“My brother,” Tristan said. “Send for Ian, I beg you, Gwydion. He is a man of the cloth, a benison. Surely he will be able to attest that I am not bound.”
“You insult my intelligence, and your own,” Ashe said harshly. “I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that your head injury made you disoriented enough to suggest such a silly thing to me, rather than the actual possibility that you think I might be stupid enough to agree to that. Your brother may be a holy man, or at least claim to be one, but his word is not one I would take to rule you free of demonic taint. Stop your pathetic attempts at gaining freedom and accept your fate for the time being. I have kept Madeleine and her family in the dark, passing along your missives of love and reports of your brave leadership in the buildup to the war. I have kept those contacts minimal so as not to arouse her suspicion; I suspect Madeleine is well aware of what a rotten husband you are in all aspects, no matter what she pretends.”
“You—you can’t keep me locked up for being an—unfaithful—husband, Gwydion,” Tristan muttered. “Unless you—wish to share—the cell.”
Ashe’s eyes narrowed in anger.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Tristan sat up as straight as he could and leveled a blurry glare at the Lord Cymrian.
“Come now, Gwydion. Your wife is not here; who are you trying to deceive? I well know what you did with Portia when Rhapsody was away in the dragon’s cave, swollen with pregnancy—”
His cloudy speech ground to a halt as the point of the ancient sword of water pressed into his neck. His eyes grew wider as a hissing oath in draconic tones issued forth from Ashe’s mouth.
“You disgusting piece of filth,” Ashe said once his curse was finished being uttered. “You have forgotten the warnings I gave you when you were first imprisoned, Tristan; I told you that this was not ground on which you wished to tread heavily. Now, let me be specific—I do not want to hear my wife’s name rolling around in your mouth or uttered by your tongue ever again. Do you hear me?” He punctuated his question with a deeper press of the sword against Tristan’s jugular vein, causing the Lord Roland to suddenly see swimming black bands before his eyes. “You are not worthy to think of her, let alone speak about her. I have told you for the last time, your subterfuge did not work. Whatever demonic magic your servant F’dor employed to convince me to stray from my marriage vows did not work. It insults Rhapsody for you to imagine that you and your demon bedwench could come even close to approximating her enough to confuse me into betraying her; the very thought is laughable.” He leaned a little closer, pressing the sword deeper. “I do not ever want to hear you speak of this again. Do you understand?”
Tristan leaned his head back against the wall.
“Yes,” he whispered.
Ashe turned to one of the guards. “Give him a handkerchief,” he said, “and have the buttery send down some wet cloths on his supper tray.” He turned to the Lord Roland once more.
“Fortunately, you have not damaged your actual skull with your idiocy,” he said in annoyance. “The tendency for head wounds to bleed furiously has given palpitations to my chamberlain, but you’ll get no further sympathy from me. Settle down, Tristan. You may not be enjoying my hospitality, but if you continue to be an obstreperous guest, I may give up on the possibility of having you examined to be clear of demonic taint, and just put you out of all of our misery for being a tremendous pain in the privates and a colossal waste of resources.”
Tristan said nothing, but just closed his eyes.
Ashe withdrew his blade with a sweeping motion, spattering drops of water across the floor of the cell. He sheathed the sword, dousing the blue light, and signaled to the guards to remain at attention, then made his way across the cell.
He stopped at the door, where Gerald Owen had already managed to clear the pool of blood from the floor, and turned back to signal the guards that they could withdraw.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that there is a lovely minted roast lamb coming for your supper. I wish you a pleasant evening.”
He waited for Gerald to gather the bloody rags and then slammed the cell door behind him, waiting until the jailer sealed and locked the door again.
Then followed the chamberlain back up the stairs and out into the night, back to the central building where his dinner guest awaited him.
His dragon sense, roiling and twisting as it had been since the moment that his family had departed, failed to make note of the blood that had stained the chamberlain’s hands in the process of cleaning it up.
* * *
Deep within his cell, as he leaned up against the stone wall, a smile staggered over Tristan’s bruised and blooded face.
He had no idea why.
28
The dragon in Ashe’s blood was rising, whispering angrily when he returned to the table. He swallowed with effort and forced as pleasant a smile as he could muster before sitting down to the cold remnants of his supper and Analise again.
“I apologize,” he said, moving his plate out of the way.
“No need to, m’lord,” his wife’s oldest friend said briskly. “I hope all is well.”
Ashe smiled ruefully.
“All has not been well in a very long time, I’m afraid,” he said. He picked up his wine glass and drained it quickly, then set it down again. “I have pondered your request, and, if you are still determined to help Rhapsody with the baby, I have a proposal for you.”
Analise’s face brightened. “Yes?”
“I want you to know from the outset that it is a grotesquely presumptuous request, and I will not feel slighted in any way if you decline.” Analise nodded. “I don’t believe it is safe to send you back to Manosse now. Civilian passage will be all but impossible soon; the Middle Continent is now little more than a string of armed command posts and fortifications where there used to be open grasslands for as far as the eye could see, dotted by farming settlements and villages that have now been swallowed into the outposts. My wife and son are a thousand miles away, on the other side of the Krevensfield Plain, hidden away in the mountains for their safety.
“Analise, I beg your forgiveness, but were you not as dear to my wife as you are, I would never have even told you where they have gone, because in these days of intercontinental war, there is no one I can trust, especially regarding my family. But I believe you are sincere in your offer of help, and my heart wants to believe you. I know what you have sacrificed to travel here, how fearful your family must be for your safety, but I could not even judge now whether it would be more dangerous to keep you here, or send you on. I cannot send you home; the harbor is vulnerable to attack—there is no chance of safe return at this time. So, if you are willing, here is my plan.
“Tonight, as soon as you are ready and provisions are made, if you are willing to do so, I will send you, in an armored coach, in the company of a cohort of highly trained guards, to the place where Rhapsody and our son are living now. I will not send word to her ahead of time, as I cannot take the chance of that information falling into enemy hands, for your sake and hers.”
The woman’s wrinkled face began to shine, but she merely nodded again.
“If you are willing, I will entrust two others with you as traveling companions. The first is an injured Firbolg woman, a midwife of great skill and stature, like yourself. Her name is Krinsel; she has undergone a horrific trauma and is healing from it, but is still frail and weak. She is in need of Rhapsody’s healing talents specifically; if you would be willing to make the journey with her, I would be most grateful.”
“Of course, m’lord.”
“Thank you. If you will bear with me, I will introduce you to your other prospective traveling companion.” He rose from his chair and rang for the chamberlain, whom he met at the door. After exchanging a few words he sat down again and poured himself another glass of wine.
A few moments later, the door opened again, and Melisande came into the room. She look
ed quizzically at Ashe, then came to the table and made a polite bow in Analise’s direction.
The Lord Cymrian smiled easily for the first time since he had returned from the stockade.
“Lady Melisande Navarne, it is my honor, and yours, to introduce you to Analise o Serendair, a First Generation Cymrian, and your grandmother’s oldest friend.”
Melisande’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh, my,” she said. Then she blushed and curtsied more deeply.
Analise laughed aloud.
“There is no need for such a reverence, child; I be of common birth. If anything, I should bow to you, m’lady.”
“Oh, please don’t,” Melisande blurted. “I—I don’t know what I would do if you did. Are you Liringlas, like Rhapsody?”
“Aye.”
“Well, then, for many reasons, I am indeed greatly honored to meet you.”
“Melisande and her brother were the first two to be adopted as Rhapsody’s honorary grandchildren,” Ashe said to Analise. “I know her, er, grandmother misses her greatly. Melisande recently returned from a very challenging scouting mission which she accomplished with great skill; I would be grateful if you would take her with you, Analise, so that she can be of aid to Rhapsody directly.”
Melisande whirled around and stared at him.
“You’re sending me to Rhapsody? Really?”
“If both you and Analise agree. It’s a dangerous journey, Melly, far more so than what you have just undertaken. And there is no time to ponder it, I’m afraid; Gerald has already gone to get the provisions ready. So, ladies, what do you say?”
“I’d be delighted to have my sovereign’s granddaughter and scout as a traveling companion,” said Analise solemnly.
The little girl was grinning from ear to ear.
“I can be ready in the span of ten heartbeats,” she said excitedly.
“You will be taking Krinsel with you,” Ashe said to Melisande as Analise rose from the table. “Take good care of her, Melly, just as you did in Gwynwood.”
“I shall.”
“I have no doubt. All right, then, thank you both for being willing to do this for my wife and child. You have my unending gratitude; I mean that literally. I will do everything I can to repay you for the rest of my life.”
Analise’s face lost its smile. “Indeed not, m’lord. As I’ve told you, it be I that am repaying a debt, a far older and dearer one than you could ever accrue with me.”
The door opened once more, and Gwydion Navarne came hurriedly into the room, followed by Gerald Owen, who remained respectfully in the doorframe. Gwydion’s eyes were wide with concern, but his face showed signs of great relief. He came rapidly to his sister and stood in front of her, looking down at her.
“I just got you back,” he said.
“I know,” Melisande answered seriously. “But in times of war, we all do what we must. Isn’t that what you said when I left for Gwynwood?”
“Yes.” Her brother crouched down and opened his arms to her, and she came into his embrace. “When this is over, we will go camping, and maybe take a trip across the sea.”
Melisande rested her head on his shoulder.
“You always say that, and yet it has never happened.”
“It has not happened yet. It will.”
“I hope you’re right.” She pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Make our parents proud. Don’t do anything stupid to besmirch our family name. I already had to defend the family honor at the Winter Carnival last year to make up for your humiliating defeat in the Snow Snakes competition.”
Gwydion laughed, as did Ashe and Analise. He swallowed hard, choking on a knot that had risen in his throat. “I will do my best to not dishonor you, Melly.”
“Good.” She came out of his embrace and looked across the room to where Gerald Owen was standing in the doorway. Her face lost its smile as she locked eyes with the elderly chamberlain who had given loyal and loving service to three generations of her family, who had been the only true constant in her life from the time she was born. The elderly man smiled encouragingly.
Melisande ran to him, threw her arms around his waist, and burst into tears.
Slowly and with great effort, the chamberlain crouched down and took her into his own arms.
“There, now, m’lady, there’s no need for tears. You are about to embark on yet another grand adventure; you and I both know how much your soul longs for adventure. I am very much looking forward already to hearing all about your travels when you return, safe and sound, when we are at peace once again—forever this time.”
Melisande nodded wordlessly.
“Melisande assures me she can be ready in the span of ten heartbeats, Gerald,” Ashe said humorously.
Gerald Owen coughed politely, but merely smiled. The others broke into laughter.
The chamberlain extricated himself gently from her embrace, then stood creakily. He bent forward and whispered in her ear.
“Your favorite pillow and shoes, muff, and cape are already in the coach.”
Melisande’s face broke into a broad smile again.
“Thank you, Gerald.” She walked back over to her guardian and looked up at him.
“Give me whatever hugs or kisses you want me to pass along to Rhapsody and Meridion, and I will be sure to do so,” she said sensibly.
Ashe swept her off her feet and into a warm embrace.
“Thank you—convey the deepest love in my heart to my wife and son.” He hugged her vigorously, then put her back on the ground without letting go.
“May you grow up to be just like her,” he murmured in her ear, “and may he grow up to be just like you.”
* * *
As the carriage rolled into the darkness, Gwydion Navarne stood at the window and watched it go as it took away the last living member of his natal family.
He fought down the memories that rose from the dusty vault of his seven-year-old soul, recalling the words his mother had said to him before she climbed into just such a carriage and embarked on her journey to town to buy his one-year-old sister her first pair of baby shoes.
Be a brave little man. Remember I love you.
She had never returned, except in pieces, her head sawed viciously from her body.
His stomach rushed into his mouth, and he ran to the privy closet, where he vomited. Then he stood, pumped water into the basin, and splashed it on his face.
And returned to the command center.
PART FIVE
The Darkness at the Edge of the Plain
29
BASILICA OF LIANTA’AR, SEPULVARTA
Half a thousand leagues to the south, the glowing light from atop the Spire filled the shadowy basilica, making the platinum band around the altar gleam eerily.
The Diviner’s eyes gleamed similarly in the darkness.
“Well,” he said finally, “probably the safest sort of divination would be to use cleromancy, the undertaking of a sortilege.” When he saw only a blank look on Talquist’s face, he hurried to explain. “Sortition is the casting of sortes, or lots, and reading the random patterns that they have taken.”
“Like coins or dice?”
“Yes—though I tend to use bones or sticks—it’s more within my view of nature, the primitive, wilder sort from the cold lands, rather than that of, say, the Invoker of the Filids, whose forest lands might yield the use of beans, lentils, rocks, or animal spoor. It’s possible I could get a glimpse of the general direction in which this so-called Child of Time has gone.”
Talquist struggled to keep his lip from curling in disgust. “That seems like it could be widely interpreted,” he said. “I’m afraid I need more detailed guidance. Do you have something else that might be a bit more specific?”
The Diviner considered.
“If that’s the case, we may need to undertake an augury, but we won’t be able to do that tonight.”
“Why not?” Talquist’s words came out in a voice he regretted, tense and demanding. He
swallowed at the sight of the blackening of the Diviner’s expression, and tried again. “I am so sorry, Hjorst; I didn’t mean for my words to sound so harsh. I fear I am anxious.”
“I cannot accommodate you tonight because I need materials that I do not currently have, as I explained to you before. I generally only carry with me what I need for rhabdomancy, or dowsings—you’ve seen me perform one of these before, I believe.”
Talquist nodded. “Was that when you gathered the staves and let them fall, determining from their pattern where the lost merchant fleet was, thirteen years ago?”
“No, I had forgotten you were witness to that. I was referring to the meeting in Cariproth, four or so years ago, when I used the silver willow branch to locate Jurun’s grave, as well as finding the headwaters of the underground feeder stream for the Erim Rus, the Blood River, for the duke of Yarim.”
“Ah, yes. Of course.”
“But that will be of no use to you now. You are in need of a full augury, most likely an extispicy. It would, more specifically, be a form of haruspicy, hepatomancy or perhaps hepatoscopy, followed by an auspicy.”
The Merchant Emperor swallowed his building wrath and struggled to speak calmly.
“My friend, unlike those who are mistaken into believing that the primal nature of your rituals comes from a primitive view of the world, I am well aware of what a learned and scholarly man you are. You are, therefore, speaking to me in words that come into my ears as little more than babble. Please, speak down to me, imbecile that I am; be clear and simple.”
The Diviner eyed him darkly.
“I cannot even begin to tell you how uncomfortable all of this is making me, Talquist. That you are unfamiliar with the practices is perhaps yet another sign that I should not be performing them for you. The risk to both of us, as I believe I have mentioned, is very great, and is not limited merely to misdirection if the augury fails.”
“Please, my friend, I know this,” Talquist said, fighting desperation, “but you are truly my last hope. Once, long ago, I found a rare object that captured my soul; it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I am a common, unpoetic man, Hjorst; I was not born into royal bloodlines in the rich, earthy world of golden eagles and frozen ice peaks that you are blessed to inhabit, nor the verdant forests lands, steeped in magic, that are the realm of the Lord Cymrian. I am a common workman, bred of the lifeless and barren soil of the desert—a man with a limited life span, but limitless vision. Not the sort who would ever fall in love with an inanimate object—but I did, and I gave a major portion of my youth and halest years searching the corners of the world to discover what it was. I apprenticed in every cathedral, every basilica, every library, every museum, every hall of study that would have me, as well as the bellies of ships and the hovel kitchens of army barracks—until I finally found what I was looking for.