by Dave Duncan
“One of my aunts lived there?”
Eigaze nodded wistfully. “Lady Onnly. She and I were at school together. I visited her a few times at Yewdark. I remember you and your mother there once, when you were very small. But she didn’t live there very long, Onnly didn’t. It has rather a bad reputation, you know.”
Aha! More memories surged to the surface. “What sort of reputation?”
“Er… It’s supposed to be haunted.” Eigaze chuckled and quickly ate two chocolates.
No, not haunted. Ylo recalled his oldest brother telling him certain stories about Yewdark, but Yyan had not been spinning a ghost yarn. He had spoken of omens, magic, prophecy, and Ylo himself. Yyan would have been about fifteen then, perhaps, and Ylo about nine, a good age for baiting. Naturally, Ylo had rushed off to complain to his father, and the consul had reluctantly confirmed the tales, while insisting that they had no importance. He had then forbidden all his sons to discuss them and given Yyan the thrashing of a lifetime to emphasize the point. It was that thrashing that had fixed the episode so firmly in Ylo’s memory.
“Haunted by whom? Or what?”
“Oh, I have no idea. It’s been empty for years, because of some fantastic lawsuit. Such a shame, because it used to be such a beautiful place.”
Dear old Lady Eigaze was trying to change the subject, and normally she was far too skilled at conversation to get herself trapped like that — curious! What had she remembered?
Chairs scraped over in the corner. The conference was breaking up. The light was too poor for writing. Beyond the windows, the shore was drawing closer.
“Ion and I called in there a couple of weeks ago,” Eigaze said, in suspiciously vague tones. “On our way back to Hub, you know. One of the horses went lame practically at the gate. The weather was bad, and it was late. We called in to see if anyone we knew lived there now and might offer us a bed for the night.”
“And who does live there now?”
“No one. Well, remember Ukka?”
“No.”
“Onnly’s housekeeper. She’s still there. Old as the Protocol.” Eigaze took another candy so that she could chew and not say more.
“Living there alone?”
“Apparently. Mad as a cornered badger. Ah, Ion!”
The old count sank onto the sofa, carefully not disturbing the sleeping princess. “Yes, my dear?”
“Tell Ylo about that lawsuit. Yewdark must already belong to him, mustn’t it?”
The gaunt old man’s stoop showed even when he was sitting — he leaned forward, always. He seemed to peer at whomever he was speaking to, which gave his conversation a sense of urgency. He smiled wearily at Ylo under his snowy eyebrows. “Well, it certainly belonged to the Yllipos, and Shandie told us he was going to restore their properties to you. So I suppose it is yours, lad. Or it will be, when this mess is cleared up.”
Some mess! That bloodthirsty old scoundrel Emshandar was barely a whole day dead, and how things had changed since then!
“But the lawsuit?” Eigaze said quickly.
“Oh, that? Well, even the closest-knit families have their squabbles, you know. Apparently there was disagreement over who owned Yewdark, and it went to court.”
“So?” Ylo recalled vaguely that the estate had been in the family for a very long time, which meant several centuries by Yllipo standards. Records could become very confused in such cases. There were no family quarrels now, with only one Yllipo left alive.
“Well, when the Yllipo Conspiracy… I mean, three or four years ago, when…” The old man floundered.
“When Emshandar murdered Ylo’s family,” Eigaze said firmly.
“Well, yes. Most of the property was attaindered, you know. Consequently, the crown succeeded to all existing legal actions. Which meant that the imperor was suing himself in this case.”
“That’s absurd!” Ylo said.
Ionfeu smiled sadly. “But lawyers love such absurdities! The defendant claimed that the imperor could not be sued without his permission, and the plaintiff insisted that the imperor could sue anyone he liked — stalemate! I’m sure the barristers expected to build careers out of it. Anyway, the estate sank into a legal swamp, and it’s just sitting there, deserted. When Shandie asked if anyone knew of a good bolthole for us, Eigaze thought of Yewdark. It’s perfect! Shandie agrees.”
A country mansion on the shores of Cenmere, about a day’s ride from the capital? Ylo nodded thoughtfully. “Isn’t it a little too close to Hub?”
“That was discussed,” the proconsul said, “but King Rap thinks it’s a good idea to stay fairly close, and the warlock agreed. They should know how Zinixo’s mind works, if anyone does. Nowhere is really safe, you know.”
“But…” Ylo felt oddly uneasy at the idea of holing up in Yewdark, and he was not sure why. “This Mistress, er…”
“Ukka,” Eigaze said, beaming bravely. “She was your aunt’s housekeeper, and she was left in charge, and she’s still there.”
“Mad, you said?”
“Well… odd. She’s lived alone a long time. But she was quite delighted when we told her there was one Yllipo left alive. She’ll be overjoyed to see you.”
“Did she mention the Sisters?”
Eigaze shot a brief glance at her husband. “She… she may have done. Who were they, do you know?”
“They were sorcerers,” Ylo said. “At least, I think they were. Sorceresses, I mean. They lived at Yewdark — before Aunt Onnly.” He wished he could remember more of Yyan’s stories. “They prophesied.”
“Prophesied what?” the count demanded.
“Disasters.” Ylo racked his brains. “Disasters that I might or might not be going to survive.”
“What sort of disasters?”
“The destruction of the family.”
“Oh! Well, that did sort of happen, didn’t it?”
“And the overthrow of the Impire.”
Eigaze and Ionfeu turned to each other in shock.
That seemed to have happened, too, didn’t it?
2
White Impress was gliding toward a jetty, under cover of a fortunate flurry of snow. There were no other vessels in sight, and the shore itself was heavily wooded. A few gables and tall chimneypots had shown above the trees before the snow started. That, apparently, was Yewdark.
Eshiala stood within the deckhouse, steadying Maya, who had climbed upon a chair to see. Maya was ignoring the scenery, being much more interested in watching the men running around the deck while the sailor woman shouted directions. Blocks squeaked as the sail was furled. Apart from Jarga herself, the faun seemed to be the only person aboard who knew anything about ships.
“Obviously the place is still deserted,” Countess Eigaze re-marked with a cheerfulness that sounded forced. “No one’s walked on the pier since the snow started.”
“It doesn’t look as if it’s been used for years,” Eshiala agreed, feeling real joy.
“Candy?” Maya demanded hopefully, having learned that the countess was an unfailing supply of chocolate.
“Ask nicely, dear.” Eshiala thought her child would soon be as fat as the old lady herself.
“Here you are, darling. No, it hasn’t, I expect — been used, that is. You’ll find Ukka amusing. A little strange, but that’s to be expected, living alone for so long. Life will be rather dull here after the court.” She made the statement a question.
“It can’t be too dull for me!” Mother and daughter alone, far from the odious court! Eshiala felt guilty at the prospect, as if the Gods had answered prayers she had not dared to ask. There was going to be one problem, though. No — two problems. She wished that Shandie could stay with them, also.
She really did.
Given time together beyond the reach of pomp and duty, she thought she could learn to know her husband properly, and learn to love him. And he, perhaps…
The other problem went past the window at that moment and flashed her a toothy smile. Even unshaven and in nondescript civilian
clothes, Ylo was still astonishingly eye-catching.
She hoped she had not returned the smile, but she must have reacted, for she sensed the countess stiffen, as much as anyone of her baggy build could stiffen. The old lady was shrewd, and she knew Ylo. Even if she had not heard of his reputation, she must suspect, surely?
“It will be very dull for all of us,” she murmured thoughtfully.
“Better to be bored than enslaved by sorcery.”
“Yes, of course. Er… Ionfeu and I will have to use our own names, of course, because Mistress Ukka knows us. The warlock made out the conferral in the name of Lord Eshern, so Ylo will be Lord Eshern and we shall have to think up another name for you.”
Mistress Nobody, Eshiala thought. They would insist on giving her a spurious title, of course. They all thought of her as impress now, but in her own mind she was still only a grocer’s daughter.
The ship nudged gently against the ramshackle jetty. The king of Krasnegar jumped over the rail, holding a rope.
“The warlock said he would go ashore and scout,” Eigaze remarked. “We shall have rather a difficult walk up to the house, I’m afraid. As I recall, it is quite a steep path. It will be snowy. Overgrown, too, probably.”
Stealing someone’s house seemed very wrong behavior, somehow. It was not the way grocers’ daughters were brought up. Perhaps aristocrats had other standards. Even if Yewdark legally belonged to Shandie, as imperor, his grandfather had stolen it when he persecuted the Yllipos. Grocers’ daughters did not comprehend that sort of action, either.
Behind her the door opened and closed; boots sounded on the threadbare rugs.
“His Majesty,” Eigaze murmured. She took Maya’s hand. “Jump down, dear, and we’ll go and look for some more chocolate.”
“You got some in that bag!” Maya protested, but she went off with her new honorary aunt.
Shandie moved close. Eshiala smiled, and he embraced her awkwardly. He was not accustomed to displaying affection in public — or at almost any other time, for that matter.
“There it is, my dear. Safe haven for you and our daughter. What you wanted.” His face was giving away nothing. It never did.
She had hurt him that morning. She had not meant to. She hurt him far too often, always without meaning to. She did not know how not to hurt, somehow. Nor did he. They were both well meaning, and both clumsy.
“It would be a happier haven if you could stay and share it with us.”
“Of course it would, but that is not possible. You know that. Time is not on our side. We must act quickly.”
She nodded. The Impire came before the impress, of course. “I understand.” She didn’t, though — not properly. She never would.
“I don’t know how long it will be. Months, I am sure.”
“Will you tell me where you are going?”
“I haven’t even decided yet. And even if… But we have not discussed it yet. We need to get you settled first. That has priority.”
He wouldn’t have told her, anyway. Perhaps that made good sense, because if the Covin discovered her, then it would force her to tell. But the refusal still hurt.
“I understand.”
“And the sooner we can split up, the better, too. The Covin will be hunting for a group of a dozen or so. We must separate.”
Again she repeated her mantra. “I understand.”
“We all serve the Impire as we can. And yours is the most important job of all — to preserve the line of succession.”
When she looked at her child she saw a little girl, not a line of succession.
“If I am caught,” Shandie said harshly, “then of course I shall be perverted to serving the dwarf. I expect I shall send for you then. I just hope it never comes to that.”
And the dwarf would enslave Eshiala, also. Perhaps she would be happier then, playing her role under sorcerous compulsion. Her loyalty to the sorcerer would override all her other loyalties — to Maya, to her husband, to the Impire. Then she might be free of her doubts and sense of failure. Did a puppet feel stage fright? “We must pray,” she muttered.
“Of course. The old couple will be good company for you. We couldn’t have found better. The warlock has supplied money — I wish the Imperial Treasury could turn out gold the way he can! You can hire a few servants, live quietly. Discourage visitors, of course, but the houses around here are usually deserted in winter. And Ylo will be a good defender.”
Eshiala drew a deep breath and steeled herself to make a protest. Shandie must have felt her move, and misunderstood. Naturally.
“Not that I anticipate danger!” he said hurriedly. “But you need a strong young man to keep order among the servants and so on. So that they know there can be no nonsense. He will have to walk into Faintown tomorrow and buy horses and food and hire people…”
It had all been carefully planned. The trouble was that no one had asked her to share in the planning. That was part of what was bothering her. The realization made her feel petty for being annoyed, but perhaps it also steeled her to voice a complaint about the bigger problem.
“Ylo?” she said.
“It has to be him or Hardgraa,” Shandie said with a trace of impatience. “The old fellow would be heartbroken if I left him behind now, after all these years.”
“Of course. Your safety is the most important thing, of course. You will be in far greater danger than we will.”
Shandie himself had warned her of Ylo’s reputation. She must not confess her own self-doubts, her terror that she would not be able to resist his glib tongue and roguish smile, even when she knew that he was only philandering. She must not inflate her own misgivings into a major quarrel between the two men.
“Actually Ylo’s by far the better horseman,” Shandie said. “In that way I suppose it would make more sense…” Suddenly he realized. His face did not change, except for his eyes, but he knew. “What has he said?”
Danger! There was death in that imperial glare. “Nothing!”
“One word! If he has spoken one word of disrespect, I will have his head!”
“No! Nothing! He has said nothing!” Now she had started lying to her husband.
Fury seeped into his expression then, as if he had been holding it back by an effort of will and was relaxing. “Then what! What is bothering you? You will have the count and countess to support you!”
He did not understand! How could she possibly explain? Had Shandie ever been afraid of anything? Did he know what fear was? “Darling, listen! A man like Ylo doesn’t need to say anything! Not a word. He can convey everything he wants just by raising an eyebrow. Oh… a woman knows, always. It’s like the caliph.”
“The caliph?” Shandie echoed, bewildered, “What’s he got to do with it?”
“He’s a threat, isn’t he? Even if he does nothing, just because he’s there the Impire has to keep its defenses up, doesn’t it?”
“Er. Yes.”
“Well, when men like Ylo are around, a woman has to keep her defenses up. That’s all. He doesn’t say anything or do anything. All he needs to do is smile!” She smiled, then, and put her arms around him. “Don’t worry! I can handle Ylo.” Liar, liar!
“Where in the world did you learn that about the caliph?”
“From Marshal Ithy, at dinner the other night.”
“Amazing. Yes, I see what you mean, then. Ylo won’t take ‘no’ for an answer?”
“Not for long. But don’t worry about it. It will always be ‘no.’ I promise!” Ylo at mealtimes. Ylo escorting her wherever she went. Ylo smiling, joking, flirting. He was always so convincing, so sure of himself. She was always so uncertain.
Shandie nodded a few times. “I should have asked you, of course. Fool that I am! Why didn’t I think to ask you? Well, if you would rather have Hardgraa, then so you shall. Excuse me.”
He turned and stamped to the door.
Heart pounding, Eshiala stared out the window. She had made Shandie change his mind! She knew how rarely that
happened. She had won! How many times did that make? In the last two days, she had asserted herself more often than she had done in all the years since he had first walked into her father’s store, back in Thumble. How she wished she had asserted herself then, instead of letting her parents bully her into accepting him! She would have been much happier had she married a plowman or the miller’s apprentice.
Still, now she felt a surge of triumph, mixed with a huge relief. Shandie trusted her — it had probably never occurred to him not to. She did not trust herself, that was the real trouble! She did not believe she could have resisted Ylo. He would have smiled and talked, flattered and joked, teased and sworn oaths — and eventually he would have won. Sooner or later he would have found a way around her defenses.
Probably sooner.
3
Shandie emerged from the deckhouse and announced loudly that he had changed his mind — Signifer Ylo would accompany him, and Hardgraa would remain to guard the impress. Scrambling back over the rail, Rap watched the reactions with some amusement. Although he made a point of never prying into other people’s thoughts, in this case he could read them quite clearly on the two faces.
Hardgraa was driven by a fierce personal loyalty, and Shandie was heading off into danger without his bodyguard — that was folly! The old warrior’s urge to protest struggled with lifelong obedience, but before either gained a clear advantage, he felt a stab of alarm that he was being discarded because of his age; then came insight into the probable reasons for the change, which brought a surge of satisfaction and pride, and finally a quick rationalization that the baby princess was even more valuable now than Shandie, and not least to Shandie himself. Therefore the new posting was the greater honor. It was all over before he completed his salute.
Young Ylo’s emotions traveled a different road, but just as quickly. His first reaction was disbelief: It is prophesied! Then came anger and chagrin — the promiscuous rascal was totally besotted with Eshiala at the moment. They were followed by cold calculation: If he believed the prophecy, he must now assume that he was destined to return to her before daffodil time and would therefore survive any dangers he might encounter in the next few months. Finally he, too, resorted to rationalization — an adventurous journey with the imperor would be much more interesting than baby-sitting a group of civilians in a lonely country house. So Ylo also smiled. The young rake took life very much as it came, Rap concluded, but self-interest was always uppermost. He never considered other people.