The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door)

by William Timothy Murray

  "The Hall is restless tonight," Weylan observed, nodding toward the residence on the hill some distance away. They were nearly level with the middle floors, and yet from this distance they saw that a light moved along the windows of the fifth floor corridor, Lord Tallin's floor. Someone moved there with a lamp, walking behind the glass, and lighting the hallway lamps as he went so that soon the entire length of windows was lit. Ullin knew that hallway to be lined with tapestries and paintings, a record of the family's history, or rather the families' histories since the two great Houses, that of Fairoak and that of Tallin, were joined in this House. He knew, too, that his grandfather was pacing the hall in his brooding way, as he was known to do. His grandfather would study each painting, lost in thought, sometimes standing close to the artwork and at other times viewing it from a distance, his arms crossed, or his chin cradled in one hand as he slowly moved from depiction to depiction.

  "He has much to decide," Ullin said. "Much to consider, I fear."

  "Aye," agreed Weylan, "and the sooner the better, I say. Meaning no disrespect, mind you, but too much scratching of the head makes for a cold head and no hat."

  "And I guess you ought to know!" Ullin chuckled, affectionately rubbing the shiny spot on Weylan's crown.

  "I reckon so! And I only have the North Gate to keep, and not all of Tallinvale and more."

  Ullin and Weylan continued on, each smiling once again. But they were grim smiles.

  "Things don't seem to be turning out quite how we dreamed when we were lads, do they?"

  "No, Ullin, not exactly. Though we ain't done too bad. You a Kingsman, and still alive, and me a right proud soldier, complete with a sweet wife and two fat little brats. I hope you'll have a chance to meet them before you're off."

  "That isn't likely, though I would like nothing more in the world than to congratulate the lass who managed to tame you! No, we'll be off early, I'm sure, with many miles to make up for."

  Weylan nodded. "So it's on to Duinnor, is it? And right through Damar lands, if I understand you right."

  "Yes, there's no other way, it seems, this late in the year."

  "I'm wishing I could talk you into staying here. We could use someone with your experience in the fight that's sure to come."

  "If there's to be a fight."

  "Oh, there'll be one," Weylan insisted. "Whether it comes to us or we go to it, there'll be one. And a right mean one it is sure to be, too."

  "I wish I could stay and help out, but I'm committed. My companions will need me more. Ashlord and I are the only real fighters among us, should it come to that, though the others are all scrappy enough."

  They stopped again, this time to let a squad of sentries go past, but they paused for a while, each gazing again toward the Hall.

  "Many's the night I've seen those lights, often wondering 'bout the thoughts going on in there."

  "Wish I could tell you," Ullin said. "But he's as much of a mystery to me as to you. Perhaps even more so, since I have so seldom been here these past many years. Yet, I am impressed, frankly, by what I have seen today."

  "What's that?"

  "I've been all over the Seven Realms. Even to Tracia, and rarely have I seen or met people as loyal to their lords as these folk are to my grandfather and my family. I'm not really sure why, except that he is fair and looks to his people's welfare as any decent lord should do. Only in Glareth and in some parts of Vanara have I seen the like. Yet, Tallinvale is far away from any court and any Regent or King."

  "That may be why," Weylan said. "Your grandfather keeps us. He is a tough man, true. And words of rebuke from him land like boulders. But never was a man more loyal to his people. I know, it sounds odd that a man might be so good to his people and so hard on his family. But it is true. He spills out his treasury during drought or pestilence, he directs our defenses and parleys with our enemies for our safety, at his own risk. He sees to the direction of the law and the appointment of fair judges. He asks no tribute but relies solely on the earnings of his own holdings and lands, no more, and takes no property as is his right as liege. He orders and directs our education, and hardly a person in Tallinvale cannot read and write. And he himself leads patrols along our most dangerous borders. I myself have had the honor on more than one occasion to draw swords with him against the Damar intrusions. No man in Tallinvale can match the swiftness of his arm or the power of his blows, not even I who am a less than half his age and twice his weight in muscle. Oh, we would be lost without him, I fear!" Weylan looked at Ullin curiously. "And who will be his heir? Will it be a fighter, like him? Or a store clerk?"

  Ullin looked up from his feet with a blank expression, but his eyes glinted with sharp response.

  "Do not underestimate clerks of stores," he replied. "Or the sons of Passdale. I need not remind you that they have spilled more of their own blood and more of the blood of the enemy in this past week than Tallinvale has done in your lifetime. Moreover, the one that goes to Duinnor a clerk may not return as one."

  Weylan bowed, stunned at the cutting tone of Ullin's words and embarrassed at his own.

  "I deeply regret what I said, and I meant no disrespect to your cousin or his fellows," he said. "Yet, I only try to express my sentiment to have you here with us. Not only mine, but many, many others of your people here in the valley."

  Ullin took Weylan by the shoulder and turned with him to continue their walk.

  "Come, come, good friend. I am sorry for my rash response. I am honored by your sentiment. But I cannot stay, as I told you earlier. I am committed to my cousin, and the mission of my company. And I will see it through."

  Weylan nodded, though the turn of his lips and the bow of his head showed that he was disheartened by Ullin's reply.

  "I fear for Tallinvale," Weylan said simply.

  "These walls are strong, and the people stronger still," replied Ullin as they walked slowly on. "If the enemy in Barley and Passdale are any sign of the rest, they put appearances over fighting prowess, and any man here is more than a match for three of them. My sense is that many Tracians serve unwillingly."

  • • •

  Tallin Hall was indeed very large, but it was not so vast that a man—one who knew its passages and chambers, its stairs and back corridors—could not walk every hall and every back passageway from top to bottom in little more than an hour. And this the Lord of Tallin Hall often did, sometimes during the daytime, sometimes in the evening, but more often late into the darkest hours of the night when all was quiet and all but a few servants and guards had retired. Those that knew the Hall best knew their lord might at any moment appear, at any hour and during any task in any part of the place. They were accustomed to this behavior, if any could be, their master appearing as an apparition, his almost silent footfalls giving little warning of his approach, often wrapped in a cloak against the evening chill, his head bowed in thought, sometimes with a small lamp in his hand, but just as often in complete darkness he wandered. He would sometimes stop, especially when a maid or footman would rise from their seats, pausing long enough to acknowledge each person by name, to ask after their family, or to make a small inquiry or comment concerning this or that business of the household. Though no room was barred to him, he respected the servants' chambers and rarely ventured into those parts of the house except only to pass through the kitchens or workrooms on his way elsewhere. And when he did so, it was never with the air of lord and master, but rather as a visitor, a passer-by, humble, and not wishing to intrude or disturb their privacy or their work.

  Likewise, he could often be found during these hours between the middle of the night and well before dawn along the battlements at any part of the outer wall, or in the armouries, or at any given turret or gate. So, like the staff of Tallin Hall, the soldiers of Tallinvale stood their watches and minded their stations with meticulous attention and readiness, knowing that at any moment the Lord Tallin himself might ask a report of even the lowest rank.

  Where he got his stamina
no one could say with any certainty, though many rumors abounded, some having to do with Faere spells of his late wife, others pertaining to peculiar and mysterious herbs he put in his pipe to smoke. Some tales even had it that the Lord Tallin was not one man but many, each alike in aspect and character and each taking his turn in the place of the others. But so accustomed were its inhabitants to this fact of Tallinvale life—this awesome and mysterious presence that ruled them so effectively—that most inhabitants of the valley wondered very little about it anymore. And, like their lord, Dargul, too, was often seen during these nocturnal walks. Sometimes he was at Lord Tallin's side as a friend, the two strolling like old chums. But just as often, Dargul kept some paces behind, entering a room just after Tallin had left it, or standing some distance away, but within easy calling distance, as Lord Tallin paused to study a trophy, some pennant or shield, or contemplated the town through a window, or the scenes painted within one of the many alcoves throughout the Hall. The two had long since given up telling each other to get rest, of kindly scolding each other for keeping such late hours when important duties lay in the morrow. Dargul usually retired first, and then he often found Tallin was already up and about before him the next morning, if indeed Lord Tallin had slept at all.

  It was with habitual concern that Dargul thus followed and looked after his master. And for more than sixty years this went on, since Dargul came into his present position of Counselor to Tallinvale. But Dargul no longer had the stamina of those earlier years, though Tallin had aged hardly a day. During the early years of their association, Dargul worried over his master like a faithful and loyal dog, ever at his master's side awaiting his lord's word. Then came a time when Dargul was more confident in the well-being of Tallin, and this lasted for several decades. Now, Dargul was aware of some further tension within his lord. It was as if those earlier years of worry and fret had come again; and once again he strove to be nearby as much as he could. Dargul could not ride out with Lord Tallin as he once had, being now too frail of bone to endure the rough horseback travel to all parts of the valley. Nor could he even keep apace on foot, marching hither and yon across the city or out into the countryside, his breath now too shallow and his stride now shorter than it once was when youth's strength made up for difficult paths. So he most often confined himself to the Hall and to his business there, enlisting several young helpers to accompany Lord Tallin whenever possible, ready to send for Dargul should he ever be needed.

  It was one of these, a reliable young man, who knocked this night on the door of the apartment where Dargul lived with his wife. Here, they were just next door to his son's home, and on Dargul's rare days away from the Hall, he spent every moment he could spoiling his grandchildren in whatever way was possible for him to do. His butler gently woke him, trying not to stir Mrs. Dargul, but he failed, as he always failed at such attempts, and she, too, arose as the two men hurried to the foyer where the young messenger awaited.

  "Sir, he's up as usual," said the messenger. "But he lights the lamps of the West Hall and is muttering and speaking to himself most vehemently. I left Sprately with him and came directly. Don't know if it signifies, but I ain't seen him act as such."

  "You did right, Johons, quite right," Dargul assured him as he turned to his man who was now holding out proper clothes to replace Dargul's nightshirt and slippers. As he quickly dressed, he could hear his wife in the nearby kitchen putting together a bit of food to shove into his pocket. So often had he been called away in the night that Dargul and his wife acted as one, and, as Lord Tallin might well know, the service of his most trusted counselor was due in great part to the counselor's devoted wife.

  • • •

  Dargul was met when he arrived at Tallin Hall by another young man who told him that Lord Tallin was still on the fifth floor. When he and his assistants had at last climbed all the stairs, Dargul a bit breathless at the effort, they found the hall lamps of the family wing lit. Halfway down the passage stood Lord Tallin gazing at a wide mural. Ashlord was there, too, standing a few feet behind Tallin, leaning on his stick. Dargul quietly dismissed his helpers and contented himself by watching cautiously from this distance.

  "Was it so long ago that these ships came?" Tallin was saying. The painting was similar to the one Robby had seen deep in the bell room of Tulith Attis, and was in fact done by the same artist. The subject was a seascape of many large ships coming over the bright rim of the horizon and bearing for shore, heeling from the wind, their sails taut and their bow waves white and determined. The nearest ship in the depiction had a golden hull, and its billowing sails displayed the emblem of the House of Tallin. "This one brought my own namesake, though he was but a youngster. He was born at sea, as were all who landed on these shores. In these lands, he established himself as a man and later built this hall. Did you know he used timbers from that very ship to frame the doorway of the original hall built here on these grounds? Those timbers still stand four floors below us."

  Ashlord stood silently by, letting Tallin talk.

  "His line was nearly wiped out. By plague and disease, famine, war. His descendants hung on. One of them, called Leander, moved our family to Vanara, fearing the war that he saw coming. He and two of his brothers lost their lives at Tulith Attis. His son, safe with his family in Vanara, was rewarded for his father's service, and with the trust of the Queen, Serith Ellyn. Many came back east with me when we were forced from there, and here in Tallinvale, our ancient holdings, we have once again grown and prospered, indeed even beyond the accomplishments of our fathers." He threw Ashlord a fiery look, saying, "But what will my people say of me, now? Will they say that age has robbed my mind at last? That time has left a dotard in a young man's frame? Do they know, I wonder, how precarious these last years have been? Can they imagine the utter destruction I could invite by one false decision or another?"

  Dargul stepped a little closer.

  "These people have never known real war. Not like we have, Collandoth. They are young, and few have faced more than a skirmish. They are happy, I think, and healthy, and their zest for life and its bounty is matched, I dare say, in few other lands of Men. Yet, even they have grown more stern these last years. Do they suspect the doom that creeps upon us? I cannot say. In later years, will this Hall still stand? Will the children of these good people spit at my name? Are these last years of peace to be purchased with a final payment of blood?"

  Still Ashlord said nothing, and Tallin turned away, stepping toward the next painting.

  "Would not slavery be better than that? Who am I to say for these people that slavery and death are little different? I, who have enjoyed long life beyond the time of natural men? I, who am prosperous and safe behind my walls! Who am I to make such judgments for these people?"

  Tallin paused before a small delicate depiction of a baby boy, barely able yet to stand, playfully reaching out for a butterfly with one hand as he steadied himself by clutching the gown of his mother with the other hand. Ashlord recognized the pair as Ullin and his mother, and the fanciful field where mother sat and child played was sunlit and golden-green. So charming and cunning was the depiction that Ashlord could see the grass move under a gentle breeze.

  "I have tasted the bitterness of battle, Collandoth, as you have," Tallin took up after a moment. "I know the terrible joy of survival when all my comrades lay dead around me, the sick happiness of remaining alive among the lifeless gore and slaughter of friends. I remember it still, aye. This long life that I have been granted is cursed by a memory that does not fade, and every experience of happiness, every memory of fear, each recollection of fury or despair or sadness has for me the same power of emotion as ever it had. The joy and delight of the birth of my children and the satisfaction of seeing them grow to be fine and strong. What can match those feelings but the overwhelming grief at the death of my two sons and my wife! Yet, one is not more powerful than the other, nor is one memory softened any more by time than another, and all combine into a confusion of des
pair that ever draws me closer to madness, day by passing day. Perfect memory is a perfect curse that no man should endure for long. And I know where it drives me; I fear that someday I shall give up the present altogether, and live my life as long as it lasts in memory alone.

  "No color of sunset seen may fade from me. No thunder of battle drum may soften, but ever again and again, even with its first beat crack ever again in my ears. No rebuke has lost its sting, nor any mistake its shame. Yet my children's tiny fingers forever caress my hand. And the taste of love's kiss never leaves my lips. But, alas, all are gone away, yet will not depart. Oh dear Forgetfulness, thou minister of relief, will you not come to me? Come take from my heart some slight feather of this weightless world that crushes without sweet harm. With your elixir rust away some nail of this ever towering house so that some moment's room may cave away and so be barred from my roaming thoughts never to enter there again. To be absent of mind but once! To have one moment, one only! Some unfilled place in my heart to exist, some space not to be piled upon with memory upon memory, some brief nothing to be mindful of! Some sleep from this cacophony of experience, some repose, if only for a passing eye-blink, so that one moment might be recalled with perfect peace. Oh, peace, peace! Perfect memory is but a perfect hell! Hated Time, that coach ever in the arrival, it delivers to my door its never-ending passengers, an unending family of uninvited recollection, each one a despised guest who will not depart, but ever demands my hospitality and welcome, though I would cast them all out, if I could. Oh, that I could!"

  During this quiet but coldly passionate speech, Dargul drew even closer and stood just behind Ashlord, his eyes now glistening in pain for his lord and friend.

  "This condition that is upon you is matched by your great will to sustain, to continue," said Ashlord softly to Lord Tallin. "Surely it keeps your madness in check."

  "Aye, but it is the will of necessity, not the will of the willing," came the reply as Tallin slowly moved down the hall, with Ashlord and Dargul following. Ashlord's knowledge of Tallin was not so exact as Dargul's, but these two knew Lord Tallin better in certain ways than any other living soul. In spite of the harsh and tough exterior, one enforced, these two knew, by the cruel nature of perfect memory, they knew Lord Tallin was not a man without a heart. Indeed it was his heart, so shattered and broken by the loss of his children and his wife, that made him into a stern man these many, many years. Those pieces of his heart, which had once been strong enough to be broken and to heal, he had guarded too long, allowing nothing to touch them. Little comfort had he desired, nor did he need. His was the business of everyday musings that led to anger and short patience. Those closest to him, who had known him the longest and whose own demeanors were much a result of living within the influence of so brooding a man, knew that his outbursts were passionless and cold. An astute man of business, with a keen eye to the welfare of his domain, Lord Tallin was ever on horseback checking the fields, purchasing the best seed for his lands, and negotiating with Furaman or other traders for the best prices on behalf of those who farmed and toiled in the valley. A warrior by upbringing and, for many years of his life, by trade, he still rode out with his men at arms to push back the creepings of the Damar with many skirmishes fought and won. And, though his days of great and mighty battles seemed over, he still dressed daily in the raiment and armor of a soldier. But his losses were too many. Battles had he lost with great slaughter of friends and fellows. He had lost his lands, the ancient realm of Fairoak, upon the western slopes of Vanara. He had lost his western titles and no longer had the honored standing he once held in Duinnor. As misery follows strife, one after another, he lost his sons, his wife, and his daughter. But none hurt so much, nor cost him so dear, as the loss of his wife. Lady Kahryna was the only person who had ever been able to truly love him without hesitation, who could provoke him so easily to laughter, and whose memory would now provoke him to tears if only he had not locked away the crumbs of his heart so fast and so far, and sealed over the deep well of his eyes.