The Betrayal (27 page)

He hastened to rejoin the party, following Jhinani along the arcade and down a passage into the palace's interior. She showed them to a suite of rooms, high-ceilinged and richly appointed, where Lady Heléri chose to remain. Luruthin half expected Eliani to retire as well, but her father urged her to view the fountains, and she went along. They followed Jhinani down a long, curving stairway to the courtyard, where Luruthin hoped the fountains' beauty would lift Eliani's spirits.

Eliani walked a little way behind the others, listening as Jhinani told the history of each fountain, described their workings, named their creators and the
governors who had commissioned them. All were lovely. Eliani admired them, but they were not enough to distract her from her worries.

At first she had been relieved that Turisan had not greeted them. Now she wondered if his absence signified displeasure. She knew she must face him soon.

And tell him what? She was no closer to a decision. Every time she tried to think about mindspeech, a storm of emotions swept away rationality. She had not even had the comfort of Heléri's counsel, for she had avoided private speech with her eldermother since returning from Midrange Pass, not wanting to face her disappointment.

Lady Jhinani's voice intruded on her musings. “This avenue is the newest addition to the court. It was commissioned by Lord Turon and is called the Whispering Walk.”

Eliani looked up to find that the party had gathered in the center of the courtyard. Beside them was the entrance to what appeared to be a tunnel of water. Jhinani explained that it was made up of hundreds of tiny fountains on both sides of the walk, each sending a stream of water arching over the path, which ran from the center of the court to its south wall, a distance of some ten rods. At the far end Eliani saw that the path continued through a gate in the wall, out into the wooded land beyond.

Jhinani led them into the walk, and Eliani at once understood its name. The soft hush of flying water was a constant whisper that had an immediate calming effect. She felt disinclined to speak within the arching passage, and indeed, the voices of the others were muted by the gentle sound of the water.

She walked slowly, gazing up at the line where the narrow streams crossed overhead and formed a slight point in the arching roof. No drops fell upon her, but
moisture hung in the air, active and energetic, akin to the sensation preceding a rainstorm in the woods.

Eliani breathed deeply of the calming air, not caring that she was falling behind the others. Her steps slowed and finally halted as she closed her eyes, reaching out with all her other senses. Ripples in the air—the footsteps of the others—slowly faded into the water's whisper.

Peace. Here was the peace she needed. A warmth seeped into her through the rippled khi of growing things within and without the courtyard, distorted by the moving water. Perhaps if she stood here long enough, the dancing air would wash away all her doubts.

“My lady?”

Eliani's eyes flew open. Her peace was at an end. Turisan stood a short distance away.

She turned to face him. Best get it over with. As her gaze fell upon his simple gray-green tunic and legs, his hair caught back from his face in a braid bound with green ribbon, she felt her heart leap anew at his beauty.

He gave a hesitant smile. “Forgive me. I meant not to startle you.”

His eyes were warmer even than she remembered, though tinged with concern. Eliani did her best to return the smile, though she felt more awkward in his presence now than ever before. She grasped at the first thought that offered.

“The fountains are entrancing.”

“Yes.” He nodded, the smile widening briefly. “I am glad they please you. I am often drawn here, to think or merely to rest.”

“They do seem very restful. And the intricacy of their workings is marvelous. Southfæld's artisans have immense talent.”

“Thank you.” Turisan bowed slightly, then looked
up, smiling. “Though I find I prefer the raw beauty of your Three Shades.”

Eliani glanced away at the reminder of that night. She saw that the others had continued down the walk and were passing through the open gate into the gardens beyond.

“I hope you will pardon me for not being present to greet you upon your arrival. I thought perhaps we had best meet in private first, in case you wished to discuss Midrange Pass.”

Ah. He would have it out now. Eliani turned and met his gaze squarely.

“You are displeased.”

He looked startled, then seemed to understand. Disappointment flicked across his face.

“So you did not try.”

He had not known, then. Eliani paced away restlessly.

“Go ahead, curse me for a fool and a coward. I cannot blame you for being angry. I am angry myself.”

“I am not angry.”

She spun around to glare at him. “No? You should be! What if the kobalen had followed us through the pass and attacked at once? It could have been disastrous!”

A troubled look came onto his face. “It is useless to regret what might have been. No harm was done, Eliani. Do not fault yourself.”

His gentle words calmed her, though they did not ease her sense of failure. She turned away as if to follow the others, but instead stepped abruptly up to the wall of water.

Always in the past she had run from problems, run from feelings that disquieted her. Heléri's words returned to her. She had used her past pain as a shield. That solved nothing, and indeed it was a lonely path.

Watching the water rush past her eyes, she felt a faint mist on her face that suddenly reminded her of the Shades. Raising her palms toward the wall, she chanced to graze it with a fingertip. A splash of water fell across the walk, darkening the crushed rock underfoot; then the water wall healed itself as the fountain resumed its upward arc.

The soothing whisper wrapped about her, sparkling with a hint of Turisan that seemed to augment rather than disturb its restfulness. She turned her head to look at him, seeing patience in his gaze, and acceptance. She felt a surge of gratitude.

“Eliani! Come and see these orchards. They are …”

The running footsteps that accompanied the call faltered to a stop. Eliani looked down the path at Luruthin, who glanced from her to Turisan, his smile fading.

“Forgive me—”

“Yes, you should see the orchards.” Turisan stepped forward, speaking with a diplomat's ease. “We are proud of our stonefruits especially. Some of the varieties are centuries old, descendants of cuttings brought from Eastfæld when Glenhallow was founded. Will you walk, my lady?”

Eliani looked at him and nodded, not trusting her voice. She smiled at Luruthin, hoping to ease the discomfort that was writ plainly on his face, and started down the walk between them, unsure whether she was glad of the interruption.

 Nightsand 

Shalár received Irith in her audience chamber upon his return from Fireshore. He paused briefly to glance at Dareth, then came forward to kneel before Shalár.

“Bright Lady.”

“Welcome home, Watcher. Where have you been, and what saw you there?”

Irith looked up at her, triumph in his hard face. “I have been to Ghlanhras, Bright Lady.”

“To Ghlanhras!” Shalár sat forward, eager for news of Fireshore's chief city. “Tell me!”

Irith leaned an arm across his knee and grinned. “We approached the city from the north. They do not watch that side. They have built a tall wall around all the city to keep out the forest and its creatures. All their guardians stand watch on the south side, where there is a gate.”

A wall all around the city. Shalár frowned. That would make taking control of it more difficult.

“Did you go within the wall?”

“I did, Bright Lady. We watched from the forest for several nights and observed that parties of hunters often returned to the city at sunset with their game. I killed a small boar and slipped in with one of those parties, then hid myself in the city.”

Shalár nodded, eager for more. Dareth strolled up
to the dais and stood beside her chair. Irith glanced at him, then continued.

“I traded my boar for a room in a lodge and spent five nights in the city's taverns, listening to gossip.”

“You were not suspected?”

“I kept myself hooded and stayed out of plain view. I was taken for a Greenglen.”

Shalár nodded. “What did you learn in the taverns?”

“There are not many folk in the city. The governor is planning a celebration for the Spirit Feast and another for Midwinter.”

Shalár sat up straight in her chair. “The Spirit Feast falls during the Ælven Council.”

Irith nodded. “I heard no mention of the Council.”

Her heart leapt with delight. “They do not know.”

“It seems not.”

Shalár stood up, descended from the dais, and began to pace the chamber. She must take advantage of this. She must move on Fireshore as swiftly as possible. If only she were ready now, but it would be impossible to start for at least another twenty or thirty days.

She once had thought idly of sending her own message to the Council in Fireshore's name. Perhaps it could work.

Risky. Very risky, but possibly worth the hazard.

She stopped pacing and returned to the dais before which Irith waited. “Tell me everything you heard. Every insignificant bit of gossip. Leave nothing out.”

He told her. Shalár sent for chairs and settled in to question Irith closely and at length about his stay in Ghlanhras.

The governor was Othanin. Irith had ventured near Darkwood Hall one evening and glimpsed him setting forth. Shalár demanded every detail of his appearance, his kindred, their homes. She made Irith tell her everything
he had heard or observed about Clan Sunriding, the governing clan of Fireshore, formed in haste from a mélange of house holds that had volunteered to re-populate and govern Fireshore after the Bitter Wars.

“Sunriding still has no uniform appearance. I saw Sunridings who resembled Ælvanen, Stonereaches, Steppegards—”

“Steppegards.”

Shalár stroked her upper lip, musing. She looked up at Irith.

“Go on. What about the wall? Why did they build it?”

Irith helped himself to more wine. “To keep out the forest and its creatures. I heard no other reason mentioned.”

“Not to keep out the kobalen?”

“I suppose so, but …” Irith frowned, looking perplexed. “They have a terror of the wild lands, particularly between Ghlanhras and the coast. It seems almost greater than their fear of kobalen. Few of them will venture into the deepest woods. The hunters I saw were the only exception.”

“They do not visit the ocean, then?”

“They have cut a wide road from the city to the shore east of Firethroat. That is the only way they will take to the ocean.”

“They fear the forest.”

Shalár frowned, pondering why. She remembered her own family's flight into that same forest centuries before. Ancient fear welled up within her, not of the woodlands but of the ælven warriors who had turned their wrath upon her people. She shook it away.

When she had exhausted Irith's knowledge of Fireshore, she turned to his hunters and questioned them about everything they had observed while waiting for him in the forest. At last she relented, bidding
them all to return to their homes, but she stayed Irith with a hand on his arm.