She went to the window and looked out into the darkness of the forest, passing the hearth as she did. The flames roared angrily as she walked by, then settled into seething quiet again.
Llauron’s face grew intent. “And I do, my dear, far more than you realize. Perhaps you would be kind enough to answer just one more question for me, before we address the concerns you brought here tonight.”
She did not turn around. “What would that be?”
“I’d like to know what role you intend to play in my son’s life when this is over. I know that you will be honest in your answer, but I would also appreciate your candor—and some specifics.”
Rhapsody looked down at the windowsill, watching the reflection of the fire and the room behind her move in the glass. She stared into the darkness again.
“Ashe will always be able to count me as a friend and as an ally.”
“And nothing more?”
She finally turned and looked directly into his eyes. “Isn’t that enough?”
“It is for me,” Llauron said seriously. “Is it for you?”
The blood was pounding in Rhapsody’s ears, and it crept into her face, already rosy from the heat of the fire. “What do you want, Llauron? What is it you’re really asking me?”
Llauron stood slowly and came across the room. He stopped directly in front of her and looked down into her face.
“I want to know that you will not interfere between my son and whomever he chooses as his Lady. Though you are of common birth, I know you understand the destiny to which he is committed. I need to know that Gwydion will live up to his responsibilities as ruler of the united Cymrian peoples, and not allow his heart to jeopardize his duty.”
Rhapsody put down her glass; the grip with which she had been holding it had tightened to the point that she was afraid it would shatter.
“You asked me to be candid; very well, here’s my answer. First, I think this is none of your concern. Your son is a grown man, and a wise one, and I believe he has more than earned your confidence as far as the fulfillment of his duties is concerned.
“Second, I have never interfered in any way between a man and his wife in my life, and I never intend to. Whatever else you may think of me, Llauron, know that being of low birth does not mean one is without honor, any more than being born royal guarantees that one has it.
“Third, if your concern is that I will in any way try to attach myself to some vestige of your family’s royalty, you may rest assured. I care for your son in spite of his heritage, and not because of it. Having seen the unhappiness that heritage has bequeathed to its heirs, I am glad to be considered unworthy of it.
“Last, I believe I have proven myself a friend to your cause, the goal you cherish to the exclusion of everything else. It has cost me more dearly than you will ever know, and I may never forgive myself for it. May those who love you forgive you for what it has cost them as well.” She turned and faced the window once more, trembling with rage and anguish.
Llauron watched her for a moment, then raised the glass to his lips and emptied it. He walked back to the fireplace and set the snifter on the mantel, then turned to look at her again.
“Thank you for your honesty, my dear,” he said gently, “and for your wisdom in the choices you have made, whatever they cost you. My son is not the only one in this family who loves you, you know; in many ways you have been like a daughter to me. For what it’s worth, I believe you would make some lucky man a wonderful wife and an exceptional mother.”
Rhapsody didn’t look at him. “Apparently it’s not worth much.”
Llauron sighed. “No, I suppose not, in the grand scheme of things. I’m going to go see what’s keeping Gwen; she should have the disguise ready by now. Why don’t you have something to eat from the tray, and then we can plan your trip to get the gladiator, hmm? I’ll be right back.”
Rhapsody waited until the door had closed behind him, then leaned against the window and let out a deep, painful sigh. She rested her burning forehead against the coolness of the windowpane, missing Ashe desperately and feeling guilty for it. Her eyes sought the comfort of the dark sky, but through the cloudy pane no stars were visible.
She picked up her glass once more and drank the rest of the brandy, then walked to the fireplace and placed the snifter on the mantel next to Llauron’s. The curve of the bowls caught the somber firelight, a grim toast drunk to a future she wished would never come.
25
“Please tell me this is a joke.”
Gwen smiled uncomfortably, then draped a thin, frost-colored veil over Rhapsody’s head and shoulders. “I’m afraid not, my dear. This is what they wear in Sorbold.”
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“This is all, dear; it’s warm there most of the year, and the proximity that the arena has to the hot springs keeps it very steamy inside. Everyone exposes the body; it’s considered natural there.”
“What is the problem, Rhapsody?” asked Llauron, an undertone of annoyance in his voice. A faint glow issued forth from his hand; he was fingering a small globe of water in which a tiny flamed burned. Crynella’s candle, the token of love that his grandfather, Merithyn, had once given to Elynsynos, his dragon grandmother, was the melding of two elements, fire and water, that served as his key ring. Llauron had once said that he had purchased the ancient artifact from an antiquities merchant, and worried it between his fingers whenever he was frustrated. Rhapsody swallowed nervously and turned back to the mirror.
She stared into the looking glass in dismay. “First, it’s the middle of winter; I’ll catch my death of cold. Second, you want me to go into a barracks of gladiators dressed like this? Llauron, are you out of your mind?”
“Come now, Rhapsody, don’t be so provincial. I would think a forward-thinking young woman such as yourself would be hesitant to sneer at the practices of other cultures.”
“I’m not sneering at anything,” Rhapsody answered, turning her back to the mirror and blushing as she saw how little was covered. “I just don’t want anyone sneering at me. I mean, for goodness’ sake, Gwen, what am I supposed to hold this thing up with—determination?” She gestured uneasily at the entwined scarves that formed the bodice of her outfit.
“Oh, now, Rhapsody, you aren’t that small on top,” said Llauron’s servant woman.
“Bless you, Gwen; I believe you are the first person in my life ever to say that. Under different circumstances I would be moved to thank you, but at the moment I think I would like to go get dressed.”
Llauron stood up impatiently. “You know, Rhapsody, I was under the impression you were serious about this mission; I had no idea you were only toying with the idea. Had I known it, I would not have wasted Gwen’s time or mine.”
Rhapsody looked abashed. “I am serious, Llauron; I just didn’t expect this kind of costume.”
“Well, I’m very sorry, but you have to dress like the people do in the place you have to infiltrate, Rhapsody. If you are annoyed with the choice of location, you will have to take that up with your gladiator friend. But if you were to walk into some parts of Sorbold dressed as you were at supper, you would immediately be sold into slavery, and end up in something even more revealing, no doubt. Now, what will it be? Do you wish to continue with this, or are you going to back out?”
Rhapsody sighed. “Of course I’m not going to back out,” she said, looking around for a robe. She finally went to the coat tree and pulled off her cloak, wrapping herself up in it. She sat in a wing chair near the triple mirror that Gwen had dressed her in front of. “Now, can we discuss strategy?”
Llauron seem to relax. He returned Crynella’s candle to his pocket, then unrolled the large parchment map he had brought. “Well, you’re in luck in a way,” he said. “The gambling complex is in the city-state of Jakar, the one closest to the southern edge of the Orlandan forest; just to the southeast of it, actually. That means you won’t have to travel through much of Sorbold to get there.
“This is a good thing. Sorbold is a far more martial place than Roland, and you would undoubtedly be stopped if you were to ride through much of it.” Rhapsody nodded. Llauron glanced at Gwen, who excused herself wordlessly and left the room.
“Now,” Llauron continued, returning to the parchment, “here is a diagram of the gambling complex. This large central area is the arena, of course; it will be easy for you to lose yourself in the crowds on a day when a bout is scheduled. I doubt you will have seen more people in your life than will swell the thoroughfares.
“If I am not mistaken, they fight on the lunar cycle, with bouts every day except at the new moon and each full-phase day. Your gladiator will have the best chance of being on the bill if we can time your arrival to coincide with the day after the most recent fallow day.”
“His name is Constantin; have you ever heard of him?”
“Yes,” said Llauron. “He’s been in the game for some time. I don’t know much about him, but he is undoubtedly the standard Sorboldian gladiator, all brawn, no agility.”
“Oelendra said the key was not to take him on one-to-one.”
Llauron’s lip curled slightly at the mention of the Lirin fighter’s name. Rhapsody had noticed this infinitesimal reaction a few times before, and never was sure if she was imagining it or not. “That’s going to be a bit difficult, don’t you think? I thought this was a mission of top secrecy.”
“It is.”
“Well, then, who do you plan to have help you if you are going in alone?”
Rhapsody blinked. “Alone? I thought you said Khaddyr was going to be my support. I assumed—well, I assumed that he would bring troops as well, or at least a few foresters.”
“And he will, but not inside the complex itself. I will send Khaddyr and one or two highly trusted others to meet you in the woods just outside the complex. They will be waiting with horses and supplies to escort you through the forest and back to Tyrian. Are you familiar with those woods?”
“No, though I walked through them once on the way to Lord Stephen’s, I think.”
“Yes.”
“But that was just the northern exterior fringe; I have no idea what they look like in the south.”
“That’s where Khaddyr and his men will help you.” Llauron looked at the fire on the hearth; it was burning uncertainly.
Rhapsody’s facial expression was doubtful as well. “I wonder, Llauron,” she said hesitantly, “it seems to me that if I were planning something like this with Achmed and Grunthor, I might go inside to lure the gladiator into the place they’d be hiding, but I don’t think they’d expect me to get him out of there myself.”
A reptilian glint entered the old man’s eye. “Then perhaps you’d like to go back to Ylorc and see if they want to accompany you instead, Rhapsody.”
Rhapsody stared at him coldly in return. They both knew what he had suggested was impossible. Grunthor would not be able to sneak into any place, even a complex like the one in Sorbold, and if Achmed were caught in Sorboldian territory kidnapping a valuable slave, it might mean war with Ylorc.
Seeing the ice form in her eyes, Llauron’s tone became gentler. “Buck up, Rhapsody. Surely one gladiator is no match for the Iliachenva’ar. You have been trained by the Lirin champion, you have the power of the stars and of fire at your disposal, not to mention your music. If all else fails, you have quick wits and a ready smile; they will get you anywhere you need to be. Don’t underestimate your power alone. You have been working as part of a trio too long.”
She said nothing, but continued to meet his gaze. Finally Llauron threw up his hands, relenting.
“All right, I’ll make certain that Khaddyr and his men are just outside the barracks of the gladiatorial complex so that once you have rendered him unconscious, they can come in and help you get him out of there. Now, look at the diagram of the complex again. Here is an alcove you can hide in on the outside if you need to. I would suggest you enter the city here; this will be the easiest entrance and egress, especially if you and the others are dragging an unconscious gladiator.”
“How am I supposed to make him unconscious?”
Llauron went to the table. “I have that all arranged.” He lifted a small pouch up for her to see, and pulled from it a clear, stoppered bottle. “This will render him unconscious in a matter of seconds once he inhales it. Be sure you don’t do so yourself, by the way. There’s enough in here to work initially and keep him in a stupor until you get to Tyrian. Don’t waste it.” He slipped it back into the pouch and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” Rhapsody said.
“Try and see if you can make him gasp as he inhales it; doubtless it will work better that way.”
“And how am I supposed to do that—scare him? Tell him a joke?”
Llauron’s eyes twinkled in a way Rhapsody found disturbing. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Rhapsody.” His reaction made her draw the cloak closer about her.
“I still am not certain of this costume.”
“For goodness’ sake, they’ll think you’re a healer. They run around in the complex dressed like that all the time. Besides, after he’s fought a bout for his life, the only thing the gladiator will want from you is medical attention, and perhaps a massage.
“You needn’t worry that your virtue is in jeopardy.” There was a terseness to his tone that Rhapsody didn’t like. Llauron’s voice became softer, as if he were reading her thoughts. “Not only are the gladiators forbidden to engage in sexual relations before an impending bout, but after a bout they are in no condition to do so. You’ll be nothing more than a pair of hands administering relief to his pain. He won’t even look at you twice; or do you think you have some special appeal that will make the men notice you when they are used to all women being attired like this?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then please, relax. It will be a good experience for you to see how people in other cultures live. Now, I think you should leave the sword here while you’re gone, just in case.”
“I had thought about that already,” she said, looking out the window into the darkness. “I left it with Oelendra.” She could feel the same tingle in the air that came about when Ashe was annoyed or angry but not willing to say so.
“Very well, then, I believe we have a plan. Just remember, if you get lost inside the complex, follow the heat; it will lead you to the hot springs near the arena. I will not be informing Khaddyr or anyone else about this until the very last moment, just to ensure that no one overhears. Speaking of Khaddyr, I have to go check in on some of his patients, victims of another senseless raid.”
Rhapsody sat up. “Do you need some help? I brought my herbs with me; my new harp as well.”
“No, no; their injuries are minor, and they’re undoubtedly sleeping by this time. Besides, we want to keep your presence here a secret. Did anyone see you come through the hidden entrance?”
“No, I’m certain not. I was careful.”
“Who knows you came to see me?”
“Only Oelendra. And Gwen.”
“Good. Now get some sleep, my dear; you’ll need to leave quite early.” Llauron gave her a kiss on the cheek and left her room, closing the door gently behind him.
Rhapsody watched him go and sat in silence for a long time afterward. Something was not adding up to her, but she couldn’t place it. She knew that if Llauron was wrong about any element of the plan it could be disastrous, but contemplating that was more than she could bear.
She took off the cloak and the flimsy scarves of the slave-girl costume, then rummaged for her nightgown and dressed, thinking of Ashe. He would have gone with her in a heartbeat; would have been impossible to keep away, in fact, which was why she had not told him about the mission.
She pulled back the blankets and covered herself over, thinking of home. Ryle hira, the Ancient Lirin saying; life is what it is. All this had come to pass from the evil of the F’dor. Evet ra hira mir lumine, but you can make what it is better, her
own motto. If she could save the children, even this one, separate out the blood as a tracer for Achmed to find the demon, and help the children to heal, perhaps by the time she told Ashe everything the ending would be happy enough to forestall the pain. She sighed at the thought, and drifted into the nightmares that had returned with the loss of the dragon who had guarded her dreams.
26
The Northern Wastes Beyond the Hintervold
She stood at the window, listening to the north wind moan through the pale mountain crags as it always did, keening its haunting song. The fire on the immense hearth burned cold and silent in the shadows of her otherwise dark lair. Its light reflected off the tall panes of thick glass before her, causing her coppery hair to shine incandescently, waves of red-gold illumination blanketing the frosty, barren peaks beyond.
Another night of lonely vigil, no different than the others had been these last few centuries, here within the lifeless mountains.
The Seer looked down at the tarnished spyglass in her hands, gleaming dully in the reflection of the fire as well. She closed her eyes, feeling the pull, almost erotic in its intensity, of the power that lay dormant within the artifact. She opened one eye and raised the scrying instrument to it once more, scanning the waves of Time, looking for a comforting memory to keep her warm on yet another frozen, empty night, but found nothing that soothed, only a history of silent accusation. She lowered the glass.
My flame.
She whirled in shock at the sound of the rich, sweet voice, thin and crackling. Her vibrantly blue eyes darted around the vast chamber with serpentine quickness, their vertical pupils expanding with the increase in the beating of her three-chambered heart.
Here, sweet.
Slowly she set the spyglass back on its altar and walked cautiously toward the fire, burning darker now. The flames twisted and danced in anticipation at her approach.