The Harp of Imach Thyssel: A Lyra Novel (22 page)

“Well, not really…”

Liana smiled. “Tell me about Ciaron.”

“It’s large, and crowded,” Emereck replied, grateful for the distraction. “There are always at least two Trader caravans passing through; there’s a kind of permanent camp for them just inside the walls.”

“Do the noblemen really put diamonds on their carriage-wheels?”

“You’re thinking of Rathane,” Emereck said solemnly. “Ciaron is much more conservative; they never use anything more expensive than quartz on their carriages.”

“You’re joking!”

“Not at all,” Emereck said, but he was unable to keep his face straight, and Liana laughed again. She had a very nice laugh, Emereck thought.

“All right, I won’t ask foolish questions,” Liana said. “But you will have to tell me what Ciaron is really like, and no more well-stretched stories!”

Emereck was quite willing to do so, and they spent the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon in conversation. He told her about the marketplace, where goods from all the lands around the Melyranne Sea were available, for a price. He described the fish-houses that surrounded the harbor, and the harbor itself, where the great ships floated carefully above the sunken ruins of an older city. He told her of the two-copper magicians, who performed by sleight of hand rather than by true magic, and of the Minstrel’s Guildhall that was one of the best on Lyra. Flindaran’s memory was a muted counterpoint to every part of Emereck’s narrative, but curiously it had ceased to disturb him.

They passed no villages during the day, and few houses. At least one of the houses they saw had been abandoned and was in the process of falling to pieces. Several birds flew out of the crumbling chimney as they approached, and the walls sagged under the weight of what was left of the roof. They did not stop to investigate.

They traveled farther than Emereck had expected; by late afternoon they were passing occasional clumps of trees, harbingers of the forest for which they were heading. Near dusk, they chose a place and set about making camp. As they groomed the horses, Emereck wondered how he could unbundle his meager belongings without revealing the harp to Liana. She would certainly think it strange if he never touched it.

He was tempted to simply tell her he had the harp, but the bitter lessons of recent experience held him back. Besides, they were still too close to Minathlan, and all Liana’s loyalties must lie there.

He lowered his saddle to the ground next to his harp-case and the somewhat bulky bundle that contained the Harp of Imach Thyssel. Perhaps if he asked Liana to hunt something for their dinner, she would be gone long enough for him to unpack his eating knife and hide the harp once more, as well as set up camp. It occurred to him suddenly that there might be some awkwardness about their sleeping arrangements for the night. After all, Liana was a Duke’s daughter, however illegitimate, and Flindaran’s sister as well. Not that he, Emereck, would presume… but would she know that?

Emereck glanced back toward the horses. Liana was standing on the other side of her mare; all Emereck could see were her boots and an occasional flash of her hair as she curried the horse’s neck. He cleared his throat, then paused, not knowing how to begin or even what he wanted to say. He coughed, and cleared his throat again.

“Are you all right?” Liana called.

“Uh, yes, of course,” Emereck said hastily.

“Well, you sound as if you’re catching something.” She leaned around her mare and peered at Emereck. “Maybe I should try to find some horehound. There’s bound to be some around; it grows practically everywhere.”

“Horehound? Why?”

“Horehound tea is good for coughs.”

“I don’t need—that is, there’s no reason for you to put yourself out.”

“Maybe you don’t think so, but I’d rather not travel all the way to Kith Alunel with someone who’s coughing and sneezing.” Liana came around to Emereck’s side of her mare and continued her currying.

“Oh.” Emereck shifted uncomfortably, wondering why he felt so flustered. “I, um,” he said, and stopped.

“What?” Liana looked over her shoulder, then turned and studied him for a moment. “You were going to say something?”

“I was wondering,” Emereck said carefully, “where you wanted your bed laid out.”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s reasonably free of rocks and thistles. Why?”

Emereck felt his face growing warm. “I just thought you might have a, er, preference.”

Liana stared at him, then smiled. “Oh,
now
I see what’s bothering you! I’m sorry; I’m not usually so dense.”

“Actually, I wasn’t worried about myself.”

“Well, you needn’t fret on my account. I have quite a few brothers, and I’ve been camping with them before. You don’t have to worry about ‘offending my modesty,’ or whatever the phrase is in Ciaron.”

“I’m not your brother,” Emereck said without thinking.

Liana gave him a brilliant smile. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“That’s all right; I did.” Liana grinned at his confusion. “I’m going to find something for dinner. Put the beds wherever you want them.” She gave him a mischievous look, picked up her bow and arrows, and was out of hearing before Emereck could think of an adequate response.

Emereck stared after her, then realized that this was his chance to unwrap the harp. Without enthusiasm, he went over to the small pile of his belongings, knelt, and began untying the knots that held his careful camouflage together. His thoughts were full of Liana; he hardly even noticed what his hands were doing.

Had she known what she was offering when she told him to put the beds wherever he wanted them? She must have; Liana was no fool. His breath caught at the thought, then, regretfully, he laid it aside. He had been the cause of trouble and division in her family since his arrival in Minathlan; he was responsible for her brother’s death; he had taken the Harp of Imach Thyssel against her father’s expressed commands. He had lied to her about where he was going and why, and because of those lies, she was determined to come with him on this long and dangerous journey. He could not add to the list of wrongs between them by taking advantage of her offer now, however much he might want to. His fingers moved on the harpstrings, to pluck the first sad chords of “The Sword-smith and the Lady,” and he realized just what he was about to do.

He dropped the harp and was on his feet in an instant. He stood two paces from the harp, staring down at it, and waited for his shaking to stop. How could it have happened? He had been about to play the Harp of Imach Thyssel as if it were an ordinary instrument with no purpose but to make music, and he had not even noticed. He might have brought every wizard and thief between Kith Alunel and the Kathkari Mountains down on their heads. He might have told Duke Dindran what he had done and where he was. He might…

He might have played the Harp of Imach Thyssel.

Somehow, the thought did not terrify him as much as it had barely a few days before. His own carelessness frightened him far more than the harp. He stepped forward and picked up the instrument. The ivory was cool and smooth against his palms, but he felt no urge to play it. That obsession had died with Flindaran.

He set the harp down and covered it, then set about making camp. By the time Liana returned carrying a brace of rabbits, the harp was safely rewrapped and Emereck was seated before a small fire, staring into the flames. She did not refer to their earlier conversation, though she must have noticed the two piles of grass on opposite sides of the fire. Emereck, watching her skin the rabbits she had brought, could not decide whether he was glad or sorry that she did not mention it.

E
MERECK WAS SHAKING—NO
, someone was shaking him. His eyes flew open and he saw Liana’s face above him, washed in moonlight. But the nightmare still clung to him; she seemed to be melting into darkness as he watched. He sat up with a breath that was half sob, and realized that it was only a cloud crossing one of the moons. He waited until he was sure his voice would be steady, then said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Liana said. She hesitated, then went on, “I wasn’t really sure whether I ought to wake you, but…”

“I’m glad you did. I missed the worst part this way.”

Liana hesitated. “This has happened before?”

“Yes, nearly every—” He stopped, staring into the night, going backward in his mind. “Nearly every night since we found that cursed harp!” he said slowly.

“How can it be the harp?”

“I don’t know. But it’s the same dream, every night, and it started when we found the harp.”

“What do you dream?” Liana asked softly.

“I see a city, and tall people with golden skin and eyes. It is night, and Kaldarin is rising. Elewyth is just ahead of it, but most of the light comes from a silver moon that’s bigger than either of them. Then something reaches out and touches the silver moon, and it… hurts. The air goes dark, and everything starts twisting. I see the golden people melting and… changing, and I know they are screaming but I can’t hear them. It goes on, and on, and the silver moon cracks and falls and everything is dark, and it still won’t stop—”

Liana laid a hand on his arm. For a long time, they sat in silence. At last Liana shook herself. “It doesn’t sound to me as if it has anything to do with the harp. But I think it’s just as well you had to leave it in Minathlan.”

“Yes,” Emereck said after a pause during which he carefully did not look at the place where the harp lay hidden among his belongings. “I suppose it is.”

They broke camp as soon as it was light, and went on. The land was dry and dusty; here and there, great outcroppings of stone reared starkly above the plain. They reminded Emereck of bones, the bones of the world poking through a dry, dead skin. He decided that his nightmares were making him morbid, and resolved to stop thinking about it.

Near mid-morning they stopped to rest the horses. Emereck paced restlessly while the animals grazed, unsure why he was so nervous but unable to keep still. Finally he left Liana sitting in the meager shade of one of the stones and climbed a small hill. He stood looking out over the plain, thinking of the Guildhall in Ciaron, of the songs he needed to practice, of anything except the harp and Flindaran and the last few days at Castle Minathlan. At last he turned to rejoin Liana. Halfway down the hill, he halted abruptly. There was a small cloud of dust on the northern horizon.

Emereck ran the rest of the way. Liana looked at him in surprise until he pointed out what he had seen. She studied it briefly, then nodded. “Horses,” she said. “Probably five or six of them, coming this way.”

“One of your border patrols?” Emereck asked without much conviction.

“No, we’re well past the borders of Minathlan by now.”

“Then Gendron must have—”

“I don’t think so. They’re coming from the wrong direction to have ridden straight from the castle.”

“Well, who do
you
think they are?” Emereck said crossly.

Liana frowned. “I suppose they could be from a Trader caravan, but I can’t imagine what would bring one out here. Or they could be travelers.”

“Or thieves,” Emereck said.
Or wizards
, he added silently,
or warlords
,
looking for the harp
. “And I don’t want to stay here and find out which of us is right. Maybe we can outrun them.”

“Running will only attract their attention,” Liana objected.

“All right, we’ll ride slowly,” Emereck said over his shoulder as he walked toward the horses. “But let’s go!”

They rode southwest, angling away from the approaching riders. For a time it seemed they had succeeded in keeping clear, but soon it became apparent that the riders had changed direction to intercept them. “I don’t like this,” Emereck said. “Come on.”

He kicked his horse into a trot, then a canter. Liana followed. A few minutes later, Emereck heard her call, “They’re gaining on us,” and then “Syaski soldiers!”

Emereck glanced back. He saw with shock how close the riders had gotten, and only then did he note their uniforms. He gestured at Liana to hurry and leaned forward to urge his own horse to greater speed. Together they crashed on through the tall grass. Emereck’s world narrowed down into the heat of the sun on his back, the smell of dust and horses, the sea of waving grass ahead, and the sound of hooves like funeral drums, growing louder as the Syaski gained on them.

Emereck’s horse faltered. Desperately, he dug his heels into the animal’s sides, but even as he did one of his pursuers passed him. Emereck twisted his reins, hoping to put a little distance between himself and the Syask. His tired and thoroughly frightened mount did not respond in time. The Syaski horseman swerved in front of Emereck.

Emereck’s horse shied, then plunged sideways. For the next several minutes, Emereck was completely occupied with staying in the saddle; he had no attention to spare for what was happening, or even for thoughts of escape. When he finally succeeded in bringing the terrified horse under control, he and Liana were surrounded.

There were seven Syaski, all wearing similar uniforms of leather dyed a dark blue. Their horses formed a circle around Emereck and Liana, and a smallish, brown-haired man rode forward. Emereck saw Liana’s eyes widen. “What is it?” he whispered.

“That’s Prince Lanyk!” she hissed back, then fell silent as one of the soldiers fingered his sword-hilt suggestively.

Lanyk studied them for a moment with the narrow-eyed gaze of a cat studying a mousehole. “Who are you?” he said at last. His voice reminded Emereck of a poorly-made melar—all surface polish and no depth of tone.

“Minstrel Emereck Sterren, of the Ciaron Guildhall, my lord,” Emereck said, half-bowing.

“And the lady?”

“Liana Dinfar, milord,” Liana replied.

“And what are you doing out here that makes you so eager to avoid our company?” the prince asked.

“Is it surprising that two travelers prefer not to encounter a larger group they know nothing of?” Emereck countered. “There are bandits—”

“Very few, on these plains,” Lanyk said, cutting him short. “Which you know, or you would not be traveling as two alone. Try again.”