One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  "There would have been no trouble, if you had not provided it!” he shouted. “What do you know of—of that?” He gestured toward the fountain.

  "I don't—"

  "Don't you dare lie to me! I heard you and your daughter arguing over the box on the silver tray—the one she brought out? The one you were to have presented to me?"

  "But I didn't—!"

  "What—was it all right that my uncle send a box containing a Hell-Light spell to destroy me? And Chris? My sister! Look at her, Evany! She's blinded”—Aletto lowered his voice as he glanced over his shoulder—“and she may die! As my father died! Is that what you wanted? What did Jadek offer you for spilling Hell-Light in your garden?” Evany stared at him blankly; his jaw was wobbling. “Well?” Aletto shouted. “What? A place of honor, perhaps his cousin Carolan's estates? Or a separate—"

  "Don't?” Evany's voice rose, quavering, and broke. “Don't. Do you really think—"

  "I think?” Aletto spun away from the man, slammed one fist into the other palm and stood very still, breathing deeply and heavily. “What would you suggest I think?” he demanded after a moment.

  "He offered me Roisan, Meriyas—my two sons, my wife, my other daughters. Alive and healthy.” Evany was blinking hard and his eyes were red-rimmed as Aletto turned back to gaze at him.

  "He threatened—what?” Dahven asked quietly.

  "No threat.” Evany swallowed several times, shook his head. “No threat. Just—a suggestion, he called it. What he intended, if I didn't take the box—"

  "He came here?” Dahven pursued.

  "No.” Evany was still shaking his head, as though he'd forgotten how to stop. “Sent a man—from Sehfi. A man I deal with on occasion, sells me heavy fleeces, gave me—a brooch. Plain bit of silver. I—wore it. And—not long before you came, I was sitting there, by the water, late at night. He—there was a ball of—of something, all around, I couldn't see anything beyond it, but I could hear him.” Evany buried his face in his hands. “He'll know I failed, he'll—"

  "He'll do nothing to you,” Dahven said firmly.

  "Nothing,” Aletto said. He still looked very angry, but his voice was much less tight. “Because you're going to dispose of the brooch—"

  "I don't dare, he'll know!"

  "Perhaps so,” Dahven said. “But knowing and being able to do anything about it are two different things. Jadek will be too busy in very short order to worry about you, or your family. But I suggest, if you really want to assure your safety, that you go to Afronsan, at once, and tell him—” Dahven paused, shrugged and went on. “Leaving out Aletto's presence in your house, tell him everything."

  "But, I can't, I don't dare—!"

  "The damage is already done, you know,” Dahven said mildly. “None of us died, through no fault of yours or Jadek's. But he may choose to blame you for that. Now, unless you have another of those boxes up your sleeves, ready to spring on us—?” The older man shook his head wildly. “Well, then. Go to Afronsan, tell him the entire story—with the exception of the nera-Duke and his sister being here. He won't ask about them, he doesn't want to know anything about them, unless I'm gravely mistaken."

  "He won't believe Jadek caused that,” Evany gestured with a trembling hand in the direction of the reflecting pool; there was a smear of black, perhaps soot, all down the wall, and the water where Jennifer had thrown the box was bubbling.

  "No? I think he will. He's more informed on matters than you might suspect. Lord Evany; I certainly was not aware of his interest in internal matters. Whether he believes Jadek responsible, he can arrange for someone to retrieve that thing and remove it from your garden—you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  "Dear gods,” Evany whispered, and he looked truly terrified.

  Dahven laughed; there wasn't any real humor in the sound. “Don't worry about Afronsan, or about your guests. He knows Jennifer and I came here; he appears to be notably blind and unhearing where matters involving Aletto are concerned."

  "In any event, we will be gone from Podhru tomorrow,” Aletto said. He had turned away to watch his sister and Jennifer. Chris had just stood to move away from the two women; stopping only briefly to pat his mother's shoulder, he came striding across the garden and shouldered past Aletto, around Dahven. He stopped just short of Lord Evany, who gazed up at him nervously. Chris folded his arms and stared back; his mouth twisted in distaste and he spun away and walked off. Dahven glanced at Evany, who was blotting his forehead on his sleeve—probably for the first time in his adult life unheedingly staining expensive silk. The man looked absolutely ill. Dahven touched Aletto's arm to get his attention.

  "Why don't you send one of these men to get Evany's personal servant? He's near collapse.” Aletto still looked angry but the fury left him all at once; he nodded, called to one of his new armsmen and sent him indoors. Once Evany was gone, he leaned against the wall, concentrating on the feel of cool, shaded and rough-surfaced brick against his hot face, oblivious of the men who stood around, watching him in silence, conversing in low, anxious murmurs, or staring at Jennifer and Lialla.

  I don't think I can take much more of this, he thought in sudden despair. But then, surely, that was what Jadek wanted, wasn't it? And if he couldn't, what alternatives did he have?

  * * * *

  Chris was still standing in the middle of the garden, fists clenched at his sides, ignoring the afternoon heat and humidity, when Dahven came up beside him. At first Dahven thought Chris might have been ignoring him, too. His eyes were fixed on Lialla or Jennifer—perhaps both. His voice was scratchy-sounding when he finally heaved a deep sigh and spoke. “She's been through enough, you know? She didn't need this."

  "Lialla?"

  "Yeah, who else? Mom's been through a lot but she's the kind that thinks everybody's really a lot better than they are, it lets her just—bounce back when most people couldn't. Jen—she's just plain strong, I don't know how she does it, but she does. But Li—she doesn't seem to think anyone's all right, she doesn't think she's any good—hell, you know that."

  "I've gathered,” Dahven said.

  "Yeah, well. It's a dirty shame, she can be pretty neat, you can see what kind of person she could've been if that jerk Jadek hadn't messed with her head—sorry, bullied her and all that.” Chris shrugged. “So all she really had was the Thread-magic. Except, she apparently can't find it because she sees what she does, and I think she thinks it's all gone because she can't see, and it's all gone anyway, because she's going to die—jeez, what a mess."

  "Jennifer will fix it,” Dahven said, but he sounded doubtful. Chris turned his head to give him a long, thoughtful look.

  "Yeah. Me, too. Jen can do damn near anything, but what if she can't this time?"

  * * * *

  It was Lialla's question, too—and a measure of her trust in her fellow Wielder that she was even able to ask it. Jennifer shook her head, realized Lialla couldn't see the movement. “Li, I don't know that I can't at least improve matters. If I can't, we'll find someone who can."

  "Maybe that's what Jadek wants,” Lialla mumbled fretfully. She could feel Light humming just behind her lowest ribs and it threatened to make her ill. “Find someone else, and it's someone Jadek paid to finish what that box began?"

  "Sounds like second-guessing to me,” Jennifer replied lightly. Lialla managed a very faint smile.

  "I know,” she whispered. “I said I'd try and stop that, didn't I? Jen, is Chris all right?"

  "Just fine. Maybe you should learn how to rap before you jump into Hell-Light again."

  "I don't have to now; I've got it with me."

  Jennifer laughed. “Bad joke. No, Chris is all right. I—thanks for going after him. You didn't have to—"

  "I did. Chris is—I like Chris. Aletto used to tease me like Chris does, before Father—before Father died."

  "I know Chris likes you, too. Lialla, you won't die. Trust me."

  Lialla's head drooped. “I have to, don't I?"

  * * * *r />
  Jennifer emerged from Thread an hour or more later to find the afternoon nearly spent, the air almost unbearably muggy. She was deathly tired and the chambray shirt needed a good washing, as did her hair.

  She hadn't been entirely successful, but Lialla could see again—well enough to distinguish individuals, if they weren't too far away. A tiny, dense knot of Light centered just above the sin-Duchess's diaphragm, between her lungs—and there, despite all Jennifer's tries, it had stubbornly remained. Finally, she had manipulated the soothing Thread Neri had taught Lialla to use, back in Bezjeriad. The woman slept on a pile of cushions deep in shade, Robyn and Aletto sitting close to her in case she woke, or in case she had bad dreams. After one doubtful look in the pool—the box lay quiescent on the bottom, in a far corner—Jennifer sat on the edge where Chris had moon-walked and splashed water across her face.

  "If you'd like some washing water—” a high and rather frosty voice began. Jennifer looked up to see Meriyas standing a short distance away. “My father sent me to ask if there was anything you desired,” she went on stiffly.

  "I would like water,” Jennifer said. “For washing and some to drink. And, Meriyas—” The girl had already turned away; she stopped and stood stiff-backed in the center of the path. “Don't try and attach blame, will you?"

  "You should never have come here,” Meriyas replied.

  "Perhaps not. But how far back do you carry that? If Aletto never left home, if Lialla had married Carolan—if we had never been dragged from our own world into yours—if Jadek hadn't murdered his brother by Hell-Light and tried to take his place—and incidentally put your father out of work so that he had to leave Zelharri and come here—"

  "Words. If you hadn't come here, Lord Jadek would never have forced that box upon Father. My sister might have died handling it!” she added fiercely.

  "You might have died if you hadn't moved away from that wall so quickly,” Jennifer said. “Chris nearly did. Lialla might yet die; she moved as quickly as you did, but then she went back, for Chris. If she dies because she braved Hell-Light for him, is that still only words?"

  "Don't say that!"

  "Why? It's true. I'm sorry things came out as they did, Meriyas. All the same, there is no guarantee Jadek wouldn't have forced that box upon your father even if we hadn't come here, simply because of who he was. Perhaps Jadek knew where we were bound; perhaps he only assumed we would come here. It's entirely possible Jadek meant that box as much to harm your father as to kill Aletto; he was to present it himself, wasn't he? Think of that, if you need a direction to aim your anger. Maybe—oh, hell. Maybe anything. I'm just telling you there aren't any easy answers, and nothing is all black or all white. You're old enough to realize that, Meriyas."

  Meriyas stood very still for another moment. “I'll bring your water,” she said finally, and walked swiftly toward the house.

  18

  The remainder of the afternoon was mercifully short; the sun went down within an hour and darkness covered the garden. Evany sent servants with food and drink, with an offer of his spare room or the weaving area for Aletto and his people. The offer sounded stiff, even as delivered by Evany's man, and Aletto's refusal, though polite, was no less stiff.

  The silver box was gone, though: Evany sent an elderly man out just before full dark to collect it. Jennifer sensed magic but was entirely too tired to care what sort of magician the man might have been, if instead he'd carried some sort of market protection—useful though that information might prove for them all in the days to come. Later. Much later. At the moment, it was an effort to force herself to eat anything. What little she'd been able to accomplish for Lialla had utterly drained her.

  Lialla was extremely quiet—much too quiet for Jennifer's liking. She ate and drank whatever Chris put into her hands, replied when he spoke to her. She volunteered nothing, still would not let Aletto anywhere near her. Probably she would have refused Chris, too, if he'd shown the least uncertainty;

  Chris flatly refused to let her push him away and she finally had to give up.

  He'd tucked her into a regular blanket and draped a silk-cloth over that, finally came over to where the rest of them were sitting—in the far corner of the garden, well away from the reflecting pool—and dropped heavily into piled cushions. “Jen? I think her eyes are getting worse."

  "It could be because it's dark, you know."

  "Yeah. Well—yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, swore mildly and began picking it into separate spikes. “So what do we do for her?"

  Jennifer shrugged. “I wish I knew. I tried talking to her about Light before; she wouldn't really listen. It's—I don't know how well I can explain it, since you don't know any of it. Thread, you can hear and see and feel; Light—"

  "I know about that stuff, okay?” Chris interrupted her gruffly.

  "Not as a Wielder, you don't, kid. A dispassionate observer type of a Wielder; I hope I'm that, anyway. It's—Light deadens natural sound; it backs away from music. All right, I know you know about the music. Light, though: It was pretty damned quiet in there, wasn't it?"

  "No fooling,” Chris growled.

  "Remember that hut, the first night we were attacked?"

  "The deserted village. Sure I do."

  "I studied the interior, trying to figure out how to shut it down. I got lucky that time, once I got rid of the device they'd use to confine the stuff in that building, it faded. But there was a wad of it—like, oh, hell.” Jennifer ran a hand through her hair and snagged on a knot. She began carefully separating strands. “Say you had a ball of regular string, about the size of a basketball? And say you compressed that, somehow, so it was the size of a golf ball?"

  Chris considered this, finally laughed. “Hey, you know? Nifty! Neutron Thread!"

  "God knows what it is,” Jennifer replied gloomily. She finished unsnarling one knot and began searching for others, cautiously combing through her hair with her left hand. “Ouch. I'm just trying to figure how to undo something like that."

  "How?” Chris shook his head. “You mean, like, it's the same stuff? Really?"

  "Don't know. It doesn't feel like it; it doesn't feel terribly alien, either. But basically, that was what Lialla did with your headache a while back—found an end and unraveled a ball of Thread."

  "Love these technical terms,” Chris grinned.

  "And,” Jennifer overrode him with heavy patience, “if it is related, I should be able to find a way to do the same thing. Or she should."

  "Yeah. Except I think she's too scared to even think about it."

  "I'm afraid you're right.” Jennifer gave up on her hair, shook her head. “We'll just have to do what we can for her, keep her spirits up."

  "Oh.” Chris gave her a long look. “Sure. And if it's taking her out like it did her old man? Then what?"

  "I don't know! Look, kid, my hands are kind of tied at the moment, she won't let me get anyone in to try and help her, in case someone realizes who she is, figures she and Aletto are here, and hauls them in—or in case whatever healer came to help decided to kill her instead."

  "You mean, a healer in Jadek's pay? Yeah—hadn't occurred to me."

  "That—or one who saw profit in going to Jadek later, or even one like that old man who fixed Enardi's leg. Remember him?"

  "Ernie. And the old guy—jeez, who could forget about him? Yeah, he'd probably freak bad over a combination like that, Night-Thread Wielder contaminated with Hell-Light. He'd figure she was better off dead and buried, like Caro's kid.” He picked up a handful of pebbles from the nearby path and began dropping them one at a time. “You don't make it any easier, do you?"

  "Sure I do,” Jennifer replied. “I let you see the choices."

  "Choices? What choices?"

  "Well—you seem to be doing a pretty good job of keeping her spirits up, kid. Don't give up, and don't let her see you're down, all right?"

  "I know all that, okay?” Chris tossed the last of his pebbles against a tree trunk. He sighe
d then, shook his head. “Yeah, I'll do what I can. Don't you give up working on this, either, though."

  "You know me better than that,” Jennifer replied acerbically.

  "Yeah, guess so.” Chris dropped his voice to a non-carrying murmur. “Listen, though: Aletto said we were getting out of here tomorrow. That right?"

  "Think of a good reason to hang around, Chris?"

  He grinned. “Hey. With our track record? What about supplies and stuff, though?"

  "Aletto's got a small army of people out there right now; remember Gyrdan?"

  "Oh. Yeah, right. Used to having to do all that stuff by ourselves. We aren't really going to just walk right up to Duke's Fort with all those guys in tow, though, are we?"

  "Don't know.” Jennifer shrugged. “Ask Aletto, or Gyrdan. I think Dahven got in on some of the planning session, too. I would have thought you'd be involved in it,” she added mildly.

  Chris shrugged. “Well—yeah. I felt kind of out of place, you know? I mean, a few years of gaming and stuff doesn't exactly match up to the kind of experience a guy like Gyrdan has."

  "Oh?” Jennifer raised her eyebrows. “I don't know. Dahven tells me there hasn't been any real fighting in Rhadaz in several generations—leaving out Dro Pent, of course. Maybe Gyrdan was involved in that; but I'd be willing to bet most of those men are as virgin as you are—as far as fighting, of course,” she added.

  "Oh, right. You have the nastiest way of putting things, you know?"

  "I learned it in law school."

  "Yeah, sure, I know better. They can't teach that; you have to be born with it."

  Jennifer laughed. “Well—all right. Maybe. You going?"

  "I can take a hint.” Chris was on his feet. “Think I'll take Eddie back over that way, talk to him for a while. He doesn't beat a guy over the head with—certain words,” Chris finished darkly. He hunched his shoulders, strode off into the dark; Jennifer could hear the two conversing not far away, but they were talking too softly for her to make out what they were talking about.