Master and Fool (35 page)

"I will look
into it, Your Eminence," said Gamil, placing slices of calf on a platter.

The sight of red
meat heartened the archbishop. "Have we any news about Annis?"

"Nothing's
changed, Your Eminence. It's a very strange situation. The backbone of the Four
Kingdoms' army is still camped outside the city. They're engaging in a sort of
halfhearted siege: keeping a round-the-clock watch on the walls, whilst never
getting close enough to incur any damage."

"It's not
strange at all, Gamil. It's brilliant. By laying siege to Annis, Kylock is not
only wearing the good people of the city down, but he's also preventing their
army from fighting at Bren. No man is going to leave his home to fight someone
else's battle when his own country is in danger." Tavalisk took the
platter from Gamil. "Kylock is effectively keeping Annis under lock and
key. And it's costing him nothing to do so."

Tavalisk speared a
chunk of meat with his little silver skewer. "What worries me is that at
any point Kylock could give the order for his troops to up stakes and cross the
mountains. Now, if that happens, the Highwall army is in serious danger of
being outflanked."

Gamil nodded
slowly. "Yes, Your Eminence does have a point."

Tavalisk certainly
did have a point, and he used it now to spear Gamil's arm. "If I wanted
condescension, Gamil, I would go to God. Not you." Removing the silver
skewer from his aide's flesh, Tavalisk said, "Slip of the wrist, Gamil, I
had intended to spear the calf."

Gamil did not look
pleased.

"Come on now,
Gamil. Stop sulking. It was only an accident." Feeling a tiny bit
contrite, the archbishop offered his napkin to wipe away the blood, then
quickly changed the subject. "So, is Maybor's daughter still under lock
and key?"

Gamil got what
revenge he could by bleeding profusely onto the silk napkin. "No one has
heard anything about her since Lord Maybor left the city, Your Eminence.
Baralis and Kylock are both denying knowing anything about the abduction.
They're claiming that Maybor is a madman."

"But they do
have her, though?"

"Either that
or they've already killed her."

"It makes no
difference to us if she's alive or dead, Gamil. As long as no one can be sure
what has become of her, we can still go on fighting in her name." Tavalisk
ran a chubby finger along the rim of the platter. "Has she any support
within the city?"

Gamil shook his
head. "Anyone who openly supports the Lady Melliandra is seized by
Kylock's forces and hanged by the neck. The executions are carried out in
public for all the city to see."

"Hmm. And
what of those who support the good lady in secret?"

"A fair
number of noblemen have gone missing in the past months, Your Eminence. They
disappear from their quarters in the middle of the night, leaving friends and
family frantic."

"Missing,
eh?" Tavalisk's smile was almost wistful. Gamil cleared his throat.
"I did take the liberty of having our spies look into the matter, Your
Eminence. I've learned that Kylock has secret intelligence sources placed
throughout the city Any lord who as much as breathes Melliandra's name over the
dinner table is likely to disappear."

Tavalisk sighed.
"Too bad. If Kylock wasn't cracking down so hard, I'm sure the city would
be liable to turn tail."

"Lord Maybor
is causing quite a fuss in the Highwall camp, though, Your Eminence. He's got
all sorts of plans to infiltrate the city and bring the siege to an early end."

Tavalisk waved an
I told you so. "I always knew the time would come when he would need my
help, Gamil. See to it that he gets whatever manpower and resources he
requires. Might as well let him have a go. The Highwall generals have been
sadly lacking in brilliance so far. A few wall breaches are nothing to get
excited about."

"Very well,
Your Eminence. If there is nothing further, may I take my leave?"

"By all
means." Tavalisk smiled like a concerned passerby. "I'd pay a visit
to the surgeon on the way out, if I were you, Gamil. That cut looks like it
might need a stitching."

Melli forced
herself to eat the last of the bread. She had no water left, so she swallowed
it dry. Next, she turned her attention to the pork joint. It was mostly skin
and fat, but she tore away at it as if it were the finest meat. She didn't want
to, but she
had
to. And she would eat a lot worse if it came to it.

The light was
beginning to fail. A thin streak of gold caught the edge of the arrow loop, and
Melli knew from experience that it would soon fade away. The anticipation of
darkness was the worst thing of all--much worse than the darkness itself. At
this time Melli always felt tense. She would look around the small curved room,
memorizing. Then she would make last-minute adjustments, moving her bowl,
shifting the straw, chasing the beetles from the bench. Last of all, just as
the daylight skimmed softly out of sight, she would glance down at her belly
and whisper words of comfort to her child.

True darkness is
hard to come by. Melli had spent every night of her life in the dark, but the
darkness of a comfortable chamber-with candlelight creeping under the door and
embers glowing softly in the hearth-was a world apart from the darkness she
knew now. Some nights it was like being in a grave. If you can't see your hand
in front of your face, it's easy to believe you don't exist. That was how Melli
felt when there was no moon-as if somehow the world had passed her by.

So the words of
comfort were really for herself, but it suited her to pretend they were for the
child.

Melli now kept
track of the moon. Tonight she was expecting a full one. Whether or not she
would see it depended on the clouds. The great lake often allowed sunlight in
the day, only to send the clouds in overnight. Melli hadn't yet come up with a
way of predicting the cloud cover, but she always knew when it would rain.

Being pregnant had
done it. When her ankles began to ache with a needling fussy pain and her legs
swelled slowly like rising dough, then it was a sure sign that the skies were
going to open, and icy little droplets would soon come spitting through the
loop.

Facing the lake as
it did, the arrow loop was an open invitation to the wind and the rain. For the
first week or so it was warm. Flies would buzz up from the water and the sun
would warm the back of the stone. Now, a month later, the weather was
changeable. Suffering from the growing pains of winter, it couldn't really
decide what it wanted to do: one minute it would rain and howl, the next the
sun would come out and cast a remorseful rainbow across the lake. Yesterday
there had even been hailstones.

The nights were
always cold. Bren was at the mercy of the mountains after dark. The temperature
dropped sharply and the wind stopped blowing and started cutting, instead.

Once, Melli had
attempted to block the arrow loop off with her shawl. It hadn't worked. The
wind just blew it back against the wall.

Melli tried to
keep track of the days as best she could. At first she had made marks against
the stone: one line for every day. But after two weeks the lines began to mount
up, and what had started out as a record began to take on the look of a last
will and testament. She imagined people finding her body and shaking their
heads sadly as they counted all the lines.

For the most part,
Melli tried to keep macabre thoughts at the back of her mind. She told herself
that if they were going to kill her, they would surely have done it by now.

She was brought
food and water once a day. Two guards came. One unlocked the door, let his
friend with the tray pass, and then held a halberd in her face until
yesterday's tray and chamberpot had been retrieved. Melli had tried asking them
for warm clothes, candles, and some wood to block the loop, but they didn't
acknowledge her voice. Wouldn't even look her in the eyes. Obviously they were
under strict orders from someone. Someone they were so scared of that they
hardly dared to breathe in her presence, lest they risk provoking the man's
displeasure.

Baralis. It was no
other. There was no one to match him when it came to breeding fear. He was
certainly doing a good job on her. If he had come to visit her just once--if
only to refuse her requests, or gloat over her ever-worsening state--then she
would have feared him less. She could hold her own with any man. She knew that
if she saw Baralis in person, the myth she had created in his absence would be
dispelled.

But he didn't
come. And so her mind created a monster and his motives, and she had a nagging
little feeling that that had been his intention all along. He wanted her to be
afraid. It pleased him: fear was at the heart of his power.

He didn't get it
all his own way, though. No, not at all. She was strong. It would take more
than solitude and walls of rounded stone to break her back. They fed her slops;
she ate them. They refused to bring her blankets; she did without them. They
took away the light, and like a fungus she flourished in the dark. She would
not give in to Baralis and his henchmen. She and her baby were not merely
surviving, they were growing tougher and more vital by the day.

Melli heard a
distant banging. She paid it no attentionwith the siege going on the night was
full of noises. The banging came again, nearer this time. Mew stood very still.

This was no
Highwall siege engine. Light as thin as smoke crept under the door. Someone was
coming.

All her earlier
bravado drained away faster than water down a grate. No one ever came at night.
No one.

The banging turned
into distinct footsteps. The light was now a band around the door. Melli
steadied herself against the stone wall. She was shaking. There was something
hard blocking her throat. She drew her hand down to her belly and lifted her
head high as the key turned in the lock.

The door swung
open. Melli was dazzled by the light. A figure stood in the doorway. From his
shape, she knew it was Baralis. Slowly, he drew the lantern up to his face.

"So, what did
you really feel when you saw the ocean?" Tawl sat hunched close to the
fire. The longbow was to his left and the arrows were to his right. He tended
the fire, but his eyes looked to the hills.

Nabber was
sleeping. He'd grown quickly bored of the archery. Wrapping himself up in all
the good blankets, he had extracted solemn promises from both Tawl and Jack to
wake him up if anything happened, and then promptly fell asleep. That was about
an hour ago now, and Nabber's vibrant snoring could currently be heard above
the breeze.

It was very bright
on the bluff. The full moon shone on the chalky cliffs and the ash-colored
rocks and then bounced the light created down to the hills below. There weren't
many nights like this in the year. Nights when there was enough light to teach
a man archery by.

Jack was on the
opposite side of the fire. He lay on his blanket and looked up at the stars. He
didn't answer Tawl's question.

Perhaps he hadn't
heard. It was late, he was tired, the wind might have blown the question out to
sea. Tawl didn't repeat it. They had both had a long day.

Searching in his
pack, Tawl pulled out a small jar of beeswax. He scooped some into a cloth and
began to work it into the bow. The best way to stay awake all night was never
to let your hands or mind be idle.

"It was like
recognizing a long lost friend."

At first Tawl
didn't realize what Jack was talking about. The question had drifted from his
thoughts.

Jack continued
speaking. "I knew it. The smells, the sound, the colors-they were all
familiar, and yet"-with his hand, he made a small helpless
gesture--"strange. Foreign. Like something I'd dreamt about long
ago."

Jack's voice
sounded small and lost. Tawl had to remind himself that he was little more than
a boy. Not through his twentieth year yet. He'd been given no choice, no
guidance. Nothing to prepare him for what was to come. Yet he was here anyway,
trying very hard to appear calm on the outside, while he quietly worked through
the chaos underneath.

Tawl wiped the wax
from his fingers. It was different for him-he'd had years to prepare for this.
Bevlin had given him plenty of warning. And at the end of the day, it was
always his choice to be a knight, to search for truth and honor, to take risks
and "find merit in
the eyes of God."
Jack had no creed to
follow.

He was on his own.

"Tawl, tell
me the prophecy again."

The request took
Tawl by surprise. It was the last thing he expected. Glancing quickly over at
Jack, he saw that the boy was still looking at the stars.

Tawl began to say
the prophecy:

"When
men
of
honor lose sight
of their cause . . . "

As he spoke the first
line, Tawl heard his voice faltering. The words might have been written for him
alone:
he
was the one who had lost sight of his allegiances and his
oaths. He was the one who had brought the knighthood into disrepute. Not Tyren,
as Nabber had tried to tell him, but
he
himself.

Tawl swallowed
hard. The pain was always there inside him-it never got any smaller, or hurt
any less, just shifted gradually into discernible layers: each one a band of
steel around his heart. Dropping his gaze to the ground, Tawl took two deep
breaths to calm himself before continuing. No matter how hard things got, he
had no choice but to carry on.

"When
three bloods are savored in one day
Two houses will meet in wedlock and wealth
And what forms at the join is decay
A man will come with neither father nor mother"

As Tawl paused to
take a speaking breath, Jack shifted his position on his blanket, moving closer
toward the fire. The light from the flames fell upon his hair, brightening it
with colors that the moonlight had all but robbed. Colors of chestnut and gold
Tawl's mind skimmed over the next line of verse.