Shadowheart (16 page)

“The men on the wall saw nothing last night, but they heard . . . noises ...” Hood began.

“What sort of noises?” demanded Tolly. His moment of composure was over already. “Singing? Whistling? Dancing the bloody
hormos
? And why did nobody do anything? By all the gods, have I set rabbits to guard my castle?”

As the lord protector continued to shout, an anxious Tinwright let his gaze wander around the chapel. He had never been inside it before; during the time Briony Eddon ruled it had been reserved for family rituals and worship. Hendon Tolly seemed to use it only for its privacy.

The council did not seem to enjoy their time in the chapel with the lord protector, nor did he much enjoy his time with them. When he had sent them away at last, Tolly threw himself down on the front bench, the one marked with the Eddon family crest, frowning and self-absorbed. Seeing the Wolf and Stars carved there, Tinwright felt a moment of helpless sadness. He tried not to think about the changes that had come to his life and land in only half a year, but it was hard to forget that things had once been better for him—much better.

Whatever was bothering Hendon Tolly had not departed with his counselors; he was up now and pacing. “Clearly, we are all but out of time,” he said at last, as if carrying on a conversation from only a moment earlier instead of after a long silence. “The Qar have fled because they know that the autarch is coming, so we have merely exchanged one deadly enemy for a larger and more powerful one—we have a few more nights at the most. Curse that sniveling fool, Okros!” A young page had been waiting some time in the doorway of the chapel. Tolly finally saw him. “
What?
Gods be blasted, what is it now?”

The young man bowed deeply. It was clear he was terrified of the lord protector. Tinwright could sympathize. “The . . . the queen! Queen Anissa b-begs your attendance, Lordship.”

“By the holy hands of the Three, am I never to have peace? Tell her I will come when I can!”

As the page scuttled away, Tolly pulled out one of his several knives and began carving at the stars in the Eddon family crest on the back of the bench. “Knaves and slatterns, this castle is full of nothing else—not a soul capable of pissing on a stone without me there to direct them. Now I must go and listen to that southern bitch complain.” He glowered at Tinwright as though it had been the poet’s idea. “Get up, damn you,” he said, “or I’ll take the skin from your back. Follow me.”

Tinwright had not been doing anything so foolish as sitting, of course, nor was he so foolish as to point that out.

 

The guards who accompanied them out of the great throne hall hemmed them tightly as they made their way across the inner keep toward the residence, and Matt Tinwright was grateful to have them. The displaced throngs who lived in makeshift shacks and tents all across the keep had a sullen regard, few of them looking at Hendon Tolly with anything like admiration, and many with outright animosity.

“Ungrateful cattle,” Tolly said, far too loud for Tinwright’s comfort. “If human meat were not banned by the gods, they might have some use, but otherwise they are only a drain on my treasury and my patience.”

Queen Anissa and her household had taken up residence in chambers that covered a great deal of the residence’s highest floor. When the maid let them in, Tinwright was astonished at the amount of room they had for themselves when people were packed into the keep down below, and even into other parts of the residence, like chickens in a coop.

Anissa turned when they came in and at first seemed to see only the lord protector. “Hendon!” she cried, and ran toward him, arms wide. “How I have miss you! Why do you not come anymore to me . . . ?” It was only then she noticed Tinwright and stopped, putting on a more queenly air. “It . . . it has been so long since our last visit.”

“Many, many pardons, good lady,” Tolly said to the woman he’d been cursing only moments earlier, his voice warm and reassuring. “You must understand that with the castle under siege ...”

“Oh, that, yes,” she said, as if speaking of a foul smell from the middens. “It is terrible. But I do not like it here. I want to go back to my tower.”

“Impossible, Highness. I cannot protect you and the young prince there. No, I’m afraid you must stay here.” He shook his head solemnly, as though to say it pained him; a moment later his expression brightened. “Since we speak of him, where is your handsome son Alessandros—our king-to-be?”

But Anissa was clearly disappointed and would not be so easily jollied. “There,” she said, gesturing at the knot of women on the far side of the room who were huddled around the baby and pretending not to listen. “The maids have him. They make such a fuss of him, he will spoil himself.”

“Surely not, Highness.” Tolly made his way over to the ladies, who bowed and squirmed as he approached. One of them held the little dark-haired prince, who yanked on the maid’s braided hair and stared wide-eyed at the lord protector.

“Handsome lad,” said Tolly with convincing good cheer. “He has his father’s nose.”

But Anissa was still sullen. “I fear for him,” she said. “I think perhaps it is time you send us to my father’s country. Too dangerous here it is with the war.”

The lord protector was clearly taken aback. “Pardon? Send you where?”

“Back to Devonis, where my people are. It is not safe for Alessandros and for me here. Those
kanzarai
, those twilight goblins, they have already got inside to the castle once. We are not safe here.” She scowled and drew herself up to her full height, which was lower than Tinwright’s shoulder. “And I do not like the way the others look at me, the nobles. These people here in the residence are very rude. I am the king’s wife, do they not know that? No, it is not safe here.”

“But the Qar are gone, Highness,” Tolly said. “Have you not heard?”

“Gone? What do you mean?” She looked as though she suspected a trick.

“Just that—they have left. If you do not believe me, have your maids ask anyone they choose. The Qar have broken camp and withdrawn. They are gone from our shore.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. And now, if you will forgive me, Highness, I have much pressing business awaiting my attention. I ache that I cannot spend more time with you and the heir, but if you wish him to have a kingdom to inherit, then there is still much work for me to do.”

It was not quite that easy; at least a quarter of an hour more passed before Tolly managed to withdraw from the queen’s presence. His mood had not improved. “Does she think I am a fool?” he snarled as he led Tinwright down the stairs. “Does she not realize I have spies everywhere, even in her chambers? I know every treacherous, complaining thing she has said about me. She is fortunate I need her for at least a little longer. ...” He looked up as if noticing Tinwright for the first time in a while. “Speaking of spies, poet, you have never told me who you serve.”

Tinwright’s heart slammed in his chest like a fist pounding on a door. “Wh-what . . . ?”

Hendon Tolly rolled his eyes. “Wait, now I remember—I told you I didn’t care. And it’s true. Because after tonight, you will either be dead or you will belong to me body and soul, little versifier.” He seemed distracted now. “Yes, tonight. I suppose you think I seduced the queen because I wanted power,” he said suddenly.

Tinwright could only stammer.

“Or the pleasure of bedding a king’s wife.” He spat on the floor. “Ah, well, I suppose in a way, I
did
do it for power—but not the way you think.” He stopped on a stair landing, then held back the guards with a wave of his hand. The lord protector leaned closer to Tinwright and said softly, “I did it to give myself time, because time will bring me power—more power than you can imagine. Oh, you will see tonight, poet. You will see power
and
beauty beyond your ability to imagine, beyond the wit of even a bard like Gregor of Syan to describe. You will see
her
. Yes, you will see her and then you will truly understand.”

After a long silence, Tinwright finally found the courage to speak. “Understand, my lord?”

Tolly looked at him with amusement on his sharp, clever face, but something altogether stranger in his eyes. “Yes. When you meet the goddess who loves me.”

Matt Tinwright was out of his depth. “You are taking me to meet . . . a woman?”

“No, you fool, do you not listen? Does no one in this cursed place have even a copper’s worth of wit? I said a goddess and that is what I meant. Tonight you will meet her, and she will tell us how to defeat the autarch.” Suddenly, without warning, Tolly slapped Tinwright so hard the young poet almost fell down. As Tinwright stood swaying, holding his bruised cheek, the lord protector looked at him, his face now stern and cold. “Stop staring and follow me, lout. There is much work to do before I can see my bride-to-be again.”

Theron the Pilgrimer had grown used to traveling with the boy and his mysterious, hooded master. Each evening the boy made sure the hooded man was fed, then joined Theron at the fire to eat his own supper with silent haste. It wasn’t really surprising; the hooded man himself spoke only to the boy, and the boy often seemed more of a tame animal than an ordinary child, and he used words only when necessary. Theron was a sociable man and it all made for a bleak fellowship . . . but the money was good. The money was very good.

The Marrinswalk Road had still been well traveled as far as Oscastle, but as the walls of that city had disappeared behind them, so too had most of the crowds. Only a few travelers were still to be found between the Marrinswalk border and the first Southmarch town on the road, but they all had fearful stories to tell of the lands beyond and the chaos that had overtaken the north.

“Bandits?” said one traveler who stopped to share a meal with them. He was a traveling merchant with a wagon and two helpers, and he had contributed a sack of dried peas and some millet to the stew. Theron had been fortunate enough to snare a rabbit that morning, so up to this point it had been a merry evening. “Oh, aye, there are bandits in plenty between here and Brenn’s Bay, but that’s the least of your problems.”

“Least?”

“I should say so. Still, they have ravaged the country all around and take what they please from anyone they find.”

“How did you get past them?” Theron asked.

“By paying them, of course,” said the merchant with a harsh laugh. “These are bandits, not madmen. In their way, they are men of business. Mercy of Honnos, I made sure they know that I pass this way every other tennight and that I would pay them both directions. Two silvers it costs me each trip, but my skin is worth that to me and more. I suggest you tell them the same.”

Theron reflected ruefully on the gold the hooded man had given him—the most money he had ever had. What were the chances such outlaws would not search his belongings? Where could he hide so much gold? “You said they were the least of my problems. Is there no other way north to Southmarch?”

The merchant gave him a strange look. “Southmarch? Fellow, what madness would lead you there? Do you not know what has happened?”

“I know the fairies have come out of the north again after all these years. I know they have besieged the city there.”

“You make it sound so ordinary, Brother Pilgrimer!” The merchant shook his head and had one of his servants bring him more ale. He generously had another cup poured for Theron as well, then looked over to Theron’s silent, hooded client and raised his eyebrows, questioning.

“He might take some. He is a strange one, though, so he may turn it down.”

“No matter.” The merchant had his servant pour another cup and take it to the hooded man’s youthful servant. The boy’s master accepted it without comment but did not even turn to acknowledge the kindness. “No matter,” the merchant repeated, but he sounded a little nettled.

“Tell me what you mean, sir,” Theron asked. “I’ve had so little good intelligence of what is ahead. Have you seen the fairies? What are they like? Do they threaten honest travelers?”

“Some say they
eat
honest travelers,” the merchant said with a hard smile. “But I’ve met no one who claims it’s happened to anyone they know. Not so with the bandits. Not only have I met those myself, I’ve met others who could not make compact with them and were robbed and beaten for their troubles. Some lost companions. The outlaws in this lonely place are desperate and cruel.”

“Oh, Holy Three preserve us!” said Theron in fright. “How can we avoid these people? Is there any way to get around them?”

“The cleverest thing to do is to turn around and go back to Oscastle or whence you came,” the merchant said sternly. “If you cannot do that, you must choose between the bandits and the fairies. The bandits haunt the roads. If you would avoid them, you must take the forest track through the Northern Whitewood, and then . . . well, who knows what you may find?”

“Have you seen these fairies?” Theron asked again. “What do they look like? Are they fierce?”