The Sleeping God Part 40

Dal and Gundaron had gone on talking, and after a moment Dhulyn realized they were suggesting that she try Seeing, using the tiles.

"I'm afraid there is no fresnoyn," Gundaron was saying. "I've tried Finding, but I get nothing."

"Possibly Lok-iKol used it," Dhulyn said, shelving her thoughts about the bowl. It would wait until they were back in the Dome. "Let me see what the tiles can do. Which shall I use?"

"I should think you'd be the Mercenary of Swords," Dal said. "You're not old enough to use the Tarkina's tile."

"I use my own tile?"

"A Sight that involved you might prove to be most useful," Dal suggested.

Dhulyn nodded and took the tile he handed her, setting it down in the center of the table as Dal had shown her. How do I call the Sleeping G.o.d? How do I call the Sleeping G.o.d? she asked herself. As she placed the tiles she thought of as the other Marks, Dal swept the rest off the table, and shook them in their box. As they were placed, Dhulyn tried not to guide her thoughts, but to let them float freely, making whatever a.s.sociations they might form by themselves. Her Visions usually came to her in her sleep; those very few she'd had in her waking state had always fallen upon her like a blow. Unlike Gundaron, she had never used her Mark deliberately, never sought after a Vision. Perhaps she would See one, though, if their methods were not too broken. And providing the Visions were not so thoroughly linked to her woman's time that this effort was wasted. That tile was the Tarkin of Swords, clearly a man and he was holding a type of sword very much like one she owns, though she doesn't use it much as it's . . . she asked herself. As she placed the tiles she thought of as the other Marks, Dal swept the rest off the table, and shook them in their box. As they were placed, Dhulyn tried not to guide her thoughts, but to let them float freely, making whatever a.s.sociations they might form by themselves. Her Visions usually came to her in her sleep; those very few she'd had in her waking state had always fallen upon her like a blow. Unlike Gundaron, she had never used her Mark deliberately, never sought after a Vision. Perhaps she would See one, though, if their methods were not too broken. And providing the Visions were not so thoroughly linked to her woman's time that this effort was wasted. That tile was the Tarkin of Swords, clearly a man and he was holding a type of sword very much like one she owns, though she doesn't use it much as it's . . .

HE TURNS AWAY FROM THE STRANGELY TIDY WORKTABLE AND TOWARD A CIRCULAR MIRROR, AS TALL AS HE IS HIMSELF. THE MIRROR DOESN'T REFLECT THE ROOM, HOWEVER, BUT SHOWS A NIGHT SKY FULL OF STARS. HIS LIPS MOVE AND SHE SEES HIM NOW FROM THAT SIDE, AS IF SHE WERE STANDING IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR AND HIS LIPS FORM WHAT DHULYN KNOWS ARE THE WORDS FROM THE BOOK. ADELGARREMBIL HE SAYS, AND THEN ACUCHEEYAROB. A FOREIGN TONGUE?

"Wolfshead. Wolfshead wake up."

Dhulyn s.n.a.t.c.hed the hand from her shoulder and only just stopped from breaking the wrist when she realized the person shaking her was Mar-eMar. Dhulyn's heart grew cold. The little Dove was out of breath and as pale as lilies. Behind her, in the doorway of Dal-eLad's salon, was the Mercenary Brother Oswin Battlehammer.

"Dhulyn, hurry. Tek-aKet's sitting on the Carnelian Throne and he's-" she shot a glance over her shoulder at the Brother in the doorway. "He's raving raving."

"Where's Parno?" Dhulyn was already into the hallway and heading to the courtyard where Bloodbone waited.

"At the doors to the throne room letting no one in, but you must . . ."

Mar fell behind, but Dhulyn went on running. She knew perfectly well what the girl had been about to say. "You must hurry." Of course she must. Wait too long, and Parno would go in without her.

Twenty-five.

"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?" Dhulyn stood with her right hand pressed tightly against the ornate carving of the doors to the Carnelian Throne Room, as if she could somehow reach through and sense what was happening inside.

"You think I know?" Parno growled. "I was helping the Tarkina with the Semlorian amba.s.sador when the page, Telian-Han, came running for me. He'd gone to the Tarkin's room with the midday meal and found the guard who'd been left there dead on the floor."

"And the Tarkina?"

"Keeping the amba.s.sador calm, I imagine." Parno closed his fingers around her upper arm. "Dhulyn, my heart, don't do it. It doesn't have a head wound now. What if it-it must know you are coming? The best you'll accomplish is to send it to another body."

"You prefer to have the Green Shadow as Tarkin of Imrion?" She looked at him as if she didn't even feel his grip on her arm. Her eyes were as bright as the edge of a knife.

"Besides, I promised him I would kill him. I gave my word."

"We have only you and Gundaron. If it destroys you before you can kill Tek-aKet, we will never prevail against it."

"I gave my word."

"At least let me come in with you." He knew it was no use even before she started shaking her head.

"I can kill him, him," she said. "I don't know that I could kill you if . . .

Parno let his hand drop to his side. He'd known what her answer would be, but he'd had to try. She was what she was. When Dhulyn took his face in her hands, he did not pull away.

"Beslyn-Tor said, 'like this,' did he not?" Dhulyn's steel-gray eyes fixed on his.

Parno closed his hands around her wrists. "He did."

"Eye-to-eye, that's how the Shadow moves, and how, I'll wager, he destroys."

"And so?"

"And so? Blindfold me, you idiot."

Smelled now, not just Parno's familiar smell, but the garlic in the sauce of the partridge they'd eaten for luncheon, the wine he'd had, and the bay leaf in the water he'd used to cleanse his hands. She felt and heard Parno slip the makeshift bar free and eased herself through the opening, moving only enough to allow him to shut the door behind her. She could hear two sets of breathing now-two?-and stilled her own to listen better. From the left. Low, steady, almost a snore. Unconscious, then, and neither help nor hindrance. And the second? Above.

Dhulyn stepped to the right in time to feel the displacement of air as the body of her a.s.sailant landed to her left, his grunt sounding loud to her sensitive hearing. She ducked under the blow she sensed sweeping toward her head, felt the air push past her face and seized the wrist instead of dancing away as instinct and training demanded. She continued her turn into her opponent until she had it back against the wall, her forearm against its throat, and her knife buried in its chest.

Dhulyn eased the body to the floor, pulled her knife out of the wound and wiped it clean on her breeches before carefully feeling upward with her free hand and covering the dead eyes. Many fights were lost through too early belief that they were won. No point in being careless now. She took a moment to allow her breathing to return to normal, to release herself from the discipline of the Shora Shora before laying the knife down behind her and using that hand to dig her fingers into the side of the throat, under the jaw. Nothing, no pulse. The blood had stopped moving from the wound. She made sure the eyelids were closed before she recovered the knife, inserted it with care between her skin and the blindfold, and sliced the strip of cloth free of her face. before laying the knife down behind her and using that hand to dig her fingers into the side of the throat, under the jaw. Nothing, no pulse. The blood had stopped moving from the wound. She made sure the eyelids were closed before she recovered the knife, inserted it with care between her skin and the blindfold, and sliced the strip of cloth free of her face.

"I fulfill my oath, Tarkin of Imrion," she whispered, touching her forehead with her fingertips.

She rose to her feet in one movement and advanced in the direction of the other breathing she'd heard. She stopped when two legs, one folded under the other, came into her view on the far side of the dais. She advanced even more slowly, certain that she recognized those soft-soled boots with their intricate embroidery. Her lips formed a soundless whistle as she knelt, sheathed her knives, and pulled loose one of the braided leather cords that were woven into her vest. Two important questions leaped immediately to mind.

What had Cullen of Langeron been doing in the Throne room? And was this still still Cullen of Langeron? Cullen of Langeron?

Dhulyn had just finished trussing the unconscious Cloudman when the doors of the throne room were flung open behind her. The rapid footsteps stopped only paces into the room, and then advanced once more, slowly. The last knot secure, Dhulyn looked around, knowing already who she would see.

Zelianora Tarkina sank to her knees by the corpse of her husband, laying her fingers lightly on his closed eyelids. When she looked up, her dark brows were like splashes of ink on her face.

"Did he speak, once the Shadow had departed?"

Shaking her head, Dhulyn rose to her feet and approached the other woman. She stopped when Zelianora held her hand up, palm toward her.

"Leave me, please," she said. "You stood by your word and for that I thank you, but leave me now. Please."

Dhulyn hesitated, looking from the kneeling Tarkina to the trussed Cloudman. Parno left his post by the door to take her by the elbow.

"Come," he said.

"We must bring Cullen," she said.

Parno shrugged and bent over to grasp the front of Cullen's tunic, hauling the unconscious man upright enough to sling him over his shoulder.

"Don't know why you bothered tying him. The Tarkin wouldn't have been attacking you if the Shadow'd left him. Logic tells us Cullen must be clean."

"Logic's killed people before. Better careful than cursing."

At the doorway Dhulyn stopped and looked back into the room. There was something wrong. The throne room showed no signs of the encounter, just the body of Tek-aKet, with his grieving Tarkina kneeling over it. Dhulyn drew in a deep breath through her nose, tasting blood at the back of her throat. But there was something else. Something she couldn't put her finger on.

"Dal, are you all right?"

A few blinks a.s.sured him he was looking into the blue eyes of Karlyn Tan, riding beside him. He held the focus until he was sure his vision was clear.

"Felt dizzy for a moment." He looked away, rubbing the side of his face.

"You looked as though you were about to faint."

"I'll be fine," Dal said, shrugging away Karlyn's concern. They had no time for any of this, they had to get to the Dome as quickly as possible. "Let's go."

Parno Lionsmane closed and tied the silk bag that held his disa.s.sembled pipes. "Not everyone will feel that way. The fact remains, little Dove, that my Partner has killed the Tarkin of Imrion, and even though it was at his order . . . well, there's no way to know which way the Houses will jump, if they find out. If we ask for permission to go and are denied," he shrugged, "better to explain, and defend ourselves if necessary, from the mountains."

Gun took her hand. "We'd have to go anyway," he said. "We don't know where the Shadow is now, but we do do know we need the other Marks. And the only other Marks we know about are in the mountains. Before Wolfshead killed the Tarkin, we know we need the other Marks. And the only other Marks we know about are in the mountains. Before Wolfshead killed the Tarkin, we could could have sent Cullen's Racha bird for them-what did I say?" have sent Cullen's Racha bird for them-what did I say?"

Dhulyn Wolfshead had frozen in the act of folding her long riding cotte. "Disha," she said. "That's it." She turned to Parno Lionsmane. "When did Disha return?"

"Two nights ago, the same night Gun found Tek-aKet. What of it?"

"Cullen was in the throne room without Disha." The two Mercenary Brothers looked at each other tight-lipped.

"She could be anywhere," Parno Lionsmane said finally. "He could have sent her with a message, or just away, if he suspected something was wrong with Tek. We won't know anything until he comes to himself."

"If he comes to himself." The Wolfshead chewed on her lower lip, the half-folded cotte twisting in her hands. he comes to himself." The Wolfshead chewed on her lower lip, the half-folded cotte twisting in her hands.

"That mistake won't be made again, you can be sure," Parno Lionsmane said. "Cullen's well-guarded and, unlike Tek, has no authority to order himself freed." mistake won't be made again, you can be sure," Parno Lionsmane said. "Cullen's well-guarded and, unlike Tek, has no authority to order himself freed."

"It seems hard to go to the Cloud people without him." Dhulyn Wolfshead frowned at the cotte she still held.

Mar looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. Here we go again, Here we go again, she thought, surprised to find her hands so steady. Once more on the run. Had she spent longer than three days anywhere since she'd first set eyes on the Mercenaries? She got to her feet, mentally reviewing what she should take with her. No point in packing any of the court gowns Rab-iRab had found for her. However much nicer they were than the clothes she'd had at Tenebro, they wouldn't be much use on horseback. The sound of her own name made her look up. she thought, surprised to find her hands so steady. Once more on the run. Had she spent longer than three days anywhere since she'd first set eyes on the Mercenaries? She got to her feet, mentally reviewing what she should take with her. No point in packing any of the court gowns Rab-iRab had found for her. However much nicer they were than the clothes she'd had at Tenebro, they wouldn't be much use on horseback. The sound of her own name made her look up.

"Mar can stay here with Zelianora Tarkina," Gun was saying.

A cold shock buzzed in her ears. Did he really mean to go without her? "Not likely," she said, thrusting herself between Gun and Parno. "It's my bowl you need, remember!"

"But, Mar, you're safer here if we-"

"Best if you waste no time arguing."

The voice from the doorway stopped Gun before he could finish giving Mar his excuses. Dal-eLad and Karlyn-Tan had come with them from Tenebro House, but while she and Gun had come straight to the Mercenaries' rooms, the n.o.ble House had gone to the Tarkina. Dal's glance fell to the open packs. "Good. I should have known you would be ahead of me. The Houses are already arriving. Penrado happened to be here when you came riding in and he's called the others."

"And if we're asked for?" Dhulyn Wolfshead did not stop packing to ask.

"Zelianora has told them you've gone after the murderers of the Tarkin," Dal said. "She's said that he told you enough to set you on the trail with his dying words." He entered the room far enough to shut the door behind him. "There is good comes of this, if we are careful. Tek deposed and dead was one thing, the Houses were willing for Lok-iKol to be Tarkin rather than begin a civil war. But Tek a.s.sa.s.sinated is another. Anyone who steps forward to claim the Carnelian Throne will be suspect. The Penradoso is speaking against a Ballot, and calling for Bet-oTeb to be declared Tarkin, with an appropriate Guardian, of course, and many of the other Houses are listening."

"Enough?"

Dal shrugged. "It will be easier for Zelianora to ask for the Guardianship herself if . . ." Dal stopped, his unspoken words hanging in the air.

"If she's seen to have acted decisively in sending us after the a.s.sa.s.sins," Dhulyn Wolfshead finished for him. He nodded to her, clearly relieved that she understood. "These youngsters have yet to pack. Meanwhile we can saddle the horses-"

"You misunderstood me," Dal said. "There were those who wished to question you themselves, and Zelianora has told them you have already gone. You will not ride out of the front gates now without making her a liar, and raising the very questions we wish to avoid." Dal shrugged. "I can have your horses, and even your saddlebags sent after you to the Tenebro summerhome outside of Gotterang." He turned to Parno Lionsmane. "You remember?"

When Lionsmane nodded, Wolfshead turned to Mar and Gun.

"Go, you two, quick as you can and meet back here. Small packs only, Mar, but leave nothing you cannot afford to lose. Be sure to bring the bowl." Dhulyn Wolfshead fastened the last buckle on the straps of her saddlebag.

"And speaking of that." Dal had been carrying a small case made of time-darkened wood with a bra.s.s handle set into the lid. "I've brought the vera tiles for you, Dhulyn Wolfshead. They seemed to work at least somewhat. . . ."

"I'll see they come back to you safely."

"Keep them. I can have a new set made." Dal looked at Gun, and then at Mar herself as if he would say something in particular to them, but finally he bowed and left them.

As Mar was pulling the door shut behind them, she heard Dhulyn Wolfshead say, "I wonder. Can the Shadow enter the Racha?"

"I thought we'd go through the old kitchens," Gundaron said, handing his pack over at Parno's gesture and sitting down to get at his boots.

"We'd have to pa.s.s through too much of the Dome to get there," Parno told him. "We're supposed to be gone already, remember."

"We little thought we'd be taking you with us this way, my Doves," Dhulyn said, looking out the window of their bedroom. "But it's not so difficult. If you don't look down."

She looked with longing at her saddlebags. Everything she couldn't do without-including the set of vera tiles-had been transferred to a travel pack, but uncomfortable wouldn't begin to describe their journey if, by ill luck, they lost the bags. And there was her second-best sword, to say nothing of the axes and the longbow. She gave a mental shrug, put her most cheerful smile on her lips. Either Dal-eLad would get them their horses and saddlebags, or he wouldn't. No point in giving the youngsters anything more to worry them. Under her breath, she ticked off a list of weapons. Knives-in boots, wrist sheaths, back sheath under her shirt and the public one at her belt-with short sword, throwing star pouch, and disa.s.sembled crossbow, all attached to vest harness, and tied down so as not to snag on anything or tangle the ropes. Parno had, in addition to his own body weapons and sword, the cavalry recurve bow that came apart into three pieces, and the arrows they'd brought back from the Great King's court, steel arrows that unscrewed, patterned after relics of the Caids. Everything else was either too heavy or too long to take by this route. She'd just have to hope that Dal came through for them. She turned her back on the pile of books and scrolls stacked neatly on the room's side table. If she didn't look, she wouldn't think about them. Much.

Her inventory finished, she helped Parno move the roped packs to the window.

"I'll get these up now," he said. "And come back to help with the youngsters." He was out the window and up the wall in a moment, trailing the rope with the packs attached behind him. Dhulyn knew he'd reached the roof when the rope grew taut, and she eased the packs over the windowsill, watching them rise as Parno pulled them up.