Priscilla glared up at him, almost as if she was aware of his rage. "I want you to get out of my house!" she shrieked.
"Be quiet, woman! You have allowed your children to be manipulated by that miserable creature. How could you?"
"You don't understand! You cannot understand. Emelda told me ..."
"A great many foolish things, in all likelihood. Why have you let this little hedge-witch nearly destroy your children?"
"No, no—she was strengthening them for their change!"
Mik, it is useless to argue with her. She is not sane any longer—if she ever was. She seems to think that soon the children will be transformed into . . . well, angels is the best I can come up with. Some sort of immortal, as much as I can gather from what she is thinking.
Wonderful. What should I do?
Your responsibility is to these children. Alain is never going to be well again, but we might be able to salvage the rest. We must get them away from this dreadful place now!
What about Priscilla and Emelda? And, for that matter, this Guardian thing they keep talking about?
Burning Emelda's stone has neutralized her for the moment, though I suspect she is so far gone that she will return to her former habits as soon as she can.
Who is she? You seem to know her.
I do, though it took me a while to recognize her. She was a blonde when I knew her, and weighed about twenty pounds more. She came to Tramontana about three and a half years ago, wanting training, and the Keeper tested her. I don't know the details, but she was rejected.
But she is a capable telepath. I find it hard to believe that the leronis let her leave.
I am unclear about that part. She just vanished one night. As to what happened, we may never know.
Priscilla staggered to her feet, letting Emelda slip back to the floor. She was breathing shallowly, and her eyes were like great pools of ice. "I will not permit you to continue as Regent for my children! If you try to take them away— I know that you are going to try—I will unleash the Guardian, and nothing can stand up to it! It is more powerful than any mortal, and more loving." She pressed shaking hands to her modest bosom. "Now, children, come to your mother. We are going to go to my rooms until these people leave tomorrow."
Only Alain stirred at all, and he with great reluctance.
He shifted in the chair, half rose, then looked confused. The rest of the youngsters hung back, seeking guidance.
"Be still, Alain," Vincent barked. "I feel as if I had just awakened from a terrible dream."
"Domna Priscilla," Mikhail began, determined to at least attempt to discover why she had done the things she had, "why did you agree to Regis' proposal to begin with?"
"Why, Emelda told me to. She said it would not make any difference one way or another. She was sure you would take Vincent and be gone within a tenday! If I had not let you come, then Regis Hastur, may his name be cursed, would have tried to force me to his will. She said he would do that, if I did not. She tried to make you go away, but you were stronger than she expected. And the time was growing short."
"Emelda did all this, not ,the Guardian thing?"
"Certainly not! It does not concern itself with such mundane matters." Priscilla looked offended at the idea. "It is a great being."
Mikhail, she is lost in some terrible delusion. There is nothing you can do to reach her now.
"Domna, the children are no longer yours to order," Mikhail said slowly. He knew, in his bones, that it was not going to be as simple as taking the children away from Halyn House. He wished he had the counsel of someone older and more experienced, but there were only himself and Liriel. Her corning had precipitated the crisis, for if he had not brought her, he would almost certainly have succumbed to the slow poisoning of his mind that Emelda had wrought. "I am going to have to take all of the children away, and you as well." He could not help the sorrow in his voice, the sadness he felt for this poor, crazed woman. "You are ill, and we must see that you are taken care of."
For a moment there was silence in the room. Then Priscilla drew herself up to her full height, cloaking herself in a dignity he had never seen her demonstrate before. "Tremble, little man, tremble. You will die, as all who oppose me perish."
Before he could think of any suitable answer, she swept from the room in a flutter of draperies, leaving Emelda on the floor as if the soothsayer were a discarded garment. "What in Zandru's hells do you think she meant?"
"You don't understand! You cannot understand. Emelda told me ..."
"A great many foolish things, in all likelihood. Why have you let this little hedge-witch nearly destroy your children?"
"No, no—she was strengthening them for their change!"
Mik, it is useless to argue with her. She is not sane any longer—if she ever was. She seems to think that soon the children will be transformed into . . . well, angels is the best I can come up with. Some sort of immortal, as much as I can gather from what she is thinking.
Wonderful. What should I do?
Your responsibility is to these children. Alain is never going to be well again, but we might be able to salvage the rest. We must get them away from this dreadful place now!
What about Priscilla and Emelda? And, for that matter, this Guardian thing they keep talking about?
Burning Emelda's stone has neutralized her for the moment, though I suspect she is so far gone that she will return to her former habits as soon as she can.
Who is she? You seem to know her.
I do, though it took me a while to recognize her. She was a blonde when I knew her, and weighed about twenty pounds more. She came to Tramontana about three and a half years ago, wanting training, and the Keeper tested her. I don't know the details, but she was rejected.
But she is a capable telepath. I find it hard to believe that the leronis let her leave.
I am unclear about that part. She just vanished one night. As to what happened, we may never know.
Priscilla staggered to her feet, letting Emelda slip back to the floor. She was breathing shallowly, and her eyes were like great pools of ice. "I will not permit you to continue as Regent for my children! If you try to take them away— I know that you are going to try—I will unleash the Guardian, and nothing can stand up to it! It is more powerful than any mortal, and more loving." She pressed shaking hands to her modest bosom. "Now, children, come to your mother. We are going to go to my rooms until these people leave tomorrow."
Only Alain stirred at all, and he with great reluctance.
"She meant," Vincent answered, "that she is going to call the Guardian." He shuddered a little. "The only thing is, it is rather difficult to rouse, even during the summer when it is most active."
"Vincent, what is this Guardian?"
He shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've only seen it in trances, and the memory is very faint. It has nothing to do with me, only with the others." Vincent cast a contemptuous look at his brothers and sisters.
"What have you seen?" Liriel demanded.
"Something long and skinny that shines."
Miralys was shivering. "It crawls in your brain, doesn't it, Emun? That's what you told me."
"Mother told me never to talk about it," Emun whispered, looking more and more anxious. "I never should have told you that—it will come and get us now." Emun's fear was obvious, even to the bewildered Guardsmen, and Alain was sobbing noisily.
What do you think, Liri? Something like the Sharra Matrix—gods forbid!
No, it doesn't have that feel to it. But the children are not good witnesses. They have been terrified for years with this bogey, and I cannot tell how much of it is this Guardian and how much is Emelda's meddling. But I think that it might be a chieri.
Those are never hostile, are they?
No, as far as 1 know. Yet both of the girls have a great deal of chieri blood in them, if I am not mistaken. And from the impression I received from Priscilla, she thinks of the Guardian as a loving thing.
If it is lovi
ng, why has it been terrorizing the children?
I believe that is more Priscilla or Emelda's influence than anything else. Do the locals fear this Ghost at the Springs?
No, not that I know of. They seem to hold it in awe, but they are unwilling to discuss it very much. : Emelda began to move then, and Liriel bent down and hauled the little soothsayer up by the front of her gown. With a ruthlessness he had never suspected his sister of possessing, Mikhail watched her examine the other woman as if she were an insect. He could sense that she was monitoring Emelda not at all gently.
Liriel released Emelda and turned to Mikhail. "We will remain awake, I think, for the night."
"Yes, I agree. And keep the children here." Emelda seemed shriveled now, and older than she had appeared a few hours before. Her thin shoulders were stooped, and her black eyes were dull and lusterless. "It will not do you any good," she muttered. "Asleep or awake, you will be dead before sunrise." Then she cast a longing look at the log where her jewel still rested in the · fire. The flames were lower, as the log burned away, and the stone shone in the dancing light, clear and seeming quite innocuous.
By midnight the dining room was quiet, the children having settled as well as they could into their chairs, drawing them close to the fireplace. Mikhail had ordered Duncan to bring blankets from the bedrooms, and the youngsters were bundled up in them. All the children looked anxious, except Alain who did not really understand what was happening.
Val stood abruptly, and Mikhail started. But the youngest girl was only putting her blanket on the floor. She gave him a twinkling grin. He knew she was not nearly as cheerful as she looked, only a bit more resilient than the rest.
He picked up another small log and added it to the fire. The sound of embers falling onto the hearth seemed enormous in the stillness of the room. Outside, the wind had lessened to a breeze.
In his mind, Mikhail began to go over the preparations he had to make for leaving Halyn House in the morning. He knew he had to get the children away—and quickly— Guardian or no Guardian. He was glad of the men that Liriel had brought, for he suspected that removing Priscilla Elhalyn was going to be a cat-fight. But his primary concern was the well-being of the youngsters. He had to keep them safe, not for the kingdom, and not to release him from the Regency, but because they were unable to protect themselves.
It gave him a peculiar sensation, to feel this degree of devotion to a bunch of brats he had barely known two months before. They had grown on him, even Alain, who was so pathetic. He had never before experienced the quiet
passion he felt for these odd children, and he began to wonder if he would feel that way about his own some day. Parenting, he decided, was a great deal more complex than he had ever imagined.
They would need blankets, food, cloaks, and such warm clothing as the children possessed. He would take not only the horses which had drawn Liriel's carriage, but another team as well. He tried to remember if there was a harness in the stables for a team of four.
Suddenly, the light of the fire seemed to dim, casting dark shadows in the corners of the room. Alain jerked in his chair. The room seemed colder now, and there was a smell in the room, a faint minty scent that was pleasant.
WHO DISTURBS MY REST? Mikhail felt the question rattle his mind—a booming sort of voice that sounded like thunder.
No one, Liriel replied quickly. She threw Mikhail a brief look.
WHO CALLS ME FROM SLEEP? Mikhail had the sensation of being thoroughly examined in a moment, then discarded just as rapidly. The children, on the other hand* reacted as if they had been hit by a bolt of lightning.
Val shot up from her cocoon of blankets, and Mira pulled hers over her head, as if she could escape the voice by hiding. Vincent leaped to his feet, roaring and shaking his fist. "Get out of my mind!" he howled.
Then Alain began to convulse again, and Mikhail strode toward him. Emun whimpered a little, then stuffed his knuckles into his mouth and bit down hard.
By the time Mikhail reached Alain, the youngster's back was arched, and he was choking on his own saliva. The slender body was racked with convulsions, great waves of muscular tremors that raced along his arms and legs. He turned the young man to one side, feeling more powerless than he ever had before.
Vincent staggered to his feet, roaring, and then rammed his head into the wall. Daryll and Tomas rushed to him, grabbed his arms, and dragged him away from the wall as blood began to course down the high forehead. Vincent fought them with amazing strength, and managed to pull free of Daryll. He balled a fist and swung wildly at the Guardsman.
The sound of laughter rang out in the room, loud enough to be heard even above Vincent's fury and the screams of the younger children. It was Emelda, and the sound of it was like the shriek of the wind.
"Now you are going to die!" She sounded quite pleased with this prospect, and not the least afraid. Mikhail could have killed her himself.
WHO DISTURBS ME? The booming mental voice nearly knocked Mikhail off his knees.
I, Priscilla Elhalyn, your servant, have called you. Destroy these impudent intruders! So that I and my children can come to you as has been appointed.
I DO NOT DESTROY!
These are enemies, and they will prevent me from bringing the children!
I WANT NO CHILDREN! LEAVE ME IN PEACE, WOMAN. YOU HAVE PESTERED ME ENOUGH!
Now the Guardian sounded annoyed more than anything else. Vincent was still struggling to get free of the Guardsmen. The younger children were quiet now, too quiet.
But you promised that I could. ...
DELUDED FEMALE. I PROMISED NOTHING. GO AWAY.
I must bring the children to you, so that they may . . .
SILENCE!
The dining room became very still then, and Vincent stopped struggling. The sound of the fire and the ragged breathing of the company were the only noises. Even Alain's seizure ceased, and he went slack and boneless in Mikhail's hands.
Then there was a single wail from the back of the house, a half scream that made the hairs on Mikhail's neck bristle and his body go cold with fear. It ended abruptly, in midcry, and he knew that Priscilla Elhalyn had died in that moment.
Emelda knew it, too, and her eyes went wide with panic. She tried to rise from the chair where she was bound, her clawlike hands scrabbling at the ropes they had used to bind her. "No, no. It isn't supposed to be like this! We were going to live forever! We were going to be gods!"
Liriel rose from beside Miralys, drawing herself up
grandly. A fine sheen of moisture gleamed on her face, and her gown rested damply against her bosom. There were lines of weariness around her mouth, and her red hair had half escaped from the butterfly clasp, so she presented the appearance of having just risen from sleep. In spite of this, she was a dignified figure, strong and sure of herself, and Mikhail regarded her with awe.
"Only gods are gods, not human beings," she told Emelda.
Outside the window of the dining room, a rough caw sounded, as if the crow agreed.
13
The soft light of a winter morning crept through the windows of the dining room, rousing the sleepers who had remained there through the night. The fire was nearly out, and the sour smell of the stale food remaining on the table pervaded the chamber. There were other odors as well, for Alain had soiled himself during his seizures, and one of the girls had vomited. No one had the energy to cope with the mess.
Mikhail looked around, swallowing in a dry and foul mouth. His muscles ached, and the place where Emelda had scratched him itched furiously. He was filled with a profound sense of failure and shame. It took all his will to banish these emotions and order his weary mind to function. He knew that as tired as he was, if he gave in to his jangled feelings, he would make even more mistakes.
The Guardsmen seemed the least affected by the events of the previous night. They were waking up, with the exception of Daryll who had managed to remain alert and on watch until dawn, stretching their legs, yawning, gruntin
g, and generally behaving as if the dining room of Halyn House were a barrack. Mikhail rallied himself enough to direct his mind to the tasks at hand.
"Get the horses fed, and prepare to leave in a few hours."
"What are we going to do about her?" This was Tomas, and he was pointing at the snoring figure of Emelda, still bound in her chair. She looked small and harmless.
"I haven't decided yet."
Valenta was sitting up in her bundle of blankets, watching Mikhail with red-rimmed eyes. "She killed Ysaba, you know. Pushed her down the stairs."
"What? You . . . you told me she went away."
"That's what we were supposed to say. They both killed her—my mother and Emelda—and buried her under the hedge. They thought no one knew, but I saw them. That's why the crows keep coming around. They can smell the—" Suddenly Valenta's small face crumpled into tears. "I liked Ysaba!" she whimpered.
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