He climbed under the bedclothes, rolling back and forth, thrashing his legs and giving the impression of a restless night. Then he pulled a wadded-up set of clothes from a drawer and dropped them on the floor beside the wardrobe, choosing another set to stuff inside for the next day. The nightshirt he balled in his hands. Then he sprinkled some of the Iisand’s perfume on it before dropping it in a heap on the floor of the bathing chambers. Afterwards, he splashed water on the floor around the copper tub.
“Geran was never strict in his housekeeping. Liked to make his staff feel useful. The servants may suspect something’s not quite right, but they don’t know anything. Good about not gossiping. Handpicked.”
On a sideboard, he poured a healthy glass of brandy and swallowed most of it, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and setting the half-empty glass next to the book.
“Geran likes a glass before bed,” he said, turning to examine his handiwork. He muttered and went to the chaise, where he stretched out, flattening the plumped pillows, and tossed several on the floor.
“That ought to do it for now. Follow me.”
He picked up the iron lantern of coals and went to the bookshelves opposite the mantelpiece. With his foot he pressed something on the floor and stretching high, he pulled a lever hidden in the molding midway down the top shelf. Reisil gasped when the center portion of the bookcase swung open. Sodur gestured for everyone to precede him. There were two guards inside the tunnel, and like the two guarding the Iisand’s door, they neither spoke nor looked at the visitors. Sodur led them away into the darkness, stooping as the way grew shorter and narrower. With her wizard-sight, Reisil was undeterred by the thick gloom, Sodur’s lantern casting little light. Behind her she heard a thump and then muttered cursing as Metyein stumbled into Yohuac.
“I had no idea. Do these go everywhere in the palace?” Juhrnus wondered aloud.
“What would a palace be without secret passages?”
Reisil stopped. “Then they go to Kebonsat’s quarters also?”
“In a roundabout fashion.”
“Then let’s go get him.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because he should see this as well.”
“He’s Patversemese.”
“I want him to see,” Reisil declared flatly.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s necessary.”
“Reisil, I know you think you know what you’re doing. But you must see that he cannot know about the nokulas. He cannot know about the Iisand.”
“What makes you think I haven’t told him already? Besides, what I see is that your sorcerers are doing nothing, the Verit will be declared regent, and the ahalad-kaaslane will lose what little influence they have left. It’s time to ask for help from those who will give it. Kebonsat will give it.”
“And what can he offer? He is a prisoner in the palace. His country has abandoned him. He’s useless.”
“Maybe not.”
Sodur’s brows slanted up. “Do tell.”
Reisil gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ll have to give me more than that if I am to believe you.”
Reisil stepped closer so that her right shoulder brushed his left. She bent forward to speak softly near his ear. “Your scheme has failed. I don’t trust your choices. You can help me or not, but now that I know how to get to Kebonsat, you can bet I’ll not let a wall or two stop me. I need him. Kodu Riik needs him. And I’m not going to give away any chances to save this land, not now that the sorcerers sit inside our gates slavering after us, while the rest of the world waits for us to wither on the vine. Now make up your mind.”
Reisil straightened, shocked at herself. For the first time in a long time, she saw in Sodur the mentor and friend he had been. Everything he’d done was for Kodu Riik. It felt like betrayal, but was it? Was it any more so than telling everyone that Yohuac and Baku were ahalad-kaaslane? Or hiding the fact that Baku could pick their thoughts from their minds?
She flicked a glance at Juhrnus, Metyein and Yohuac. They trusted her. They’d chosen to follow her, to be led by her. She did not want that responsibility. What if she made mistakes? What if she chose wrong? How many would die because she didn’t know enough, because she didn’t see clearly enough?
~Is it any different than being a tark, than holding another’s life in your hands? Saljane’s red eye gleamed like an ember.
~I know what I’m doing as a tark. I’ve trained. I’ve practiced. But what do I know about any of this? Sodur knows far more than I.
~But you no longer trust his choices.
~Who am I to say if he’s right or wrong?
~You are ahalad-kaaslane.
~So is he.
~The Lady chooses many to serve. There are none who are not flawed, who do not misjudge, even though they mean well.
~How can I be sure I’m right?
~You must trust your heart. They trust you.
And looking at her three companions, Reisil knew they did. And until they decided she was making the wrong choices, they would follow her. She took a breath. She could trust them to tell her she was wrong, to walk away from her. She could trust them to choose a new path without her. Just as she had with Sodur. They believed in her, but they were not stupid, nor did they follow blindly.
“Wait here. I’ll go get him. Keep your voices down.” Sodur turned and disappeared, the sounds of his feet fading quickly.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have let him go without getting him to tell us what he knows about the wizards,” Juhrnus said. “He’s being unusually cooperative.”
“He’ll tell us,” Reisil said, sure now that he would. “What are you two cooking up? You’ve had your heads together all morning.”
Juhrnus winked. “A chance to keep people eating while you’re gone.”
“How?”
“Nothing sure yet. I’ll be glad to see Kebonsat. There might be something he can do.” He wasn’t going to say any more.
“Be careful. The Verit’s going to be watching,” was all Reisil said.
Reisil had no sense of how long Sodur was gone, but she was thirsty, and the chill of the stone tunnel had begun to leach through her clothes.
“Ho, Kebonsat. It’s about time. Getting soft sitting about doing nothing, have you?” Juhrnus called in a low voice when he appeared, following Sodur.
“And you, crawling in the walls like a rat. Or just peeking in at the women?”
“The women. Always the women,” Juhrnus said, slapping Kebonsat on the shoulder.
Kebonsat grasped Reisil’s arm in a warm grip. “It is good to see you,” he said. “But what’s this about?”
“You’ll see,” she said as Sodur called everyone to silence.
“We’ve a long walk. Let’s not waste any more time.”
There was no chance to talk as they walked, the passage narrowing so that they had to walk single file, sometimes bent almost double. They went down and down, deep into the roots of the castle. Reisil began to hear the pulse of the harbor cavern.
They burrowed down into the cliffs beneath the palace, the passage eventually growing wider and more damp, even as it grew steeper, zigzagging back and forth down steps and switchbacks. Now the thunder of the harbor cavern drowned out every other sound, and it was impossible to ask Kebonsat about the Verit or Vertina or anything else.
They came to an open space where the smell of brine and damp was overpowering. Reisil wrinkled her nose and then gently pushed the others after Sodur, who stood inside the left-hand passage, gesturing impatiently. They pressed closely against a wall, the moss-slickened floor slipping sharply away. Carefully they edged along until they came to an opening. It proved to be a serpentine doorway leading to a flight of steep steps that dropped away abruptly from the landing. There was a sudden quiet as the pounding of the harbor cavern was suddenly muted. Light flickered below as Sodur lit a torch.
“What is this place?” Reisil asked, staring up
at the arched ceilings and dangling lucernes.
“Palace was built on the ruins of another, perhaps many others. This was a dungeon for those who came before us. Come on. Geran waits.”
Gargoyle heads snarled down from fluted pilasters on either side of the entryway, their expressions pitiless and harsh. The room beyond had once been a torture chamber, and Reisil could almost hear the screams of the men and women who’d suffered here. Sodur seemed oblivious and circled quickly around to the other side. There he lit two more torches, stopping at the entrance of a narrow passage.
“It’s too small to fit everyone. Two, maybe three at most.” He held out a torch.
“We’ll wait. You go,” Juhrnus said, indicating Reisil, Yohuac and Kebonsat. Reisil hesitated and then slid into the narrow corridor, turning sideways to ease through. Kebonsat followed next with Yohuac bringing up the rear. On Reisil’s shoulder, Saljane mantled and clenched her talons tighter.
~What is it?
Distress. Uncertainty. Unease.
~I know, me too. I feel . . . flat . . . somehow.
She emerged into a small open space shaped like a teardrop. Kebonsat and Yohuac crowded in behind. The gargoyles’ bulbous eyes glowed red, their stone tongues fleshy and malevolent. Yohuac took the torch from her and lit those in the wall sconces. Reisil examined the door. It was a solid slab of oak bound in iron. Three bars secured it closed, each etched in scrolling patterns. A grille-covered window allowed a view inside.
Reisil peered through the grille and realized there was an interior cell door. Was he so dangerous? She thought about the nokulas who’d attacked her and Sodur and shivered. She took a breath, fear making her hands tremble. The walls of the cell were covered in the same scrolling patterns as those on the crossbars. The space was perhaps twelve paces deep and twelve wide. There was no furniture, only bits of wood and cloth strewn across the floor. Against the far wall was a dented chamber pot turned on its side. Otherwise, the cell appeared empty.
Then she heard a noise, a scraping, a tapping. There was a swish and the debris on the floor scattered as if blown by a stiff wind. Reisil tensed, remembering the paths in the grass made by nearly invisible bodies, the translucent nokulas flashing silver like moonlit water.
“What do you see?” Yohuac asked.
Reisil did not answer. Suddenly she felt a tickle across her forehead and jerked back, rubbing her skin. A painful, rough line rose beneath her fingertips.
“Reisil?”
She shook her head, holding up her shaking hand. A sound rippled over her skin, almost too high to hear. It was akin to a laugh, but high-pitched and eerie. Inhuman. Out of nowhere a form began to resolve itself, like moonflies gathering into a shapely swarm. The result froze Reisil, her mouth open in a silent O. She could hardly fathom that this thing could ever have been human.
Like the nokulas from Veneston, it was powerful and looming, its movements graceful and quick. It stared at her with slanted silver eyes, curved like spoons, pupilless and fathomless. Thick, transclucent hairs sprang up over its head and ran down its spine and arms. They waved and undulated in deliberate motion, as if tasting the air. Its arms ended in six-jointed fingers tipped with hooking talons. As she watched, Reisil saw the beast scrape furrows in the stone floor.
Suddenly it leaped at her, and she wrenched back, stumbling against her companions, who caught her. The nokula peered at her through the grille. Its long, pointed snout dropped open in a slow yawn, revealing dozens of sharp teeth. Reisil gasped and stepped back, allowing Kebonsat and Yohuac to look. She leaned against the wall. Her stomach heaved. She retched, sliding down to the floor, her head bent between her knees. Saljane pressed close against her. A moment later hands caught her up.
“Come on. We’ve seen enough.” Kebonsat sounded shaken. He and Yohuac helped Reisil up the passageway, settling her on the edge of the hearth.
“What’s this?” Yohuac’s fingers whispered over her brow.
She shook her head.
“You let him touch you. The tongue. He didn’t break the skin, did he?” Sodur bent over her, grasping her chin and turning her head from side to side. “Lucky. Poison.”
“You could have warned us,” Kebonsat said.
“Wasn’t sure he’d let you see him.”
Reisil rubbed her eyes, his careless, detached tone scraping over her skin. “Where are the wizards?” she asked, rising to her feet.
Sodur cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Ah, now there’s a question.”
“Where?” Reisil insisted.
“Near Mysane Kosk. Outside of the ring of danger. Close enough to see their handiwork.”
“Where?”
“Thirty leagues south, in a high valley between Sapriim’s Peak and the Aavrel Range. Don’t know much else. They’ve taken precautions against casual discovery. The few ahalad-kaaslane who’ve gone closer have never been heard from.” His tone on the last was almost merry, and Reisil’s hand balled into a fist.
“Who?” she managed to squeeze out.
“Felias was one, as I recall. And Bethorn. Derkiin.” He shrugged. “They are missed.”
Reisil lunged to her feet. “Don’t you even care? Bethorn was your friend. You taught Felias . . .” She trailed away.
Sodur’s eyes narrowed to slits. He dipped his head low. At his feet, Lume growled. “You little know my pain, Reisiltark. Do not presume to judge. I have been ahalad-kaaslane far longer than you. We all do what we must. Our purpose is to stand like reefs, meeting danger before it can harm those we protect, so they may sleep sound at night when demons hunt in the darkness. We are not meant to have friends. We are meant to walk alone so that we can do as we must when we must, unblinded by ties of the heart.”
“You’re wrong,” Reisil retorted softly. “Ties of the heart give us the strength to stand between those we love and the evil that would harm them. And it is our trust and faith in one another that remind us we are not alone, that we serve the Lady and Kodu Riik together.”
As suddenly as he’d become menacing, Sodur’s mood shifted, and he smiled again. There was a wild edge to his expression, an alien shrewdness that made the hair on Reisil’s arms prickle. “Yes. True. We are never alone. But it is too soon to mourn. Perhaps they yet live.”
Juhrnus and Metyein stumbled out of the passage to the Iisand’s chambers, their faces white and clammy.
“By the Demonlord’s warty horn, what happened to him?” Metyein demanded, one hand clutching the hilt of his sword.
“You know. Mysane Kosk.”
“How can you be sure?” Juhrnus pressed.
“He went there shortly after the wizards destroyed it. To see for himself. Couldn’t get very close. Even then there was something. . . . There wasn’t much to see. The city was hidden by an unnatural mist. Changes started after that.”
“But how do you know that that is what caused it? That it wasn’t something else?” Reisil asked.
“He wasn’t the only one, and he wasn’t the first. There were the scouts. We didn’t know it until it was too late. They turned into a pack and slaughtered an entire squad before disappearing into the mountains. That was the first incident. Soon the pattern became clear. It was then Geran realized it was happening to him too, and had us lock him up. He hoped we could find a cure, of course. It was more important to him that he didn’t go about killing his own people, and that we would be able to see what happened to him. So we’d know.
“Back then you didn’t know how close was too close to Mysane Kosk. Some men changed; others didn’t. Didn’t seem to be a pattern as to who got struck. But now—Now you go to Mysane Kosk, and you can see. Can’t you?” He looked at Juhrnus, who nodded. “There’s a growing circle of light about the place. You can see inside the edges. Grass, trees, insects, animals—it’s all changed like him.” He jerked his head in the direction of the Iisand’s cell.
“He’s gone, isn’t he? There’s no way to bring him back. To bring any of them back,” Juhrnus said quietly.
“Who knows? It’s magic.”
“I’m going to find out,” Reisil said.
“Yes, it’s time,” Sodur said, startling her. “I’ll help you all I can.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled that queer smile again and said nothing. There was something else here, something more he wasn’t saying. Did she dare trust him? Did she have any choice?
Sodur led them through the passages to an empty set of rooms in the west wing. “Don’t let anyone see you leaving. The walls have eyes.” He chuckled and motioned Kebonsat back into the wall passage.
“I’ll come too. I’d like to know the way,” Juhrnus said, following after.
Sodur turned back to Reisil. “If you will accept an old man’s last words of advice, you may find that those ties of the heart may be painful indeed. Friends will die. You may even have to kill some. But whatever comes, you and your allies are all that stands between Kodu Riik and that.” He waved his arm in the vague direction of the Iisand’s cell. “Don’t ever forget what you’re meant to do.”
Reisil watched the panel in the wall slide shut. She dropped onto a divan, her arms wrapped around her waist.
“Reisil?” Yohuac squatted beside her, grasping her hand. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“You’re shaking.” Yohuac sat beside her, pulling her against his chest.
“Here.” Metyein thrust a glass of brandy into her hand, and she gulped it down, clutching the glass with both hands, grateful for the fire that burned down her throat.
Slowly the tremors subsided, and after a few minutes she pushed herself away from Yohuac. She looked at the two men, feeling the magnitude of what must be done, and wondering how it was to be accomplished. How this tiny handful of people were to do it. They were on their own now. Sodur had given over the reins, and she didn’t know if she could do any better than he. Both men returned her regard with complete trust. They believed in her. She quashed the voice inside that laughed at their foolishness.
“Mysane Kosk is the key,” she said. “It all began there. If the wizards won’t reverse what they’ve done, we’ll have to destroy it. With luck, that will end the plague. And then we’ll hunt down every nokula it spawned.” She stood up. “Even the Iisand. It’s the only way.”
Path of Honor Page 30