I survived. That’s all that matters. Once Varzil is dead, and Carolin’s reign is ruined, I’ll never have to think about those years again.
Saravio was still alive, although in so deep a slumber he did not rouse, not even when Eduin placed a hand upon his shoulder and shook him gently. Eduin was not sure if he’d expected otherwise.
He has done his work. I no longer need him.
Eduin ran his fingertips over Saravio’s brow before leaving him. He felt no mental contact, for that was impossible within the field of a working telepathic damper, only a deep sadness. Surely the man who had pulled him from the Thendara gutters, fed and housed him, deserved some memorial of the heart. Saravio had given him so much more. They had shared the joys and privations of the road, had understood each other, exiled laranzu’in, as perhaps few others could. More than that, Saravio had been his only friend, or as close as anyone could be.
The telepathic damper sat on the wash stand beside the door. This close, Eduin felt its effect like a faint buzzing along his nerves. Since Saravio was clearly beyond any help from such a device, Eduin turned it off.
The change in the ambient psychic atmosphere of the castle almost brought him to his knees. Gone was the surge and play of holiday merrymaking, as well as the anxieties of the situation with Isoldir. Instead, framed against the fractured babble of ordinary minds, he felt a singleness of purpose, a shift like a river in flood.
Something had happened, but he could not discern what.
Cold burned deep in his belly. A voice whispered in the back of his mind, Kill . . . and he realized with a terrible certainty that it was no longer only his father’s voice.
Eduin raced down the corridor. A maid carrying a basket of soiled linens made way for him. He slowed his pace.
“What’s happened?” he shouted.
In response, she cringed against the wall, shaking her head. “I—I know nothing! Don’t hurt me!”
The stableman would surely know of any comings or goings. Eduin flung himself down the back stairway, taking the steps two at a time. A pair of servants in Valeron house livery jumped aside. What did they know? He had no time for more useless answers. Urgency spurred him on. Hallways flew past and then he burst into the courtyard.
Everything looked normal, the household staff finishing their morning labors. Eduin found the stableman leading Lady Marelie’s favorite mare to the watering trough.
“What has happened?” Eduin cried. His heart pounded and his breath rasped in his throat. He knew he looked like a madman, racing through the placid late summer morning as if half the demons in Zandru’s Seven Hells were on his heels. How would he explain the sense of disaster that seared every nerve?
The stableman turned to look at him. “Oh, they were off before dawn and that’s all any of us knows.”
“Off? Who? Where?”
The stableman stroked the mare’s neck. She had buried her muzzle in the green-tinted water and was sucking noisily. Then she raised her head and blew out foam, shaking her head to scatter droplets in every direction. The stableman laughed.
“Where?” Eduin repeated.
“Oh, we’ll be finding out soon enough. Whatever the Lady’s up to, she’ll keep her own counsel until everything’s done and settled. Times like these, with all the merrymaking, folks come and go, and you never know whose tongue might wag.”
With an effort, Eduin controlled himself. “Someone went somewhere. That much you know.”
“Crept out quietlike they did, from the Tower to the field. This little lady,” he indicated the mare, “was being no lady at all, but about to kick her stall down, so I was awake to hear.”
“From the Tower to—the airfield?”
“The very same—”
Eduin did not stay to hear more. He bolted for the gate leading to the outer courtyard where the aircars were kept.
The yard was empty except for an old servant in a homespun smock raking the dirt field.
“You there! Halt!” a man’s voice rang out behind him.
Eduin turned to see three Valeron soldiers hurry toward him. The foremost wore the badge of a captain and a frown.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Eduin stammered out the false name he used, adding that he served Lord Brynon, before blurting out, “What happened? Where did they go?”
“You’d best get your answers direct from your master,” the captain said. “There’s no harm in telling you the aircars took off two hours before dawn. They’re safely away now. There’s nothing any man can do to stop them now.”
Two hours before dawn! While I slept—
It could all be perfectly innocent, but he knew it wasn’t. He felt it in every mote of air around him, every beat of his heart. A peaceful mission would have left in daylight, without any need for stealth. It had to be an attack, one planned in secrecy and shrouded with dread.
The thoughts of the laranzu’in piloting the aircars hung in the air. We have no choice. We must seize the chance . . . But if we should be wrong . . .
“I—I thank you,” Eduin stammered, making his retreat. “I am sure my Lord will tell me whatever he wishes me to know.”
He hurried back to the castle proper and made his way, at a more decorous pace, to Lord Brynon’s chambers. To his surprise, he was refused entry. Lord Brynon was not within, but closeted with the Queen.
Eduin’s gut twisted. Frustrated and furious, he reached out with his laran and plunged through the aide’s flimsy defenses. While he’d slept, exhausted and numbed by the telepathic damper, the Queen had met with her advisers. General Marzan had been summoned, several of his most trusted officers, Lord Brynon . . . and the laranzu’in of Valeron Tower.
Forcing himself to calm, Eduin bowed and took his leave. The Queen had convened a war council, that much was plain. She had commanded the laranzu’in to set out in the aircars. Doubtless, they were loaded with clingfire or some other powerful weapon. The speed and secrecy of the attack and the lack of movement of ordinary soldiers suggested it was meant to be a decisive strike.
Against Isoldir? Eduin frowned, pausing to let one of the under-coridoms hustle past him. Had Julianna come to doubt the sincerity of Dom Ronal’s pledge? Did she suspect he might have betrayed an oath made under truthspell?
He shuddered. Then another thought lifted his heart. She might also have finally seen the hand of Varzil Ridenow in Isoldir and sent the aircars to destroy the newly-rebuilt Tower.
Whatever the mission, it was clear he would get no answers from the servants. He had not dared to approach any of the Tower folk, for fear of detection. But Callina might well know something. At this hour, she was often in Romilla’s bower. He quickened his pace in that direction.
He was admitted without question, where he found Callina sitting with Romilla over cups of jaco and plates of little flower-decorated pastries. Callina looked pale, the delicate skin around her eyes dark, her energy brittle. Romilla, however, glowed. Her eyes glittered with a hectic fire.
“Good morning to you,” Romilla said, looking up. “Where is the Blessed Sandoval? I hope he is not exhausted after the audience last night. Callina said he needed rest and quiet.”
Eduin had all but forgotten Saravio in his need to discover what had happened. He replied, “I fear that he has, vai damisela, and worse than ever before.”
“If he has not recovered under the damper, there is not much more I can do,” Callina said. “I do not suppose either of you would accept a physician’s ministrations. Shall I send for the Tower monitor?”
That was the last thing Eduin wanted, although he did not think that what he had done to Saravio was detectable even by a trained laran healer. He bowed and said that if the Blessed Sandoval did not rally, he would leave the next step to Callina’s discretion.
“I will pray to Evanda for his recovery,” Romilla said.
“If you must pray, let it be to Naotalba, who is his special patroness,” Eduin said.
She turn
ed to him with a look of radiant triumph. “Sandoval’s warnings have not gone unheeded. This very morning, Queen Julianna sent a strike force to destroy Varzil Ridenow.”
Exultation and dread tightened around Eduin’s throat.
“Domna Romilla!” Callina said sharply. “Is it wise to speak of such things to one who is not in the confidence of the Queen?”
“Nonsense!” Romilla replied, “Eduardo here has spoken for his brother, Sandoval the Blessed, since they first came to Kirella. Sandoval has brought us nothing but good—for me, for all of Kirella. It was he who first warned us of the perfidious intentions of Varzil Ridenow. Now the shadow of Varzil’s influence reaches out to engulf Valeron itself. By his own testimony, this man has given the Queen the evidence she needed to act. Why should he not learn the outcome and the elimination of so subtle and implacable an enemy?”
“Varzil—” Eduin’s thoughts churned. Nothing made any sense. Varzil was no longer at Cedestri. Everyone knew that. “She has—she must have attacked Varzil at Asturias?”
“I think you are right, Romilla,” Callina said. “These men were the first to give warning, and they have been constant friends to the throne of Aillard. I sensed the menace growing day by day, as has the Queen. Each new piece of news was like a stone in the tomb of Valeron.”
“The Compact is but a diversion, a ruse to disarm everyone except his own masters,” Romilla said, her brow tightening. As she spoke, she paced a few steps, then reseated herself. “I would not be surprised to learn that Cedestri Tower is once again making dreadful weapons. Only this time, they serve not Isoldir but Hastur. If we do not stop Varzil now, in the single moment he is vulnerable, we may never have another opportunity. Valeron will bend to the yoke of the Hasturs, or else be destroyed.”
Eduin, too stunned to form a question, stood and listened. The women went on as if he were not there, continuing to discuss the night’s events.
“I felt this need, do you see, to know where Varzil went, what he might next be scheming,” Callina said with an expression of satisfaction.
“It is just as well he has not returned to Neskaya,” Romilla said. “It makes a difficult target for aircars, being in such mountainous terrain. I do not think Her Majesty would risk a strike there. She has but this one opportunity before she loses the advantage of surprise. In addition, if we diverted our forces to Neskaya, we would leave Hali Tower intact and fully able to retaliate. What would it profit us to eliminate Varzil and yet leave such a powerful force as our enemy?”
“You believe Hali Tower does not mean to abide by the Compact it has signed?” Callina asked.
Eduin too was surprised by Romilla’s assertion. The heir to Kirella had never spoken mind-to-mind along the relays. She knew only the sort of spoken promises that might as easily be broken.
“I have not witnessed their oath under truthspell,” Romilla temporized. “I would not put it past them to give out that they had done so, and yet secretly continue to develop even more powerful weapons. I believe that Varzil means to bring all Darkover under his influence, and woe betide anyone who has crossed him.”
“You speak as if you hate him,” Callina said. “I did not know you ever met him.”
Romilla paused, her mouth working. Eduin sensed in her the lingering effects of Saravio’s emotional manipulations, for which he himself had been responsible. Romilla was already attuned to the heights of euphoria that Saravio’s singing produced; she had been equally vulnerable to the fear and anger that accompanied any mention of Varzil.
“I do not need to know the man personally to see what he is,” Romilla retorted. “When I name Varzil a menace, I do not indulge in baseless prejudice. This is a matter of state, not of petty personal taste. I certainly have no reason to think ill of the folk at Hali Tower, except that they have fallen under his influence. For all I know, they are even now raising the Cataclysm device so that Varzil may use it to crush anyone who dares stand against him.”
She paused, swallowing. Eduin saw tears glimmer in Callina’s eyes for an instant.
“I—I have spoken with many of them through the relay screens,” Callina said softly. “I will regret their passing.”
Eduin’s vision leaped into crystalline focus. “Varzil is at Hali Tower? You sent aircars to firebomb Hali Tower?”
“Calm yourself,” Romilla told him. “There is nothing to fear. They will not suspect an attack from this quarter. Callina assures us that as of two days ago, Varzil Ridenow was within the Tower walls, and as you know, the Tower stands some distance from the city. No innocent people will be harmed. Even as Julianna spared Dom Ronal in the destruction of Cedestri Tower, so will she leave the city of Hali standing, with the rhu fead and all its ancient splendors. Without his pet Keeper and the laran resources of Hali Tower, King Carolin will not dare to strike back. The circle at Neskaya will be without its Keeper, so they cannot aid Carolin either. It is a brilliant move, to end a terrible threat with so little loss of life.”
She smiled, her lips dark with blood. Eduin had not noticed the cruel lines of her mouth, the arrogant tilt of her chin. Blessed Cassilda, he had thought to control a tormented child and instead he had unleashed a monster.
Hali Tower!
Images washed across his mind, blotting out the room in which he stood. The two women faded like ghosts as he watched the aircars, sleek silver engines of death, bear down on Hali. The Tower stood at the far end of the cloud-filled lake, reaching its slender whiteness to the heavens, shimmering in the morning brightness. The light caught the extravagance of translucent blue stone so that, for an instant, the entire Tower glowed like a matrix crystal. He felt the minds of the leronyn within, men and women he had lived with, worked with, linked minds with across the relays. The Tower would be psychically quiet now, the circles resting after a night’s labor.
In his imagination, spheres of glowing orange and eye-searing vermilion arced across the sky, heading toward the blue-white Tower. He felt the unnatural fire within them, straining for release, hungering for flesh and bone . . .
Screams . . . charring heat . . . dark smoke filling the sky . . . a woman’s body burning . . .
“No, this must not be!” The words burst from him. “We must stop it—call them back!”
“Why, whatever for?” Romilla said.
“What is the problem?” cried Callina. She had caught his terror. Her face paled.
Dyannis is at Hali Tower!
Callina rose and reached out one hand as if she would touch him. “You cannot save her, or any of them. Even as we speak, the aircars draw near their target. It is too late.”
“No, you don’t understand!” An emotion he had no name for came roaring out from the very depths of his soul.
In that moment, Eduin saw Dyannis as a young girl wreathed in silvery radiance, the personification of everything good and noble in his own life. She had given herself to him freely, and for the first time, he had seen himself, reflected in the eyes of his beloved, as someone worthy of honor and love. Their time had been brief and long ago, but some kernel of its glory had nestled in his innermost heart, a place not even the whispers of his father’s ghost could reach.
Surely, she had forgotten him. That made no difference, so long as she lived.
“We must send word to the pilots of the aircars!” he gasped. “Use the matrix screens of the Tower! Tell them there has been a dreadful mistake. They must return at once!”
“You cannot reach them, not even with the power of an entire circle,” Callina said. “Queen Julianna feared that Varzil might sense an attack, and use his powers to turn the pilots from their course. To shield them, she equipped each aircar with a masking talisman. It is like the matrix stone in a telepathic damper, only it permits the use of laran within its field. It simply isolates the pilots from outside influence. As far as you are concerned, they might as well be deaf.”
“There must be some other way, then—is there another aircar we can send after them?”
 
; Before Callina could reply, Romilla said, “You are showing an unusual degree of interest in this expedition.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why should you wish to stop the attack? You yourself warned us about Varzil Ridenow. Have you changed your mind, perhaps because you have sold out to him?”
“I don’t care if Varzil escapes this time. There will always be another chance,” Eduin said. “You must not attack Hali Tower!”
“Must not? Eduardo, you forget your place, as servant and guest. Who are you to say what Julianna Aillard, Lady of Valeron, must or must not do?”
Behind Eduin’s eyes, his father’s ghost writhed in fury. You swore . . . K-k-kill Varzil!
Eduin staggered under the onslaught. Pain lanced through his head. He doubled over, clutching his belly. Silently, desperately, he fought back against the compulsion spell that wound all through his guts, entangled his very soul. He clung to the only weapon he had—the only shred of sanity—Dyannis must live, no matter what the cost.
“Romilla, there is more to this than we previously realized—” Callina began.
“There is no time to waste!” Eduin gasped, hauling himself upright. “While we stand here bickering, the attack may already have begun. At least let me try to bring them back!”
“I have told you,” Callina said in a voice like the tolling of a bell, “there is nothing you or I or any of us can do.” Her eyes softened, and he saw in them the grief she had carried since she watched as her twin brother died in battle, that terrible powerlessness. She could not shut out the memory any more than she could burn away her own laran.
If Dyannis dies, I die with her. He saw his father’s skeletal hands reach for him, trailing rotten flesh and shroud.
He grabbed Callina so roughly that she let out a shriek. “The Tower—the relay screens—take me there now!”
“Release her this instant!” Romilla cried. “How dare you lay hands upon a leronis! And to give her orders—insufferable! You shall be whipped for such behavior!”
Callina went rigid, staring at Eduin. The physical closeness created a psychic bond.
Who are you? she cried.