The Sleeping God Part 39

"And the Sleeping G.o.d broke it," Gundaron said. " 'And the awakened G.o.d, eyes shut still in sleep, sword aloft, turned his head, listened for the Intruder, and when he heard the cries of the fearful creature, struck again and again, turning the Intruder into dust, breaking it, bone and spirit."' Gun opened his eyes. "The original's in verse," he said, "but that's the sense of it."

"How can you be so sure?" Mar looked from one to the other.

"Because I've Seen it."

At the fall of silence, Dhulyn looked up from lifting the bones from her fish to see three identical faces frozen in shock. "There's a Vision I keep having," she began, and told them what she'd Seen, the Mage with his book and sword, the mirror that was a window that was a door, the entrance of the green mist. The possessed Mage, green-eyed, unable to open the doorway again.

Parno froze in the act of refilling his wine cup. "It has to be. There are too many details that fit for it to be anything else."

"But how?" Mar said. "I thought Seers saw only the future."

"It's the common a.s.sumption," Gundaron said, eyes narrowed in thought. "But when I was researching the origins of the Espadryni," he faltered, licking his lips. "In the city state of Shpadrajh, they answered any question that was put to them, and one old sc.r.a.p of parchment was a partial list of the questions that had been asked in one year. Many seemed to make no sense, as they obviously concerned events which had already occurred. It was long thought to be a mistranslation, or at the least a misinterpretation, but if it's not . . . the Sight isn't limited in the way everyone a.s.sumes."

Parno gave a low whistle. "Tek-aKet said the thing understood irony. Now we see why. It began its present existence in irony. It killed the only person who knew how to send it back."

"Wolfshead." Gun laid his fork down gently. "If you've Seen the Green Shadow coming into the world, you've Seen a time before before the Sleeping G.o.d destroyed it." the Sleeping G.o.d destroyed it."

"I suppose I have. Blood! The Mage could be one of the Caids."

"That means you could See how the Sleeping G.o.d is called."

"I can't make a Vision come when I want it to, and even if we could afford to wait until my woman's time when the Sight is stronger, I can't See what I want to See."

"You must try, my heart. You had clear Visions when we were in Tenebro House, and that was not your woman's time."

"Fresnoyn." Dhulyn and Gundaron spoke at once.

"I thought you were in a hurry. Stop wiggling, you're only annoying the horse."

Dhulyn Wolfshead sounded as though she might be smiling, but she'd only turned her head enough for him to see the very corner of her mouth. Gun pressed his knees tightly against the saddle and tried to sit up straight as she'd instructed him. It had been years since he'd sat on a horse, and even though it was said that you never forgot how to ride, there seemed to be something lacking in his own recall. Had the beasts always been this far from the ground?

His teeth closed sharply on the inside of his cheek as his horse stopped short. Gingerly, the taste of blood on his tongue, he edged his horse next to Dhulyn's.

"I thought we were in a hurry," he said. He craned his neck to see what had stopped her, but all he could see was a group of children playing Blind Man. Three stood to one side, waiting their turn to play; four were chanting as they danced around the child in the center, blindfolded with what looked like a strip torn from the bottom of his shirt. Someone'll be in trouble when he gets home tonight, Someone'll be in trouble when he gets home tonight, Gun thought. Gun thought.

"They wouldn't be out now, if they knew what we know," Gun said.

The Mercenary smiled her wolf's grin. "We do do know," she said, "and yet here we are." She clucked to her horse and Gun was jolted upright as his own beast followed. know," she said, "and yet here we are." She clucked to her horse and Gun was jolted upright as his own beast followed.

"If this is a game," Gun said to her back. "I don't want to play anymore."

"Look to the Scholar," she said to him as he came to help her down from Bloodbone. "He's the one's not ridden much."

But another guard was stepping up to help Gundaron, and Karlyn-Tan stayed where he was, smiling up at her. "We thought it would be Parno Lionsmane with you," he said. "Is your errand to the Tenebroso?"

"Is there a Tenebroso?" there a Tenebroso?"

"The lord Dal-eDal was called to the Tarkin's bedside this morning, and confirmed before witnesses as Dal-eLad Tenebroso."

"And do you address me as his Walls?"

Karlyn-Tan smiled again and shrugged, shaking his head in answer. "But I must do something while I'm here, eating his bread."

"Since you ask as a friend, Karlyn, we come on the Tarkin's orders, to fetch certain needed supplies that the Scholar knows to be in his former rooms. Whose leave do we ask, if not yours?"

"As you come in the Tarkin's name, I'd say you ask leave of no one."

Dhulyn swung her leg over Bloodbone's head and slid off the mare's back, landing on her feet face-to-face with the former Steward of Walls. He made no step back, just put his hand out for the bridle. "Perhaps, then, the Scholar can find his own way to his old rooms," she said.

"Undoubtedly he can, but Dal-eLad Tenebroso's been told of your approach, and has asked that you speak with him when your errand is done."

Dhulyn looked Karlyn up and down, the beginnings of her wolf's smile on her lips. "It seems to me I've come into this House once before, Karlyn. I'm in no hurry to do so again."

"Ah, but this time you may keep your weapons," the former Walls said, his own grin wide and open. "The new Tenebroso says that all Mercenary Brothers are to be regarded as members of his House. Your Partner and yourself above all others."

Dhulyn absently stroked Bloodbone's neck. "Does he now? That's kind of him." She supposed it was, really, but somehow she couldn't find herself grateful.

"So you may go about your business, Scholar. The Wolfshead will be in the small salon when you are ready."

When Gundaron looked at her, Dhulyn nodded. "Go ahead, Scholar, I've no need to see that room again."

Karlyn waited until Gundaron had run up the left-hand staircase before leading Dhulyn away to the right.

"You won't be familiar with the small salon," he said, holding open a heavy wood door with a small iron grille at eye height for her. "Dal is converting it to his study, and restoring the old Tenebroso's sitting room to its public function."

"I'm surprised to see you still here, if you don't intend to become Walls again," Dhulyn said.

He let her pa.s.s through the door, then paused a moment holding it open. Dhulyn stopped and looked back at him. He faced her, but his crystal-blue eyes were focused inward.

"It's not my plan to stay here," he said, finally lifting his eyes to her. "But it's as good a place to live as any until this crisis ends, or until I know where I wish to be."

"You are not too old to make a Mercenary Brother, if you lived through the Schooling," she said.

His smile, for all that it creased his eyes, made him look younger. "I've lived through several things already."

He wasn't surprised to find the same partially restored order in his clothespress, though he was surprised that his spare tunics were still there. What wasn't there, however, was the box of drugs that should have been on the top shelf.

Gun chewed on his bottom lip. He'd taken the drugs to the workroom when he'd given them to Dhulyn Wolfshead. He'd brought them back here-hadn't he? He touched the spot on the shelves where the pearwood box should be. Well, if he had brought it back, whoever had searched the room had taken it away again.

That did leave him one other place to look.

He was actually out the door and into the hallway before he remembered there was something else he'd come here to get.

"Do you play the tiles, Tenebroso?"

"Please, call me Dal. We are are related, in an odd way, though it seems we're not to acknowledge it. And no, I get no pleasure from gambling. I don't even play the Solitary hands, really. It's the patterns that interest me most. I lay the tiles out in the old patterns as a way to help me relax." related, in an odd way, though it seems we're not to acknowledge it. And no, I get no pleasure from gambling. I don't even play the Solitary hands, really. It's the patterns that interest me most. I lay the tiles out in the old patterns as a way to help me relax."

"The old patterns?"

"The Seer's Patterns, my nurse used to call them. It's why I wanted to see you, as it happens." He gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite him before resuming his own seat.

Dal laid the tips of his fingers lightly on the backs of the tiles nearest him. "My mother brought this set into our Household. I don't know how far back it goes in her family, but it was said the set was made in the time of the Caids."

Dhulyn shrugged, her eyes on the tiles. "It's certainly possible. If parchments and even some paper can last so long, why not tiles? Do you know what they're made of?"

"Some kind of bone or stone, judging by how they change temperature." He picked up a piece and handed it to her.

Dhulyn lifted the tile to her mouth and touched it with the tip of her tongue, tested it with her teeth. "Stone, I would say. I do use the tiles for gambling, as it happens, but I doubt you've asked for me in order to teach you how."

Dal laughed softly. "Quite right. Turn over the tile you've got in your hand."

Suddenly-

"Yes, thank you." Eyebrows raised, Dhulyn turned the tile over. Rather than being marked with one of the cups, coins, swords, or spears that she was familiar with, this tile had a circle with a dot in the middle. She looked back at Dal-eLad.

He was nodding. "There are tiles in this set not seen in the sets used for gambling. That's one of them. There are four tiles with that dot and circle. And three other sets of four." He began turning over the tiles in front of him. "A simple straight line, running lengthwise down the center. A rectangle, just smaller than the tile itself, and a triangle, centered along the length of the tile, like a spearhead."

Dhulyn set down the tile she held next to its brothers. "A line, a circle, a rectangle, a triangle. Four in each pattern. Sixteen extra tiles?"

Dal shook his head. "Seventeen. This one is unique." He picked up a tile that lay to his left, and showed, if possible, more wear than the others. When he turned it over, Dhulyn could see, faint but clear, a design of three concentric circles.

"Could the other three have been lost?"

Dal shook his head. "My nurse said no, the set had always been like this."

"But surely, if the set is so very old . . ." Dhulyn let her objection die away as Dal went on shaking his head.

"No other tile is missing, you can tell by the wear and the patterns that they are all original. What odds would you give me that three tiles only, and those particular three would be the only ones lost since the time of the Caids? No. This tile is unique."

"So." Dhulyn leaned back in her chair, tapping her lips with her linked fingers. "Seventeen extra tiles we don't use in the modern sets of vera tiles. And these patterns, what are they?"

"As I said, my nurse called them the Seer's Patterns. My sisters and I-"

Dhulyn looked up from her study of the tiles. Dal sat with his elbow on the table, chin in his hand, lips pressed tightly together. His sisters are gone, His sisters are gone, she thought, she thought, and it still hurts him. and it still hurts him.

"My sisters and I," Dal began again, his voice lower and carefully under control, "would pretend to be Seers, telling each other's fortunes." He cleared his throat and began turning all the tiles faceup. "You know that some of the tiles have names, other than their places in the suits?"

"The Tarkina of Swords is called the Black Maid, the nine of cups is called Wealth, that kind of thing?"

Dal nodded. "Exactly." He held one tile in his hand, leaving the others as they lay. "My nurse said that once upon a time all the tiles had names, and meanings as well. That you would choose the tile that stood for you, and from it your fortune could be told."

Dhulyn leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table.

"Show me."

"This is my tile," he said, showing her the Mercenary of Coins. "A young man or woman, golden-haired, brown-eyed. This tile would be placed in the center of a table such as this one. I would ask my question, and this tile," he held up the singleton, "with its concentric circles, would be placed atop my own." He set the unique tile on top of the Mercenary of Coins. "The circled dot above, the triangle below, the rectangle to the right, the line to the left, forming a small cross. We would toss the rest of the tiles, and, drawing one at a time, place one face up above the circled dot, one below the triangle, one to the right of the rectangle, and one to the left of the line, extending the arms of the cross." Pretending to draw tiles from the box, Dal placed them as he indicated. "Lastly, we would choose four more, one at a time, and place them in a vertical here, to the left of the tiles we've already set up. This is the simplest of the Seer's Patterns."

"The simplest?" Dhulyn drew down her brows in a frown, shaking her head. "And what does it tell you?"

Dal spread his hands, palms raised. "That I can't say. No one in my family ever had the Sight, to my knowledge. But I thought that you you . . ." . . ."

Dhulyn let her lower lip slip from between her teeth. "I've seen these markings before," she said. She tapped one of the rectangle tiles with her fingernail. "Around the base of Mar's bowl. They're-" the blood rushed to her ears. "They're Marks. Marks." She looked up, smiling, but Dal was frowning his incomprehension. "Marks," "Marks," she said again. "This one's a Seer," she tapped the circled dot. "It looks like an eye. This one's a Finder, Gundaron says Finding is like following a straight line." she said again. "This one's a Seer," she tapped the circled dot. "It looks like an eye. This one's a Finder, Gundaron says Finding is like following a straight line."

Now Dal was nodding. "So one of these is a Healer-"

"Probably the square."

"And the other's a Mender."

"But this one," Dhulyn tapped the unique tile with its concentric circles. "I've no idea what this one might be. I've never seen anything like it."

"Because it's a Lens," Gun said from the doorway. Dal jumped in his seat, but Dhulyn didn't even look around. "The missing Mark."

"What do you mean, my Scholar?"

Gundaron held up the scroll in his hand. "It's in the Commentaries, the part I couldn't remember, Holderon writes about an ancient text of the Caids, one that existed in his day but doesn't any longer, though some of the stories it was said to contain have come down to us in the forms of folk songs and plays. Anyway, in the part that I'm referring to, Holderon appears to be answering the argument of another Scholar, and it's Holderon's position that the other Scholar is mistaken, that the Missing Mark, the so-called Lens, doesn't exist."

"A fifth fifth Mark? What was his logic?" Mark? What was his logic?"

"That while everyone knew of the other Marks, no one had ever encountered a Lens."

"Perhaps it wasn't a person," Dal said. "Perhaps it was an artifact?"

An artifact, Dhulyn thought. Dhulyn thought. A round artifact. A round artifact. One, perhaps, that had somewhere along the line been disguised as something more ordinary, and therefore not nearly as old. Something round could easily be disguised as . . . Dhulyn's blood began to pound in her ears. As a bowl, for example. One, perhaps, that had somewhere along the line been disguised as something more ordinary, and therefore not nearly as old. Something round could easily be disguised as . . . Dhulyn's blood began to pound in her ears. As a bowl, for example.