Dawnsinger

by Janalyn Voigt

  “I did my best to show it to you with words.”

  Shae gazed with longing at paths wandering among early flowers, strongwoods and roses, but Kai pressed her onward. She yielded, but she would return to explore this exquisite garden.

  A square structure with four corner towers dominated the inner ward. This keep dwarfed the one at Whellein Hold thrice over. The gated archways behind it must be the postern and upper water gates. Every hold had a postern gate—a way of escape from the rear. Kai told her that Torindan’s watergate could receive delivery of goods by boat from Weild Aenor, which would make a siege more difficult.

  A smaller building of the same pinkish sandstone connected by means of a vaulted corridor to the side of the keep—the Allerstaed. Stained glass windows looked out from arches over the doorway and ranked down the building’s sides. Beside, and bending away behind it, lay a garden of vegetables and herbs in square plots.

  They ascended a circular stairway within a corner tower of the keep, and then followed a paneled corridor. Their footsteps echoed above a faint thread of music—an intricate weaving of voice and instrument, which grew in volume.

  Kai knocked on a carved and gilded door at the end of a short corridor. A round-faced maid bowed her head and admitted them. Shae followed Kai into what must be the Lof Raelein’s chambers. Exhaustion lent her a curious detachment, as if she walked in her sleep. The elaborate chambers themselves added to the illusion, for their exquisite beauty did not seem quite real.

  In the Lof Raelein’s outer chamber, a seating area waited before an enormous marble fireplace where a fire glowed. Upon the mantle twined carven images of unibeasts and gryphons. Above it perched a variety of stuffed fowl—pheasants, wingens, and graylets among them. The birds appeared so life-like, Shae imagined they might spread their wings and take flight at any moment. On the wall over the mantel hung a tapestry that showed the first of the Kindren entering Elderland from Anden Raven at Gilead Riann— the Gate of Life.

  The maid opened another carved and gilded door and led them into the inner chamber. Details imprinted themselves in brief flashes on Shae’s tired mind…white furnishings….mats in deep colors…vibrant tapestries…a prism turning in a stray draft at the window embrasure and refracting rainbows through the chamber.

  The music ceased as they entered, but flaemlings flitted from perch to perch in a hanging golden cage and trilled their own melodies. A fire of fragrant draetenn boughs in the marble hearth snapped and crackled its percussion.

  A movement drew Shae’s eye to one of the window embrasures, where the changing light of late afternoon obscured the figure of a musician bent over his lute.

  “Kai.” A voice rasped from the carved bed that dominated the room. “You have brought her?”

  Shae started. In a combination of weariness and awe of Torindan, she had all but forgotten the purpose of her visit.

  The musician came away from the window, and light slanted across him to reveal a lithe figure and features of surpassing beauty. Vibrant hair of gold sprang above a well-formed brow. Fathomless eyes held her. Shae caught her breath, and her hand went out in a blind motion.

  Kai’s arm braced her. “I have brought Shae—by too long a journey.”

  “She will rest then, after greeting me.”

  Shae tore her gaze from the musician as the Lof Raelein made her pronouncement. Shae approached the bed to give her bow and hid her shock at sight of the shrunken figure lying there.

  “Lof Raelein.” She took the dry hand proffered and, on an impulse of pity, touched her lips to the pale skin. “I greet you.”

  Maeven’s face softened. “Such a gentle child. Perhaps my mind will settle now you are here. It’s taken with wandering of late…” Her face wrinkled in lines of perplexity.

  “Kai said you wished for me. I have no idea why I should deserve such an honor, but if my presence brings you comfort, I am glad.”

  “I have not forgotten our other meeting.”

  Shae smiled. “Nor have I.”

  “I only wish there had been more—more time…” Her features twisted as tears washed the seawater eyes, but then the Lof Raelein’s face smoothed. “You will sing my death song.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Promise me!”

  Shae hesitated, but then inclined her head in defeat. Who was she to deny the Lof Raelein’s request? “As you wish.”

  “Thank you.” Maeven’s voice weakened. “Go now. I tire, and you must rest as well. We can speak again, should Lof Yuel allow it. Freaer, stay and comfort me with music.”

  Shae looked toward the golden musician who waited in the embrasure, his head bowed as his fingers ran silently over his lute’s strings.

  Maeven beckoned the servant. “I give Chaeldra over to you.”

  Shae murmured her thanks, eager to end the meeting. Shame filled her at the self-serving desire, but in truth, the trying journey had left her no reserves with which to face the reality of life’s passing. She longed only for food and rest and must, of necessity, turn from death to tend the needs of life.

  She stood, but hesitated as her gaze collided with Freaer’s.

  Kai bowed to Maeven and inclined his head to the musician. “Freaer.”

  The musician returned Kai’s gesture with a touch of melancholy. Soft strains followed them from the chamber.

  ****

  At the first sight of her outer chamber, Shae exclaimed with delight. Kai watched her move about the room, admiring its tapestries of unibeasts and maidens, running a hand over carved strongwood benches, and sighing over window hangings adorned with the gilded rose of Rivenn. But as her gaze met his, the joy in her face extinguished.

  She did not touch any of the food Chaeldra brought them. When she spoke, he leaned forward to catch her whisper. “Have I somehow erred?”

  The quaver in her voice stilled the harsh remark poised on his lips. He set down his goblet, for his appetite fled at the trembling of her chin. Chaeldra stepped forward to refill his goblet.

  “Leave us.” He winced at the harshness in his own voice.

  Chaeldra obeyed but cast a sullen look his way before going through a side door that led to her own quarters.

  Kai chided himself. Would he now rail at servants? He took a long breath. Exhaustion, tension and the weight of secrets had combined to unnerve him. He brought his thoughts back to Shae’s question. “She should not have asked you….”

  “…to sing her death song?”

  He spread his hands. “Such an honor by custom belongs to Torindan’s First Musician.”

  “Freaer? She asked me in front of him! No wonder he looked—well, he seemed…”

  “Unhappy?” Kai passed a hand across his eyes. “Death often forgets courtesy.”

  “Which carries more weight—custom or Maeven’s wishes?”

  “A Lof Raelein has the power to change custom. Her wisdom in doing so might draw scrutiny.”

  Shae gave him a fretful look. “What should I do?”

  He lifted a joint of pheasant and taking a bite, chewed and swallowed before answering. “I don’t know.”

  “How can that be? You always know what to do!”

  “I’m sorry, Shae, that you find me so—diminished.” She did not look at him, and he thought she fought to quell tears. He berated himself yet again. The day’s journey had provided Shae trial enough without the added shock of seeing Maeven so ill. Just as well, then, that Maeven had kept other revelations to herself, although he could hope she would not wait too long to give them.

  She made a small sound in her throat. “I’m sorry, too.” She looked at him, her eyes shadowed. “I’ve created difficulties, haven’t I?”

  He shook his head. “Forgive me. I’m out of sorts, it seems. I don’t blame you for Maeven’s error. I should have kept the matter to myself. Now, forget such concerns and take food, Shae. You must hunger. We’ve had little to eat the entire day.”

  Shae raised her goblet from the small table before her and sipped
the ginger beer. With murmured thanks, she took a portion of pheasant Kai cut for her, and they completed their meal in awkward silence.

  He left her then, carrying away an image of her framed in a tall window, hair escaping her plait. Sunset fell across her shoulder and lent its mysteries to the quiet garden with the fountain at its center behind her. Fire limned the high peaks beyond. Kai shut the door between them, caught by a feeling she’d already slipped away from him.

  ****

  “Trouble with the Elder has arisen in Norwood.”

  Elcon, warming himself before the fire, looked up at Kai’s words. Sometimes when he glanced at Elcon, Kai found himself lost in memories of Lof Shraen Timraen. Elcon had his mother’s sea green eyes and pale burnished hair, but his father’s features.

  “What do you say?” Elcon seemed too young for such burdens but, like Timraen, must carry them. “More trouble?” He jerked his head toward Craelin, who moved toward the door.

  Kai gave a belated bow. “True, Lof Frael. Two hooded riders on wingabeasts attacked me between Whellein Hold and the Whitefeather Inn. Also, witnesses report that two wingabeast riders burned an abandoned homefarm in Norwood. And then I had a—ah—an encounter with messengers from King Euryan of Westerland, come to warn Norwood against Kindren attack.”

  “More trouble.” Weariness laced Elcon’s voice.

  Craelin turned from bolting the door. “Yesterday, a messenger brought word of disturbances from Westerland.”

  Kai shook his head. “This makes no sense.”

  Elcon pressed the pads of his fingers against his temples. “The Kindren have lived in peace beside the Elder since coming from Anden Raven so long ago. Will we now have discord?” He spoke with restraint, but his words penetrated.

  “Could there be some mistake? Perhaps the raiders only appeared to be Kindren.”

  Elcon shrugged. “Kindren blood sometimes runs diluted in Elder veins. That could perhaps account for appearances, but what of the wingabeasts?”

  Craelin left his position at the door and joined Kai on a green and blue woven mat near the benches before the fire. They stood much the same height and met at eye level. “Did you learn anything about the riders?” Craelin asked. “Did the witnesses describe them?”

  Kai shook his head, wishing he’d had the presence of mind to query Quinn in detail. “I didn’t speak to the witnesses.”

  Elcon paced before the fire. “As far as we know, only the Kindren have tamed the wingabeasts of Maegrad Paesad. And, among the Kindren, only the guardians have access to the creatures. Could things have changed?”

  Kai spread his hands. ”That question has plagued me since Norwood. Anything is possible, but wingabeasts have declined in the wild since Talan’s time and now dwell only in the farthest reaches of Maegrad Paesad. Any who sought them would risk life itself crossing ice fields and glacial moraines, and then must lead unwilling beasts out by the same route.”

  “Such a thing is close to impossible!” Craelin’s expression darkened, his jaw tightened, and his clear blue eyes misted. “More likely, the traitors dwell within the ranks of the guardians. We must find them at all costs.”

  Elcon paused in his pacing. “What do you suggest?”

  Craelin squared his shoulders. “We should allow the traitors to trap themselves.”

  “How?”

  A small silence grew out of Elcon’s question, but Craelin roused at last. “We can question the guardians, one by one. Someone may have noticed something unusual on the nights the raids took place, or perhaps the guilty will betray themselves if questioned.”

  Elcon inclined his head. “It’s worth a try.”

  Kai rubbed his chin. “Should we not watch from the bastions and double the stable guard?

  “We would only alert the traitors if we made such changes. And yet…” Craelen’s face lit. “We could place spies in the stable loft each night.”

  “We could.” Elcon agreed. “But who can we trust with such a mission?”

  Craelin grew thoughtful. “I can name no guardian I do not trust, and yet all are suspect.”

  Elcon sighed. “Then take your spies from outside the guardians.”

  Craelin nodded and glanced sideways at Kai. “But who?”

  This question overtaxed Kai’s tired mind. The fire had burned to coals. Elcon called a halt and enjoined them to return to his chambers tomorrow night.

  Torindan lay in slumber as Kai returned to the comfort of his small bedchamber. Strains of music drifted to him, for his room connected to Maeven’s outer chamber. He went to the window, pushed aside the hangings, and opened the shutters.

  Striding through the archway and into the outer bailey, Craelin leaned into the wind blowing from the snowfields as he headed for the gatehouse where his sleeping chambers lay. As Kai watched, roiling blackness blotted the stars from the sky, one by one.

  The storm broke with a howl, and he closed the shutters and let the hangings fall into place. He settled into his cold bed and thought not of traitors, but of Shae. He had noted her silent exchange with Freaer earlier. She would find suitors at Torindan, he supposed, but the idea filled him with dismay. He had enough to think about without keeping her out of that kind of trouble. He could even wish for her return to Whellein, but such a decision lay beyond his reach. With a sigh, he accepted the truth. There could be no turning back for Shae—or for him.

  ****

  A foul wind breathed over Shae, and the hair on the back of her neck raised in warning. A hissing from the broken stairway sent prickles walking over her skin. Eyes gleamed in the shadows, and long shudders traveled her spine.

  Somewhere, something shrieked.

  Shae stumbled on the stone stair suspended between a dark void and a wall of living stone. She called for Kai, but her voice made no sound. Where was he?

  “Find the light and be saved…” The whispered words stirred the air.

  She strained to see in the dimness. Who had spoken?

  And then the broken stairway with its stench and the eyes of death dissolved away. Chest heaving, she lay trapped between waking and sleeping.

  Light flared around the shutters. The pattering rain echoed the thrum of her pulse. Wind rattled the window and whined into the chamber through cracks. Drafts scuttled across the floor and sent the bed hangings swaying.

  Darkness seeped into the room and wrapped around her very soul. She longed to escape, to flee, but her leaden legs would not carry her. Cold tendrils wrapped about her mind, probing, seeking entrance…

  “Lof Yuel, protect me!”

  An inner light flickered, and the weight of darkness shifted.

  She felt it then—a second, quieter soul. Without hesitating, she welcomed its soothing touch. In the daylight, she would likely question everything, including her own sanity. But here in the dead of night, questions would not find answers.

  7

  Sword and Scepter

  Craelin’s expression reflected Kai’s own frustration as Dithmar, another guardian who had seen nothing and knew nothing, left the gatehouse guardroom with a spring in his step, whistling.

  Like Dithmar, each guardian had seemed innocent under questioning.

  Kai sighed. While relieved to find no hint of duplicity among the guardians, he couldn’t help his disappointment at failing to discover the traitor’s identity.

  A rap at the scarred strongwood door announced the arrival of the last guardian to be questioned, Guaron, keeper of the wingabeasts. Like the other guardians, Guaron did not ask why they summoned him but waited before them with quiet dignity.

  Craelin rose from the bench that flanked the rough table centered in the sparse chamber. “Greetings, Guaron. We have questions for you.”

  Emotion, at once repressed, crossed Guaron’s rugged face. Surprise? Or something more?

  Craelin’s face remained neutral. “Have you noticed anything unusual from the other guardians?”

  Guaron shook his head and his fine hair, straw-colored and cropped
at chin level, followed the movement. “I’ve noticed nothing untoward. Should I have?”

  “And the wingabeasts? Have you noticed anything strange about their behavior?”

  Guaron drew breath as if to respond, but checked. His gaze swept from Craelin, who circled him, to Kai, waiting in silence at the battered table. “I think—well, yes I have.”

  Craelin halted. “Pray tell us.”

  Guaron rubbed his chin, and one index finger found its cleft. “Now you mention it, I have noticed a certain restlessness in the stables of late.”

  Craelin’s eyes, nested in squint lines, glinted blue. “How long have you noticed this?”

  “Not long, but it started before the Lof Raelein fell ill.”

  Craelin tilted his head. “Restlessness, you say?”

  Guaron’s glance flitted to Kai. “It reminded me of times in Glindenn Hold, before I came to Torindan, when the horses I tended sensed the approach of garns. Lately it’s seemed…”

  Kai sat forward on the bench.

  “Sometimes I could almost swear…” Guaron’s index finger again sought its rest. “Certain wingabeasts can seem out of sorts for no reason, almost as if… as if something keeps them from sleep.”

  Craelin clasped his hands behind his back. “Have you heard or seen anything to shed light upon such observations? Anything out of place? Any sounds you might have disregarded at the time?”

  Guaron’s forehead furrowed, but he shook his head. “I can think of nothing.”

  “What about yesterday morning? Were all the wingabeasts accounted for?”

  “Yes, but I thought two of the blacks might be sick. They improved with food and rest, though.”

  “Thank you, Guaron. Seek either Kai or me should you think of anything else. Say nothing of this to anyone.”

  After Guaron murmured assent, Craelin dismissed him. His step in the corridor didn’t spring as Dithmar’s had, but Kai couldn’t fault him for that. He didn’t feel particularly lighthearted either, given what they had just learned. He rose from the bench he’d occupied throughout the interviews and flexed his tense shoulder muscles.