The Magicians And Mrs. Quent Part 51

For a moment Eldyn couldn't fathom Dercy's expression-it seemed at once sad and hopeful-but then the young man's blond beard parted in a grin. "It seems the time I spent at St. Adaris counted for something, after all. Brother Garus used to bore me to tears with his stories of how he was once a priest at St. Galmuth's, but I'm glad for them now."

"As am I," Eldyn said. He glanced back at Sashie, then lowered his voice. "But have you heard-do you know if the archdeacon will hear our pet.i.tion?"

Dercy's smile vanished. "I don't know. He might, but they say he is a very busy man. The good news is that you are allowed to stay until the archdeacon either agrees to hear your request or denies it, and it sounds like that could take days. In the meantime, you'll be safe here."

Eldyn looked again at the statue on the altar. She seemed to be gazing down, as if at someone kneeling before her, and he wondered if it was with benevolence she looked or with retribution. Yes, they were safe here, but for how long? A few days, perhaps. And even if they were granted sanctuary, how long could they dwell here in a cathedral? What sort of life would that be for Sashie, trapped like a bird in the high-vaulted church?

"I'm tired," he said quietly.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned around. Dercy gazed at him, worry in his blue-green eyes.

"Maybe you should try to sleep."

Eldyn shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I want to end this. I'm tired of running from him, I'm tired of letting him be the master of this game. I won't play it anymore, not by his rules." Strangely, as he spoke these words, his fear and weariness receded. "I don't care how it ends, but I want this to stop now."

Dercy gripped his arm. "Then you have to stop running. It will never end if you don't. You can't just keep responding to what he does. You have to be the one to take action."

Eldyn understood. It was like the play at the Theater of the Moon. No matter how far the silvery youth ran, he could not escape the sun king. The only way to end it was to confront the king himself, to destroy his pursuer. Even if it led to his own destruction.

I would do it, Eldyn thought. If it would free Sashie from Westen, then I would do it, no matter the cost.

"Only how?" he said aloud. "He is stronger than I, and he can wield a gun. What power do I have against him?"

Now Dercy was grinning again. "You do have power. I've seen it, and so have you. He may have fists and guns at his disposal, but you have something else. If you're going to defeat him, you have to do it in your own way."

Eldyn looked down at his hands, and as the light turned from red to gold, he thought he knew what Dercy meant. His father had called him weak, and all these years Eldyn had believed him. Only he wasn't weak. He just hadn't understood the nature of his own strength.

"So how do I do it?"

Dercy studied Eldyn for a moment. Then he glanced at Sashie, still sleeping on the bench, and his grin broadened. "You do it by giving him exactly what he wants."

They bent their heads together, whispering like the priests beneath the vaults of the cathedral.

I T WAS AFTERNOON, and sunlight bathed the cathedral of St. Galmuth's as one of the great bronze doors opened a fraction. A moment later a lithe figure slipped out. The young woman had dark hair and fair skin, and if any eyes saw her (and indeed, certain eyes were watching for just such a thing) they would have considered her a very pretty thing.

She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder, then hurried down the steps of the cathedral to the street below. She unfurled a parasol and raised it against the brilliant afternoon sun, shading her face, then looked left and right, as if unsure of which way to go. After a moment she chose left and moved down the street with the crowds, deeper into the Old City.

Again, if eyes had been watching, they would have seen seconds later how a tall form separated itself from the dimness of a doorway and stalked down the street after her.

The figure of the young woman wove among the crooked lanes of the Old City, then pa.s.sed through the Lowgate into the danker ways of Waterside. Men cast her looks as she went, as if stumbling upon a flower in the midst of a rubbish heap. Coming upon such a thing, what man would not crave to pluck it? However, it was broad daylight, and there were redcrests here and there. No one accosted her.

At last the young woman stopped before an inn on a narrow lane. The sign over the door read The Golden Loom. From beneath her parasol, she drew out a silk handkerchief and gave it a flutter.

It was the sign he had been waiting for. He appeared from a shadow and approached on long legs, clad in velvet and leather. His mane of hair fell over broad shoulders, shining like gold in the sunlight. She gasped as he appeared suddenly beside her, then the white curve of a smile appeared in the dimness beneath the parasol.

"I knew it," she said, her voice very soft. "I knew if I came here you would find me."

"So I have, my sweet. I've been waiting for you, and you have not disappointed me. I am pleased with you. Very pleased." He smiled, and bent his face toward hers.

She lowered the parasol further. "Not here!" she whispered.

He withdrew, a bemused expression on his handsome face. "You are right, of course. In my delight to see you, I forget my manners. Besides, there are those who, if they noticed me, would not look so kindly upon me as you do. It is best if we go inside."

He held out his arm, and she accepted it. Inside it was cool and dim, but she traded her parasol for a fan, using it to conceal her face as he spoke to the innkeeper. Coins changed hands. A private dining chamber was reserved. Wine was delivered, and sweet things to eat, then the innkeeper was told not to disturb them.

When they were alone again, he moved to the door and locked it. Then he poured wine for them both and handed her a gla.s.s.

"You need fear no prying eyes in here," Westen said. "The innkeeper and I have an...arrangement. He can be trusted. Pray set down your fan and let me see your lovely face in full."

"Draw the curtains first."

He laughed. "What a modest thing you are!" But he did as instructed, and then she set down the fan and smiled at him. It was a lovely expression, demure but not too timid. And if her cheeks were powdered and rouged a bit more heavily than usual, and her lips painted a deeper red, he seemed not to notice. He sat beside her, took a long drink of wine, then set his hand atop hers. She started to pull away, but he clasped his fingers about her own, holding her hand in place.

"You need not fear," he said. "No one recognized you here, not with your fan before your face. Nor were you followed from the cathedral. There is no way your brother can know where you are."

"My brother!" she said scornfully. "How I am glad to be away from him. Would that I never saw him again!"

He raised an eyebrow. "You speak ill of him, yet I know he loves you deeply. Do you not love him in return?"

"Do I love him? Nay, I loathe him! He has been my captor and my tormentor all these months. He has imprisoned me in wretched hovels, never letting me see the light or breathe the air. If he professes to love me, then it is as a man loves a pearl he locks away in a musty box where no one can ever see it. It is a wonder I have not wasted away."

Alarm suddenly crossed her face, and now it was she who clasped his hand tightly. "You aren't going to take me back to him, are you? Please, I would rather you take out your gun and end my life. I won't go back to him!"

"Now, now," he said, lifting his other hand to her chin. "You need not speak so wildly. You are free of him forevermore-I promise you that. If ever I would ask you to go back to him, it would be only for a short time, and then only to help me punish him."

"To...to punish him?"

"Yes, to punish him for how he has wronged you and how he has wronged me."

For a moment she gazed at him, then her lips curved in a smile. "I like the sound of that." She pushed his gla.s.s toward him. It was full again, and he did not seem to notice that her own gla.s.s was suddenly empty, though she had taken only the smallest sip. He raised the gla.s.s to her and tilted it back, drinking deeply.

W ATCHING THE HIGHWAYMAN drink, Eldyn felt not fear but rather a kind of thrill he had never known before. He had dreaded that the trick might be exposed under the harsh light of day, but the parasol and fan had served their purpose, and here in this dim chamber the illusion was less likely to be discovered.

As Dercy had told him, it was easy to make people see what they wanted to see. He had only to powder his face and put on the frock Dercy had brought him-one of Sashie's own, retrieved from their rooms in Lowpark-and he was already much of the way there. People had always said brother and sister were very alike in looks.

There in the cathedral, beneath the watchful gazes of saints, Dercy had taught him a glamour to make him seem smaller, finer, and more pale. It was easier to work the illusion than Eldyn had thought. Yet he had done it with the coin in the tavern, and it was not so different than weaving the shadows-save that it was light he was shaping, not darkness.

The rest of the trick was up to him-to move delicately and speak with a soft voice. At first it was a great effort and required much concentration, but, strangely, the more he did it the easier it became. By the time they had entered the private dining chamber at the inn, he felt like he was on a stage giving a performance.

Eldyn's audience set down his cup.

"By G.o.d, I have a great thirst," he said, and he filled both their cups again. Then his gaze fell upon Eldyn, roving up and down. "And I daresay I am hungry as well."

Eldyn pushed the plate of sweets toward him, but the highwayman pushed them back.

"That's not what I meant, as you know well." He leaned over the table. His breath was warm and wine-scented. "Sashie...it's a pretty name. I always thought you pretty yourself, but today you seem more than pretty. You're like an angel. The sight of you goes to my head more than the contents of this gla.s.s. I confess, I had thought to punish your brother through you. I see now that I can, but not in the way I thought."

Eldyn took the chance to switch their cups again, then smoothed a lock of gold hair back from the highwayman's brow. "Whatever do you mean, my dear? What were you thinking of doing before now?"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I know what we must do. I had thought you a creature in his power, yet you have a will of your own. With you I can accomplish what I have not been able to do on my own. Then, when it is revealed to him that you are mine and that I have made you happy in a way he never could, it will ruin him far more than any hurt I might have delivered to him. He will be utterly defeated."

Eldyn suppressed a shudder. Instead, he let out a trilling laugh and leaned closer. "Tell me more," he crooned.

As Westen spoke, Eldyn continued to weave the wan light around himself. He did not know if it was because of the wine or due to some unforeseen effect of the illusion, but the highwayman indeed seemed intoxicated. His eyes blazed, and he spoke with great animation, sometimes rising from his chair and pacing back and forth across the room.

She must not think him a common thief, he said. He did not rob others for profit but instead for a n.o.bler cause. He belonged to a group of men whose goal was nothing less than to bring down the government of Altania-Crown and a.s.sembly both. For one was as corrupt as the other, and only a new ruler, one who heeded the voice of Altania, could lead the people forward.

"And who would this ruler be?" Eldyn asked. "Prince Huntley the Usurper?"

He shrugged. "If the Morden heir will do as the people will, then why should it not be him? Yet if he seeks to rule only for his own gain, then surely Altania herself will choose another. Altania will no longer tolerate a ruler who rapes her for his own benefit and glory, with no thought to her lands and people. Altania will suffer such men no longer."

Eldyn laughed. "Altania will choose; Altania will not suffer. You make her sound like a living thing!"

"She is alive-very much alive." He leaned over the back of Eldyn's chair, and his voice went low. "There are things you do not know, my sweet. Things you will have to see with your own eyes. But the day comes soon when you will see them, when everyone will see them. You will see what I have been shown, by the one who now leads us. Then you'll understand what I mean when I say that Altania will no longer suffer men who use her ill."

This time Eldyn could not help a shiver. He did not know what these words meant, though they filled him with a strange feeling. It was not quite fear; rather, it was a kind of unknown antic.i.p.ation, a feeling that something was going to happen-something at once dreadful and marvelous.

"Are you well, Sashie? Your color looks poor of a sudden...."

Now fear did strike Eldyn's heart. In his distraction he had begun to let the threads of the illusion unravel. With a hasty thought he wove them together again.

"Your words shock me, that's all," he said, and took a sip of wine. Then he transferred the nearly full gla.s.s to Westen's hand. The highwayman drank of it. "But tell me," Eldyn went on, "how can so small a thing as I help you with such grand goals?"

"It is always the smallest who brings down the mighty," he said. "A million little drops can make an ocean great enough to drown any king."

With that he laid out his plan. There was a man who was a servant of the Crown. Exactly what he did for the king was not important for her to know right now. All that mattered was that this man's work interfered with the plans of the revolutionaries-indeed, it posed a dire threat to their very purpose of freeing Altania from tyranny-and so he must be removed.

However, this was more easily said than done. He was a powerful man, a member of the Upper Hall of a.s.sembly, and was always guarded when in the city. Furthermore, like a cowardly dog, he had recently built walls enclosing the lands about his manor in the country, so that none could approach him there without being detected.

Still, there were other ways they might get at this lord. There were some few men who were his agents, men who traveled about Altania performing duties in his name, for the lord himself was infirm. One of these men had been, for some time now, the object of Westen's attentions. He was, the highwayman had determined, chief among the lord's servants. If this man could be removed, it would be a grievous blow to the lord's ability to do his foul work.

"What mysterious figures you make them sound!" Eldyn said. "Who is this man and this lord you speak of?"

"Be careful, Miss Garritt," he said, leaning over the table. "If I divulge these things to you, then you will be privy to secrets that the king's Black Dog would give much to learn. The knowledge will make you beholden to me and to my compatriots. We cannot allow our intentions to become known to those we cannot trust."

Eldyn coiled a hand beneath his chin and smiled. "Trust me as you trust yourself, for I am yours to command."

"As you will, my sweet. The man I speak of is named Mr. Quent, and he is one of the inquirers of a certain Lord Rafferdy."

His shock was too great to be concealed. Eldyn lifted his hands, covering his face, knowing his illusion had wavered. However, the action would look natural enough. Surely Westen had expected such a response, and after a few moments Eldyn was able to steady himself and weave the illusion anew. Once he was sure the glamour was again in place, he lowered his hands.

"Are you astonished?" the highwayman said, his expression amused.

Eldyn nodded. "A little, I confess. It's just that...Lord Rafferdy...It can only be that he is the father of my brother's friend. It's strange chance that the one you seek to...that he is in fact connected to me."

He sat, filling their wine cups again. On the contrary, he told her, it was anything but chance. In hopes of getting close to Lord Rafferdy, he had begun following his son. Upon observing the son's friendship with her brother, Westen had thought to use Eldyn Garritt to gain information that might help get him close to Rafferdy the son, and thereby to Rafferdy the father.

Though these words chilled him to the core, Eldyn worked his face into a petulant expression. "I understand very well now. I don't mean a thing to you at all-you were merely using me to get at my brother."

"No, you misunderstand. You were rather a lovely benefit I had not antic.i.p.ated. It was never my intention to use you, for I had other ways of bringing your brother under my control."

You lie! Eldyn wanted to shout. Instead, he said demurely, "Only he isn't under your control, is he?"

Westen's expression darkened. He gripped his cup, then tossed back the contents. "I confess, your brother has been more difficult to deal with than I thought. Not because of any strength or cunning, mind you-rather, I had not antic.i.p.ated the depths of cowardice and depravity he would sink to in order to elude me. I had thought him a gentleman, at least."

A gentleman such as you are? Eldyn would have sneered. Instead, he said, in a scornful tone, "My brother is not a man like you."

"To be sure, but he has been a bother nonetheless. Nor did things go as I planned recently, when I sought to close with Mr. Quent at his estate in the country. I was...I was most grievously deprived in that affair of one who was beloved by me. However, I will be vexed by wives and weaklings no longer. I have learned Mr. Quent is even now on his way to the city and that once here he will meet with Lord Rafferdy. I can bag them both with one shot, as it were. All I need is to get near to them. Your brother is the key to that. And you-"

Eldyn laughed gaily. "And I am the key to my dear, sweet brother. He will do anything for me."

Westen laughed as well and reached for Eldyn's hands, but Eldyn drew back.

"Only how is it to be done?" he said. "You say you have tried to get close to them before. Will they not be expecting men to come for them?"

"Yes, as you say, it is men they will be expecting. Yet what comes for them will be something else, something I am quite sure they will not expect." Again he grinned, and perhaps it was only how they gleamed in the dimness of the chamber, but his teeth seemed longer than before. And it could have been nothing more than the reflection of the lamp's flame, but it seemed his eyes glinted amber.

"What's wrong, Miss Garritt?" His voice was low. "You seem to draw away, but I thought you favored me. Is there something that frightens you?"

Eldyn's trembling was not feigned. "It is only that my brother...He told me the shadow we glimpsed last night, that thing that seemed like a beast...He said it was you, but surely..."

The highwayman's smile broadened.

Eldyn gasped, rose from the table, and hurried to the door. But it was locked, and Westen had the key. He turned around. Westen stalked across the room, and Eldyn saw that it was no trick of the light: the highwayman's eyes shone with yellow light.

"By G.o.d, it's true," he whispered. "You can become a beast."

"Can't every man?" Westen said with a growling laugh. Then he shook his head, and a look of wonder came over him. "No, it's not the same as for the others. I saw how she did it to them, the witch in the Wyrdwood. I watched her. It was the potions, and the ragged clothes and furs they donned, and a few petty spells. She befuddled them, addled their brains, and tricked them so that they were all scrabbling about in the dirt on all fours, howling and snarling. Others who saw them were tricked as well, but they were still men; I saw it. She knew I did, and I refused her potions. Only she just laughed at me. She told me I didn't need them."

There is little distinction between dread and awe. Eldyn felt them both in that moment. "You don't, do you? You don't need potions or costumes to make you into a beast."

Westen studied his hands, slowly shaking his head.

"What are you?" Eldyn said.

The highwayman looked up. "I am what Altania needs me to be." Now his smile returned. "Just as you will be what I need you to be, Miss Garritt."

In an easy step he closed the distance between them. He spoke in a low voice, explaining what she was to tell her brother. How she had encountered Westen and had learned of some rebel plot; how she was to implore her brother to take a warning to Mr. Rafferdy and to urge him to seek out Mr. Quent, who could best protect his father. She would tell them the attack was to come the next day. All the while, Westen would follow them.

"Then, when the opportunity presents itself, we will-" He shook his head. "There is no need to bother your lovely head with such details as that, my sweet. Suffice it to say they will not be ready for what befalls them. Do you understand what it is you are to do? It may seem small, but know that you will be doing Altania a great service."

"Yes," Eldyn said, looking up and meeting the highwayman's yellow gaze. "Yes, I will be."

"You have a courageous heart, Miss Garritt-unlike that brother of yours. I shall make a revolutionary of you yet." He put his hands on the door to either side, pinning Eldyn in place. "Though there is something else I would make of you first." He bent his head down.

There was no way to resist it. Their lips came together in a kiss. It was not rough, as Eldyn would have thought, but soft, and sweet with wine.

"By G.o.d, you make me mad as you never have before," the highwayman said. His hands went to the shoulders of the frock, and he leaned against the door, pressing his body forward.