by Greg Keyes
“Very well,” Cazio conceded. “What did I do wrong?”
Z’Acatto set his guard stance. “It begins thus, with the back foot,” he began. “It must explode forward, and your arm must already be rigid and in line. You should make the attack to the outside line, not the inside, because it’s closer. After you strike, you pass, perhaps to thrust again from behind, perhaps merely to run away. Try it.”
Under the old man’s guidance, Cazio practiced the motion a few times.
“Better,” z’Acatto said. “But the leap should be more forward—you shouldn’t leave the ground so far behind. The more you go up, the slower it is, and above all this must be quick.”
“What is my target, on an armored man?” Cazio inquired.
“The gorget was a fair choice. If the arm is lifted, that’s good, too, right in the pit of it. If you’re behind, up under the helm. The back of the knee. The eye-slits, if you can hit them.”
Cazio grinned. “Didn’t you once teach me that one doesn’t fight a knight?” Cazio asked.
“One doesn’t fence with them,” Cazio replied. “That doesn’t mean you can’t kill them.”
“Except, apparently, in the case of our present enemies,” Cazio reminded him.
“Most of them are flesh and blood,” z’Acatto scoffed. “The others we merely need to decapitate. We know it can be done.”
He raised his rapier and held it above his head, hilt up and the tip pointed more or less at Cazio’s face. “If the broadsword is held like this, and he thrusts, don’t parry. Counterattack along his blade and void to the side. Never meet a broadsword with a simple parry. Use your feet—wait for the cut, then thrust, watch for the backswing.”
For the next two hours, by firelight, they played at rapier and broadsword, and for the first time in a long time, Cazio felt a return of the sheer joy of dessrata, of learning and practicing with his mestro.
Finally, panting, the old man retired his weapon to its scabbard. “Enough,” he sighed. “I’m getting too old for this.”
“A few more?” Cazio begged. “What if the blow comes from beneath, but—?”
“No, no. Tomorrow.” z’Acatto sagged down onto a rock, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.
“When did you fight knights, z’Acatto?” Cazio asked.
Z’Acatto just grunted and looked at the fire.
“Ospero called you Emrature. What did he mean by that?”
“That was a long time ago,” z’Acatto murmured. “Times I don’t like thinking of when I don’t have to.”
“You’ve never said anything about being a commander.”
Z’Acatto shook his head. “I just said I don’t like to talk about it, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Well.” He got up, stretched out on his blanket, and closed his eyes.
Cazio watched him for a long while. The girls were already asleep. It looked like he had the watch.
The next day was cool and clear. The fields continued, and after a bell of traveling, they saw a castle on a distant hill. Cazio could make out the white walls and yellow roofs of a small town that lay beneath it.
Presently they reached a fork in the road. One path led toward the castle; the other continued straight.
“Straight on is our direction,” Cazio said.
“You’re awfully cheerful this morning,” Austra noticed. The two of them and the ass were somewhat ahead of the others. Anne was lagging back a bit, and seemed deep in thought. Z’Acatto was limping.
“I suppose I am,” Cazio replied. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m in the company of a beautiful casnara, the sun is shining, and we’ve escaped danger, at least for the moment. Best of all, we’re not on a ship.”
“There is that,” Austra said.
“And all of this,” Cazio said, waving his arm about. “It’s a change. It’s certainly not Vitellio. Is Crotheny like this?”
Austra shook her head. “This is more like Vitellio, really,” she said. “Crotheny is wetter. There are more trees and the fields are greener, even this time of year. It’s colder there, too.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it. You must be. You must be ready to go home.”
Austra lifted her shoulders diffidently. “I’m not sure what home is now,” she said. “Everything’s changed. I don’t know if there will be a place for me anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t know if Anne will still want me as her maid.”
“Maid?”
She looked surprised. “Didn’t you know?”
“I didn’t. I thought you were cousins or friends.”
“Well, we were friends.”
He glanced back at Anne and lowered his voice. “I’ve noticed you two haven’t been very friendly lately.”
“We had a fight on the ship,” Austra admitted. “I said some things I shouldn’t have.”
“Well, you’ve known her for longer than I have,” Cazio said, “but she isn’t the easiest person in the world to get along with.”
“She used to be, to me,” Austra said.
“But something’s changed.”
“Yes. She’s changed. Something’s happened to her, and she won’t tell me what.”
Cazio tugged at the mule, who seemed interested in something on the side of the road. “Well,” he said, “you tell me her father and sisters were killed, and someone’s making a pretty good effort to kill her, too. That’s probably had a bit of an effect.”
“Of course. But it’s more than that.”
“Well, I’m sure you two will make up soon,” Cazio said. “Or at least I hope so. I hate to see such long faces.”
They went another few steps in silence. “I’m glad you’re here, Cazio,” she said. “Anne is the only friend I ever really had.”
“I hope I’m your friend,” he said.
“You feel like a friend,” Austra replied. “But not like Anne.”
“No? What sort of friend am I, then?”
“The sort I rarely even dared to imagine,” she replied.
Feeling strange and oddly guilty, he slipped his hand into hers.
Malconio was right. His interest had always been in Anne, though what drove him crazy about that was that he couldn’t exactly say why. But Anne was difficult. She still thought she was in love with this Roderick fellow. He’d thought by showing Austra some attention, he might get Anne to look his way—a lot of women were like that. At times he thought he might be succeeding. At others he felt he was wasting his time.
But meanwhile he had succeeded all too well with Austra. There was no mistaking her affection.
To his surprise, he realized he was genuinely starting to return it. She was kind and intelligent, and in her own way every bit as pretty as Anne. Oddly, every time he looked at her, she seemed prettier. Austra was the sort of girl you wanted to hold and comfort, and tell everything would be all right.
But he still wanted Anne.
A little after noon, they reached the great Vitellian way which was, finally, a real road, wide enough for carriages. One passed them, and Anne watched it go by longingly. She and Austra had traveled to Vitellio in such a carriage, with all the luxuries she had grown up expecting.
Now she was returning home with an ass.
There was one way the two journeys were similar—Austra hadn’t been talking to her much in the carriage, either. She had been punishing her for trying to run away. That argument had been fixed with a promise. She didn’t think this silence could be so easily broken.
Austra had Cazio now, anyway. The two of them had been holding hands all day.
They stayed that night in a barn just outside of Pacre. The farmer spoke a little king’s tongue, and told them they would be crossing into Hornladh soon. Her heart quickened a little at that, and she asked him if he knew where Dunmrogh was. He said it was in the east, but wasn’t sure of the way.
That night she lay awake, feeling guilty for not thinking of Roderick more. She
knew she loved him, but so much had been happening.
Deep down, she knew it was more. Cazio had planted doubts about Roderick, and though she knew he was wrong, she couldn’t get them completely out of her mind. She needed to see him again. Was he in Eslen or back home in Dunmrogh?
Perhaps when they reached Paldh, she could find a courier to carry word to Dunmrogh that she was coming home.
The next day, the fields gave way to expansive vineyards that ran over the hills all the way to the horizon. Anne remembered them from their trip in the carriage—she remembered that she had never imagined there were so many grapes in the entire world.
She glanced over at Austra, who for once wasn’t walking twenty yards ahead of her.
“The Teremené River must be up ahead,” Anne ventured. “If I remember from your journal.”
“I think you’re right,” Austra said.
“That was clever of you,” Anne went on, “keeping that journal. At least we know where we are. How many days do you think we are from Eslen?”
“It was five days by carriage,” Austra said. “But we didn’t travel all day, and we spent two nights in Paldh.”
“Six days, then, or seven do you think, if we press hard?”
“That might be right,” Austra allowed.
Anne bit her lip. “Are we going to continue like this?” she asked. “Not talking?”
“We’re talking,” Austra said.
“You know what I mean.”
Austra sighed and nodded. “It’s just—I still love you, Anne, but sometimes I think you can’t love me.”
“That’s nonsense,” Anne said. “You’re my best friend. You’ve always been my best friend. And I still need you.”
“It just hurts, the way you keep shutting me out.”
“I know,” Anne said.
“But you aren’t going to stop.”
Anne sighed. “Let me think about it. But can we call a truce for the time being?”
“We aren’t at war.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Anne said, trying to sound bright.
They chatted after that, speculating about how things would be in Eslen. It wasn’t as comfortable as it once had been, but it was better than the silence.
After about a bell, Austra asked for a break so she could answer the call of nature.
“I’ll join you,” Anne said. “The morning wine’s gone straight through me.”
Cazio and z’Acatto took the opportunity to sit. “Take your time,” Cazio said. “The ass needs a rest.”
The two girls strolled up a hill through long rows of grapevines, until they couldn’t see the men anymore. Anne wished it was the season for grapes—the dried fish and hard bread they’d purchased with her hair hadn’t been good to start with, and she was really sick of it now.
“What’s that down there?” Austra asked, when they’d finished what they climbed the hill to do.
Anne peered in the direction the other girl was pointing. The hill sloped down away from where they had left the men, to form a little valley between it and the next hill. A line of willows marked a stream, but before the stream there was what first appeared to be an irregular wall of red brick. Then she saw there was more to it.
“It looks like some sort of ruin,” Anne said.
“Can we get a closer look?” Austra asked.
Anne didn’t really feel like it—she had had enough of explorations and adventures to last a lifetime. But Austra was talking to her again.
“A small look,” she granted. “We shouldn’t delay too long.”
They made their way down the hill. The formal vines ended halfway down and picked up on the next hill, but the valley was unruly, grown up with wild vines, brush, and bushes. The ground was littered with bricks.
“It must have been a castle, or a mansion,” Austra said, when they drew nearer.
Anne nodded in agreement. Grapevines concealed most of the structure. One wall still stood higher than their heads—the rest had crumbled almost to the foundations. Still, they could see the outlines of the rooms that had been there, and it had been a house of considerable size.
Now that they were down here, it was also apparent that there were more buildings, or what had once been buildings. Yet there was something odd about them. Even in ruin, there was something familiar.
Curious, Anne stepped over the remains of a wall and into the nearest ruin. There was a sort of mound not far in, which on closer inspection turned out to be a broken stone box. Something dull and white caught her eye, and she bent to pick it up. It was thin but heavy, and with a start she realized it was a small piece of lead foil. She felt the slight raising of letters on it, and with a gasp dropped it.
“What’s wrong?” Austra asked.
“This is a city of the dead,” Anne whispered. “Like Eslen-of-Shadows.” She backed away from the box, which could only be the remains of a sarcophagus.
“Saints!” Austra murmured, looking around. “But where is the living city? We’re too far from Pacre, and I don’t think we’re to Teremené yet.”
“No one has kept this up,” Anne said. “The city-of-the-quick must be gone, too. Maybe it was farther down the valley.”
“A whole town, gone?” Austra wondered aloud. “How could that happen?”
“It happens,” Anne said. “It might have been a plague, or war—” A shiver went down her back. “Let’s get out of here. These aren’t our ancestors. They might not like having us here.”
“Wait,” Austra said. “Look over there.”
Anne reluctantly followed Austra around another pile of rubble. Beyond it stood a construction that was more or less intact, square, four-walled, though with no roof. The arch of the doorway had fallen in, but the opening was still there. Inside, trees and vines grew so thickly, they seemed nearly impenetrable.
“It’s a horz,” Austra said. “It looks almost like the one back home—where we found Virgenya’s tomb.”
A strange sensation settled on Anne as she realized Austra was right. She felt something turn behind her eyes and the faint whisper of a voice in a language she did not know.
“We have to leave, Austra,” she said urgently. “We have to leave now.”
Austra turned, and her eyes widened. “Your face,” she said, sounding concerned. “Are you all right?”
“I just have to leave.”
The feeling faded as they put the horz behind them.
“What was it?” Austra asked.
“I don’t know,” Anne replied. Then, seeing the skeptical look on Austra’s face, she said, “I really don’t know. But I’m feeling better now.”
Austra suddenly frowned. “Did you hear that?” she asked. “Was that Cazio?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
Austra started running up the hill, but Anne caught her by the hand. “Wait,” she whispered. “Slowly. Quietly.”
“Why? It sounded like he was shouting.”
“All the more reason,” Anne said. “What if he was trying to warn us?”
“Warn us?” Austra’s voice sounded a little panicky.
They hurried to the top of the hill, crouching low, and peered down through the grapevines.
Cazio and z’Acatto were there, along with some twenty riders. Cazio was down on his knees, his sword several yards away, and one of the men was binding his hands behind his back. Z’Acatto was standing and already bound.
It was the knights and soldiers from the docks.
“They’ve found us,” Anne whispered.
“Cazio,” Austra gasped. Then she opened her mouth to shout it, and Anne had to clap a hand over it.
“No,” Anne barely sighed. “We have to run.”
Austra closed her eyes and nodded. Anne removed her hand.
“We can’t leave them,” Austra said anxiously.
“They didn’t kill them,” Anne said. “They won’t unless they catch us, do you see? But if they do catch us, we’ll all die.”
�
��I—”
“They’ll come up here,” Anne said. “We’re lucky they haven’t already, but they recognized Cazio and z’Acatto, so they know we must be somewhere. The only way we can help them is by staying free.”
“I suppose so,” Austra relented.
They started back down the hill, toward the ruins, creeping at first, but when they heard horses’ hooves coming up behind them, they began to run.
CHAPTER TWO
THE BLIND, THE DEAF,
AND THE DARKNESS
WHEN ALIS BERRYE ENTERED, Muriele waved her to a seat.
“Tell me what is happening,” she said. “Tell me how I might die today.”
Berrye frowned and clutched her hands together. “Majesty,” she said, “first I’d like to discuss the matter of the attack on Lady Gramme’s manse.”
“Go on,” Muriele said, reaching for her cup of tea.
“You ordered that because of my suggestion that Prince Robert was there, and that the lady Gramme was plotting against you. I fear I have failed you.”
“Because we did not find Robert?” Muriele took a sip of the tea. “That’s hardly a surprise. That matter went very poorly, but it was not your fault. There should not have been an attack, for one thing. My orders were to surround the place so no one could sneak away. Sir Fail was then to enter with my authority and conduct a peaceful search. Instead, his men were set upon and they reacted like the warriors they are. But Robert aside, it’s fairly clear that Gramme was conspiring to win over the support of the Newland landwaerden. That in itself was worth knowing.”
Berrye continued to look troubled. “Majesty, I could have discovered that myself, without bloodshed.”
“You have the presumption to tell me that sending my men to Gramme’s was a mistake?”
“It is my duty to tell you such things, Majesty,” Berrye replied. “It is in the nature of what you have asked me to do.”
Muriele raised an eyebrow, but Berrye was right. Erren had never shied from telling her when she had been a fool. Of course, Erren had been older, and her friend of many years. Having this girl remonstrate with her was—annoying.
“Very well, I accept that,” she said reluctantly. “I know that it was an unpopular move, particularly in certain quarters. But I felt I had to make some show of force, make some statement that I will not sit passive and be a target.”