“I’ll take it this time.”
Ranlyn nodded. He reached inside his robes and drew out the small package that contained the serpent ring, then paused, listening. Jermain looked at him questioningly; then he, too, heard the sounds of something approaching. Ranlyn thrust the package back into his robes, and Jermain rose and loosened his dagger in its sheath.
A moment later, a horse and rider appeared among the trees, heading directly toward their fire. The horse moved as if exhausted; at the edge of the ring of firelight, it stopped and stood trembling while its rider dismounted. He was a short, dark-haired man who looked as if he had spent the past three days riding, with very little pause for sleep and none at all for grooming.
“Sirs, I beg your hospitality for myself and my animal,” the man said with a smooth bow. “I am on an urgent errand for Sevairn’s King.”
Jermain’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed. “Salentor Parel! And what ‘urgent errand’ could you have for the King of Sevairn?”
CHAPTER 17
E
ltiron was awakened by a loud pounding on his door and the sound of someone shouting, “Eltiron! Morada’s sword, man, wake up! Eltiron!” He rolled to his side and sat up. “All right! I’m awake!” he shouted. “Just a minute!”
The pounding subsided. Eltiron struggled hastily into the first garments he found, then opened the door. Vandaris was pacing in the hallway, her boot heels ringing faintly on the stone floor. She looked up as Eltiron emerged. “Lassond’s gone,” she said without preliminary.
Eltiron stared for a long moment, then swallowed hard as pictures of the possible results began to whirl through his mind. “How?”
“I don’t know exactly, but he had help. I’d guess that manservant of his, and probably someone else as well. The guard was still unconscious when I left.”
“And Salentor?”
“I sent Tarilane to check. She’ll meet us back at Lassond’s rooms.”
“Tell me what happened,” Eltiron said as they started down the hallway toward the wing of the castle that had housed Terrel Lassond.
The answer was, very little. Vandaris had been awakened by the Captain of the castle guard. The man assigned to relieve the guard at Terrel’s door had arrived to find the door open and the man he was replacing unconscious on the floor. He reported to the Captain at once, and since Wendril Anareme had gone with the army, the Captain came to Vandaris. Vandaris had stopped only long enough to check the man’s story before coming to awaken Eltiron.
By the time Vandaris finished her explanation, they had reached Terrel’s rooms. Eltiron saw one of the castle guards sprawled in front of the open door; another knelt beside him. “Errin’s tomb, hasn’t he come around yet?” Vandaris demanded.
“No, Your High—Captain Kenerach,” the kneeling guard said. “Nothing seems to help. Captain Lorrach left to notify the gate guards and get a healer.”
Eltiron heard the exchange with only half his mind as he stared uneasily into the dark interior of Terrel’s rooms. Hadn’t Tarilane said once that no one but Terrel and his servant ever went inside? Eltiron remembered the mysterious conversations he and Crystalorn had overheard, and shivered. Then his eyes widened and he turned to Vandaris with a jerk. “Vandi—”
“Vandi!” Tarilane’s call came echoing down the hallway. A moment later Tarilane arrived, panting. “That Lord Salentor is gone, too. His guard’s just like this one.”
“Dragonfire and starshine, those worm-hearted weasels must own half the people in the castle! Tari, go find Captain Lorrach again, and tell him Parel’s in it, too.”
“No,” Eltiron said before Tarilane could reply. “First go tell Amberglas, and ask her to meet us in the courtyard right away. You can find Captain Lorrach after that.”
Tarilane looked at Eltiron, then at Vandaris. Vandaris raised an eyebrow, and Tarilane looked back at Eltiron and shrugged. “You’re the king.” Then she grinned and ran off down the hall.
Eltiron turned to Vandaris, who was watching him with a quizzical expression. “I’m sorry, Vandi; I didn’t mean—”
“Sweet snakes, man, don’t apologize! She’s right; you are the king. But why wake Amberglas now, and why the courtyard?”
“Because of the Tower of Judgment,” Eltiron said. “Remember, I told you I’d seen Terrel that day, and I thought he might—”
He was interrupted by a blistering oath from Vandaris. “I should have thought of that,” she said when she finished cursing. “My brains must be going soft from too much court life. If Lassond’s been dealing with a sorcerer, the first thing he’ll do is report. Come on!” She gave a few brief instructions to the kneeling guard, then she and Eltiron hurried down the hall.
The courtyard was dark and quiet; the torches set beside the castle doors only emphasized the blackness beyond. Eltiron could see a light in the gatehouse, and the shadows of the sentries moving inside, but that was all. Even the moon had set, and the silhouette of the Tower of Judgment was barely visible against the stars.
“Doesn’t look as if they’ve tried to get out of the castle yet,” Vandaris said.
Eltiron jumped. Vandaris didn’t seem to notice. “Wait here,” she said, and walked across the courtyard to the gatehouse, leaving Eltiron standing uneasily in the shadows beside the door.
Vandaris returned a few moments later. “The guard says it’s been quiet; unless Lassond and Parel have grown wings, neither of them has tried to leave the castle yet. So let’s check the tower.”
Eltiron shifted uncomfortably. “Shouldn’t we wait for Amberglas, or at least—”
Light flashed once from the top of the Tower of Judgment. Vandaris bit off an exclamation and sprinted for the tower door. Eltiron followed, feeling more uncomfortable than ever. As they approached the tower, he thought he saw a shadow slip away from the door. He started to call a warning to Vandaris, and then a bright crimson globe bloomed from the top of the Tower of Judgment and Eltiron was knocked to his knees by a sudden wave of pain.
Dimly, Eltiron heard a cry of agony from somewhere far above him, and the startled shouts of the sentries, but he could not concentrate on anything but his own pain. He felt as if he were being slowly flayed alive and turned inside out, or as if a hundred leeches were trying to eat him by sucking him out of tiny holes in his skin. He cried out, and something rose within him, hot and white and burning. Even alone, it would have been nearly as hard to bear as the pain that surrounded him; the two together made him feel as if he were being pulled apart. He cried out again, and the white flame grew and touched the pain outside him.
Light flared from the Tower of Judgment, so bright that it penetrated even the haze of pain enclosing Eltiron. And then the pain and the light were gone, with a suddenness that made Eltiron gasp, and he found himself kneeling just outside the door of the tower. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and realized that Vandaris was bending over him, a look of concern on her face. Behind her, two sentries stood with drawn daggers and bewildered expressions.
Eltiron tried to speak, but it was a moment before he had his breath back. “I’m all right now, I think,” he said at last.
From the corner of his eye he saw the sentries relax slightly, but the worried look did not leave Vandaris’s face. “For how long?” she demanded.
“How should I know?” Eltiron said as he climbed to his feet. “I’m not even sure what happened?”
“It looked like the same sort of fit Marreth had, without the temper. Blood of the Black Bull, if someone’s been giving you herrilseed as well—”
“Dear me, that
would
be awkward.” Amberglas’s voice came from the direction of the castle. Eltiron turned to see her coming toward them, apparently oblivious to the confusion of soldiers and staff that was developing in the courtyard. “At least, it would be awkward for some of the people here in Leshiya; I expect it wouldn’t matter in the slightest to the Emperor of Hern. Whatever made you think of it?”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Vandaris said, nodding toward the growing number of curious guards and servants who clustered around them, murmuring and eyeing the Tower of Judgment warily. “Right now I want to find out what was going on up there.”
Eltiron looked at the tower. “All right, then, let’s go.”
“You aren’t coming. Dragon’s teeth, you’re the king; you think you can just walk into a dangerous situation without a reason?”
“Not at all,” Amberglas said firmly as she moved forward. “He isn’t going to walk, he’s going to climb, which is quite different, besides being much safer than staying out here where he can’t really do much. Of course, there are a great many people who don’t do much and who are quite safe, though perhaps a bit boring; still, I’m afraid Eltiron isn’t one of them, which is probably just as well since most people don’t like being bored.”
Vandaris’s eyes narrowed, then suddenly she laughed. “All right, Amberglas. But we’re taking a couple of guards with us, just in case something else starts happening.”
“Of course.” Amberglas smiled and moved toward the tower door. For a moment, Eltiron looked after her without moving. He was not sure he wanted to see whatever was waiting at the top of the tower. On the other hand, he also did not want to stand in the courtyard and simply wait for Vandaris to return or for the pain to come again. With some reluctance, Eltiron followed Amberglas toward the tower. Vandaris came behind him with two sentries carrying torches.
At the top landing of the tower they paused to catch their breath, then Vandaris pushed the door open. Nothing moved in the darkness outside. After a long moment, the two sentries raised their torches and stepped cautiously forward, sending uncomfortable shadows flickering across the tower top ahead of them. They were halfway to the battlements when one of them made a choking sound. The guard turned and motioned; his face was a sick yellow in the torchlight. Vandaris hurried forward, then stopped short. “Morada’s crown!” she said in a shaken voice.
Eltiron joined her and looked down. A dark shape sprawled bonelessly on the stones, barely recognizable as that of a man. Only the head and one hand were visible outside the loose folds of clothing, and they were dry and shrunken. The lips were pulled apart in a death’s-head grin; the skin was stretched so tightly that it had split in places, revealing streaks of raw, red flesh and white bone. Eltiron looked hastily away, feeling sick.
“Dear me, how very unpleasant,” Amberglas murmured.
“More than unpleasant, I’d say,” Vandaris replied. She squatted beside the corpse, frowning, then looked at the sentries. “This isn’t Lassond, unless he’s taken to wearing servant’s clothes. Keep looking.”
The guards nodded without enthusiasm and began walking around the curve of the tower in opposite directions. Almost immediately, one of them shouted. Vandaris rose and walked over; Eltiron followed more slowly. The guard was standing over a second crumpled shape, this one huddled against the base of the tower battlements. Eltiron carefully did not look closely.
“That’s Lassond,” Vandaris said after a moment. “Blood and rust, he looks worse than the other one! What did this?”
“I believe it was the Matholych,” Amberglas said calmly. “There are very few other things that are quite so thorough about killing people, and most of them aren’t at all likely to frequent towers at night. Not that it’s a particularly likely thing for the Matholych to do, either, but—”
“The Matholych was here?” Eltiron interrupted. “You’re sure? But how did it get here?”
“That exceedingly foolish person, Terrel, probably did something to bring it, though not, I expect, deliberately. Accidents are so very easy, particularly if one doesn’t know exactly what one is doing, which is quite likely in this case, what with sorcery being so very unpopular in Sevairn. Still, it could be rather useful to know precisely what it was he did.”
“
Lassond
was a sorcerer?” Vandaris shook her head. “I don’t believe it!”
“I don’t believe I said he was a sorcerer, though it’s quite possible. Not, of course, that it’s at all likely he was a particularly
good
sorcerer, or I doubt he’d have gotten into such a predicament.” Amberglas looked in Eltiron’s direction. “It’s really quite fortunate you were here; it would have been so very inconvenient to have the Matholych in Leshiya. Rather like having a basilisk in one’s cellar, which would be extremely awkward for practically anyone. I don’t suppose you’d care to find out what he’s holding?”
Vandaris gave Amberglas a startled glance, then bent forward. Eltiron looked down and swallowed hard. Vandaris was right; Terrel did look worse than the first body. He forced himself to watch as Vandaris gingerly pried the shrunken fingers apart, revealing an intricate web of gold wire with a large amber stone set in its center. It was the same medallion Eltiron had seen on the night he and Crystalorn had overheard Salentor and Terrel talking.
“How exceedingly unfortunate,” Amberglas said. Eltiron looked at her and felt a slight sense of shock. Amberglas was gazing directly at the medallion, her eyes narrowed and her face intent.
“What is it?” Eltiron asked.
“That,” said Amberglas without looking away from the medallion, “is an amulet for speaking across distances. It’s a rather strong spell, and quite difficult to set up, though of course anyone can use the amulet once it’s been made.”
“Who in Arlayne’s name would give something like that to Lassond?” Vandaris demanded. “And who was he talking to with it?”
“Dear me, I thought you knew. It was made by a Black Sorcerer named Carachel; that’s his mark on the front, just below the stone.”
“The Wizard-King of Tar-Alem?” Eltiron said.
“Carachel is
not
a wizard,” Amberglas said firmly. “Though I believe a great many people think so, which is quite—”
“Blood rot and shadowfire!” Vandaris exploded. “Do you mean that this lizard-livered, slime-hearted, toad-brained vulture in peacock’s feathers was nothing but a Tar-Alem
spy
?”