CHAPTER 31
The Wine
The city of Lotriel was stuck into the ground just as its builder’s had imagined. No bend was made for the gentle rise and fall of the land, no curve introduced to accommodate a river or stream. The seven springs of Lotriel were all firmly enclosed in square cisterns so that the vagaries of flowing water could not interrupt the perfection of the city. Instead of growing out of its walls like the other great cities, Lotriel stuck resolutely to its plan. Where others build out, the Amanheldic lords and ladies built up.
There were days when Ianna stood at her window and looked down and loved the straight roads that cut between the buildings. They were roads for men of purpose, with places to be. Today, she hated them. Straight lines are false, unnatural. They’re the chains men use to try to bind nature. Men are all straight lines and sharp angles, always trying to bind curves into their own way.
Ianna scowled and tugged her own soft bodice lower. Gerad Sumana had been overheard last week—on purpose, Ianna was certain—saying how much more fashionable the stiff bodices were. What he thinks he knows about what a woman wears under her dress . . . but half the court shows up this week in those awful leather things. Truth, those must be hot! And how on earth do they breathe?
Ianna wasn’t jealous of the effect—the women who wore them ended up looking like men if they were flat-chested, or as brazen as Seviade Cotar if they were not. She ran an absent hand down the smooth curve of her waist, covered by deep red silk the color of wine. And under that, a linen bodice, thank you very much! She scowled at the rooftops.
Her House was at the very edge of the Grove, which had long since ceased to have more trees than buildings. It still clung to more green space than the rest of the city, though, even the Park, where most of the Houses were. I swear I am surrounded by listener birds! Not one of them comes up with something new, they just mimic Sumana from dawn to dusk.
Gerad was the High Voice for Sumana, and House Sumana had the crown, so it sat on his cinnamon-colored curls. Ianna sneered at nothing in particular. Gerad was terribly vain about his hair. He’s like a woman! Only without the cleverness or the sense of style. Or the curves. She glowered at the rigid pattern below.
“My Lady?” A low voice called from outside the door to her receiving room. She considered not answering, but anything that distracted her from Gerad was welcome.
“Come.” She called. A man stepped into the room accordingly. His hair was dark, darker than usual for a Amanheldic man, and shot with silver. His eyes, too, were a few shades too dark. When they were all at court, it gave him the look of a bay stallion in a room full of chestnuts and palominos.
“Beliot!” she cried fondly, happy smile breaking through her melancholy. He chuckled and shook his head.
“You wonder why there are rumors about us, Lady Ianna? It’s greetings like that.”
She waved a hand. “Oh, nonsense. There are rumors about me and every man.”
“Scandalous.” He growled, raising one eyebrow. Ianna only smiled and asked,
“What news have you brought me today, Beliot?”
“There’s a fair bit of rumor floating around in the south, for sure. But first, a letter. I caught a messenger trying to sell it off down in Stonebridge.” Ianna scowled. It was a serious crime. “He’s not through regretting it, I warrant. I doubt he’ll ever stop regretting this one. It’s no ordinary letter.” He pulled it out of a hidden pocket inside the breast of his shirt and stepped closer to hand it to her.
It was addressed to her in a loopy handwriting that was somewhat difficult to read, but there was no mistaking the seal: a branching oak in black wax. Ianna had corresponded with Drethlord Monren in the past, but she had not expected to get word from him unprompted. No ordinary letter indeed! Her heart began to race and she broke the seal. Now here is something to make me forget Sumana!
High Voice Ianna Soldar,
It has been some time since we last spoke, but I have a proposition that requires your attention. I cannot explain all in a letter, but let it suffice to say that all of my Brothers are no longer united in our purpose.
Though a number are unaccounted for, my Brother Dracen and I are in Matriem awaiting the cause of our division—the last living member of the Order of the Guardians. She is ill disposed towards the Brothers in Hurndrith, and we support her in this. I invite you and yours to join us in Vinyam at your convenience.
In the interest of assuaging any doubts you may have regarding our plans for Arith and its peoples, I should like to inform you that the surviving Prince of Antral has removed himself from the care of my Brothers in Hurndrith and travels with the Guardian of his own free will.
We look forward to hearing from House Soldar and to the day when the strongest House in Amanheld will also be the first.
Brother Irav Monren
Ianna had never received such an unusual letter in her life. She quickly read it again, to be certain. Beliot was waiting, but she couldn’t believe . . .
“Are you certain this letter is legitimate?”
“Of course.” He watched with narrowed eyes. Because I’ve never asked him that before. Because I trust him with everything. But this! If there was a way to lure me into destroying House Soldar, this would be it.
“Monren writes of division among the Drethlords.” She began slowly, “he invites me to join himself and Dracen in Vinyam.” Beliot let out a low whistle. “And,” she took a breath, “he claims to have a Guardian with them and an Antralian prince.” Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
“What will you do?” Beliot asked.
Ianna was not a weak-willed woman. She did not like waiting. But this, this is worth waiting over. Let us see what trickles in to us on the Ocean Road. Let us see if there is really a civil war among the Brethren, and if a Guardian really walks Arith again.
“Have you heard of these things?” She asked, instead of answering him. Beliot shrugged.
“It’s hard to say where the rumors rise. But there’s talk of the Seviade flying from port to port, but moving no cargo. There’s talk of a black mood in Hurndrith, blacker than normal, I presume. I heard a man say there was a ten thousand mark reward out for two fugitives in Hennelea. I thought it was surely a lie, but how much would you pay if you had misplaced a Guardian and a Prince of Antral?” He asked.
Ianna nodded thoughtfully, running a fingernail over her lip. Something is happening in the world. Something big. Whatever it is, I mean to see Soldar at the head of it, and I mean to see Sumana fall beneath its wheels.
“Take the Ocean Road. See what you can find. I won’t answer this yet. It’s a fantastic risk—a little time won’t ruin us, but it may well save us.” Beliot bowed and turned to leave. She caught his arm.
“Don’t get too close too quickly,” she warned. He searched her face a long moment, then smiled broadly.
“What’s this? Worried about me?”
“No!” Ianna snatched her hand back, “Of course not!”
“Don’t put wrinkles on that lovely face for me,” he chuckled, ignoring her protest. “I may not have dealt with a Guardian and a Drethlord and an Antralian Prince all at once, but I’ve met one of each. I promise you’ll have the information you need, Ianna.” Still grinning at his joke, Beliot strode from her rooms.
Once the door swung shut Ianna murmured softly, “Information can be found anywhere. There is only one of you.” She stood still a moment longer, then shook her head and went back to the window. Young Edrian would be here soon, maybe she would see him coming. That scamp causes me more trouble than the rest of my cousins combined. But I must confess, I rather prefer him for it.
Elaina walked slowly around the confines of her tent while Cade watched from the middle. She and Dracen were the only ones with tents and cots. Everyone else slept in their blankets on the ground. Cade insisted on laying out his blankets right in front of her door. It would have been an inconvenience if she ever woke up before he did.
Since she did
n't, he took visible delight—which was something for him—in waking her every morning by poking his head in the door and calling to her. She always woke up blushing and yanking her blankets up so he wouldn't see her in her camisole. Every day he shook his head about Northern modesty while she giggled.
He would never admit it, but she suspected that Cade didn't maintain his usual discipline when waking her—he let his eyes wander a bit while she scrambled. True, he'd seen a great deal of her under Keravel's ministrations, but now it was different. His eyes weren’t flat and emotionless anymore, they lingered. Truth be told, she didn’t scramble quite as fast as she could have.
The rest of their caravan had stopped early in order to join a little country fair, which real wine merchants would not have passed up. Dracen and the rest were out appearing to sell their barrels by the roadside in the late afternoon sun, which was extremely amusing to watch.
Elaina’s amusement was likely why Dracen sent them back to her tent a league off the road with two guards and Cade. The guards weren’t assigned to protect them as much to keep track of them both, as Dracen put it disparagingly, like they were packages to get lost. One of the guards was Jernali, Elaina thought. He was a tall, blonde young man with a strong jaw and sharp blue eyes. The other may have been Cavilnese, his blonde hair had a tinge of red. They hadn’t been on the ship, but must have been some of the very first recruits that somehow found their way to the “wine merchant,” or she wouldn’t have known their names—the Jernali was Trevanor and the other was Izak.
The pair of them were still outside somewhere, but she hadn’t heard a word from them since Izak delivered a letter. How these people all know how to find us is beyond me! It was strange enough with the recruits showing up—now letters!
The letter was addressed to “the Guardian,” and sealed with a high-stepping horse in bright red wax. It was from some fellow named Beloit, who claimed to be wanting more information about what he termed, “the opposition to Hurndrith.” Elaina snorted. What more does he want to know? If he knows well enough to send letters and knows we’re opposing Hurndrith, what more information could he possibly need?
Her cot still leaned against the canvas wall while she paced, wine in one hand and the in the other. Cade wasn’t happy that this man had found them and knew what they were. He even mentioned Antral!
“Do you think he’s an agent?” she asked again. Again, Cade shrugged.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it is Monren’s doing, or Dracen’s. Someone is spreading the word, or there wouldn’t be so many people showing up here knowing what we are.” He was clearly not best pleased that the Brothers were implementing plans without telling them.
“Well whatever they told them, it’s working. This is the first man who has wanted some real answers before getting involved. All these other fools don’t even know quite what’s happening!” She shook her head. “If this keeps up, we’re going to have an army.”
“Armies are useful in wars,” Cade observed.
“Sure, but we’re on the wrong side of the world for a war. How will we get from Vinyam to Hurndrith?”
“Maybe they will come to us.”
“Vinyam would love that.” Elaina said wryly. “I’m sure they’ll be just leaping at the chance to be crushed between the Drethlords.” She took a sip of wine and looked at the letter again.
"So what do we tell our clever, reluctant friend?" She said at last, glancing up at Cade. Then the taste of the wine hit her and she grimaced. “Ugh! This stuff is awful! No wonder no one believes we are wine merchants!” Elaina muttered, glaring into the goblet.
"I mean, if this Beliot fellow knows who we are, who doesn’t—" Elaina blanched, breaking off mid-sentence. The letter fell unheeded from her trembling fingers to roll itself loosely on the carpets.
"Elaina?" She could not respond. Cade stepped closer. She tried to call to him, or reach out, but her whole body was numb. She managed one more unsteady step, and then she collapsed.
"Elaina!" Cade bellowed, falling to his knees beside her limp form. In his mind the Link faded, and the emptiness brought the same horrific feeling of absence that you felt stepping off an unexpected stair.
"Guards! Trevanor, Izak, get in here!" Cade cried. Two startled faces appeared at the door. “She’s been poisoned! Go find help!” he ordered. For a moment longer they stood staring, aghast.
"Go!" He roared, and they did.
As he sat watching her face, listening to the soft whisper of her breath, he was surprised he was not more panicked. It felt as though an iron fist had punched through his chest. There was a great ice-edged hole where he ought to be feeling something. It was a numbness he knew well, one he had nurtured for fourteen years.
Much sooner than he had expected, a caster rushed into the tent on Trevanor's heels. For an instant she stood staring at them both. If she hid her eyes with Illusion, it did not work on Cade. Her grey eyes narrowed for a moment, considering.
It was only for an instant, then she dropped to her knees on the rugs beside Elaina. Yanking Cade's hands from the Wielder's face, she put a palm to her forehead. In the dim light Cade saw her flinch back with a shiver.
"I was out collecting herbs, when I heard your men yelling . . ." she began, "She is strong," the woman said wonderingly, "I've never felt one so strong. I am no Creator, I cannot truly Heal. If she does not get help soon, she will die very painfully and very soon." Cade gave a start, as if to move between the caster and Elaina. Cool grey eyes met his sympathetically.
"No need to worry, my Lord, I cannot make it worse, even if I wanted to. But I have nothing here to help. You must come with me back to my home, I can help her there." Cade nodded, tearing his eyes from the caster to look back at Elaina. She laid her hand back on the Elaina’s forehead and frowned.
"The poison spreads quickly. We must hurry." Cade rose at the force of her voice, lifting his Wielder in his arms. He matched the woman's pace, stalking out into the afternoon sun. Behind him hurried the two guards. Dracen would just have to figure it out later.
The caster breathed a sigh of relief as she led the way into the wood. Everything was going just it should. The man was all in black, there weren't too many with them, and the girl was definitely the caster she was supposed to bring. With any luck that madwoman in her house would be satisfied and leave her alone.
The man followed closely, carrying the girl. Despite the burden, he kept up with ease, even as they moved into the trees. When they burst onto the narrow path, he suddenly asked,
"Is this the only way in?" The caster nodded, reluctantly slowing while he paused. Don’t stop, man! You think she’s dying, and if I don’t show up quickly enough, Truth only knows what that woman will do to all of us.
"You two stay here.” The man ordered the guards, “No one comes down this path unless you know and trust them—and that is on your own heads, understood?" The pair nodded as one, grim expressions settling over their faces. At last, the man in black turned again to follow her deeper into the trees.
Undergrowth choked the path, catching at Elaina's skirt as they passed, but Cade pressed on. The woman did not slow for him, and he did not need it. All at once they stepped from the winding path into the bright light of a clearing.
It wasn’t just a clearing, it was a splendid garden, complete with an impressive portico whose columns dripped with blooming flowers. It is strange that so many of the flowers are in full bloom—all of them, really. Elaina will be sorry she missed this. Even in spring no garden Cade had ever seen was so perfectly timed to burst into flower all at once.
As they approached the door, someone emerged to wait for them beneath the green-tinged shadows cast by the leaves and vines that arched overhead. Cade blinked in surprise.
Miranya!
"Lidia, I did not know you expected guests—Dominic!" She broke off happily, “What are you doing here? How did you know I was—" she broke off as her gaze sank to Elaina's limp form. "You're not here to see me," she realize
d aloud, brow furrowed as she stepped toward them. "Truth, what has happened to her? Put her down, Dominic, let me see her!" Miranya demanded shrilly, kneeling beside him. She peered into Elaina's eyes and felt the pulse in her neck as Lidia said in rapid monotone,
"There was something in her wine—some poison that stills her. I didn’t know the poison, and I did not dare try to cast around it. I thought you might know the herbs and could brew or cast something to save her."
Cade's sharp stare left Elaina's face to study Miranya's. She didn’t look panicked, at least. She laid a hand on Elaina’s forehead, then opened her mouth to peer at her tongue.
"I believe it is farrow root and ravenna, perhaps eleanor to help hide it in the wine . . " she murmured.
"I have enough redthorn, but I'll need quilt-leaf berries. Can you find them, Lidia?" Miranya asked sharply. The caster nodded and met Miranya's steely gaze for a long moment before the order was issued:
"Then go, and go quickly!" Cade thought there was an undertone to her words, a meaning to that look. He dreaded that they were not telling him something. But then, he dreaded hearing what they might be hiding from him, too. Miranya sighed and stood.
"You may stay with her, but I can start preparing the tonic without the berries until Lidia gets back." She paused, and when he did not reply, Miranya went on, "I hoped to see you again, but I did not think it would ever happen. These are not the circumstances I would have hoped. I am sorry, Dominic." With another sigh, she stepped inside the house.