Once again, she was filled by the desire to tell the old man the truth, to cry, to let him console her. Instead, she put on a smile—not too big, something rueful and appropriate. “It’s true, we were close. I am certainly still very fond of him. But it ended badly, as these things often do, despite all of our good manners. What’s done is done. Now, I must ask you to open The Door and send me home, since we both know I don’t have the skill.” She cocked her head. “Is it considered proper to ask after your price? Your magic price?”
He smiled, a much gentler look than any he’d given her since they’d arrived on Eriis. “It is kind of you to ask, but such things are not normally discussed. I’ll say you shouldn’t fear for my wits or any other part of me. My price is of a different nature.” He stood, offering her scarf back. She refused. “Well then. When you arrive at the Guardhouse, check on Blue, won’t you? And tell him I’ll look after his boy and that we’ll be home soon.”
Chapter Nine
Eriis/Mistra
The next morning was hot, dry, and dusty, as it had been every morning for over twenty years.
At least, Lelet thought, the weather back home will be an improvement.
Scilla was torn between a withering glare and genuine concern. For the moment, concern was winning out. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, not for the first time. “You could stay here and just not go to session, couldn’t you?”
Lelet sighed and went through her bag one more time, though she knew everything she’d come with was accounted for. And if she left anything behind—a glove, a shoe—well, Scilla and Moth would both be back through The Door within a week. She imagined Moth ringing the bell at Auri’s, looking to return one of her brassieres. She bit back a laugh which turned into a sort of groan.
“What’s that?” asked Scilla.
“Let’s get this over with,” Lelet said.
There was no ceremony to see her home, no one offering water in silver cups, no parade of curious demons hoping to catch a glimpse of a real live human. Just her and her angry sister in a quiet courtyard. Maron had left Scilla with very specific instructions and was only a shout away if things went wrong.
“You’re sure—”
“Scilla!” She didn’t like to raise her voice, but there were only so many times she could repeat herself. “One day we will talk about this in a way I hope you’ll understand. For now, yes. I am sure.”
Withering glare was back. It didn’t matter though. The younger girl pulled a swatch of tan cloth with a dark, thumb-shaped stain out of her pocket. The few drops of blood had been donated by Moth that very morning. She wondered whether Scilla had given him the same treatment she was getting and how he had responded. “This will open at the Guardhouse. You’ll have to make your way home from there.”
“I know. Go ahead.” She planned to visit with Brother Blue, spend the night, and then hire a coach to take her back to the city. Until Ilaan worked out his ‘Door without blood’ idea, there was no other place to exit from Eriis. She had no doubt of Ilaan’s eventual success, but she was far less confident he’d use his prodigious gifts on her behalf. Moth, maybe. Then she recalled their impromptu morning coffee together. There had been something cold behind Ilaan’s usual charm. Maybe not even for Moth.
“Well, goodbye then.” Scilla gave her a quick hug then crouched over the fabric and did the ritual, or chant, or whatever the mages and magicians and sorcerers did to change reality. While she was proud of her clever sister, magic made her think of the Raasth. Perhaps the mage’s lair had been established a thousand years ago as a place to study magic, but by the time she showed up and burned it down it had transformed into a weapons factory, and the main product was Moth’s blood. She thought of the way he winced when she accidentally bumped his arm too hard or the way he constantly tugged on the sleeves of his tunics. And those scars were only the ones on the outside. There were other, older injuries that gave him pain and grief, even if she couldn’t see them.
Lelet rubbed her head, wishing it was... What? Over? Was there an outcome that saw her and Moth happy, together, and outside the reach of the High Seat or of the mages? Her eyes blurred but not with tears. She blinked hard and felt the familiar lurch, as if falling. When her vision cleared, she was in the Guardhouse, in Brother Blue’s old office. A young novice had been sweeping, and he let out a shriek.
“Sorry. May I trouble you for a robe? It’s quite a bit colder here.” It was the beginning of summer, but no matter how warm the weather, the Guardhouse’s stones kept their chill. The wide-eyed boy handed her a robe from the hook by the door. “Your elders remain on Eriis and are still in session,” she said, hoping to calm him down, “and everything is fine. Can you take me to whoever has been left in charge?”
Once she’d secured a room for herself, she spent a quiet hour with Blue, who slept through their visit. She took her dinner alone, finding the eyes on her to be less than welcoming. The brothers remembered her from her many previous visits, and the general opinion had her the cause of the current upheaval.
“Change is bad,” she said to her reflection in the crazed old mirror over the washstand. “Don’t take it personally.”
Her relief at the coach pulling away from the old building lasted as long as it took to get back on the road, where it was replaced by dread. She had three days to plan every word she’d say to Auri, three nights to practice her sweetest and most inoffensive faces, three days to get ready for what was to come.
“I’ll pretend to be Aelle,” she decided. “I’ll put on a smile. It won’t be me at all.”
“Why, you’re early.” Auri met her at the door, trying to block her view of the young lady standing behind him, holding her coat. “Days early. You remember Miss diPanza? From my meetings? That I used to have?”
“Certainly. How nice to see you again.” She did not recall the woman, and as she was both statuesque and quite attractive, Lelet was sure she would have remembered seeing her at one of Auri’s collection of old men and stringy girls, his demon hunting society. The woman—Miss diPanza—smiled coolly and took her time putting her coat on.
“A pleasure,” she said. “We were just talking about your demon—”
“She was just leaving,” Auri said quickly. He swept the woman, who traded her smirk for a look of surprise, out the door and pulled Lelet in in a single motion. “So,” he said brightly, picking up her case, “I hope your being home early means things went well?”
He hurried her past the dining room, where a meal was half eaten and apparently much wine had been drunk, and up the stairs. She laughed to herself. Good for him, she thought. Although mine was far sweeter. “It was awful,” she said with a sigh. “I missed you terribly, and it’s just overly hot and dusty there.”
He set her bag down. “Days and days early. How did it go?”
“You know what?” She put on the face she had picked out—relieved, tired, a bit out of sorts. “I’ve been dreaming of a swim. Eriis is nothing but dust.” She brushed past him and headed down the stairs, through the sunroom, banging open the tall glass double doors and into the garden. He raced to catch her, too late to stop her kicking off her shoes and stripping off her stockings, but caught her by the wrist before she could toss off her traveling clothes.
“Are you mad? People can see you. Come inside.”
Lelet laughed. “No one can see me but you. Look around—walls and trees.” She wriggled away from him and made short work of her skirt, blouse, and shift. With a genuine sigh of pleasure, she waded into the little ornamental pool. The blank-eyed statue of a nymph endlessly pouring out an urn seemed happy for the company, and she gave it a cheerful salute. The water came up to her waist, and she dunked herself then turned to float on her back. Her ears bobbed in and out of the water, so she could only hear snatches.
“...happened to you.... come out of there...don’t make me get you...”
She smiled. He wouldn’t. The water was warm, and the air was cool. She sank down an
d let the water cover her face. The moons shivered and swung above her. She wondered if Moth was looking at them too. Finally, she had to come up for air.
“...full of mud and dirty!”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll come in and take a proper bath. Would you bring me a towel?”
As he turned away, she caught the expression on his face, and her own smile faded. He would make her pay. She sighed and hauled herself onto the stone lip of the pool, squeezing water out of her hair. It wouldn’t do to make him suspicious, but she’d thought keeping him off balance might be a good strategy. She couldn’t bear the idea of lowering her eyes and simpering, hopping to do whatever he said.
“Here.” He draped a thick towel over her and marched back to the house, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t track in mud.”
She covered herself as best she could, feeling suddenly self-conscious, and hurried after him. “I’m sorry about that, it’s just I spent the last week dreaming of coming back to you and—”
“And exposing yourself to the neighborhood?” He swung back around, and she nearly crashed into him. He took a step back and gave an irritated sigh. “I was hoping we could have a happy reunion. On the day you were supposed to come back. Instead...”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t have any reason to stay. Let me tell you what happened.”
“Perhaps you ought to go get cleaned up first.” He shook his head. “I should have expected you to do something like this. I’ll be in the study.”
She stood in the garden, rubbing the gooseflesh on her arms, and wondered how Ilaan’s research was going and when he’d be ready to make his move. He’d pluck Yuenne from wherever he was hiding, thereby removing Auri’s mentor, partner, and path to Eriis. At that point, he’d be just another self-important city boy, without even a number after his name. She would make a show of leaving him for the ambassador. It would have to be public, humiliating, final. She’d make sure her friends used phrases like ‘came to her senses’ and ‘oh yes, he’s a real prince’ and ‘you know Auri was just after her for a number. Sad, really.’
Sad. That was how she felt. Sad and foolish and naked. Once dried and free of mud, she gathered her clothes and went up to the room she shared with Auri. Her things were as she’d left them, not even a week ago. It felt like years. She pulled her white-and-pink silk robe from her traveling bag. It still had the smell of ash on it, something she never expected she’d crave. Tying it tight, she went to tell Auri about her trip.
Chapter Ten
Eriis
The woman sitting at the Zaal’s dressing table was twice the size of what he considered acceptable, and her hair was the color of bone, as was her skin. One could barely make out her little eye holes, and she had a mouth like a torn pocket. She preened, turning this way and that. Then she frowned, squinted at her reflection, and made her skin a shade or two pinker. Now she looked as though she’d been boiled.
“One of them’s gone, at least. The humans.” Calaa admired herself in the mirror, as she had been most of the afternoon. Spending time with the humans had been good research for her art, she said. The Zaal, who considered himself the most patient of men, glanced out the window to see the shadows falling over the War Tower. “Tell me the truth. It’s good, isn’t it?”
It honestly wasn’t bad, he thought, but he didn’t feel like giving her the satisfaction. “I suppose, if you like that sort of thing.”
That got him an eye roll from those tiny, puckered eyes. “You like one sort of thing and call it done.”
She wasn’t wrong. Once perfection was achieved, why continue to strive?
But Calaa returned to her favorite topic. “I bet if I crept into his chambers tonight, he’d never know the difference. Especially after a bottle of sarave.” She was obsessed with the human woman and the prince, and particularly with what they might had or had not been doing in the privacy of the evening hours. It was unseemly. “But at least she’s gone.”
He sighed and straightened up, setting down his pen. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your work,” he said. “But if I see another human face in this house, you’ll be sleeping on the street. Am I understood?”
“Oh no, not the street,” she laughed. That particular threat had lost its sting when she took up the job of not only working as the prince’s secretary but the king’s as well. She was in no danger of sleeping in the rough. But she turned to him, smiling—at least, he thought that’s what she was doing. “You liked it well enough before.”
That was also true. There had been a game of sorts. He’d been curious as to what a human looked like when injured, and Calaa, through all her faults, could take an astonishing amount of damage.
“I think they’ll be wrapping up tomorrow,” she said. “And then the rest of them’ll be gone. That young one—I don’t much care for the way she looks at me.”
Apparently, the humans had elected to let a child in on their business. In fact, Calaa made it sound like she was practically in charge. He couldn’t decide which he found more preposterous, that a child was allowed to speak or that it was a female.
“And they agreed to hold open The Door? You’re certain of it?”
Calaa rolled her tiny eyes again and gave a gusty sigh. “Yes, I’m certain of it. As I’ve said a dozen times. Oh,” she added, “and the prince is leaving with them.”
He nearly fell out of his chair. “What? Why? Are you sure?”
She gave a shuddering sigh, and thankfully the ‘human’ form fell away. “I was there when he announced it. He said there’s some trouble back on Mistra, something to do with that human woman’s family, he had to see to it.” She examined her fingernails. “I mean, he’s the ambassador. Of course he’d be going there. Just a lot sooner than we thought.”
The Zaal’s mind raced as he weighed the good against the bad. When Araan and his kin went through, they could dine on the prince along with any other humans nearby and then start the work of settling in and making Mistra their own. He understood their rate of reproduction might be characterized as explosive, so it shouldn’t take too long. And if by some miracle the prince survived his meeting with his uncle on the other side of The Door, well, soon enough there’d be no more Door for him to escape home through. He’d be stuck there with the rest of them. The Zaal would lose his leverage against Hellne, but his project was close to completion and he didn’t need her cooperation anymore anyway.
No, he decided. Ultimately it didn’t matter, and yes, in fact it was better to have the prince dealt with on Mistra rather than worrying about him at home. Still, it was a shame about the rest of his blood. He’d have liked to get his hands on anything that was left. Perhaps a deal with Araan? No, he was eager enough to see the back of that creature without dragging him back into the mix.
“Anything else you happened to hear?” He was angry with himself for allowing her to see his surprise. “Any other court gossip? Don’t sift it through too fine a sieve, now.”
She smiled. She’d won that round. “I spoke to the maids that serve that part of the palace.” She put on an annoyed look. “‘The prince, he’d hate to find sand in clothes or in his bedding. When was the last time you all got off your hind ends and bothered to clean? I believe that is why you’re here.’” She grinned. “I love to catch them idle. Anyway, want to hear what they told me?”
He glared at her. She had him, and she knew it. “This is beneath the dignity of—”
“They were in there scorping all night and into the day,” she said. “And it looked like he tried to burn the place down while he was at it.” She frowned. “Didn’t think he had any fire. I know she doesn’t. I wonder...”
This was interesting. Every story he’d heard had them at odds. Now he was going back there with her and using some story to cover the reason. There must be those back on Mistra who felt the same way he did, or else why dissemble? He discounted the bit about burning anything—no doubt one of the huge brutes knocked a candle over while they
were going at it. If the prince had any gifts at all, he’d have found out about it by now. He’d performed every test he could think of on as much blood as he could spare, and while it held massive power in itself, it didn’t convey those gifts to its original owner. More’s the pity for him.
“I know this sort of thing is of great interest to you, but—”
“But what? You prefer not to think of such things?” she sneered. “Unless they concern her?”
He rose to his feet and leaned over her a bit, gratified to see her shrink back. He liked to keep her off balance. “When this is done, when the king and his kin are gone, and when I have torn down The Door, I may have a new job for you.”
Just because he didn’t need Hellne didn’t mean he was tired of having her around—or someone who looked exactly like her. He was thinking of replacing the queen, who would sadly have no place in the new, purified air of Eriis, with someone he could control. Of course, he’d no more let Calaa in on that idea yet than walk through The Door himself. But dangling a treat, that would keep the little chit in line. She’d obviously thought she’d gone too far, and was pleased not to find herself in trouble.
He continued. “It doesn’t matter where the prince and the humans are. The important thing is to make sure The Door is open and the way to Mistra is clear, and if they somehow try to block or stop us, we protect our investment.”
“Our…?” She was painfully slow sometimes.
“The daeeve. Or whatever they call themselves. We protect them until we can redeploy them, if it comes to that.”
She still had that blank look.
“If anything goes wrong and they do not get through The Door, we will do whatever must be done to protect them, even if it means stuffing them under your bed.”
The River King Page 5
