None of them, save Marija, laughed the way the girls did back home during our Bear’s Eve celebration. There didn’t seem to be any true joy behind their smiles. The setting and the way they appeared and acted seemed artificial to me. They might as well all have been wearing masks to hide Chademon faces.
“Not for me, I’m afraid.” I shrugged. “Back home …”
Marija looked surprised for a moment. “You have a woman back in Garik?” I heard a bit of amusement in Marija’s question. “Oh, hearts are crumbling already, and along with them the dreams of more than one destitute parent.”
“No, it’s not that.” I frowned at her. “Besides, I have two older brothers, and there is Kit, who can mend those hearts and rebuild those dreams.”
Marija smiled and winked at me. “Ah, I see now, Master Lachlan. Foist these minor nobles off on your brothers and Kit. Brilliant. And then you, at the Bear’s
Eve Ball, will charm one of the Emperor’s sisters. Which will it be, Nassia or Eriat?”
“Only your wit exceeds your beauty, Marija.” I folded my arms across my chest and shook my head. “A princess for me? Ha!”
Marija cocked an eyebrow at me. “You’re a bit young to be setting your cap for the widowed Empress.”
I shook my head and didn’t want to say anything more, but I realized silence wasn’t going to work for me. I grimaced. “The thing of it is, you see, I do not know how to dance.”
“You cannot dance?” It was Marija’s turn to be surprised. “But, even in Garik, you must dance on Bear’s Eve. You must, it is tradition.”
“Oh, yes, i can do that, but it is different here.” I pointed off toward the musicians. “They are real musicians, not Ferran Tugg from the Hollows and his brother Burton with their fiddles. And the dances—bits and pieces of them look familiar, but the music is different. I would look as out of place out there as a frog.”
Whatever she was going to say died as her face closed up. I turned to follow her line of sight, and 1 saw Kit swooping toward us like a stooping hawk. “Ah, Marija, there you are.” He held his hand out to her. “Come with me, Ugly Duckling, and I will make you a swan on the dance floor.”
“I a swan, and you my swain?” Marija shook her head. “I would have loved to, Master Christoforos, but”—she grabbed my hand—“your cousin has already asked me to dance.”
The surprise on my face registered clearly in Kit’s eyes, but he just smiled and acknowledged Marija’s trumping of his play. He turned from us and found another young woman to invite onto the dance floor. Marija started after him, pulling on my hand, but 1 held my ground. “I told you I would look like a frog out there.”
She came forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. “1 am not a princess, so that will not make you a prince, but I think it should be enough to make a dancer out of a frog. Come with me, watch Kit, and just listen to the music. Let yourself go—this is a celebration, after all.”
Marija was right in that under her tutelage I acquitted myself acceptably out on the dance floor. Of course, when compared to Kit’s flawless grace out there, my efforts closely resembled those of a scarecrow rooted in a field, but 1 enjoyed myself. After a few dances, Marija finally relented and let Kit lead her out into the swirling mass of people. While they looked exquisite together, I gathered from the expressions on their faces that they continued their verbal sparring throughout their dances.
Watching them would have been entertaining in and of itself, but Xoayya descended upon me in a rustling hurry and demanded 1 fulfill my promise to dance with her. Having no choice—but not really resenting the lack of one either—I led her out onto the dance floor. The musicians began a slow dance that required the two of us to move as one, and Xoayya proved a very capable and fluid partner.
As could be expected, holding her close, with my hand pressed to the middle of her back, 1 learned more about her—things I had not expected. Despite her petite body, she had a fair amount of strength in her arms and back. She moved in perfect time with the music and anticipated our turns flawlessly. That latter point could easily have been explained by her clairvoyant skill, but she seemed sharper and more focused as we moved together.
She smiled wonderfully. “1 love dancing. I just let the music fill me and carry me away.”
I nodded. “You do seem different out here.”
The joy in her eyes dimmed for a half second. “I can concentrate on the music, and that seems to hold some of the visions at bay.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
We twirled around and flashed past Kit and Marija before she explained. “In the City of Sorcerers they tried to teach me to clear my mind to let the visions come, but that’s not my problem. They come no matter what I do—often when I’m sleeping because my mind is less occupied then.”
I gave her a quick smile. “That makes sense. You can’t hear a whisper amid shouting.”
“Yes, but whispers seem to fill my mind, except, that is, when music or something else occupies me. When listening to music I possess my own mind.” She smiled bravely, but fatigue eroded the edges of the smile. “Was 1 mean to you when we met on the trail?”
I pulled my head back. “Mean? No. Perhaps abrupt, but not mean.”
“Good. I don’t want to be mean, and I can be. I’m so used to getting my way that I’m utterly unthinking at times.”
“And having snippets of other people’s lives parading themselves through your mind cannot be easy on you.”
“No, it is very confusing. And frightening.”
The music ended for that dance. Holding her hand, I pulled back and bowed to her. I was going to let her go, but she tightened her grip on my hand. “One more dance, please, Locke? Help me be myself for a bit longer.”
“It would be my pleasure, Xoayya, but dancing with me is not the only way to accomplish that goal.” I pulled her close again as the musicians began to play. “It strikes me that you can use music or other things to keep the visions under control.”
“Now I don’t understand you.”
“No surprise there, since 1 don’t really know what I’m talking about. However, I’m wondering about what they told you in the City of Sorcerers. If the visions come when the mind is clear, and if they don’t while your mind is occupied, perhaps you need to occupy your mind on purpose.” I smiled carefully. “In Garik we have a tune best known as the birthday song.’ There’s one verse for each year of a person’s life, and if you like the person, you only sing the last verse. If you want to have fun with them, you sing them all.”
Xoayya nodded slowly. “We have that here in Herak, too.” She hummed a bit of the tune. “1 hate the song because I can never get it out of my head.”
“Exactly.”
Her smile blossomed fully. “It would work, 1 think, though that tune is more torture than the visions.”
“Agreed, but there are other tunes, or you could do sums and products in your head, or memorize poems.”
“That’s a lot of work.”
“Isn’t possessing your own mind worth it?”
“That it is.” As the music stopped, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. “I think, Master Locke, you’ve just given me the greatest Bear’s Eve gift ever. I will find a way to repay you.”
“If this makes you happy into the next year and beyond, I will have been more than repaid.” 1 kissed her hand and surrendered her to Kit.
Marija looked over at me with a smile on her face. “So dancing with her wasn’t as difficult as you feared, was it?”
“Not at all, Marija, not at all.” I winked at her. “Of course, we were nothing compared to Kit and you.”
“Ha!” Marija nodded toward my cousin and Xoayya. “He’ll enjoy having danced with her because she’s much lighter on her feet than 1 was on his.”
The party itself continued late into the evening, with Kit and me having to assume full host duties when Marija took Grandmother to her chambers for the night. Fortunately for me, because I
was still exhausted from the trip to the capital, most of the guests started filtering out after Grandmother left. Those who remained tended to be people more Kit’s age, and I felt justified in leaving them to him as fatigue ground me down to nothing.
Though I dropped off to sleep the second my head hit the down pillows, slivers of Kit’s report to the Warlord haunted my dreams. I had no trouble at all visualizing a sable-coated lion-man stalking through the streets of Herakopolis. I saw his bushy black mane, long and luxurious, hiding his face like the shadow of a hooded cloak. Light from somewhere lit his face for a half second, showing me eyes that were nothing but cold, gold orbs. He flicked one hand out, and a reddish backlight washed through his eyes, then I heard a distant scream.
I sat bolt upright in bed. I knew what I had seen was a dream; it had to be a dream. Yet, even as I comprehended the differences between it and reality, I also discovered a nugget of truth hidden in it. The Black Shadow I had seen wore his mane full, not cropped in the manner of Bharashadi warriors. That meant it was a sorcerer.
Deep down inside I had no doubt that Kit had chased a Chademon sorcerer halfway across the Empire. Ignoring for the moment the disturbing portent of the Chademon having somehow gotten through the Ward Walls, I wondered why he had made his perilous journey. He appeared no more suited to wandering around in the Empire than I, as a virgin traveler in Chaos, would be to adventuring in his homeland. Most people would have assumed the Chademon would have come here to wreak havoc and spill blood, but this creature had been smarter than that. While his inexperience might have led him to make the mistakes that let Kit track him, his attempts at evasion and his desire to remain hidden marked his intelligence.
After all, had he been the cause of the destruction Kit described in the clearing with the dead wolves, what would have stopped him from using that sort of magick against Kit’s patrol? The only answer I could come up with was that the Chademon wanted to avoid another display of power that would make him easy to pinpoint. That meant he had a purpose in having come across the wall, and that his mission had not yet been fulfilled.
1 knew there could easily be a thousand answers to the question of why he had come into the Empire, and the Warlord’s caution about his possibly being of Kothvir’s brood made me doubly wary. Still ! knew the majority of people who braved Chaos did so for one of three reasons: greed, adventure, or revenge.
From what I had heard of Chaos, I would have imagined living there would be adventure enough for any Chademon. As far as revenge went, 1 knew Chademons created weapons with the image of their enemies on them, but I had not heard of them being mindlessly obsessed with pursuing their enemies. In at least two tales concerning my father I knew of Kothvir leaving him alone as Cardew went after the Storm demons and the Devils in Motley.
Stories of riches lost when Chaos swept over the world abound and become embellished during each retelling. Still, some expeditions were mounted into Chaos to recover items of power or great antiquity. Even in Stone Rapids 1 had heard rumors of covert missions into Chaos made at the direction of the Grandmaster of Magicks in the City of Sorcerers. Could it be that this Chademon had braved the dangers of the Empire to get back something he needed?
If he had, what could it be? I lay back down in my bed and forced myself to close my eyes. If he was powerful enough to break through the Wardlines and had come for something specific, could anything be reasonably expected to stop him?
9
I
returned to sleep, and, when 1 awoke again, the lees of my dreams made waking very difficult. Under normal circumstances, including the necessity of early travel with the caravan, I rose before the sun and felt as alert as a cat whose tail has just been stepped on. This morning, however, the sun had beaten me up by at least an hour, and it would have been easier to claw my way out of quicksand than to escape that bed.
The lingering impressions of my dream proved frustrating. Part of me felt they were right and true, yet I knew I had no proof of anything. All of a sudden I had a disturbing window on Xoayya’s difficulties in dealing with her gift—and she knew it was a gift and had some validity. I had no such assurances.
Conclusions that had seemed irrefutable in the middle of the night began to collapse in the light of day. I had believed my identification of the Chademon as a
Black Shadow sorcerer because of how it wore its mane to be confirmation of its existence. The fact was that I’d known about the difference between Bfiarasfiadi warriors and sorcerers since 1 was a child. Because there was a good chance the creature had used magick, endowing it with the proper grooming was nothing less than I would have expected in my dreams.
As with the discussion the night before, we had a handful of maybes. Raising an alarm because of my dream or the bit of Kit’s tale would be sheer folly. While Kit would undoubtedly humor me if 1 told him of my dream, it really had no value. If he were to include it in his report, he’d deserve the criticism that would come from his superiors. Decisions had to be made based on facts, not the wild imaginings of a provincial’s dreams.
1 considered possibly seeking out Xoayya and consulting her about the veracity of my dream, but 1 rejected that course of action. She had trouble enough determining what was true and predictive from what was not. Telling her enough to let her evaluate my dream would betray confidences. Worse yet, if Chademon images invaded her dreams because of me, she might raise an alarm and cause the panic all of us knew we had to avoid.
I dressed quickly in blue woolen pants and a thick, wool tunic with a plaid green-and-black pattern to it. Pulling on my boots, which Nob had succeeded in making look almost straight from the cobbler, I headed out of my suite and down to the warm kitchen.
Rose stood stirring a black pot of thick porridge as it hung over a fire. Nob stood beside her with an empty bowl, and she kept him at bay with stern looks. When she turned to face me and smiled. Nob dipped a finger through the porridge and plopped it into his mouth. He winked at me, and I smiled as Rose greeted me. “Top of the morning to you, Master Lachlan.”
“And to you, Rose. Nob, these boots are perfect. What do I owe you?”
The grizzled old man shook his head. “You owe me naught, Master Lachlan. My pleasure it is to do that for you. If you’re of a mind for a game, later…”
I gave him a big nod. “That I would like, Nob.”
“It’ll be a long day worn short before you’ve time to play, Nob.” Rose brandished her wooden spoon at him. “You’ve yet to finish painting the coach for Bear’s Eve, then you and Carl will be out delivering the Mistress’s gifts for Bear’s Eve.”
She turned back to face me. “Don’t you be letting this old fool tie up all your time. He has more than enough excuses not to work around here. You’re young, and you’re in the capital for the first time. You’ll be wanting to see much of it. Now if you go into the dining room, I’ll bring you your breakfast presently.”
I walked over to a cupboard and pulled a wooden bowl from it. “Please, just give me some porridge and a spoon, and I will be fine.” Rose looked a touch disappointed, but I squeezed her shoulder with my right hand to reassure her. “At my grandfather’s home I usually do the breakfast cooking, so I feel spoiled already. Were 1 to go to a special room to eat, I would be afraid to eat. Wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Seems to me I heard you say that about dancing, Master Lachlan. Even so, you proved quite adept on the dance floor.”
I turned toward Marija and struck a high guard with my spoon. “True enough, but on the dance floor I had an able teacher, and I was not required to use implements like a knife or spoon.”
Rose filled my bowl with porridge, then poured a lit-tie milk from a crock on it. She looked over at Marija. “Would you like your breakfast now, child?”
Dark curls covered her shoulders as she shook her head. “Not yet. 1 will have it after I return and take Mistress Evadne’s tray up to her.” Though already dressed for the cold in a woolen tunic and a long plaid woolen jumper, s
he reach for a thick black cloak hanging from a peg across from the hearth.
I hastily swallowed the first steaming spoonful of porridge and wiped a droplet of milk from my lower lip. “You are going out?”
“Aye, Master Lachlan. 1 am bound for the apothecary to get more of your grandmother’s tonic. As she wants to attend several of the celebrations leading up to the Emperor’s Ball, we will be using a bit more of it than usual.”
“1 see.”
Rose looked up at her husband. “Nob will walk with you, Miss Marija. Do his bones good to get them moving.”
Nob frowned, and I rescued him. “Actually, if you don’t mind, Nob, I would be happy to walk with Marija. It would give me a chance to see the capital. That is, if you don’t mind, Marija.”
“Why, Master Lachlan, I would be delighted to show you Herakopolis.”
“Good.” I looked for a place to set my bowl down but, seeing my distress, Nob plucked it from my hand.
“Be glad to help you with that, I would, m’lord.”
Rose did not look overly happy. “Nob, you’re a worthless old goat. At least fetch Master Lachlan a cloak.”
“Don’t get up, Nob. 1 forgot something up in my rooms anyway. I will go.” I darted from the kitchen and took the steps two at a time. Inside my suite I passed to the interior room. In the closet 1 saw a number of cloaks and selected one of dark evergreen with a hood. I fastened it about my throat with the silver clasp, then started back toward the kitchen.
I am not quite certain what made me think of it, but it struck me, as I passed through the middle of my sitting room, that to go unarmed into the capital was just the sort of mistake a joskin from the country would make. I pulled off the belt with my dagger and took stock of the swords racked beside the door.
Being a Garikman, and one raised by a Bladesmaster, I recognized the various different types of blades there and thought I saw a pattern to how they had been stored. All the way on the left, the furthest from the door, were the heavy, curved blades of sabres and scimitars. Those blades were well suited to crushing and slashing attacks, best if used from horseback in thick-melee battling. While I had not been trained with them formally, being only an Apprentice, I had listened well as Audin had instructed my brothers.
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