The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (7 page)

"He's returned, ma'am."

Without warning, Llyn began to sob, a storm of feelings surg-ing and whirling inside of her.

Stars and a swaying lantern on a pole did little to press back the night. The waning moon, barely a sliver,hid its feeble light behind a cloud, and the trees loomed over the road like malevolent giants. With each revolution of the wheels the axle squeaked, like a whim-per of resignation.

Kai rode in the back of the cart, upon the pillows from his bar-row. The cart jounced and staggered over the uneven road, the sin-gle horse snorting and shaking its harness in protest at being taken from its stall so late. Kai held on as best he could as he was thrown this way then that.

The two guards sat upon the high seat, one smoking a pipe, which Kai was certain he was not allowed on duty.

"Not too much farther," the smoker said, then drew on his pipe, releasing, with some satisfaction, a cloud of smoke into the night.

They had crossed the bridge over the Westbrook and turned now to follow along its bank, the squeak of the cart wheels blend-ing in with the songs of the crickets and tree frogs.

Kai had to admit that he was in misery. Having seen the proud Renne in their castle, he was more aware than usual of his own cir-cumstances. He who had once been great among the great, had been the lover of Sianon, now a landless vagabond—a man who went about in a barrow. He needed to make his tea of blood lily, for the ghost pain was strong that night. How had his long life come to such a pass?

A torch was lit on the road before them, and from it another. Kai tried to boost himself up to see past the two guards. Probably men with an oxen and dray delivering barrels to Westbrook. Who else was abroad at such an hour?

But there was no dray, and the men blocked the road, others quickly surrounding the cart and its surprised occupants. In the flickering torchlight Kai could see the dull gleam of steel.

They had adjourned to a room without a hearth. A room seldom used but for summer, for it had little to recommend it—not even a charming view. But it seemed a very safe room in which to speak, in light of what had happened that night.

"Then this man Kai is everything Lord Carral claimed?" Lady Beatrice looked over at Toren.

Dease had gone off to his rooms to find a bath and sleep, but Toren had too much to tell and had quickly bathed and changed. He ate while they talked—which would have been un-speakably rude under any other circumstances. Lady Beatrice, however, was prepared to forgive him anything that night. She thought he looked the worse for his journey, thinner, almost gaunt, and deeply fatigued. She could see that in his eyes. But once she had heard his story, the look in his eye took on differ-ent meaning.

She was still in a state of disbelief. Carral's ravings about Kai seemed positively sane after the things she heard from Toren.

"Yes," Toren said, sipping his wine, "all that and more."Lady Beatrice shook her head. "I received a note from Lady Llyn not half an hour ago. She implored me to do everything in my power to keep Kai safe. I have no idea why, or even how she knew he was here."Toren stopped eating. "I have always found Llyn's opinions to be worth listening to.""I agree. Unfortunately, I let Kai go back to the Fael encamp-ment before I heard from Llyn. At least I had the foresight to send guards with him."Toren relaxed visibly. "A company of guards should keep him from harm."Lady Beatrice pressed her eyes closed. "I sent only two men in a cart."Toren turned to Fondor. "Can you send out a small company of men-at-arms to accompany Kai?""Too late," Lady Beatrice said. "They left sometime ago."She reached out and squeezed Toren's wrist as though to reas-sure herself he was really there. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she managed not to weep.

"This close to Westbrook," she said, "certainly he will be safe."Toren nodded and turned back to his meal.

"And where is Elise Wills, now?" Lady Beatrice asked.

"I don't know. We were, most of us, separated in the cave. She could be anywhere.""She could truly be dead, this time.""It is possible.""Then what shall I tell Lord Carral? His daughter did not die in the Westbrook, as we thought. But she might now have truly drowned in another place. A distant place that can only be reached if one has a magical map.""He must be told the truth," Toren said, "no matter how diffi-cult it is to accept." "I suppose." It was clear to Lady Beatrice that she would be the bearer of that truth. Although Toren had shouldered the responsi-bilities of his inheritance, there were certain duties he shunned. Lord Carral would be left to her, which was, perhaps, as it should be. But either Toren or Dease would have to speak with Lord Car-

ral eventually. He would want to hear this news at first hand. He would, she realized, want to know why his daughter had let him think she was dead—had let him go through the torture. What pain this would cause him!

"But Hafydd, or whoever he is now, was not seen to survive this place… What did you call it?""The Stillwater." Toren moved in his chair, stretching a little as though he were in pain. He wore a deep red jacket with silveroak leaf clasps, the white of his linen shirt at his wrists and neck hardly paler than his face. He applied himself to his wine, then refilled the glass himself, for they had sent all the servants out. "But Hafydd will have survived.""We should have lopped off his head upon the field at Harrow-down, when we had the chance," Fondor said.

Lady Beatrice did not hide her reaction to this statement, and Fondor looked suitably contrite.

Lady Beatrice took up her own glass, which appeared to be emptying at an alarming rate. Her poor mind could not grasp all that was being said. It was enough that Hafydd still lived and that he had made a bargain with a sorcerer long dead, but all that Toren now told her! Servants of Death appearing and dragging Beldor off into the night, Elise Wills alive and in thrall to some sorcerer who should have been dead a thousand years ago. And now Toren claimed that this legless man, Kai, really had been a servant of a son of Wyrr. A man without possessions, who went about in a barrow!

"I will want to speak with Kel, as soon as possible." Toren paused, his fork suspended halfway to his mouth. "I still don't be-lieve the Prince of Innes would start this war without his precious counselor present.""And a lucky thing for us that he did," Fondor said. "I've had reports from Kel. It was a close-run battle. If Vast had not arrived when he did…""Vast shall be suitably rewarded," Toren said, and the fork con-tinued its journey.

"Yes," Lady Beatrice said. "He shall."A knock at the door was followed by a guard. "News, Lady Beatrice," the man said. "Yes, what is it?""Highwaymen have fallen on your guest of earlier this evening." Lady Beatrice felt herself sway. "What do you say?""The two guards were found dead in the road just beyond the first bridge. The cart was taken. No sign of the crippled man they accompanied."Fondor and Toren looked at each other an instant, then were both on their feet and running out the door.

Lord Kel Renne rode along the crest of a low hill, gazing out over the Isle of Battle, the shimmering curve of the canal in the dis-tance and smoke from the pyre where they had burned the fallen still hazing the view.

Tuwar Estenford sat upon his horse near at hand, and he too stared out over the canal and to the lands beyond. "There is an army there, my lord," he said firmly. The old man shifted in his saddle, trying to relieve the pain in a leg that had been gone now many decades. Ghost pain, he called it, in his ghost limb.

Kel saw the old warrior wince.

"Yes, but what will Innes do with that army? That is what I wonder?""It is what he is wondering as well," Estenford said. "He is not a smart man. He would not have considered the possibility of los-ing the Isle. Contingency plans would not have been in place. Now he would like to find something that will allow him to save face. Some small thing, for he has not a large enough force to cross the Wynnd—not yet. But if he could manage some small deed here—THE SHADOW ROADS kill a few of our men on patrol, or cross the canal in one place and take a few hostages. That is what we must be on guard for.""Lord Kel?" One of his lieutenants motioned to the grassy, southern hillside. A rider was galloping up the slope, his horse in a lather.

"A messenger from the Duke of Vast.""So I see," Kel turned away from the view out over the canal, taking one last look, as though he might catch a glimpse of an army hiding in the wood.

The rider, hardly more than a boy, was himself out of breath when he arrived on the hilltop. His mount heaved beneath him like a bellows. The boy, blue-eyed and lightly bearded, banged a hand to his chest in salute. "I come from the Duke of Vast with a mes-sage for Lord Kel Renne," he said, rather needlessly, Kel thought.

"Yes, yes. Let me see it."

Estenford intercepted the letter, keeping himself and his horse between Kel and the messenger. Kel could see by the tenseness in the old man's carriage that he was ready to kill this young messen-ger in an instant if need be. The assassination of Kel Renne would do quite nicely as a face-saving act for the Prince of Innes, and Tuwar would give his life before he would let that happen.

Kel rode a few paces off with Tuwar in tow and broke the let-ter's seal. Inside he found a sheaf of papers, the first written in Vast's nearly illegible hand.

My Lord Kel:

A company of my men-at-arms apprehended Lord Carl A'denne attempting to cross the canal to the Isle. This in itself should, of course, cause no alarm, but my men ob-served Lord Carl try to rid himself of some papers as he was found. These were fished from the canal at some risk. When brought to my attention I quickly perceived they were documents copied from my personal correspondence, some of which was of a sensitive nature regarding our preparations for war with the Prince of Innes. It seems that young Carl was playing us for fools, and was, all along, a loyal ally of Innes. I confronted him with these papers, which I have included with this message for your perusal, and I must say, his answer was less than satisfactory. I deemed it wise to keep him secure until I could consult with you, but to my shame, he has escaped. I'm sure he will try to make his way over the canal again, so all of your troops should be alerted to this. I have men out searching for him now. With luck I will have him again before this letter reaches you.

Your servant, Vast

Folded in with the letter Kel found some sheets of paper, wrin-kled, and water-stained. They were all in the same hand and were copies of letters from various Renne to the Duke of Vast and from Vast to Toren and Lady Beatrice. Kel leafed through them, skim-ming over the contents, finding little of real import. Still, they had been copied by Carl A'denne, and there could be no other expla-nation for this than that he was a spy for Innes, pretending he had changed sides—he and his father. Kel felt a little twinge of disap-pointment.

"What is it, sir?"Tuwar asked.

Kel handed him the bundle of letters without explanation. The old soldier read through them slowly. After a moment, he looked up, eyes wrinkled to slits. "This is the same boy who saved your life?""The very one."Tuwar glanced down at the letters again. "I find this very odd. Certainly there was nothing to be gained by keeping you alive.""So one would think. Tell me, Tuwar, why would Carl A'denne be in possession of letters he had copied from Vast as he crossed back over into our territory? That seems a rather foolish thing for such a clever young man to do.""It does, sir, but I have seen wiser men make worse blunders.""I suppose.""I'll alert the men to be on the look out for Carl A'denne." Tuwar turned and gestured for one of his escorts.

"Tuwar…" Kel said.

"Sir?"

"If you find him," Kel said so that no others might hear, "be sure he is brought to me unharmed, if at all possible."Tuwar regarded his young commander a moment, his head tilted to one side, but he asked no questions.

"As you say, Lord Kel."