Don't think of her. Think of the power she can give.
Laras tried. The power was what he'd wanted, the power that would make him anything he wanted to be, anything except just what he was. To serve something outside himself, indeed far beyond, was a new thing to Laras. This wasn't like serving a king; to Laras it had been no more than a position, like working in a stable or a smithy. Yet his mind kept forming images of Amaet's sweet shining face, and worshiping her was becoming easier and easier all the time. He would serve her well, whatever else he did or what rewards he commanded. It was something, he realized, that he wanted to do. Something he wanted besides power was Amaet's approval. To see her smile, and to know it was all because of him.
I think my ambition has just grown.
Laras found an inconspicuous place in the lee of a parapet stairway and settled down to wait for night. He finally dozed, despite the noise, and woke to find the shadows considerably lengthened and the clatter in the courtyard just as considerably reduced. When he was sure the evening meal was concluded he made his way through the tangle of outbuildings and stables built against the outer wall. There were tents in the courtyard now, as there had not been when Laras first arrived. That was a little worrisome; the only reason for extra shelter would be to have a place to bed down the servants and men at arms accompanying the king. The King of Junland himself and his closest nobles would sleep in the castle itself.
Laras checked a few of the stables and felt some relief to find no unusual number of mounts. Either the tents had been pitched in preparation only or, at most, a few of the king's knights had gone ahead to make sure of the preparations.
The guards will not be quite so relaxed once the king is here.
Laras didn't intend to still be around then. If he waited long enough, there was a good chance he could slip in through the kitchens; once the fires were banked no one would be there except a kitchen boy or two in exhausted sleep. He proceeded to the back door of the kitchens and peered in one small window then smiled and pulled the black cloth mask from his face. Perhaps he needn't wait after all. He rapped once on the door.
"Crust of bread for a weary traveler?" he said, when the door was cracked open.
The young woman who had opened the door just stared at him for a moment. Laras thought the dab of meal on her nose was utterly charming, though he had to confess that her red hair under its kerchief was a bit of a mess. In another moment her stare of disbelief was gone, and her entire face lit up like a Midwinter's Eve lantern.
"Laras!" She almost shouted the name, then looked about furtively and lowered her voice. "I mean...it's you! Where have you been? The Chamberlain has been looking all over for you!"
"I came to see you, Tarsy my lass. Of course. A mere witch couldn't keep me away."
The girl blinked. "What are you talking about? I said the Chamberlain. You've been gone for weeks! Where have you been?" she sounded fierce enough, though there was faint smile at the corner of her mouth that hinted that, perhaps, she would believe him if she chose. "Get your skinny arse in here before someone sees us!"
She pulled him inside quickly, then closed the door. There was no one else around. "Now, are you going to tell me the truth?"
"I'd ask the same of you. Where is everyone?"
"The Mistress is making all the kitchen staff sleep in the Great Hall tonight to make sure there is no one absent tomorrow when Junland arrives. A few of the girls chose to meet their sweethearts last time and were late returning. Breakfast was almost ruined."
Laras smiled. Amazing coincidence, that, he thought, but what he said was, "And were you among those, Tarsy?"
The young woman blushed. "No, and I've got other tasks besides the kitchen... and who are you to ask me that? You haven't even answered my question yet!"
"I had business to attend." Laras said. "It kept me away for some time. Will you betray me?"
She looked confused. "Betray? To whom? The Chamberlain's likely to turn you out for going missing like that, but why should I tell that pompous ass anything? Now that you're back he'll find you soon enough."
Now it was Laras' turn to be confused. "Is he the only one looking for me? Are you sure?"
"Who else would be looking for the likes of you? Other than myself, that is. Why? Have you done something wrong?"
Laras looked carefully at Tarsy's face, but he couldn't see any signs of deception there. She was skilled at many things, but lying wasn't among them. Was it possible that Marta had not told her mother about what he had done? Or that Black Kath had chosen not pursue him? Neither notion made a bit of sense.
"Tarsy, when was Black Kath at the castle last?"
"That one? Not since the queen gave birth...weeks ago. The queen had a boy, you know."
"No, I didn't," Laras said. "That's wonderful..."
"You don't sound pleased. Have you tangled with that witch? Over her daughter, I bet. I saw her last winter. She's pretty."
"No, nothing of that sort. I have more sense than that," Laras said. The lie came easy, despite the fact that he felt a little annoyed that Tarsy had gotten so close to the matter. That was almost suspicious, yet he looked into her guileless face and knew that she wasn't hiding anything from him. She couldn't if she tried. "I've just got something on my mind...So. Have you got some time tonight for an old friend?"
She appeared to consider the question carefully. "That depends on how good a job you do of convincing me of your good intentions. And I still want to know where you've been."
He kissed her on the nose. "Feed me first. I'm too weak from hunger to say more."
Tarsy fed him and then they kissed some more. Later she led him to a hidden place off a back staircase where they kissed a lot and more beside. Later, when Tarsy was asleep, Laras slipped back up that staircase a few more floors to Alian's library, where he slipped the book into a little used section containing mostly folktales and legends.
Assuming the King's Librarian even notices it at all, I'll wager he enters it in the rolls rather than explain how it got here without his knowledge.
Laras smiled. He didn't understand what had happened or why, but clearly within the kingdom he was not a wanted man, save by his former master who doubtless meant no more than a good whipping and discharge. He'd skip the whipping, thank you kindly, and he hadn't planned to stay in any case. For whatever reason Kath and her daughter were keeping his crime secret, he had no doubt that it was so they might seek their own path to revenge without interference from the King's Judgment. Best that Laras remain a moving target, for now, and not make it any easier on them than he could avoid. And why not? He had no farther business in Karsan. His quest was completed, and with an unexpectedly pleasant bonus.
Laras thought of Tarsy and felt just a twinge of guilt. He hadn't lied to her much. Certainly no more than she had reason to suspect. Yet his tryst still felt like a betrayal to him, almost as if he'd been, well, unfaithful. The strange thing was that he wasn't sure who the injured party was.
Have I betrayed Tarsy, or Amaet?
Laras didn't know, or even understand why he was thinking the way he did. Yet even after he slipped back out through the kitchen early the next morning and calmly walked past the guards, the feeling would not go away. It stayed with him when he reclaimed his horse and left Karsan far behind. Later still, as carefully slipped back to the cave so close to Black Kath’s home to claim his reward from Amaet, it was the image of Amaet's radiant smile that grew stronger and more vivid even as the memory of Tarsy's sweet face almost completely faded away. By the time he arrived, he could think of little else.
HAVE YOU DONE AS I ASKED?
"To the letter," said Laras.
IT GOES WELL. MARTA WILL PROGRESS RAPIDLY, I THINK.
Laras felt as if a cloud had formed over him. "I don't understand. What has the book to do with Marta?"
THAT ISN'T YOUR CONCERN. NOW CLAIM YOUR REWARD.
Amaet leaned close and whispered the secret of the Second Law of Power.
&nbs
p; Laras frowned. "So simple..."
ANSWERS ARE OFTEN SIMPLE...ONCE YOU POSSESS THEM.
Yet Laras wasn't really thinking about that. He was thinking how easy it would be, with Amaet leaned so close to him then, to kiss her.
Doubtless I would be turned into a pile of blackened ash.
That didn't stop him from thinking about it. So intently, in fact, that he almost missed what Amaet said next.
--YOU LEAVE THIS PLACE, SEAL THE ENTRANCE.
Laras blinked. "Seal? But then I can't return!"
NO NEED. THIS PLACE'S USEFULNESS IS ENDED. WHEN I NEED YOU AGAIN, I WILL MAKE THE PLACE AND THE TIME OF OUR MEETING KNOWN TO YOU.
Laras thought to ask a question, but thought better of it. He simply bowed once and, when Amaet had again vanished, he stood there a time longer, staring at the cold stone shrine. He wasn't really thinking about the shrine, though he was determined to fix it in his memory. No, how focus was on what Amaet had said to him: When I need you again...
When.
I will see her again. She promised.
In the meantime, Laras had other concerns. Winter was coming, and he couldn't go back to Karsan now. Even if Black Kath was not searching for him, it was a safe wager that the Chamberlain was.
Shall I be a stable boy now, for a while?
The notion appealed to his sense of the romantic, if not to his sense of worth. He'd often found the two in conflict and had never quite worked it out.
I'm a magician now, he thought. Surely there was a way to make that pay? Black Kath certainly did, if the rumors Tarsy had told him about the price the king had paid for his wife's first illness were true. He wasn't quite out of Kath's shadow yet but, still, he was someone to be reckoned with. But how to take advantage? He needed guidance, and the one place he knew for certain to find it was now closed to him...and everyone else in the world. Plus, Amaet had made it plain that there was no point seeking her out until she was ready, and Laras had no idea at all of how long that would be or where it would be. He was on his own.
There are no magicians in Junland, so far as I know. I think I will go there.
No one knew him there, and that was a good thing. It was also further south on the coast, and almost never snowed. That was even better. He would make his way, and do better than get by. He knew it. There was no question at all.
CHAPTER 8
"Never confuse what's possible with what's true. For that matter, never confuse what actually happens with what's true."
— Black Kath's Tally Book
"It's hardly fair," Bone Tapper said.
“Be quiet," Marta said, as she added another log to the kitchen grate. Her hands were cold and sore from chopping the wood, and she paused there to warm them as best she could. The cold was soon gone, but the ache remained.
"Counsel is my duty. If you will recall—"
Marta glared at him. "You're not counseling—you're whining. And all I recall is that you've done little but complain of Treedle's absence for the past month. And yet you perch here in the warmth and Yssara lies snug in his stable and I'm the one who has to wield that sodding axe!"
The raven subsided, but it was a grudging, sullen sort of silence. Marta knew it well. It was the same sort of uneasy quiet she'd found herself sinking too readily into over the last few weeks. She glanced at her mother's account book, but didn't open it again. Whatever she needed to learn to solve her current problem, it wasn't in there now.
I'm not studying now. I'm brooding. Just like Bone Tapper.
Knowing that didn't help matters. Marta found herself at a loss. Treedle was still missing and she was no closer to finding him than that day in the forest when she first realized she had no clue as to his whereabouts. Why was Treedle different? He still lived and the Debt still held him, she knew both beyond question just as she knew to the day when his time of service would be at an end. So why couldn't she sense him? Compel him? Find him?
"I am not my mother," she said aloud.
"Hardly news," Bone Tapper said.
Marta glanced at him and he subsided again, chastened. "I wasn't talking to you, but since you will speak no matter what I say, put your tongue to good use. Why can't I find Treedle? How is he different from you or Yssara?" Marta had been turning the question over and over in her mind for weeks, and was no closer to an answer.
"He serves for a different reason, just as my reason for being here is different from Yssara's. Yet the Debt doesn't make those fine distinctions, so far as I understand, once the terms of service are set. I wish I knew, Mistress since—as I've said more than once—it isn't right or proper that Yssara and myself are serving you as required and he is not."
"No, it isn't," Marta said. "I have my mother's obligations but not all her power. Little more than a fraction, as you well know. More than enough where you are concerned," she added pointedly, "and that infernal dragon masquerading as a cart horse, but not, apparently, enough where Treedle is concerned. I'm failing, Bone Tapper. It's driving me to madness!" Marta sat back hard in her mother's chair in her mother's kitchen, and she closed her eyes.
"I doubt not Yssara and I will be right behind you," Bone Tapper said dryly.
"Doubt not what you want, but first take the Arrow Path and lose your guide, then perhaps you can speak of 'right and proper' so that I will listen."
"You're angry," Bone Tapper said.
"Hardly news," Marta said, in a rasping voice very much like Bone Tapper's.
The raven raised his wings in a shrug. "No, but who are you really angry at? Yssara and myself for being difficult?"
"Yes!"
"Your mother for being so inconsiderate as to die on you?"
"Yes!!" Marta practically shouted the word. "I confess it freely! I'm angry at all that's happened, all that will happen, all the things I cannot change, try as I might. Frustrated, scared and very angry! Do you have a point?"
"Just that your mother is not here and we are. If you won't grieve for her, at least take some pity on us."
"I'll do what I have to do," Marta said. "I'll have what is mine. Now be quiet; I need to think."
To Marta's considerable surprise Bone Tapper did fall silent for a good long while. The log Marta had used to feed the fire fell to embers and she replaced it with another before the coals died down; she added a little kindling and worked the bellows until the flame was restored.
I still can't make the flames dance —
The sound of the door's knocker clanged through the kitchen, muffled somewhat but not so much that they couldn't hear. "Whoever it is, send them away," Marta said.
"I might as well. I can't work the latch." Bone Tapper flapped through the open doorway and out into the hall beyond before she could say anything. Marta heard muffled voices, but didn't try to make out the words. She simply stared at the flames until Bone Tapper returned and landed on her shoulder. She started to brush him off, irritated, but it was too much trouble.
"I think you'll want to see this one, Mistress."
"Who is it?" Marta asked.
"A messenger from the king...and no, not that messenger."
Marta frowned, and then she realized that the king didn't know. No one knew, except herself, Bone Tapper, Yssara and, she presumed, Treedle. She had told no one else, and the harsh winter kept travel and news down to the point that Kath's absence hadn't been noticed, so far as Marta could tell. She did realize the time when Kath's death was common knowledge could not be far off. Marta left the kitchen and trudged slowly through the hallway to the heavy iron-bound front door, and pulled the latch.
She didn't recognize the man standing there. He was young, as messengers tended to be, barely older than Marta herself, she judged. Despite her suspicion there was nothing about him that brought anything like the instant and intense dislike Marta felt for Laras. He was shorter and more strongly built, dark haired, dark eyed. Though obviously cold and weary he smiled at her.
"Hello... Lady Marta?"
"Just Marta," she said, "Co
me in."
He stamped the snow off his boots as best he could and followed her inside. Marta shut the door against a stiff wind.
"My name is Feran. King Alian sent me with a message for your mother."
"Come into the kitchen and I'll see if I can find you something warm to drink."
Marta still had some of the cider that had been delivered from Molbrook the week before. The apples had been very fine that season, and the amber cider was rich and smooth. She realized she'd left a tin pot simmering by the grate and forgotten all about it. Marta poured out a warm mug of it for Feran while he looked around the room. Marta frowned at that at first, but finally let it go. It was just curiosity; try as she might Marta could read nothing sinister into it.
"Is your mother about?" Feran asked. "I don't think King Alian or anyone at Karsan has heard from her lately, but we didn't believe she was away."
Marta handed the mug to Feran, who accepted it gratefully. Then, because she didn't know what else to say, she told him the truth. "My mother is dead."
"Oh...I'm sorry," Feran said, and sounded as if he really meant it. "When did it happen?"
"It was soon after the queen's confinement. I believe that was the last office she performed."
Feran looked as if he wanted to question her further, but decided against it. He reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out a roll of parchment bearing Alian's seal. "Well, then, I am sorry to impose on your grief, but I believe this message is for you."
Marta hesitated. "Not if it was for my mother..."
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