A fortress the size of an ancient city greeted her. Violet caught her breath at the scale of the place that stretched out around her; she had never seen or imagined anything like it. Huge stone carvings made them tiny as they descended wide-set stairs that looked out onto views of interior courtyards. She caught glimpses of abundant gardens where blossoms rioted, while berries and apples and peaches fruited all together out of season. The length of one hallway had a ceiling covered with interweaving coats of arms. It was beautiful, like a forest canopy. Another was crowned with stars carved into the stone where the apex of arches met.
‘We call it the Hall, but it is really an entire citadel,’ said Justice. ‘Much of it has fallen into disrepair. The western wing is off-limits, and parts of the north are closed as well. There are whole sections and rooms where Stewards have not walked for centuries.’
In the distance, she could see the high outer wall, where pairs of white-clad Stewards patrolled, while three young men dressed in blue passed them. The simplicity and order that Justice had spoken of was all around them. Everyone here had a purpose, moving amid the beauty and tranquillity of the Hall as though they belonged to it.
‘This is the eastern wing of the Hall, where we live and train. Stewards rise at dawn and eat after the morning chant. You have missed the morning meal, but the janissaries have set aside some food for you both.’
They entered a room with a large wooden table, where she could glimpse what looked like kitchens. She hadn’t expected anything as simple as breakfast, but the moment that she saw the baskets and linen-covered foods on the table, she was suddenly ravenous.
‘Janissaries?’ she said, sitting down opposite one of the linen parcels and beginning to unwrap it. She breathed in the smell of fresh-baked bread.
‘The life of a Steward is strict. We seek perfect discipline, train continuously, and take vows of self-sacrifice and celibacy.’ Justice sat opposite her but did not eat; if what he had said was true, he had broken his fast hours ago, at dawn. ‘Not everyone with Steward blood wishes to become a Steward. Nor are all those who wish to become a Steward capable. Those who lack the desire or who fail the tests become honoured janissaries, not Stewards. They wear the blue, while Stewards take the white.’
‘Like Grace, and the young men we saw …’ said Violet. She remembered Grace showing her to her room, and the three figures they had just passed in the halls. The janissaries had looked as otherworldly and ethereal as Stewards, but they had dressed in blue, not white, and they had not carried swords. Her own tunic was a silvery grey, like those of the novitiates. Grey, blue and white, she thought. Novitiates, janissaries and Stewards. ‘Janissaries made this for us?’
Justice nodded. ‘Janissaries keep the knowledge of the Hall; they are scholars and artisans. They tend to the libraries, the artefacts, the gardens … It’s janissaries who craft our weapons, write our histories, and even weave our clothes.’
Violet looked down at the tunic she wore. The light silvery-grey fabric seemed like it had been woven by magic, not by human hands. The artistry of the janissaries was beyond anything she had ever seen.
And when she took her first bite of the breakfast, it had the same quality. It was simple fare, but more sustaining than any food she had ever tasted. The freshest bread, wrapped in a linen cloth and still steaming. Bright yellow butter newly churned, and the sweetest honey. There were six red apples in a bowl, and when she tasted one, it was more freshly rejuvenating than the cool, crisp taste of water in a forest stream on a hot day.
‘It’s as if I always thought food should taste like this, but it never did,’ said Will.
‘Some of the magic of the old world still lingers here,’ said Justice. ‘You can feel it in the food we harvest, the water, even in the air.’
It was true. Violet felt refreshed after only a few bites of the warm bread, and the honey melted on her tongue. Was this what the ancient world had been like? The colours brighter, the air cleaner, the food more delicious?
She thought about her family again, eating their breakfast in London. Did they know about this place? They knew what Stewards were. Tom had recognised them on the ship. And Simon … Simon knew about the Hall. His Remnants had chased Will here, until the Stewards had driven them off. But did they know about its magic, its bright-tasting food, the quality of the air?
She felt the pang of wanting to share all of this with Tom but knowing that she couldn’t, and fearing that he had known it all along and kept it from her.