Wystwood

16. Tower and tarnished chain

The wheels spun circles down the cobblestones, filling the morning air with a steady beat as the caravan trailed through the city. The clattering of wood against stone mingled with a rising chatter as people moved through the streets, occasionally darting across the road in flashes of dyed cotton and stitched leather.

Min said the easiest route to the Este Lyceum would have been along the city wall, although Florentin seemed desperate to arrive as quickly as possible, meaning that they were now trundling through the very centre of Wysthaven. Ada couldn't see too clearly from her position by the window, and Min kept having to tug on her hood so that Ada's face was hidden to passersby. But that didn't lessen Ada's wonder as the city opened before her eyes into a grandeur unlike any she had seen before.

Where the outskirts of the city had been tinged with dust and streaked with soot, the inner streets had buildings that soared into the sky from beds of polished cobbles. Here there were shops for hatmakers and ribbon weavers, their signs framed with gold leaf and their windows paned with crystal glass. There weren't mice in the gutters or chickens tied to gate posts, but cats that slunk beneath eaves of smooth marble.

A narrow canal had sliced up the city's two districts, and the wooden bridge that marked its crossing had quaked under the caravan's weight. Their horse had been nervous to pass at first, despite the water beneath the bridge being stagnant and seemingly void of life or lustre. But after Florentin coaxed it across with a jolt at its reins, the horse had gladly trotted across the gleaming cobblestones, none of which bore cracks or crevices worn in from years of hurried boots.

The streets were more confined within the inner city, and Ada winced more than once when the caravan wheels only narrowly missed a child playing by the pavement. Min ignored it all, and sat cross-legged by the window, staring solemnly at the opposite wall. Her hands were clenched, as though she too wished to spring up and stare at the passing city, but every time Ada chanced a look outside, the girl's face worried into lines.

Eventually, Ada sat down too, and Min relaxed slightly, eyelids falling shut as their shoulders rested against one another's. A curtain fluttered across from them, and Ada stole brief glimpses of Wysthaven; russet brick, umber beams, and long fig vines speckled with flower buds. She devoured each sight with ravenous eyes, and when the scent of baking bread steeped the caravan in a mellow warmth, she struggled to distract herself.

"I'm sorry I spoke so harshly last time," Ada began. "When you let me listen to the wind, I mean. I wasn't really angry with you, I just didn't understand. I still don't." The caravan bumped up against the pavement. "It's scary, you know. Being here and not knowing a thing."

It felt awkward to say at first, but when Min's eyes flickered open and she smiled, Ada was glad she had spoken.

"I can try to explain a little now if you want," replied Min, glancing at her father's swaying back. She lowered her voice so that Ada could scarcely hear her over the clattering wheels, "What do you want to know?"

Ada's almost laughed, wondering where she should even begin. "Well, your magic I suppose. We can't do the things you do where I come from."

Min thought for a moment, then pursed her lips before wobbling to her feet. She rooted around in her corner of blankets, before turning a pillowcase inside out and withdrawing a beige pocketbook. Min loosened a knot of deep purple twine wrapped around it and riffled through the pages as she walked back to Ada.

"There are all kinds of magic," Min said, showing Ada what looked like a very untidy, handwritten contents page. "Common magic is everywhere, a bit like a massive blanket across the whole world, except it never moves. Anyone can use it, like in names and dealings and stuff. But its weak, and you can't create anything physical from it, it's just sort of there."

Ada could just make out the word 'naming' written near the top of the page, but Min was already pointing further down the contents list.

"But there's also agrestal magic, which is much trickier to do and lots of people used to study for years and years to get right. It works using the natural world, and you bring out a magic in the elements. You know, like in plants or the wind," said Min with a toothy grin, her chest puffing out.

"So the agrestal magic is what happened yesterday, with the calendula flower?" Ada asked.

"Uh'huh." Min nodded. "It's like, I already know that calendula naturally helps wounds and pain, but with magic, I can make it do more. I can change it, encourage it to close a scratch rather than just soothe it."

"Right," said Ada, who wasn't actually sure she understood at all. But Min let her sit in silence, putting together what she had learnt with what she had seen so far in Wysthaven.

Ada wasn't even paying attention to the city pass outside the window until she felt fingertips at her elbow, and found her view was blocked by Min, now crouched in front of her. The girl's eyes were wide, and she reached up a finger to pry back the curtain.

Ada was first struck by the sky, which opened up like a vast ocean swept with stippled seafoam. The sun caused spots to swirl against her vision, but after blinking them away, Ada could make out the shape of a looming tower. It was taller than any other building she had seen within Wysthaven, soaring up into the air and out of view. No houses were built nearby, for another canal ran around its base, separating it off in the very heart of the city.

Stone archways ringed around the tower, similar to those built into the city's outer wall. Above them was a scattering of empty windows, though some were only a slit within the stonework and looked as if even moonlight couldn't slip between their edges. Ada narrowed her eyes, gazing upwards as though she could make out what was living behind their shadows.

But Min was pointing past the windows towards the farthest side of the tower, which was disappearing from view as the caravan trundled past. Protruding from the highest point of the tower was what appeared to be a wooden plank, though it ended after only a few feet. A short stretch of chain was secured beneath it, swaying serenely in the valley wind high above the city, and attached to its final link was a thick grey loop.

"The iron necklace," Min whispered. "Once your neck has been caught in the choker, the last thing you'll see is a city you'll never walk again."

Ada shuddered at her words, and each low syllable seemed to quiver in the air before being drowned out by a distant clamouring. At first, Ada thought that the sounds were the cries of some lost child, mistakenly parted from their parents many roads over. But the closer she listened, the more strangely certain she became that it was coming from the strung up chain of coarse and tarnished iron.