscaro, making her lift her gaze to Mount Fruma. Before her stricken eyes, several large slabs came loose and tumbled down the slopes.
‘Saint be with us,’ Ruzio whispered. ‘What it this?’
‘A rockslide.’ Priessa kept a protective hold on Marosa. ‘The tremors must have caused it.’
