The White Road of the Moon

by Rachel Neumeier

Meridy jumped to her feet, horrified. “Already? Again?”

  “Not the witch-king!” cried Diöllin. “He was, or his servitor was, but the servitor’s gone now, so I came, I came, but at first I couldn’t find you, you’d faded into dreams and I couldn’t find you! But here you are at last!” Putting her hands on her hips, she stared accusingly at Meridy. “He’s here! Herren, my brother! You’ve found him, so why are you sitting here drinking tea?”

  “Wait, your brother is somewhere here?” Meridy asked, bewildered. “In this inn?” Despite herself, she looked around as though the young prince might prove to be tucked away in some corner.

  Niniol took the one step necessary, closed his hands on Diöllin’s royal shoulders, and shook her firmly. “Collect yourself and report properly,” he ordered her, exactly as though she were a new young guardsman under his command.

  The princess gasped, straightened, jerked herself free, and declared, affronted but also far more coherent, “Herren is here, yes, right here! I couldn’t get to him because of Tai-Enchar’s servitor, but then you made the servitor go away. So then I could go to Herren, and I did. But he’s still with them, and you’re not even trying to get him free!” She gave Meridy an even more offended look.

  Meridy said, starting to understand, “Well, that’s why the sorcerer was here, maybe; not because he’d found us, but because he’d brought Herren from Cora Diorr. And we’re in exactly the right place after all.” She would have to think about that later, if she got a moment. It might be reassuring to think they’d been in the God’s hand all along—or terrifying. Or both. But for now she only went on, “So we’re here, and Herren’s here, and now Carad Mereth has taken the witch-king’s servitor away into dreams with him. Or even if it was the other way around and the servitor took Carad Mereth away, they’re still both gone, aren’t they? That is a stroke of luck!”

  “If you call it luck,” muttered Niniol.

  “The God’s hand can tip the dice,” Jaift pointed out. “That’s what my uncle says. But we daren’t stumble around looking blindly here and there; what if they take the poor little prince away somewhere before we find him? If we miss him here, we’ll likely have to chase after them, and surely that’s no good. Much better to find him tonight and…get him away from his captors, I suppose. Hmm.” She subsided, tapping the arm of her chair in thought or frustration or indecision, plainly not so confident as she saw where her argument was leading.

  “They’re probably just ordinary men, though,” Meridy pointed out. “I mean, that’s why Diöllin could come, because the servitor isn’t here anymore. Isn’t that right? I think finding Herren right now might be the most important thing we can do.”

  Niniol didn’t disagree, though he was still frowning. “But what if there’s a sorcerer or a witch with them, still? The boy’s captors may be ordinary men, but it’s never wise to assume your enemy is as weak or ill prepared as you’d like him to be.”

  This was sensible. Meridy nodded.

  “I’ll find out,” Diöllin declared, fiercely. “I will find out.” She took a step toward a blank wall and vanished.

  “Foolish girl,” snapped Niniol, moving as though to follow her and then halting, wary and annoyed. “And if Tai-Enchar’s got another witch here in this house, she’s put herself right in his hands!”

  “Then I suppose we’ll find that out, too,” said Meridy.

  Iëhiy swung around, ears pinned back, facing the far wall. Meridy stiffened, and Jaift jumped to her feet and took a step back. Niniol stepped forward, his imaginary sword gleaming in his hand as though it had never been broken.

  Diöllin ran back into the room through the wall, moonlight flaring around her, as though someone had suddenly lit a candle with a cool silvery flame. She had her hands up defensively and she was gasping, quick desperate breaths as though she were still alive. She said urgently, “He’s right here! Right here! But there’s no witch or sorcerer—I don’t think there is!” She pointed at the wall through which she’d come. “He’s right here! Help him! Help him!”

  No one argued, or even hesitated. Niniol was the first out into the hallway, even though he’d been farthest from the door, but Meridy and Jaift were hardly slower. Everything seemed calm in the inn’s corridor; the lanterns hanging along the walls glowed with their soft light, and from the common room downstairs came the murmur of voices. But to their left, a short distance down the hallway, Diöllin stood, lantern light shining through and around her, limning her face and her hands. She was pointing at the nearest door, her colorless eyes wide and terrified.

  How to get that door open was a question. Just knocking was a stupid idea. Meridy knew it. No doubt all of them knew it. Knocking on that door when they had no idea what was on the other side except surely enemies and hopefully the young prince and probably some imminent disaster was stupid. She should have come up with a better idea, even an actual plan. Or Niniol should—he was an adult, after all—or Jaift, who was so practical and sensible.

  But Diöllin was so frantic that Meridy couldn’t think of anything else to do. The ghosts could go right through the door—Iëhiy already had, with an voiceless snarl—but without her to make them real, a ghost couldn’t do anything useful on the other side. If Niniol had been a living man, maybe he could have forced the door, but neither Meridy nor Jaift had a chance at anything like that.

  So Meridy knocked, loudly and confidently. They’d have to answer the door, wouldn’t they? Because they wouldn’t know—

  The door swung open, and a man was there, big and unfriendly.

  There was light in the room, not much, a single lamp hanging from a chain that cast confusing shadows in all directions. Meridy grabbed a lantern from its niche high on the corridor wall and threw it past the man into the room. Flaming oil spattered everywhere as the lamp broke, and men jumped and cursed. Something caught, cloth of some kind from the smell of the smoke that suddenly billowed. In a minute, the smoke would make it hard to see, but for now Meridy could use it and she did use it, dragging Niniol and Iëhiy into the real. The curses of the other men took on a different, angrier tone. Meridy ran forward, Jaift behind her holding another lamp, ready to throw it, though it seemed she might not have to; already something was thoroughly on fire, burning viciously. All around her, men seemed to be tangled in a bewildering violent struggle, and everyone was shouting or cursing or screaming.

  Diöllin was whispering to her insistently. Meridy could hardly make her out in the madly shadowed confusion, but she pulled Jaift along the edge of the room. A man reeled back against the wall right in front of them, a knife gripped in his hand, and she ducked and pressed back, but the man pushed himself up and hurled himself into the struggle again without seeming to notice the girls at all. Diöllin whispered, “Hurry, hurry!” and Meridy tried.

  Then Jaift cried out and dashed forward, first throwing her lantern and then hurling herself bodily against a half-seen man, and Meridy finally caught sight of Prince Herren.

  The young prince was pressed against the wall, tucked on the floor in a corner of the room, bound hand and foot. He’d been struggling to get clear of the fight, but the struggle had trapped him in a corner. Now he was unable to get up, unable to flee or try to fight. He was gagged, too—Meridy could see the strip of cloth across his face.

  Jaift was struggling with the man she’d attacked. She might be taller and stronger than most girls, but she was certainly no match for a grown man; when he hit her, she went sprawling. Niniol was here; Iëhiy was somewhere—Meridy could hear his terrifying snarls—but she’d lost track of them both.

  Then Diöllin was there, hovering by her brother. Meridy could only half see her, there was all the smoke—she pulled Diöllin into the real, and the princess flung her arms around the man struggling with Jaift, dragging him back and down. The man shouted in surprise, and Jaift grabbed a chair someone had knocked over, whirled around, and smashed the chair over his head. The man grunted and sagged. The young prince squirmed out of the co
rner and rolled under a narrow bed that had been shoved against the wall below the window. It was a tight space, but he was not very big and managed to wriggle out of sight.

  Then Niniol strode past Meridy, his face grim. He didn’t even look at her, but he didn’t have to: Diöllin let go of the man, scrambling out of Niniol’s way, and Niniol ran the man through without compunction.

  Suddenly it was much quieter.

  Meridy turned, almost afraid of what she might see, but from overwhelming noise and confusion, the room had become…not peaceful. But, yes, much quieter.

  Flames flickered here and there, but all the fires seemed to be small ones. One man lay at Niniol’s feet and a second over by the doorway. Another man had been flung to one side, against a wall in a horrifying pool of blood; his throat seemed to have been torn out, which was awful. Meridy could see the feet of a fourth man through the open door that led to another bedchamber, but that man was plainly dead too. She was glad she couldn’t see him better. She wondered who had killed him—it must have been Iëhiy, who was standing alertly against the wall near that doorway. There was no blood on him, but he’d faded mostly out of the real again, so there wouldn’t be.

  Though people were out in the corridor—Meridy could hear them—she thought they sounded angry and scared; not enemies, then, but people alarmed by the sudden sharp battle. It was probably the innkeeper and his staff, and they were going to be very, very upset. She couldn’t blame them, she didn’t blame them, but she had no idea how to deal with them, either.

  “I’ll take care of that,” Jaift said, her tone shockingly normal amid the carnage. She ran her hands over her hair, took a breath, and strode toward the door, pausing only to stamp out a flicker of flame trying to climb up a table leg.

  It occurred to Meridy that Jaift might have been killed—she might have been killed herself. She could hardly believe that they’d come through without a scratch, and suddenly she understood, truly understood, why witches might bind the souls of the dead, and what kind of power it might give them.

  “Mery!” Niniol said, peremptory, and Meridy, recalled to the moment, turned quickly.

  While she’d been distracted, Herren had wiggled back out from under the bed. Diöllin hovered over him, murmuring, her hands moving as she tried to touch her little brother’s shoulder, his face; tried to untie the cords that bound his hands and feet. She couldn’t, of course, not without help from Meridy. Maybe Herren could feel a featherlight brush of her hand, no more than that. But he could obviously hear his sister. He looked like he wanted to throw his arms around Diöllin and cry. Meridy wouldn’t have blamed him a bit; she felt close to tears herself, and she was much older and not tied up. The young prince didn’t seem to have been hurt, though. Not really hurt. His face was either smudged with dirt or bruised, and she could see from where she knelt the red marks on his wrists where the cords had rubbed, but she didn’t see anything worse. She went quickly to help the young prince get free of his bonds.

  Niniol swung around, grimly ready, as a man shoved the door wide and came in, with Jaift and two other men crowding behind them. But there was obviously no need to fear these newcomers. They were, Meridy gathered, members of the family that owned the inn, but though they were exclaiming to one another in horror at the dead men and worse horror at the remaining fires still burning here and there, they seemed to be perfectly in sympathy with Jaift and with young Herren, who was white, thin, bruised, and silent. Meridy had known he was Diöllin’s younger brother, but once he was freed from his bonds and on his feet, the boy looked even smaller than she’d expected—no more than ten, maybe, if that.

  “In our inn!” the tallest of the men said in outraged tones, pointing an accusing finger at Herren—but after the first instant Meridy saw that he meant Herren was evidence rather than at fault. The man was big as well as tall, rather stout, his coloring suggesting a touch of Southern blood. His round face was set in what seemed unaccustomed lines of dismay. “Kidnapping, extortion, arson, who knows what, right here in Cora Talen! In our inn! Why, we might as well be in the lawless hills as in a respectable town! What is the world coming to?”

  One of the other men moved hastily to fetch a pitcher of water and douse the remaining flames, while Jaift went to fuss over Herren and murmur in his ear, “You’re our cousin.” Then, more loudly, she went on, “Everything’s fine now! Moraf and Tomas here have sent for the town guard. I expect they’ll hang these thugs from the town gates as a warning to any others who might think to bring their lawlessness into Cora Talen.”

  “That’s exactly what the guard’ll do, and good riddance!” agreed one of the other men, who was thinner and shorter and gloomier and must, Meridy gathered, be Tomas. “What do we pay taxes for, eh, with goings-on like this?” He sounded glumly satisfied, as though he’d been complaining about goings-on for years and was now pleased to be able to point to something even worse than he’d ever complained of. Kicking the nearest body, he added pessimistically, “None of ’em alive, I guess. Too bad, but it can’t be helped, I suppose, and the guard can hang their filthy bodies at least. Here, boy, you all right?”

  “You can see he’s been treated badly,” declared Moraf, patting Herren clumsily on the shoulder.

  The young prince flinched slightly, though Meridy didn’t think the man noticed. He looked shaken and pale and stiff and exactly like a little highborn boy who had been kidnapped by brigands and held for ransom. But he inclined his head to Moraf and said collectedly enough, “Thank you, sir, and my father will also be grateful for your kindness as well, I know.”

  Diöllin was making fierce gestures toward the door, but Meridy hardly needed the princess to point out that they needed to leave right away. She stared at Jaift, hoping the other girl had some notion of how to get out of this inn so they wouldn’t wind up dealing with the town guardsmen and ten thousand curious onlookers, and possibly another terrifying double-shadowed sorcerer. Surely the witch-king must soon discover that something had happened here to balk him, and then he’d send another of his servants….

  “Well said, lad!” declared the first man, patting Herren’s shoulder again. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you? Poor lad, but you’re safe now.”

  “Yes, and I’m most grateful my cousins found me,” Herren said steadily. “They’ve been very brave, especially when they got ahead of their proper guardsmen and had to act on their own.” Turning to Jaift, he added, his voice quivering just a bit, “But I want to go home, now, cousin, please.”

  “Of course, cousin!” Jaift declared without hesitation, taking his hand. She said warmly to the men, “We’ll be sure to speak well of you and your inn, where the God moved us to find our poor cousin and save his life.”

  “Ah, the God’s hand is in this and no mistake,” declared Moraf, with a sidelong glance at Meridy. “Yes, yes, no doubt of that, one could hardly miss it! Eyes as can look sideways will spot what other eyes overlook, as they say, and a good thing for your little cousin, eh?” But he also added, “Just let’s wait for the guard and take care of all this proper, right?”

  “We can’t wait!” Diollin objected.

  “Tell them to send the captain to your father’s house,” Niniol whispered to Jaift. “Let them know he’s a lord—tell them Lord Saranuol. They’ll believe that—he’s got a house in every city in Cora Tal and a family that goes off in all directions; no one will be able to say you aren’t his daughter.”

  “Oh, yes, that will do,” Diollin agreed, relieved.

  “You must certainly send their captain to my father’s house,” Jaift said smoothly. “Lord Saranuol. We’ll take my poor young cousin there and send immediately to his family. I think we’d better go on now, though. I’m sure my cousin must greatly desire to be away from all this.” She glanced around meaningfully at the carnage. “We’re so grateful for your help and understanding, and do please let me pay for the damages to your suite.” She didn’t pause but took Herren’s hand and headed straight for the door as tho
ugh it didn’t occur to her that anybody might get in their way. Meridy trailed after Jaift, admiring her technique.

  “We couldn’t permit anyone else to bear the expense!” declared Moraf, but he seemed enormously pleased, and no wonder, considering the charnel atmosphere in the room.

  He and Jaift argued politely, while Meridy hastily gathered up their few belongings, about who should pay to clean up the mess. They were still arguing, no less politely, when Moraf led them past the curious faces at all the doors. Jaift refused to relent until they reached the inn’s front door, when Moraf finally let himself be persuaded to accept a single thin gold coin.

  “I’m sure the guard’ll trust you’ll send a deposition, excellent lady, but you’ll never find a conveyance at this time of night!” Moraf protested one last time, following them out to the street. Lamps glowed on either side of the inn’s door, casting their warm light over the courtyard, but there was not yet any trace of dawn in the east. Beyond the illumination of the lamps, the whole city seemed dark and still. The silence made Meridy shiver. Herren was shivering too, even though the night was warm. She didn’t blame him a bit.

  “Oh, we’ll hire a private carriage,” Jaift assured Moraf with blithe confidence, and led Meridy and Herren through the inn’s courtyard and into the shadowed streets.

  —

  Once they’d gotten a little distance away, Herren tugged at Jaift’s hand, pulling her to a stop. “We can’t hire a carriage,” he said, surprisingly decisive for such a little boy. “People would talk. He would find out.” The boy didn’t shout; he showed no sign of childish temper, but he spoke with a kind of flat exhaustion that was worse than anger.

  “Hush! I know,” Jaift murmured, and led them aside, a bit farther down the street and then into the mouth of an alley, out of the way of casual passersby or, more importantly, of the guardsmen who must any moment arrive at the inn. It was even darker here, though Meridy was standing close enough to the prince to be aware that he was still trembling, with fine little shudders that racked his whole body.