The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (15 page)

The eyes of the blind shed tears. That capacity remained when all went dark. That is what Dease thought as he sat with Lord Car-ral Wills.

They perched in a high, round window in Castle Renne, light, shattered by the stained glass, scattered all around and over their hands and faces. The scene depicted in the stained glass was the fall of Cooling Keep and the destruction of the Knights of the Vow— though the Knights had survived—as had too many other things from the past.

Lord Carral held a delicate hand to his forehead, and a splash of blue spread over the skin. Blue tears streaked his face, but he did not sob; nor did his shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry, Lord Carral," Dease said softly.

"No, it is good news you bring. My only child, my Elise, alive." His shoulders began to shake, and he kept his face partially hidden with his fine-boned hand. "But why did she let me think she was dead?"Dease did not know how to answer. In truth he had no idea why she had done so. Certainly he could manufacture some possible ex-planations, and would if need be, but he really did not know.

"I'm sure Lady Elise had her reasons," Dease said.

Carral straightened a little and turned his body away, as though ashamed of this show of emotion—though somehow Dease sus-pected he was not.

"Has this thing taken her over completely?""The nagar? She claimed it had not. I don't know your daugh-ter, so it was difficult for me to gauge, but those who did know her did not react as though she were in any way… strange.""Thank the river for that," Carral said. "Is she alive now, I wonder?""Many of us survived the flooding of the tunnels, and as she had already survived the river, I'm sure she is unharmed." Dease was not at all sure, but he hoped his doubts could not be heard.

Carral did not exhibit the normal gestures of sighted men. He did not nod or shake his head, he seldom smiled or frowned. His habitually blank expression was enigmatic—until he wept.

"Then perhaps she will reappear soon. We might hope.""We do hope. Let it be sooner rather than later."Carral wiped away the tears on his face with the flat of his hand, as though he had just become aware of them. Sunlight threw the images of Cooling Keep down upon the floor and across Lord Car-ral's back.

Flames danced in his hair. Very stiffly he rose. Down his back Knights tumbled to their deaths.

He did not turn to face Dease but fixed his pale eyes on the dim hallway that opened up before him. His shadow loomed over the fall of Cooling Keep.

"When you saw her… Lord Dease, was she…" He swallowed, his throat apple bobbing. "Did she seem well? Unharmed?""She appeared to be perfectly well. Healthier than either you or I."Carral tried to smile in response, took a step, then stopped. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Lord Dease. I know how busy you are at this time.""I wish I could do more. I wish I could summon your daughter up with a spell, but alas, I am no sorcerer.""You have that to be thankful for, Lord Dease. That and much else." Lord Carral set off, his steps small, like a frail old man, sud-denly. Dease watched him the length of the hall. As Lord Carral walked farther from the window he faded into shadow, Dease's eyes being adjusted to the bright light falling through the stained glass. In a moment he faded entirely, like a man walking into fog. Only the slow tap of his cane upon the marble floor could be heard, like the ticking of a distant clock.

Carl helped Jamm into the boat, lowering him onto the stern thwart. The thief lost his balance and his boots thudded heavily on the floorboards.

"Shh," one of the boatmen cautioned.

It was dark, the smallest sliver of a waning moon sailing among an archipelago of cloud. The two boatmen were nervous, fidgeting, constantly searching the darkness with their eyes. The man—almost a boy—who had brought them there, Carl on foot and Jamm on a pony, whispered good luck, and set off, wanting to get as far from the fugitives as he could.

"Climb in now, your grace," one of the watermen said.

Carl took his place in the bow, and the two strangers, little more than shadows in the darkness, slid the boat down the mud bank and into the River Wynnd. They both clambered nimbly aboard, and the boat bobbed on the river, finding its equilibrium. Carl did not much like boats. They always seemed tippy and unstable to him, the surface upon which they rode moving and treacherous.

"Don't be worried, your grace," the nearest waterman said. He ^y^>must have sensed Carl's anxiety. "My brother and I have spent our lives on the water," the man whispered. "You'll not get a toe wet on this little voyage."And with that the two men shipped their oars and dug the blades into the dark river.

They pushed off toward midstream, the low, treed banks ragged shadows in the distance. Over them the stars and shred of moon glittered in a great arc. The men rowed silently, having si-lenced their oars with rags. Only the dipping of the blades could be heard, the drops of water dripping as the oar was lifted clear of the surface.

Carl looked over at the western shore. A fire burned there— Renne guards, perhaps. They would watch the river by night in case the Prince of Innes tried to cross the river in force. Carl won-dered what had happened to his father. He should never have stayed. Carl knew in his heart that it was a mistake, but his father would not be talked out of it. Stubbornness was a family trait.

Even though the current would be less near the bank, the wa-termen were afraid to stay close lest they be discovered by Renne patrols watching the Isle's shore. Jamm was all but invisible in the stern, likely curled up in a ball, still not well after his ordeal. If not for the four days spent in the house of the healer, Carl was sure he would have died. But they had moved him too soon. Jamm was no longer recovering. Oh, he wasn't getting worse, but neither was he getting well. This could not go on. Carl had to get the little man somewhere where he could rest.

"I judge we've come far enough," the waterman said to his brother, and they began turning in toward the eastern shore.

Carl did not like what he was about to do. He slipped his dag-ger from its sheath and leaning forward encircled the forward rower's head with one arm, putting the edge of his dagger against the soft part of his neck.

"Row to the western shore, now," he said evenly and clearly, "or I'll cut your brother's throat.""What… ?" the other waterman swore, turning in his seat.

"He has a knife to my throat, Brother…" Carl's captive breathed. "Please do as he says."The oarsman turned them in a circle and sent them toward the west.

"So, how is it you're a traitor, Lord Carl, when the Duke of Vast has ordered his men to kill you on sight?""It is a long, complicated story, my friend," Carl said. "If you knew what scum Innes and Menwyn Wills,were you wouldn't be so keen to support their war. Row on and make no noise. I don't want to do harm to your brother.""But there is one other question I have for you," the man asked softly. "Can ye swim?"And with that the two brothers threw themselves to one side. The boat rolled, slewed, and suddenly went over, throwing them all into the river. Without thinking, Carl had let his man go, not want-ing to cut the man's throat, despite all his threats.

"Jamm!" he called, as he surfaced.

"There he is, Brother," the older of the waterman said. "Sink him.""He might have his dagger, yet," the other answered. "Slide me an oar."Carl went under, surfacing on the boat's other side. "Jamm," he whispered again, but there was no answer.

He took hold of the submerged gunwale, the slick planks of the boat glistening dully in the faint light.

"Where's he gone?" one of the watermen asked.

"Under, I'd guess. Thought he probably couldn't swim. He was too nervous when he climbed aboard."Carl felt a little turbulence near his leg. He recoiled, but then reached under the boat. Someone was under there, clinging to a thwart. Carl ducked under and came up in utter darkness, but there was air to breathe.

"Jamm?" he whispered so softly he barely heard it himself.

"Here," came the equally soft reply.

"Hold your breath," Carl said, "we have to go under."In the darkness he found his guide clinging to the thwart,breathing too quickly. He waited until he heard a quick gasp, then took the little man down. They surfaced a few feet away, and Carl swept an arm under Jamm's and across his chest. Something hard knocked against his shoulder, andTam realized he had an oar. With some difficulty, for he was working one-handed, he slid the oar under Jamm's other arm. It was not much, but it would provide some buoyancy.

Slowly Carl took them toward the western shore. They heard the soft whispers of the watermen for a while, heard them strug-gling to right their craft and bail the water out.

"Will we make it?" Jamm whispered.

"Yes. Trust me. Kick your feet a little if you can—up and down. That's it. Lie back. I will keep your head above water."Toren Renne was a contradiction to the eye, Carl thought, for he was both grim and fair. His youthful good looks, upright posture, and wheat-colored hair were at odds with the hard set of his mouth, the suspicion in his clear blue eyes.

"But he is a thief. Why would I take his word over the word of the Duke of Vast, our ally for all of my life?" Toren watched Carl closely, weighing his response.

"Because Jamm is telling the truth, and Vast is lying. I can tell you no more than that.""But Vast came to our aid on the Isle of Battle when he clearly could have thrown in his lot with the Prince of Innes. It seems a strange thing for a man to do if he was secretly allied with Innes.""It does, though I meant to do the same—fight against the Renne so that the Prince would think me loyal, and I could still spy for you. As your cousin Kel will tell you, I saved his life at great risk to my own. That is what brought me here. Someone saw me save Kel and reported it to the Prince. The rest I have told you."Toren looked over at his mother, Lady Beatrice. Carl could not help but hope this noblewoman would intervene on his behalf.

Lady Beatrice favored her son with a tight, sad smile, a dip of her graying curls.

The room was summer-warm, afternoon, a small breeze rustling the curtains and pressing against the cut flowers in a vase on a low table. Two guards stood behind Carl, ready to restrain him if neces-sary, but his hands and feet were not bound, which he took to be a good sign. Bits of black debris kept tinkling in the fire grate and, from up the chimney, men could be heard working.

"I have nothing to gain in coming to you," Carl said. "If Vast caught me, as you say he claimed, with stolen letters, I would cer-tainly have returned to the Prince of Innes. But I will assure you, it is death for me to cross the river. The Prince will see me dead the moment I'm found. And if not for a stroke of luck, Vast would have finished me on the Isle.""There is a truth I can verify," Toren said. "Kel reports that Vast's men were told to kill you on sight, which I take as being somewhat strange. Anyone would want to question a spy if given the chance.""Whatever you decide for me, Lord Toren, beware of Vast. He is in league with the Prince of Innes. There is no doubt of it.""Yes, but the Prince of Innes is no longer alive, so I don't know what that will do to Vast's alleged alliance.""The Prince is dead?"Toren nodded, his curls bobbing. "Assassinated by one of his own guards, it is said.""Hafydd!" Carl pronounced.

"That hated name," Lady Beatrice said, making small fists on the arm of her chair. "Why do you blame him?"Carl felt his shoulders shrug. "It can be no other.""It is not much of a reason you offer, but nonetheless, I agree." Toren shifted in his chair. His gaze seemed to focus high on the op-posite wall, and his face was troubled and unhappy. "We will have to consider this matter carefully. Until then I'm sorry, but we will have to confine you to a cell."Carl bowed his head. "I can survive a cell, but Jamm needs a healer. He almost died on the Isle. I fear a damp cell would bring back his fever and coughing.""We will look out for your friend," Lady Beatrice said.

Toren nodded to the guards, and they led him out.

"I don't know what we should do with him, Mother. He accuses one of our oldest, most loyal allies of treachery, yet it was Vast who came to our aid on the Isle of Battle. There is only really one thing that gives me any doubts. Vast ordered Lord Carl killed on sight. Strange.""Vast is a passionate man.""Yes, but he is not foolish. Certainly he would have wanted to question Lord Carl.""I am more influenced by the utter lack of guile in Lord Carl. Everything he said had the ring of truth." Lady Beatrice sat back in her chair and closed her eyes a moment.

Toren felt his heart go out to her. Her life was so difficult. "Yes, but that would mean that Vast is our enemy. Vast…"I