The Harp of Imach Thyssel: A Lyra Novel (27 page)

“This is different. There, I was worried about being found by Syaski. Right now, I feel as if the trees themselves are watching me.”

Liana looked thoughtfully at the woods. “Maybe they are, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

“You feel it, too?”

“In a way. I thought at first it was just because there aren’t many trees around Minathlan, but it’s more than that. This place is… alive somehow.”

“Most forests are,” Kensal put in.

“I don’t mean just growing! I mean—well, awake and aware.”

“I don’t like it,” Emereck said.

“It isn’t threatening or evil or anything,” Liana said, surprised. “It’s just
there
.”

“I still don’t like it. Maybe we should head farther south and try to go around it.”

“I don’t think we can,” Liana said.

“And I don’t think we should try,” Kensal added. “We don’t know anything about this whatever-it-is you’re feeling. Turn south and we could be heading further into it, instead of out.”

“I suppose so,” Emereck said reluctantly. “But it makes me—”

“Shhh!” Liana said suddenly. She pulled her horse to a stop and motioned Emereck and Kensal to do likewise.

“What—”

“Quiet, please! I thought I heard something.”

All three of them sat motionless, listening. Emereck heard nothing but the small noises of a forest: leaves whispering quietly in the breeze, birds twittering at each other, the rustle of some small animal’s passing. “I don’t hear anything,” he said at last.

“Nor I,” Kensal said.

Liana frowned. “It’s that way,” she said with certainty, pointing slightly north of their westward path.

“Um.” Kensal looked at her. “What was it you heard?”

“I’m not sure. Pipes, I think, or—”

“Pipes?” Emereck’s stomach felt suddenly hollow. “You mean, music?”

“Well, yes, but not like anything I’ve ever heard before.”

Kensal looked at Emereck. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“It can’t be!” Emereck said with a vehemence that surprised him. “We aren’t anywhere near that castle!”

Liana’s eyes widened. “You mean the place where you found the harp?
That’s
what I heard?”

“That’s what he means,” Kensal said. “Castle Windsong.”

“But how can I be hearing it? And why couldn’t you?”

“You are of the blood of the Dukes of Minathlan,” Kensal said with a shrug. “According to Ryl, that’s all it takes.”

“I don’t believe it,” Emereck protested. “That castle was at least four days’ ride from the edge of the forest, maybe more. We haven’t come anywhere near that far.”

Kensal smiled wryly. “Castle Windsong has a mind of its own.”

“It isn’t possible! Castles don’t jump around from place to place like frogs!”

“Perhaps this one does. There’s only one way to find out.” Kensal turned his horse in the direction Liana had indicated.

“No!” Emereck said firmly.

“Emereck, what’s the difference?” Liana asked. “It’s not far out of our way.”

“This isn’t a pleasure outing! There are Syaski hunting us, remember?”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Liana replied mildly.

“And if there are, Castle Windsong may well be the safest place for us,” Kensal said. “Only the family of the Dukes of Minathlan can find it.”

“And if it isn’t Windsong? It could be a trap,” Emereck said.

“I doubt it. I don’t think even the Shadow-born could imitate Windsong well enough to fool one of the Duke’s kin.”

“It doesn’t feel dangerous,” Liana put in. “And if it
is
Windsong, I’m curious about it.”

“Then go by yourself. I’m not going back there.” With a jerk that made his horse toss its head in protest, Emereck pulled the animal around and started off, heading almost due south. After a few moments, he heard the sounds of the other horses behind him, but he did not turn. He was ashamed of himself, and appalled by his loss of temper.

But how could he explain? He had found the harp at Castle Windsong. The chain of events that ended with Flindaran’s death had begun at Castle Windsong. He was afraid of the place: afraid of falling victim to its magic and its music, afraid of finding Ryl there to demand the return of the harp. Afraid of losing Liana as he had Flindaran.

The thought froze him. He hunched his shoulders, trying to relax muscles that had gone taut as harpstrings stretched to breaking. He told himself firmly that it couldn’t be the same castle. The place they had found the harp was miles away, farther north and much farther west. Liana was safe from—He jerked in the saddle as the wind brought him an echo of unmistakable music.

“There it is again!” Liana said.

“It’s definitely Windsong,” Kensal commented. “And we’re getting closer.”

“I heard it,” Emereck said grimly, and pulled his horse to a stop. At the same moment he realized that the sound had come from directly in front of him. He looked angrily at Liana. “I thought you said it was coming from back there!”

“It was, then.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me it moved.”

Liana looked at him. “No. I’m not going to tell you anything at all.”

Savagely, Emereck turned his horse west. “Keep this up much longer and we’ll be going in circles,” Kensal commented. Emereck ignored him. The breeze died, taking the music with it, but only for a brief time. When the wind and music resumed, both were coming from the west. And the music was louder. Emereck reined in once more.

“I think you might as well give up,” Kensal said.

“Are you doing this?” Emereck demanded.

“Of course not. I’m a soldier, not a magician.”

“Then how—”

“None of us can answer that unless we stop trying to avoid it,” Liana said.

Emereck looked at her. “I suppose I really don’t have much choice,” he said at last.

“Then let’s go,” Kensal said, and lifted his reins. His mare started forward. Liana followed; Emereck, still fuming inwardly, brought up the rear. He still did not understand how they could be heading for the place where he and Flindaran had found the harp, but he did not doubt that it was so. He feared the castle and mistrusted it in the same way he feared and mistrusted the harp. Yet there seemed no way to avoid it now.

He heard Liana gasp, and urged his horse forward. The others had stopped at the top of a low rise. He pulled his horse to a halt beside them and looked down. Below was the field of halaiba flowers and the high, white wall surrounding the castle and its gardens. He noted absently that this time the gate was facing them. They would have only a short ride through the flowers to reach it. Emereck frowned suddenly. How long had it been since he and Flindaran were here? Nearly three weeks, and the halaiba were still blooming. He gave a mental shrug and added it to the list of strange things in and around the castle.

“It’s beautiful,” Liana said softly.

Emereck glanced at her uneasily, wondering what she saw that he did not. A white wall rising from a sloping sea of blue flowers certainly made a striking picture, but beautiful? He remembered Flindaran’s reactions to the forest and the castle, and his uneasiness grew. “Liana, maybe we shouldn’t go on.”

“I don’t think we
can
stop now,” Liana replied, giving him an odd look. “Besides, we haven’t found out anything yet.” She urged her horse forward without waiting for Emereck to answer, and the sweet scent of crushed halaiba rose strong and heavy in her wake. Kensal glanced at Emereck and followed her, leaving Emereck little choice but to join them. All the way down the hill, Emereck felt the eyes of the forest on his back.

The gates opened at Liana’s touch. They rode inside and dismounted. The garden was as green and cool as Emereck remembered, but he did not find its sameness comforting. Liana, however, was delighted. “I’ve never seen such lush plants!” she said. “And are those the sculptures you told me about? Will it hurt anything if I look at them?”

“I doubt it,” Emereck said. “I did it last time.” He watched her for a while as she went from one of the statues to another. Then he turned to Kensal. “Well, what do we do now?”

“I suggest we make camp. This is the safest place I can think of, and I suspect Ryl will be here soon. We may as well wait.”

“Ryl. Of course.”

“You’ll have to face her some time, you know.”

Emereck looked away. The Cilhar had read his thoughts, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Furthermore, the man was right, and admitting that, even to himself, was not pleasant, either. What
was
he going to do with the Harp of Imach Thyssel when Ryl asked for it? Would he have any choice? He scowled. “Go ahead and make camp,” he said.

While Kensal unloaded his mare, Emereck went over to his own horse. He unstrapped the harp and stood looking at it for a long time, as if by doing so he could somehow determine what he ought to do. Finally, he shook himself. He started to set the harp down beside the rest of his belongings, then paused. The habit of concealment was still strong; he did not feel comfortable leaving the harp in plain view, even if Kensal and Liana were the only ones around to see it.

With a sigh, he picked up the harp and carried it to one side of the low stairs leading into the castle. He opened his saddlebag and piled clothes and bedding over the harp until it was thoroughly hidden. Feeling a little foolish, he went to get his own instrument. Perhaps a few hours of practicing would help him think.

As soon as they were well within the forest, the Duke pulled his horse up next to Ryl’s. “Have you some idea how far ahead of us they are?”

“A day’s ride, at least, though we have gained some time thanks to your horses.”

“And thanks to Welram’s work with them,” the Duke replied, nodding to the Wyrd. “I wish my grooms had your talents.”

Welram grinned, showing white, pointed teeth. “Some skills come naturally to certain people.”

“Quite so,” the Duke said dryly. “If one happens to be a Wyrd. But how much more time can we gain, and how quickly?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much you value your horses. There are limits even to the magic of the Wyrds.”

“I see.” The Duke glanced at Ryl. “I don’t suppose you could do something about the problem.”

“I fear not, but it is unimportant.”

“Unimportant?” The Duke raised an eyebrow.

“Now that we are within the forest, you can bring us to our goal. Or rather, bring our goal to us.”

Duke Dindran stared at her, for once nonplussed. “I?”

“We have passed the border of the lands that once were ruled from Castle Windsong. You are of that line of rulers; within these lands you can call it to you, if you will. And the ones we seek are there.”

“I… see.”

“Can you not feel it?”

“I believe there is something.”

“Perhaps we are still too close to the border,” Welram suggested.

“That is possible,” Ryl said, frowning. “The castle should grow easier to call as we come nearer to it. Wait, then, and try again in a little while.”

“As you request,” said the Duke.

Shalarn’s captain rode toward her through the trees and pulled his horse to a halt. “We have found them, my lady,” he said, bowing.

“Good! How many of them are there?”

“Only three. One is a minstrel, one a young woman.” He paused. “The third is the Cilhar warrior we fought at the inn.”

“Kensal Narryn! You are sure?”

“I cannot swear to his name, my lady, but I am certain it is the same man.”

“And the woman—was she his companion at the inn?”

“No. I have never seen her before.”

Shalarn frowned, wondering what this might mean. “How far away are they?”

“Just ahead, about ten minutes ride. We took care that they did not see us, as you commanded.”

“Then we will follow them. And we will continue to avoid being seen.”

“My lady, there are ten of us. Even a Cilhar cannot—”

“That is what you thought last time,” Shalarn said sharply. “Your mistake has made my task more difficult. I am sure the Cilhar will remember you. I cannot force him to help me, and after the way you treated him at the inn he is not likely to trust me.”

“But—”

“Enough! We will follow them, without being seen, while I test their abilities. Then
I
will decide the time and place to meet them.”

“Yes, my lady!” The captain turned and gave the orders. Shalarn smiled inwardly. He was a trifle overeager at times, and he had a regrettable tendency to think he knew more than she did. Still, he had a deep respect for her more unusual abilities; she would have no further trouble with him today.

For the rest of the morning, they followed the Cilhar, the minstrel, and the woman. Shalarn rode in a kind of half-trance, letting her body’s reflexes keep her in the saddle while her mind cast tiny, questing spells at the group ahead. The Cilhar and the woman noticed nothing, but the minstrel felt something; she could tell by his growing nervousness. She had almost decided to stop her efforts, when she felt the first glimmerings of a new spell. She called her men to a halt at once.

“We ride into magic,” she told them. “It is a spell of confusion, to make us lose our way, and it is very old and very powerful. Stay with me and follow my lead, no matter how strange it seems, or you will be lost.”

The men nodded. Shalarn turned and began the slow task of picking her way through the forest. She quickly realized that her only hope was to follow the Cilhar and his companions. She had no time to cast a proper spell; she would have to do the best she could without the benefit of her tools. She cast a tenuous linking spell, to hold her mind to their path. Twice the fragile thread fell short of its mark. When it caught hold at last, she clung tenaciously to it, tracing it slowly and carefully to avoid losing or breaking it.

The work seemed to go on for hours. Then, suddenly, it was over. Shalarn opened her eyes. Her horse stood at the top of a small rise, looking down over a wide clearing filled with shrubby blue flowers. Strange music rose from a large, walled area in the center. The whole place reeked of magic.

Shalarn smiled in satisfaction and turned to her men. The smile vanished. Only three had managed to stay with her during the long, twisting ride while she sought the path through the forest. Only three.