The Master of Heathcrest Hall

by Galen Beckett

  One of them gave Eldyn a nod. He returned the gesture, then headed into the dormitory. At the end of the long corridor, he found Orris Jaimsley in a room with two others. Knowing them all to be in Jaimsley’s confidence, he reached into his coat and took out the leather tube.

  “I don’t know if it’s angels that watch over you or daemons,” Jaimsley said with a laugh as he reached across the table where he sat and took the tube. “Either way, there’s none better at giving the redcrests the slip. You get by them every time. How do you do it?”

  Now that the ordeal was over, Eldyn’s prior alarm vanished, and he could not help feeling an immense satisfaction. “I’m just lucky, I suppose.”

  “Oh, I have a feeling it’s more than mere luck that helps you escape the notice of the soldiers.”

  Now Eldyn’s dread suddenly returned. He felt a compulsion to glance down and see if some of the shadows still clung to him, but he did not dare. “What do you mean?” he said carefully.

  “I mean,” Jaimsley replied with a crooked grin, “that you are far too modest, Garritt. It’s not luck that gets you past the soldiers. It’s cleverness and skill. Your feet are nimble, and so are your wits. I should have seen at once that you were suited for this sort of work.”

  Eldyn let out a breath, his pleasure returning. “I’m just glad I can be of help to Somebody.”

  Jaimsley did not open the leather tube, but instead put it in a drawer. “And if we all can serve his cause as well as you, then I’m sure Somebody will soon be here in Invarel to thank us all himself.”

  “And to buy us a drink!” one of the other young men said. He had a boyish face and sandy hair.

  “Indeed, he’ll owe us that much,” Jaimsley said. “But in the meantime, we’ll have to manage on our own. I do think this occasion calls for a drink. Can you aid us, Brackton?”

  The sandy-haired fellow took a bottle and a cup out of a cupboard. He filled the cup, and they passed it around. The whiskey was fiery, but Eldyn took a big swallow anyway, and felt his nerves settle a bit.

  “Good man,” Jaimsley said, handing the cup back to Brackton. Then he smiled and gave a wink. “Now, I think you and Miggs here have some business to attend to, am I right?”

  Evidently they did, for the two departed at once, leaving Jaimsley and Eldyn alone. Now it was Eldyn’s turn to be impressed. Jaimsley wasn’t much to look at: skinny, already balding, and possessed of a nose that was as large and bent as were his teeth. All the same, he had been the most popular man at St. Berndyn’s College, and it seemed nothing had changed in the interim.

  “All you ever have to do is grin,” Eldyn said with a laugh, “and everyone readily commits to whatever bit of mischief you’re scheming. They all happily follow your lead and do as you say.”

  Jaimsley did not return Eldyn’s laughter. Instead, he looked down at his hands. “Talinger and Warrett didn’t do as I said.”

  “Perhaps,” Eldyn replied, his voice solemn. “But they did follow your lead, didn’t they?”

  “I told them to stay away from Covenant Cross that day, that I had a feeling things were going to take a bad turn. Only they just couldn’t listen, damn them. No, they had to go there.”

  “Because you were going there. As I said, they were following your lead, just like we all do. Besides, I’m sure Talinger was determined to face off against the soldiers, what with that hot Torlander blood of his.”

  “No, it wasn’t Talinger who was the instigator,” Jaimsley said, looking up with blue eyes. “I think, if it had been just him, he would have listened to me. It was Warrett who was bent on going that day, and once it was clear he was, Talinger wouldn’t be left behind. When the redcrests showed up, I told them to keep behind the crates. But then the soldiers fired the first shots, and a man from Highhall went down. When that happened, Warrett ran out from behind the barricade.”

  Furrows appeared on Jaimsley’s brow. “It was the strangest thing. You know Warrett—there was no one as mild, or as bland, I might say. But at that moment there was a look on his face, a fury such as I’ve never seen before. I suppose anger can stir even the dullest man into passion. He ran straight for the soldiers even as they were reloading their rifles, as if to tear them apart with his bare hands. Talinger ran after him, brave idiot that he was, calling out and trying to stop him. Then the soldiers fired, and I saw both of them fall not ten feet away from me. Warrett’s face was half gone, and Talinger had a hole in his chest you could have put a fist through. God, but it was an awful sight.”

  He drew in a breath and fell silent. Eldyn felt a chill creep up his neck. It seemed impossible that a man usually so placid as Dalby Warrett could be moved to such a violent fervor. In a way, it terrified Eldyn to consider it. How many other men who had heretofore seemed dull and ordinary would now be stirred into action of the most extreme sort? And how many of them would lose their lives like Warrett and Talinger? Again Eldyn saw the flashes of light, the clouds of smoke, and the bodies crumpling to the ground.

  “I saw the blood on the cobbles,” Eldyn said softly, “but I had no idea it was theirs.”

  Jaimsley looked up, his frown deepening. “Were you there, Garritt? If so, you never told me.”

  “I mean I saw it in the impression, that’s all,” Eldyn said hastily. “The one that was published in The Swift Arrow.”

  “Of course,” Jaimsley said. “I’m not sure what I’ve ever thought of that sort, though I suppose it was nothing kindly. But if I met the illusionist who made that, I’d shake his hand. That picture brought more than a few lads who were sitting on the wall over to our side of things. It’s one thing to read about something, but to see the soldiers standing there over the corpses—well, it made more than a few realize they couldn’t just stand on the side anymore. They had to join the fight.”

  Eldyn stared, trying to think what to say.

  “Well, go get some rest, Garritt,” Jaimsley said first. “You’ve earned it. I have no idea if tomorrow is to be a short or long lumenal. I suppose only God knows these days, if even he really does. But either way, I’m sure I’ll have more work for you once it gets dark.”

  “Get some rest yourself,” Eldyn said.

  Jaimsley nodded, but then he began looking over the maps and letters on the table, and Eldyn doubted that he would. Leaving his friend to his work, Eldyn headed out of the dormitory. A different pair of men stood by the door. One touched a finger to his brow in salute, a gesture which Eldyn returned, though he felt a bit peculiar doing so. It was not as if he was a soldier.

  Except he supposed that he was, even if it was messages he carried rather than a rifle. Important information could turn a battle, just like a well-aimed shot. Besides, if he was caught in his night work, he would be hung just like any rebel who wielded a gun.

  Eldyn climbed the steps of Butcher’s Slip, then pulled the shadows around himself as he walked down University Street. He might not be carrying secret messages at present, but he still had no wish to be accosted by soldiers and questioned as to why he was out at this hour. No doubt he could have found a place to flop down at the dormitory, but despite the late hour and the swig of whiskey he felt peculiarly awake. He was tempted to stop at a tavern to see if another drink or two might rectify the problem.

  Only the taverns would all be closed by now. By order from the Citadel, all drinking houses were to close four hours after dark, no matter how long the umbral might be.

  It was just as well. He should get back to the theater. Riethe had been sitting with Master Tallyroth when Eldyn left, and though the bighearted oaf would never admit it, Riethe was sure to need a break by now. They had all taken turns staying with Tallyroth lately, for his breathing had grown labored. Often he needed help sitting up on the chaise so that he could get air in and out of his lungs.

  Just as Eldyn turned onto Durrow Street, a pale glow appeared in the east. The sky hardly had time to linger upon gray before it was painted with pink light. Just like that, the night changed to dawn, as qu
ick as it might onstage during an illusion play.

  Eldyn went around the back of the theater, said good morning to one of the large fellows they had hired to watch the door, then went upstairs. It was not Riethe who was with Tallyroth, but rather Hugoth.

  “I sent Riethe to bed a few minutes ago,” Hugoth said. “I was afraid he’d nod off and fall out of his chair.”

  “That was good of you,” Eldyn said. “It would be like Riethe to land on his face and break his nose.”

  “Not that it could make him any homelier,” Hugoth said with a grin. “But I wouldn’t want the clatter to wake Master Tallyroth.”

  Eldyn’s gaze went to the chaise. The master illusionist reclined upon a heap of fringed and embroidered pillows, his thin form covered with numerous blankets. His eyes were shut.

  “How is he?” Eldyn said quietly.

  “Resting. His breathing has been a little easier tonight. I don’t know what Madame Richelour put in the last potion she gave him, but it seems to be working. I think he’s been dreaming about conjuring illusions. His hands keep moving beneath the covers.”

  Eldyn could only smile. “He’s probably directing us in a bit of new staging. Would you like me to sit with him for a while?”

  “No, I’m fine. You go get some rest, Eldyn. Who knows how long the day will be? And we have a performance tonight.” The older illusionist sighed. “Or rather, we might have one.”

  Hugoth didn’t have to explain further. The Citadel had already limited the times when taverns could stay open, and coffeehouses as well. No doubt they were seen as likely incubators for the seeds of revolution, or places where illicit thoughts might flourish. Many felt it was only a matter of time until Lord Valhaine shut them down completely. And if the taverns were shut down, could the theaters be far behind?

  So far, though, no such order had come down. Not that it would matter if business continued to dwindle as it had these last days. Ever since the news of Huntley Morden’s landing, the soldiers in the city had been too busy to attend illusion plays. If the ticket receipts didn’t improve soon, the theater would have to shut its doors no matter what the Citadel might order. Already several more theaters on Durrow Street had gone dark. Less than half the number of houses were open compared even to just a few months ago.

  Hugoth returned to the chair to sit next to Master Tallyroth. Eldyn left them and went up to his little room on the topmost floor. The excitement of the night’s work had finally faded, leaving him weary at last. As he opened the door of his room, he could not help for just a moment picturing Dercy lying on the bed. No matter how tired Eldyn might be, anytime he saw that sight he had been filled with renewed energy.

  But the room was empty, and chilly from the night. Eldyn took off his boots and laid on the bed, alone. He shivered, but before he could bother to pull the covers up, he was asleep.

  WARM SUNLIGHT was streaming through the window by the time Eldyn woke. He put on his boots and went to the sideboard. There he poured some water from a clay pitcher into the basin and splashed it against his face. After that, he surveyed his appearance in the small silver mirror on the wall. How long he had been asleep, he did not know, but by the state of his hair, it had been some time.

  He dampened his fingers and used them to comb the tangles from his dark hair, which was getting long again, then bound it behind his neck with a ribbon. This done, he went to the window and looked out. People and horses and carts moved on the street below, and with all the bustle it might have been any normal day in the city. Except that, upon second glance, a large number of the people going to and fro were not merchants or washerwomen or boys selling broadsheets, but were in fact soldiers, the morning light glinting off their brass buttons and the bayonets on their rifles.

  Eldyn’s skull throbbed, none too gently reminding him that he was overdue for a cup of coffee. A glance at the sky above the rooftops confirmed his hope that, however long it had been, the morning was not over. That was well, for by Lord Valhaine’s order all coffeehouses were forced to close their doors as soon as the sun reached the zenith. Which meant, on short lumenals, people had to be quick to take a cup. And if Eldyn was quick now, he might yet get a cup himself.

  The theater was quiet as he went downstairs. Everyone must have been out and about already. Though a peek through the door of the parlor on the second floor confirmed that Madame Richelour was sitting with Master Tallyroth. Having no wish to disturb them, Eldyn proceeded to the first floor, and as it was daytime he departed by the front door. He turned to start down Durrow Street, eager for a hot cup—

  —then stopped short, gaping at the man in front of him. The other was tall, of an age with Eldyn, and if not precisely handsome, was all the same very pleasing to look at in his fashionable gray suit.

  Except Eldyn was anything but pleased to see him at this moment.

  “Garritt!” the other man said at the same time as Eldyn exclaimed, “Rafferdy!”

  For a long moment both of them stared at each other. The sunlight was hot, and Eldyn felt sweat trickle down his sides.

  It was Rafferdy who managed to speak first. “I have been greatly worried about you, Garritt. You haven’t replied to any of my notes lately. I went to your address near the cathedral, only the landlady said you no longer live there, and nor had you been by in some time to retrieve your letters.”

  “But how did you find me here?” Eldyn said, rather breathlessly.

  Now Rafferdy frowned. “Good God, Garritt, you hardly sound happy that I have done so! And here I was worried you had been shot dead in some riot. But then your landlady’s son told me that he had followed you one day after you picked up your letters.”

  “He spied on me?”

  “Yes, he is apparently an enterprising lad. No doubt he thought the information might be of value someday. And so it was, for I had to give him half a regal to get it. At first, when my driver pulled up to the address, I thought I’d been swindled out of my coin. Only I see the boy was right after all, for here you are.” He glanced up at the sign over the door of the theater, then raised an eyebrow. “But why are you here, Garritt? I would hardly expect to find such a diffident soul as yours strolling on such an unwholesome avenue as this.”

  A sharp edge of fear cut through Eldyn. But then it passed and was replaced by a resignation. Indeed, it was even a peculiar kind of relief he felt, such as a murderer who has been on the run for years must feel when he is at last apprehended. For so long he had dreaded this moment, but now that it had come, it could no longer be avoided. There was no use in dissembling or lying to his friend anymore.

  “I live here,” Eldyn said.

  Rafferdy leaned upon his cane, as if caught off balance. “What do you mean you live here? This is a playhouse, Garritt. I don’t understand.”

  “Then let me show you.”

  Eldyn lifted his hands, holding the palms together like a little stage, and looked down at them. There was so much light all around that it took hardly any effort. A golden dove with ruby eyes manifested on Eldyn’s hand, and he could not help smiling a little as it did, for it was beautiful. The dove flicked metallic feathers and opened a jeweled beak. Then, all at once, it spread its gleaming wings and flew up to the sky.

  Eldyn let the phantasm dissipate, but he did not lift his gaze from his now-empty hands.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It was wrong to hide this from you for so long. But I could never bring myself to tell you. Only now you know the truth. I’m sorry, Rafferdy. You must be repulsed.”

  He waited for his friend to reply. Only they wouldn’t be friends, not anymore. There would be words of anger, of scorn and disgust, and after that the two of them would never see each other again.

  Only when Rafferdy at last replied, it was not with words at all, but rather with laughter.

  Unable to believe his ears, Eldyn at last looked up. But sure enough, Rafferdy was gripping the handle of his cane and laughing heartily, as if he had just heard the most amusing joke
. Then he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

  “Show me that again, Garritt!” he said.

  IVY WALKED along the seashore in the pale morning light. Despite the cold, she was dressed like before, in only a soft piece of doeskin around her midriff and an aurochs hide cast over her shoulders. She walked along the shore, searching for pretty shells. One caught her eye, as smooth and pink as the sky above the horizon. She bent down, using her fingernails to pry it up from the half-frozen sand.…

  No, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Ivy struggled, willing herself to be elsewhere.

  And then she was. It was night now, and she huddled with her people in the darkness of the cave. She pressed close to them for warmth, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of their bodies. From outside came a sound like the murmur of waves upon the shore. Only the people were many days of walking from the sea now, and the noise was that of the trees of the great forest, heaving to and fro in the wind.

  Suddenly a hot spark of light appeared at the mouth of the cave. At first she wondered if it was the new red star shining through the opening. Only then a man and a woman stepped into the cave, and the light was coming from what looked to be a glowing coal in his hand. Yet it was brighter than a coal, and he held it against his flesh as if it were cool as stone.

  The light illuminated the strange pair. The woman wore black leathers that clung to her like a second skin, while her own skin was as pale as bone. The man was tall and handsome, a silver wolf pelt draping his broad shoulders. His sharp blue gaze roved over the people, then fell upon Ivy.

  A terror came over her. No! she tried to call out to the people. Do not let him in! Do not follow him!

  But she could make no sound. The man and woman came farther into the cave. Ivy recoiled against the stone wall, but there was no way out. Her lips opened in a silent moan of fear. She knew the man, she knew what he wanted and what he would do. And she already knew his—