Old Dark Things

CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH

  He waited for her.

  Deep in the garden, her garden, behind curtains of willow and hanging woodbine, he waited. Occasionally he imagined he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Something large and dark, lurking in the overgrown tangle. But whenever he turned his gaze to stare straight at the thing that crept at the edge of his vision, he found nothing but air and leafy shadows.

  "Can you hear me?" he said and reached out his fingers. For the briefest of moments his touch brushed along airy warmth. "Are you half solid then? Half real. Waiting for me to fall asleep." As he said those words an abrupt, cold sensation pricked along his spine much as he imagined a dog might feel when its hackles raise. Starting at once, he laid a hand on the hilt of his steel knife and peered past the overgrown garden to the archway that lead into the Toren. Ghostly and pale, she drifted out of the dark portal. Her thoughts clearly elsewhere, Lilia walked towards him, almost blindly. At the trunk of the willow she sunk to her knees and covered her face with her hands. Many strands of her plain brown hair had come away from their braiding, and now streamed in the uncertain wind. He took a soft step closer, and realised she was shuddering beneath her heavy cloak. A step closer again, and he could see and hear that she was sobbing.

  "Lady Lilia?"

  She jolted like a deer struck by an arrow, and looked up at him with bewildered, wet eyes.

  "You."

  "I am sorry. I was enjoying the air in the garden, but you did not see me. I have been meaning to have a word with you, though. Perhaps we might talk?"

  "And what is it you want to tell me now, huntsman?" She rose unsteadily to her feet and bunched her cloak about her shoulders as if it were a protective shroud. "You pick a poor time."

  "I say again, I am sorry. I only mean to--"

  But before he could say more, she advanced at him, her voice full of accusation. "Has Rosa sent you?" There was a light in her eyes he had not seen before. The shy glances and half-hearted tones were swept away under a torrent of emotion. "Well, huntsman, did she? Has she sent her new pet henchman to harass me now?"

  "I come of my own accord." Kveldulf felt an urge to step away from her, but kept himself planted firmly where he stood. "I mean only to warn you."

  Her eyes now looked as full of the promise of storms as the sky above. Kveldulf wondered at the change in her. He was about to speak, then paused, then said, "You have denied him."

  She lifted her chin and in a venomous voice said, "What do you know of it? Are you hunter and spy and sorcerer now?"

  "I have no answer to that. In my life I have been called all three afore, and perhaps I am all three, and far worse, too. But, please, Lady of Vaunt, I wanted only to warn you about him. About all his kind. But--" Kveldulf knotted his brow. "I think I have misjudged you. Know this then. I have had dealings with the faer ones, and I know a little of their powers. You are not free of him. Not by a long measure. You will have to be strong, and sure, and wilful, if you are to be your own master again."

  She rolled her eyes and her mouth twisted into a strange smile. "Oh, what an insightful warning. How very insightful." Her eyes shone with ironic light. Kveldulf thought for a moment she was about to burst into laughter. "So, you have known a little of that power? Well I assure you, my sorcerous hunting spy, I know a great deal of that power. Even here... even now... I want him. My soul craves him. Hungers for him. You cannot imagine. You cannot even fathom what it feels like. I feel like a wormwood-dreamer who, once benumbed by that drug, is now painfully awake and bereft of all their blissful dreams."

  "It will be difficult."

  "You know nothing of difficult." She shivered and wrapped her arms around her chest. "My blood runs with pain."

  With a mirthless smile he said, "Do not mistake me for a man of easy life. I have lived a long and painful time of my own, Lady of Vaunt. Do not think to lecture me about the nature of pain."

  "Then we are done sorcerer. If you are quite satisfied with your warnings? I would now be alone. Scurry back to Rosa and tell her I am in tears. Tell her my heart is broken. Tell her I am in pain now. Tell her whatever you think will bring a smile to her face."

  Kveldulf looked at her, and made as if to answer, but then stopped, and stepped away from her. He glanced up into the flowing branches of the willow, and the dark clouds beyond. She watched him intently with an angry, hopeless expression. Finally, before he left he said, "If you want help from me before the end, you only need to ask."

  "I'll keep that in mind."