The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (11 page)

There were a few cells hidden away beneath Castle Renne, though nothing like the "dungeons" one read of in stories. Dease made his way down the uneven stairs by the light of a lantern, care-ful with his footing. The stone treads were crudely made, uneven and broken in places—easy enough to lose one's footing and stum-ble. He wiped away a cobweb that netted his face, then ran a hand over his hair to search for spiders.

He came into a passageway, its vaulted stone ceiling lost in smoky shadows. The air there was cool with a dank odor of newly turned soil. A guard at the end of the passage rose quickly from the box he'd been lounging on, clearly worried that Dease would up-braid him for lazing on the job. Dease, however, could not have cared less.

"Lord Samul," Dease said.

The man bowed nervously. "This way, your grace." He lifted a lantern from a hook set into the wall and led down a short side pas-sage. Before a door with a tiny, barred window he stopped.

"That will be all," Dease said, and the guard waddled off.

Inside the cell a candle flickered, offering dull illumination to a cot, a small desk, and a single, straight-backed chair.

"Samul?"

A form rose from the cot, tossing back a blanket. "Dease?" Samul appeared in the candlelight, rising stiffly. He crossed the few paces to the ironbound door.

"I'm glad to see you alive, Cousin," Samul said, keeping his voice low.

"And you, Cousin," Dease answered. "But what folly brought you here to Castle Renne? You must know that Toren will keep his word.""I was washed out of the Stillwater into a little tributary of the Wynnd. I didn't know at first where I was."Dease hung his lantern up on a hook by the door. It drove back only the worst of the shadows. The effect of this was to give to Samul's face a cast of distress that was certainly not there. None of Samul's emotions ever showed on his face—which had led many to speculate that he had no feelings.

"I might have slipped quietly away, but when I heard war had broken out I knew I had to return to warn Toren. You will hardly believe me, but Hafydd has made a bargain with Death.""We know," Dease answered. "One of the northerners, Fynnol, saw… you in league with Hafydd. Or so the Fael say."Samul's hands came up and curled around the bars. "No, Dease! I had no choice but to pretend to serve Hafydd. It was Beld who made a bargain with Hafydd, not I. In the Stillwater Hafydd approached me alone and offered me a place of prominence in his court when he overran the land between the mountains. He spoke very seductively about all that I could have and achieve, and gave me a small leather case, which he said contained an egg. I was to open the case and break the egg just before Alaan led us out of the Stillwater. Out of range of Hafydd's influence I came to my senses. But when I went to destroy the egg Beld found me and snatched the egg from my hand, and broke it open. A wasp, flew out—I swear it is the truth—and Hafydd then believed that it was I who had signaled him. But it was Beld." He stopped to take a breath and collect his thoughts. "I saved Toren from Beld. Has he forgot-ten that?""I'm sure he hasn't. You also tried to murder him. He hasn't for-gotten that either.""And what of you, Dease? Have you forgotten your part?"Dease looked around quickly, wondering how far voices car-ried down these passages. "I've not forgotten, Cousin," he whis-pered. "That is why I'm here. I'll try to intercede with Toren for you—and with Lady Beatrice as well. But they will never trust you. Be sure of that. If I cannot sway them, I will get you out of here somehow." He glanced back down the hall. "This guard is fond of his drink. I shall slip him enough brandy to put him to sleep if I must."They fell silent then, the two conspirators. The lantern guttered and went out, leaving Dease in near darkness, only the frail light of Samul's candle pushing back a thousandth part of the darkness. Dease glanced quickly around and he realized he could be in the cell, and the little window through which he could see Samul's faint silhouette his only view of the outside.

He reached up and clasped Samul's hand, which still held the bar. "Is there anything you need?"Samul laughed. "In such luxurious surroundings what could any man want? A new pallet and bedding would not be out of order. Candles. A book to read. Ink and paper. I will soon go mad down here if I have nothing to occupy my hours.""I'll see to your needs, Samul. As soon as I can." Dease reached up and took his lantern down from its hook, feeling the warmth still rising from it even though the flame had vanished. He turned away, leaving his cousin's haunted face framed in the barred window.

"Dease?" Samul called before Dease had gone a dozen paces.

"Yes?"

HO

"And a cloak of wool. It is damp and chill down here. A man can never get warm.""I'll find you one," Dease said.

He lit his lamp again from the guard's and carried on down the passage, the small, barred windows of empty cells gazing at him re-proachfully as he left.

Elise and A'brgail supported each other as they fought through the final yards of bramble and into the failing sunlight. A'brgail glanced quickly behind. The day was all but gone, the western sky awash in molten cloud.

"He's no longer near," Elise said calmly. Her gaze appeared to rest upon some distant place, far out of his view.

A'brgail was humbled by her strength. He leaned an arm on her thin girlish shoulders, but she did not falter or even seem to notice. Her slight frame was stronger than his—stronger than any man's, he expected. If not for Elise he would never have survived the flooded cavern. But surviving that took all his strength, and he couldn't have walked another furlong without her. He shook his head. Elise stood erect still, though her golden hair was tangled, her clothing so torn to ruins that it was barely decent. Where she had been battered against the stone walls in the maze of tunnels, her skin was darkly bruised and scraped raw. She lowered A'brgail to a fallen trunk and sat down on a little hillock opposite.

"Are we in the hidden lands, yet?" the knight asked. "I've seen no landmark I recognize. No village or road. Not even a dirt track that might lead us … somewhere. We must not yet have found our way back into the land between the mountains.""We're back to our own lands," Elise said, her voice far away. "Though where we are I cannot say. Lost…" She said this last word wistfully. Then to herself, Lost.

A'brgail regarded her with what he realized was pity—this thing he had once vowed to destroy. This abomination, who appeared to be a troubled young woman, sad beyond measure. "Are you well, my lady?" he asked softly.

"No, Sir Gilbert," she said, shaking her head, her gaze fixed on the open fields. "I have not been well since I sold my soul to a monster.""You don't seem much like a monster," he answered, to his surprise.

"No? I fear it will show in time." She looked down at her hands, turning them over as though not sure they were hers. "I have her memories, her sensibility and feelings, struggling against my own, against my nature. Sianon was without remorse, without affection. Her lovers were too numerous to name, and she loved none of them. Her own children went into battle to gain her love, and when they died she did not mourn. It was the price of her gift—all loved her, but she cared for no one. That is not true; she loved one man— her own brother, Sainth, who has made a bargain with Alaan.""My brother," A'brgail said softly.

Elise did look up at him then, a crease appearing between her eyebrows, as though she tried to look inside him.

"It is a tangle of relations," she said, running her hand absent-mindedly over her torn breeches.

"But you are not Sianon," A'brgail insisted. "Alaan swears that he is not controlled by Sainth, and in truth, he does not seem greatly changed, though I have been loath to admit it until now.""But Alaan and Sainth are not so different. Sianon… she is my opposite in almost every way. And I have already given in, once, to her… appetites." She played with a frayed edge on her torn breeches. "A part of me did it only for pleasure, as a man might go to a brothel"—she closed her eyes, cheeks burning—"but the part of me that is … me—I was not so callous. My heart was… touched. It will sound naive, but I swear I felt it open—like a blos-som." She closed her eyes, as though to staunch the tears.

A'brgail found himself wanting to comfort her, though he feared it was the spell that surrounded Sianon that made everyone want to please her, to win her favor, but he couldn't help himself. "Don't be ashamed of having womanly feelings," he said. "Better to have a broken heart than no heart at all.""Easily said," Elise answered, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly. She wiped a dirty sleeve across her cheeks. "But thank you all the same." She stood. "We must go on. I need to know where we are and how far it is back to Westbrook.""Not far," said a voice.

Elise spun around to find a Fael standing a few yards off, a sword in hand.

"Archers have their arrows trained on your hearts," the man said. "You would be wise not to move.""And who are you?" Elise asked, trying to keep the pride of Sianon in check.

"I am Brendl," the Fael answered. "And you would appear to be beggars, by your dress, but I suspect that is far from the truth."A'brgail realized that other men lurked in the shadows of the trees as the dusk settled around them.

"I'm Elise Wills, and this is Gilbert A'brgail, a knight whose deeds, if they were known, would win him great renown.""Elise Wills drowned in the Westbrook," Brendl said, "or so it is said.""I did go into the Westbrook, to escape a man who calls himself Sir Eremon, but I did not drown, as you can see."The Fael nodded, a little bow of acknowledgment. "You are very much alive, but whether or not you are Elise Wills… that is for others to judge. Come with me.""And where will you take us?""Not far," he said. Other Fael appeared out of the wood then, all uncharacteristically well armed.

Elise glanced at A'brgail and nodded, to his relief. He could not have put up any resistance. He barely managed to gain his feet without help. A Fael came to his aid, and he made his way through the shadows beneath the trees, with Elise supporting him on one side and a black wanderer on the other.

In a few moments they broke out of the trees into the quickly failing light.

Brendl raised a hand and pointed. "There. The tower cities of my people."A'brgail pulled himself upright and gazed down the hillside into the dark shadow of the undulating blue hills. There was water there—a small lake, perhaps—dark as steel in the spreading twi-light. And then he saw them; the three worn stone towers—raised by the hand of nature—extending like misshapen fingers from the smooth water. Upon their crests the cities of the Fael—Aland-or, Fylan-or, and Naismoran.

"How in the world have we come here? It is far from where we began.""Leagues," Elise said.

They made their way down the hillside. A rubble wall protected a sloping pasture, and they clambered noisily over loose stone and down into the soft grass. Sheep appeared to float in the twilight: small, dim clouds upon the heath.

It was a long walk down the hill, darkness growing about them. The final furlong passed beneath the stars. A cool breeze sprang up from the north, and in his exhausted state, A'brgail began to feel chill. A flint road appeared before them, a pale gray ribbon wind-ing down toward the darkened lake.

Atop the towers, lights appeared, much closer now, and the knight could see that the buildings stretched for some distance down the tower's sides, the structures clinging there by what means he could not guess. At the road's end they came to a ferry dock, a broad, flat barge rising and falling almost imperceptibly between stone pillars. Two tall Fael stepped out of the shadow of a small blockhouse. One came forward, a hand laid lightly on the hilt of his sword. The other stood back, an arrow knocked, the curving yaka wood bow gleaming in the starlight. Brendl went forward and spoke to them quietly in the language of their people.

A moment later he returned to the outsiders. "Come, we will cross to Aland-or. The elders will decide what to do with you.""Is it against some Fael law to walk abroad by night?" Elise asked stubbornly.

A'brgail thought that Brendl looked a bit embarrassed. "We have received disturbing news from our people who travel the land between the mountains. There are rumors that the Renne and the Wills are about to go to war, if they have not done so already." He waved a hand to a good-sized boat.

A'brgail needed help to climb aboard, but they were soon cross-ing the flat water, six men at the oars, another half dozen guarding the strangers, though A'brgail thought they were going out of their way to offer no threat. The oars disturbed the stars, wavering all around them, and sent them spinning away in their wake. A'brgail pulled his tattered robe close against the cool breeze and dampness of the lake, but Elise seemed unaffected. Just to sit was a relief. A'brgail felt the weakness of his limbs as he slumped on the thwart, unable to sit upright.

Each stroke of the oars sent the boat surging forward, the bow rising a little, black water rippling by. Like most of the inhabitants of the land between the mountains, A'brgail had spent some time in boats. The Wynnd and its tributaries were the main roads of the land, after all. He might not know a good boat to look at it, but to ride in one was a different thing. This boat rode the waters lightly, tracked straight and true, and did not bob or roll about. He ran his fingers along the gunwale, the planking; all was smooth and fair, the scantlings surprisingly fine.

Overhead, nighthawks cried. A fish shot into the air, splashing immediately back into its element. Was the surface invisible by night, he wondered? Did fish fly out into the air unwittingly?

As I am doing myself, he thought. For he seemed to be in a world not his own, confused, gasping for breath.

The woman beside him was an abomination. A grand master of his order had been burned alive for doing what she had done. Bar-gains with nagar always went awry. But even so, he could not help but feel pity for her. He had seen the agony she was in, clearly, but an hour before. She was paying the price for what she'd done. He hoped that she would be the only one to pay. He also hoped that Lady Elise would never give rein to the thing within her, for Sianon was a heartless monster. A woman who lived for war and felt no re-morse for the lives it cost. Yet, Sianon was also their only hope—she and Alaan. Hafydd could not be defeated without them.

The tower of Aland-or loomed out of the darkness, and a small stone wharf appeared at its base. They clambered out onto the steps. Brendl went quickly up to the guards and spoke low. A'brgail found himself staring at them, wondering if any small movement or look would betray what was being said or indicate their intentions. The guards only turned to regard them solemnly.

"This man does not speak your language," Brendl said, "but he will take you up into the city. I will send you on without guards if you give your word to cause no trouble.""What choice have we?" Elise asked, bristling a little. "But yes, we will give our word."Brendl bowed to them once, then climbed nimbly back into the boat. In a moment he was lost in the dark, only the quick rhythmic splash of the oars marking his progress.

At an unseen signal from the guards, ropes began singing through blocks somewhere high above. A large woven basket ap-peared out of the dark, landing with a gentle thump on the stone. Their guide opened a small gate in the basket's side and motioned for Elise and A'brgail to step inside. In a moment the three of them were rising smoothly through the air, the dark, star-speckled lake spreading out below.

A soft breeze found them as they rose, and A'brgail had the feel-ing that they had taken their leave of the world and were in flight,floating up like a hawk on a rising breeze. He glanced over at Elise, barely discernible in the faint light. She stood with a hand on the narrow rail, gazing out over the still waters. How careworn she looked. Her youthful face overcome by the concerns of someone much older.

But how old would Sianon be, he wondered?

A'brgail also wondered what thoughts were preying on her mind, for she was an enigma to him—he who had not much expe-rience of women, let alone a woman who had made a bargain with a nagar.

The basket slowed, then settled into a wooden structure, a small plank floor opening up around them, dark wooden beams, carved with birds in flight, curving overhead. Lanterns cast their incon-stant golden light there, and A'brgail saw that the structure was el-egant and lightly built, which no doubt it would need to be, for it was cantilevered out over the edge of a cliff.

Their guide spoke with the Fael who served there, and one of them turned to the strangers, and said haltingly, "I will take you to a place where you will wait. Please follow me."He led them out of the door, not bothering with a lantern. They passed along a narrow walkway, smoothly paved with stone. The city of the Fael opened up before them, lit here and there by lanterns hanging over doorways. The walkways were not broad; three men might lie head to toe and span the one they were in. Upon each side stood buildings, some shops, others apparently res-idences. They did not exceed three floors, there at least, their doors brightly painted, deep stone walls topped by plastered and half-timbered gables, all crowned by steeply pitched slate roofs. Every-where he looked the famed craftsmanship of Fael could be seen: a bench carved with flowers, windows intricately leaded and some of stained glass.

The city had a certain organization and harmony; at the same time as it appeared to have developed in some random manner. Down a set of finely made stairs their guide led them. Around a bend, a small park opened up before them, a pond in its center.

There couples walked, and elders took their leisure on benches. A troupe of musicians played on a small pram that drifted aimlessly over the waters.

A'brgail saw Elise hesitate. He could almost feel her desire to linger in this place, to listen to the music—some part of her was the daughter of Lord Carral Wills, after all. The Fael admired him greatly, and that could be said of few men.

Their guide stooped, and a hushed conversation ensued with a white-haired man, who then hurried off. The guide motioned them on. Another flight of stairs led them down, but this was on the edge of the tower, for it looked out over the world. A few clouds, smooth and still, hung in the brightly starred sky. The waning moon would rise in an hour or two. A'brgail wondered if he would be able to stay awake that long. He had never known such exhaustion.

They were led through a pair of large doors made of yaka wood, the planks wider than any A'brgail had ever seen, or even heard of. Inside was a long chamber with windows opening out to the world beyond.

"You are in the Chamber of the Rising Moon," their guide said. His look was suddenly solicitous. "Is it true you are the daughter of Lord Carral Wills?""It is true, yes.""But we had heard you died in an accident.""It was no accident, and I did not die," Elise said, a great weari-ness coming into her voice.

The man made a small bow and backed away quickly. "I will send you water for washing, and food and drink. The elders will come shortly. You have arrived unexpectedly, and they must be found and decisions made about who will attend you."They were left alone in the room, which was both elegant and spare, the decorations understated and strange to A'brgail's eye, for the artistic sensibilities of the Fael were different from the other peoples of the land between the mountains. Columns were narrow at their base and spread as they rose, seeming to whirl up to the curving beams overhead. Opposite the long bank of windows that looked out toward the east, tapestries hung over the stone walls, their colors rich and deep.