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CHAPTER SEVEN

Ambria

Tlike that one,' Mery said absently. She was lying stomach ldown on a rug, her legs kicking up behind her.

'Do you?' Leoff asked, continuing to play the hammarharp. I m pleased that you like it.'

She made fists and rested her chin on them. 'Its sad, but not in the way that makes you cry. Like autumn coming.'

'Melancholy?' Leoff said.

She pinched her mouth thoughtfully. 'I guess so.'

'Like autumn coming,' Leoff mused. He smiled faintly, stopped, dipped his quill in ink, and made a notation on the music.

'What did you write?' Mery said.

'I wrote, 'like autumn coming,' ' he said. 'So the musicians will know how to play it.' He turned in his seat. 'Are you ready for your lesson?'

She brightened a bit. 'Yes.'

'Come sit beside me, then.'

She got up, brushed the front of her dress, and then scooted onto ^ 'Let's see we were working on the third mode, weren't we?'

'Uh-huh.'' She tapped the freshly noted music. 'Can I try this?

Ambria

He glanced at her. 'You can try,' he said.

Mery placed her fingers on the keyboard, and a look of intense concentration came over her face. She bit her lip and played the first chord, walked the melody up, and on the third bar stopped, a look of sudden consternation on her features.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'I can't reach,' she said.

'That's right,' he said. 'Do you know why?'

'My hands aren't big enough.'

He smiled. 'No one's hands are big enough. This isn't really written for hammarharp. That bottom line would be played by a bass croth.'

'But you just played it.'

'I cheated,' he said. 'I transposed the notes up an octave. I just wanted an idea how it all sounded together. To really know, we'll have to have an ensemble play it.'

'Oh.' She pointed. 'What's that line, then?'

'That's the hautboy.'

'And this?'

'That's the tenor voice.'

'Someone singing?'

'Exactly.'

She played the single line. 'Are there words?' she asked.

'Yes.'

'I don't see them.'

He tapped his head. 'They're still in here, with the rest of it.'

She blinked at him. 'You're making it up?'

'I'm making it up,' he confirmed.

'What are the words?'

'The first word is ih,' Leoff said solemnly.

'Ih? That's the servants' word for I.'

'Yes,' he said. 'It's a very important word. It's the first time it's been used like this.'

'I don't understand.'

'I'm not sure I do myself.'

'But why the servants' language? Why not the king's tongue?'

'Because most people in Crotheny speak Almannish, not the king's tongue.'

'They do?' He nodded.

'Is that because they're all servants?' He laughed. 'In a way, I suppose so.'

'We all of us are servants,' a feminine voice said from the doorway. 'It's only a matter of whom we serve.'

Leoff turned in his seat. A woman stood there. At first he noticed only her eyes, cut gems of topaz that glittered with a deep green fire. They held him mercilessly, and kept his throat tight for too long. He broke the gaze finally.

'Lady,' he managed, 'I have not had the pleasure.' He reached for his crutches and managed to stand and make a little bow.

The woman smiled. She had ash-blond hair that hung in curls and a pleasantly dimpled face that was beginning to show some age. He reckoned her to be in her mid-thirties. 'I am Ambria Gramme,' she told him.

Leoff felt his mouth drop open, and closed it. 'You're Mery's mother?' he said.

'I'm very pleased to meet you. I must say, she is a delight, and a most promising student.'

'Student?' Gramme asked sweetly. 'Who are you? And what do you teach, exactly?'

'Oh, my apologies. I am Leovigild Ackenzal, the court composer. I thought Mery would have mentioned me.' He glanced at the girl, who looked innocently away.

The smile widened. 'Oh, yes, I've heard of you. Quite the hero, yes? For your part in the business at Broogh.'

Leoff felt his face warming. 'If I did anything commendable, it was by sheerest accident, I assure you.'

'Humility isn't particularly fashionable in the court at the moment, but you do wear it well,' Lady Gramme said. Her eyes drifted down his frame. 'You are cut from good cloth, just as I've heard.'

'I'' He stopped. He had nothing to say to that, and he tried to Ambria

gather his composure. 'I'm sorry, milady, I thought you knew I was giving Mery music lessons. I mean her no harm, I assure you.'

'The fault isn't yours,' Gramme replied. 'Mery simply forgot to tell me. Didn't you, Mery?'

'I'm sorry, Mama.'

'As you should be. Fralet Ackenzal is an important man. I'm sure he doesn't have time for you.'

'Oh, no,' Leoff replied. 'As I said, she's a wonderful student.'

'I'm sure she is. But at present my funds do not allow for the cost of tutoring.'

'I ask for no compensation,' Leoff said. 'My expenses at the court are taken care of.' He waved his hands helplessly. 'I would hate to see her talent go to waste.'

'She has talent, you think?'

'I assure you. Would you like to hear her play something?'

'Oh, no,' Gramme said, still smiling. 'I've no ear at all, I'm told. I trust your judgment.'

'Then you won't mind?'

'How could I refuse such a kind gesture?' Her lips pursed. 'But still, it puts me in your debt. You must let me make it up to you somehow.'

'That's not necessary,' he said, trying very hard to keep his voice from breaking.

'No, I know just the thing. I'm having a small fete on Saint Blight's Eve.

You're new here, and could do with some introductions, I'm sure. I insist you attend.'

'That's very land, lady.'

'Not at all. It's the least I can do for someone who indulges my little Mery.

There, it's settled.' Her gaze shifted. 'Mery, when you've finished your lessons, come to my apartments, will you?'

'Yes, Mama,' the girl replied.

'Good day to you, then,' Gramme said.

'Good day to you, Lady Gramme.'

'You might call me Ambria,' she replied. 'Most of my friends do.'

* ft O

Mery left a bell later, and Leoff returned to his work, a tense excitement growing in his belly. It felt right, it felt perfect, the way his composition was growing. It felt important, too, but that consideration he tried to keep at a distance. If he thought about that too much, the task grew daunting.

Toward vespers, he heard footsteps and a small rap at his door. He found Artwair standing there, dressed much as when he had first met him, in traveling clothes.

'My lord!' he said, reaching for his crutches.

'No, no, keep your seat,' Artwair said. 'Surely we've no need for that.'

Leoff smiled, realizing just how good it was to see the duke again.

'How are you getting along, Leoff?' Artwair asked, taking a seat on a stool.

'The queen came to see me,' he said. 'She's commissioned a work, and it's going'well, very well. I'm very hopeful for it.'

Artwair looked a bit surprised. 'What sort of a work? Not a requiem, I hope.'

'No, something much more exciting. I tell you, it's something that has never been done before.'

Artwair raised an eyebrow. 'So? Well, have a care, my friend. Sometimes the new isn't always the best thing for the moment. The local clergy is already muttering about you.'

Leoff waved that away. 'The queen has confidence in me. That's all I care about.'

'The queen is not the only power to be reckoned with in this court.'

'It can hardly be worse than Broogh,' Leoff said.

'It most certainly can,' Artwair said, his voice suddenly as serious as Leoff had ever heard it. 'These days, it most certainly can.'

Leoff forced a chuckle. 'Well, I'll try to keep that in mind. But it is a commission, you know, and from the queen.' He paused, again taking in Artwair's clothing. In the court he had dressed in brocades and linens. 'Are you traveling soon?' he asked.

Ambria

'Yes, actually, I've just stopped in to tell you good-bye. There's a bit of trouble in the east I've been asked to handle.'

'More wayward musicians?'

Artwair shook his head. 'No, something a little more demanding, I'm afraid. The queen has asked me take an army there.'

Leoff's heart stuttered a beat. 'Are we at war? Is it Hansa?'

'I'm not sure it's war, and I don't think its Hansa. Some of the locals have turned into man-eaters, it seems.'

'What?'

'Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? People running around naked, rending their neighbors limb from limb. At first it was hard to credit, even when the praifec said it was true. Now'well, several villages have been destroyed, but last nineday they killed everyone in Slifhaem.'

'Slifhaem? I've been there. It's a town of some size, with a fortress.' He paused. 'Did you say naked?'

'That's how we hear it, and more of them every day. The praifec says it's some sort of witchery. All I know is, I'm to go and put a stop to it before they go pouring into the Midenlands.'

Leoff shook his head. 'And you're warning me to have a care.'

'Well, I'd rather take the field any day and see my death coming on the edge of a sword than die from the nick of a pin or a goblet of poisoned wine here in Eslen,' he said. 'Besides, I'll be strapped in armor with a good sword in my hand and have five hundred excellent men around me. I don't reckon a bunch of naked madmen will have much chance to do me in.'

'What if they have creatures with them, like the basil-nix? What if it's the Briar King himself driving them on, making them mad?'

'Well, I'll kill him, too, for good measure,' Artwair said. 'Meantime'ho, what's this?'

Leoff watched as Artwair picked up a shawl from the carpet. 'You've been making a few acquaintances, auy?' Artwair said, winking. 'The sort that gets comfortable enough to leave things lying about?'

Leoff smiled. 'Not of the sort you mean, I'm afraid. Mery must have left that.'

'Mery?'

'One of my students. Lady Gramme's daughter.'

Artwair stared at him, then gave a low whistle. 'That is interesting company,'

Artwair commented.

'Yes, I got that reaction from the queen, as well,' Leoff said.

'I should think so.'

'But she's a delightful child,' Leoff said, 'and an excellent student.'

Artwair's eyes widened. 'You don't know who she is?'

'Yes, I just told you'Ambria Gramme's daughter.'

'Auy, but do you know who she is?'

Leoff had a sudden sinking feeling. 'Well'no, not exactly,' he said.

'You are pleasantly naive, Leovigild Ackenzal,' the duke said.

'A role I'm growing tired of.'

'Then you might ask a few questions, now and then. The lady Gramme is the girl's mother, yes. I might better say, she is the daughter of Ambria Gramme and the late King William the Second.'

Leoff was silent for a moment. 'Oh,' he finally said.

'Yes. You've made friends with one of the king's bastards'not a popular person with the queen, right now.'

'The poor girl can't help her birth.'

'No, of course not. But Lady Gramme is one of many who have visions of a crown in her future, and she isn't afraid to try anything that might bring that vision to pass. She's the queen's bitter enemy. Mery's lucky she hasn't met with some sort of' accident.'

Leoff straightened indignantly. 'I can't believe the queen would imagine doing such a thing.'

'A year ago, I might have agreed with you,' Artwair replied. Now'well, I wouldn't get too attached to little Mery.'

Leoff glanced off down the hall, hoping the girl wasn't within earshot.

'Ah,' Artwair said. 'It's too late for that, I see.' He walked over and rested his hand on Leoffs shoulder. 'The court is a dangerous place, just now,' he said. 'You've got to watch what sort of friends you make. If the queen ever suspected you had been drawn into Gramme's Ambria

snares-well, then I'd be worried about you experiencing a bad fall.' He lifted his hand. 'Take me seriously,' he said. 'Keep away from Gramme. Don't attract her attention.' He showed his teeth. 'And wish me luck. If things go well, I'll be back before Yule.'

'Best of luck, Artwair,' Leoff said. 'I'll ask the saints to keep you safe.'

'Auy. But if they don't, no bloody requiems, please? They're damn depressing.'

Leoff watched the duke leave, his heart sinking further. Artwair was the only adult he really knew in Eslen, certainly the only one he might call a friend.

After him, there was only Mery.

And as for that, and Ambria Gramme'Artwairs warning had come a few hours too late. He had already attracted her attention.

Anne nodded, but she was unable to return to the banter.

'In any event, you should pack your things,' he continued. 'This ship leaves in the morning, assuming you still want to take it.'

'You're sure it's safe?'

'I know the captain. I don't like him very much, but he's a man of his word, and utterly trustworthy in a dull sort of way.'

'Then we have to go,' she said. 'We must.'

At the moment, a cry went up on the street. Anne looked past Cazio and found Ospero standing in the doorway. Outside, she saw men gathered.

'What's happening? she asked.

'They've found you again,' Ospero replied. He had a dagger in his hand.

Neil breathed deeply of the sea air, and for the first time in a long while he felt at home. The language was unfamiliar, the clothing of those around him was strange, and even the scent of the sea was different from the cold, clean spray of Skern or Lier, but it was still the sea.

'Sit down,' Vaseto said. 'You'll attract attention.'

Neil looked down at the woman, who sat cross-legged on the stone steps of the sea-guild hall, eating a greasy handful of fried sardines she'd bought from a vendor.

'In all of this?' he asked, tilting his jaw to indicate the streams and eddies of merchants, sailors, vendors, and vagabonds that surrounded them. He was still wearing his disguise. 'I scarcely think we stand out.'

'There are others here watching these boats. The reward for your friends is substantial.'

'I haven't seen anyone else watching.'

'That's because they know what they're doing,' she replied. 'If you appear to be watching the ships, someone will notice that.'

'I suppose,' he sighed. 'I tire of this game of disguise, this tactic of hiding.'

'Your friends are hiding, with good reason, and they seem to Trust

have found a rather good place to hide. There is little more than unreliable rumor on the street as to where they might be.'

'Maybe they've already gone.'

'I don't think so,' she replied. 'There is some word that they have been seen, and not long ago. If they're trying to book passage on a ship, here is our best chance. The other watchers are probably working by description. You know the girls and might spot them even if they are disguised. I know Cazio and z'Acatto.

That is our advantage.'

'It still rankles. And we've been at it for four days already.'

'They've been here much longer than that.'

'Yes, but why?'

'Looking for a ship going the right direction, at a price they can afford. The girls have been seen working.'

'Working? Both of them?' The princess of Crotheny, working? Anne, working?

'Yes. As washerwomen, scullery maids, and the like.'

'Unbelievable.'

'Passage on a ship costs money. Coming from the coven, they wouldn't have much, would they? Perhaps nothing. From what I know of Cazio, he would have none at all, and if he did, z'Acatto would drink it up in short order. It could take them another month or two to earn the fare.'

'There must be some other way to find them. I can't wait so long.'

She licked her finger and gave him a disgusted look. 'Take a walk. Pretend to look at the fish, or something. You're starting to annoy me.'

'I don't mean''

'Go!' She waved the back of her hand.

'I'll check the other ships,' he muttered.

He walked down the quay, trying to contain his frustration, trying to think of some strategy that Vaseto had not. But he knew little of cities, especially foreign ones and ones of this size. He had never imagined so many people would crowd into one place. Eslen had seemed unimaginably huge to him when he'd first seen it, but z'Espino was so vast, he had trouble comprehending it even when he was in the midst of it.

He pretended, as Vaseto suggested, to examine the wares of merchants and the cargo being unloaded from ships, but his attention drifted always to the ships themselves, and his desire to have one beneath his feet again. He hadn't felt the sea road under him since arriving at Eslen with Sir Fail. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it.

Far down on his right, he saw the sky-spearing masts of a Salt-mark brimwulf, and decided to walk the other way'the brimwolves were the favorite man-o'-war of the Hansan navy.

Walking left, his eyes traced a three-masted galley from Ter-na-Fath, from whose bow stared the carved wooden face of Saint Fron-vin, the sea-queen, her hair carved to resemble churning waves. Moored just beyond was a langzkef of Herilanz, so like the galleys of the weihand raiders Neil had grown up fighting, with single sail, fifty oars, and an iron head for ramming. A battered, gallean shrimper was just putting in, its crew casting lines onto the dock.

Past the shrimper was a neat little boat, sleek of line as a porpoise, not too big, but with five masts in all. She would be quick in the turn, a wave-dancer.

The cut of her looked northern, but nothing identified her origin immediately to his eye. She flew no standard, and she had no name painted on her. He stopped, scrutinizing the craft, challenged by its anonymity. A few men were working on board, light of skin and hair, which said northern, also. He couldn't hear if they were saying anything.

A little shock ran through him, as he realized someone was watching him from the porthole in the fo'c'sle. Someone with intense blue eyes, and a face so young, beautiful, and sad it made his heart tremor. For a long moment, their gazes were locked. Then she turned away, retreated into the darkness of the ship.

Embarrassed, he looked away. He'd done just the thing Vaseto told him to avoid'he'd been noticed.

He moved away from the dock, and his heart lifted a bit when he Trust

saw an achingly familiar sight'the mast-shaped spire of a chapel of Saint Lier.

Without hesitation, he entered.

It had been too long since he had prayed. When he emerged a short time later, his step felt lighter. As he walked back to where he had left Vaseto, he studiously avoided looking at the strange ship.

'There you are,' Vaseto said when he arrived. 'I knew it would be good luck to send you away.'

'What do you mean?'

'Cazio. He just boarded that ship.' She waved at a four-masted merchantman.

'That's a Vitellian ship,' he said.

'Yes. Bound for Paldh. Don't watch too closely.'

'Were Anne and Austra with him?'

'No. Look at me.'

With some difficulty, he tore his gaze from the ship and looked into Vaseto's brown eyes.

'There,' she said. 'Pretend you're interested in me, not the ship.'

'I'' the image of another pair of eyes flickered through his memory'those of the woman he'd seen on the ship. And then, with a guilty start, Fastia's.

Vaseto must have seen something in his face, for the taut lines of her own softened, and she reached a gentle hand to stroke his cheek. 'You call out a name in your sleep sometimes. Did you know that?'

'No,' he said.

'Is she dead?'

'Yes,' he said.

'You saw her die.'

This time he only nodded.

'The pain will pass,' she said. 'Like any hangover.'

He managed a humorless chuckle. 'That's a strange comparison,' he said.

She quirked her shoulders. 'Perhaps an unfair one. I have only observation to go by, not experience.'

'You've never lost anyone you loved?'

She cocked her head, and a strange look came into her eyes. 'I have never loved,' she said. 'I never will.'

'How can you possibly know that?'

'It's part of who I am. I will never know the touch of a man.'

'That's not the same thing as love,' he pointed out.

'No, I suppose not. Yet I feel certain that I will never love.'

'I hope that is not true.'

'You can say that, when it has brought you such pain?'

'Oh, yes,' he said.

'When she died'could you have said it then?'

'No,' he replied. 'I wanted to die myself.'

She smiled and tousled his hair. 'And that is why I shall never love. Now, don't look, but our friend has left the boat.'

He started to rise, but she grabbed his hand. 'Be still,' she said.

'But we must speak to him.'

'If we do, any others who are watching will see.'

'Let's follow him, then.'

'I'm not sure that's a good idea, either.'

'But what if he did not take passage on that ship? What if we don't see him again? No. Right now he is my only link to Anne, and I cannot let him leave my sight.'

She considered that, and then sighed. 'You may be right,' she said. 'I may be too careful in this matter. But Anne'' She stopped abruptly, and for the first time Neil realized that Vaseto was somehow uncertain. And that she had said something she shouldn't.

'What about Anne?' he said.

'I cannot tell you. But she is important for more reasons than you know.' She rose. 'Come. Put your arm around me. Walk with me as you might a lover, and we'll follow Cazio.'

He did as she said, slipping his arm around her waist. She was very slight, and it felt very awkward.

'That's him, there,' she said. 'In the plumed hat.'

'I see him,' Neil said.

They followed him through winding streets to a dim and dilapidated part of town, where rough-seeming men watched them pass Trust

with blandly hostile faces. At last Cazio went up the steps to a building and entered it.

Neil quickened his pace, but Vaseto dragged at him.

'Wait,' she said, then gave a cluck. 'No, never mind. It's too late.'

Neil saw what she meant. Men seemed to have appeared in the street, all around them, armed with knives and clubs. Neil reached beneath his cloak and felt for the pommel of Crow, but it wasn't there. Like his armor, it was back in their lodgings.

Vaseto began speaking sharply in Vitellian, but the men continued to close in.

'Stay back,' Ospero advised.

Ignoring him, Anne pushed past, trying to see. Osperos men had surrounded a man and a boy. The man drew a knife, turning slowly. The boy was shouting something about how they were friends of Cazio's.

She looked at Cazio, who had a look of concentration on his face.

'You know him?' she asked.

'I think so,' he replied. 'I think he was a guest of Orchaevia's, from time to time. I don't know the other fellow.'

'Wait,' Anne shouted. 'See what they want.'

At the sound of her voice, the stranger's head snapped toward her. 'Anne!' he shouted. 'I'm sent by your mother!'

He was speaking the king's tongue, with an island accent. Anne's heart spun like a top.

'Ospero, tell your men to leave him alone, please,' she said. 'I think I know him.'

'Let him come closer,' Ospero said.

The boy said something low to the man, whose gaze had not left Anne. He nodded and walked to the door. As he did, he removed a wig, revealing the blond hair beneath.

'Sir Neil?' She gasped.

'Yes,' he said, going down on one knee.

'No, no, get up,' she said quickly.

He quickly obeyed.

'Mother sent you?' she asked. 'How did you find me?'

'That's a long tale,' the knight answered. 'I went to the coven, and found it destroyed. The countess Orchaevia directed me here.'

'I'' something seemed to explode in Anne then, like a glass bottle in a fire.

Tears burst from her eyes, and though she barely knew him, she threw her arms around Sir Neil and wept.

Neil held Anne awkwardly in his arms, not knowing exactly what to do. He felt her tremble, and closed his eyes. And the sounds of the world dimmed.

Though sisters, Anne and Fastia did not look much alike. But Anne felt like Fastia. The scent of her neck was the same. Anne trembled, and Neil felt Fastia's dying shudder. His own tears suddenly threatened.

'Sir Neil?' Anne said, her voice muffled in his shoulder. 'Sir Neil, that's'that's quite tight enough.'

He released her and stepped quickly back. 'I'm sorry, Pr' I'm sorry,' he said.

'I've just been searching for so long, and your mother''

He felt a joy at saying that that nearly eased the swell of grief. He hadn't failed this time. He'd found Anne. Now he had only to get her home, and he could return to the queen's side, where he belonged. 'My mother? Is she still well?'

'Your mother is well,' he affirmed. 'She grieves, but she is well.' She lifted her chin. She didn't wipe at her tears, though, but left them to crawl down her face. 'You were there, Sir Neil?'

He nodded, feeling his throat clutch. 'I was there,' he said. 'I was there with your sisters. Your father was in another place.'

Cazio coughed quietly and said something in Vitellian. One of the words sounded like Roderick. Anne rolled her eyes briefly and shook her head. Neil stood impatiently while the two conferred, with Vaseto putting in something now and then.

When they were done, Anne nodded at Cazio. 'Sir Neil, this is Cazio da Pachiomadio da Chiovattio. He has proved himself a friend to me. Without his aid, Austra and I would never have escaped the coven.'

Trust

Neil bowed. 'I am honored to meet you,' he said.

Cazio bowed, as well, and then Anne introduced Neil to the Vitellian. Neil presented Vaseto to both of them. When that was all done, Anne turned back to Neil.

'Cazio knows that I am a noble of Crotheny,' she said. 'He does not know my family name.'

'You do not trust him?'

'I trust him. But I am cautious.'

Neil nodded, trying to get Anne's measure. He hadn't known her long or well in Eslen, but she seemed very different from the willful brat he had heard described. She had certainly learned Vitellian quickly enough, and the roughness of her hands was proof that she had indeed been engaged in labor that few of royal birth could begin to imagine. That did not suggest a spoiled brat, but rather a woman who was learning to do things for herself. Learning to do the things that had to be done.

'I'm going to get your gear,' Vaseto told him. 'The ship Cazio has found passage on leaves in a few hours. You will be on it with them' the countess sent funds for your passage, and Cazio believes the captain will take on another passenger.'

'You aren't going?'

Vaseto's face scrunched almost comically. 'Go on the water? No, I don't think so. My task was to bring you this far. No more.'

Neil bowed. 'I am forever grateful, lady. I hope it was not too onerous a task.'

'Not too. But remember your gratitude when we meet again.'

'I hope we shall.'

Vaseto smiled slyly. 'No, there is no doubt. It has already been seen. Now, stay here, and I'll return with your things.'

'I can come.'

Vaseto shook her head. 'You may be needed here, especially if others have followed.'

Neil nodded at the sense of that. 'Very well,' he said.

Cazio plucked at Anne's sleeve. 'A word with you alone, please, cas-nara?' he said.

Anne started to wave him off impatiently. She needed to talk to Sir Neil. She had so many questions'but then she saw the genuine concern reflected in Cazio's eyes, and stepped aside with him into the courtyard. Besides, Neil was talking to the strange little woman.

'Quickly,' she said.

Cazio folded his arms. 'Who is this man?' he asked.

'I've already told you, it's not Roderick. He is a servant of my mother's.'

'And you trust him completely? He has something of the look of those knights who attacked you at the coven.'

'He was my mother's most trusted servant,' Anne assured him.

'And is he still?'

Anne paused at that. Sir Neil said that he had come from her mother. But she had no proof of it. From what she remembered he had come to court only a short time before she'd been sent away. True, he had saved her mother's life at Elseny's party, but what if that had been a ruse? The murderers of her father and sisters had not been named in the cuveitur dispatches. What if Sir Neil had been one of them?

With a cold shock, she suddenly understood how well it all fit. Only her mother and Erren had known that she had been sent to the coven Saint Cer. And perhaps, as her mother's bodyguard, Sir Neil. That would mean Roderick wasn't her betrayer. Not that she had ever really believed that, but'

Cazio observed the change in her eyes and nodded soberly. 'Yes, you see? It is all too suspicious. Just as I finally find us passage on a ship, along he comes.'

'It' Mother trusted him.'

'But you don't,' he said. 'Not now that you've thought about it.'

'Not now that you've put the idea in my head,' she said miserably.

She noticed that the little woman was gone. Neil now stood by himself, trying to appear uninterested in their conversation. For all she knew, he was fluent in Vitellian.

'Go find Austra,' she whispered. 'And z'Acatto. All of you go to the ship. I will follow in a short while.'

Trust

'Why not go with me?'

'Because he'll insist on going. Even if he is who he says he is, and he is true to my mother's service, he won't let me that far from his sight now that he's found me.'

'But he may murder you the moment I am gone.'

That was true.

'Ospero,' she said. 'Do you think he will help?'

Cazio nodded. 'He's still just outside. I'll tell him to watch you,' he said.

She nodded. Then they returned to the street.

'Cazio's going to get the others,' Anne told Neil. 'I'm going upstairs to pack my things. Would you keep watch here?'

'I will,' Neil said. He looked wary. 'Is there something I should know?'

'Not at the moment.'

He nodded. When she went up the stairs, she was relieved that he did not follow.

She did feel a pang of guilt. If he was telling the truth, Sir Neil had come a long, hard way to find her, and she was betraying him.

But she could not take the risk, not when she knew him so little. If she was wrong, he could return home the way he had come, and she would apologize.

She would apologize a great deal.

I

'He looked fine when he went into the fane, and he didn't look hurt when he walked out. Wasn't until he left the mound that he collapsed.'

'Still''

'Winna.' He tried to keep his voice gentle, but he felt the harshness creeping into it, like a burr caught in his throat.

He sighed. 'Winna, I'm a holter. I know nothing of fanes or saints or shinecraft. That was Stephen. All I know is how to track things, find things, and kill things. That's what I'm supposed to do. That's what I will do.'

'That's what the praifec ordered you to do,' Winna said. 'But it's not like you to be so obedient.'

'He's destroying my forest, Winn. And I'll tell you, if I do know anything about greffyns and utins and evil fanes and what's happened to Stephen, it's this'things like this didn't happen before the Briar King stopped being a boygshin story and started walkin' around. When I stop him walkin' around, I reckon everything will go back to the way it was.'

'And if it doesn't?'

'Then I'll find whoever built that shrine and kill them, too.'

'I know you, Asp,' Winna said. 'You aren't made of death.'

'Maybe not,' he said, 'but she follows me close.' He put his head down then raised it back up. 'Winna, here's what we'll do. You and Ehawk, you go back to Eslen. Tell the praifec what we saw here, and what Stephen said about it. I'm going on.'

Winna snorted. 'Not likely. You're going to drag poor Stephen around this forest by yourself?'

'He'll stay on Angel. Maunt this'I almost lost you to the utin. I've had Black Marys about it ever since. I can't think straight, not really, not with you in danger.

'There's only one arrow, you know. When we meet him, there's nothing anyone can do but me, and I'll do that best without any distractions. And you're right'Stephen thought there was something about that fane that needed dealing with. None of us kann enough to know what to do, and if we all find our ends out here, the praifec will never know what we've learned.'

Life or Death

Winna's lips compressed. 'No,' she said. 'That doesn't make nearly the sense you think it does. You think you can do everything by yourself? You think the rest of us do nothing but drae vou down? Well, you were by yourself when you came stumbling down to the monastery d'Ef, weren't you? If Stephen hadn't found you, you'd have died. If he hadn't stood for you against the other monks, you'd have died. How are you going to feed yourself? If you leave Stephen to hunt, something will come gnaw on him.'

'Winn''

'Stop it. I made the same promise to the praifec that you did. You think I have no stake in this? My father lives in the King's Forest, Asp'at least I pray saints he still lives. Ehawk's people live out here, too. So you're just going to have to live with your fear for me. I can't fight like you, and I don't have Stephen's knowledge, but if there's one thing I'm good for, it's to make you more cautious than you would be normally. That's how I've saved your life, and don't deny it, you big stupid banf.'

Aspar regarded her for a moment. 'I'm the leader of the expedition. You'll do what I say.'

Her face went cold. 'Is that how it is?'

'Yah. This is the last time you go against me, Winn. Someone has to be in charge, and that's me. I can't spend every moment arguing with you.'

Her face relaxed a bit. 'But we're all staying together.'

'For now. If I change my mind again, that's the way it will be, understand?'

Her face hardened again, and he felt a little wind suck out of him. 'Yah,' she said at last.

The next morning the sky pulled on a gray hood of clouds, and the air was as wintry as Winna's mood. They moved almost silently, save for the snorting of the horses and wet plod of their hooves on the leaves. More than ever, Aspar felt the sickness of the forest, down in his bones.

Or maybe it was arthritis.

They found the trail of black thorns and followed it into the Fox-t> ing Marshes, where the ancient yellow stone of the Lean Gable Hills broke into steps for a giant to walk down to the Warlock. For normal-size folks like Aspar and his companions, the steps were a little more difficult to negotiate'they had to hunt for the places where rinns had cut their way and then gone dry. Where the thorns hadn't choked everything, the land was still green with ferns and horsetails that grew almost as high as the heads of the horses. Leaves from hickory and whitaec drifted as constantly as a soft rain.

And it was quiet as if the earth were holding its breath, which kept Aspar's spine crawling.

As always, he felt bad for being hard with Winna, which irritated him in its own turn. He'd spent most of his years doing exactly what he wanted, the way he wanted, without any leave from much of anyone. Now a smooth-handed praifec and a girl half his age had him dancing like a trained bear.

Sceat, Winna thought he was tame now, didn't she? But how could she understand what he was, at her age? She couldn't, despite the fact that she somehow seemed to.

'The Sefry came this way,' Ehawk said softly, interrupting Aspar's quiet fume.

He looked down to where the Watau's chin was pointing. 'That's awfully clear sign,' he muttered. 'Is that the first you've seen of 'im?'

'Yah,' Ehawk allowed.

'Me, too.' Of course he'd been so busy thinking about Winna, he'd missed even that.

'Looks like he's trying to lead us off again,' Ehawk said. 'South.' Aspar nodded. 'He figured we'd come this way, following the thorns, and now he's left a roadsign.' He scratched his chin. Then he glanced at Winna. 'Well?' he asked.

'Well, what?' she retorted. 'You're the leader of this expedition, remember?'

'Just checking to see that you do,' he grumbled back. He studied the lay of the land. South was upcountry again, a stretch of ground he knew pretty well, and he had a feeling he knew where the Sefry was going

'You two backtrack to the clearing we passed at noon,' he said.

Life or Death

'I'm going to follow this trail a bit. If I'm not back by morning, then I'm probably not coming back.'

'What is that supposed to mean?' Winna asked.

Aspar shrugged.

'What do we do if you don't come back?'

'What we discussed earlier. Head back to Eslen. And before you start thinking it, the reason I'm going alone is because I can move more quietly that way, and not for any other reason.'

'I wasn't arguing,' Winna said.

His heart dropped a little, but at the same time, he felt a bit of satisfaction.

'Well, then. That's good,' he said.

If Ogre resented climbing back up the hills he'd just come down, he didn't let on, ascending without the slightest whicker to the high-canopied forest of oak.

By the time they came to the relatively flat tableland, Aspar was certain where the trail was headed and quit following it, in case some unpleasant surprise had been left in his path. Instead he circled around so as to approach the place from another direction.

The sun was slanting hard and orange through the trees when he heard voices. He dismounted, left Ogre near a stream, and crept closer on foot.

What he found wasn't really a surprise, but he still wasn't fully prepared for it.

The place was called Albraeth by those few who still called it anything. It was a cone-shaped mound of earth, bare save for a few struggling, yellowish weeds and a single gnarled tree, a naubagm with bark like black scales and leaves like drooping, serrated knives.

Some of the branches dipped low, and the rotting remains of rope still clung to some, though it had been years since the king's law had forbidden their use. It was here that criminals had once been hanged in sacrifice to Grim the Raver. It was here that Aspar had been born, on that sickly grass, below a fresh noose.

Here his mother had died.

The Church had worked to end those sacrifices. Now they were busy with their own.

A perimeter of wooden beams had been planted in the ground around the mound, each about four kingsyards high, and to each beam a man or woman had been nailed, with their hands above their heads and their feet pulled straight down.

Aspar could see the blood leaking from the holes in their wrists and ankles, but there was plenty

more blood to see.

They had been cut open, each of them, and their entrails pulled out and arranged in deliberate designs. Some were still being arranged, and those who were doing so wore the robes of the Church. He wasn't certain what order. Stephen would know.

He counted six of them. He had twice that many arrows. Mouth tight, he pulled out the first, considering how to go about what had to be done.

He was still working that out when a greffyn paced out from behind the mound.

It was smaller than the one that had almost killed him, its scales darker and sheened with green, but there was no mistaking its hawklike beak and the sinuous, catlike play of its muscles. He could feel its presence, even at this distance, like heat on his face, and he felt a wave of dizziness.

The touch of the beast'even its glance'was deadly poison. That he knew from hard experience, and from the corpses of its cousin's victims. So poisonous, in fact, that even those who touched the corpses contracted gangrene, and most died. Even maggots and carrion-eaters would not touch a Greffyn's kills.

But the monks weren't dying. They didn't even seem concerned. And to his astonishment, one even reached out to stroke it as it walked by.

He took a deep breath, trying to sort that out, wishing Stephen were with him.

He would recall some ancient tome or legend that would force this all to make sense.

Six monks would be hard to kill, especially if they were of the order of Mamres.

Six monks and a greffyn would be impossible'unless he used the arrow again.

But that one was meant for the Briar King.

First one, and then all the monks suddenly straightened from Life or Death

their tasks and looked to the east, as if they had all heard the same secret call. Their hands went to their swords, and Aspar tensed, realizing that he would have to run from this and find help.

But then he understood that they hadn't found him out at all, that something else had their attention. He could hear it now, a distant howling, like dogs yet unlike dogs, terribly familiar and utterly alien.

Grim.

He remembered when he'd first met Stephen, they'd been on the King's Road when they'd heard howling off in the distance. Aspar had recognized them as the hounds of Sir Symon Rookswald, but he'd fed the boy's fear, told him it was Grim and his host, the hounds that carried off the damned souls who haunted the King's Forest. He'd put a good scare in the lad.

Now he found his own heart beating faster. Had they summoned Haergrim? Had they summoned the Raver?

The howling grew louder, and there was a rushing through the leaves. He realized his hand was shaking, and felt a momentary anger at his own weakness. But if the hidden world was waking, why not Grim? Grim the heafroa, the one-eyed god, the lord of the birsirks, the bloody wrath, as mad as any ancient, pagan god could be.

The greffyn had turned at the sound, too, and the sparse hairs along its spine stood straight. He heard it snarl.

And behind him he heard a voice, whispering soft in the Sefry tongue.

'Life or death, holter,' it said. 'You have a choice to make.'