Tashi’s hooves echoed dully in the early morning air as they picked their way down a rocky slope toward the gloom of the forest and the path leading to the castle gate. A shudder of apprehension rippled across her skin. Nerves. She was on her way to meet another stone keeper; one likely not to welcome her visit. She reached for Ilydearta. Mohan’s question wouldn’t leave her. What would she do once she caught up with Lord Bredych? Her task as she knew it was to reunite the stones. But what if the keepers didn’t want to be reunited? What then?
Zeynel had told her that Crioch’s keeper was strong and ruthless, that he used the stone for his own ends. Did she think she could reform him? Make him see the light? No. But she had to see him. He had answers she needed. And although he hadn’t held the blade, he was guilty of murdering Zeynel and Tarak. Justice. Revenge.
Tashi blew heavily through her nostrils and shook her head as though responding to Ilythra’s thoughts.
Teann had shown her the emptiness in the east, in the same direction Bredych had fled. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She snorted, echoing Tashi’s comments on the valley. She was here. It wasn’t like her to second-guess her decisions and besides, it was too late now.
Ilythra glanced to the still-blue sky. One thing at a time. She knew Bredych was capable of murder, but she wasn’t an innocent boy or a simple man. She could defend herself. If possible, she’d take the stone from him after she found out if he knew where the Siobani were. She touched Ilydearta. Waymaker. She smiled. She’d find a way.
As she descended into the forest, the sun gathered strength, chasing away the mist lingering beneath the trees. Gradually, the forest thinned and the castle rose before her, majestic against the blue sky. As the sun began its western descent, its light threw the Har Neider Mountains into stark relief, warming the cold stone and brightening dark forests. A village materialized in the distance between the outer wall and thick forests; houses clustered, seeming to huddle for warmth and safety. From a rise, she could see people milling through the streets. Fields, won from the thick forests, had already been shorn from their crops, the lingering smell of wheat still tinting the air. Black birds rose in a dark cloud, cawing their displeasure as she disturbed their scavenging of the remaining grain.
The wind picked up, a hint of autumn in its breath. The sun lingered on the horizon while Ilythra climbed the main street of the village. Tashi’s hooves kicked up the dry dirt on the abandoned road. Frail-looking fences, no more than bracken woven between posts, circled the thatch-covered buildings. Dogs rushed to the edge of the road for a halfhearted bark but no one emerged from their doorways to see what the fuss was about. In the village square, a group of women tossed forkfuls of wheat into the air, letting the breeze carry away the chaff and collecting the kernels in a large cloth on the ground. They wore homespun dresses—colorless as only much-washed and overused garments could be—and scarves wrapping heads and necks, leaving the skins of their hands and faces exposed to the elements. One of them, a large woven basket held steady on her shoulder, paused long enough to stare before quickly averting her gaze when she saw Ilythra look back. In the square an open fire, flames struggling against the breeze, burned under a tripod of branches waiting for a pot.
As Ilythra passed by, a few men lifted caps, their faces weary. They seemed bent, tired and old. Houses lined the street, but no children played in the yards or in the faded yellow grasses between the houses. The few young people she saw labored alongside the adults or were young enough to be carried in slings on their mother’s shoulders. The village was bereft of laughter. The thickening smell of refuse forced Ilythra to breathe through her mouth. Even the feeble smoke from chimneys seemed to struggle its way from the gloom. Everything she saw spoke of poverty and oppression.
No, domination.
A shiver started at her spine and rippled through her body. Leave. For just a moment, she thought she smelled the scent of wild thyme. Ilythra hesitated as she passed through the town. That’s silly. There wasn’t even much a breeze. Her mind was playing tricks and she needed to keep her wits about her. She passed by a building she thought might be a tavern. There was no reason to visit the barkeep. She doubted the people in the village could afford her services and she wasn’t going to take food out of their mouths in trade. Besides, she had a sneaking suspicion the castle waited for her.
* * *
Between the outer wall of the castle and the last building in the village, yellow grasses lay against dark earth, trodden by countless feet. No one shared the road with her, save her shadow stretching out behind her and countless insects buzzing among the trampled meadow.
The stone walls loomed ahead. She could make out guards leaning against the parapet, watching her approach. Ilythra led Tashi over a flat wooden bridge spanning a shallow moat, her hooves echoing dully on the weathered planks. Sluggish gray water swirled underneath, lapping against blackened stone.
Exquisite stonework topped the parapets. The wind swirled, revealing a gold serpent on a flag’s crimson background. A snake? She didn’t like snakes.
A flash of blue to one side of the castle caught her eye. Between the thick foliage, she could just make out the blue of the lake she’d seen from the rise.
The guards at the gate looked her up and down before one stepped forward, barring her way with a stick topped with a short, thick, angled blade. “Name and business?”
“Ilythra. I’m here to see your king.”
The man shared a glance with the other guard before stepping back. “Wait here.” He disappeared into an arched doorway built into the wall. Instants later, a little boy ran out and dashed toward the castle. The guard returned to stand beside his companion.
Tashi back-stepped as a stream of urine arced from the wall above them. One of the guards yelled a curse, and laughter sounded from the heights. The other guard’s gaze flicked in her direction then continued to survey the desolate village below.
Ilythra sighed. Her back and neck ached with strain. Every muscle in her body tensed for action. Would he attack her? Did he know she was there? The song of Crioch had grown—its melody distinct. Ilydearta had a melody too. Surely he could hear it.
Dusk tinted the stone blue and shadows stretched in the courtyard between the walls. The breeze shifted and she wrinkled her nose against the unmistakable smell of a nearby tannery. Added to the smell of fresh urine and the scent of stale refuse, she agreed with Mohan—she’d take the open forest any day. A fierce longing for Mohan and his troupe accompanied the thought. Had he reached his people yet?
The boy returned from his errand. His cheeks were pink, but his clothes hung on him like rags. Large hazel eyes gazed at her with wonder before he approached the guard, speaking in hurried whispers and nodding his head.
The guard stepped aside. “The boy will show you the way.”
Ilythra walked through a tunnel in the wall, past the arched doorway and into a large courtyard. She struggled to keep her pace steady. Her hand itched for her sword. Tall buildings, almost the height of the walls, threw their shadows before the inner wall as if in obeisance. Peasants walked with purpose from one building to another, glancing at her without meeting her gaze. The boy led to the right, past a few shops to an arched opening in the inner wall. As they neared the opening, Ilythra could see another arched entrance to a vegetable garden and beyond that, what looked like a formal flower garden stretching between the inner and outer walls.
Everything looked normal, but nothing was. Crioch’s song vibrated throughout Teann with a dissonance she knew couldn’t be natural.
“The queen’s garden, milady,” the boy said, following her gaze.
Ilythra peered through large trees. A path wound through small shrubs and disappeared around a bend.
The guards at the second wall merely nodded at their passing. Once through, another boy in drab clothing ran forward and reached for Tashi’s reins
, his head lowered. When Ilythra didn’t immediately give them over, he peeked at her under a mop of blond hair.
“Take good care of her. I’ll be back to see her settled as soon as I can,” she said.
“Yes, milady.” The boy led Tashi past a vegetable garden, now harvested of most of its produce, toward a large wooden structure to one side of the castle.
“This way, milady.” An imposing staircase stood between two towers, which led to huge double wooden doors. Rocks, in shades of gray, formed a portico over the entrance, its capstone carved to resemble some sort of snakelike creature.
“Through there.” The little boy bowed then ran off toward the stables. As Ilythra climbed the stairs, she felt the hair at the back of her neck rise. Surely Bredych wouldn’t attack her as soon as she entered the castle? What reason did he have to wait? On the other hand, what would attacking her gain him? She didn’t know but so far, she’d tried and failed to determine any of Bredych’s motives. Her eyes on the door, she forcefully stopped herself from reaching for the hilt of her sword. So far, no one had asked her to surrender her weapons. Interesting. She glanced back the way she came. If the guards were waiting for a signal to attack, they were hiding it better than she could. She turned back around as the door began to open.
Chapter Fourteen
A tall man in tight-fitting trousers and oversized shirt belted at the waist stepped out of the castle and into the light from the fading sun. He bowed, extending one soft, pale hand. Ilythra relaxed. This was no warrior.
“Welcome, Ilythra. I am Konrad, the king’s steward. King Erhard is currently meeting with townspeople. I am to see you lodged and comfortable.” He stepped aside then turned and smiled. “If you will follow me?”
Ilythra glanced left and right. There were no guards in the large entry. She’d heard of the custom of courtesy between royals, not asking equals to remove their weapons, but she wasn’t royalty or a visiting dignitary. Although she was sentimentally attached to them, she’d never been uncomfortable surrendering her swords or staff. She was more than capable of defending herself without them. The king was either supremely confident of his guards or of her intent.
They walked down a hallway lined with portraits of unsmiling men and women in regal attire and then up a narrow staircase. Konrad offered her another smile. “We heard rumors you were in the area. The king is eager to meet you.”
Rumors? How? Fear tripped along her nerves, teasing her with its icy touch. “And I him.” She kept her voice steady.
The steward glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She could tell he was curious about her but unsure of asking. Ilythra didn’t offer any information.
“Would you like to freshen up? It may take a while before the king is free to meet with you, although I’m sure he’s taking care of his tasks as quickly as possible.”
A diplomat. “Yes, thank you.”
“Then I’ll lead you to your chamber.”
With each step, Ilythra became more aware of her own heartbeat, her breathing echoed in her head. It was a familiar feeling. Crioch. They paused before a door. Ilythra glanced down the corridor. A woman ducked around the corner as Konrad opened the door to a chamber.
A vast canopy bed sat against one wall, but even its ponderous size seemed dwarfed by the room. A couch and two chairs stood in front of a large fireplace, where a fire dancing on the grate battled dampness from the stone. Pale light from open windows fell on cushioned-covered benches in shallow alcoves along one wall. Ilythra did a double take. The windows were paned with glass. Most houses and even castles didn’t boast many windows, and never with framed glass. From the look of delight on Konrad’s face when he followed her gaze, they had to be a source of pride to the castle as well.
A vanity stood to one side of the bed. On its polished surface, Ilythra peered at brushes, a horn comb, pins, a looking glass and several wooden boxes, round and square, capped with burnished metal lids. She was impressed and a little curious.
Konrad stood at the door, expectant.
“It’s lovely, thank you,” Ilythra said.
“If you need anything, just ring.” He indicated a bellpull near the door. “Please, freshen up from your journey and I will call for you when the king is available.”
The door shut with a faint thud. Ilythra inspected the boxes on the vanity. The first contained a white power. She brought it to her nose, sniffed then sneezed. Probably some kind of face powder. Another held a dark red cream, and the third assorted ribbons. She replaced all the lids, arranged the boxes and stepped over to the fireplace and the two chairs. She ran her hand across the chairs’ supple fabric, watching the flames flicker on the grate and soaking up their warmth.
A scent tickled her nose. She stiffened, alarm speeding her heart. There had been a scent in Tarak’s room. She walked slowly around the room, trying to detect the source. It was stronger by the bed. She bent to sniff the linens and smiled. Lavender, sandalwood and another scent she couldn’t place. I’m getting paranoid.
Ilythra walked over to the windows. The panes were cold and damp with condensation. They were not quite clear but let in enough natural light to warm the wooden floor, if not the walls. From the placement of the windows it was easy to see the castle walls were a half wheel thick. Kneeling on the bench, she fingered the latch and swung one of the frames open to a view facing the back of the castle and away from the village.
It was impossible to look down unless she climbed on the ledge outside the window, but it was an impressive view of the mountains against the darkening sky. The air from this height was fresh with the scent of harvest in its breath.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in.”
A young woman entered, carrying a tray. She wore an almost-white apron over a brown homespun dress. A scarf covered her flaxen hair, except for a few pieces escaping around her face. She kept her eyes to the floor and curtsied. “The Lord Steward thought you might be hungry.”
“Thank you. Just put it down.”
The woman set the tray on a table near the couch and seemed to hesitate. “We’ve already supped today, ma’am. Won’t be nothing ’Til morning.”
Ilythra examined the woman, remembering the servant who had helped her with Farial. Who knew more about a monarch then the servants? “Thank you. Have you already eaten?”
The woman’s shocked gaze rose from her study of the floor. Her eyes were so pale blue they appeared almost translucent, but her skin was rosy with health. “Yes, milady.”
“Would you like to join me anyway?”
The pale blue eyes widened further. “No, milady, it wouldn’t be proper.” She moved to light a few candles from the fire and placed them on the bedside table.
Ilythra smiled. “Neither am I.”
The servant hid a small smile behind her hand but couldn’t keep it from her eyes. “Are you really Ilythra?”
Ilythra nodded. What had they heard? And from whom?
“When we learned you were coming, Cook said you were only a myth, that women don’t carry around swords.”
“And what did you think?”
“I think if I can wield an axe to butcher a pig, a human couldn’t be much different.”
“They are. Very different. Humans fight back.”
The servant snorted. “I can tell you’ve never butchered a pig. You think they stroll to the slaughter nice-like?”
“Good point.” She smiled. “What’s your name?”
“My name? Why?” The girl’s eyes narrowed.
“So I know what to call you.” She wasn’t the only one who was paranoid.
She seemed to hesitate. “Cassia.”
Ilythra nodded. “Thank you, Cassia. Can I ask you one more question?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“How did you know I was coming?”
>
“I...well, we...” The girl smiled and noticeably regained her composure. “Rumors, you know.”
No, she didn’t. No one except Mohan knew she was coming to Greton. And he wouldn’t have told anyway. “Yes. I do.”
Cassia curtsied again and backed out of the room.
Ilythra examined the tray. Cold meat, a bowl of something that could be soup or a kind of porridge, a large chunk of brown bread and—she sniffed at the pitcher—ale. She tore a piece of bread off and hesitated. Would Bredych poison her? She set the bread back on the platter. She really was being paranoid. Still, she’d lost her appetite.
He can sense me. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. He’d spread the rumors she was coming. But why? He knows I’m here. Panic thrummed in her veins. She fought it down. Why had he let her keep her weapons? Wouldn’t he know she’d kill him, given half the chance? She just realized that she’d discounted the king entirely. Did he know of what Bredych was capable?
Teann will guide you. Zeynel’s voice. Well, it was time for Teann to give her some specifics. If she was to complete her quest to reunite the stones, she needed to know how. She fingered Ilydearta. “You’re supposed to find me a way to accomplish my task.” The stone remained cold beneath her touch. “You’re sure taking your time about it.”
Shawna Thomas Page 15