Shadowrise (59 page)

“See?” said Beck. “Marwin is a dullard and he gets everything wrong. Why would she say that? Lizards can’t talk.”

For an instant Barrick remembered something about a talking lizard—had it been a dream?—then the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle. “You heard them say ‘lizards’?” he asked.

Marwin shrugged his wide, sloping shoulders. “They said, ‘o hasyaak k’rin sanfarshen’—that means ‘animals in the cellar.’ ” He looked around the broad, firelit chamber, frowning. “And this is the cellar.”

“You fools.” Barrick scrambled to his feet, his heart suddenly thumping in his chest. “They are not talking about some filthy lizards—they’re talking about us.”

“They would not hurt us!” Beck’s dirty face had gone quite pale. “Master loved us!”

“Even if he did, your master is dead.”

“When I came out of the trees he sang to me with his eyes,” Finlae said.

“I don’t doubt it—but I don’t care,” Barrick said. “Help me out of here, Beck. The rest of you may stay and die if you wish.”

“But I’m so
tired
,” said Marwin like a cross child. “I’ve been a-working all the day. I want to sleep.”

“Tired, yes.” Finlae scratched his bearded chin. “The days are long since Zmeos was banished . . .”

Barrick did not have the time or strength to waste. He grabbed Raemon Beck by the collar and dragged him to his feet. “Then enjoy your sleep. I fear it will be a long one.”

Beck still looked befogged as Barrick dragged him toward the door, as though he couldn’t quite understand what was happening, but Barrick did not bother to explain it to him again. The huge black lizards did not even stir as they went by, but Barrick suddenly remembered the fiery gaze of something he had seen in a dream and hurried Beck past them as quickly as he could.

“Can you kill the darkness . . . ?”
the thing had asked him.

“Which way?” he whispered when they were in the corridor. Beck didn’t answer immediately, but Barrick heard what he thought might be soft footsteps coming toward them down the passage so he pulled the tattered man in the opposite direction. “The boat!” he said into Beck’s ear. “Take me to the boat.”

Raemon Beck finally seemed to understand the situation. He shook off Barrick’s hand and began to lead him through the house’s underground corridors. As they hastened down a long hall lined with closed doors, each one marked with a different symbol, a dreadful, raw shriek echoed past them, a sound of terror and pain. Beck stopped as though he had been stabbed to the heart. Barrick shoved him forward.

“That’s your loving master’s family at work behind us,” he said. “Faster! Or we will be next.”

Whimpering quietly now, Beck led them out of an unmarked door and into a wide wooden building that was dark but for a single row of the glowing mushrooms. For a moment Barrick was badly startled by what looked like a man waiting on the walkway in front of them, but it was only one of the blemmies. The creature, which had been shackled to a post with a heavy chain and left standing, turned to watch them go by but made no move to stop them. Its wide, dull eyes glinted in the mushroom light; the little round mouth low on its belly puckered and stretched as though the monstrosity were trying to talk. For all Barrick could tell it might have been the same creature that had rowed them to the house of Qu’arus in the first place.

“This . . . this is the boathouse,” Beck told him. “But I do not know how to open the river door.”

Barrick remembered the cloak and sword he had left in the front of the house. “Is the other boat still out there? The one that brought us?”

“Master’s skiff? It could be.” Beck was clearly terrified, but doing his best to think. “With everything else that’s happening they might have left it to sit there until morning.”

“Then let’s go look. Can we get there from here?”

For once Raemon Beck didn’t waste any time arguing. He led Barrick out of the boathouse and into the greater darkness outside the house, into the darklighted copse of willows that grew along the riverfront. As they rounded the side of the house and sprinted for the dock Barrick thanked whatever gods had chosen to bless him for once that the Dreamless made their houses without windows. He and Beck had a chance to escape before Qu’arus’ kin could guess where they’d gone.

It was not to be. Just as he found the cloak and sword Barrick heard voices from around the side of the house: somehow, the Dreamless had found their trail. He hurried out onto the dock, Beck now running right behind him. The black boat still floated there.

“Thank the gods, thank the gods, thank the gods,” Barrick murmured. He untied the boat and slid the oars into the oarlocks as quickly and quietly as he could. A faint green glow was bobbing through the willows toward them—most likely a lantern being held by the searchers. Now two more joined it.

“It’s the middle of Repose,” Beck said frantically. “The skrikers . . . !”

“Curse you, shut your mouth and get in if you’re coming!” When the man still hesitated Barrick began to shove the boat away from the dock with his hands. This helped Raemon Beck make up his mind. He jumped awkwardly into the skiff, setting it pitching so badly Barrick cuffed him on the head in anger even as he struggled to keep the man from tumbling overboard.

“Get down, you fool!” he hissed. With Beck huddled near his feet, Barrick dipped the oars into the water and began rowing as quietly as he could. The shadowy mass of the house of Qu’arus and the flickering lights of their pursuers slid away behind them.

Barrick didn’t stop or even slow until they had followed a series of branching canals far enough that even the darklights began to fade and the twilight to reassert itself. As he leaned on the oars catching his breath, exhausted but marveling at the new strength of his formerly crippled arm, he saw that Raemon Beck was weeping.

“By the Three, man, you can’t be sorry to leave those people,” he snapped. “They would have killed you! They’ve probably already done for your friends.” He himself felt almost nothing in the way of regret. He would never have been able to herd Finlae and slow-witted Marwin out of the house in time. They would have all been caught and Barrick’s own mission would have failed. A simple choice. “Beck? Why the tears? We’re out.”

The man looked up, his thin, dusty face streaked by tears. “Don’t you understand? That’s what frightens me! We’re out!”

Barrick shook his head. “You make no sense.”

“It’s Repose. The time when all the Dreamless shut themselves inside their houses.”

“All the better. How long does it last? We might find Crooked’s Hall before they come out again . . .”

“You fool!” The man’s eyes filled with tears again. “The skrikers are out—they’re a thousand times worse than any Dreamless!” He reached out and grabbed Barrick’s arm. “Don’t you understand? It would be better if we were back in Qu’arus’ house, beaten to death by his sons, than for the Lonely Ones to find us.” He stared out over the water. “It would be better if we had never been born.”

—from “A Treatise on the Fairy Peoples of Eion and Xand”

 

 

P
RINCE ENEAS LEFT HER when they reached the front doors of Broadhall Palace. “I hope you will forgive me,” he told Briony. “I have duties to my troops and we are later than I had thought we would be.”

“Of course. Thank you so much for coming with me, your Highness. I hope I did not cause you too much trouble or offense.”

His expression was indeed a bit troubled, but he did his best to smile before he bent to kiss her hand. “You are a most unusual woman, Briony Eddon. I do not know exactly what you have brought to us, but I can sense things here in Tessis will never be the same.”

Oh, dear,
she thought. “I only wish to do my best for my family and my people.”

“As do we all,” the prince said. “But your path seems a bit stranger than most.” He smiled again; this time it seemed more genuine. “Stranger, but also more interesting. I would like to speak more of this and . . . other matters soon. Will I see you at supper tonight? Perhaps we could walk in the garden afterward and talk.”

“As you wish, Prince Eneas.” But what Briony really wanted was some time on her own—time to think. Could her brother really be alive, or was she making too much of a strange message in the Funderlings antiquated drum language? But if it was true, then what was she doing here in a foreign land? She should be at his side, ruling Southmarch or fighting against the Tolly usurpers. Dawet dan-Faar had been right: the Eddon family could expect no loyalty from their subjects unless the people could see that the Eddons were loyal to them. But did she dare to go back without an army, simply because of a single, confusing message?

Of course not—too much is at risk for such foolishness. I must be patient.
But it was hard, of course, and even more so now that there was a chance Barrick might be waiting for her in Southmarch.

“It’s not enough to think you’re a leader,”
her father had always said—
“you must think like a leader. You must honor the people who risk their lives for you—honor them every day, in your thoughts and your deeds.”

The memory made her feel ashamed. She had not been to see Ivvie all day—the friend who had almost died for Briony’s sake. She was exhausted and didn’t want to go just now, but a leader could not dishonor a sacrifice like that.

 

Ivgenia e’Doursos had been given a room of her own for her recuperation, a small, sunny chamber in the southern wing of the palace. Briony suspected that Eneas had ordered it so, and although she feared too many obligations to the prince, she was grateful for this favor.

Ivvie was pale with dark circles under her eyes and a tremor in her hands when she reached up as Briony bent to kiss her. “It is so kind of you to come, Highness.”

“Nonsense.” She sat down beside the bed and took one of the girl’s cold hands in her own. “Lie back. Do you need anything? Where is your maid?”

“She is fetching me more cold water,” Ivvie said. “Sometimes I am cold myself, but then other times I feel so hot it is as though I am burning up! She mops my brow and that helps a little.”

“I am so angry that I let this happen to you.”

Ivgenia gave her a weak smile. “It is not your fault, Princess. Someone was trying to kill you.” Her eyes grew wide. “Have they caught him yet?”

Of course, it could just as well be a her,
Briony thought. “No. But I’m certain they will find the villain and he will be punished. I only wish it had not happened to you.” Briony did not want to speak too much about it for fear of making the girl feel unwell again, so she steered the conversation in another direction, telling Ivvie of her strange trip to meet the Kallikans. By the time Briony had finished the girl’s eyes were wide again.

“But who would ever have guessed! Tunnels down into the earth? The same place that I showed you?”

“The same,” Briony laughed. “I am beginning to learn the truth of the old saying about oracles in ragged robes.”

“And they truly had a message for you from your home in Southmarch? What was it?”

Briony suddenly felt she might have said too much. “Perhaps I exaggerated a bit when I said it was for me. In truth it was almost impossible to tell what it might have meant—I cannot even remember all the words. Something about the Old Ones. I was told that it meant the fairy folk who have besieged the castle—those monsters attacking my home. I can scarcely stand to think about it.”

“Your Highness must be in anguish to be so far away from your family and your subjects! That’s what I told those stupid women.”

“What women?”

“Oh, you know, Seris, the duke of Gela’s daughter, Erinna e’Herayas—that group who are always hovering around the Lady Ananka. They came to see me.” Ivvie frowned. She looked as though the visit had tired her already. “They were talking and talking about everyone—this one is so fat she has to have three maids to pull her stays tight, that one will never take her hat off because she’s beginning to lose her hair. Most unpleasant. They know you’re my friend so they didn’t say anything foul about you—or at least they didn’t come right out and do it—but they were saying that you must be happy to be here in such a civilized place, so far away from all those dreadful things happening in Southmarch. They also said of course you’d want to stay here as long as you could, especially when Prince Eneas himself is paying you such attention.”

Briony realized she was grinding her teeth together. “All I think about is getting back to my people.”

“I know, Highness, I know!” Now Ivvie looked worried, as though she had done something wrong. Briony fought down the urge to walk out of the girl’s sickroom and go straight off to pick a fight with Lady Ananka and her little witches’ coven. Instead, she steered the conversation back toward milder matters.

When Ivgenia’s maid returned with a pail of water, puffing and muttering and looking quite sorry for herself about having to carry it so far, Briony stood and kissed Ivvie good-bye. She met the prince’s physician on the stairs, a bony older man with a brisk, distracted air who was stopping to look in on Ivgenia. “Ah, Princess,” he said, bowing. “May I trouble you for a moment?”

“What is it? She is getting better, isn’t she?”

“Who? Oh, young Mistress e’Doursos, yes, yes, never fear. No, I only wanted to ask you about Chaven Ulosian. You were his patron, I understand. Do you know his current whereabouts?”