The rest of the valley flickered with movement: birds, and – was that a goat? It was also oddly damp, as if there'd been a heavy dew or a light rain. But the sky remained stone-backed deception, the air still and windless. Alive, but artificial, quite like a miniature garden Aspen had once seen growing in a large glass bowl.
That was not a pretty thought, and Aspen flicked it away, moving forward as he looked about for more activity. There was the Guard Dog, surveying him from the balcony of a house a level up, and Gentian wandering out from behind a nearby hall. She was carrying a flat basket stocked with greenery, and headed for the gardens around the lake. A short way in she put the basket down so she could thrust her arms into something low and hedge-like. Shaking his head, Aspen headed across.
"My dear unfortunate," he said, as she disappeared head-first into another bush. "If you truly have any desire to win the Diamond Couerveur – and I'm not saying I want you to succeed or anything – but do you really think scuffling about in the shrubbery is going to impress?"
"Depends on whether he likes eggs or not, I suppose," Gentian said, emerging with an undersized specimen. "Someone seems to have let loose a few hen-houses worth of bantams, and they've nested all over the place."
"And what's wrong with a little judicious true-magic?" Aspen asked. He concentrated carefully and the egg she'd just put down rose, turned over twice, and set down again.
Gentian was already poking about another bush. "In the grand scheme, I doubt hunting eggs will much change Lord Aristide's opinion of me."
"It would take a lot to get past 'you're almost good enough to stay here for'. As declarations go, I think that was the clumsiest I've ever witnessed."
She shrugged. "I wasn't actually meaning to make one. I gather you think I'd have little chance of success if I pursued him?"
"Far be it from me to predict the Diamond's tastes," Aspen protested, holding up his hands because he did, in fact, think she had no chance at all. The fastidious Diamond Couerveur and this gardener? Mage or not, she wasn't anything Aspen had ever pictured the Diamond wanting.
An odd expression flickered into her eyes, making him suspect she knew it to be a hopeless case, but she only said: "I'll have to sit down with you some time and work out how many of the rumours are true. If you're willing to talk out of turn?"
"Nothing I can tell you is likely to bother the Diamond," Aspen assured her, adding gleefully: "I've stories to curl your toes."
"Do you?" Her tone was off-hand, but the quick look she gave him suggested Gentian Calder wasn't nearly so sanguine as she'd have him believe. Not even close.
"Were you serious?" he asked, with a sudden spurt of sympathy. There were countless hordes who wanted Aristide Couerveur, but few fool enough to try and love him.
She straightened and looked over at the Diamond, still contemplating the throne. "I think so. I've not encountered an impulse to follow someone to the end of the world before."
On cue, the Diamond turned his head, and the pair gazed at each other across the small lake. A very po-faced and sombre survey, like two duellists before a bout.
"The end of the world and beyond."
"But he's not good enough to make you want to stay in Darest? That doesn't make sense," Aspen pointed out, then added by way of distraction: "I'm the first to extol the Diamond's many attractions, but folk who fix on just one person always get tied up in knots over nothing."
"'All my peace is stolen and my plans have come to naught'," she murmured almost cheerfully as the Diamond began walking across the lake toward them. "Do you know, Aspen, I think Aristide Couerveur is the price I'm going to pay for returning to Darest? I hope he's worth the cost."
"Just don't say I didn't warn you."
"For that courtesy, I thank you." She gave him that understated little smile, then turned her usual solemn expression on the Diamond. "This is a very confused valley, Lord Magister," she said. "Poppies under fruiting trees. Marrows and snowdrops. And rather a lot of plants I've never seen anywhere else."
"Hardly surprising for a settlement of the Fair." The Diamond was looking particularly crisp this morning, and wore the faint air of enjoyment which was his usual approach to business. "Tell me, Magister, when you were in the pavilion on Vostal Hill, could you sense any lingering enchantment?"
"On the pavilion itself? No. They're not very natural trees, but I couldn't feel anything actively bound to them. What about this one?"
"It reads as unenhanced stone. But you may catch something I cannot."
"Perhaps." She sounded doubtful, and bent to pick up her basket. "I'll look after breakfast."
This was all very polite and casual, enough to reassure Aspen that the Diamond wasn't about to succumb. He was wondering whether Gentian quite understood the concept of flirtation when, without warning, Rua Ketu and Hapt-lo Dest hauled themselves, dripping and mostly naked, out of the lake. It was a sight to make a man weep, and Aspen could only thank Fortune's munificence as the Atlarans came walking toward them.
"I knew there was a reason I got out of bed this morning," he said reverentially, once they were in earshot. "That was the loveliest surprise I've had for years. Thank you."
Rua's broad grin creased her face, but Hapt-lo Dest gave no sign of hearing. A pity: he had a frame any man would like to climb, and positively gleamed in the false morning light.
"Lord Magister," the Atlaran man said to Aristide, offering up an abbreviated, fist-to-chest bow. "There are outlets below the surface, as you surmised, but they are sealed by both shield and wall. Initial probes did not weaken them."
"Then we will leave them until the general survey of the valley is complete, Hapt-lo. Give my thanks to Aurak Bes."
With another brief courtesy the Atlarans turned away, off to dull their splendour with a layer of wholly unnecessary cloth. Aspen watched until they'd disappeared inside. And already the Guard Dog was moving forward to take their place, no doubt carrying a message from his masters. He'd at least cleaned himself up a little – enough to reveal a nice line to his jaw – but looked as stolidly humourless as ever as he started into the edge of the garden.
And stopped, eyes going wide and hand heading predictably to sword, staring past them. Aspen turned. Gentian and the Diamond were already facing her. Suldar. Just standing there.
"May we assist you, Lady Suldar?" the Diamond asked, quite as if he'd expected the creature to reverse her attitude of the previous evening and come seeking them out.
But it was not Aristide Couerveur the Fae was interested in. From her great height she looked down at a woman carrying a basket of eggs and vegetables.
~You are not of the Blood.~
"...no," came the very blank reply. If there was ever anyone who looked less like a Fae, it was Gentian Calder.
Suldar's expression, or lack of expression, didn't change, but Aspen thought her intent study became even more focused. Then incomprehensible words again translated into their minds.
~That which brought you from sleep – has it touched you before?~
Gentian actually swayed, her shock as visible as a blow. "You felt It?"
~It has touched you before this?~ The words echoed with extra emphasis in Aspen's head, as if a storm had moved closer, the thunder directly overhead. The thousand-year Fae, the creature of impossible power...sounded worried.
And Gentian, eyes wide, replied in a whisper: "Every day I'm in Darest."
A silence, quivering. Aspen had no other way to describe it.
~I did not know.~
"Know what? Do you know what it is?" A plea, equal parts hope and disbelief.
But Suldar left. Turned her back on them and walked out of the central park, back into the building with her harps. The wall closed behind her.
Livid patches of red bloomed on Gentian's cheeks, and her fingers were white on the basket's handle. "No secret better kept than by the Fair," she said savagely. "No race so ready to ask but not answer."
"But what woke you this morning?" Aspen aske
d, thinking Gentian was hardly the person to complain about keeping secrets. Whether or not she'd been lying, there was obviously a good deal she should have volunteered. "What was she talking about?"
The Diamond reached out and steadied the basket before all the eggs ended up on the ground. "Captain Djol," he said, face dangerously blank. "Would you be so kind as to tell Prince Chenar we plan to gather in two hours to discuss our findings and further steps? There is a plaza near the building you have made your base, which will do well as a meeting place."
The Guard Dog produced a very flat stare indeed, then shifted his grip on his sword hilt and nodded at the ground. "Look."
Thin blurred ovals traced the path of Suldar's departure. Footprints. Burnt into the grass. After a moment's hesitation, Gentian crouched to touch the nearest print, then dusted her fingers. "Desiccated. Like it's been in a desert for years."
"She did that just by walking on it?" Aspen found the idea particularly horrible. "Not a lady to sweep off her feet. But how?"
"I think she must have drawn the fragment of living magic out of it. All the free magic in the valley flows to her, at least." Gentian was regaining her self-composure: that had been almost as solemn and unperturbed as usual.
The Guard Dog, standing his ground despite the Diamond's obvious dismissal, finally let go his sword. "You said before that the place grieved, Magister. Is it an angry mourning? Should we consider the valley itself hostile?"
Aspen had no idea where that question had come from, but Gentian seemed to think it logical. "No." She looked down at her basket, her fingers still white-knuckled despite surface calm. They waited while she carefully loosed her grip. "No. It's glad we're here. It wants people. It was responding to us all the while we were walking down, and when Suldar took the preservation off – it was like it was able to take its first breath in centuries. But it still feels bound."
"It wants people?" Djol sounded like he couldn't decide whether to be sceptical or enlightened. "Could it be the valley itself, then, which brought us here?"
"Not many places work magic. And most are very distinct in their borders. Mountains might look at what's approaching them, but usually a valley wouldn't notice you till you entered it, and not have any particular inclination to do anything to you. I don't think this place was...expecting us."
"I see. Thank you, Magister." With a curt nod to Aristide, Djol walked off. Gentian stood watching him stride toward the Saxan base, then turned to the Diamond.
There was enough ice in the famed star sapphire eyes to sink a fleet of ships, and Aspen was surprised when, after only the tiniest hesitation, she said, undaunted: "I suppose you're less than keen to put off explanations?"
"They are by now overdue."
Each word was so very, very restrained. In Gentian's shoes, Aspen would have wilted. Instead her mouth flattened to a straight line. "It's not as if it wasn't all laid before the Regent years ago, Lord Magister," she said, matching him for frost. "And I presume you'd not have it aired out here?"
Without waiting for any response she turned and walked away, and the Diamond followed, wearing one of the coldest smiles Aspen had ever seen from him. Aspen could only shake his head in exasperation and join the train. He didn't doubt for a moment that Gentian, no matter where she'd been living, knew the Diamond and Lady Arista had been at each other's throats for years. "Wonderful tactics," he muttered. "Throw his mother in his face. That'll get him on side."
Gentian had gone back to the kitchen, but no sooner had Aspen and Aristide caught up with her, then the room was made smaller by two over-dressed Atlarans.
"Lord Magister," said Hapt-lo Dest, "the Aurak would be grateful to consult with you."
"Of course." Without a backward glance, the Diamond followed the Hapt-lo out. Gentian was already chopping things, all set-faced and determinedly silent. She obviously wanted to wallow in a foul mood, so Aspen left her to it, turning to the far more pleasing prospect of Rua Ketu.
"Can we abandon all formality?" he asked. "I'm a little overdone with My Lords and Your Highnesses and whatnot."
"An excellent thought," Rua said agreeably. "Though did abandonment not come long ago for you?"
He grinned. "It's a continuing thing. So why the swimming expedition? Not that making it a regular morning feature isn't a very good idea, but you could have just scried to see what's below the surface."
"Eyes and fingers can be harder to deceive. To find our way out, we will need such care."
"I see you're going to be our voice of reason, Rua."
Her eyes crinkled. "And you our saviour from boredom's threat?"
"I do my humble best." He bowed, liking her again for the genial good humour she inhabited. "Are you going to head out for more scouting around?"
"Not yet. The Aurak is preparing for a sel-deseva divination, and we will attend on him."
"Do you think it will work?" Aspen asked, impressed. It was a kind of magic he associated only with the Apexes of the Sun and Moon, those who devoted themselves to a God's service. Sel-deseva was an attempt to achieve divine revelation rather than divination.
"The Aurak has been answered in the past. But here, who can say? Neither Sun nor Moon touch this place."
"Only Suldar."
"So it would seem." She shrugged, then looked across at Gentian. "Is there anything you would like done, Magister Calder?"
The smaller woman had fallen into a brown study in the midst of slicing tomatoes. She blinked, processed the question, then said: "How are you at milking goats?"
Rua laughed. "Well, we shall see. How much would you like?"
"A cup? I'm not sure how much her kid will have left to us."
"Ever a new discovery to make." Rua picked up a bowl and headed for the back door.
"Could you set those plates out on the bench, Aspen?" Gentian added, saving him from trying to decide whether he should brave goat-herding for Rua's sake. "And then go ask Princess Aloren whether she would like breakfast?"
"This is a morning full of gifts," Aspen said, brightening. He quickly lined empty plates up. "I'll think of a kindness I can do in return."
She wasn't able to hold back a flicker of a wry smile. "I gather I wouldn't be tall enough for her."
"You caught that too? Priceless, wasn't it? I must say," he added, judging it now safe, "just when I thought I had you pegged, you get the claws out. What happened to the meek and mild thing?"
She grimaced, but Aspen diagnosed embarrassment not annoyance. "And my thoughts have been less than gracious about everyone else's little displays, too," she said. "I imagine it would be a bad idea to excuse myself by telling Aristide that he was reminding me too much of his mother?"
"That would be one way to kiss any chance of romance goodbye," Aspen agreed. "You know Lady Arista?"
"We've met. It's strange to suddenly, ah, discover her son, since I certainly don't cherish fond memories of the Regent."
"Well, look at it this way: at least it's one thing you and the Diamond have in common."
He left her to mull that over, heading upstairs. The building had three floors and Darest's finest had taken a row of rooms on the middle level, while the Atlarans and the oh-so ravishing Aloren were well situated on top.
The stairs ended with two doors that led into matching suites. One was open, with Hapt-lo Dest standing inside. Aspen treated him to the sunniest of smiles and knocked on the other. No answer. But it was unlocked, and Aspen could never be accused of being shy.
"Your Highness?" he called, closing the door behind him and looking hopefully around a small entry hall.
That drawling, honey-soaked voice floated out of the room to his right. "Come tie me up."
"An order no-one would refuse," Aspen murmured, heading in. He found a bedroom dominated by huge windows overlooking the lake. The lid of every chest was raised and all the cupboard doors stood open, a selection of Fae clothing spilling out. Aloren was in the centre of the room, a vision of bronze and gold.
Aspen pau
sed reverentially. Ancient Fae clothing apparently tended even more to impracticality than the current stuff: this was all flowing sleeves and an endless train. Even Aloren was not tall enough for the gown she'd chosen, but the colour made it hers.
Criss-cross lacing from nape of neck to base of spine explained her command. This was the kind of clothing that required a dresser, or a fine command of true-magic. Or Aspen, nothing loathe to step into the breach.
"I've been sent to offer you breakfast," he said, moving to stand behind her. The faint remnant of a heady scent clung to her hair, and he felt his heart start to race just because he was close. Astonishing creature.
Aloren didn't respond, only stood waiting for him. She was humming to herself. Delicately he hooked fingers into the lowest cross of the lace. The heat of her skin came through the cloth, and he had to close his eyes a moment. He'd spent a long time the previous night debating how best to approach the Cerian princess. She hadn't dismissed his admiration out of hand, but if ever there was a woman who was pursued on every side, and could take her pick...
Slowly he pulled the lace tight, and moved a notch up her spine, working his way along the lace with infinite care. It would be crass to grope, and no compliment was adequate. He simply took his time, not allowing himself so much as an unnecessary brush of the fingers, enjoying this privilege. Aloren still hummed: a slow, melancholic tune.
Finally, after hooking the ends of the lace into a complicated little clasp, he stood back. "Let me know when you want to take it off."
She turned. Golden eyes, burnished mirrors, surveyed him from head to toe. "And do you feel yourself equal to two princes?" she asked. Idle curiosity.
"Depends on the competition," Aspen said blithely. "I dance like a dream."
"And could prove yourself the better?"
Aspen hesitated. Aloren was a princess, a goddess. Outside this valley she had a kingdom to add a certain weight to her rancour. But he saw no sign that her ego demanded complete worship, so, greatly daring, he said: "Frankly, Your Most Very Royal Highness, what I'd like to do with Prince Jurasel and Prince Chenar doesn't need any proving. Where's the fun in playing them off against each other?"
Bones of the Fair Page 11
