Path of Fate (43 page)

Saljane made the most of her speed and agility, searching the vast space of the pavilion from one end to the other. Guards in the royal livery of violet and gold crowded in at the edges, making little headway into the shouting crowd. Reisil saw several bring crossbows to their shoulders. She desperately scanned the huge space.

~
There, Saljane. Near where we came in.

They had made a circuit of the pavilion, seeing nothing of the two royal parties. Now Reisil knew why. They had entered nearly on top of the great dais where Iisand Samir and Karalis Vasalis met together in the company of their ladies, Mesilasema Tanis and Karaliene Pavadone.

Reisil had seen pictures of the Iisand and Mesilasema. Merchants sold their likenesses during the Nasadh celebrations after the harvest. But the pictures didn’t capture the regal aura surrounding the two monarchs. They were young yet, nearing their mid-thirties. The Iisand wore midnight blue robes edged in a thick band of gold embroidery, and on his head rested a gold crown with a single point in front. Beneath the crown his face was austere, with flinty eyes. The Mesilasema wore a gown of matching midnight blue embroidered over in a pattern of leaves and gryphons to match her husband’s crown. A slender filet of gold crowned her golden curls. She appeared demure and girlish in her way, almost frightened.

Karalis Vasalis was some years older than Iisand Samir, and exhibited the dramatic coloring that marked the Patversemese people. He had raven hair and a wide, beaklike nose. His skin was pale like Kebonsat’s, and his eyes were a piercing black beneath sweeping black brows. He wore a closely trimmed beard. His face was made unsettlingly savage by the crescent-shaped tattoo in green and black hooking from his left cheekbone to just above his eye.

Behind him, standing at his shoulder, was Karaliene Pavadone. She was as like to Mesilasema Tanis as a hunting cat to a kitten. She matched her consort in coloring, her hair glowing blue-black in the flames of the lamps. Her black eyes were painted heavily with kohl, her lips a slash of red across her alabaster skin. She had a tough, predatory look about her. Most startling was the tattoo in the same green and black, which began just above her left eyebrow and followed its curve, stopping just at the corner of her eye. As with her husband, it suggested a savage, untamed edge.

Attending the monarchs were several wizards in black robes traced in silver arcane symbols from the deep folds of their cowls to the hems at their feet, a dozen lords from each country, a doddering Patverseme cleric in white, and three grimfaced
ahalad-kaaslane,
each looking distinctly out of place in their serviceable leathers.

One was a woman with short chestnut hair accompanied by a black corvet. The tree-cat clung to her shoulders, its sinuous tail flicking back and forth. Next to her sat a blocky man with graying hair, his wolf
ahaladkaaslane
at his knee. The third man was strikingly handsome with kohv-colored hair worn in a long braid down his back and coming to a dramatic point above his forehead. Rich brown eyes gleamed from a tanned, bearded face. On his shoulder perched a redtail hawk. For the briefest moment Reisil wondered if he was the one who would have trained her in Koduteel.

Then Saljane let out one of her strident
kek-kek-kek-kek
cries and landed in the center of the parchment strewn table, scattering papers and tipping ink pots as she flapped her wings to steady herself.

“What in the Dark Lord’s name is this?” demanded Karalis Vasalis in a low, almost guttural voice, slapping his hand on the tabletop.

“I assure you I don’t know. Reikon?” The Iisand’s cultured voice was collected and mild, despite the tightness of his lips. The man with the redtail hawk shook his head, eyeing Saljane.

“It’s not one I’ve seen before.” He returned Iisand Samir’s regard with a piercing look, as if trying to communicate something.

“But it is
ahalad-kaaslane,
” one of the wizards said in a nasal voice, his tone accusing.

“Indeed,” Reikon answered laconically.

The wizard, bald-pated with a fringe of white around his ears, turned red, his fleshy nose quivering. “Your Grace, I must protest,” he said, turning to Karalis Vasalis. “How can we proceed with this . . . this—” Before he could find a word sufficient to his outrage, Karaliene Pavadone forestalled him.

“Kvepi Mastone, I would also like to get to the bottom of this.” She gestured at Saljane, who, at Reisil’s suggestion, dipped her beak. Karaliene Pavadone smiled, a sharp, knowing smile. Did Reisil read approval in her expression? “I confess surprise at your suggestion that we delay proceedings until we find an answer, especially given the passion of your exhortations. I am gratified to find you so reasonable. Are you not also, dearest?” she asked her husband, who nodded, his eyes gleaming at the wizard’s stammering discomfort as he tried to protest.

Deftly Karaliene Pavadone turned to Iisand Samir, ignoring the grumbling of the lords farther down the table. “Will you consent to look into this matter? We shall give you two hours. That must be sufficient, I’m afraid, for we must have swift resolution of this and other matters. In the meantime, we shall seek out our wayward Kvepi Buris and Dure Vadonis.”

At her last words, Saljane mantled and gave a piercing cry. The four monarchs and three
ahalad-kaaslane
gave her an intent look, then exchanged furtive glances. Seeing this through Saljane’s eyes, Reisil gave a crow of triumph.

“They know something! Sodur, Juhrnus and Ceriba must have made it. They’ve been waiting for us.”

“They’ll be waiting a good long while if they don’t do something about these wizards,” Edelsat said. “If Sodur, Juhrnus and Ceriba got there, why hasn’t someone
done
something?”

“Maybe they are hoping to expose the rest of the traitors. They have to know that the treason runs high—and now they know there are wizards involved. You have said that Karalis Vasalis has been at odds with the wizards since he took the throne. That he’s tried to muzzle their power. He has to know that at least some of them are behind this—how else to account for today’s wizard night? And Iisand Samir cannot be certain of his own people either. The Karaliene has neatly disbanded the meeting for two hours. Saljane accompanies the Iisand and the
ahalad-kaaslane
. Maybe they have something planned.”

“Let’s hope so. Kebonsat’s holding his own, but he’s getting tired. He’s not fighting to win, but to prolong the battle. We’ll not be permitted to hang about once it’s over. If Kebonsat and Covail weren’t ranked as high as they are, we’d have been cleared out of here much sooner. As it is, the guards are just waiting for them to finish.”

Reikon, the strikingly handsome
ahalad-kaaslane
with the redtail hawk, carried Saljane on his gloved fist. He followed Iisand Samir and Mesilasema Tanis, flanked by the other two
ahalad-kaaslane,
and trailed behind by an angry cohort of Kodu Riikian lords and a squad of the Iisand’s personal guard.

They retreated down from the pavilion and into a tent, ignoring the rumbling of the crowds filling the rest of the pavilion. At the door of the tent, the lords were summarily dismissed and the guards left to stand watch outside.

Inside, Saljane flapped to a perch on the back of a chair, swiveling her head to watch each of the others in turn. Reisil gasped as the drapery at the back of the tent was drawn aside and Sodur, Juhrnus and Ceriba entered from a small room at the back. Ceriba looked pale and frightened, but resolute. She clung to Juhrnus’s arm, surprising Reisil. Juhrnus had done well, giving the frightened woman support and friendship. Reisil found herself feeling proud of her childhood nemesis.

“Saljane!” Sodur exclaimed, seeing the goshawk. She dipped her head at him and he smiled. “Blessed Lady be praised. They have arrived.”

“It seems so, but where are they?” asked the
ahaladkaaslane
woman, her corvet leaping to the ground to touch noses with Lume.

“Outside the wizard circle, or they would be here,” Reikon said in his low, melodic voice. “But how did this pretty one get inside? I tried to send my Vesil out, but the barrier closes over us like a dome.”

“She must have come before they put up the barrier. But why?” asked Iisand Samir, tapping his bunched fist against his thigh.

“To bring a message, one would think. But she’s not got jesses, and if she carried something, it’s gone now.”

Saljane gave a cry and flew to Ceriba, landing at her feet.

The Iisand frowned. “She had something for you? Or no, more likely your father. And your father didn’t turn up for the summit.” The Iisand looked at his wife, then at the gathered
ahalad-kaaslane
. “I don’t like this. No one would dare harm the Dure Vadonis unless the blame could be set on us, or the evidence removed.”

“Which points to a wizard. Only they can get out of the barrier they’ve put up,” said the other man whose
ahalad-kaaslane
was a wolf. He spoke in a staccato voice. “And that ties our hands. We have no powers to counter them. One or two, maybe. But there must be a thousand of them gathered here and throughout the encampment. This could very well turn into another Mysane Kosk. And Karalis Vasalis won’t be able to stop them if that’s what they decide to do.”

“There must be something we can do!” exclaimed the chestnut-haired woman, slapping her fist into her palm.

Silence answered. Outside the barrier, Reisil sat behind Edelsat, appalled, her stomach lurching. It could not come to this. Surely the Blessed Lady would not allow it.

Her chest burned.

Reisil’s mind snapped free of Saljane’s and she clutched at her chest. Beneath her tunic she felt the Lady’s gryphon amulet. She yanked it out. The eyes of the gryphon blazed red as the rising sun. Reisil cupped it in her hands, her mind scrabbling to understand.

Then it came to her like a beam of moonlight and she knew what to do. Magic to counter magic, a healer to heal Kodu Riik, a warrior to battle evil, a weapon for the Lady’s hand. She was all four. The power she’d been given could heal, but it could also be turned to another use. She felt that alien hand inside her, as she had felt it the night before in the grass hut. It gathered itself into a fist.

“Is the wagon here?” she asked Edelsat in a choked voice, never looking up from the amulet.

“Just now. But Kebonsat’s come close to killing Covail twice now, and has let himself be nicked up pretty good. Can’t go on much longer.”

“It doesn’t need to.” Reisil reached out to Saljane in the royal tent of Iisand Samir.

~
Bring them to me,
ahalad-kaaslane.

At her behest, Saljane leaped into the air, gliding to land before the tent opening. She impatiently looked over her shoulder at Sodur, giving one of her strident calls.

“By the Lady,” Iisand Samir breathed, staring.

“Her eyes! Look at her eyes. Look at her beak. What does it mean?” Mesilasema Tanis put her hand up to cover her pink mouth.

“It means we still have hope. Reisiltark wants us. She must have a plan. I suggest we follow,” Sodur said.

“Bethorn, take word to Karalis Vasalis,” the Iisand ordered the
ahalad-kaaslane
with the wolf. “Reikon.” He nodded for him to open the tent flaps.

Saljane gave another
kek-kek-kek-kek
and hopped through. Bethorn hastened away, and Iisand Samir called for his guards. Saljane leaped into the air, circling low, her piercing cry urging speed.

Reisil broke the connection with Saljane and slipped from the back of the horse. Edelsat jerked around. His mouth fell open and then snapped closed as he jerked back.

“What’s happening?” he whispered. “You eyes . . . they’re red as fire.”

Reisil looked up at him. Her eyes must be reflecting the burning red of the gryphon amulet. Not for green healing, this power. Not this time.

“Get back. Take Kebonsat with you. Hurry. You don’t want to get caught up in this.” Reisil’s voice sounded remote, like living flame.

She turned away from Edelsat, trusting him to evacuate Kebonsat to a safe distance. She paced toward the ring of wizards. She could see the barrier now, like an overturned bowl the color of stagnant water. The faceless wizards held it before themselves like a shield, held it over themselves like a trap. Fury coiled in Reisil like the winds of a tornado. They felt themselves invulnerable, and they visited their heartless arrogance on their people and the people of Kodu Riik with death and destruction. No more. The Blessed Lady would have it no more.

The air about her crackled silver sparks. She lifted her arms up to the sky and felt power coursing through her like molten metal. She felt herself smiling a death’s-head smile—the face of justice. Inside the barrier she saw Saljane. Her
ahalad-kaaslane
’s eyes burned red and her beak streamed gold.

~
Come to me, Saljane!

Another step. And another.

She felt the wizards pour more energy into the barrier as they sensed her impending attack. She laughed. Could they stand against lightning unleashed? Against the fist of the Lady as She claimed justice?

Reisil was just an arm’s length away from the barrier and Saljane was just beyond, streaking toward her like an arrow of fire. Reisil held out her fist to catch Saljane and took the last step, into the barrier.

There was a wild explosion of silver and black, as if the heavens shot forth a hundred bolts of lightning to shred the night. The sound of it shattered glass and echoed to the Dume Griste mountains.

Reisil stood as if rooted in the soil, Saljane clinging to her fist, the two sharing a single, fierce mind. All around them the earth spun into the air on a tornado of pure energy. Reisil stood within the barrier and felt each of the three hundred wizards circling about the Enclave Point like a living chain. She felt incongruous tears rising in her eyes and mourned for the life that must be pruned away. But pruned it must be.