A Flame in Hali (54 page)

Dyannis had not given much thought to her return to Hali Tower, beyond her longing to take up the work she loved among the people who had been her dearest friends. Since she had first come to Hali as a very young woman, she had never been away for this long. The Tower and its community had remained unchanged in her mind, while her own life had gone on. Quickly she realized her very absence had created a change. She was welcomed with warmth, but her place in the circle had been taken by others, her quarters had been occupied by someone else; relationships had shifted, work had been completed, messages had been sent and received.

When Rorie commented on how she had changed, she shrugged. He meant that he found her cold and distant. She shrank from his overtures, unsure how to avoid causing pain. Seeing him, hearing his voice, she felt more confused than before, and she could not afford the distraction of such emotions, not when all her concentration must be focused on her training.

Night by night, Dyannis worked within the circle, learning the skills of an under-Keeper. It was not unlike the role she had played in rebuilding the walls of Cedestri Tower, only this time she was fully aware of what she did. When she was not working in the circle, she studied with either Raimon or Varzil. She would tumble into bed, too exhausted to do anything but sleep. Even if she had wanted a personal relationship with Rorie, she had neither the time nor the energy.

L
ord Brynon Aillard’s entourage descended from the gentle slopes of Kirella into the heart of the Plains of Valeron. Winds swept down upon them, edged with the dust that arose from the vast fields of wheat and tall-grass. When they stopped to rest their horses, Eduin stood in the stirrups, looking in every direction at the endless rippling gold. Valeron was unlike any place he had ever seen. Without mountain or forest to delineate the horizon, the sky seemed enormous. He felt as if he were suspended between heaven and earth.

Sometimes they saw dry lightning in the distance. The wind shifted, bearing the acrid taste of ozone. Eduin glanced north, toward the far Hellers and Aldaran, whose wizards were reputed to summon storms from a clear sky. He remembered the strange weather that had afflicted Thendara in the days before the riot at Hali Lake. How long ago that seemed, he thought, and how many things had happened since. Here, in the vast flatness of the Valeron Plains, nature held sway, dwarfing petty human concerns.

He felt a change in the air some days before the city of Valeron came into view. The height and texture of the grasses altered, more gray-tinged green than the dull gold of the Plains. The horses mouthed their bits and picked up their pace. The air seemed fresher, moister, tinged with the aromatic scents of growing things he could not name but which evoked a subtle resonance.

Eduin first spied the city of Valeron toward sundown, when for a moment, the light of the great Bloody Sun bathed its towers. On the far horizon, in the bend of the distant river, the city glowed like copper and brass, silver and steel. He held his breath, straining against the brightness. It hurt his eyes to gaze directly at it.

Saravio, riding just behind him, spoke, but Eduin scarcely heard the words. When he looked back at the city, the light had shifted, leaving only ordinary stone in the setting sun.

The following day, they reached the city walls and Castle Aillard. Behind them lay the Plains and before them, an expanse of salt marshes cut by the River Valeron. They passed army encampments and a field where three aircars sat, their sides scored with lines of greasy smoke.

At the gates, guards demanded their names and bade them wait while word was taken up to the castle. They proceeded through a city filled with preparations for the festival of Midsummer. Garlands and bright pennons, many in the Aillard colors of scarlet and gray, hung from every doorway and balcony. Peddlers and merchants thronged the streets, selling flowers, fruit, and the gaily-beribboned baskets that were traditional gifts for female relatives.

The castle itself was set on the only high place for leagues around. Its battlements, also bedecked in holiday finery, commanded a view in all directions. One turret in particular rose above the others, separated from the main structure. It was, Eduin learned from one of the Kirella guards, the home of a small Tower.

Eduin lowered his
laran
barriers minutely, listening for any mental activity from the Tower. He sensed several matrix lattices of the sort used to charge batteries for the aircars, apparatus for making
clingfire
as well as the more ordinary sort of fire-bombs, and relay screens to send messages to other Towers. The few minds he sensed were either deep in slumber or else so focused on other matters as to be unaware of his presence. The rulers of Valeron were clearly confident of their invulnerability to attack. He must persuade them that they did, indeed, have an enemy.

Once within the castle walls, a steward came forth to give directions for the stowing of baggage, the feeding and stabling of their animals, and the housing for both the noble family and their attendants. The Kirella guards were directed to the barracks in another area of the city, all except those few Lord Brynon kept for his personal use.

“We will attend the Lady tonight,” Lord Brynon told Eduin just before they separated. “Be ready to come with me. Even though it is Midsummer Festival, we have sterner business to conduct.”

Eduin nodded, satisfied that Lord Brynon was prepared to introduce the issue of Varzil’s conspiracy at the first opportunity. With the might of Valeron aimed at his destruction, not even the legendary Keeper of Neskaya could long escape. Sooner or later, Varzil must leave his Tower fortress, perhaps on some mission for Carolin.

The Aillards were a matrilineal clan, and Queen Julianna held full rights in the
Comyn
Council, as much as any lord. Eduin had known great ladies before, although most of them derived their status from important kinsmen. In his years at Arilinn, and then at Hali and Hestral, he had been introduced to Lady Liriel Hastur and Maura Elhalyn, who was now Carolin’s Queen.

The presence chamber was a small one, austere in its furnishings. The style was unfamiliar, the wooden chairs gray or gold, simply shaped with clean soaring lines, the cushions and tapestries in pale, muted colors, unlike the dark, rich ornamentation of the court at Hali.

This evening, only a few counselors stood in attendance. Eduin sensed the trained
laran
of one of them, a woman who appeared to be only a few years older than Romilla. She held herself apart from the others with the composure and slightly distracted air he remembered in Maura Elhalyn when he first met her. He had best be on his guard.

Eduin turned his attention back to Julianna Aillard. With her thick body, unadorned black gown, and taut mouth, she conceded little to the softness of a courtly lady. Chestnut hair frosted with white was coiled low on her neck in a severe, old-fashioned style. Her throne was tall and high-backed, carved from wood polished to a faintly iridescent sheen. Behind her and to one side stood a younger woman, alike but for the untouched brightness of her hair and the steel-slim figure.

Lord Brynon stepped forward as the herald announced him, halted a respectful distance before Queen Julianna, and bowed. She watched him, her expression unreadable. Then she gestured for him to rise and, coming forward, held out her hands in a kinswoman’s greeting.

“I am sorry you could not be with us last Midwinter, as has been our custom,” Julianna said. Her voice had an odd, husky quality, lower in pitch than most women’s. “A joy lessened at one time is increased at another. You are most welcome to Valeron.”

“I am honored to be here, kinswoman,” he replied, “yet our joy must be tempered with consideration of recent events. I have come not only to celebrate, but to take counsel with you.”

“If you mean the dreadful events at Isoldir, rest assured that at the proper time, we will speak of them. For tonight, however, be at your ease.” The Lady of Valeron shifted her focus from the single man standing before her to encompass his entire retinue. “May the season lighten all your hearts. Let us feast together and, in due time, hear your concerns.”

Lord Brynon bowed and made ready to withdraw. He had clearly been dismissed and must bide the Queen’s pleasure. Any objection might well jeopardize his welcome.

The next days passed with preparations for the festivities, rest for Romilla and her ladies, and care of the men and beasts. Although Eduin chafed at the delay, he was powerless to hurry an audience with the Queen.

Eduin used the time to become acquainted with the household staff. He had not realized before the advantages of an inferior position. Maids and underlings were willing to speak to him with a frankness they would never have shown to either a courtier or a
laranzu
.

Eduin’s experience working in the stables at Thendara gave him an ease born of familiarity with those who tended the horses. He soon found a groom eager to exchange news and gossip.

“A little over a year ago,” the man said, leaning on his pitchfork as he paused in mucking out the stall for Romilla’s fine palfrey, “the folk at Isoldir sent an aircar at us, carrying all manner of vile sorcery. Now, we hadn’t been exactly friendly, but there weren’t no call to do such a thing. Sneaking cowards, the lot of them. Zandru’s own luck were with us, though, for the Lady sent out our own and shot it down. Story was, they blew it to bits, scattered for leagues around and all its poison with it.”

Eduin agreed this was indeed a stroke of luck.

“Then what was we to do? Let them have another shot at us?” The stableman shook his head, digging the tines of the fork deep into the hay to scatter it over the wooden floor.

“How could you?” Eduin said, coarsening his own accent. “Let a nest of scorpion-ants grow, and next thing you know, they’ll be coming up under your house.”

“Exactly what I think. But the Lady, she held off. She sent to fire-bomb their Tower, all right, so they could make no more terrible weapons, but she left the castle and villages and all.”

“Why would she hold back? Is she not afeared that Isoldir will rise against her once more?”

“Ah, but any who’d think that don’t know our Lady. Tough as salt, she is. Besides, there’s many a man, both here and there, who’s asleep nights in his own home with his own family that would otherwise be meat for
kyorebni
.” The man spat in the corner and bent once more to his work.

That very night, Julianna Aillard held an informal council with Lord Brynon, Lady Romilla, and her most trusted councillors. Her brother and general, Marzan of Valeron, attended, along with two of his lieutenants. They sat around a table in a chamber that was clearly a working office, perhaps the very same from which the counterattack upon Isoldir had been planned. The Queen’s daughter, Marelie, stood behind her chair, watching and listening, following every gesture and nuance with a touch of
laran
.

Upon their arrival at Valeron, Saravio had sunk into a lethargy and was not yet sufficiently recovered to attend. Eduin found himself relegated to standing behind Lord Brynon, like a common attendant. Other than Marelie, who used her untrained
laran
without any awareness of what she was doing and probably thought of it as intuition, none of the council had any psychic abilities. Queen Julianna and her heir both had enough latent talent to be accepted by the
Comyn
Council, but neither had spent any time at a Tower. Valentina Aillard, whom Eduin had known in his years at Arilinn, was the daughter of a collateral branch; he had also met her cousin, Ellimara, at Hali. The talent ran deep in the Aillard bloodline, but in this generation, at least, all energies had been turned to the ruling of the land.