by JANRAE FRANK
Cedarbird leaned forward, inspecting the stalwart young mon. He certainly looked the part of a caravan guard. "You are certain he is the right one, Darlbret?"
"Absolutely sir," Darlbret said. "Took first at swords in last year's spring equinox festival."
"Your name?"
"Briarmottë, sir," the youth replied with a polite dip of his head and shoulders.
Cedarbird smiled approvingly, this one had his manners in good shape. "Then you are good with that blade you carry?"
"Yes, sir. And with ax and bow too."
"Your loyalties?"
"To Vorgensburg and you, Sir."
"How long have you been in my household?"
"Five years, Sir,"
"And your lineage?"
"Beltrian. My father was master of archers to Duke Aaron. He died in the war and my mother came here to live with her brother."
"And this uncle is?"
Darlbret flushed, turning away to conceal it.
Cedarbird glanced from one to the other, a slow amused smile stealing across his face. "Is Darlbret your uncle?"
"Yes, sir," the young man answered, frowning perplexedly.
Cedarbird looked from the diminutive amanuensis to the strapping swordsmon and back again laughing softly. "Had you told me, Darlbret, I would never have believed you. Yes, Briarmottë, you are the right one for the job."
Cedarbird opened his desk drawer, taking out a round stone white as cream in the center and black as night around the outside.
"Eye of Darkness," the youth gasped.
"No," Thomas Cedarbird corrected, smiling approvingly at the young man's knowledge, "Eye of Light. The eye here is white. This is a Kwaklahmyn speaking stone. We make them from the Eyes of Light. Very rare, very precious." Cedarbird took another, matching stone from the drawer and laid it beside the first. "This one is for you to carry for the duration of your assignment. Call my name into the stone and I will hear you. We will set a time later for us to converse each evening. I want to know all about the trading in this new region.
"I want to know what they need and want, what they have to sell that I might want, anything that could prove useful. I will see that you have enough gold to bring back samples, impress the citizens and so forth. For now you will go down and enlist as a soldier in Aejys Rowan's guard for this expedition of hers."
* * * *
Six knights and a ha'taren clad in nondescript black, clan and rank markings discretely absent save for the silver Aroanan Rune hanging from a braided chain around the paladin's neck, waited for dawn outside the gray-brown city walls of Armaten. They stood, reins in hands, prepared to mount and ride in as soon as the gates opened. Ladonys could have ordered the guards to admit them through a side gate. She chose not to for the same reason she did not wear her colors: she had come to see Wilstryn and did not want her presence made known to Margren's spies and creatures.
The winds, which had howled all night, diminished to a breeze as light broke in the east: autumn was coming early in Shaurone, earlier than anyone could remember. It whipped their heavy cloaks about their shoulders and their long dark hair, which hung from beneath their helms.
As the light broke fully the guards pushed the creaking bronze gates open. If finding the knights waiting outside surprised, they did not show it: The small band mounted and rode in without comment from the guardsmyn. The city was just waking up. Tradesmyn passed them. A housenanny prodded along a gaggle of children of assorted sizes carrying slender leather-bound journals which marked them as day students at one of the temple schools: they learned to read and write by painstakingly copying the classics letter by letter. That meant all families, even the poorest, had books on their shelves.
Ladonys pulled her cowled hood around her face, watching cautiously about her while not allowing anyone to get a clear enough view of her to identify her later. Her knights followed her into the yard of an inn in the tradesmyn quarter of the city. She dismounted. They waited for her to alight before leaving their saddles. Ladonys arn Rowan gave a nod. The knights went to their work with military precision: they had all made this journey with Ladonys before. One knight took the horses and headed for the stable. Another preceded Ladonys into the inn, while the other four formed up around her.
Ladonys took her usual bench in the far north corner near the side door, which led into an alley. She leaned her heavy elbows on the simple trestle table and bent her head as if in prayer. The innkeeper's daughter brought food and drink. Satisfied that the area was secure, the knights joined their liege ajan at the table and began eating. They had belonged to Ladonys' small personal household since before she married Aejys. Ladonys lifted her plate and began to fork long strips of steak swimming in cream gravy onto it when her fingers brushed paper just under the rim. She pulled it free and saw Wilstryn's seal upon it.
The paladin opened it and read:
Surely, old friend, you did not think you could surprise me? I meant to send for you. I've more word on Aejys. I've already made arrangements for supper. Lenoreth will meet you in the Market Square just past the noon hour and escort you here.
Archer
* * * *
In the late morning, Ladonys and her companions went to the Square. She wanted to buy things for Laeoli, something to distract her, if only for an instant from her grief at the death of her sire and the loss of her wynderjyn. Ladonys could have dealt with it better had Laeoli gone to pieces or given way to lamentation; but the girl was too much like her ma'aram and had pulled inside herself rather than give expression to it.
The Aroanan Rune hanging from her neck prompted those who saw it to give way before her; but her cloak, shifting in the wind, tended to cover it more often than not. As Ladonys pushed through a particularly crowded pathway, she felt a light tug on her money pouch. Her hand shot out with more speed than might be suspected from her big frame, snagging a struggling urchin. The slender girl, her dark hair sun-streaked to a sparrow's wing brown, swiveled in Ladonys' grasp and swung hard at the paladin's head.
"Hey! Let go of me, you big gritch! Let go of me!" She swung and kicked furiously, but ineffectually, at the big woman. "I'll beat the crap out of you, I will!"
Ladonys, her mouth screwed up in wry speculation, regarded the youth who weighed less than a fraction of the paladin's weight, and probably did not even come up to her chin. Ladonys lifted her completely off the ground and held her thrashing in her grasp like a frantic fish on the end of a line.
The knights gathered about their liege waiting for some sign to action. A crowd had begun to gather, watching the spectacle, and the knights pushed them back a little. Ladonys lifted the youth still higher and a voice from the watching crowd shouted, "Birdie's at it again!"
"What kind of a little compassie have you caught there?" One of the knights asked, pulling off her gloves and folding them through her belt.
The youth's cheeks darkened and she shrieked, "I'm not a compassie! You stupid white feathered gritching gutter screw! Climb out of that armor and fight me fair. I'll beat you up!"
Ladonys sighed. "Cut-purse," she said, reaching down the front of the youth's shirt and retrieving her money pouch.
Birdie blinked. "I found it on the ground! I didn't steal anything!"
Just then another youth darted between the paladin's companions and slammed into Ladonys' legs staggering her. She lost her grip on Birdie and in trying to hold onto her while grabbing at the newcomer they all went down in a tangle of arms and legs.
"No!" Birdie shrieked in near panic, "Lizard, don't! Run, Lizard!"
But it was already too late. As Birdie scooped up Ladonys' pouch and ran for safety, the paladin caught Lizard by the leg. Trying to get a better grasp on the new youth she shifted her hold to Lizard's thigh and tunic, and as she did so the edge of her hand brushed Lizard's groin. Ladonys gasped in amazement, her grip loosened and Lizard, jerking frantically, escaped.
Aroana, my dear God, that one's a boy, she thought.
"Shall we
pursue, mei ajan?"
"No," Ladonys sighed. "You'll never catch them. My friend will know where to find them."
* * * *
Wilstryn kept a tall, three-story wood and brick house in the merchants quarter, painted white and trimmed in dark brown. The assassin chieftain pulled the shutters closed while Ladonys settled herself on the couch. Wilstryn poured wine and handed the paladin a glass.
Ladonys swirled the blood-red wine, letting it catch the candlelight in that otherwise dark room. "You have news of Aejys?"
Wilstryn nodded. "Aejys is healing. She plans to march in around a week."
"Her wounds ... you said they were serious."
Wilstryn's mouth slid into a wry, impatient expression. "Hmph," she snorted. "You should know Aejys better than I. All through the war she never let wounds and injuries slow her down. She's stubborn. It's probably a miracle she hasn't stubborned herself to death yet."
"Do you know who she is bringing with her?"
"A small army."
Ladonys quirked an eyebrow.
"Huh!" Wilstryn snorted, "about five score. A sizeable escort and all veterans."
"How can she afford this? What could she have promised them?" So far as Ladonys knew, Aejys had left without money and it would have cost several chests of gold to hire so many. Or if they were part of her household, to support so many.
"That story about the wyrm's treasure..."
"It's true?"
"Yes. Money talks," Wilstryn shrugged, "and her reputation says the rest. There are thousands of masterless soldiers and warriors, even some ha'taren, scattered through the outlands. And all of them would give an eye to become part of the Lion of Rowanslea's household."
Wilstryn poured herself another glass and sat down in a claw-armed chair facing Ladonys.
"How do you know all this?"
"Trade secret," replied Wilstryn, "now it is your turn to answer my questions."
Ladonys stared into her glass, released a heavy breath, "Is this necessary?"
"If we want to keep Laeoli alive. That is what you came for isn't it?"
Ladonys nodded weary acquiescence. "Ask."
Wilstryn searched Ladonys' face, wondering just how much the big ha'taren had kept from her concerning Laeoli, deciding to ask something important, but hopefully less painful. "Will they let her be consecrated? Even though her wynderjyn is dead?"
"Yes, she will still be ha'taren."
"Now tell me again about the poisoning." Wilstryn had thought long on this, a cold rage deepening within her: Margren had taken her only son and was now trying to take her beloved godchild also.
Ladonys' expression darkened and her mouth tightened into a thin line. "Every year since she turned ten, when the time neared for the youths and younger children to be taken up to the High Meadows, Laeoli fell ill, too ill to go. The Readers could find nothing. This year High Priest Sonden got curious as to why Laeoli had never come for the bond-blessing. Sonden is nothing if not perceptive. Very few realize it, but he is one of the most powerful Readers in Shaurone. He took Laeoli to the temple, placed her in a room adjacent to his own where no one could reach her without his knowledge. Then for several days he Read her again and again. And he found it. Someone had poisoned Laeoli. He can't say what kind of poison it is, only that he's found something in her system that shouldn't be there. Not enough to kill her, the lesser Readers would have found that."
"And she would have been dead..." Wilstryn interjected.
"Just enough to make her too ill to bond. And he found the residue of past such poisonings in some of her cells."
"Margren." Wilstryn gave a snarling hiss.
"I believe so," Ladonys answered. "Margren claims that Aejys prevented her from bonding. So it makes sense that Margren would try to prevent Aejys' blood child from doing so also."
Wilstryn nodded, sipping again from her glass. "Makes sense. Now, tell me again how Esreth died. She should have been very safe in the High Meadows. But I have heard rumors since we last spoke."
Ladonys frowned. "Laeoli and Esreth had an intuitive bonding. Not the speaking kind like Aejys and Gwyndar. Even with sylvan blood, the speaking kind is rare."
"I know." Wilstryn reached out, covering Ladonys' hands with her own. She could feel a trembling in Ladonys' body that she could not see.
"Laeoli woke screaming just before dawn. Sonden had instructed the priest and the bradae, the temple warriors, to watch her close. He was worried the bonding would put her in danger."
"It would take great power or influence to reach those grounds."
Ladonys nodded. "They went to the stables with her. Nothing was disturbed, not even the wynderjyns in the next stalls. Nothing was heard, or sensed, or seen. Not even the slightest emanation of dark magic. Yet someone or something ripped the animal's throat out. It gave her nightmares for weeks."
Wilstryn drew her hands back, stood and paced for a minute, thinking. "It's like a veil of silence was thrown there."
"It would have left a residue. The priests and bradae should have at least found a residue. Hell! Sonden, himself, found nothing."
"There's no place in Rowanslea Margren cannot reach her. God's Blood! No place in the entire kingdom!"
"Kaethreyn will not allow us to send my child out of the Mar'ajante. That's why I came to you. You are the only one who can keep Laeoli alive until Aejys gets here."
"If Aejys gets here. Who knows what Margren will throw at her." Wilstryn pulled her chair to Ladonys' side, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Old friend, I dearly love my godchild, but I don't believe that I can keep her alive either."
"But we have to try..."
"Yes. We have to try."
Ladonys pulled all the rings, save her signet, from her fingers and shoved them across the table to Wilstryn. "I lost my money pouch to a cut purse in the market square, but I think this should cover your expenses."
Wilstryn lifted a heavy golden ring set with bright blue sapphires and a large square cut ruby. "This alone, my friend, is worth a Saer'ajan's ransom. How did you come by it?"
"Aejys sent it."
"And how did you know it was Aejys? Was there a note?" Wilstryn asked suspiciously.
"Laurelyanne, Laeoli's sire's mater brought it. Now what do we do about Laeoli?"
Wilstryn slid the sapphire ring back, picked through the rest of the rings, and chose out four. "My best suggestion is we fake her death and she runs away. I hide her outside the kingdom until Aejys gets here. They will not look so far afield if they think they are looking for her dead body as they would if they knew she was alive.
"Now, about your lost money. I think you should speak to Blackbird about that. The urchin that robbed you is her daughter."
* * * *
Dane went to Mephistis about Rose after weeks of watching Isranon worry over her. The youth tried not to show it and he never spoke of it, but Dane had a sharp eye for those things. The young male intrigued Dane with his intricate complexities of hard and soft, naïve and at times experienced and worldly as a soldier. Dane could see all the places where Isranon's nature was like a thick quilt with holes in it.
He settled into a chair in Mephistis' outer chamber, propped his ankle on his knee and leaned forward. "Isranon is in love with a nibari."
Mephistis poured wine and carried a glass to Dane before sitting down with his own. "He has not said anything. I cannot say that I am surprised either by his choice or his silence. Who does she belong to?"
"She's a common. And you know very well why he hasn't said anything."
"I said it did not surprise me. He rejects his own kind. I would give her to him, but it would be seen as sign of greater regard than the others want to see for one who has not earned it. Margren already plagues me endlessly about him. And then there is Bodramet and his coterie who are demanding favors for remaining faithful."
"So you could not take her for your own?"
"Not easily. Nor give her to him with him unblooded in the rites. They smell
the oddity in him."
Dane sipped from his glass and nodded. "They call him half-a-mon, and pressure him for nibble games. He'd rather die than be touched by them."
Mephistis smiled at that. "That is my Isranon. You know what he is?"
"Yes. I figured it out weeks ago."
"What if I gave her to you? For some small favor? You could hold her in trust until you departed and then give her to him?"
Dane considered this and nodded. "That would work. She could move in with my private herd. I would mark her."
While Dane had no rank among the sa'necari and was treated with a bit of contempt because of his being one of the undead; the sa'necari were also hesitant to push him too far, suspecting that he came of Brandrahoon's lineage – the Lemyari, demon vampires. The sunlight held no dangers to them and they carried a venom in their nails that killed swiftly depending upon how many fingers they got into their opponent, how swiftly and whether it went into an artery. All very messy and powerful. Brandrahoon, eldest brother of Waejonan, had been a sylvan mage of half divine blood, turned by a demon. Dane was very, very old. No one knew how old and he was not telling. He preferred to allow the sa'necari to wonder, rather than to know anything at all about him.
"Go find her. She is yours. Now go. I have matters to attend to. The situation in Vorgensburg has changed recently and I have as little reason as Margren to wish her sister reaching Rowanslea alive."
CHAPTER SIX. WITHIN THE HEART OF DARKNESS
A tall young mon, her features concealed by a heavy cowl, stepped from the shadowed alcove near the stairs as Ladonys passed leaving the Guild chieftain's home. Wilstryn heard her before she saw her, for the mon approached from Wilstryn's blind side. Wilstryn stood very still, waiting for the newcomer to identify herself or come within striking distance. She had trained her ears to substitute for the missing eye. Twin stilettos slid into her hands at a soft flexing of her muscles.
"It's Talons, Archer." the young mon's voice had a hard edge. She wore all black from her great boots to her cowled cloak and gloves. A bandoleer crossed her body carrying six throwing knives. Two long knives, nearly the length of short swords hung from the belt around her waist. But her deadliest weapon did not show. Beneath her black gloves lay magical gauntlets as supple as leather, undetectable, capable of materializing long runed tiger claws made from kenda'ryl, the magic metal, and then glazed with silver. Wilstryn was one of the very few, outside of the Grand Master himself, who knew of them. They had given the mon her name.