25. Kew and Frin Go to the Oculus and See What There Is to See

Night soon fell on the palace. The only light in the stairs came from the small, scattered windows, and from the trail that only Kew could see, so when darkness came, they had to stop moving. They were hungry, but all they had was water. Each of them took a sparing drink. The night was very cold, so they curled up together against the wall, and Frin spread his extra clothes over them, and Kew spread his overgown on top of that. Before they slept, Frin squeezed his hand. He patted Frin's shoulder. Outside, the moon rose as chilly winds blew winter out of Grey, around Black, and into Blue and Red.

They were awakened not by sunrise but by their stomachs gnawing. In the dry environment of the tower, there were not even mushrooms to be had, and though they might eventually stoop to eating insects and spiders, all those they found were merely empty carapaces. After stamping and swinging their arms about for a bit to get the blood flowing, the boys resumed their climb.

The windows were larger and more frequent, but there was less to see. Fog blanketed much of the palace, with merely the tops of the highest towers visible. Only in Yellow was there sunlight.

A voice said Attention, loyal subjects. The boys skidded to a stop. There was a small brass tube coming out of the wall. The voice emanated from it.

On this twelfth day of the third month of the three hundred and fortieth year of the Willow Era, Her Ladyship has decreed that all residents of the palace must wear a yellow ribbon pinned to their left sleeve, in memory of those who fell fighting the forces of Blue Tower in the one hundred and eighth year of the Willow Era.

The announcement ended. Neither Kew nor Frin had anything yellow on them, but they tore a small strip from Kew's pale doublet and divided it between themselves to wear. How many other such decrees had they missed? Hopefully, everyone would understand that they were newcomers to the tower. And they went on.

To Kew's frustration, the trail began to meander. It ran up the walls, looped around, doubled back on itself, even ventured onto the ceiling of struts above them. As long as they were going in its general direction, he would not allow himself to worry too much, but even as he followed it intently, he resented his own determination.

They passed some doors. A few were locked. Some opened only on darkness. One led to a disused study piled with books and paper. Excitedly, Kew ran in, grabbed a pencil, and began to write a note to Frin on a scrap of parchment.

I'm following a trail. I know you can't see it, but I think if we keep

Frin interrupted by gently putting a hand over Kew's. He pointed at the paper, shrugged, and shook his head. Did nobody in the palace read except the Guardians?

Signing to let Frin know the next note was not for him, Kew took a different scrap of parchment and wrote We are looking for the Willow Lady. Can you help? This he folded and put in his pocket. Even if nobody ever read it, it was a relief to get it out. He had gone too long without communicating in words.

Some of the books struck him as odd. They were written in regular, geometric characters, quite unlike the books in Grey's small Archives, and they lacked pictures except for a black line drawing here and there—none of the extensive, beautiful illumination he was used to. He compared the word fire on one page to another instance of it on the page opposite. Except for some slight pooling of ink, they were identical. They seemed to have been stamped. The laboriousness of the process was absurd. Why not just write?

In the front of every book was another imprint. If found, return to the Library on Swan Level, North Face, then the familiar symbol of the eye. Knowing the location of the tower library felt good. It would be nice to be surrounded by books again—perhaps the trail would lead them there. And if not, maybe they could leave the trail.

Whoever had used the study left nothing more immediately useful. One or two empty green vials, but no food, no water, just signs of its occupant going out one day and never returning. Among the books piled on the desk was Being a True et Accurate Mirror of the Black Tower, written rather than stamped, and in it was a map. The light in the study was poor, so Kew motioned that they should go back to the staircase.

By the chill light of the winter sky he examined the map of Black Tower. It folded out to several times the size of the book, and had been added to and amended over many, many years by many, many different hands. All the principal chambers were clearly marked, including the Ballroom—but more important, the great central kitchens, and more important still, the throne room. The book only seemed to go up to the Apple Era, since it referred to the ruler of the tower by that name, but the Willow Lady likely used the same throne room. It was at worst a starting place.

Kew could not even begin to convey all this to Frin by signs, but he tapped the throne room on the map and started walking. The kitchens lay on the way; perhaps they could beg a dish, or even just some scraps. He did not pay much attention to the other great rooms, and only briefly wondered what the Oculus might be, though it was in their way. With some relief, he could now disregard the trail.

Another announcement began. They seemed to be getting closer to whoever was speaking; it was a little louder and clearer than before.

On this twelfth day of the third month of the three hundred and fortieth year of the Willow Era, Her Ladyship has decreed that every member of the Order of Websters be caned upon the left hand.

Grateful that this did not apply to them, the boys continued. The map, though detailed, did not show the staircase they were using. It seemed too insignificant for the cartographer, and had probably been built for maintenance, then forgotten. According to the map, the main route from the tower's bottom to its top was a much grander staircase called the Spine, and it looked more direct. Perhaps they could find their way to it.

Kew had to guess at where they were in the tower. Based on how many rounds they had already made, plus the distance since the Ballroom, he judged they were more or less on the level of the kitchens already, so the next time they came to a door, he tried it.

From the vibration in the air he instantly knew it was a mistake. But the door shut behind them and locked, trapping them in the same room as a Lady.

Kew and Frin found themselves on a narrow ledge before a chasm. On either side, the ledge sloped down and around the walls to meet on the far side of a vast space, as if they stood on the uppermost edge of a tilted hoop. Five banners hung from the shadowy walls above the hoop, one in each of the tower colors. Sunlight shone on them from an open circle a hundred or so feet up and across the chamber. It was, of course, the Oculus. The rays were divided by a gigantic head: a Lady, molded of jet and gilded. Had it not been for a thrum in the air, they would have taken her for a statue.

Her head had four faces, each pointing a different direction. Her eight eyes were closed. A three-tiered crown floated above them, as big as a house. Each face had once had its proper arm, but like the Obsidian Lady's, something had shortened them, and they were capped by gold filigree just below the shoulder. Heavy iron chains swooped from these caps to four equidistant points along the ledge where the boys stood. As their eyes adjusted, they saw that the ledge was marked all around with little golden lines and delicate words, but only Kew could read them and recognize the room for what it was.

They stood on the rim of the wheel of seasons itself. Almost as soon as he realized this, the Lady rotated her bulk just a bit. The chains clanked along. The wheel turned one tick, jarring them. Kew almost fell, but Frin caught him and pulled him back. The Lady took no notice. At best, they were ants to her. She was so large that her feet were lost in shadow far below, but her waist seemed level with the Ballroom: they had climbed for more than a day and only barely reached the level of her head.

Who did this to you? Kew wondered. Or did you volunteer? Was this the only way to bring the seasons under the tower's control? Perhaps she could slow or halt the Beast. Winter signaled its coming; if she turned the wheel back, forcing Grey into an earlier part of summer, that might buy them time. There was no knowing how long they had, but any little bit would help.

Kew started banging on the wall. Panicked, Frin grabbed his hand, but it was too late. Her eyes opened, each the size of a moon, and the hum in the air grew stronger.

Do you bring word from my sister? said the Lady. Whom am I to punish or reward?

Kew knew at once that he had not thought this through. Hurriedly, he flipped through Goodlie Instruction, hoping it would say something about the Beast. Nothing. He put it in his bag and took out the Grand Bestiary of Blue Tower . Somewhere in there was a picture of the Beast—yes! He held it up before her.

The Lady squinted. It was such a human thing to do that Kew and Frin nearly retched.

It comes, she said. That has not happened since last I saw the moon. What does my sister wish? Are we to take up arms against it? Why do the Guardians not act?

For a moment Kew felt the two memories at war within him, saw the Obsidian Lady riding the Beast to the ruin of Black Tower. No. Whatever the truth was, it had nothing to do with what he meant to tell her. He pointed to the grey banner, then to the part of the wheel marked summer, and mimed turning it backward.

Hush, she said, though he'd been entirely soundless. You confuse me. There is a light on your forehead that I can see. Let me reach you through it.

One of her pupils opened like a door, and a long dark tendril reached toward him. Frin flinched, but Kew felt oddly calm, as if this had been done to him before. He must have gotten some of the spilled light on himself, despite Sparrow's warning. How odd that nobody had mentioned it. The tendril reached his forehead, and all the vibrations in the air now seemed to emanate from his own skin.

Someone has been repainting your memory, she said. But I cannot tell you how without knowing what has already happened to you.

Her faces frowned in concentration.

Move the wheel back ? she said. I cannot without consulting the will of my sister. My sister is the Willow Lady. She is of a different dynasty than I. She is Willow. I am Iris. Iris no longer rules this palace. I have no say. You must ask her permission to shift the seasons. Do you understand?

He did.

I will let you take a message to her, then. Remember this, along with everything else.

As clear as an illumination in a book, he felt the memory of this encounter inscribed on his mind.

She will see this and know what you and I have said to each other. But, little Guardian, you will have already displeased her. You have released the Last Thistle from her punishment in the Ballroom. You have spoken to Ebony. And you have bargained with Obsidian. Whatever her daughter has promised you, whatever you have promised her daughter, she will not like it. The outer fiefs have no authority. Her daughter's actions, whatever the truth of them, are sedition. Unhappy the messenger who brings news of rebellion. I do not believe we will speak again.

The tendril brushed the hair back from his forehead.

There is an ancient kinship between us, said the Lady. The Towers of Grey and Black with their Ladies, the line of the Guardians, the Beast. It is an ancient mystery. I cannot tell you the truth of it, for it belongs to the Roses, to the time of songs. My heart aches with it. Yours will as well.

She withdrew her tendril. Her pupil closed again.

I cannot see the future, but the shape of the future is the shape of the past. The seasons are not the only wheel at work in the palace. I tell you what has happened before so that you may know what happens again. I turn this wheel with my own turning. But that other wheel you will turn with heartache.

The Lady closed her eyes, and the Oculus was silent in the cold sunlight.