by Sean Russell
“Because she loves you as I do, and I can’t bear to go a daywithout seeing you.”
Carral smiled his perfect, unself-conscious smile. “Is itbecause I’m so handsome?”
“No, it is your charm that I can’t resist.” She took hishands.
“Your hands are cold,” he said.
“It is that mask. It never dries, and it is always cool.”
“Have you … put it on?”
“No. I’m afraid to.”
“Magic is disconcerting. There is no doubt of that.”
“True, though I’m not sure that’s the reason. Will you comewith me? I will tell you a story while we walk.”
“Certainly,” Carral said, and they both rose. “Where is itwe go?”
“To visit someone.” She led him through her rooms to thedoor that opened into Castle Renne. A door she had seldom been through.
“Your grace,” her servant said, as Llyn unbolted the door.
“It is all right,” Llyn said. “I know where it is I go.” Sheopened the door and led Carral out into the hall. For a moment she could notcatch her breath, but then she did.
They passed servants who started at the sight of her, butthen bowed and went on their way. Some of her cousins nodded but said nothing.
Carral squeezed her hand tightly. “Llyn,” Carral whispered. “Youare very brave.”
“I’m not going into battle,” she said.
“No, but death is not always our worst fear.”
She flushed.
“You said you’d tell me a story …” Carral said.
“Yes. But first I must ask you a question: do you love me?”
“With all my heart, as I have said a thousand times, thoughrepetition does not seem to have made it more believable.”
“Something exceedingly strange has happened this night, andit has to do with you and with me.”
They continued down the hall, passing people now and then,Llyn telling her story. Carral clinging tightly to her hand, lest she slipaway, as had his wife and daughter before. Clinging like a man to his love, andshe like a woman to her husband.
Forty-nine
Toren had last been to A’brgail’s small tower with hiscousin Arden. He had failed, then, to convince Arden to join the Knights of theVow, which had surprised him at the time. It was not a mystery, now-Arden hadbeen involved in a plot to take his life. Toren closed his eyes at the memory.His own cousins …
Two guards stood outside, their great, two-handed swordsheld point down to the ground, so that Toren thought they looked like statuesin the dim light of dusk. They bowed to him as he dismounted, and one took thereins of his horse. Toren was led into the great hall, hung with ancientbanners, lit by torches. Arden had stood there, by the long table. Toren couldrecall him in perfect detail. Remembered the strange, troubled look on hisface-guilt, he realized now. Not long after he’d been dead, killed by one ofhis own.
A door opened, and A’brgail hurried in, looking verydignified in his gray robe.
“Lord Toren! I apologize for keeping you.”
They clasped hands.
“You look much recovered from our ordeal,” Toren ventured.
“As do you,” A’brgail responded. His look was very solemn.
The truth was that A’brgail looked like a man who had seentoo much, or had seen things that forced him to ask difficult questions.
“And what of the others?” A’brgail asked. “Has Lady Elisebeen lost to us?”
“I have not seen her; nor have I had word. Perhaps she hasreturned to the river, Gilbert. One might go sit by the bank … Strangerthings have happened.”
“Sianon sacrificed herself to bring down Caibre,” A’brgailsaid softly. “I became the ally of a nagar-worse-a woman who bore such amonster inside her. It was the avowed purpose of my order to see that thesecreatures did not return. And I became their ally.”
“The world changed, Gilbert. Without Elise Wills and yourbrother, Hafydd would rule these lands now-Hafydd and the thing that dweltinside him. You did the right thing.”
Toren noticed that the hilt of a massive sword lay on thetable. “Slighthand’s sword!” he said.
“Yes. Or at least what remains of it. You have seen myguards with their two-handed swords? That is a tradition of my order. Somethingwe have done for centuries in honor one of our founders, Orlem Slighthand.”
“It is appropriate that this has come to you,” Toren said,running his hand over the hilt. “I still can’t believe that I met such a legend.To think that he and Kilydd lived all these centuries.”
“Yes. The man who now calls himself Kai is not interested inany of the honors we have offered. He would be welcomed among us, veneratedeven, but he will have none of it. He has moved on.” A’brgail shrugged.
“I would not give up on Kai. He might have a place among youyet.” Toren took a rolled paper from his cloak and set it on the table.
“And what is that?” the Knight asked.
“A charter,” Toren said. “Signed by myself and LadyBeatrice, sanctioning your order to bring peace and safety to the roads of ourlands and those of our closest allies. I know it is a small start, Gilbert, butonce the Knights of the Vow earn the trust of the people, moreresponsibilities will be granted to you.”
A’brgail took up the paper, slipped off the ribbon, and letit unroll. “Don’t apologize, Lord Toren, my order has much to prove. Ourhistory is both glorious and shameful. Only by our actions should we be judged.”He laid the paper on the table by the remains of Slighthand’s sword. “I cannotbegin to thank you,” he said.
“You don’t even need to begin,” Toren said. “I will soon bethanking you, I think.” Toren smiled, then quickly changed the subject. “Nowtell me again of these lost companies of Knights.”
“They were led into the hidden lands by Orlem Slighthand tofight alongside Slighthand’s people.”
Toren shook his head. “A people all the size of Slighthand.We had better not offend them.”
“I think they are a peaceful people, Lord Toren. That is whythey needed our help.”
“Yes,” Toren said. “We are not a peaceful people. It is thegreat tragedy of our race. War is in our blood.”
“But there are more noble qualities in our blood as well,” A’brgailsaid. “That is what I leaned from Elise Wills. She struggled against that sideof her. Sianon did not conquer her. If Elise Wills can do that, then it givesme hope for the rest of us.”
Toren looked up at all the rows of banners of fallencompanies. “If only my family could learn that lesson,” he said. “But I fear hatredand vengeance will always be so much more alluring. Reason is a thin wallagainst the storms of passion.” He looked over at Gilbert. “Perhaps that willbe your part, Gilbert. To be that wall of reason. To stand between the Renneand the Wills, who I fear would sink back into their cycle of murder andrevenge at the slightest provocation.”
“Justice rather than vengeance?” Gilbert said.
“Yes, in all of its imperfection. Let us try that.”
Fifty
They decided to slip away at first light, and very nearlydid so unnoticed. Tuath, the vision weaver, stood by the entrance to the Faelencampment, watching them with her icy pale eyes. She seemed, though, lessghostly that day, as though a little of spring’s color showed through the snow.
“I hope you have no visions to darken the road ahead?”Fyn-nol said.
“I have had no visions at all,” she answered. “It is asthough we have come to a division of the roads and have gone a wholly new way.All that lies ahead is a mystery to me and might be for some time. Luck to youon your journey. Perhaps I will travel north with my people one spring and comesee the Vale of Lakes. It is said that the people there are friends to theFael, and make them welcome.”
“It is true,” Tam said. “Bring Cynddl, if you can.”
“And tell him he still owes us horses!” Fynnol laughed.
They rode out of the circle of tents and along the trailbeside the Westbrook
. They crossed the high, curving bridge, then stopped towait for Kai. Baore took the opportunity to tighten the ropes on theirpackhorses, for they were going home laden with gifts. A Fael cart appeared outof the trees, the great horse lifting its feet high as though on parade. Up onthe high bench sat Kai, and beside him Ufrra and the boy named Stillman.
“Kai!” Fynnol called. “Have you brought our map?”
Tam remembered that Fynnol had once laughed at the idea of amap that would lead to hidden lands-but he seemed to have forgotten that now.Tam would have to remind him later.
“I have brought more than that!” Kai said.
Out from behind the cart, on horseback, trotted Alaan,Thea-son, and Cynddl. They seemed more refreshed and joyful than Tam couldremember, and they smiled and laughed to see their friends.
Kai passed a rolled map down from the cart. “That will bethe shortest path to the Vale,” he assured them.
“Do you see how Kai has risen in the world,” Alaan said. “Hewould not take an estate from the Renne, or a house from Carral Wills, but thiscart and all its contents were much to his liking. Better than a barrow, hethought.”
“I have not lived in one place or beneath a roof for moreyears than most can count. A Fael tent and this cart will suit Ufrra and me.”Kai nodded to the boy beside him. “And young Stil seems to have hitched himselfto our wagon, as it were, and we are glad of it. Now I can see the landswithout feeling that I’m perpetually on my way to a slaughterhouse.”
“Where will you go?” Tam asked.
“South when the winter comes. There is seldom snow even thisfar north, but the winter is more agreeable by the shores of the great sea.”
“Come north in spring,” Fynnol said. “I know just the placeto pitch a tent in the Vale.”
“A long journey for a man of advancing years, but perhaps Imight manage it. We’ll see.”
“And you, Alaan?” Tam asked. “Where will you go now?”
“Into the Stillwater, to begin with. There is an enchantmentthere that needs my attention.” He tugged the green jewel out of the collar ofhis shirt. “And the design for that spell is in here. Theason has agreed totravel with me, so I shall not go alone.”
“Beware, good Theason,” Kai said, and not entirely in jest. “Ifyou join the company of men who have traveled with Sainth, you might have along life, but there will be no home for you.” He gestured behind him. “You’llbe lucky to have this.”
The little man did not seem to think this a jest. “Theasonwould consider himself fortunate indeed to live as the Fael do, but as youknow, good Kai, his great joy is to see new lands. I shall be on the lookoutfor any plants that might ease your suffering.”
Cynddl dismounted and embraced each of the Valemen in turn. “Noneof us knew where the river would take us when we set out. It was not a journeywithout loss, but the gains, too, were great.” He paused, and looked at each ofthem, his eyes glistening. For a moment his voice eluded him, but then hespoke. “You three are the friends of my heart-my brothers in arms. You haveeach saved my life, and more than once, and I believe I have done the same foryou. None but we four and the river know what we have been through. The storycan be told, but a story is but an artifice. A great complex of emotions,events, thoughts, and deeds, distilled down to a mouthful of words. Like tryingto imagine the river by listening to a spring.” He clapped Tam on theshoulder. “I will journey north in the spring and visit you. Be well, andhasten north, or the snows will catch you.”
Alaan handed Tam a sealed letter. “For you, Tam,” he said.
The Valeman glanced at the hand and slipped it into apocket. Shy Theason stood back while the men embraced, then mounted their finehorses.
“I would tell you to beware of highwaymen,” Alaan said, “butit is the highwaymen who should beware of you.”
“There will be no highwaymen on the paths I have laid downfor them,” Kai said.
Reluctantly the Valemen spurred their horses and set off towardthe north road. Fynnol turned in his saddle and called out.
“People will never know what you did for them, Alaan!”
“Nor will they know what you three have done,” Alaan rejoined,raising a hand. “Fare well. Good speed, my friends. Good speed.”
They stopped to let the horses drink from a small stream,and beneath the shade of a tree Tam took out the letter Alaan had given him.His name was written on it with an elegant, almost old-fashioned hand. He tooka long breath and broke the seal.
Dear Tam:
Now that I am no longer a lady of property, I go off intothe wildlands to take up my new position as nursemaid to children unlike anywho have lived before. Who better to do this than a woman who carries asorceress inside her?
I know it is not proper for me to say I will miss you, aswe never arrived at an understanding, but I will miss you, and will not pretendotherwise. Eber tells me that people who have once found their way to SpeakingStone are often able to find it again, so if a desire for adventure shouldseize you … Of course you have likely had enough adventure to last you forsome time.
I often wonder what course events might have taken had Inot leapt from the bridge that night after the Renne ball. I feel, even now,that I had no choice, yet it is an act I regret above all others. Elise Willsceased to be that night, and in her place appeared a creature, young andancient, callous and caring. A woman divided against herself. But without thecold heart of Sianon I should never have managed the things I did. And itseems that heart is not entirely cold, for there is in it a warmth that alwayskindles when I think of you.
Now that I have broken every rule I was taught as a younglady, I will close. That is a part of me too-Sianon’s disdain for theconventions of polite society. Where shall such a woman find a home but in thewildlands?
Yours utterly, Elise
Tam read the letter several times through., as he wouldevery day during that long journey, extracting from the few words all the meaningthat he possibly could. One phrase echoed in his mind over and over: ‘wenever arrived at an understanding’. He did not think that any six wordswould ever cause him such confusion and regret. It was, he feared, true inevery possible way.
Autumn in its copper glory spread across the northernforests, turning the world crimson and gold. Flights of swans passed south,stark against the high blue. Three riders leading pack animals came up thegreat road, wrapped in warm cloaks against the cool morning air. At the forkto the stone gate the leader stopped.
“Let’s ride out onto the bridge,” Tam said, and the othersnodded, not needing any explanation for this detour so close to home.
In a few moments they were above the narrow gorge where thebroad, calm lakes transformed into a racing river. None of them spoke. Tam,Baore, and Fynnol sat on their fine horses and gazed at their surroundings: therocks where they hid from Hafydd’s guards; the tower by Telanon Bridge risingup out of the crimson trees; the old battlefield where they had unearthed awhetstone that had once belonged to a sorceress.
It had all begun there, where the rain streamed down fromthe mountains and formed a river to the sea. A river fed by a thousand springsand streams, that bubbled and whispered among the sunlit woods.
A silver haze hung over the river, floating the bridge on athin cloud, and the sun glanced off the stone railings. It seemed too peacefula place to be the wellspring for an adventure.
“Let’s go home,” Fynnol said, “and see if anyone remembersour handsome faces.”
They turned their mounts and rode back toward the stonegate. Over the clatter of horses’ hooves Tam thought he heard a flutelikephrase off in the deep wood-a sorcerer thrush singing its way south-and hethought of Alaan, as he often did.
Fifty-one
Spring, borne on a warm breeze, flowed north from the sea,pressing back the snow and spreading a warmth of color across the lands. Notfar behind, the black wanderers followed. The trains of horse-drawn cartsappeared on the roads of the land between the mountains, the exotic Faelplaying music and singing as they wen
t as though they were the heralds ofspring and hope returning.
There was much news to be spread that eventful year. TheDuke of Vast had been found starving in a herdsman’s hut, and had taken his ownlife. A great tremor had been felt one night, shaking the earth with a soundlike thunder. An act of sorcery, some said, but little ill came of it. LadyLlyn Renne had wed Lord Carral Wills, and she was with child. Though thestories that she had been seen for some time wearing a mask of gold, and thatwhen she removed it, all her burns were healed, were not widely believed.
In early summer a company of Fael came up the north road andpitched their sculpted tents in the meadow by Telanon Bridge. When this newsreached Tam he saddled the horse that had carried him home, took leave of hisgrandfather, and rode out through the stone gate.
Cynddl greeted him as he entered the encampment, appearingyounger than Tam remembered, despite his gray hair and pale complexion.
“Tamlyn!” Cynddl called. “Have you come to travel the river?”
“Maybe one day,” Tam answered, “but not today.”
Tam jumped down from his horse and embraced the storyfinder, pounding him on the back.
“You look well,” Cynddl said, as they released each other.
“So do you. I think you’ve grown younger.”
Cynddl laughed. “It is the grey hair. No one can ever tellhow old I really am. And how are Fynnol and Baore? Well, I hope?”
Tam touched a hand to Cynddl’s shoulder. “I sent word to Fynnol,hoping you had come with the Fael, but Baore … Baore died this winter.”
Cynddl’s hand went to his face. “He survived the swans’ war.What could befall him in the Vale?”
“He fell through the ice crossing the lake one night. It wasstrange, as he knew the lakes better than anyone. But Baore had not done wellafter we returned. He sank into melancholy, and though Fynnol did everything hecould to lift his mood, he slipped farther and farther into darkness.”
Cynddl closed his eyes for a moment. “I hope your people honoredhim as he deserved,” the Fael whispered.