Lords of the Sky (39 page)

I nodded, holding my smile in place even as I marveled at what I heard—word came ahead of me, as if the Changed
communicated near as efficiently as the sorcerers. I felt a pang of guilt (small and soon enough consumed beneath my wonder) that I succeeded so well in combining deceit with honesty, revealing my own knowledge that I might pick more from his responses. Casually, I asked him how.

“There was a boat,” he said. “The crew had word of you.”

Of course: the craft that plied the coasts of Dharbek were manned by Changed, the caravans of the merchants were manned by Changed, and all moved from hold to hold, from town to town. They were the messengers. In the halls and holds Changed servants heard their masters speak and passed on word of what they heard to others—in the taverns, the markets, the docks: the places those who traveled visited. It was an effective network. I wondered if Lan knew of his kind dealing with the Sky Lords; and I knew that if I broached that topic, he would admit no more.

I asked him, “Do any other Truemen know of this?”

“I do not think so.” He shook his head. “To most we’ve no faces, nor eyes or ears. You are unusual, Daviot. You
see
us.”

I shrugged. It seemed to me no great thing to recognize the Changed as beings with feelings, identities, to perceive them as individuals, and yet I knew I was odd in this. I was more surprised that Lan should so readily confide in me. Also, I admit to feeling flattered.

I said, “Nor shall they know of it from me.”

And was again surprised when he gave me back a calm, “Why not?”

I had no ready answer, save that I sought to protect the innocent.

“Because,” I said, and halted. It was near impossible to express in words my confused emotions. “Because … Urt was my friend, and he was punished for my transgression.”

“Your mage,” Lan said, and nodded as if that were justification enough.

Now I gaped. He knew of Rwyan? Was all my life open to the Changed? This cat-bred servant appeared to know more about me than my own kind. I closed my mouth and asked him needlessly, “You know of that?”

“From the Changed of Durbrecht,” he replied. “When Urt was sent north, word spread of why—and of you.”

I swallowed, staring at him, not knowing what to say.

He looked me in the eyes then, directly, and in his I saw an absolute candor. “These matters are best kept secret,” he said. “For your sake as much as mine. Lord Yanydd—Laena—are kind enough, but I think if they knew … they would feel it their duty to alert Kherbryn, Durbrecht. I think that if the Lord Protector or the sorcerers knew, there would be … measures … taken.”

All I could think of to say was “Yes.”

“And did they,” Lan went on, “then you would be punished with us. I suspect Truemen would deem you a turncoat.”

I nodded, dumbstruck. Marvel piled on marvel here. This was no ordinary servitor, neither any ordinary Changed. There was suddenly an authority to him, a sophistication I had seen only once before—in Urt. I thought that if anyone could satisfy my curiosity about Ur-Dharbek and the wild Changed, it must be Lan. I wondered if I dared ask him.

I said, “Who are you, Lan?
What
are you?”

“A servant.” He shrugged lazily. “A Changed man descended from cats. A nobody.”

I said, “I do not think so.”

“Here”—he waved a hand, indicating the chamber and the keep together—“I am only that. What else should I be?” I said, “I don’t know.”

He said, “Also, I am a friend. Perhaps someday that shall count for something.”

I said, “This day. You place great trust in me.”

“And you in me,” he said. “Is it misplaced?”

I shook my head and said slowly, “No. Though I’ve myriad questions I’d ask you.”

“Perhaps I shall answer them,” he returned. “But now, do I see to your bath ere folk wonder at your absence?”

I saw the mask descend upon his face again, his expression become one of patient servility. I thought this was the only face most Truemen saw. I wondered if behind it, hidden deep in his eyes, I saw amusement. Abruptly, I wondered if Lan played with me; if perhaps he gave me back my own game, leading me into revelation, even as I thought to draw him out. I gave him a quizzical look, but he offered me nothing more, and I nodded. When the door closed on him, I stood for long moments, staring at the wood.

I had no further opportunity to speak with Lan that day, for when he returned with a tub he was accompanied by two sturdy Changed of taurine stock and played the part of courteous, efficient servant, seeing to the filling of the tub and leaving me alone with a minimum of dutiful words. I bathed and, dressed in my finest clothes (which were not very fine at all), made my way to the hall.

Yanydd called me to the high table, seating me between himself and Laena, and as the meal was served I was occupied, as the aeldor had promised, with a barrage of questions.

We spoke of the Sky Lords and the likelihood of the Great Coming, of the war-engines and the mood of the common folk, and of what I had seen during my year of travel. Of that topic I gave a censored version, wondering the while if Laena somehow sensed my dissembling. Her eyes never left my face as I spoke, but her voice was soft when she voiced an opinion or a question, and I thought she did not see through me.

In return I got back what news they had. The little airboats (Yanydd and Laena believed them scouts for impending invasion) had been seen less frequently
of
late, as if the onset of winter curbed their intrusions; or, the aeldor declared in somber tone, they had gleaned all the information they required. He had filled his storehouses against the possibility of siege and made preparation as best he could to find shelter for the fishermen and farmers of his holding.

“The Sky Lords have the advantage there,” he murmured, “the God curse them. We cannot be all the time on alert, unsure what we face or when it shall come. The folk of this west coast are not so used to the attacks as the rest of Dharbek, and I’d not see panic spread with constant reminders to go wary. So my people forget—the God knows, they’ve lives to live and work to do without one eye all the time on the sky.”

“The Sentinels shall send warning,” Laena promised.

Yanydd said, “Yes. But do the Sky Lords refine these new-found powers, how much warning?”

At that, the commur-mage could only sigh and shrug and tell him, “As much they may.”

“Which may not be enough” was his glum response. “Do
they now own full command of the elementals, perhaps they’ve the strength to overcome the Sentinels and be on us apace. And do they bring that strength against Kherbryn and Durbrecht, what then? Chaos, with every keep in the land fighting alone!”

“To overcome the Sentinels, even with their new powers, that shall be hard,” Laena returned. “No less to take Kherbryn or Durbrecht.”

“I pray it be so,” said Yanydd, and barked a laugh I thought was not much humorous. “I pray all our fears prove unfounded and they do not come at all.”

“We’ve faced them before and given them to the Pale Friend,” said Rhys fiercely. “We’ll do the same, do they dare invasion.”

His father nodded, smiling at the young man’s bravado. “I think that are our fears proven true, it shall be a Coming such as we’ve not known before,” he said, and turned to me. “Daviot, you’ve faced Kho’rabi—how think you?”

“I know them for terrible warriors,” I said, and found myself again the center of attention as Rhys and his brothers pressed me for a detailed account.

They gazed rapt as I spoke, drinking in my every word. Rhys, as I have told you, was about my age, Maric and Ador not much younger, but as I spoke, I felt older. I thought I had seen and done things of which these young men were entirely innocent, and that those experiences had taught me that the glory of battle is in the dreaming of it, not the doing. I wondered if I was the only man in Dharbek who thought at all of peace.

I was grateful to Dorae for her intervention. Had she not spoken up, I should likely have found myself commandeered by her sons. She it was reminded us that Bannas Eve approached, and with it the seasonal celebrations—a time for joy, not tales of bloody battle. She suggested I be allowed to regale the hall with more fitting stories.

Thus I was provided a table for a platform, in the center of the hall, with all the warband and all the keep’s folk, both Truemen and Changed, gathered around as I told the tale of Gwynnyd and the Ghost.

I think I told it well. Certainly, when I was done there was a moment’s hush, and I saw several glance around nervously, toward the shadows, before they applauded me. I
bowed and drank ale to wet my tongue, then launched into the story of the aeldor Kyrd and the Wise Woman of Tyrvan.

By the time that tale was spun the hour was late, and Yanydd reminded the hall we must rise early on the morrow, for the Bannas Eve services. There was a shout of disagreement from Rhys and his brothers, but Dorae bade them be silent, and they concurred, albeit with obvious reluctance, and I was allowed to climb down from my dais.

As we prepared to leave the hall, Laena took my arm. “We must speak,” she said. “Tomorrow or the next day.”

I said, “Yes, as you wish,” hoping she did not notice the alarm her words roused in me.

Likely she sought no more than a fuller accounting of my travels, that she might send back to Durbrecht word of all I had seen, of my thoughts concerning the mood of the land. But I could not help but wonder if something more lay beneath that simple statement.

I had, however, no chance to investigate, for servants came with torches to bring us to our rooms. Lan was my escort, and I followed him in troubled silence. I must hope Laena suspected nothing; and pray I did the right thing in holding secret all I knew of the Changed and that mysterious transaction I had witnessed.

I was startled from my musings by Lan’s voice.

“Is aught amiss, Daviot?”

I saw that we had come to my door. It stood open, Lan waiting with his torch. I forced a smile and beckoned him in. “What troubles you?” he asked.

His voice was entirely solicitous, and for an instant I was tempted to tell him all. I thought that had he been Urt, I should; that Urt would have counsel for me, perhaps answers. But I was not yet ready to trust Lan quite so far. I saw that the wine jug still stood upon the hearth, and that there were two cups. I filled them both and passed him one.

“Laena would speak with me,” I said, and knew my tone was nervous.

Lan waved a casual hand. “Laena does not judge you,” he said. “I think she seeks only that report all Storymen must make. There’s no magic in that, save in her sending word to Durbrecht.”

“Do the sorcerers watch me?” I asked. I realized I accepted
without question that he should have such knowledge. “I’ve wondered about that.”

He paused an instant before replying. “They pay you special attention, Daviot. That should not surprise you—that you befriended Urt so openly; your affair with Rwyan; the due you give we Changed; things you said in Durbrecht—such behavior is unusual enough you are noticed by the rulers of this land.”

My face must have expressed alarm at that, for Lan chuckled and added, “I think you’ve not too much to fear. Save you give them greater cause for concern, I think you shall be safe.”

He appeared entirely at ease; I was not. I heard the shutters rattle over my window, buffeted by a wind that seemed, for all the chamber was warm, to pierce my bones. Almost, I blurted out that I concealed secrets greater than those entrusted me by this strange Changed. But I did not—I did not yet quite trust Lan that far. Instead, I asked him, “Have you any word of Urt or Rwyan?”

“Of Rwyan, none,” he said. “There are no Changed on the Sentinels, and so I can tell you only that she was brought safely to the islands. Of Urt? Urt went to Karysvar, where he is, as best I know, a servant to a merchant named Connys. News from so far north is hard to get.”

“You seem,” I said, “to get news aplenty.”

Lan nodded, again as if this were entirely normal. “This hold is famed for its orchards and its tobacco,” he explained. “Craft from both coasts come to Mhorvyn, and traders by land. All bring news, but seldom from farther north than the Treppanek.”

It was more than I had hoped for. Rwyan was resident on the second Sentinel, about which I could do nothing, but if Urt was still in Karysvar … Perhaps someday I might go there and find this merchant. I smiled at the thought.

“You’d find them again?” Lan asked.

“Could I.” I ducked my head and sighed. “But I doubt I shall. At least, not Rwyan. I think she must be forever lost to me. But perhaps someday I might meet Urt again. I should like that.”

“If he’s still there.”

Lan’s voice was soft, the sentence less statement than
unguarded thought. I looked up, catching his eye—and saw the mask descend even as I said, “Where should he go?”

The feline Changed shrugged, not replying.

I said, “Across the Slammerkin, Lan? To join the wild Changed?”

Again, he shrugged. “Some do.”

There was hesitation in his voice. I thought he regretted that slip. I suspected he knew more than he revealed. I thought he had revealed so much, what he hid must surely be of great import. I thought we both, for all we exposed ourselves, held back secrets still. I knew mine: I wondered what Lan’s were. I said, “I know nothing of the wild Changed; nothing of Ur-Dharbek. It seems none do, save perhaps the sorcerers. And they’re closemouthed on that subject.”