Nor Iron Bars A Cage (15 page)

“No.”

Now we were getting somewhere. Assuming we were actually talking about the same falls, and he had some similar idea of a horse’s pace.

“North or south of the falls?”

I could feel him fight the compulsion, and saw one of the King’s Mages sway and put a hand to his head. Xan was strong and stubborn, for a shade. Eventually he ground out,
“North.”

“Yes.” King Faro’s exclamation came out with a hiss. He took a step closer to me. “Ask for a description, more details.”

“What shape is the mouth of the cave where the men came out?”

“I saw it from above.”

“Is there a notable rock formation there that marks it?”

“All rocks in my mountains are notable.”

“What rock was closest then?”

“The one I call the Roadbeast.”

“What do others call it?”

“Flatlanders do not name rocks, or if they do, the names are wrong.”

I breathed in and out through my nose, centering myself. The ghost was becoming fainter, his legs fading under the strain of the spell. Tobin bumped my shoulder very lightly.

The king said, “Ask what he could see from his perch then, what landmarks.”

Xan answered,
“From all places, one can see the Horns of the Gods.”

“Which mountain was closest then?”

“Skygod’s Knife.”

No modern mountain bore that name, at least that I knew of. Maybe someone else would know it.
“And when you looked out at the plains, what could you see?”

“Flat uninteresting land crawling with small-eyed people.”

I was just giving him an excuse to insult us.
“Is there a trail into the hills at that place?”

“No.”

“How far to the nearest trail towards a pass?”

“Two hands of bowshots, or near enough.”

About a mile then. A thought occurred to me.
“Does the place itself have a name?”

He resisted, grinding out,
“Why are you asking me all this?”

I didn’t want to answer with specifics but perhaps if he fought me less it would be worth it.
“We fear another invasion, coming soon. Many would die, women and children as well as men.”

“Flatlanders all.”

“Perhaps not— we have a treaty with your descendants.”
It contained nothing but a cease-fire, nothing that would bring them into the fight, but although I could not lie under the context of the spell, I could bend the truth.

“Fools. Treaties with flatlanders end in death.”

I was clearly not going to gain his sympathy. I asked again,
“Does the place have a name?”

He wavered, going thinner than smoke, even put his hands over his mouth, but in the end he said,
“Beasumblean.”

It was a jumble to my ears. Most place names held some sense of their main feature— like Riverrun, or Tallribbon— this sounded like nonsense.
“Repeat it.”

“Beasumblean.”

My mind caught the even-more-archaic term for water—
beasu.
“By the water?”

“Water. Yes.”
He suddenly flung his arms wide.
“Strike me now. I care not. They died, all of them, and could not be saved. I hope you all slay each other and your bones rot in the foothills, food for crows!”
And then he was gone, and all the candles snuffed out as one.

The sorcerers staggered at the sudden release of tension. The youngest sat on the floor, right where he was. The oldest ran a shaking hand over his face.

The king demanded, “Bring him back!”

Firstmage shook his head. “We would only strain ourselves and the ghost, to no benefit. We need to rest and he needs to remain on the other side for a while, to regain strength on both our parts, before we try again.”

“How long?”

“Two days. Perhaps three.”

“Damnation!”

Firstmage said, “We might well get no more information from him in any case. He apparently has no love for us and was being obscure. The harder we press him the faster he fades.”

The king frowned harder. “Any more delay is a risk at this point. The latest news I had from the east had to come around the coast, and the boat trip is long. The intelligence is a nearly a month old. The Prince Regent has had that time to complete his plans while we struggle to catch up with him here. And if he attacks that way this year, it will surely be very soon, before we would expect trouble from that direction. Both sides usually ignore the mountain border as long as the snow block the passes. But in another few weeks he’d expect us to step up our patrols again.” The king paced, two steps away and back, while we all waited on his decisions.

Tobin moved further behind me and I turned fast, so I could keep him in my sight. The motion made my head spin. He frowned, but when I set my shoulder to his, he stood firm and let me lean against him. My knees began to shake. It was over and I’d done what was asked of me. I’d actually queried a ghost again, and met my king’s commands. I’d succeeded. Now other people would do the rest, and I could go home. The relief was making me lightheaded.

King Faro turned to me. “So, scholar. You heard his words directly. You believe there is such a place and that it lies somewhere north of Tallribbon? Less than sixty miles, more than, say, fifteen? That does fit the general area of the first battle of the invasion. And he said about a mile from some mountain path that climbs the hills. And near water.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I felt I had to add, “We don’t know what he considers a fast horse. And any path that existed that long ago may be gone now, although the falls appear to endure.”

“This name he spoke, that you said meant water. Can you do anything render it any more clearly?”

I cleared my throat and tried to call back my scattering wits. “
Beasumblean,
he said. The first part means water. The rest…” I tried to think. For once my ill-gotten knowledge was failing me when it counted most.
Umblean, m’blean, lean.
That last word had a dozen meanings in as many tongues. The second, though— “It’s possible that
m’blean
means going through or between. There is a similar form in the more modern language.
Shae m’bleanne—
to pass through an archway or door, or between gateposts. I’m sorry. That’s as close as I get.”

“So it might mean, ‘between the waters’? There might be a fork in the river or two rivers there?”

“Maybe. It’s no more than a guess, though.”

“It’s more than we had. My fault.” He slammed a fist into his palm. “I should have had faith a friend of Tobin’s would know his work, and prepared better. I’d despaired of getting a word of sense from the shade, until all I hoped for was that you could get some hint of confirmation that such a tunnel existed. Now to find he actually saw it firsthand! I should have had a map made ready, with the places of antiquity marked, and all the main features. We might have compelled him to show us the place.”

Firstmage said, “We could still try that. We’ll have to think on the best way to do so. We might hold up the map and point, perhaps, if he will not speak plainly. Or play the game of hot and cold. He might be compelled to a simple yes or no.”

The king’s voice was bitter. “We expected the worst and failed to plan for the best, and lost this chance. We
must
make the very clearest use of the next one. We’ll take counsel together in an hour.” He turned to me. “You did well, Lyon of Riverrun— or of nowhere.” His smile was wry. “As you choose. I’m more than impressed with your skill.”

I managed to bow my head and say, “Thank you, my liege.”

He pulled a ring off one finger and held it out to me. “Here, a token payment. You’ll receive a purse later. You have my thanks. Now we’ll work on how we proceed from here.”

I nodded. I managed to hold out my left hand, and he dropped the ring in my palm. It was a wide band, with one small red stone.

The king turned to Tobin, who handed him the written record of Xan’s words. The king took it and gave him a nod in return. “Once more, you’ve found what I needed. Take your friend to his chambers and let him rest. I’ll send word to you later.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on, then.” He turned his back on us, which I guess freed us to go. In any case, it was the signal for Tobin to head toward the big doors. I was able to follow him on my wobbly legs, out those doors, past the soldiers, down the hallway. At the foot of the first stairs, I leaned on the wall, and to my surprise I started laughing.

“I did it.”

Tobin paused, and then a smile crept over his face. “You surely did.”

“I spoke to a ghost, and Firstmage, and the king!”

“Yep.”

“You know, I used to have to rehearse what I would say to the market boy. How I would greet him. How I would ask after his mother.” I was laughing harder. “There were weeks I spoke not one word. In any language.”

“I was impressed with your talents tonight. So was the king. You were a big help to him, and the mages. They won’t forget.”

That sobered me, like cold water. I didn’t want men of power to remember me. “Now I want to go to bed.” I pushed off the wall and headed determinedly up the stairs.

At my shoulder Tobin said quietly, “Did I say something wrong?”

I jumped at having him behind me again. With Tobin, I already felt so easy that sometimes I forgot… I put my back to the stone, and gestured for him to lead on. “I’m a mass of foolish reactions. You can provoke one just by saying goodnight the wrong way.”

“If you ever want to explain them to me, I’ll listen.”

“Maybe.” I felt my darkness ease a bit. I’d done what I came for, and maybe sometime there’d be a moment for the two of us. “And now I can go home!”

We reached the rooms eventually. Tobin barred the door behind us. I had the impulse to start packing, perhaps even leave right now. But the thought of a night outside, compared to a night on a soft bed with stone walls around me, made that seem foolish.

“Do you think you’ll sleep?” Tobin asked with studied casualness. “You have your stone walls and your spells back. Will that help?”

“They’re worth a lot,” I said. “I never feel as safe as with a wall at my back.”

Tobin nodded, but said, “I prefer a good friend.” He grinned. “Perhaps one with a knife handy, if there’s trouble about.”

“Gods, no. Something solid and unmoving.”

Tobin turned away, shedding his jacket and unlacing his shirt. “I’ve seen a lot of sieges broken, from both sides of the stone. I don’t believe in walls. I believe in people.”

“I really don’t like people at my back.”

“How about at your front?” He turned back toward me.

I said, “I’m not good with… hands on me at all.”

He was still dressed, although his shirt was unlaced enough to show the dark hair of his chest. He came closer, until I could feel his presence across a fingersworth of space. “How long since someone just came close to you, Lyon? How long since someone kissed you?”

He waited for me to answer, but I couldn’t. My throat was dry from all the
tridescant
… no, that was a lie. It was dry from fear. And from want and from not knowing how to proceed. He leaned forward with his hands locked behind his back, not touching me anywhere else, and pressed his lips to mine.

The first kiss was short and soft. It burned like a brand, but lasted barely an instant. He leaned back and looked at me, his eyes shadowed in the lamplight. “All right?”

I nodded. He leaned in again, and I tipped my head back just a bit, to match his height. He kissed me, sweet and slow, plucking gently at my lips with his, touching his tongue to my teeth. I let him. I stood there and felt it all and let him kiss me. After a minute he stopped.

“Say something, lion-boy. I can’t tell if you like it or you’re humoring me or I’ve scared you so much you’re about to run.”

I said, “Don’t stop.”

Ah, gods above, that smile. I’d have walked over hot coals for that smile. He kissed me again, and this time, when he pressed with his tongue, I opened my mouth for him. The kiss was still gentle. I got the sense of fires banked and waiting, but everything that he did was slow and careful, and yet warm as a hearthfire on a cold night. I could feel that warmth seeping into me, unfreezing my heart. Until I broke away, because I couldn’t breathe for the way my heart was beating.

“Still all right?”

I turned away from him and paced to the window, checking my inscriptions on the sill. There were no smudges. They should hold. I kept my back to him.

Odd, after having told the truth about my fears, that there was one man in all the world I now trusted unseen behind me. I said to the darkness beyond the glass, “Meldov taught me some languages. It was his passion, and also his claim to fame, that he could speak to ghosts and shades in languages no other living man knew. I had a talent. But nothing like you saw tonight. The wraith gave me my ancient
tridescant.
”

Behind me, Tobin made a sound that didn’t become a word.

“It was meant as a bribe. Perhaps the same one that had worked on Meldov. After the first working, the first night, it could touch my mind, speak deep within there. It knew my interests. Somehow, it gave me languages, one after another, whole and complete as I could never hope to learn them. It showed me how many more it knew, how much knowledge would be opened up to me if I just let it in.”

“You said no.”

Said it. Said it over and over. Begged it. Eventually screamed it.
“I got a handful of languages out of the deal, before it realized I was not becoming convinced.”

“And you remember them still, even though it’s destroyed?”

“Apparently. Yes.” I’d been terrified by that at first— that the gifts of the wraith lingered. Each morning in my small house, I’d open one of the old books I’d stolen and stare at the words, half-hoping, half-dreading that their meaning would be lost. It never happened. I was still afraid that meant the wraith existed, somewhere. I was so tired of being afraid. “I want to believe that it was a permanent transfer of information and not a sign that the wraith wasn’t destroyed.”