The Sleeping God Part 14

Dhulyn's eyes flicked open. Because the women of her Clan-no, of the Tribe Tribe were Seers. She frowned, digesting this information. So the Mark had not fallen on her from the clear blue sky, as she'd always thought. Her mother had been Marked as well, and the other women of her tribe. Seers all. were Seers. She frowned, digesting this information. So the Mark had not fallen on her from the clear blue sky, as she'd always thought. Her mother had been Marked as well, and the other women of her tribe. Seers all.

And I have seen your face, Mother.

Gone. All gone. Not just her mother, her father, aunts, uncles, cousins. Her Clan, and likely her whole Tribe Tribe. Everyone who might have helped her when her Mark came. Everyone who might have had some answers. Why hadn't the Sight helped them?

Why hadn't the Sight helped her her? Kept her out of Lok-iKol's hands? Dhulyn rubbed at the still-numb skin of her face. Had they asked her anything else? For a moment the smoky darkness, the face of a man turning purple as he choked to death threatened to rise again, but she gritted her teeth against it.

The Tarkin, she thought, remembering the color of his tunic and the golden circlet around his brows. The Tarkin of Imrion was going to be poisoned, by the Sun and Moon, and she knew who would gain by it. Though not for long. This was information she should take to Alkoryn Pantherclaw-if she could think of a way to explain how she came by it. she thought, remembering the color of his tunic and the golden circlet around his brows. The Tarkin of Imrion was going to be poisoned, by the Sun and Moon, and she knew who would gain by it. Though not for long. This was information she should take to Alkoryn Pantherclaw-if she could think of a way to explain how she came by it.

Dhulyn blinked. The important thing right now was escape. She pulled her hands out from under the warm covering and ran her fingers over her head. Contrary to how it felt from the inside, it was in one piece, though her scalp, like her face, felt numb. That was the fresnoyn and the poppy still in her blood. Her hair was untouched, neither unbound, nor cut nor shaved. She started to sit up and stopped abruptly, hissing at the throbbing of her head. This was not good.

She gritted her teeth. Pain or no, she had to get up, get out, find Parno. And all without finding herself again in that chamber, with the fresnoyn fresh inside her, when they'd thought of better questions to ask her.

The shape of the present room told her nothing. Alkoryn's floor plans had shown dozens of squarish rooms. Heavy hangings covered the walls entirely, the only furniture her bed, and, just within reach on the floor, a glazed pitcher with a matching cup. She scrubbed her hands over her face and again ran her fingers over her hair, this time feeling carefully at the beads and baubles, ribbons and thongs, all intact, tied and woven through it. She touched the wire she was looking for and released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

All right. She must put aside her fear, her anger, and be patient. Her Clan might be gone, even her Tribe, but she was not alone. As Dorian the Black Traveler had once promised her, she had a House, Brothers, a place to stand in the world. She would hold fast to that and she would not fail them. Nor would she fail herself.

As soon as this cursed drug wore off, she would find Parno. She would free him. They'd kill the One-eye. And maybe his Scholar boy as well. Then she and her Partner would return to their own House.

"Just these three more, my lord," Semlin-Nor, Steward of Keys murmured, selecting another sheet of paper from the sheaf she held in her hands to place on the table in front of him. Lok glanced over the list on the paper before him, mentally comparing figures and amounts to what his Keys had already reported to him. He did not trouble to look up when the door opened.

"My lord Kir, the priest Beslyn-Tor-"

Lok raised his eyebrow as the Jaldean did not wait to be further announced, but entered the room before the page had finished speaking. Lok pressed his lips together, but stifled the major part of the annoyance he felt. His need for the services the Jaldean and his fanatic followers had been providing, and were still to provide, brought him to his feet, and turned what could have been a gesture of dismissal into a signal for Keys to bring another chair that his guest might join him at his worktable.

"It has been some days since I have heard from you, my lord Kir," Beslyn-Tor said, standing in front of the chair brought for him.

Lok repressed another grimace at the sound of the Jaldean's honeyed voice, the kind of honey that caught unsuspecting listeners in a golden trap. Surely the priest must know by now that Lok was anything but unsuspecting. He took up his pen and, leaning back in his chair, began to turn it over in the fingers of his right hand, making it dance down toward his smallest finger, and back again.

"I have not sent for you, Beslyn, no," Lok said, deliberately using the diminutive of the man's name. "But now that you are here, will you not sit?" Lok allowed himself a small smile. The chair that Semlin had brought forward for the priest was the very chair that Dhulyn Wolfshead had been sitting in. Two of the silk scarves which had been used to bind her wrists were still draped over the left arm. Lok lowered his eyes to the papers in front of him and without turning to her said, "Semlin, would you be so kind as to bring our guest some wine?"

The Jaldean's raised hand stopped her when she had only half turned toward the door.

"I have very little time this evening," the honeyed voice said. "I was the more surprised not to hear from you, Lord Kir, given the arrival of your recent guests."

At moments like these, Lok welcomed the advantages of his injury. It was almost impossible to register any emotion at all-even when he wished to-and equally impossible to give anything away. So he could be certain that the shock that struck him like a blow to the heart at the priest's words never showed on his face. Who among his household was selling information to the Jaldean?

"If our guest needs nothing, Semlin, perhaps you might return to your other duties?" The woman's well-trained face remained expressionless as she made her courtesies and left the room.

"We have an agreement, Lord Kir."

Lok turned to the Jaldean, setting his quill pen down to the right of the doc.u.ments on his table. Beslyn-Tor was sitting on the forward edge of the chair, statue-still, as he always did. The man didn't fidget, didn't scratch, didn't chew his nails or rub at his hands. It seemed at times as though he didn't sweat.

"I have met my part," Lok reminded the motionless man. And he had. Eleven Marked had been found by the Scholar Gundaron-though only nine had been turned over to the Jaldean. Until a moment ago, Lok would have sworn that Beslyn did not know about the Healer and the Mender secreted in the Tenebro summerhouse. But he also would have sworn the man didn't know about Dhulyn Wolfshead.

"As I will meet mine. You will not sit on the Carnelian Throne without my help."

Lok inclined his head in a shallow bow. But once I'm there, But once I'm there, he thought, he thought, that will be help I no longer need. that will be help I no longer need. Especially if he was the only person in the country-perhaps the peninsula-with Marked in his service. Especially if one of those was a Seer. The Jaldean was a fanatic and, like all fanatics, out of his depth when dealing with an equally ruthless but rational man. Especially if he was the only person in the country-perhaps the peninsula-with Marked in his service. Especially if one of those was a Seer. The Jaldean was a fanatic and, like all fanatics, out of his depth when dealing with an equally ruthless but rational man.

"We have had some arrivals, as you say, but it is merely our cousin Mar-eMar, with her bodyguard."

"And that bodyguard? I had heard one was an Espadryni woman." A warmth lit up the jade-green eyes until they seemed almost to glow. "I have been given the benefit of your Scholar's theories."

Lok sat back and waved his hand in the air. "She answered the physical description," he said, using his most reasonable tone. "But it is not so so unusual. We were able to fully account for her background. She is not Espadryni." unusual. We were able to fully account for her background. She is not Espadryni."

"You are certain?"

"As certain as we can be. We used fresnoyn in her food."

The Jaldean nodded. "The chance of a Seer," he said, so softly he might have been speaking to himself. "There are so few." He raised his head and once more Lok had the benefit of his level jade-green stare. "It was necessary to be sure."

"I believe the woman and her companion have already left Gotterang," Lok continued, once more picking up his pen.

"What of the Mesticha Stone?"

"According to my last report, the ship had left Navra on its way to the shrine on the Isle of Etsanksa to retrieve it. We cannot expect to hear again for some weeks."

"He is a good tool, your little Scholar."

"He is," Lok agreed. "I could not part with him." Certainly not, Certainly not, Lok thought, Lok thought, until I find out what you want with all these relics he's located for you, and why the Mesticha Stone is so important. until I find out what you want with all these relics he's located for you, and why the Mesticha Stone is so important.

"Are you sure you will not have some wine? Can I offer you other refreshment?"

Ten.

IN THE MIDDLE of the first watch of the night, while most of the Household were seeking their bedrooms, Karlyn-Tan checked that he had his set of master keys hanging from his belt and set off down the corridors and pa.s.sageways of Tenebro House. As he inspected the watch-something he did often, if irregularly-he could take the most roundabout and quiet route to the room that held the Wolfshead.

His first checkpoint was a young guardsman standing with a drawn sword in her hand, her back to a tapestry that depicted, in fading colors, a boar hunt. Word had it that the Tenebroso herself had worked the tapestry as a young woman, before the deaths of her two older siblings had made her Kir, and turned her attention to other matters. The tapestry hung at the apex of a long curving corridor, where the guard who stood before it could see down both sides.

"All quiet, Steward of Walls." The young woman standing watch at the tapestry saluted with her sword as he pa.s.sed her, giving her nothing more than a nod of acknowledgment. He knew her well, as he knew all of his own people. He even knew what special feat in practice had won her the honor of standing guard inside the walls and not out. The honor was always a coveted one, but especially on very hot nights when the stone walls gave some cooling to the House. Or on nights like this one, when spring's cool drizzle misted the battlements.

The thought that Lok-iKol would endanger this young woman, and all her fellow guards as well as everyone else in the House-Karlyn's hand had touched his sword hilt before he brought it back, relaxed, to his side.

Karlyn nodded to four more guards before he finally reached the room that held the Wolfshead. He waited for several minutes, listening and taking deep breaths, before he unlocked the door and stood on the threshold.

The first thing he saw was the bed placed against the middle of the far wall, and Dhulyn Wolfshead sitting cross-legged upon it, composed, and smiling merrily.

"It is Karlyn-Tan, Steward of Walls," he said in a voice that would reach her ears without traveling down the hallway.

"I remember you," she said. She still sat softly smiling, her blood-red eyebrows slightly raised. Suddenly, her smile broadened. "Have you come to release me, Steward of Walls?" she asked.

Karlyn took three paces into the room until he was no more than the length of a sword from the woman on the bed. He cleared his throat. "Yes."

The look of blank astonishment on her face, though quickly masked, made the Mercenary woman look younger. "You surprise me, Steward of Walls. Did you not think that my Partner and I left the city through the north gate?"

Karlyn shrugged. "Wolfshead, that is the tale told in the House. But I have seen your swords and weapons hanging in the north tower armory."

She raised her eyebrows a fraction and inclined her head once.

"I must ask something of you."

Her lips twisted to one side. "You and everyone else in the blooded House."

"Will you tell me what the Kir wants of you?"

The stony immobility of her face gave him his answer. Did not know, or would not say.

"Can you tell me at least whether it brings danger to the House-other than the danger you represent yourself?"

This time Dhulyn Wolfshead drew down her blood-red brows and pursed her lips. "That would be hard to say. He takes a great risk, I would judge, but whether it endangers the House . . ." Her frown deepened. "When you invade another's territory, do you endanger your own?"

Lok was planning an a.s.sault on another House? Karlyn found himself nodding. Yes, that would fit. Perhaps even explain the Jaldean.

"I will free you, Dhulyn Wolfshead. And in return, may I ask you to spare my guards? They are innocent in this."

Dhulyn sat up straight, hands on her knees. She had rarely seen a man look as troubled as the Steward of Walls looked at that moment. The little muscles around his eyes and mouth were sharp with tension. As if he'd spent much time in thought before coming to her. But his request was sincere. That, Dhulyn was sure of. She had been right to approve of him when they had met at the gate. That he did not ask for himself, only for his men, showed his heart moved him in the right way. Dhulyn found she was glad of this. And that gladness surprised her, a little.

"Why should I do this thing, Steward of Walls?"

"I will set you free with my own hand, and give my word that my guards know nothing of your captivity," he said.

"Someone must know."

This closed his eyes, as a look of pain shot across his face. "None of my my people, Wolfshead. I cannot speak for the Kir's people, Wolfshead. I cannot speak for the Kir's personal personal guard." guard."

"You have named the Kir," she said, leaning forward.

"My oaths are not to the Kir," he replied. "But to House Tenebro. That House is more than the Kir or even the Tenebroso herself. Like me, my people do not belong to the Kir, but to House Tenebro. They are innocent in this," he repeated.

Again, he did not ask for himself. "Blade oath, Steward of Walls?"

"Blade oath, Dhulyn Wolfshead."

A long moment pa.s.sed. "I believe you," she said finally. He bowed to her, but made no move to leave.

"I will leave the door open," he said. "May I ask you to wait until the middle of the third watch?"

"What of this?" Dhulyn Wolfshead uncrossed her legs; as she lowered her bare feet to the floor, a heavy chain rang against the metal of the bed frame. Karlyn felt his stomach clench. He did not have the keys to that manacle.

"A hacksaw-" he began, already turning to the door.

"Wait." He turned back. "You are an honorable man, and I will take your word in this as in the other. Go, lock the door behind you lest another come. Best you be able to say you do know not how I escaped."

Karlyn-Tan gave the Mercenary a deep bow, and turned to the door. "One thing is certain," Parno said. They had waited until the middle of the second watch to make their attempt on the door. He gritted his teeth and coaxed the bent-and-folded wire he had inserted into the lock a little to the right. Stupid lock was blooded stiff. And using his left hand was not making a hard job easier. Trial had shown, however, that left-handed or no, he was still better at lockpicking than the other three. He closed his eyes the better to feel the mechanism. "What I'd like to know," he said through his teeth, "is how much the little Dove knew when we were looking after her on the road and making sure she wasn't eaten by Cloud People."

"Your coming was not just coincidence, you think?" Thionan said.

"Perhaps," Parno jerked his head and young Hernyn eased in beside him. "Hold this just where I have it, my Brother." Parno waited until the young man had slipped his hand into position and grasped the wire before moving his own hand away. The cracked bone made his right arm throb. "But it's certain they were ready for us. Perhaps the little Dove's an innocent bystander. And the letter we never saw a love note. It's just that I'd like to know before I cut her throat." Parno thought of Mar white-faced and vomiting after Dhulyn had cut young Clarys' throat. It had taken days for that big-eyed look of apprehension to fade from the girl's face. She had looked at Dhulyn the way one looks when one realizes that the house dog one cuddled in the evening was really trained to kill strangers who came uninvited. Had that pallor and those sidelong glances been no more than a performance? Or was it just that the girl had found it was one thing to act as lure, and another to travel with killers?

"The Lady Mar-eMar's really a member of the House," Fanryn said. She crouched on the floor near Parno, her back braced against the wall. "That much you may believe. They've been sending for cousins and second cousins and even more distant relatives since last planting season. Some stay, some go forth again." She handed Parno the wire she'd finished bending for him. She'd been the one who'd helped him off with his boots. The pattern of beading around the boot tops still looked intact, but some of the beads were gone, worked into the dirt floor, and the wires which had held them on were picking the lock of the cell door.

A dull click, and the Brothers smiled at one another in satisfaction. Parno and Hernyn eased the door open a fingerwidth, and they all fell silent, listening. They quieted their breathing, waited with trained patience for one thousand heartbeats, before Parno slowly twisted the picks out of the lock. "There we are, my lords and ladies," Parno looked around at the three faces grinning back at him. "Off you go, Hernyn, and mind you don't get caught. In Battle, my Brother."

"Or in Death." Hernyn gave Parno a grin of his own and snaked himself out of the door on his belly. Parno relocked the door. Always easier to relock than to unlock. A twist to the old proverb Dhulyn was always quoting, "easier in than out." Too bad she hadn't remembered it before they'd come into this place.

"He'll be all right." Parno hoped his words did not sound like a question. It was not something he could have said while the youngster was still in the room. Fanryn, Hernyn, and Thionan had matched fingers for the job and the boy had won.

"Oh, blood, yes," Thionan snickered. "He's new in the Brotherhood, but that makes him old for outsiders. You or I might see him, Parno; Fanryn here knows his smell and could track him by that alone. But none of these people will see him." She tossed her head at the corridor on the other side of the door. "We used to go roaming at night-blood, during the day sometimes, and none of us were ever seen."

Parno nodded. He would rather have gone himself, of course, but there was no way to convince the others in view of his injury. No way to explain the map in his head, if it came to that. And these three had more than maps in their heads. In their time in the House, they had been over the whole edifice several times, they'd told him. And it was from Brothers like these, Parno knew, that the maps he and Dhulyn were shown had come. They knew where every member of the household slept, and with whom, and what many of them looked like in their sleep. They knew where the chamber pots were kept and how often they were emptied; where the Tenebroso kept her jeweled gloves, and what kind of sweetmeats the tame Scholar kept under his bed.

Most important, they knew of the places that a prisoner like Dhulyn Wolfshead-someone who had to be kept secret from the rest of the household-might be hidden. According to Thionan, there were three small rooms that, going by their placement within the maze of Tenebro House, were without windows and had only one door. Thionan knew of at least one other visitor who had been kept in the room she considered most likely.

"Look there first," she'd said to Hernyn. "You know the place I mean. Around to the left and down the short flight of stairs beyond the Kir's suite. Across from the hallway that goes nowhere."

"That's not the place to start," Fanryn had said, shaking her head. "You want to check that chamber next to the Kir's suite first, the one he and the Scholar use for a workroom." When the other three waited for her to go on she shrugged. "That's where they question people. He should make sure she's not there before looking for her cell."

Hernyn had looked at Parno and waited for the older man's nod. No one thought it odd that the man who knew the least about the House should be the one to decide. Even if he had not been Senior, Parno was Dhulyn's Partner, the only one who could speak for her.

Parno sat propped on one of the cots while Thionan quickly put together what spare clothing and blankets they had between them to look like Hernyn was asleep on the other cot. They'd need all their luck and the bad lighting to fool anyone for long, Parno thought.

"How's this look?" Thionan flopped herself on the cot along with the make-believe Brother and drew a length of twisted tunic around her own waist. Parno squinted, then began to laugh. By the Caids it did look like Thionan was sharing the cot with someone else. She rolled back up to a seated position and bowed her acknowledgment of Parno's tribute.

"What shall we do to pa.s.s the time?" Parno said. "I'm no Scholar, but I know a good many tales, or I can sing."

"A song by all means," Fanryn said, leaning back and shutting her eyes with a smile.

Still, here in the heart of the House, surrounded by her people, the Tenebroso was evidently thought sufficiently well-guarded. And so she would have been, from any intruder other than a Mercenary Brother.

Not that Dhulyn wished to intrude upon her. She stood not quite in front of the closed door, the well-oiled hinges at her back. She tried not to think about time pa.s.sing slowly and inexorably by. She tried only to listen to the breathing of the two women with her in the softly lit room, until she was sure they breathed at the same moment, as people who sleep together over long periods of time often do. If she needed to-and then the footsteps of the guards outside stopped in front of the door at her back.

Like a cat, Dhulyn walked quickly, softly across the room's thick carpets to the interior door, keeping her footsteps timed to the breathing she felt more than heard, and slipped behind the heavy quilted curtain that marked the archway into the main bedchamber. She moved immediately to the right of the doorway and slowed her breathing, hoping her heart would follow suit and stop its hammering.

The Tenebroso's room was so large that the small oil lamps placed one to each side of the doorway did very little more than create deeper shadows. It had been a long time, evidently, since anyone other than Kor-iRok and her women had needed to navigate this room in the dark. Dhulyn heard sounds and murmuring voices from the anteroom and froze. After an eternity her heart resumed beating. Would they come into the Tenebroso's room, or would they take it for granted that no one had been able to pa.s.s the lady pages?