Starcrossed (10 page)

The mood in the room was strange; most people kept to them selves or smiled at their neighbors, but a current of tension swirled through the diners. I climbed up onto a tall stool at the bar as I waited for our food.

“I’m just telling you what I heard,” a wiry man in a much-patched jerkin was saying. “They’ve increased patrols on the roads, and they’re checking everyone’s passage licenses. Seems they’re on the hunt for somebody special.”

I tensed. If they were checking passports, that meant I was stuck with the Nemair. The patrols we’d passed on the road so far had been happy to wave a noble party along with a nod and a bow. But a girl all alone would draw suspicion.

Think
ahead,
Digger. I had to draft myself some documents, just as soon as I could lay my hands on some paper. And a magistrate’s seal. Pox and hells.

“I’ve heard it’s Prince Wierolf, trying to sneak back into the country.”

“Why sneak?” put in a heavyset laborer coming to join the conversation, a mug of ale in each hand. “Don’t he own the whole damn place?”

“Not yet — not till Bardolph says he does.”

“Which he
won’t
. Old mule. Goddess save him, and all that, of course.”

“I heard he off and married some Talancan girl.” Somebody gave a chuckle. “I’d be sneaking too.”

His neighbor popped him in the head and scoffed. “That’s twaddle, and you know it. Milord’s met the man and says if it don’t involve books or horses, Wierolf’s not interested.”

Did that include politics, religion, and ruling Llyvraneth? I wondered.

“It’s not the prince the patrols are after,” said a small, bald man dressed a little better than his friends. The local bailiff, maybe. He withdrew a notice from his coat and smoothed it on the table. “They’re looking for assassins. Rumor has it somebody’s finally offed Prince Wierolf.”

I swung my gaze his way — and I was not alone. The Nemair guards were watching. One of them said something to his partner, who rose and headed straight outside.

Two Ales said, “That’s been all over the road to Yeris. They say the city’s papered with these notices. Whoever done it’s calling themselves the Huntsmen.”

“Is that one huntsman, or a pack of ’em?” asked the bailiff.

He shrugged. “It takes a pair, don’t it? Kill a royal and claim Zet’s favor for it?” Zet wasn’t just the goddess of hunting and war, she was the patroness of royalty. Murdering a prince in her name? That even sounded bad to
me
.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see a corpse,” said a dark-featured man across the room. “We’ve heard this rumor before. Just people trying to stir up trouble.”

“Or stir up dissenters,” the bailiff said quietly. “Toss down a meaty story like that and see who comes out to bite.”

“See if they can’t stir up a nest of Sarists, you mean.” The dark fellow’s voice was low, but it carried.

“Well, he’s their favorite, isn’t he? And they
were
active around here.”

“Come now,” said the barman. “Surely His Majesty has better things to do with his time than pick at old wounds and bother the fine, upstanding folk of the Carskadon Mountains. And
surely
those fine, upstanding folk have better things to do than speculate about their betters. I know for a fact that you, Merc Kessl, have a fence that needs mending. If your wife comes looking for you here, I
will
tell her all I know.”

The wiry fellow stood up from the table. “Aye, you would too. I’ll see you, lads.” He raised his drink. “Goddess keep Prince Wierolf!”

Nobody matched the toast.

Two Ales spoke quietly. “Careful, Merc — that’s treason. If it ain’t heresy.”

Merc shrugged. “And do you see any Greenmen here, then? When the prince comes through here — and he will — we’ll be free to worship as we always have in these mountains. We don’t need a king from the city to teach us how to pray.”

“Still, what if it is true?” a small man in a brown coat was saying. “The prince could be dead for months before anybody even noticed he was missing. We should do something.”

I didn’t hear the rest, since the serving girl appeared with my tray. I followed her to Meri’s room, helping myself to a coin or two on my way. I wasn’t sure if this lady-in-waiting job paid anything beyond room and board.

Upstairs, Meri was standing in her open doorway, looking down over the rail into the common room. She was quiet and thoughtful as I arranged our plates, not even noticing I took the nob’s share of the eggs.

“Do you think it’s true?” she finally asked. “About Prince Wierolf? Do you really think they’ve — assassinated him?”

Startled, I looked up from my food. “There are always rumors like that. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“But it might be true?” Her voice was soft and urgent, eyes begging me for answers.

Sure, it might be true. But for some reason I didn’t want to say that to Meri. “It’s just a rumor, some bored nobs —
people
trying to make a name for themselves, playing on everyone’s fears.”

“Why would they do that?”

“To scare people, stir them up, sow unrest —” I broke off with a shrug. “You shouldn’t think about that.”

She turned to me. “But it’s our duty to think about it, as the nobility. It’s our sacred responsibility to protect our people and our land. I have to understand these things, Celyn.” Gods help me, she really believed it. “My parents are heroes, you know. They fought in the last war. I must aspire to be like them, mustn’t I?”

She was watching me anxiously, waiting for my answer. But I just bowed my head, saying, “Yes, milady,” and thinking that we were all in a lot more trouble than we’d bargained for, if we were counting on Merista Nemair to protect us.

Breakfast was interrupted a few moments later by a knock on Meri’s door. “Milady!” a sharp voice barked through the wood. “Your father bids you make haste to depart.”

Meri swung the door open. “Now?”

The big guard — Berdal, I thought his name was — nodded. “Aye, lady. He’s in a fair rush.”

Meri frowned. “Because — because of what they said down there?”

The guard’s cool expression never faltered. “Ach, no, lady. They’ve spotted snow in the mountains above us, and there’s a risk of avalanche if we don’t get through the pass tonight. Tell your girl to pack your things, and get right down to the horses.”

Back on the road, taller and taller trees sailed by the coach windows, black-green things with fierce, triangular bodies that marched like a massive army across the foothills. The closest I’d ever come to trees like this was the great ash that grew at the heart of the Celystra. The Hanging Ash, we called it. It was supposed to be sacred to Celys, but I couldn’t imagine what she’d think of it now, its roots watered with the blood of heretics. With Meri chattering away in my ear, I watched the road to Yeris Volbann roll past about noon, and with it my last hope of escape.

The party bound for Bryn Shaer was small. In addition to the five of us who made up Meri’s strange family assembly, a handful of servants and some dozen guards rode alongside, all clad in the silver-and-black Nemair livery. Supply wagons brought up the rear. I used the endless hours to try to learn as much as I could about my new company, which was difficult from my position trapped inside the coach, the only member of our party who couldn’t ride. Occasionally I could coax Phandre into riding with me and sharing some tidbit of information, but it was never long before she remembered I was beneath her notice, leav ing me with little to do but watch the unwelcoming landscape close around me, and wonder what in Tiboran’s name I had gotten myself into. She had been included out of sympathy as well; I’d discovered that she was what we called a “loose” nob — orphaned and unattached to any other family. She was as lucky as I the Nemair had taken her in for the winter, though she spared no opportunity to remind me of her superiority.

I thought back over my first meeting with Lord Antoch and Lady Lyllace. Anyone in Gerse would have tied me up and beaten me bloody, demanding I produce proof of my claimed associations before they strangled me and threw my body into the Oss. But with these people, if I said I was a jeweler’s daughter, I was a jeweler’s daughter. It baffled.

The wagon jostled to an uneven stop, and I heard Merista’s voice. “Celyn, come have a look!”

Hopping on one foot to shake a cramp out of my leg, I stumbled out of the coach and joined the party on the road. They clustered at the mouth of a precipice, gazing into the distance below. Meri saw me and pulled me closer.

Impossibly far below us, in a dizzying swoop of trees spotted with crisp gray juts of rock, nestled a miniature model of a castle. Ringed with a double row of heavy stone walls studded with three squat towers, it sat hunched against the black stone of the mountain. At the base of the wall, the cliff dropped straight away to nothing.

“Celyn, get back — you’ll fall.”

“I never fall,” I said, shaking off Meri’s arm.

Antoch leaned in beside me. “That’s home now. Bryn Shaer, gem of the Carskadons. Another two days’ ride, if the weather holds.”

In the distance, a few hills and dips past the castle, I spotted a gap in the mountains, a glimpse of open sky. “What’s that there?”

“The Breijarda Velde,” Antoch said. “The Wide Pass through the mountains between Briddja Nul and Kellespau. Bryn Shaer was built to defend it.”

“It looks like it’s out in the middle of nowhere. How can it defend anything?”

Antoch gave his rumbling chuckle. “It
doesn’t
defend anything now, girl. But back in its day — you can’t see it from here, but there’s a road leading to and from the castle, and the pass is a straight shot from the guard towers. Anything coming east or west through the mountains, Bryn Shaer has a clear view of it. Critically important in the winter, when the Gerse road is closed by snow.”

“The pass is the only way in or out, all winter?” I said.

“And the tunnels,” Meri put in. “There’s a network of tunnels under the castle, leading all the way to Breijardarl.”

“There
used to be
a network of tunnels.” Lady Nemair had stepped forward. “They’ve been closed off as long as we’ve held the property, and we haven’t restored them. So don’t any of you girls get the idea to go exploring. Those tunnels are dangerous.”

Dangerous tunnels? Bryn Shaer was looking brighter by the moment.

Carskadon
means “black mountain,” and already I was feeling the pressure from that gloomy dark stone. Gerse isn’t a pretty city, but there’s something about its dull gray buildings that feels . . . normal. Safe. This wild landscape of jutting escarpments and sheer drops into endless nothingness looked like the gods had ripped open the earth in some fit of hunger for what lay below, and left the rent pieces scattered and twisted behind them.

Berdal, the young guard assigned to watch over Meri and her attendants, was apparently native to these mountains and enjoyed pointing out their fascinating hazards to the foreigners of the party. Between bandits lurking among the trees, starving bears ravaging campsites, and avalanches — crushing falls of snow and rock that struck without warning to bury the unsuspecting under a frozen white death — I was starting to wonder why I’d been so worried about Greenmen.

As we climbed, it grew colder; we woke to the landscape frosted silver and a bite to the air, and Antoch pointed out clouds he said were dropping snow on distant peaks. Through breaks in the rock, I glimpsed a night sky with moons that were cold and watching, the stars flickering so close you could almost touch them.

“The scholars at Breijardarl used to study the stars, did you know?” Lady Nemair said as we sat up one night after dinner. We knelt at the fire, the shadows leaping just outside the ring of light. “They named the brightest of them, charted their course in the night. They even speculated that our own sun is a star not unlike its neighbors.”

How could that be? “They all look so tiny,” I said.

“The moons look small too,” Lady Nemair said, “but it would take many thousands of them to equal even the brightness of one sun.”

I stared at her until she laughed. Laughed! “I know, you’re going to tell me that’s heresy. It’s not heresy, Celyn, it’s astronomy. A science.”

“A science they bleed people for.”

She grew sober. “That’s true enough. But it won’t always be that way. Have faith.” She said that last bit cheerfully, then told me more stories of the wonders of the college that had once stood at Breijardarl, before King Bardolph declared that knowledge heretical and illegal, and scattered Llyvraneth’s scholars to every corner of the known world.