The Keeper of the Mist (22 page)

“My mother always said to keep clear of sorcerers, and never mind she didn't always follow her own advice.” Lucas was smiling, but not with much humor. He picked up the puppet again, untangling the strings with an expert flick of his wrist. Then he stood it on the table and let it go. The puppet drew itself up and tilted its head, somehow taking on a shadow of Magister Eroniel's arrogance. “
Here I am, safe in the Wyvern King's citadel. I'm not worried a bit about little peasant girls from tiny kingdoms tucked along the edge of great Eschalion….That arrogance may be an advantage for us. I doubt Magister Eroniel will look for trouble from you, because you're right. He thinks no more of you than he thinks of a dog or a cow. Anyway, the boundary's not entirely gone, is it? For all we know, he may still be having a bit of trouble remembering quite where he picked up Cort or exactly what he meant to do with him.”

“We can't count on that.”

“No, I realize that.”

“Well, then?” asked Keri. “There's us, and there's your mother and her friends, and there's Osman the Younger and his men. How can we fail? Especially because we don't
dare
fail. But the first thing is for you to show us the player's little gap folded between our land and Eschalion.”

“Well…” His mouth twisted, then curved upward. “I promised my mother I would never reveal the mouse gap to anyone other than another player, but here we are.”

Keri nodded.

Lucas was definitely smiling now. “It would be quite a trick on Aranaon Mirtaelior. In plays, you know, the common people always get the better of the sorcerer. In the end. I think my mother would appreciate a clever plot twist to this play. And naturally you're quite right: we should move fast. Very well. Yes. I can show you the way. The rest, I can't promise.”

“I know. All I'm really sure of is, we have to get Cort back. I'll convince Lord Osman to help us. I
will.
Somehow.” She hoped she could. She wondered about these players, who slipped through cracks between the great kingdoms and little Nimmira. She wondered about them very much. At the moment, she wondered mostly about whether they would cooperate with Bear soldiers from Tor Carron. Lucas would just have to make sure they did.

She said out loud, “You'll know how to handle those people, won't you, brother dear? You can take our people through the player's gap. And you can persuade your mother and the players of Eschalion to help us. And then we'll get Cort back, and then we'll fix the boundary, and then everything will be the way it's supposed to be!” She stopped, surprised to find she was breathing fast. And she was on her feet, too. She didn't remember getting up.

“Did I forget to mention I'm a terrible coward?” said Lucas, leaning away from her. “Terrible. Really. You have no idea.”

Keri laughed. She couldn't help it.

“It's true!” Lucas protested. But his mouth crooked again into an unwilling smile. “Though this would make a splendid play, so there's that….”

“Afterward,” Keri promised. “Afterward, you can make it all into a play and design the puppets for it any way you like. They'll still be putting it on a hundred years from now.” She paused. “Or they will if Nimmira is still here in a hundred years.”

“Yes, yes, I know. No need to be so emphatic, sister dear.” Lucas got to his feet with a lingering glance at the open book of plays and the abandoned puppets lying near it. Reaching out, he tipped the book gently shut. Though he didn't touch it, the sorcerer puppet lifted and turned its head as though it had heard some faint, alarming sound in the distance.
“Listen!”
said Lucas softly. “
It's the sound of outrageous plans being laid in tiny, insignificant countries far, far away
….I'm sure the Wyvern King won't tremble at our coming,” he added with a sidelong look toward Keri. “But he ought to.”

“I'd rather he didn't know anything at all about our coming till we're out of his kingdom again,” Keri said fervently, and rolled her eyes as her brother laughed.

Osman Tor the Younger plainly could not decide whether to blame Keri or ill luck or the devious plotting of the Wyvern King when Keri told him what had happened.

Well, she didn't exactly tell him
everything
that had happened. Nothing about Brann and what he had done, or tried to do. Nothing about why the boundaries of Nimmira had been weakened in the first place, or how impossible it was to close them again. She didn't need to explain any of that, and it would make Nimmira look terrible: corruption and greed and treachery everywhere. It wasn't like that, she knew it wasn't
really
like that, but she couldn't bear to have Lord Osman know about her father and about Brann.

But just telling Lord Osman that Magister Eroniel had kidnapped Cort, that Cort as the Doorkeeper could open or close every border and boundary and gate of Nimmira, and that Magister Eroniel had already used Cort to try to force open Nimmira and she feared he, or even the Wyvern King himself, might try that again and this time succeed—this much of the truth was entirely sufficient to compel Lord Osman's full attention.

“Why under the broad sky of the wide world did you ever invite any sorcerer of Eschalion into your pretty little country in the first place?” he demanded, not quite able to keep the exasperation out of his tone, though Keri could tell he was trying. “Everyone knows better than to trust the people of the Wyvern!”

Keri, finding it impossible to answer this with any patience, looked at Tassel. She had insisted on Tassel's attendance at this meeting, and this was exactly why.

Tassel immediately glided forward two steps, laying her hand on Lord Osman's arm, and gazing up at him. She managed this even though she was just about exactly as tall as he was. She said in a tone of soft appeal, “But we didn't invite Magister Eroniel, of course. He came because, when we opened the border between our country and yours, we accidentally opened a tiny little gap for a Wyvern sorcerer, too. So we tried to make it seem as though we had let him come. But you surely realize,” she added earnestly, “we did not want him at all. Anyone can see that Tor Carron, not Eschalion, is our natural ally.”

Lord Osman smiled at Tassel. But he also said, kindly enough but with no sign that he was persuaded by her wiles, “Naturally you would say so to me, now.” He patted her hand where it rested on his arm, but he also moved a step away from her and turned back to Keri, leaving Tassel gazing at him in startled offense. Tassel was not used to her wiles failing.

Keri, who was not used to that, either, blinked at Lord Osman for an instant, nonplussed. But then she collected herself and said, following Tassel's lead, “We thought we could just be polite to Magister Eroniel for a few days while we—you and I, your people and ours—became better acquainted. We thought we could coax that little gap to close, but leave the border open between Nimmira and Tor Carron. Cort thought he had realized how it might be done. Only then Magister Eroniel took him, and it was too late.”

“Exactly,” said Tassel, smoothly picking up when Keri ran out of breath or nerve or inspiration. She didn't step toward the young Bear Lord again, but folded her hands in front of her skirts and took a more matter-of-fact approach. “So you see why we must appeal to you, Lord Osman: because we
are
natural allies, whether or not any handfasting agreements have been made between our peoples. You know Eschalion so much better than we do, and Keri's brother Lucas knows it better still; between you, surely you can find Cort. And as for getting him out—well, Tor Carron is the only country between the sea and the sand that the Wyvern King has failed to conquer. We know it can't be
just
the cliffs at your border. You have some way to resist his sorcery, don't you?”

Keri added, “You even said so, Lord Osman.
One or two protections against Aranaon Mirtaelior's sorcery.
That's what you said. That's more than the rest of us have.” She glanced at his garnet earring, then raised her eyebrows, knowing he must be familiar with blood sorcery, with the kind of blood magic they did in Tor Carron, all wrapped up with fixing magic into gemstones. Lord Osman's earring
must
be magic, or what hope did they have of getting Cort back?

She and Tassel and Lord Osman were gathered in the Little Salon, Tassel having declared that its pale formality was just right for letting the Bear Lord know that this was an official meeting rather than any kind of intimate gathering. Not that anybody could easily have mistaken this gathering for intimate, because not only were Keri and Tassel and Lord Osman present, but also Domeric and Linnet and one of the Bear soldiers. Not Lucas, who had gone to do something to find the player's gap, or to stabilize it or open it or something, Keri wasn't quite sure, but her brother had seemed to know what he should do. She knew where he was, and was uneasily aware that probably a gap in Nimmira's border was right near him, but even knowing it was there, she couldn't find it with her inner eye. It was strange, realizing there was something within the borders of Nimmira she couldn't see. Her Doorkeeper could have found it, probably.

She couldn't let herself think about Cort. She would be too afraid and then she wouldn't be able to think about anything.

Domeric was there because he was supposed to intimidate Lord Osman a little, if necessary. Not that anybody had said so, exactly, but it was a role Domeric was obviously used to playing.

Linnet had been Domeric's idea, but a good one: the other girl was obviously accomplished at playing roles, too. She did not cling to Domeric, but poured wine for everyone, moving softly and gracefully. She smiled prettily, and gazed admiringly at Lord Osman whenever he spoke and at the Bear soldier Lord Osman had brought with him on, apparently, general principles, and nodded at all the right places, looking grave and concerned.

Keri only wished she were as good a player as Tassel and Linnet.

Lord Osman seemed to find her explanations believable, though. He nodded in grim agreement as she finished. “Yes, those of my family have
one or two protections,
but nothing that I would dare set against Aranaon Mirtaelior himself.” He brushed his thumb against the garnet cabochon at his ear. “This is merely a small thing. We manage only small magics in Tor Carron.”

“Blood sorcery is never trivial,” Tassel said firmly. “Besides, even this is more than we have.” She had almost entirely dropped her pose of innocent helplessness, speaking instead with cool practicality.

Lord Osman gazed at her for a moment, then looked away with what seemed something of an effort. He said, turning to Domeric, “The Wyvern King is not kind to foreign sorcerers; he always wants to tear their magic out of them so he can see its pattern and design and take it for his own if he pleases. He respects nothing but power and admires nothing but sorcerous skill. Folk with normal blood running in their veins rather than sorcery…he doesn't care about such folk at all.” He gave everyone an apologetic little nod. “I fear he thinks of ordinary folk as we think of cattle or dogs. The people of Tor Carron are not a magical people, Lady Kerianna. My family has long been determined that Aranaon Mirtaelior will never take them under his shadow.”

“Indeed,” said Keri, and looked at Tassel.

Tassel was giving Lord Osman a thoughtful look, as though she suspected she heard a false note somewhere in this. But she only said seriously, “So, you see, we are indeed natural allies, Lord Osman: your people, who must invest their magic in gemstones, and ours, whose magic all resides in the land itself and manifests as it will. Especially now, after what has happened.”

“We thought of you at once in this disaster,” added Keri.

“We are not asking you to lend your men to any sort of direct attack,” Domeric put in, his deep, heavy voice rumbling with authority. “We know we have no hope of defeating the Wyvern King through force of arms. But a careful little raid…just a few men to slip in and out…”

“Any small magic you might possess,” Tassel said, looking pointedly at his earring.

“Anything you could suggest, to help our people recover our Doorkeeper,” Keri said. “We actually hope to have one or another advantage when it comes to finding things out, including finding out where Cort is. But getting him away—I don't know how we're to do that. But daring raids can't be anything new for your people, Lord Osman. Your men would no doubt find all this very easy and familiar.”

Lord Osman spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I fear not, alas. My father would not forgive me if I cast the lives of his men on such a roll of the dice! You believe that your Doorkeeper has gone into the hands of the Wyvern King himself; you do not deny this? No, indeed. Well, then, it's sorcery you'll need, yet I must warn you: you will certainly not defeat Aranaon Mirtaelior through sorcery! His Wyvern sorcerers draw magic directly out of air and sunlight, so it is said, and out of the mortal blood of those who fall into their power. And the Wyvern King is the greatest sorcerer who has ever lived. What you ask is impossible.”

“Indeed—” began Domeric.

“But we
can
defeat the Wyvern King through sorcery,” Keri interrupted. “You must realize that Nimmira has
always
defeated Aranaon Mirtaelior through sorcery! We don't lift magic out of blood or sunlight, but it is in us, in our land, and not even the Wyvern King is stronger than the land of Nimmira. Our whole history shows that! We can defeat his sorcery, and we have, and we will do it again, Lord Osman—if we can bring our Doorkeeper back into our land. You must advise us!”

“Perhaps provide some little magic, even something very small,” urged Tassel.

“And possibly one or two soldiers would not go amiss if we must conduct a daring raid,” Domeric added prudently.

“Well, well…” Lord Osman seemed slightly taken aback by all this. Then his soldier leaned forward and murmured in his ear, and Lord Osman paused, his expression growing thoughtful. The soldier murmured something else. Lord Osman nodded, looked up, glanced quickly at Tassel, drew himself up, looked firmly at Keri, and said just a bit too quickly, “I gather your peaceful land has scant need of soldiers, and less need of…active magic, shall we say? So I understand why you wish the assistance of Tor Carron in this exigency. Yet I must observe that Tor Carron has difficulty enough protecting itself, and has little wish to defy the Wyvern King over the fate of a small land such as yours—a land that our people do not even know exists. Allow me to suggest once more that a handfasting agreement would be the wisest course. Such an agreement would compel Tor Carron to assist you in regaining your Doorkeeper—this cornerstone of your magic!—despite the considerable risk and against our normal policy. Not even my father could argue otherwise, as our alliance would be clear and strong for all to see. I am sure my father would support a still greater risk than you ask, once Lady Kerianna and I were handfasted.”

“Would he, indeed?” said Tassel, her tone even. “Yet do you yourself desire this precise form of alliance, Lord Osman?”

“Of course I must desire any alliance so beneficial to my people,” the young Bear Lord declared, not quite looking at her. “Also, of course, Lady Kerianna, I am sure you see that your people would work more smoothly with my soldiers once you and I were wed.”

He meant by this last that her people would take his orders, Keri realized. His, and those of his people. Naturally, he would expect to be in charge of everything. Naturally, he would. In charge of the whole of Nimmira. He thought he could get that by marrying her. It was her fault, too, since she had been the one to put the idea in his head. She couldn't stop herself from giving Tassel an accusing glance:
This was your idea, and now look.

Tassel opened her eyes wide and shrugged.

Keri glared at her, briefly. Then she turned back to Lord Osman and tried to smile.