“Neither are you. Why were you following Terrel?”
“I wasn’t following him; I was following Salentor. He’s been twitchy all day, and I wanted to find out why. Besides, I wanted to—” Crystalorn hesitated.
“Wanted to what?”
“I wanted to see if I could.” She looked at him for a moment, then gave him a mischievous grin that reminded him forcibly of Tarilane. “This is a wonderful castle for sneaking around in; I think I’m going to like it.”
“I hope so. Do you do things like this often?”
“Sometimes. How else do you find out what’s really going on?”
“What did you find out this time?”
“Not as much as I thought I would. Salentor and your Lord Terrel are involved in some sort of scheme, but they didn’t talk about it. Mostly they made snide remarks; I don’t think they like each other much. If it weren’t for—” Crystalorn broke off and turned toward the inner door of the room. “I’d almost forgotten! Where does the other door to that last room go?”
Eltiron stared at her with a sinking feeling. “If you mean the room you were listening at when I got here, it only has one door.”
“That’s impossible! Someone was in there with Terrel and Salentor. I heard him leave, and he didn’t come this way, so there must be another door.”
Eltiron went cold. “You’re sure there was someone besides Terrel and Salentor?”
“Of course I’m sure! I’d know both their voices even if your Lord Terrel hadn’t spent the whole evening trying to make me fall in love with him.”
“He’s not my Lord Terrel. You mean you don’t like him?”
“Ha! He’s much too sure he’s irresistible,” Crystalorn said. “I don’t like irresistible people; they make me want to shake them or slap them or something.”
“If you ever want to slap Terrel, I won’t object,” Eltiron said absently. He stared at the door on the far side of the room. He was sure that there was no other way out of this chain of rooms. Either someone was still waiting in the last room, or . . . Eltiron remembered the tower top and shivered. There was only one way to find out, and he had to know. “Excuse me, my lady; I have to check that last room.”
“Oh, that’s right; I almost forgot again. If we can find out where that other man went, maybe we can figure out who he is.”
Eltiron picked up the lamp and started forward without replying. Crystalorn followed. When they reached the third room, Eltiron paused in the doorway. The room was empty, but he remained uneasy. The shadows pressed on him, and he thought he could feel a wrongness in the air. He told himself firmly not to be foolish; he was simply imagining things. He felt uneasy anyway.
An impatient finger tapped at his shoulder, and reluctantly he stepped aside to let Crystalorn pass. She looked around, frowning, then turned back to Eltiron. “All right, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said this room only had one door. But there were three people talking in here. There must be a secret passage or something.”
“A secret passage?”
“How else could that other person have left? Come on, let’s look.”
“Wait a minute. There are a few things you need to know first.”
Crystalorn looked at him doubtfully for a moment, then nodded. Eltiron stepped back into the second room of the chain and sat down. Crystalorn took the other chair and looked at him expectantly. Eltiron took a deep breath and began to tell her about his experience on the top of the Tower of Judgment.
Crystalorn listened intently. Eltiron soon discovered that he had to do a fair amount of explaining about Jermain in order for his story to make sense. The first time he mentioned the name, Crystalorn’s eyes narrowed and she started to say something, then apparently changed her mind and motioned Eltiron to go on. Eltiron was suddenly certain that she’d heard some of the gossip about himself and Jermain; she’d been in the castle for two days, which was plenty of time to find out what everyone thought of everyone else. He paused briefly, wondering how best to tell her what had really happened, then gave up and favored her with a bald statement of the facts.
When he finished, Crystalorn stared silently at the lamp for a few minutes, then shook herself. “This is getting more complicated than I thought. Would you mind telling all this to Amberglas? I think she should know, and . . . there are other reasons, too.”
“If you wish.” Eltiron did not see what good it could do, but he doubted that it could do any harm, either.
“Good. Now let’s go back and search that room.”
“What? Why?”
“To see if there are any red things or secret passages. We have to at least check.” She stood up, took the lamp, and started for the last room, leaving Eltiron no choice but to follow.
To Eltiron’s relief, they found neither secret passages nor red patches. When they finished their search, they returned to the first room and talked for a long while. Eltiron discovered, to his surprise, that Crystalorn seemed to take him almost as seriously as Vandaris did. Crystalorn insisted on making plans for Eltiron to talk to her friend as soon as possible. After some thought, Eltiron realized that he would have no time at all on the following day, so they arranged the meeting for the afternoon of the day after that.
Finally Eltiron escorted Crystalorn back to her chambers. He made sure that they went past several guards on the way. The castle gossips would certainly have noticed Terrel’s behavior toward Crystalorn at the feast, and they would be quick to conclude that the King’s handsome adviser had made a conquest of Eltiron’s betrothed. But if he heard that Eltiron and Crystalorn had been seen together, late at night, without one of the Princess’s ladies in accompaniment . . . Eltiron grinned to himself. Terrel was not going to be pleased when he discovered that his latest attempt to make Eltiron look bad had failed.
The following day was even busier than Eltiron had expected. It was as much as he could do to snatch a few minutes with Vandaris to let her know the barest outline of the night’s events. Vandaris looked extremely thoughtful, but they were interrupted before she had time to tell him why. He saw Crystalorn several times, but they were always surrounded by a web of protocol and formality, and he could not manage to talk to her privately. By the time he returned to his chambers that night, Eltiron was convinced that the sole purpose of the pomp that surrounded royal weddings was to keep the principals from seeing each other alone.
On the fourth morning after Crystalorn’s arrival in Leshiya, Eltiron awoke early. He dressed hurriedly and went down to the castle garden, hoping for a chance to have a few minutes of solitude. The gardens were empty when he arrived, and with a sigh of relief he sat down on one of the benches to think. If there were only some way he could guess what Terrel was planning . . .
“Dear me,” said a voice from behind him. “How very convenient that you should be here. That is, it’s convenient for me, but only because I happen to be in the same place; if I were somewhere else at the moment, it wouldn’t matter at all. At least, I think it wouldn’t.”
Eltiron turned. A woman stood watching him with an air of intense abstraction. He recognized her at once; she was one of the Princess’s ladies, the one who had seemed entirely unimpressed by Terrel Lassond during the formal welcoming. He rose and bowed. “Good morning, my lady,” he said with more warmth than he had intended.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Though of course it’s quite possible that it isn’t nearly as good a morning elsewhere. Shula Mari, for example; I believe it frequently rains in Shula Mari at this time of year, which could be quite depressing, though perhaps it isn’t if one lives there all the day. But then, I haven’t been there yet, so I’m not entirely certain.”
“I’ve never been to Shula Mari either,” Eltiron said, fascinated.
“I believe there are a great many people who haven’t. Been to Shula Mari, I mean; it’s always best to be specific about these things, because there are so very many places for people to not have been to, which makes them very easy to mix up, thoug
h some of them are really quite different.”
Eltiron blinked. He started to ask a question, then realized that he still did not know the woman’s name. He bowed again and asked.
“Amberglas,” said the woman. “And you, of course, are Prince Eltiron Kenerach. I believe I have a message for you from Jermain Trevannon.”
CHAPTER 10
The army moved slowly southward for several days. Jermain quickly became accustomed to his position as Commander-General, and began to learn more about the personalities of the men under him. He was a little surprised by what he found. Though all of Carachel’s commanders were competent, most were uninterested in what they were doing and why. They reminded Jermain of mercenaries following orders for pay, without concerning themselves with personal loyalty to the man who paid them. Jermain thought he was beginning to understand why Carachel had seemed lonely.
He continued to dine with Carachel each evening, along with the King’s other commanders and advisers. Elsane was no longer present; three days after the army broke camp, she ceased attending the evening meals. Jermain knew she was still with the army, for he had seen her once or twice from a distance, but he did not speak to her. Carachel’s wife had little to do with the military, and Jermain had neither desire nor reason to seek her out. He was, therefore, taken completely by surprise when he returned to his tent one evening and found her there, alone. When he entered, she was sitting at the table, twisting a long, narrow ribbon over and over in her hands. She looked up as he let the tent flap fall behind him.
Jermain bowed, effectively concealing his reaction. “Your Majesty.”
Elsane flinched, and when she spoke her voice trembled slightly. “Please be seated, Lord Jermain.”
“I thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty.” Jermain saw her flinch again as he added the formal address. He bowed again, and seated himself at the end of the table, where he could observe her easily while still keeping the table between them.
“I . . .” Elsane hesitated, not looking at Jermain. “How go the preparations for the war?”
“Quite well. Would you wish me to give you a complete summary, or is there something in particular you would like to hear of, Your Majesty?
Elsane flinched again and shook her head. Jermain pretended to interpret the gesture as permission to begin, and launched immediately into a long and deliberately dull recitation of the status of the various companies of the army. He studied her as he talked, trying to guess the purpose behind her visit. His first thought had been that she was there to seduce him, but she seemed far too frightened for that. An attempt to ruin his credit with Carachel, perhaps? No, not likely; he’d had little time to make enemies, and such an attempt would be better planned. But why else was she here?
He droned on, watching Elsane. She grew more and more nervous, until finally her hands clenched around the ribbon. “Stop! Stop it!”
“Certainly, Your Majesty.”
“I—I didn’t come here for that.”
“Indeed. Then to what do I owe the honor of this . . . most unusual visit?”
Elsane took a deep, uncertain breath. “I came to talk to you about the war.”
“Then perhaps I should continue my summary of our preparations. The supplies for the—”
“Be still, and let me speak!” Anger made Elsane’s tone sharp and imperious, and for a moment Jermain saw a flash of the regal spirit she must have had fifteen or twenty years before. He inclined his head.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“I came to you because you have my—my husband’s ear, and you may be able to persuade him where I have failed. This war must be stopped!”
“And you believe I can persuade King Carachel?”
“Carachel respects your opinions; I have heard him speak of you, and I know. There is nothing else he cares for except his sorcery.” She looked down at her hands. “Nothing. Do you see why I come to you?”
“I think you wrong your husband, Your Majesty,” Jermain said gently.
“Do you think that after thirteen years I do not know him? I have . . . grown accustomed to his ways. I can live with it because I must, but I cannot let him destroy Tar-Alem and perhaps Mournwal and Gramwood as well just to preserve his cursed sorcery!”
“I do not believe I understand.”
“Has he not told you of the Matholych and what it does?”
“He has told me.”
“And you do not see? He is a wizard, but if he is to remain so, there must be power for him to draw on. He wishes to stop that creature because it drains the magic from the land, and for no other reason.”
Jermain did not reply immediately. Elsane could be right; the lessening of magic would certainly be a powerful motive for a wizard to oppose the Matholych. But even if she were, did it matter? The Hoven-Thalar and the Matholych must be stopped, or between them they would ruin the Seven Kingdoms. Carachel was trying to stop them, whatever his reasons, and Jermain could not justify trying to make him give up his efforts because of Elsane’s fears for her country. Besides, he knew Carachel, and he could not believe that the Wizard-King was acting solely from selfishness. He tried to explain, but Elsane would not let him finish.
“I am not a fool,” she said quietly. “I can see that something must be done. But there must be another way! If he truly realized what he does . . . But I cannot make him see! He is too certain that only he can do this, and only in this way.”
Jermain thought of a haunted face staring at a fire, and a voice whispering, “Whatever the cost, it must be stopped.” He remembered the bitterness in Carachel’s voice when he spoke of the wizards who refused to listen to him, and the frustrated pain in his eyes when he watched Elsane. “I think he knows the price, my lady, and I think he may already have paid a greater one than you believe.”
Elsane stared at him for a moment. “Do you know what he intends?”
“We have discussed the plans for the battle.”
“And you can still defend him?”
“He works for the good of all the people of the Seven Kingdoms, not merely for Tar-Alem. Even when we face the Hoven-Thalar, we will not fight to kill them; he would not give such an order if—”
“You do know, then!” Elsane looked at him as if he were a snake. “You know how many deaths it means; how could you consent to it?”
“I do not deny that it will be difficult,” Jermain said, somewhat puzzled by her reaction, “but with careful planning we should lose no more men than we would with a more conventional strategy, and perhaps less.”
Elsane did not seem to hear him. Her shoulders sagged and she seemed to fade and shrink as Jermain watched. “I have lost, then,” she said with quiet despair. “You were my last hope, and I have lost. So I must watch him—watch him—”
Her voice broke and died, and her head bowed. Jermain did not speak. After a moment her head lifted, and she rose. “I bid you a good eve, my lord,” she said in a colorless tone. “I shall not come again.” She did not look at Jermain as she left the tent.
Even though Jermain did not believe in Elsane’s view, her visit disturbed him. She knew Carachel, certainly much better than Jermain, and yet she seemed to think that Carachel meant to deliberately sacrifice his own troops in order to avoid killing Hoven-Thalar. Jermain found himself going over the plans for the battle, looking for some clue that might explain Elsane’s strange conviction.
He did not find one. The plans were clear and straightforward, and the strategy was sound, if a bit unusual. Jermain spent much of the night poring over maps and diagrams, but when morning came he still could see no reason why Carachel’s army should suffer unusual losses. Even so, he remained uneasy. The problem continued to worry him for the next two days, until it was submerged in the rush of activity as Carachel’s army met King Urhelds’s men.
Jermain was at first relieved when the scouts brought word of the army camped near the meeting place in the upper part of the North Plains. Despite Carachel’s assurances, he h
ad not been entirely certain that the men would be there, for even if Salentor was willing to keep his part of the bargain, Jermain knew from experience that no one could be certain of persuading a king. He was glad that Carachel had not been mistaken in his estimate of Salentor’s influence.
When he came within sight of the army, Jermain’s relief changed to worry. The Barinash troops were a sprawling, disorganized mass of men, and Jermain found himself wondering how he was ever going to combine them with the men from Tar-Alem. As he drew nearer, Jermain recognized some of the banners that flew above the central tents, and he frowned angrily. Salentor had sent the rawest and worst-trained troops in the Barinash army! No wonder they seemed so disorderly. Jermain went in search of Carachel to explain the situation.
To Jermain’s surprise, Carachel was not disturbed by the poor quality of the troops Salentor had provided. “No man is a soldier until he has been in battle, no matter how well he has been trained,” he said. “These men have a little more to learn, that is all.”
“True,” Jermain replied. “But may I remind you that your plans for this battle are a bit unusual, to say the least? It will be difficult to hold the Hoven-Thalar without killing many of them, even for experienced men. With these troops, it will be nearly impossible. Unless, of course, you have changed your plans?”
Carachel looked startled. “Not at all. Is it so bad, then?”
“I won’t know for certain until I have a chance to talk to the Barinash commanders, but from what I’ve seen it may well be worse. I’d like to keep them separate from the rest of the men until I find out.”
“Of course. Put them at the rear of the column. It will take some time for it to reach them, and they’ll need the extra time to break camp.”
It was Jermain’s turn to be startled. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to see the Barinash commanders first, my lord? After all, we don’t know yet what their orders are.”
“If they have not been ordered to place themselves entirely under my command, they are of no use to me,” Carachel said firmly. “Tell them to break camp and join the column or to go back to King Urhelds.”
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