As this unhappy information flooded Citrine's brain the voices began their clamoring.
"Idalia's killing him!"
"What of it? When Mother was here she didn't stop the guards from beating him."
"She stopped them from hurting him too badly."
"Did she really? She started talking to him, sure, but she didn't really tell them to stop."
"But Mother has a use for him. That's obvious to the dimmest eye. If Idalia keeps this up, Peace won't last much longer."
A new voice, gentler, more wistful, entered the debate.
"And Peace was very kind to me when he was Jalarios and I was Rios. Doesn't it make you even a little sad to see what's happening?"
"No! What's important is that Mother needs him."
"But that doesn't mean Idalia can kill him, right? I mean, if Peace dies, Mother won't be happy."
"No wonder Mother feels she needs to be everywhere at once. Idalia doesn't realize what's really important. She hates Peace too much. She'll kill him and then Mother will be very angry."
"Idalia's crazy!"
"And what about what Idalia's doing to Edlin? I tell you, she's going too far there. She has no reason to hurt him. What did he ever do but protect a one-armed old man?"
The arguing continued in this fashion until Citrine pressed her hands to the sides of her head, certain that her head would split.
A thin, shrill keen of pain and frustration burst from her lips and echoed off the tunnel walls.
The guards jumped, stiffening to alertness. Idalia looked around wildly, then turned accusingly to Grateful Peace.
"What was that?" she demanded.
"I have no idea," Peace replied in a voice so full of pain that Citrine hardly recognized it.
"Echo?" Edlin offered. "Someone's sword scraping against the rock?"
Idalia looked as if she wanted to be convinced, but Varcasiolùa youth of about seventeenùwas unconvinced.
"Is it true that the Founders still walk these tunnels?" he asked. "That's what the storytellers say."
"Nonsense," Idalia said, but she sounded less than convinced.
One of the guards raised his lantern high so that the upper reaches were illuminated.
"Maybe bats?" he proposed. "Or rats?"
"That's it," Idalia replied with certainty. "Bats disturbed by our lights. Are you ready to move on, Grey Pee?"
Grateful Peace was studying some characters etched into the rock with such close attention that Idalia had to repeat herself before he looked up.
"Oh, yes. If you wish."
"I do wish," Idalia said, then paused. "What do you mean, 'If I wish'?"
Grateful Peace looked as if he'd been about to shrug but winced instead.
"These writings," he said, "are a warning against going any further down this tunnel. Quite reasonable."
Peace stopped talking, caught in a fit of dry coughing. Edlin handed him a canteen, his defiant gaze daring anyone to prevent him.
"Can you talk now, old man?" Edlin asked kindly. "I think our fair hostess is interested in what you have to say."
Peace looked back at the etched rock face. The finger he traced them with, Citrine noticed with a horrified acuteness of perception, looked as if it had been stepped on repeatedly.
"Really," Peace said, with what was clearly meant to be a reassuringly urbane smile but which looked ghastly when the leaping lantern light reflected off a broken front tooth, "it's nothing to be alarmed about. Just about what one would expect if treasure were hidden near here."
He coughed and Edlin offered him more water.
"Beware of the dog, what?" Edlin said brightly. "Property guarded?"
"Rather like that," Peace agreed.
Idalia looked so alarmed that Citrine couldn't help giggling. The shrill sound caught against a rock and broke into myriad echoes. The guards jumped and several unsheathed their swords. Varcasiol looked about wildly.
"Give a complete translation," Idalia insisted, frowning at her son.
Peace gave one of his wince-shrugs, and Edlin put his hand out for one of the lanterns so that he could hold it nearer to the inscription.
The nearest guard, eager to get a more solid grip on his sword, handed the lantern over without question.
Citrine waited eagerly for what Peace would say, certain she was the only person here who wasn't afraid. After all, she knew where the noises were coming from. She smothered a giggle behind her hand and leaned a little closer.
"'Pass not beyond this point,'" Peace read," 'lest you wish your blood to boil even as does the water in the rocks.'"
He paused as if reluctant to continue. Idalia raised one hand as if to strike him and Peace quickly bent his head again to the task.
" 'Your eyes shall melt in their sockets, the very marrow in your bones turn to fire. Trespass at your peril.'"
Peace looked up, letting his hand drop to his side from where it had been tracing beneath the characters.
"Rather theatrical," he said, almost apologetically.
Varcasiol had come forward to peer more closely at the inscription.
"I recognize the characters for boiling," he said, his voice tight and anxious, "and there's one that looks like eyes and another like a thighbone. Why couldn't the First Healed One have had the old script taught more widely!"
Peace looked down his nose at the nervous young man.
"It is, Nephew, in the Illuminator's college, and several others, but the old symbols are rather cumbersome for daily business."
Citrine sensed a well-worn family argument in the glare Idalia turned on her brother, but before Idalia could put her indignation into words Edlin set the lantern down near his feet and straightened.
"I say," he said, running his free hand inside his collar, "is anyone else feeling rather hot?"
The guards shifted nervously, obviously unwilling to admit anything. Varcasiol immediately nodded.
"I do," he said, brushing his hand along his forehead.
It came away covered with white paint. Citrine giggled at this social error. Everyone jumped.
"It's just the hot spring," Idalia snapped. "You weren't hot until Grey Pee read this warning. The sounds are bats or perhaps steam escaping."
"I say," Edlin cut in, "actually I was rather hot. Had the water bottle out several times, don't you know."
Citrine noticed that the guards were now all edging away from the invisible line marked by the inscription. She eased herself away from their light. Pebbles rolled from beneath her feet, their bouncing rattling directionless echoes from all around.
You could help Edlin and Peace, you know, the gentle voice said. Peace was kind to you and Edlin let you ride Moonkissed. Mother wouldn't mind. She'd be pleased that you saved Peace from Idalia.
Citrine stiffened, bracing herself for the onslaught of voices.
"Go away!" she wailed frantically, and though she would have sworn that the words burst from her without warning, perhaps this was not so, for she spoke not Pellishùas would have been naturalùbut New Kelvinese.
Upon hearing this desperate, misery-laden cry, one of the guards broke and ran, carrying his lantern with him. Idalia's son grabbed for the lantern that Edlin had set down, but the young lord had grabbed it before him.
"I say," Edlin protested, "get your own light!"
"Give it to me!" Varcasiol insisted, clawing for the lantern.
Edlin swung at Varcasiol, the panicked blow landing so solidly that Varcasiol's feet slipped out from under him and he fell on his backside. His scream was more shocked than pained, but the sound of it echoing off the rocks was too much for the nerves of the other guards.
Two fled outright. The one who had given Edlin his lantern paused a moment, but seeing Edlin's fist rise in challenge and his fellows vanishing he took to his heels.
"Cowards!" Idalia shouted after their retreating backs. "There is nothing here."
"Oh, yes there is," Peace said, rising stiffly from where he had remained crouched by
the rock. "We are and now we two are as many as you."
Idalia sneered and Citrine admired the woman for her brave defiance.
"You," Idalia retorted, "a one-armed wreck and this youth? Both of you chained?"
Peace looked steadily at her.
"If you think it will be so easy, then take the light from Edlin and drive us before you."
When Idalia didn't move, it was Peace's turn to sneer.
"Not so quick to act without your slaves to order about, are you? I'd be careful of those slaves now. They're afraid of something bigger than you. If I've caught rumors that some political debacle is keeping Melina away, you can guess the slaves know three times as much. How long before they lose confidence in her promises of freedom and luxury? How long before you have a full-blown rebellion on your hands? Do you dare stand here arguing with me when your pocket kingdom might even now be fragmenting?"
Citrine could see that Peace's words had struck home, but Idalia wasn't about to give up her prisoners.
"Do you really think you can defeat us?" she asked.
"I do not," Peace said, "but I do know one thing we can do that you cannot prevent."
"What?"
"We can break the lantern and leave you in the dark."
Varcasiol gave a thin cry of terror, but Idalia was unmoved.
"And what good would that do?"
"I am very skilled at moving in darkness," Peace replied. "Remember, I was once the Dragon's Eye. My strong young friend here is a hunter in his own land. His sister the wolf has taught him many secrets about moving without light."
Citrine knew this last was a lie, but she admired Peace no less for it. Idalia wavered.
"You have a deal in mind," she stated.
"Yes. Trade us for the lantern in return for unlocking these chains. Leave us in darkness. Go. Reestablish your hold on your slaves. Edlin and I will have our opportunity to escape. Likely we will not get far and you will recapture us."
"And if I do not take your offer?" Idalia asked in the tones of one who already suspected the worst.
"Then Edlin will smash the lantern. As I said, I am very good at moving in darkness and so is he. Will you be so confident that we are evenly matched when there is no light?"
"Mother," Varcasiol said, "Uncle has a point."
"Cowardly clerk!" Idalia spat.
"Time," Peace reminded her, "is precious. Every moment that passes is a moment during which your hold over Melina's slaves could be slipping. Then, too, the supply of lamp oil is not infinite. I believe the guards took the refills with them."
Idalia decided.
"Very well," she said, her mouth twisting as if she was tasting something very sour. "Edlin, come here."
"No," Peace countered instantly. "Me first. Edlin will hold the lantern while you unlock my chains. He is stronger than I am, but you two might hope to overthrow him if there was no one free to guard his interests."
Idalia shrugged, her very gesture admitting the trick she had hoped to play. Peace shuffled forward and the cuffs were unlocked from around his ankles. He picked the metal weight up and stepped back to Edlin's side. He traded the lantern for the chains, which Edlin looped around his fist.
"Something of a weapon, what?" the young man said cheerfully, scooping up his own chains once they were unlocked.
Peace handed over the lantern.
"I'd go quickly," he advised with false kindness. "There isn't too much oil remaining."
"The map," Idalia demanded, pointing toward where Edlin's sketch pad lay on the rock.
"I say. It wasn't part of our agreement," Edlin said, "but we wouldn't want you getting lost, what?"
Idalia snatched the papers from his hand and with Varcasiol behind her hurried in the same direction as the vanished guards. The light dropped away sharply as Idalia and her son retreated. It wasn't long before the two men were in darkness.
"Not bad," Edlin said cheerfully. "Of course, I hope you're as good in the dark as you said. I'm nothing at all like Firekeeper."
"You may not need to be," Peace responded, and Citrine was struck by how the pain and exhaustion had returned to his voice. He must have been putting everything he had into arguing with Idalia.
"What?" Edlin said.
In response Peace called softly, "Citrine? Are you there?"
Chapter XXXV
TORIOVICO EXCUSED HIMSELF from a portion of Xarxius's hearing the morning following his interview with the Hawk Havenese. He was glad not to have to sit all day next to Melina in the council chamber.
Melina had accepted his reason for meeting with her erstwhile enemies with so little argument or questioning that Torio realized how genuinely worried she was about the situation with Apheros. It was enough for her to see her husband smile and tell her how curious he was about a land that could let a wonderful and talented woman like her go.
Even so, Toriovico was very relieved not to need to keep up the deception at such close quarters for most of a day. What if he forgot himself and gazed into those pale blue eyes? He might find himself drowning before he knew he had slipped in over his head.
Happily, though Melina might grumble that she had better things to do than sit and listen to the Primes debate, Toriovico really did have responsibilities that demanded he be elsewhere.
The moon had entered her fourth quarter and the Healed One must preside at the ceremonies that assured nothing untoward would happen during the waning of her light. The Harvest Festival would not begin until the new moon was into her second quarter, but the Choreographer had been heard complaining that he could not continue much further in his preparations without the Healed One present to dance the Harvest Lord's part.
And Toriovico's hairdresser wanted a chance to strip the green from his master's hair in preparation for tinting it in varied shades of red and orange for autumn.
This last, at least, could wait. The Choreographer, however, did have a reasonable argumentùand Torio's semireligious role as Healed One took precedence over his civic duties.
Toriovico trotted lightly up the stairs to his private studio, eager for a return to the joys of the dance. Formal practice would not begin for at least an hour. He would stretch and go through his part a few times without music, without any companions other than his reflections in the polished copper mirrors on the walls of his studio.
Torio's surprise when one of those mirrors slid to the side, admitting two dirty and battered men into the shining tranquility of his studio, could not have been greater if his own reflection had started to converse with him.
"Honored One," said the leaner and more battered of the two intruders, "pray do not call out."
Toriovico had been about to do so, but, knowing that there was a guard just down the hallùand that these were strange timesùhe restrained himself.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The speaker's bruised lips twisted in a wry grimace.
"I am Grateful Peace. My companion is Edlin Norwood, Lord Kestrel of Hawk Haven."
The second man gave a Hawk Havenese bow. The curly mop of dark black hair he shook back from his eyes as he rose testified more than any words to his identity. Elise Archer had included Edlin's idiosyncratic hairstyle in her description of the missing man.
"Not quite attired to meet a king, what?" Edlin said by way of greeting, his Pellish accent quite strong but the words understandable.
"What am I to do with you?" was the question that fought up through the horde that competed for Toriovico's attention.
"Hide us," Grateful Peace replied simply, "and then help us escape the Earth Spires."
His statement was so lucid that Toriovico was instantly in control of himself once more.
"Can you continue to hide wherever you came from?" he asked. "If I arrange for you to have food and water and such?"
Peace nodded.
"For a time. I believe no one but myself knows of this particular passage."
"Is there one into my bedroom?" Torio asked curiously, crossing th
e room to fetch the carafe of cool well-water that a servant had brought to the studio.
"No," Peace replied with a forced grin that revealed a badly broken tooth.
"This room was once an office. A painting hung where the mirror is now. This is one of the few secret passages within the Cloud Touching Spire. I believe that is why your ancestor selected this building for his residence."
Toriovico nodded, understanding far better than Grateful Peace could ever know why his ancestors would covet privacy.
"I know what happened to you," he said, "to the moment Lady Blysse was forced to abandon you. I can only offer you water now and I must dance or there will be questions. Stand where you cannot be seen if someone comes down the corridor and tell me what has happened since."
Edlin Norwood smiled brightly, despite a swollen and disfigured mouth.
"Then you have spoken to the others," he said. "Citrine said that was the rumor and that was why Peace dared bring us to you. We've had quite a time of it since Sister left us in the tunnels."
Torio listened to their account without question, interrupting only once to indicate a small cabinet stocked with a variety of salves and bandages meant for his own strained muscles. When they finished their account, his mind was again reeling from the implications of what they had reported.
"So Citrine assisted you in your escape? Where is she now?"
"Asleep," Edlin replied. "We convinced her to have a cup of wine before retiring," he added rather ashamedly, "so she should sleep heavily for some time now."
"I will make certain she is not disturbed," Toriovico said. "Now, I must attend a rehearsal. Your mention of wine makes me think you have not been without refreshment."
"Raided the larder," Edlin admitted. "Honored One, will you help us?"
"I already have," Torio reminded him; then he took mercy on the youth's obvious concern. "I need time to think and if I do not show up at rehearsal there may be awkward questions. Return to your refuge and rest. I will return as soon as I can."
The fugitives could do nothing but accept the Healed One's decision, Peace with resignation, Edlin with evident distrust.
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