by Carol Berg
We tiptoed into the entry hall where a grand stair led upward into darkness . . . no, not total darkness. A pinpoint of light hovered on the third-floor landing, then began moving slowly downward. Gerick’s gesture commanding our silence was unnecessary. We crowded into a niche filled with aromatic plants.
Three dark figures moved down the stair, and the single candle flame that led them gleamed unmistakably on a steel blade. I felt, rather than heard, Paulo’s long knife come free, and my own dagger found its way into my hand. Gerick carried no weapon, but I would not have called him unarmed. The touch of his lean body, pressing me backward into the shadows, filled me with unreasonable dread. I shifted away from him . . . and bumped my head into a dangling wind chime. The merry tinkling rang through the silent house like a trumpet call.
“Who’s there?” called a man’s harsh voice.
“Hold, mistress!” commanded another, and the candle was raised high and a brush of enchantment made it flare up. Two well-armed Dar’Nethi, dressed in green and yellow livery, held the arms of a pale, worried Mistress Aimee.
A deep rumbling came from Paulo, but Gerick quickly laid a hand on his shoulder. At the same time I heard . . . or felt . . . Gerick open his mouth to speak. But before he could reveal himself, I slapped my hand over his lips.
“Mistress Aimee, are you all right?” I called. “It’s only Jen.”
Something strange was going on, and I didn’t think Gerick ought to be bumbling about in front of anyone. And Paulo was so intent on rescue, it likely hadn’t occurred to him that the men could just as likely be there to protect Aimee as harm her.
“I’ve just stopped in to . . . tell you that my grandmother is much better, thanks to the Healer you sent and the soup and everything. We’ve brought her to Avonar to recuperate. But when I came to your door, I saw the light creeping about through the windows, and I was afraid. . . .”
“Jen! So soon! I . . . I’ve wondered if you and your grandmother escaped your village in time. Ha’Vor, D’Kano, have no fear. This is my dear friend from Tymnath. Everything is quite all right . . . well, as right as it can be in such a terrible time.” After the initial stumble, Aimee’s voice was as pleasant and confidant as always. “I’ll be right down, Jen. I’m so anxious to speak with you, and find out how you got away.”
Her strange comment made me think we were right to be discreet. What did she mean escaped?
The two guards relaxed only slightly, but their candle flame died down again to a normal size. I shoved my elbows backward to restrain my two companions, who had relaxed not at all. But whether it was my direction or their own judgment, they remained out of sight as I stepped well away from the niche. Aimee sped lightly down the stair and embraced me.
The scowling guards examined me thoroughly. Rumpled and unwashed after a month of desert adventures, my turnout was certainly not what one might expect of Mistress Aimee’s friends. “How did you get in here, miss?” demanded one well-armed man. “What’s happened to you?”
Aimee interrupted before I could answer. “Excuse me, D’Kano!” she said indignantly. “Jen knows she is always welcome in my house. She’s had a harrowing journey through all the checkpoints and uncertainties on the roads, and I’ll not send her off without a rest. If you gentlemen will take up your watch at the front and back entries, I’ll retrieve my cloak, let Jen warm herself at the fire you so kindly made me, and learn what news my friend has brought me of her dear grandmother.”
“Mistress, you should return to the palace at once. Your mission . . .”
Aimee held up a green velvet pouch. “My official business is done, Ha’Vor, but I cannot send on what I’ve gathered here until tonight’s courier leaves the palace anyway. So we are truly in no hurry, and Jen’s story might give me valuable news to send along. Only a short while, and we’ll be on our way. Commander Je’Reint is fortunate to have such steadfast loyalty as yours and that of so many friends such as Jen. I’ll call you when I’m ready to go.”
How could any man refuse such a command, issued as it was with Aimee’s usual charm? Utterly innocent. Utterly sincere. Utterly unshakable. The two men could not bow and scrape and hurry off to do her bidding fast enough. I needed to make a study of Aimee.
Once the soldiers had retreated toward the front and back entries, Aimee raised a finger to her lips for caution and took my hand. Her fingers felt half frozen. “Come this way,” she said quietly and pulled me into the small sitting room. My two companions glided along behind us.
Aimee closed the door behind us, drew her finger over the latch—setting a common ward—and then whirled about. “There are three of you here. I beg you speak, so I may know you all. I dared not hope—”
Gerick glanced first at Paulo, who stood just inside the sitting room door, apparently struck witless, and then at me, his lips twitching at the edge of a smile. “Good evening, Mistress Aimee,” he said softly, bowing to the lady. “It seems I’ve been rescued yet again with the aid of Gar’Dena’s house.”
Aimee clasped her hands together fervently as she dipped her knee to Gerick. “And I can hear that you’re well. Oh, my lord, welcome.” It took me a moment to recall their claim that Gerick was a king in his own land.
“And your third . . .” Aimee’s whole being strained to guess the answer, a fruitless yearning until Gerick gave Paulo an elbow in the ribs.
“Uh . . . pardon, mistress . . . I’m here as well. Paulo, that is.”
Paulo’s state was not going to improve, for Aimee graced him with such a smile as might melt a steel post.
“What’s going on here, mistress?” said Gerick, his good humor already set aside. “Where is my mother?”
“Come sit down.” Aimee settled on the couch nearest the fire and quickly drew us close: me beside her, Paulo on the floor at her feet, Gerick a few steps away, standing by the hearth, his elbow propped on the mantle, his curled fingers resting lightly on his mouth. Each of us had one eye on the door.
“A great deal has happened over the past weeks,” she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “Our plan to discover the truth of the Lady has been exposed. It pains me to report that it is your involvement, my lord, that has caused the greatest disturbance. I’ll tell you all, but I must be quick about it. Ha’Vor and D’Kano are good men and very kind, but they don’t wholly trust me.”
She leaned forward confidentially. “Most importantly, my lord, your parents are safe. Four days ago, your mother was arrested and charged with conspiracy”—Gerick jerked his hand away from his mouth, but Aimee held up her own to keep him quiet—“but she was not harmed. She was allowed to join your father by giving her word not to leave the hospice. Your father’s identity has not been revealed to the public, and, as he is her guest, Lady D’Sanya refuses to allow him to be disturbed or questioned. You see, the Lady has taken the throne . . .”
In a concise summary, Aimee described Ven’Dar’s arrest, the new attacks on the eastern Vales, the massive movement of fighters and arms to the northern Wastes, and Je’Reint’s oath of fealty to D’Sanya. “. . . for he claimed that his oath to his prince bound him not to report our activity. She accepted his word, and has entrusted him with command of the northern troops. He vouched for me and T’Laven the Healer, as well as your mother. These men with me are Je’Reint’s own guardsmen, sent to protect me on any foray outside the palace.”
“Protect you?” said Paulo. “If there’s such danger about, then you should stay somewhere safe and have guards that serve you alone. I would—There’s those as would give anything to keep you from danger.”
Aimee’s cheeks could have ignited a mud puddle. “Thank you for your concern, good sir. I’ve slept safely at the palace since the Lady Seri was sent away. I’ve only come here tonight to retrieve some gems that were my father’s. We need every artifact of power we can gather for the war.”
She laid her hand on my lap and nodded to the other two, lowering her voice even more. “You must all take great care in the streets.
Rumors of Zhid fly everywhere. And rumors . . . terrible lies . . . of you, Master Gerick. I must warn you: You are in the most dreadful danger every moment you stay here, as is anyone seen with you; your description is everywhere and the Lady has commanded that you be hunted down. This city is choking with madness . . . riot. Two men were killed when the mob named them Zhid.”
A mob . . . killings . . . madness . . . Avonar. In all the days of my life, even the most wretched and terrible of my captivity, never had I felt the weight of catastrophe that settled over me with Aimee’s news. Avonar was the heart of the world. Our bulwark against everlasting darkness.
“With Prince Ven’Dar confined no one knows where,” she continued, “Commander Je’Reint fighting the Zhid in the north, and Preceptor Mem’Tara and her advisor N’Tien sent to retake Astolle and Lyrrathe in the east, the walls of Avonar have never been so poorly defended. The Preceptors have talked of evacuating children and the sick.”
“How can they think of ignoring the city defenses?” I burst out. “If Avonar falls, the Vales can be partitioned! And one by one, they’ll fall, too.”
Amid the ebb and flow of Dar’Nethi history, only a few things could one hold as incontrovertible fact: the sun would rise in the morning, the yellow jeffiri would wing their way to the Lydian Vale on the spring equinox, and Avonar—blessed Avonar, the City of Light—would endure. How could the city that had withstood the worst assaults of the Lords for a thousand years be brought to its knees so quickly now they were dead?
Aimee hushed me again. “Just today, the princess sent most of the city guard north, as reports have Je’Reint facing ten thousand Zhid with more on their way. We hear the Zhid are savage—far worse than in the past. Their numbers increase overnight, and they seem to think as one mind. The Princess has taken on the security of Avonar herself, saying she will shield us in the same way she shields the residents of her hospice.”
“She’ll fail,” said Gerick, ferociously quiet. “They mustn’t rely on her devices. Surely they’ve kept some capable warriors among the defenders.”
“Certainly. The core of the palace guard remains, and a thin reserve on the walls. She has enlisted a number of untrained volunteers from the city, but also many capable warriors that the other troops have refused.”
“Who would refuse a willing fighter?” I said. “Have we so many to spare?”
Aimee ducked her head. “They are the Restored. She’s put them in their own band, called the Lion’s Guard, and because they are experienced in war, she’s set them to command the defenses.”
At that, Gerick’s head popped up. “The ones who were Zhid? The ones she’s healed?”
“Even if the legion commanders were willing, too many Dar’Nethi refuse to fight beside them. But they are good and loyal—”
“If her healing enchantments fail like all her others,” said Gerick, “she’s as good as put Avonar in the hands of the Zhid.”
Aimee blanched. “Are you saying the Restored could lose their souls again?”
“I’ve not seen it. But yes . . . everything she’s done has gone wrong, bent or twisted in some fashion.”
“But there are hundreds of them.” Aimee’s shock left her stammering. “The two men killed by the mob were two of the Restored. We assumed it was just people’s fear . . . prejudices against those who had been turned . . . making people see Zhid where there were none. Commander Je’Reint . . . the Preceptors . . . must be told of this possibility. We must convince them to send reinforcements—”
Brisk footsteps, the jangle of chimes from the entry hall, and the hiss of a triggered door ward sent Gerick and Paulo ducking behind furniture. I was hard-pressed to keep my seat, but Aimee held my arm and leaned her head close. When she started to giggle and babble something about people I didn’t know, I gaped at her. “You remember,” she said, “it was the silliest thing she ever did, and I never thought to tell her mother.” A firm finger poked my side. “You remember, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I blurted out. “The silliest thing. I didn’t tell her mother either.” I was unable to muster any giggling.
“Mistress Aimee, should we not be on our way?” The man’s voice came from the doorway. “We would have you safe behind the palace gates before the night gets late. They’re hunting the Destroyer house to house tonight. Perhaps your friend should accompany you to your quarters.”
“No!” I said, much too loud. “No, I have to get back to my grandmother. Will you be seeing Commander Je’Reint, Aimee? He is so kind, and was so concerned about my grandmother when she fell ill. He’d come to oversee her favorite stallion’s breeding and ended up spending the entire day with her. You know she loves nothing better than her horses. And if you were to see him, you could give him all my news.”
“Certainly . . .” Aimee’s expression shifted in the firelight, growing intensely thoughtful. After a moment, she nodded decisively. “Certainly. But alas, my lord will be engaged in the north for a long while until this Zhid threat is quelled, as they’ve seen only the first skirmishers. If you were to write him a message, though, I could ensure that he received it. A bit of cheerful, everyday news would surely give Commander Je’Reint joy at such a time, don’t you think, Ha’Vor?”
“Of course, mistress.”
Her smile blossomed into brilliance as she jumped to her feet and pulled me from my seat. With a grip like an iron pincer, she dragged me across the room to a writing desk. “You’ll find paper and pen in the slots. Write your message for Je’Reint, and I’ll deliver it myself. I was consulting Preceptor Ce’Aret yesterday, and though she is retired, she is still so wise. She suggested that I should join my Commander Je’Reint in the field as soon as possible. Though I’m so much trouble to have around, awkward and clumsy as I am, the rapid shifting of our forces makes accurate Imaging difficult at a distance, and my images have not been resolving clearly of late.”
She stood right behind me, laying her hands on my shoulders as I pulled out a sheet of smooth notepaper and unstoppered a silly-looking ink bottle shaped like a rinoceroos. I wasn’t sure what she wanted.
“And you know, Jen,” she went on, scarcely taking a breath, “I was thinking that your brother who cares for your grandmother’s horses could join me at the battlefront next week if he can be spared. Je’Reint needs every hand, does he not, D’Kano?”
One of the guardsmen, an intelligent, dark-browed fellow, nodded. “If the fellow can kill a Zhid or aid those of us who can, he’s needed.”
“An excellent thought. His Horsemaster’s skills would be of immense use, and he could, perhaps, relieve these two gentlemen of this tedious duty to shepherd me everywhere. Even better, he could contribute his immediate knowledge of the situation in the Vales and many other important matters to the next image I work for Commander Je’Reint. Speak to your brother, Jen, if you will, and I’ll consult those at the palace, to see if this might be possible.”
As Aimee engaged the guardsmen in conversation about the best route through the tense city and whom she should contact about taking her Horsemaster friend directly to Je’Reint in the battlefield, I scratched some nonsense about grandmothers and horse-breeding on the notepaper and tried to sort out what she had just told me. The bold plan hidden in her sideways conversation finally emerged clear and sharp, leaving me in awe.
Imagers could weave a witness’s knowledge and memories into a visual testimony to be presented at a judgment. The impact of such vivid testimony was inarguable. Paulo’s knowledge of Gerick’s case against D’Sanya, of her use of the oculus, of Gerick’s beliefs and fears about the Zhid would be a mesmerizing tale. But of course, the integrity of the image was valid only so far as the integrity of the Imager and that of the witness, and in serious cases a Speaker would be called in to judge their veracity. Aimee believed enough in Je’Reint and enough in Paulo and enough in herself to risk her life to bring Je’Reint the truth.
As I gave her the folded paper, her hand brushed mine, and in my mind appeare
d the faintest of voices, a mind-speaking that the most skilled Dar’Nethi spy would have difficulty detecting. If he agrees, have him meet me at the north gate of the city when the bells ring third watch. Bring a fast horse that can carry two. If we’re to win this race, we must ride faster than I can manage alone.
And while her words yet gleamed in my mind, she kissed my cheeks. “And now, dear Jen, give your grandmother a kiss for me, and consult your brother about my idea. He is so very brave and honorable, and I delight in his company. I look forward to meeting him again soon.”
“I’ll speak to him. And I’ll set the door wards as I leave,” I said, bending casually over the hearth and making curling sweeps of the hand as if to cool and bank its flames. “Be very careful on your journey, Aimee.”
“I’ve no worries. Zhid would find me a poor bargain.” She swept her cloak over her shoulders. A vase crashed to the floor. “Goodness, what a mess! Well, perhaps those who come searching this house for the devil Lord tonight will clean it up for me. Come, good fellows, let’s be off before the streets get crowded. May your own Way be safe, dear Jen!”
No sooner had the front doors shut firmly behind the three than Gerick emerged from the draperies and Paulo popped out from under a couch.
“Demonfire,” said Paulo, staring at the door through which Aimee had departed. “She wants me to come with her?”
“Why would she want Paulo to go to Je’Reint?” said Gerick. “And we can’t wait until next week. Her heart is good, but—”
“She’s going to convince Je’Reint to send troops to Avonar,” I said, still marveling at what had just occurred. “Tonight, if Paulo’s willing to take her and be her witness . . .” I told them the pieces of Aimee’s plan that they could not have known. “. . . and so she’s taken this upon herself and Paulo, leaving you free to deal with D’Sanya and her oculus and her avantirs and whatever else she’s made.”
“My good lord,” said Paulo softly. I’d never heard Paulo address Gerick so. Yet this was no mere formality of address. Never had I imagined that a statement formed of three simple words could bear the weight of a loyalty and friendship so far beyond my understanding. I surmised that it had been a very long while indeed since Paulo’s Way had left him anywhere but steadfastly at Gerick’s side.
