The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (64 page)

* * *

The east-facing window was growing pale with the first light of dawn, the fire had burned down to embers, and Rygnee had fallen asleep in the chair by the wardrobe. Only Kloveon remained awake, sitting on the side of Erianthee’s bed, her hand in his, while he waited for her long swoon to end. For several hours Kloveon had spoken to her, hoping the sound of his voice would awaken her, but now he was content to wait for her to decide when she would return to the world. Most of the Castle around them was silent, although the first clarion from the rubble of the main gate had sounded as the full moon had dipped below the mountain range of the western horizon. A faint aroma of baking bread floated on the early morning air, a reminder that many were awake in the Castle already, and that Erianthee was not the sole concern of its occupants.

Finally Erianthee stirred, giving a little stretch, yawning, and blinking slowly as she looked around. “How . . . ”

”I brought you here,” Kloveon said, tightening his grip on her hand. “I wouldn’t let them turn you over to the magicians or even to a physician.” His smile was painful to see.

“What day is it?” A faint line deepened between her brows. She still felt as if she were floating. The sensation wasn’t entirely pleasant.

“The morning after your Shadowshow,” he said.

“The third night of the full moon is . . . “

”Tonight,” Kloveon said, wanting to reassure her. “You slept like a stone, but haven’t lost a day.”

“That’s a relief – sometimes when the visions overwhelm me, I sleep for a night and a day and a night.” Erianthee took a long breath. “Was it . . . successful?” She noticed she was still dressed for Court in her elaborate serinel, although her Duzeon’s coronet had been removed.

“The Shadowshow?” Kloveon kissed the palm of her hand and held it to his face as he went on. “Yes. It was. Or so I’ve been told.”

“What was it like?” She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “How was it received?”

“It was disturbing – that’s my impression anyway. I wasn’t permitted to attend.” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have done anything so risky.”

“Not risky,” she said. “Necessary. Something had to be done. You should be free of suspicion – that’s what matters.” With that she pushed herself up on her elbow and reached out to him. “So long as you’re not mistrusted any longer, the rest is nothing.”

“I don’t know if I am or not,” said Kloveon, his face showing renewed worry. “There’s a guard at the door, which I’m told is to protect you.”

“Zlatz,” said Erianthee, pausing to kiss Kloveon’s upper lip. She sucked it into her mouth and flicked it with her tongue. “Very nice,” she approved. “Tell me everything you’ve heard.”

“It hasn’t been very much to hear. Riast himself is being closed-mouthed about the event,” said Kloveon, pulling her up to him and pressing his face to her hair. “The Emperor ordered that everyone who witnessed your Shadowshow should write down an account of what they saw. Almost no one has said much about it yet. They’ve been busy complying with Riast’s order, but by this afternoon, the whole of the Castle should be abuzz.”

“How can I find out – “ she began only to have him interrupt her.

“I was told that Riast expects you to compare all the accounts in order to arrive at an accurate description of the manifestation that took place, and then to meet with him and tell him all you have discerned, including who among his courtiers might have been favoring the rebellion,” said Kloveon.

“How am I to do that?” she asked, startled by the suggestion.

“I don’t know, but it’s plain that the Emperor is set on learning who is against him. He hoped to find that out last night.” He paused, then went determinedly on, “Riast and the Dowager Empress were in this room for more than an hour last night, hoping you would return to consciousness. She has given the whole of these apartments up to you for the duration of your stay, and has removed to the old ballroom near the spice-garden. That was done during the Shadowshow – her servants came and took all her things, then set up furniture for you, and a room for me. Godrienee told me that she had decided during all your preparations for the Shadowshow that you needed the place to yourself, and that you wouldn’t be disturbed while you recovered yourself, so I brought you here where there is no noise or confusion. The Dowager Empress, too, left strict instructions. I’ll try to – ” He made a sudden, disquieted gesture. “I must tell the page to let the Emperor know you’re awake.” He stared at her. “You won’t mind, will you, if I tell the page?”

“If the Emperor requires it, by all means do it. I have no wish to displease him,” she said, at last feeling almost awake and rested. She watched him bolt for the door as she lay back. She had succeeded, she thought. Against all odds, she had managed two different embodiments at the same time. She had found a way to conjure Spirits of the Outer Air and manifest remetrij simultaneously. The only thing keeping her from complete satisfaction was her inability to recall how well the evocation of Zaythomaj, the Retributionist had gone, and what the god had said. “I’ll know when the Emperor gives me the reports,” she said, and heard Rygnee mumble something as she came awake.

Sitting up, still muzzy from an uncomfortable sleep in the chair, Rygnee shoved herself to her feet saying, “Fine scare you gave me last night, Duzeon, and no doubt of it.”

“I’m sorry, Rygnee,” said Erianthee.

“No, you’re not. Look at you. You’re happy as a thimble-pig swimming in cream,” said Rygnee. “Why didn’t you warn me that you might pass out for hours and hours?”

“I didn’t know I would,” said Erianthee. “I thought I might, but I wasn’t certain. I had to take the chance. The Emperor insisted – ”

Rygnee wasn’t mollified by this. “No warning. No ‘Rygnee, this might happen, and if it does, this is what you do about it’?”

“I said I didn’t know,” Erianthee insisted, a bit less accommodating. “I’d never done it in front of an audience before, so – “ She shrugged.

“Well, I can tell you that you really sent your Kloveon into a state. It was something to see. Oh, he was all calm and collected while the Emperor and his mother were here, but when they’d gone, he paced and he fumed and he cursed and he pleaded, for hours. You just lay there, cool as alabaster, while he willed you to wake up.”

“And finally succeeded,” said Erianthee.

“If you think he deserves the credit,” said Rygnee.

“He does,” said Erianthee. “I think it’s important to stand up for the erroneously accused – don’t you?”

“Erroneously accused means so many things, Duzeon, that I don’t know how to answer.”

“That’s precariously close to insolence, Rygnee,” said Erianthee, making a point of giving the warning sweetly.

“And what you’re doing is close to defiance,” Rygnee countered. “It’s bad enough that after all your practice with conjuring remetrij and filling the energy with phrases to benefit Kloveon, and to shape the remetrij to look and sound like Zaythomaj, the Retributionist, and then end up manifesting something entirely different – “ She broke off, seeing Erianthee’s expression. “You didn’t plan it, did you? You think your Shadowshow went the way you’ve rehearsed it. ”

Erianthee struggled with this unexpected revelation. “What are they saying happened?”

Rygnee flicked a dubious look at Erianthee, but answered as clearly as she could. “I’ve been told that the head of some kind of god no one recognized formed over the terrible ruin of your conjured image of Eivenlijee. It spoke about Bozidar and the conspirators around him, suggesting that reconciliation with the Empire was still possible if Riast would make an effort to bring them into the state. One of the guards who was in the Reception Hall was talking late last night, and he said the god provided advice to Riast.”

“An unknown god – not Zeythomaj, the Retributionist?”

“So I understand. If it was Zeythomaj, the Retributionist, his appearance was unlike any representation of him has been before.” Rygnee looked over her shoulder. “I can ask for more information, if you’d like.”

“I don’t think . . . “ Erianthee felt suddenly cold. What had she done? Who had spoken? She sat up again. “Did the manifestation mention Kloveon by name?”

“I don’t think so. The guard said the god spoke only of Bozidar by name, stating when the Cook-Major asked, that the head had called no other specifically that he could recall.” She fretted as she strove to recall everything the guard had said. “He said the Court was distraught because of it.” She laced her fingers together. “It’s not as if the guard knows everything, or that he remembered everything accurately.”

“But he didn’t mention Kloveon? He didn’t have anything to say about Kloveon being free from any wrong-doing against the Empire?” It had been the one thing she had practiced most consistently, and now she was filled with foreboding. Had the manifestation been of her making at all, or was it truly a prophetic intrusion? “I have to find out what was said. I need to know what god was speaking – “ She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, one hand on the bed-curtains to steady herself. “I want to find out what happened.”

“You fainted because of it, whatever it was,” said Rygnee, as if this spared her from any responsibility for the appearance of the unidentified god. “Isn’t that enough?”

“But what did the god say?” She rubbed her face. “I need a bath. See that one is drawn for me as soon as possible.”

“Kloveon will return shortly,” Rygnee reminded her.

“Excellent,” said Erianthee. “He can join me, if he likes.”

“You’re being impetuous again,” said Rygnee.

“And Duzeons aren’t supposed to be, are we?” she countered. “I have done all I can to conduct myself properly, but now and again, I need to surrender to my impulses, and to act in ways not set down by courtesy and protocol.” She gave Rygnee a measuring look. “Tell Kloveon to join me in the bath.”

“You’ll be giving him hope,” Rygnee said.

“That’s my intention,” she said, aware that she was becoming more attached to him than she had been in the past. “He has been reliable and loyal. And I like him very much.”

“Are you going to make him your Official Suitor?” Rygnee asked.

“I may. Let’s see how he does in the bath as a first step.” She gave a reckless little laugh and began to undress, removing her serinel with care. This she handed to Rygnee, and went looking in the wardrobe for her new jalai. “Which compartment is my jalai in?”

“The third, with all your sleep-wear and bathrobes.” Rygnee had already taken the hanging-rod out of the wardrobe and was fitting in through the sleeves of the serinel.

Erianthee pulled open the compartment and pulled out her jalai of taupe Fahnine silk. She tugged off her guin and skin-clothes, then pulled the jalai over her head, letting it settle softly. “Why didn’t you undress me last night?” Her voice was a bit muffled by cloth and the wardrobe.

“With the Emperor and his mother here? And Kloveon hovering over you?” Rygnee countered. “You’d have had my head for such insolence.”

“You’re probably right,” said Erianthee as she considered the situation. “Well, I’m glad to be out of all that finery now. I’ll be ready for the bath shortly.”

“I’ll order it at once,” said Rygnee, setting the hanging-rod in its place in the larger wardrobe, then hurrying to the door. “Shall I send the guard away?”

“If he’ll go, please do.” Erianthee pointed to the window. “They’ll be bringing food in half an hour.”

“I’ll arrange for you to have your breakfast later, if you like,” Rygnee said.

“I’d appreciate that,” said Erianthee, then said, “You’re being most unusually accommodating all of a sudden.”

“It just struck me that you’ve taken on a great deal. What you did last night – whatever it was – exhausted you.”

“Am I that pale?” Erianthee laughed.

“It’s not your pallor, it’s your giddiness that worries me,” said Rygnee as she left the room.

Erianthee stood still, thinking about what Rygnee had said, and only then noticed how flighty her thoughts were, and how readily they flitted from Kloveon to the Emperor to longing for Vildecaz. She guessed she was a bit lightheaded. She recalled being vertiginous just before the manifestation began – apparently this hadn’t entirely worn off. If conjuring remetrij could do that, she would have to be more careful in future. She heard herself say, “If I did conjure remetrij, and did not summon a god.” The words seemed to hang in the air around her, echoing silently, and for an instant her dizziness returned. When it passed she sat down on the edge of her bed, willing now to wait for Rygnee’s return, and for Kloveon.

* * *

“So which way do you want to go?” Doms called to Ninianee as they came to the cross-roads at Cazinath-Wanio under a cold-blazing mid-day sun that struck the snow as a hammer strikes hot metal. A tower that was old before The Cataclysm stood on the northeast corner of the roads, impressive even in its ruined state. Its stones were intact, and its high, pointed roof was almost free of snow, revealing overlapping slates, most of them still in place.

“I’m still not sure.” She looked at the tower. “Does anyone ever go in there?”

“Not that I know of. It’s said to be haunted,” Doms answered.

“Anything left empty for fifty years is said to be haunted,” she responded, her attention focused on the ancient gate to the tower.