Those Above: The Empty Throne Book 1 by Daniel Polansky Read Free Book Online Page B

apart from those unfortunates living on the lowest Rung, were marked at adolescence, though it was only here at the summit that tattooing had been elevated to an art. The markings of the lower Rungs were crude things, proof that the bearer was allowed to remain within a certain proximity to Those Above, each Rung and section of a Rung having different symbols – three variously sized stars, twisted lines on an oval. By contrast Calla’s own brand was a minor masterpiece, the red sun a composite of garnet-based ink, the hawks outlined in gold leaf. At a glance, anyone living on the First Rung could tell by the colour scheme that she owed obedience to the Aubade, and from its intricacy that she was a servant of the highest rank. She hid it beneath blue robes that accentuated her features without drawing overmuch attention to them. Checking herself in the mirror one final time, Calla decided that she liked what she saw, or at least accepted it, and slipped on her house shoes as if to leave.
    But before doing so she walked over to one of the bookcases and lifted a volume off the shelves. She took a long look around the room before she did so, knowing it was foolishness, that there were no peepholes hidden in the walls, that her sanctuary was inviolate. And even if someone had walked in on her, what would they have seen? Most of the rest of the servants were illiterate, or nearly so, and of course the Lord and his kind had no books, did not entirely understand their purpose even. Still, it paid to be careful – what she held in her hands might get her killed, and not swiftly. A quick flip through to make sure the words hadn’t run away since the night before, then she buried the book back in with its siblings. For years she had kept it hidden beneath a loose stone in the floor, before realising it was far more conspicuous to constantly be moving two clove of stone than for one more tome to join her collection.
    Satisfied, Calla opened the door and started briskly on her way.
    She had ground to cover – there were towns in the hinterlands between Salucia and Aeleria that were smaller than the Red Keep, and cities far less impressive. Calla had never left the Roost, but her lack of experience, in this case at least, did not make her wrong. There was nowhere in the world to compete with the paradise Those Above had built, and one did not need to have visited every backwater burg to know that for a truth. One needed only to open one’s eyes.
    From Calla’s room it was a twenty-minute walk to the kitchens, though of course if you were unfamiliar with the terrain it would have taken far longer. With most of the staff still asleep she felt the dignity of her office could survive a light jog, her footfalls muffled by finely woven carpets, down long corridors of red brick, windows overlooking the gardens or the bay itself. Once morning came, assuming it did not look like rain, the house servants would open the thousands and thousands of glass apertures, and the sun would flood over the intricate stonework, and the wind would carry in the fragrance of fresh flowers and salt water. But in the evenings and when the weather was foul the Lord preferred his own, carefully crafted scents, and in the predawn hours incense simmered in small bronze bowls hanging from the ceiling.
    First, Calla paid a quick visit to the kitchens, making sure that everything was in readiness for the Lord’s feast. He took a light breakfast by the standards of his kind: three courses of small plates, a round eighteen dishes in all, plus sherbet to cleanse the palate, tea and several different juices, depending upon what had been available at market the evening prior. Besides the head cook herself there was a specialist for the pastries, one for the meat, one to see to the beverages and a handful of other culinary adepts of whom the Lord made infrequent use, not to mention any number of half-chefs and assistants and attendants.
    The head cook was an elderly,