Part 24 (1/2)
”My sister's bones hinted at treachery, treachery somehow related to our mother's death-and that means treachery related to my captivity as well. I think my sister believed the Lady complicit in this.”
”The Lady!” The Seneschal's eyes widened.
”And the thought of it made me sick,” Kieri said; even now his stomach cramped as he spoke of it. ”I have talked, as I said, to others who were here at that time. I am not so sure who it was-but I am increasingly sure that treachery was involved. There was, at the least, tension between the Lady and my-our-mother. Someone else could have exploited that. Human or elf, but elf, I fear, is more likely.”
”Not a random attack by brigands?”
”No,” Kieri said. ”By several accounts, she expected an elven escort on the journey-refused a human retinue-and as a full elf should have been able to enter the elvenhome with me if danger threatened. As well, she was skilled with weapons-she would not have been easy to take down. Yet she had no elven escort-they did not arrive when expected, and she chose to leave without them. A Squire who mentioned treachery at the time was soon thrown from her horse and killed. So treachery seems likely-but my sister's suspicion of our grandmother could be based on as little as a minor argument she overheard.”
”Your sister lived to adulthood,” the Seneschal said. ”She could have heard more than you, firsthand, from those who knew your mother and the Lady.”
”My father's bones have indicated no such suspicion,” Kieri said. ”Would he not have known more?”
”Not...necessarily.” The Seneschal frowned. ”Knowledge can pa.s.s from mother to daughter, or father to son, through bone and blood. Your sister might have some awareness of what your mother knew, from before your sister's birth.”
”How is that possible?”
”I don't know.” The Seneschal spread his hands. ”In the old days, the old humans believed such was possible. That was one reason for raising the bones and honoring them. They had true wisdom that their descendants might share, at least in part. Certain knowledge and certain skills pa.s.sed mother to daughter and father to son. Parrions, they called those.”
Kieri thought of something else. ”Did you ever hear rumor that the Lady was unhappy at her daughter's wedding a human? At the need to reintroduce taig-sense into the royal family?”
”No...though elves have always acted as if it were a greater honor to the king your father than to your mother. But I thought that natural.” The Seneschal paused, then went on. ”Sir King, will you ask the Lady of these things?”
”If she will talk to me,” Kieri said. Bitterness flooded him again. ”She can always hide there, in the elvenhome...and she has been doing just that.”
”It must be settled,” the Seneschal said. ”It must be settled for the good of the realm...that is what the bones want, I am sure.”
”I will speak to Orlith,” Kieri said. ”Or any elf I can find.”
But when he looked, he found none. Not Orlith, not Amrothlin his own uncle, none of them. His half-elven Squires, when he asked, said they thought all the elves were having a meeting in the elvenhome.
Vonja, in Aarenis
Three days before the contract was over, Arcolin camped outside the walls of Cortes Vonja and went into the city to deal with the Cortes Vonja Council. As he expected, they were not pleased that he hadn't eliminated the threat, but after some hours, during which he showed the maps, the daily journal of activities, and the number of enemy killed, they agreed that he had done as well as a small force could. He turned in the money taken from the fallen brigands and the counterfeiting dies they'd found, as well as the ten Cortes Vonja pikes. They stared at those last as if they were vipers, not needing to be told what it meant that their weapons had shown up in enemy hands.
”We could hire you until the Fall Evener,” one councilman said.
”No,” Arcolin said. ”I must attend Autumn Court in Tsaia; my king commands it. And I have scarce time to travel there as it is.”
”How long will you be here, then?”
”Only long enough to let the men spend a little money and complete the business I have with those who helped my sergeant.”
With coinage the banker considered legitimate, Arcolin paid the troops enough to let them go-one tensquad at a time-into the city for a few hours, while he visited Marshal Harak and the others.
”I'd like to see him again,” Harak said. ”I'm sure Tir's Captain would, too.”
”I'll tell him,” Arcolin said.
”What's this about the Blind Archer?”
”You've heard of that?”
”It was all over the market last week: the Blind Archer has returned. I thought at once of Stammel, but surely-”
”He can shoot a crossbow,” Arcolin said. ”And when we were attacked, he stood there in the open and called out that he was the Blind Archer-I'd never heard that story-and shot the first man that yelled at him. And then others. Eventually about half of the attackers fled. Don't ask me how-it must have been the G.o.ds.”
”Hmm.” Harak turned and pulled a ragged scroll from the stuffed pigeonholes in his office. ”It's in here: Cornlyn's Instructive Stories. Sometimes it's told of Falk, but in this...” He unrolled the scroll, frowning. ”Here. Balester of Gaona-not on any map we have-being blinded and exiled by the malice of Tagrin for having failed to kill the princeling and heir of the former and rightful king as ordered but instead placing him in safe fosterage, learned archery by the grace of the Master Archer and returned to kill the said Tagrin of hated memory, to the glory of the Lord of Justice and as proof that no infirmity need make a man-or woman-incapable of serving the right.” He rolled the scroll again. ”A southern tale; I doubt Gird ever heard it, but I've used it in homilies. So did my predecessor. And so now Stammel thinks he's the Blind Archer?”
”He's blind, and he's an archer-he's too sensible, I think, to believe more than it's a tale with a use-and a good use he made of it.”
At the Field of Falk, the Captain greeted him warmly. ”I have the Halveric sword cleansed, blessed, and ready for travel,” he said. ”I took the liberty of having our Field leatherworker make it a scabbard-it may not be the Halveric scabbard, but it is good quality and will not dishonor the blade.” Arcolin thanked him, took the sword in its scabbard, and went to find the Captain of Tir.
He found the gruff-voiced Captain bare to the waist and trading buffets from a stick with two soldiers. ”So, how is our blind hero?” the Captain asked. ”I hear tales of the Blind Archer returning to end corruption and evil.”
”Not that,” Arcolin said, and explained.
”A brave man,” the Captain said. ”An honor to Tir, that one. Send him to me; I would give him a blessing before he leaves. And Tir's thanks to you, for not wasting his courage, for letting him return to the life he knows.”
Back at camp, Stammel was on the point of leaving with Suli for guide and another eight. Arcolin told him he should visit Marshal Harak and the Captain of Tir, and Stammel nodded. ”I meant to,” he said.
The night before they left Cortes Vonja, Arcolin offered Stammel a choice.
”I must go north, to Autumn Court in Verella,” he said. ”I will be granted the North Marches permanently then, and from there I must go north again, to the Duke's-to my stronghold. Burek is well able to command the cohort on the road and in winter quarters. It is up to you whether you come with me or stay in Valdaire. You would be of use either way. If you choose to stay south, I'll take Devlin.”
Stammel thought for a long moment. ”The cohort needs a sighted sergeant,” he said. ”Burek, too. He's good, but he'll need someone who knows all the local tricks.”
”Well, then. We ride tomorrow, you and I, at speed.”
One of the horses went lame between Foss and Fossnir; they had made good time before that, and Arcolin decided they would stay at an inn that night since they had arrived far too late to ride on. On a whim, he thought of the Blind Archer, which proved to be, in the way of inns in Foss Council towns, a clean whitewashed place with good stables.
They came into the common room to eat; it was moderately busy, mostly with obvious merchants. Arcolin chose one of the smaller tables to one side of the main entrance, where he could see both the door and out the window to the busy street. They ordered, and while they were waiting for their food someone behind him-a man he had barely noticed-asked for paper and ink in a querulous voice. A voice he knew-but the other conversations in the room grew louder; he could not hear the man's voice anymore.
Stammel leaned forward. ”It's Andressat,” he said softly.
”What?” Arcolin did not turn around. ”How could it be?” But Stammel was right. It could be Andressat's voice.
Stammel shrugged. ”I don't know, but it must be.”
They ate when their food came; Arcolin wanted to turn and look, but did not. What he could remember of the man from his first casual glance around the room had not matched his memory of the Count of Andressat.