Shadowheart Part 14

"A-Avros. They call me 'Little Avros.' " He shrugged. "Because I'm tall."

"I see. Go on, then."

The soldier was long gone by the time Dard reached the fence. Briony pulled out her smaller knife and began to clean her fingernails. "You bribed a soldier," she said. "The prince won't like that."

"Surely you won't tell," Dard replied. "That poor lad, with his ugly sister trying to raise a dowry ..."

"Enough. What do you want?"

"I recognized you."

Briony raised her eyes to look at him for a flat moment, then returned to examining her nails. "Everyone in this camp knows who I am. Did you waste my time just for that?"

"No, Princess, truly I didn't. I want to bargain with you."

"Bargain?" She looked from side to side. "Eneas now owns everything you had, merchant. What could you possibly have to bargain with? Especially with me?"

"Information." He smiled. He did not have all his teeth, but those he had were very white and shiny. She was not impressed. "I know something that I think you would like to know."

"And why should I not have Prince Eneas squeeze it from you like water from a cleaning rag?"

Dard was not intimidated. "Because you might not want him to know about it. But if you want me to tell him first, of course, I will ..."

She took a moment to finish cleaning under the nail of her smallest finger, then slipped the knife back in its hidden sheath. "And what do you want in return for this information, merchant?"

"Freedom. I can make back the money I lost on this venture in half a year-but not if I am a prisoner. Eneas can put the mercenaries to work, but he has no need for me and my colleagues. I was only trying to make a living, not take sides in a war." He shrugged. "And I do not think this will be a safe place to be for very long."

Briony considered the man. What could he know that she would not want to share with Eneas? The fact that she could not think of anything did not make her feel more secure. "But even if I wished to make such a bargain, I have no power to do so. The prince of Syan is the master here."

"Can you not . . . persuade him?" White teeth or no, his leer was disgusting.

Briony turned and walked away.

"Wait! Wait, my lady, I am sorry! I mistook the situation! Please, come back!" She turned and looked at him. Dard the Jar had sunk to his knees and now let his desperation show: "Please, Princess, I was a fool-forgive me. Just give me your word that you will do your best to honor our bargain and I will trust you. Will you do that? If my information helps you, promise you will speak to Eneas about my release and I will be satisfied. Your word is good enough for me."

She was half-frightened, half-curious to hear what he considered information good enough to bargain with a princess. "Very well," she finally said. "I promise that, if what you say is useful, I will speak with Eneas on your behalf."

"Soon. Before there is any more fighting."

"Soon, yes. Now, what is this news of yours?"

He looked from side to side, although there was not another soul within several dozen paces, then leaned close to the stockade fence. Briony moved as close as she could while staying out of the merchant's reach-she was not going to be tricked into being anyone's hostage.

"On the other side of the hills," he said, "on the sh.o.r.e of Brenn's Bay, lies the autarch's camp."

"I know that, merchant ..."

"But what you don't know is that he has a prisoner-a royal prisoner." Watching her face, he must have felt he had guessed right, because his expression became more confident. "Ah, I see you did not know. That prisoner is your father, Princess Briony-the autarch has your father, King Olin of Southmarch."

12.

Willow "They traveled to Perikal and Ulos and even savage Akaris, where they saw Xandian wind-priests in the marketplace and heard the whine of their pagan song, but the Orphan stopped his ears and eyes against such G.o.dless hymns ..."

-from "A Child's Book of the Orphan, and His Life and Death and Reward in Heaven"

SOMETIMES IT SEEMED that the guns would never stop again. After days of a curious, unexpected peace, the Xixian attack had finally begun and had not stopped since. The southern ships slipped up and down Brenn's Bay, their cannons blasting the tops of the city walls and smashing rooftops and spires into a deadly rain of whirling rubble that killed people from above as suddenly as Perin's lightning. Much of the roof of Wolfstooth Spire, the city's tallest tower, was already gone. Larger Xixian guns hammered away at the outer wall all day long from their emplacement on the hill behind mainland Southmarch, and once or twice every hour the autarch's mightiest cannons, the Crocodiles, roared their terrible roars. The Crocodiles fired cannonb.a.l.l.s so big it took dozens of men just to lift one, carved boulders which could punch holes in even the thickest ramparts with just a couple of landed shots. Southmarch's defenders had to rebuild the most critical parts of the great outer wall every night, gangs of men working feverishly in near-darkness before the autarch's cannons came back to fiery life in the morning and began the a.s.sault all over again.

It was obvious even to Sister Utta, who knew very little of war, that the castle could not resist the a.s.sault for very long-hundreds of Southmarch folk had already died, and many hundreds more lay wounded. Already Xixian soldiers in conical helmets were running boldly at the base of the walls, shrieking up at the defenders like mad things, daring them to waste precious arrows and rifle-b.a.l.l.s. At some point there would be too few hands available to rebuild the broken sections of wall and the autarch's soldiers would come pouring through. Utta knew she would have to make a final decision on whether to let herself be taken or to violate the Zorian order's prohibition against suicide-she certainly did not expect to be treated as gently by the Xixian soldiers as she had been by the Qar.

Utta made the sign of the Three as she stepped out of the covered pa.s.sage into the long colonnade that ran along the western side of the residence gardens. The morning sun was nearly visible above the ramparts, which meant that the lull in the cannonade would end soon and the thunderous, smashing attack would begin anew. It was never entirely safe now anywhere in the castle, but in these small, temporary silences there was at least the illusion of lessened danger. Utta was happy to grasp at whatever kindly untruths she could find, since even the most obviously false hopes were in scant supply these days.

Avin Brone had set himself up in a suite of chambers beside the guard barracks. The Zorian sister walked across the open s.p.a.ces as quickly as possible, trying to stay away from the taller buildings, often the first targets of the morning barrage because they were the first things that caught the light. The ruins of the Tower of Winter gave testimony to that: it had been largely destroyed less than a tennight ago and the upper half of it still lay across the buildings crushed in its fall like the corpse of some serpentine monster.

It was a sort of miracle in itself, Utta recognized, that Avin Brone was still free, let alone taking a major part in the castle's defense. In other circ.u.mstances, it would have been interesting to note how the power ebbed and flowed in Southmarch: Berkan Hood and the castle's other defenders had begun to realize that they were largely on their own, that Hendon Tolly was not going to step up and lead the resistance to the siege, so Brone was useful again.

She found him in the chamber he had made his meeting room, his painful leg up on a stool. Brone was attended by three or four worried-looking guardsmen-none of them old enough to be wearing armor, Utta thought disapprovingly, let alone risking their lives in defense of Hendon Tolly. But after the destruction in the farmer Kolkan's field and the murderous fight against the Qar, perhaps as few as a thousand men remained in the castle who were even capable of lifting a weapon.

"Lord Brone," she said. "May I have a moment?"

He looked up at her, frowning. His guards, or squires, or whatever these spotty-faced boys were supposed to be, did their best to seem perturbed by her intrusion as well. "What?"

"I'm Sister Utta, Lord Brone. Do you remember? We have met before."

His beard was almost completely gray now, although some of that might have been the ubiquitous dust from shattered stone and plaster that filled the air these days. It took a moment before he recognized her, then his preoccupied frown turned into another kind of frown altogether.

"Yes, Sister. Forgive me, but I am grievously occupied. What can I do for you?"

"Not for me, Lord Brone. For the d.u.c.h.ess. She asks you to come to her."

"Merolanna? But ..." He shook his head in irritation. "I cannot walk-not well. And in case you and the d.u.c.h.ess have not noticed, we are at war with a cruel enemy. Ask her to forgive my discourtesy, Sister, but it is not convenient just now." He tried to turn back to the maps of the city spread on the table before him, but a residue of guilt made him look up. "Truly, it just cannot be. Not today."

"I will tell her that, Lord Brone. She will be disappointed, of course. She said to tell you that she wishes to talk to you of a matter that you alone know about. That you alone you alone know about." Utta had no idea what this was supposed to mean, but the d.u.c.h.ess had been very firm. know about." Utta had no idea what this was supposed to mean, but the d.u.c.h.ess had been very firm.

"Don't let him say no," Merolanna had told her. Merolanna had told her. "He will try. Don't let him." "He will try. Don't let him."

"Truly, I cannot, Sister. It is not the right time," Brone said, but with less certainty than before. He looked flushed and weary, and certainly no one would argue that he was in the best of health himself. Utta felt bad for him, but not so bad that she did not bring up her next weapon.

"Very well, but I fear to give her this news," she said. "She is not very strong."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Merolanna? I have never heard that said of her before."

"You have not seen her since we were held prisoners by the Qar. She is not the woman she was."

"The man I sent to interview you both on your return said nothing of this." But he looked stricken. What kind of lord constable could he have made, Utta wondered, with such a soft heart? Or was she mistaking one emotion for another?

"Come and see for yourself, Lord Brone. She is not well. Our captivity was hard on her, and she is not a young woman." Utta did not feel too bad about applying this pressure to the count of Landsend. She only wished that she were not telling the truth.

He groaned. "I will need a sedan chair."

She tried to be firm, although seeing the swollen sausage of his foot she was feeling a little sorry for him. "You are an important man, Count Avin. I am sure even in such days as these, one will be made available for you. Or Merolanna could send you her carriage, if a way can be cleared through the rubble."

Merolanna had propped herself up in her bed, but she truly did not look well. The new physician had taken out several of her teeth, which had gone rotten during her captivity-Kayyin the half-fairy had offered to get her help, but the thought of one of the Qar poking in her mouth had horrified Merolanna, and she had refused. Now her cheeks were sunken, something even the thorough application of rouge could not disguise. Her hair, concealed now under a simple white linen coif, had grown quite thin as well, and the hands that clutched bedclothes to breast were bony and mottled. Only her eyes retained much of what she had been even a year ago. Her gaze was still sharp, and it fixed on Brone as he hobbled into the room.

"So you did come." Her voice quavered just a little.

"Yes, Your Grace," he said. "How could I refuse such a kind invitation? 'Tell him to come, or I will drop dead on the floor and it will be on his conscience' 'Tell him to come, or I will drop dead on the floor and it will be on his conscience'-wasn't that the gist of it, Sister Utta?"

Even Merolanna had to smile at that, but she quickly raised her hand to cover her ruined mouth. "As always, you exaggerate, Brone. But I am glad you're here. We need to talk." She turned to Utta. "Leave us now, Sister, so I can speak to Count Avin alone. We are old friends, after all."

Utta had not known she would be sent away. She bowed her head and went out, but with more than a little anger in her heart. How much time had she and Merolanna spent together in the last year? How long had they lived with each other like maiden sisters, captives of the Qar? And had any of it been for Utta's sake? No, but now Merolanna sent her away as though she were nothing better than a servant.

It isn't right, she thought, stopping as she reached the door of the outer chambers where she could hear Merolanna's maids talking quietly as they sewed, pretty young Eilis usually loudest and always quickest to laugh. What future for Eilis or any of them in this doomed castle? These were frightening times. And yet, Utta, who had experienced things few other people could even imagine, who had actually met the dark mistress of the fairies and lived, was expected to go out and sit with these young children until Merolanna was done talking to this important man, so vital to the castle's continued survival. she thought, stopping as she reached the door of the outer chambers where she could hear Merolanna's maids talking quietly as they sewed, pretty young Eilis usually loudest and always quickest to laugh. What future for Eilis or any of them in this doomed castle? These were frightening times. And yet, Utta, who had experienced things few other people could even imagine, who had actually met the dark mistress of the fairies and lived, was expected to go out and sit with these young children until Merolanna was done talking to this important man, so vital to the castle's continued survival.

Her hand was actually on the door handle when she turned and retraced her steps. Utta did not mean to spy on Merolanna-she intended only to walk back in and ask to be included, let the d.u.c.h.ess know that after all they had been through together she expected better treatment-but what she heard through the door stopped her for a second time with her fingers on a door handle.

". . . My child? Yes, he is my child, Brone. But he is your child, too. You have never taken responsibility for your act ..."

Utta went rigid. The lost baby, the one who after all these years had suddenly possessed Merolanna's thoughts . . . was Brone's?

"My act? With all respect, Merolanna, you were my elder and I was quite green. Is that not called a seduction? And I helped you with money, helped you find the woman to take care of him. ..." act? With all respect, Merolanna, you were my elder and I was quite green. Is that not called a seduction? And I helped you with money, helped you find the woman to take care of him. ..."

"Yes, the woman who let the fairies steal him!" For a moment Merolanna was close to weeping-Utta knew the older woman's ways quite well. "My poor child, stolen and dragged away behind that cursed Shadowline . . . !"

Brone sounded tired and old. "You must make up your mind, Merolanna. Is he your child or my child? It cannot be both ways."

"Yes, it can," she said, her voice so low that Utta found herself leaning close to the door like any eavesdropping servant. "Because he is ours. Your blood and mine."

"I don't understand what you want me to do." Brone spoke like a man who knew he had been defeated.

"The Qar know what happened to him. They took him, so they know, but they would not tell me. That witch who leads them imprisoned me so she would not have to face me. I sent message after message asking only for the smallest bit of news, but she ignored me."

Which was not exactly true, Utta thought. The d.u.c.h.ess had indeed sent message after message, but the strange creature named Kayyin had brought back more than a few replies, and all of them had been the same: Yasammez had not ignored Merolanna's questions, she had simply refused to answer them.

"What should I do?" Brone laughed sourly. "Do you think I have any sway with the fairies? Anyway, they are gone from here."

"Don't treat me like an idiot. I looked that horrible fairy woman in the eye. She would no more walk away from this place than you or I would. She has only retreated a short way and she might be convinced to make common cause against another and greater mortal enemy. I suspect that is what's happened. There are people who even claim that the fairies have gone to ground under the castle! But that is nothing to me."

"What people?" Brone was angry now. "Who says such things? Where did you hear it?"

"Oh, don't be a fool, Avin. It doesn't suit you." For a moment, Utta could hear the old affection come up in the d.u.c.h.ess' voice; for the first time she could truly believe the two had once been lovers. "Even with that foul little Hendon Tolly barring the way in and out of Funderling Town, gossip still travels. You cannot expect people to hide such a thing, especially not from me. I know everything that happens in this castle. You should remember that."

The Qar hiding inside the walls of Southmarch? And Brone himself aware of it and doing nothing? How could that be? For the first time, Utta was painfully aware that she was not just eavesdropping but spying on state secrets. She took a step away from the door in case one of the ladies in waiting should come through, but the m.u.f.fled talk from the front room still went on as before.

". . . It matters not," Merolanna was saying when Utta leaned close to the door again. "At least not to me. Nor do any of the other secrets you are keeping, like the return of Vansen, who disappeared behind the Shadowline with my great-nephew. Do you know where my poor nephew Barrick is, too? Surely even if you hated me for what's between us you wouldn't keep that from me, would you?"

Brone sounded quite helpless. "G.o.ds, Merolanna, of course not! I swear I know nothing of where Barrick is today, nor does Vansen. The prince was alive when they parted."

"Good. That is good, at least." Even through the door, she could hear how weary Merolanna sounded. The d.u.c.h.ess had done her best to seem stronger than she was, Utta knew, but even the imposture was beginning to flag. "Then we can get to the most important matter. I'm dying, Brone."

"You are not. You will outlive me . . . !"

"Nonsense. I'm ten years your senior and I doubt I will live to see next spring. Do you think I fear it? I welcome it. But here is what I ask of you-no, I demand it. Use Vansen or any other tool you have to make the fairies talk. Find out what happened to our son. Find out why they stole him and what happened to him. I must know that before I die. Promise me that."

Brone didn't sound angry anymore, but he didn't sound happy. "I cannot go near Vansen or the . . . or any of the others, Merolanna. Hendon Tolly watches everything I do."

"Promise me." The voice was so quiet now that Utta could barely hear it. "Give me this one last gift, Avin. Swear you will do it."

Utta didn't hear any more words, but she guessed that Brone had nodded his head. She heard his heavy, hobbling steps coming toward the door. Utta's own eyes were full of tears and she was frightened at the prospect of being caught listening-as it was, she felt like the lowest of spies. All her anger had gone, driven out by the voices of two old people discussing a great sadness.

Brone stepped into the hallway just as she reached the far door. She tried to make it look as though she had just come from the front room, but the count seemed scarcely even to notice her. He limped slowly down the hallway, his face stretched in a grimace of pain. She did not think all of it was from his gout.

"Good day to you, then, Sister," he said gruffly, but did not look up. She had forgotten how tall he was, even with his head bent as though he were weary beyond belief.

"And to you, Count Avin." She stepped aside as he pa.s.sed, then watched him make his halting way down the pa.s.sage.

The booming noise of a monstrous cannonball striking the outer wall had barely ended when another crash came from much closer to hand.

Hendon Tolly grabbed another dish from the tray and threw it across the room after the first, almost killing the cowering squire who had brought him the meal. Gravy and bits of meat and crust from the splattered pie made their slow way down the wall as Tolly walked back and forth with bulging eyes and a face as red and raw as an open wound. "Curse that yellow-eyed freak! Curse him! None of this veal nonsense-I'll have the autarch's stones in a pie instead."

Tinwright knew better than to say anything. Across the room Puzzle was on his elbows and knees, whatever message had brought him to Tolly's chamber still undelivered, cowering for his life. Tinwright had been kept at the lord protector's side for days and hadn't seen the old jester for some time, but this was clearly not the best moment to catch up on gossip.

"My lord . . . !" Puzzle quavered. He was so frightened that the bells on his dark green jacket and cap made an unceasing, jingling murmur. "My lord, please do not ..."

"Shut your mouth, you withered old lackwit!" Tolly raged. "I could kill you where you stand and not even blink. Not a living soul would remember you by tomorrow sundown."

Puzzle looked like he was about to weep. He pressed his head against the floor and was silent except for the continuous tinkle of his trembling bells. Tinwright would have felt sorry for him but he had been kept in a state of fear for his own body and soul for days now and had little strength left for others, even friends.

Another distant cannon blast echoed like thunder.

Berkan Hood, the lord constable, stood in the doorway watching, his scarred face pale but expressionless. The news he had brought of the first breach in the outer walls-a breach that the defenders were struggling to close at this very moment-was what had sent Tolly into this fit of rage.

"My lord," Hood said when the lord protector's rampage had finally slowed. "Calm yourself. All is not lost. We are repairing the breach and they will not be able to fire their biggest gun for some time. I understand that you are frustrated ..."