The Forgotten Beasts of Eld (13 page)

Is it well with you?

Well, White One, but I have heard a disturbing tale about that King. Tell me what must be done and I will do it.

Nothing. Yet. I am taking all of you to Sirle.

We expected it.

She rose, a little taut smile on her lips. Coren said softly,

“You seem so far from me sometimes. Your face changes—it is like a clear, still frame, powerful, untouchable.”

“I am no farther than the sound of my name.” She took his hand and they walked to the house. “Gules said they expected to be moved. I am glad Rok wants them.”

“Rok, my sweet one, is shrewd.” Cyrin Boar greeted the opening door and he stopped, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Cyrin. You see how I have overcome a mountain of—glass.”

The silver-bristled Boar said in his sweet voice, “Have you? Or did the witch remove it herself for her own purposes?”

“No doubt I did,” Sybel said quietly. “For a purpose I could not resist any longer. Cyrin, we are going to Sirle.”

The Boar said privately,
Does he know to ask why?

No. I will not have him troubled. Put a guard on your wise tongue.

Who will guard the tongue of the Wise One of Sirle when his blind eyes open?

She was silent a moment, her fingers tight on Coren’s hand.
I ask only for your silence. If you cannot give it, and you wish to be free, I will free you.

Caught between the riddle and its answer there is no freedom.

“Sybel,” said Coren, and she came back to him. “The Lord of Wisdom is at times disturbing,” she said softly. “But you know that.”

“Yes, I know. But not to the undisturbed mind.”

She looked at him. “I am not always honest, Coren.”

“I love you precisely because you are. Tell me what he said that troubled you.”

“It is myself troubling myself over events that have passed. Nothing more. Like Tam, sometimes I am still a child.”

Tam came in then with Ter on his shoulder. He bent to stroke Moriah at Sybel’s feet. “Have you come back here to live?” he asked hopefully.

“No, Tam. I am moving my books and animals to Sirle.”

His hand checked, hovering between Moriah’s ears. He said softly, not looking up, “Sybel, it will be hard for me to come and see you there. But perhaps you could come sometimes to Mondor.”

“Perhaps,” she said gently.

“Also—” He looked up, shaking his pale hair back from his eyes. “May I please talk to you awhile?”

She glanced at Coren who said courteously, “I will sit here by the fire and talk to Cyrin.”

“Thank you,” Tam said and followed Sybel, his shoulders bowed, into the domed room. Gules Lyon padded behind them. Sybel sat down on the thick fur and drew Tam down beside her.

“You are growing. You are nearly as tall as I am.”

He nodded, twisting the soft fur around his fingers. His pale brows drew together. “Sybel, I miss you very much, and it hurts me that—that you chose to marry Coren, not because of him, but because to other people now we are not Sybel and Tam but Sirle and Drede, who have always been enemies. Things used to be very simple, and now they are so complicated I do not know how they will end.”

“I do not know either, my Tam. I only know that I will never do anything to hurt you.”

His eyes rose, troubled. “Sybel, what is my father afraid of? Is it you? He will not even let me say your name.”

“Tam, I have done nothing to hurt him. I have done nothing to make him afraid.”

“But I have never seen him like this, and I do not know what to do to help him. I have not known him very long, and I am afraid—afraid of losing him, like I lost you.”

Her brows twisted. “You have not lost me—I will love you always, no matter where you live, where I live.”

He nodded a little jerkily, his mouth twitching downward. “I know. But it is different, so different now, when the people we love hate each other. I thought as long as you were here on Eld, I could come here any time, away from the noise and people in Mondor and—just lie here by your fire with Gules, or run on the Mountain with Ter and Nyl—just for a while, and then go back home to Drede. I thought you would always be here with the animals. But now, you are going, taking them to a place where I know I cannot come. I never thought that would happen. I never thought you would marry Coren. You did not seem to like him.”

“I never thought I would, either. But then I found I loved him.”

“Well, I can understand that. But I do not know why Drede does not. You would never use your powers to start a war; you said so. Drede must know that, but he is so afraid of something, and sometimes I think—I think he may be lost somewhere inside himself.”

She drew a breath and loosed it. “I wish you were small again, so I could hold you in my arms and comfort you. But you are grown, and you know that for some things there is no comfort.”

“Oh, I know. But Sybel—sometimes I am not that grown.”

She smiled and drew him against her. “Neither am I.” He rested his head on her shoulder, twisted a tendril of her long hair in his fingers. “Are you happy at Mondor? Have you made friends?”

“Oh, I have cousins my age. I never knew before what cousins are. It surprised me that I have so many relatives, when here I had only you. We go hunting together—they like Ter, but they are afraid of him, and he will not let anyone hold him but me. At first they laughed at me, because I was so ignorant of many things. Maelga and you taught me to read and write but you never taught me to use a sword, or hunt with hounds, or even who was king before Drede. I have learned a great deal about Eldwold you never knew to tell me. But I learned such things on this mountain that they will never know. Are you—are you happy at Sirle?”

“Yes. I am learning things, too, about living with people that Ogam never knew to tell me.”

He shifted, stirred by a restless thought, and groped for words. “Sybel. Why—why did my father say you were going to marry him? He told me one night not long ago—he said he did not mean to tell me then, because it was still a little uncertain, but he wanted to watch my face. I hugged him, I was so glad, and he laughed and then—the next evening I spoke to him about it and he—just looked at me, saying nothing. He looked ill, and—old.”

“Tam—” Her voice shook slightly and she stopped. “He had no right to tell you that because I had never consented to it. Perhaps he—”

“Yes, but when did he ask you? Did he write to you?”

“No.”

“I do not understand. He seemed so certain... Perhaps I made the mistake—I mistook something he said. I do not know. But what is he afraid of? He never laughs. He hardly talks to anyone. I thought, coming here I could find out what was troubling him, but I was wrong.”

“I am sorry you are troubled about Drede, but I cannot—I cannot help you. Drede’s fears are of his own making. Ask him.”

“I have. He will not tell me.” He reached out, put one arm around Gules, his brows knit worriedly. “I think I had better go home carefully, more carefully than I came. Drede will be angry with me, but I am glad I came. I am glad I could talk to you. I miss you, and Gules. Someday, though, I will come to Sirle.”

“No.”

He smiled. “I will come so quietly no one but you, Gules and Cyrin will know I am there. I will come.”

“Tam, no,” she said helplessly. “You do not realize—” She checked suddenly, her head turned quickly toward a drawling, bubbling wail that ascended, faded and ascended again beyond the closed door. “What—” Gules rumbled beside Tam, rose suddenly and gave a sharp, full-throated growl. Sybel rose. There was a crash beyond the door, and the murmur of men’s voices.

“Coren—” she breathed. She turned, flung open the door. Gules Lyon bounded past her, came to a crouch at the fireplace, his gold tail twitching. Coren looked at Sybel over the blades of three swords held at his throat. He was unarmed, backed against the hearthstones. Moriah paced at his feet, wailing at three men who wore the black tunics with the single blood-red star of Drede’s service on their breasts. Tam, beside Sybel, said quickly,

“Do not hurt him.”

The guards’ faces turned slowly to him, their eyes flicking between him and Moriah. One of them said between his teeth, “Prince Tamlorn, this one is of Sirle.”

“Do you know them, Tamlorn?” Coren asked. A blade point bit the hollow of his throat, and he closed his mouth.

“Yes. They are my father’s guards.” His eyes moved back to their tense faces. “I came here to see Sybel. She did not know I was coming. I have talked to her, and I am ready to come home. Let him go.”

“This is Coren of Sirle, Norrel’s brother—he was at Terbrec—”

“I know, but if you hurt him I do not think you will leave this place alive.”

The man glanced at Moriah, then at Gules, his golden eyes full on their faces, rumbling deep in his throat. “The King is half-mad with worry. If we let Coren loose, we will be killed by these beasts. And if Drede knows we let one of Sirle slip through our hands, we might as well be killed by them.”

“`Are you alone?”

“No. The others are beyond the gate. They will come if we call.”

“Then no one but you will need to know that Coren and Sybel were here. I will not tell Drede.”

“Prince Tamlorn, he is the King’s enemy—your enemy!”

“He is Sybel’s husband! And if you want to risk killing him in front of Sybel, Gules and Moriah, go ahead. I can go home by myself like I came.”

Moriah screamed again, flat-eared, crouched at Coren’s feet, and the blades jumped, winking. One of the guards drew his sword back suddenly. Sybel’s flat voice froze the drive of it toward Moriah.

“If you do that, I will kill you.”

The guard stared at her still, black eyes, sweat breaking out on his face. “Lady, we will take the Prince and go. I swear it. But how—what guarantee do we have that we will walk alive out of your house, if we let Coren go? What is the surety for our lives?”

Tam’s eyes rested a moment speculatively on Coren’s face. He came forward and knelt at Coren’s feet beneath the swords, and put his arms around Moriah. “I am. Now let him go.”

The swords wavered, winking in the firelight, fell. Coren’s breath rose soundlessly and fell.

“Thank you.”

Tam looked up at him, stroking Moriah’s head. “Think of it as a gift from Drede to Sirle.” He rose and said to the guards, “I will come home now. But no one of you is to stay here after me, or follow Sybel and Coren when they leave. No one.”

“Prince Tamlorn—we saw nothing of Sybel or Coren.”

Tam sighed. “My horse is in the shed—the gray. Get him.”

They left quickly, followed by the soft whisperings of Lyon, Boar and Cat. Tam went to Sybel, and she held him a moment, his face hidden in her hair.

“My Tam, you are growing as fearless and wise as Ter.”

He drew away from her a little. “No. I am shaking.” He smiled at her, and she kissed him quickly. He turned and hugged Gules Lyon tightly, then rose to the sound of hoofbeats at the door.

“Prince Tamlorn,” Coren said soberly, “I am very grateful. And I think this gift will be a great embarrassment to the Lord of Sirle.”

“I hope he is pleased,” Tam said softly. “Good-bye, Sybel. I do not know when I will see you again.”

“Good-bye, my Tam.”

From a window, she watched him mount; Ter circling above his head, watched his straight figure swallowed by a crowd of dark-cloaked men with their fiery stars, until they had disappeared through the trees. Then she turned and went to Coren, put her arms around him, her face against his breast.

“They might have killed you before I even knew they were in my house, in spite of all my powers. Then what would Rok have said?”

He lifted her face with his hands, a smile creasing his eyes. “That I should not have to depend on my wife to save my skin.”