Part 14 (1/2)

Dhulyn's eyes flicked open. Because the women of her Clan-no, of the Tribe Tribe were Seers. She frowned, digesting this information. So the Mark had not fallen on her from the clear blue sky, as she'd always thought. Her mother had been Marked as well, and the other women of her tribe. Seers all. were Seers. She frowned, digesting this information. So the Mark had not fallen on her from the clear blue sky, as she'd always thought. Her mother had been Marked as well, and the other women of her tribe. Seers all.

And I have seen your face, Mother.

Gone. All gone. Not just her mother, her father, aunts, uncles, cousins. Her Clan, and likely her whole Tribe Tribe. Everyone who might have helped her when her Mark came. Everyone who might have had some answers. Why hadn't the Sight helped them?

Why hadn't the Sight helped her her? Kept her out of Lok-iKol's hands? Dhulyn rubbed at the still-numb skin of her face. Had they asked her anything else? For a moment the smoky darkness, the face of a man turning purple as he choked to death threatened to rise again, but she gritted her teeth against it.

The Tarkin, she thought, remembering the color of his tunic and the golden circlet around his brows. The Tarkin of Imrion was going to be poisoned, by the Sun and Moon, and she knew who would gain by it. Though not for long. This was information she should take to Alkoryn Pantherclaw-if she could think of a way to explain how she came by it. she thought, remembering the color of his tunic and the golden circlet around his brows. The Tarkin of Imrion was going to be poisoned, by the Sun and Moon, and she knew who would gain by it. Though not for long. This was information she should take to Alkoryn Pantherclaw-if she could think of a way to explain how she came by it.

Dhulyn blinked. The important thing right now was escape. She pulled her hands out from under the warm covering and ran her fingers over her head. Contrary to how it felt from the inside, it was in one piece, though her scalp, like her face, felt numb. That was the fresnoyn and the poppy still in her blood. Her hair was untouched, neither unbound, nor cut nor shaved. She started to sit up and stopped abruptly, hissing at the throbbing of her head. This was not good.

She gritted her teeth. Pain or no, she had to get up, get out, find Parno. And all without finding herself again in that chamber, with the fresnoyn fresh inside her, when they'd thought of better questions to ask her.

The shape of the present room told her nothing. Alkoryn's floor plans had shown dozens of squarish rooms. Heavy hangings covered the walls entirely, the only furniture her bed, and, just within reach on the floor, a glazed pitcher with a matching cup. She scrubbed her hands over her face and again ran her fingers over her hair, this time feeling carefully at the beads and baubles, ribbons and thongs, all intact, tied and woven through it. She touched the wire she was looking for and released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

All right. She must put aside her fear, her anger, and be patient. Her Clan might be gone, even her Tribe, but she was not alone. As Dorian the Black Traveler had once promised her, she had a House, Brothers, a place to stand in the world. She would hold fast to that and she would not fail them. Nor would she fail herself.

As soon as this cursed drug wore off, she would find Parno. She would free him. They'd kill the One-eye. And maybe his Scholar boy as well. Then she and her Partner would return to their own House.

”Just these three more, my lord,” Semlin-Nor, Steward of Keys murmured, selecting another sheet of paper from the sheaf she held in her hands to place on the table in front of him. Lok glanced over the list on the paper before him, mentally comparing figures and amounts to what his Keys had already reported to him. He did not trouble to look up when the door opened.

”My lord Kir, the priest Beslyn-Tor-”

Lok raised his eyebrow as the Jaldean did not wait to be further announced, but entered the room before the page had finished speaking. Lok pressed his lips together, but stifled the major part of the annoyance he felt. His need for the services the Jaldean and his fanatic followers had been providing, and were still to provide, brought him to his feet, and turned what could have been a gesture of dismissal into a signal for Keys to bring another chair that his guest might join him at his worktable.

”It has been some days since I have heard from you, my lord Kir,” Beslyn-Tor said, standing in front of the chair brought for him.

Lok repressed another grimace at the sound of the Jaldean's honeyed voice, the kind of honey that caught unsuspecting listeners in a golden trap. Surely the priest must know by now that Lok was anything but unsuspecting. He took up his pen and, leaning back in his chair, began to turn it over in the fingers of his right hand, making it dance down toward his smallest finger, and back again.

”I have not sent for you, Beslyn, no,” Lok said, deliberately using the diminutive of the man's name. ”But now that you are here, will you not sit?” Lok allowed himself a small smile. The chair that Semlin had brought forward for the priest was the very chair that Dhulyn Wolfshead had been sitting in. Two of the silk scarves which had been used to bind her wrists were still draped over the left arm. Lok lowered his eyes to the papers in front of him and without turning to her said, ”Semlin, would you be so kind as to bring our guest some wine?”

The Jaldean's raised hand stopped her when she had only half turned toward the door.

”I have very little time this evening,” the honeyed voice said. ”I was the more surprised not to hear from you, Lord Kir, given the arrival of your recent guests.”

At moments like these, Lok welcomed the advantages of his injury. It was almost impossible to register any emotion at all-even when he wished to-and equally impossible to give anything away. So he could be certain that the shock that struck him like a blow to the heart at the priest's words never showed on his face. Who among his household was selling information to the Jaldean?

”If our guest needs nothing, Semlin, perhaps you might return to your other duties?” The woman's well-trained face remained expressionless as she made her courtesies and left the room.

”We have an agreement, Lord Kir.”

Lok turned to the Jaldean, setting his quill pen down to the right of the doc.u.ments on his table. Beslyn-Tor was sitting on the forward edge of the chair, statue-still, as he always did. The man didn't fidget, didn't scratch, didn't chew his nails or rub at his hands. It seemed at times as though he didn't sweat.

”I have met my part,” Lok reminded the motionless man. And he had. Eleven Marked had been found by the Scholar Gundaron-though only nine had been turned over to the Jaldean. Until a moment ago, Lok would have sworn that Beslyn did not know about the Healer and the Mender secreted in the Tenebro summerhouse. But he also would have sworn the man didn't know about Dhulyn Wolfshead.

”As I will meet mine. You will not sit on the Carnelian Throne without my help.”

Lok inclined his head in a shallow bow. But once I'm there, But once I'm there, he thought, he thought, that will be help I no longer need. that will be help I no longer need. Especially if he was the only person in the country-perhaps the peninsula-with Marked in his service. Especially if one of those was a Seer. The Jaldean was a fanatic and, like all fanatics, out of his depth when dealing with an equally ruthless but rational man. Especially if he was the only person in the country-perhaps the peninsula-with Marked in his service. Especially if one of those was a Seer. The Jaldean was a fanatic and, like all fanatics, out of his depth when dealing with an equally ruthless but rational man.

”We have had some arrivals, as you say, but it is merely our cousin Mar-eMar, with her bodyguard.”

”And that bodyguard? I had heard one was an Espadryni woman.” A warmth lit up the jade-green eyes until they seemed almost to glow. ”I have been given the benefit of your Scholar's theories.”

Lok sat back and waved his hand in the air. ”She answered the physical description,” he said, using his most reasonable tone. ”But it is not so so unusual. We were able to fully account for her background. She is not Espadryni.” unusual. We were able to fully account for her background. She is not Espadryni.”

”You are certain?”

”As certain as we can be. We used fresnoyn in her food.”

The Jaldean nodded. ”The chance of a Seer,” he said, so softly he might have been speaking to himself. ”There are so few.” He raised his head and once more Lok had the benefit of his level jade-green stare. ”It was necessary to be sure.”

”I believe the woman and her companion have already left Gotterang,” Lok continued, once more picking up his pen.

”What of the Mesticha Stone?”

”According to my last report, the s.h.i.+p had left Navra on its way to the shrine on the Isle of Etsanksa to retrieve it. We cannot expect to hear again for some weeks.”

”He is a good tool, your little Scholar.”

”He is,” Lok agreed. ”I could not part with him.” Certainly not, Certainly not, Lok thought, Lok thought, until I find out what you want with all these relics he's located for you, and why the Mesticha Stone is so important. until I find out what you want with all these relics he's located for you, and why the Mesticha Stone is so important.

”Are you sure you will not have some wine? Can I offer you other refreshment?”

Ten.

IN THE MIDDLE of the first watch of the night, while most of the Household were seeking their bedrooms, Karlyn-Tan checked that he had his set of master keys hanging from his belt and set off down the corridors and pa.s.sageways of Tenebro House. As he inspected the watch-something he did often, if irregularly-he could take the most roundabout and quiet route to the room that held the Wolfshead.

His first checkpoint was a young guardsman standing with a drawn sword in her hand, her back to a tapestry that depicted, in fading colors, a boar hunt. Word had it that the Tenebroso herself had worked the tapestry as a young woman, before the deaths of her two older siblings had made her Kir, and turned her attention to other matters. The tapestry hung at the apex of a long curving corridor, where the guard who stood before it could see down both sides.

”All quiet, Steward of Walls.” The young woman standing watch at the tapestry saluted with her sword as he pa.s.sed her, giving her nothing more than a nod of acknowledgment. He knew her well, as he knew all of his own people. He even knew what special feat in practice had won her the honor of standing guard inside the walls and not out. The honor was always a coveted one, but especially on very hot nights when the stone walls gave some cooling to the House. Or on nights like this one, when spring's cool drizzle misted the battlements.

The thought that Lok-iKol would endanger this young woman, and all her fellow guards as well as everyone else in the House-Karlyn's hand had touched his sword hilt before he brought it back, relaxed, to his side.

Karlyn nodded to four more guards before he finally reached the room that held the Wolfshead. He waited for several minutes, listening and taking deep breaths, before he unlocked the door and stood on the threshold.

The first thing he saw was the bed placed against the middle of the far wall, and Dhulyn Wolfshead sitting cross-legged upon it, composed, and smiling merrily.

”It is Karlyn-Tan, Steward of Walls,” he said in a voice that would reach her ears without traveling down the hallway.

”I remember you,” she said. She still sat softly smiling, her blood-red eyebrows slightly raised. Suddenly, her smile broadened. ”Have you come to release me, Steward of Walls?” she asked.

Karlyn took three paces into the room until he was no more than the length of a sword from the woman on the bed. He cleared his throat. ”Yes.”