Crown Of Stars - Child Of Flame Part 57

"Her Highness, Princess Theophanu, sends greetings to her most honored father, King Henry of Wendar and Varre, and to her beloved cousin, Queen Adelheid of Aosta. Ill tidings stalk the land. There have been reports of plague in the south. Varingia suffered a bad harvest last autumn, and there is drought in the land this spring. A Quman army has struck west through the march-lands and has been reported as far west as Echstatt in Avaria. They burn and pillage, leaving nothing behind but ruin. No news has come from Sapientia's army since last autumn except rumors of a battle. I fear for the marchlands and indeed even for the heartlands of Wendar if this tide goes unstemmed. To this end, I have left Biscop Constance as regent in Autun while I ride with what forces I can muster to the east. Yet I lack troops, with so many taken south to Aosta. d.u.c.h.ess Rotrudis has taken ill, and her children are quarreling over their portions, all but her son Wichman, who rode east and vanished with Sapientia's army. Prince Ekkehard left Gent in Wichman's train and has also been swallowed up by the fighting in the east. d.u.c.h.ess Yolande claims that the Salian war for succession has bled away her fighting force, since many of her n.o.bles have been forced to defend their borders from renegade bands pushed east by the fighting in Salia. Duke Conrad has pledged his aid, but there is further news that makes me hesitant to trust him. He has married Princess Tallia. That is why he was not in Bederbor last winter. The deed was done while Constance was riding progress through Arconia, and when she returned Lady Sabella had already given Tallia into Conrad's hands. It is rumored that the girl is now pregnant. I pray you, Your Majesty. Let matters be settled quickly in Aosta. We need the army here in the north."

Despite the questions burning to be asked, Rosvita remained silent a few breaths longer, in case the Eagle had not done. She knew better than to interrupt; an ill-timed interruption might jumble an entire message.

"What do you think?" asked Adelheid at last. A servant brought a cup of wine for the Eagle, who retired gratefully to a bench.

So much ill-starred news made Rosvita's head spin." I am thinking that King Henry will not be glad to hear of this alliance between Conrad and Tallia. Conrad should have asked Henry's permission to wed the girl, since Henry is Tallia's guardian, in default of her mother, Sabella."

"The one who is imprisoned at Autun," mused Adelheid, who had until six months ago been ignorant of Wendish intrigues, "for leading a rebellion against her brother."

"Even so."

"Is this alliance an advantage to us?"

Rosvita had to shake her head." I fear not. Tallia has a claim to the throne of Wendar, just as Conrad does. Some would argue-as did the Varren n.o.bles who followed Sabella's revolt-that Tallia's claim to the throne of Varre is stronger than Henry's."

"You believe Duke Conrad to be ambitious."

"I do, Your Majesty. He is also strong-minded, a man of bold temperament."

"And poor judgment?"

"That is harder to say. I would not speak ill of a man as powerful as Conrad without good cause. He has offered none yet."

"Will he come to Theophanu's aid?" A servant came forward with a tray to offer her wine. The cup was, like Adelheid, a thing of beauty: carved sardonyx decorated with a filigree of gold wire studded with cabochons, an echo of those in her belt. Like Adelheid, it looked delicate, easily broken should it be dropped and smash into the floor. But Adelheid's youthful prettiness made her easy to underestimate.

"It would be foolish of any n.o.ble in the kingdom to let the Quman range freely," said Rosvita.

"Won't the Quman just return to their homelands come wintertime? Can't they be bought off?"^delheid sipped at her wine before setting down the cup restively." If only it were true that such raiding could be easily squelched. Yet how can we spare any troops from Aosta? The situation remains troubled here. Even in Darre there are still disturbances on the streets, people calling for this cleric or that biscop to be named skopos in place of Mother Anne. Bandits rule in Tarveni, and the n.o.ble houses of Calabardia refuse to send representatives to pledge loyalty to our reign. Henry fights in the south, but even so, half the southern provinces still lie in the hands of Arethousan thieves. I have pledged troops to rid my subjects of the Jinna pirates who plague our coasts. If Henry returns to Wendar now, all this will fall apart." Her pa.s.sionate gaze would have broken a man's heart." I know what it is to be a n.o.ble child at the mercy of her relatives' ambitions. When I became pregnant, I swore my child would not suffer what I suffered when I was young, thrown to the wolves. I swore that she would inherit what is rightfully hers, in a land at peace. What shall I do, Sister Rosvita? What do you advise?"

"Send the Eagle on to King Henry, Your Majesty."

"I could go myself!"

"Nay, you are right, Your Majesty, in remaining in Darre while the king rides out to consolidate your allies." And knock a few reluctant heads together, or frighten them into swearing allegiance.

"You must consolidate your power here so that the king can return to a place of firm ground. If you leave, Darre's support may crumble. No one questions your right to reign as queen."

"No," agreed Adelheid, more calmly, "they do not."

"Has there been news of the king, Your Majesty? As you know, I am but recently risen from my sickbed." She did not feel it necessary to tell Adelheid that her clerics brought her gossip every day. No doubt the queen guessed as much.

"They have laid in a siege at Navlia. Lord Gezo had made certain pacts with Ironhead and now refuses to hand over the greater part of the treasure which he took from Ironhead in return for supplying mercenaries. d.u.c.h.ess Liutgard was lightly wounded in the fighting. I confess, there has been some talk of her marrying again."

Something in Adelheid's expression alerted Rosvita. She said, carefully, "Has there been? Shall there be an open compet.i.tion or does the d.u.c.h.ess have anyone in mind?"

Adelheid had the courtesy to blush." I have suggested to Henry that Prince Sanglant might be an appropriate husband for a woman of Liutgard's rank and lineage."

"Ah." To get hold of her thoughts, now whirling violently, Rosvita folded her hands and bent her head, the better to contemplate the neatly laid out zigzag flooring, white stone alternating with black, beyond the pillow on which she knelt. Rosvita was certain that neither Liutgard nor Sanglant would welcome such a match, but she did not care to say so out loud. Liutgard had come early to her duchy and would not suffer any man for a husband who might try to rule with or for her." Any gesture that opens the path of reconciliation is a welcome gesture, Your Majesty. Princess Theophanu's message said nothing about Prince Sanglant."

Adelheid smiled thinly." So it did not, Sister. There are some who say that the king was too lenient with his b.a.s.t.a.r.d son." Her eyes were bright in the soft light of morning s.h.i.+ning in through the eastern windows to illuminate the handsome murals along the western wall, all of them depictions of scenes from ancient tales like the Lay of Helen and the conquests of Alexandras, the Son of Thunder." Indeed, there are some who say that Henry's marriage to the Arethousan woman Sophia ought never to have been recognized as valid. There are some who say that her children, too, should have no rightful claim to the throne."

FOR three days they traveled fast through spa.r.s.e woodland, well away from the road so that they would not be spotted. They rarely lost sight of the blood-knife banner. When they had a clear view down onto the road, it was easy to mark the progress of the high priest because of the startling headdress he wore, his feathers so l.u.s.trous that they seemed shot through with rainbows. Now and again they had to detour wide around a village and its vineyards and fields, careful not to be seen. The first time, Alain asked why they did not stop.

"Surely the folk here would aid us, if they all hate the Cursed Ones so much."

Maklos pointed at the people working in the fields. It took a moment for Alain to realize that humans and Cursed Ones worked side by side, recognizably different only because of their complexions and because the Cursed Ones were, in general, shorter than their comrades. Some of the humans even wore their hair up in that distinctive topknot.

"They are slaves," said Agalleos.

"They are dogs, licking the feet of our enemies," retorted Maklos. He spat to show his disgust.

"They seem harmonious enough to me. Look. Do you see them laughing, there? See how that woman-she's as human as you or I-stops to touch that man, as she might her own brother- "He is no man." Maklos spat again." He is a Cursed One. May he rot-"

"Hush," said Agalleos." My friend," he said to Alain, "you are a foreigner and do not understand what you see. Slaves may smile and bow, hoping to be spared the whip. Magic may twist a person's mind until she sees colors that are not there. Now, come. We cai not bide here or we'll lose track of our party."

Maybe so. There was so much he did not understand. Here these lands even the houses were different, built of pale bricks ar roofed with wooden s.h.i.+ngles. But as they journeyed on he sa other villages where humans and Cursed Ones worked and livt together. The only places where the Cursed Ones lived separate was at the small forts, s.p.a.ced a day's march apart, where the hi; priest and his escort sheltered each night.

That third night as they bedded down in the pine woods with sight of earthworks, Agalleos could see that the matter still tro bled him." You have not walked in those villages, friend Alai You have not walked in the ruins the Cursed Ones made of tl town where I lived as a boy. We follow the high priest and his e cort, yet can you say you have looked into his eyes, have you sei his expression? We are too far away to know any of those peop except by the color of their cloaks. That does not tell us what li inside their hearts."

They lit no fire that night because the terrain had forced the close in to the road, well within sight of the low embankment a the wooden watchtower. Maklos took the first watch. Much lat Agalleos woke Alain for the final watch and lay down next Maklos. Rage and Sorrow both slept; better to let them lie. Th had come a long way without complaint, good comrades that th were. None better.

Alain leaned against the trunk of a pine, taking in the ni sounds: an owl hooted, insects chirped, Maklos snorted softly his sleep and turned over. After a while he moved cautiously to I edge.

The woodland had been cut back about an arrow's shot on sides of the little fort, an astounding amount of work. Sentry fii burned on either side of the gate, illuminating the glitter of rect; gular s.h.i.+elds set up along the embankment like a palisade. Th< was="" no="" moon,="" but="" the="" stars="" burned="" piercingly,="" so="" bright="" that="" fo="" moment="" he="" had="" an="" odd="" desire="" to="" weep="" with="" joy="" at="" their="">

A single figure pa.s.sed the limit of the sentry fires and, lighti its way with a lamp, moved slowly into the clearing toward Alai hiding place. The man swung the lamp from side to side, sean ing low along the ground. Twice, he crouched and, knife glinti in the lamplight, gathered plants best reaped on a moonless night. Alain dared not stir. Something about the figure seemed familiar to him, a haunting ache, a teasing memory, but he could not say what. Darkness shadowed the man's face, but as he came closer, Alain could see that he wore odd garb, not much more than a loincloth tied in a knot and draped loosely at the hips and, over his bare chest, a hip-length white cloak. Beaded sheaths covered his forearms and calves. Was that a feather stuck in his hair, bobbing in and out of sight as the lamplight caught its color?

The man crouched to investigate a spray of leaves among the ragged gra.s.s, lifting the lamp up at such an angle that all at once Alain saw his features boldly outlined.

It was the shadow prince, but not dressed as a prince in martial array and certainly not a shadow.

This man he had seen and exchanged words with in the ruins above Lavas Holding while an unseen shadow fort burned down around them. This man had led a column of refugees past Thiad-bold's cohort of Lions after Alain had negotiated a hasty truce, if there could in truth be any true intercourse between shades and people.

Maybe he gasped.

Maybe knowledge, like a knife-edged flower, opened in his heart. If the shadow prince was alive, Alain certainly could not be in the afterlife, because shades could not dwell on the Other Side; otherwise they would not be trapped as shades on Earth.

"Who is there?" said the man, lifting his head. He doused the lamp, but he had a habit, not unlike that of Prince Sanglant, of tipping back his head as though he were sniffing the breeze, trying to catch a scent.

A sentry moved out from the fires, crossing the gra.s.sy clearing quickly." Is there anything wrong, Seeker?"

The prince waited a few breaths, still listening. Alain was achingly aware of the creak of the trees, the_ sigh of the wind through lush summer leaves, the soft snort of Sorrow, a stone's throw behind him, as she dreamed.

"Just an animal."

"You shouldn't be wandering out here, Seeker," continued the soldier sternly, hands gripped tightly on his spear." There are bandits still, you know what beasts the Pale Ones are. They'd rip you to pieces and then eat you raw. That's what happened to my cousin. I hope we kill them all."

"Even the folk in those villages we pa.s.sed? Even the Rabbit Clan lady who sells incense in Western Market? Even the sailors on White Flower, whose captain is a half blood?"

The soldier gestured toward the sentry fires and the earthen walls, eager to return to their safety." Wild dogs can be taught a few tricks, but they're never tamed. And they'll bite you when you try to feed them."

"Hu-ah," said the prince softly, "so swift a judgment and so harsh a cut." He touched thumb and forefinger to the wick on the lamp, and fire flared, so startling that Alain jerked back, thumping his head on the tree behind him.

"What was that?" The soldier raised his spear threateningly and took a step toward the forest's edge.

"A deer. Come, let's go back." The prince lifted a square of cloth overflowing with leaves and stems; tying diagonal corners gave him a means to carry his bounty." I've got what I wanted."

Waking his companions at the first blush of dawn, Alain heard a horn call, low and trembling.

Maklos grabbed his weapons hastily." They're off early today."

"No need to hurry," said Agalleos mildly as he stretched out the kinks that sleeping on the uneven ground had left in his body." Aih! To be young again!" He grimaced." I'll never be free of these knots in my neck! There's only one road, so we can't lose them. We'll reach the Spider's Fort by afternoon. I wager they'll stop there for the night."

"Why so?" demanded Maklos." Aren't they in a hurry?"

"There's a crossroads there, lad. West and north runs the path into enemy lands, as far out as they've forced the border. To the southeast they can march by the Carrion Road and cross the Chalk Path by the Bright River. It's but a day's march from Bright River to the City of Islands. They can sacrifice a prisoner there as easily as they can in the City of Skulls."

"What is a Seeker?" asked Alain. When Agalleos looked at him strangely, he explained the encounter he'd had.

"Have you learned the language of the Cursed Ones as well?" asked Agalleos, surprised. Maklos had already started out and yoo now, half hidden in the trees, turned to wave them forward impatiently.

Alain gathered up his gear, staff, pack, and the s.h.i.+eld left by Shevros, while he gathered his wits as well." I told you before: I only know the language of the Deer people, and that of my own country."

They looked at each other, each seeing distress and bewilderment in the other man's face. Rage whined and nudged Alain, urging him to move on.

"Come," said Agalleos." No doubt your spirit guides have given you some gift you weren't aware of."

No doubt. But his thoughts were so jumbled that three times that morning he tripped over roots and once slammed right into the trunk of a tree.

"Hsst!" Maklos sprinted back and shook him." Keep alert! You could get us all killed."

It was like chasing down fl.u.s.tered geese. For some reason, his hand-the one that had been bitten-began to throb again, although it hadn't pained him since the day they'd crossed the Chalk Path. There went one goose which he had chased before: How could he understand Agalleos and Maklos? How could he understand the speech of the Cursed Ones?

And there, crossing its path, drawing his attention, another: The prince was no shadow. He was alive. He had been a shade in the world Alain had once known, a vision from times long past.

What did that make him now?

Spider's Fort had been built over the ruins of another town, thick stone walls raised on a low hill to make it a fortress. So many old ruined walls wandered out onto the gra.s.sy land around that the brooding watchtowers and ma.s.sive walls did give it the look of a many-eyed spider nesting at the center of its web. There were many more soldiers here, and even a camp set up outside the walls on flat ground extending out to the southeast: circular pavilions of white cloth dyed a pale gold under the light of the setting sun. Soldiers were driving stakes into the ground at an angle along the east-facing slope, like a defense against cavalry.

"Do you think they have the Holy One here already?" Maklos grinned." I can sneak in along the old stone walls and get a look inside."

"No, I must go," said Agalleos." When I wasn't more than Maklos' age, I spent a season here as a soldier." He spat, as though ridding himself of a bad taste." Even then, we were losing the war. The Cursed Ones spread their net wider every year. So far have they come."

"Nay, I must be the one to go." As the other two began to protest, Alain lifted a hand." I can understand their language. Can you?"

"Truly," admitted Agalleos, "I can't understand their speech." Maklos crossed his arms and grimaced, hating to miss his chance for a daring raid.

"Even if I can't get close enough to see into the fort, I can at least hear the gossip of the sentries. What do you know of these old walls? Is there one route better than the others?"

"Along the northern slope you'll find the ground dug through with old trenches and fallen walls. You can move in close, this way." Agalleos drew in the dirt with a stick." The fort's walls thrust out like a s.h.i.+p's prow at the narrow end of the hill." He sc.r.a.ped a deep line diagonal to the walls he had outlined." Move up along this cleft. To your left you'll see an old terrace that used to be an herb garden. There was an old stair there that was hidden by the queen's magic before the soldiers had to abandon the fort. In the corner of the garden, where three walls come together, find the carving of a lion woman. This is the sign that will open the weaving and let you through." He showed Alain how to place his hands and press them over the mouth and eye of the carving." Go up the stairs. There's a hidden place where you can see into the fort."

"So be it," said Alain.

He ate, and drank, and fussed over the hounds, waiting for nightfall. He took only his staff, a knife, and a water pouch, refusing the s.h.i.+eld, spear, and sword offered to him by Maklos." The staff is the only weapon I use," he said, "and a s.h.i.+eld will only get in my way."

Agalleos slipped a small stoppered bottle out of his pouch, opening it." We have little enough, but this is a good time. Open your left hand." He poured oil onto Alain's palm." Now rub this into your face from right to left, saying these words: 'Let the swift G.o.d Erekes place his hand upon my brow and make me invisible to all my enemies.'"

Alain hesitated. The oil smelled faintly of lilies but also of something tart and displeasing.

"This is men's magic," said Agalleos." Go on."

Starting at his ear, he rubbed the oil into his face while murmuring the words. Oil tingled on his lips, but he felt no different.

Night brought the waxing crescent moon, already low in the west but bright enough together with the light of the stars that Alain could creep away from their hiding place out onto the open ground. The ground was mostly flat, but here and there pocked with depressions and rubble, easy enough to move through without too great a risk of being seen whether or not the magic worked. Fires burned on the walls above. He heard the noises of camp, men singing about s.h.i.+ps and the sea, in odd contrast to the dust sliding under his feet, the hanks of dry gra.s.s his hands closed over at intervals, and thick patches of fennel rising up before him.

Once he had to lie low as a patrol strolled past. Maybe the spell hid him, or perhaps only the shadows did. He rose as soon as they were safely away and continued on in a crouch, hurrying from the refuge of a ditch to the lee of a fallen wall, sc.r.a.ping his knees on ragged stone, smelling the parched odor of the earth. The ground rose steeply beneath his feet. Above, torches burned, the edges of their flaring light obliterating the nearby stars. Figures moved along the walls, but their gazes were turned farther out, across the open ground to the concealing woodland beyond.

He scrambled up through the rubble of tumbled walls that had once ringed this lower slope of the hill. In an odd way it was as though those old sharpened senses, borrowed through dreams from Stronghand, remained with him. Gra.s.s sighed under the touch of the wind. Insects burrowed. An owl pa.s.sed overhead, calling a warning that no man but he could hear: "Beware! Beware!"

He hoisted himself up a chest-high embankment and rolled onto an open ledge. A wave of scent smothered him, lavender and rosemary gone wild, rue and sage a heady aroma like a cloud around his head. The moon sank low along the horizon. He crawled on hands and knees through the overgrown garden and found the place where three walls met, two of them old ring walls and the > third yet lower again, an ancient foundation almost consumed by the hillside. Because it was dark, he used touch to find the sphinx with her arching wing, powerful forelegs, and hindquarters carved statant into the stone. He placed a thumb in the sphinx's mouth, a forefinger in its eye, and a little finger in a cleft carved under the wing.

A musty exhalation of cold air kissed his face. The moon touched the western horizon, sinking fast. He stumbled forward and banged his knees on stairs carved into the hill, too dark to see. He crept his way up using staff and hand, an arduous climb because of the darkness. After ninety-seven steps-he counted every one-he saw a reddish light flickering and bobbing to his right; a wall cut off his forward progress, and he had to turn right and follow a narrow pa.s.sage barely wide enough to squeeze through because it was half filled with rubble. Fifteen more measured steps brought him to an embrasure cut into the rock, a hidden alcove from which he looked down onto a broad forecourt that fronted the main gate with its twin, square towers.

Soldiers gathered, ready to march. Their torches made the courtyard flare ominously, all smoke and fire and the glitter of bronze helmets and s.h.i.+elds. The standard of the blood-knife fluttered in their midst. A slender figure cut through the ranks of soldiers to speak to the standard-bearer. Alain recognized him at once: the prince, whom the guard had called "Seeker." The two spoke as the soldiers waited in patient silence. Then the prince hurried away, ducking inside a low doorway, lost to Alain's view.

The high priest came from farther down the forecourt, where a wall broke Alain's line of sight. His feathered headdress gleamed in the light of torches held up to either side of him. Ranks of spears bobbed alongside, a fence around their prisoner, trapped between two small wagons.

Because of her horse's body, she stood a head taller than her captives, but her proud and beautiful head was bowed and her eyes were blindfolded. Her thick hair lay tangled and dirty over her shoulders. Bruises and unhealed cuts mottled her naked torso, and she limped, unable to put her full weight on her right foreleg. Her arms were tied behind her back, resting on her withers. Ropes bound her belly and back, held taut out to two wagons, one before and one behind, so she could neither bolt nor kick. She was jerked to a halt as the wagon drivers pulled back on their reins. The gates were unbarred and men hurried to open them.

They weren't going to wait until daylight to take her away.

Her fine black coat, once glossy, was streaked with dirt and blood and coated with a dusting of ash. She s.h.i.+fted, favoring her injured leg. One of the drivers snapped his whip, a curling "snap" against her croup that made her lurch onto the injured foreleg and cry out in pain. Soldiers laughed to see her suffer. The heavy gates thudded against the towers. The way lay open for the high priest's party to march out.

Alain stumbled backward, almost tripping when he reached the stairs. The smoky light of torches had blinded him. He counted each step so as not to fall, but feeling with his feet and his hands into the darkness it went so slowly. Was that the jangle and clank of their movements, as the troop moved out? Could he actually hear wheels grinding against dust as the wagons rolled down the ramped gateway?

Or was that only the wind moaning through cracks in the stone?

Or the whisper of men speaking in low voices?

Ninety-seven steps brought him to the concealed entrance. His hands traced the carven wings of the sphinx, sleeping forever in stone. He paused at the juncture of the three walls, seeing a pale light gleaming on the small ledge that harbored the overgrown herb garden, and stayed hidden in the shadows.

Someone stood there, back to him, a soldier with a crested helm wearing a hip-length white cloak. Bronze greaves protected his calves. The wind caught the cloak and whipped the ends up to reveal a finely molded cuira.s.s decorated with boiled leather la.s.ses that reached halfway to his knees.

"You're wrong," he said as he turned to face some other person, who was hidden by the curve of the wall." They will fall before us because our armies are stronger than theirs. They are no better than packs of wild dogs." The pale light limned his profile as it came into view: it was the prince, but he was now dressed in the. garb of a soldier, the same clothing Alain had seen him in before when he had appeared as a shade in the ruins above Lavas.

How strange, that he had changed clothing so quickly.

"Then you underestimate them," said his unseen companion.