The Eyes of God (49 page)
Authors: John Marco
Gilwyn tried not to grin. “Thanks, Figgis,” he said, then turned and started back down the hallway.
“Don’t forget the king’s books!” Figgis hollered after him.
“I won’t,” Gilwyn called.
If not for Figgis’ reminder, he would have forgotten his delivery entirely.
In less than an hour, Gilwyn was outside of Lionkeep with his sack of books. Because walking remained difficult for him, and because the load of books would have tired out anyone, he always rode to the keep on a wagon drawn by a single, worn-out horse named Tempest. The horse and its master had become a familiar sight at Lionkeep over the years, and were mostly ignored when they entered the parade ground and main courtyard of the keep. As usual, there were soldiers drilling on the grounds and boys and girls in the yard, grooms and servants mostly, who looked after the keep and the soldiers they worshipped. A few familiar faces smiled and waved at Gilwyn as he arrived. He made his way through the yard, carefully avoiding the groups of boys, and brought his wagon to a stop at the entrance to the keep, where a pair of guards with halberds granted him entrance. With his sack of books over one shoulder and Teku on the other, he went in search of Warden Graig. The warden had been in charge of Lionkeep since anyone could remember. He was warm and friendly, and always welcomed Gilwyn when he came to the keep. He was also Gilwyn’s only conduit to King Akeela. The king saw very few people, and of course couldn’t be bothered with apprentice librarians, so whenever Gilwyn delivered books to Lionkeep they went through Graig.
The Head Warden had an office on the keep’s ground floor, near the main entrance. In earlier days, before age had enfeebled him, he would regularly patrol the courtyard. Since he could barely walk without a cane now, General Trager had asked for his retirement, but Graig had pleaded with King Akeela to let him stay, and Akeela had relented, relegating him to paperwork in a shabby little room. Warden Graig was in his chair when Gilwyn arrived, serenely staring out the window as he smoked his pipe. His office door was open, and when he heard Gilwyn enter he turned to smile at him.
“Ah, you’re late,” said the old man. “I expected you earlier.”
“Sorry,” Gilwyn offered. He hobbled into the room and set his bag of books down on the Warden’s cluttered desk. “I was busy at the library with Figgis. He just got a delivery of poetry scrolls from Paaral.”
“You look tired.” Graig gestured toward a chair near his desk. “Sit and rest a bit.” He reached for the bag and started nosing through the texts Akeela had ordered. Graig pulled one of the books from the bag, a collection of love poems much like the ones that had arrived from Paaral.
“More nonsense for him to read to the queen,” he said with a sigh. He leaned back, taking a long drag on his pipe. Gilwyn took the opportunity to rest, sitting down and rubbing his aching ankle. The shoe Figgis had made him was working remarkably well, but its straps had left welts on his skin.
“I can’t stay long,” he said. “Lots to do.”
“That old maniac works you like a dog,” said Graig. He began leafing through the poetry book, clucking at the sugary passages. “The queen likes this drivel,” he said. “And Akeela adores reading it to her.”
“The queen has very little else,” said Gilwyn.
Graig nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“She’s lucky to have a husband who reads to her.” Gilwyn glanced at his crippled hand. “Not everyone knows what it’s like to be ugly, Graig. I feel sorry for the queen.”
There was a silence between them. The awkwardness made Gilwyn clear his throat.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about the queen,” he said suddenly. “About her servants, I mean. They’re all blind, aren’t they?”
“Of course,” said Graig. “You know that.”
“Yes, but how do they manage? I mean, they must have some sighted people to help them.”
Graig shrugged and blew a ring of smoke from his lips. “I suppose.”
“You mean you’ve never seen them?”
“Who?”
“The people who help Queen Cassandra.”
“Are you kidding? Not even I’m allowed in that part of the castle.” The warden’s suspicious nature rose up. “You’re not thinking of snooping around there, are you?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m just wondering, that’s all.”
“It’s not good to wonder such things, boy,” Graig warned. “Just do your job, deliver your books, and don’t get underfoot. And don’t go near the queen’s wing. Her servants may be blind, but they’ll sniff you out like bloodhounds.”
Gilwyn rose from his chair with a smile. “All right,” he said, calling Teku to his shoulder.
“I mean it, Gilwyn.” Graig looked straight though the pipe smoke at the boy. “Stay away from there. If the king finds out you’re poking around, he’ll murder you.”
“Don’t worry,” said Gilwyn. “I was just curious. I thought maybe the queen had some sighted servants, that’s all.”
“Why would you think that?”
Gilwyn didn’t know how to answer. “I’m a librarian,” he said. “I’m supposed to wonder about such things.”
“You’re an apprentice librarian and a pain in the backside. Now go on, get back to work.”
Gilwyn didn’t return to the library. Not long after meeting with Graig, he found himself near the southern wing of the castle—Queen Cassandra’s wing. He had been this close to her quarters many times before, for it was where his secret balcony lay, and he knew that the grounds around the wing were unkempt and abandoned, just as they had been that night he’d seen the girl.
He skulked into the garden where he had first seen the girl, at once noticing the overgrown rose bushes. The thorns tore at his shirt and he brushed them aside, shielding Teku as he walked. When he parted the branches, Lionkeep rose up like a fortress before him. His mouth dropped open in surprise, for he had never seen the keep from this vantage before, and it frightened him. It looked haunted, a great ruin slowly being devoured by time. There were no windows, only bricked up spaces where glass had once been, and all the balconies had been torn down, so that only their rubbled remains lay at the base of the wall. A stony silence entombed the garden. The afternoon sunlight struggled down through the thickets, but the southern wing of Lionkeep seemed immune to its warmth.
“How do we get in?” Gilwyn whispered.
He saw doors with padlocks and knew they hadn’t been opened for ages, but then he remembered that the visitors to the garden had made it outside, and knew that one of the portals must be unlocked. He stepped forward, emerging from the thickets until he spied a broken path of cobblestones winding through the weeds and bushes. After a cautionary glance around, he and Teku plunged forward, ducking to avoid the worst of the branches. Teku chattered uneasily on his shoulder. The path had obviously not been used for ages, but it seemed to lead directly toward the southern wing. Soon Gilwyn discovered the terminus of the path—an abandoned, broken door.
“Well, hello there. . . .”
Teku bobbed on his shoulder, understanding their discovery. Gilwyn didn’t waste a moment. He reached for the door and pulled it open, revealing the forbidden confines of Lionkeep. A hallway greeted him, wide and lit by torches. Up ahead were voices. He froze, afraid to go further, but remembered what Graig had told him—all of the queen’s servants were blind.
Time to find out. . . .
He stepped across the threshold, closed the door behind him, then turned to face the room. The torches were warm on his face and the voices in the distance coaxed him onward. He put a finger to his lips, and Teku understood the gesture perfectly. A surge of excitement coursed through him, pushing him onward. He took a few steps, rounded a bend in the hall, and blundered into a room full of people.
Fear froze him in place. One man and two young girls stood just yards away, talking to each other. The girls were laughing and holding trays of half-eaten food. The man busied himself knocking about pots and pans in a steaming wash basin and talking to the girls. Remarkably, none of them had seen Gilwyn enter their midst. Gilwyn’s eyes darted about the place, taking it all in. He was in a scullery, with cooking utensils hanging from the walls and wraps of dried meats and vegetables dangling from the low ceiling. The place glowed with warmth and good humor as the blind servants went about their work, oblivious to their intruder. Gilwyn studied the girls quickly, but knew at once that neither of them was the one he’d seen in the garden. He inched forward, floating like a wraith toward them, the sounds of the man’s activity covering his approach as he scrubbed his pots and pans. He was an older fellow with dark skin and oily hair, but he smiled at the girls as he spoke, as if his blind eyes could appreciate their beauty.
“Give it all here,” he told them, directing them to put their dirtied dishes into his basin.
“Just a moment,” said one of the girls. She walked past the man and set her tray down on a table very near Gilwyn. Gilwyn held his breath, fascinated as he watched her scrape the plate into a waste bin. She was young, probably no older than Gilwyn himself, and he could tell by her frilled uniform that she was a chambermaid, just like her companion. The girls could have been twins, they were so similar. Both had red hair and fair skin and blue, sightless eyes. When she had cleaned off the plate she turned and went back to the man, dropping all the tray’s contents into the steaming water. Like her companions, she moved without hesitation, not missing a step. Then she pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
“Come on, let’s take a rest,” she said.
The other girl smiled obligingly, sitting down opposite her friend. She said, “Anything to eat, Freen? I’m hungry.”
The man looked up from his washing, considering the foods hanging from the walls. “I’ve been curing some sausages. They’re probably ready, if you’d like to try a bit.”
The girls eagerly agreed. One slipped off her shoes, making herself comfortable. Freen, who was obviously a cook, dried his hands on a nearby towel then pulled a stout ring of sausage off the scullery wall. Quickly he located a knife from his workbench and sat down at the table, proudly setting the sausage down before them. Gilwyn took a step closer, delighted by not being seen. Because they were blind they didn’t gawk at his deformities. He was like a ghost to them, and he loved the anonymity. Perhaps he would come here again, he considered. Perhaps he belonged here with the blind.
Freen sliced the sausage, handing some to each of the girls and sampling a medallion for himself.
“Good,” said one of the chambermaids.
“It’s hot,” said the other. “Any beer?”
Freen nodded and rose unexpectedly from the chair. Gilwyn backed away. The man went to a cupboard and pulled out a stout bottle with a cork in its neck. Then he deftly collected three short glasses, which he quickly distributed as if he were dealing cards. One of the girls took the bottle from him, finding each glass with her fingertip before pouring. Gilwyn watched, enthralled, as the three drank and ate, completely unaware of him. And just when he felt his confidence grow, when he was sure he would never be discovered, another stranger entered the room. Startled, Gilwyn sank back. The woman faced him, and for a terrifying moment Gilwyn stared at her, afraid he’d been seen. But soon he noticed the same blindness in her eyes as all the others. More importantly, he recognized her.
“Jancis?” said the cook. “Is that you?”
It’s her,
Gilwyn realized.
The other one. . . .
Gilwyn realized.
The other one. . . .
He recognized her instantly. She wore the same plain clothes she had donned the night of the eclipse, and her hair retained the unforgettable, jagged steak of gray. The woman smiled as she approached the table. The man held out the ring of sausage toward her.
“Sausage, Jancis. Want some?”
“No, Freen, thank you. I came for Megal and Ruthanna.”
The two girls rolled their blind eyes. “Oh, no,” said one of them. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, but King Akeela will be coming tonight. Let’s make sure the place is clean, all right? Megal, you can start with Cassandra’s rooms.”
The girl Megal nodded and got to her feet. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Not just now,” said Jancis. She was obviously the head of the staff and commanded respect. “Sit and finish up. There’s time until the king comes. Just make sure you do a good job, right?”
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