Silent Hall (24 page)

J
udging
from the sounds next door, Criton and Bandu seemed to have already made up. He wished they would be quieter about it. If
he
were ever in a similar situation, he… well, never mind. He'd probably be as loud as he damn well pleased. That didn't mean he had to excuse them for their noise, though.

He crossed the hall to Phaedra's room. Since their return to Silent Hall, Phaedra had taken the room that had once been Criton's, while Criton moved in with Bandu. To Narky's surprise, he found Phaedra sitting there and eating bread and soft cheese.

“A big plateful of mutton wasn't enough for you?” he asked.

Phaedra looked up ruefully. “Bandu ate it all.”

“Why didn't you go eat while she was sleeping then?” He had heard the altercation between her and Criton over whether to awaken Bandu.

Phaedra sighed. “There wasn't time. I had to clean her floor, or it would have smelled like a privy all week. And it took so long to find a bucket and rags in this place that I was afraid Criton would go in and wake her up if I dawdled.”

“Well, they're both awake now,” Narky noted.

Phaedra nodded, looking concerned. “I hope he really apologized to her.”

“I just hope we don't have to wait around here until she has her baby,” Narky said.

“Oh Gods,” said Phaedra. “I hadn't thought of that. Do you think she's fit to travel?”

Narky snorted. “You're asking me?”

“Why not?” Phaedra said. “You've been pregnant just as many times as I have.”

They decided to wait until the next day to ask Bandu how she felt about traveling. She rose before them, however, and search though they might, they could not find her.

“She can't be missing,” Criton said in disbelief. “It doesn't make sense.”

“Did she say anything to you when she got up?” asked Phaedra.

“It was really early,” Criton mumbled, scratching his head. “I think she said something about being hungry.”

They asked several villagers if they had seen Bandu, but the townsfolk only stared sullenly at them. “Psander might know,” said Hunter. “She eats her breakfast early enough, she might have seen Bandu.”

“Maybe they're in the library,” Phaedra suggested. “I hadn't thought to look there, since Bandu doesn't read, but it's possible she's talking to Psander.”

Criton shook his head. “She wouldn't just go and talk to Psander. She hates Psander.”

“We should find Psander and make sure,” Narky said, his suspicions aroused. “She's always talking about how fascinating Bandu is.”

They rushed to the library, and finding it empty, practically flew up the stairs to the locked door that had impeded them earlier. This time, Hunter slammed on the door with all his might, and when it did not budge, Criton pulled him out of the way and breathed fire at it. When that had no effect either, he tore at the wood with his claws until finally Psander opened it. The wizard stood there a moment, holding a necklace of thin wire and looking extremely irritated. She was wearing a long, thick gray robe reminiscent of armor, and Narky noticed patches of soot on both the robe and Psander's hands.

“You had better have a very good reason for interrupting my work,” the wizard hissed.

“Where's Bandu?” Criton demanded.

Psander held his angry gaze without flinching. “I haven't the slightest idea,” she said.

“Did you see her at breakfast?” Phaedra asked.

Psander stood for a moment in silence, and Narky had the distinct impression that she was considering whether to lie or not. At last she said, “I did. We did not speak long, however, and I have no idea where she went afterward. I came back here to continue my work.”

“What did you say to her?” Criton asked, his voice shaking.

“Very little,” the wizard replied curtly. “I offered advice on her pregnancy, as someone with some experience in the matter. She refused my offer of help.”

“How did you know she was pregnant?” Narky could not believe that Bandu would tell Psander her news willingly.

“From her magic,” said Psander. “It's becoming radical. It's quite obvious. I'm sure you'll understand when you find her.”

Criton looked worried. “What do you mean, ‘radical'?”

“Stronger, wilder, uncontrollable – extremely unpleasant. For those who are used to controlling their magic, pregnancy scrambles everything. The magic of early pregnancy is a purer form, heavily swayed by one's feelings. It's supposed to get better in the fourth month, but I wouldn't know. I never got that far.”

“What happened?” asked Phaedra.

Psander regarded her coolly. “Two months of torture, and then a bloody mess.”

“How awful for you!” Phaedra gasped.

Psander shrugged. “Frankly, I was relieved when it happened. For two months I had had to give up all my research. My magic had become impossible to work with. Books changed their texts around me. Experiments failed in absurd and disastrous ways. I could do no work; I couldn't even read. It was miserable. I was glad when it was over.”

“Who was the father?” Narky asked. He wondered what kind of a man would have slept with Psander.

Psander frowned severely at him. “That is an extremely personal question, besides being completely irrelevant, and I have no intention of answering it.”

“All right,” said Narky. “You're sure you have no idea where Bandu went?”

“None,” Psander replied, with a wave of her hand. “I offered her a room underground where she could be observed and cared for while keeping her wild magic away from my books, but she did not seem too keen on the idea. She ran off somewhere. Go find her yourselves.”

With that, she slammed the door shut. The islanders retreated down the stairs. “Where to next?” Narky asked.

“Out,” said Criton. “If Bandu had an argument with Psander, she'd leave here quick as she could.”

“Right,” said Hunter.

They had to pause when they reached the courtyard, to give Phaedra time to recover from their frantic pace. As they stood there, puffing, Narky finally took some notice of the village that had sprung up within the courtyard. It was strange, perhaps, how little he had bothered to think about the people whose food he ate each time he came here, but the fact was that he had taken them completely for granted. The villagers had done their best to ignore the islanders ever since their association with the Gallant Ones, and it had been so easy for Narky to return the favor.

They were thriving here, he now realized. They had erected permanent houses to replace the tents, and their sties, pens and chicken coops nearly filled the courtyard. He wondered where they had gotten the lumber, out here on the plains. Perhaps Psander had summoned it for them, just as she seemed to have conjured the rest of Silent Hall out of nothing. The houses had mostly been built around the well near the far wall; the tower and gate of Silent Hall had been left unencroached upon. Perhaps none of the villagers dared live quite that near to Psander.

When they stepped out through the gate, Bandu was nowhere to be seen. It was the first clear day in weeks, and the plain stretched out for miles before them. But though they could see many a flock and shepherd, none of the figures in front of them resembled Bandu in any way.

“She can't have traveled more than a few miles,” said Hunter. “She hasn't been gone that long.”

“I don't see her, though,” Narky said.

“Let's circle the wall and check the other side,” Phaedra suggested.

They did just that, tromping through the tall grasses that abutted Psander's fortress. Progress was slower than Narky had imagined it would be, since they had to step gingerly around some thorny caper bushes that seemed to reach out for their legs at every opportunity. About halfway around the wall, it dawned on Narky that the thorns really
were
reaching out for them. Even when the breeze died completely, still these dreadful plants swayed toward every limb that drew too near.

“The thorns–” he said.

“I think they're capers,” Phaedra pointed out. “Ouch!”

“I know what they are, Phaedra,” Narky said. “They're going for us on purpose.”

Hunter drew his sword. “I'll clear a path.”

The caper bushes tried to avoid their fates by pulling away from the sword, but that only further convinced Hunter of the need to eliminate them. Something about those shivering plants horrified Narky. What kind of a plant could express fear like that?

The possessed thorn bushes grew thicker the further they went, until finally the islanders came upon a vast thicket of them, in the middle of which sat Bandu. She looked up as they approached, tears in her eyes.

“Bandu!” Criton cried, “Are you all right? Stay there.”

Hunter hacked a path toward her as quickly as he could, but the plants seemed to change strategy now. They curled around his blade after every swipe, until he could barely yank it back for another stroke. In the meantime the bushes on either side of the beaten path drew their thorny limbs nearer and nearer, and belatedly Narky realized that he and the others were in danger of being flayed alive.

“Stop,” said Bandu, lifting her hands.

Hunter obeyed, and so did the thorns. “I make them,” Bandu shrugged apologetically. “I don't know how.”

She whispered something to the thorn bush next to her, and a wave of rustling sticks and leaves rippled outward through the thicket. The bushes between Bandu and the others splayed their limbs outward, clearing a narrow path.

“Since when have you been able to do this?” Phaedra asked in wonder.

“Since now.”

Criton reached Bandu first, and drew her into a hug. “I was afraid Psander had kidnapped you,” he said.

Bandu shook her head and drew away. “She want me, but I run here. She is afraid to go outside, so I am safe.”

“If you're so safe,” said Narky, “then why all the thorns?”

“She doesn't feel safe,” said Phaedra empathetically, and Bandu nodded.

“She wants to watch me,” Bandu said, and shuddered. “I don't go back inside.”

“Bandu,” said Criton, “you can't just stay out here for nine months. Psander has experience with this sort of thing; maybe we should trust her this time?”

The thorns thrashed in anger, and Bandu shook her head. “Psander is wicked,” she said.

“I think we should go to Gateway,” said Hunter, finally joining in the conversation.

They all turned to him in surprise. “What?” Narky asked.

“Gateway,” Hunter said. “Where the wizards used to study fairy magic. Bandu's magic is getting stronger, and even Psander doesn't know what'll happen. She just wants to watch and find out. But she said earlier that there used to be a whole community of wizards researching fairy magic at Gateway. Even if it's in ruins, at least those ruins weren't dedicated to any Gods.”

“That's a good idea,” said Phaedra. “But where
is
Gateway? Psander never said.”

“No,” said Hunter, “but I found it on one of her maps. It's southwest of Parakas and the dragon tower, in some kind of a forest where the trees were drawn differently. It's not on the coast, so we can stay away from Mayar's territory.”

“Sounds fine to me,” said Narky. He would go anywhere if it meant they could avoid angering more Gods.

They looked to Bandu, who nodded. “All right,” said Phaedra, “Gateway it is. But we have to get our things from inside before we go. And we should bring plenty of food with us this time, in case nobody wants to sell us any.”

They packed as quickly as they could, leaving Bandu by the gate outside. They could have used her help, but she refused to go inside under any circumstances.

“I never go back to her,” she said. The horses whinnied and tried to back away from her, perhaps sensing some angry ripple of magic.

Hunter reached for the reins of the nearest horse. “Psander won't hurt you,” he said, simply but forcefully. “If she did you any harm, she'd regret it.”

“Besides,” said Phaedra, trying to sound equally certain, “she wouldn't experiment on you without your consent.”

Bandu looked skeptical. “I stay outside,” she said, and the horses calmed down just as suddenly as they had been spooked.

They were already a few miles down the road when Criton said, “Damn. I meant to ask her about the spear.”

“The spear?” repeated Narky, confused. “What spear?”

“Bestillos' spear. He threw it at me, and I could have sworn I saw Bandu knock it down. Phaedra said it was just the wind, though. I thought Psander might help me make sense of that.”

“I do have a theory,” Phaedra said. “You have the wizard's sight, and I don't. If Bandu were to do something very suddenly and forcefully with her magic, do you think your eyes might literally see her hand in it?”

Criton's eyes widened. “Huh,” he said.

“But can you really control the wind?” Narky asked Bandu.

The girl shook her head. “Control is bad word. I not control. I listen to wind. For years, I listen to wind. Now it listen to me.”

Narky gulped, while Criton looked pleased. Pleased! Had the thorn bushes taught him nothing? Bandu couldn't control her magic anymore! The more power she had, the more dangerous she was to them all. If the wind had to obey someone's orders, Narky would have rather it obeyed
anyone
other than the crazy girl with the erratic powers and the poor grammar. The very thought of it chilled him to the bone.

Or was that just the wind?

T
he weather
barely improved as they traveled away from Silent Hall. They camped under the spitting sky and awoke to an overcast morning, drizzling and gray. And yet, traveling felt very different this time. The others deferred to Hunter now, as the one who had studied Psander's maps most closely. Leading his companions across the countryside, he felt for the first time as if they looked to him for more than just his skill in battle. It was a good feeling.

Phaedra had lapsed into moody silence. Hunter hoped she wasn't torturing herself, thinking about her crippled leg. In many ways, her situation was much like his. She had had a bright future back in Tarphae. Now she was being forced to rethink her life.

He had to cheer her up somehow, but he didn't know how to begin. What could he say that could possibly distract her from her troubles?

“Can you tell me more about the Gods?” he said.

Phaedra blinked at him. “I don't… I don't know. I have more questions than answers right now.”

Hunter pressed on. “What kind of questions?”

“Well, who weakened the mesh during the War of the Heavens? How? Did the Gods create the mesh, or is it primordial? Is there another mesh between the fairy world and the world of the Gods?”

Hunter nodded. He wished he could think of something to say, but he was out of his depth. Luckily, Phaedra had not run out of questions.

“Is the fairy world the ‘first world' I read about in that annotated Second Cycle? If so, what
really
happened to make the Gods decide to create another world?”

“I don't know,” said Narky, “but I'm starting to think they shouldn't have. This world is ugly.”

“Only because there are no more dragons,” Criton said. “
If
there are no more dragons. I don't believe they were all killed.”

“Why not?” asked Narky. “
Everybody
says they're gone, even Psander. Besides, how could any dragon have survived the war with the Gods?”

“I don't know,” said Criton. “I just feel it.”

The pitying look Phaedra gave Criton made it clear what she thought of his intuition. Still, Hunter thought, it was good for Phaedra to pity someone other than herself.

“What I don't see,” said Narky, “is how the Gods could go and kill all the dragons, and then fail to kill God Most High. Weren't those dragons the equivalent of all His fingers? I mean, compared to the dragons, the Dragon Touched couldn't have been more than a pinky's worth. If the dragons' God really is dormant the way Psander said He might be, why did the other Gods let Him live?”

“Because God Most High isn't just any God,” said Criton, with heartfelt certainty. “He's more powerful than all the others; otherwise, He wouldn't really be God Most High. If losing the dragons could put Him in real danger, He would have fought for them. I think the dragons angered Him somehow, so He let them get themselves killed in a war without even worrying about the danger to Himself. He must be vastly more powerful than the other Gods.”

Phaedra's pitying expression had never left her face. “Or,” she said gently, “Psander's mentor could have been wrong. Psander did say that his was a minority opinion.”

Criton shook his head. “No. God Most High is alive. He just needs to see that His worshippers are still faithful to Him. Then He'll awaken, and the other Gods will be in trouble.”

Phaedra shrugged. “Maybe,” she said, trying to be kind.

Hunter led them southward across the plains, veering west at one point to avoid the forest before drifting back eastward. They stopped to eat every time Bandu became hungry or nauseous, which was often. Hunger and nausea seemed to go hand in hand for Bandu. The worst part was when she insisted that the smell of salted meat made her sick, and that Criton would have to find her something fresh to eat.

“We haven't passed a town in days!” Criton complained. “Where am I supposed to get you fresh meat?”

“Hunt,” she told him. “I eat sheep or goat or cow or bird or rat or
anything
, but not old and salty!”

Criton came back almost two hours later with a single charred rabbit, blackened on the outside and raw on the inside. “I'm sorry,” he said, as he presented it. “I've never hunted before.”

Bandu ignored him completely until she had gnawed every last piece of meat off the rabbit's bones, and her hands and face were smeared with blood. “Ooh,” she said, burping and sitting down on the ground. “Next time I wait for you to cook.”

A few days later they came to a place where the plains ended and a forest of tall broad-leafed trees stretched all the way to the mountains. Here Hunter turned them eastward. They would travel this way for a day or two, he decided, before journeying south again. On second thought, considering how long it had taken them to go this far, perhaps two days of eastward travel would not be enough. Should they go east for a third day, or a fourth? He wished he could have brought the map with him.

After two days of further travel, Hunter decided that three would not do. They were stopping too often, mostly to satisfy Bandu's heightened need for both food and rest. Narky muttered in irritation at the girl's frequent demands, but Hunter did not mind Bandu's presence. She was better than he at finding good, sweet water here in the forest. Considering the length of their journey, he doubted they would have been able to manage it without her help. By his estimation, their travels would last well over a month, and there were simply not enough towns in their path for the islanders to avoid foraging.

After the fourth day they turned southward again, and their pace slowed even further. The trees and undergrowth grew thicker the farther south they went, and the rain escalated from drizzle to downpour. Far from providing protection, the leafy boughs above only served to convert all rain into oversized drops, which splashed startlingly on the islanders' heads at every third step.

Bandu's magic began to govern their movements. When she was hungry or tired, the trees and bushes conspired to block their path. Her hunger radiated from her little body and spooked every animal within miles, so the islanders took to hunting only in those few moments when Bandu was
not
hungry. At last, after nearly two months of travel, Hunter deemed that Gateway must be near. The trees here were taller and broader than before, with enormous leaves that seemed designed to catch the rain. Bandu grew even more unsettled, but that struck Hunter as a good sign.

“We're in the right area,” he told the others. “Now all we have to do is find the ruins themselves.”

“And that ought to be easy!” Narky said sarcastically.

Criton sniffed the air. “Bandu, do you smell something? You're better at this than I am.”

Bandu shook her head emphatically, tears suddenly pouring from her eyes. “I only smell mushrooms!” she wailed.

“Are you hungry again?”

She nodded sadly. “A little.”

“Well then,” sighed Criton, “I guess I'll have to learn how to follow the magic myself.”

He took a deep breath, and pointed. “This way,” he said.

After three days of following Criton's nose, even Hunter had to admit that he had doubts about his friend's tracking abilities. Then, to his surprise, Phaedra stopped them short.

“It's here,” she said.

“I don't know,” said Criton. “I don't feel anything different here.”

“It's here,” Phaedra repeated. “The trees here are younger, and the only older ones I see, there and there, have burn marks on them.”

Hunter followed her gaze. “You're right,” he said. “What should we do? Dig?”

“Let's see,” said Narky, and he began crashing through the undergrowth toward one of the burned trees. He tripped and fell partway there. “There's a stone here!” he shouted.

Criton and Bandu followed him, inspecting the grounds while Hunter helped Phaedra down from her horse.

“This is really strange,” Phaedra said. “I expected far more ruins. These stones look like they must be part of the foundation.”

“This one's a corner stone,” Narky called, standing some way ahead.

“If this is the foundation,” said Criton, “what happened to the rest of the tower?”

Phaedra shook her head. “I don't know.”

A sudden fear struck Hunter. “How do we know these are really the ruins of Gateway? This could be anything.”

“Bad here,” said Bandu. “Very bad here.”

“I think that means we're in the right place,” said Narky. “Let's dig a little and see if anything useful got buried.”

They had brought no shovel, but did their best with their hands, tearing away at the moss and trying to break through the tree roots using shards of broken rock.

“Nothing,” Bandu kept repeating. “Nothing here. This is a wicked place.”

Phaedra looked at her curiously. “What are you feeling? Is it the God magic that destroyed the tower, or the wizard and fairy magic that used to be here?”

But Bandu just shook her head and insisted that this place was wicked.

The rain, thankfully, had stopped for now. They excavated some more, but found little besides rocks, bugs, and tree roots. “There's something useful around here somewhere,” said Phaedra. “I can feel it.”

“I sure hope so,” Narky replied. “Because if this is it, we'll never learn anything besides what Psander wants to tell us. Can you imagine if we'd risked our lives going to that dragon tower Criton wanted us to go to, and all we found was this?”

Criton did not look pleased at the suggestion. “There's plenty to be found at the dragon tower. Nobody would place guards over a useless pile of rocks.”

“Oh,” said Narky, “well, at least that explains why there are no guards here.”

“Shut up, you two,” Phaedra snapped. “We've spent all this time getting here; we're not going anywhere until we've looked under every last stone. There must be something around here that can teach us about Bandu's magic, or the fairies, or
something.
As long as we have food and fresh water, we're staying.”

“We'd better put up the tents while there's still light out,” Hunter said.

They followed his suggestion, and soon all three tents were standing apart from each other among the ruins, wherever the islanders could find level ground. The new tents, which Narky had been wise enough to commission from Psander's villagers during their stay at Silent Hall, were of greatly inferior quality. The villagers had made them out of oiled goats' wool, and they stank. During their travels, the near-constant rain had been interrupted by a brief dry spell, and this had been enough to partially felt the wool such that the tents had shrunk considerably since Criton had bought them. They were also extremely heavy.

After a somewhat heated discussion, they left the old tent – the one that Narky had bought from the Gallant Ones – to Phaedra. Criton and Bandu shared one of the goat tents, as Bandu called them, and Hunter and Narky took the other.

“Hunter,” Narky asked that night, just as Hunter was about to fall mercifully asleep, “how are you so selfless all the time? Phaedra could easily have taken one of the smaller tents. You practically gave her the big one yourself. How do you stay so damn gallant?”

Hunter sighed and opened his eyes. “I'm a nobleman,” he reminded Narky. “That's just how I was raised.”

“Oh, come on,” Narky said. “All noblemen act that way?”

Hunter turned to him. “My brother did. He was always generous, especially with girls.”

“All right, sure,” said Narky, “but wasn't that just so that he could get them in bed?”

Hunter rolled over again, and tried to close his eyes. Why did Narky always think the worst of people? It was so ugly. Could he be right? Kataras had been so much more social than Hunter, and his friends were all older. Hunter didn't really know what his brother did with his time. Sparring with swords was the only thing they had ever really done together, but Kataras had stopped doing even that once Hunter began beating him.

“I don't know,” he said to Narky, and hated himself for it.

“I wish I could be like that,” Narky said. “I wish I could just do things for people naturally, without feeling like an idiot.”

“Why would you feel like an idiot if you were being good to people?” Hunter asked. Gods, how he wished he could just sleep.

“I don't know,” said Narky. “It doesn't come naturally to me. I feel like if I started acting all generous, people would wonder what I wanted out of them.”

Hunter simply shrugged, and hoped that the conversation would end there. Thankfully, it did.

Over the next few days, Hunter took on the task of hunting for food while the others excavated the ruins. There were a few nearby streams where he could fill their waterskins and watch for prey. Narky, Criton and Phaedra all seemed to find digging exciting, and Bandu generally watched them from a distance, muttering to the horses and trying to wrest back control of her magic. Judging by tonight's new moon, she must be entering her fourth month of pregnancy by now. Hadn't Psander said the fourth month was better?

If anything, Bandu was acting more anxious than ever. Hunter could hear her at night, agitatedly insisting that this place was wicked even as Criton tried to calm her down. Tonight, Hunter almost agreed with her. A cool mist was rising from the ground, and the stars seemed to shine more dimly without the moon. They were all a little hungry, because Bandu's fear had scared away every animal but their horses, who would have fled too had they not been tied to a tree. Her magic was growing stronger. Even Hunter could feel it.

There was something insidious about this mist. Hunter could have sworn that it had been thicker around Bandu's tent. The thought chilled him. Maybe he should go outside and check.

When Hunter stepped out, he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Bandu and Criton's tent had completely disappeared at the center of a vortex of swirling mist.