In the Eye of Heaven Part 20

Durand shot a glance back. The ancient warrior twisted, launching the long and b.l.o.o.d.y lance from his fist. Between eye-blinks it flew; the blade was a glint set to splay his collarbones like a great carver's fork.

But it never landed.

The weapon hung in the empty air where the bridge arched highest Durand's borrowed horse had taken one step farther than Saewin could reach. The air hissing through Durand's teeth was warm and full of cool summer. Beyond the bridge, Saewin was gone, and the standing blade of the spear was faint as a stroke painted on gla.s.s.

12.

The Lady's Bower

In this new Creation, the company creaked on the high, timber span. Every one of them looked as wild as any roadside madman. Finally, Coensar spoke into the stillness, "This river. They call it 'Gla.s.s.' We are riding to this tournament of Saewin's. It draws us on."

Far below, the -river rumbled, bounding between mossy walls, its flood as clear and green as a knot of crystal. The air above was cold. At a glance, Durand imagined falling into the gelid flow, tumbling leagues through the forests of northern Errest, past Tem Gyre and into the misty Winter Sea-a place he had never seen. It could easily have happened. Saewin could have thrown his lance one frantic heartbeat sooner.

'There's no going back with this madness in the woods," Lamoric said. "The whole duchy seems a funnel to this place."

Uneasy men nodded and spurred their horses forward.

On this new side of the Gla.s.s, another aisle of great beeches led on, and they pushed on. The nave of trees opened wide to reveal what might have been the chalk-gleaming crown of some giant from Creation's Age of Powers.

"Just as it was," Coensar breathed. "Bower Mead.""G.o.d," Durand whispered.

The crown was, in fact, a sh.e.l.l keep of flawless white limestone where the gray pillars of the forest gave way to a glade. Walls rambled over the gra.s.s enclosing an area as large as the duke's castle at Acconel. Hard men craned their necks like wondering peasant boys.

"We should try to slip past," said Lamoric, but even he was fascinated. They rode into the shadow of the keep, every eye on its walls as though fiends might leap from the windows. Sheep grazed here and there, but there were hardly fields to feed the castle's people, if any people there were. Soon, though, he had his explanation. Beyond the shoulder of the castle, a slope fell away toward the setting Eye of Heaven. In the red blaze, he made out fields and distant cottages. Plow teams toiled, the moan of the oxen carrying from the valley with the dull reports of mattocks, as men and women swung hammers against the chill earth.

"What is this?" said Sir Agryn."Getting set to plant?" Lamoric offered.

"Aye," answered Coensar. "It is just as it was. They sow the winter wheat tomorrow."

"What?" said Lamoric. "Always? What if it's a cold year? Surely they don't hold off?"

Sir Agryn was shaking his head. "It's an older power than seasons, I think, Lords.h.i.+p." His long fingers spread into the fist and fingers sign of the Eye.

"Marvelous," said Lamoric. said Lamoric."I cannot be more precise, Lords.h.i.+p," Agryn said. 'The story is dark to us, though this Bower Mead may answer before long."At these words, the gatehouse came into view.

A glance that Durand couldn't read pa.s.sed between Coensar and old Guthred.

"We should leave it be," said Lamoric. None of them made a move to depart.

"Durand," said Guthred. "See if you can find a porter. Maybe there's a porter's lodge in the gatehouse. Tell your friends we've come."

"I will see who I can find," Durand answered.

With the eyes of half the company on him, Durand swung down from his mount. There was a big barrel vault, its blue shadow cut from the white wall, almost a tunnel to the doors inside. inside.

Durand stepped under the arch. Sunlight probed murder I I holes and arrow loops. holes and arrow loops.

"h.e.l.lo?" he said. His voice rolled around the masonry.No one answered.

"My captain, Sir Coensar, is at the gates. Is there anyone-"

Something hissed-a foot on bare stone-near and far, in front and behind. As Durand twisted, he caught sight of Guthred and Lamoric and the others all watching him twitch. He took a firm step into the tunnel and out of view.

The shafts of light slid over him. Now he was alone with whatever had hissed beyond those arrow loops. He turned and quickly spotted one loop in the western wall that stood dark where the others shone. He looked away.

"I can't believe these gates would be unguarded," he muttered, allowing an idle step to carry him back toward the loop. "The castle's in good repair...." A second step. "Peasants in the fields."

Another step brought him within a yard of the stoppered loop. He stabbed his hand deep, locking his fingers in something tangled and fibrous. He pulled. A brow and cheekbone flashed against narrow gap. A great nacreous eye blinked against the stone, its owner hissing like frying adders. Durand had pulled his fish out by its beard.

Durand leaned close to the pearly eye.

"Come on, friend," he said. "My captain and his men are waiting outside."

But the eye only blinked, and Durand had no choice but to twist another racket from the adders.

He let his victim free. "Open the gate and announce Sir Coensar."

The pale eye remained at the arrow loop a moment longer, then there was an explosion of hisses and slithers, and Durand was alone.

For several heartbeats, he stood in the gloom with his jaw open, wondering how he would explain himself, but then the doors creaked open. A bent, ragged man stood against a slash of bright lawn. Above a beard like a winter-killed sheep, his pearly eyes were wide and fixed on Durand.

"Lords.h.i.+p," the strange man said.

"I'm only announcing Sir Coensar," Durand explained. "If you'd tell your master he's here?"

The stranger's mouth twisted wryly. "Yes, Lords.h.i.+p. Well. Yes and no." With that, he turned and trotted away.

The man was gone, and the doors hung open. Durand took his chance to tell the others that they were free to enter.

INSIDE, THE COURTYARD was wide and green. As Durand followed his masters inside, he peered at the perfection of crisp masonry and green lawn. In the slanted light, he picked out the silhouettes of eerie guardsmen, statue-still up in the parapets. If the men of this place were anything like old Saewin, he was lucky he let the gatekeeper loose. was wide and green. As Durand followed his masters inside, he peered at the perfection of crisp masonry and green lawn. In the slanted light, he picked out the silhouettes of eerie guardsmen, statue-still up in the parapets. If the men of this place were anything like old Saewin, he was lucky he let the gatekeeper loose.

Filing in and finding themselves alone, Lamoric's travel-stained company spread in a ragged line. Berchard gave Durand a questioning look, but Durand could only shake his head.

"Well, now I suppose we'll meet the master of this place," Lamoric said, making as though Otherworld castles were nothing new to him. The rest of retinue curled their fingers round the hilts of their weapons. Durand scanned the walls, searching the shadow of each arrow loop.

Abruptly, there was a clatter. For an instant, Durand thought of crossbows, but, instead of feathered bolts flying, a pair of tall gray doors swung wide across the yard.

The party stared.There was nothing but gloom between the doors.

"It's going to be one of that Saewin's kin, ain't it?" Berchard muttered.

Something moved in the doorway. A s.h.i.+ver of tension pa.s.sed over the ranks, then there was a flash of yellow.

"What in every h.e.l.l?" said Berchard.

A double file of young women walked into the courtyard, each wearing a fortune in good silk. They stopped in two facing lines, and, though they stood silent, every one had the ducked-chin look of a naughty child. They wore their hair uncovered, letting plaits and tresses s.h.i.+ne in shades of copper, gold, and raven's wing. For a long moment, none of Lamoric's men moved. Durand found that a pair of these maidens seemed to be looking at him, up and down, and doing a bad job concealing their amus.e.m.e.nt. Durand thought of his matted hair and his hard-worn surcoat-green gone the gray of peas-pottage. Beside him, Berchard slapped dust from his robe.

With heroic composure, Lamoric stepped forward. "Um," he said. "Good day to you, fair ones." No one else could have done so well. "I am Sir Lamoric, the leader of this company, second son of Abrava.n.a.l, Duke of Gireth."

There was a lot of smiling and no answer.

Lamoric returned their smiles, baffled. After facing a few moments of their silence, he seemed compelled to press on. "I apologize for our intrusion. We travel to a tournament in Mornaway." No one said a word. "I have spent the season fighting as a black knight in the lists-the Red Knight, you understand-planning to-"

Abruptly, the smiling maidens turned from a stammering Lamoric to the doorway behind them. The attention of everyone in the courtyard fixed on the empty arch. Finally, a woman appeared. She wore green. Her eyes were clear and wide, and her hair, red as new blood, swept from her face into a thick plait. The double file of maidens curtsied low as she walked out between them.

"I am the Lady of the Bower," she said. "These are the handmaidens of my court."

The women-the handmaidens-returned their knowing glances to the men of the company and executed a slow curtsey.

"It has been my pleasure to attend most of the courts of Errest," said Lamoric. "And still I have never seen anything to match the beauty of this place or its inhabitants." He bowed with a flourish. Some of the other knights tried the same, in a creak of straps and clink of mail.

Pleasure shone from the Lady's eyes, and she stepped closer. With a teasing languor, she walked down the ragged line of Lamoric's men, stirring a wake of discomfiture among the threadbare knights. Durand felt one ridiculous needle of panic, but mastered it quickly. The green silk of the Lady's gown rippled as she moved. Her hair was red on the pale snow of her neck. Then her eyes were on Durand's, looking up for a long moment before setting him free.

She turned to Lamoric. "You are welcome beyond the Gla.s.s and to Bower Mead. All of you. You have arrived in time for the festival. The earth has been turned the last time, and so the tournament will begin tomorrow."

"Yes, Milady," Lamoric said.

"We eat only lightly today, but tomorrow," she said, "we shall feast. You may make your encampment among the others on the grounds."

Lamoric seemed to be on the point of protesting. They had to be in High Ashes.

But the Lady only waved them good-bye and turned. Even Lamoric could not force himself to stop her. Durand followed the veiled movement of her thighs until he noted the eight women who remained. Two or three were staring at him in playful accusation. He swore under his breath, and, as one, the women wheeled, following their mistress as she glided back toward the keep.

It was only as the last woman stepped out of sight that Durand realized the gra.s.s was in motion. Though it had been mown short, the lawn rippled like the green silk of the Lady's gown-quietly impossible. Slow eddies played in a wake of turning spirals. He watched as wavelets lapped at the scarred toes of his boots.

"I meant to make my excuses and go," said Lamoric.

BEYOND THE WALLS once more, Lamoric rounded on Coensar. "We'll never make High Ashes now. I can't believe- I've as much as promised that we'd fight here. We haven't time!" once more, Lamoric rounded on Coensar. "We'll never make High Ashes now. I can't believe- I've as much as promised that we'd fight here. We haven't time!"

Coensar was still as stone in his saddle, his eyes on the castle and the yard. "It is the same as it was," he murmured. "I half expect to meet myself in the lists. A younger man."

"I should turn round and explain. Host of Heaven, I've wagered my every penny and all my holdings on this Red Knight trick. What will Moryn think of us now?"

"The melee will be below," said Coensar. Where the land fell away toward the Eye of Heaven, s.n.a.t.c.hes of amber mist curled in a broad green. A perfect battleground.

The horses plodded on.

"There he will be," said Lamoric, "waiting with the Herald of Errest, pa.s.sing snide remarks and pointing at the empty seat. I should still be in Acconel-"

First they saw a comer of bright cloth, then, around the flank of a corner turret, a camp of a hundred garish pavilions huddling under the wall. The tents crowded like gowned and drunken dames in the twilight. Mist coiled around their ankles.

Agryn interjected, "There is doom in this, Lords.h.i.+p. To step through this place on the very day when seven years lapse between tournaments. It is not to be-"

Abruptly, Lamoric gasped, "h.e.l.ls." "h.e.l.ls."

There was a s.h.i.+eld-bearer on the fringes of the camp. He lugged a horse's trapper. And, before he vanished into the maze of tents before their eyes, every man had seen the pattern on the canvas: diamonds, blue and yellow, azure and gold.

"We're not the only fools to save steps between Red Winding and High Ashes," Lamoric murmured. In one of those tents, they would find the lord of Mornaway.

Guthred was nodding. "All right, lads. There's a flat patch off toward the wall. If I've seen it, you've seen it. Get the gear off the horses, and see your man's comfortable. Doesn't matter where we are. I shouldn't have to tell you."

Durand made to join them.

"No, no, Durand. You come with me. I think I'd best check on Sir Moryn."

"Guthred," said Lamoric, "I think I'll see the man myself."

"A moment, Lords.h.i.+p," said Coensar. "You may want to send your s.h.i.+eld-bearer after all."

"I don't plan on hiding from him," said Lamoric.

"No, Lords.h.i.+p," said Coensar. "What are you thinking, Guthred?"

The ugly man nodded. "I'll tell His Lords.h.i.+p we're here, and, if Lord Moryn's got the Herald of Errest with him, I might might mention our Sir Lamoric wants a word." He raised an upturned palm. mention our Sir Lamoric wants a word." He raised an upturned palm.

"I see," said Lamoric."Doesn't pay to chase them," Coensar said.DURAND SHOOK HIS head. "Stiff-necked fool," said Guthred. head. "Stiff-necked fool," said Guthred.

Moryn remembered them and was just just civil. Still, Guthred had taken an obvious pleasure in announcing that Sir Lamoric was at the tournament, but unable to receive visitors, what with the arduous journey and all. civil. Still, Guthred had taken an obvious pleasure in announcing that Sir Lamoric was at the tournament, but unable to receive visitors, what with the arduous journey and all.

The Herald of Errest was not in Hesperand.

"Why under Heaven would we be mad enough to let him at Sir Lamoric now?"

Tramping through the tangled rows of tents, Guthred ducked guy ropes and tethered horses. The place was quiet, but its many crossroads were busy with men on silent errands.

An enormous saddle bobbed into Guthred's path. The groom attached to the thing only eyed them, as Guthred made a show of waiting. At the next crossing, a yoke of buckets reeled out, splas.h.i.+ng Guthred and the s.h.i.+eld-bearer carrying it "h.e.l.ls," spat Guthred, slapping water from his leggings. "Why don't you go first?" So Durand took the lead. "You're tall enough you can likely see our way."

Beyond the muddled confusion of canvas alleys, the white battlements of the castle played signpost. Durand tried not to notice the pale soldiers on those battlements, or how each man glowed like the neck of a wax candle, and soon Lamoric's pavilions were in sight.

Then Durand stepped into the path of a ma.s.sive horse, s.n.a.t.c.hing his boot from under one sharp hoof just before it broke his foot.

He made to throw the rider a good hot look, but found himself back in a Ferangore pa.s.sageway, toe to toe with Ca.s.sonel of Damaryn. The plain, worn hilt of the High Kingdom blade Termagant was at the baron's hip. For an instant, Durand could see the baron's eyes narrow. There were shadows. The man didn't know him at once.

Then there was recognition-a lifted chin-and something almost like regret.

Much too late, Durand bowed and stepped back.

After a few heartbeats, Ca.s.sonel clicked his palfrey into motion.

Durand drew himself up. He and the baron held each other's secrets, and, with them, each other's lives. Durand checked a staggering step backward and was surprised to b.u.mp into someone on his heels.