Part 28 (1/2)

”Sir, there are other equally capable officers. And I have personal reasons for wis.h.i.+ng to be elsewhere.” If he was going to earn a black mark for questioning his orders, he might as well make it a nice big one. ”The fact is that I believe I'm becoming too attached to one of the Lunedithin party.”

The colonel studied him. ”That's honest, at least.” Joyain stayed silent. ”When were you transferred to this regiment, Lieutenant? Three years ago?”

”Four, sir.”

”Family in Merafi?”

”An aunt by marriage only, sir.”

”Hmm.” The colonel steepled his fingers. ”What makes you think we need your talents in the old docks?”

The fact that I've fought a part of what we're facing, and I know that it isn't human. He could not say that, either, not without being dismissed as a lunatic. Joyain said, ”I just think I'd be better away from the Lunedithin, sir.”

”The cavalry aren't here to rescue you from your mistakes.”

”Yes, sir. I know.”

Again, the colonel studied him. Finally, he said, ”How do you think you'd be at quelling panic or supervising ma.s.s burials?”

”I can do it, sir.”

The colonel sighed. ”Lieutenant, I'll be honest with you. We aren't short of men, and you're doing a good job where you are. However,” and he looked at the letter again, ”there are indications that we may need reinforcements at some point, particularly to handle night patrols. In which case,” and he looked up, ”I'm prepared to grant your request, effective from the day after tomorrow.”

Joyain could breathe again. Saluting, he said, ”Thank you, sir.”

”Don't be too hasty about that.” The colonel watched him. ”Some of your duties might be unpleasant.”

”So I've heard, sir.”

”Have you? Well that's as may be.” The colonel rose, and nodded. ”All right, Lievrier. Dismissed.”

Joyain saluted again and turned to go. At the door, the colonel called him back. ”One thing. Where did you meet Yvelliane d'Illandre?”

”At the palace, sir.” Among other places. But not even Leladrien was gossip enough to have spread that little item around.

”I see.” The colonel frowned. ”Forgot to hold the door open for her, did you?”

”Not that I recall, sir.”

”You'd do well to remember that she has a long memory, Lievrier, and a good deal of influence. Try not to get across her again. It looks bad on your record.”

”Yes, sir.” Joyain suppressed a sigh and tried his level best to look baffled. ”I'll bear that in mind, sir.”

”You do that. As it happens, I've chosen not to pay attention to her comments. But if she complains again, I'll have to act.”

”I understand, sir.”

”Yes, I suppose you do.” The colonel smiled. ”Run along then and tell your friend duResne that he's to have a companion in his misery.” Joyain tried very hard not to look surprised. The colonel laughed. ”And tell him that next time he's to bring his gripes to me in person. It saves time.”

”Yes, sir,” said Joyain.

Standing on a doorstep, Gracielis tried not to fidget with the bandages on his wrists. The day was damp and chill. The air tasted sour and corroded. He did not want to be here. He had had no choice. Thiercelin had descended like a tidal bore upon Amalie's house almost before breakfast was over and swept him off to visit the Lunedithin emba.s.sy. ”You're upright and reasonably coherent,” declared his lords.h.i.+p. ”So let's get this over with.”

They were admitted by a servant and shown into a small salon. Thiercelin sat down on a high-backed chair, and removed hat and gloves. Gracielis remained standing, back to the window. He was armored in the trappings of his younger profession, feeble weapon against the danger that was Iareth Yscoithi. Iareth, who should be wholly strange to him, yet who haunted his nights, mirrored through a memory that was not his. He tugged at his lovelock and tried not to dwell upon the possibilities attendant upon this meeting. That way lay madness. He was face-to-face with his own inadequacies.

The servant returned and ushered them upstairs. Gracielis was silent, listening to the twin pulses of fear and alien need. In the landing mirror his reflection was foreign to him, beneath an expectation, an ancient desire. Deep within the shredding fabric of himself, he summoned the memory of Quenfrida's power over him as a protection against Valdarrien. Through his gloves he dug his nails into one bandaged wrist, letting pain tie him to himself.

Iareth Yscoithi stood in the room's center. Gracielis bowed without looking at her, holding tight to courtesy. Beside him, Thiercelin said, ”Good day,” and his voice was diffident.

”And to you also. You received my message?” Her voice held all the strangeness of the north. The sound caught at Gracielis. How long had Valdarrien mourned the loss of this woman before his violent end? Thiercelin was kissing her hand. Irrational jealousy s.h.i.+vered through Gracielis.

”A message?” Thiercelin said. ”No. I've been away from home; it hasn't reached me. But if there's something I can do for you?”

”It is possible,” Iareth said.

”This is Gracielis de Varnaq. I told you about him.”

”So.”

Unable to deny the moment any longer, Gracielis looked up. Level green eyes met his. Double vision, as memories met and mingled, of a younger Iareth, in kai-rethin gray. She looked tired and mysteriously older. He had forgotten how tall she was.

He had forgotten nothing, no part of her, the touch of her, the scent, her speaking silence and her dispa.s.sionate watchful gaze. Gracielis reached out to her without volition and the words were already forming, to follow: Iareth kai-reth, oh, my love, oh, my heart . . .

In her native tongue, Iareth said, ”Valdin Allandur spoke but little Lunedithin.”

He said in the same language, ”I don't speak so very much of it myself.”

”So. But it serves our present need.”

”Thank you.” It was too late to recall his manners and kiss her hand. Besides, he feared to touch her. He said, ”How did you know?”

”I shall always know him. It's in the nature of the bond.” She looked at him. Her matter-of-factness was comforting. ”It seems to me, however, that you must find your own control, for Thierry has no knowledge of this tongue.”

He had no control; that was not his gift. He began to say so, looking down in shame at his two-colored gloves. Abruptly he remembered Valdarrien's ghost in the royal aisle, and heard again that distant command. TellIareth kai-reth . . . He smiled and looked up. ”You were right,” he said to her in Merafien; and then, inside himself, ”peace, be still.”

Iareth gestured. ”Will you sit? I believe Thierry has business to discuss.”

”It's Valdin. In part,” Thiercelin said, sitting. He looked down at his crossed ankles. ”I've seen him-and talked to him-again.”

”I, also.” Iareth said. At Thiercelin's gesture of surprise, she added, ”It was to be expected.”

”I suppose so.” Thiercelin frowned. ”Graelis should explain, really. It's his theory.”

Gracielis had sat down with his back to the window. He looked away, then said, ”I'm content to be in your hands.”

Thiercelin glared at him. ”He thinks someone is trying to harm Merafi, and that Valdin is somehow involved. It sounds daft put like that, but . . .”

Iareth said, ”There are many odd tales regarding the Tarnaroqui and their abilities. And others, of old powers.” She looked at Gracielis without curiosity. ”There are those of my people who hold such things unholy.”

”Unholy,” said Gracielis, ”is preferable to absurd. It's less insulting.”