Descending from her tree, Precious Wind went silently to the edge of the woods. The spy’s horse stood at the far end of a long curve, tethered near the road, and the spy led the creature a goodly distance farther away before riding back the way he had come. By this time the green moon was high. It was said to be bad luck to be out when the moon shone green, probably because everyone looked dead in its rotting light. The green moon, so it was said, dated only from the Before Time, the time of the Big Kill.
“Somebody down at Benjobz is interested in us, isn’t she?” Bear asked from behind Precious Wind’s left shoulder.
She gasped. “Idiot. Are you trying to scare me out of a year’s growth? I thought you’d be over there, on the other side.”
“I wanted to be sure everything was all right. How’s our little one?”
Precious Wind started to tell him what had happened, then stopped herself. This was, perhaps, one of those things best not talked of. What Bear did not know, he could not say. She contented herself with saying, “She’s a good little traveler. Uncomplaining. She helped hide the horses and she doesn’t fuss at the long ride. I think we’re well hidden.”
He stared at his feet for a time. “This has been a very strange journey, Precious Wind. There’s something going on here, something that wasn’t part of our bargain.”
“My only bargain was to protect Xulai,” she said calmly.
“If that is Xulai.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Why would you doubt it?”
He said bitterly, “At present, I do not. Being a Xakixa makes her unusual here, true, but why in the names of all the pantheon of Tingawa does she attract all this interest? It’s not as though she were the ambassador’s daughter! They told me she’s just a child, a family member, true, but of a distant branch, an orphan. At home, she’d be virtually a nobody.”
“She’s carrying Xu-i-lok’s soul.”
“And what does that mean to anyone who is not Tingawan? It should mean nothing! It does mean nothing! So why all this interest?”
Precious Wind considered what she might tell him. “Well, if someone went so far as to poison Xu-i-lok, that same person might wish to destroy her soul. I think that’s perfectly understandable.”
He stared at the sky. “Well, the orders I was given were clear enough that I can follow them without understanding them, otherwise I might let confusion lead me into error. Whoever is stirring trouble, or for whatever reason, all we have to do is keep her safe and take her where we were told to take her. Meantime, we should make defensive moves. At this stage that means spreading confusion among her likely enemies. We’re doing that, and if, as you say, Xulai cooperates nicely, I suppose that’s all we can expect.”
He yawned widely, gaping at the sky. “I doubt we’ll be visited again tonight. You three stay in the forest one more day and we’ll rejoin company at our stopping place tomorrow.”
“You’re sure that’s long enough?”
“It will have to be. The farther up the road we go, the narrower and steeper this valley gets. Black Mike’s been up this road before, taking Woldsgard birds to the abbey, and he tells me you’ll only have one more day of reasonably level ground among the trees. After that, we’ll need to keep to the road or let you females ride mules. They’re more sure-footed.”
“How’s Nettie and her so-called cousins?”
“No reason to think they’re not doing well. They’ll travel a bit faster than we can. They should be along tomorrow or the next day with the traveler either before or after.”
“Then I wish you good morning, Bear. If I’m lucky, I’ll get half a night’s sleep.”
They parted. Bear made his way up the meadow to his men, Precious Wind to her bed beneath the fallen tree with a feeling of relief that surprised her. She did not know what she would have said if Bear had pursued the question of the interest in Xulai. The answer she had given him was probably true. Perhaps she could merely have pointed out that the Duchess of Altamont did not need reasons to cause pain. Her own enjoyment in creating pain was reason enough.
They were asleep when a large owl came floating up the valley to circle above Bear’s camp for some time. Four bedrolls beside a covered fire were visible. The owl, who could hear a mouse move a single whisker, heard breathing from each one of them. She moved over the forest seeking other life, finding some creatures visible, birds mostly, and other creatures only detectable by their breathing or small movements, in hollow trees, under a fallen trunk, in a copse of trees. She flew down among the trees, searching. Nothing under the fallen tree trunk but a family of wildcats; nothing in the copse but deer.
Blinking slowly, without volition, the owl flew back down the valley to Benjobz Inn. In the forest beside it, she lit upon a low branch. The woman before her stared into the owl’s eyes. The owl, unable to move, thought of what she had sensed. The woman stared more intensely, hurtfully, digging deeply. The owl was first gripped by terrible uncertainty, then by terror, then by hideous pain as the woman snatched her feathered neck, grasped her head in one strong hand, and twisted . . .
Pain over, everything over, the feathered body dropped to the soil, where Alicia, Duchess of Altamont, stamped upon it furiously before striding back to the inn. Alicia really preferred liars. People who lied to her gave her excuse to terrorize and torture them, but the damned innkeeper had told her the truth! The child and her nursemaid had gone back to Woldsgard! They must have gone by while Alicia was taking her alternate route from Altamont, the route that nobody knew of but herself and Jenger, and a few of her guardsmen. So she had missed the ones going to the abbey and two mounted troops as well, both of them headed toward Wellsport; so said the innkeeper.
It was infuriating. Of all things in life, she loved having her own way, but it pleased her more to have it when someone else opposed it. It didn’t matter whom she was vying against, or even whether they knew they were vying. It could be a bet on cards, a horse race, a plot to take over a kingdom. Any of these could involve an opponent who was fun to squash like a bug or even more fun to deal with deliberately, torturously, at excruciating length, best of all if they didn’t know why! The delight of their seeking a reason, their frantic attempts to understand! Their despair when she told them there was no reason. So amusing when they realized she needed no reason except her own desires. She had looked forward to dealing with a lying innkeeper, looked forward to pursuing an irritating Tingawan presence, even to the very walls of the abbey. The innkeeper hadn’t lied; the girl and her caretakers hadn’t gone to the abbey, though possibly, only possibly, the man called Loppy might learn otherwise.
She would wait for Loppy to return before she gave up all hope for the amusement she had planned. And even if it were true, it would mean only a slight delay before she could find the girl and her guardians and kill them all. Perhaps when she returned to Altamont she would create a new Big Kill, one of her very own. Or perhaps she would wait until she went to Woldsgard, as wife of the duke. She would make him watch. Though it might work best to wait until she was his widow. Before he died, he could spend endless days tortured by her description of the deaths that would follow his own.
Wilderbrook Abbey was deceptive at first appearance. As the reunited animals, people, and wagons came up the last pastured hill toward it, they saw first only the clustered bell towers fingering the sky. When they were a bit nearer, they saw a massive structure extending for a mile or more behind an even longer, though lower, wall. As they came still closer, they saw that the wall had its foundations at the bottom of a huge, circular depression in the grassland, one that curved away from them on either side, circling the abbey and continuing beyond it into the forest. The walls, for they were multiple, were very high, dotted with guardsmen along their lengths; the lands they enclosed were extensive; the depression was very deep—too deep, too wide, and too water-filled to be crossed except by way of a bridge.
There were several bridges. A leather-clad man on horseback beckoned to them from t
he outer end of the nearest one. As they turned toward him, he motioned toward the drawbridge and portcullis between the fourth and fifth of the huge stone piers that supported the structure. As they approached, the drawbridge rumbled down. The mounted man led them across, ironclad hooves and iron-sheathed wheels beating a reverberating tattoo upon the timbers. The narrowly grated portcullis rattle-clanged up into its recess in the thick wall, just high enough to clear the wagons, barely allowing time for Abasio’s wagon to follow the rest before it thundered down behind him. Once through the wall, however, all this noise had gained them access to only a wide, curved corridor between the outermost wall and a taller, inner one that was no less heavily guarded. The two walls had a wide space between them, enough that they had no trouble turning the wagons to the right to follow their guide.
“There are three ring walls,” the man called over his shoulder. “None of the gates are in a line. Different gates and bridges go through into different parts of the abbey. The outliers told us you were coming, and you’re expected down this way.” They went along the gentle curve for some time, passing various lowered portcullises before another gate presented itself on the left. When entered, it folded them between two walls, as before. This time they turned left for a short distance, then right through a gate leading onto a paved court, only a tiny corner of which was needed for all five wagons.
Xulai opened the carriage door and slid wearily down, followed by Precious Wind and Oldwife. Even after Nettie and the Farrier brothers had rejoined the party, Bear had maintained the fiction that the other three women were not with them. Each night they had slept apart, either in the carriage or in the woods. Each night, some animals had been separately picketed. One night, when Precious Wind had asked Xulai if she wished to tell the animals they were deer, the child had said, “No, why would I want to do that?”
“You did it before.”
“I did? I don’t remember that. Why won’t Bear let us sleep nearby?”
“Don’t ask me to explain it,” Bear had said rather sharply. “Just humor me by pretending not to be with us for a day or two more.” In truth, he found her an uncomfortable presence, easier to manage thinking about at a distance.
Now people bustled around the wagons. From the top of a flight of stairs, the prior, glittering with gold embroideries, came down to introduce himself and welcome them. He took Xulai by the hand, and she had to force herself to leave it in his grasp. It was not rough, it did not hold too tightly, but something about it made her feel revulsion.
His voice was deep, full of charm, his smile almost believable. “We’re glad to welcome you, Daughter. The Duke of Wold and our dear abbot are old friends.”
Xulai had watched him descend. He was of middling height, about the age of her cousin Justinian, though he walked swiftly, surely; his hair was white, but there was a lot of it, as neatly trimmed as the beard that rimmed his narrow face; his eyes were watchful. His robes were actually white but the golden veil attached to his high crowned hat and the gold embroidered stole hanging down the front of his robe made him glitter in the sunlight. Xulai found herself wondering if he went anywhere without them. To the privies, perhaps. If such a man used a privy. “I am very grateful for your welcome, sir.”
“Elder Brother,” he corrected her, with his ever-so-slightly stingy smile, his hands stroking the fall of gold along his robe. “That is what we all are here, brothers and sisters, elder and younger, who make sons and daughters of the youngest ones. Some of us are given to books, some to music, some to the land, some to crafts, and some to arms. The abbot himself is Eldest Brother, of course.”
“Was it your people we saw riding toward the falls?” she asked. “Did my cousin send word of some kind?”
The prior looked up, his eyes focused on something beyond her, brow furrowed, “Well, I . . .”
“If you know, please tell her,” said Precious Wind a bit snappishly. “She’ll worry over it if you don’t.”
Xulai flushed. She hadn’t meant to ask him anything. She wished she hadn’t. “If it is supposed to be a secret . . .”
The prior licked his thin lips, obviously deciding what to say. “By all the spirits and virtues, no, child. I just don’t want to upset anyone needlessly. I believe the duke sent word to the abbot saying he had an . . . an intimation that Woldsgard might be attacked. He asked for reinforcements from us. He said his people have been at peace so long, they have grown fat and lazy and may have forgotten how to fight.”
“Had he any intimation of where this attack might come from?” asked Bear.
The prior licked his lips again. “Perhaps something was said about Kamfels.”
He’s lying, thought Xulai.
Bear and Precious Wind shared a glance. “Siblings at war?” murmured Precious Wind, too softly to be heard by anyone but Bear. “Is the Duke of Kamfels teasing his sister again?”
“Or perhaps helping her,” whispered Bear. He looked deeply into the prior’s eyes. “Elder Brother, your people would have been there only shortly before a great number of the king’s men. The two troops were separated by only half a day.”
The prior nodded, his mouth twisted, as though he had bitten into something sour. “Well, yes, so we heard. In any case, the troops of Prince Orez were there before either of us. Our men went back to Netherfields, and the king’s troops went on, I believe, to Kamfels. Perhaps Justinian, Duke of Wold, intended a show of force. Though I believe he informed us later that the rumor he had heard might have been false, a feint, perhaps, to keep Wold off balance, or to diminish the strength of his friends by moving men into places they were not needed.”
And that is a lie, thought Xulai. The rumor was true, and the invading force came from Ghastain, but . . . what were the men from here supposed to do? Fight them?
“Oh, we do hope the duke did not weaken his friends,” said Precious Wind with sham concern.
“No, no. The abbey has not been weakened and any of our people not needed in Netherfields will soon return.”
Before anyone else could speak, Xulai said in her most childish voice, “Do we have to talk now, Elder Brother? I know you’re very busy and we are very tired.”
The prior nodded, grateful for her interruption. “Of course you’re tired. From the look of all of you, you would probably relish baths and something besides camp food. Our brothers and sisters have everything ready for you and you’ll talk about any of these other matters with the abbot himself tomorrow.”
He beckoned. A pair of white-robed, blue-veiled people came toward them, trailed by a brown-robed brother. “Will you all please stay here with Brother Rahas”—he indicated the brown-robed one—“just long enough to sort out the baggage you need? Then, Brother Pol, when they’re unloaded, if you’ll show the men the way to the stables, help them care for the beasts, and then show them the way to the men’s baths and their rooms? Sister Tomea will take you to your rooms. Xulai, Daughter, we don’t have your permanent quarters ready, but you’ll be comfortable in temporary ones.”
“Elder Brother?” said Xulai in a voice dripping with weariness.
“Yes, Daughter?” he replied, his eyes still focused somewhere else.
“The lady who died at Woldsgard left some of her beautiful court clothes for me to have when I am grown. They’re in a crate in the bottom of the dray. They’re all sealed up so moths can’t get at them, so please, ask your people not to open the crate. Can it be put away somewhere until I’m older?”
The prior leaned forward, reached out with a vague motion, as though to pat her shoulder or head, abruptly withdrew, and called out: “Did you hear that, Brother Rahas? You’ll take care of it? Good.”
The brown-clad brother nodded agreement, then went among the horses, looking them over, while other brown-clad people began unpacking the wagons and stacking the goods as Oldwife directed. When the things they would need immediately were separated from the rest, Sister Tomea led the new arrivals and half a dozen brown-clad porters up the steps onto t
he terrace, right along it, then left through an arch, down a corridor that became a long cloister with numerous doors on the right, one for each of the arches on the left that opened upon a garden full of fruit trees, roses, and a tall, plashing fountain. At the end of the cloister an iron gate blocked their way. The sister unlocked it, carefully locking it behind them as she remarked, “This is a secured area,” while proceeding toward another gate that stood open. Beyond this was a wide foyer with several heavy doors, one of which opened into a cozy, many-windowed room with padded chairs and an iron stove. In addition to the entry door there were two others, one leading into a small courtyard, one into a hallway separating two bedrooms and a steamy room almost filled by a huge wooden tub.
“How’n all the world do you keep that warm?” asked Oldwife of the sister. “Must take fifty buckets, at least!”
Sister Tomea smiled. “Outside that wall is a pipe that comes from a hot water spring deep under the abbey. It runs in and out constantly, keeping itself warm. When we want to clean the tub, we block the inflow and let it cool before we run the water off into the gardens.”
“You have these all through the abbey?” asked Precious Wind.
Sister Tomea shook her head. “Not all through, no, but enough of them that everyone has access to a tub. Here in the secure guest quarters, there’s one bath for our lady guests and one for the men. The men must share theirs, but since we have no other female guests at present, you ladies will have this one to yourselves until your house is ready.”
“Our house?” asked Xulai.
The sister nodded. “There are a number of houses by the back wall, in the enclosed meadows. Originally they were built by certain families who wanted to live here at the abbey.”
“Or who wanted their elderly men and women to live somewhere else,” said Oldwife, clenching her teeth.
The Waters Rising Page 20