Secrets of the Night Special Edition (67 page)

"But darling, I want to be with--"

"Promise!"

She nodded. "Yes, of course, if that's how you want it."

"Good." He closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to come. On the verge of sleep, he heard his wife leave the room and softly close the door behind her.

Hours later, as the sun sank in the east and the room dimmed in the early evening, he awoke again. Through his pain and misery, he heard his children playing outside on the lawn, heard his wife calling them to the evening meal. He tried to swallow but couldn't; then sleep claimed him again. Sometime later, he heard his wife return to their bedroom to ask if he felt like eating, but he found it too difficult to answer.

He heard the strike of flint on steel. "I'll keep the lamp burning low," she murmured, "so you don't wake up in the dark." With quiet footsteps on the sheepskin floor, she left the room again.

He looked around at all the familiar furnishings, all the things that had come to mean so much to him over the years: the tall chest of drawers, the bedside table with the brass lamp, the bronze statue of Talmora that rested on another table.

He awoke again during the night, his body burning up. In desperation, he ran his fingers along his arms, feeling large cysts, black and painful. His hands shaking, he felt his face and legs--lumps everywhere! He tried to call his wife but no sound came. Cold panic sent his heart thudding. Despite his panic, his absolute mind-numbing terror, he tried to convince himself he'd recover soon. Gilda would fetch a physician tomorrow. Surely one of those learned druids would bring a healing medicine. Yes, if he could only hold out until tomorrow.

If only he could.

Chapter Twenty-three

Does Roric Gamal still serve the new king?
In her trancelike state, now induced through sheer concentration, Radegunda gazed at the bowl of clear water. Concern for Princess Keriam had prompted her to leave her brother's house, so for the second time within the past two moonphases, she had returned to her store on
Perfume Lane
. Here in the city, she could better follow the princess's movements, hear any rumors concerning her sovereign.

And yes, she'd heard an occasional account of a strange sickness, she recalled with a stab of alarm, words uttered in shocked whispers. The plague? She didn't know, for the news was garbled. If it was the black fever, she must perfect her spells. Her books on witchcraft had revealed something she'd suspected for a long time: learning to conquer the elements was easier than getting rid of a plague. The demoness Endora was at work here. Even conquering the elements had proven an insurmountable task--so far. If she'd been able to bring rain to Moytura, there would be no talk of an epidemic now, for rain would have ended the drought that had brought the fleas.

Ever since Tencien's assassination, Radegunda had wondered if Major Gamal only pretended loyalty to the new king. Too bad she hadn't had a chance to speak to him before Aradia forced her from the palace. She smiled, recalling the major's fear of her, his hatred of anything that even hinted at witchcraft. He wouldn't have spoken to her if she'd offered him the kingdom.

Having left Adsaluta in charge of the store for this morning, she remained in her apartment, her gaze focused on the water, her every thought on Gamal. She waited for the palace to appear among the hazy images coalescing in the bowl. But--no palace!

She closed her eyes in concentration, every breath, every thought, focused on Roric Gamal. She repeated his name again and again, projecting pictures of the major, of his face, his body, his every gesture. Vague images swirled in the water, visions of trees, of a dark forest. Changing her position on the bed, she stared, refusing to believe what the water revealed.

She blinked her eyes as gradual pictures emerged, of a large woods--the
Gorm
Forest
!--and Roric Gamal outside a cave, talking to another man. Delbraith? Ah, yes, Conneid Delbraith, the former king's secretary. Well! So they had both left the palace. Had they been banished, or had they escaped? The
Gorm
Forest
, she mused, a land of dark mysteries and monsters. And if they dwelled in the forest, what about the monsters? Had parents passed along tales of the
torathors
merely to scare their children into obedience, or did such creatures exist? So maybe-- No, wait! She saw one now! A strange being stepped out from a cave, such a tall creature, but he bore no horn in the middle of his forehead.

Intrigued by her findings, Radegunda gazed at the water, expecting to see more visions, but after long moments, the water cleared. With acute disappointment, she set the bowl aside, hoping to be more fortunate next time.

Her intuition told her she'd soon see Major Gamal in the flesh.

* * *

"I intend to do this, Conneid, so don't try to change my mind." Outside a cave deep in the
Gorm
Forest
, Roric's attention slid from Conneid to his new friends who had gathered outside another cave a short distance away. Settled on the ground, several
torathors
worked with long skeins of cordage, making fishing nets. Roric stood in the shadow of a gigantic pine tree, his gaze swinging back to Conneid.

"Listen!" he continued, not liking Conneid's frown, "we need to know what's happening at the palace. And what about the princess?" he asked, afraid to admit, if only to himself, how much he thought of her, of the times he lay awake at night recalling everything about her, wondering when--or if--she'd be caught. Goddess, he prayed, please take care of her.
She means so much to me.

"We've found refuge here," Conneid replied a few paces away. His chest wounds were slowly healing, thanks to calendula poultices Lari applied every day. "And refuge is enough for me. I don't need to visit the capital."

"But I do." Roric nodded toward the cave where an outlander clan had offered shelter to him, Conneid, and Malvina. "I'll always be grateful for the home these folks have provided us. But we can't shut ourselves off from the rest of the kingdom."

"Why not? Roric, can't you see how dangerous a visit to Moytura may be? What if someone recognizes you? Only a little over one nineday has passed since our escape." Conneid shook his head. "You're stretching your luck."

Roric laughed, his gaze sweeping over his stained gray tunic, his dusty boots. "Who's going to recognize me in these clothes?" Although he'd rinsed the tunic and cloak several times in the river since their arrival here, the bloodstains persisted. He fingered his chin. "And with this stubble? I'll borrow a rabbit hat from one of these fellows, wear it low on my head. I need to find out what's happening in Moytura and the rest of the kingdom. When I served under Balor, I had no opportunity to leave the palace. And I should think you'd want to know--"

"Not anymore." Conneid waved his hand dismissively. "That's in the past. My life is here, with Malvina and little Keenan." A look of bitterness captured his face. "Once I thought I could help overthrow Balor." He snorted. "Foolish dream!"

"Not so foolish, which is why I intend to go to the capital, catch the people's mood. I've learned a bit about diplomacy over the years. I can ask subtle questions that lead people to divulge information. We have to discover how things are at the palace, how the people feel about Balor and Aradia. If they are ready to revolt--"

"Hah! As if they are, as if the populace could make a difference! Balor commands the army, and whoever controls the army controls the kingdom."

Roric surveyed the dark forest that enclosed them, the tall evergreens that reached to the sky, creating a perpetual dimness over much of the woods. A network of caves honeycombed this part of the dense woods, each cave chamber occupied by an outlander clan.

A short walk from his forest home, the frothing
Deuona
River
twisted through wooded hills, heading southward. A rocky embankment, thick with grasses and understory and studded with trees, led down to the river. Roric had bathed in the ice-cold water this morning, a hasty ablution he was only too happy to complete. Columns of pine trees blanketed the hills, interspersed with birches and hickories. Smaller streams fed off from the river, yielding lush agricultural land that furnished bountiful crops of fruits and vegetables.

With much grass to graze on, the stolen horses remained tethered, except for the times Roric or Conneid rode them to exercise the animals. Wild goats roamed about, browsing among the meadow grasses, avoiding the horses.

"We've found contentment here, even if we have no purpose," Conneid said, wrenching him back to the moment. "Right now, peace and happiness are enough for me." He sank down at the cave entrance, as if to emphasize his need for quiescence. Roric joined him on the cold limestone floor, drawing his knees to his chest, clasping his hands around his legs. Smoke from a fire inside the cave drifted his way, its sweet scent blending with the aroma of pine. Dried herbs hung from wooden stands inside the cave, adding their fragrance.

"Peace and happiness?" Roric nodded, his eye on a poisonous snake that slithered through the grass a few feet away. He stared upward, where a caracab, with its long-spreading wings, soared in the sky. "Yes, contentment is enough for the time being. But we must work toward Balor's eventual overthrow."

"How?" Conneid threw him a sharp look. "Tell me that."

"No plans for now, maybe not even in the near future," Roric said, aware he wasn't telling the entire truth. If he could only get to Elegia, would King Barzad be willing to help? Did he even know of Tencien's assassination? "But we must rid the
kingdom
of
Balor
, must put Princess Keriam on the throne." His body warmed at the mention of her name, a myriad of enticing images flooding his mind.

"The princess." Conneid sighed. "I support Princess Keriam too, but how do we even know she's still alive?"

Fear stabbed Roric, a quick cold blade between the ribs. Nothing must happen to her, for if it did, his life would be empty without her. When would he see her again? He
had
to see her again.

"Balor and Aradia are clever executioners," Conneid went on. "Surely you know that." He gave Roric a close look. "You don't really think Fergus's death was an accident, do you?"

"One more reason why I must return to Moytura, to discover how the princess fares," Roric said, suppressing a shiver. He clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "My mind's made up."

* * *

The morning sun hung low in a bright blue sky as Roric trod the rocky path that led from the forest to the city outskirts. A rabbit cap on his head, he strode for miles through the dark woods. Tempted to take the sleek riding horse, he decided against it, on the very slim chance that the owner might visit the city this same day. His eyes scanned the trees and underbrush, ever on the alert for wild animals. Thorns scratched his hands and tugged at his cloak. He worked the cloak loose and shoved the thorny bush aside, then walked on, watching out for venomous snakes that slid along the uneven forest floor.

He recalled his first few days among the outlanders, a time of adjustment for everyone. It hadn't taken him long to acquire a few words of their simple language, then gradually expand his vocabulary. As much as possible, he and Conneid spoke the outlander language among themselves, a practice that aided him when speaking with the forest creatures. He, Malvina, and Conneid had made friends with these folks, surprised to find that they weren't the fierce monsters their reputation suggested. Besides treating Conneid's chest, they'd applied poultices to Malvina's hand, and they pampered Malvina’s baby every chance they had.

One question had puzzled him ever since their first encounter with these people. After he'd felt fluent enough, he posed the question to Mord.

"Do you fellows usually trek so far from your homes here in the forest? I mean, you were close to the city's edge when we first met you."

"Ah." Mord had smiled. "We do it all the time. We are dark, we hide behind trees. And you people," he said, stabbing Roric's chest with his forefinger, "are afraid of us." He nodded. "Admit it, yes, you are. So your people never come so far into the forest. Like you did when we first met."

Brought back to the moment, Roric saw a gradual illumination that revealed the forest's fringe, where the trees thinned to scattered clumps, and a slight hill overlooked the capital. Closer to the city, the path changed from a dirt road to a cobblestone street. The warehouses and small shops of Moytura came into view, the city spread out before him.

Arrived at
Storehouse Street
, Roric pulled his cap over his forehead, his gaze covering these warehouses and shops that formed the northern boundary of the city. So many stores, closed and boarded up, so few people on the streets! What a difference from the bustling city under Tencien's rule! As he strode the cobblestones toward the city's center, the shops became more ornate, those establishments that catered to the wealthy. Most of these stores had remained open, for only the rich could afford the jewels, silks, and fancy swords, the ornamental bags and decorative belts.