Ashlord took out Bailorg's purse and showed the old coins within. They were small silver discs, stamped with Vanaran script, and tarnished with age. Some had tiny stones set into the middle of them.
"These old coins I took from Bailorg's things. He must have given Steggan some such as these to pay for the letters that Steggan was to deliver to the Post Station. And so, fearing that Steggan drank away the money without delivering the letters, Bailorg tried to determine if Steggan had actually delivered his letters. Bailorg enlisted some of Makeig's men to ask around for any old coins. I talked to the tavern owner, Arkstan, and, sure enough, Arkstan said Steggan was there drinking on the day, and he said that Steggan did, indeed, pay his tavern bill with old Vanaran coins. The tavern owner told me that another person had asked him the same question the very night after Steggan had last been there, and that the man paid Arkstan twice the face value in silver to retrieve the coins. From the description Arkstan gave me, I am sure that person was Bailorg. But, according to Arkstan, Bailorg was concerned that there were not more of them to be had. Arkstan assured Bailorg, as he assured me, that the ones he gave back to Bailorg were the only ones he had, the ones Steggan used to pay his bill. So it seems apparent that Bailorg thought Steggan had used the money for drink instead of for sending out the dispatches. Bailorg admitted to Robby that he killed Steggan, and it explains why, as I have heard, that Steggan's place was found to be completely ransacked, once Robby and his father discovered Steggan's body. Bailorg was desperate to have his letters back, and perhaps the rest of his money, if any was left over from what he gave Steggan. Of course, Bailorg was completely wrong. Steggan had indeed delivered the dispatches to Starhart, and he had paid for them with some of the old coins that Mrs. Starhart eventually brought to your father."
Mirabella shifted in her seat, shaking her head. She glanced at Robby, and was about to speak. Ashlord looked at her expectantly, but she only shook her head and looked away.
"I imagine Bailorg was further enraged by Steggan's insistence that he had, indeed, seen to the letters," Ashlord went on. "So mistrust, perhaps, led to much confusion and misguided efforts. Bailorg would have been better off had he delivered those letters himself to the Post Station, if he had not enlisted Steggan at all, and if he had simply stuck to his mission here in the Eastlands. But, had Bailorg done so, Steggan would have been spared the torture and death that he had otherwise earned for his other acts."
"I'm not sure I follow you," said Robby. "Or why any of that is important. What mission?"
"I have been a fool, Robby, wrong about so many things, and I am deeply angry at myself for being such a fool," Ashlord said. "I have tried to piece together the frayed threads of many signs and clues, not knowing which were important and which were not. But many things are made clear to me now, and, to make a long apology short, suffice it to say I have come to learn that the greatest threat to you, Robby, does not come from the Dragon People or their leader. Doubtless we are meant to think so, as many are meant to think they are the greatest enemy. I now believe that our immediate threat comes from the courts of Duinnor itself. The King spins his own webs of deceit, biding his time. He knows the age is changing and is exerting all his power to bend it to his will and wish. I know this because I now know that Bailorg communicated not only with agents of the Dragonkind, but with Duinnor, and with others, perhaps even more powerful. As I said earlier, I just came from the Post Station. Unfortunately, several of the Post Riders were killed today and yesterday in the fighting, and the Post Station is all but abandoned. I easily talked my way past the boy left in charge of the place, and I found the letters from Bailorg, still in Starhart's chest that each Post Rider keeps at the Station. It seems that as soon as Starhart got to the Post Station, he was ordered out on the South Route and never got a chance to prepare the letters. There they have been, in Starhart's chest, all this time since Midsummer's until now. They reveal much, and open new questions."
Ashlord stood and unfolded three parchment paper documents on the table. Ullin looked over Ashlord's shoulder.
"This one is plain enough," he said. "But this one is in Cuwali, judging by the characters. It is a language used in the far southwest by some clans there. But this one," Ullin put his finger on the third, "I cannot make out at all. It looks to be some sort of ancient writing, but whether Elvish or Mannish, I cannot say."
"That one I expected to find," said Ashlord, "and it is written in the First Tongue."
Sheila glanced at Robby, who was leaning forward in his chair to look.
"The First Tongue?" Mirabella asked, leaning as well to see it. "I did not know any still spoke it, much less that it could be written."
"Few can speak it," Ashlord said. "Fewer still know how to write or read it. I will return to that letter in a moment. Let us take these things one at a time. First, the one in plain Common Speech. I shall read it:"
To be delivered to
Misters Norogus & Harmalway,
Number 10 Farbrick Court,
West Noringtown, Duinnor.
Thirteenth Day of Sixthmonth, Year 870, S.A.
Sirs,
I inform you that I am late in my return from the East and hereby instruct you on the disposition of all those properties upon which we have communicated. It is of utmost importance to me that all lands and holdings under my trust in the lands of Vanara be preserved without prejudice in my name. I hereby grant you leave to sell and dispose of all those assets of mine within Duinnor, and every store and holding therein, to secure the rightful deeds of those within Vanara, including the estates late to be abandoned in Thistledown and Graybark. Since our last communication, wherein was stated the terms of our business, I have been provided with confirmation of the availability of these lands. Whereas previously you received instructions to wait until the spring of 871 before acting, I authorize you to proceed immediately with all haste with our agreed upon plan.
Bailorg Delcorman
"A business deal, obviously," said Robby.
"I know those lands, or know of them, rather," said Mirabella. "They are in Mirse, on the eastern end of the Blue Mountains, in Vanara."
"Yes, they are the lands of the House of Walnut and the House of Juniper," Ullin nodded. "They lay on the passes that open to the deserts of the south."
"Yes," said Ashlord. "Bailorg was seeking to secure those lands, and it is my guess that he holds vast resources in Duinnor that he planned to exchange for those lands."
"But why would they be abandoned?" asked Billy.
"Because of the ongoing strife with the Dragonkind, pushing north through the passes," Ashlord replied. "Those lands have borne the brunt of seventy years of open conflict and have all but been laid waste. Walnut and Juniper stubbornly hold on, with the support of Vanara, but Bailorg seems to have information that those lands will soon fall, or perhaps have already. It is a common practice for those who will abandon their lands to sign deeds to Duinnor for protection. It seems that Bailorg has some means of having those deeds transferred to himself."
"What good would that do him?" Ullin asked. "If they fall to the Dragonkind, no one will profit by them."
"The answer may be in the second letter," said Ashlord. "You were right to think it is in Cuwali. I happen to know that the dialect used here is in particular to a certain area in the southern plains of Bletharn, east of the mountains. I will translate to the best of my skill:"
Most High Lord of Kluker Klag, Keeper of the Southlands, Rightful Giver of Law to the Subjects Thereof to all those living between Grass and Sand:
With the Sun King's blessings I greet thee, and in His Name I bestow upon thee my greetings.
I send thee that my party will depart for thy lands very soon and pray that thou receive us within thy protection and deliver us unto the Hand of Heat without delay. This word I giveth in His Name, that a quantity of gold and other precious metal, including silver, and many likewise precious gems and pearls, will He lavish upon thee for thy faithfulness and for t
he protection of his servants. To His enemies He sheweth a terrible wrath and none may escape His Mighty Will, yet merciful is He to the Faithful, and kindness and bounty they reap in His service.
Praise be to the King of Day, Lord of Lords, Ruler of Heaven and Earth!
Braig Bailorg Denuth Delcorman
"Good grief!" cried Billy. "Who's he writin' to?"
"A tribal ruler of the southwest," answered Ashlord. "A proud and fierce warlord who deems himself a mighty leader of his people. Bailorg obviously humors him with grandiose speech in order to play along with his way of thinking. Notice the veiled threat. He refers to the Sun King, the leader of the Dragonkind."
"Why would he be planning to travel that way?" Robby asked.
"I do not believe he was planning to go that way at all," Ashlord replied.
"Then what is the letter about?"
"Bailorg was evidently playing both sides against each other, serving not one but two masters, one in the north and the other in the south. We know that he had a Dragonkind man in his employ. We also know, from the one that attacked me at Tulith Attis, that he had a man of Duinnor in his keeping, too. I think he made bargains to deliver you to the Sun King, or Dragon King as we call him. And I think that he also promised to deliver you to his master in Duinnor. Meanwhile, he must have also been planning to secure in his name lands that may soon fall to the Sun King. Perhaps he wanted to have some claim on them for additional leverage when they are occupied."
"Why? If the traitor of Tulith Attis is in one place, what would the other want with me?" Robby asked.
"That's easy!" said Billy. "The traitor wants to keep secret, right? Well, whoever knows can blackmail him! I'm sure King Lizard needs all the spies he can get. That'd be a handy way of gettin' one. An' a powerful one at that, I reckon."
Ashlord said nothing, merely puffing his pipe while the others took the suggestion in.
"You are much in demand," said Ullin to Robby.
Mirabella and Ashlord gazed at each other, each wondering how much the other actually knew.
"Well, we don't have to worry 'bout none of that, do we?" Billy said. "I mean, Bailorg's dead."
"Ah, well, it isn't so neatly tied up," Ashlord said. "In the first place, we now know there are two powerful forces, enemies of each other, seeking to capture Robby. Since these letters were never delivered, impatience and suspicion will grow. If I had Bailorg in my employ, and if I thought I was being deceived, I'd send someone to find out."
"So you think more will come," said Mirabella.
"I do. Or else some already nearby will be dispatched to find Robby."
"How can I convince them that I don't know who the traitor is?" asked Robby with an all-too-familiar tone of exasperation that came whenever this topic arose.
"In spite of what Billy suggested, I do not think that your enemies in Duinnor and in the Dragonlands care or worry about the traitor's identity. It has remained a secret for hundreds of years, and may remain so. What they are after is the one who has the power to discover that secret, for he may also have the power to discover other secrets as well."
"What other secrets? And what power?" asked Robby. "I mean, I've gone over and over the whole thing in my head a thousand times, and it comes out the same way every single time. I just don't know anything else!"
"I know you think so. However, one can have knowledge and yet hide it from oneself in many ways. And you have a most uncanny ability to unlock things. But too many coincidences have piled upon you. You happened along just when the signs were right that the Great Bell at Tulith Attis would be rung. And you rang it. The wolves that attacked you: Do you think they just happened along? No, they were put upon the scent. As a child, you were Faere Blessed. You wear about your waist more evidence. Do you think anyone may accept a gift from the Faere Folk, much less one of such power? Surely, Thurdun and his sister, the Queen, whose wings were stripped of them, have seen enough to make their judgment keen. Do you think they bestowed anything upon you that you did not already in part possess? The ability to manipulate Swyncraff comes from you, not it."
"No, Collandoth," said Mirabella so softly that no one heard, "I beg of you." But she knew she should not stop him. And probably could not, anyway.
"Yes, my young friend," Ashlord went on, "you have more in you than you are willing to admit. More than you will yet imagine. The mind is a funny thing, Robby. It turns this way and that, seeking answers. Yet it turns just as much to deny the answers it finds. The heart often knows what the head will not admit. Will you tell me you have not felt out of place here? That you have not felt the pull of a mysterious current all your life? Some say to be Faere Blessed is to be Faere Cursed. It is well known that the Elifaen give their blessings upon none who are not already blessed by powers beyond what they themselves possess. I do not know if you are destined, or appointed by powers beyond us, or whether all this simply fell upon you. Yet I think you somehow have the ability to unravel the secret of the traitor of Tulith Attis, and also another completely different secret. A much more powerful secret, the true Name of the King. Perhaps you already have knowledge of the Name but do not realize it. I cannot be certain about that. If you do not already have that knowledge, a way to obtain it will inevitably come to you."
There was silence in the room after Ashlord spoke, except for the crackle of the fire. Sheila looked at her hands in her lap. She knew. Mirabella knew, too, best of any, what Ashlord was saying, though she was shaking her head. Ullin fingered the ring given to him by Queen Serith Ellyn and looked at the reflections of the fire glittering back from it. Only Billy seemed confused as he looked from face to face, trying to find some hint there. At last, he looked back at Ashlord.
"So what yer sayin' is that Robby knows how to smoke out the traitor. An' he's onto the secret of the King's Name. But that ol' Robby don't know that he knows. An' that he, Robby that is, is some kind of, some kind of—"
"King," Ullin stated.
Everyone looked at Ullin then at Robby, then back at Ullin who was now gazing blankly at Robby.
"Ashlord believes that the secret that hides the name of the traitor and the secret that hides the name of the present King of Duinnor can be solved by Robby," Ullin said. "And if Robby knows one, he can learn the other. And if he utters it in the presence of the King, he will become King himself. Or so it is told."
"I don't think it works that way, Ullin," said Ashlord, who was barely heard over Billy's loud exclamation.
"Thar ain't no way!" he cried out, laughing at the idea. "If Robby became King, then we'd all be King 'cause we all know Robby's name. An' whoever calls the Name, becomes King, an' we can't all be King. So thar! So much for yer silly idea 'bout that!"
Billy looked about proudly, nodding his head and getting up to dip hot cider into a cup. "Of all the harebrained," he muttered as he did so. "So what about the other letter? Are ye gonna tell us what it says?"
Ullin did not respond but continued to look at Robby and Ashlord and Mirabella, moving aside so that Billy could get at the pot at the fire. Mirabella remained silent. Robby stared at Ashlord, red-faced and stunned. Sheila, who had been silent during all of this, remained so, sitting upright and stiff, looking back and forth from one to another. Under the table, she put her hand on Robby's and gripped hard.
"It does not work in such a manner as that, Billy." Ashlord shook his head patiently. "Perhaps the content of this final letter might serve to convince you," Ashlord said, holding the parchment close to his face to read. He rubbed his eyes and moved the document back and forth, as if trying to focus upon it. "It seems my eyes are tired, and this light is weak. I wonder if Robby may read it to us?"
"But you said that it's in the First Tongue," Robby said.
Ashlord handed the letter across the table to Robby, keeping his eyes upon Mirabella, who returned his gaze. There was a kind of fire that exchanged between them, though they both smiled, Ashlord with ease and sympathy, but Mirabella with strain and uncertainty. Still u
nder the watch of Ashlord, she blushed and looked down to her hands and then at Robby. Robby took the letter and stood, holding it up to the light, studying it.
"I'm not sure," said Robby. "I think I can make out some of it. A little."
"Just take your time," Ashlord said as he tamped out his pipe and slipped it away. He stood and moved to where his walking stick was leaning against a wooden column. There, he gripped the stick with both hands before him, leaning on it heavily. "Just read and interpret it for us as you go."
Robby looked at the neatly scripted writing.
"This is very different from the other ancient writing I've seen," Robby said.
"Yes, it is different," said Ashlord, bowing his head and closing his eyes as if he had a headache, "but they are related. Go ahead and try."
Robby nodded and looked at the letter again. The shapes of the characters seemed to move, and began squirming around, sliding within the words they formed, and sometimes a rune seemed to detach from the end of one word and move to join another nearby. Suddenly, without his knowing how, they made sense to him. They were supposed to move, or to appear to do so. That was how the script worked. Once he understood that, the words were plain and simple, and he began to read.
It was the voice, Sheila thought, the same voice. Yet this time there was a sharp, cutting, pain-bringing quality to it that struck the listeners about the temples and behind the eyes. The meaning of the words could not be mistaken, and though the sound was strange to their ears, it was an old sound, as old as the trees and rocks, as familiar as the sky. As Robby read to them, the fire died to an ember and warmth fled the room, and the parchment Robby held seemed to glow in his hands. A cold, fearful breath blew down their necks, and, if they had not been so shocked and paralyzed, they would have each fled, except Ashlord, who yet clutched his stick as if holding on against a gale.
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