That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day. -- Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Kilan saw Death everywhere. Not as he had when he was barely more than a boy and searching frantically for any sign of her, whether she was there or not. Now she was definitely there, a movement in the shadows or a face in the crowd almost everywhere he went. Sometimes she moved closer to whisper a sarcastic observation in his ear while some boring dignitary was rambling through a speech. Other times she walked beside him through historic buildings, telling him about their history and making it sound much more interesting than any of the guide books did.

Qihadal knew she was there. Kilan had seen the brief frown that crossed her face when Death appeared. But she said nothing, and he wasn't about to broach the subject.

Today, almost two weeks into the royal tour, there were no speeches to make, no dinners to prepare for, and no events to attend. Kilan felt as if he had spent the last few days with a weight on his shoulders, and only realised it was there when it was removed. These days with nothing but sightseeing to do were few and far between. They had been Gialma's idea, strangely enough.

"No one can spend an entire month travelling without any rest," the prince had said, and the other Counsellors had shrugged and added days marked 'no events' to the itinerary.

Kilan had never thought he'd be grateful to his cousin for anything. But he had to admit that in this matter at least, Gialma had more sense than he had thought.

The fortress city of Nirurashou had been built on an island many centuries ago. In the years since then it had gradually expanded until it was too big for the island. Now the banks of the river surrounding it were covered with streets and buildings and houses, while the historic city centre was the home of the most expensive shops and most well-to-do people. Two bridges on either side of the island connected the city centre with its outskirts. And built on the highest part of the island was the old guard tower.

Years ago guards had been stationed in this tower all the time. From its top they had been able to see for miles around. No enemies could escape being seen, whether they came over the land or on the water. From the lower windows guards could look down on the city and be sure that all was well. Its streets were laid out in a regular pattern, all leading to the guard tower, so the guards could see all the way down to the wharves without having to patrol the city.

Now new and improved guard towers had been built on the outskirts of the city, and the old tower had become only a museum and tourist attraction. Kilan wandered around it that afternoon, looking at the old weapons and artifacts on display. Death walked beside him, occasionally pointing out something of interest.

"That's the old kyolam[1]," Death said, pointing to a massive metal horn, now cracked and rusted, standing in a display case on its own. "It could be heard for ten miles around. It took years for any enemies to reach the city without being frightened away by that horn."

Once Nirurashou had been the capital of a small kingdom separate from Carann. Kilan knew only some of its history. But he suspected that the majority of the enemies trying to get into the city had been the armies of his ancestors.

"How did someone eventually get in without the guards raising the alarm?" he asked, looking out the window. They were two floors and several flights of stairs away from the top of the tower, but he could still see far into the distance.

"Partly through the cleverness of Princess Casíar," Death said. "She was one of your ancestors, you know. Her mother the Empress put her in charge of conquering Nirurashou by fair means or foul. And she was partly helped by the carelessness of the people. It had been years since anyone had come close to attacking the city. They began to feel that there was no reason for them to go to the bother of standing guard and keeping their weapons prepared. They became sure they were invincible. They thought no one could ever reach them on their island. But Casíar left her main army miles away, and crept closer with a select band of her most trusted soldiers."

As she spoke, and as he looked down at the city and the peaceful countryside beyond it, Kilan could almost imagine he saw the events of so long ago playing out before his eyes.

"What did she do?" he asked.

The sort of history he had been taught had primarily been about events of more recent reigns. Until now Casíar had been just a faceless name on his family tree. But aren't all family trees like that? he thought. They only listed names, usually with the date of births and deaths. There was no mention of how those people had lived, and hoped, and fought, and died. No mention that they had been people, real people like the ones alive today. Would that be his fate after he was dead? Would he become just a name on the page of a history book, all his joys and sorrows, his victories and defeats completely forgotten?

Death moved to stand beside him at the window. Kilan realised then that no, he wouldn't be completely forgotten. No one ever could be, when Death still remembered them centuries after the end of their life.

Death continued her story, unaware of the turn Kilan's thoughts had taken. "Casíar and her soldiers dressed up as peasant farmers, stole boats full of produce, and sailed right over to the island without anyone ever noticing a thing. They spent several days here, carefully noting all the weaknesses in the defenses. Then she sent her soldiers back with a message for the officer she'd left in command. She stayed in the city alone.

"The guards had become lazy. They would never attack a city by night, and they never thought anyone else would. So every night they went home, leaving only one guard to watch from the tower. Casíar knocked the guard out on the night she'd chosen for the attack. Her army sailed up the river and landed at the wharf. No one sounded the alarm. When the people woke up the next morning, their city had been captured. And it's been part of Carann ever since."

Silence fell for a minute. Kilan almost fancied he could hear the soldiers arriving in the wind whistling around the tower.

"So," Death said abruptly, turning away from the window and consigning the past to the page of history, "what do you intend to do today? Stay here for the rest of the afternoon?"

Kilan was pulled out of his thoughts of long-dead soldiers and back into the present. "Qihadal's gone to visit some sort of craft fair," he said. "It sounded boring to me, so I came here instead. The mayor told me that there's a very old temple somewhere in the city, where the bodies of some of my ancestors are buried. If it's not too far away I'd like to see that."

Death laughed. "Kilan, are you forgetting who you're talking to? Nothing is 'too far away' for me."

She held out her hand. Kilan took it. The guard tower, the ancient artifacts, and the view from the window all blurred and vanished. For one fleeting yet endless moment the two of them were in a vast emptiness, with a barest hint of movement lurking in the darkness around them, and then they were safely on solid ground in an old crypt. Kilan blinked to clear the spots from his vision. Travelling through the Void was something he would never get used to.

This form of travel came as easily as breathing to Death -- more easily, in fact -- and so she wasn't bothered at all.

"Here we are," she said. "Look to your right and you'll see the grave of your great-great-great-uncle Irlinfed, and to your left lies your eighth cousin Itaril. Look at the names on the other graves and you'll see that the vast majority of them are other Caranilnavs."

Casíar's body was not here. She had died in a long-ago war, and no one had been able to identify which body was hers. What remained of her probably lay under some farmer's field, far away from the city she had conquered and for a time ruled. But the other Caranilnavs buried here were interesting in their own way. The inscription on one tomb read "Duke Jihon, ruler of the city for one hour". What had happened to Duke Jihon, and why did he only rule for an hour?

Death burst out laughing when Kilan asked her this. "I'm not surprised you never heard that story," she said. "It was quite the family scandal at the time. Jihon, fool that he was, got drunk at a celebration in his honour and decided he could fly. He jumped out a window to prove it. It was a fifth-storey window."

Kilan tried to wrap his mind around such an idiotic action. "Was he one of the mad Caranilnavs?"

"Oh no." Death shook her head and gave an unsettlingly wide grin. "He was one of the sanest ones of his time."

~~~~

Qihadal, for whom history was of very little interest, had spent a very enjoyable day wandering around the craft fair. She saw many interesting and unusual items, ranging from small statues carved from precious jewels to a necklace made of mirrors. More importantly in her mind, she met many people not only from the city but from other provinces, and spoke to them face-to-face.

Some of the things they had said had given her a long list of questions to put to Tinuviel and the High Council. It appeared that unfair prices were a fact of life in much of the empire. Qihadal decided while she spoke to a young artist that she would do something about this if it was at all possible.

At last she left the fair and returned to the hotel. How and where Tinuviel had spent his day, she neither knew nor particularly cared. Doubtless he would tell her about it later. But she had no sooner stepped through the doors of their room than she was confronted with a most unpleasant spectacle.

It wasn't possible in this hotel for the royal couple to be given adjoining rooms. Instead they shared a room, but almost unconsciously had divided it into sides. The right side was Tinuviel's, and the left side was Qihadal's. On the far wall was a door that opened onto a balcony. Now the door stood wide open. Tinuviel and Death sat on the bench placed against the balcony's railing, deep in conversation.

Qihadal closed the main door. Its "click" made the other two look round. Tinuviel had been laughing at something Death said. The minute he saw Qihadal, the smile vanished from his face.

Obviously it was useless to try to reason with Tinuviel. But Qihadal would not let this conduct pass unopposed.

"Anyone on the street could see you," she said coldly.

Tinuviel didn't seem inclined to answer. Death answered for him.

"No, they can't," she said. "Those flower baskets there--" she gestured to the baskets full of brightly-coloured flowers that lined the outer side of the balcony, "--block the view of anyone standing below."

There was nothing more Qihadal could say to that, and she certainly didn't intend to stay here and watch their little tête-à-tête. She held her head high as she turned and walked out, a very unhappy woman, but a proud and dignified empress.

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] kyolam = A sort of horn used to sound an alarm. If enemies were sighted, the horn would be blown to call the people to arms.