Aya actually took a step back from the bridge. Her grandfather, noticing her reticence, laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “she won’t do that to you.”
She gulped and with trembling hands moved forward over the slats. The world seemed to grow larger as she climbed the arc, the adults around her growing taller with it. The party that turned to her with cold eyes was looming over her. Their ill-concealed suspicion wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze. She’d hadn’t made it halfway across before it felt like her legs were about to give out from under her.
“Stand straight girl!” said her grandmother, cutting through the anxiety, “how am I supposed to get a good look at you if you’re clamming up?”
Aya did her best, and the woman’s strong hands took her by the jaw, turning it this way and that. Her eyes were as sharp and hard as struck flint.
“Hm,” she said, “you have her character. I hope that’s not all the proof you have, or this will be a short reunion.”
Aya, starting to visibly shake, looked back at her grandfather who nodded her on. It took her a moment to remember what she had in her pockets. She took out the bronze device, and the green cloth with the family tree. Nearly dropping it in the process, she handed it to the grandmother, who inspected it thoroughly.
“Ach, I need better light,” she said, “you, go, get me a lantern.”
One of the servants shot off into the house and in the meantime Aya sat before all six adults in the central pyramid. Her grandmother and grandfather, speaking in quick clipped Karkosian, seemed to be having an argument while the others sat awkwardly. Aya didn’t know the language well, but she knew enough to know her grandmother was sceptical.
However, that seemed to change somewhat when Fascili pointed to the table where her mother’s knives lay. At this, the other members of whatever panel they were having began to speak up fervently. The lamp was brought, the sygil and cloth once more examined by all presents, and finally, they turned to Aya.
“We have questions,” began one of the senior members, a man with a spear-shaped beard.
And thus began the most intense interrogations about Aya’s life and details of her journey. Quickly, it became clear which of the committee were asking questions to ascertain the truth, and which were trying to poke as many holes as possible. In the former, there were Asmund and Emtragora, one of the nephews and cousins of her grandmother respectively. In the latter, a man named Azia, also one of grandmother’s nephews and his wife Sahadra. Special attention was given to her relationship with her mother and how she’d come to Karkos.
Aya told what truth she thought was wise to tell, neglecting the details of her curse and status as a ‘Bequeathed’. This was reinforced by Lillian, sitting next to her, fingers laced together. She could see the knuckle whiten every time she drifted close to one of those topics, and tried her best to steer away from it.
Instead, she wove a tale about how she’d been taken as a ward for the church, and mere circumstance had brought her to Karkos. Quickly Azia seized on top of several contradictions that had seemed normal to Aya, and unleashed a vicious barrage of questions. Aya felt tears unbidden begin to well up as she tried to hold together her patchwork of a story as best she could.
“There’s no more need for this,” said Fascili, objecting to a particularly pointed question about the veracity of her mother’s gifts.
“There’s every need for this,” said Azia, “remember what happened last time?” “Watch your words, Azia,” said Fascili, his face growing dark for the first time, “they may be construed as an insult to your matriarch.”
Her grandmother sat silent, studying her intensely.
Once more, the assault resumed, even more sharp than before. It got to the point where she was struggling to get a sentence in before the next question was asked. There were questions she thought were pointless, that seemed designed only to outrage her, to smear her character in front of the family.
“And how did you pay for such a journey down with this committee of knights?” Sahadra said, “Surely they did not give you such food and shelter for free.”
At this, all the collective faces around the table darkened, and Lillian rose to her feet. Even the ‘moderate’ members of the committee gasped in shock at the question. It was all too much, her head was throbbing, the questions all melded together into mocking, jeering knives thrust between her ribs. It seemed the world was composed of sneering faces - unknowing and uncaring of her struggles.
There rose something in her heart, something blue and luminous, that snaked around her arms and neck, and settled there. She felt limbs embracing her, lifting her head, opening her mouth and-
“Get out!” she said, her voice cutting through the pyramid.
The entire committee froze, staring at the sudden display from the girl. Something from within drove her on, standing and speaking with a strength that she knew not the source of.
“All of you, get out!” she said, pointing to the entrance, “you too Lillian. I can’t speak with you breathing down my neck! If someone is going to judge me, it’ll be my grandmother, not strangers I barely know!”
The adults around the table looked between themselves, the debate completely ran into the ditch. There was a silence where even the servants looked uncomfortable where the only sound was the water dripping down the sides of the pyramid. Azia, now flush with anger, opened his mouth and inhaled, no doubt prepared to make some pronouncement of her character.
He was cut off by her grandmother, roaring with laughter.
“That’s right. All of you, get out!” she said, waving towards the entrance, “Get out now! She has the right of it. Me and Fascili will sit in judgement. That’s all we need.”
“But aunt, you… cannot-” began Azia.
“Excuse me?” said her grandmother, rounding on the man, “Do you think I am some senile old woman, unable to make her own choices? Do you?”
The man’s face went from red to white in a heartbeat.
“That’s what I thought. If you are going to squabble over scraps, go to the nursery!” she said, “In the meantime, I’ll clean up your messes. Like I always do.”
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The four of them got up, bowed, and left through the front. Lillian followed reluctantly, glancing back the whole time.
“You have some stones on you girl,” said her grandmother, still smiling, “marching into my home, telling members of my own family what to do.”
Her grandfather was smiling too, though that was not enough to keep Aya from sinking down onto the bench.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know where- I’m sorry,” she said, conscious of how stupid and impetuous she must’ve sounded.
“Don’t be,” said her grandmother with force, “when a snake coils to strike, do you feel sorry for pinning it? Of course not.”
“Matriarch, that last question was…” her husband almost whispered, “I understand Azia has the family’s interests at mind, but-”
“Completely inappropriate, verging on scandalous?” she said, “oh, the little fucker’s needed a lesson for a while now. Grown too puffed up on managing a mere fraction of the docks.”
“Matriarch!” she said, “what will Aya think of us if you use that language?”
“Aysatra!” she said, slapping him on the shoulder, “Aysa-tra! You haven’t forgotten your own wife's name? I swear Fascili, that formality of yours is going to take you five years too early. So keen for me to get a third husband? Who’ll even take a dried up hag?”
Her grandfather tried to suppress a smile, and failed miserably.
“You know full well you have more vitality than most women half your age,” he said.
“You see? He does have a retort every now and then, and even then it’s still too nice!” she said.
Aya, despite the tension in her chest, managed a giggle at the two of them.
“That’s the key Aya,” she said, “never marry a man early. They’ll suck the life out of you. You have children at thirty, when you’re the master of your own house? That’s how you keep the fires of youth going.”
She slapped a scarred hand on her chest, her husband nodding in agreement. Finally, she settled, pulling up her legs to cross them and looking hard at Aya.
“That being all said, there’s things you’ve papered over, my girl,” she said, “now, out with it. The whole story this time. No lies, no half-truths.”
So Aya told them everything, about the lines of light and visions, the terrible monsters in the woods, their flight, the paladins. Everything about the mage and his strange ways, and the battle at the village church, and the passage into Karkos. Both her grandparents looked troubled at everything, sharing several inscrutable looks as they heard her out. When she’d finished, Aya laid her head on the table, feeling hollowed out from the recounting.
“Well,” said her grandmother, “that was quite the trip. Fantastical even.”
The word stung, and Aya felt certain that she was about to be thrown out. She rose, preparing to apologise for wasting their time, that she would continue on out of the city. Before she could say anything, however, her grandmother pulled her into a hug so tight she could barely breathe.
“Oh, my little child,” she said in Karkosian, “Finally, you’ve found your way home.”
And just like that, the tension broke, spilling out into the floor as Aya began to sob. Hot tears scalded her cheeks as she was pressed into the soft cloth of her grandmother’s robes. Everything in the world, magic, paladins, monsters, all of it fell away in Aysatra’s strong arms.
“See?” her grandfather said, still sitting, “It all worked out.”
Aya had collected enough of herself to gently push herself away and wipe her eyes.
“Of course it did,” Aysatra said, hands on hips, “we knew who you were the moment you presented that sigil.”
“My love, you should be honest - you set your mind the moment you first saw her,” he said with a chuckle, “the rest was just reassurance.”
“You see, this is why I married him,” she said, “he still thinks I have enough sense to recognize one of our own. Unlike that snake.”
“Why did you-” Aya said, “why did you let them question me, if you were sure?”
“You come at a bad time,” her grandmother sighed, “you should know what you’re getting into. It’s getting ugly in the family, clamouring for my successor. As if any of them could do it half as well as me.”
“There are a handful,” said Fascili, “do be fair.”
“Fine, there are a handful of promising youths who could do less than half as well as me,” she said with a sneer, “but now that you’re here, during the Festival no less, all the dogs are going to break loose.”
“How so?” said Aya.
Her grandmother stared at her blankly.
“Succession girl! You are my granddaughter, and as such, you are my inheritor!”
Aya looked around at the pyramid, at the knives, at the glimpse of the outer buildings through the holes in the pyramid. All of this, all of it, would be hers?
“Oh,” she said.
Her grandfather moved past a gentle chuckle to a full on laugh.
“And that’s the final proof,” he said, “she didn’t come here even thinking about succession!”
“Well, she’ll have to think about it now,” said Aysatra darkly, “but that’s a conversation for later. Come on.”
She took Aya’s arm and began to lead her out onto the bridge.
“Wait, where are we going?” Aya said.
“It’s the middle of the night! And the festival begins tomorrow! We’re taking you to your bedroom of course,” she said, gesturing up at one of the towers, “surely you didn’t think we slept in the grand hall?”
“Uh…” Aya said, much to her chagrin.
“Sahia Aysseria! What did you teach our girl?” said her grandmother, throwing one hand to her head.
“You can take your mother’s old room,” her grandfather, “I’ll get a maidservant to take care of you.”
“Perfect. It’s one floor down from ours!” said her grandmother, “make sure you set out a bath for Aya as well. I’m sure she could use one after the journey she had.”
Her grandfather departed into the house, presumably to find the maidservant he’d talked about. Her grandmother practically dragged her up four flights of stairs without slowing down. She was led into a room larger than her entire house, divided in two to accommodate a large basin for bathing, and a room with the actual bed, which in itself was perhaps the largest single bed she’d ever seen.
Aya gaped at the assembly, with its curtains and wooden desks and large sliding doors leading out to a balcony that overlooked the entire city to the north.
“What’s wrong?” said her grandmother with a wry smile, “would you like something different.”
“I just- I couldn’t imagine my mother in… this,” she said, flapping her arms.
“Your mother was born into more wealth than most could even imagine,” said her grandmother, somehow standing even straighter than before, “a product of myself, for the most part.”
“Are these inlays brass?” Aya said in disbelief, looking at the shining metal accents on the desk.
“Please,” her grandmother huffed, “That’s gold.”
Aya couldn’t even make it past the ‘g’ syllable as she tried to capture the word.
“Adulterated gold, of course,” her grandmother said with annoyance, “too much exposure to the sea air up here to have pure gold. It’ll blacken like that.”
The snap of her fingers was so sharp that it made Aya almost jump.
“There’s a closet with her old clothes,” her grandmother said, indicating another set of sliding doors in the wall, “we’ll have to get them altered for you. In the meantime, we’ll find you something more fitting to wear, instead of that travelling wear.”
“Are you sure you should… I mean, is it right for me to have all of this?” she said.
“Aya,” her grandmother said, taking her by the cheek and looking annoyed, “all of ‘this’ is your birthright. Say ‘thank you’. Don’t second guess me, I think you know enough to guess I hate that by now.”
“T-thank you,” she said.
“Now, I think I have one final question,” she said, moving over to the bed and gesturing for Aya to sit beside her.
There was a strange look on the old woman’s face, which Aya couldn’t place. Pity? Sadness? Grief?
“I want to know,” she said, mulling the words over in her mouth, “what your mother has said about me.”
There it was - vulnerability, a woman so used to holding herself above that the lowering of her guard caused her physical pain. Aya cast her mind back to all the stories that her mother had told her about the woman that now sat beside her.
“Well,” she said, “mama always said that you were a bit strict, and you could be a bit scary sometimes. I think she undersold it a little.”
The woman smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Is that so-”
“B-but she also said that you were strong, that you always took great care with things, and you never rushed into anything you weren’t sure about. You always put family first, that’s what she said, even when it made you unhappy, or it was hard. She told me about how when people were questioning your… our family, you marched right in and silenced them by cooking a marsh serpent.”
The woman’s smile broadened.
“Damn right,” she said, “I could trade my soul to see the looks on those judges' faces again. How they screamed when they realised it was still alive.”
Aya giggled at the image her mother had painted. Somehow, with her grandmother’s addition, it seemed more real, more present than it had before.
“Well then,” her mother said, “I’d best go. There’s much to do tomorrow, and some people aren’t going to be happy about you. Better get ahead one step ahead of the wolves before they slip the leash.”
Aya watched as the woman walked towards the door, her shoulder slightly less square than before.
“Grandma,” she said, the words sounding so strange on her lips, “I don’t think… I don’t know what happened between you, when she left I mean, but… I know you didn’t want her to go, I think. But, she never spoke ill of you. Actually, she was always… fond.”
“Is that so?” Aysatra said, turning around.
The tender smile wasn’t the most shocking part of it, rather the tears that were shining in the corner of her eyes.
“Thank you, my dear,” she said, “it’s good to have you home.”
Aya was left on the bed, wondering if she’d said something wrong to the older woman. Soon however, she was being attended to by a maidservant, who showed her how to use the chute that streamed steaming water in from a tank on the roof. Aya, stripped her clothes with haste and lowered herself into the water.
The delicious warmth spread over her body, removing the grime of the days of travel. Muscles held rope taught with the tension of the meetings unclenched. She barely was aware of the maidservant, helping her out of the water, into a light robe, and under the covers of the bed. As soon as her head touched the pillow, her mind dissolved into a delightfully warm, dreamless bliss.