Night of the Eye (9 page)

First, he donned his leather and mail armor, then,
apparently changing his mind, took it off again, very thoughtfully. Next he pulled on a baggy tunic and trousers and a pair of stiff, high boots. Dressed, he recited some quick prayers to Habbakuk, took his sword and dagger down from the wall, and slipped out the door.

Intrigued, Kirah had followed him, creeping around in darkened corners, slipping silently down the staircase after him. The keep was dimly lit, everyone else asleep, or at least retired for the night. She’d been more than a little surprised to find that the stable was his destination. Now Kirah settled back to watch her brother struggle the headstall of a bridle over the horse’s head and set the bit in its mouth.

“I must be crazy,” Guerrand growled to himself, “but what else can I do?” With a soul-felt grunt, he tossed the saddle over the roan’s back. Once the saddle was cinched in place, he hung a small, round shield from the pommel and buckled on his swordbelt and dagger.

The sword looked as proper on Guerrand as a third arm, mused Kirah. Her brother was no knight, despite his best efforts and Cormac’s insistence. Where in the Abyss was he going in the middle of the night with weapons? Worse still, how was she to follow with him on horseback? Kirah was puzzling through that while Guerrand put the finishing touches on his gear and then swung lightly up onto the horse.

Suddenly Guerrand fell still in the saddle. His eyes misted over and closed gently. Grasping his right eyelashes between thumb and forefinger, he gave a tug. Guerrand pulled from his pouch a sticky wad of gum into which he pressed the eyelashes. The young girl’s heart constricted. She alone in Castle DiThon, save Zagarus the sea gull, recognized when Guerrand was about to cast a spell. She had no idea what it would be, but if the spell took him away from the stables, she
might never know.

Watching her brother closely, guessing when he’d progressed too far to halt the spell, Kirah silently sprang from her place behind the bales and launched herself onto the rump of the startled horse. Guerrand and the horse beneath them both disappeared from her sight, though she could feel them. Looking for her own arms, she realized she couldn’t see herself, either!

“What—who’s there?” squealed a startled Guerrand.

Before Kirah could respond, she became disoriented and nearly toppled from the horse. Her spindly young arms flailed and finally latched around Guerrand’s waist.

“Kirah?” he demanded. “In the name of Habbakuk, what are you doing here?”

For once in her young life, Kirah didn’t know how to answer. She’d never heard Guerrand sound so angry. “I—I’m sorry, Rand. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said as meekly as she was capable. “I was worried about you and was simply trying to find out what
you’re
doing.”

“Don’t use that innocent, little-lost-girl tone on me,” Guerrand snarled. “You have no idea what you may have done by interrupting me.”

“Then why don’t you just tell me. Where are you going? Why the invisibility spell?”

“I should dump you off here,” Guerrand muttered, ignoring her questions. He shifted in the saddle. “In fact I think I’ll do just that. It would serve you right.”

“If you do, I’ll tell the entire keep you turned yourself invisible and ran off into the night!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Guerrand gasped. He thought it unlikely Kirah would betray him, and yet she
was
willful enough to suggest the blackmail. Guerrand twisted around painfully to look in the direction of her voice, though he couldn’t see her, either. “Someone should have spanked you years ago, Kirah.”

“They tried. It didn’t help.” Kirah’s voice had regained its normal lilt, edged with smugness. “So, are you going to tell me what you’re up to or not?”

Frustration burned behind his eyes. He’d slipped away without telling Zagarus of his plans, because he knew the bird would somehow let them slip to Kirah. And here he still had to deal with his wayward sister. He loved Kirah too well to just dump her, unprotected, in the dark and run, though he was annoyed enough with her to do just that. She deserved worse. The snoopy little scamp deserved to be dipped in honey and tied to a tree. She had no idea how she was wasting precious time and fouling up his plans. Yet, she could be reasoned with. Perhaps if she knew what she was ruining, she’d see the wisdom of returning quietly.

“Please, Kirah, don’t ask any more questions,” he pleaded softly. “For once, just do as I ask and go home.”

“You’re up to something strange, Guerrand DiThon, and I intend to know what it is.” Kirah locked her spindly arms more tightly around his waist.

Guerrand laughed, despite himself. “I wish I could stay angry with you. You give me ample opportunity.” He fell serious. “I want to get away from the castle before anyone else overhears us. I’ll tell you then.” With that, Guerrand spurred his roan out of the stable and into the moonlit night, holding fast to the reins.

Kirah clutched her brother’s waist and snuggled her face into the soft fabric of the tunic on his back. She was delighted with herself, thrilled with the adventure of the moment. Solinari was nearly full, but hidden behind thin clouds that glowed a ghostly blue-black where the bright orb tried to shine through them. The crashing sea and the horse’s hooves created a thrilling rhythm as they galloped away from the darkened castle and across the damp, earthy moor.

Guerrand abruptly pulled the horse to a dead stop
and without preamble announced, “I’m going to find the men who killed Quinn.”

Kirah gasped. “How?”

Guerrand reached into the cuff of his gauntlet and a small fragment of mirror simply appeared before him, as if suspended in air.

“What’s that?” she breathed.

“Someone in the village gave me this mirror. It can reveal the location of Quinn’s slayers,” he explained vaguely.

“Someone?” she repeated with a squeal. “Who in Thonvil would have anything magical, let alone a mirror that knows the whereabouts of Quinn’s killers? That just doesn’t make sense, Rand.”

Guerrand sighed heavily. Obviously Kirah wasn’t going to let him off easily. “He was a mage, a stranger here, but he seemed genuine. His spells were incredible—” Guerrand quieted abruptly. Belize had warned him to tell no one of their discussion about leaving for the Tower of High Sorcery. For Kirah’s sake, he would mention nothing of that. Besides, he knew it would only get her talking again about running away.

“So what was a mage doing in Thonvil? And why did he give this mirror to you instead of Cormac?”

“I suspect that he tried, but you know Cormac and magic.” Guerrand found himself thinking again about the argument between Belize and Cormac, about the timing. They hadn’t learned yet of Quinn’s death. Belize and Cormac couldn’t have been speaking about that, then. Kirah’s chatter pulled him away from his musings.

“How do you know the mirror can do what he says? Maybe this mage is just trying to get you into trouble by sending you on a merry chase.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell Cormac. I couldn’t very well walk up to him and say, ‘See what a mage gave me?’ could I?” Guerrand felt her curious fingers on the mirror.
He instinctively jerked it away and gently slipped the palm-sized glass back into the safety of the loose cuff of his left gauntlet.

“If you want to know the truth, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve let Quinn down.” He thought of his vow to stay near Quinn, broken to prevent a dishonorable brawl before his brother’s bier. He didn’t mention the painful memory to Kirah, even though guilt over it was the reason for his quest. “I owe it to Quinn to personally follow any lead on his killers.”

“You’ll eventually have to explain to Cormac how you found them, won’t you? Besides, what are you going to do with them? Drag them back to the keep? Kill them?”

Guerrand snorted. “If Quinn and the cavaliers with him couldn’t fend them off, I hardly think I’d stand a chance against them. No,” he said, “I intend only to retrieve physical evidence of their responsibility for Quinn’s death. I’ll find some way to tell Cormac when the time comes.

“Now you know everything,” he announced, readjusting himself in the saddle. “Surely you can see why you need to go back. I cast the invisibility spell to slip away unnoticed, thinking it would last until I got to where I was going. I’ve already lost precious time, and I’ve a lot of ground to cover before the sun rises or the men in the mirror move on.”

Kirah hugged his waist more tightly. “Then we’d better get moving, hadn’t we?”

Guerrand pushed her hands down. “Kirah, don’t be absurd! I’m not about to gallop across the countryside to spy on some ruffians with a chit of a girl wearing only her night shift. Even you
must
see how dangerous this is.”

“Which is why you need me along,” Kirah said brightly. “Besides, what difference does it make what I’m wearing if we’re invisible? I could be stark naked
for all anyone would know! I won’t need weapons since you don’t intend to fight them, though that makes me wonder why you’re all decked out with your best weapons. Still, you obviously need my eyes. I notice details better than you. I won’t take no for an answer. You know I won’t.”

“This is blackmail.”

“For your own good. Now, kick this horse into a gallop and don’t waste any more of our time.”

“Don’t push your luck by getting imperious, Kirah,” Guerrand said stiffly. “I don’t think you realize how furious I am with you.”

“You know you can’t stay mad at me, Rand. We always forgive each other.”

Kirah was right about that. They had only each other. “Against my better judgment, I’ll let you come along. Just remember, keep quiet and, for once, do what I say, when I say it.”

Kirah could scarcely contain her pleasure at the victory. “Just think. This may be our last adventure before you’re an old married man.”

“I don’t like adventure,” Guerrand snapped.

They rode east, following the coast. Though the moonlight was bright when it broke through the clouds, neither horse, man, nor girl cast a shadow. Clouds of dirt kicked up by invisible hooves revealed their course across the moor.

Before long Guerrand sighted his destination in the distance, could feel the ground beneath them rising, marking the end of flat DiThon land and the beginning of sloping Berwick land. In the blue light of the nearly full moon two ancient, carved pillars dominated the night sky. Stonecliff. They seemed to hang upon the cliff face, like joint figureheads on a ship.

The young mage had been here only twice in his memory, many years ago, before the property had been sold to Anton Berwick. It would belong to the DiThons
again in just four days. Three now, he corrected himself with another glance at Solinari.

Guerrand knew from rumor that most people were uneasy when near the two stone pillars perched in the clearing at the top of the bluff. Everyone believed it was a magical place. Perhaps because of that, Guerrand found the spot intriguing. The plinths were massive and tall, carved with images of grinning and sneering faces and symbols whose meaning no one seemed to know. Superstitious folk thought the symbols were missives to evil gods, and Cormac in particular reviled the carved columns as an affront to all decent deities. But Guerrand sensed their potency was untainted by human emotion or ambition; Stonecliff’s power was of Krynn itself, natural and uncorrupted.

Sensing Guerrand’s thoughts, Kirah said softly, “You know Cormac is going to tear down the pillars once he gets his hands on the land again.”

“How do you know that?” he snapped.

“How do I know anything? By listening in tunnels,” she said simply. “It’s the truth, Rand. I heard him tell Rietta. It makes sense, given his hatred of magic. Besides, I’ll bet he’s doing it to make room for the fortress.”

“What fortress?”

“The one he’s going to build as a tollbooth to tax the ships that travel to Hillfort on the river just beyond Stonecliff, the new boundary between Berwick and DiThon land.”

“But most of those are Berwick’s ships! Cormac would be taxing the very person who gave him the land!”

“And your father-in-law,” Kirah added smugly. “Despicable, isn’t it?”

Guerrand shook his head slowly. “I can scarcely believe it, even of Cormac.”

“Ask him!”

The young man clapped his hands to his ears. “I will,
but I can’t think about that now, Kirah. Right now I have to think about Quinn’s killers.”

“Do you know where these men are?” she asked. “I couldn’t see anything in the mirror.”

Guerrand knew exactly where they were. He’d been studying the mirror constantly for the half day he’d had it. He now pondered the irony of the men’s location. “Up there.” Though Kirah couldn’t see him point, his meaning was obvious.

“They’re hiding out at Stonecliff?” she gasped.

For an answer, Guerrand pulled out the mirror and held it over his shoulder for Kirah to examine. Though the outline of the mirror was invisible, the image it projected hovered in midair before her face. Kirah could see one of the men leaning against a carved pillar three times his height. All three men were seated between the twin columns, a small fire burning at their feet.

Kirah looked away from the mirror, toward the pillars on the hill that ended at a cliff above the sea. She saw firelight flickering between the carved columns. Guerrand was right.

“They sure match the description given by the men who brought Quinn’s body back,” she whispered. “Awfully gutsy of them to camp so near our home.”

“They may have no idea who they murdered,” said Guerrand, “or that anyone who cares lives nearby.”

“With a magic mirror,” giggled Kirah.

“Sshhh!” Guerrand hissed. “For the gods’ sake, Kirah, this is no joke. These men killed a fit, heavily armed cavalier and wounded two others. They won’t hesitate to do the same to a slip of a girl and a barely competent warrior. They can’t see us, but they’ll be able to hear us soon, so say nothing, do nothing from here on out.”

“Yes, Guerrand,” she muttered meekly, properly chastised.

Guerrand, fearing the horse’s labored breathing
would draw the bandits’ attention, reined the creature in on the far side of a cypress tree, some twenty rods from the stone pillars. The horse would become visible as soon as Guerrand moved away from it, but the young mage hoped the branches of the cypress would hide the roan. Now, if he could only similarly stash Kirah. Guerrand slid down quietly and looped the reins around a low branch.