A young nobleman and his lady paused before her. The man was wearing a short cape edged with sable, over a red satin jacket embroidered with gold thread. He reached out and took a pastry. 'These are wonderful. You should try them, dearheart,' he said to the woman beside him.
'I'll try a taste of yours,' she said, her white satin gown rustling as she moved in closer to her lover. He grinned at her and placed a small portion of the pastry between his teeth. She laughed, leant in and took it from him with a kiss. Keeva stood very still, aware that she was invisible to them. It was a curious feeling. Not once did their eyes meet hers, and they moved away into the crowd without ever registering her presence. Other guests flowed by, some pausing to take a pastry, others merely moving towards the dance floor. Her tray empty, Keeva edged around the wall and down the short staircase to the long kitchens.
Norda was there, refilling goblets with fine wine. 'When does the Grey Man arrive?' asked Keeva.
'Later,' she said.
'But it is his Gathering.'
'He is here already,' said Norda. 'Have you not noticed a steady stream of people moving through to the Small Hall beyond?'
Keeva had, but had not thought about it. The young sergeant, Emrin, was stationed at the rear door and Keeva was determined not to be seen looking at him. She wished to give the man no reason to pursue his interest in her.
'Most of the nobles and merchants here this evening will be seeking some favour from the Gentleman,' said Norda, 'so, for the first three hours, he sits in the Walnut Room and receives them. Omri is with him, and he will be writing down their requests.'
'So many people wanting favours,' said Keeva. 'He must be very well loved.'
Norda's laughter pealed out. 'Idiot,' she said, as she took up her tray and moved back to the stairs.
Keeva was confused, and she glanced around and saw some of the other girls smiling. Embarrassed, though she did not know why, Keeva refilled her tray and returned to the Great Hall.
Twenty musicians were playing now, the music fast and lively, and dancers whirled on the polished floor. It was warm in the hall, but all the wide doors leading to the terrace were open, and a fresh sea breeze was filtering into the room.
For another hour the dancing continued, and the hall was filled with the sounds of music and laughter. Keeva's arms began to ache from holding the tray. Few people were now eating. Norda moved carefully around the edge of the hall. 'Time to exchange that tray for refreshments,' she said.
Keeva followed her downstairs. 'Why did you call me an idiot?' she asked, as the blonde woman began to fill crystal glasses with wine.
'He is not loved,' said Norda. 'He is hated by them all.'
'But why, if he grants them favours?'
'That is why. Do you know nothing about the nobility?'
'Obviously not.'
Norda paused in her work. 'He is a foreigner and immensely wealthy. They envy him, and envy always leads to hatred. It doesn't matter what he does, they will always hate him. Last year when there was a failure of the crops in the east the Gentleman sent two hundred tons of grain to be distributed among the starving. A fine deed, yes?'
'Of course.'
'Well, this fine deed prevented the cost of grain from soaring, and thus reduced the profits the nobles and merchants could have made. You think they would thank him for that?' Norda smiled. 'You'll learn, Keeva. Nobles are a different breed.' Her smile faded, and her eyes became cold and angry. 'I wouldn't piss on one if he was on fire.'
'I do not know any,' said Keeva.
'Best to keep it that way,' replied Norda, her voice softening. 'They bring nothing but grief to the likes of us. We'd better get back.'
Carrying a tray of drinks, Keeva returned to the Great Hall, and began moving through the throng. The musicians had ceased playing briefly, and were partaking of refreshments, and most of the nobles had gathered in small groups. They were chatting and laughing, and the mood was a happy one. There was still no sign of the Grey Man, though Keeva saw the one noble she did recognize: Lord Aric of House Kilraith. Resplendent in a grey and black striped tunic shirt of heavy silk, edged with silver braid, he was standing close to the terrace, talking to the young woman Keeva had earlier seen taking the pastry from the mouth of her companion. The two were laughing, and Keeva saw Aric whisper something in the woman's ear. He was a handsome man, slim and elegant, his features fine, though his nose a little long, thought Keeva. He looked younger than she remembered, his hair uniformly dark. Keeva seemed to recall that he had had grey in his hair when he had ridden through the settlement last year. And his face had seemed puffier. He has probably dyed the hair, she thought, and lost a little weight. It suited him.
Just behind them stood a black-bearded man, tall and broad-shouldered with deep-set eyes. He was wearing an ankle-length robe of deep blue velvet edged with silver thread. In his right hand was a long staff, topped with an ornate twist of silver. The man was standing quietly, holding the hand of a young, blond-haired boy around eight years of age. Keeva moved towards them. The tall bearded man stepped away from the shadows of the terrace doorway and Keeva felt his gaze upon her. It was a shock, for she had become used to being invisible to these people. His eyes were dark and large beneath hooded lids.
'Drink, sir?' she said.
The tall man nodded. His face was broad, made even wider by the heavy black beard. He released the boy's hand and took a crystal goblet filled with red wine. 'I much prefer it white,' he said, his voice low. He smiled at her and held up the goblet. Immediately colour began to drain from it, becoming first a bright scarlet, then a deep pink, until, at last, it looked as clear as water. Keeva blinked. The man chuckled, then sipped the changed wine. 'Excellent,' he said.
She glanced down at the silent boy. His bright blue eyes met hers and he gave a shy smile. 'Can I fetch something for your son?' she asked the bearded man.
He smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. 'He is my nephew and my page, not my son. And, yes, that would be most kind.'
'We have cordials made from apples, or pears or peaches,' she told the boy. 'Which would you prefer?'
The child glanced up into the face of the bearded man, who turned to Keeva. 'He is very shy, but I know that he likes pear juice. Let me relieve you of your tray while you fetch it.'
Instantly the tray floated up from Keeva's hands, hovering in the air, before lowering itself down to a small side-table. Keeva clapped her hands in delight, and the small boy smiled.
'Come now, my friend,' said the Lord Aric. 'You must save your entertainments for those who will most appreciate them.'
Keeva moved swiftly downstairs, filled a goblet with cooled pear juice and returned to the ballroom. The boy accepted the drink with a smile of thanks and sipped the contents.
Lord Aric took the bearded man by the arm and led him away towards the centre of the hall. A breath of breeze whispered through the terrace doorway. Keeva sighed with relief, for her clothes were sticking to her in the heat. Not only was it a warm summer night, but the lantern flames and the hundreds of bodies in the hall were producing almost intolerable warmth.
In the centre of the hall Lord Aric ordered two servants to pull a table across the floor. Then he sprang upon it and lifted his arms in the air. 'My friends,' he called out, 'by your leave, I have brought a little entertainment to amuse you. I ask you to offer your warmest greetings to Eldicar Manushan, recently arrived from our Angostin homeland.' With that he reached down, and the tall bearded man took his hand and climbed to the table. The nobles and their ladies politely applauded. Aric leapt down from the table and Eldicar Manushan gazed out over their faces. 'It is a trifle warm, dear people,' he told them. 'I can see that some of the ladies are feeling faint, and that their wrists will soon begin to burn from overuse of their fans. So let me begin with a small rearrangement of the weather.' Laying the long staff at his feet he clasped his hands together, raised them high, then opened his fingers and drew his arms apart. What appeared to Keeva to be a white m
ist floated from his palms, and rose into the air.
Eldicar made a circular motion with his hand, and the mist rolled itself into a ball and began to grow. With a gesture he made it float across the room to where a small group of noblewomen were fanning themselves. As it hovered above them their faces changed, and they squealed with delight. The ball split into two. One remained above the women, the other bobbed in the air, then floated to another group. Each time it stopped it split itself, though neither of the globes lost any size.
People underneath them began to applaud, while those they had not yet reached looked mystified. Keeva watched as one of the globes spun gently towards her. As it came close she felt suddenly cool, as if a breeze, filtered over snow, was blowing through the room. It was both refreshing and exhilarating. Soon there were white globes all around the Great Hall, and the temperature had dropped dramatically.
All conversation ceased. Eldicar Manushan lowered his arms. 'Now,' he said, 'the entertainment can begin. But first, my friends, let me thank you for your welcome. It is extremely gratifying to see such grace, beauty and culture so far from home.' He bowed to them, and they applauded the compliment with great enthusiasm. 'Might I also thank Lord Aric for his courtesy and his generosity in inviting me to share his home during my stay in Kydor.' Again they applauded. 'And now,' he said, 'a little entertainment to amuse you. What you are about to see are images. They cannot touch you. They cannot see you. So please do not be alarmed. Especially when you notice there is a huge black bear among you!' He suddenly pointed to the western wall.
A massive form reared there, and a bloodcurdling roar sounded from it. Those closest to the ferocious animal screamed and backed away. In an instant the bear dropped to all fours and broke into a dozen pieces. Each of the pieces then bounded out on to the dance floor, and Keeva saw that they were all black rabbits. Laughter echoed around the hall – most loudly from those terrified only moments before. Eldicar Manushan clapped his hands, and the rabbits became blackbirds, which flew into the air and out through the terrace doorway.
A lion bounded in. People scattered, but without real fear now. Rising on its hind legs it pawed at the air, and growled menacingly. Then it padded around the room. A young woman reached out as it loped by, her hand sinking into the beast and passing through it. The lion turned towards her and reared up. She cried out – but the lion shattered, becoming a flock of golden doves, which circled the room.
The crowd cried out for more, but Eldicar Manushan merely bowed. 'I have promised Lord Aric to reserve my finest – shall we say? – tricks for the Duke's Feast at the Winter Palace in eight days. It was merely my duty tonight to whet your appetite. I thank you for your applause.' He bowed again, and this time the clapping was thunderous.
Climbing down from the table he retrieved his staff and walked back to where Keeva and the boy were standing. Taking another goblet he twirled it in his hands before sipping the wine. Then he glanced at Keeva. 'Did you enjoy the entertainment?' he asked her.
'I did, sir. I will be sorry to miss the Duke's Feast. What is your page's name?'
'His name is Beric. He is a good boy, and I thank you for your kindness to him.' Raising her hand to his lips he kissed it. At that moment there was a stir from the far side of the hall. Dressed in a black satin tunic shirt, dark leggings and boots, the Grey Man made his entrance. He was immediately seen by several women, who smiled and curtsied. He bowed, exchanged pleasantries and moved across the room.
Keeva watched him, and was struck by the easy, confident way in which he greeted his guests. He stood out from them by his lack of adornment. He wore no brooches or rings, and no gold or silver glistened from his tunic. Even so, he looked every inch the lord of the palace, she thought. Around him the other men seemed as flamboyant as peacocks.
Moving from group to group he made his way to the far end of the hall, where Keeva stood holding her tray. Lord Aric and his friend, Eldicar Manushan, stepped forward and greeted him.
'I am sorry to have missed your display,' the Grey Man told the magicker.
'I do apologize, sir,' he said, with a bow. 'It was remiss of me to begin while you were not present. However, you will see something far greater at the Duke's Feast.'
The music began again, and dancers took to the floor. Several of the guests approached the Grey Man. Keeva could no longer hear the conversation, but she watched his face as he listened to them. He was attentive, though his eyes had a faraway look, and it seemed to Keeva that he was not enjoying the festivities.
At that moment Keeva's attention was caught by a young noble edging closer to the Grey Man. He looked tense, and there was sweat upon his brow, despite the cool breeze still emanating from the white globes that hung above the revellers. Then Keeva saw a second man detach himself from a nearby group, and also move towards the Grey Man. Their movements seemed furtive and Keeva found her heart beating faster.
The Grey Man was talking to a young woman in a red gown as the first of the men came up behind him. Keeva saw something glitter in the man's hand. Before she could cry out a warning the Grey Man spun on his heel, his left arm blocking a knife thrust, his right hand, fingers extended, slamming into the assassin's throat. The man gagged and fell to his knees, the long-bladed knife clattering to the floor. The second man ran in, knife raised, but collided with the woman in the red dress, who was trying to back away from the scene. The assassin pushed her aside and she fell heavily. The music had stopped now, and all the dancers were standing staring at the knifeman. Keeva saw the guard, Emrin, run at the assassin, but the Grey Man waved him back. The assassin stood very still, knife extended towards his intended victim. 'Well,' said the Grey Man, 'are you intending to earn your pay?'
'I do this for the honour of House Kilraith!' shouted the young noble, charging forward.
The Grey Man sidestepped, slapped away the knife arm, and tripped the young man, who sprawled headlong to the stone floor. He hit hard, but rolled and came to his knees. The Grey Man moved in and kicked the knife from the assassin's hand. The young noble surged to his feet, and ran for the terrace. 'Let him go,' the Grey Man ordered Emrin and two other guards who had joined him.
Turning his attention to the first of the assassins, the Grey Man knelt by the still body. Keeva glanced down. The man's bladder had released its contents, which had stained the expensive grey leggings he wore. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly up at the ornate ceiling. The Grey Man rose and turned to Emrin. 'Remove the body,' he said. Then he strolled from the room.
'An unusual man,' said Eldicar Manushan.
Recovering from her shock, Keeva glanced down at little Beric, who was staring wide-eyed at the dead man.
'It is all right,' she said, kneeling and putting her arms around his slim shoulders. There is no danger.'
'Will he be all right?' asked Beric, his voice trembling. 'He is very still.'
'They will take care of him,' Keeva assured him. 'Perhaps you should leave.'
'I shall take him to his room,' said Eldicar. 'Once again my thanks to you.' Taking the boy by the hand the magicker walked across the hall and vanished into the crowd.
The musicians, not knowing what to do, started to play once more, but the music faded away when no one moved. Then the first of the nobles began to leave the area.
Within minutes the Great Hall was deserted and Keeva and the other servants cleared away goblets, tankards and dishes, before returning with mops, buckets and cleaning cloths. By the time they had finished there was no sign that hundreds of guests had danced and dined there.
In the kitchens, as they washed the dishes and cutlery, Keeva listened to the other girls talking about the failed assassination. She learnt that the two young men were nephews of the merchant Vanis, but no one had any idea why they should seek to kill the Gentleman. The girls talked about how lucky the Gentleman had been, and how fortunate that his blow had killed the first assassin.
As the dawn was breaking Keeva made her way to her room. She was tired, but
her mind whirled with the events of the night, and she sat for a while upon her balcony, watching the sunlight gleaming like gold upon the waters of the bay.
How had he known he was in danger? she wondered. With the noise of the music there was no way he could have heard the man move up behind him. Yet his arm had been moving to block the blow even as he turned. His movements had been unhurried and smooth. Picturing the scene again, she shivered. There was no doubt in Keeva's mind that the death blow to the young man's throat had not been, as the other girls believed, a fortunate strike. It had been delivered coldly and with deadly intent, in a move that spoke of long practice.
What are you, Grey Man? she mused.
Waylander left the Great Hall and strode down the second-level corridor leading to the South Tower. As he turned the first corner he pushed aside a velvet hanging and pressed a stud on the panelled wall beyond. There was a faint creak as the panel opened. Stepping through he pulled it shut behind him and stood in the near-total darkness. Then, without hesitation, he began to descend the hidden steps. He was angry now, and made no attempt to stifle it. He knew both the young men who had attacked him, had spoken to them on several occasions while they had been in the company of their uncle, the merchant Vanis. They were not of great intelligence, nor were they stupid. To all intents and purposes they were merely pleasant young nobles who should have been considering a lifetime of possibilities.
Instead one was lying in a darkened room waiting for someone to collect his body and place it in the cold ground to feed worms and maggots. And his shade would be wandering the Void, frightened and alone. The second was somewhere out in the night, contemplating his next move, and probably not realizing that he was facing death.
Waylander descended the steps, counting them as he went. One hundred and fourteen had been cut into the cliff, and as he reached the hundredth he saw the faintest gleam of moonlight dappling the lower wall.
Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows ds-9 Page 9
