For the first time in the memories of even the oldest Kislovans, the fog was not confined to the valley around the castle. In the days that followed the Sun-dell retreat, its long arms reached out through the streets of Pirie, through the hills above it, across the fields to the east and west. Even the dry land of Tygelt felt the fog's damp touch.
To the south at Argentine, Jorani stood on his bedroom balcony and watched it move across the land. He was not by nature superstitious, but he hadn't received any letters from the castle in over a week.
He knew what that meant, and what the fog meant.
In the time he'd spent at Argentine, he'd spoken at length with Rilca and learned exactly what sort of fertility potion she'd recommended to Ilsabet.
He'd also been working quickly, mixing the potent infusion that would bring either life or death to the baron. He'd finished the night before. Now it was time for the inevitable confrontation.
Sighing, he turned his back on the fog. With one final glance around his room, he went downstairs to where his horse was saddled, waiting to take him back to Ilsabet for the last time.
In the dank, secret passages of Nimbus Castle, the spider found little to eat, and it hurried on. It smelled the scents of the huge, succulent prey in the room just below it and searched in the dark for some crack wide enough to allow it to descend.
THIRTY
From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet
Since the Sundell guards left some days ago, Shaul has sat at Peto's side like an obedient dog. He reads to Peto, tends to him as if fearful my servants would be too rough with his precious, useless body. In truth, I have been most careful with Peto, for I find his helplessness so satisfying. Both men actually cried when I released Sagra and Lekai from that hidden room and brought the boy to Peto's side. Sagra, too, wept, thinking my son was now safe from his enemies.
I saw Peto's arm tremble as he tried to hold Lekai. I looked down at my son's features. He still does not resemble Jorani, but now he does not resemble Peto either. Instead, Lekai looks most like my father, with the same fierce dark eyes and unruly red hair. The fates, it seems, have brought my father back to his land and his people.
Now that my husband and his faithful servant are both helpless, with my guards outside the door, it's time to tell them both the truth about the child they think is Sundell's heir…
Peto heard his wife's footsteps in the hall, heard her order the guards to stand close to the door, ready to come to her aid should she call.
She came to his side and kissed him as she always did. He heard his lieutenant's whispered oath, but Shaul stayed where he was, ready to defend the baron and his child, Ilsabet took her husband's hand.
"In the last few weeks, I've told you much," she said. "Now I want to tell you the rest."
And in the same beautiful voice she'd used to confess to everything else, she told him about Rilca's special tea, her night with Jorani, and the pregnancy that followed.
Peto listened, not surprised by what she believed, but not at all certain it was true. Shaul, however, was furious. He backed away from the bed. Peto could see him moving down the length of it.
"I suppose your work is finished here now, Lieutenant," Ilsabet purred. "I suppose you want to go back to your little family. You can't, of course. You'll die here, and the knowledge with you."
"Then I won't be alone!" Shaul lunged.
Ilsabet managed a strangled cry as they fell.
Peto heard her head hit the floor, then nothing. He pictured Shaul's hands around her delicate white throat, squeezing the life from her. He felt no regret.
AH this happened in an instant. Then the door burst open and the guards stormed in, swords drawn, and pulled Shaul off the baroness, pounding him into submission.
"Shall we kill him, Baroness?" the captain asked.
It took some time for Ilsabet to catch her breath and speak. When she did, Peto could picture her smile, twisted and cold, could hear the hunger in her voice.
"Perhaps later."
Sagra entered the room, carrying Lekai. She looked from Ilsabet to Shaul and frowned. "Lord Jorani just rode through the gates."
Ilsabet clapped her hands. "Send him up."
The fog was thick around Nimbus Castle, and it had a strange, pale glow that reminded Jorani of the white mists on the path to the Seer's cave. Nothing moved in the fog, though the fog itself was moving. Patches of it thickened into phantasmal creatures. Red eyes shone out from the amorphous faces, then vanished as smoothly as they'd appeared.
A promise of things to come, Jorani thought, and shivered.
His horse refused to enter the thickest patches around the castle, and Jorani had to lead the animal on foot to the gates. No one could see him coming, so it took some time to get the guards' attention and open the gates. When they did, the fog invaded the courtyard. By the time Jorani handed his spent mount to the care of a stablehand, the mists had already reached the top of the stairs. The sound of the servants in the courtyard grew muffled, then died altogether as if the world outside the castle halls ceased to exist.
"Let what will come, come." Jorani whispered the ancient prayer to the fates and left the doors open behind him.
Sagra came to the top of the stairs, her eyes fixed on the fog. "Baroness Ilsabet wants to see you now." She pointed to the open doors of Peto's chambers.
So soon, Jorani thought, and decided it was better that way.
Ilsabet met him just inside the door, hugging him, then tilting up her head for him to kiss her. The undisguised contempt on Shaul's face told him all he needed to know about what had been revealed in his absence. Instead of kissing her, he whispered into her ear. "Dismiss the guards," he said. "We must have no witnesses."
"And the lieutenant?" she asked quietly.
"Let him see this," Jorani responded, trying to keep his tone deceptively sinister.
"He'll have to be restrained," Ilsabet countered.
"Will he?" Jorani pulled out his sword and looked at the Sundell officer, his bleeding head, the bruises on his bare arms. He breathed shallowly, his face ashen. "He couldn't stand, let alone be a match for my blade. Tell the others to leave."
Puzzled, Ilsabet ordered the guards away, but feeling the need for an ally, asked Sagra to remain.
Shaul, all fight out of him, sought out a chair and sat, his back stiff as he tried not to put pressure on his broken ribs. Sagra hovered above him, wanting to help, but not at all certain what to do.
Jorani lifted Lekai from his father's arms, placed him on the floor, then sat beside the baron. "I'm sure my pupil has told you a great many things, Baron, but she hardly knows it all. I can't say for certain whose child Lekai is, but chance is in your favor not mine."
"But Rilca…" Ilsabet began.
"She wanted to impress you with her knowledge, so she embellished with information she knew little about. If she'd told the truth, you'd know that she tried that potion herself many times and was still childless."
Ilsabet glanced at Lekai, sitting by the bed, biting a finger to force another set of teeth through. "He looks like my father," she said stubbornly.
"So he does," Jorani agreed. "But not like me."
"It isn't true," Ilsabet whispered. "It can't be. If it were I would…"
"You'd what, Ilsabet? Kill your child out of vengeance? If I thought you capable of such a deed, I'd kill you myself," Jorani said. He carried his sword to Shaul. "Can you use it?" he asked. Shaul nodded. "See that she doesn't interfere."
"And see that the lieutenant obeys only that order," Ilsabet said to Sagra. The servant did not answer. She was looking at Shaul's battered face, as if seeing clearly for the first time what sort of a mistress she served.
Returning to the baron, Jorani pulled out the vial he'd brought. "How is your strength?" he asked.
Peto managed to close both hands into fists, to whisper a word: "Better."
"Good. I've brought the strongest stimulant I dare use. Your life belongs to the fates." He sat ne
xt to the baron and poured the contents of the bottle into his mouth, then tilted his head back to help him swallow.
The baron's body trembled. He opened his eyes and focused on Ilsabet, standing frozen beside his bed.
"What have you done?" she whispered to Jorani.
"What my conscience demanded," he replied.
While the prey had fought in the room below, the spider had found a narrow space beside the ceiling lamp and slowly worked its way through the crack. It moved carefully over the brass cap and down the heavy chain. The prey stood below the lamp, smelling sweet, a fragrance the spider recognized from its days in the glass globe. It would prefer to hunt at night, but it was hungry, and food was near. Nonetheless, it waited until the room was nearly silent before letting out a strand of webbing and beginning its descent.
Hsabet stared at her child-Peto's child-crawling across the floor, and in that moment she loved him and hated him. As with Marishka, as with Mihael, as with Peto… If there were only a way to kill him… and then she noticed the spider falling directly above her son. Jorani had said the fates should decide. They seemed to have done so.
But she was not the only one that saw. With all the strength left in him, Peto pushed himself up and pointed to the spider. "No!"
Shaul saw it, too, and lunged. He reached the child a moment too late and, striking the web, collapsed lifelessly atop the babe.
Tears, the first real tears Ilsabet had ever shed, came to her eyes. She rushed toward her son, arms outstretched. "Forgive me," she whispered. "For a moment I forgot how much I love you." Quickly, she pulled a vial from a chain around her neck. "I'll bring you back to me," she said, and began to uncork it.
"No!" Jorani bellowed, his denial an echo of Peto's. In one deft movement, he snatched his sword from the floor… but in that same moment, Sagra grabbed up the child, ran to the door, and unlatched it.
"You don't know what she'll do," Jorani cried, then saw Lekai's hand move. The child was not dead; not yet. "Strip him!" Jorani shouted, looking in wonder at the thick shirt the boy wore.
As he spoke, a current of air from the door blew a web into his mouth. His knees gave way, and with an expression of shock Ilsabet knew all too well, he joined the other corpse on the floor.
"I won't allow this," Ilsabet whispered, kneeling beside Jorani. Using Shaul's cape to sweep the web from Jorani's face, she poured half her potion into his mouth. "I'll be a gentle mistress."
And then, life returned to Jorani's body. The limbs shook, the eyes opened, and with an expression of love such as had never appeared on that dour face, he kissed Ilsabet's hand.
"Run!" Peto shouted to Sagra, who yet tottered indecisively at the door. "Run!"
She obeyed, disappearing into the fog that had filled the hall outside Peto's chamber.
Ilsabet began to follow, but halted, her eyes fixed on the swirling mists. Marishka had suddenly appeared there, floating in the center of it, her incorporeal body supported by the long thin arms of the Seer.
"You cannot change my course!" Ilsabet screamed, then slammed the door. She turned to Jorani, who trembled, weak and confused. "It's not done, my mentor, my lover. This vengeance will be finished."
Her eyes were drawn to Peto, who clumsily fumbled for Jorani's sword. She hissed, grabbing the hilt and drawing the sword away, slicing open his palm. "It is not done yet."
Jorani took an unsteady step toward the baron, staring thirstily at the blood that dripped from his master's hand. Ilsabet smiled. There was poison enough in this room to induce another coma in her husband, but she now knew that as long as he lived, she would never rule in her own name. And, finally, she admitted that this was what she'd wanted all along.
She would have her rightful place as ruler of Kislova-not Mihael, not her son-herself!
"Feed," she ordered Jorani. "Take the blood you need from Peto, then kill him."
Without hesitation, Jorani turned toward the baron.
Somewhere in the depths of Jorani's eyes, Peto saw conflict, confusion. He tried to push Jorani away, but he could not. The Kislovan gripped his wrists and pulled them over his head as easily as if
Peto were a child.
"Jorani," Peto whispered. "Friend, don't do this." Only a hint of regret showed on the Kislovan's face as he bent to feed. Then the door swung slowly open, and fog rolled into the room.
THIRTY-ONE
From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet
I waited long enough to be certain Peto was dead, then turned toward the open door. The fog was rolling across the floor. It had already covered Shaul's body and was moving toward the bed. There, Jorani sat, looking down at my husband as if he weren't certain he'd caused the terrible wound in Peto's neck. A moment later, the fog covered them both.
I thought of Lekai and made my way through the thick cloud to the nursery. Since I could scarcely see a foot in front of me, I traveled on memory. More than once I shut my eyes against the horrors the miasma displayed. I will not detail them now, only say that every ghost I'd glimpsed before took on greater clarity in the swirling tendrils until it seemed that they were the living creatures, my castle and myself the ghosts. I even saw my father, whole and alive, his expression condemning me as the others did.
It was a trick of the Seer's; a revenge for her death. I let her play her useless games, for I'd moved beyond caring.
The nursery was empty. I ignored my fury and felt my way down the stairs and out the doors that some fool-some traitor most likely-had left open, letting in the cursed cloud.
Jorani's horse was tethered to a post near the castle gates. Nearby, a stableboy cowered beneath a blanket. I pulled it back and crouched beside him. "Did you see my servant and my son?" I asked.
He trembled so hard that I had to slap him to get him to respond. "The people in the fog," he whispered. I repeated my question with greater force. "Sagra went out in the fog," he replied. ttI told her not to go, but she wouldn't listen."
"On foot?"
He nodded, and I let him cover his head once more. Truthfully, if not for my need to find Lekai, I would have gladly joined him.
Jorani's horse shied at my touch. Perhaps it too saw things moving in the fog-mountain cats, or cave bears, or fantastic creatures from equine nightmares. Even if I'd ridden, I could hardly have gone faster than on foot, and might easily pass Sagra by. With that thought, I ran through the gates, then continued on at a quick but quiet pace, listening to the sounds of the world around me-for my servant's quick breaths, or hopefully, my child's muffled cry.
There was nothing but the low, dense clouds pressing against me. I went on, hurrying as quickly as I dared, wondering if the miasma had been this thick when Sagra abandoned the castle. She would no doubt head for the path that climbed toward Pirie then turn west toward Sundell. I followed, but at the place where the drop to the river was steepest, I saw a patch of color against the dull brown road and went to it.
Sagra's russet cloak lay on the ground, and just visible beneath it were the bright blue pants and sweater Lekai had been wearing. Sagra had stopped to undress him. Then I remembered Jorani's words-Strip him! He must have been alive, or she would not have bothered.
"Sagra!" I called, then held my breath and listened.
Nothing, save the sound of the river fifty feet or so below me. I knelt and studied the bank. There were signs that someone had stepped off the side of the road and down the steep drop to the river. I looked closer at the road, but many people use it. If someone had waylaid Sagra here, I'd have no way of knowing.
I backtracked a quarter mile and found a narrow footpath down to the water's edge. Once there, I moved upstream toward the place where Sagra-or, I shuddered to think of it, Lekai-had fallen.
I wasn't mistaken. My servant lay faceup, half in and half out of the water. I looked close and saw that her neck was broken. There was no sign of my son.
I searched downstream, then above the place where Sagra had fallen, but Lekai had vanished. This troubled me. I wanted to know f
or certain whether he lived.
If he did, someone had taken him. Rebels may have abducted him. More likely, though, some of Peto's scouts had remained in the area and saw a chance to spirit him away to Sundell. I pictured Sagra fighting with them to keep hold of the child, then falling to her death when they wrenched the boy out of her arms.
If he had gone to Suncjell, someday the son on which I'd placed all my hopes would be a threat to me.
With this in my mind, I started up the footpath, but paused, hearing the waters of the Arvid begin to beat against the banks as if rising. I quickened my pace, but midway up the footpath, a shifting wind struck me with such force that I knew the fog had turned to a deadly storm. Lightning flashed in the swirling clouds. Thunder deafened me.
I took refuge in a stand of boulders, wedging my body into a narrow crack, envying the stableboy his blanket as the rains began to fall in a cold torrent.
Lightning bolts struck the water, spreading a strange cloak of sparks over the river. I glimpsed things moving on the water, shapes of dragons, of creatures with vaguely human forms but so hideous and malformed that they must have come from the netherworld. I also saw the castle in the distance and envied those safe in its walls in a storm such as this.
Hours passed. The storm abated somewhat, the visions vanished. Nonetheless, I remained where I was throughout the night.
In the morning, the sun rose and burned through the fog. When its rays hit the ripples of the river, they shone so brightly after those days of gloom that I had to turn my head away and wipe the tears from my eyes. I went down to the river, rinsed the mud from my hands and face and hair, and started for home.
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