Path of Honor (44 page)

On the other side was another door, and she jerked the latch up and yanked it open. Afternoon sunlight streamed down, warming her face. Beyond the door was a grassy field. She turned, waiting impatiently for her companions to catch up.

“What now?” she demanded when the speaker exited the maze.

His lips twitched, and he gave a slight bow. “Now I take you to Kvepi Kaisivas.”

“And Saljane?”

“Kvepi Kaisivas will answer all your questions.”

Reisil bit her tongue and followed after him without protest.

Inside the valley was a scattering of ugly buildings made of charcoal stone. Some looked incomplete; all were bare of ornamentation, their faces blank and austere. The speaker approached the largest of these. A broad walkway of crushed stone wound its way to the front steps of the somber edifice. The doors were of heavy, polished oak that swung open lightly at the speaker’s touch. There were no guards outside, no servants within to meet them. The foyer was furnished sparsely with a few colorful tapestries. There was a surprising amount of light that came from nowhere Reisil could see. Magic, no doubt.

The speaker led the way up the wide central staircase. There were no carpets, and their footsteps echoed hollowly off the walls. At the top of the landing were wide corridors to the left and right and a set of doors going straight. The speaker knocked softly on these, and after a moment they swung open. The decor here was more comfortable than below. Rugs covered the stone floors, and a variety of tapestries, paintings and sculptures decorated the walls, carefully spaced to provide a sense of fullness. The furniture, though sparse, was slender and delicate, the upholstery woven of rich, butterfly hues.

The speaker ushered Reisil into a large library where at last they encountered another person. The man was sitting in a wingback chair, his feet propped on an ottoman in front of a merry fire. At the speaker’s low announcement, he snapped his book shut and came around the chair, smiling broadly.

“You join us at last. I am pleased to have your company.”

He bowed over hands linked loosely together. He was tall and powerfully built, with chestnut hair speckled gray. His eyes were a pale brown, his face mobile and pleasant. He wore black wizard’s robes covered in arcane symbols embroidered in silver thread, and in his ears were delicate earrings fashioned from silver and amethyst.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Reisil said coldly, unmoved by his affability. “You are the Kvepi Kaisivas who can free my
ahalad-kaaslane
?”

“Ah, by the Long Night. It came to that, did it?” He sighed. “I am sorry for these measures, but I didn’t think you would come without the promise of my saving your bird.” He shook his head. “A shame, but no harm done, and easily remedied.” He motioned for the wizard holding Saljane to set his burden on a table, and removed the cloth wrapping the goshawk.

Saljane lay stiff and unmoving, her eyes open and staring. Her talons were curled into fists. Fear quivered down Reisil’s spine.

The goshawk lay still. Kvepi Kaisivas glanced up at her.

“She has been under the spell for some days. Give her a few moments to regain herself. There is no need for concern.”

Reisil’s nostrils flared. “There is.”
He
should be concerned. If Saljane did not recover—Biting her lips, Reisil reached for Saljane again, laying an unsteady hand on her feathered chest.

A flickering began in Reisil’s mind, like shadows cast by a slim flame.

More flickering, stronger this time.

Reisil swept Saljane into her arms and peered into her staring eyes. A quiver ran through Saljane’s stiff body. Then another. Then she began to move, to struggle. Reisil caught blurry thoughts from the goshawk.

Terror. Anger. Hunger.

Her talons raked the air, then caught Reisil’s unprotected left arm, slicing through her sleeve and forearm. Blood welled and dripped on the carpet. Saljane shrieked.

She began flapping her wings as she thrashed about, dagger-sharp talons rending the air, squawking and shrieking. Reisil let her go, and Saljane landed on the floor and then launched awkwardly into the air. She careened from the library shelves and swooped across the room.

~Saljane! I’m here! Saljane!
Reisil cried urgently, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But the goshawk’s mind was a spinning welter of confusion, anger, and ferociousness. Reisil’s voice couldn’t break through the chaos.

Saljane flew near the wizard who’d been her keeper for the journey, her eyes wide and blind. The wizard put up his hands. To catch her, to block her, to cast a spell—Reisil didn’t know. She didn’t care. Magic flowed into her, wrapping her hands in flame.

“Don’t.” The word froze him in place. He glanced at her, blanching. But he didn’t move. Saljane swept past him, her wing battering the side of his head, a talon scraping his forehead. She lighted on the back of the wing-back chair, wings spread wide.

~Saljane, I am here. I am here. I am here.
Reisil continued to chant the phrase, moving to stand in front of her
ahalad-kaaslane
. Magic burned in her, but she damped it ruthlessly. It was useless for this work.

Saljane continued to make her high-pitched call, sounding much like the call of a fox in the wild. Reisil edged closer, bending to put her face close to Saljane’s. A dangerous act of trust with Saljane so far out of her wits. A swift peck, and the goshawk could rob Reisil of an eye.

Minutes passed. With her mental chant, Reisil projected her love and her joy at having Saljane awake and near her.

At last the whirling tumult of Saljane’s mind began to order itself. Gradually she began to quiet, her wings contracting to her sides.

She reached out and Saljane stepped gingerly onto her fist. Reisil pulled her close, snuggling the goshawk against her chest. She felt no pain from her
ahalad-kaaslane,
though Saljane’s mind remained ragged and inarticulate. Reisil sniffed, taking a shuddering breath and turning back to her captors.

“She is well?”

This from the speaker. Reisil bit back the scalding answer. “She returns to herself.”

He nodded, and Reisil was surprised to see a pleased expression settle over his sharp features.

“She hungers.”

Kvepi Kaisivas nodded and pulled a cord in the corner. “Let us adjourn to the dining room.”

The dining room contained a long table covered with a lace cloth. The chairs were upholstered with leather, and a perch stood near the corner of the table. Reisil took the seat beside the perch, and the Kvepi sat opposite her. He motioned for the speaker to sit. The other wizard had disappeared.

As soon as they had seated themselves, a parade of servants entered carrying trays of food, including a trencher of raw fish, rabbit and venison, chopped into chunks. This was set on the table in front of Saljane. The servant then filled the feeding tray. Saljane began bolting the food with single-minded intensity.

The Kvepi motioned for Reisil to serve herself. But as she reached for a spoon, he ejaculated and leaped to his feet. She stiffened.

“Oh, dear. I’d forgotten that. Allow me, please.”

And then he came around the table, calling for a basin of warm water and bandages. Reisil followed his gaze and made a face. Blood welled from her forearm where Saljane had clawed her. With unexpected gentleness, the Kvepi peeled back her sleeve,
tsk
ing. He washed the wound and bound it. It hurt, but Reisil held still under his ministrations.

“We’ll do better later,” he declared. “Uldegas will have a look at it.”

Reisil took her arm back as he handed the basin to a waiting servant. “It’s well enough,” she said, knowing she had what was needed, if her saddlebags were returned to her.

The food was delicious. Crusty white bread still hot from the oven, roasted meats and cheeses, young greens, custards, compotes, stuffed fish, thick soups and flaky pies. The Kvepi filled her glass with cool crisp white wine tasting of apricots and snow and another with red wine tasting of smoky oak.

When she was sated, she leaned back in her chair. Saljane hopped down from her perch, nestling in Reisil’s lap.

A knot rose in Reisil’s throat. It was only one word, but she’d never heard anything so wonderful in her life.

“And now we must get down to business,” Kvepi Kaisivas said. “Let us retire to the library and discuss matters, shall we?”

Reisil found herself sitting opposite him in a wing-back chair, her feet propped on an ottoman at his insistence. She eyed him askance, but obeyed. The speaker stirred up the fire and then pulled around another seat as Kvepi Kaisivas settled himself comfortably.

“None of this was necessary, you know,” Reisil said suddenly. “I was on my way to find you.”

“Oh?” The two men exchanged startled looks.

“Mmm. The plague. You caused it. And the
nokulas
. I want to know how to stop them both.”

“Ah, of course. Certainly we did, though, you understand, not intentionally. We have no cure for either.”

Reisil stared. She had expected denials. And this certainly was one. But the Kvepi was so matter of fact that his words had the ring of truth. She opened her mouth, but could not find anything to say.

“I am sorry to disappoint you. However, I cannot be sorry that it brought you to us,” he said. “I believe Kvepi Tapit would agree.”

“Who?”

He gestured at the speaker. “Kvepi Tapit.” He frowned at the other Kvepi. “You did not give her your name?”

The other man gave a slight shrug. “There was little opportunity for conversation. We rode quickly.”

“Ah, my friend. Will you never learn?” He turned back to Reisil. “Please forgive Tapit. He grew up in the hinterlands of Patverseme and has never appreciated the need for manners. He does better in the company of rocks and trees, but he is one of our best. If anyone could bring you here safely, it was him.”

“What do you want with me?”

“To bring you home.”

“Excuse me?”

“To bring you home. You are a wizard, after all. Otherwise, you could not have come through the maze. We are your family, and it’s time you came home.”

M
etyein slouched in a chair, watching his father’s valet tug his coat straight and buff a dull spot on his boots. “I wish you’d attend. The Regent has asked about you,” his father said, sipping a glass of wine and setting it back on a tray.

“Has he? And what have you told him?”

“That you’ve been sulking, having discovered what a spineless
ganyik
your friend Soka is. Running away. Has cost him the honor of his house. No doubt Bro-heyek has begun to invade his neighbors, just when Kodu Riik needs it least.”

“When would Kodu Riik need it?” Metyein needled.

His father shook his head. “By the Lady, Metyein, have you no sense of duty in you?”

“And you, father. What about your sense of duty?”

This was too much for the Lord Marshal. He ordered his valet out, shutting the door firmly behind him. Then he whirled around, his face taut with anger.

“How dare you. I have served this land since I was a boy. I have put down revolts. I have led men into battle. I have always served this country and her Iisand with all my honor and heart. And what have you done? Sulked and caviled. Yes, I enjoy women. Yes, your mother and I have never had a close bond. But I have treated her according to her station and status as my wife. She has never wanted for anything, nor has she had to tolerate my attentions more than necessary to produce heirs.

“It’s time for you to grow up. Have a look at yourself. Have a look at Kodu Riik. We’re a dying land. If the plague doesn’t get us, we’ll starve. The
nokulas
have chased the farmers out of their fields, and we’re completely cut off from outside supplies. We are on our own, and our enemies would just as soon watch us shrivel up and die. And now that stripling has taken the Regency. Still, all you do is fight petty duels with spoiled lordlings and whine about whom I take to my bed. As if that were your business. You have the balls to question my duty, but I ask you, how are you serving your country? What about your duty to this house, and if not to your father, then your Lord Marshal?”

“Oh, I know my duty well enough, father,” Metyein said.

“And I’ve time enough for duty, and to watch over my mother’s honor, since her husband does not.” This last was said with a sneer.

“Her husband also overlooks her lovers.”

“Mother doesn’t have lovers. Do you sully her name to justify your rutting?”

“I require no justification. However, since you are intent on having the truth, you shall have it. Then we shall be done with your adolescent posturings once and for all. Though she is discreet, your mother has had a variety of lovers over the years.”

Metyein shook his head. “Never. There have been no men in her home. Or are you suggesting she bedded servants?”

“Oh, no. Your mother is quite blue in her blood and would never stoop so low. Nor would she ever tarnish the Vare name. She is the second Dajam of the land, after all. But she has never appreciated the hairy, brutish nature of men. She prefers softer, more delicate companions.”

Metyein could only stare. He wanted to protest, to argue. But his father’s voice had the ring of truth. And his own memories corroborated them. Many visitors, mostly noblewomen without their husbands. He always thought those visits came from pity for his mother’s loneliness and isolation. But now he saw them through a man’s eyes. The lovers’ meals with delicious wines and sumptuous foods. The long evenings spent alone, speaking of “women’s things” and no children needed. Long, languorous mornings in bed. No one thought it strange that two women would choose to sleep together, to warm each other’s feet in the night.