"No," Honor said. "But last time Isaw him, he was free and safe."
Keefin took a long, steadying breathand pushed herself to her feet. "Dawn approaches. I suppose you'llbe needing starlight for that unbinding."
Undoing Rhendish's spell took longerthan Honor had expected, even in a garden bright with starlight.The music that sang through her blood and bone had been muted bythe adept's "improvements," and magic was slow to come to her call.And the spell itself was not quite right-knotted and uneven, likecloth woven by an impatient child.
She knew the moment the spellunraveled. A low moan tore free of the green witch and she fell toher knees like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She covered herface with both hands as wrenching sobs rocked her thinform.
At last she lowered her hands andraised pain-filled eyes to Honor's face. "How you must hateme!"
Honor blinked. This was the lastreaction she would have expected.
"They would have killed my boy,Ziharah." The words spilled out of the woman in a frantic rush."They threatened to throw him off the ship if I didn't keep youalive."
"In that case, I should thank youfor your care, not hate you for giving it."
"There's more," Keefin said,wringing her hands in dismay. "They wanted magic. Fox was only aboy, and I didn't have enough to interest Volgo-"
"Volgo?" Honor said sharply. "A tallman with a blond beard?"
"Yes. He was the leader of thegatherers. He would have killed both Fox and me at the cottage if Ihadn't told him about the Thorn."
Suddenly Honor felt none too steady.She sank down to the ground beside the green witch and took herhands in both of hers.
"Tell me about the Thorn. Tell meeverything. Don't assume I remember anything about it."
The woman nodded as if this requestwas perfectly normal. "You brought it to my cottage to test me. Yousaid there was rogue magic about, and you came to see if I was thesource of it."
That sounded dimly familiar. "DidVolgo get the Thorn?"
Keefin shook her head. "I saw youhide it amid some ferns before the battle began. I came back andtook it while you were fighting them. There's a hidden place in theforest nearby, under a moss-covered stone. Hestis, my teacher,would leave things there for me from time to time, so I knew theelves would find it."
This, too, tallied with Honor'smemories. She knew some of the elves who had dealings with Keefin.She'd left a note for Fox advising him to return to his childhoodhome, knowing that this would be his best chance of making contactwith the forest folk. And apparently the elves had recovered the Thorn, sinceAsteria had it in her possession at the midwintertribunal.
"It was the only thing I could thinkof," Keefin said. "As long as Volgo thought you could lead him tovaluable elfin magic, he would try to keep you alive. For that, heneeded me, and he needed Fox to make sure I did my best foryou."
"It was a reasonable ploy," Honoradmitted. "Why do you think I should hate you?"
"Because I'm the reason you werecaptured. The amulet must have led the gatherers to me." Horrorflooded the green witch's face. She seized Honor's wrist. "How manyyears have passed?"
"Since the gatherers came to yourvalley? A little more than ten."
"And Eldreath has been dead fortwenty, you said."
Honor saw where this was going."Rhendish is a sorcerer. Volgo works for him. Rhendish must havefound out about the amulets and learned how to use the seekingspell."
"So if Rhendish could track me down,he can also find Fox!"
"You gave Fox the amulet?" she saidsharply. "When?"
"Not long ago. A few days, perhaps.The amulets are passed down when the child comes of age or acquiresmagic. The compulsion to keep the amulet is also passed down. Foxwon't be able to cast it away."
This was dire news, but it explainedmany things. Rhendish's need for an herbalist was small reason tokeep the green witch close at hand. Knowing the amulet wouldeventually pass to Fox, however, gave Rhendish a sure means offinding the young thief. And if Rhendish believed that Fox came ofEldreath's bloodline, he would consider him a potentialthreat.
Honor rose and pulled Keefin to herfeet. "Are there any stone floors in your cottage?
"No, but the stone wall surroundingthe hearth spans the kitchen."
"Show me."
The green witch led the way into aroom that was clearly intended to be a kitchen. No fire burned inthe open hearth and no cooking pot sat amid the lifeless coals, butbundles of herbs hung from lines strung across room and a vastcollection of pots and vials claimed every inch of table space. Nowonder Keefin was little more than braids and bone.
Honor ran her hands lightly over thestone wall, seeking a seam or gap. Finally she found a hairlinecrack separating one of the stones from the mortar surroundingit.
"I need a knife."
Keefin handed her a small, thinblade. The elf slipped it into the gap and traced the opening. Shefelt the slight give of a metal clasp and threw her weight againstthe stone. A section of wall swung inward on silenthinges.
Honor climbed through and pausedbefore shutting the door behind her. "It's best that you pretendnothing has changed. Keep to the house, speak as little as you canand as foolishly as possible. And if Rhendish comes-"
"He won't realize the binding hasbeen undone," Keefin said confidently. "I could tell even whenRhendish was a boy that his talent for magic was small. He'll neverbe the man his father was, all gods be praised."
The elf had a very bad feeling aboutwhat was coming next. "His father was a sorcerer?"
Keefin nodded. "Rhendish had anamulet, too."
Chapter 6: Round up the Reds
The lamp on Rhendish's work roomtable guttered. He reached for the cruet of oil and noted withsurprise that the light was no longer needed. Bright daylightspilled through the windows. He had worked through the night andthe morning as well, with nothing to show for his efforts but adull ache behind his eyes.
He rolled his shoulders to work someof the kinks from his muscles and returned his attention to thetangle of gears he'd removed from Honor's arm.
Like all of his clockwork creations,Honor's improvements contained bits of crystal hidden in a metalframework more delicate than elfin filigree. Crystal provided themeans of imposing his will upon the machines he created, and thecomplexity of the metal setting veiled its presence andpurpose.
This blending of metal and magic hadbeen a marvelous device, quite possibly his best creation. Had itnot been damaged during the attack on Muldonny's fortress, Honorwould never have bested him in a contest of wills.
The elfin skeleton shimmered in thebreeze, and the tinkle of crystal struck Rhendish's ears likemocking laughter.
He snatched up a small hammer andwhirled toward the laughing bones.
In the bright light, the pale pinkcrystal glowed like sunrise clouds. Rhendish lowered his weapon,defeated by the skeleton's strange beauty. Fascinating, how thebone fragments he'd removed from Honor's shattered arm had growninto this shining thing.
He should destroy it. He knew that.But he also knew that he could never bring himself to do it. He wasmeant to build, not destroy.
Even so, when Volgo had firstbrought Honor to Rhendish, burning with fever from a wound thatcould never heal, the adept's impulse had been to grant her aquick, merciful death. But the opportunity to explore elfinphysiology had been too tempting to ignore. Once he discovered thather bones were crystal, how could he not explore thepossibilities?
At some point, Rhendish had gottencaught up in the experiment and lost sight of the elf. He was notsure when he'd stopped being a healer and become her jailor. He wasnot sure that even mattered. What mattered was controlling theexperiment.
Control was important. Control overhis creations, his city, his island, the council that ruled Sevrin.Control over magic, so that no other Eldreath could rise. Controlover himself, so that the taint of sorcery in his blood did notdestroy everything he'd worked so hard to build.
Booted footsteps beat a swiftcrescendo in the hall beyond the work room
. Volgo strode into theroom without knocking. Rhendish held up one finger to indicate thathis captain should wait in silence.
The man spoke anyway. "The elfslipped away last night, just as I said she would."
Rhendish's lips thinned inannoyance. "We will discuss the matter when I've finished the taskat hand."
He exchanged one delicate tool foranother, assuming that Volgo would leave and return when summoned.But the fighter paced the room, pausing to twitch at the curtain onone of the alcoves.
"I did not offer you a seat. Howvery rude of me," the adept said in a dry, even tone.
Volgo dropped into a chair. He madeno sound, but tension rolled off him in waves. Rhendish grit histeeth and fortified the walls of concentration. He had not survivedyears in Eldreath's dungeon "school" to see his trained willdefeated by an impatient sword-swinger.
Several moments of charged silencepassed before Rhendish gave up the effort. He leaned back in hischair and regarded the captain. To his surprise, Volgo wasclean-shaven. Unlike most men of Sevrin, Volgo favored a full beardand had for as long as Rhendish had known him. His hair, which he'dworn long and tied back, had been clipped as short as a cat'sfur.
Rhendish was more interested in thechange in Volgo's demeanor. One booted foot stretched out to oneside. Impatient fingers drummed against his knee, and his otherhand absently stroked the aurak-tusk hilt of his sword.
It occurred to Rhendish that Volgo'sattitude had taken a southbound road around the time he'd arrangedfor a servant to "steal" the elfin dagger and sell it to Muldonny.Apparently the "theft" had diminished Rhendish in his captain'seyes, but it had been a necessary fiction and he saw no reason totell anyone, not even his most trusted servant, that he hadcontrived the death of a fellow adept.
"She should have had a guard," Volgosaid.
"Yes, you made that opinion known."Rhendish folded his hands on the table and leaned over them."Perhaps you recall the young dwarf who was a guest for a brieftime."
"I do."
"And you might also recall that nodwarf was sighted during the attack on Muldonny's fortress. Whatwould you deduce from this?"
Volgo's jaw worked as if he werechewing some unpleasant morsel. "If the dwarf wasn't in that fight,he's probably still around somewhere. The elf might try to makecontact."
"That is my hope, yes. Have you beenable to confirm the fate of the others? The thief, thefairy?"
The fighter shifted his big frameuneasily and raised his hand to his forehead. He tapped himselfbetween the eyes three times, a warding against the fey.
Rhendish suppressed a sigh. WhateverVolgo's accomplishments as a fighter and commander might be, he wasas unschooled and superstitious as any Kronhus goatherd.
"I have men out looking, peopletalking to the fisherfolk," the captain said. "No bodies havewashed ashore or been pulled from the sea. I'm fairly confident thefisherfolk are telling the truth on this score. But if the Fox andhis fairy survived, chances are no one will have much tosay."
Rhendish nodded in reluctantagreement. For some inexplicable reason, the young thief had becomesomething of a folk hero. As for the fairy, the people of Sevrinwere hesitant to speak of the fey for fear of drawing theirattention. Apparently dead fairies were considered a safer topic ofconversation, for dozens of people had reported seeing a wingedgirl fall from the sky, bloody and bristling witharrows.
But most people did not know howvery difficult fairies were to kill.
A soft chime from the hall belowannounced the arrival of a messenger. Rhendish reached for a brassbell and rang it, indicating that the servants should send the manup.
Volgo rose to leave. He reached thedoor just as a young man skidded into the room. The big man seizedhis shoulders.
"Steady on, lad."
The youth twisted out of Volgo'sgrasp and dropped to one knee. "He's dead, my lord," he blurtedout. "Tymion is dead. He was murdered not long after dawn. I camestraight here on the fastest boat I could find, soon as I could getaway."
Rhendish motioned for Volgo to stayand waved the messenger to his feet. "Tell me."
"They found him in the observatory,my lord, his own dagger sticking out of his chest."
Volgo scoffed. "How do they know itwas murder? The man was half mad. He probably stabbed himself whilepracticing for one of his plays and with his dying breathproclaimed it a fine performance."
The youth sent a sulky look inVolgo's direction. "The dagger wasn't what killed him. It was putin after."
"And you know this how?"
"I was there when they carried himout of the observatory. The wound went straight through him, likehe was arrow-shot. No man can shoot his own self."
A chill shimmered down Rhendish'sspine. Years fell away, and he saw in his mind's eye a much youngerTymion, brave and foolish enough to face down a sorcerer withnothing but a crossbow.
"What are people saying about theattack?"
"They say the City Fox did for Tymion, justlike he did for Muldonny."
"The thief is dead," Volgosaid.
"Well, that might be so," the youngman said, "but it seems there's plenty willing to pick up where heleft off. Before dawn, some men sailed in from Hearthstone. Therewas maybe a score of them, all with hair as red as a bowl ofberries. I heard tell they all stayed in Nightport, strutting roundand drinking and singing and getting into small mischief of onesort or another, but that can't be so. One of them got intoTymion's keep and took down three of the guards. That one got awayclean, but there was another found on the shore by the keep,trussed up like a roasted goose."
"So the first man must have killedTymion before he escaped."
"That's what people will think, mylord, not knowing what we know."
Rhendish did not care for theconspiratorial gleam in the messenger's eyes. "And what, exactly,do 'we' know?"
"One of Tymion's own clockworkguards did for him."
Rhendish resisted the urge tomassage his aching temples. This was a most unwelcome development.The adept of Kronhus had been an astronomer, not an artificer, andhe had little interest in clockwork. His few clockwork guards hadcome from Rhendish's workshops.
"You sound very sure of that. Iwonder why."
In response, the young man held outa round metal box.
Rhendish snatched it from his handand held it up to the light. Yes, the device was his, designed toseize control of a clockwork device.
"Where did you get this?" hesnarled.
The youth shifted from one foot toanother, but he managed to hold Rhendish's gaze. "I was told toclean the room. This had rolled under the astrolabe table. Themetal's bright and new-looking, not like the rest of theguard."
"What makes you think it was part ofthe guard?"
"I never thought it was," he said."That's my whole point. I wouldn't have put the two together butfor the sap on the back of it. When I was hauling off the metalguard, I found more of that sap on one side of its helmet. That gotme to thinking. I pried open the box and found gears within. Small,fine work, the likes of which come only from Heartstone. So I hidit away, not wanting anyone to wonder where it came from. . orwhat it was meant to do."
Rhendish glanced at Volgo. Thecaptain gave an almost imperceptible nod and took several silentsteps toward the servant.
"And what did you hope to gain fromthis act of discretion?"
The youth squared his shoulders."For near on two years now, I've been your eyes and ears inTymion's keep. The money's good, but I'm a servant for all that. Ifa man's to move up in Sevrin, really move up, alchemy's the path totake. I'm willing to start as an apprentice."
Behind him, Volgo cast his eyesskyward and shook his head in disbelief.
"My apprentices are well schooledbefore they enter my employ. They must pass rigorous tests beforethey are even considered for acceptance." Rhendish lifted one brow."Then there's the not inconsiderable matter of an apprenticefee."
"I proved myself in different ways,"the servant said stubbornly, "and what I know has got to be worthan apprentice fee and more."
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Rhendish nodded, but not to theservant.
Volgo reached over the youth'sshoulder and seized his chin. A quick twist, a crack of bone, andthe would-be blackmailer died before his smug little grin couldfade.
The captain let the body drop to thecarpet. "Too clever to live, that boy."
"Don't be an idiot," Rhendishsnapped. "Think,man! How many times have you seen a clockwork warrior shoot acrossbow?"
"Not once. They're not built forit." His brow furrowed. "A crossbow? Why do you think it was acrossbow?"
"Never mind that. It was a man, nota machine, that shot Tymion. If he could breach the adept'sdefenses and get close enough to shoot, why bother turning aclockwork guard against him?"
"If you'd ever crossed swords withone of those things, you wouldn't ask," Volgo said. "I'd ratherfight beside one than against it."
Rhendish conceded the point with animpatient shrug. "There's more to it than that. The battalion ofimitation Foxes was a diversion. A deliberately clumsy diversiondesigned to make people look around for something more. The use ofclockwork was meant to incriminate me. Whoever killed Tymion meantto destroy not one adept, but two."
The captain gazed off into thedistance for a long moment. "If that's true, there may be otherattempts. I'll double the guard. It wouldn't hurt to round up thereds, either."
"Do it. The fools who invadedKronhus might have been used in ways they didn't expect, but thefact remains that they were willing to be used."
Volgo inclined his head in a shortbow and strode from the room, leaving Rhendish standing in awhirlwind of troubled thoughts.
He shook them off and reached for abook placed high on a shelf. Inside was a single metal page uponwhich was etched a map of Sevrinspire. He thumbed a tiny lever anda pinprick of blue light appeared along a street not far from wherehe stood.
The adept hurried from the room,beckoning for a pair of his human guards to follow.
He might not be able to control theelf as he once had, but he could damn well find her.
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