The Waters Rising (37 page)

“You said you had a magic helmet that was a kind of library. I thought, maybe . . . And you said you’d introduce me to your love.”

He sat staring into the fire for some time. “Her name is Ollie. The library is like a little helmet that takes you into another world. It has Ollie’s whole life, her mind, her feelings in it. It also has the minds and feelings of every other person who ever used it and of all those who used other libraries like it. Information was shared among them. So, if you ask it a question, it has to be very, very clear what you need to know, because if there’s any room for doubt, you can end up exploring fascinating information for weeks or months, until your body dies for lack of food or water or sleep, so you need someone by you to pull off the helmet after a reasonable time. I know Blue’s pulled it off my head more than once. I think I can put the book into the library for you easier than you can; all I have to do is make my mind a blank and look at the pages while I turn them, ignoring temptation at every turn.” His mouth twisted, as though he had tasted something both wonderful and weird. “It’s a long book, so it may take a while. I can start tonight if you’ll leave it with me.”

Xulai considered this for a moment, nodding finally. “That would be best. Then I can return Wordswell’s book, and when I’m with you, or when we’re traveling, I can find out what might be helpful to know about the Sea King.” She sighed, handing him the box almost regretfully, for she had been looking forward to reading it herself. “I met the prior on the way to the library. He says the bird keeper is an illiterate simpleton. And then my guide almost winked at me and said the prior had all that gold on him to show how superior he is. The abbot doesn’t wear gold at all, does he?”

“Not that we’ve seen.”

“It makes me wonder, Abasio. All that glitter. And the fortune my father says he sent. I wonder who really received it here at the abbey and where it is now. There’s another very important thing: Wordswell told me something about the Old Dark House and what the land is like that lies between it and the abbey . . .”

When she had finished quoting the librarian, Abasio stared first at her, then at Blue, who had been leaning over the paddock fence to hear the entire story. “Which tells us a good deal,” said the horse. “They know a way to get here quicker.”

“To get here, and no doubt to get to other places as well,” Abasio said, frowning. “We must be sure to keep that in mind.”

Chapter 6

The Dragdown Swamps

O
vernight, heavy weather came to the abbey and to most of the surrounding countryside. Snow fell from black clouds that boiled suddenly from the west, one of those freakish early storms that would melt away long before autumn was over, though not as quickly as it came. In the meantime it meant tall drifts of snow, cold, wind, ice underfoot, much stamping of feet, building of fires, shoveling of walks and wall tops so that guards could keep watch without freezing their feet.

In the Old Dark House, the Duchess of Altamont was infuriated by the weather. When the eastern slopes of Altamont became spongy (as the Old Dark Man had described them), her attempts to move quickly from place to place became at first uncomfortable, then dangerous, and finally impossible. When the old mines were dry, there were underground routes she could use, old tunnels where ponies swiftly pulled carts along rails, old elevators that still functioned when valves were turned to fill shafts with water, thus raising or lowering floating platforms in others. Some of the old-time miners or their sons still stayed in the huts nearby to be sure the ponies, the carts, and the elevators kept working, for their livings, their lives, and the lives of all their kindred depended upon the duchess’s getting what she wanted as soon as possible. From various places in these ancient systems, some actually under the upland valley of the Wells west of Benjobz Inn, others near the abbey, she could dispatch her servants, including Jenger—though he would have been dismayed, even frightened, to learn that she thought of him in the “servant” category, for he had been in the habit of assuring himself he was important to her. In truth, only Mirami was important to Alicia, because Alicia feared and hated Mirami more than she feared or hated anyone else.

From the mine shaft opening in the forest near Benjobz Inn, Alicia could travel within a few days to the court of King Gahls to “consult” concerning the family business. To Alicia, consultation meant receiving her mother’s instructions without question or complaint. When the area was flooded, however, the shafts became wells, and the slopes became drowning pits, mortally dangerous even to those familiar with them. When such times seemed imminent, the old men used the elevators to lift themselves and their ponies to their huts on higher ground. While the shafts were flooded, nothing moved for a time, and even Mirami understood this. While Mirami could do many things others thought impossible, she could not control the weather. “Yet,” she laughed when this was mentioned. “I can’t do that yet.”

The duchess had returned to the cellars of the Old Dark House after her almost wasted visit to Benjobz, arriving as the rains began. They were followed by heavy snow in weather just warm enough to let it melt continuously. The combination had made her usual ways impassable, and it was during a temporary lull in her preoccupation with the Tingawans that she overheard two of her servants in the castle above talking with one another. They were chattering about Justinian having left Woldsgard and the fact that Wold was now occupied by the army of Hallad, Prince Orez, while another army, this one from the abbey, had settled itself for the winter at Netherfields.

Among Alicia’s rages, the one that followed was one that might possibly have been assuaged by totally destroying everyone within several miles of the Old Dark House and applying curses to their descendants for the next seven generations. Fortunately for the locals, she had overheard these remarks through an air duct while she was sequestered in her secret room set deep in the rock below the Old Dark House. What she overheard so blinded her with rage she was unable to remember the “key” to the door that always locked itself behind her. The key was a lengthy coded entry tapped onto a transparent plate that was ancient, badly abraded, and possessed of some hundreds of symbols that changed their arrangement each time they were called up. In the time it took her to quiet herself, remember the key, then find the symbols required in the specific order required, she also had time to recall that Mirami was deeply concerned with Justinian’s movements. Justinian was part of the family project, but Alicia had not been concentrating upon the family project because of the Tingawans. She took a few moments to think it through. If she were to avoid her mother’s criticism, which was often accompanied by painful consequences, it would be wise to inform Mirami of the current situation immediately.

Mirami’s mirror was in the mirror room, next door. It was early in the morning. Mirami might still be abed, or she might be at breakfast. Alicia went to stand before it and say, “Show me!” The mirror cleared to show vague shadows, perhaps a table, one person more clearly, evidently eating a meal. Alicia murmured very softly. One mirror seeing its target would not transmit words, but it would creak a little. One of the shadows looked up, nodded slightly, and went back to the meal. Alicia pulled a chair in front of the mirror and waited. The mirror followed that one figure through the meal, through the transit of several dim corridors, and into its own, locked, mirror room. The image became three-dimensional, and Mirami spoke. “What is it?”

“I have just learned . . . ,” said Alicia, going on to quote what she had, in fact, just learned. With the two mirrors linked, they could hear each other very well.

“And why were you not aware of this sooner? What were you doing?” Mirami demanded.

Alicia had had time to polish her excuse. “A train of wagons went from Woldsgard some days ago. You told me to be aware of movements there. I thought I should find out where they were going and why. It seems a Tingawan soul carrier, some puling infant, was among the people. They said they were going to the abbey, where the child will be educated until she can complete her journey to Tingawa.”

“And Justinian was not with them?”

“I thought he might be in a closed carriage, so I followed them. It turned out he was not. Just the girl and some servants and several wagons of furnishings and supplies, and the child didn’t even make it to the abbey. It seems she had a fit of some kind and turned back. The servants are now saying, however, that the duke left Woldsgard in the care of Hallad, Prince Orez, and armed men from the abbey are in possession of Netherfields.”

“And you knew
nothing
of this?”

“Not a word until today. On the route I traveled, I did not see the troops.”

“And you have not visited Justinian?”

Here, Alicia was on solid ground. “You told me to leave him alone for a while after the Tingawan bitch died. I have done so.”

“Seemingly I instructed you wisely. You are not known for your warm, consoling personality. Why are you concerned about this soul carrier? Though we will dispose of Tingawa eventually, the Tingawan religion need not concern us.”

Why did she care, really? She attempted an explanation: “Something about the Tingawans itches at me.”

“Were they insolent?”

Without thinking, she blurted, “Their existence on our lands is an insolence!”

Mirami’s eyes narrowed as her lips smiled, such a smile as a serpent might make contemplating dinner. “When you wish to be affronted, Alicia, which, I may say, has been your preferred mood since we left Kamfels, you manipulate any chance word into an insult, any unconscious facial expression into an offense, any casual yawn into a deadly provocation, and no matter how slight the slur, you always pass a death sentence on the miscreant.” Her voice lowered, she whispered, a whisper like a knife. “Even when it is impolitic and stupid to do so!”

The duchess flushed. At this moment, she still felt that killing everyone for a mile in every direction would have been soothing. It would have been gratifying. No one ever served Alicia perfectly, and sooner or later she always rewarded imperfection with blood and pain. It made her happy. At least, this was the label she gave a certain draining feeling, as though all her furies were running out of her, leaving a strange satiety behind. It was a little like the effect of wine, or the juice of poppies, or that vanishingly rare sensation of sexual exhaustion. Though the feeling never persisted, she called it happiness.

The image in the mirror smiled again, an utterly ruthless smile. “I see your thoughts all too clearly, Daughter. Unfortunately, you have never learned to hide what you feel. You wish to kill someone, several of them, perhaps everyone within reach. But think a moment. Killing the populace of Altamont would leave you without farmers, horsemen, servitors, cooks, seamstresses, and smiths. The ones you have now are well cowed, too frightened to leave, but if you kill them, you will find no queue of eager but subservient lackeys to replace them.”

Mirami frowned, lifting one nostril as she did when she was raging silently. “The Old Dark Man left Altamont to me, my dear. When I no longer needed the castle or the things he left me—the things in the cellar, my dear, the ones I have yet to learn to use—I let you live in the place while we pursued other ambitions.”

“Mother, I know . . .”

“Oh, yes, indeed you know. You knew you had your own ambitions, and you used our dear Rancitor to get title to the place. I
have not
made a fuss about that,
not yet;
it did not seem worth my while, but the fact that I
did not
does not mean I
cannot
! When the Old Dark Man left me or died or whatever he did, he had lived a hundred and fifty years. Using what he taught me, I think I can manage at least that long myself. If you will choose to be wise instead of silly, I may help you to do the same. If you choose otherwise, I can always reclaim Altamont for myself. I have the means to do so. So, my dear, while you think repopulating Altamont might be only an inconvenience for you, please consider that I would find it more than merely annoying.”

Mirami’s anger was quiet where Alicia’s was furious, but it was as lethal.

Alicia pinched her lips, nodded, said nothing. She had learned long ago that any pain she could inflict, her mother could equal. Mirami was saying quite clearly that Altamont could be reclaimed when its current owner died, a death she could easily accomplish.

Mirami snapped: “Tell me, Daughter, what is our business?”

“Our business currently requires that I marry, by one means or another, Justinian, Duke of Wold, because my mother, the queen, wishes to take over the lands of Ghastain and Wold, plus all those now held by Prince Orez.” She knew the litany well.

“Exactly. That is still our business, despite this departure by the duke. I need to consult with others. Can you come to court?”

Alicia did not want to go to the court. She was safer where she was. “Only by the long way,” she said, temporizing. “It would take a long time. The Dragdown Swamps are with us again. There is one route that may possibly open to the tower near the abbey within a few days, but it may be very dangerous.” It was the way she had returned to Altamont from Benjobz Inn before the snow came. It was the way she had sent Jenger back to the Vulture Tower just as the storm began. She was not at all sure he had ever arrived there. She did not greatly care, though it would mean making new arrangements for the Tingawans if he hadn’t. Well, she would need to do that anyhow. Later. And if Jenger had perished on the way, one of the archers would do as a substitute. She’d been watching a particular one. He was nicely built. He had a usable body, a properly servile manner.

Mirami nodded. “Well, you may wait until the way is safe. We have time. Send men by the way you mention to learn whether or when it can be used. As soon as it can be used, come to me here.” The mirror went blank.

The duchess did not move or speak. She knew the trick of blanking the mirror but continuing to listen in order to learn what the person at the other end might say. She did not betray herself with a sound. She merely stood, very quietly, in her deep, warm room, surrounded by things that clicked, lights that turned on and off, other things that hummed and buzzed in combinations that conveyed nothing to her. In one corner the watcher loomed; very occasionally it clicked, buzzed, hummed as it watched her.

T
he thing that watched her! They had been living at Kamfels, she and her father and her baby brother and Mirami, except that Mirami sometimes went to Ghastain. Mirami had friends there. Alicia liked it when her mother went away, because then she could have her father all to herself. He was so handsome, and everyone liked him. Hulix was just a baby with a nursemaid, and he didn’t get in the way. Sometimes her father put her on the horse in front of him and they went riding. She had pony of her own, too, but riding with Father was more fun.

One night, she was wakened by a sound. When her eyes opened she saw a great, tall shadow carrying a little light that shined up onto his face, a face like a skull, only shadows for eyes, a mouth all teeth, wide and bony. That was the first time she had seen the Old Dark Man, and she was frightened. “I’m a friend of your mother’s,” he said. The voice was a surprise, calm and pleasant, flowing into her ears like syrup, full of sweetness. “Get dressed,” he said. “I’m taking you to visit the place your mother grew up, the Old Dark House.”

“Does Father know I’m going?”

“No. Your father doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“They’ll know I’m gone.”

“No, no one will know you’re gone. You’ll be back before they wake up.”

She didn’t know how he took her. He was holding something like an egg. He clicked it and they simply walked out of her room and into another room through flashing things that looked like mirrors. Zing, zing, zing, flash, flash, they were there.