Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno (32 page)

“Epion said he’d send someone to look for you,” she said, eyes narrow and focused on the memory. She glanced up at Gun. “Though he didn’t tell me he’d gone with you in the first place.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. Gun knew that look and was grateful it wasn’t meant for him. Mar looked away again, tapping the arm of the chair with the palm of her hand. “What about the book?” she said finally. “Did you Find it?”

“I had to leave it, I didn’t know what damage the water might do. There was a ledge, just a bit downstream from the trapdoor, and I left it there. Caids grant the tide doesn’t raise the water level so far inland.” He stuck a hand out of the blanket and rubbed at his upper lip. “I can Find it again if I have to.”

Mar gave a brisk nod that was at odds with the abstracted look on her face and went to the fireplace, where she had a kettle simmering on the hearth. She poured the warmed water into one of the beautifully glazed cups that matched a jug on the mantelpiece and was bringing it to Gun when a light knock, barely a brush against the door panels, made them both look to the door.

The thick pine, paneled and painted in hunting scenes, eased silently open. Mar froze, still holding the cup in both hands at breast level. When Gun saw who it was, he struggled with the folds of the blanket, wanting to be on his feet.

“Gundaron! The guards have just told me you came in.” Epion strode forward, hands outstretched, all the angles of his craggy face turned down in misery. “Thank the Caids you got back safely.”

“No thanks to you, I understand, Lord Epion.” Normally Gun would have been more polite—or at least more circumspect—but he found he was tired of being polite to nobles who were trying to get him killed. From the look on Mar’s face as she set down the cup of warmed water, she felt exactly the same way.

“I came as soon as I heard—” Epion thrust both hands through his hair. “Caids, what you must be thinking.” He looked from Mar to Gun and back again, his eyes dark and staring in a white face.

“I think you started a rockfall that trapped me in the underground chamber.” Gun was pleased to hear how steady his voice was. He didn’t want Epion to know just how close he was to collapsing on the floor.

“And even if that was an accident,” Mar said, taking up the attack just as though she realized how little energy Gun had left, “you certainly left him there to die. When I went to you for help, you did nothing. Worse than that, you pretended to know nothing of it.” Epion squeezed his eyes shut. Mar waited. “Well, Lord Epion?” she said finally. “Is
this
what you expected us to think?” It was at moments like these, Gun thought, that Mar’s awareness of her own High Noble status came to the fore. Gun would never have spoken to Epion in
that
tone.

Epion put his left hand down on the back of the chair Gun had vacated and scrubbed at his face with his right. Finally, he lowered himself into the chair. If Gun had known the man better, he would have said he was trying hard not to cry. Gun looked over at Mar, and from the look on her face, she was as confused as he.

“You had better tell us what you are about,” she said. She waved Gun forward into the chair she’d been sitting in and remained standing, leaning her hip against the table. “If what we think isn’t correct—or isn’t the whole story—now is the time to tell us.”

Epion raised his head. “I can’t—” he scrubbed at his face again, then shook himself all over like a dog just out of a lake. “I have to tell someone. I wish the Mercenary Brothers were still here.” He pressed his lips together, took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out again, relaxing his shoulders as he did so. Gun shot a look at Mar and saw she was watching Epion with a neutral face. Whatever was coming, it seemed she was prepared to meet it with an open mind. Gun wasn’t sure he could say the same. But sometimes a willingness to listen, genuine or not, obtained more information than the most careful interrogation.

“Did you cause the rockfall?” he asked the nobleman.

Epion started nodding before he looked up. “Yes, I think so,” he said. He sat up straighter and squared his shoulders as if he had made up his mind to something. “But it was an accident, I swear it. I tripped over a loose bit of pavement, and when I put my hand out to steady myself, the rocks moved and crashed down. I called out, I kept calling for you, but I heard nothing. Then I thought I should waste no more time but get back here for help. I even left one of my guards there, with instructions to keep calling your name until I returned.”

“What changed your mind?” Mar’s voice was now quiet and warm, as if she were interviewing a shy child.

“I didn’t change my mind.” Epion’s voice hardened. “I had it changed for me.” He glanced at them both in turn before continuing. “I needed the Palace Guard, not just my few men, and for that I needed Falcos. I went straight to him in his private chamber and told him what had happened.” Here Epion swallowed and Mar handed him the cup of cooling water she’d placed on the table. He nodded his thanks and tossed back half the contents of the cup before returning his gaze to the floor between them. “He told me, Falcos told me, to let it be,” he said without raising his head. “He said with you gone there was one less complication.”

Gun blinked heavy lids and pulled his blanket tighter around him. Despite the brazier, he couldn’t seem to get warm. And his brain seemed just as cold and sluggish.
Falcos
had said this? The same Falcos who, when his father was still alive, had sat up with them after his duties were done, drinking wine until the early hours and talking about the Caids?
That
Falcos?

I
really
have to stop trusting nobles
. “Did he send you along to kill me, or at least to make sure I wasn’t coming back?” he said.

“Not exactly.” Epion looked up. “I was to watch you. To see if you found the book and to take it from you if you did.”

“But why?” Gun shook his head, then wished he hadn’t when the room spun a bit before settling down again. “It was for his sake I was Finding it.”

Epion’s glance flicked between them. “Was it?
Someone
hid the book in the ruins. We have only his word that Falcos does not already have the key. Why did he send the first Mercenary Brothers away? Why did he let Alaria send
your
good friends after them? He has some plan, but I cannot see what it could be.”

Gun rubbed at his upper lip. Did Falcos know about the underground chamber? Had all the interest he had shown in their work been with an ulterior purpose?

Mar was shaking her head. “You didn’t tell me any of this when I was looking for the Steward of Walls.”

“How could I? Falcos is my family, the only family I have left. And even if he wasn’t, he’s my Tarkin.”

“So why are you telling us now?” Gun asked.

“When I heard you were back—when I saw you—I couldn’t let you think . . .” He hung his head again. “I didn’t know it would be so hard.”

“It’s hard to know that you’ve killed someone dishonorably,” Mar allowed. “But you’re right, it
is
harder when others know about it.”

“This is not the worst,” Epion said. He sat leaning forward in his chair, his square-fingered hands clasped together and hanging between his knees. He looked dejected, as well he might, Gun thought. In telling them this, the man had taken the first step against his nephew and Tarkin.

“Not the worst? Leaving someone to die is not the worst?” Mar’s gentle voice was beginning to harden. “What could be worse?”

Epion was nodding, as if she’d said something he could agree with. “I keep thinking how angry he was with his father. He says now it was because he wanted to go to Arderon, but that was not the impression I had at the time.” He pressed his lips tight. Gun glanced at Mar, but there was no doubt Epion was speaking of Falcos. “And then I think about how my brother’s body looked—you saw it, you know—not as bad as what happened to Cleona, you said—”

“As if the killer had been interrupted,” Gun said, remembering.

“Or as if it were a different killer,” Mar put in. “Someone who had only
heard
of the mutilations.”

“You think it was Falcos.” Gun said. “You think Falcos used the other murders to make it look as though his father’s death was just one of a series of killings?” The way Epion’s face crumpled was answer enough. He had wanted it said without being able to say it himself.

“But what about Princess Cleona?”

“From what you and the Mercenaries have said, that must have been the work of the real killer, if I may call him so.” He rubbed at his face with his hands. “Falcos could not be so evil, I cannot believe it. We are still under a curse from the gods.”

Mar’s lips were pursed in thought as she looked down on Epion’s bent head. “Forgive me, Lord Epion, but are
you
not the next heir to the throne?”

He glanced up without straightening. “Why do you think I have been gathering my own guard? People loyal to me? I do not want to believe any of this, but when I remember how angry Falcos was—” He sat up and sighed. “What do we do now?”

Gun blinked. His mind was a complete fog.

“We sleep on it,” Mar advised, straightening to her feet. “Gun is exhausted past the point of planning. So far as Falcos knows, we’re still in ignorance, and let’s leave it there for now. There’s nothing we can do in the middle of the night,” Mar pointed out. Gun had the feeling she was the only one operating with her whole brain. He himself was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone concentrate on the issues at hand. And the shock and confusion Epion was suffering from was clear on the man’s face.

“For the moment we’re safe, aren’t we, Lord Epion?” Mar was saying. “The Tarkin doesn’t suspect you, or us for that matter? Go, get some rest, and we’ll meet again in the morning.”

“What do you think?” Gun said as soon as the door had closed behind the older man. He rubbed at his eyes with hands that felt made of lead. “Do we believe him?”

“He looked genuinely upset,” Mar said. “But then Falcos . . .” She shook her head. “We’ve seen actors on the stage look just as distressed.”

Gun pushed himself to his feet, accepting Mar’s arm around his waist both for her warmth, and for help to keep him standing. “One of them is acting a part,” he said. “But which one?”

“Maybe both.”

 

Epion waited until the door was well shut behind him before he raised his bowed head and straightened his shoulders. He barely noticed the Leggett brothers fall into step behind him as he strode off down the corridor to his own rooms.

“You were clever to bring me the news straight away, Gabe,” he told the dark-bearded guard.

“Yes, my lord.”

“I’ve just turned a possible disaster into a definite advantage.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He’d made the Scholars his allies, and when the time came, they would speak for him to Alaria.

The walk back from the exposed corpse took them past the horse line, where Bloodbone and Warhammer were causing a great deal of interest among the younger men and boys. The Espadryni were being respectful, Dhulyn was happy to see. After what had passed that morning, she was in no mood to tolerate anything less.

“It seems they have no proper horses then, in the lands beyond Mother Sun’s Door.” This was a particular youth whom Dhulyn had noticed the others called Scar-Face, no doubt from the mark which dragged down the left corner of his lip. He was one of the ones who were always watching her, but always turning their eyes away if she looked back at them. Even now he addressed his remarks to Parno.

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize proper horses when you see them, having had so few opportunities,” Parno cut in before Dhulyn could open her mouth.
Just as well
, she thought. The mood she was in, she was just as likely to give Scar-Face’s friends another nickname for him as she was to give the man a civil answer. “
These
are quite puny specimens.” Her Partner walked a few paces up the horse line, his hands clasped behind his back. When he had gone a few paces more he stopped and turned back to look at Scar-Face. “I suppose you keep them for food?”

There was a shocked intake of breath from among the younger ones in the group, but also hastily covered smiles on older faces. Dhulyn said nothing, merely showed them all her wolf’s smile. This exchange of insults was no more than the normal bandying between two newly met groups who had in mind to test each other’s mettle. She wondered if these young men were here with or without the approval of their elders.

“Oh, no. No, ours are not for
racing
,” Parno was saying with a superior smile in response to a sally Dhulyn did not hear. “Come now, you say you’re a horseman, and you can’t tell that much just from looking at them? I’m not saying they can’t keep up a good pace over time if needed.” Parno laid his hand on Warhammer’s flank. “Look at the chest he has, and the strength in his back. But these are battle mounts, not toys. Specially trained and large enough to carry riders bearing weapons and body armor.” He tapped himself on the chest to show them what kind of armor he meant.