The Night Holds the Moon

by Roberts, Parke; Thompson, Colleen

  To her relief they did not tamper with her other jewelry. She wore somewhat more than was her wont.

  Besides dogs and combs, she left with them two other things: fresh clothing, and his sword, the strange, gently curved blade he had brought with him from overseas. They were for afterward. Already, though she had hurried in her preparations, the sun had settled low.

  She paused before his coursers, but they did not respond. "You did not tell him about this?"

  "By the Saire's command," said Jenir, "we are not to speak to him, and he is not to speak at all except on her specific orders."

  "Are you all such literal imbeciles? The Saire would not have meant for something like this to continue. Father! Dagger and Arrow seek you."

  "Stand down," her father's voice came to her, ghostly down the wide and empty hall.

  Both dogs dropped to their haunches.

  "Silence, you!" she heard a guard snarl.

  "Let it pass," Jenir commanded.

  He walked her down the long, drear corridor, and paused before the cell to load his crossbow. "You understand that if anything happens after I lock you in, I will not open the door. Not for any reason. Not until he is dead. Are you sure you still want to go in?"

  "I am."

  "Very well, Your Majesty." He signaled to the two guards, who took aim to either side as he turned the key. A moment, a clang and a grinding ratchet, and she was imprisoned as well.

  "I don't suppose," she asked of Jenir through the bars, "that just a few moments, alone…?"

  "No, Your Majesty. You know the conditions. I'm sorry."

  "Yes," she answered wearily, head bowed and back still to the rest of the cell. "Yes, of course. Father, Jenir will watch us the entire time. Everything we say needs to be audible to him, except what you will tell me regarding Elzmere. Any deviations from this, and our interview will be terminated. You must tell me about Elzmere first. You must be swift."

  "Come, then, and hear."

  She turned, and at a half-walk, half-run, met him in the center of the cell, where she clung to him fiercely.

  "Gods, but you are a forgiving creature," he told her as he gathered her up in his arms; plainly, so that Jenir could hear; hoarsely, because he could not speak it otherwise. After that, neither father nor daughter trusted their voices. They were content, to stand that way, pressed close and wordless. Her hair smelled to him of all the outdoors: sun and grass and leaf and herb; the earth, and herself upon it. But dusted lightly over all he recognized the pollen of new-opened evening lilies, flowers of twilight and the dusk. And sunset. Gently, firmly, he put her from him.

  "Now you must listen," he said.

  Castandra nodded her head in assent and turned so that Jenir could clearly see that she made no reply, that they did not hold an illicit conversation.

  But it was not Elzmere her father spoke of. Instead, he stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. His chin came to just a little above her ear, and it was a simple matter for him to talk so softly that she alone could make out his words. "The only thing I am ashamed of," he told her, "is how ruthlessly I have used you. This is the worst, but at least, it is also the last.

  "It all falls to you, now. You are our defense. You must hold onto the throne, you must pass it on to heirs, and you must keep us separate and isolated. You will have to live among the lowlanders, perhaps until you, too, die, but I tell you now, you must uphold our laws. Those earliest knew some mystery; there is purpose behind each law and it is wrong, wrong to tamper with them. We are different. Remember: Do not breed with them. Do not share our knowledge. We must not abandon the Starsinger. These things above all else. Any amount of power is worthless if we cannot keep these three."

  She listened mechanically as he told her then of Elzmere, and when he was finished she sank gracefully to the floor beside his meal. Simple food, bread and cheese, wrapped up in a square napkin. No plate, no utensils, of course. Too dangerous. A flimsy tin cup with no handle. Empty.

  "You haven't eaten," she said.

  "No. I am not hungry."

  Jenir would not find that surprising, the sorceress thought, but she knew better. Yes, they were indeed different. Given water, the elite guard could go for weeks without food; Kyr, no more than a few days, and those few would be agonizing. Her father might be able to refuse food for now, but between his hunger and the blood he had lost, liquids would be irresistible and this was good for her designs.

  "The guards have sharproot tea. Jenir?"

  Her father stayed well back, and the elite mercifully took the cup without argument, filled it, and returned it to her.

  All the guards watched her father intently. No one watched her as she turned, both hands arched over the top of the cup.

  He took the tea from her and drained every drop.

  "Dagger and Arrow might refuse to eat, after. When they do not eat, they are… like us."

  "I will not let them suffer."

  "They have formed some manner of bond with Elzin. I hope it will be enough. Do not be too hasty."

  "I will observe them closely."

  "Castandra, there is little time, and I must know… about you and Heratinn."

  The sorceress settled herself on the floor again and folded her hands in her lap. "So you knew, then. We talked, only talked, about the possibility of someday. Had you not set me your example with Elzin, there would never have been so much as that." Her tone turned bitter. "You would not have needed to kill Heratinn."

  "No, Castandra. I did not know before today. Heratinn did not die because of you, he died because he would not be intimidated or deceived. It amazes me how many confused his gentleness with weakness. He was the strongest of the lot, and he had guessed everything."

  The sorceress put her head in her hands. "Curse the both of you, then, for causing me such grief."

  "I am sorry for that."

  "Everything I love dies."

  "Castandra, everything dies."

  "Not like this!" The girl's gesture took in the bare and dismal cell.

  "True. Many die for nothing. I am grateful that I will not be so unfortunate." He pulled her to her feet. "The sun has nearly set, I think. I do not want you to be here."

  "No,” she said, and crossed her arms. Her eyes were steel.

  "Please, Castandra. It will be easier--" His knees suddenly buckled, and he fell to them and his hands in the straw. Instantly--he thought that quickly--his gaze went to her rings, and she knew that he had recognized the one that he had given her. The one with the false setting that disguised a hollow interior. He had presented it to her years ago very gravely; poison in it, in case she should ever run afoul of the Queen and he was unable protect her. She had replaced the original contents this afternoon, and now it was empty.

  "Castandra!"

  "I couldn't let them have you. Not like that."

  Jenir shouted for assistance, then slammed an empty hand against the bars. "What is going on?" he demanded.

  The highlander toppled to his side. "I believe your commission ends here, Jenir," he gasped.

  "Get the Saire. Hurry!" snapped Castandra. She dropped to her knees beside her sire. Jenir barked commands. Two of the guards raced back down the hallway, and the rest fanned out behind the archers. The sorceress turned back to her father. "I couldn't tell you. I thought you might refuse."

  "I would have." It frightened her to see how voraciously his body metabolized the poison, far faster than she had expected. "Foolish risk. How… scarcely matters."

  "It matters to me." Tightly she laced her fingers between his, wondering if he might yet still feel them.

  "… hardly … pain," he struggled to reassure her.

  "So I had hoped. I learned of the herb from a swamp healer. A paralytic; it stops the heart. Lowlanders used to mix it in balls of fat and leave it out to kill predators."

  His eyes closed. "Poetic," he breathed softly. Out, but not back in.

  "I knew that you would think so." She pressed his hand to her cheek
and spoke again, though she was sure already he was beyond her voice’s reach.

  "There are no predators left in the lowlands, my father. It is the rabbits, now, that are the most ferocious."

  o0o

  Everything roared: throat, heart, and ears; every breath was a searing draught of white-hot, whetted daggers. Still, she ran on, tripping on her long, pale robe but never falling, lifted bodily whenever she stumbled, held up by her strong-armed elite.

  All the way from her lavish wing, all the way through the castle halls, all the way, down the steps, past the cells, through the doors, she had run in pain and horror.

  Something had happened. Something terrible. She could not shake her awful dread, and the compulsion to hurry, as if, if only she were swift enough, she could prevent… what? She did not know.

  They were in the final hallway now, but she could not see the cell. There were guards, too many guards. There should not be so many, not here all at once, not all so deathly quiet.

  "Wait," Ableman warned her.

  But she twisted her sweat-slick wrist from his grasp and plunged through the ranks before him. She grabbed the bars of the cell.

  Seated in a pool of sapphire silk, Castandra held his hand to her tearless cheek. She raised her eyes and simply said:

  "You are too late."

  o0o

  "Castandra…" Elzin whispered numbly, too shocked to protest as Ableman took her shoulders and pulled her bodily back from the bars.

  "Please hear me, Elzin. Understand that it is right that you should see him this way, right that you need never wonder if your orders had been carried out, or if some subterfuge had allowed him to go free."

  She smoothed the hair away from his brow. "You know there will be rumors," she said, head bowed, as if she spoke to him. "There are always rumors. You are well-armored now against them. And for myself, well," she swallowed, straightened. "It was very quick. He was my father and I loved him after all. You will forgive me if I did not trust to the keenness of the swords of your elite."

  "You dare insinuate--!" Ableman bristled.

  "Stop it!" Elzin snapped. "Just stop it."

  "Great Lady!"

  "Open the door," she told him. "I want to go in."

  "Very well, then," growled the Superior, "but first this." He snatched away the nearest loaded crossbow, snapped it smartly to his shoulder and pulled the trigger just as Elzin shoved him aside. The bolt went high of its unmoving target and shattered against the stone wall.

  "I said enough!" she cried. "If you're too fine to take my orders, Zendriam Ableman, maybe I ought to get myself another Superior."

  "And I say, Great Lady, that I would rather sacrifice that honor than permit your squeamishness to allow you to be harmed."

  The two faced each other, Elzin trembling with fury, Ableman drawn up poker straight, both glaring.

  "I'll go," another voice offered hesitantly.

  o0o

  Jenir nervously cleared his throat. "That is, begging the Great Lady's pardon, and if the Superior will permit, I'll go in first, to make sure."

  "Do it, then," commanded Ableman. He drew a dagger from the jeweled sheath at his hip and handed the weapon, pommel first, to Jenir. "You had best make very certain, Leader. He turns on you in there and you'll likely die with him."

  "Yes, sir." Hadn't he only minutes ago told the traitor's daughter just the same thing? "I understand, sir."

  "Crossbows!"

  "Sir!" The archers answered.

  Jenir took a deep breath. The mechanism ratcheted, and he was in.

  o0o

  Of all the many strange events of this strangest of days, this one felt to him the most unreal. He stood before the queen of all Lhant, and if one could mold the circle of one's vision to hold only her, her aspect would do justice to her title. Her gown was of the finest silk, so soft it rippled like water, so deeply dyed it glowed against her skin. It was precisely the brilliant blue of sapphires. Those same gems and many others glinted at her throat, her wrists, her ears, they rode upon her fingers and sparkled in her hair. She had, too, the proud carriage of a regent, that certain boldness of the eye, the unassailable coolness of expression that dismissed any notion that someone so far below herself might dare to give her pause.

  But he could not mold his vision, and he could not help but be affected by the dreamlike strangeness of the moment's incongruity. For there she was, arrayed more splendidly than any king on his throne, yet kneeling at his feet in filthy straw, locked behind iron bars and in the sights of half a score of ready crossbows. She had laced her father's fingers in her own, and if he was dead, it was at those same slender, tapered hands. The clash of circumstances could not have struck him as more bizarre had he discovered a fist-sized diamond in the midden. Or a serpent's egg in a golden coffer.

  "Shall I move away?"

  "Your Majesty, I--I suppose it doesn't matter. Whatever you prefer."

  "I will stay then."

  He knelt beside the traitor, and felt his throat for the pulse of the great vein there. It was still, as still as he was, and yet… and yet…

  The traitor's daughter watched him with a calm dispassion too clearly betrayed by the tender way she smoothed her father's hair.

  He took the traitor's other hand. Already cool to the touch, calloused from many hours of swordplay, it yielded pliantly to his own. Jenir extended the index finger and, holding it securely, plunged the sharp point of the dagger deeply into the tip. Steel ground against bone before he pulled the blade away, leaving a wicked gash. Blood barely welled enough to fill the opening.

  "It's done, all right. He's dead."

  o0o

  So still, she thought. Could this be Caldan, who had murdered regents and turned back Buktoz? Even now, Elzin's fingers trembled like the first transparent leaves of spring as she reached out to touch his face.

  "No more blood, Caldan." So cool, his flesh, so pale. Her voice was no more vibrant. "No more blood on my hands."

  "Never any blood on your hands, Elzin," said the sorceress. "It is as it should be."

  "We could say that Telriss struck him down."

  "We will do nothing of the kind. He is dead, it is sunset, and I am Queen." She stood and brushed the clinging straw from her ruined dress. "As Queen, I pardon myself."

  "But--"

  "I know you meant well, Elzin. Still, look around you. Do you think that we might keep the secret? And anyway, have we both not had our fill of intrigues and deceptions?"

  "Well--"

  "Here. My elite have come, as I asked. My ship waits; I must leave at once."

  "Leave! But why? You can't leave Lhant!"

  "I do not. My father's body does. He lived his life like one of you; let him go out that way."

  Ableman grabbed the hilt of his blade. "I object! He is a criminal, Great Lady. He doesn't deserve a place at sea."

  "Have a care, Superior," Castandra hissed. "I am your Queen. If it gives you satisfaction, there will be no priest."

  "Shador will spit him up in disgust."

  "Then let him! I will not have a spectacle; neither will I waste another moment in argument with you. Now open the door for myself and my hounds and stand aside."

  o0o

  The Dolphin of Shador tugged at its tethers like an impatient racehorse might pull at its reins. All around her, in accord with their temperament, with songs or with curses, sailors hoisted or climbed, they tied or untied, furled or unfurled, performing the myriad tasks that their kind had performed for centuries.

  "You understand about the hounds?" she asked.

  Kaidask's Kyr-black eyes clashed to her with the dyed muddy- brown of his hair. Unreal, that with so much on her heart she would notice. Even more so that those lowland would not.

  "I understand all you have told me."

  "You are good, to do this. It will be long, a year."

  "It is a small thing. Besides, I expect to return a formidable chasti player."

  He almost made her smile, a
nd that too, seemed unreal.

  "You will be careful?"

  "You forget, I was Daymark before I Watched. No rowdy will challenge me more than once. And anyway, the captain is anxious for the gold promised to him on the discharge of this service and upon my safe return. You must not worry. You will need all your strength and wits for this place."

  "I am alone now." She stopped fumbling at her wrist just long enough to brush away the wetness at her cheek, unsure of how it had gotten there. "What if mine are not enough?"

  Kaidask laughed. "You are the only one who would dare to doubt. Listen. He cannot tell you, so I will say it. He is proud. We all are proud."

  "But the price--"

  "Of course he would pay it. Or that other, if you erred. Who among us would not? Go now, and let me do my best."

  "Here. Take these. He will need them."

  He opened the pouch, then closed it again immediately. "Your jewelry? Will they not notice?"

  The recalcitrant clasp of the last of her bracelets gave way just in time and she stuffed that piece inside as well. "I will tell them I used it as a bribe for Shador." She smiled grimly. "So the sea-god would not spit him up in disgust."

  "You are your father's daughter, and a story hides behind your words." He dropped the pouch inside his shirt. "In a year I will hear it."

  "If I am fortunate, this year will hold for you many stories."

  o0o

  The edge of the dock she shared with no one save her coursers. Far behind, her elite in their ranks kept all others at bay. The seaward wind made long arms of her cloak, waving, waving, as the Dolphin of Shador drifted, then turned. Its sails caught the selfsame breeze. The canvas swelled like filling bags of grain, and the ship drew away from the bloody glow of the vanished disk of the sun.

  "The sun sets in one place to rise in another," she said softly.

  Omen and Talisman lifted their eyes, and did not raise their voices.

  It was not time, yet, for the hounds to bay.