You knew who those people were, Lady Melina, he thought.
But whether what you felt at hearing of their coming was fear or anger, I cannot be sure. Still, I am certain of one thing: either you fear them or you hate them—maybe both. Either I way, that makes them people I need to know.
He considered.. His fellow in the Dragon's Three—one Xarxius, formerly of the Stargazers—had been head of the expedition sent as observers to the war to the south that Hawk Haven and Bright Bay now called King Allister's War—as if one man deserved either the credit or the blame! Stonehold more reasonably refused to even name it a war, calling it simply the Battle of the Barren River.
Now that Peace thought on the matter, Xarxius had made himself very scarce of Lady Melina's company. Peace had hardly considered that this might be deliberate. Winter was a busy time for trade in heavy items like glass, which could be moved more easily over snow-packed roads. As a specialist in foreigners, Xarxius was always very busy in winter.
Maybe Xarxius had meant to avoid Lady Melina. Peace would seek him out as soon as this meeting was over.
For now, he settled back in his chair and with patience born of long practice turned his full attention to the raging debate on the magical merits of a comb.
Grateful Peace invited Xarxius to dine with him that same evening. Surprisingly, Xarxius was not already committed, and he agreed to come by Peace's chambers when his business was completed.
Each of the Dragon's Three had been given one of the spire-topped towers within Thendulla Lypella for his own use. As he had come into Apheros's service many years before, when Apheros had been elected the Dragon Speaker, Peace had ample opportunity to discover any secret places or spy galleries.
He had found some, but there were none in the rounded tower room to which he took Xarxius. It was a room that in the winter he used most commonly by day, for its great beauty was in the floor-to-ceiling windows—each a full nine feet in height—that graced the circular room at regular intervals.
After dark the windows—even when heavily curtained—made the room rather chilly. However, Peace ordered his servants to stoke up the stove that squatted in the center of room. The stove, unlike the windows, was of modern manufacture. Either the Founders had not used this room after dark in the cold seasons or they had possessed some magical means for heating.
The smiths, however, had melded function and artistry, casting the stove in the shape of some amphibious beast from legend and enameling the metal in shining white and green. The fire was fed through the creature's wide, frog-like mouth, and glass spheres set in its bulging eye sockets shone with internal light.
Although Peace was fond of the stove—it had been among the first things he had commissioned for his own use—this was not why he chose to meet Xarxius here. The existence of the windows made it obvious that the walls contained no spy holes. The heavy curtains that were usually drawn across the windows were open now, making quite plain that no one hid behind them. In all ways, the room proclaimed itself secure.
When a servant announced Xarxius's arrival, Peace saw his guest grasp the significance of Peace's preparations.
"Draw the curtains," Peace ordered the servant, "then leave us. We have everything we need. See that we are not interrupted except on direct command of the Dragon Speaker himself."
He glanced at Xarxius as he gave this last command, but Xarxius nodded his agreement. The two men spoke of little as the servant went about his labors, chatting idly of the meeting Xarxius had just attended with some financiers from Waterland, eager to secure a trade concession for the coming spring.
Xarxius was some ten or twelve years older than Grateful Peace, but his features fell into lines and wrinkles beyond even those years. Many had unkindly compared him to a hound dog, for with his long broad nose, soulful brown eyes, and, most of all, the bags beneath those eyes, he did rather resemble one of those phlegmatic beasts.
That appearance was deceptive. The only character trait Xarxius shared with a hound dog was persistence when on the trail. He was clever and witty, yet wise enough to conceal this from those who could be fooled. He was also brutal enough to take advantage of such misjudgments.
It was largely owing to Xarxius and those on his immediate staff that New Kelvin still wielded economic independence. Without great care, the smaller mountain kingdom would doubtless have been swallowed up by the ruthless plutocracy of Waterland, their neighbor to the east.
Since tonight Xarxius had come to Grateful Peace directly after his meeting with some Waterland financiers, as would be expected, his face paint was an exemplar of misdirection. Subtle shading gave the impression of a constant smile, shadowing about his eyes made his expression difficult to read. Wild curls of color placed at random distracted from the more subtle art in such a disturbing fashion that the viewer's eyes unconsciously returned to that comforting—if illusory—smile.
As one who had begun his own career doing facial decoration, Peace revered the artistry of Xarxius's adornment. At another time, he might have asked who had originated the design, but tonight he had something more immediate to discuss.
When the last curtain was drawn and the servant dismissed, Peace locked the door behind him. Xarxius barred his teeth at him in a broad, doggy grin.
"Somehow I don't think you've asked me here so I can tell you about the excellent prices I obtained on a contract to make the window glass for the new palace of the Supreme Affluent."
"I fear not," Peace replied, gesturing toward one of the broad-armed chairs set near a small oval table a comfortable distance from the stove, "although I am certain that you worked wonders. There is nothing the plutocrats of Waterland like less than actually spending their money."
Xarxius laughed in agreement and accepted the goblet of white wine Peace poured for him. Tempting scents rose from the covered dishes as Peace carried them over to the table and began to serve the meal.
"I have asked you here," Peace continued, ladling beef simmered with mushrooms and cream, "because I fear a threat to the Dragon Speaker's rule."
"Do the Defeatists still challenge him?" Xarxius asked, helping himself to fresh bread. "I am astonished. I had thought that the arrival of the three artifacts and the actual awakening of power in the mirror would have stilled their voices—at least for now."
"Their voices are stilled," Peace agreed. He put the serving dishes to one side of the table and took his seat. "The threat comes from another source."
Xarxius cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Oh? What source?"
As was his wont, Peace answered indirectly.
"What do you know of Lady Melina Shield?"
"Ah, our honored visitor." Xarxius sampled a mushroom, nodded his approval of the flavor. "She is the youngest daughter of a Great House of Hawk Haven. Her brother is the reigning Duke Gyrfalcon. She is recently widowed, but has several children left to comfort her—five according to some counts, four according to others."
Thinking of the severed fingers, Peace said, "I don't understand."
"Lady Melina," Xarxius continued, his voice gruff and hearty, rather like a friendly barroom gossip, not a specialist in foreign policy, "bore five living children, four girls and a boy. The eldest girl, however, was the victor in the recent competition to be adopted as heir to the throne of Hawk Haven—old King Tedric being without living issue.
"By custom, King Tedric has adopted this young woman—the Crown Princess Sapphire—so according to some counts, that leaves Lady Melina shy one child."
"And those who remain are?"
Xarxius looked quite curious about this interest in a foreigner's family, but supplied the information without pause.
"Jet—the heir to the family's small fortune—Ruby, Opal, and Citrine."
"Ah."
Peace sighed deeply. He held up a hand when Xarxius appeared ready to ask some questions of his own.
"Bear with me, old friend. I fear before we part this evening I will have answered all your questio
ns and more. Tell me, have you heard of a Sir Jared Surcliffe and some woman called the Firekeeper? Who are they and what is their relation to Lady Melina?"
Grateful Peace fancied he saw a glimmer of understanding in Xarxius's deep-shadowed eyes as the other sipped his wine, pausing, perhaps, to frame his answer in light of some private knowledge of his own.
"Sir Jared Surcliffe," Xarxius said, as if reciting from some dossier visible only to himself, "is a cousin of House Kestrel, the land that lies across the White Water River on our southwestern boundary. Although without fortune himself, he has the patronage of Earl Kestrel. He is gaining renown as a healer in his own right and is said to have been favored by Crown Princess Sapphire and her newlywed husband after they were injured in the recent assassination attempt—this despite some unhappiness on the part of the established healers of Bright Bay.
"Firekeeper—there is no 'the' preceding the name as far as I have heard—is also connected to House Kestrel. She is the adopted daughter of Earl Kestrel—in this capacity she is known as Lady Blysse. However, I have been told she prefers the other name.
"Lady Blysse's preadoption lineage is somewhat more in doubt. Many believe her to be the daughter of King Tedric's youngest son, Prince Barden, who was disowned by his father after he disobeyed his father's wishes and attempted to establish a colony west of the Death Touch Mountains. Others doubt this, stating she could be one of any number of children taken along on the expedition.
"Whatever the case, like Princess Sapphire, Firekeeper was considered a possible candidate as King Tedric's heir. Although he did not choose her, rumor says that she remains a favorite of his."
Xarxius ate a few bites of his meal, then ran his tongue lightly around his lips before continuing.
"It is also said that Firekeeper is in some way magically gifted—though fearing sorcery as they do, those of Hawk Haven do not state it precisely that way. What is not in doubt is that she commands two beasts—a peregrine falcon and a timber wolf—who obey her slightest whim. I saw the girl myself when I was an observer at the recent war, and while I was in no position to judge whether she is magically gifted or not, I will say without question that she is very odd."
Grateful Peace nodded. Xarxius's account was filling in gaps in what he recalled.
"One more question," Peace said. "Then I promise to tell let you dine while I tell you all I know. I also promise to answer any questions you may present."
"Fair," Xarxius agreed. "Ask."
"What—if any—relationship do these two have with Lady Melina Shield? I don't just mean kinship—though I know the Hawk Havenese count this as important. I am also interested in matters of personal history."
"Well," Xarxius drawled, and Peace could see the true smile within the paint, "Lady Blysse—this Firekeeper—did slay Lady Melina's brother."
Peace blinked and Xarxius, with a chuckle, continued:
"Lady Melina's brother was Prince Newell, the widower of Tedric's second child, his daughter Lovella. Although it has been kept somewhat quiet—probably in the interests of sparing House Gyrfalcon embarrassment—Prince Newell attempted to murder King Tedric during the final battles of King Muster's War."
Peace nodded. He remembered reading a report of this, though he didn't think the report had emphasized that Prince Newell was a Shield. He thought he might have assumed that Newell was of Tedric's own house. It was so difficult to keep these foreign relationships straight! Moreover, Peace's own duties involved internal politics, not external.
"Prince Newell would probably have succeeded," Xarxius said around a mouthful of bread, "but this Firekeeper somehow got wind of what he was doing and interrupted him. I understand that she herself was nearly slain in the process."
Smiling ironically, Peace nodded again.
"So Lady Melina has reason to hate this Lady Blysse."
"Reason enough," Xarxius agreed. "Now, tell me, is it coincidence that you ask me these questions just a few days after my own informants reported to me that this very Lady Blysse and Sir Jared—along with several companions—have come to Dragon's Breath and are dwelling here? Their apparent purpose is to pursue the practice of medicine, but my informants tell me that Lady Blysse and an intimate companion—one Derian Carter, who incidently is an advisor to King Tedric—have been prowling the city as if seeking something."
"It is no coincidence," Grateful Peace replied. Concisely, but omitting not one essential detail, he told Xarxius about the news Kistlio had brought that afternoon and how Lady Melina had reacted.
"And you feared for the safety of our honored guest," Xarxius said when he finished. "How admirable!"
Peace did not have to have known his fellow Three for these past fifteen years to hear the hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"I think not," he said. "I have reason not to fear for Lady Melina, but to fear her."
Xarxius stared at him for a long moment. Then slowly, portentously, he nodded assent.
"I, too, fear her. I know, I know," he added hastily, "I was among those who agreed that her interesting proposal was worth pursuing—although I noted to Apheros that a mind which could come up with such an intricate plan involving so many levels of betrayal bore careful watching."
Xarxius's voice dropped to a hound-dog bay. "But I never believed that she possessed such power as she has shown here."
"You've seen it, too, then!" Peace's voice nearly broke with relief. He had expected to spend long hours convincing Xarxius of the reality of what he had observed.
"I have." Xarxius frowned. "I thought that I had even seen her mark on you, old friend, but I must have been mistaken."
Peace shook his head.
"You were not. She set that mark upon me—possibly as we traveled from the Stone Giant Inn to Dragon's Breath—but whatever her power is it must need some maintenance. With bigger fish to catch, she let me idle in her nets. I slipped through the meshes."
Xarxius sighed deeply. "Lady Melina may have overextended herself, too. Both Apheros and the Healed One are definitely under her influence. Many of the Primes are at least open to her suggestion—open enough to eliminate their normal dislike of a foreigner."
"And some are more receptive than that," Grateful Peace added. "There are those who look to Lady Melina for guidance and reassurance. Yet even as they do so, they seem unaware."
Xarxius nodded. "I saw what was happening, but I didn't know what I could do—one man, alone. Finally, I decided that the wisest course for me was to avoid her as much as possible and to do everything I could to hasten the awakening of the artifacts. Then she would take her share, go home, and we could return to our usual lives."
Grateful Peace took a deep breath.
"Xarxius," he said seriously, "I'm not sure that Lady Melina intends to go home…"
The hound-dog face stared at him in disbelief. With immense care, Peace told him what he had seen, ending with those two severed fingers and the news that Baron Waln Endbrook was almost certainly alive.
Chapter XXIX
So we have a map," Elise said, inspecting Edlin's completed work that evening after dinner, "and it seems to be a fine one. Now what do we do with it?" Their makeshift household was gathered in Doc's consulting room. The kitchen—filled with the warmth of both ovens and hearth, scented with the spices Wendee had used in preparing that night's dinner—would have been more comfortable, but Hasamemorri or one of her maids was always trotting in or out.
Tonight, when they needed to plan the next stage in their campaign, they required privacy. Chairs had been carried in for all but Firekeeper. The polished maple table on which Doc's instruments were usually spread had been pulled away from the wall and the chairs set about it. Edlin's map had been tacked to the wall in sight of all.
"What do we do with this map now that we have it?" Elise repeated.
She knew she sounded cross, but somehow she couldn't help herself. The first patients had arrived at dawn. Although the usual round of winter complaints—coughs and wheezes an
d stuffy heads—could have been treated with powders and poultices purchased from any reliable alchemist, Doc's reputation as a miracle worker was such that any with money to spare arrived at their door.
Since Elise had agreed to sort the patients into categories—leaving Sir Jared free to treat those who truly needed him—it fell to her to tell over half of those who lined their hallway that the doctor would not see them, that he recommended that they go to the nearest alchemist (Oculios in this case) and purchase the appropriate preparations.
Most departed meekly, as if knowing that what had prompted them to come here in the first place had been curiosity more than anything else. Some, however, grew obstreperous. More than once Lord Edlin had been called away from his cartography and forced to bodily oust some complaining wretch.
Fortunately, Edlin seemed amused at being asked to act as a house guard. They had yet to meet anyone who could both wrestle with a strapping young nobleman and convincingly maintain their complaint that they were so infirm that they must see the doctor.
"Well, it's a map," Edlin said, looking at her with concern. "We use it to plan our campaign, what?"
He beamed at her. He had every right to be pleased with his handiwork. The reports of crow and falcon had been transformed into straight walls and curving towers. Colored pencils had been used to tint different structures so they could be referred to at a glance. Guards were indicated in red; areas where people—servants and such—tended to cluster had been shown by green dots.
Somehow what Lord Edlin had created was more than a static map—it was a drawing representing a living community, a reminder that the place they must seek to infiltrate was filled with people going about their daily business.
Elise despaired of their ever being able to get more than ten feet inside the gates without being detected. From those patients she did not send away, she had gathered that even to most residents of the city Thendulla Lypella was a mystery, a fine, secret place where the primes met in conclave, the Healed One resided, and from which the Dragon Speaker coordinated the complex resources of the kingdom.
Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart Page 53
