Master and Fool (36 page)

But sister as lover

In that instant, a
small warning sounded in his head. He didn't give it any thought, didn't
question it in any way, but when he spoke, he found he'd skipped the line
entirely:

"And stay the hand of the
plague
The stones will be sundered, the temple will fall
The dark empire's expansion will end at his call
And only the fool knows the truth."

Everything was
quiet after he finished. Jack didn't move, the wind didn't blow, even the ocean
stopped sending waves to the,shore.

Tawl knew he had
to break the silence. More for his own good than for Jack's. There was nothing
to do in the silence but think. And Tawl did not want to spend a minute
speculating about what he'd just done and why.

"Does any of
it mean anything to you?" he asked. Jack's reply was slow in coming.
"Yes and no," he said at last. "My mother is dead, and I never
had a father. And I suppose the two houses that meet are Bren and the kingdoms."

Tawl nodded. He
was glad of the opportunity to shift his thoughts onto less treacherous ground.
"And the men who have lost their honor are the knights. The temple is Larn
and the dark empire is being forged as we speak."

"Kylock."

There was
something akin to longing in Jack's voice as he spoke, and Tawl turned his head
to look at him. No longer staring at the stars, he was enthralled by the
flames.

"You knew
him, didn't you?"

Jack nodded. His
gaze didn't leave the fire. "I think I'm meant to destroy him."

Tawl felt his
spine prickle as surely as if someone had poured ice down his back. Out of the
corner of his eye he spotted a thin line of light. It moved upward as he
watched.

Already unnerved
from what Jack had just said, Tawl was immediately on his guard. Keeping his
gaze even, he whispered, "Lie down slowly, Jack. Pretend you're bedding
down for the night."

Jack faked a yawn,
smoothed out his blanket, and lay down. His face was turned to the hills. His
hand was on the shortbow. "Where is he?" he hissed.

"On the hill
to the left, a third of the way down. Just above the tree line." Tawl
barely moved as he spoke. He kept staring straight ahead. It was the archer. No
doubt about it. He was on foot, and as he walked his bow caught the light of
the moon. Tawl couldn't see the man's horse, but he guessed it was hidden back
in the trees.

Slowly Tawl
reached for an arrow. As his hand closed around the shaft, he spoke to Jack:
"On my word throw the blanket on the fire."

The shadowy figure
in the distance stopped moving. The light slanted upward as he raised his bow.

They would only
have a split second once the archer saw the light go out. The opportunity was
too good to miss, though. Skaythe was now a standing target.

Tawl snatched his
own bow from the ground. He nocked the arrow and drew back the string.

"Now, Jack.
Now!" Tawl aimed his arrow. The light went out.

The bend of
Skaythe's elbow told of a bow drawn and ready. Tawl kissed the string and then
relaxed his hold. The arrow exploded from the plate and shot toward its target.

The instant his
fingers were free of the string, Tawl dove toward the fire. He heard the whir
of an arrow, felt the head graze past his face. A hot searing pain followed,
then the fletchings brushed against his cheek.

He slammed onto
the blanket. It was hot and smoking. His momentum sent his body careening into
Jack.

Jack had the
shortbow up and nocked. Tawl grabbed his ankle and brought him down.

"Did I hit
him?" Tawl could barely breathe. His right eye was full of blood. He
twisted Jack's ankle, preventing him from standing.

"I don't
know. He went down maybe a second after you." Jack kicked against the
grip. "If you hadn't pulled me down, I would have got a shot at him. I had
him in my sights even after he'd hit the ground."

Behind them, Nabber
shifted in his blankets. "What's going on?"

"Stay
down." Tawl wiped his eye. The cut was on his right cheekbone and the
blood was flowing into the socket "Where is he now?" he asked Jack.
He still couldn't see properly.

"He's gone.
In between you pulling me down and me looking up again, he got away."

Tawl hissed a
curse. Skaythe would have made it below the tree line by now. If he had been
hit, it obviously hadn't been fatal. The fact that he fell to the ground meant
nothing. They both knew what game they were playing: two archers, two arrows,
two shots. It was a duel. Skaythe would have had the same instinct
he
had-release
the string, then get the hell away.

Tawl almost
admired the man. He had loosed a fine arrow.

"Come
on," he said, standing up. "It's about time we upped camp."

"I ain't
getting up. No, sir," said Nabber from the ground. "No one's gonna
take a free shot at me."

Tawl tore a strip
from his linen undershirt and pressed it against the cut on his cheek. "He
won't bother us again tonight."

"Why? Did you
get him?"

"Perhaps. I
don't know."

"If you can't
be sure," said Jack, "what makes you think he won't fire again?"

"Because it's
not what he wants."

"So what
does
he want, then?"

Tawl looked into
the distance, searching for the spot where he'd last seen Skaythe. "He
wants a contest, Jack. He wants to beat me one on one. That's what he got
tonight: me against him, even odds, my skills pitted against his."

"Why?"

"Revenge for
his brother. A chance to prove he can beat the man who beat Blayze." Tawl
shrugged. "I don't know his motives." He began to move around the
camp, putting pots and flasks in his sack.

"So what do
you think he's doing now?" Jack's voice was hard. He hadn't liked being
kept in the dark about the mysterious archer.

"If he's
injured, then he'll lie low until tomorrow when we're well out of the way. If
not, then he'll probably follow us south. Either way he'll be planning his next
attack."

"But what if
you got a real good hit, Tawl?" said Nabber, finally plucking up the
courage to rise from his blanket.

"Then I've
slowed him down by a few days. Perhaps even weeks. I just don't know."
Tawl crossed over to the horses and threw the saddle on the back of the
gelding.

Jack was one step
behind him. "This man might want some sort of duel with you, but he's not
above killing Nabber and me in cold blood. Is he?"

Tawl looked
quickly to Nabber. The boy was busy rolling up his blanket. "Look,"
he said quietly, intending his words for Jack alone, "I think you're
right. I think he's out to kill all of us. Now I've got to stop him, but he's
good, and he's tracking us as if we were game. The only time he'll come out in
the open is to take a shot at me. You and Nabber he'll shoot from the shade.
That's why I've got to make myself a target-like tonight. Our only chance of
killing him is when he's intent on killing
me."
Tawl fastened the
girth around the gelding's belly. "So that leaves us with no choice: we've
got to force him to come out and fight."

"Why didn't
you let me take a shot at him?"

"You have a shortbow.
He has a longbow. You were making yourself vulnerable for no reason."

"It wasn't
because you wanted to play his game, too? Beat him man to man?"

Tawl shook his
head. "No. A man who'll shoot a defenseless boy in the dark deserves no
such honor. You spot him, Jack, you kill him. That's fine with me. I'll pull
you down every time, though, if I think you haven't got a chance in hell of
hitting him."

Jack smiled.
"I see your point." He began strapping the saddlebags in place.
"So, I suppose we'll be purchasing our second longbow in Toolay?"

Tawl felt tired
but pleased. In his own way, Jack was telling him that he wouldn't be left out
of this. It was a good feeling to know that someone else was willing to share
the danger.

"You'll need
to practice," he said. "If there's an archer in you, I haven't seen
him yet"

They both laughed.
Tawl reached out and clasped Jack's arm.

Jack returned the
grip. "I appreciate you being honest with me."

"And I
appreciate all, the help I can get."

The two men stood
for a moment, both looking at each other, revising their opinions. For the
first time in many weeks, Tawl felt that everything might just turn out all
right.

Up came the lamp.
Melli's eyes strained to find detail in the brightness. Instinctively she took
a step back. Her ankle struck stone. There was nowhere for her to go.

On its way up, the
light cast long shadows over the man's face, turning it into a savage mask. He
took a step forward.

"It's been
such a long time, Melliandra."

Melli took a sharp
breath. It wasn't Baralis, it was Kylock. They were perfectly matched in figure
and height. Even their coloring was the same. Melli felt a growing sense of
dread. At least with Baralis she knew what to expect; he was calculating,
cunning, a man of method. But Kylock was a different creature altogether. A
dangerously unstable one.

Determined not to
show fear, Melli tilted her chin upward and said, "So, have you come to
set me free?" Ignoring her, he looked around the room. His dark hair shone
sleekly in the lamplight. Dressed in a black kidskin tunic and black silk
undershirt, he looked as if he had just come from an official dinner. After a
few seconds he nodded softly. "Not doing too well now, are we,
Melliandra?"

"I'd be doing
a lot worse if I'd married you. Your wife was cold before the wedding night was
over."

Melli felt
something hard slam against her face. She went toppling backward, banging her
head against the wall. Kylock stood over her, wiping his fist on his tunic.
"I'd be careful what you say if I were you, Melliandra. Your tongue's too
glib by far."

Melli rubbed her
aching jaw. She moved to stand up, but Kylock pushed her down.

"I think I'll
have you stay where you are for the moment." He spoke like a painter
posing a model.

Stretching
forward, he brushed a lock of hair from her face. "Yes, just there."

Melli tasted blood
in her mouth. She didn't dare move. Kylock's eyes were blank and unfocused. He
looked like he'd been drinking.

In a movement so
swift, Melli thought he was going to strike her, he came and knelt at her side.
He saw her flinch and smiled. "Not so sure of yourself now, eh?"

His breath held no
trace of alcohol, but there was an unnatural sweetness to it. There were a few
specks of white powder on the corner of his lip.

"You know
what I think?" he said.

"No. Why
don't you tell me?" Without realizing, Melli had slid both her arms around
her stomach. She wanted desperately to lash out at Kylock, both physically and
verbally, but she stopped herself. She had her baby to think of now.

"I think you
deserve better than this." His hand came up, but this time he stroked her
cheek.

Melli preferred
the slapping. "Is that why you came here?" she said, slowly edging
her cheek away from his touch. Kylock was very close now. The skin on his face
was very pale. There were dark circles under his eyes. "I came to see how
they were treating you."

"Well, as you
can see,
they
are treating me badly." Melli wasn't really sure who
he was referring to: Baralis, the guards, perhaps both.

"Hmm."
Kylock's hand moved down from her cheek to her throat. His fingertips were as
soft as a baby's.

Melli wrapped her
arms more tightly across her stomach, and then asked the only question worth
asking: "Why come here now? I've been here weeks, you could have seen me
at any point."

Kylock smiled
softly, curving his beautifully sculpted lips upward. "Baralis wants you
executed tomorrow." Very still. She kept herself very still. Not a single
muscle on her face betrayed her. She didn't blink, didn't tremble, didn't form
any expression at all. She still breathed, though. Long, deep breaths.

"Yes, they're
going to come for you in the morning. The water they give you will be drugged
to make you . . . " Kylock took pleasure choosing the right phrase,
"more compliant. Then they will put a blade through your heart. You'll
never have to leave this room, it will all happen here." He smiled as if
doing her a great courtesy.

"When the two
guards have finished, they will lock the door and descend the stairs, only to
be slaughtered before they reach the last step. After that's done, the lady who
supervises your comforts will also meet an unfortunate end. And that will leave
no one to tell of what happened."

All the time he
was speaking, Kylock's hand was on her throat. Now that he had finished, he
moved it lower. Down to her breast and then along to her belly. "That's
the plan, anyway."

Melli made no
attempt to move away from him. She let his hand rest where it was. Her mind had
seized on the tone of Kylock's voice as he spoke his last sentence. Was it
reluctance she detected? Inching her little finger forward to touch his, she
tested him. "Is the plan, or was the plan?"

He pulled back
from her. With his other hand he raised the lantern, bringing it close to her
face. "No rouge on your lips, I see."

Melli's heart was
beating fast. The lantern was so close she could feel it hot against her cheek.
Despite all her efforts, she felt the beginnings of panic. She didn't know what
Kylock wanted from her. Couldn't understand the shift in conversation.
"No," she said, feeling as if she were stumbling in the dark.
"Not on mine."

Kylock brought the
lantern closer. The flame was now less than an eyelash length from her face.
"You've never painted yourself like a whore, have you?"