The Shattered Mask

by Richard Lee Byers

  Talbot saw that all the others had arrived before him. Jander Orvist, the captain of the household guard, gave him a terse nod. Jander was a lean, middle-aged man with a thin, humorless trap of a mouth, fierce silvery eyes, and a pronounced gray widow’s peak. No matter how innocent or festive the occasion, Talbot had never known the grizzled warrior to wear anything but the blue tunic of the Uskevren’s soldiery, nor seen him without a long sword ready to hand.

  Clad in a décolleté emerald caffa gown her mother hated, Tazi sat glowering, impatient for the meeting to commence and probably to end, until she gave her younger brother a welcoming smile. Erevis in his ill-fitting doublet looked somber as ever. His polished oak staff leaning against the arm of his chair, Brom seemed equally grave, but then, eager to impress, he tended to appear that way even when performing the most trivial duty.

  It was Tamlin, who had of course usurped Father’s seat at the head of the long inlaid table, who gave Talbot his first intimation that he ought to take this meeting seriously. Not simply because he was frowning. Tamlin occasionally adopted a serious manner, and it was usually over something utterly trivial. But today the heir had a bruise coming up on the left side of his face, and although he was dressed as gorgeously as ever, in a sky-blue outfit that made Talbot unpleasantly conscious of his own uncombed hair, lack of a doublet, and stale, half open shirt, he had, as was rare of late, added a businesslike long sword and poniard to his ensemble. The hilts were excessively ornate, made of gold adorned with sapphires, but to Talbot’s knowledgeable eye, the weapons looked as if they’d serve well in a melee even so. Even more curiously, an axe, a simple laborer’s tool, lay on the table before him.

  “You took your time getting here,” said Tamlin, a little petulantly.

  “Sorry,” Talbot grunted, flinging himself into the empty seat beside Tazi. “What’s going on?”

  “Mother and Father are missing,” Tamlin said, milking the announcement for all the drama it was worth, “and not two hours ago, someone tried to assassinate me.”

  “What?” Talbot exclaimed, while Tazi’s sea-green eyes widened. In contrast, the retainers didn’t look surprised, merely concerned. Plainly, they’d heard the news already.

  “Tell it all from the beginning,” Jander suggested. “That way, we’ll have it clear in our heads.”

  “I—” said Brom and Erevis in unison, then the gangling wizard waved his hand, deferring to the steward.

  “I can tell about Lord and Lady Uskevren’s departure,” said Erevis, who proceeded to do so. Talbot knew his parents had ridden out, but this was the first he’d heard of the retainers’ misgivings.

  “We could dispatch search parties,” Tazi said when the bald major-domo finished.

  “We will,” Erevis replied, “but first, let’s try to discern exactly what’s going on. Master Tamlin, please, tell us about the ambuscade.”

  Tamlin nodded and gave them the tale. Talbot assumed it was factual in its essence, though embellished to make the teller seem more of a hero. For could his self-centered popinjay of a brother truly have slain a troll single-handed, or, when already free of the trap, ridden back into dire peril to rescue a retainer? To say the least, it was unlikely. At one point, Talbot elbowed Tazi, and the pair exchanged ironic, skeptical glances. Still, there were weightier matters to consider than their elder brother’s mendacity, and their shared amusement lasted only an instant.

  “It’s far from certain that these two situations actually have anything to do with one another,” observed Talbot at the story’s conclusion. “Mother and Father left the mansion of their own volition, they haven’t been gone that long, and there are any number of reasons why they might be slow in returning.”

  “With all due respect,” said Brom, “as I mentioned before, Lady Uskevren’s manner seemed odd.”

  “Still—” Talbot began.

  Tazi lifted her hand. “There’s something about Mother that none of the rest of you knows. A little over a year ago, when she and I went to hear the Hulorn’s opera—”

  “There was harmful magic woven into the music,” said Tamlin, impatiently, “and you and Mother had to snatch away the conductor’s baton or something to halt the performance and break the spell. We do know. We’ve heard the story.”

  Tazi glared at him. “You haven’t heard all of it. Stopping the opera was more difficult than anyone knows, and in the course of it, Mother took up a sword and battled statues come to life, fighting as well as anyone in this room. She also scaled a wall, jumped off a roof into a tree, then climbed through the branches nimbly as a squirrel. Through it all, she was grinning and joking like a different person, an adventurer who relished risk and didn’t care a rotten apple about decorum.”

  Tamlin snorted. “That’s absurd. Mother doesn’t like weapons. I doubt she ever handled any implement more formidable than an embroidery needle in her entire life.”

  “I swear to you, it happened,” the black-haired girl retorted, her level tone so convincing that Talbot realized that, although her assertion was indeed “absurd,” he believed her. Apparently everyone else did as well, for the hall fell silent for a moment as they tried to assimilate what they’d heard.

  Erevis gazed at Tazi. “You might have told someone before today,” he said, a hint of reproach in his voice.

  To Talbot’s surprise, his sister, who never accepted blame or rebuke from anyone, flushed and lowered her eyes. “She asked me to keep her secret.”

  But why would you, Talbot silently wondered, when you and she were always at one another’s throats? Then he realized that his mother had probably been in a position to reveal some secret of Thazienne’s as well.

  As if he’d arrived at a similar inference, Jander scowled and said, “There have always been too cursed many secrets in this household. I don’t know what most of them are, but I sense they exist, and I always feared one of them would rear up and bite us on the arse someday.”

  “If this one has,” Tamlin said. “I’m not certain it did. How is it Mother knew how to fight, and what has it got to do with what’s happening now?”

  Tazi grimaced. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “She never would explain herself. But I suspect there’s a connection.”

  “Perhaps,” said Erevis, frowning, “but I for one don’t understand it, just as we have absolutely no clue as to what’s become of Lord and Lady Uskevren. Perhaps we should focus on the situation we know more about: the attempted assassination. Let’s think about who might have been behind it.”

  “My guess is that the masked wizard was leading the attack,” said Tamlin. “But that doesn’t mean he was the instigator. He could have been acting for someone else.”

  “I agree,” said Erevis. “The question is, who? The Foe-hammer knows, the Uskevren have made their share of enemies over the years. But there are five rival Houses that wished the family ill long before you three were even born, and all remain inimical to this day.”

  Tazi ran her fingers through her hair, a sign that she was pondering. “Soargyl, Talendar, Baerodreemer, Ithivisk, and Malveen.”

  Tamlin frowned. “Gellie Malveen is a friend of mine.”

  Tazi gazed at him with withering scorn. “Let’s hope that our fears are groundless, and no one has murdered Father. If an idiot like you is now head of the family, we’re doomed.”

  Tamlin flushed. “If I am in charge—”

  “Please!” said Erevis, and Tamlin fell silent. The heir had never been fond of the butler the way his siblings were, but perhaps he’d come to respect him after the events of last winter, when undead marauders had attacked the mansion, and, to everyone’s amazement, Erevis had demonstrated that he knew how to fight.

  As, apparently, did Mother. Talbot sighed, for Jander was right. Every member of the family, except, he supposed, his feckless brother, harbored secrets, and in consequence their lives were complicated and strange. Not for the first time, he imagined how pleasant it would be to abdicate his position here and become a simple pl
ayer. But he knew he never could, not when he might one day need his House’s resources to rid himself of the beast within.

  “I believe that what Mistress Thazienne was trying to say,” Erevis continued, “was that while young Gellie may indeed be your friend, it’s always been the way of Selgaunt for nobles to trade and socialize one day and attempt to destroy one another the next. Moreover, however your crony feels, it’s unlikely that his opinion would soften the animus of the elders of his House.”

  “Think about it,” Tazi said. “Your precious Gellie knew you meant to ride from Stormweather Towers to Argent Hall this morning. He and the other Malveen would have known where to set the trap.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tamlin retorted. “There are plenty of other ways that an enemy might have learned of my plans.”

  “Yes,” Erevis said, “in point of fact, there are. We haven’t shortened our list of suspects at all, and therefore, Masters Tamlin and Brom, I ask you: Did you observe anything that might enable us to do so?”

  The heir and the magician frowned, thinking, then finally shook their heads.

  “Wonderful,” said Tazi, in a tone that left no doubt that she thought there must have been a clue right in front of their eyes, had the two men only had the wit to notice. She turned to Brom. “Can’t you use magic to discover who attacked you, and to find out what’s become of Father and Mother while you’re at it?”

  Brom’s thin face colored. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a hand at divination. No wizard can learn every spell in existence, and I’ve concentrated on other areas.”

  “Of course you have,” said Tazi sardonically. “Moon above, I wish that old Cordrivval was still with us.” Brom’s predecessor Cordrivval Imleth, who had perished not so long ago in the Uskevren’s service, had been an accomplished diviner.

  “Don’t belittle Master Selwick,” Tamlin snapped. “He saved my life today.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Tazi, “I won’t hold that against him.”

  Her brother scowled. “As I started to remark before, if something has happened to Mother and Father, and I am the head of this House, then I shall demand to be treated with respect. The insolent just might find themselves out on the street.”

  Talbot pushed his seat back from the table and started to rise. “How would you like a bruise on the other side of your face?” he asked his brother. “That way, the two halves will match.”

  “Stop it!” Brom bellowed, and at that startling roar, emerging from such an unassuming fellow, the siblings jerked around to stare at him. The wizard paled and swallowed. “Uh, that is to say, I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but your squabbling isn’t helping.”

  Tazi’s mouth tightened. “No, it isn’t, and I don’t mean to make things difficult. It’s just … the last time I saw Mother, we quarreled as usual. Now, I wish we hadn’t.”

  “I understand,” said Tamlin, “I’m just as worried about her as you are. And about Father too, I suppose.”

  “Well, we agree on that, anyway,” said Talbot, settling back down on his chair.

  “Good,” said Erevis. “Now, we don’t know very much, but based on what we do know, we can assume that unknown enemies have launched a campaign to destroy the House of Uskevren. They tried to assassinate you, Master Tamlin, and may have kidnapped or even killed your parents. We can expect further attempts on the lives of all three of you siblings.

  “Here’s what I propose we do about it,” the steward continued. “We’ll look for Lord and Lady Uskevren. We’ll mobilize our network of spies to see what they can discover. And we’ll get you three children out of town forthwith, where you’ll remain until this matter is resolved.”

  Tamlin nodded. “That sounds sensible enough.”

  Talbot agreed. It did sound sensible, but rather to his surprise, something about the suggestion stuck in his craw. “I have a performance tonight,” he said.

  Tamlin snorted. “Really, brother, I daresay Mistress Quickly will manage without you somehow.”

  “I’m sure she could,” Talbot said, then paused, groping for the proper words, waving his hand before him as if he thought he could pluck them from the air. “It’s just … our foes drove the Uskevren out of Selgaunt once before, and Father fought for years to regain our place here. I don’t think we should let ourselves be driven forth again, not even for a little while. I don’t want the other Houses to think us craven. That could incite all our rivals to attack us, and bring trouble down on our heads for years to come.”

  “At least you’d be alive to endure the trouble,” Erevis said.

  “Despite what you said, we’re not children anymore,” Talbot replied. “We can take care of ourselves.” At least he hoped so.

  “Do you know,” said Jander to Erevis, “if they did stay in the city, and went about their usual affairs to prove they’re not afraid, we could use them to bait a trap of our own. Guard them well but discreetly, overwhelm the assassins the next time they attack, wring some answers out of a captive, and get to the bottom of this.”

  Erevis shook his head. “I don’t think Lord and Lady Uskevren would approve.”

  “Well, they’re not here,” said Tamlin unexpectedly, “and perhaps the troll’s kick scrambled my brains, but reluctant as I am to say it, I think Talbot and Jander are making sense. We brothers shouldn’t leave.”

  Tazi glared at him. “I don’t like the implications of that last remark. I can handle myself as well as either of you.”

  “Ordinarily, that may be true,” said Erevis, “but you’re just emerging from a long convalescence.” Tazi tried to speak, and the steward raised his hand to forestall her. “I know you’re nearly well, but I still see you sway and stumble at odd moments. You can’t afford to risk a murder attempt until that stops happening.”

  “I won’t leave Selgaunt while Mother and Father are missing,” Tazi said, “and you can’t make me.”

  “Perhaps not,” Erevis said, “but in that case, you should at least stay here in the mansion, where you’ll be safe.”

  “I agree,” Talbot said.

  Tamlin nodded. “So do I.”

  “Damn it—” Tazi began, her green eyes blazing.

  “As acting head of the family, I’m ordering you to do it,” Tamlin said, cutting her off. “Just as I’m directing Captain Orvist to make sure you obey.”

  “So I’m your prisoner,” Tazi spat. “Well, you can all burn in the Pit!” Then the defiance seemed to go out of her. “Oh, all right, I’ll sit and rot in my cell.”

  “Thank you,” Erevis said. “Now, let’s discuss how we’ll protect Master Talbot at the theater, and Master Tamlin when he goes to confer with the emissaries from across the sea.”

  “What?” Tamlin yelped. “I can’t negotiate. I hate that kind of thing. Let’s just stall the envoys and hope Father turns up.”

  “I already put them off once this morning,” the major-domo replied, “when it became apparent that Lord Uskevren wasn’t going to appear in time to keep the appointment. This alliance could be very beneficial to your family. Besides, if you want to create the appearance that the Uskevren aren’t afraid to go about their business as usual, and if you are, as you’ve mentioned more than once, the acting head of the House—”

  “Enough,” Tamlin groaned, “I’ll do it. But I’d far rather contend with another ambuscade.”

  Tazi gave him a sweet smile. “I hope you have the opportunity to do both.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Its pale eyes shining, the earthen giant strode through the fortress wall as if it were made of paper, and a chip of flying stone stung Shamur’s sword hand. She tried to dart around behind the elemental, where she hoped to remain undetected, but she was too slow. The dark, ungainly thing had spotted her already, and now it raised its fist to crush her.

  Shamur poised herself to dodge the blow, race forward, cut at the creature’s lead foot, and try to cripple it. Not that she truly thought her puny broadsword could hurt the element
al, but she’d rather die like a badger than a mouse.

  Just as she shifted her weight forward, a hand gripped her forearm and pulled her back. She stumbled, momentarily off balance, and the giant’s fist plummeted down.

  She flung herself frantically aside, and the person who had taken hold of her must have done the same, because the elemental’s blow missed them both. The impact shook the ground, threw up gouts of snow and soil, and jolted the humans off their feet.

  As they scrambled up, she looked around to see Thamalon. Tugging at her again, he cried, “This way!”

  He ran toward the north side of the courtyard, and, wondering what he could possibly have in mind, she followed. The shocks of their pursuer’s footsteps made it a challenge merely to stay on their feet, and they had to keep glancing back to watch for its next attack.

  The elemental raised its foot to stamp, and they scrambled out from underneath. Then Thamalon led Shamur into one of the buildings constructed along the base of the wall.

  Glancing about, she found herself in a chapel, with a few rows of benches, and plaster statues of Torm, Tempus, and other deities perched on little wooden stands. Rocked by the giant’s footsteps, some had already fallen off and shattered. Having seen the elemental stride through the castle ramparts, she knew, as Thamalon seemingly did not, that this place was no refuge. Not unless some god intended to manifest to protect his effigy from harm, and she rather suspected that wasn’t going to happen.

  But Shamur’s husband kept rushing her toward the other end of the chamber, and after a moment, she saw the reason why. A short time ago, he’d evidently shifted the altar aside to uncover a square opening in the floor.