Nightlord: Shadows (91 page)

I think it’s a story to explain why nobody much cares for spiders.

My point, though, is that when a clearly-supernatural creature showed up on their doorsteps and said, gently, that it was time to let Great Grandpa George take a trip with the Grey Lady, people were surprisingly agreeable. No, they didn’t
like
it, but they accepted it as… Maybe not a good thing, but… right? Proper? Inevitable?

Maybe that’s the word I want. They agreed to go along with the inevitable.

And, strangely enough, I think I enjoyed myself. I can’t say that I had a good time; I didn’t. On the other hand, I did do a lot of good in those few hours. Back home, people could argue about euthanasia and assisted suicide and suchlike; over here, the debate is moot. There is definitely something that comes after. Dying is just getting to go do it.

I’m the travel agent.

I made it back to the Baron’s—excuse me, Prince’s—palace a little before dawn, had a bath drawn for me, and lounged in the tub while the transformation ran its course. I still needed a cleaning spell; the water was filthy when I stepped out. I felt better for toweling off, though. A man should always know where his towel is.

Through the mirror, I talked to Tort and Kelvin. Things were going well, there, and the new squires were coming along nicely. Kelvin’s idea was to have them work in the kitchens for a while, for the humility exercise, and to see if any of them would try to run home. As servants, they would also have to learn their way around inside the mountain, a complicated process. It was a part-time thing; they spent mornings as servants and afternoons as squires.

We discussed, briefly, the advisability of posting signs at corridor junctions. Maps were no good; the mountain is always in drift a little bit. Plus, I had yet to ask it about additional doors… Soon, though. I had an idea on that.

Tort reported on my arrowheads. People had been hammering on them in shifts until a little before dawn; now they were starting to glow, so they stopped. I thought that a very good idea.

Tort also arranged a schedule for watches over the mirrors. I made it a point to have her talk to Thomen about it. The mirrors don’t require the user to have any facility with magic, but a wizard can spot oddities and anomalies a mundane person can’t. I wanted a wizard on duty, too, just to make sure no one was using a mirror for some unintended purpose. We can’t have the Court Magician intruding on the Court Wizard’s prerogatives, now can we? She agreed immediately, even cheerfully. Having permission to cuddle the unholy monster seems to have improved her mood tremendously.

I also explained that I wanted an arrow shaft enchanted, or at least enspelled; she agreed that it could be done, if I could show her the spell. Fair enough.

Neither of them seemed too pleased I was going into Rethven to track down a city named Hagan, but they didn’t actually say anything. I could tell from their faces that they didn’t like it, but also figured it would be pointless to argue.

I signed off and had an audience with Banler. He was at breakfast, which reminded me of my own early-morning meetings. He had his family at breakfast, but no one else. Apparently, agreeing to see me at that hour was unusual, as was the suggestion that I eat with them.

“How do you manage to have a morning meal without a dozen people bothering you?” I asked, accepting a plate and spooning something bland onto it. Fortunately, morning food around Baret is generally either bland or sweet, a fact for which I was duly grateful.

“Easy,” he said, grinning. “I wanted family time, and I declared it off-limits to underlings. Then I beheaded anyone who interrupted without a
real
emergency.”

“Ah.” Brutal, perhaps, but certainly effective. His city; his rules. I wasn’t going to argue. Besides, he might be kidding me. “Thank you for not beheading me,” I added.

“You’re not an underling; you’re a visiting king. Anything you want is, kinda by definition, an emergency.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Good.”

We ate for a bit, and I got to meet the rest of Banler’s children; three daughters, all by his second wife, aged thirteen, fifteen, and sixteen.

I got the feeling everyone was watching me, even when they were talking to each other. Well, a guest at breakfast was unusual.

As I was getting into a third helping of a mashed fish and dumpling dish, Banler cleared his throat. I looked up from the bowl with a questioning look.

“Pardon me, but you said you wanted to talk to me?”

I glanced at his family, then decided it might not matter. I also realized that he might be slightly offended, so having them there might be a good thing.

“Yes, I did. I wanted you to be aware that I, ah… how to say this? You know that, in addition to being a king, I have certain other functions?”

“You’re a nightlord,” Danler said, and shut himself up at his father’s look.

“Yes,” Banler said. “It’s well-known.”

“Do you also know that the purpose of a nightlord is to conduct the souls of the dying into the realms beyond?”

“I’ve heard that. Hard to reconcile with the bloodthirsty monsters of legend, though.”

“I am hurt,” I said, with mock sadness.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” he added.

“Oh. Okay. Anyway, whenever you have a nightlord near someone who is dying—or even their ghost, if they’ve already died—the nightlord is going to have to help them.”

Banler nodded, seeing where this was going.

“You killed someone.”

“If you want to put it that way. There were some souls calling out to me that they were ready to go. I had to answer,” I told him. “I didn’t sneak into anybody’s house, if that’s what you’re thinking. I knocked, explained why I was there, and people showed me in.”

Banler visibly relaxed.

“I’m going to hear about this, right?”

“Rumors of it, yeah.” I told him about my nocturnal activities and added, “If you hear of any other deaths in the night, I give you my word it wasn’t me.”

“Is there any way you can… not do that?”

“I can try. If I have to help someone along, would it help to have someone assigned to go with me and be a witness?”

“Hmm. Probably. You wouldn’t mind having a guard posted on you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Huh. Really.”

“Really.”

“I’d hate to be watched like that, myself.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” I told him. “I only mind it when people spy on me, not when I’ve invited someone to come along. Just try to give me someone who won’t panic and doesn’t mind riding second seat on Bronze, all right?”

“I’m sure we can do that,” he said, then paused for thought. “I’m pretty sure.”

We finished breakfast and I bid the whole family farewell. Danler and Brenna managed to make their manners, while the middle daughters were almost flirtatious. I complimented the first quality and ignored the second.

Thank goodness I also got directions to Hagan.

We stopped in several towns and villages to get better directions to Hagan. I tried to be polite, but people tended to duck into buildings and hide. I’m not sure why. Bronze wasn’t blowing
that
much fire. Still, I had to be insistent, on occasion. Most of the time all I got was someone pointing me down the road.

The roads in Rethven are dirt tracks cut through forest, up hill and down dale. The only thing about them that’s decent is the bridges; those are generally stonework and as solid as one could hope for. The rest of the roads are rutted flat spots or rivers of mud.

Now I know why Rethven isn’t a kingdom; no one can get anywhere. How can you have a kingdom if you can’t even cross it?

Rethven roads weren’t always this awful. I distinctly remember better roads. But in the intervening years, people scavenged stone from them for other purposes. Some were doubtless in the houses and walls of the villages and towns I passed. Others, for all I knew, had been lobbed into enemy cities by catapult.

I am amazingly glad that Bronze is four-hoof drive. She handles muddy tracks the same way she handles rutted dirt: she stops it flat and keeps going. Places that bog down wagons and risk breaking regular horses’ legs just slow her down.

We finally found Hagan. It took most of the day, but we got here. It’s a fairly typical city. Curtain wall, some towers, big gates, some low-rent districts outside the actual wall, farms out beyond that. It didn’t have a moat, but it did have a ditch with stakes. All in all, it wasn’t much different from Baret, just inland.

I was pleased to find that someone had preserved the two or three miles of paved road nearest the city. It wasn’t in the best of shape, but it was far better than muddy tracks through the wilderness.

Nobody challenged me when I rode in through the nearest gates. I guess they didn’t feel threatened by one roaming knight. I can’t say I disagree; stopping everyone who went through would have caused some serious traffic problems. They paid more attention to the wagons in front and behind; each wagon handed over a silver coin at the gate. I can only assume Hagan does a lot of trading within its walls, and the gate fee is their merchant tax.

(I found out later that I was right about that. They taxed the merchants at the gate, coming and going, one silver coin per wagon. People who were there just to
buy
things weren’t taxed; anyone there to sell things, was. The merchants, of course, just passed along the cost to the customer.)

Bronze and I did excite some comment and a lot of staring as we went through the streets. We stayed on the wider streets—usually paved or cobbled, but with some truly awful gutters—and she was very good about not stepping on anyone. It helped that people seem to naturally try to stay out of a horse’s way in order to preserve their toes. There were still some close calls, though, as children have no respect for traffic flow or right-of-way. One daring young man went
under
Bronze and disappeared into the crowd.

Bronze didn’t seem to mind. Other horses would not have taken it as well.

After some further directions—people pointing thataway—we found ourselves at another wall. Obviously, the original and richer portion of the city. This wall was in worse shape than the outer one. Ivy clambered up the ancient stones in places, and I could see obvious repairs here and there. It wasn’t really expected to do defensive duty.

It made a good fence, though, to keep out the riffraff. The guards on the gates were also more attentive and picky. The portcullis and the gates themselves were in very good working order.

“Name?”

“Halar.”

“Business?”

I handed him the message from the Prince’s wife. He looked at it, frowned, handed it to his partner. His partner ran off with it.

“Where’s he going?” I asked.

“Captain.”

“Ah.” It occurred to me that they might not be able to read. Bronze and I waited while the guard leaned on his spear and tried to look bored. I don’t think he knew what to do about a gigantic metal horse; she didn’t make him comfortable. Bronze, for her part, simply stood like a statue and waited.

The other guard came back with a man in much more shiny armor. He also had a helmet with that thing I think of as a horse-tail plume, dyed a bright red.

“Halar?” he asked, without preamble.

“Yes.”

He looked at me, frowning.

“Please don’t say anything about my height,” I requested.

He frowned harder, almost scowled, then nodded. He beckoned me to follow, so Bronze did. We walked through the gate and into the richer section of Hagan. There was a pause while the captain handed us off to a runner, and the runner led us to the palace proper.

Hagan’s palace is not meant for a war. It used to be a castle, but someone had filled in the moat to make a garden, then added more doors in the outer wall, and then a few more windows, and so on. Where once it was the Tower of London, someone had tried to turn it into Versailles. It was much more pleasant a place to live in, though.

I wondered if I needed some windows in Karvalen. Maybe some enchanted frames, set to permanently move the point of view to a fixed location, just to provide a nice view? Or one view, connected to several enchanted frames? That might work…

We went into the courtyard, where I was told to wait. I didn’t mind. It was a very nice courtyard, with a circular fountain, a nice splashing of water, and banks of flowers scattered about. A pair of boys came up and asked me if I wanted the mud cleaned from my boots. They looked very earnest, so I told them to go ahead and clean Bronze, too.

I didn’t mention that I could do it myself. They seemed to actually want to do it. They also did a very thorough job. I might have flecks of mud inside my armor, but you wouldn’t know it by looking.

Afterwards, I surprised them with a silver coin; they didn’t expect that. Perhaps that’s why they bowed very low before departing.

“What do you think?” I asked Bronze. She flicked an ear:
I liked them
.

About then, the runner headed back across the courtyard while a very pretty lady in some sort of livery came over to me. There was a device on her tabard, or robe, or whatever that thing was—a black background with a golden crescent moon, horns-up, with a silver star between and slightly above the horns. It matched the flags around the place. Her hair was concealed by some sort of hood or wimple, showing only her face, with a kind of bag in the back to hold the length of it. She dipped low, almost knelt, before she spoke.

“Welcome, King Halar, to the city of Hagan, the domain of Prince Jorgen. He bids you welcome through me and offers you his hospitality. If it is your wish, a meal shall be prepared for you and a hot bath drawn, for doubtless you have journeyed long to reach us. Whatever you wish of comforts, we will most diligently attempt to provide.

“However, if you will, my good Prince requests your presence in his daughter’s chamber at your earliest convenience.”

To be perfectly truthful, I did want a hot bath, mainly for the hours I’d spent in a metal saddle. Bronze is not well-padded, but I will never, ever complain. On the other hand, my reason for being here wasn’t to see to my own comforts, but someone’s life.

“I’m perfectly happy as I am,” I lied, “but I would like a nice, hot bath later. I don’t suppose you have a hot waterfall anywhere, do you?”

“I regret to say that it has never before been requested,” she admitted. “Is it your wish?”

“No, no; I’ll settle for the bath, later. Right now, though, it would please me to be escorted directly to Prince Jorgen and his daughter.”

“If my lord will follow me?”

I dismounted and patted Bronze on the neck.

“No tormenting the stableboys, okay?” She tossed her head and snorted:
If they mind their manners, I’ll mind mine.

Well, you take what you can get. I followed the nice lady into the palace proper and through a lot of very nice rooms. Prince Jorgen was rich, that was certain.