"Are you well?" Josua asked worriedly.

"No. I hurt d.a.m.nably. But I'm on my feet, and that's something." He seemed reluctant to move further. "How far is it?"

"Just down the hall a short way." Josua slid his shoulder under the older man's arm. "We will go slowly."

They moved carefully out into the long, cool hallway. After a couple of dozen paces, Isgrimnur stopped to rest. "I will not be able to sit a horse for a few days, Josua," he said apologetically.

"A few days!" Josua laughed. "You brave old fool. I will not let you on a horse for a month at least."

"I won't be left behind, d.a.m.n you!"

"No one is going to leave you behind, Isgrimnur. I am going to need you more than ever in the days ahead, whether you can fight or not. My wife is not going to ride, either. We will find a way to get you to Nabban, and to wherever we go from there."

"Traveling with the women and children." The disgust in his voice did not mask the fear.

"Only until you are healed," Josua soothed him. "But don't lie to me, Isgrimnur. Don't tell me that you are ready when you are not. I mean it when I say that I need. you, and I will not have you making yourself so weak that your wounds don't heal." He shook his head. "I should be hanged for letting you get out of bed."

The duke was a little cheerier. "A new father cannot refuse a request. Didn't you know that? An old Rimmersgard custom."

"I'm sure," said Josua sourly.

"And besides, even with smashed ribs, I could beat you the best day of your life."

"Come on, then, old war-horse," the prince sighed. "You can tell me about it when we get you to a bench."

d.u.c.h.ess Gutrun left the protective circle around Vorzheva's bed to give Isgrimnur a furious scolding for leaving his bed. She had been running back and forth between the two rooms for days, and was plainly exhausted. The duke did not argue, but sank onto the bench Strangyeard had dragged in with the air of an unrecalci trant child.

Vorzheva was propped against a mound of blankets with an infant in each arm. Like Gutrun, she was pale and obviously tired, but this did not diminish the proud serenity that shone from her like a lantern's hooded glow. Both babies were swaddled so that only their black-haired heads peeped out. Aditu squatted near Vorzheva's right shoulder, staring at the nearest child with rapt interest.

When he had caught his breath, Isgrimnur leaned forward, stealing a glance at the Sitha woman. There seemed a strange hunger in her eyes, and for a moment the duke was reminded of old stories about the Sithi stealing mortal children. He pushed away the disconcerting thought.

"They look fine," he said. "Which is which?"

"The boy is in my right arm. And this is the girl."

"And what will they be called?"

Josua took a step closer, staring down at his wife and children with unalloyed pride. "We will name the boy Deornoth, in memory of my friend. If he grows up half so n.o.ble a man, I will be proud." He shifted his gaze to the other small, sleeping face. "The girl is Derra."

"It is the Thrithings word for star." Vorzheva smiled. "She will burn bright. She will not be like my mother and sisters, a prisoner of the wagons."

"Those are good names," Isgrimnur said, nodding. "When is the First Blessing to be?"

"We leave here in three days' time," Josua replied, still staring at his family. "We will have the ceremony before we ride." He turned. "If Strangyeard can do it then, that is."

"Me?" The archivist looked around as though there might be someone else of that name in the room. "But we are in Nabban, now, Josua. There is a church on every hillside. And I have never performed a First Blessing."

"You married Vorzheva and me, so of course we would have no one else," Josua said firmly. "Unless you do not want to."

"Want to? I shall be honored, of course. Of course! Thank you, Prince Josua, Lady Vorzheva." He began to edge toward the door. "I had better find a copy of the ceremony and learn it."

"We're in a monastery, man," Isgrimnur said. "You shouldn't have to look far."

But Strangyeard had already slipped out. The duke felt sure that the attention had been too much for him.

Gutrun made a brisk throat-clearing noise. "Yes. Well, if all of you are quite finished with your talking, I think it's time for Vorzheva and the little ones to get some rest." She turned on her husband. "And you you are going back to bed, you stubborn old bear. It nearly stopped my heart when I saw you carried back here on a sling, and it was just as bad when I saw you staggering in today. Have you no sense, Isgrimnur?" are going back to bed, you stubborn old bear. It nearly stopped my heart when I saw you carried back here on a sling, and it was just as bad when I saw you staggering in today. Have you no sense, Isgrimnur?"

"I'm going, Gutrun," he mumbled, embarra.s.sed. "Don't bully me."

Aditu's voice was quiet, but her melodious tones carried surprisingly well. "Vorzheva, may I hold them for a moment?"

"She needs to rest." Gutrun was sharp; Isgrimnur thought he saw something beyond her usual firmness in her eyes-a touch of fear, perhaps. Had she had the same thought he had? "The babies, too."

"Just for a moment."

"Of course," said Vorzheva, although she, too, looked a little startled. "You had only to ask."

Aditu leaned down and carefully took the children, first the girl, then the boy, and balanced them in her arms with great care. For a long moment she looked at both of them in turn, then she closed her eyes. Isgrimnur felt an inexplicable touch of panic, as though something fearful had been set into motion.

"They will be as close as brorher and sister can be, " Aditu intoned, her voice suddenly solemn and powerful, Aditu intoned, her voice suddenly solemn and powerful, "although they will live many years apart. She will travel in lands that have never known a mortal woman's step, and will lose what she loves best, but find happiness with what she once despised. He will be given another name. He will never have a throne, but kingdoms will rise and fall by his hand." The Sitha's eyes opened wide, but "although they will live many years apart. She will travel in lands that have never known a mortal woman's step, and will lose what she loves best, but find happiness with what she once despised. He will be given another name. He will never have a throne, but kingdoms will rise and fall by his hand." The Sitha's eyes opened wide, but seemed to gaze far beyond the confines of the room. seemed to gaze far beyond the confines of the room. "Their steps will carry them into mystery." "Their steps will carry them into mystery." After a moment her eyes closed; when they opened once more, she seemed as natural as it was possible for a Sitha to seem to mortals. After a moment her eyes closed; when they opened once more, she seemed as natural as it was possible for a Sitha to seem to mortals.

"Is this some curse?" Gutrun was frightened but angry. "What right have you to put Sithi magics on these Aedonite children?"

"Peace, wife," Isgrimnur said, although he, too, was shaken by what he had seen.

Aditu handed the children back to Vorzheva, who stared at the Sitha in superst.i.tious bafflement.

Josua also seemed unhappy, but he was clearly trying to keep his voice even. "Perhaps it was meant as a gift. Still, Aditu, our customs are not yours...."

"This is not not something we Sithi do." Aditu seemed a little surprised herself. "Oh, sometimes there are prophesies that go with certain of our births, but it is not a regular custom. No, something ... came to me. I heard a voice in my ear, as one sometimes does on the Road of Dreams. For some reason I thought it was ... young Leleth." something we Sithi do." Aditu seemed a little surprised herself. "Oh, sometimes there are prophesies that go with certain of our births, but it is not a regular custom. No, something ... came to me. I heard a voice in my ear, as one sometimes does on the Road of Dreams. For some reason I thought it was ... young Leleth."

"But she is down the hall, next to my room," said Isgrimnur. "She has been asleep for weeks-and she never talked when she was awake. What nonsense is this?"

"I do not know." Aditu's golden eyes were bright. Her own surprise gone, she seemed to be enjoying the discomfiture she had caused. "And I am sorry if I made anyone frightened."

"That is enough," Gutrun said. "This is upsetting Vorzheva."

"I am not upset," said the new mother mildly. She, too, had recovered some of her good humor. Isgrimnur wondered if things like this happened among her wagon-folk. "But I am now tired."

"Let us get you back to bed, Isgrimnur." Josua darted a last worried glance at his wife. "We will think on this later. I suppose Aditu's ... words ... should be written down-although if they are true, I do not know that I wish to know the future. Perhaps they are better forgotten."

"Please forgive me," Aditu said to him. "Someone wanted those words spoken. And I do not think they portend ill. Your children seem fated for great things."

"I am not sure that any such portent could be good," Josua replied. "I, for one, have had quite enough of great things." He moved to Isgrimnur's side and helped the duke to rise.

When they were in the corridor again, Isgrimnur asked: "Do you think that was a true prophesy?"

Josua shook his head. "I have been living with dreams and omens too long to say it could not be, but as with all such things, it no doubt has its tricks and twists." He sighed. "Mother of Mercy, old friend, it seems that even my children will not be free of the mysteries that plague us."

Isgrimnur could think of nothing to say to comfort the prince. Instead, he changed the subject. "So Varellan has surrendered. I wish I had been there to see the end of the battle. And is Camaris well? And Hotvig and the rest?"

"Both wounded, but not seriously. We are in surprisingly good strength, thanks to Seriddan and the other Nabbanai barons."

"So we march on to the city itself. Where do you think Benigaris will try to draw his line?"

Bent beneath Isgrimnur's broad arm, the prince shrugged. "I do not know. But he will draw it, never fear-and we may not come out of that battle so luckily. I do not like to think about fighting house to house down the peninsula."

"We will get the lay of the land, Josua, then decide." As they reached his bedside, Isgrimnur found himself looking forward to getting into bed as eagerly as a young man might antic.i.p.ate a day free from ch.o.r.es.

You're turning soft, he told himself. But at this moment, he did not care. It would be good to lay his aching bones down.

"The children are splendid, Josua." He adjusted himself on the pallet. "Do not fret on Aditu's words."

"I always fret," the prince said, smiling weakly. "Just as you always bl.u.s.ter."

"Are we really so set in our habits?" Isgrimnur yawned to cover a grimace at the fierce aching of his ribs and back. "Then maybe it is time for the young ones to push us aside."

"We must leave them a better world than this one if we can. We have made a terrible muck of the one we were given." He took Isgrimnur's hand for a moment. "Sleep now, old friend."

Isgrimnur watched the prince walk out, happy to see that some of the bounce still remained in his step.

I hope you get the chance to see those two children grow. And that they get to do it in that better world you spoke of.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, waiting for the welcome embrace of sleep.

18.

The Shadow King

Simon's entire life had shrunk to the length of two arms, his and the king's. The room was dark. Elias held him in a cold-fingered grip as unbreakable as any manacle. had shrunk to the length of two arms, his and the king's. The room was dark. Elias held him in a cold-fingered grip as unbreakable as any manacle.

"Speak." The voice was accompanied by a puff of vapor like dragon-spume, although Simon's own breath was invisible. "Who are you?"

Simon struggled for words, but could make no sound. This was a nightmare, a terrible dream from which he could not awaken.

"Speak, d.a.m.n you. Who are you?" The faint gleam of the king's eyes narrowed, almost vanishing into the shadows that hid his face.

"N-n-n.o.body," Simon stammered. "I ... I'm n-n.o.body...."

"Are you?" There was note of sour amus.e.m.e.nt. "And what brings you here?"

Simon's head was empty of thoughts or excuses. "Nothing."

"You are n.o.body ... and your business is nothing." Elias laughed quietly, a sound like parchment being torn. "Then you certainly belong in this place, with all the other nameless ones." He tugged Simon a step closer. "Let me look at you."

Simon was forced in turn to look directly at the king. It was hard to see him clearly in the faint light, but Simon thought he did not look quite human. There was a sheen to his pale arm, faint as the glow of swamp water, and although the chamber was dank and very cold, all of Elias' skin that Simon could see was beaded with moisture. Still, for all his fevered look, the king's arm was knotted with muscle and his grip was like stone.

A shadowy something lay against the king's leg, long and black. A sheath. Simon could feel the thing that was in it, the sensation as faint yet unmistakable as a voice calling from far away. Its song reached deep into the secret part of his thoughts ... but he knew he could not let it fascinate him. His real danger was far more immediate.

"Young, I see," Elias said slowly. "And fair-skinned. What are you, one of Pryrates' Black Rimmersmen? Or Thrithings-folk?"

Simon shook his head but said nothing.

"It is all the same to me," Elias murmured. "Whatever tools Pryrates chooses for his work, it is all the same to me." He squinted at Simon's face. "Ah, I see you flinch. Of course I know why you are here." He laughed harshly. "That d.a.m.ned priest has his spies everywhere-why would he not have one in his own tower, where he keeps secrets that he will not show even to his master, the king?"

Elias' clutch loosened for a moment. Simon's heart sped again in antic.i.p.ation that he might be able to make a try for freedom, but the king was only settling himself in a different position; before Simon could do more than think about escape, the claw tightened again.

But it's something to watch for, Simon told himself, struggling to keep hope from dying. Oh, if he does, I pray I can get the door downstairs open again! Oh, if he does, I pray I can get the door downstairs open again!

A sudden tug on his arm dragged Simon to his knees.

"Down, boy, where I can see you without stretching my neck. Your king is tired and his bones ache." There was a moment of silence. "Strange. You do not have the face of a Rimmersman or Thrithings-rider. You look more like one of my Erkynlandish peasants. That red hair! But they say that the gra.s.slanders were of Erkynland once, long ago...."

The sense of being in a dream returned. How could the king see the color of his hair in this darkness? Simon struggled to make his breathing even, to keep his fear down. He had faced a dragon-a real dragon, not a human one like this-and he had also survived in the black dreadfulness of the tunnels. He must keep his wits about him and watch for any opportunity.

"Once all of Erkynland-all of the lands of Osten Ard-were like the gra.s.slands," Elias hissed. "Nothing but petty tribes squabbling over pastureland, horse-stealing savages." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly; the odor was strangely like metal. "It took a strong hand to change that. It takes a strong hand to build a kingdom. Do you not think that the hill-folk of Nabban cried and wailed when the Imperator's guardsmen first came? But their children were thankful, and their children's children would have had it no other way...."

Simon could make no sense of the king's rambling, but felt a fluttering of hope as the deep voice trailed off and silence fell. After waiting for a score of rapid heartbeats, Simon pulled as gently as he could, but his arm was still held. The king's eyes were hooded and his chin appeared to have sunk onto his chest. But he was not sleeping.

"And look what my father built," Elias said abruptly. His eyes opened wide, as though he could see beyond the shadowed room and its disturbing furniture. "An empire such as the old Nabbanai masters only dreamed about. He carved it out with his sword, then protected it from jealous men and vengeful immortals. Aedon be praised, but he was a man-a man! man!" The king's fingers tightened on Simon's wrist until it felt as though the bones were grinding together. Simon let out a gasp of pain. "And he gave it to me to tend, just the way one of your peasant ancestors pa.s.sed his son a small patch of land and a raddled cow. My father gave me the world! But that was not enough-no, it was not enough that I hold his kingdom, that I keep its borders strong, that I protect it from those who would take it away again. No, that is only part of ruling. Only part. And it is not enough."

Elias seemed completely lost now, droning away as if to an old friend. Simon wondered if he was drunk, but there was no liquor on his breath, only that strange leaden smell. Simon's sense of being trapped rose again, choking him. Would he be kept here by the mad king until Pryrates returned? Or would Elias tire of talking and administer king's justice himself to the captured spy?

"This is what your master Pryrates will never understand," Elias continued. "Loyalty. Loyalty to a person, or loyalty to a cause. Do you think he cares what happens to you? Of course you don't-even a peasant lad like you is not so thick. It would be hard to spend a moment in the alchemist's company without knowing his only loyalty is to himself. And that is where he does not understand me. He only serves me because I have power: if he could wield the power himself, he would happily slit my throat." Elias laughed. "Or he would try, in any case. I wish he would would try. But I have a greater loyalty, to my father and to the kingdom he built, and I would suffer any pain for it." His voice broke suddenly; for a moment, Simon felt sure the king would weep. "I try. But I have a greater loyalty, to my father and to the kingdom he built, and I would suffer any pain for it." His voice broke suddenly; for a moment, Simon felt sure the king would weep. "I have have suffered. G.o.d Himself knows that I have. Suffered like the d.a.m.ned souls roasting in h.e.l.l. I have not slept ... have not slept ..." suffered. G.o.d Himself knows that I have. Suffered like the d.a.m.ned souls roasting in h.e.l.l. I have not slept ... have not slept ..."

Again the king fell silent. Made wary by the last such pause, Simon did not move, despite the dull throbbing of his knees pressed against the hard stone floor.

When he spoke again, Elias' voice had lost some of its harshness; he sounded almost like an ordinary man. "Look you, boy, how many years do you have? Fifteen? Twenty? If Hylissa had lived, she might have borne me a son like you. She was beautiful ... shy as a young colt, but beautiful. We never had a son. That was the problem, you know. He might have been your age now. Then none of this would have happened." He pulled Simon closer; then, horribly, he rested a cold hand atop Simon's head as though performing some ritual blessing. Sorrow's double-guarded hilt was only a few inches away from Simon's arm. There was something dreadful about the sword, and the idea that it might touch his flesh made Simon want to pull away screaming, but he was even more terrified by what might happen if he woke the king from this strange speaking dream. He held his arm rigid, and did not move even as Elias began slowly to stroke his hair, though it sent chills down his neck.

"A son. That is what I needed. One that I could have raised as my father raised me, a son that could understand what was needed. Daughters ..." He paused and took several rasping breaths. "I had a daughter. Once. But a daughter is not the same. You must hope that the man she marries will understand, will have the right blood, for he will be the one who rules. And what man who is not his own flesh and blood can a father trust to inherit the world? Still, I would have tried. I would have tried ... but she would not have it. d.a.m.ned, insolent child!" His voice rose. "I gave her everything-I gave her life, curse her! But she ran away! And everything fell to ashes. Where was my son? Where was he?"

The king's hand tightened in Simon's hair until it seemed he must tear it loose from the scalp. Simon bit his lip to keep silent, frightened again by the turn Elias' madness had taken. The voice from the shadows of the chair was growing louder. "Where have you been? I waited until I could not wait any longer. Then I had to make my own arrangements. A king cannot wait, you see. Where were you? A king cannot wait. Otherwise things begin to fall apart. Things fall apart, and everything my father gave me would be lost." His voice rose to a shout. "Lost!" "Lost!" Elias leaned forward until his face was only a handbreadth from Simon's. "Lost!" he hissed, staring. His face was glossy with sweat. "Because you did not come!" Elias leaned forward until his face was only a handbreadth from Simon's. "Lost!" he hissed, staring. His face was glossy with sweat. "Because you did not come!"

A rabbit in the fox's jaw, Simon waited, heart hammering. When the king's hand loosened in his hair he ducked his head, waiting for the blow to fall.

"But Pryrates came to me," Elias whispered. "He had failed me in his first task, but he came to me with words, words like smoke. There was a way to make things right." He snorted. "I knew that he only wanted power. Don't you see, that is what a king does, my son. He uses those who seek to use him. him. That is the way of it. That is what my father taught me, so listen well. I have used him as he has used me. But now his little plan is unraveling and he thinks to hide it from me. But I have my own ways of knowing, do you see? And I need no spies, no peasant boys skulking about. Even did I not hear the voices that howl through the sleepless nights, still the king is no fool. What is this trip to Wentmouth, that Pryrates should go there yet again even as the red star is rising? What is at Wentmouth but a hill and a harbor flame? What is to be done there that has not been done already? He says it is part of the great design, but I do not believe him. I do not believe him." That is the way of it. That is what my father taught me, so listen well. I have used him as he has used me. But now his little plan is unraveling and he thinks to hide it from me. But I have my own ways of knowing, do you see? And I need no spies, no peasant boys skulking about. Even did I not hear the voices that howl through the sleepless nights, still the king is no fool. What is this trip to Wentmouth, that Pryrates should go there yet again even as the red star is rising? What is at Wentmouth but a hill and a harbor flame? What is to be done there that has not been done already? He says it is part of the great design, but I do not believe him. I do not believe him."

Elias was panting now, hunched over with his shoulders moving as though he tried to swallow and could not. Simon leaned away, but his arm was still firmly prisoned. He thought that if he flung himself backward as hard as he could he might break free, but the idea of what would happen if he failed-if he only brought the king's attention back to where he was and what he was doing-was enough to make him stay shivering on his knees beside the chair. Then the king's next words pushed thought of escape from his mind.