None of those guaard who attacked had returned to Atare. The three young men, mere children, who had brought her back were as silent as any guaard, but Darame had overheard two of them conversing, rueful about an avalanche their air vehicle had probably caused. In such a hurry they took to the air.… A failed mission: no Atare, no heir. They were ignorant of what happened within the mountain. Or were they? A trap for her? Better to keep silent for now. If White thought she knew something, surely he would have her followed, or questioned. Followed? Shadowed — she did not know the young man watching the parlor door.
“Where in seven hells is Halsey?” Darame muttered, wishing her stomach would stop churning so she could eat. He had not returned to his room in sixday, the clerk had reported, but his ship was still paying for his board. Possible, but not probable; Halsey was known to disappear on jobs, but not when things were so uncertain. No message to Mona on shipboard, no message to Darame. Offering to pay for his room had quickly shown her that her credit was still good, if unnecessary. For how long… Time to run, time to run, the silent voice mocked her, a voice she had always heeded.
Brant was not taking calls. Gone for the holiday, the embassy told her. Yes, they would take a message. I will carve out your tripes when I find you, Brant! Worse than what she had feared.… They were merely unnecessary, she and Halsey. Brant probably did not care what happened to them, as long as it did not fall back on him. Which could mean anything from stalling to elimination of details. Details like Halsey and me. Then why get her out of the cavern alive?… Because she had become too visible?
“Serae?” The word startled Darame out of her thoughts, her fingertips tightening on the dagger hidden at her side. Not merely a piece of jewelry, it had saved her life more than once. A guaard stepped into the room. “Serae Avis has requested that you join her at the palace for Yule.”
Turning back to her pack to hide her face, suddenly fearful she had lost her masking talent, Darame reached for her jacket. “Do we have transportation?” Her voice did not tremble; good.
“An ice sled awaits.”
ATARE PALACE
“Darame!” The delicate, sweet voice of Avis chimed like a bell, tossing the word into the chandelier as she rushed into the upper hall.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Darame suddenly realized how glad she was to see Avis — and how tired she felt. Dear Peter, help me stay awake! Two more steps and she was enveloped in swathes of bright coral silk.
“You did not send word of your coming! How long have you been waiting at that hostel? Did they hide you in a parlor or something? Camelle!” Tugging at her friend’s hands, Avis turned to call for her attendants as she led Darame through the huge oak portal at the end of the hallway.
Realizing that Avis did not expect any answers right away, Darame quickly looked around for Ayers. If he was not on duty, should she call for him? Other royal ladies gathered to greet the long-absent off-worlder, and Darame forced her attention back to them.
“Did you accomplish all that you set out to do?” Avis asked, leading a servant with a tray back into the room. Something in the bright eyes of Sheel’s sister warned Darame as she bent to remove her wet boots.
“I accomplished a great deal. We will have much to discuss.” That was surely accurate. She does not want me to speak in front of the others. It was almost a relief. Raising back up, examining several options for conversation, Darame spotted Ayers. “You are undoubtedly preparing for the Yule. Just how does one go about preparing for it?” Raising her eyebrows slightly at Ayers, she winked at him and tilted her head slightly in the direction of her old room. Ayers’ head lowered a few millimeters in apparent understanding.
“Of course! You do not know about our celebrations! Sit down, I have cheese and warmed brandy for you.” Sitting herself, she added ruefully: “But not for me, of course!”
Chuckling, Darame said, “How do you feel?”
“Too queasy for alcohol, even if Capashan would let me have it! He says it is not good for the baby,” she confided, offering Darame a basket of warm rolls. “The discomfort usually vanishes after a few months. I certainly hope so!” Her exasperation was so heartfelt, her pleasure in the pregnancy so evident, Darame felt a pang of conscience.
Time to run? Idiot! How can you leave now? Bending over to sip the brandy, Darame formed a resolve. Forgive me, my young friend, but I will keep silent as I can. Until I know what has happened to Sheel, I can tell you only bare bones of news, and in bones there is no nourishment.
ONEHUNDRED TWENTYSEVENDAY, MATINS
Darame was still struggling to push the tall window back on its runner when she heard her door open. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Ayers hesitating at the threshold. Turning back to the sill, gasping as a curl of wind lifted her hair, Darame leaned once more on the window, lifting up harder on the rail.
“Do not stand there gaping, come help me,” she grumbled, aware that she was losing sensation in her hands. The snick of a closing door reached her ears.
Ayers’ strong hand reached past her, lifting the hook on the rail. “Open or closed?” he inquired.
“Open.” Rubbing her fingers to call blood back to them, she reached for the knife she had taken from her dinner tray. When she turned back to the window, she found that Ayers had thrown it wide. Scowling at him, she moved to the sill. “I was afraid to use any of the pads, in case they were monitored. What does this mean?” Carefully, trying to give her gestures definition, she carved Nualan symbols into the packed snow of the ledge. Ayers inhaled sharply while she wrote, but did not speak. “It is from old Harald, is it not?”
“Yes,” he said after a few moments. “What happened up there?”
“The message — I want to destroy it,” she stated, tapping the windowpane above the last word.
“It says that Jude will try and take Tobias and the Seedar woman to Riva Ragäree. It also says that the other servants are hidden, as well as the signet,” Ayers said slowly. “Where is my Atare?”
“Ah, I almost forgot about that — he was missing the signet when I last saw him. Fast of Harald, to grab it while White searched for Tobias.” Sighing, Darame obliterated the message with slashes and then pushed the loose snow off the ledge for good measure, sweeping the stones clean of the top layer. “Last I saw him, he was alive, Ayers, though not in the best of shape. We must assume he is still alive; otherwise, everyone in that cave should have died, as witnesses to what happened.”
“Old Harald said they did die… all who were found, except you.” His voice was carefully neutral.
“Yes, that fact did not escape me. Why? Because I am off-world, and my disappearance would cause comment? Because someone told them not to harm me?” She moved away from the flakes of snow drifting in through the window and sat near the firepit. “Those children who brought me back to Atare did not know that Sheel and Tobias were within the caverns — or they pretended not to know. I never saw them enter.… They may be honest. Or they may have hoped I would trust them, and speak of things better left unsaid.” She looked up at Ayers. “Suggestions?”
The guaard was off-duty, she could tell; his face showed obvious concern. He pulled the window shut and then followed her to the firepit. “I do not know,” he admitted, his voice soft. “Mailan and Crow left town several days ago; they gave no orders, other than to watch Avis ceaselessly. Have you any suggestions?”
“Perhaps it is time to talk to Riva Ragäree,” she murmured, fingering the chain around her neck. It was no longer a secret, at least around Avis and Ayers. Darame suspected that they exaggerated its meaning, but she did not volunteer the truth — Avis did not need to know how serious Sheel thought the situation. Besides, their interpretation might make Avis more willing to trust her, if an emergency rose. Take her to the ship? How could you get her there undetected?
“How will you talk to The Ragäree without anyone overhearing?” Ayers asked. “Any palace line can be tapped, except the ones in The Atare’s quarters, and it would
be noticed if we tried to use them.”
“Huh. I was thinking of face to face, but getting out of Atare unnoticed could be very difficult. They must be watching me!” This last was fierce.
“They are watching you.”
Darame glanced over, but Ayers’ expression was remote. “Listening?” She had checked for surveillance, but found nothing.
“The bedrooms are safe. Watch yourself everywhere else. I do not wish to make Dirk suspicious of me.” Ayers frowned as he spoke. “He has not countered my orders to watch Serae Avis, but he has added guaard to her rooms. One of those?…” He shrugged.
Nodding, she continued searching her brains for an option. Thinking furiously as the minutes passed, Darame finally said aloud: “Tobias and Quenby Ragäree should be fine if they reached Riva, even if someone finds out where they are. I doubt the men can touch them there… and Leah cannot protest without looking suspicious. I would rather wait on Mailan. Surely she will contact them through the village before she actually returns to the caverns?”
“If she can,” Ayers agreed, temporizing.
“But how long…” She gave Ayers a hard look. “Since The Atare is a healer, does that… give him any extra strengths? To resist bad conditions, or…”
“Torture?” Ayers said it easily, although Darame noticed a tic in his forehead. “Healers are very healthy: it takes a great deal to crack their facades. And The Atare has studied Elkita, the philosophy which is also self-defense, of mind as well as body. I would think he might hold out a long time in such a case, unless they used drugs.”
“What do they want, and what will they do when they have it?” she whispered.
“They will kill him,” Ayers said quietly.
“You do not know that.” She straightened, her voice challenging.
“They must, Serae. I think I know enough of him to know one thing: they cannot control him. And if they cannot control him, he must die.”
If he dies, Brant, I think I will have more than your tripes.
ONEHUNDRED THIRTYSEVENDAY, NONE
It had to be late afternoon, by the angle of pale starlight filtering through the cave opening. Could he have lost track? Not likely.… A day by air to this place, and thirteen nights since then. Had anyone shown up with water? Ridiculous — they would have awakened him. Sheel smiled at the thought, knowing the wakening would not have been easy. Working his shoulders once again, his ears listening for the slightest sound of movement, Sheel gingerly sought a comfortable position.
None was left: every part of his body ached with a dull pain he had never imagined. Bruises could not kill him, but they certainly had made a mess of his condition. Was there any area left untouched? Except his face and hands? That interested him, that they were so careful to avoid marking his head. Perhaps I am not dead. Perhaps you have another part for me to play. If so, when do we get to it? I am tired of secrets.
A pebble rolled somewhere near the entrance, and Sheel tensed, ready to flip the heavy rope binding his hands back over the hook. Silence… Some small creature in search of seed? Not guaard. Fortunate he had learned how to remove the loop which held his arms above his head. Otherwise his shoulders would be in bad shape. Praise Mendülay the afternoon guaard was so indecisive about his post. If this goes on much longer, you may be my pass to freedom. Called Varden by his companions, the youth clearly was troubled by the activities of the past days. Not enough to turn on White, not yet; but enough to ignore the slipped rope and to signal with movement when others approached.
Is this how it ends? I begin to understand why people under travail come to a new understanding about themselves and their place in the universe. That was as much as he was ready to admit to himself. Sheel had never had much use for religion, and was not certain he had much use for Mendülay. The healing talent which his people prayed for certainly had saved many lives, but it had made his own difficult. Just as I come to terms with it, all this begins. Now I must rule to keep my life — but what of those who need healing?
So tired, and White was sure to show up soon. The polite question and answer sessions had deteriorated rapidly into methods civilized people abhorred. How civilized are we Atares? They had only tied him up about five days ago. It finally occurred to you I might just disappear one night.… Many days of “questioning,” and no answers. Sheel was astonished that his gaolers were so unprepared. Had they really expected him to agree to their terms… or, failing that, fold so quickly? What could they have been thinking? The luck should be running out soon.…
They had brought no chemicals — none at all, not even the simplest of them, which merely weakened a subject’s will. Laws strictly circumscribed when such serums could be used, but that would not stop this crew. White had had so little faith in the line of Atare, it was really not surprising he underestimated the teachings of the temple. Between the study of Elkita and long lessons with healers Capashan and Xena, Sheel found himself more than capable of dealing with short rations and minor abuse.
Minor abuse… His luck simply could not hold. So far they wanted him alive and basically undamaged, but for how long? White certainly had brought a RAM tie-in, and could request a delivery… if he had anyone to deliver. White and two others here: Dirk back in Atare, and the dead guaard, if Fion’s suspicions were correct. How many others? Would he recognize any of them?
Where is Tobias? The same question, phrased differently, even conversationally, a countless number of times. Sheel had freely told them: he did not know. White had not accepted that answer… and made his demand insistent. Finally Sheel had shrugged (literally, to White’s obvious annoyance) and stopped talking. For ten days he had said nothing, not even during a two-day period where they stopped bringing food or water. What would be next?
Earlier that day his thoughts had flitted back to the clay caverns, wondering what had happened after the blow that knocked him senseless. Until now he had been unable to get past the moment of Fion’s death. The old guaard would probably have been surprised at his reaction, since Sheel had faced death before — lost to death, when a patient was snatched from beneath his fingers, a candidate for The Last Path. Sheel could not let it go.
All this time I have known the purpose of the guaard. Why does a man fulfilling his vow shake me more than even Dirk’s treason? Considering it, watching the star creep deeper across the cave floor, Sheel decided it was not the act, but the reason behind the act. Not your death, friend, which you were always prepared for, nor even your death at the hands of another guaard, but the fact that you died for me. Was anyone worthy of that sacrifice?
Had Jude also died, trying to protect her charge? Was this some sort of game on White’s part? A game, possibly, but a serious one: whether Jude lived or died, Tobias must have escaped, or the questions would have been different. Ridiculous — Leah knew the boy was safe. Which could mean only one thing: a schism in the ranks of the traitors. So… who is after Tobias, and why? Is Dirk telling Leah — and Brant — everything? White would not work for Brant, but for Leah alone.… Is Leah afraid of Brant? And wants Tobias where Dirk can protect him? Fruitless to speculate.
What of Darame? If White had not killed her outright, surely she had landed on her feet. Watch over my heedless sister, if you can. I am not sure anyone can convince her of what we know, if Mailan finds no proof. Ah, Mailan, she would take Fion’s death hard, very hard.…
Too bad about Darame. That last night, he had sensed a calm in her not seen since they first met. Not seen since she found out your curse. Was a woman who had come to terms with his talent all he could hope for? And for how long? That one was not the type of person to become a dutiful spouse, even if more than casual interest grew between them.… There was a slight pull at his cheek as a smile threatened. Your interest is more than casual. You are still a coward, because of Emerson. Mother is right. If you cannot find what you want, find something acceptable. Something… Such an attitude! But if you cannot find a lover, surely you can find a friend. Too bad he could not
take Iver’s attitude, and find a Nualan consort of choice.…
“It has been a long time since I have wanted a woman.” Scarcely a whisper; better to admit it out loud. He could have passed her off to Baldwin that first night. I fell into your eyes, woman, and I did not want to climb back out. Nothing I have learned since then has changed my mind. Can you be a friend? Do you want friends?
The image of Darame’s wicked smile veiled by thick silver hair blurred, becoming White’s broad, bronzed features, the eyes darker than ever in the dim light of the cave. Sheel started, afraid he had slipped into dreams once too often, but it was only that, a memory. Rising to his knees, Sheel stretched to flip the rope over the hook they had bored into stone. Better not to be caught unawares.…
Do you begin to fear him? It was a disturbing thought. Sheel already knew what worried him about White: his methods of questioning. Varden clearly found the entire situation distasteful, and the one called Teague was often sent from the area — why, Sheel was not certain. But White, for all his impassive demeanor, enjoyed beating people. He hates me. I do not know why, but I can feel his hate. Fortunately something still restrains him.… Maybe Dirk and Leah do not know how he is trying to get cooperation.… His thoughts swirled and dissipated like dust devils as, at a distance, he heard rolling pebbles and the scuffing of feet.
Several deep breaths, a touch of the trance state filming his mind — Sheel watched through half-lidded eyes as the trio entered the cave. Varden looked more distressed than ever, though he hung back, out of White’s line of sight. Teague, on the other hand, looked… Optimistic was the only word. Glancing down, Sheel saw a gel in his hand. At last, we get to the drugs. His mind felt curiously light. The questioning had not varied throughout the ordeal, and Sheel doubted it would change. There were things he would prefer they not discover he knew, but it was unlikely he would betray Mailan. White would have to ask specifically for what he wanted to know. I begin to think you do not care what I know. Are you that confident of your control?
Fires of Nuala Page 28