The Keeper of the Mist

by Rachel Neumeier

  The Bear Lord grimaced and touched his ear, carefully. He grimaced again at the smear of blood on his fingertips. “It is not the same. Our magic is in the stones, not in us. I felt nothing but anger when the sorcerer took my grandmother’s earring from me. Still, what I shall say to her, I do not know. I am ashamed to have lost it. It was a treasure of our house, however small a bauble it might appear to…my distant cousin.”

  “So…blood sorcery?” asked Tassel, frowning at him, her tone curious but wary. “Your grandmother really practices blood magic? And you tried to use it on Keri?”

  “It was my blood,” Osman assured her immediately. “My grandmother’s and mine. They do it differently here. Here, sorcerers do not pay the cost of sorcery in their own blood. That is why they do not need gemstones to contain wisps of magic: they can always pour out the heart’s blood of some peasant or other. Though,” he added reluctantly, “it is true that the best of the Wyvern sorcerers are far stronger than the best of ours.” He touched his earlobe again. “My grandmother is one of the best of our enchanters, yet her gift to me was a very small magic, I promise you. A mere nudge, easily resisted by one who does not wish to be moved. As, indeed, we all saw demonstrated by Lady Kerianna.”

  Tassel gave a little acknowledging twitch of her head, though she was still frowning. “And your other earring? What is it for?”

  Lord Osman raised one elegant eyebrow at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The other one is narrower and longer,” Tassel said, a touch apologetically. “You probably didn’t think anyone would notice you had two, since they’re almost the same and you only wore one at a time. But I’m pretty sure you’ve been switching back and forth every day.”

  There was a small silence. Then Osman coughed. He reached into a hidden pocket in his shirt and brought out a black cloth, which he unrolled to reveal a gleaming garnet cabochon earring, twin to the first. Or nearly a twin. Keri would never have noticed the difference. She wondered how closely and for how long Tassel must have been watching Lord Osman, to realize he had two earrings and not just one.

  “Their sorcery is quiet until one brings them into the light and grants them a taste of blood,” Osman explained. “I believe that is why Eroniel Kaskarian did not take this one with the other: he did not know I had it. The other is for persuasion, and to withstand persuasion, just as he declared. This one is meant to confuse one’s enemies and coax them to see what you would have them see, but it is also for clear sight in the midst of illusion. So we may hope it might indeed prove a useful trifle here.”

  “Like player’s magic,” Lucas observed, frowning.

  “Perhaps. I do not know. It is a magic of illusion, yes. Though this gray place seems little like any illusion to me.”

  Keri asked, “Why didn’t you wear them both at the same time?”

  “Ah, well. A woman may have two pierced ears, but never a man.” Osman spread his hands, as though to say, What would you? One must follow fashion. “I give you my word that this one is for clear sight: that is what I was told by my grandmother, and I know of no ill that comes from it. I do not think I could have found my way into your Nimmira, faint as the mist had grown, save for this…bauble of my grandmother’s.” He threaded the earring’s wire through his torn ear, wincing slightly. Then, ignoring the fresh blood that welled up from the injury, he looked about, his expression intent. But he only shrugged and said, “I flatter myself that I often see through confusing shadows and other obfuscation. But I see nothing hidden in this place, even with my grandmother’s bauble. Everything here is just the same to my eye.”

  That was disappointing. Keri waited a moment to see if he might suddenly declare that, why, no, he saw a door leading out into the bright sunshine after all. But when he didn’t, she asked, “Your grandmother was a woman of Eschalion? Of the Wyvern King’s own line?”

  Osman gave her a small nod. “That is not a connection we much acknowledge. If you ever meet my grandmother, you would be wise not to speak of it.”

  “I most sincerely hope we will all someday have the opportunity,” Lucas assured him.

  Lord Osman smiled, a smile that showed his teeth. “I should certainly enjoy it.”

  Lucas sounded almost normal. But there was a flatness behind the light tone. Keri said to him, gently, “That was Yllien? I’m sorry.”

  Her brother turned his face away. “It’s…I suppose they’re all dead. All those people.”

  He didn’t say, My mother. Keri heard that anyway. She offered cautiously, “Your mother might not have been there. She might have realized in time. She and her friends might have gotten away.”

  Lucas shook his head, a small motion. He was still not looking at her. “I don’t imagine the Wyvern King would have been so careless. Once he learned of the gap, I expect he realized immediately that my mother’s people must have known of Nimmira. That they hadn’t…that they hid their knowledge from him. In the face of such defiance, I don’t imagine he would have been…careless.”

  “Maybe it was Eroniel, not his King. He was the one waiting for us, not Aranaon Mirtaelior. However frightening he seems to us, he can’t be as powerful as his King, so maybe some of your people got away, maybe your mother—”

  “Keri!” Lucas said sharply. “Maybe grows no roots, as they say. I don’t want—” He cut that off as his voice cracked. Then he said in a low tone, “It was probably Aranaon Mirtaelior himself. Why else destroy the whole town, except it was his own law they broke, traveling into and out of Eschalion, which is not allowed. And they say the Wyvern King sees every sparrow in the eaves and every cricket on the hearth. Not even the players could have hidden from him. Not even my mother.”

  Keri looked away, ashamed. She should have understood that too much hope would be crueler than certain grief.

  “I wonder what Magister Eroniel has gone to do,” Tassel said after a moment, deliberately matter-of-fact, recalling them all to the immediate problem. She looked around, flinching back a little from the dark shadows of the doorways. “And…when he will come back.”

  And what he will do then, Keri filled in without difficulty. She crossed her arms and looked coldly at Brann. “This is your fault.”

  Her oldest half brother looked away. But then Keri saw him take a breath, and he turned to face the rest of them after all and said, “I know.”

  Keri hadn’t expected that, and she saw Lucas raise an eyebrow, drawing an expression of pointed astonishment across his fear and grief. She was relieved, because she suspected they would need his sharp wits, and if he found it useful to sharpen them on Brann right now, that was fine with her.

  “But he would have done something anyway,” her oldest half brother said rapidly. “He always meant to steal our magic—he would never have just gone tamely away—and when he only got Cort instead of you, he was angry. He would have found another way to come at you and at Nimmira. But he wouldn’t have chosen that moment or that way if I hadn’t handed him the chance. I know that. But—” He stopped.

  “But?” said Lucas, his tone sharp and dry. “Can you possibly mean to offer some excuse for your inexcusable behavior?”

  Brann looked at him angrily. “He always meant to use anything that came to his hand as a weapon against Aranaon Mirtaelior. Nimmira was never what he wanted. He always wanted Eschalion. That was why—” Brann stopped again.

  Keri was slow, but Tassel said, as though suddenly catching pieces and setting them in place, “Oh, that was why you were willing to help him! Because he really didn’t want Nimmira. Or he convinced you he didn’t. He was willing to give it to you as long as he got something he could use to bring down the Wyvern King. Is that what he told you? And you believed him? Even though he took Cort and stole his magic? Where is Cort?” She glanced around, as if even now she half expected her cousin to suddenly stride into the room through one of those shadowed doorways. Keri only wished he would, but there was no sign of him.

  “I don’t know,” Brann responded in a clippe
d tone. “I don’t know, but he didn’t kill him. He might have, but I told him if he did, the Doorkeeper’s magic would whip away to find someone else before he could capture it, and he wouldn’t take that chance. That’ll protect you, too, Bookkeeper, so you can stop looking at me like that!”

  Keri wanted to slap him. Lucas stopped her by tilting his head and smiling, a tight expression with little amusement in it. He said, “So that’s what you told him, in your brave, selfless attempt to save our Doorkeeper’s life? And what did he tell you, Brann? That he would only borrow our magic for just a moment, and then, lo! He would be happy to hand Nimmira back to you for your very own. A bit used, possibly, but all yours! Oh, perhaps we’d lose a few northern farms, a mountain or two, but that’s less-peopled country in the north, isn’t it, and what’s one or two mountains and a handful of families after all?”

  Brann said nothing.

  “And, of course, we’d lose our new Lady,” said Lucas quietly. “And Cort, and Tassel, I presume, and the Timekeeper as well, I suppose. But that would hardly disconcert you, would it? You’d be glad to have people in those roles who would admire you and do as they were told. So you’d have everything your way, wouldn’t you, as long as when he was done with it, he’d let our magic just flow tamely back, only slightly diminished, for you to pick up?”

  Pressed, Brann snapped, “If it had worked, we’d be secure again, and none the worse for the trouble with our boundaries! Instead, we’re here, like this, and what better outcome do you hope for out of any of this now?”

  Tassel shook her head in disgust. “I can tell you what outcome we have better sense than to hope for.”

  And Osman stepped up beside her and added, “I can tell you what outcome you were a fool to hope for. I can tell you that you sold your honor for a handful of smooth lies and worthless promises.”

  Tassel gave the Bear Lord a sideways look and raised her eyebrows.

  Osman smiled down at her—not down very far, because he was only half a hand taller than she was, though he always somehow contrived to seem taller. He murmured, not in the least disconcerted, “But my promises were never worthless. Even my lies were not actually worthless. And you never believed a single one of them anyway.”

  Tassel smiled sweetly back at him, patted his cheek, and stepped away from him to join Keri. But not, Keri noticed, with any particular show of displeasure. She gave Tassel a raised-eyebrow look of her own, but her friend only gazed blandly back at her. Keri glanced at Lucas to see what he thought, but his expression was studiedly neutral.

  Brann, wrapped up in himself, seemed to have noticed nothing. He said, “But I—but he—if it had worked—and even now, he might disregard Nimmira. Even now, he might just let it go, let us go. He doesn’t care about it anyway!”

  “Oh, you don’t believe that!” Keri exclaimed. She spoke more loudly and decisively than she had intended—indeed, she had not really intended to say anything at all.

  But Brann stopped. After a moment, he scrubbed a hand across his mouth and said, in a muffled tone, “No. I…no. He won’t be satisfied to take less than everything. Now that he knows about Nimmira, he won’t stop. He’ll never be content to let anything go, once he has it in his hands. I thought I—” He broke off again. He wasn’t looking at any of them now. He had turned his shoulder to them and was staring blindly at the shadows lying over the blank gray walls.

  “He’d have tried something anyway,” Keri told him, this time more gently. “You were right about that, at least.”

  Brann shook his head, not looking around.

  Keri had not expected to feel sorry for him, but she found that she did, a little. Even so, she took a breath and turned to the others, leaving Brann to himself. She wasn’t sure what to say; she was angry and scared and had no idea what to do, but if she didn’t do something, she knew Osman would try to tell everyone else what to do, and then there would be a fight, and everything would get harder. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping for inspiration. What would her mother do?

  Her mother would never have let them fall into this terrible situation in the first place.

  But Keri had not stopped this from happening. And now they all had to deal with what was, not what ought to be.

  Since someone had to decide what they should do, and since everyone was looking at her expectantly, Keri said at last, “Well…I suppose the first thing is to get out of this place, if we can. Brann, do you know where any of those doors lead?”

  But her brother shook his head, not even looking up. “Nowhere. To nothing. Just more empty rooms, I think. All these places look the same to me. If we do get out of this place, the rest of the citadel will only be more of the same….”

  Tassel glanced around in broadly mimed disgust. “Oh, no, the entire citadel can’t possibly be like this. How could the Wyvern King stand it? Look, there are three doorways over there, and isn’t that a fourth in that corner? We can at least see where they all lead. Only”—and she slid a sideways glance at Osman—“I confess, I don’t really want to go exploring by myself.”

  Keri rolled her eyes. She would have laughed if the whole situation hadn’t been so horrible and depressing. She could not imagine a time or place—or a couple—less suited to flirtation.

  And then she thought, Well, but if flirting with him helps her stay bright and brave. And Osman really was charming, in an overconfident, predatory way. And, all right, yes, handsome, if you admired clever, sharp-featured arrogance. It was true that he seemed less foreign now, here, after all this.

  And he was doing his best to help. She almost thought she might like him, as long as he was here trying to help, instead of in her Nimmira trying to take it over. And as long as he was more interested in charming Tassel than in charming Keri herself. That was one way for Tassel to help Keri avoid any more of those handfasting demands. Not a way Keri would ever have thought of. She wondered if Tassel was actually serious about encouraging Lord Osman. Probably Osman wondered that, too. If they got out of this, she supposed they would find out.

  All she said was, “Fine. Tassel, you look over there with Lord Osman. Lucas and I will look in the corner.” But she didn’t expect to find any doorway leading back to Nimmira. She wished, briefly and despairingly, that the Timekeeper would step through one of those doorways and say, in his severe tone, Lady, you have an appointment in twenty-three minutes. Let me show you the way….But if the Timekeeper were here, he would have lost his magic as well, so that wouldn’t do.

  In fact, now that she’d considered it, Keri thought it seemed likely that the only thing protecting Nimmira, the one thing making it difficult for Eroniel Kaskarian to grasp and master the magic she had so foolishly brought right to him, might be the Timekeeper’s continuing presence in Nimmira.

  And that Magister Eroniel must continue to move with caution, lest he draw the attention of his great-granduncle.

  The Wyvern King. The terrible sorcerer who had conquered half the world until baffled at last by the jagged mountains of Tor Carron, and who had not conquered Nimmira only because he had never quite noticed it was there…He must certainly know it was there now. Had he sent Eroniel Kaskarian to look at the little land that had suddenly become visible, or had he perhaps not even yet realized Nimmira was even there? She suspected now that Magister Eroniel had come on his own behalf to see if he might make this newly apparent land into a weapon against his great-granduncle. She wondered how she hadn’t noticed that the sorcerer had never formally delivered any message from his King. He must have had designs of his own from the start.

  Lucas disappeared into shadow, carrying his staff warily in both hands, and Keri was suddenly recalled to the moment. She watched anxiously, but he came back out of the dim reaches of the farther room after only a moment, shaking his head. “A room of perfect boringness,” he assured her. “Other than the lack of windows, it is exactly like this perfectly boring room we have right here.”

  “I do wonder what all these empty rooms are for,”
Keri muttered.

  “One hesitates to guess. Storing wine, storing cheese, storing inconvenient prisoners, storing shadows and cobwebs and silence…”

  “Probably that last,” Keri agreed. She tilted her head back, examining the narrow window high above. “I wonder what’s out there?”

  “For this, you really want Domeric,” Lucas told her. But he laid aside his staff, set his back against the wall, and offered her his cupped hands. “You’re a light little thing, at least,” he said cheerfully as she put her foot in his hand and gripped his arm for balance. Then he went on, still cheerfully, as he lifted her up, “Oof! Not quite as light as a man might guess, however. What do you see?”

  It took a moment for Keri to catch her breath enough to answer. She had known the sea existed; she had guessed it might be washing against the cliffs quite near their prison. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the infinite gray water, breaking into white foam where it came against the cliff. It went out and out forever, gray sea and gray sky almost the same color. If there was a horizon where sea and sky met, it was invisible to Keri. Great long-winged white birds tilted through the sky, a little like falcons, but different.

  “Keri? See anything?” inquired Lucas, a trace of strain in his voice, though he continued to hold her steadily.

  “Nothing,” Keri said, because that was true in a way. There was nothing out there they could use, even though she would never forget the sight. She allowed herself just one moment longer. Then she let her breath out, shook her head, and had Lucas lower her back down.

  “Well?” Tassel asked, coming back, along with Osman, to the center of the room to join Keri and Lucas. Brann came back, too, and stood a little distance away, as though hoping he wouldn’t be noticed. Everyone ignored him.