The following day was even worse. Eltiron spent most of it accepting condolences from the nobles of Sevairn and wondering when Darinhal would burst in with the news of Marreth’s poisoning. He saw little of Vandaris and nothing of Crystalorn or Amberglas. He would have liked to order everyone else out of the room so he could talk to Vandaris or Crystalorn, but these were the most important lords of Sevairn and he could not justify insulting them just to serve his own whims. Besides, that was exactly the sort of thing Marreth had done all too often, and Eltiron did not want to start his reign by behaving in the same arbitrary manner as his father.
The only good thing about the day was that he did not have to deal with Terrel. Vandaris, it appeared, had slipped sleeping drops into his morning meal, then put about the story that Terrel was keeping to his rooms, overcome with grief for the King. Eltiron did not think it was a terribly convincing story; Vandaris cheerfully admitted that he was right.
“But it doesn’t matter,” she told him. “Lassond was Marreth’s adviser; people expect advisers to change when there’s a new king. They won’t believe he’s grieving, but no one will be surprised that he’s keeping out of the way, either.”
It was a relief not to have Terrel around, but Eltiron continued to worry about him during odd moments of the day. Terrel could not be kept away from the court for much longer, and when he finally did appear, he would have more to complain about than Marreth’s poisoning. Something would have to be done.
Unfortunately, all Eltiron’s worrying did not give him any idea of what the something should be. By the time he returned to his rooms at the end of the day, he was too exhausted even to think clearly about the problem. His thoughts developed an uncomfortable tendency to focus on the memories of Marreth’s red, strained face, of Vandaris’s frozen calm, of the limp mound of the body as it was carried away. Finally, Eltiron gave up and went to bed, but it was a long time before he fell asleep at last.
CHAPTER 16
Jermain awoke to darkness. He lay still for a moment, trying to identify the source of the uneasiness he felt, but he was unsuccessful. He sat up, and behind him Blackflame moved restlessly. Jermain sniffed; there was a faint smell of burning in the air. Feeling more uneasy than ever, he put out a hand toward the small pile of belongings that contained his dagger.
A dark shape at the foot of a tree stirred, and Ranlyn’s voice, disembodied by the darkness, said, “Your time of watching is not yet.”
Jermain stopped in midreach. “You’ve seen nothing?”
“No more than the common restlessness of a forest. Had it been otherwise, I would have roused you.”
Feeling slightly foolish, Jermain sat back. It was true; nothing seemed unusual except the uneasy feeling that had receded but not yet vanished. After a moment, he shook himself. “I thought I smelled smoke.”
“It comes from no fire of my making, nor have I seen another fire to be its source.”
“Maybe I dreamed it. Look, it may not be my watch yet, but it can’t be too much longer. I might as well take over now.”
“As you will have it.”
Jermain reached again for his dagger. His hand closed around the hilt, just above the sheath, and he was surprised into a cry of pain as the heat seared his palm. He dropped the dagger and clenched his other hand around his wrist, as if he could block the pain by squeezing hard enough.
Ranlyn was at his side almost before the dagger hit the ground. “What goes?”
“My dagger—when I picked it up, it burned my hand.”
Ranlyn’s head turned to look at the still-sheathed knife. He reached down and brushed the hilt with a fingertip, quick as a cat’s tail twitching. He flicked it again, less carefully, then picked up the dagger. “There seems no evil to it now.”
Gingerly, Jermain touched the hilt with his good hand. “You’re right. But I don’t see—”
Something flickered at the edge of his vision, and he broke off and looked down. His leather belt pouch now lay on top of the pile of odds and ends he had removed when he lay down. Smoke was curling from its surface in a thin stream that seemed to glow faintly yellow in the darkness.
Ranlyn’s gaze followed Jermain’s, and he went very still. Then he set the dagger carefully on the ground and groped behind him in the darkness until he found a short stick. He watched the smoke an instant longer before he reached out and prodded the pouch with the end of the stick.
The leather cracked and fell apart in small flakes, releasing a puff of smoke and a charred smell. Among the fragments of the pouch, the serpent ring glowed and flickered with a harsh, yellow light that made the serpents appear to move and twist about each other. The light was not bright, but it hurt Jermain’s eyes. Heat radiated from the ring; it was like standing in front of a smith’s forge.
“Debt of Kazaryl!” Jermain whispered. His face was drawn, and the strange light gave it a sick yellow tinge.
“What in—”
“That accounting must wait. For now, I ask your silence.”
Jermain nodded. Ranlyn did not take his eyes from the ring, but after a moment he let out his breath in a long sigh. Slowly, he stretched his hand out above the ring and began murmuring in the language of the nomads, too rapidly for Jermain to follow. The ring’s light began reluctantly to fade.
Then, with shocking suddenness, light flared again, brighter than before. Ranlyn cried out and fell backward, dragging Jermain with him. The two men sprawled on the ground, staring at a globe of light the size of a man’s head that surrounded the ring. Within the globe, something like crimson smoke shifted and flowed, hiding the ring almost entirely except for occasional glimpses. But it looked too alive for smoke, and Jermain felt chilled as he looked at it.
Ranlyn made a strangled noise. Jermain glanced at him just as light flared a second time, blindingly bright, then died completely. Jermain waited, motionless, while his eyes readjusted to the darkness. When nothing further happened, he looked across at Ranlyn. “What was that?”
“My debt to you is beyond speaking, and the debt I owe your people and my own is greater than the height of the sun. He who wore that ring is more powerful than I had guessed, to make use of a ring he does not wear.”
“Carachel did that? I thought he couldn’t reach us without the ring!”
“He was not reaching for us, but using the power of the ring for some other purpose. And that should be impossible to him, yet it was not.”
“How do you know that? And when did you learn so much about magic?”
“I am no student of such sorcery as you of the north use. Yet my clan is one appointed from the earliest times to guard the path of the Red Plague and warn against its coming. So do we know some few ways of dealing with it and with the Servants of the Red Plague, and one of these I used against the ring. And even then I did not accomplish my purpose, but awoke the Red Plague instead. I have been too certain, and so brought danger on us both.”
“That red smoke was this Red Plague?”
“A part of it only, and not clearly seen. But almost do I pity this sorcerer, if the Red Plague comes again to the call of his spells.”
“As long as it ignores us, I’m not going to worry about him. And I thought you said it was your spell that brought that thing.”
“Can a rock lizard command the wind, or a sand mouse call the lightning? I do not know if the Red Plague sought my spell or if that wizard worked its waking for some purpose, but I am sure it yields control to neither of us. Should he use the ring again, and the Red Plague comes, we have no certainty of safety.”
“Wonderful. Do you have any more good news?” Ranlyn shook his head, and Jermain sighed. “Well, now that it’s happened, what do we do about it?”
“This storm is of my own making; therefore will I take the danger it brings upon myself, and leave you to make your way where you will. For myself, I must take the ring to the Lady of the Tower, and if I reach her in safety I will give her my knowledge and abide by her advising.”
“You can’t invo
lve Amberglas in this!”
“She has given aid to my clan, and she seeks to halt the Red Plague. I owe her a debt of what knowledge I may give her. I have already made a mockery of my debt clearing to you; do not ask me to abandon this as well.”
“You’re right,” Jermain said after a moment. “I wasn’t thinking. But if you’re taking that ring to Amberglas, I’m coming with you. I’m not leaving you to face Carachel alone.”
“No! Would you make my burden heavier still?”
“I don’t think you have a choice. You gave me that ring as a debt clearing; mistake or no, you can’t take it back unless I let you. And I won’t, unless I come with it.”
Ranlyn’s head bowed, and for a long moment there was silence. Then he said in a low voice, “As you will. What I owe you now, only my death can repay.” He rose and turned away. Jermain watched as Ranlyn wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down beside the horses, his back toward Jermain.
After a moment, Jermain picked up his dagger and strapped it on. His burned hand made it an awkward job, but at last he was satisfied that he could reach the knife easily with his good hand. Then he returned to his saddlebags to look for something to bind the burn. When the job was finished, he chose a tree and sat down. Eyeing the ring warily, he settled back to take his turn on watch.
Ranlyn was moody the next morning. He did not speak except in response to direct questions, and Jermain did not press him. They ate and saddled the horses in silence, studiously ignoring the small pile of charred leather with the serpent ring at its center. At last, just before he mounted, Ranlyn retrieved the ring, first carefully wrapping his hands with a cloth so that he would not touch it directly. He transferred the wrapping to the ring, then concealed it somewhere in the folds of his robes. Finally he mounted and turned to Jermain. “You are still of the same intention?”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Then we ride north to the tower.” Ranlyn turned his horse’s head.
“Wait!” Jermain sat frowning, mentally counting days.
Ranlyn looked at him. “I have told you I will do this.”
“That’s not the problem. I don’t think we’ll find Amberglas at her tower. She was leaving for Leshiya the last day I was there, to go to Princess Crystalorn’s wedding, and I don’t think she’s had time to get back. She’s probably still in Leshiya!”
“You are sure?”
“Count it up for yourself. I’d guess it’s a week’s trip at least to Leshiya from Amberglas’s tower, and the wedding preparations would take at least three weeks, probably four. And it’s only been three and a half weeks since I left the tower.”
“It is possible. But it will take five or six days for us to reach the city, and if you are wrong we will have as much again before us.”
“And if I’m right it would take us just as long to get from here to the tower and from there to Leshiya, and by then she probably would be gone. Do you think I want to go to Leshiya? I just want to get this over with.”
“It is not certain,” Ranlyn said after a moment. “But he who meddles with sorcery finds few things certain. We will ride for Leshiya.” He glanced at Jermain. “This does not change your resolve?”
Jermain shrugged. “Carachel is more dangerous than Marreth. I still have a few friends in Leshiya, and you said Vandaris was looking for me. She may have made some arrangements. It’s a risk, but what isn’t?”
“Then let us begin.” Ranlyn shifted slightly in his saddle, and his horse began to move.
They rode in silence for most of the day, stopping once to catch two squirrels to supplement Ranlyn’s dwindling store of food. Jermain’s burns did not affect his horsemanship, though they continued to pain him. By nightfall the two men were nearing the edge of the forest, and Ranlyn’s mood improved considerably. Jermain began to relax, hoping that Ranlyn had at least accepted his presence as inevitable.
Neither of them mentioned the serpent ring until they made camp at last. Then, after a short discussion, Ranlyn drew it out of his robes and placed it on a rock beside their fire, where it could be watched easily during the night. Neither Ranlyn nor Jermain saw any further manifestations during their watches, but when they started off again the next morning, Ranlyn refused to allow Jermain to carry the ring. Jermain made only a token protest; he knew that however small Ranlyn’s knowledge of the ring might be, it was certainly greater than his own. If something did begin to happen, Ranlyn might have some idea what to do.
By midmorning they were out of the forest and traveling north and west toward Leshiya. Though they kept a watchful eye on their trail, they saw no signs of the pursuit they expected, and Jermain began to hope that they had managed to gain a respectable lead. Near midday they passed a village and stopped briefly to replenish their supplies. After that they avoided towns as much as they could.
They camped that night in a field. The weather was fine; and Jermain preferred not to take the small risk of being recognized at an inn, while Ranlyn claimed to be more comfortable sleeping in the open. Once again, Ranlyn set the serpent ring where they could watch it, and twice during his watch Jermain thought he saw it flicker, though he was not certain enough to awaken Ranlyn. When he mentioned it the next morning, Ranlyn looked grave and set a faster pace for that day’s travel.
They made good time. Ranlyn elected to abandon the fields in favor of one of the smaller roads, and riding became easier. Near noon, Jermain saw the walls of the city of Felsdon near the western horizon. He pointed them out to Ranlyn and said, “We’re doing better than I’d expected. If we keep this speed, we’ll be in Leshiya in less than three days.”
He paused, squinting, then reined Blackflame in. A low cloud of dust was rising south of the city, along the line of the road he knew was there but could not see. Jermain could almost make out the forms of the men and animals that raised it, and the banners that rose above the dust were so familiar that he did not need to see them clearly. “Ranlyn! Look there!”
Ranlyn turned in the saddle, then nodded slowly. “It would seem that the sister of your king has had her way; the army of Sevairn moves south. It is as well we are no nearer. We can avoid them without trouble.”
“Yes. But I wish I knew how she did it,” Jermain muttered. He watched the shifting dust with mixed feelings. If Vandaris had persuaded Marreth to send the army south, she might well have found a way for Jermain to get safely into Leshiya. On the other hand, if Marreth had not changed the order of exile, the army could easily become a grave danger to Jermain, and its presence served as a painful reminder of his former achievements.
“Jerayan. You delay to little purpose.” Ranlyn’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts. Jermain glanced again at the distant column of the army, then shook Blackflame’s reins and started forward once more.
For the rest of the day they rode in silence. At twilight they halted and made camp in a small wood by the side of the road. They cared for the horses, then gathered wood for a fire and sat down to eat. Ranlyn seemed moody and withdrawn, and finally Jermain asked him point-blank what was wrong.
“The web of my debts grows tangled,” Ranlyn answered, “and it is difficult to balance the claims of deeds with those of duty. Yet no man is ever free of obligation, nor of the choice of paths it brings.”
“I will release you from your debt to me.”
“If a man stands at the sea’s boundary and commands the water to vanish, will it do so? Twice now have you kept me from death at risk of your life: once when you offered water and your own blood to draw the skag-morrah away from me, and again when the Servant of the Red Plague would have denied my breath. Such obligation cannot be cleared in words.”
Jermain shook his head, remembering the long, lizardlike creature he had found preparing to feed on a paralyzed nomad. “I’d have done as much for anyone I found in straits like that! I’ve seen what a skag-morrah leaves of its prey; I wouldn’t abandon my worst enemy to that.”
“That only makes my debt the greater.�
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“Doesn’t my debt to you count for something? I owe you at least as many life-savings as you owe me. And you showed me the truth about Carachel.”
A sudden smile lit Ranlyn’s face. “The place where debts merge and balance is a problem never yet made clear. Where wise men debate to no conclusion, shall you and I solve matters? Yet some debts I have no desire to see ended, and the friendship I owe you is one of those.”
“I’m glad to hear you speak so plainly,” Jermain said with an answering smile. “Sometimes your explanations are . . . less than clear.”
Ranlyn laughed. “You are a diplomat, in truth. But it grows late, and tomorrow brings more travel. Will you watch first, or I?”
“I’ll take it this time.”
Ranlyn nodded. He reached inside his robes and drew out the small package that contained the serpent ring, then paused, listening. Jermain looked at him questioningly; then he, too, heard the sounds of something approaching. Ranlyn thrust the package back into his robes, and Jermain rose and loosened his dagger in its sheath.
A moment later, a horse and rider appeared among the trees, heading directly toward their fire. The horse moved as if exhausted; at the edge of the ring of firelight, it stopped and stood trembling while its rider dismounted. He was a short, dark-haired man who looked as if he had spent the past three days riding, with very little pause for sleep and none at all for grooming.
“Sirs, I beg your hospitality for myself and my animal,” the man said with a smooth bow. “I am on an urgent errand for Sevairn’s King.”
Jermain’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed. “Salentor Parel! And what ‘urgent errand’ could you have for the King of Sevairn?”
CHAPTER 17
Eltiron was awakened by a loud pounding on his door and the sound of someone shouting, “Eltiron! Morada’s sword, man, wake up! Eltiron!” He rolled to his side and sat up. “All right! I’m awake!” he shouted. “Just a minute!”
The pounding subsided. Eltiron struggled hastily into the first garments he found, then opened the door. Vandaris was pacing in the hallway, her boot heels ringing faintly on the stone floor. She looked up as Eltiron emerged. “Lassond’s gone,” she said without preliminary.
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