Lord of the Fading Lands (37 page)

"I don't know about the rest of you, but the Tairen Soul makes me nervous." Lady Thea Trubol, senior lady-in- waiting to the queen gave a dramatic shiver. "I was there in the court the day the girl's betrothal was broken, and honestly, ladies, there's something positively … animal about him. Did you hear he nearly pinned back Bevel's ears with one of those Fey'cha of his?”

Jiarine snorted. "With a head as big as Bevel's, how could he have missed?”

The three ladies burst into tittering laughter, and even Annoura smiled. Bevel was an infamous lecher with a lustful appetite for very young, very innocent newcomers to the court. From serving girls to noble Seras not attached to an important family, the more helpless they were, the better he liked them.

"Well, let's just hope Bevel isn't idiot enough to chase after the Fey King's girl tonight," Lady Thea said. "You know how randy he gets after the first few glasses of pinalle.”

Jiarine burst into a fresh bout of giggles, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "No, no, here's an even better idea. Wouldn't it be amusing if the
girl
got drunk and made a fool of herself tonight? The Fey would never live it down!”

The women all laughed their agreement and finished the last sample of Master Gillam's selected wines. When they were done, he led them to a smaller table in front of the open keflee pantry door and invited the women to sample the keflee blend he'd chosen to clear heads after dinner. Annoura declined the proffered cup and moved a few steps away from the rich aroma steaming from the keflee pot.

The move brought her closer to the open pantry door, and she froze at the sight of a distinctive purple silk bag sitting on one of the keflee casks. "Master Gillam, where did that come from? That purple bag.”

Master Gillam looked at it blankly. "Why … I … I .. . Your Majesty, I'm appalled to admit I don't know”

Cup and saucer in hand, Jiarine tripped over and peered past Gillam's shoulder into the keflee pantry. "Oh, that? One of the maids brought it to me yesterday, when you were with the king, Your Majesty. She said she'd found it in your office. It had the look of one of your expensive rare blends, so I had Bili, Master Gillam's assistant, run it down here last night." When Annoura didn't respond, Jiarine frowned. "Your Majesty? Did I do something wrong?”

"What?" Annoura shook her head, shoving back memories of dangerous intoxication and near betrayal. "Oh, no. Thank you, Lady Jiarine. And thank you, Master Gillam. You have everything well in hand, as always.”

She turned and walked quickly away from the cellars and the keflee pantry and that damnable purple bag of powdered ruin.

In Norban, Sian vel Sendaris forced a genial smile as he waited for the stocky pubkeeper of the Hound and Boar to ruminate over twenty years of memories. A full day of searching and inquiries yesterday had turned up nothing, and today wasn't shaping up any better.

"No," the pubkeeper said. "No, I can't say as I recall a man named Pars Grolin.”

"He was about this tall, with bright red hair and green eyes." Beside Sian, Torel vel Carlian waved his hand at chin level. "And may have been traveling with his baby daughter.”

"Mmm, no, doesn't ring a bell. Sorry." He finished drying the pint mug in his hand and set it on the shelf with several dozen others.

"Well, thank you for your time." Sian reached a hand across the bartop.

The pubkeeper hesitated a moment, then said, "I served in the King's Army as a lad. About forty-five years ago, when Fey swordmasters still taught the king's men how to use a blade. Best damned swordsmen I ever saw" He shook Sian's hand. "One of them even took the time to teach me a thing or two when he caught me watching the practices.”

A deluge of memories rushed through Sian as he gripped the man's hand. Images of the pubkeeper's days in the army, of a dark-haired Fey warrior conducting training exercises, frightening images of war. Sian tried to filter out those images and concentrate on the thread he'd planted about strangers, red hair, and baby girls, but the pubkeeper's memories of war and the Fey were very strong.

"I was just a kid and a cannon's mate," the man continued. "No reason for him to teach me, but he did. Enough, any- ways, so I could throw a dagger accurate at twenty paces and parry a sword thrust. And that saved my life in '43. I've had a fond spot for the Fey ever since. More so than most of the folks 'round these parts.”

The handshake ended, and a final flood of images poured from the pubkeeper's consciousness into Sian's. Disturbing images of a priest standing in the pulpit, denouncing the Fey as soulless servants of the Dark Lord. Calling for Celieria's people to turn from the lure of evil that wore a pretty face and cleanse Celieria of the Shadow's servants. The town square was ablaze with some sort of bonfire, and villagers approached to throw what looked like personal belongings into the blaze. A priest with white-blond hair stood nearby, watching, his voluminous hooded cape swirling in the fire- generated winds.

"If you don't find news of this Grolin fellow here in town, you might try Brind Palwyn. He lives in the woods near Bracken, about thirty miles west of here, but he used to live just north, near the old quarry. His pa was a woodcutter. Your journeyman friend might have done some smithy work for Brind's parents before they were murdered.”

Sian's ears perked up. "Murdered?" Murder was an unusual event in a sleepy little hamlet like Norban.

"Ta.
Both of them slain by brigands about twenty-three years past, their home burned to its foundations. Brind was just a lad at the time. Come to think of it, they died around the time you said your journeyman friend was in town." Caution clouded the pubkeeper's previously open gaze. "No one ever did find the men who killed them.”

"Pars was an honorable man, one who'd give his life defending a stranger," Torel assured the man. Not even seven hundred years after Pars Grolin's death would Torel let another impugn his friend's honor. "The Fey do not grant their regard lightly, nor to the unworthy.”

The pubkeeper flushed. "My apologies. Suspicion is second nature in the north. If you want to speak with Brind, take the King's Road north about two miles to Carthage Road, then head west for another thirty or so. His place is just off the river, by the falls. He's suspicious of strangers, so tell him Wilmus sent you. And have a care if you're out past sunset. These woods aren't the safest after nightfall.”

"Our thanks," Torel said. "The gods' blessings on you."

"What do you think, Torel?" Sian murmured as they left the inn. "Should we head west to visit this fellow?”

"Let's finish here first. Another few bells won't hurt.”

Torel's lips lifted. "Unless you're afraid of the woods after nightfall.”

Sian gave Torel a shove. "Get scorched." Then his expression grew serious. "I don't like those memories we've been getting from folk about that pale-haired priest and the bonfire. Since when did the Church of Light start preaching that Fey serve the Dark Lord?”

"Good question. That's certainly something we should include in our report to General vel Jelani tonight."

Ellysetta's lesson with Master Fellows passed far more quickly than she would have liked. All too soon, the clocktower rang, and Master Fellows prepared to take his leave. "Thank you for everything, Master Fellows," Ellie said as she walked him to the door. "I hope I will do credit to your instruction tonight.”

"A sentiment we both share, believe me." Master Fellows's expression softened. `Just remember, don't let anyone call you Mistress Baristani tonight. It's Lady Ellysetta or My Lady Feyreisa. Anything less is a deliberate insult. And don't smile; they'll think you're currying favor. Just be grave and gracious. Don't fidget, don't laugh, and for the Haven's sake, don't speak unless you're directly engaged in conversation by another. The Fey have named you their queen. It is far better to remain silent and be thought aloof, than to speak and be proven a fool.”

He stepped across the threshold, then paused and turned back for one final word of advice. "And remember this, My Lady Feyreisa: being regal is a state of mind. Act like a queen, believe it in your heart, and a queen is what everyone will see.

As twilight settled over the city, Den entered the Inn of the Blue Pony and headed for the stairs leading to Captain Batay's room. He'd done all the Sorrelian had asked, and he was still no closer to getting Ellie Baristani. It was time to lay down the law to the good captain. Den Brodson was no man's lackey. He wanted results for his efforts.

"He's not there," the innkeeper said as Den passed him. Den paused and growled, "What did you say?”

"The Sorrelian. He said he was going out tonight and wouldn't be back until late. He left this for you, though." The innkeeper drew a sealed note from his pocket.

Den snatched the note and broke the seal, irritated that Batay had skipped out before he could catch him. Then grew more irritated by the command scrawled on the scrap of paper. A music box with paste jewels on the lid? What in the name of the Seven Hells did Batay need with something like that?

Den crumpled the note and stuffed it in his pocket. "When he gets in, tell him I was here. I'll be back tomorrow"

In the private carriage he'd hired after leaving the Inn of the Blue Pony, Kolis shed the hooded cloak he'd worn to cover the nondescript clothing of Goodman Black and whispered the unmaking spell to erase Batay's blue crossed swords tattoo from his cheek. He folded the cloak and tied his hair back in the neat queue Goodman Black wore, then sat back as the carriage rolled through the cobbled streets towards a boarding house not far from the brothel district by the wharf.

The common room there was empty, save for the house mistress, who bobbed a respectful curtsey as Goodman Black walked past her up the stairs, then bobbed again a few chimes later when a mysterious beauty in a concealing hooded cloak entered, went up the same stairs, and knocked on the door the merchant had entered.

Kolis Manza turned as the door opened and smiled at Jiarine Montevero. "You look ravishing, my pet. Come in, and close the door behind you.”

Half a bell later, Jiarine departed. On the bed in the room she'd just quit, Kolis's body lay vacant and chilling while his consciousness marveled at the feel of existing inside Jiarine's young, lithe female form.

Ellie stared at her reflection in her bedroom mirror. In less than a bell, she would be presented to the highest-ranking nobles of Celieria, and with only two brief afternoons of Master Fellows's instruction to teach her how to comport herself in their company, she was terrified she would make a mess of it.

"You look lovely, Ellysetta," her mother said from the doorway.

Ellie turned and gave her mother a searching look. Mama had been unusually quiet since returning this afternoon. "Do you really think so?”

"Yes, kit, I do.”

Ellie turned back to her reflection. She did look better than she ever had before. Her first new ball gown had arrived, and it was gorgeous. Fashioned of a rich purple brocade that made her skin seem to glow, the dress hugged her torso, enhancing curves Ellie never knew she had, and the low, square neckline flattered her corseted bosom. Tight sleeves fit snugly over her upper arms, ending at her elbows in a fall of red silk-lined drapery that brushed the floor when her arms were lowered. The skirts fell in straight, flowing lines to her feet. The gown's elegant simplicity and becoming cut made Ellie look regal rather than tall and gawky Her hair, which had been dressed by a seasoned apprentice to the queen's own coiffeuse, was piled high, woven in an elaborate display of plaits and curls. Against one hip, Belliard's dagger hung in Kieran's golden sheath.

She put a hand to her throat to touch the diamond necklace Rain had given her. "I'm so afraid they will laugh at me, the woodcarver's daughter pretending to be a queen.”

"In the Lord of Light's eyes, we're all equally worthy" Lauriana put her hands on Ellie's shoulders and met her daughter's eyes in the mirror. "Promise me you'll keep to the R right Path, Ellie. Promise me that even in the Fading Lands you'll observe your devotions and guard your soul against evil.”

"Mama?" Ellie turned in surprise and took her mother's hands. "What's wrong?".

"Just promise me.”

"You know I will, Mama." But Ellie bit her lip. Apart from today at the cathedral, she hadn't said her devotions since the day Rain Tairen Soul entered her life. Was that what her dreams were telling her? That without constant vigilance, her soul would fall into darkness? "I'll say my devotions right now, with you, if you like.”

"Would you?”

The surprise in her mother's eyes hurt. Ellie blinked back tears. Had the last few days torn such a rift between them? "Of course I will." She took her mother's hand and knelt beside the bed. Devotions were the one thing Ellie had always been able to share with her mother no matter what, the times when she'd always felt her mother's love the strongest. She bent her head and closed her eyes and murmured the familiar words. "Holy Adelis, Lord of Light, shine your brightness upon me. Glorious Father, Sun of my Soul, grant me strength to stand against darkness. Adelis, Bright One, Lord of my Heart, bless me and keep me always in the Light." She gave the fanning wave of the Lord of Light.

"Blessed be," Lauriana murmured. When they rose to their feet, Lauriana had tears in her eyes, and she clasped her daughter to her in a tight hug. "I love you, kitling.”