Authors: Deby Fredericks
Brastigan stared at his mother's
jeup,
trying to absorb this new knowledge. If Leithan wasn't Urulai, then he wasn't really half Cruthan and half Urulai—he wasn't any part Urulai. Joal must have known this. No wonder he had never taught Brastigan their tongue.
That left the question, if Yriatt and Leithan weren't Urulai, what were they? Did his mother once wear dragon horns on her hat? He stuffed the pendant under his tunic, not wanting to look at it any more.
For the first time in days, Lottres regarded Brastigan with sympathy, but this latest news had thrown any thought of his brother or his foolish ambitions right out of Brastigan's mind. He gazed into the empty eyes of Yriatt's pet girl and felt exactly that hollow and numb.
* * *
One never shouted in Urulai, it seemed, but murmured and whispered. So it seemed to Brastigan as he sat at Yriatt's table.
The entire community gathered for the evening meal, in a long hall with a raised hearth running down the center. Spits and kettles hung at regular intervals, but no smoke stung the eyes. The smoke-blackened ceiling must hide air vents. The tables were set near enough to feel the fire's warmth, but far enough to give the cooks working room.
The Cruthan men were seated at a head table, along with Yriatt. Small roast fowl had been set before them, one for each man. There was also a strange vegetable rather like thick blades of grass but with a sharp flavor. The plates and utensils were of polished wood. The goblets had the curl of carved sheep horns. Brastigan ate slowly, out of habit rather than hunger. He scarcely tasted what had been set before him. Lottres sat on Brastigan's right, but he didn't speak. Lottres's training had continued after Brastigan left, and his mind was probably busy picking out meanings from some vague word of Yriatt's.
Pikarus sat on Brastigan's other side, with Javes next over. Their bracketing him might have been a gesture of support, but Brastigan didn't take it so. More likely, they were positioned to jump on him if he spoke out of turn again. It didn't seem to matter. Brastigan wondered if even Lottres could understand the black gloom he felt. His outland heritage was the core of his pride, of everything he believed about himself. How could he
not
be Urulai?
The breathy cadence of Urulai speech came from tables around them, where the women and children were seated. Brastigan felt more conspicuous than he had in all his years at Harburg. With his braided hair, he looked like an Urulai man, the only one here. He should have felt at home. He didn't.
Seek the Urulai, Unferth had said. Brastigan looked down the ranks of tables, counting heads. Had the old man known how little there was to seek?
Two distinct generations sat there. The majority were elders, with silver streaked hair and faces lined by their suffering and exile. A sizable minority were girls Brastigan's age or younger, whose giggles and bright eyes somewhat relieved the glum atmosphere. Many of these had babes or young children, squirming in their seats and kicking each other under the benches.
There must have been young men here to sire these whelps, but even accounting for their absence the Urulai numbered well under three hundred. That was shockingly scant. Urland was a large country. Could this be all that was left?
From his youth, Brastigan remembered the exiles being mostly women and children. The warriors, as he understood it, had remained behind to fight the invaders. And what of those who didn't escape? The red dogs of Sillets must be lording it over the lofty peaks these days. What Brastigan didn't know was if they had exterminated their captives, or kept them as chattel. Sillets kept a ruthless hold on its provinces, and it was sure death to try the borders. Rumors of Urland were more rare now than snow in summer.
There was movement to Brastigan's right as Lottres stirred from his thoughts. The younger prince turned to his right, where Yriatt was seated. That was a deal too close for Brastigan's liking. On the other side of her was the strange, silent girl. At intervals, the witch gave her plain bread, without butter or jam, and helped her sip from a bowl that might contain water or broth.
Brastigan braced himself for more drivel as Lottres opened his mouth. For once, he was pleasantly surprised.
“
Noble lady,
”
Lottres frowned, as in puzzlement,
“
when I heard you calling for Eben that night, it sounded like he wasn't answering. Was I mistaken?
”
There was a flicker of emotion in Yriatt's slate colored eyes.
“
You were not mistaken. I have been unable to reach Eben for some days.
”
Coolly, she drank from her cup.
“
For some while before that, I could not reach my father, Ymell, who holds the vale of Altannath. That was how I guessed Sillets might be preparing to move. To enter Crutham they must pass Altannath, and to pass Altannath they must first overcome Ymell.
”
She spoke so blandly, it was hard to credit the disaster she spoke of. Brastigan remembered how he had thought, during their journey, that Crutham was ill prepared for war. The country had been at peace for many years. The garrisons were poorly staffed and their commanders, like Morbern of Caulteit, inexperienced. All along the tables, Cruthan men who were close enough to hear were muttering this news to those who couldn't.
Lottres frowned more deeply.
“
If he doesn't answer you...
”
“
It is more than that,
”
Yriatt interrupted. She glanced along the table, at the eyes on her, and beyond, where even the Urulai grew still. The dark eyed women might not understand the language of their visitors, but their expressions made it clear they knew what was being spoken of.
The witch seemed to reach a decision.
“
If this is a council, so be it. Then I will tell you plainly, I can sense nothing from Altannath. Spying into Sillets has always been difficult, but it was sometimes possible. Now, I am as one blind.
”
“
Then your father...
”
Lottres blanched and chewed his beard, unable to bring forth the words.
Brastigan was not so hobbled. Baldly, he asked,
“
Do you think he's dead?
”
Lottres let go an exasperated breath, and dug an elbow into Brastigan's side. Yriatt's brows bent just enough to let him know he had annoyed her. Well, good.
“
If I knew that, I would not have sent for you,
”
came the crisp reply.
“
There is reason to believe my father yet lives. Our enemy will not kill one who may be useful, not even his sworn foe.
”
Quietly, Pikarus asked,
“
We'll be going to Altannath, then?
”
“
We will begin there,
”
Yriatt said.
“
Wait a minute!
”
Brastigan cut in. Her words implied a journey even beyond Altannath, and he didn't like the sound of that.
“
You just said Eben doesn't know the invasion has started.
”
“
Eben has his own resources,
”
she answered.
“
Still, it is troubling, I agree.
”
“
Troubling?
”
Brastigan all but shouted. Obviously, Lottres would go along with whatever the witch suggested, so it was up to him to demand some sanity.
“
They'll be caught flat-footed. We must return to Harburg. Father needs us!
”
Some of the men murmured agreement, but Lottres argued,
“
No, if Mistress Yriatt is correct and Master Ymell has been captured, we should free him first.
”
The witch nodded, swinging her horns for emphasis.
“
Ysislaw is the ruler of Sillets. He has trained some of his vassals in our arts—his
eppagadrocca
—but no more than he can keep under a watch for signs of rebellion. With Ymell's power removed from opposition
—
.
”
“
Wait a minute,
”
Brastigan interrupted. He knew little enough of geography, but he did remember the emperors of Sillets always had the same name.
“
I thought his name was Silester. Silester the Tenth.
”
“
Twelfth,
”
Lottres corrected, though reluctant to concede the point.
Yriatt said,
“
What is a name but another illusion?
”
Brastigan groaned out loud. This wasn't the time for more of her nonsense.
“
Call him what you will. It is the same individual. He takes whatever seeming serves his purpose.
”
Just as Yriatt did, Brastigan thought. Before he could say so, Lottres asked,
“
The same man has ruled Sillets for all this time?
”
“
Since the very beginning,
”
she answered.
A man who lived forever? Now that was something to think about. And Yriatt had said
“
our arts.
”
Did that include Leithan, as well?
In the silence that filled the hall, Yriatt said,
“
Ysislaw can be defeated, but only if
—
.
”
“
Meanwhile, Crutham lies open to destruction. By the time we find this Ymell, it may be too late,
”
Brastigan argued. He didn't need any magical powers to know how bad this news was.
“
Do not think me cold,
”
she answered softly, coldly.
“
Eben is near to my heart. Yet we must determine what's happened to my father. I have already taken the steps I could to aid Crutham.
”
Lottres let his shoulders sag with relief, and Pikarus asked,
“
What steps, noble lady?
”
“
Ysislaw's
eppagadrocca
are not strong enough to conceal the invaders movements from me,
”
Yriatt explained.
“
A small force has besieged Glawern, while the main army passes by. Presumably, they will be going on to Harburg.
”
This sounded logical, so Brastigan didn't question it. Her next words surprised him.
“
I asked the Urulai for their aid. Because they are grateful to Crutham, and because they hate Sillets, they have agreed. The Urulai warriors have gone past Glawern and will hold Carthell Cleft against an incursion toward that province. If no attack occurs, they will attempt to raise the siege on Glawern.
”
At least that explained where the men were. They had the satisfaction of honest bloodshed, it seemed. Brastigan heartily longed for the same.
“
This ensures that Sillets won't come up behind us,
”
Pikarus remarked, pleased.
“
Correct. There is also another who depends on me. We will join her at Altannath.
”
“
Who?
”
Brastigan demanded suspiciously. The witch seemed to have planned well, and that annoyed him. He wanted something to find fault with.
“
My
thaeme
, Shaelen,
”
Yriatt said. Lottres twitched beside Brastigan, perhaps reacting to the knowledge there was another student—a potential rival. The witch continued,
“
She is wise in the ways of the forest. When I could not see into Altannath, Shaelen offered to go there and find Ymell. When we meet again, I will know what must be done to save my father.
”
She gestured to the pale girl on her right.
“
This one will come with us as well.
”
“
Oh, a girl!
”
Brastigan sneered.
“
Well, a pretty girl makes all the difference.
”
Some along the table chuckled, but Lottres was intent on persuading him.
“
There are too few of us to make any difference in Harburg, if we can even get there,
”
he said.
“
We must heed the noble lady's counsel.
”
Yriatt said,
“
I have not survived so long with Ysislaw as my enemy by making foolish errors. I need Ymell, and Shaelen needs me.
”
Brastigan slouched, bracing his elbows on the table.
“
I guess you're not so powerful, then.
”
The witch regarded him with impatience, and Lottres hissed into Brastigan's ear,
“
Is this your idea of support? You said you would back me up, but all you've done is
—
.
”
“
I'm trying to point out the problems with what she's suggesting,
”
Brastigan answered loudly, mocking his brother's whisper.
“
Your highness,
”
Pikarus put in, and both princes turned.
“
I've been considering the options ever since we learned of the invasion. Every man here has.
”
He glanced down the line, drawing murmurs of support.
“
Glawern may be taken by now, and possibly even Carthell. There is no easy, safe way. I don't see how a group so small can defeat an army, but the noble lady says she does. We must listen to her.
”
“
Must?
”
Brastigan retorted. Even with Urulai opposition, Glawern and Carthell would make a third of the nation in enemy hands. There was no time for mistakes.
“
Yes, we must.
”
Lottres spoke more calmly, but forcefully.
“
Father trusted her, and I trust her.
”
Just because he wanted her precious training, Brastigan thought bitterly. Yriatt could turn into a snake and bite him, and still the fool wouldn't hear a word against her. Glancing at the tables where the soldiers sat, he saw many doubts, but no one seemed to agree with him.