by Greg Keyes
The patir had known what was happening to him. She hadn’t meant to kill him, only to put the fear of her in him. But the more she squeezed his fat, corrupt heart and the more he begged and pleaded for her to spare him, the angrier she got.
Still, she thought she’d released him in time. His heart must already have been weak.
“He probably would have died soon, anyway.”
“What?” Austra asked.
Anne realized then that she must have spoken aloud.
“Nothing,” she replied.
Thankfully, Austra didn’t push the matter, and they continued their downhill clatter, passing through the south Embrature gate into the lower city.
“Why so many walls?” Cazio asked.
“Ah, I’m not sure,” Anne replied, a bit embarrassed but happy to have a harmless topic before them. “I never paid proper attention to my tutors.”
“They—” Austra began, but then she stopped.
Anne saw that her friend’s face was white. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine,” Austra replied unconvincingly.
“Austra.”
“I’m just scared,” Austra said. “I’m always scared. This never stops.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Anne said.
“That worries me more than anything,” Austra said.
“Tell Cazio about the walls,” Anne requested. “I know you remember. You always paid attention.”
Austra nodded, closed her eyes, and swallowed. When her lids lifted again, they were damp.
“They…the walls were built at different times. Eslen started out as just a castle, a tower, really. Over the centuries they built it bigger, but most of it was constructed all at once by Emperor Findegelnos the First. His son built the first city wall, called the Embrature wall; that’s the one we just rode through. The city kept growing outside the wall, though, so a few hundred years later, during the de Loy regency, Erteumé the Third built Nod’s wall.
“The outer wall, what we call the Fastness, went up during the Reiksbaurg reign by Tiwshand II. It’s the only one that’s completely intact; the inner walls have gaps where stones were pulled for other construction.”
“Then the only real wall is that last one.”
“The last time the city was invaded, it was by Anne’s great-great-grandfather, William I. Even after he broke through the Fastness, it took him days to get to the castle. The defenders threw up barricades in the elder wall gaps. They say the streets ran with blood.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen this time.”
“Let’s hope it’s not our blood,” Anne said, hoping to be amusing. Cazio smiled, but Austra’s smile seemed more like a grimace.
“Anyway,” Anne went on, “I may not know the history, but I’ve been to the Gobelin Court before, and my father once told me the most unusual thing about it.”
“And what is that?” Cazio asked.
“It’s the only place in the city where two of the walls meet. Nod’s wall goes right into the Fastness. It makes a sort of long cul-de-sac.”
“You mean there’s only one way out,” Cazio said.
“More or less. There’s a gate near the place where they meet, but it’s not too large.”
“So that’s why you choose Gobelin Court?” Austra asked. “I didn’t know you knew so much about strategy. Did you and Artwair discuss this before you came? Was this all a secret plan of yours?”
Anne felt a surge of anger. Why did Austra have to question everything she did?
“I did not discuss it with Artwair,” Anne said flatly. “And this wasn’t a plan, it was an option. I would have rather gone into the castle as we had agreed, but I didn’t really think Robert would be faithful to his word. So yes, I had thought of this beforehand.”
“But why did you come in at all if you were so sure we would be betrayed?” Austra wondered aloud.
“Because I know something no one else does,” Anne replied.
“But you’re not going to tell me what that is, are you?”
“Certainly I am,” Anne said, “because I’m going to need your help. But not here. Not now. Soon.”
“Oh,” Austra said. Anne thought she looked a little more content after that.
Given Anne’s description, Cazio had no problem recognizing the Gobelin Court when they entered it, passing through a modest gate in a rather more impressive wall of reddish stone. Beyond a cobbled square, a single row of outlandish buildings butted up against another wall only about thirty kingsyards away. The second wall was even more impressive, of a nearly black stone, and Cazio recognized it as the Fastness.
Following his sword hand, he saw that the two walls indeed met, and right in the corner a weird, narrow manse seemed almost to lean into the juncture, looking sinister. The space between the walls widened a bit but stayed uncomfortably close as the walls climbed up around the hill and out of sight.
He didn’t know much about war and stratagems, but it didn’t seem like the sort of place easily held by fifty men. For one thing, the outer wall was surely controlled by the castle. What was to prevent hot oil and arrows being dropped on them from above? Or warriors from swarming down on ropes?
Nod’s wall was high enough, but houses had been built close on the other side of it, providing stepping-stones that might allow attackers to come within a few yards of the top even if there weren’t stairways up, which there probably were.
In short, Cazio felt a good deal more trapped than protected.
Despite his misgivings, he was fascinated. The buildings, the signs, and the pale faces peeping out from beneath broad-brimmed hats and veils all seemed exotic.
“Echi’Sievri,” he said.
“Yes,” Anne acknowledged. “Sefry.”
“I’ve never seen so many in one place.”
“Just wait,” Anne said. “Most of them don’t come out until night. That’s when Gobelin Court really comes alive. People also call this the Sefry quarter. There are hundreds living here.”
Cazio knew he was gawking, but he couldn’t help it. The neighborhoods on the other side of the wall were dingy, to say the least: dilapidated huts with leaky roofs, stone buildings whose days of grandeur were decades if not centuries in the past, streets full of rubble, rubbish, and dirty children.
But Gobelin Court was neat, clean, and colorful. The buildings were tall and narrow, with roofs so high-pitched that they were comical. They were all tidily painted: rusty red, mustard, burnt orange, violet, teal, and other muted but cheerful shades. Bright clothing flew like banners from lines stretched between upper windows, and umber signs with black lettering proclaimed the shops of diviners, card readers, apothocaries, and other outlandish businesses.
“Majesty,” Sir Leafton said, breaking the spell, “we’ve little time to spare.”
“Very well,” Anne said. “What do you suggest?”
“The Fastness is the most important thing,” Leafton said. “We’ll need to scale it and take control of the Saint Ceasel and Vexel towers and everything in between. Next we need to throw up a barrier north of here; I think Werton Cross would be the best place. And we’ll need men on Nod’s wall, too. That’s easy; we’ve stairs on this side. The Fastness will be a bit more difficult.”
Who says I don’t know anything about strategy? Cazio thought to himself. Aloud, however, he offered a suggestion.
“That mansion in the corner goes almost to the top,” he said. “We might be able to climb the rest of the way.”
Leafton nodded. “Possibly. I’ll have some men strip their armor.”
“That will take time,” Cazio said. “Why not let me get a start?”
“You have to guard Anne,” Austra pointed out.
“But I’m already without armor,” he said. “If we give anyone time to position themselves up on that wall, they’ll be dropping stones on us before we know it.”
“He’s right,” Anne said. “Sir Leafton can guard me until he’s done. Go on, Cazio. The Craftsmen will
be with you as soon as they’ve stripped.”
They rode up to the house, where Cazio dismounted and knocked at the door. After a moment a Sefry woman answered. She was so swaddled in red and orange cloth that Cazio couldn’t see much of her save a single pale blue eye surrounded by a patch of skin so white that he could make out the veins through it. She didn’t even give them a chance to speak.
“This is my house,” the woman said.
“I am Anne Dare,” Anne said from horseback. “This is my city, so that is also my house.”
“Of course,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Have you?” Anne asked a little coldly. “Then you know that my man needs to find the shortest route to your roof.”
“No, that I did not know,” the woman replied, “but of course I will help.” She focused her eye again on Cazio. “Go straight in. There is a central stairway that spirals to the top. The small door opens onto the uppermost balcony. You’ll have to climb from there to the roof.”
“Thanks you, lady,” Cazio said pleasantly. He doffed his hat and waved it at the girls. “I won’t be long.”
Anne watched Cazio vanish up the stairs, feeling Austra stiffen next to her.
“He’ll be fine,” Anne whispered. “This is the sort of thing Cazio lives for.”
“Yes,” Austra said. “And the sort of thing that will kill him.”
Everyone dies, Anne thought, but she knew it wasn’t the politic thing to say at the moment. Instead, she turned her attention back to the Sefry woman.
“You said you were waiting for me. What did you mean?”
“You mean to use the Crepling passage. That is the reason you have come.”
Anne glanced at Sir Leafton. “Can you repeat what she just said?” Anne asked the Craftsman.
Leafton opened his mouth, then looked puzzled.
“No, Your Highness,” he said.
“Sir Leafton,” Anne said. “Organize the rest of our defense. I’ll be fine here for the moment.”
“I’m not very comfortable with that, Majesty,” he said.
“Do it. Please.”
He puckered his lips, then sighed. “Yes, Majesty,” he said, and hurried off to direct his men.
Anne turned back to the Sefry. “What is your name?” she asked.
“They call me Mother Uun.”
“Mother Uun, do you know what the Crepling passage is?”
“It is the long tunnel,” the woman said. “It begins in the depths of Eslen castle, and it ends in Eslen-of-Shadows. I am its watcher.”
“Watcher? I don’t understand. Did my father appoint you? My mother?”
The old woman—or at least Anne had the impression that she was old—shook her head. “The first queen in Eslen appointed the first of us. Since then, we have chosen from among ourselves.”
“I don’t understand. What are you watching for?”
The eye grew wider. “Him, of course.”
“Him?”
“You do not know?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about now.”
“Well, now. How interesting.” Mother Uun stood back a bit. “Would you mind continuing the discussion inside? The sunlight hurts my eye.”
She stood farther aside as six Craftsmen approached, wearing only their padded gambesons. The old woman repeated the instructions she’d given Cazio, and they went past her into the house.
“You Highness?” the Sefry prompted.
But before Anne could answer, Austra’s stifled shriek drew her attention. Her blue eyes were focused high above, and Anne quickly followed the arrow of her gaze.
She saw a tiny figure—Cazio—somehow working himself up the wall above the high, steepled roof. It didn’t look like he had far to go, only a couple of kingsyards.
But on the wall, two armored soldiers with spears were rushing to meet him.
THE MAN looked Aspar up and down with piercing gray eyes and one eyebrow lifted.
“You’re a dead man,” he said.
The fellow didn’t look far from dead himself. He was as spindly as a skeleton, and his gray hair was thin and mussed. The flesh of his face was sun-browned and hung from his skull like an unshaped mask. His words were simple, unironic, and unthreatening, an old man telling things as he saw them.
“You ever seen her?” Aspar asked.
The old man gazed off at the green line of the forest.
“Some say it’s best not to even speak of these things,” he replied.
“I’m going in after her,” Aspar said. “You can help me or not.” He paused. “I’d rather you helped me.”
The old man raised an eyebrow again.
“That wasn’t a threat,” Aspar said quickly.
“Eyah,” the fellow said. “I’ve lived all my life a stone’s throw from the forest. So eyah, I reckon I’ve seen her. Or what she wanted me to see.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean she’s not always the same, ’swhat I mean,” he replied. “One time a bear came down into the hollow. Big black bear. I might have shot it—would have shot it—till she looked at me, let me know. Sometimes she’s a flock of crows. Sometimes a Sefry woman, they say, but I’ve never seen that. Them that see her in Sefry or human shape don’t usually have many breaths left in the lands of fate.”
“How would you know? I mean if anyone saw her…”
“Some of ’em live a little while,” the man said. “So they can tell us. So the rest of us can know.” He leaned nearer. “She only talks to the dead.”
“Then how do people talk to her?”
“They die. Or they take someone dead.”
“What the sceat does that mean?”
“It’s just what they say. She can’t talk the way we do. Or leastwise, she won’t. I reckon she might, only she prefers murder as often as she can get it.” He looked glum. “I reckon every day she’s gonna come out to claim me.”
“Yah.” Aspar sighed. “Anything else you can tell me?”
“Eyah. There’s a trail’ll take you to her. Stay on it, though.”
“Good enough,” Aspar said, turning back toward Ogre.
“Traveler!” the old man called out.
“Yah?”
“You could stay here tonight. Think it over. Have some soup; that way at least you won’t die on an empty stomach.”
Aspar shook his head. “I’m in a hurry.” He started to turn, then glanced back at the man. “If you’re so scared of her, why do you still live here?”
The man looked at him like he was crazy. “I told you. I was born here.”
The old man wasn’t the only one who worried about the Sarnwood. A long picket of poles topped with cow, horse, and deer skulls suggested that others might have given the place an anxious thought or two. Aspar wasn’t sure what the bones were supposed to accomplish, but some of the poles had little platforms about halfway up, made of plaited willow branches, and on them he saw the rotting remains of sheep and goats, bottles he reckoned to be filled with beer or wine, even bunches of blackened flowers. It was as if they figured the witch might be appeased by something but didn’t know exactly what.
The forest itself lay just beyond, slouching down from the hills into the wide valley of the White Warlock. The river itself vanished into its ferny mouth a couple of bowshots north of him. He crawled his regard across every bit of the tree line he could see, trying to take its measure.
Even at a glance it was different from the King’s Forest. The familiar fringe of oak, hickory, witaec, larch, and elm was replaced by high green spears of spruce and hemlock, thickly bunched though currently leafless heads of ironwood, and stands of birch so white that they resembled bones against the dense green conifers. Off toward the river black alder, twisting willow, crack willow, and pine dominated his view.
“Well, Ogre,” he grunted. “What do you think?”
Ogre didn’t opine until they were closer, and then he did it silently, with a b
unching of muscles and a studied hesitation that was uncharacteristic of the stallion. Of course he was tired, hungry, and still feeling the effects of the woorm’s poison, but even so…
Aspar found himself trying to recall how old Ogre was as the trail led them beneath the first branches of the Sarnwood. He remembered, didn’t like the answer, and started wondering instead why there should be a path in a forest no one dared enter. What kept it clear?
He had a few hours of daylight left, but the overcast sky and high-reaching evergreens brought dusk early to Aspar and his mount. He strung his bow and rested it on the pommel of his saddle, felt the shifting of massive muscles beneath his thighs as Ogre continued his reluctant way forward, trudging through the frequent streams that Aspar reckoned came from snowmelt in the foothills. Despite the cold, the understory was already verdant with fern, and emerald moss carpeted the ground, as well as the trunks and branches of trees. The forest appeared healthy to the eye, but it didn’t smell right. Even more than the King’s Forest, it seemed somehow diseased.
He thought they were probably about a league in when it finally got dark enough to make camp. It was cold, and Aspar could hear wolves waking up not far away, so he decided he didn’t much care how the witch felt about fire. He gathered tinder, twigs, and branches, set them up in a cone, and with a spark brought it all to life. It wasn’t a big fire, but it was enough to keep one side of him warm. He sat on the corpse of a linden tree and watched the flame feed, wondering glumly if Winna was still alive, if he should have stayed as she had asked.
To hear her last words? Sceat on that.
The horrible thing was, part of him was already thinking about how life would be without her. The same part that was shy about the idea of a permanent arrangement in the first place. What were men made of, he wondered, that they thought such thoughts? In his deepest heart, did he want her to die? When Qerla—
“No,” he said, loudly enough that Ogre looked at him.
There it was.
He’d met Qerla when he was very young, younger than Winna. He’d loved her with an absolute madness he’d never imagined feeling again. He could still remember the smell of her, like water caught in the bloom of an orchid. The touch of her skin, a little hotter than Mannish flesh. Looking back on it, she had been even madder than he, for whereas Aspar had little to lose in the way of community and friends, Qerla had been born to a family famous for seers. She had property, and prospects, and all the best marriage opportunities.
