The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (24 page)

And in the thunder I heard a voice that said, 'At Death's gate you will find me.' "Tam shivered from the cold and damp.” I don't know what it all means, Tam. I have only fragments of stories. It might be months before I've found enough to make sense of them—"Baore screamed in his sleep, scrambling up where he stood, swaying. Neither Tam nor Cynddl could move for a moment, so chilling was the scream; and when they went up the steps Fynnol was already by his cousin, speaking soothingly.

"What is it, Baore?" Tam said.

The big Valeman stood shaking, bent double and breathing in short, quick gasps. Fynnol kept a hand on his shoulder, clearly not sure what to do.

"I don't know," Baore said at last.” A dream... a dream of battle, here. All around me men were slain by lightning. I stood alone at the end, before some other, and we fought, and I was pierced by lightning. I screamed and found Fynnol shaking me." He looked up, barely visible in the shadows.” I was there, on the quay, shattering the gate with a hammer, each blow louder than thunder." He collapsed back down on the step.” Can't we get off this terrible river?" he cried.” It's seeping into us, drop by drop, and will drown us in the end."Tam woke to a still morning, hardly a sound. Baore lay tossing and muttering nearby as though his fever had returned. The mound of blankets surmounted by a cloak concealed Fynnol, unmoving; and Cynddl was not to be found. Tam lay still a moment, tired from the tumultuous night. His eyes wandered down the step to the rain-swollen river. It swept by, bearing branches and leaves and whole trees washed free of the banks. A litter of torn leaves and small debris spread over the stairs and across the coverings and baggage of the travelers.

Tarn's eyes climbed up to the roll of the Knights carved into stone, and he realized that his confusion of the night before was not caused by losing his place in the dark—the same names repeated often.

Alaan, he thought. He'd asked old Gallon about given names repeating in families. And Cynddl claimed that sk Knights had escaped the Renné siege of Cooling Keep and fled north to eventually cross Telanon Bridge. Alaan was searching for survivors of the Knights of the Vow among the families of the Vale.

Tam tossed his covers aside and rose, going down to the water to wash his face and hands in the flooding river. It lapped at the top of the quay now. Then he went up the stair and into the sunlight streaming into the ruin through gaps in the walls. He found Cynddl standing at the crest of the crimson cliff, gazing down toward the river below. He looked up as Tam came near.

"Ah, Tam. Have the others risen as well? We should be off as soon as we can be." He gestured toward the river.” We should take advantage of this flood, which has sped the river. It won't last long, I would imagine.""I'll rouse them as I go down," Tam said.” They'll be eager to travel as well. At least Baore will be. I think he's seen enough of the outside world. The Vale of Lakes is calling to him."Cynddl loosened a stone with his foot and sent it tumbling down the slope. It bounced and shattered and bounced again, and then plunged into the water in the center of a white star.” And what about you, Tam? Have you found what you were looking for? Have you seen the world your father saw? And has it brought him nearer, somehow?"Tam looked down at the slope of fallen stone and the river snaking off into the secret south.” I'm not a story finder, Cynddl," he said softly.” Perhaps my father's spirit lies beyond the gate, but I haven't found it. All I've learned of my father is how it feels to be hunted by men-at-arms you don't know and to whom you wish no harm. I often think of that man we found on the island. He was so afraid to die that he would try to make peace with his killer just so he wouldn't face the end alone." Tam shook his head.” My poor father..." he whispered.

Cynddl said nothing for a moment. The river muttered in its flight.

"Even if you were a story finder, Tam, I think you'd quickly learn that your father's story lies in the Vale with his wife and child. You search for him in the wrong place."

CARRAL WILLS LOVED TO SIT IN THE GARDEN HIS LATE WIFE HAD created. The smell and sound of the place brought back memories that filled him with a delicate and exquisite sadness. More than anything it was the sounds that touched him, though the scents worked their magic as well. Water trickled through rocks into a pool and brought back the many things said, the promises, the affirmations of love. Today the promises returned to haunt him, ghost-lite. He had made a promise to protect Elise.... He thought of the man in the tower, the "ghost," and his suggestion that she could be whisked away. Foolishness. Carral had spoken to many of his relations, pleaded with them, in truth, but to no avail. All were determined that this alliance should take place—especially now that they had met Prince Michael. A more likeable young man it would be hard to find. But they blinded themselves, as always, to the harsher truths. It was a proclivity of the Wills.

The situation was so hopeless that Carral could hardly bear to think of it.

The wind stepped over the wall, causing the trees to whisper in their different voices. Carral thought he might be the only man in the world who could distinguish the sound of wind through a willow from the sound of a breeze in a beech or an oak. He often wondered if a sound garden could be created—broad-leaved plants to bring out the sound of rain, water running in a stream, the careful placement of walls and standing stones to funnel winds through the trees and shrubs, all chosen for the beauty and variety of their sound. Plantings to attract certain species of songbirds; whippoor-will, winter wren, and sorcerer thrush. A garden for a blind man. But who else would appreciate it?

If only the intentions of men rang so clear to him. But men were a mystery, living as they did in the sighted world— as though he lived beneath the water and they swam upon its surface, like carp and swans.

Oh, men's voices revealed a great deal, but there was always something missing, some part of the conversation that was lost to him.

Other men want such different things from you, Elise had once said when he'd tried to explain his confusion to her. And that was no doubt true. Men preferred the hunt and the tournament to music, to contemplation. Certainly there were a few who appreciated music as well, more than a few, perhaps; but even so, they would give up music before the arts of war. Carral had attended a tournament, listening carefully to the crowds, to the gallop of horses, the crash of knights meeting, the splintering of lances. He remembered the silence that sometimes ensued. The moans and cries of the fallen and their loved ones.

No, those who swam upon the surface in the light of the sun were different in some fundamental way—they did not realize how blessed they were, and wasted their time in vain pursuits.

The breeze abated suddenly, and the garden hushed, like the crowd at a tournament when the hero falls. Footsteps came to him, the dull sound of leather boots on a dirt path. Carral could usually recognize the sound of different men walking—those he encountered frequently, at least—but this was a stranger. My ghost, he thought. But no, he remembered the sound of the ghost's footsteps—most distinct.” Lord Carral..." It was not a pleasant voice, though educated and refined in its own way. It reminded Carral of iron scraping over stone—razor-sharp iron.” Who is that?" "Eremon," the voice said. The footsteps had stopped some few paces away.” But you sound so much like another . . ." Carral said.” Someone known to the Wills long ago ... Hafydd, I believe he called himself then." He could hear the man's breathing change, quicken. Was that anger? Some gravel scuffed as the man shifted from one foot to the other.” Do not think to joust words with me," the voice said slowly. Carral had never heard a voice bear such menace.” I do not joust but merely wish to know with whom I speak. What is it you want of me, Sir Hafydd?" Carral heard the folds of clothing move as the man settled on the stone bench opposite.” You are not old enough to have ever heard the voice of Hafydd," the voice said.” How could you know it?" "The blind have exceptional hearing. Did you not know?" Carral heard the sounds of the man rising from his bench, two quick strides, fabric moving, and then the side of Carral's face exploded and he was driven from his bench. He sprawled, dazed, upon the ground, the bitterness of blood in his mouth.” How—how dare you! How ...!" "Dare!? Oh, you would be surprised what I would dare."A hand grasped Carral by the back of his collar and jerked him up, depositing him roughly back on his bench. Carral, hand to his face, leaned away from the man, wondering if he would be hit again.

"You—you struck a blind man," Carral heard himself say, not quite able to believe what had happened.

"But only with an open hand. You have not felt my fist yet."Carral could sense the man standing over him.

"Wars have been fought for less.""Go to war against the Prince of Innes and that will bring an end to the Wills' family pride, for it is only in pride that you are still great, Lord Carral." Hafydd said his name with particular disdain.” I have no need of your inbred family, you in particular, who can bear neither lance nor child, but the Prince will have an heir with Wills blood. That is his wish and I will see that it is done."Carral felt the man lean down closer to him so that he could smell his breath, his age.

"You cannot fight me, minstrel. Do not even dream that you might, for you see, I care nothing for honor or chivalry or vows or so-called civilized conduct. I am unlike any man you have ever met, in this. Your daughter will marry Prince Michael and bear him a son, and if you interfere I shall throw you from the tower where you visit your ghosts. Do not imagine that my threats are idle."The man straightened.” Do we understand each other?" the voice said softly.

"I understand you," Carral said.

There was a very brief, dry laugh, sand in the wind.” I will allow you that," Hafydd said, turned, and strode off.

Carral sat very still, holding a hand to his throbbing face. He still could not believe what had occurred. But what would happen if he told Menwyn? Even Menwyn could not allow such an insult. They would go to war .. . with the result that Hafydd predicted. The man was no fool. He knew that Carral could tell no one. He even knew that Carral was smart enough to realize it.” What a monster," Carral said aloud. And this man wanted his daughter. Wanted her for a broodmare. The thought of Elise trapped in the same house with such a man was a horror beyond enduring. He heard footsteps again, tentative this time, light. They approached almost as though not wishing to be noticed.” Who is that?" "Prince Michael, Lord Carral." "Ah." Carral could not think what to say. He was bleeding from the mouth and must seem terribly shaken.” I—I fell." "I saw what happened," the young Prince said.” I watch Eremon whenever I can." "That... that seems a dangerous pastime." "Perhaps, but he cares little that I know what he does. He doesn't think me a threat to his purpose. Why did he do that to you?" Carral hesitated. This young man was the son of the Prince of Innes—Eremon-Hafydd's ally. Yet...” I oppose your marriage to my daughter—no, that is not precisely true. I oppose my daughter being used only to create an heir with Wills blood. I do not presume to judge you, of whom I know so little." "You are wise to oppose this marriage." He paused.” Sir, you are bleeding on your clothes. May I... ?" Without awaiting an answer the young man stepped near, and Carral felt a cloth begin to dab about his mouth and chin.” Can you hold this to the wound for a moment?" Carral pressed the cloth to his face, and the Prince rose. Two steps and he settled on the bench where Eremon-Hafydd had been.” I wish I knew what to do to ease this situation," the young man blurted out.” Sometimes I think I should—" But he stopped in mid-sentence. "You think you should what?""Run away, I suppose, though they would track me down in a trice."Carral might not be able to see the young man's face, but even so he knew that what he had begun to say was not, in the end, what was said.” Have a care where you let your thinking go, Prince Michael. More dangers lie there than you might guess."No response was offered to this and the two sat in silence, the garden whispering around them.

"Wh at are we to do?" the young man said, his tone ftat.

"I don't know. I have just had my life threatened if I dare to interfere in the plans of Eremon.""He is not subtle. Eremon is a mace, not a dagger, and will bludgeon any who stand in his way. Men fear him—I fear him—but none dare refuse him. But there is more to him than that might indicate. He has a confidence, a knowledge of what others are doing and what they intend....I can't explain it. He must have the greatest network of spies ever created. It is uncanny."... If you interfere I shall throw you from the tower where you visit your ghosts, Hafydd had said.

Hafydd knows of my ghost, Carral thought. Or did he merely know that Carral went to the tower when the offerings were left? It made him wonder again about this man who claimed to be a ghost. What was his involvement in all of this? And could the son of the Prince of Innes really be trusted?

"You know Eremon better than I; what do you suggest we do?"He heard Prince Michael shifting on his bench, the moment stretched out, and Carral's hopes grew thinner.

"I don't know, sir. Your family will not refuse, nor would my father allow it. His army is strong and he is anxious to see it in the field." Carral could almost feel the despair. The young Prince's voice grew smaller with each word.” Marry her to another, that is all you can do. Is there not some suitable young man? It could be done in secret—tonight if possible. I don't know what else can be done.""What else indeed," Carral muttered. Suddenly he was leery of sharing any plans with the son of the Prince of Innes, no matter how the lad felt about his own father.” But I know of no such young man."Again the silence, like darkness to the sighted, Carral thought, and then the Prince stood.

"Good luck to you, sir. If ... if the marriage cannot avoided I will do all I can to protect her, but I will tell you honestly, that is very little. She doesn't deserve this, Lord Carral. Lady Elise is ... an admirable young lady.""Yes, I think she is," Carral said, "and I believe you would try to protect her. I'm sorry you are caught up in this." "I'm sorry we're all caught up in it. Good day to you, sir." Carral gave a slight bow, but as he heard the Prince turn, spoke again.” Do you realize that Eremon is not who he claims? He was once known as Hafydd and was an enemy of my family.""It is a rumor my father has heard but does not believe. Do you think it true?"Carral considered Eremon's reaction to his accusation.” I think it very likely."The Prince walked off, his footfall so light upon the earth that Carral thought he might float into the air at any moment.