Goddess of the Ice Realm (18 page)

“Siuvaz, go with them!” ordered the commander of Tenoctris's escort. A short soldier, bareheaded and without his spear or shield, trailed Attaper into the sanctum.

The air inside had a vaguely sulphurous taste, enough to make Garric blink but not a problem for breathing. Attaper rolled the corpse faceup with his boot. The man was nobody Garric remembered seeing before, though his features were so black and swollen that he couldn't be sure.

The candles had burned almost to their sconces. There was nothing else in the chamber except a Blood Eagle helmet.

Siuvaz snatched up the helmet. In a clear, carrying voice, he said, “I was here with the lady, the priest, and Lord Cashel. There was an earthquake and I hit my head. A giant
snake came up from the floor and bit the priest. Lord Cashel told me to get the lady out. I took her out while he fought the snake. When we came back, Lord Cashel was gone. Your highness.”

Though the soldier seemed to speak normally, his gaze was directed somewhere past Garric's right shoulder and his eyes weren't focused. He was terrified . . . and not, Garric suspected, because of what had happened in this chamber previously. His concern was that he'd abandoned Prince Garric's friend.

The officer of the escort had come in behind Siuvaz. To Attaper he said, “Sir, we were outside and nobody felt an earthquake. But I trust Siuvaz, sir. I wouldn't have sent him in if I didn't. And he was right to get Lady Tenoctris clear.”

The officer was sweating also. Both men were frightened because they'd done exactly what they were supposed to do in a crisis . . .

Garric said, “Good work, Siuvaz. The kingdom's lucky to have men who'll do their duty. Captain—”

“Sub-Captain Orduc, sir,” murmured Attaper.

“I assume you entered this chamber immediately after Siuvaz gave the alarm. Did you see any sign of Cashel or the snake?”

“Nothing, your highness,” said Orduc, shaking his head. “The lady was bruised and somebody'd rung Siuvaz's bell good—you can see the dent in his helmet.”

“From the wall,” the soldier said in embarrassment, fingering the blackened bronze. “The earthquake bounced me into it hard.”

Garric squatted and ran the fingertips of his left hand over the floor. There were cracks in the stone but nothing that would've let an earthworm slip through, let alone a maneating snake.

He rose. “All right,” he said. “Knowing Cashel, I'd guess he was in a better place than the serpent is now.”

He strode out of the chamber ahead of the others. Tenoctris had finished her incantation. She gave Garric a wan smile as she tried to get up. He lifted her, marveling again at how little she weighed.

“I'm sorry, Garric,” she said. “All I can tell you now is that the person behind the attack also directed the whale that we met outside the harbor. Perhaps I can learn more from books I have back at the palace.”

“Yes,” said Garric. “We're going back there now.”

He frowned and added, “Tenoctris? Who was the target of the attack? It couldn't have been me, could it?”

“I
think
. . .” Tenoctris said, emphasizing the doubt because she never stated a certainty that was merely a probability. “I think that Cashel himself was meant to be the victim. Because he'd protected you against the earlier attack, you see.”

“Yes,” said Garric. “I do indeed see.”

As he handed Tenoctris into her sedan chair, he viewed the world through a red haze. Through his mind echoed the words,
“He was there because I sent him.”

And he was going to have to tell Sharina that.

“Why didn't I go?” said Sharina. Her eyes were filling with tears. She could no more stop crying than she could stop her heart beating, and it made her furious. “I could've gone with him, and instead I let him go alone. I knew there was something wrong!”

“Yes, you did,” said Garric. His face was like stone. “So did Liane, and I was a pigheaded fool who wouldn't listen to either one of you. Cashel's gone because I sent him into a dangerous place.”

Sharina was glad he didn't say, “You couldn't have done anything.” That was probably true, but it wasn't the point. She hadn't been
with
Cashel when he went into danger.

A cageful of birds twittered on the marble-topped serving table beside the door. Sharina didn't remember them from the previous time she'd been here in her brother's reception room. When her eyes cleared momentarily, she realized that they were mechanical, not real as she'd thought previously. Awareness of her mistake made her sob. She turned away, biting her wrist to stifle what would otherwise have been a scream of frustration at her own weakness.

“There was nothing wrong with the shrine, Garric,” Tenoctris said. “Our enemy had laid a trap there, but it wasn't because the site was dedicated to the Sister.”

“It doesn't matter why I was wrong!” Garric shouted. “I was wrong, and Cashel's paid for my mistake!”

Ilna put her hand on Sharina's and turned her slightly so that she was facing what at first was a pale blur. Her vision cleared again: she was staring into the side of a tall urn made of gray-white stone. The instant Sharina saw it, her stomach settled. She touched the stone with her fingertips. It was smooth and soothing, like a bath in warm oil.

Chalcus stood with his back to the hallway door, his eyes pointedly focused on the windows looking onto one of the palace's many small internal gardens. He, Ilna, and Sharina had returned from Master Sidras in a cheerful mood. Chalcus was drawing fantasy pictures of the wonderful sights they'd see on their voyage; Ilna brought up practical considerations—clothing, the house they were staying in, arrangements for her ward, Lady Merota; and Sharina herself was feeling foolish and contrite for the scene she'd made the evening before.

But she hadn't been foolish. Hadn't been wrong about the Shrine of the Prophesying Sister, at any rate.

“Tenoctris, what should we do next?” Garric said. “In your opinion?”

A year before, when Garric was a boy in Barca's Hamlet, he wouldn't have bothered to add, “In your opinion?” to make it clear that he'd make the decision no matter what anybody else thought. As prince he'd had to learn that, and the kingdom was fortunate that he
had
learned; but when Sharina thought of the responsibility that came with the words, her heart went out to her brother.

And here I'm crying because Cashel's gone but not necessarily in trouble. The priest was dead in the shrine, but Cashel had been fine the last time anybody saw him.

Sharina stroked the urn with her palm. She was feeling more like herself again. There'd been so many changes, so many things that she'd taken for granted had been snatched away . . .

“I'll go through the library I've gathered since I came to
this age,” Tenoctris said. She smiled faintly. “It's far more extensive than anything I had in my own time. I couldn't afford . . . well, much of anything.”

“Yes,” said Garric grimly. He was being polite, but he was obviously impatient. Liane moved a little closer to his side, but she didn't touch his hand as she'd started to do. “And then what?”

“I'll use my art to search for references that have bearing,” Tenoctris continued. “I'll tell you whatever I find. If that doesn't help, I'll seek information by other means; but until I know more, I can't suggest a course of action.”

“What help can we offer?” Garric said. “What help could
anyone
offer?”

Only the six of them were in the room: the six who'd discussed plans at dinner the night before. The six of them, and last night Cashel . . .

Sharina felt a rush of nausea and rested her forehead against the urn. She felt her fears soften, remembering many times Cashel had faced danger and returned to her side.

“At the moment, nothing,” Tenoctris said crisply. “There may be volumes elsewhere in the city that I find I want to look at. If so, then the help of Prince Garric might be useful in getting to see then.”

“Yes,” said Garric, grinning. “And the help of the whole royal army including battering rams, if
they
would be useful.”

Despite the words, his tone was boyishly cheerful again. Tenoctris had offered him something to do instead of waiting for the next threat, the next disaster.

That decided Sharina. She faced her friends and said, “All right, what can I do? Because I don't want to do nothing while Cashel's in danger.”

“Perhaps you can help me,” Tenoctris said. “Handing me books, finding things that I've dropped or misplaced. As Cashel would, but—”

She smiled softly.

“—while I don't expect any heavy lifting, it might be useful having someone with me today who can read.”

Sharina hugged the old wizard and said, “That's perfect. Shall we get started at once?”

It struck Sharina that Tenoctris must've been lonely most
of her life. Normal people don't like being around wizardry, and wizards didn't seem to socialize with one another any more than hawks did.

“Garric?” said Ilna. Eyes turned to her. She'd remained at Sharina's side, unobtrusively supportive much the way Cashel would have been if he were here.

“Yes?” Garric said, still smiling.

“This urn,” Ilna said, running her finger along its curved neck while looking at Garric, “was made by someone very skilled.”

Her lips twitched in distaste, even though she hadn't added the words, “As good as I am.” Ilna didn't like to boast; nor did she have to, among friends who knew her abilities.

“I suggest that you loan it to Sharina for a few days,” Ilna continued, pointedly not letting her eyes meet Sharina's. “I don't care for stone, but the pattern that light gives
this
stone is something that I'll try to duplicate. Now that I've seen someone else do it.”

“Done!” said Garric cheerfully. “I'd thought nothing good would come out of the priesthoods here in Carcosa, and I'm glad to have been wrong.”

To Sharina he added, “Shall I have servants take it with you now? Duzi, I'll carry it myself! It's not that heavy!”

Liane looked concerned. Sharina laughed and said, “In this warren of steps and corridors, it's heavier than any one man should be carrying. Even you or Cashel. But thank you and . . .”

She paused, thinking. “Could you have it taken to my suite, Garric?” she said. “While I'm helping Tenoctris, I won't . . . I mean, I'll be fine. But sometimes when I wake up before dawn, I could use . . .”

Sharina didn't know how to finish the sentence, but she didn't have to. Not for her friends. Perhaps everyone wakes sometimes with the thoughts and the despair that come before dawn.

“Done!” Garric repeated. Sharina turned to go out of the room; but before she did, she stopped and hugged Ilna, the friend she was sure knew better than most about the hours before dawn.

Chalcus closed the door behind Sharina and Tenoctris, then grinned as he met Ilna's eyes. He stood with one foot lifted back against the wall and his arms folded across his chest, well able to convince most people that he was cheerful and relaxed.

Cheerful the sailor might be; he usually was, in Ilna's experience—even in circumstances that would leave those same “most people” screaming in terror or vomiting in disgust. He was
not
relaxed.

Ilna turned to Garric and Liane, who waited as Chalcus did for what Ilna had hung behind to say. Light flooding through the windows behind them shadowed their expressions.

“Master Chalcus and I will be leaving shortly to deal with the Rua in the north,” Ilna said. She spoke without the time-wasting pleasantries that others might have used to cloak the thought. It was hard enough to get out the words she had to use, so she didn't intend to add more. “There are a number of matters to be tidied up before I go.”

“You don't have to leave now, Ilna,” Garric said, crossing his hands before him. He looked awkward and uncomfortable, as though he'd rather face a delegation of hostile nobles or a ravening seawolf.

“I never had to leave,” Ilna said, feeling equally uncomfortable but determined that it wouldn't show in her cold expression. “But I don't have any better reason to be in Carcosa now than I did before this happened to my brother. Or Chalcus either.”

She shrugged and made a sour face, wishing that she had more talent with words so that she wouldn't confuse people so often when she tried to explain her thinking. Of course, the problem might not have been in the words at all.

“What I mean is . . .” Ilna continued. “Both of us would do anything we could to help Cashel, but I think we have as good a chance of doing that in the Strait as we do here.”

“You think they're connected, the Rua and the attacks here in Carcosa?” Liane said, her tone curt and sexless. She was Garric's spy chief, though that wasn't how Ilna usually
thought of her. The kingdom's eyes, and very keen ones from what Ilna had witnessed without looking for the evidences.

“Liane, everything's connected,” Ilna said, gentle because the reality of the thought was beyond even Ilna's full grasp. To most people, even smart, educated people like Liane bos-Benliman, that truth meant no more than the word
red
did to a blind man. “If I could pull one thread long enough, I'd unravel the whole cosmos.”

And on a bad day, I wish I could . . . But recently the days are rarely that bad.

“More direct than that, I don't know,” Ilna continued. “But there's something I can do in the north and nothing that we know of here. That's a reason to go.”

“Yes,” said Garric, “it is.”

He cleared his throat. “What do you want from me?”

“Lady Liane,” Ilna said, passing over Garric's question. “As you know I've become the guardian of an orphan, Lady Merota bos-Roriman. The journey isn't one I'm willing to subject the child to.”