The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (39 page)

Lady Beatrice stood with her hand upon the stack of documents, looking a little uncertain. Toren pushed open the shutters, letting the night air spill in over the windowsill.

"Nothing like this has ever been done in the long history of the Renne. Thirty-one people gave up their claim to the throne, all in one night. I fear come morning there will be some who regret this decision.""Too late. It is done," Toren said. He closed his eyes and let the cool air bathe his face.

"Not quite done. There is one more person who must agree to this course. I expect you'll want me to speak to her?""No. I will do this myself, Mother.""You should have spoken to her before you did this.""She wouldn't have agreed. But now. … I have some leverage." Toren turned away from the window and gazed at his mother standing in the light of a chandelier. Her face seemed flushed in the candles' warm light. "I will tell you honestly, Mother, I would rather face the servants of Death than wound Llyn.""It is not a wound. It is release. She will be free to give her love to Carral Wills, who loves her with all his open heart. You are all that stops her."Toren nodded.

"You are giving up a great deal this night, my son," Lady Bea-trice said. "First your position in the family,now the adoration of a woman whom I respect more than almost any other. Who will you be in the morning?""I will be the champion of Lady Llyn and Carral Wills and of their children—that is if they will let me.""I think they will consider it an honor.""Then I have one last task this night." Toren bowed to his mother and turned toward the door.

"Toren?" Lady Beatrice said, stopping him in his tracks. "It will be more difficult than you know, giving up your position. People will still look to you for leadership, for answers." "I know, but I will not undermine Llyn and Lord Carral. Their authority must be paramount. Too much depends on it." Llyn was surprised to have a visitor at this hour, let alone Toren saying that it was most urgent. Llyn stood in the garden beneath the shadows of a lace maple, the silhouette of Toren visible above. She thought him beautiful even in this poor light, his bearing noble without being proud. It was one of the things she loved about him. For a second she glanced down at the golden mask she held in her hands. It was still wet and did not seem to dry. Just the thought of it stole her breath away.

"You are hurt," Lynn said.

"I've sustained greater wounds in tournaments, if truth is told. A few days will see me whole.""I am glad of that."Toren fell silent, and Llyn sensed he had some news that he did not want to give. Someone has died! she thought suddenly.

"You have something to tell me," she prompted.

"Yes,"Toren admitted. "I have come from a council with news." He drew himself up a little. "I have renounced my claims to the mythical throne and will no longer sit at the head of the Renne council table." "Oh," Llyn said as though she'd been pinched. "I suppose I should not be surprised. Dease, then,has taken up your duties?""No, Dease has signed away his own claims, as have several others.""What in this strange world is going on beyond my garden? Who is the titular head of the Renne now?""You, Llyn."She laughed. "It is late for jokes, Cousin," she chided.

"It is not a joke, Llyn. It's the truth. We have all given up our place in the succession in favor of you."A cool wind seemed to blow through her. She felt as though she balanced upon a precipitous ledge and dared not look down. "This is not right. No one spoke to me of this.""You would have refused.""I do refuse," she said hastily. "I will not accept this responsibility.""Even if it means the end of our feud with the Wills and peace for our children and their children after them?"Llyn sat down upon the small bench beneath the tree. "Cousin, please…" she pleaded. "You can't ask this of me.""And I won't, if you insist, but let me ask you this. Do you love Carral Wills?"She glanced down at the mask she still held in her hands, then up at the obscured silhouette of Toren Renne. Her mouth went dry, and the words evaporated.

She loved them both—Carral and Toren. She also knew why Toren was asking this question. And she knew what answering it would mean.

"Llyn?" Toren said softly. "I love you as a sister, but Lord Car-ral… he loves you as you deserve to be loved." Toren took a quick breath. "Your children will be the heirs of both our houses—Renne and Wills.

They will be our hope for peace."She felt herself nod, and glanced down again at the mask she turned in her hands. But I will be healed, she thought. You will be able to look upon me without pity or revulsion. You might even think me…beautiful.

She knew these thoughts were not worthy of her—but she could not deny her feelings. Shame. She had felt shame all her life. Shame that she was a monster. That people couldn't look upon her with-out horror.

"We are asking a great sacrifice, I know. But peace Llyn. … Is it not worth any sacrifice?"She felt herself nod. "Yes," she whispered, the single word sounding like a final judgment.

"Of course, if you don't love Lord Carral," Toren said, "then you should refuse.""I do love him," she said, and turned her gaze up. She could just see Toren through the leaves, his perfect frame dark against the light spilling from within. How long had he embodied everything she hoped for? Too long, apparently.

"Then you will accept this?" Toren asked.

"Lord Carral has not asked for my hand."Toren seemed a bit surprised. "Perhaps he needs to be sure of your feelings for him.""Perhaps.""May I tell Lady Beatrice that you have agreed?""I will speak with her myself."Toren nodded. "Llyn… ? I owe you thanks. I know how diffi-cult this will be for you.""No you don't," Llyn whispered to herself.

Toren hesitated a second. "Good night to you, Cousin.""And you," she answered.

Llyn sat for a while after Toren had gone, feeling more hollow than the mask she turned over and over. All her hopes for so many years had centered on Toren, as foolish as they had been. She had always known that, but her feelings were stronger than her reason. Just a brief moment in his company was all it took to fan them back to flames. And now would the flames go out? She didn't know. She hoped that they would—and that they would not.

Rising, Llyn went inside and found Lord Carral sitting by an open window. Without a word she slipped into his lap and pressed her face against him, her eyes closed.

Neither spoke for some time, then Llyn said; "What is it you do?""I am letting the night air wash over me and indulging senti-ment, to be honest. Memories have been finding me this evening. Memories of my wife, but of Elise most of all. With a little effort I can recall any number of moments—much of her life, I suspect.""She is still alive, Carral. You must remember that.""But if I'm never with her again, is she not dead to me?""You will be with her again. I'm sure of it.""Why are you so sure?""Because she loves you as I do, and I can't bear to go a day without seeing you."Carral smiled his perfect, unself-conscious smile. "Is it because I'm so handsome?""No, it is your charm that I can't resist." She took his hands.

"Your hands are cold," he said.

"It is that mask. It never dries, and it is always cool.""Have you… put it on?""No. I'm afraid to.""Magic is disconcerting. There is no doubt of that.""True, though I'm not sure that's the reason. Will you come with me? I will tell you a story while we walk.""Certainly," Carral said, and they both rose. "Where is it we go?""To visit someone." She led him through her rooms to the door that opened into Castle Renne. A door she had seldom been through.

"Your grace," her servant said, as Llyn unbolted the door.

"It is all right," Llyn said. "I know where it is I go." She opened the door and led Carral out into the hall. For a moment she could not catch her breath, but then she did.

They passed servants who started at the sight of her, but then bowed and went on their way. Some of her cousins nodded but said nothing.

Carral squeezed her hand tightly. "Llyn," Carral whispered. "You are very brave.""I'm not going into battle," she said.

"No, but death is not always our worst fear."She flushed.

"You said you'd tell me a story…" Carral said.

"Yes. But first I must ask you a question: do you love me?""With all my heart, as I have said a thousand times, though rep-etition does not seem to have made it more believable.""Something exceedingly strange has happened this night, and it has to do with you and with me."They continued down the hall, passing people now and then, Llyn telling her story. Carral clinging tightly to her hand, lest she slip away, as had his wife and daughter before. Clinging like a man to his love, and she like a woman to her husband.

Forty-nine

Toren had last been to A'brgail's small tower with his cousin Arden. He had failed, then, to convince Arden to join the Knights of the Vow, which had surprised him at the time. It was not a mys-tery, now—Arden had been involved in a plot to take his life. Toren closed his eyes at the memory. His own cousins…Two guards stood outside, their great, two-handed swords held point down to the ground, so that Toren thought they looked like statues in the dim light of dusk. They bowed to him as he dis-mounted, and one took the reins of his horse. Toren was led into the great hall, hung with ancient banners, lit by torches. Arden had stood there, by the long table. Toren could recall him in perfect de-tail. Remembered the strange, troubled look on his face—guilt, he realized now. Not long after he'd been dead, killed by one of his own.

A door opened, and A'brgail hurried in, looking very dignified in his gray robe.

"Lord Toren! I apologize for keeping you."They clasped hands.

"You look much recovered from our ordeal," Toren ventured.

"As do you," A'brgail responded. His look was very solemn.

The truth was that A'brgail looked like a man who had seen too much, or had seen things that forced him to ask difficult questions.

"And what of the others?" A'brgail asked. "Has Lady Elise been lost to us?""I have not seen her; nor have I had word. Perhaps she has re-turned to the river, Gilbert. One might go sit by the bank… Stranger things have happened.""Sianon sacrificed herself to bring down Caibre," A'brgail said softly. "I became the ally of a nagar—worse—a woman who bore such a monster inside her. It was the avowed purpose of my order to see that these creatures did not return. And I became their ally.""The world changed, Gilbert. Without Elise Wills and your brother, Hafydd would rule these lands now—Hafydd and the thing that dwelt inside him. You did the right thing."Toren noticed that the hilt of a massive sword lay on the table. "Slighthand's sword!" he said.

"Yes. Or at least what remains of it. You have seen my guards with their two-handed swords? That is a tradition of my order. Something we have done for centuries in honor one of our founders, Orlem Slighthand.""It is appropriate that this has come to you," Toren said, run-ning his hand over the hilt. "I still can't believe that I met such a legend. To think that he and Kilydd lived all these centuries.""Yes. The man who now calls himself Kai is not interested in any of the honors we have offered. He would be welcomed among us, venerated even, but he will have none of it. He has moved on." A'brgail shrugged.

"I would not give up on Kai. He might have a place among you yet."Toren took a rolled paper from his cloak and set it on the table.

"And what is that?" the Knight asked.

"A charter," Toren said. "Signed by myself and Lady Beatrice, sanctioning your order to bring peace and safety to the roads of our lands and those of our closest allies. I know it is a small start,Gilbert, but once the Knights of the Vow earn the trust of the peo-ple, more responsibilities will be granted to you."A'brgail took up the paper, slipped off the ribbon, and let it un-roll. "Don't apologize, Lord Toren, my order has much to prove. Our history is both glorious and shameful. Only by our actions should we be judged." He laid the paper on the table by the remains of Slighthand's sword. "I cannot begin to thank you," he said.

"You don't even need to begin," Toren said. "I will soon be thanking you, I think." Toren smiled, then quickly changed the sub-ject. "Now tell me again of these lost companies of Knights.""They were led into the hidden lands by Orlem Slighthand to fight alongside Slighthand's people."Toren shook his head. "A people all the size of Slighthand. We had better not offend them.""I think they are a peaceful people, Lord Toren. That is why they needed our help.""Yes," Toren said. "We are not a peaceful people. It is the great tragedy of our race. War is in our blood.""But there are more noble qualities in our blood as well," A'brgail said. "That is what I leaned from Elise Wills. She struggled against that side of her. Sianon did not conquer her. If Elise Wills can do that, then it gives me hope for the rest of us."Toren looked up at all the rows of banners of fallen companies. "If only my family could learn that lesson," he said. "But I fear ha-tred and vengeance will always be so much more alluring. Reason is a thin wall against the storms of passion." He looked over at Gilbert. "Perhaps that will be your part, Gilbert. To be that wall of reason. To stand between the Renne and the Wills, who I fear would sink back into their cycle of murder and revenge at the slightest provocation.""Justice rather than vengeance?" Gilbert said.

"Yes, in all of its imperfection. Let us try that."Fifty They decided to slip away at first light, and very nearly did so unnoticed. Tuath, the vision weaver, stood by the entrance to the Fael encampment, watching them with her icy pale eyes. She seemed, though, less ghostly that day, as though a little of spring's color showed through the snow.

"I hope you have no visions to darken the road ahead?" Fyn-nol said.

"I have had no visions at all," she answered. "It is as though we have come to a division of the roads and have gone a wholly new way. All that lies ahead is a mystery to me and might be for some time. Luck to you on your journey. Perhaps I will travel north with my people one spring and come see the Vale of Lakes. It is said that the people there are friends to the Fael, and make them welcome.""It is true," Tarn said. "Bring Cynddl, if you can.""And tell him he still owes us horses!" Fynnol laughed.