by Richard Due
The two men dismounted and walked the horses down the trail in silence for some time before Tavin finally spoke.
“Dubb? I’ve got to tell you something. Something you probably already know, but certainly not to what degree.”
Dubb eyed his friend, but said nothing.
Tavin took a deep breath. “I don’t remember anything about fighting a dragon.”
Dubb snorted. “Tell me, Tavin, what is the last thing you remember?”
“That’s hard to say. I remember bits and pieces, but placing them . . .” He shook his head. “I remember being in old rooms. Old Wizard Mingan’s place?”
“Is that a guess?”
“I remember riding there. Ember had sent us to take rubbings, but . . . I don’t remember leaving. At least, not well. What I mean is, I remember some things that must have happened after we left, but just small moments. Did we get what Ember wanted?”
“Yes, but we can talk about that later. We have more pressing needs.”
Lily listened to Dubb tell, in remarkable detail, everything that had happened to them from the day his band had left Old Wizard Mingan’s until the night Lily showed up. To her surprise, Dubb allowed Tavin to interrupt freely. When Tavin learned he’d paralyzed Lily, he grew agitated, and he was further shaken when Dubb described how easily Tavin had passed through Arric’s ward.
After another long period of silence, they remounted their horses, setting a pace Lily felt was faster than necessary, especially considering the horses were on loan. She was relieved when they exchanged Wax and Wane for fresh horses at the home of another healer. The horses they received in trade were nothing like Wax and Wane, but they were far better than the nag they had ridden from the ruins of Perch to Keegan’s.
Once they left the healer’s, the terrain opened up into hilly moors, and Lily caught sight of mountains each time they crested a hill. A swiftly moving stream crisscrossed their path. They forded it where the water was not so deep, but twice crossed crumbling bridges that looked far too large for the wispy trails that led to and from them.
Eventually, the moors gave way to an ascending plain, with the mountains a constant backdrop. As the shadows of the horses stretched longer, the character of the mountains changed. Their dull slate faces turned orange in the day’s waning light. Dubb pointed out to Lily the remnants of Bairne’s outermost walls, scattered here and there like great broken teeth. He explained how the walls had once protected the fertile valley beyond, which cut deeply into the mountains, providing a rich pocket of soil for fields and pastures.
The stream was now a constant companion, and as the sun slipped under the horizon, the moons, which had been clearly visible in the daytime sky, brightened markedly. The moons created deep shadows, and Dubb and Tavin urged the horses to a quicker pace as they entered the valley. In less than an hour, they were skirting the tall remnants of what must have been at one time a strongly fortified wall. In the moonlight, Lily judged the valley to be several miles wide, surprisingly flat, and filled with fields.
As the valley narrowed, the view of moons and stars became more constrained. Black shadows swallowed large portions of the landscape. Lily could smell burning wood. Smoke hung over the fields. As they progressed, she noticed more complete walls forming on either side of the valley.
Tavin raised a hand, bringing both horses to a stop. After several minutes passed, he quietly led them off the road and into a field. The walls to their right vanished in the haze. Light spilled through gaps in the wall head, stretching toward them across the flat fields, and Lily began to make better sense of the landscape.
Tavin steered them through the deepest parts of the shadows, keeping well away from the light. Behind the walls, Lily could see lamps hanging from the upper stories of houses. As they got closer, she could see that where the breaks in the walls were widest, even the houses shied away, as though the buildings themselves were afraid of the open gaps. Dubb tapped Lily on the shoulder.
“Here begins the walled city of Bairne,” he whispered. “These walls, such as they are, run along both sides of the valley, their repair improving as they go. At the end of the valley lies the city proper, where the streets are wide and well-lit.”
“So this is where the poor live?” asked Lily.
“Yes.”
Lily eyed the long broken wall stretching into the distance. “Why so many?”
“They came from Perianth with all they could carry on their backs. The original builders of Bairne never expected to house the fleeing population of Perianth. Tavin will part company with us here, where there are no eyes of royal importance.”
Above the rooftops, Lily could see the ghostly lights of houses built right into the mountainside, looming in tiers. These higher homes were of stone, and even from this distance, Lily could tell they were in far better repair than the lower ones.
Thirty feet from the wall, Tavin slid off his horse and walked it over to Dubb, reins held high. Lily sensed a routine and imagined they had performed this handoff hundreds of times.
“Where is he going?” asked Lily.
“Shh!” hissed Dubb.
But Lily felt anxious at the idea of not knowing where Tavin was. “Where is he—”
Tavin held a finger to his lips. “We can’t afford to be seen together.”
As Dubb removed a gauntlet, Lily leapt down from the saddle and snatched Tavin’s reigns. She held up her left foot. “Help me up,” she commanded.
Tavin’s eyes widened. “Do you even know how to ride a horse?” he said softly.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Frowning, Tavin glanced from Lily to Dubb.
“Do you ride . . . well?” asked Tavin delicately
“As well as you,” she snapped. “Now help me up.”
He gave one last look at Dubb, who shrugged. Tavin quickly sidestepped Lily’s upraised foot, catching her about the waist and lifting her into the saddle as though she were a five pound bag of flour. If he had moved more slowly, or given her time to think, Lily would have screamed. But in a trice, Tavin had cut loose a small pack from the back of the saddle and disappeared into the shadows.
Dubb slowly brought his horse about, motioning for Lily to do the same. It did not take the horses long to find the road again.
Lily pulled alongside Dubb.
“In a mile or so lies Bryd’s Gate, where respectable people enter the city of Bairne,” said Dubb in a voice just loud enough for Lily to hear.
“And is that where we will enter?” said Lily dubiously.
“No, we will enter at the Gate of Guard, shortly before Bryd’s.”
“Where the despised and ridiculed enter the city,” said Lily.
Dubb chuckled, and Lily saw his teeth flash white in the darkness. “Yes, something like that.”
As they drew closer, Lily discerned two great lamps hanging high on either side of a gate barred by an enormous portcullis. Bryd’s Gate was an imposing sight.
About a hundred yards shy of the gate, Dubb dismounted and led his horse to a section of wall that lay in shadow. They passed through an opening barely wide enough for the horses and so low that Lily could have touched the ceiling if she’d reached up. Black as pitch inside, the passage wound upward and to the left, and the horses’ hooves echoed loudly on the stone flooring. Eventually, Dubb halted.
“Time to dismount. Can you remove your saddlebag?”
“Yes,” said Lily, hoping this was true.
“Fasten your cloak about you and pull up your hood.” His voice sounded loud in the confined corridor.
After some shuffling, Dubb pounded something heavy on what she supposed was a wooden door. A small, face-high slat slid aside, and warm light spilled into the passageway. A young boy, rubbing sleep from his eyes, peered out. His eyes opened wide when he saw them. Hurr
iedly, he slammed the slat shut, and a few seconds later, a door creaked open. The boy stepped into the passage, taking both sets of reins.
“Take these horses to the stables of the Dragondain; send the baggage to the house of the guard,” Dubb said gruffly.
“Yes, sir, and who shall I say has sent them?” the young boy asked, still rubbing his eyes.
Dubb leaned forward, his riding cloak hiding his face.
“Tell him it was a moon-wraith, riding in from the wastes.”
Startled, the boy took several quick steps backward, pulling the horses along with him.
“This way,” said Dubb, extending his arm to Lily. He guided her through the open doorway and down a long narrow corridor to an iron door.
Dubb rapped on the door and spoke through a small hole. Lily heard the sound of bolts being released, and a little square opened. She saw only an eye, briefly, before the square closed again. Larger bolts scraped, and the door swung inward, revealing an old man in worn leather armor.
“What you doin’ out this late at night?” he said, sounding both gruff and surprised.
Dubb ignored him and swiftly ushered Lily through several small rooms and passages, finally exiting into the night. They ran down a short flight of narrow steps, moving quickly into a street where few lanterns burned. The buildings here hung over themselves, giving little room for fresh air or moonlight. Many of the upper stories appeared to be connected by short walkways or supports—Lily wasn’t sure which.
Dubb swept Lily behind him and drew his blade. “Quickly now,” he urged.
The streets were twisted and narrow, and between one lantern and the next, Lily had to listen keenly to keep up with Dubb. He only slowed when approaching darkened alleyways or low overhangs. His sword arm reacted constantly—pointing one way or the other—to the changing dangers and terrain. They moved this way for so long that Lily began to lose her breath.
In a darkened courtyard, they halted at the edge of a gurgling fountain before walking down the first wide street Lily had seen since entering Bairne. The buildings on the left were several stories tall, with the ground floors showing darkened shop windows. To the right ran a row of small houses about ten feet apart. All were built in exactly the same manner out of large stone block.
“These houses were built for the Dragondain—the real Dragondain—a very long time ago.” Dubb pointed to the fifth one on the right. “That one answers to Tavin.”
It was only one room wide and two rooms deep, with the rear room slightly taller. This made for two squat roofs, with the rear one overhanging the front. A long rectangular window occupied the narrow band of wall between the roofs, and a smoking chimney poked up from the very back. Set off to the left was the front door, a great wooden thing, round-arched and bound in iron. The door was illuminated by two niches carved in the stone that framed it. Their shape, and the way they flickered, made them look like two great eyes. Lily wondered if their source of illumination was magical, like the lanterns in the Tomb of the Fallen.
She was still staring at them when Tavin came around the corner and into the pale light, sheathing what looked like a long dagger or short sword. Dubb rammed his own blade into his scabbard, and the three assembled on the doorstep.
“Did you just get here?” asked Dubb.
“No, I stopped in at Cora’s and let her know that Quib and all were well.”
Dubb tilted his head toward the house. “It looks like Ember is already here.”
“Oh, she’s here all right,” said Tavin, looking distressed.
“How do you know it’s Ember?” asked Lily.
“The smoke—” Tavin and Dubb said as one, but only Dubb finished, “coming out of the chimney.”
“That, and she also stopped to see Cora . . . about three hours ago. It must be her.”
“So Ember told Cora she was coming here?” asked Lily.
“No,” said Tavin softly.
“Then it doesn’t have to be Ember inside,” said Lily. “It could be anybody.”
“Not likely,” said Tavin.
Lily frowned. “How did she get in?”
“Yes, Tavin,” said Dubb, his voice beginning to sound more relaxed, even playful, “tell us how she got in?”
Tavin eyed his house suspiciously. “That’s a very good question,” he said gravely. “And one for which I have no answer.”
“But she’s a powerful lunamancer, right?” asked Lily. “Couldn’t she force her way in?”
“The problem, Lily,” began Tavin in a low voice, “is that this is no ordinary door. This is a house belonging to a descendent of the Dragondain—me—and it is protected by an ancient magic. And ancient magic is not a plaything, even to those as powerful as Ember.”
“Maybe she has a key?” offered Lily.
An amused look flashed across Dubb’s face.
Tavin smiled and stepped closer to the door. “The only key that can easily open this door”—he removed a gauntlet and showed Lily his empty palm—“is this.” Tavin grasped the knob. A soft click sounded and the door swung open effortlessly.
Chapter Eighteen
Ember
Lily thought the size of the door ridiculous, and the wide entryway beyond it equally so. She could easily have ridden one of the farm tractors through it and not even worried about ducking her head. From the back room, firelight flickered down the hall. Lily peeked in an arched entrance, as big as the street door, leading to the front room. Except for a small cot just inside, the entire room was packed from floor to ceiling with furniture, draped with moth-eaten blankets.
Lily’s curiosity spiked. Why was Tavin storing all this in his front room? Was it a lifetime of bounty from their raids in the wastes? Was this his treasure room? Were the drawers and chests stuffed with gold goblets and priceless gemstones, or were they dark and ordinary, full of what the moths ate? What kind of wood was that dresser leg made out of? How old was it all? A good piece of wood can tell you many secrets, Lily, Ebb would say, but only if you know how to listen.
She wanted to investigate, or, as Jasper would have put it, insnoopigate. But Dubb kept walking, and she felt safe having him between her and Tavin, so she stuck close. The rear room was as wide as the house, but awfully small as Tavin’s sole living space. Mismatched furniture lined the room: a long, low dresser; a large, disheveled bed; two wooden chests. Drawn up to the fire was a comfortable chair, and Lily saw another in the corner, where Tavin was using it as a poor man’s valet.
As Dubb and Ember greeted each other warmly, Tavin busied himself picking up piles of clothing and stuffing them into the chests. Feeling like an outsider, Lily tried to stay out of sight.
“Did you succeed?” Ember asked Dubb.
Dubb pulled a thick parcel of folded papers from his pack and began unfolding them. “I have them right here.”
Ember pushed the papers aside. “By the eight moons! You know what I’m talking about. Did you succeed?” she asked more forcefully.
“No, we didn’t,” said Tavin softly. “The fault is mine.”
With a sweep of his arm, Dubb cleared off the top of the low dresser, and placed the unfolded rubbings on it. There were at least a dozen pages, each full with dark script and designs.
The moment Dubb stepped aside, Ember saw Lily and let out a small gasp.
“And what have we here?” she asked.
“Ember,” continued Tavin, his voice strained, “I killed it.”
Ember’s face collapsed. “You killed her?” she echoed tonelessly. “Oh, Tavin, how could you?”
Dubb kept on talking about the smoothed-out papers. “We found them right where you thought they’d be. It was as if you’d been there. I hope they’re some help to you. This is your bailiwick, not ours.”
Ignoring Dubb, Ember took a step toward
Tavin, her eyes glinting with fury. Tavin met Ember’s gaze bravely, Lily thought, though he did wince.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Have you any idea what you’ve done?”
Tavin began to say something, but then thought better of it, or worse—it was hard to tell.
Ember sank into the chair by the fire and buried her face in her hands. “Such a loss.” There was a catch in her voice. When she finally looked up, she settled her eyes on Lily.
“Why is this girl here?” she demanded.
Dubb whipped around and looked at Lily as though he had forgotten she was there.
“Oh, right,” he said offhandedly. “Ember, this is Lily, Lord Autumn’s niece.”
Ember stared at Dubb, puzzled.
“Don’t be shy, Lily,” said Dubb, “show her.”
Lily watched Ember’s eyes, which were wide to begin with, grow still wider as Lily carefully pulled out the necklace and revealed the dangling pendant.
“Lily, is it?” said Ember, looking very tense.
“Yes, my . . . lady?”
“Lily, where is your uncle?” she asked sharply.
Lily looked down at the moon coin as though it might hold the answer.
“I don’t know. I’m trying to find that out myself,” she said.
“But he gave you the moon coin, yes? He showed you how to use it? You and your brother . . . you have been prepared?” she said doubtfully.
“Prepared?” said Lily, nettled. “Wait, you know about my brother?” She held the moon coin farther from her body, as though it were something she no longer wanted on her person.
“I . . . just . . . found it,” she said.
Ember’s face contorted to something between fascination and horror.
“You know . . . nothing?”
Lily felt her pride rise at the suggestion, even though she knew what Ember was really trying to say.