Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles (44 page)

“They’ve been preparin’ the Aswydd rooms,” Uwen said. “The servants ha’ been at it for an hour now, a great lot of ’em. It’s safest.

We ain’t searched every hall and nook, nor will have, maybe for days, so’s ye should have a care for the dark places an’ never go wi’out me, not even wi’ Guelen troops: wi’
me
, lad, or maybe Lusin an’ the rest, but no others,
no
others, no matter how well ye know Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles

’em.”

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles
CHAPTER 3

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The apartment smelled of burning cedar and polishing oils. The chair by the tall, green-curtained windows might never have held a dead man—all the dead were gone, to what burial place Tristen had not asked. The servants, working under close guard, had indeed changed the place in very little time, and most significantly there was not a cup, not a bowl, not a vessel or utensil to be seen on any shelf. Guards were in every room, too, standing watch, so that the rooms had not the desolate feeling they might have had after the events of this bloody night: Syllan had taken command of the detachment at the door, while Lusin was off inquiring into things that had to be inquired into regarding the horses and the stables.

Servants passed, with massive copper buckets that foretold a bathtub being filled with hot water.

Clean, hot water. If dead men had been end to end of the floor, Tristen thought, he would have longed for that bath, and he abandoned his last reluctance about the place.

“I want you, and our men, with me,” he said to Uwen as they walked through the inner rooms. “I take all your warnings. I want the doors
shut
. Use only the food and drink we brought in.” His voice had become a thread. He could not muster more than that.

“Let us hope for a quiet rest.”

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles

“The captain’s had the town watch shut down the taverns,” Uwen said, “so the captain says. Can’t any man roam the streets carrying his pot of drink with him, and Lord Cuthan’s got his household men standin’ watch by the tavern, gods save us, so’s no crowd gets to barrels of it. Men can be great fools when they’re happy.”

“And are they happy?” He paused. He was astonished, in the light of the lord viceroy’s actions and all else that had gone amiss.

“Oh, indeed they are, m’lord. Folk as feared the town might lie under siege all winter, they’re right happy. They don’t care if ye’re a wizard or ye ain’t. By them, ye ain’t Guelen, ye ain’t any viceroy, and Sihhë ain’t any unlucky word hereabouts, either, so to say.

Here, if ye call down lightning on the Zeide roof, why, they’ll take no offense by’t.
Aye
, they’re happy, lad, they’re right happy about a peaceful winter. Ye’ve come
home
, an’ may ye have a long and a happy stay here, m’lord, wi’ all my heart, dare I wish so?”

A long and a happy stay. And a cheerful, even a bantering and wistful wish from Uwen, who had heard everything in the hall below.

“But may I say, gettin’ far above myself, m’lord, ye was right to chide the earls.”

“Was I?”

Uwen colored to the roots of his hair. “Sayin’ as I’d know,” he said with a downcast look. “But ye done well, m’lord. Only—”

“Only?”

“Ye was right, too, about them sayin’
lord Sihhë
. ’At’s trouble. The Quinalt father was standin’ there with his hands in his sleeves and Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles lookin’ to have swallowed a bad bite.”

“Idrys says to make a gift to the Quinalt. I think we should for all of the priests, and have them happy.”

“If ye went yoursel’ an’ made it, they’d be happiest of all.”

“We have the gold.”

“Aye, m’lord.” Uwen laughed. “Ye have the whole damn treasury… which ye should look into and take account of, at least I would, seein’ the lord viceroy was packin’ jewels which might have been her ladyship’s.”

“Orien’s?” He had by no means imagined.

“Her ladyship bein’ duchess of Amefel, I don’t know, but she wore some right fine green ’uns when she were lady here. An’ I don’t know the color of what the viceroy was packing.”

“Twice, then, tonight, Orien.”

Uwen’s face had gone quite sober. “I’d say so, m’lord, an’ right cautious I’d be wi’ anything that lady owned.”

Tristen passed a glance around them, the draperies, the ornate doors, the penchant for dragons.

“So I am,” he said.

They walked back to the entry, and there he stopped and gazed at his domain: heavy chairs, massive tables, tapestries wrought in silk, fanciful globes worked in gold and silver. There were tables covered entirely in gold leaf, and a dining table the legs of which were strange, hostile beasts. With the servants’ best efforts he still found the dimly lighted room, with its dark green, gold-tasseled Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles draperies over the windows, stiflingly oppressive, as if air had not moved here, and could not move again.

He walked across the room, surveyed the green fabric that he associated with Heryn and Orien and the Aswydds—rightly associated: it was the Aswydd heraldry. He gave it a tug to draw the drapery back. It slid freely and unexpectedly on its rods, showing diamond-paned glass, and night, and dark—

Stark terror, beyond the window, a shattering of light and dark on glass.

Reflections. Mere reflections. His heart had leapt. And settled.

But it had been real, once. On a certain night this summer he had surprised Lady Orien and her sister in sorcery at the very table as that now in the corner of his eye, with the dragon candlesticks alight, the window vents open and unwarded before her, her sister Tarien, and a small cluster of her ladies. In his imagining at any moment he might hear the rustle of Lady Orien’s skirts, smell her heavy perfume.

For an instant he longed to flee this room at least until daylight.

But if he could not master this room, and its shadows, himself being forewarned and wary and far more potent than the earl’s thin Aswydd blood, then how could he ever master the Zeide? The threat was negligible, if he met it, dealt with it, banished it.

And what would Emuin say now of this night’s doing? Not praise for his foresight, he much feared. He would not compound his discreditable actions by hieing himself and his guards to a dusty, unused bedchamber, all for fear of Aswydd curses, he, who was Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles Mauryl Gestaurien’s heir.

“M’lord?” Uwen had come up close to him. “M’lord?”

The window reflected a dark man and an older, worried one, silver-haired, behind him.

Then by a trick of the eyes he was looking out into dark, and night.

Shadows rushed against the window, a solid wall of black. A second trial of him.

He lifted a hand, startled, and a second time saw only the window again, the ordinary night.

Lady Orien had invited shadows into this room repeatedly. She had treated with them, opened this window, compromised the Lines on the earth that Masons had made when they declared the foundations of the Zeide; and it was a dangerous breach to have made. She had sought power to come to herself… but being bound inside the Zeide, had either acted in folly or overweening pride. This window had become a gateway to Orien’s ambition, her hate, her anger, going out… and that had become worse, a highroad to far older spirits entering.
Hasufin Heltain
had almost entered here. That ancient, dispelled spirit had needed only a tiny breach to begin its entry, but fortunately for everyone, it had needed a far, far greater one in order to enter any place as warded as the Zeide had been, and as far from Hasufin’s own center of power. Hasufin or whatever passed for Hasufin in this place had not quite succeeded in breaking the wards.

At Ynefel… it had done so. And Ynefel, warded by the most potent wizard alive, stood in ruins. Dared anyone think a tiny crack should Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles be disregarded?

The one beneath the horn-paned window… had
that
been the entry?

Or had his own young curiosity breached Ynefel’s wards?

He touched the side of the window, and drew his finger from that side across the sill, all the way across to the other wall. He touched the metal frame of the little side pane that opened, and ran his fingers across the latch. He repeated the action. Three times, Emuin had said. Once was an accident, twice was divisible, three was neither accident nor divisible. Three was a maze spirits could not bend themselves through with any ease at all.

The reflection showed a dark man and a silver-headed one. Uwen watched his actions, saying not a thing.

“I treasure you above all my household,” he said to Uwen’s reflection. “I wish you well, Uwen, and I wish you very well. I wish you well.”

Three times he said it, and if, as Emuin said, he had an unbreakable hold on magic, he attempted it as consciously as anything he had done in the hall tonight. Uwen was silent a moment. And shadows drifted, no longer potent, on the other side of the glass, fading from the edges of the day.

“I’m glad of that, m’lord,” Uwen said finally.

The drapery smelled of incense, unpleasantly so.

“Red,” Tristen said, and gathered up a fistful of the green velvet, pulled at it, looked up, where the rod supported it. It would assuredly fall if he pulled it, but it would endanger the wrought panes of the window and the dragon-held tables on either side. No Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles matter his distaste for the place, it was the wealth of Amefel, which he had sworn to increase, and tend, and not to cause harm to it.

But the color meant something among the nobles of Ylesum, and these, and the draperies downstairs… all this green said
Aswydd
at every glance.

“Will Lord Heryn’s gold dinnerplates buy new draperies, do you think?”

“They might, m’lord. Might well.”

He saw a servant standing then, waiting to be noticed, a reflection across the room. He turned and acknowledged the presence.

“Your Grace, the bath is ready.”

“Heat more water. Bring more towels. My men and I all will use the bath.”

“ ’T ain’t lordly,” Uwen said, “m’lord, and lord ye are, now, lad.

The men and me can wash in the scullery.”

“Not tonight,” he said. “No. Here,” he said, and that was an end of it. He went to his bath, and afterward found the servants had stripped the bed in the adjacent chamber, laid on clean bedclothes and strewed herbs over them, crushed, dried petals, as well as set pomanders in silver dishes everywhere, until the place smelled of last summer’s flowers… or a woman’s perfume.

But the air smelled of cooked sausage, too, and when he walked out to the fire to surrender the bath to Uwen, his guards, sitting at the fireplace, offered him hot tea, bread, and toasted sausage. “From our own stores, m’lord,” Syllan said. They had toasted it on a knife blade that he was sure had not come from this room.

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles So Uwen had his bath, and they camped, he and his men, like wayfarers in the splendor of the Aswyddim.

The door opened, and someone came in… Lusin, it proved to be, back from the stables, with straw clinging to his cloak. “Bath is waiting,” Uwen said.

“Captain,” Lusin said, “a word with you, sir.”

Uwen got up, and went to hear the report, and no one’s attention was quite for the fireside, then. Tristen listened, but heard nothing, only saw Uwen’s face grow grim and glum, and saw Uwen shake his head as he answered Lusin, no good news, it was clear. Uwen’s shoulders slumped in a second shake of his head.

The cheer had gone out of their gathering. They all watched as Lusin left again and Uwen trudged back to the fire to sit down.

“What news?” Tristen asked.

“His lordship the viceroy is on his way an’ out of the town for good an’ all,” Uwen said. “Didn’t stay for a man to go with ’im.”

“And are you sad on that account?” Tristen asked.

Uwen heaved a deep sigh. “No, m’lord, not to see his lordship’s back, good riddance.”

“Then what more? Uwen?”

“His lordship rid out on Liss.”

Tristen had been at an ebb of his energies, and now found himself awake and angry.

“We might send a messenger,” Syllan said, “m’lord, and ask her back.”

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles

“The stablemaster ain’t master Haman,” Uwen said glumly. “It’s some man the viceroy put in charge, and the damn fool let some boy give him Liss, who’s been on the road hard going all yesterday, and if he don’t run ’er to ruin in the hour, it’ll be a wonder.”

“He will
not
,” Tristen said. He was never so indignant, and never so sure of a thing. He
saw
a roadway,
felt
the shift in the gray space, felt the world shaken and his breath grown thin. The mare shied away from under her heavy burden, her rider flew over her shoulder, and hoofbeats echoed in the hazy gray.

“M’lord?”

The mare slowed, weary as she was, drew the cold air into her nostrils, and smelled grain and warm straw on the wind out of the west. Footsteps and curses approached her. She shied from reaching hands, turned, bolted off to follow that waft through the dark, freed of weight on her back, freed of spur and rein.

“M’lord?” Uwen said, and the mare, Liss, turned north again, across open meadow.

“Find out,” he said to Uwen, against all honor, “find out who is in Edwyll’s household, and to whom they send messages.”

There was a small silence. Uwen had looked tired and distressed.

Now the distress grew. But the understanding was there, too, what was required of him, what the exchange was.

“Yes, m’lord.”

“I don’t trust even Captain Anwyll in this,” he said, and included Syllan, Tawwys and Aran in his glance. “You are my guards. You I trust. Find out everything about Crissand. What is shaken is apt to Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles slide loose. Emuin says so, and he knows. Wizardry will always find that unhappy man, that book on the shelf, that cup too near the edge.” To no other Men these days would he have spoken so plainly, but with them he had no longer any doubt. “Guard Meiden.