Shadowbred_ The Twilight War Part 23

Cale sighed and looked across the table into Tamlin's eyes. "My respect is hard-earned these days, my lord."

Tamlin stared across the table, waiting.

"No, I do not," Cale admitted, and once he opened the gate, the army poured forth. "I do not think you understand the scope of the problems before you, before the city. I could see that after walking the streets for only one day. You still think like a n.o.bleman, not a statesman. And you take counsel from fools like Vees Talendar. And still you-"

He cut himself off. He had said enough. He could see the hurt in Tamlin's eyes, and below that, the angry defiance. Cale knew the expression well. Tamlin often had shown it when his father had demanded something of him. Tamlin had always disliked anyone demanding anything of him.

Tamlin took another bite of beef and said tightly, "You come back for a single day after being gone a year and think to take the measure of me, Vees, and the city all at a glance?"

"My absence did not render me blind," Cale answered. "Or stupid."

Tamlin stared at him across the table. "Thank you for your candor, Mister Cale." He dropped his utensils. "You will excuse me. My appet.i.te has pa.s.sed."

"My lord-"

"We leave for Ordulin as soon as I can get some final matters resolved," Tamlin said as he rose. "The fool to whom I sometimes listen will not be accompanying us. He must attend ceremonies at the new temple."

Cale nodded. He thought of apologizing but could not bring himself to do it.

"Good eve, my lord."

"Good eve, Mister Cale."

Cale finished the meal alone and in silence.

Afterward, he walked the halls until he reached the kitchen and was warmly welcomed by Brilla. She wiped down a butcher's block, set him down on a stool, and smiled as she watched him eat her raisin and syrup torte.

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Vees shed his false face-that of a spoiled dilettante n.o.bleman-and entered the temple through the concealed doorway in the alley. He had murdered the four stonemasons who had knowledge of the secret entrance, using the curved sacrificial knife at his belt to cut their throats.

He closed the pivoting secret door behind him and walked down the steep stairs that led into the secret worship hall below the false temple to Siamorphe. When he reached the vestry off the hall, he donned a ceremonial robe that awaited him there-a voluminous black velvet affair with purple piping. Whispering a prayer to his G.o.ddess, he walked the corridor to the main worship hall.

His steps carried him through one of the magically created areas of silence that surrounded the hall. His footsteps on the stone went quiet. A ring of such areas surrounded the worship hall, as did a series of magical screens to prevent scryings. Anything that happened within the hall could be heard and seen only by those in attendance. The secrecy of the design pleased the Lady.

The worship hall of the Lady's temple lay directly below the worship hall of Siamorphe. Like Vees, the temple had a false face. Like Vees, the temple purported to serve one purpose while serving another.

He reached the edge of the area of silence and immediately sensed the change-the whimpers of the sacrifice victim and the murmur of the worshipers suddenly sounded in his ears. He pulled up his hood-none of the worshipers knew his true ident.i.ty-and pushed open the apse door. A rustle of movement greeted him as the worshipers turned to watch him enter. Even the sacrifice went silent. The large, semicircular worship hall smelled of tallow candles and fear-tinged sweat.

Vees held up his arms and spoke aloud the supplication.

"In the darkness of night we hear the whisper of the void."

"Heed its words," responded the eight worshipers of Shar. "Welcome, Dark Watcher."

"Welcome, dark sisters and brothers," Vees answered, and moved to the altar.

The worshipers lowered themselves onto kneelers, heads down as he pa.s.sed. No accoutrements of the faith adorned the altar or the worship hall. No windows allowed outside light. The Lady and the Nightseer wished it so.

The room was dark but for the candles that burned in candelabra at the head and feet of the bound and naked sacrifice. Shadows played over the bare walls, the arched ceiling.

Vees a.s.sumed the sacrifice-a thin, malnourished man-to be one of the refugees from upcountry. He stepped behind the altar and smiled within his hood. The difficult times in Selgaunt had made sacrifices so easy to obtain.

Sweat glistened on the man's body; he stank of fear. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He stared up at Vees with wide, terrified eyes.

"Do not," he said, his voice a croak. He must have been crying, or screaming, before Vees arrived. "Please."

Vees ignored him and looked out on the worshipers. He moved to one candelabrum and blew out all but one of the candles, then did the same with the other. A deeper darkness settled on the chamber.

"Darkness has fallen and the Lady of Loss is with us," Vees said. "Give her now your bitterness. Lay your losses before her."

He waited while the worshipers confessed aloud the matters that had made them bitter, the things they had lost, the grudges they had developed since the last time the group had met the month before. The hubbub of voices made it impossible for Vees to distinguish sentences or speakers, but Vees knew the Lady heard them all and rejoiced.

When the worshipers completed the ritual and fell silent, Vees said, "The Lady is pleased by your offerings made in this, her new temple. The construction is nearly complete. We turn now to the sanctification of her altar, which requires blood."

The sacrifice writhed, pleaded. "No! No!"

Vees reached under his robes and withdrew the sacrificial dagger. He held it above the man.

The sacrifice fought against his bonds. His breath came so quickly he would soon lose consciousness. Vees could see every tendon in his body, every muscle.

"Your despair is sweet to the Lady," Vees said, and raised the blade for a killing strike.

The sacrifice stared wide-eyed at the blade's point and screamed.

CHAPTER TEN

1 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms.

Cale awoke in his chamber before dawn. He had not dreamed of Magadon since arriving in Selgaunt and did not know what to make of it. Mask's words haunted him: Magadon will suffer in the meanwhile Magadon will suffer in the meanwhile.

Cale dressed and met Tamlin a bit after dawn in the main hall. They exchanged pleasantries and walked side by side across the grounds to the stables. Tamlin wore his father's ermine-trimmed traveling cloak with a rapier, but no armor or shield. Cale recalled that armor interfered with Tamlin's ability to cast spells. A satchel with two thick, leather-bound tomes hung over his shoulder.

Books on spellcraft, Cale a.s.sumed with some surprise, since he had never known Tamlin to favor reading. Tamlin had become a moderately accomplished sorcerer over the years. If only his leadership and talent for statesmanship had matured as much as his magical ability.

"Your mount will regret your choice of reading material, my lord," said Cale.

Tamlin smiled tightly. "Just something of interest to me."

For his part, Cale wore his enchanted leather armor, his daggers, and Weaveshear. Pouches at his belt held his lockpicking kit and his coin purse. His pack held his bedroll, rope, and the magical tome he had taken from the Fane of Shadows. He carried the Shadowlord's mask in his pocket.

"I received word late last night that Mother and Tazi arrived safely at Storl Oak," Tamlin said. "I understand that was your suggestion?"

Cale nodded. "Were they escorted, my lord?"

"Of course," Tamlin snapped, an edge in his voice. "I am not a fool, Mister Cale, despite your suggestion to the contrary. Eight members of the house guard rode with them, including Captain Orrin. Five more men plus Talbot await them at Storl Oak."

Cale nodded and said nothing more. They walked the rest of the way to the stables in silence.

The grooms had saddled twelve geldings, all of them stout steeds thirteen hands or more in height. Three pack horses loaded with gear stood with their heads lowered. Ren and nine other members of the Uskevren house guard were loading equipment onto their geldings. All wore chain shirts, helmets, and serious looks. Each bore a blade, a crossbow, and a shield enameled with the Uskevren crest. Their livery, too, featured the Uskevren horse at anchor. They spoke congenially to their mounts as they checked tack, harness, stirrup, and saddle.

"My lord," all of them nodded to Tamlin in greeting. "Mister Cale."

"Men," Tamlin answered.

Ren nodded a greeting at Cale as he stuffed a bedroll into his saddlebag.

The head groom, a tall, thin man with tanned arms and dark hair, moved from man to man, fretting. "I a.s.sure you that all is in order with the tack." His annoyed tone made clear that he took extreme pride in his meticulous work, and that the house guards' efforts came as a personal affront.

The men smiled, nodded, and ignored him, adjusting straps and buckles as they saw fit.

A boy held Cale's and Tamlin's mounts by their bits. Cale eyed the horses with apprehension. He had never been a skilled horseman, and riding with only one hand would make it worse. Tamlin noticed his nervousness and smiled smugly.

"Vos is an easy ride, Mister Cale," said the groomsman.

"Very easy, goodsir," said the scrawny boy in an overlarge shirt who held the horse.

"Vos," Cale said, and chuckled. Vos Vos was a word from the Dwarvish tongue. It meant "wild" or "unruly," and was usually used to describe a dwarven beer fest. Probably the groom had no idea of its etymology. was a word from the Dwarvish tongue. It meant "wild" or "unruly," and was usually used to describe a dwarven beer fest. Probably the groom had no idea of its etymology.

"You will be keeping to the roads the whole time," the groom said. "An easy ride."

Cale found small comfort in the fact, but mounted up without embarra.s.sing himself.

Tamlin loaded his gear into his mount's saddlebags and fairly leaped atop his horse. Unlike Cale, Tamlin was an experienced rider. "Ordulin is seven days' ride," he called to the group. "Let's get started. Is all ready, Ren?"

Ren looked to his men, who nodded. "All's ready, my lord."

The house guards mounted up and took station around Cale and Tamlin. Cale smiled at his awkwardness in the saddle. He had climbed eight-story buildings barehanded, but felt uncomfortable perched atop the horse. He did his best to settle in as the group started out.

When they reached Rauncel's Ride, Cale immediately noticed fewer Helms on the street. Before he could ask, Tamlin said, "I reconsidered my course, Mister Cale. At least on the matter of the Helms. A few squads remain in the n.o.ble District, but I stationed the rest at the city gates. They will no longer patrol the streets, but they will be available to Vees and the Old Chauncel should they be needed."

Cale looked Tamlin in the face. "Wisely done, my lord."

Tamlin nodded grudgingly. "The temples responded to my suggestion as you suspected they would. I understand that they are already distributing food-all of them. Temple Avenue is thronged more than during a Shieldmeet festival. The city will still have a hunger problem, but it will not be a crisis, at least not in the short term."

Cale heard both appreciation and resentment in Tamlin's tone and resolved to hold his tongue. He hoped the measures stabilized the city until Tamlin's return. He did not trust Vees and the Old Chauncel to keep good order. In fact, he did not trust Vees Talendar at all.

Groups of Selgauntans gathered to watch them pa.s.s. The house guard kept them at a distance from Cale and Tamlin. None showed any anger toward Tamlin-Cale deemed that a good sign-and a few even shouted encouragement. Tamlin must have sent a herald to announce his departure.

"Two tendays ago, they cursed my name and spat on the ground as I pa.s.sed," Tamlin said to Cale. He shook his head. "The people are fickle."

Cale made no comment and they rode in silence toward the Klaroun Gate. Scepters saluted as they pa.s.sed. The Helms stationed at the gate did the same. As they climbed the far side of High Bridge, looking down at the glittering, boat-dotted waters of the Elzimmer and Selgaunt Bay, Cale finally asked the question that was eating at him. "How did Vees Talendar come to gain your confidence, my lord?"

Tamlin's mouth tightened and Cale knew he should not have asked. "Vees Talendar has been an a.s.set to me and the city for over a year, Mister Cale. As for anything more, I am not inclined to share it." He looked Cale in the face and said, "The how and the why do not matter."

Cale did not like having his words thrown back at him but he bit back his anger. He did not regret his words to Tamlin over dinner, but he thought perhaps he could have delivered them with more tact. Despite Tamlin's station, he remained in many ways the disappointing son of an accomplished father.

Cale sighed and made himself as comfortable as possible in the saddle. It would be a long ride to Ordulin.

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Miklos Selkirk guided his dappled mare around a deep rut in the earth. Kavin skirted it on the other side on his roan mare.

"She is involved," Miklos said across the gap. "There can be no doubt."

Miklos had been saying much the same thing for the previous two days. Kavin knew it was his brother's way of facing the death of their father. Miklos grieved by talking, planning, shouting, acting. He was never one to sit in a corner and wail.

Kavin had always been the more thoughtful of the two Selkirk brothers, and he did his best to check his brother's unwise impulses. He said, "Our contacts in the High Council indicated that the Tyrrans questioned her before the High Council. Mirabeta denied involvement in Father's death, and the high lord abbot p.r.o.nounced it truth."

Miklos's lips twisted in contempt under his moustache. "Then he is wrong, bought, or both."

"Father's spirit named Endren his murderer."

They guided their horses back together and Miklos shook his head. "You know Endren Corrinthal, Kavin. He is no murderer. Besides, it was Abelar Corrinthal who sent word to us in Scardale and who described the events in the High Council. The man is as right as a carpenter's square. No, this is the work of Mirabeta and that scheming niece she keeps at her side. I am certain of it."

Kavin did know Endren, mostly by reputation. The elder Corrinthal was regarded as an astute politician and an honorable man. His son, Abelar, a servant of Lathander, was above reproach. Abelar had left Ordulin but sent word to Miklos in Scardale, telling him of events, warning him away from Ordulin, and offering him sanctuary in Saerb. Miklos had sent a written reply, thanking Abelar but declining the offer of sanctuary. His place was in Ordulin, he had written.

"We never should have left the capital," Miklos said, pulling at one end of his moustache. "Not with everything that has happened recently. If we had been there, this never would have occurred."

Kavin nodded, though he was not entirely sure he knew which "this" Miklos meant. He said nothing. His brother was given to recriminations and nothing Kavin could say would stop him. Kavin doubted that their presence would have changed much.

"Look at this," Miklos said hotly, and gestured at the field through which they rode. Kavin could not tell from the bare, dried dirt what might have grown there once. He a.s.sumed barley, possibly wheat. Miklos snorted. "Fallow. The upcountry fields are fallow all across the realm. Villages are abandoned. d.a.m.ned drought. Double-d.a.m.ned dragons. And thrice-d.a.m.ned Rain of Fire!" He frowned and said softly, "A realm can bear only so much. Sembia is tottering. I feel it. I fear what will become of it, Kavin."

"Nothing good, with Mirabeta as overmistress," Kavin answered.

"Temporary overmistress," Miklos corrected with a wag of his finger. "And we will remedy even that as soon as possible." overmistress," Miklos corrected with a wag of his finger. "And we will remedy even that as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Kavin said.

After receiving word from Abelar three days earlier, they had left Scardale in secret and in disguise, cutting southwest across the backcountry to avoid the roads and spies. The travel was slower than by road, but more circ.u.mspect. The Silver Ravens-the men of Miklos's mercenary company-had wanted to provide an armed escort but Miklos and Kavin had refused. They hoped to enter Ordulin unnoted and unannounced, a.s.sess the political situation and how best to play it, and find out the truth behind their father's death.

"I have arranged a safehouse in Ordulin," Kavin said. "We should have a tenday or more before the moot."

"Time enough," Miklos said.

Kavin agreed, though they would have to move fast to solidify opposition to Mirabeta.

After a time, they dismounted and broke for a quick meal of dried meat and stale bread. Kavin was relieved to be out of the saddle. Hard riding over rough terrain had left him sore.

After eating, they mounted up and continued their crosscountry trek, hoping to reach Ordulin by the next night. After about two hours of riding and continued plotting and grumbling, Miklos pulled back on his reins. His mare snorted and danced a half-circle. He wore a puzzled look.