The End of the Game (67 page)

I murmured something soothing and told them to take the man to the Healer. He was struggling in the grip of half a dozen of them at the same time he was trying to remember why he was here. I left him to it. If the blue crystal I’d pushed at him didn’t make him forget why he’d come, Himaggery’s Demons might find out something interesting by Reading it out of his head.

We went out into the cellars; Himaggery came and embraced me. As soon as we were private, I told him about the spy, and he shook his head angrily. He knew as well as I that if there were one, there might be more, and it would be no easy job to find them. There were thousands of men within the Demesne, many of them recently recruited, and though I could go about touching them all, it could not be done quickly. He would have to set his Demons to Reading the men, and that couldn’t be done quickly, either.

I told him once more about message crystals and for the first time about the shadow and the Shadowbell and my having to leave Jinian behind. I did not mention the fact that Mertyn, Quench, and Riddle were busy raising the hundred thousand. There was at least one spy in the Demesne; I could not know who might be listening; and this was something that should not be widely known. At any rate, without mentioning that particular stop on my journey, I told him everything else. He was open, sympathetic, and warm, which was both surprising and gratifying. When I had been here before, neither he nor Barish had been able to talk except in peevish monosyllables and not at all to each other, which was the reason I’d slipped blue crystals into their food. It had had a salutary effect as far as his relationship with me went. I wondered if it had solved the other problem.

“How are you and Barish getting along?” I asked.

He had the grace to blush. “You got the message to us one way or another, didn’t you, my boy? Well, so far as that goes, we’ve made up our difference. Trouble is, we made them up just before the siege set in, so it’s been little noticeable good to us.”

“There’s a good deal of factionalism among the men,” I said.

“Well, Peter, you know how it’s been. We hadn’t been able to agree on anything, and though most of our disagreement was in private, word got out and sides were taken. It was simply a case of my men championing me and Barish’s men championing him, and who cared what the truth was? Now it all seems foolish. Still, it’s hard to undo several years of conflict all in one strike. That’s why we’ve thought it unwise to try countermeasures against Huldra until we’ve had time to sell the men on one plan. At the moment, we’re not sure they’d act as a unified army. Quite frankly, Barish’s men might sell me to Huldra, or vice versa. I wish we had more of those message crystals.”

“We do,” I said, showing him the contents of my pocket. “But I can push some cooperation into them without using these up if I have enough time.” I told him then about the Eesty method of message transmission, which he then tried on one of his servitors with no success at all. I sighed. I had known it wouldn’t work for him. I was pretty sure a Healer could do it. Otherwise, it would have to be someone who had had the experience of being an Eesty. Probably no one but me could do it at all.

About that time Barish came in. Or, I should say, Barish-Windlow or Windlow-Barish. Last time I’d seen him, it had been Barish-Windlow, with poor old Windlow very much eclipsed, and I had been quite saddened thereby. I blamed myself often for having put them both in one body, though it had been all unwitting and with the best intentions. At any rate, he came in, embraced me, looked me squarely in the face, and said, “I want to thank you, Peter. I know you tricked me, but it was wisely done. The message you brought may have been a good thing to others, to me it was salvation.” He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. I understood in the instant. The two warring halves of himself were now at peace, brought into alignment by the same message meant to align mankind to Lom. It was the best thing that had happened in quite a long time, and I was pathetically grateful for anything good.

We talked a long time, sitting in the comfortable firelight as the evening wore on while I told them about leaving Jinian in the Maze. Small scuttling noises spoke of creatures in the walls, a sound I always associated with the Bright Demesne, though once Barish went to the door and looked sharply outside as though he had heard someone lurking there. If anyone had been there, they had fled at his approach. All our nerves were a bit on edge from the siege and the discovery of the spy and the possibility of conflict among the men. I told them about the giants then, and they exclaimed at Jinian’s luck and level-headedness in getting free of the monsters. When it was very late, I went off to bed, knowing I’d see the others in the morning.

Queynt and Chance and the rest had been at the Bright Demesne for about fifty days, almost half a season. Roges and Beedie were still with them, though the giant Flitchhawk had shown up a day or two after they had arrived and carried the strange, dual-minded Sticky creature in the basket away over the sea.

“It said it owed a boon to Jinian,” Queynt explained, “that it needed the Sticky in order to complete the mission.”

“The Mirtylon part of the Sticky was a bit apprehensive,” Beedie confided, “but the Mercald part was in ecstasy. To have been a bird worshiper all his life and then to be going off with the very god of all the birds made him believe he was in heaven. I assume the Flitchhawk was going after more blue crystals?”

“That’s the mission it was sent on,” I replied. “And given the fact that the Flitchhawk is probably one of the old gods, he will undoubtedly complete the mission with satisfaction. Though it is a very great distance, as I understand it, and he may not return for quite a long time.” That sounded incredibly pompous, even to me, but I’ve never been able to lie in a casual voice. I was still resolved not to tell Queynt or Chance or anyone that the Flitchhawk had already returned and that Mertyn and his crew were busy at the caverns. With spies about, it was better if no one knew.

“Where’s Sylbie, then?” I asked, changing the subject. “She should have arrived only a few days after you did. Jinian said she sent Sylbie off not more than seven or eight days after the rest of you left.”

“She didn’t arrive until twenty days ago,” drawled Chance. “And when I twitted her for being a slow-grole on the road, she flounced me.”

“Her manner was odd,” agreed Beedie. “And it’s continued to be.”

“Now, Beed,” said Roges.

“Don’t now Beed me,” she said. “The girl was very pleasant on the way down from Fangel, after we all escaped from the Duke. Very well spoken. Excitable, but reasonable. Now she’s . . . well, she’s different.”

I, too, thought it curious that it had taken Sylbie so long to arrive but did not pursue the matter just then. “Where have you put her?” I asked, wondering why I had not heard the baby.

Himaggery made an embarrassed face. “We put her in the little gatehouse, Peter. Her and the baby. That baby—well, it’s got this habit of changing into a howling something-or-other, which it does whenever it’s peevish or doesn’t get fed on time. It happens less frequently if it’s kept quietly off to itself where Sylbie can devote her full time to it. Not that she’s fond of the isolation, but she does understand the problem. Being under siege from inside as well. Last time, we almost lost the gate guards and the Demesne. I must confess, I didn’t realize Shifter babies manifested Talent quite that early. Or so violently.”

“They don’t,” I said. “This one is exceptional. There was some prenatal interference, you’ll remember.”

“Ah,” he murmured. “Of course. It seems the little creature needs discipline, but none of us here are capable of arranging it. Thank heaven it always changes back to baby shape when it gets hungry enough, or the whole matter would be quite hopeless. I kept thinking Mavin would show up, or that Thandbar would come back from his trip—he went off just before the siege, he, Trandilar, and Dorn, to set a guard over the cavern where the frozen Gamesmen are, and don’t mention it, Peter. I don’t want anyone to know. At any rate, there’s no one here to provide guidance for the baby. Something he much needs.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I promised, privately thinking that it would take Mavin or Thandbar or more likely both to do what needed doing. Nonetheless, I did want to find out what Sylbie had been doing on the road for so long, so I trotted through the pear orchard and one of the smaller vineyards to the gatehouse, taking along some fresh fruit tarts from the kitchen, which I thought she and the baby might enjoy. High over the walls of the Demesne the sky showed blue and gray, a patchwork of shadow and clear air between the meshes of fire. It looked safe, but depressing. We couldn’t stay penned up here forever. I put it out of my mind for the moment and knocked on her door.

She had Bryan in her arms, and he came to me in a moment, babbling on about something or other, getting his face all covered with berry juice as he happily gobbled tarts. She smiled and smiled, exclaiming over the tarts, telling me they’d go so well with tea. While she went to get it, I jiggled the baby on my knee, commenting loudly at how much he’d grown since Fangel. He seemed happy enough, though if the tarts gave him bellyache, I supposed we might be in for a haunting. After a time Sylbie was back, bearing a steaming pot with various accouterments, and we sat comfortably on either side of the fire while Bryan finished his share of tarts on the rug.

The little gatehouse is actually set into the wall of the Demesne, or rather into the bases of two great buttresses of those walls. There is a small gate that opens from the gatehouse—from the room in which I sat—through the wall itself, though it is always kept heavily barred from the inside. I noticed the heavy chains across it and nodded to myself, thinking that she and the baby were secure enough here while still being private. There were parapets upon the buttresses and Sentinels keeping watch not more than two or three manheights above that door.

“However did you get through the siege, Peter?” she wanted to know, peering up at me from under her lashes. Since I didn’t want to talk about the spy just yet, I equivocated and said I’d come in on the lakeside, leaving her with the impression I’d done it in a boat. Though Sylbie knew I was a Shifter, I’d learned she didn’t like to think about it. She did not think of me in any shape but my own.

She wanted to know if I had “seen anyone” on my way south. It seemed an odd question.

“Who do you mean by anyone, Sylbie? There were lots of people about, as a matter of fact.
 
I had supper with a farmer and his wife just a night or two ago.”

“Oh, Peter, that’s not what I mean. Anyone you know? Umm. Your thalan? Or your mother, for example? Have you seen Mavin?”

I chose to answer only the last question, replying honestly enough that I had not.

“Jinian told me Mavin would especially want to see her grandson.” Sylbie sighed. “But she isn’t here. No one seems to know where she is. Do you know, Peter?”

I shook my head, distracted by Bryan’s antics. He had finished with the tarts and was now trying to share my tea. He was very strong for his size, which was fairly large for his age. I wasn’t paying too much attention to Sylbie, wondering rather if there were some progenitor back in my line or Sylbie’s who would account for the baby’s stalwart build. “Was your father large?” I asked, to her surprise.

“Not very, no.”

I mused on this. Himaggery was sizable, of course, though I would not have called him a really big man.

“Do you know where Jinian is, Peter?” It was a sweet little voice uttering harmless words, not words to have drawn my close attention except for the repetition of the question.

I looked at her, scrutinizing her for the first time, to surprise something sly in her expression, something covert. It was only a fleeting thing, and I didn’t let my perception of it show. “No,” I answered. “I really don’t. I left her in the northlands. She was going off somewhere at the time, and I honestly don’t know where.” Her questions were odd enough to remind me why I had come in the first place. “Sylbie, Himaggery says you didn’t arrive here until long after the others, though you left only a few days later. Did you have trouble on the road?” I watched her, waiting for any sign of confusion or embarrassment. Instead, I saw her stamp her foot in anger.

“Trouble on the road? Indeed I did have trouble on the road, and no thanks to your Jinian, who sent me off alone in that way. I had to leave the farmer she sent me with, for good-enough reason. And then it took time to find another wagon coming this way. It’s a wonder I got here at all!” She turned away with a petulant moue, while I made sympathetic noises. It was all very likely, and she sounded genuinely angry about the whole thing.

It took her a while to settle down. She was quiet for a time, thinking something over. “I wanted to meet that Trandilar. They say she’s gone away, however. I wonder where she went?”

I knew well enough where she had gone. Himaggery had been quite clear about it and had asked me not to mention it. By now they were at the cavern of the hundred thousand, being welcomed by those working there. I didn’t say so. Instead, I lied. “Trandilar’s gone off south, Sylbie. With one or two others.”

“Someone said they saw them headed west.” This in an annoyed voice.

“Oh, only far enough to confuse any possible watchers,” I said off-handedly. “Then they turned south. There are settled areas along the Southern Sea they had never seen. A short journey of exploration. I’m sure they’ll be back.”

I was beginning to suspect what it was that made Sylbie act in this odd manner. Jealousy. Here she was with the baby, off to herself, in a Demesne under siege, not having any fun at all—and as I recalled the Sylbie I had known so briefly in Betand, she had talked a good deal about her enjoyment of clothes and balls and splendid court events—while the rest of the world went on without her. She had no lover, no suitor, and so her thoughts had tended back to me. Which is why she wanted to know where Jinian was, and where Mavin was, and where others might be who might have some influence on me. So I thought, not without some degree of preening satisfaction. Oh, I knew well enough it was Trandilar’s skill at lovemaking that had confused Sylbie about me, Peter, but still I did not totally discount my own considerable charms.