The Sleeping Life (Eferum Book 2) (22 page)

But Dezart Samarin didn't seem to mind either. "I think you'd find the Lion Throne is difficult to run away from."

"If he's so fancy a mage as to think up that lobster shell thing, that means he's a deviser, right? You're not going to tell me that he couldn't find some way to make it look like he died, so someone else was stuck with being Emperor?"

"Lobster…" Dezart Samarin broke off, though it looked to Fallon that he was struggling with laughter, not anger.

"But he stayed," Kendall continued, relentlessly. "And put himself somewhere he can't get down. That's not something you do for yourself—that's what you get when someone thinks it's important, necessary, for them and only them, to do something."

The quick glance she threw forward to Duchess Surclere made clear the comparison Kendall was drawing.

"The Emperor's thoughts on the subject aren't recorded," was all the Dezart said.

"It's widely believed that Corusar had nothing but the Empire left to live for," Fallon offered, then cursed his eager tongue when Dezart Samarin turned to consider him.

But the Dezart simply nodded. "The Emperor's family had been killed some years before, during one of the more extravagant spates of poisonings," he explained to Kendall. "Is it such a mark of pride, to not walk away from your responsibilities?"

"Being born doesn't make you responsible for something," Kendall replied. "No matter what anyone else says, you have to choose to start giving people orders. Your Emperor made it so he can't even step down."

"And the Empire has flourished."

"I'm not certain, even ignoring the preservation casting, that Corusar
could
step down," Fallon said carefully. "Not without starting up the succession wars again. There's an official heir, but I guess even more people now who could claim to be next in line."

"There is a carefully mapped out succession, along with three regional governors who have been directed to manage any transition," Dezart Samarin said. But then he shrugged, and added: "Still, ambition is a snake that turns in the hand."

Kendall sniffed, but before she could launch another sally, Sukata had taken advantage of a widening of the lane to ride between Kendall and Dezart Samarin's horses.

"We are coming to the edge of the Nymery Steading," she said, thin voice determinedly clear. "When we crest this rise, we will see the forest proper."

"You have been through this area before?" Dezart Samarin asked, courteous but with a faintly disappointed air, as if he had wanted to see what Kendall would come up with next.

"I lived here until I was seven," Sukata explained.

Kendall didn't say anything. Since that day in the market, she always either went silent around Sukata, or was carefully polite. It really was quite unfair of Kendall to not forgive her friend for being out of temper over that Sigillic exercise. Fallon hadn't enjoyed that at all either, even though Duchess Surclere hadn't lectured them for relying too much on the standard forms. But it had been painfully embarrassing to realise how far they were falling short of her expectations.

He dropped back a little further, since the mare Sukata was riding had shown herself particularly intolerant of being followed closely, then let himself dwell on expectations for a while.

He had to be careful: whenever he thought too much about the unique divination the Duchess had created, and the possibility that it was Auri the Duchess had detected, his breathing suffered. He'd had years of practice in turning his mind firmly to safe subjects, but his head was too full of possibilities, of imagining what the Duchess would do with the divination, and what he could safely say.

Auri was less hopeful: she thought it coincidence that the tune the Duchess had been hearing was the same as the one she'd been humming the night of the attempted theft. Probably, she said, she had heard the same thing Duchess Surclere had been listening to. Even so, she'd finally agreed to go hum at the divination the next time the Duchess set it—something sadly not likely until they reached the forest settlement of the Kellian.

Fallon had not yet fully worked out why they were even going to this "Rest", other than to give their Kellian escort a chance to visit the place. It was more than that, though, or they wouldn't be risking Duchess Surclere to the trip. A carriage was impossible on this road, and a cart would be a jouncing punishment: even the gentle amble on horseback took its toll, which was why the Duchess rode with Lord Surclere. He would hold her before him when she began to tire.

The slow pace grated, since Fallon was so anxious for the Duchess to re-establish the special divination. He sighed softly, and made himself think of something else, then noticed that the younger Kellian girl, Tesin Asaka, had strayed up beside him. Her direct gaze was assessing, so he hastily groped for something to say.

"Do you have trouble getting Circle Turners to come all the way into the forest?" he asked, referring to the minor mages who travelled through all the small towns and villages renewing their protective circles.

"That was a problem for a time," she replied. "It's not necessary now, since my mother is living there."

"Did you have a mage when the settlement was first established?"

"No. The Ten kept watch, and killed any Eferum-Get that came near."

Fallon blinked at this simple solution. Circles were islands of safety from the night's stalking death, and to sleep outside was suicide. Even in Tyrland, where the Sentene so effectively dealt with emergent Eferum-Get, there were always the filmy, drifting life-stealers: slow and weak and doom to the unwary and unprotected. In the early days of the Eferum-Get invasion, it was said that all people could do was travel by night and sleep during the day, and pray to the departed gods that they did not encounter Eferum-Get they could not outpace.

Kellian, however... Fallon glanced ahead, remembering how Sukata had strode through the market, fuming and ablaze and glorious. Yes, he could readily believe ten Kellian capable of dealing with every Thing nights in the forest had thrown at them.

He wanted to ask more, but decided against it, knowing well that too much interest in Kellian would be a mark against any nephew of his uncle. And then his gelding reached the crest of the rise, and he forgot everything but the forest.

Semarrak was famously dangerous. The few forest settlements had been overrun during the first years of the incursions, and Kole's method of dealing with Eferum-Get using periodic large-scale sweeps had not meshed well with a boundless woodland. The Eferum invaders, left to themselves, had either died or adapted, and now Kole's north had a surfeit of predators quite happy to hunt during the day—and, apparently, more human-like creatures with Eferum origins. Those, though, were said to hide in Semarrak's heart.

At any rate, the forest was famed for the creatures that dwelled within it—not even mentioning Kellian—but staring north, Fallon felt that it should be better-known for its trees.

Dark trunks rose in a wall, disdaining frippery considerations such as undergrowth or bordering woodlands. A herd of cows, placed conveniently close to the forest edge, offered perspective, should it not already be clear that these were trees to make specks of men: wider and taller than any that Fallon had ever seen. Yet they didn't spear directly for the sky, but lolled and sprawled, as if resting on their elbows beneath their glorious autumn crowns.

The road through the forest proved to be wide enough to almost accommodate continuing to ride side-by-side—in part because there was so little undergrowth. It wound through a sea of golden leaves, circling broad trunks, and occasionally picking its way over miniature mountain ranges of root systems. The air was also noticeably cooler and damper, prompting a brief pause to ensure the Duchess was properly wrapped. Above, as distant as the ceiling of a great hall, the canopy glowed brilliant red and yellow in the afternoon light, but little warmth broke through to the ground.

"Do you get many traders coming this way?" Fallon asked Tesin Asaka, who he suspected was keeping to the end of the string of horses to act as rear guard. Even though she must be not more than twelve or thirteen, he had no doubt she was more than capable of fulfilling the role.

"Not to the Rest," Tesin replied. "We travel in to Theal quite regularly, though, and pack back what we need." Her brightly interested eyes were focused on Dezart Samarin, who was in turn studying Sukata. "They do not quite like us in Theal, but they like the trade goods we bring out from the Rest. I cannot yet decide whether the Imperial Army arriving to billet so many horses in readiness for us will have raised or lowered us in the town's estimation."

"Was local distrust the reason the Kellian settled in Semarrak?"

"That and economics." Tesin glanced up alertly as several small birds emerged briefly from the canopy, darting for insects. "There are varieties of fungus and certain trees that only seem to grow in Semarrak. The forest's edge is picked clean of them, but we have little difficulty reaching far better harvesting points. Aurai led the Ten to see the doubled value of settling here."

"
Who
?"

The girl blinked once at Fallon's tone, but answered with unimpeded calm. "It is Aurai that the Rest is named for. She was the Ten's teacher and guide for many years."

"Oh." Someone in the past, who had travelled with the original Kellian golems? Fallon, aware of Sukata glancing back, pushed everything but simple fact out of his head and said in a throat only a little constricted: "That—my sister's name was Aurienne. We called her Auri."

"I see," Tesin said, though plainly she did not fully understand his reaction. "The Ten's Voice was Lenaurai, originally."

This time startled response came from ahead of them. Dezart Samarin had slewed around in his saddle in a rare moment of open surprise. The Dezart's mount's reaction to his distracted grip on the reins postponed an explanation, but soon enough he turned again to Tesin and said:

"Aurai's Rest was founded by Lenaurai Falcy?"

"You know of her?" It was Sukata who asked.

"She's mentioned in the Imperial histories," the Dezart said, resuming his usual light tones. "How interesting to know what happened to her. Did, ah, your Aurai leave any descendants?"

"Not going to turn out to be the lost heir of the Empire or anything is she?" Fallon said, then instantly regretted it. And he had been criticising Kendall for saying incautious things to the Imperial representative!

Fortunately, Dezart Samarin took this with his usual good humour. "Rather the opposite," he said.

"Why does it matter if she had descendants?" Tesin asked.

"If I count my generations correctly, it doesn't," the Dezart said, more than confusingly. "Which makes the question only idle curiosity."

"Aurai had three children," Sukata said, calmly. "There are many among us who can trace our lines to them."

"I shall have to add a footnote," was all Dezart Samarin said to that, which was not at all a satisfying response, but neither Sukata nor Tesin pressed him, and then a glimpse of a small stone building ahead provided a distraction.

This was not the Rest, apparently another day's travel into the forest, but a traveller's shelter surrounded by a circle not large enough to accommodate all their horses.

"Aren't they likely to be attacked?" Fallon asked Tesin, as he helped prepare pickets for the horses in a well-trammelled clearing just outside the circle. "The creatures here hunt more than humans, right?"

"We would sense a predator's approach. And the first group intended to sweep as they travelled, to clear the way."

The Kellian girl, with a stake in one hand and hammer in the other, paused to gaze back at the shelter, and at Duchess Surclere standing with Lord Surclere. Fallon was not yet adept at reading minimal Kellian expressions, but he recognised this as thoughtful evaluation backed by banked intensity, for almost all the Kellian looked at Duchess Surclere like that. He did not doubt he'd have equally complex reactions to someone whose commands he literally could not disobey. In fact, given that he kept trying to will his teacher into producing an answer to a question he dared not ask, his own expression might not be all that dissimilar.

Had she started to guess there was a question? To hear Auri, trapped on the edge of existence?

He let his breath out in a slow hiss, sternly putting these thoughts aside and mentally reciting Verisian verse for all the remainder of the fleeting afternoon. Then, after evening meal, he curled up in a corner of the small but by that time pleasantly warm hut as early as he could feasibly excuse himself.

He had been thinking about it too much: the conversation he would have with Duchess Surclere once she understood enough to start it. By now he was confident that there was at least a chance she could stop him dying, at that most dangerous point, but her physical weakness remained one of the biggest barriers to his own survival. It would be best if she dealt with this Eferum-Get uncle before learning of Auri.

Sighing, Fallon drifted into the Dream, and watched his sister inspect the well-built but cramped shelter before wandering outside to marvel at the trees. The two lieutenants were removing nose bags from the horses, while Lord Surclere's mother was bringing extra water from a nearby stream.

"Everything's so
huge
," Auri said, bounding lightly up to try to stand on a tree limb arcing over the stream. "You could practically ride along these branches. Were you attacked by anything on the way here?"

Auri addressed questions to Fallon even when she hadn't brought him into the Dream and, if he remembered, he answered them in the daily diary. Hopefully he would have more room at the Kellian settlement so he could leave the book propped open.

"Why is he upset?" Auri asked now, having jumped down to peer up into Lieutenant Meniar's face. "Did he argue with his partner?"

Fallon's dreaming mind did not react quickly enough to do more than note the Lieutenant's distracted frown, as Auri moved restlessly on to circle through the horses, examining them critically, and declaring a long-necked bay her favourite.