Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  Taran gasped and Bull wasn’t quick enough to prevent the enraged Robin from running the guard through the throat with his sword, grounding the weapon on the cobbles. He leaned on it, panting as the demon’s life bubbled out. Finally, he jerked it out of the bloody flesh and wiped it clean on the body. Bull stared in disapproval, hands planted on his hips.

  “What?” said Robin.

  “What the hell did you kill him for? How are we going to find her now? Do you know where Rykan’s palace is? We can’t search the whole of Andaryon for her.”

  “He deserved it. I wasn’t going to listen to any more of that.”

  “You should have walked away! We’ll have to waste more time now.”

  Robin spun on him. “You heard what he said. He’ll have killed her.”

  “Shut up, you idiot, and think for a minute. We know she was alive the day before yesterday, don’t we? Why should that suddenly change? What did he mean by Rykan being unstoppable now? Doesn’t that imply he wants her for a reason? Something to do with his plans to challenge the Hierarch, if Sully was right. And you know she wouldn’t surrender without a fight. Come on Robin, don’t write her off so easily.”

  Voices by the gate tore Taran’s attention away. Rienne had arrived, presumably following Cal’s all-clear signal. She was none too pleased to find three dead bodies in the courtyard and stared hard at Robin and Bull.

  “Couldn’t you have restrained them? Locked them up or something?”

  “They weren’t too keen on the idea,” said Taran.

  “It’s done now,” said Robin. “We need to search the mansion, see if there are any clues as to where Rykan’s taken her.”

  As they entered the mansion, Taran told Rienne what the guard had said. She pursed her lips, her face pale. She followed him, Cal behind her, as they made their way up to the suite Lord Nazir had shown them. The room looked the same as Taran remembered; Sullyan’s clothes and sword were still lying on the bed where she had left them the morning after the banquet.

  Robin and Bull traded grim glances, disturbed that she was unarmed.

  Taran helped them read the substrate in the room but none of them found traces later than the morning they had left. The traces were extremely faint and it was only because the mansion was abandoned that they had been retained at all.

  Silently, Robin put Sullyan’s things into her discarded pack and picked up her sword. He turned to leave when a faint noise in the corridor caused them all to whirl around in alarm, swords drawn. The wizened old woman who appeared in the doorway gave a terrified squeak as she found herself facing four blades, each one aimed at her heart. Hands clutched to her mouth, she stood in frozen fear.

  Bull recovered first, recognizing the elderly servant who’d waited on them before. “Harva? What are you doing here?”

  The others sheathed their weapons and the old lady breathed again.

  “Oh, masters,” she panted, “I hoped you’d return. I hid when the others were driven off and I’ve been waiting ever since, hoping you’d be back.”

  Robin strode over and took her roughly by the arm. “Can you tell us what happened to Sullyan?”

  Harva shrank back, cringing away from his urgency. “Gently, Robin,” said Bull. “She wants to help us, remember?”

  Robin colored, seeing the old lady’s fear. “I’m sorry, Harva.” He released her arm and stepped back. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that I’m so worried and I’m not thinking straight. Please, tell us what you can. We’re frantic to find her.”

  “I don’t know very much, master,” she said, her voice wavering.

  Bull approached her and led her farther into the room. Guiding her to a chair, he helped her sit. “You tried to warn Sullyan before the feast, didn’t you, Harva? What worried you? Was it Rykan?”

  At the mention of Rykan’s name, Harva paled and her rheumy eyes flicked around the room. “I heard them talking in the corridor, the day before you came.”

  “Who did you hear?”

  “His Grace and the Count. They didn’t see me, master, the lords never do. Anyway, I heard his Grace telling the Count that he didn’t want the Lady Ambassador knowing he was here until the Count introduced them at the banquet. The Count wasn’t happy—I could see his face—but the Duke’s his overlord, he hadn’t any choice.”

  “So Rykan knew Sullyan was coming?” Robin shot a swift glance at Bull. “How did he know that?”

  “Well I don’t know, master, I expect the Count told him.” The old woman’s voice carried a touch of asperity. “The Duke came four days before you did, he’d come to speak with the Count. I think he stayed because of your visit.”

  Bull’s eyes widened. “He was waiting for us? So there’s more to this than just a passing fancy for a pretty girl?”

  Harva sniffed. “His Grace never does anything for a passing fancy. He covets the throne, we all know that. I might be only a servant but even I know he’s been plotting for years to challenge the Hierarch.”

  She glanced up at Bull, suddenly timid. “I don’t know this for fact, master, but his interest in the Lady might be something to do with that.”

  Robin frowned. “He’d never get Sullyan to help him defeat the Hierarch. She’d never get involved. It’s none of our business who rules here.”

  “But could he force her to help him?” the old woman said.

  Robin stared at her. “I don’t see how. They’re metaphysical equals, so he can’t compel her, and I can’t see how holding her against her will would help him. As a hostage, she means nothing to the Hierarch, so it can’t be bargaining power he’s after. And if he hopes to ransom her to us, he’ll be disappointed there, too. Blaine would never make a deal with him, no matter what he owes her.”

  Bull asked, “When did he take her, Harva?”

  She rubbed her rheumy eyes with a large-knuckled hand. Taran watched her with admiration, thinking it couldn’t have been easy for her hiding here, just waiting on the off chance they would return. Her regard for Sullyan must run deep, he thought.

  “He came back during the council session,” she said, “just before noon. But he didn’t go in. He didn’t have to.” Her wrinkled mouth thinned in disapproval. “He’d left his own servants and guards to do his work for him. Once you left, they herded us together in one of the halls. We were held there, not allowed to do our duties. The kitchen servants were there too so the meal must’ve been prepared by his own people. I think the food was drugged because everyone was carried out unconscious, including the Count and the Lady Ambassador. His Grace had them put into carriages and driven away. He even took all the horses.”

  “So that’s how he did it.” Robin jumped up, startling Harva. “She’d never suspect the food if they were all eating it. That must be why we can’t contact her, Bull. He’s keeping her drugged.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Bull slowly. “You’d still be able to sense her psyche even if she was insensible. Drugs don’t stop the mind from working, they only put part of it to sleep. There’s more to it than that, I’m sure. I just can’t think what. Go on Harva, what happened after that?”

  The old lady sighed, folding stiff hands in her lap. “His Grace’s personal guards ordered the rest of the court—those who hadn’t been drugged—to follow the Duke to Kymer. A few were stupid enough to resist and they were killed. The servants—we were all terrified—were run off, including the peasants and laborers who’d come to the mansion for protection. There’s been talk of war all summer, everyone’s been nervous. The Duke’s men threatened us with death if we came back and then set fire to the settlement to show they meant business. No one stayed after that, they all bolted for the hills.”

  “Except you,” said Bull.

  She gave him a shy smile. “The Lady Ambassador was always kind to me, she didn’t treat me like a servant. I was fond of her.”

  “Why did the Duke’s men want the Count’s to follow him to Kymer?” asked Cal.

  Harva said, “The Duke ne
eds as many men as he can get for his war.”

  “So why run off the servants?”

  Her look was withering. “Most of us have been with the Count all our lives. We might only be servants, but we’re loyal. The Duke knows that. He has his own servants who know better than to cross him, and none of us were trained to bear arms. We’re no use to him.”

  Cal flushed and Taran smiled to see him so thoroughly put in his place.

  “Well, at least we know the how, if not the why,” said Bull. “Harva, what are our chances of getting into Rykan’s palace unobserved? Would we be able to get her out of there?”

  The old woman looked sad. “I really couldn’t say, master. I did go there once with the Count but that was years ago. I only saw the Count’s rooms, I don’t know what the rest of the palace is like. But I do know the Duke keeps a full complement of guards. And if he’s planning a revolt, he’ll have called out his levies. The province will be full of his troops. How would you get past them without being seen?”

  She began to weep and buried her head in her hands. Her voice was muffled. “Oh, I wish I’d known what he was planning, I could’ve warned you properly when you were all here.”

  Rienne moved over and sat on the arm of her chair. She patted Harva on the back and spoke soothingly to her. Bull drew the others to the far end of the room.

  “Sounds pretty bad,” he admitted. “What do you think, Robin?”

  The Captain’s face was a study in anguish, his dark blue eyes almost black with grief. “We can’t just leave her there, Bull, who knows what torments she’s enduring? No matter how many troops there are or how secure the palace is, there has to be a way in. No place is impregnable. We’ll just have to scout around and try to find a back way. Perhaps we can pass ourselves off as servants, or stable hands, or even mercenary forces.” Struck by this idea, he stared at the big man. “Bull, you know how chaotic it’ll be with all those unfamiliar companies camped around. We could blend in with Rykan’s levies, no one would know the difference.”

  Suddenly seeing Bull’s expression, he stopped. “What?”

  “We’re not Andaryans. Our eyes will give us away.”

  Robin’s face fell.

  Taran thought they were missing something. “Not necessarily. Isn’t there something we could do about that?”

  Robin’s expression cleared and he perked up. “Try illusion, you mean? It might work, Bull. There are enough of us to form a respectable Powersink. As long as we stay together, it could work.”

  Bull looked unconvinced, but didn’t say so. In the absence of any other plan, thought Taran, it had to be worth a try. They could experiment on the way to the palace.

  Bull turned back to the old woman, whom Rienne had soothed. “Harva, could you tell us how to find the palace without showing ourselves too early?” She nodded, wiping a shaky hand across her eyes. “How far is it?” he asked.

  She sniffed. “Only a day’s ride away, on good horses.”

  “So close?” said Robin.

  The look she gave him was reproachful. “We’re right on the borders of Kymer, master. Right on the edge of the Duke’s province. Why else do you think the Count’s supported him? He’d rather fight for the Hierarch but he’s not powerful or wealthy enough to oppose his Grace. You could say he’s been held to ransom all these years.”

  Taran thought Robin looked less than convinced by Harva’s interpretation of the Count’s loyalties.

  “But if you’re set on going,” she continued, turning back to Bull, “then you’d do best to cross the River Yrrin and approach the palace from the south. Kymer’s mainly rolling hills but from what I remember, the palace is in a valley surrounded by the southern end of Haligan Forest. Unless they’ve cleared it since I was there, there’s tree cover right up to the walls. His Grace will have patrols there but most of his vassals live to the east, so that’s probably where his forces will be.”

  Taran was impressed by Harva’s thinking and remembered Sullyan telling Robin not to underestimate her. She might be a servant but she was obviously capable of using her wits.

  “You leave worrying about them to us,” Bull said. “Is there any food left in the kitchens? We’ll need extra supplies now, this could take some time.”

  They left the suite, taking Sullyan’s things with them, and followed the old woman to the kitchens. She told them to help themselves to whatever they wanted. “Half of it’s spoiling anyway,” she sniffed, plainly disapproving of the waste.

  Harva tried to get them to stay and rest until morning as it was growing late and the wind, which had been gusty all day, was cold with the promise of frost. Taran wasn’t surprised when Robin hustled them away, he was clearly fretting to be gone.

  As they took their leave of Harva at the gates, she caught Robin’s stirrup. “Master,” she said, her wrinkled face full of care, “when you’ve released the Lady, come back to me. I know a little house where no one would think to look. I could take care of you all until you’re ready to go.”

  Taran could see Robin was touched by her offer despite his urgent need to leave. He supposed the Captain was remembering Sullyan’s genuine affection for the old crone. If not for her determination to wait and warn them, he realized, they would still be riding the open countryside, desperately searching. They owed her thanks for that, at least.

  The Captain thought so, too. He reached down and patted her aging hand. “Thank you, Harva. We won’t forget your help today.”

  He led them out of the huge wooden gates. Without another word, they galloped off in the direction Harva had given them, wind tearing icily at their cloaks.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Bull’s knowledge of the area was sketchy, so he recommended they make a large eastward sweep to come at Rykan’s palace from the south. They made good time through Marik’s province as the horses were rested and strong and had no difficulty finding a good place to cross the wide but shallow River Yrrin. But evening was coming fast and Robin decided they should camp; it would be too easy to stumble into a patrol in the darkness. Besides, they had their strategy to plan and a disguise to attempt. If Taran’s idea didn’t work, they only had hours to come up with another.

  They found a suitable spot to camp and quickly took care of camp duties. Bull lit a tiny, well shielded fire and once they had eaten some of Harva’s food, they discussed their plans.

  The idea of a disguise appealed to Robin because it would allow them free movement and the chance to gain information. None of them knew if it would work, though. Their first task was to see if they could create and maintain the illusion of the slit-pupiled Andaryan eye.

  They sat in a circle, Rienne off to one side, and formed a Powersink. Robin took control and Taran sensed him concentrating on the color of his eyes. First, he attempted to fade his dark blue irises and Taran watched in amazement as they slowly bleached to a lighter hue. Robin’s handsome face looked very strange in the firelight; the frost-pale color made his eyes seem larger.

  “That’s enough,” said Bull, “or your eyes’ll end up white.”

  “Some of them do have white eyes, so I’ve heard, so it wouldn’t look that odd.” Robin was clearly pleased with his efforts.

  The pupils, thought Taran, would be trickier as they had to react to light the same way as round pupils. Narrowing the pupils would be easiest; learning to expand them would take some practice. Robin mastered it after about fifteen minutes and Taran thought it looked very convincing.

  Under Robin’s guidance, everyone tried the disguise. Cal was the only one who had any real trouble, and he had to draw heavily on the Powersink. Not surprising, Taran told him, given his limited experience. He eventually got the hang of it after an hour of intense practice.

  Rienne sat quietly throughout this process, faint worry on her face. At first, Taran thought she was simply concerned about Cal’s ability to hold the disguise, but then, with a leap of intuition, he realized she was unsure of their plans for her. Obviously, she couldn’
t alter her own appearance and he guessed she was worried they might leave her behind. He was uneasy about taking her into Rykan’s stronghold, he knew it would be extremely dangerous. One tiny mistake and they could all be killed.

  He did know, however, that she would be happier if they stayed together. She had no expertise in concealment and didn’t have the skills necessary to avoid Rykan’s patrols. She wouldn’t even be able to defend herself were she unfortunate enough to be found. If the worst should happen and they were all killed inside Rykan’s palace, Rienne would never see Albia again. She had no means of crossing the Veils and would be an obvious and vulnerable intruder wherever she went. She might, he supposed, manage to return to Harva, but she must surely be aware she wouldn’t survive long away from home.

  He was distracted from his thoughts by Bull, who got to his feet to replenish the fellan pot. The big man turned to Rienne, passed her a cup and said, “Come on, my little lovely, your turn now.” Helping her up, he drew her into the circle. “Right, lads. Let’s see what we can do to improve our healer’s looks, eh?”

  Taran could see Cal about to defend Rienne and nudged his elbow. “Ease up, Cal,” he murmured, “Bull’s only joking. We’re all in this together.”

  Rienne sat in the center of their circle and Taran could feel relief and apprehension radiating from her. “Will I feel different?” she asked.

  “Shouldn’t think so,” said Robin. “You might feel a sensation on your skin as the power touches you, but no more than when we shield you. Your eyes won’t feel any different and it would be better if you try to ignore what we’re doing so your reactions will be normal.”

  She sat stiffly, clearly trying not to think about what was happening, and Robin began to work. Taran, Cal and Bull all stared critically at her, making comments while Robin altered her appearance. The Journeyman shuddered when he finished; he’d never imagined that the color and shape of someone’s eyes could make such a difference. All their faces had taken on a feral appearance and it was no longer easy to read what they were thinking.