Shadowheart Part 3

Briony took the letter from him. A frowning moment pa.s.sed before she could make anything of the Marquis of Athnia's hand-he had the ornate Tessian style, all filigree and curlicue, so that his words were almost more ornament than information-but after a moment she began to get the feel of it. Also, ornate hand or not, she had to admit that after the customary greetings and salutations Jino did not waste time on needless fripperies.

"Highness, I have done all that you asked me to do,"

she read out, "In other matters, though, things are not so satisfactory. Many at court do not even acknowledge that we are at war despite the events to the south and the attack on on Hierosol. This will change when it is their own lands being snapped up by the autarch, of course, but by then it will be too late for many of them, if not for all of us." Hierosol. This will change when it is their own lands being snapped up by the autarch, of course, but by then it will be too late for many of them, if not for all of us."

"But it is of the autarch himself I wish to speak, because I am in receipt of many strange pieces of news about him and can make nothing in the way of a larger picture from them. I beg your Highness to set your greater tactical understanding to this task, where my poor wits have failed."

"Isn't the marquis rather full of himself?" asked Briony. "Even when he's trying to be unctuous, he can't quite do it."

"He's a good man, Princess." Eneas sounded offended. "He is my right arm at the court-a place I avoid when I can, and where I desperately need men I can trust."

"Certainly, I didn't mean ..." She turned back to the letter.

"Numerous strange reports have come from Hierosol, and not just from the refugees that clutter our cities along the southern border. Equally surprising rumors are coming from the garrison commanders and even some of the n.o.bles, survivors of the old gentry, who are mostly now in hiding or out of Hierosol. Their stories often conflict, and in many cases are filled with unsupported speculation, but one thing almost all seem to agree on: the autarch is no longer in Hierosol. Neither is he back in his capital of Xis-travelers in the south agree that one of his lackeys, a man named Muziren Chah, still holds the viceregal throne. So the question becomes, where is the autarch?

"Some of the speculation is that he became ill and rushed back to Xis in secret, in order not to give comfort to his enemies or diminish the bravery of his troops. Other tales suggest more sinister reasons-that he has been a.s.sa.s.sinated by rivals or his heir, a sickly creature called Prusus, and that the new ruler is keeping it secret until he can take Xis back from the dead autarch's caretaker.

I have also heard from other sources (although none of them witnesses) that the autarch and a small army of Xixians attacked King Hesper of Jellon and killed him and many of his subjects, then sailed away again. I have even heard a rumor that he is kidnapping children all across Eion to make some sacrifice to his heathen G.o.ds, asking Nusha.s.sos and the rest to give him total victory over the north, but I think the source of that one must be the breath of war and fear of the unknown instead of anything based on true events.

"Thus, I do not know what to advise you, Highness. I find it hard to believe that the autarch would leave his siege of Hierosol except to return to Xis-monarchs too long gone from their homes sometimes begin to fear what they have left behind. But almost all the tales agree that he has left, and almost as many say that no sign of him has been seen in his own kingdom. At the same time, the Xixians' attempt to break the last resistance in Hierosol has not flagged. If that devil Sulepis has lost interest in conquering that great old city, I can see no sign of it.

"I have little else to tell you, except that your father's health is unimproved. The great pains still come upon him without warning, and his mood suffers because of it. The physicians attend him, and I have sent for . . ."

"That's enough," said Eneas suddenly. "The rest is only meant for me-small matters of my household. Jino and a few others keep an eye on things for me when I am away from home."

"Your father is ill . . . ?"

Eneas shook his head, a little too hard. "A distress of the stomach. My uncle has sent a famous Kracian physician to treat him, the best of his kind. My father will be well soon."

Briony suddenly felt she understood some of what was going on, or at least the cause of Eneas' brittle mood.

"You are worried, dear Eneas," she said. "No, don't say anything. Of course you are. Worse, you fear that something might happen to your father while you are away." She wanted to say, "And you fear that Lady Ananka and her supporters at court may try to take control of the throne in your absence," but she knew he would feel obligated to disagree. Sometimes, Eneas' sense of honor forced him through a tiring series of responses that he and everyone else knew were not his true feelings, but simply what he felt as obligations. Instead, Briony continued with, "And you are caught between your oath to me and your loyalty and worry for your father and your country."

He glanced up at her, startled. Lord Helkis and some of the other n.o.bles in the great tent were beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. Eneas sent them away, keeping only the young pages as defense of Briony's modesty.

"You presume much when you presume to know my mind, Princess," he said when they were more or less alone.

"I'm sorry, Highness, but I believe what I say is true."

He gave her a stern look. "Still, even if so-and I do not concede it-it is not to be talked about in front of all and sundry."

"What-you mean Miron? Lord Helkis? He is your best friend and a relative. As are all your other captains friends and relations. Don't you think they have thought the same thing? Don't you think they have wondered why you are riding north into unknown dangers and someone else's war when you have the danger of the autarch at your own country's southern doorstep and a royal father who is in poor health?"

"It is nothing. My father eats rich food every night. That woman encourages it." For a moment something of his true feelings about Ananka showed on his face, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. "But that is not the issue here. Even if what you said were true, I have sworn to accompany you home. That is not something that can be undone. ..."

For a moment Briony's admiration for him soured into something else-frustration, perhaps even anger. Why were men so caught up with their honor, their solemn word, their promises? Half the time the promises were never asked of them in the first place! And yet the wars that were fought over such things, the hearts broken and the lands ruined . . . !

"Very well." She held up her hand. "Then know this, Eneas. I hereby release you from your promise, if I ever truly held you. I do not think I did. You offered me a great favor from the kindness of your heart. Now I release you from it. You must do as your heart thinks best . . . but do not let a single promise, uttered in haste and in a kind attempt to atone for the rest of your family's bad treatment of me, force you to do something you think is foolish. If your family needs you-if your country needs you-go. I of all people will understand."

Again she seemed to have caught him by surprise, as if he had not thought her capable of thinking and acting this way. For long moments he could only stare at her as though seeing something new and strange.

"You are . . . a brave woman, Briony Eddon. And in truth I do feel a pull to go home, as any son would-as any heir would. But things are not so simple. Give me this evening to think. Tomorrow morning we will speak again, you and I."

She thanked him and went out. Their parting was oddly formal, but for the moment Briony would have had it no other way.

She did not sleep well. Lisiya's bird-skull amulet clutched in her hand did not bring her dreams of the demiG.o.ddess or any other immortal, only a series of escapes from and near-captures by shadowy things she could not quite see, things that muttered in angry voices as they followed her through tangled woods and over marshy ground where she had to fight to stay upright. When she woke, she was as tired as if she had spent the entire night doing what she had dreamed.

Still, she could not bear to sit around waiting for Eneas to summon her, so she bundled up warmly in her hooded travel cloak and went to walk along the edge of the encampment in the first blue light of the morning. The Temple Dogs had selected a small box canyon a short distance off the Royal Highway where the hills were as comfortably close and enfolding as her cloak. Briony walked to the top of the nearest one without ever losing sight of the sentry post, then sat and watched the sun clamber into the sky.

I am no less stubborn than Eneas, she thought to herself. she thought to herself. I don't want him coming with me if he is to resent it, even though I am desperate for his soldiers . . . and happy with his company as well, if I am honest with myself. I don't want him coming with me if he is to resent it, even though I am desperate for his soldiers . . . and happy with his company as well, if I am honest with myself.

But each day spent with Eneas Karallios, the heir to the throne of Syan, was also a sort of lie, or at least so it often seemed. The prince cared for her, he had made that obvious. He would marry her, or at least that was what he seemed to be saying. And there was much to admire about him, as well. Even to hesitate about accepting his affection seemed nearly an act of madness-certainly almost every other woman on the continent of Eion would deem it so. But Briony did not know what she wanted, or even what exactly she thought, and was just stubborn enough not to let good sense rush her into anything.

The sun was tangled in the branches of the trees lining the hillcrest. The dew was almost gone from the gra.s.s and the camp below was up and in full preparation for another day on the road-but which direction would they be going? What would the prince decide? And what would she do if he did decide to turn back to Tessis, as she had all but begged him to do?

What I have done all along. I will keep going, she told herself-and half-believed it. she told herself-and half-believed it. I will follow my heart. And, with the help of Zoria's mercy, I will hope not to be too much of a fool. I will follow my heart. And, with the help of Zoria's mercy, I will hope not to be too much of a fool.

Still, there was a small part of her that hoped she hadn't been too too forceful in making her points to Eneas. forceful in making her points to Eneas.

Thinking about the prince made her think of Guard Captain Vansen, as it usually did. How strange that these two, who did not know each other and likely would never meet, should be so twinned in her mind! She could hardly think of two men less alike except in common kindness and decency. In all other ways, in looks, importance, wealth, power, Eneas of Syan was Ferras Vansen's clear superior. And Eneas had made his feelings known, whereas Briony had to admit her notion that Vansen cared for her was based on the flimsiest of interpretations, a few looks, a few mumbled words, none of which could not equally be said to represent the ordinary awkwardness of a common soldier in the presence of his monarch. And he was was a common soldier, which made it all the greater an idiocy even to think about him in that way. Even were Vansen to throw himself down at her feet and beg her to marry him, Briony could no more do that than she could marry one of her horse-grooms or a merchant in Market Square. a common soldier, which made it all the greater an idiocy even to think about him in that way. Even were Vansen to throw himself down at her feet and beg her to marry him, Briony could no more do that than she could marry one of her horse-grooms or a merchant in Market Square.

Not without giving up my throne. . . .

Briony could not even entertain such a mad idea. With her father and brother gone, who would look after her people? Who would make certain that Hendon Tolly received his due and dreadful reward?

She sighed, plucked up a handful of damp gra.s.s, and flung it high into the air. The wind lifted and carried the gra.s.s for a moment and then, like a bored child, let it fall.

"You sent for me, Highness?" she asked.

Eneas frowned. "Please, Briony. Princess. Do not speak to me as though we have not been friends."

She realized he was right. There was a stiffness in her manner. "I . . . I'm sorry, Eneas. I meant nothing by it. I did not sleep well."

He showed a rueful smile. "You are not the only one. But now I have decided what I must do-what common sense demands as much as honor." He nodded. "I will stay with you, Briony Eddon. We will continue to Southmarch."

Briony had already begun to tell him she had expected it, and to thank him for all he had done for her; she was even pondering what she could decently ask of him besides the horse and armor he had already given her when she realized what he had said. "What? Stay . . . with me?"

"I gave my word. And I realized that, with Jino and other friends at Broadhall, I am not so cut off as I might think. Even should something . . . the Brothers prevent it, the G.o.ds all forswear it . . . should something happen to my father, the kingdom is sound . . . and the throne is safe." He smiled, although it did not come easily. "If Ananka had given my sire an heir, things might be different."

As Anissa did with my father, Briony thought but did not say. The thought echoed in her head unpleasantly, but she pushed it away for later consideration. "Your Highness . . . Eneas . . . I don't know what to say!" Briony thought but did not say. The thought echoed in her head unpleasantly, but she pushed it away for later consideration. "Your Highness . . . Eneas . . . I don't know what to say!"

"Then say nothing. And don't a.s.sume it is only because of obligation, either. Your company means much to me, Briony-your happiness, too. And I have my own curiosity about what is happening in the north. Now go and make yourself ready, I beg you. We ride out within the hour and I must prepare a letter to be sent back to good Erasmias Jino."

She left him scratching away at a sheet of parchment and walked back to her tent with the feeling that she had stepped unexpectedly from one road to another, and that because of that much had changed and much more would change in days ahead.

3.

Seal of War "His parents named him Adis, and when he was old enough they sent him out to watch over the flocks. He was pious and good, and he loved his parents nearly as much as he loved the G.o.ds themselves ..."

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

BOTH CHAVEN AND ANTIMONY carried torches, although the young Funderling monk was only carrying his as a favor to the physician. Only a few brands glowed in the whole of the great chamber called Sandsilver's Dancing Room, since the Qar had little more need for light than the Funderlings themselves . . . or at least that was true for many of them: Chaven had already seen examples of some who needed no light at all because they seemed to have no eyes, as well as huge-eyed folk who blinked and winced at even the dimmest glow. Chaven could not help marveling at the variety.

"How can such things be?" Brother Antimony asked quietly. "The Great G.o.d has made men in many shapes and sizes, we know-look at you and me!-but why should he make one kind of creature with so many different shapes?"

Chaven couldn't answer. He would have loved to study every single Qar with a strong lamp and seeing-gla.s.s, calipers and folding rule, but at the moment he and Antimony had a more important task, which was seeing to the comfort (and covertly examining the mood) of these new allies. Vansen had asked him to do it, so Chaven had chosen Antimony, the most open-minded of the Metamorphic Brothers, as his companion.

"I was thinking only a moment ago how much we could learn from these folk," Chaven told the Funderling. "Even Phayallos admits that when they lived beside us centuries ago very little proper study was done. Most of the works that purport to describe the Qar from detailed studies sadly turn out to be filled with hearsay and superst.i.tion."

"It is not superst.i.tious to fear something whose ways and looks are so different," Antimony said, his voice still low, "and I will be frank, Physician Chaven-I fear these creatures." The cavern seemed filled with roiling shadow, a single moving thing with many parts like something crawling in a tidal pool. "Even if they are sincere in their desire to fight the autarch, who's to say what will happen if we live through it? Even if we somehow beat the southern king and all his thousands and thousands and thousands of men, what if these Qar decide afterward to return to what they were doing-which was killing us?"

Chaven was pleased to see the young man exercising his wits so clearly. He had been right-this one had the makings of a scholar. Pardstone Jasper, the last Funderling who had regularly contributed to the wide conversation of scholars, had died when Chaven was still a young boy. "You ask a good question, Brother Antimony, and Captain Vansen and your Magister Cinnabar are already thinking on it as well. I expect that is all we can do at the moment . . . think on it. Because even to reach the point of having to deal with that problem will be an astounding and unexpected triumph." He shook his head. "Forgive me-I do not mean to be gloomy."

Despite his earlier admission, Antimony seemed more fascinated than frightened. "Look at that one-he glows like a hot coal! He looks to be nothing but a fire burning inside a suit of armor-or is that suit of armor a part of him, like the sh.e.l.l of a crab?"

"I could not say, but I believe it is one of the Guard of Elementals."

"How do you know?" asked the monk, impressed.

Chaven shrugged. "Only because Vansen told me-he said they were some of those most likely to cause trouble. Just as not all of our our friends are happy with the idea of yoking our fortunes to the Qar, so they have their own disagreements, and apparently these Elementals are among the most . . . disagreeable." He fought off a shudder. "Still, all the questions of refraction such a thing raises are fascinating at the very least . . . !" friends are happy with the idea of yoking our fortunes to the Qar, so they have their own disagreements, and apparently these Elementals are among the most . . . disagreeable." He fought off a shudder. "Still, all the questions of refraction such a thing raises are fascinating at the very least . . . !"

They stood and watched as a parade of strange shapes filled the great chamber, some far smaller than any Funderling, others that could only be called giants. The Qar had so many forms and sizes that it was often hard to tell which creatures were soldiers and which were beasts of burden. Chaven recognized a few from descriptions in Phayallos or from Ximander; others he could only guess at. Occasionally, a confusing citation in an old book would suddenly march past him in the flesh, even pause to cast a mistrustful eye in the physician's direction. He explained what little he knew about them to Antimony, talking more than was his usual wont, in part because of the pleasure of an intelligent audience (so much more satisfactory than talking to that b.o.o.b Toby, his so-called a.s.sistant, who really had been little more than a particularly useless servant) and partly because he did not want to have to listen to his own troubled thoughts.

Chaven fell silent at last, not because the newest arrivals were any less odd and interesting, but because the emptiness of his own knowledge had begun to grieve him. Here he was in the midst of the most fascinating thing a lover of the physical world could imagine, and yet the chances were good that neither he nor these wonderful and frightening Qar would survive the slaughter that was coming.

So I shall play a part in this war that any fool could play while a chance for true scholarship is wasted . . .

And the violent fate hurrying toward them even now was not his only worry. Chaven had been long troubled by the loss of what seemed an entire day of his recollections, perhaps more. He had been in Funderling Town on a Skyday, he knew, then had set out for the temple on a Winds-day, but had not reached the temple until Firesday-an entire day and more missing. In truth, he remembered only a little of his time in Funderling Town well, and could no longer recall even the errand that had taken him there. Chaven knew that it had seemed important when he decided to go, so it was more than strange he should not remember it now. It frightened him.

This was not the first time he had lost track in such a way. For several days before Winter's Eve, the night Princess Briony had fled Southmarch with Shaso, he had been gone from the castle, or at least from his house in the outer keep, but he couldn't remember where he had gone that time, either.

Looking again at the cavern before him, at the vast sprawl of huddled, mostly silent shapes, eyes glowing in the shadows like foxfire, he quietly asked Antimony, "If all we are is in our thoughts, how can a man know if he is going mad?"

The young monk was silent for a long time. He was large for one of his folk, but the top of his head was still a hand's breadth below Chaven's shoulder; when he spoke, his voice seemed to rise up from the stony floor, as if the cavern itself was speaking.

"He cannot know. Nor can a king, I suppose . . . which is what they say of this autarch, that he is a madman. In fact, as I think on it, Chaven, even a G.o.d might not know whether he had lost his wits, if he lost 'em."

"And thank you, Antimony," the physician said. "You have given me even more to worry on." He hoped he sounded more amused than he felt.

"I do not mean to be rude," Ferras Vansen began, "but Funderlings-and taller men, too-are not as patient as your people. Your mistress set an hour for the council to take place, and yet not only has she not come, she has not sent word as to why. Hours are pa.s.sing. People grow worried."

Aesi'uah folded her hands before her mouth, as though to blow life into a tiny flame shielded there. "Please, Captain Vansen, you do not understand . . ."

"No, your mistress does not understand." He did not like arguing with her. The chief eremite was quiet and graceful, and in her own way, kind; disagreeing with her made him feel clumsy and cruel. "My allies have made a brave concession. They have opened their gates to your people, although only days ago you Qar were killing Funderlings on the doorstep of their own city. Not only that, but they have even given you a place for your army to camp-a place between themselves and their most holy place ..."

"That is because of our shared mortal enemy, the Autarch of Xis," she began, but Vansen was still angry.

"Yes, but we we were not in immediate danger from the autarch. The people of Southmarch were safe inside our castle walls, the Funderlings down here in the rock. It was your people in their camp above who were most at risk." were not in immediate danger from the autarch. The people of Southmarch were safe inside our castle walls, the Funderlings down here in the rock. It was your people in their camp above who were most at risk."

She paused, but with the air of someone listening to something he couldn't hear. He suspected she conversed with Yasammez in her head, just as he had once heard the words of Gyir Storm Lantern in the same, silent way, but knowing that did not make him feel any better. It happened to her several times an hour and had been a constant reminder that no matter how courteously she seemed to listen to Vansen, nothing would be done without her mistress' consent.

"Please, Captain," she said at last. "One thousand years or more of hatred and distrust do not vanish with a wave of the hand."

"Oh, trust me, my lady, I know that very well."

"Look there," Aesi'uah said, gesturing with a slender hand toward the crowd of strange shapes that surrounded them, filling the natural stone gallery to the walls-perhaps a thousand Qar in this chamber alone. "Already we have done something here unseen since the earth was young. Understand that my mistress must deal with problems of her own, many of them of a subtlety that I cannot explain to someone who will live only a century."

Vansen was surprised to feel pain at her words, although she only told the truth-he was not like her, not at all. The pain was from what it brought back to his thoughts, the equally unknowable distance between himself and the woman he loved. It was becoming clearer to Vansen every day that it had been madness even to suppose he and the princess lived in the same world.

"Just give your lady to know," he said, "that my people are losing patience. That everybody is losing patience. And they are frightened, too."

"As you said yourself, Captain, trust me." Aesi'uah smiled-at least, he had always a.s.sumed it was a smile, since it seemed in many ways to serve the same function as it would have in an ordinary woman, although not always. "My mistress already knows this."

"But, Opal . . . !"

She fixed him with a stare that could have split granite like a wedge. All the Leekstone women had that eye. "Don't you dare. There should be women there and there will will be women there. By the Elders, their be women there. By the Elders, their general general is a woman." is a woman."

"Exactly! And according to Vansen she has the blood of a G.o.d running in her veins and a temper like a cornered rat. She's killed Big Folk by the hundreds . . . !"

His wife again gave him that shriveling glance. "I'm not planning to take up a sword and fight her, old fool. We're welcoming welcoming them. We are allies now." them. We are allies now."

"Not yet." He knew he was losing, but he could not resist one last attempt to bring some perspective to the conversation. "We're hoping to be allies. This is a sort of parley, remember? There's no promise that they won't change their minds and cut all our throats-which they were trying to do just a few days ago."

"All the more reason to have a few sensible Funderling women on the spot, then," she said with satisfaction. "It will mean that much less chance of Jasper or some other lackwit starting another fight." She nodded. "Now, I have to go. Vermilion Cinnabar has called all the women to a meeting in the Temple library before the Qar arrive."

"In the library? Oh, the brothers will love that."

"The Metamorphic Brothers have had their own way too long, and so has the Guild. That's one of the reasons we're in this slide. Imagine, not telling anyone the Qar have been coming here for years!"