“I take it you’re done for tonight,” Marison called from the driver’s seat.
Lem nodded and climbed inside. Gertrude and Marison had been dear friends of Mariyah. He recalled Marison from his visit as Inradel Mercer, and over the past week had come to like the man. Aside from Lady Camdon, Marison was the only person who knew what he had been doing at night, and had made Lem promise not to tell his wife about it, fearing that it would upset her.
Lem leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. Another death that could be accounted to his name. The slender thread of sanity that he still held on to was threatening to snap. When he realized that finding Mariyah would prove impossible, Lady Camdon had been forced to use magic to subdue him—promising that she would somehow find out where Landon Valmore had taken Mariyah. Thus far she’d been unsuccessful. Valmore had cleverly kept the destination a secret. All five of the names the priest had given him knew that Valmore had left Ubania in order to take Mariyah prisoner. But that was it. They could only guess that they were at one of his many properties scattered throughout Trudonia and beyond.
Upon reaching the Camdon estate, Lem opened his eyes and took a long breath, filling his lungs with the frigid cold. They rounded the west end and stopped just in front of a path that led to a lesser-used servant’s door.
He nodded his thanks to Marison, who clicked his tongue and snapped the reins. Inside, the house was just waking, with only a few staff about, though guards were in abundance. Every noble in Ubania had increased their security, so it would have looked suspicious if Lady Camdon did not. But in truth, those who were yet to die by now knew the motives behind the deaths.
Lady Camdon met him in the corridor leading to Mariyah’s room, where he had taken up residence. She did not approve of what he was doing and was not shy about voicing her displeasure.
“I see you’ve managed not to get yourself killed,” she said contemptuously. “Which means another visit from the city guards is forthcoming.”
“And that you’re complaining about it means you still haven’t found her.”
She planted her hands firmly on her hips. “It would be easier if the entire city weren’t in a state of terror.”
“Only the followers of Belkar have reason to fear,” Lem said.
Lady Camdon looked down the hallway, angrily. “Quiet, curse you. Are you trying to have me thrown in prison?”
Lem rubbed his face wearily. “You’re right, of course. I’ll leave after tomorrow.”
“And go where? An inn? You think a stranger wouldn’t be noticed?”
“I can camp in the forest,” he replied.
Lady Camdon grumbled. “I should let you too. At least you wouldn’t be here when they found you. And they would find you.”
Two guards rounded the corner.
“We can discuss this later,” Lem said, yawning. “I’m very tired.”
The lady’s expression was stoic, though her eyes burned furiously. “That we will.”
Lem entered Mariyah’s chambers and stripped off his clothes, throwing them unceremoniously into the corner. The hot water of the tub did little to soothe him. Nor did the cool sheets and thick soft blanket.
Lem had thought he understood the full spectrum of human emotions. He’d experienced them all to one degree or another. But he had not understood wrath. Not until now. There was no more good and evil; right and wrong. There was his enemy—and they had taken the person he loved more than anything in this or any other world. He had killed them—and would continue killing them until she was safe or he was dead.
Lady Camdon thought him insane. She was probably right. Though he doubted he would know it if he were. He felt pity for those who were now living in fear and were not Belkar’s followers; all they knew was that someone was terrorizing the nobility and clergy. It escaped their notice that several commoners were also turning up murdered. But then, those with power had never cared for the plight of commoners.
He should probably feel guilty for imposing on Lady Camdon. She was taking a great risk by having him there. As nobles went, she wasn’t bad. The story she’d told him of how Mariyah had come to be there said as much. Initially, it had surprised him that Mariyah had learned magic. But in reflection it shouldn’t have. As had he, she’d been thrust into a strange world and forced to alter her perceptions. Magic gave a person a means by which to protect themselves. He could fully understand the desire not to be helpless.
“You can’t kill them all,” Lady Camdon had said, after his second night.
“You said this is a war. If Mariyah’s in the fight, then so am I.”
“And you’ll fight Belkar’s armies alone when they come?” she’d asked.
“If I must.”
“Killing these people will not bring her back to you,” she’d pointed out. “It could even drive her further away.”
He doubted that, and didn’t think she believed it either. None of Belkar’s followers knew where Valmore had gone nor who might know. “They’re her enemies. So they’re mine. For me, that’s enough reason.”
“Say you find her,” she’d contended. “Say she comes back. What then? How will you explain to her what you’ve done?”
Of all her objections, this one had struck deepest. “I’ve already done so much that she’ll never understand.”
“I think you underestimate her. Every moment Mariyah has been here, you’ve been in her thoughts. Every action she takes is in an effort to one day see you again.”
“The person she knew is gone. Drowned in a sea of blood.”
Lady Camdon had looked at him with what could almost be called sympathy. “I know you believe that. But I can tell you that Mariyah will never accept it. I’ve seen many loves in my time, both great and small. But her love for you makes them seem a pale shadow. If there’s the tiniest shred of the man you were left within you, she’ll find it. If you believe in anything, believe in that.”
He wanted to. And before he arrived in Ubania, he had managed to cling to a hope for redemption.
It’s not out of reach.
The voice was back. A sure sign of madness. It wasn’t a dark, sinister voice, as he would expect; rather reassuring and hopeful. He assumed it was his mind calling forth the memory of his mother. Only when he heard his mother’s words, it was always in her rich, soothingly feminine tenor. This was indistinct—neither male nor female.
Lem threw himself onto his side and pulled the blanket tight. So long as his madness did not hinder his abilities, then the voice could say whatever it wanted. The scent of Mariyah’s perfume still lingered on the sheets, calling up her image. She was smiling and laughing merrily as she danced on the banks of the Sunflow.
“I’m waiting for you.”
Lem sat bolt upright. That was no inner voice.
“Mariyah!” he shouted, though he could see that no one was there.
“Please. I need you.”
“Where are you?” This was it. Madness was taking him at last.
“Help me.” Her voice was growing distant.
Lem threw back the blanket and jumped out of bed. The light in the room brightened, confirming that he was alone. “Mariyah!”
“Hurry.”
From the ceiling, an orb of swirling red smoke appeared. Lem backed to the wall. Trickery. Someone must have found out who he was and where he was hiding. He eased toward the door, but after two steps, the smoke burst like a soap bubble, filling the entire room in an instant. Lem choked and coughed, sinking to his knees. Desperately he crawled, hoping to get out before losing consciousness. His throat closed completely, and in a matter of seconds, he was unable to move, flopping facedown on the tiles.
“You know where I am. Come to me.”
Lem gasped a deep breath. The smoke was gone without so much as a trace. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, regaining his bearings. Had it been in his mind? A delusion? He’d heard that some people had hallucinations when they went totally insane. Was that what had just happened?
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He staggered up and sat on the edge of the bed, covering his face with his hands. Mariyah’s voice had sounded so clear, as if she’d been in the room with him. A thought, from somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, slithered through his despair like a serpent through tall grass. The Gate. Mariyah is being held at the Gate.
The door flew open, and Lady Camdon stormed inside. “What just happened?” she demanded.
“I know where she is,” Lem said. His legs were unsteady, or he’d already be packing to leave.
“Tell me what happened,” she said, more urgently.
Lem recounted the events as he stood and, holding on to the bed, made his way to where his belongings were stowed away in the wardrobe.
“Don’t try to stop me,” Lem said.
“Stop you? I intend to help you.”
“I don’t need any help.”
Before he could take another step, a band of green light wrapped around his arms and torso, immobilizing him entirely. He struggled uselessly against Lady Camdon’s magic. “Let me go. Or I swear I’ll—”
“Blade of Kylor or not, this is my home. I say who comes and who goes. You are not the only one who cares about Mariyah.” She was standing, shoulders squared, arms wide, and her fingers splayed. As she curled her hands into fists, Lem grunted as the binding spell tightened its grip. “I’ve been as patient with you as I intend to be. You will calm down and listen to me, or by Kylor’s eyes, I’ll wring the life out of you right now.”
Lem continued thrashing and twisting until near exhaustion, but Lady Camdon remained resolute and did not relent, calling out repeatedly, “Do you accept the terms?”
Finally, Lem nodded and coughed out: “Yes.”
The spell vanished and Lem collapsed to the floor, unable to move for more than a minute. By the time he could drag himself up, Lady Camdon was sitting in a chair near the window, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap.
“As you can see,” Lady Camdon began, “you’re no match for a Thaumas who knows you’re coming, regardless of how skilled an assassin you are. Mariyah is equally powerful, if not more so. So clearly whoever took her is formidable.”
Dragging his feet and clutching his ribs, Lem joined her at the table. “It was Valmore,” he wheezed out.
“Yes,” she agreed. “But he might not have been alone. And while Landon Valmore is not a Thaumas, he is not to be underestimated. The message you were sent did not come from him, but I am not sure it came from Mariyah. The magic you described is unknown to me, though she might have learned it when she was at the enclave. We can’t be sure.”
“It doesn’t matter who sent it. I know where she is. And I’m going to get her.”
“It matters a great deal who sent it,” she countered. “You must think rationally if you hope to save her. If it was another Thaumas—or worse, Belkar himself—they’re luring you there for a reason. Likely to use as leverage. If you march off blindly, you could be playing into their hands.”
“Maybe. But they’ll be expecting to face the man Mariyah thinks me to be—the gentle musician.”
Lady Camdon nodded. “And that is our best asset.”
The anxiety brought on from the need to leave was making it difficult to remain seated, and it took several deep breaths before he could reply. “What do you suggest?”
“I cannot go,” she answered. “But I can send someone with you.”
“Only one?”
“A moment ago you were insisting on going alone,” she chided. “So I would think one would be sufficient. And Bram is the only one of my guards I trust with this. He cares for Mariyah like she was a daughter, and will not hesitate if I ask.”
Lem understood her meaning. Fodder. She was sending him fodder to offer up if needed; a man who could be sacrificed to achieve victory. One who would go willingly.
“The Gate,” Lem said. “What do you know about it?”
“Nothing that will help, aside from that it’s said to be where Belkar’s prison lies. It’s been lost for ages.”
“Not anymore.” He could practically see it in his mind; every step from the manor to the Gate itself, as if a map had been written into his thoughts.
“You’ll need supplies and mounts,” she said. “And I cannot have you being seen leaving the estate. Your recent exploits have caused the eyes of my enemies to fall on me.”
“You won’t be able to stay here much longer,” Lem said. “You should make arrangements to leave.”
“That is my concern. Not yours.” She stood and regarded Lem closely. “I have seen your image before—when Mariyah called up a vision of your home. The sparkle in your eyes … it’s hidden behind a shroud of darkness now. But I can still see it. So will she.” She crossed over to the door. “Who we are never really changes, at least not at the core. My mother told me once that the soul is like a silver cup. Neglected, it becomes tarnished and ugly, but all it takes is love to make it shine again. Save her. And save yourself.”
As the door closed, Lem felt a wave of sorrow and shame threaten to dismantle his heart. He had thought these feelings would never return; that his deeds had driven them away completely. But Lady Camdon’s words had touched him in a way he could not have prepared for.
He crawled back into bed and allowed himself to shed tears, though only a few, until he drifted off.
It was well past sundown when Lem awoke and began to prepare to leave. He’d traveled light, so there was little to do but pack away his weapons and wait.
It wasn’t long before the door opened and the guard he knew as Bram stepped just over the threshold. Since Lem’s arrival, the man had shot him suspicious looks whenever they passed each other in the halls. Lem dismissed this as wounded pride for incapacitating him the night he arrived.
Bram was wearing a simple black shirt and trousers along with a pair of worn boots, an attempt to appear more like a farmer than a guard. But the man’s enormous frame and severe demeanor effectively shattered the disguise.
“The horses are ready,” he told Lem in a gruff, humorless baritone. “We should get moving.”
“Did Lady Camdon tell you where we’re going?”
“She told me we’re going to rescue Mariyah,” he replied. “That’s all I need to know. And that we’re to go to the Thaumas enclave once she’s safe.”
Lem slung his pack and followed Bram into the corridor. “Where is Lady Camdon?”
“It’s not my business to know where she is. Yours either.”
“Bram, isn’t it?” The man grunted an affirmation. “I know you might be upset about what I did.”
Bram stopped short, looming a full head taller than Lem. “I don’t care what you did to me. I care what’s happened to Mariyah. And if I find out you had anything to do with it, I swear by Kylor’s hands I’ll make you wish you’d never left your mother’s womb. I’ll do as Lady Camdon ordered and follow you to wherever it is she’s being held. But once we get there, stay out of my way.”
Lem was stunned by the sincerity in his tone and the determination in his eyes. He reminded him in a way of Travil, though not as obviously intelligent. Lem wondered if he knew who it was they would be fighting.
The horses were waiting with Marison and Gertrude outside the west gate.
Gertrude appeared worried as she held onto her husband’s arm. “You bring her back.” Her words were directed at Bram, who nodded curtly and mounted his horse.
It had been good to learn that Mariyah was well loved here. For so long he had imagined her in a life of hardship and torment. He’d been wrong … about so many things.
“Which way?” Bram asked.
Lem hopped nimbly into the saddle. “North. To the mountains.”
They would likely draw the attention of the city guards while leaving, but at night and at full gallop, they’d be gone before anyone could try to stop them. And from the look of Bram, stopping them would be a bad idea.
As they raced into the darkness, Lem allowed the cold air to sharpen his
senses. Their mounts were of the best quality—fast and sturdy. They would lessen their journey by a day or more, though with the tugging in his chest brought on by Mariyah’s call, he dearly wished he could fly.
25
HOME FIRES ARE BURNING
Walls of brick do not make a home. Do not invest your love in cold, dead things. It is our love of kin and comrade which keeps all fires burning.
Book of Kylor, Chapter Twelve, Verse Three
Loria held the glass to her lips, allowing the scent of the brandy to calm her nerves. The soldiers had searched the grounds thoroughly, though they’d allowed the city guard, most of whom Loria knew by name, to search the interior of the manor. It was disturbing that Ubanian soldiers had come. Lem’s rampage was a criminal case. That the military was now taking interest could mean more trouble was on the way. They had stopped short of entering, but only because she had protested, threatening to take the matter up with the High Chancellor.
Yes. Lem had definitely caused a stir. After the initial fear and shock of discovering that Mariyah’s sweet love was no other than the dreaded Blade of Kylor, Loria had given strong consideration to chaining him up in one of the wine cellars. Once it became clear that Mariyah could not be located, she’d thought he’d gone completely mad. He had wandered off in the night, reappearing the following morning with his face and clothes covered in blood.
She knew what he’d done without him speaking a word. And the shame of it was, there was a part of her that wanted him to. They had received blow after blow from the enemy with no way to strike back. Her allies were so indecisive and afraid as to be virtually paralyzed. In less than a week, Lem had dealt a blow that would cripple the followers of Belkar for months. Moreover, the fear Lem’s actions had instilled would make them less bold.
There was the possibility that Lem had been right about Ralmarstad’s armies being ready to march. But she had her doubts. Surely word of this would have reached her by now. Still, she had sent messages to a friend in Ur Minosa to look into the matter.
A Chorus of Fire Page 36
