All right then.
The ones like Bey, the best of the best, the young ones at least, had grown restless since the old Shadao died, and the new one, Bey’s father, had come into power. They longed for the old days of real honor and ethics, when they served as the hand of the gods. They scorned the expendables as corrupt and the second rankers as those without vision. They wanted elite to truly mean elite.
Bey wanted the old ways back. He wanted to know that when his knife brought the sleep of forever, it would be to one who deserved it, not to one who was merely inconvenient to someone else. On one level, Mags could almost agree with that. Almost. But it was still killing people, and it was one thing to kill someone when he was trying to kill you, and another thing entirely to go and kill him in cold blood, in stealth, and in full knowledge that you planned his death.
But if it really was someone who deserved it? If he had a chance to kill the leader of the Karsites, or even one of those priests that summoned demons, would he? Could he?
Just as he began pursuing that train of thought, Bey started to droop . . . then got pale.
Dallen reacted instantly. :We need to stop now. This is beginning to hurt him. He’s not used to being examined with Mind-magic so intensely.:
“Dallen says we should stop,” Mags said aloud, “I guess we are taking a good bit out of you with this.” And Bey breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, my cousin,” he said, and opened his eyes, then swayed a little. “I see now why we wear the talismans,” he continued, with a dry chuckle. “It is not only to hide ourselves from your magic, it is to protect ourselves from your magic. It is very powerful. You may not be my equal in arms, my cousin, but you are my superior in this. It seems there are warriors of the mind as well as warriors of the knife.” He bowed a little and swayed again, catching himself with one hand on the floor. “I believe . . . I should go and lie down now.”
He got up, slowly and carefully, and staggered a pace or two until he could get one hand on the wall. As he leaned against the wall and took slow, deep breaths, clearly trying to find some strength, Mags was torn—should he go and help the young assassin? But that would put Mags right within easy striking range of a killer who could have been feigning all of this. How easy it would be to lure him on and on, then pretend weakness, so that he could get Mags close enough to do anything he wanted to.
“Stay where you are, my cousin,” Bey said, waving at him. “A momentary weakness will not harm me. I will go to my rest place. I will return at dawn, I think. This time I will warn you.” He toed the talisman toward Mags. “Or rather, your familiar will warn you. I will leave this with you so that you may know I am honest. Sleep well, my cousin. We will resume this talk soon.”
With that, he slipped into the darkness, and in a moment he was gone. But now Mags could sense him, moving deeper into the caves. Deeper than Mags would dare to go with a lantern, and he was walking in total darkness.
:He got here when we did, following us. All the time we’ve been out, he’s been exploring. And he’s used to caves and tunnels; the House of Sleepgivers is one giant warren under a mountain. He’s probably got a map of every little bit of cave in this valley in his head.:
Mags felt a bit weak himself after all that. :Have you and Jermayan told Jakyr yet?: Surely by now Dallen had said something. He was afraid of what would happen when they found out. Even if Bey was gone now, Jakyr would barge right out into the teeth of the blizzard without a cloak and—
:No, and we aren’t going to,: Dallen said. Mags felt—well, he wasn’t certain what he felt. Shock, relief, both together? He wanted to believe Bey. Bey was giving him virtually everything he had been craving all his life. Kin. Answers. Sympathy. Even admiration . . .
And this could all be poison wrapped in a delicious crust. Bey was a killer, and killers are trained to use all sorts of weapons, especially those that can get them close to their target, get their target to trust them, so the murder is easy and escape sure. Even if Bey didn’t intend to kill him, he could still get Mags close enough to incapacitate him. And all he had to do was keep Mags unconscious with that talisman around his neck, and his friends would not be able to find him even if he was hidden right under their noses.
:Now that he’s taken that talisman off, we can have him down before he can blink,: Dallen said. Not only was this unexpected, Mags was . . . shocked. Because when Dallen said down what Dallen meant was dead. He’d never, ever heard of a Companion stating calmly that he could kill with Mind-magic.
It wasn’t that Companions didn’t kill—because they did. They were fierce fighters in battle and had no trouble caving in an enemy’s head with their wicked hoofs. But—
:We don’t do this lightly. Or often. Maybe once in a generation at most. But this is extraordinary, and we must take extraordinary risks and be prepared to take extraordinary actions. We’ve never had an opportunity like this, to change an entire nation with just a single encounter. These people could go back to being a force for good, Mags.:
:If it’s true,: Mags reminded him. There was always that. If it all was true. Bey could be lying. It was very, very hard to lie with your thoughts, but it was possible; or, more accurately, it was possible to keep only what you wanted someone to know on the surface and conceal the things you did not want him to know deeper.
:If it’s true. But the deeper he lets us go, the more we can be certain of what is true and what isn’t. Are you willing to take the risk?: Dallen’s Mindvoice hardened. :If you’re not, and you are prepared to take partial responsibility for it, I’ll kill him now, and only you will ever know he was here. Jermayan and I will do that for you. We can go on with the plan of having you declared dead, only now, it will be with a great deal more information about the Sleepgivers to make it more believable to them.:
Mags had to think about that, very, very hard. There was so much at stake here, far more than just him, because these were people who had done their level best to fulfill a contract with Karse that meant destabilizing the government of Valdemar at best, and assassinating one or more of the Royal Family at worst. And this, allegedly, was one of the highest-ranking people in that organization. So . . . could, should he trust his feelings and trust what Bey told him? Take a chance on one man he didn’t know, and hadn’t even met until a couple of candlemarks ago? Based only on what he and two Companions felt? When there could be something dark and dangerous lurking under that affable exterior?
Or should they snuff him out like a candle and discard him, the way any of these Sleepgivers themselves would eliminate anyone who was in his way. Coldly, calmly, assassinate Bey. And—then what? What would happen then? Bey said that his father did not know he was here—could that be trusted? What if this ignited some sort of blood feud between Valdemar and the Sleepgivers? What if he made things far worse by killing Bey than they already were?
Logic said to allow Dallen to kill him. He was pretty sure that Bey had not been lying when he said the Shadao didn’t know where he was. And even if the Shadao guessed, how would he find a body rotting away in the depths of some obscure caves in an obscure part of Valdemar?
His gut said, logic be damned. His gut said that this young man could be trusted. That they weren’t so different, he and Mags. That the difference was mainly in how they saw the world and what they were willing to do. Bey was willing, if he could change the Sleepgivers back to what they were, to assume the gods knew what they were doing when the Sleepgivers were assigned a target that “deserved” to die. Mags was not. But . . . Mags could also not swear he would not find himself in a position one day that would require that he kill in cold blood.
And after all, hadn’t Dallen and Jermayan just offered to do that for him?
:For now, we trust him,: Mags said. :We can always change our minds later. I don’t fancy killing anyone in cold blood, not even if he deserves it. And how the hell do I know if he deserves it?:
:And there are three of us,: Dallen reminded him. :You are the one in
the most physical danger from him. You have to sleep some time. Maybe—probably—he can get into our cavern, but one of us will stay awake at all times, and he’ll never do it without us noticing.:
Mags felt a chill of alarm. If all the tunnels were connected—and they must be, since the others had had that same feeling of being watched—he could get to Amily!
:If he comes near us, he’s dead,: Dallen said flatly. :I promise you. And I think he’s smart enough to have figured that out. What’s more, if Jermayan and I keep a close watch on him, I am near certain we can stop him before he can get to you. There’s always a chance he has a second of those talismans hidden somewhere, but if he vanishes from our minds, we’ll alert you.:
Mags took a deep, steadying breath. :All right then,: he said again. :We trust him. For now.:
• • •
“Cousin,” came a distant, echoing call, sounding as if it originated from a place very deep under the hill. “I come.” Mags wondered how far away Bey was—and how he managed to navigate in pitch-black tunnels seemingly without fear. Had he done all his exploring with one of their lamps while they had been gone? He must have; surely he hadn’t brought any such thing with him. Mags wished now that they had been more systematic about marking off what supplies they had used. They were probably missing quite a bit—bedding, lanterns, rope, food . . .
On the one hand, it was terribly clever of Bey to have figured out they were not going to keep strict track of their supplies. On the other hand, if they had kept strict track of their supplies and found things missing they would have known, from the beginning, that there was someone in the caverns besides them.
We prolly would have thought it was a hermit or a bandit or something, but we would have been looking for him.
Would they have found Bey, though? Mags thought not. Bey was just too good at hiding his presence. And they were nowhere near as adept at finding someone who had that talisman and was determined they not find him.
Shoot, all he needed to do was to move to the other side of the valley until we stopped looking.
Bey must have worked his way across Valdemar in the same way, stealing what he needed as he followed Mags. When had he first begun? Right after Mags crossed the Karsite border, he said, and Mags had no reason to doubt him. He’d said he was on a “wild year;” if he had already been in Valdemar for a time before he picked up Mags, he’d have had plenty of time to study Heralds and the culture of Valdemar.
If you were going to be a successful assassin, you had to learn how to assimilate quickly so you could fit in seamlessly. And Bey was the best of the best. He probably couldn’t pass as a Valdemaran, but he surely knew enough not to stand out, and there were plenty of foreigners in Valdemar. I’d give a lot to know exactly what he knows.
Mags had not been idle in the time that Bey had gone. He’d taken the talismans—both of them—and locked them in the pot box, then piled all of the rest of the firewood on top of the box. He’d folded one of the blankets into a pad and positioned it out of arm’s reach of his bed. He had every knife that he had brought over to this cave with him, out and ready to throw or stab with. He had the lantern positioned so that it would glare into Bey’s eyes but gave him a perfect and unimpeded view of Bey.
When Bey appeared in the doorway, he seemed delighted at these preparations. “Very well done, my cousin!” he said with high approval, and sat down on the folded blanket. “Ah, that is much more comfortable, and my thanks for the courtesy. I trust you have done your practice at this distance?”
“Seriously? You ask that? You’d be annoyed with me if I hadn’t,” Mags retorted.
“So I would. I expect much of you, cousin. Even as I expect much of myself. Well, have you fully absorbed the tale of the Sleepgivers?” Bey asked, tilting his head slightly, and wearing an inquisitive expression.
“I didn’t think about much else,” Mags admitted.
“And did you find a flaw in it?” Bey smiled. It was a curiously disarming smile. Charming. But charm could be as powerful a weapon as anything with a point or an edge.
“We couldn’t, and we tried.” Right this minute, Mags realized that there was one thing that he did not know. And it was important. He didn’t know anything at all about Bey’s motives.
“Just what do you expect to get from me anyway?” he asked, leveling a very hard look at this purported cousin. “You say you’ve studied Heralds, so you’ve got to know there isn’t a chance I’d do anything to hurt my friends, my King, or my Kingdom.”
Bey shrugged a little and said slowly. “You, my cousin. What I want, is you. Not for the reason that Kan-li did, because he was ordered to bring you. And not for the reason you think. It would be easier, much easier, to return the House to the old ways with two of us. In no small part because for at least a time, no one but the Shadao would be aware there were two of us. Nor would anyone be aware that you had that great and powerful Blessing. It would appear that the gods had bestowed the Blessing on me—and also, on me, the ability to be in two places at once. Such a thing would make me feared, which I may need to be before I am obeyed. And that is but one reason why I wish to have you at my side.”
Mags shook his head. “You are not going to get me,” he said flatly. “You can call me kin and talk about blood calling to blood all you like, but I’m Valdemaran, and I’m a Herald, and that’s that.”
Again Bey shrugged. Mags’ words did not seem to disturb him in the least. “That remains to be seen. And if I do not persuade you, I still will have knowledge. Knowledge is power. You know this. If I can bring back the old ways, perhaps one day your King will wish to be rid of those demon-summoners. The Sleepgivers could be of service there. This is a rich land, and you could pay well . . .” He smiled again. “But I have not yet given up on having you.”
:He’s very certain he can persuade you,: Dallen said, pretty much cementing what Mags already thought. Bey was a very stubborn person—and also very certain of his own powers of persuasion.
:He don’t know how stubborn I am.: After all, Mags had managed to ride out that session of drugs, which by all rights and expectations should have turned him into—well, someone else. He didn’t think that mere words were likely to change him. “All right,” he said aloud. “So what’s next?”
“Now I tell you the tale of the four twins and the two cousins, and I think that might persuade you, Blessed One,” Bey replied with a slight smile, and closed his eyes serenely and waited for Dallen to enter his thoughts.
Mags waited for Dallen to begin.
This time the images were clearer. Four portraits, done in a severe and stylistic manner. Two young men, one in gray, one in brown. Two young women, one in red, one in blue. All four of the young people were dark-haired, dark-eyed, and lean, just as he was. It was hard to say if there was any more resemblance to him, since all four faces were much alike. Mags got the feeling that “portraits” in this culture were less personal and more ideal images. :His parents and yours,: Dallen said. :The one in gray was supposed to marry the one in red, but the one in brown had Mind-magic, Mindspeech, and Empathy, and the girl in red did, too. That’s what he means by Blessed, because it’s almost unheard of for men to have Gifts, and when they do, it’s considered to be a miracle of the gods. Well, the first thing that happened was that the two with Mind-magic fell in love.:
There were some more stylized images, as if all of this had come from an illustrated story. :It did,: Dallen confirmed. :It’s something like the stuff in the Archives, only they make an art form out of historical records. He’s studied this manuscript many times. I think he was a little obsessed with the cousin he’d never met.: Dallen’s images became clearer, revealing that this was, in fact, an illuminated manuscript, or the memory of one. And there were a lot of illuminations. The boy and girl meeting on a bridge in what was clearly a cavern, sitting on a bench under a rocky overhang, walking together on a cliff overlooking the desert.
This was kind of curious. If this was the story of a
pair of runaways, why was it so lovingly detailed?
:Because the Shadao never gave up on the idea of bringing them back, I think. And the next Shadao—Bey’s father—was the same. I get the feeling this was supposed to be something like a child’s storybook, with the moral at the end being “and one day you must bring the missing ones home.”:
Well, that made a kind of odd sense. So instead of erasing the runaways from history, as plenty of other rulers would have, the Shadao turned finding them into a quest.
Given that the insane Sleepbringer—and the half-insane one—and Ice and Stone—and Levor and Kan-li had all been very much aware of this obsession, Bey wasn’t the only one who’d grown up with the story and the quest as a part of his training.
:The parents were still determined that the betrothed pairs wed. But at the wedding, all four conspired against that, and since all four were wedded at the same ceremony, and all four wore the same costumes, they switched partners and no one knew until the ceremony was over.:
An image of the young man and young woman standing defiantly against the railing of other, older people. For all that the little painting was stylized, it demonstrated rather graphically that the elders were not at all pleased that their careful plans had been upset.
:Your parents were the Gifted ones, of course. And you can imagine how someone with Empathy and Mindspeech both felt about—the family business.:
Mags could, indeed. It had been torture to kill someone who was trying to kill him, and that was only with Mindspeech. With Empathy, he could not begin to imagine how hard it would be.
:Impossible, really. So after about a year of marriage, and after everyone had more or less settled down and accepted the fait accompli, the two decided to run away, and their siblings decided to help them.: Dallen paused, and Mags waited patiently, figuring that Dallen was interpreting something he had found in Bey’s memory. :Ah, now I have their names. Meric-an and Li-Inaken. You were named for your father, as the first in the line. This is something Bey’s father told him, not in the storybook. This all came to a head when they knew they were going to have a child. They had heard of a place where the talismans and the Power of the Shadao could not follow. They told their siblings that was where they were going to go, because Meric could no longer bear the pain of killing others. It seems every time he did his duty, he got sicker, and his brother was afraid that he would either die of it or slay himself.:
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