The Lost Gate (30 page)

Then, when he was questioned—usually by Hull—about whether he knew where some item or another had been left, he had an answer. “It's in Rudder's chart chest,” he said once, and two days later the man once named Rudder was hanged over the sea wall, and a new man was elevated to his place and given his name.

Another time he knew that a particular wanted item was exactly where it was always kept, and the accuser was lying. This he said to Hull, and the kitchen girl who had lied got a beating and then was sent back to her home in disgrace.

Over time, instead of suspecting Wad of stealing things, most people stopped stealing or lying about where things were, because they knew that he always knew. Some feared him because of this, and now and then there was an effort to have him expelled from the castle, but when it came to the King, he said, “And then I'd have to replace Hull as baker and night cook, and I won't do it. Besides, I've found that most people who complain about Wad are the very ones he has caught stealing or lying about someone else stealing.” Then the King would look at them with innocent amusement and watch them retreat in confusion.

But King Prayard had his own worries about Wad, and one day he began speaking aloud in a private room where he was waiting for Anonoei to come to him. “I have let you live here, my boy, because your discretion is perfect. You tell nothing you see. You also notice that I ask nothing of you, for you are not my spy.”

Wad said nothing, but trembled a little on the beam where he was lying.

“I'm sure that you have watched me with Anonoei many times, but you have grown careless and I found bits of straw on the floor and saw your foot when I looked up. Anonoei is a very shy and modest woman, and if she saw you she would be embarrassed and hurt. Please try to be more careful.”

Wad still said nothing, for how could he tell the King how many times Anonoei, lying on her back with Prayard about his business atop her, had looked right into Wad's eyes and winked the eye that Prayard could not see? Instead, he found a different vantage point to watch from in this room, when he felt the need to know what King Prayard and his mistress were discussing together.

Hull still thought of herself as Wad's protector, and in truth she was. But Wad also knew he had the protection of the King, and Prayard's reminder that he had never asked Wad to spy for him was, as far as Wad could see, a clear warning that the King would one day use him in precisely that way.

Indeed, Prayard did not have to ask, for along with his inventories, Wad kept a vivid memory of all the conversations he heard between the King's enemies and friends. Wad had overheard so much duplicity that he kept a complicated mental sorting frame of all the people in the castle.

There were the King's friends who were truly loyal to him, the friends who were playing their own games, and the friends who were secretly serving the Queen and her servants from Gray. Then there were the Queen's friends who were truly loyal to Bexoi's older brother, the Jarl of Gray; her friends who were actually in the pay of Prayard to spy on her; her friends who were in Prayard's pay but fed him false information; and the Queen's friends who were loyal to her nephew Frostinch, the Jarling or heir of the Jarl of Gray, who came and went from the castle at will and had his own plans and designs that often contradicted the intentions of his father.

The Queen had no friends who were loyal to her. She confided in no one, said little, complained never. She was married to a man—Prayard—who treated her with elaborate courtesy and made a ceremony of coming to her bed once a month, but spilled his seed on her belly and put nothing inside her that might make a baby. Yet she said nothing of this humiliation, though Wad had seen her more than once, after he left her, as she tried to collect her husband's seed and put it inside herself.

Wad wanted to tell her, O Bexoi, even if this worked, do you really think he would believe you if you claimed to have got his child in such a way? If he thought a child by you would be useful, he would be trying to conceive one; since he does not, he would condemn you in privy council for your supposed adultery, and then would have you returned to your father's house in public shame. Where would your child be then, O Bexoi?

He wanted to say that, but never did, because he and the Queen were not on speaking terms. She was not on speaking terms, really, with anyone, and so she intrigued Wad more than any other person in the castle, for he did not know what she wanted, what she hoped for, what she feared, what she planned, what she felt or thought about anyone or anything—not in words, anyway. He only saw what she actually did.

How could a person remain so perfectly hidden from Wad, when he watched so closely and often?

A strange thing happened, though, as he watched her over the three years he lived in Nassassa. He fell in love with her.

He did not give his feelings that name at first. He would only admit to himself a certain curiosity in her doings, and then a bit of an obsession. He thought of his watching of the Queen as a bad and dangerous habit, and tried to avoid doing it; but within a day or two he'd find himself studying her again from one of his dozen vantage points in her suite of chambers.

He finally had to admit that he loved her when Frostinch's chief agent in the castle, Luvix, who was officially there as her huntsman and master of horse, despaired of getting a chance to arrange her death by hunting accident, since she never hunted. Wad heard him arrange with his lover of the moment, Sleethair, Bexoi's chief lady-in-waiting, to be seen vomiting drunkenly in a public corridor at precisely the moment when Luvix would be entering Bexoi's room to force a quick-acting poison down her throat.

Wad, learning of the plot, did not even
decide
to break his longstanding do-nothing policy. He simply gated his hand into Luvix's sleeve where he had the vial of poison concealed, and took it.

But Wad also had an imagination, and he thought of what might happen when Luvix showed up in Bexoi's chamber, woke her to force the poison into her, and then found that it was missing. Would he allow her to live, knowing that he had laid forcible hands upon her? He would not.

So on that night, after Sleethair lovingly left her mistress to fall asleep inside her safely locked bedchamber, Wad dropped down from the ceiling. As he had expected, Bexoi made no sound, though he had certainly surprised her. Bexoi's self-discipline was perfect, which was one of the things he loved about her, since he strove for a similar perfection. Because Wad knew that Luvix had a man stationed at the door, listening for any sound within that might cause him to abort his plan, he put his finger to his lips and then beckoned to her to get out of her bed.

To his great relief, she made no argument and attempted no discussion. Instead, she nodded, then rose and slipped a warm robe around her shoulders, for the air in the castle was frigid on that autumn night—yet not cold enough that anyone had been authorized to lay fires yet.

When she was out of bed, Wad began to arrange pillows to form a human-like shape under the bedcovers. To his surprise, she laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. She returned the pillows to their proper place, and then, to his shock, she began to form the flame of her candle, the dust of the walls, and the straw on the floor into a clant.

And not just an ordinary clant, but rather a perfect image of herself, though perhaps a little younger and more perfectly beautiful than Bexoi herself. Wad wondered if this was deliberate, or if she simply thought of herself that way and did not realize how her years in Nassassa had aged her and torn the bright happiness from her face.

The clant was naked, and as it slid back under the covers, Wad marveled at how smoothly and gracefully it moved. He had not seen such expert handling of a self-seeming clant since … since …

He could not remember that time, it was so far back, but he knew that there had once been a time when many mages had the power to self-clant so perfectly that it fooled almost everyone except Wad himself, though in those days he had borne another name and served other purposes. When was it? Who was I then? He could not remember, for when he tried to think back that far, all he could see was the wood of a tree all around him, the grain of the wood permeating his own flesh in rivers of life that sustained him in his ageless, mind-empty state.

Why was I there? What was I hiding from? What had I done before I entered the tree? Why would I choose such a living death and then rest there in a dream? How long was I asleep?

No answers came to mind. But he had drawn tantalizingly near to a real memory of the time before the tree, and it distracted him momentarily. Bexoi had to come stand directly in front of him to remind him that he had a specific errand here. She reached out and touched his chest, and he came to himself again, and nodded.

She has shown me that she is a truly powerful mage, and a mage of fire and light, rather than the pathetic Feathergirl that everyone else believes her to be. So I will not conceal myself from her, either. Instead of opening the trap door and leading her down into a tunnel from which she can see nothing, I will take her into the wall and show her all as it unfolds.

Wad reached out his hand to her and she took it. He led her to his permanent gate in her chamber, which was in the same wall against which her bed stood. He pointed to the stone in which he had placed it, and pointed to the exact point on the face of the stone where the gate opened. There was a curious indentation in the stone at that spot, which was why he had chosen it.

He pushed his finger into the gate and her eyes widened. Then he pulled his finger back, took her hand, and pushed
her
finger into the gate. He had deliberately doubled the gate into a sturdy one through which anyone could pass—if they knew where it was. Now she knew. Whether he was there with her or not, she could find this passage in times of future danger, and go through it to safety.

He nudged her forward, and she followed her finger into the gate. As her body neared the stone, the gate embraced her, flowing around her body as Wad had designed it to do. She went through it without his holding her hand at all, proving to her that it was available to her even when she was alone. Then Wad followed her.

The space between the walls was an inadvertent space left by the architect; the other wall supported a military stairway up to an oilspout. So this empty space had a very high ceiling near the outside wall, which descended till it met the floor about three feet before reaching the opposite wall of her chamber.

In the darkness, she had kindled a silent flame without fuel, as only a Firemaster or Lightrider could do. It hung in the air instead of being attached to her finger, so she was a Lightrider indeed, the strongest kind of firemage. Again, Wad was touched by the thought that he had not seen such power since … since …

He led her to a spot just inside the canopy of the bed, and created a nonce gate for her. When she pressed her face to the stone, she would be able to see from a spot on a bedpost just under the canopy, where she would have a full view of all that happened on her bed. Wad made another such viewport for himself.

Then they waited, still in perfect silence.

The door opened. Luvix came in. He saw the clant lying in the bed, and closed the door behind himself and locked it.

The clant sat up and said nothing. Wad did not know if this was because Bexoi was making the clant do what she would have done, or if she was simply not capable of making the clant speak well enough to be convincing. He could hardly expect
that
level of perfection in her clanting—in these days when no one could augment their power by passing through Great Gates to Mittlegard, such skill would be almost impossible to achieve.

And he realized: All the great self-clanting and firemaking I've been comparing her to was before the closing of the Great Gates. I have memories from fourteen centuries ago. That's how long I was in the tree.

Luvix reached into his sleeve. There was nothing there.

Wad pressed the vial of poison into Bexoi's hand. She did not look to see what it was. Perhaps she guessed. At any rate, she did not take her eyes from the viewport.

Luvix realized that he had to kill her anyway—Wad could see the fearful realization come to his face. Poison could have been concealed and denied. But a bloody wound or a broken neck could not be covered up. It would be recognized as murder. It would be investigated. If Luvix succeeded in hiding his role in her death—not a perfect certainty, and he would probably have to kill his lover Sleethair to be safe—then the murder of the younger sister of the Jarl of Gray would be blamed on Iceway and the war would start up again. And if Luvix were caught, it would probably trigger an attempt by Frostinch to depose his father and take his place as Jarl of Gray. Either way, chaos and misery, blood and death.

Luvix took out, not the knife he openly carried, but a dagger concealed in his boot.

“Please,” said the clant of Bexoi. The voice was husky, half-whispered, but completely believable. Wad was giddy with admiration for her. If gatemages could create a clant, he thought, I'd want mine to be as good as this.

“I'm sorry, Lady Bexoi,” he whispered in reply. Then he gripped the top of her head and pushed the needle-like blade into her eye, then churned it around the fulcrum of the hole in the bone through which the optic nerve would pass, if it had been a living woman.

The clant must be so solid that it felt real to Luvix's fingers; and solid inside, so the blade would encounter just the right kind of interference and resistance from bone and brain and the back of the skull. If Wad had not loved the Queen before, he would love her now for the sheer magnificence and perfection of her creation.

When Luvix drew out the blade, a spurt of blood followed it, and brain and eye matter seemed to cling to it. It was so real that Wad reached out and touched the woman beside him, to be sure that
she
was the real one, and was not disappearing as the woman in the bed was killed.