Chapter 173 — An Uneasy Wind
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
The rain began to fall harder.
The cold air brought ever colder rain, and judging by the weather of past years in this region, this might well be the last rainfall before the snows came. The Kant Domain had always been the rainiest place in all the south, and it was no exception now.
The raindrops had already merged into a curtain of rain, slanting across the sky with the wind, pouring over the wilderness, pouring over the towns, and pouring over the ancient outer walls of the Kant family's castle. The rain gathered into streams that ran down the dark red spires and black walls, mottled and pitted by the erosion of time, and in the ever-dimming light of day it took on a sheen like glistening black oil.
But the castle's thick outer walls shut out the sound of the wind and rain, and shut out too the ever-deepening chill. In the great hall of the old castle, magic-crystal lamps lit every corner. That shadowy, flickering quality that had once prevailed no matter how many lamps were lit had somehow vanished; now the whole castle was ablaze with magical light, and together with the roaring hearths and braziers everywhere, the family fortress was filled with an air of brightness and warmth.
Servants busied themselves everywhere, polishing tables and chairs, lamp stands and statues, making all these things of history and family glory gleam in the lamplight. They talked of the ever colder weather outside, of this year's harvest of grain and medicinal herbs on the domain, and of the distinguished guest the viscount would entertain today. The whole castle had been cleaned since two days ago, everything made new again—the guest's identity was no ordinary matter.
Then they saw the castle's old steward, Mr. Carter—advanced in years yet still nimble on his feet—come dashing down the stairs from the great hall, the head maid and head manservant at his heels. They swept through the hall like a gust of wind, racing toward the great doors, while the head maid called out loudly to the clumsy maids: "Put those buckets away at once!" "Don't leave the rags on the tables!" "Silly girl, get back to the kitchen! We can't have the duke seeing some low-ranking maid in a dirty skirt standing in the hall, do you understand?!" "Everyone back to your posts! The guest is here!"
Viscount Victor Kant descended the staircase from the second floor, and just as the steward was about to reach the doors, he came to a stop at the center of the hall—a position that let him spread his arms to welcome the honored guest after precisely the right distance, neither keeping the guest waiting so long as to cause embarrassment nor making the master of the castle seem as eager as a common servant.
The old steward reached the doors, drew out a handkerchief and carefully wiped his hands, while silently counting the time in his head, estimating by the hour the tower guards had relayed the message and by his own pace of movement just when the knock would come.
When he had silently counted to thirty, the great doors were struck.
A distinguished guest like the duke must not be made to knock a second time—even if the one knocking was merely the duke's coachman or guard—but neither could the door be opened at once, for that would be a breach of propriety. So Carter counted three more silently, and before the second knock came, he ordered the soldiers flanking the doors to turn the wheel.
The exceedingly heavy "family door," which could withstand eighty-two blows from a battering ram, swung open under the power of hinges and wheel, and in its creaking, groaning weight seemed to carry the three-hundred-year majesty of the Kant family.
And a man bearing seven hundred years of majesty stepped through the doors, the cold wind and rain swirling into the hall behind him.