Part 11 (2/2)

”Let him be,” Helwych snapped. Jets. Hounds. A sudden and s.a.d.i.s.tic attack on a small village of Gryylth. Shaken, he cast about in his mind, searching, wondering whether the dark recesses of his consciousness still belonged to him alone. Was that a flash of blue-black off there in the distance? Did he detect a faint echo of mocking laughter that faded even as he strained to hear?

”And there were others,” Yyvas rambled on. ”They walked like men, but their faces were gray and glistening, and they bore weapons that killed at a distance.”

And the words rang in Helwych's memory: Stupid little Dremord fool . . .

It had not mattered, then. The Specter had not been stopped by the curtain wall. It might even now be closing in on Kingsbury, looking for the petty little sorcerer who had betrayed it.

Helwych fought down the sudden flare of panic. He had controlled the hounds. He could control the planes and the Gray faces, too. For now, he sent riders out into the storm to alert the garrisons and inform the towns that he was taking charge of the defense of the land. He did not bother with the formality of using Seena's name. The Guard knew who was running Gryylth, and the Guard would make sure that everyone else knew also.

Yyvas stared stupidly as the sorcerer parceled out tasks and orders. Eyes gla.s.sy, the man sat slumped in his chair like a tree struck by lightning.

”Go,” said Helwych to his men. ”Now. I will make other arrangements by myself, in private. If the Specter-”

He caught himself. Yyvas was staring. So were his men.

”If Vaylle wishes to attack,” he faltered, ”it will find out what kind of reply it receives. We shall meet sorcery with sorcery.”

Even Dryyim was puzzled. ”My lord,” he said. ”If you command such powers, why did you not go with our king?”

Helwych was tempted to slay Dryyim on the spot. ”If I had gone,” he said, ”we would all be dead in our beds.” He struck his staff on the ground, and the starburst of light made the men of the Guard stagger back a step. ”Go. Now. ”

But as the men fled into the night, Helwych wondered whether what he was doing would prove to be of any use. The Specter had been unaffected by the curtain wall. It might be unfazed by his most potent spell. After all, it had taught him all that he knew. Perhaps it had only taught him what it wanted him to know.

Stupid little Dremordfool . . .

What did the Specter do to those who betrayed it?

Helwych looked down at Yyvas. ”Tell me,” he said, ”were there any survivors of Burnwood?”

Yyvas did not reply. Helwych realized that he was looking at a corpse, that his question had been answered.

Stupid little ...

He turned and ran from the room. He needed time. Time for plans. Time for magic.

Although exhaustion threatened to tumble them to the ground, the men and women of Alouzon's expedition insisted upon giving an immediate report to the three kings. Cvinthil listened attentively, and though he judged that Darham and Pellam were as distressed by the condition of the members of the party and unsettled by the tale that they told as he himself, still his own emotions were exacerbated and deepened by the stark knowledge of his own part in the workings of entrapment and betrayal.

A fool. An utter fool.

It was dark by the time that Martha, who had shocked the men of Gryylth and the women of her own wartroop with her new name, her braided hair, and her attachment to Karthin, finished with a description of the ruins of Mullaen and the frenzied ride to Lachrae. The man she now freely called her husband stood by her, his thumbs hooked in his belt, nodding slowly as she spoke. Her hand had slipped into the crook of his elbow midway through her speech, and before she was done, Karthin had covered it tenderly with his own.

Dumb horror had, long before, rooted Cvinthil in his chair, but Darham stood and bowed deeply to Manda. ”To attack six to save one comrade was a brave deed, and ...”

Manda and Marrha exchanged glances that said that there was more to their tale than had been told. But the maid of Corrin only mustered a sad smile. Marrha nodded in return, then looked away, wiping her eyes with a dirty arm.

”... and the odds and weapons you faced made it all the more valiant.” Darham bowed again. ”I am proud that you are my countrywoman, and proud also to call you a captain of my Guard, and my friend.”

Several men of the Corrinian Guard cheered and whooped, and the Gryylthans murmured in approval, but the Vayllen harpers and healers looked bewildered. They had been obviously disturbed by the appearance and behavior of their own high priestess, and now, surrounded by these strangely polite and gentle warriors who had, a few hours before, been bent upon killing them, they were awash in confusion.

Manda blushed. ”My thanks, my king. I ...” Groping, she reached out and took Wykla's hand.

Smiling and extending his arm, Darham turned to Wykla, but she only bowed and withdrew slightly. Darham stood for a moment, nodded slowly, and resumed his seat.

”They are all valiant,” said Cvinthil softly. Be- trayed and betrayed again. And not just by Helwych, but by his own heart. Would Vorya have been so swayed by the wheedling voice of a boy sorcerer? ”They fought against their own wounds and weakness to warn the people of Vaylle, so as to keep us from doing a great wrong.”

Marrha had hung her head, and now she leaned close to Karthin and murmured to him. The big man bowed to the kings. ”Lords,” he said. ”I would take my wife to bed. She is with child, and she needs rest.”

Cvinthil blinked. Pregnant, too? At the front of the warriors who had gathered to listen, the women of the First Wartroop looked at one another in confusion, but Pellam nodded understandingly. ”By all means,” he said. ”Rest has been delayed too long.” He stood, regal and white-haired, the campfires flickering on the gold and silver embroidery of his robe and cloak. ”To bed,” he said. ”All of you. Let those of us who have strength bear your burdens for a time.'”

The members of the party bowed and allowed themselves to be led away to the blankets and cus.h.i.+ons prepared for them. Dindrane, though, remained at the edge of the firelight as though she had not heard. Indeed, she looked so worn that Cvinthil thought that quite possible.

Pellam regarded her for a time, then, limping, he went to her and took her gently in his arms. ”As all my children are precious to me,” he said softly, ”so are you precious. 'Tis little I care for appearances, or for change. You are safe, and alive. I grieve for Baares, but I rejoice for you.”

”I . . .” Dindrane shook her head, blinked at the harpers, could not meet the eyes of the healers. ”I have seen too much, my king.”

He rocked her like a child. ”Peace.”

Kyria appeared. Her eyes were dark with fatigue, but she smiled and offered a hand to Dindrane. ”Come, sister. You saved my soul and my life both. Now let me help you to bed.”

Cvinthil looked up. ”Saved your soul, Lady Kyria? You said nothing of that.”

Kyria straightened, met his gaze. ”It would be ill to speak of it, lord,” she said softly. Her courtesy was perfect.

Marrha had, freely and joyfully, embraced her womanhood, a husband, and a child. Wykla and Manda had fallen deeply into a love that any man and woman might envy. And Kyria had turned from a raging demon into the epitome of gentleness and power. ”You have . . . changed, my lady,” said Cvinthil.

Kyria smiled thinly. ”I have indeed. We all have changed. Some found peace, others a horror that led to peace.” She curtsied deeply. ”My liege, my powers are at your command. Call me at need.” Pellam put Dindrane into her arms, and she led the priestess away.

Cvinthil hung his head. ”And do all who come to Vaylle grow in wisdom?” he murmured. ”Then perhaps it is good for Gryylth that I have proven such a fool.”

Darham had not uttered a word of accusation or shame, but it had not been necessary: Cvinthil was unstinting in his self-reproach. But now the Corrinian put a hand on Cvinthil's arm. ”Brother,” he said, ”do not torment yourself.''

Cvinthil lifted his head, eyes flas.h.i.+ng. ”Do not torment myself? Tell me, then: who shall be tormented? My wife and children? My people? My land? The captain and lieutenant I left at the mercy of a possessed sorcerer and a pack of bigoted soldiers? Who shall suffer in my stead?”

”Enough,” said Pellam. ”The question at hand is not what we have done, but what we shall do.” He looked at Cvinthil, and the Gryylthan king suddenly felt himself the object of an examination as penetrating as any that Vorya had ever offered. ”Are you satisfied, my friends ...” Pellam paused meaningfully. ”... that Vaylle is innocent?”

Darham nodded. ”More than satisfied. But Broceliande, given Marrg-” he caught himself, smiled. ”Given Marrha's description, the spirit that dwells beyond the Cordillera cannot be fought with ordinary bronze and steel. And even Alouzon Dragonmaster and Kyria were daunted.”

”Alouzon is gone,” said Cvinthil. ”And Kyria admits that she cannot do again what she did once.” He shrugged. Despair, horror, and shame fought against his devotion to duty. He had to do something. But he had no idea what.

Pellam spoke. ”I am no warrior, good sirs. Tis a priest and a ruler I am. But as much as your people learned from us, so did we learn from Alouzon and her companions. The lessons were painful, and not all of us have accepted them, but ...” His eyes were wise and deep. ”... the G.o.ddess and G.o.d give us abilities commensurate with our tasks.”

Cvinthil shook his head. What good could five hundred warriors do against a Specter that could defeat a Dragonmaster and a sorceress?

But Pellam continued. ”That Kyria and Alouzon accomplished something is unquestionable, for since they entered Broceliande, the random attacks on the people of Vaylle have decreased. Hounds still prowl, but they are fewer. Much fewer. And no Grayfaces or flying things have been sighted for some time. Indeed, the main conflict . . .”He paused at the word as though examining an unpleasant taste. ”... appears to be behind you; in Gryylth. I would therefore counsel that we learn something of the nature of the barrier that has been erected about your lands, and from that perhaps we can judge how you might return home to deal with the threat there.”

Darham folded his hands, nodded. ”I hear you and agree.”

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