11.

Heartbeats

"Just because Varellan is my brother does Varellan is my brother does not not mean I will suffer stupidity," Duke Benigaris snarled at the knight who kneeled before him. He smacked his open palm on the arm of his throne. "Tell him to hold firm until I arrive with the Kingfishers. If he does not, I will hang his head from the Sancellan's gate-wall!" mean I will suffer stupidity," Duke Benigaris snarled at the knight who kneeled before him. He smacked his open palm on the arm of his throne. "Tell him to hold firm until I arrive with the Kingfishers. If he does not, I will hang his head from the Sancellan's gate-wall!"

"Please, my lord," said his armorer, who was hovering just to one side, "I beg you, do not thrash about so. I am trying to measure."

"Yes, do sit still," added his mother. She occupied the same low but ornate chair she had when her husband ruled in Nabban. "If you had not been making such a pig of yourself, your old armor would still fit."

Benigaris stared at her, mustache twitching with fury. "Thank you, Mother."

"And do not be so cruel to Varellan. He is hardly more than a child."

"He is a dawdling, simpering halfwit-and it is you who spoiled him. Who talked me into letting him lead the troops at the Onestrine Pa.s.s, in any case?"

Dowager d.u.c.h.ess Nessalanta waved her hand in airy dismissal. "Anyone could hold that pa.s.s against a ragtag mob like Josua's. I I could. And the experience will do him good." could. And the experience will do him good."

The duke jerked his arm free of the armorer's grasp and slammed it on the chair arm once more. "By the Tree, Mother! He has given up two leagues in less than a fortnight, despite having several thousand foot soldiers and half a thousand knights. He is falling back so fast that by the time I ride out the front door, I will probably trip over him."

"Xannasavin says there is nothing to fret about," she replied, amused. "He has examined the skies carefully. Benigaris, please calm yourself. Be a man."

The duke's stare was icy. His jaw worked for a moment before he spoke. "One of these days, Mother, you will push me too far."

"And what will you do-throw me into the cells? Cut off my head?" Her look become fierce. "You need me. Not to mention the respect you owe the one who bore you."

Benigaris scowled, took a deep breath, then turned his attention back to the knight who had delivered young Varellan's message. "What do you wait for?" he demanded. "You heard what I had to say. Now go and tell him."

The knight rose and made an elaborate bow, then turned and walked from the throne room. The ladies in colorful dresses who were talking quietly near the door watched him go, then huddled and began discussing something that caused them to giggle loudly.

Benigaris again tugged his wrist free of the armorer's clutch, this time so he could snap his fingers at one of the pages, who trotted over with a cup of wine.

The duke took a draught and wiped his mouth. "There is more to Josua's army than we first thought. People say that the High King's brother has found a mighty knight who fights at the head of his army. They are claiming it is Camaris. Seriddan of Metessa believes it, or at least he has joined them." He grimaced. "Traitorous dog."

Nessalanta laughed sourly. "I didn't give Josua as much credit as he deserved, I admit. It is a clever ploy. Nothing arouses the common folk like the mention of your uncle's name. But Seriddan? You ask me to worry about him and a few other puny barons from the wilderness? The Metessan Crane hasn't flown from the palace towers in five hundred years. They are n.o.bodies."

"So you are quite sure that this talk of Sir Camaris is just a ploy?" Benigaris' words, intended to be mocking, came out a little hollow.

"Of course it is! How could it be him? Camaris is forty years dead."

"But his body was never found. Father always agonized because he couldn't give his brother an Aedonite burial."

The d.u.c.h.ess made a noise of dismissal but kept her eyes on her needlework. "I knew Camaris, my brave son. You did not. Even if he had joined a monastery or gone into hiding, word would have leaked out: he was so madly honest he could never have lied to anyone who asked him who he was. And he was so self-satisfied, such a meddler, that it is not possible he would have stood by while Prester John fought the second Thrithings War without leaping in to be Camaris the Magnificent, Camaris the Holy, Camaris the Great." Nessalanta p.r.i.c.ked her finger and cursed under her breath. "No, this is no living Camaris that Josua has found-and it is certainly no ghost. It is some tall imposter, some oversized gra.s.sland mercenary with his hair whitened with powder. A trick. But it makes no difference in any case." She examined her st.i.tchery for a moment, then put the hoop down with an air of satisfaction. "Even the real Camaris could not unseat us. We are too strong ... and his age is gone, gone, gone."

Benigaris looked at her appraisingly. "Unseat us... ?" he began, but was interrupted by a movement at the room's far end. A herald with the golden kingfisher sigil on his tabard had appeared in the throne room doorway.

"Your Highness," the man said in loud ceremonial tones. "Count Streawe of Ansis Pellipe arrives at your summons."

The duke settled back, a smile tightening his lips. "Ah, yes. Send the count in."

Streawe's litter was carried through the doors and set near the great high-arched windows that overlooked the sea, windows covered today in heavy draperies to keep out the cold air. The count's minions lifted out his chair and put it down before the dais that bore the ducal throne.

The count coughed, then caught his breath. "Greetings, Duke," he wheezed. "And d.u.c.h.ess Nessalanta, what a pleasure to see you! As usual, please forgive my sitting without your leave."

"Of course, of course," Benigaris said cheerfully. "And how is your catarrh, Streawe? I cannot think that it is helped by our cold sea air. I know how warm you keep your house on Sta Mirore."

"As a matter of fact, Benigaris, I had wished to speak to you of just that ..." the old man began, but the duke cut him short.

"First things first, I regret to say. Forgive me my impatience, but we are at war as you know. I am a blunt man."

Streawe nodded. "Your straightforwardness is well-known, my friend."

"Yes. So, to the point, then. Where are my riverboats? Where are my Perdruinese troops?"

The count raised a white eyebrow ever so slightly, but his voice and manner remained unperturbed. "Oh, all are coming, Highness. Never fear. When has Perdruin not honored a debt to her elder sister Nabban?"

"But it has been two months," Benigaris said with mock sternness. "Streawe, Streawe, my old friend ... I might almost think that you were putting me off-that for some reason you were trying to stall me."

This time the count's eyebrows betrayed no surprise, but nevertheless a subtle, indefinable change ran across his face. His eyes glittered in their net of wrinkled flesh. "I am disappointed that Nabban could think such a thing of Perdruin after our long and honorable partnership." Streawe dipped his head. "But it is true that the boats you wish for river transport have been slow in coming-and for that I apologize most abjectly. You see, even with the many messages I have sent back home to Ansis Pellipe, detailing your needs with great care, there is no one who can get things accomplished in the way that I can when I take them in hand personally. I do not wish to malign my servitors, but, as we Perdruinese say, 'when the captain is below decks, there are many places to stretch a hammock.' " The count brought his long, gnarled fingers up to brush something from his upper lip. "I should go back to Ansis Pellipe, Benigaris. As sad as I should be to lose the company of you and your beloved mother-" he smiled at Nessalanta, "-I feel confident that I could send your riverboats and the troop of soldiers we agree on within a week after returning." He coughed again, a wracking spasm that went on for some moments before he regained his wind. "And for all the beauty of your palace, it is, as you said, a trifle airier than my own house. My health has worsened here, I fear."

"Just so," said Benigaris. "Just so. We all fear for your health, Count. It has been much on my mind of late. And the men and boats, too." He paused, regarding Streawe with a smile that seemed increasingly smug. "That is why I could not allow you to leave just now. A sea voyage at this moment-why, your catarrh would certainly worsen. And let me be brutally honest, dear Count ... but only because Nabban loves you so. If you were to grow more ill, not only would I hold myself responsible, but certainly it would also slow the arrival of boats and men even more. For if they are haphazard now, with your careful instructions, imagine how laggard they would become with you ill and unable to oversee them at all. There would be many hammocks stretched then, I'm sure!"

Streawe's eyes narrowed. "Ah. So you are saying that you think it best I do not leave just now?"

"Oh, dear Count, I am insisting insisting you remain." Benigaris, tiring at last of the ministrations of his armorer, waved the man away. "I could not forgive myself if I did anything less. Surely after the boats and your troop of soldiers arrive to help us defend against this madman Josua, the weather will have turned warm enough that you can safely travel again." you remain." Benigaris, tiring at last of the ministrations of his armorer, waved the man away. "I could not forgive myself if I did anything less. Surely after the boats and your troop of soldiers arrive to help us defend against this madman Josua, the weather will have turned warm enough that you can safely travel again."

The count considered this for a moment, giving every impression of weighing Benigaris' arguments. "By Pellipa and her bowl," he said at last, "I can see the sense of what you are saying, Benigaris." His tight grin displayed surprisingly good teeth. "And I am touched at the concern you show for an old friend of your father's."

"I honor you just as I honored him."

"Indeed." Streawe's smile now became almost gentle. "How lovely that is. Honor is in such short supply in these grim days." He waved a k.n.o.bby hand, summoning his bearers. "I suspect that I should send another letter to Ansis Pellipe, urging my castellain and boatwrights to hasten their efforts even more."

"That sounds like a very good idea, Count. A very good idea." Benigaris sat back against the throne and finger-brushed his mustache. "Will we see you at table tonight?"

"Oh, I think you will. Where else would I find such kind and considerate friends?" He leaned forward on his chair, sketching a bow. "d.u.c.h.ess Nessalanta-a pleasure as always, gracious lady."

Nessalanta smiled and nodded. "Count Streawe."

The old man was lifted back into his litter. After the curtain was drawn, his four servitors carried him from the throne room.

"I do not think you needed to be so ham-fisted," said Nessalanta when the count had gone. "He is no danger to us. Since when have sticky-fingered Perdruinese ever wanted more than to earn a little gold?"

"They have been known to accept coins from more than one pocket." Benigaris lifted his cup. "This way, Streawe will have a much stronger wish to see us victorious. He is not a stupid man."

"No, he certainly is not. That is why I don't understand the need to use such a heavy hand."

"Everything I know, Mother," said Benigaris heartily, "I learned from you."

Isgrimnur was growing annoyed.

Josua could not seem to keep his attention on the matters at hand; instead, every few moments he went to the door of the tent and stared back up the valley at the monastery standing on the hillside, a humble collection of stone buildings that glowed golden-brown in the slanting sunlight.

"She is not dying, Josua," the duke finally growled. "She is only expecting a child."

The prince looked up guiltily. "What?"

"You have been staring at that place all afternoon." He levered his bulk off the stool and walked to Josua's side, then placed a hand on the prince's shoulder. "If you are so consumed, Josua, then go to her. But I a.s.sure you she is in good hands. What my wife doesn't know about babies isn't worth knowing."

"I know, I know." The prince returned to the map spread out on the tabletop. "I cannot stop my mind churning, old friend. Tell me what we were talking about."

Isgrimnur sighed. "Very well." He bent to the map. "Camaris says there is a shepherd's trail that runs above the valley...."

Someone made a discreet noise in the doorway of the tent. Josua looked up. "Ah, Baron. Welcome back. Please come in."

Seriddan was accompanied by Sludig and Freosel. All exchanged greetings as Josua brought out a jug of Teligure wine. The baron and Josua's lieutenants bore the marks of a day's muddy riding.

"Young Varellan has dug in his heels just before Chasu Yarinna," the baron said, grinning. "He has more grit than I thought. I had expected him to fall back all the way to the Onestrine Pa.s.s."

"And why hasn't he?" Isgrimnur asked.

Seriddan shook his head. "Perhaps because he feels that once the battle for the pa.s.s begins, there is no turning back."

"That might mean that he is not so sure of our weakness as his brother Benigaris is," Josua mused. "Perhaps he may prove willing to talk."

"What is just as likely," said Sludig, "is that he is trying to keep us out of the pa.s.s until Duke Benigaris comes up with reinforcements. Whatever they might have thought of our strength to start with, Sir Camaris has changed their minds, I promise you."

"Where is Camaris?" Josua asked.

"With Hotvig and the rest up at the front." Sludig shook his head in wonderment. "Merciful Aedon, I heard all the stories, but I thought they were just cradle songs. Prince Josua, I have never seen anything like him! When he and Hotvig's hors.e.m.e.n were caught between two wings of Varellan's knights two days ago, we were all sure that he was as good as dead or captured. But he broke the Nabbanai knights like they were kindling wood! One he cut nearly in half with a single stroke. Sheared right through him, armor and all! Surely that sword is magical!"

"Thorn is a powerful weapon," said Josua. "But with it or without it, there has never been a knight like Camaris."

"His horn Cellian has become a terror to the Nabbanmen," Sludig continued. "When it echoes down the valley, some of them turn and ride away. And out of every troop Camaris defeats, he takes one of the prisoners and sends him back to say: 'Prince Josua and the others wish to talk with your lord.' He has beaten down so many that he must have sent two dozen Nabbanai prisoners back by now, each one carrying the same message."

Seriddan raised his wine cup. "Here's to him. If he is a terror now, what must he have been like in the height of his powers? I was a boy when Camaris ..." he laughed shortly, "-I almost said 'died.' When he disappeared. I never saw him."

"He was little different," Isgrimnur said thoughtfully. "That is what surprises me. His body has aged, but his skills and fighting heart have not. As though his powers have been preserved."

"As though for one final test," Josua said, measuring out the words. "G.o.d grant that it is so-and that he succeeds, for all our sakes."

"But I am puzzled." Seriddan took another sip. "You have told me that Camaris hates war, that he would rather do anything than fight. Yet I have never seen such a killing engine."

Josua's smile was sad, his look troubled. "Camaris at war is like a lady's maid swatting spiders."

"What?" Seriddan lowered his eyebrows and squinted, wondering if he was being mocked.

"If you tell a maid to go and kill the spiders in her lady's chamber," the prince explained, "she will think of a hundred excuses not to do anything. But when she is finally convinced that it must be done, no matter the horror she feels, she will dispatch every single spider with great thoroughness, just to make sure she does not have to take up the task again." His faint smile disappeared. "And that is Camaris. The only thing he hates worse than warfare is unnecessary unnecessary warfare-especially killings which could have been avoided by making a clean ending the first time. So once he is committed, Camaris makes sure that he does not have to do the same thing twice." He raised his gla.s.s in salute to the absent knight. "Imagine how it must feel to do best in all the world what you least wish to do." warfare-especially killings which could have been avoided by making a clean ending the first time. So once he is committed, Camaris makes sure that he does not have to do the same thing twice." He raised his gla.s.s in salute to the absent knight. "Imagine how it must feel to do best in all the world what you least wish to do."

After that, they drank their wine in silence for a time.

Tiamak limped out across the terrace. He found a place on the low wall and hoisted himself up, then sat with his legs dangling and basked in the late afternoon light. The Frasilis Valley stretched before him, two rippling banks of dark soil and gray-green treetops with the Anitullean Road snaking between them. If he narrowed his eyes, Tiamak could make out the shapes of Josua's tents nestled in the purple shadows of the hillside to the southwest.

My companions may think we Wrannamen live like savages, he thought to himself, he thought to himself, but I am as happy as anyone to be in one place for a few days and to have a solid roof over my head. but I am as happy as anyone to be in one place for a few days and to have a solid roof over my head.

One of the monks walked by, hands folded in his sleeve. He gave Tiamak a look that lasted the length of several steps, but only nodded his head in formal greeting.

The monks do not seem happy to have us here. He felt himself smiling. Unwilling as they are to be caught up in a war, how much more dubious must they be about having women and marsh men within the cloisters, too?

Still, Tiamak was glad that Josua had chosen this spot as a temporary refuge, and that he had allowed his wife and many others to remain here as the army moved farther down the gorge. The Wrannaman sighed as he felt the cool, dry breeze, the sunshine on his face. It was good to have shelter, even for just a little while. It was good that the rains had let up, that the sun had returned.

But as Josua said, he reminded himself, it means nothing. A respite is all-the Storm King has not been slowed by anything we have done so far. If we cannot solve the riddles before us, if we cannot gain the swords and learn how to use them, this moment of peace will mean nothing. The deadly winter will return-and there will be no sunshine then. He Who Always Steps on Sand, let me not fail! Let Strangyeard and me find the answers we seek!

But answers were becoming fewer and farther between. The search was a responsibility that had begun to feel more and more burdensome. Binabik was gone, Geloe was dead, and now only Tiamak and the diffident priest remained of all the Scrollbearers and other wise ones. Together they had pored over Morgenes' ma.n.u.script, searching it minutely from one end to the other in hope of finding some clues they had missed, some help with the riddle of the Great Swords. They had also scrutinized the translated scrolls of Binabik's master Ookequk, but so far these had provided nothing but a great deal of trollish wisdom, most of which seemed to concern predicting avalanches and singing away the spirits of frostbite.

But if Strangyeard and I do not find more success soon, Tiamak thought grimly, Tiamak thought grimly, we may have more need of Ookequk's wisdom than we will like. we may have more need of Ookequk's wisdom than we will like.

In the past few days, Tiamak had set Strangyeard to relate every bit of information that the archivist possessed about the Great Swords and their undead enemy-his own book-learning, the things old Jarnauga had taught him, the experiences of the youth Simon and his companions, everything that had happened in the last year that might contain some clue to their dilemma. Tiamak prayed that a pattern might show somewhere, as the ripples in a river demonstrated the presence of a rock beneath the surface. In all the lore of these wise men and women, these adventurers and accidental witnesses, someone someone must know something of how to use the Great Swords. must know something of how to use the Great Swords.

Tiamak sighed again and wiggled his toes. He longed to be just a little man with little problems again. How important those problems had seemed! And how he longed to have only those problems now. He held up his hand and looked at the play of light across his knuckles, a gnat that crept across the thin dark hairs on his wrist. The day was deceptively pleasant, just like the surface of a stream. But there was no question that rocks or worse lay hidden beneath.

"Please lie back, Vorzheva," said Aditu.

The Thrithings-woman made a face. "Now you talk like Josua. It is only a little pain."

"You see what she's like." Gutrun wore an air of grim satisfaction. "If I could tie her to that bed, I would."

"I do not think that she needs to be tied to anything," the Sitha woman replied. "But Vorzheva, neither is there any dishonor in lying down when you are in pain."

The prince's wife reluctantly slumped back against the cushions and allowed Gutrun to pull the blanket up. "I was not raised to be weak." In the light filtering down from the high small window she was very pale.

"You are not weak. But both your life and the child's life are precious," Aditu said gently. "When you feel well and strong, move around as you like. When you are hurting or weak, lie down and let d.u.c.h.ess Gutrun or me help you." She stood and took a few steps toward the door.

"You are not going to leave?" Vorzheva asked in dismay. "Stay and talk to me. Tell me what is happening outside. Gutrun and I have been in this room all day. Even the monks do not speak to us. I think they hate women."

Aditu smiled. "Very well. My other tasks can wait in such a good cause." The Sitha seated herself upon the bed once more, folding her legs beneath her. "d.u.c.h.ess Gutrun, if you wish to stretch your legs, I will be here to sit with Vorzheva for a little while longer."

Gutrun sniffed dismissively. "I'm just where I should be." She turned back to her sewing.