Ch. 53 Letter from Greykeep

Chapter 53: Letter from Greykeep

By the third morning, Lexander had learned more about chimneys than he had ever wanted to know.

The master mason stood in the former nursery with a drawing spread across a table. Beside him, the heating contractor pointed to a narrow passage marked in charcoal.

“That one was closed when we altered the rooms.”

“With what?” Atreyu asked.

“Brick.”

Thor folded her arms.

“How much brick?”

The mason looked at her.

“Enough for a chimney that wasn’t supposed to be used.”

“That is a very careful answer.”

“It was a very ordinary chimney until this week.”

Lexander rubbed his eyes.

“Show us which openings remain. We’ll decide what needs changing.”

The man nodded, visibly relieved to be discussing something he could measure.

Tavin’s drawings lay beside the larger plan. He had prepared them in the infirmary with his uninjured hand, identifying every route he remembered being forced to explain.

At the bottom of the last page, he had written an apology.

Lexander had folded that part beneath the sheet.

The information above it had already helped them find a loose inspection plate outside the family corridor.

Io came in carrying Seraphina.

“Anything?”

“Three places to seal properly. Two to inspect from the roof.”

“And the new rooms?”

“Better.”

It was the answer they had agreed to give each other.

Better could be built.

Perfect kept them awake imagining things neither of them could yet name.

Seraphina reached toward the mason’s charcoal.

He moved it away.

She frowned at him.

Thor nodded.

“Brave man.”

The letter from Greykeep arrived with the afternoon dispatches.

It came between an account of road repairs and a complaint about the number of horses expected for the coming assembly.

The clerk placed it before Io.

“A royal courier, Your Majesty. He also carries copies of a declaration for the council.”

Io turned the envelope.

“Greykeep.”

Lexander looked up.

“We’ve heard that name rather often lately.”

“Usually attached to something improbable,” Loki said from the window.

Thor was sitting at the end of the table, examining a buckle that Bruni had somehow bent while trying on his new armor.

“What sort of improbable?”

“A restored kingdom. Gods taking refuge there. A court elsewhere becoming increasingly unhappy about it.”

“That sounds like a proper place.”

“It sounds expensive,” Lexander said.

Io broke the seal.

The room gradually quieted as she read.

There was a covering letter addressed to the rulers of Concordia, followed by several carefully copied pages announcing the establishment of Greykeep’s new pantheon and setting out its charter.

Uriah’s name appeared in the royal correspondence, with Evelyn’s beside it.

Among the divine names, Io recognized Aurelia.

She read the opening again, then passed the covering letter to Lexander.

“They’re asking the kingdoms to hear the terms under which they intend to stand together.”

Loki came away from the window.

“May I?”

Io handed him the charter when she finished the first page.

Thor put the buckle down.

By the time Atreyu returned with the inspection reports, all four of them were reading.

He stopped at the door.

“Bad news?”

“We haven’t decided,” Lexander said.

Io looked up.

“I wouldn’t call it bad.”

The letter described Greykeep as a home for those who had chosen to leave the old divine court. The charter gave that choice a structure: responsibilities shared among its members, protection for those living under their care, and terms by which they intended to deal with the mortal kingdoms around them.

It was a declaration with consequences.

Lexander could imagine the copies arriving in other halls.

Some rulers would see possible allies.

Others would see a change they had not authorized and discover, with considerable outrage, that nobody had asked them to.

“Othellos will dislike this,” Loki said.

Thor glanced at him.

“Has anyone found something he enjoys?”

“Being obeyed.”

“There we are. A hobby.”

Io rested her hand on the page.

“They’ve put their intentions in writing. That deserves an answer.”

Lexander nodded.

“And the council should read it before we promise anything in Concordia’s name.”

Thor leaned back.

“I’d like to go.”

Everyone looked at her.

“To Greykeep,” she clarified. “Look around. Meet them. See what they’re building.”

Loki lifted an eyebrow.

“An inspection?”

“A visit.”

“Should we tell them to hide anything breakable?”

“Only if you’re coming.”

They discussed it again that evening, after the twins had eaten and Ignatius had exhausted himself attempting to crawl beneath a chair.

Io sat at her writing desk with Greykeep’s letter open beside her.

Lexander stood behind her, reading the draft over her shoulder.

“Too formal?” she asked.

“You haven’t threatened to establish a subcommittee.”

“That’s in the second version.”

He smiled.

She dipped the pen again.

Thor stood near the window. Beyond the glass, Aurethar watched Bruni attempt to lift his newly fitted shield without knocking over a garden bench.

The bench lost.

Thor winced.

“That needs practice.”

Lexander glanced outside.

“The shield or the restraint?”

“Yes.”

Io finished a sentence and set down her pen.

“Listen.”

She read the reply aloud.

To King Uriah and Queen Evelyn of Greykeep,

We have received your letter and the charter announcing the formation of the new pantheon at Greykeep. Thank you for setting out its intentions and obligations so clearly.

We will place the charter before our council for consideration. With Concordia preparing the terms of a closer union between our kingdoms, we believe any formal response should be discussed carefully and recorded openly.

In the meantime, we welcome correspondence and the opportunity to learn more about Greykeep and those who have chosen to make their home there.

Thor has expressed a wish to visit, meet you and the members of your pantheon, and see the work taking place in Greykeep. If such a visit would be welcome, we would be pleased to arrange a suitable time with you.

Please accept our good wishes for your household and your people.

Lexander and Io

Thor considered it.

“Sounds as though I intend to spend the whole visit looking at masonry.”

“You did ask what they were building,” Lexander said.

“I meant all of it.”

“Then you can ask questions when you arrive.”

Io turned toward her.

“Do you want to add anything?”

Thor’s expression changed.

“Yes.”

She crossed the room.

“Another sheet.”

Thor did not sit down immediately.

She stood beside the desk, staring at the blank paper.

Lexander waited.

Eventually, she took the chair Io offered and picked up the pen.

Her first attempt left a blot.

She looked at it with obvious dislike.

“Don’t hit it,” Loki said from the doorway.

“When did you get here?”

“Before the ink began fearing for its life.”

Thor ignored him and drew the paper closer.

For several minutes, the only sounds were the scratch of the nib and Ignatius stirring in his sleep.

She stopped once.

Read what she had written.

Then continued.

When she finished, she pushed the page toward Io.

“I don’t know how gently to say it.”

Io read.

Her face grew still.

Lexander moved beside her.

The additional page was shorter than the formal reply.

Its handwriting was heavier.

Uriah,

I would like to visit Greykeep and see what you are building. I am especially interested in meeting the people who have chosen to stand together there.

Before any visit is arranged, there is something you should know.

Surtr is seeking Lexander and Io’s children. Their connection to the First Flame has drawn his attention. He has used agents, abductions, and old powers to reach them. We have reason to believe he wants them alive so that he can control what they become.

I cannot tell you that he has turned his attention toward your family. I can tell you that a kingdom gathering gods and raising children within their protection may interest him.

Be careful whom you trust with access to the children. Be careful with anyone who asks more about them than their work requires. Some of his servants appear ordinary. Some are not.

If you encounter his name, his agents, or anything you believe connected to him, send word. We will share what we have learned.

I would rather give you an unwelcome warning than wish afterward that I had written sooner.

Thor

Io read the final line twice.

Then she looked up.

“It stays.”

Thor’s fingers rested on the desk.

“I don’t want to frighten them for nothing.”

“You’re giving them what we would have wanted,” Lexander said.

Loki came farther into the room.

“Send a separate summary of the methods we can describe reliably. For Uriah’s guards.”

Atreyu could prepare that without filling a family letter with diagrams of flues and accounts of ash.

Lexander nodded.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Io placed Thor’s page behind their reply.

Both rulers signed the covering letter.

Thor signed hers again, more clearly, with a muttered complaint about pens.

They sealed the packet only after Atreyu’s account was added the following day.

Lexander watched the courier take it.

For the first time in several days, a message leaving Concordia carried something besides a request for help or an order to search.

Thor’s proposed visit caused an argument at breakfast.

She started it herself.

“I’m not leaving yet.”

Baldr looked up from his plate.

“No one said you were.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I was thinking about bread.”

“Think about the nursery.”

“I frequently do.”

Lisbeth set down her cup.

“Thor. We know.”

That ended the first part of the argument.

The second began when everyone tried to explain that a visit to Greykeep did not require her to abandon the twins.

Aurethar could remain near the palace. Baldr and Lisbeth could arrange their duties around the family rooms. Atreyu had already changed the guard rotations. Io’s protections were expanding as she learned which parts of the building needed them.

Thor listened with increasing irritation.

Finally, Fulla spoke.

“Go when the arrangements are ready. Until then, stop arguing with a journey that has not happened.”

Thor stared at her.

Loki smiled into his tea.

“That,” he said, “is why we missed you.”

Fulla passed Io the bread.

The captured remnant was moved that afternoon.

No one wanted it near the palace.

A stone inspection chamber on an unused branch of the old waterworks provided a better place. Water could run continuously through an outer basin while the sealed iron vessel remained secured within it.

Aurethar examined the chamber before allowing the move.

Loki examined it afterward.

Neither called it safe.

Both agreed it was better than a warehouse stove.

Lexander stood above the open access stair while the final guards took their positions.

“Can you learn anything from it without waking it?”

Loki rested his hand against the cool stone.

“Possibly.”

“Try that first.”

“A radical approach.”

“I’m full of them.”

The joking did little to conceal Loki’s fatigue.

Lexander waited until the workers moved away.

“Any answer from Fenrir?”

“No.”

“You left the message?”

“Yes.”

Loki looked toward the river.

“He may have gone before it arrived.”

Lexander nodded.

There was nothing useful to add.

The message had told Fenrir that the children were safe.

For now, that was what they had to give him.

The school exhibition took place four days later.

Lysandra had reminded Lexander twice.

The second reminder arrived in writing.

It bore no royal seal, but the handwriting had an authority of its own.

He kept his promise.

So did Io.

They left the twins with Lisbeth, Fulla, Baldr, and a collection of guards so substantial that Thor remarked the babies could probably have conquered a small town during their parents’ absence.

She accompanied them to the school.

Her presence produced immediate disorder.

Several students abandoned their exhibits to stare.

One boy dropped a wooden gear.

Thor retrieved it before it reached the floor.

“Yours?”

He nodded without speaking.

“What does it do?”

“Turns things.”

Lysandra closed her eyes.

Thor regarded the gear.

“A strong beginning.”

Lexander had not heard his sister laugh like that in days.

The school smelled of fresh paint, paper, and the food parents had brought to share. The library shelves had finally arrived. Someone had placed a small handwritten notice on them thanking the carpenters.

Lysandra led the royal party through the rooms with the practiced determination of someone who knew exactly how long each stop could last.

There were maps of the surrounding districts.

A model bridge.

A display of medicinal plants.

Three girls joined Lysandra near the assembly hall, suddenly shy despite what was clearly a considerable shared history of mischief.

Lexander recognized her friends and greeted them.

Io asked about their projects.

Within minutes, one of the girls was explaining why the model waterwheel had flooded a classroom.

“The basin was too shallow,” she said.

“The basin was a serving tray,” Lysandra corrected.

“It was the only thing available.”

Thor studied the little wheel with renewed interest.

“Could you make it lift something heavier?”

“No,” Lexander and Lysandra said together.

Io laughed.

Tavin stood near the back of the workshop room.

His injured fingers remained wrapped, but the contractor had brought him to see a display made by younger apprentices.

Lexander noticed him only because the boy tried to move out of the way.

He did not call across the room.

He waited until the visitors had shifted toward another table, then approached.

“How’s the hand?”

“Better, Your Majesty.”

“Good.”

Tavin looked down.

Lexander glanced at the model chimney on the table beside them. A student had made its smoke from teased wool.

“Did you help with this?”

“A little. The roof pitch was wrong.”

“Looks right now.”

The boy swallowed.

“Master said I should come.”

“I’m glad you did.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

Then Tavin asked, “Am I still allowed to work at the palace?”

Lexander looked at him.

“If your master sends you, yes.”

The boy’s eyes lifted.

“But I told them—”

“I’ve read your account.”

Tavin stopped.

Lexander kept his voice quiet.

“The men who hurt you are responsible for what they did. You helped us afterward. We haven’t forgotten that.”

The boy nodded once, hard.

Lexander let him return to the display.

Across the room, Io had seen enough to understand.

She caught Lexander’s hand when he rejoined her.

Neither spoke.

Lysandra’s address lasted less than five minutes.

Thor approved.

The students performed a piece of music afterward. One violin began too early. Another failed to begin at all.

They recovered.

Parents applauded as though they had heard a masterpiece.

Lexander found himself applauding just as hard.

For the first time since Fenrir’s warning, Io sat through half an hour without glancing repeatedly at the nearest door.

There were guards outside.

There were dangers beyond the city.

There were letters traveling toward Greykeep and delegates traveling toward Concordia, each carrying hopes and objections they would eventually place on a table.

For that half hour, there was also his sister standing among her classmates with pride shining through every attempt to appear composed.

When the applause ended, Lexander leaned toward Io.

“This needs to survive us.”

She looked at the hall.

“The school?”

“All of it.”

Children who expected to grow up.

Parents planning for next year.

People building things they might never finish themselves.

Io’s hand tightened around his.

“Then we keep working.”

They returned to find Bruni in the courtyard wearing his completed armor.

It was magnificent.

It was also missing the elaborate crest he had requested.

Lexander suspected the armorer had won a difficult negotiation.

Bruni stood very straight as Thor walked around him.

“Can you move?”

He nodded.

“Show me.”

He raised his shield, stepped forward, and turned.

Nothing broke.

Several watching craftsmen exhaled.

Thor knocked her knuckles against the breastplate.

“Good.”

Bruni’s face lit up.

“Like yours?”

“Better fitted.”

He looked so pleased that she did not add anything else.

From the stable yard came a familiar whicker.

Pip emerged beside a groom, walking with the intense concentration required to manage all his legs at once.

He saw Loki crossing the courtyard.

His ears pricked.

Loki stopped.

“No.”

Pip accelerated.

The groom released the lead before it tightened, exactly as he had been taught.

A moment later, the foal stood with his nose pressed against Loki’s coat.

Thor grinned.

“When I go to Greykeep, I’m telling them about this.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“I’m meant to describe what we’re building.”

“A slanderous account, apparently.”

“A family.”

The word slipped out lightly.

It landed more heavily.

Loki looked down at the foal.

Then toward the palace, where the twins were waiting, and farther still toward the roads beyond the city walls.

He rubbed Pip’s forehead.

For once, he had no reply.

That night, Io placed Greykeep’s original letter in the cabinet beside the union papers.

The charter would go before the council at its next sitting.

Their answer was already on the road.

Thor’s warning traveled with it.

Lexander watched Io close the cabinet.

“Do you think they’ll welcome her?”

Io considered the question.

“Until she starts testing their training yard.”

“Then?”

“They may write and ask us to collect her.”

From the adjoining room, Thor called, “I can hear you.”

Io smiled.

Lexander took the lamp while she checked on the children.

Ignatius slept with one arm thrown above his head. Seraphina had somehow worked free of one sock.

Io tucked it beside the cradle rather than risk waking her.

The new linen above the window stirred in the evening air.

Beyond it, Aurethar settled into the garden.

Lexander set down the lamp.

Somewhere along the road, a courier was carrying their names toward a king and queen they had never met.

He hoped the warning reached them before they needed it.

Then he leaned over the cradle, kissed his daughter’s forehead, and went to help Io put away the day’s work.