by Sean Russell
“There is some good news, I’m glad to hear.”
There was the quick crunch and scatter of gravel as someonetrotted along the path.
“Your grace?” a maid said softly.
“What is it, Anna?”
“A company of men-at-arms has just arrived with a man theyfound wandering in a wood. He is said to be Lord Samul Renne.”
Dease closed his eyes, leaning his weight against the railing.
Suddenly his head throbbed, and the fatigue that had besethim seemed to cast its net over him again, dragging him down. He thought hemight begin to sob and went quickly from the balcony, collapsing into one ofthe chairs in the small drawing room.
Would he never be shut of Samul and Beld? Could they not dieor flee? As long as they remained alive he would know no peace. The truth wouldcome out one day,
Llyn’s words came back to him then. There was never anytruth in him.
She should have been speaking of me, Dease realized.
He turned to look back out toward the garden but caughtsight of his own dark reflection in the glass of the opened door. How shadowedhis eyes were. How contrived the look of his face. He was becoming more likeSamul each day, a hidden man. A man in whom there was no truth. And how wouldhe ever change that now?
Thirteen
There were a few cells hidden away beneath Castle Renne, thoughnothing like the “dungeons” one read of in stories. Dease made his way down theuneven stairs by the light of a lantern, careful with his footing. The stonetreads were crudely made, uneven and broken in places-easy enough to lose one’sfooting and stumble. He wiped away a cobweb that netted his face, then ran ahand over his hair to search for spiders.
He came into a passageway, its vaulted stone ceiling lost insmoky shadows. The air there was cool with a dank odor of newly turned soil. Aguard at the end of the passage rose quickly from the box he’d been loungingon, clearly worried that Dease would upbraid him for lazing on the job. Dease,however, could not have cared less.
“Lord Samul,” Dease said.
The man bowed nervously. “This way, your grace.” He lifted alantern from a hook set into the wall and led down a short side passage.Before a door with a tiny, barred window he stopped.
“That will be all,” Dease said, and the guard waddled off.
Inside the cell a candle flickered, offering dull illuminationto a cot, a small desk, and a single, straight-backed chair.
“Samul?”
A form rose from the cot, tossing back a blanket. “Dease?”Samul appeared in the candlelight, rising stiffly. He crossed the few paces tothe ironbound door.
“I’m glad to see you alive, Cousin,” Samul said, keeping hisvoice low.
“And you, Cousin,” Dease answered. “But what folly broughtyou here to Castle Renne? You must know that Toren will keep his word.”
“I was washed out of the Stillwater into a little tributaryof the Wynnd. I didn’t know at first where I was.”
Dease hung his lantern up on a hook by the door. It droveback only the worst of the shadows. The effect of this was to give to Samul’sface a cast of distress that was certainly not there. None of Samul’s emotionsever showed on his face-which had led many to speculate that he had nofeelings.
“I might have slipped quietly away, but when I heard war hadbroken out I knew I had to return to warn Toren. You will hardly believe me,but Hafydd has made a bargain with Death.”
“We know,” Dease answered. “One of the northerners, Fynnol,saw … you in league with Hafydd. Or so the Fael say.”
Samul’s hands came up and curled around the bars. “No,Dease! I had no choice but to pretend to serve Hafydd. It was Beld who made abargain with Hafydd, not I. In the Stillwater Hafydd approached me alone andoffered me a place of prominence in his court when he overran the land betweenthe mountains. He spoke very seductively about all that I could have andachieve, and gave me a small leather case, which he said contained an egg. Iwas to open the case and break the egg just before Alaan led us out of theStillwater. Out of range of Hafydd’s influence I came to my senses. But when Iwent to destroy the egg Beld found me and snatched the egg from my hand, andbroke it open. A wasp, flew out-I swear it is the truth-and Hafydd thenbelieved that it was I who had signaled him. But it was Beld.” He stopped totake a breath and collect his thoughts. “I saved Toren from Beld. Has he forgottenthat?”
“I’m sure he hasn’t. You also tried to murder him. He hasn’tforgotten that either.”
“And what of you, Dease? Have you forgotten your part?”
Dease looked around quickly, wondering how far voices carrieddown these passages. “I’ve not forgotten, Cousin,” he whispered. “That is whyI’m here. I’ll try to intercede with Toren for you-and with Lady Beatrice aswell. But they will never trust you. Be sure of that. If I cannot sway them, Iwill get you out of here somehow.” He glanced back down the hall. “This guardis fond of his drink. I shall slip him enough brandy to put him to sleep if Imust.”
They fell silent then, the two conspirators. The lanternguttered and went out, leaving Dease in near darkness, only the frail light ofSamul’s candle pushing back a thousandth part of the darkness. Dease glancedquickly around and he realized he could be in the cell, and the littlewindow through which he could see Samul’s faint silhouette his only view of theoutside.
He reached up and clasped Samul’s hand, which still held thebar. “Is there anything you need?”
Samul laughed. “In such luxurious surroundings what couldany man want? A new pallet and bedding would not be out of order. Candles. Abook to read. Ink and paper. I will soon go mad down here if I have nothing tooccupy my hours.”
“I’ll see to your needs, Samul. As soon as I can.” Deasereached up and took his lantern down from its hook, feeling the warmth stillrising from it even though the flame had vanished. He turned away, leaving hiscousin’s haunted face framed in the barred window.
“Dease?” Samul called before Dease had gone a dozen paces.
“Yes?”
HO
“And a cloak of wool. It is damp and chill down here. A mancan never get warm.”
“I’ll find you one,” Dease said.
He lit his lamp again from the guard’s and carried on downthe passage, the small, barred windows of empty cells gazing at him reproachfullyas he left.
Fourteen
Elise and A’brgail supported each other as they foughtthrough the final yards of bramble and into the failing sunlight. A’brgailglanced quickly behind. The day was all but gone, the western sky awash inmolten cloud.
“He’s no longer near,” Elise said calmly. Her gaze appearedto rest upon some distant place, far out of his view.
A’brgail was humbled by her strength. He leaned an arm onher thin girlish shoulders, but she did not falter or even seem to notice. Herslight frame was stronger than his-stronger than any man’s, he expected. If notfor Elise he would never have survived the flooded cavern. But surviving thattook all his strength, and he couldn’t have walked another furlong without her.He shook his head. Elise stood erect still, though her golden hair was tangled,her clothing so torn to ruins that it was barely decent. Where she had beenbattered against the stone walls in the maze of tunnels, her skin was darklybruised and scraped raw. She lowered A’brgail to a fallen trunk and sat down ona little hillock opposite.
“Are we in the hidden lands, yet?” the knight asked. “I’veseen no landmark I recognize. No village or road. Not even a dirt track thatmight lead us … somewhere. We must not yet have found our way back into theland between the mountains.”
“We’re back to our own lands,” Elise said, her voice faraway. “Though where we are I cannot say. Lost …” She said this last wordwistfully. Then to herself, Lost.
A’brgail regarded her with what he realized was pity-thisthing he had once vowed to destroy. This abomination, who appeared to be atroubled young woman, sad beyond measure. “Are you well, my lady?” he askedsoftly.
“No, Sir Gilbert,” sh
e said, shaking her head, her gazefixed on the open fields. “I have not been well since I sold my soul to amonster.”
“You don’t seem much like a monster,” he answered, to hissurprise.
“No? I fear it will show in time.” She looked down at herhands, turning them over as though not sure they were hers. “I have hermemories, her sensibility and feelings, struggling against my own, against mynature. Sianon was without remorse, without affection. Her lovers were toonumerous to name, and she loved none of them. Her own children went into battleto gain her love, and when they died she did not mourn. It was the price of hergift-all loved her, but she cared for no one. That is not true; she loved oneman-her own brother, Sainth, who has made a bargain with Alaan.”
“My brother,” A’brgail said softly.
Elise did look up at him then, a crease appearing betweenher eyebrows, as though she tried to look inside him.
“It is a tangle of relations,” she said, running her handabsent-mindedly over her torn breeches.
“But you are not Sianon,” A’brgail insisted. “Alaan swearsthat he is not controlled by Sainth, and in truth, he does not seem greatlychanged, though I have been loath to admit it until now.”
“But Alaan and Sainth are not so different. Sianon … sheis my opposite in almost every way. And I have already given in, once, to her… appetites.” She played with a frayed edge on her torn breeches. “A part ofme did it only for pleasure, as a man might go to a brothel”-she closed her eyes,cheeks burning-“but the part of me that is … me-I was not so callous. Myheart was … touched. It will sound naive, but I swear I felt it open-like ablossom.” She closed her eyes, as though to staunch the tears.
A’brgail found himself wanting to comfort her, though hefeared it was the spell that surrounded Sianon that made everyone want toplease her, to win her favor, but he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t be ashamedof having womanly feelings,” he said. “Better to have a broken heart than noheart at all.”
“Easily said,” Elise answered, opening her eyes and blinkingrapidly. She wiped a dirty sleeve across her cheeks. “But thank you all thesame.” She stood. “We must go on. I need to know where we are and how far it isback to Westbrook.”
“Not far,” said a voice.
Elise spun around to find a Fael standing a few yards off, asword in hand.
“Archers have their arrows trained on your hearts,” the mansaid. “You would be wise not to move.”
“And who are you?” Elise asked, trying to keep the pride ofSianon in check.
“I am Brendl,” the Fael answered. “And you would appear tobe beggars, by your dress, but I suspect that is far from the truth.”
A’brgail realized that other men lurked in the shadows ofthe trees as the dusk settled around them.
“I’m Elise Wills, and this is Gilbert A’brgail, a knightwhose deeds, if they were known, would win him great renown.”
“Elise Wills drowned in the Westbrook,” Brendl said, “or soit is said.”
“I did go into the Westbrook, to escape a man who calls himselfSir Eremon, but I did not drown, as you can see.”
The Fael nodded, a little bow of acknowledgment. “You arevery much alive, but whether or not you are Elise Wills … that is for othersto judge. Come with me.”
“And where will you take us?”
“Not far,” he said. Other Fael appeared out of the woodthen, all uncharacteristically well armed.
Elise glanced at A’brgail and nodded, to his relief. Hecould not have put up any resistance. He barely managed to gain his feetwithout help. A Fael came to his aid, and he made his way through the shadowsbeneath the trees, with Elise supporting him on one side and a black wandereron the other.
In a few moments they broke out of the trees into thequickly failing light.
Brendl raised a hand and pointed. “There. The tower citiesof my people.”
A’brgail pulled himself upright and gazed down the hillsideinto the dark shadow of the undulating blue hills. There was water there-asmall lake, perhaps-dark as steel in the spreading twilight. And then he sawthem; the three worn stone towers-raised by the hand of nature-extending likemisshapen fingers from the smooth water. Upon their crests the cities of theFael-Aland-or, Fylan-or, and Naismoran.
“How in the world have we come here? It is far from where webegan.”
“Leagues,” Elise said.
They made their way down the hillside. A rubble wall protecteda sloping pasture, and they clambered noisily over loose stone and down intothe soft grass. Sheep appeared to float in the twilight: small, dim clouds uponthe heath.
It was a long walk down the hill, darkness growing aboutthem. The final furlong passed beneath the stars. A cool breeze sprang up fromthe north, and in his exhausted state, A’brgail began to feel chill. A flintroad appeared before them, a pale gray ribbon winding down toward the darkenedlake.
Atop the towers, lights appeared, much closer now, and theknight could see that the buildings stretched for some distance down the tower’ssides, the structures clinging there by what means he could not guess. At theroad’s end they came to a ferry dock, a broad, flat barge rising and fallingalmost imperceptibly between stone pillars. Two tall Fael stepped out of theshadow of a small blockhouse. One came forward, a hand laid lightly on the hiltof his sword. The other stood back, an arrow knocked, the curving yaka wood bowgleaming in the starlight. Brendl went forward and spoke to them quietly in thelanguage of their people.
A moment later he returned to the outsiders. “Come, we willcross to Aland-or. The elders will decide what to do with you.”
“Is it against some Fael law to walk abroad by night?” Eliseasked stubbornly.
A’brgail thought that Brendl looked a bit embarrassed. “Wehave received disturbing news from our people who travel the land between themountains. There are rumors that the Renne and the Wills are about to go towar, if they have not done so already.” He waved a hand to a good-sized boat.
A’brgail needed help to climb aboard, but they were sooncrossing the flat water, six men at the oars, another half dozen guarding thestrangers, though A’brgail thought they were going out of their way to offer nothreat. The oars disturbed the stars, wavering all around them, and sent themspinning away in their wake. A’brgail pulled his tattered robe close againstthe cool breeze and dampness of the lake, but Elise seemed unaffected. Just tosit was a relief. A’brgail felt the weakness of his limbs as he slumped on thethwart, unable to sit upright.
Each stroke of the oars sent the boat surging forward, thebow rising a little, black water rippling by. Like most of the inhabitants ofthe land between the mountains, A’brgail had spent some time in boats. TheWynnd and its tributaries were the main roads of the land, after all. He mightnot know a good boat to look at it, but to ride in one was a different thing.This boat rode the waters lightly, tracked straight and true, and did not bobor roll about. He ran his fingers along the gunwale, the planking; all wassmooth and fair, the scantlings surprisingly fine.
Overhead, nighthawks cried. A fish shot into the air,splashing immediately back into its element. Was the surface invisible bynight, he wondered? Did fish fly out into the air unwittingly?
As I am doing myself, he thought. For he seemed to bein a world not his own, confused, gasping for breath.
The woman beside him was an abomination. A grand master ofhis order had been burned alive for doing what she had done. Bargains withnagar always went awry. But even so, he could not help but feel pity for her.He had seen the agony she was in, clearly, but an hour before. She was payingthe price for what she’d done. He hoped that she would be the only one to pay.He also hoped that Lady Elise would never give rein to the thing within her,for Sianon was a heartless monster. A woman who lived for war and felt no remorsefor the lives it cost. Yet, Sianon was also their only hope-she and Alaan.Hafydd could not be defeated without them.
The tower of Aland-or loomed out of the darkness, and asmall stone wharf appeared at its base. They clambered out ont
o the steps.Brendl went quickly up to the guards and spoke low. A’brgail found himselfstaring at them, wondering if any small movement or look would betray what wasbeing said or indicate their intentions. The guards only turned to regard themsolemnly.
“This man does not speak your language,” Brendl said, “buthe will take you up into the city. I will send you on without guards if yougive your word to cause no trouble.”
“What choice have we?” Elise asked, bristling a little. “Butyes, we will give our word.”
Brendl bowed to them once, then climbed nimbly back into theboat. In a moment he was lost in the dark, only the quick rhythmic splash ofthe oars marking his progress.
At an unseen signal from the guards, ropes began singingthrough blocks somewhere high above. A large woven basket appeared out of thedark, landing with a gentle thump on the stone. Their guide opened a small gatein the basket’s side and motioned for Elise and A’brgail to step inside. In amoment the three of them were rising smoothly through the air, the dark,star-speckled lake spreading out below.
A soft breeze found them as they rose, and A’brgail had thefeeling that they had taken their leave of the world and were in flight, floatingup like a hawk on a rising breeze. He glanced over at Elise, barely discerniblein the faint light. She stood with a hand on the narrow rail, gazing out overthe still waters. How careworn she looked. Her youthful face overcome by theconcerns of someone much older.
But how old would Sianon be, he wondered?
A’brgail also wondered what thoughts were preying on hermind, for she was an enigma to him-he who had not much experience of women,let alone a woman who had made a bargain with a nagar.
The basket slowed, then settled into a wooden structure, asmall plank floor opening up around them, dark wooden beams, carved with birdsin flight, curving overhead. Lanterns cast their inconstant golden lightthere, and A’brgail saw that the structure was elegant and lightly built,which no doubt it would need to be, for it was cantilevered out over the edgeof a cliff.