The River Wall (32 page)

“Has the world gone mad, Rikardon? I came because I didn’t want to believe it, but I couldn’t know for sure until I had seen you, heard your voice. I wasn’t home when you came, or I would have seen the truth then, and Thanasset would never have sent you here.”

“We left your home by choice, Milda,” Tarani said from the next cell. “Without the love and welcome we shared there, it is as barren as this cell.”

Milda left me a moment, and went out of my line of sight to speak through Tarani’s cell door. “We’ve just put some of that love back, my girl, and Thanasset will add his share again, if I’ve anything to say about it. I don’t know what has gotten into the man!”

Ferrathyn’s control
, I answered silently.
Tarani’s right about knowledge making a difference. For Thanasset to be so mired in the public attitude, Ferrathyn must have been working on him slowly, for as long as he has been a Supervisor, to prepare him for this.

“We do,” I said, “and, Milda, you’re not to try to change him, do you hear me? If you can keep him from knowing you’ve seen me, that would be even better.”

The old lady came back to my cell and stared at me.

“You will only create danger for yourself and Thanasset,” I said. “And you could make our situation worse, not better. We’re being held for a Council hearing, and after that …”

“After that, things will be better?” she asked skeptically.

“Either better, or over,” I said. “The point is, nothing can be done until then. Promise me you’ll be patient.”

She stared a moment longer, then nodded sharply. “I have to say, Rikardon, that I loved Markasset. He was a rogue in manner and a child at heart, and I was always in a turmoil over the misunderstandings he had with his father. But complicated as life was then, it’s gotten worse since you arrived. It’s certainly beyond this old mind to figure out what’s going on. I’ll keep still, as you ask.”

“Thank you, darling,” I said. “I think Markasset would say that the stakes are high in this game.”

She pressed my hand again. “I just want you to know one thing,” she said. “This change in Thanasset—its not his fault. There was just so much public opinion that—” Her voice broke, and she paused for a moment. “He’s fleabitten
blind
, that’s what he is, or else he could see the goodness shine in you, as I do.”

“Milda, darling,” I said, and grasped her fingers. “Its not his fault. I do know that. Now—I think its best you go, Milda. It would break my heart if you were hurt because of me.”

“All right, Rikardon,” she said. She sort of shook herself, and stepped away, but before she had actually started for the door, Zaddorn spoke up from the end cell.

“Milda, if you see Illia, tell her I am well.”

“Zaddorn?” Milda exclaimed, and stalked down to look through his doorway. “In your own cell?” She came into view again as she took a huge step back from the door, her hands held up in front of her. “I won’t ask, I suppose I really don’t want to know. I’ll give Illia the message, Zaddorn—message!”

She came toward me, fumbling with her tunic belt pouch.

“I almost forgot the reason—well, the excuse, anyway—for my visit,” she said, as she pulled two folded papers, sealed with wax, out of the pouch. “The maufel came to the house the other day, ranting about duty only going so far. He said these had come for you two, and maybe he was obligated to deliver them, but he figured nothing forced him to deal directly with traitors. I was related to you, so he gave them to me. Thanasset, by the way, was not there at the time.”

She handed one of the papers to me.

“This one is addressed to you.” Then she moved to Tarani’s cell and said: “And this one to the High Lord of Eddarta. I presume that’s you, dear?”

“Yes, Milda, thank you. And thank you for coming.”

“You take care,” Milda said. “I hope you’ll come home soon.”

“I hope so too.”

Milda walked to the end of the corridor and banged on the door, which opened almost immediately. “Where have you been?” she scolded the guard. “I’ve been twiddling my thumbs for the past five minutes, waiting for you to say ‘time.’”

The door closed behind Milda, and Zaddorn said: “I think that guard will be delighted to see the last of your aunt, my friend.”

“She’s certainly one of a kind,” I said.

“Your messages?” Zaddorn said. “I never realized how boring these cells can be. May I know what is in them?”

I opened mine just as I heard the snap of the wax seal from Tarani’s cell. My letter was from Naddam, the man who had once been my supervisor at an Eddartan copper mine. The very fact that he had written to me was not encouraging, and I opened the letter with a sense of dread.

The letter was written in the neat handwriting that I had seen throughout the mines bookkeeping records. It struck me again that there was nothing in the mans rough and burly appearance to hint at the precision of his handwriting, the clarity of his thinking, and the depth of his humanity.

“You asked me to tell you if Indomel and Zefra were meeting their agreement with the High Lord
,“ the letter began, with no salutation.
“The answer is no. Together, they have taken over control of Lord City. Hollin is dead, assassinated. All the High Lords reforms have been reversed, and anyone from Lower Eddarta who dares to speak of the High Lord is enslaved and sent to the copper mines. They are saying it was too good to be true, that the High Lord has abandoned them. Anger is growing in the lower city, and guild groups are threatening to deny their product to the Lords, saying that if all guild members stand together, their power can equal that of Pylomel’s wife and son. A few of the Lords continue to support the High Lords policies, but Indomel has made it clear that the High Guard will act against anyone who dares to defy him in public.

“I have a few old friends among the High Guard, and there are a few young men who have the sense to see what fighting among the Lords will actually mean—the lower city will take advantage of the chaos to overwhelm the Lords. Some see that as wrong, and some merely wish to protect their jobs, but for whatever reason, a good portion of the High Guard will stand with me against any order to attack the guard of another Lord family.

“Everyone, Lord and craftsman alike, is saying that the only solution to this chaos is the return of the High Lord. I hope this letter will persuade you to assist her speedy return.”

The letter was unsigned.

“At least something goes well,” Tarani said. I heard the crackling as she refolded the thin parchment on which her letter was written. “My letter is from Hollin. The conversion of the copper mines is proceeding as planned. Lord City is prosperous and peaceful.”

I stared at the cell wall, and then at the letter in my hand.
Logically
, I thought,
it ought to be a tossup which letter is lying, since either one could have been faked. But I think I’m the one who has the real McCoy. First, I saw a great deal of Naddam’s handwriting, but Tarani saw only a few samples of Hollin’s. It would be harder to fool me.

Second, more people have more reasons to lie to Tarani. The longer she’s gone, the more deeply Indomel and Zefra can entrench their political control of the Lords. At least, they would believe that. I’ll bet they don’t have the faintest idea what might happen if Eddarta decides it has had enough, and rebels against Lord City.

So I believe
I
know the truth
, I thought.
The question now is, what do I tell Tarani?

The question became suddenly urgent as Tarani said: “Your message, Rikardon? Who sent it?”

There’s nothing she can do about it now
, I reasoned.
Ferrathyn’s our first priority. After that—if we’re still here—then I’ll let her worry about Eddarta.

“Ligor,” I said. “He says to tell Zaddorn hello for him.”

“Ligor!” Zaddorn exclaimed. “I thought he was in Krasa. How is the old rascal?”

“Busy,”
I said, then stopped, struck by a new thought.
Unless Ferrathyn has a satellite spy in Chizan, he doesn’t know the passes may be blocked. That might be a piece of information worth hoarding until the proper time.

Zaddorn heard the sudden stop in my voice, and sighed.

“Not even news from an old friend, eh? But never mind—what you lack in conversation, you have provided in material for speculation.”

“I’m sorry, Zaddorn,” I said. “Really sorry.”

“We can talk of other things,” Tarani said. “How is Illia? I believe your wedding was scheduled for shortly after our departure. Did it go well? Who was there?”

Zaddorn chuckled. “Actually, it was something of a disaster. Illia, sweet as she is, may never forgive me….”

I heard him settle to the floor near the wall, and he began to describe the day of the wedding. His duties had kept him out late the night before; he had been tired and clumsy, especially with the celebration feast. Zaddorn described every moment of the day, every person attending, their dress and manner, in such a wry, witty style that Tarani and I both laughed uproariously. At one point, the guard came in to check on us, moving with deliberate quietness. Of course, we knew he was there, incredulous that three people in our situation could laugh about anything, and his presence set us off again.

When the guard brought us our evening meal, he also brought some unwelcome news.

“Your hearing has been announced for noon tomorrow,” he said. “And the Council has decided on a closed hearing.”

When he had gone, Tarani said: “Its too soon!”

I said nothing, because of Zaddorn. But I had a sick feeling inside. I had not imagined the hearing could be arranged so quickly. It would take the sha’um three days, at a full run, to reach Thagorn.

Later that night, when Zaddorn had fallen asleep, I rolled over next to Tarani’s cell and spoke through one of the lowest openings. “Tarani, are you awake?” I called softly.

“Yes,” she answered immediately, from a point directly on the other side of the wall. A lamp had been set in the corridor to burn all night, but little of that light penetrated the latticed door. I could barely see the movement as her fingers appeared in one of the openings.

“Rikardon, I have been thinking. No matter what Thanasset has promised, Ferrathyn cannot afford for us to appear before the Council. He must keep the Ra’ira with him at all times; he would not risk my being in the same room with it.”

“I’ve been thinking along those lines, myself,” I said.

“He will try to have us killed.”

“But not tonight,” I added. “He’s still trying to keep on Thanasset’s good side, or we would already be dead. Thanasset offered us the protection of Council law, and he would suspect the coincidence of our getting killed by guards, no matter what excuse is offered. No, Ferrathyn will want to find a way to kill us by mandate of the citizenship.”

“The mob,” Tarani said.

“Exactly. There will be only one opportunity—when we’re being escorted to the Council chambers.”

“We must be ready,” she said.

“No,
you
must be ready,” I corrected her gently. “You can disguise
yourself
fairly easily. I will stay and be their target. Who knows, they may even let me talk, and listen to me.”

“I would not leave you!” she said fiercely.

“Only to save me,” I said.

“Listen to me, Tarani. Ferrathyn’s taking a chance with this hearing. He wouldn’t risk it at all if he weren’t ready to make his final move. I think we’ve lost the chance to wait for the Sharith.
We
have to tackle him ourselves if we want even a slim hope of getting out of this mess alive.

“
You
have to get into operating range of the Ra’ira, Tarani. That’s the only way we can be sure of breaking Ferrathyn’s control of the city.”

“I was boastful, earlier,” she said. “What if I cannot break free of the mob, or I am too late to save you?” Her fingers stroked mine, very gently.

“We can only do what feels most right, Tarani,” I said. “Your boast was true; you
can
beat him, I know it. Something else you said earlier is true too. This is the final battle; we can’t hold anything back.” She was silent for a long time. “You once said you have no regrets,” I reminded her. “Is that still true, Tarani?”

“With one exception,” she said. “I deeply regret that we must spend this night with a wall of brick between us.”

We lay silently, together but separate, our hands barely touching through the wall. I sent a sleepy thought toward Keeshah, and received a sense of his total concentration on running. He was moving by scent through the darkest part of the night, and I shared his awareness of other sha’um moving around him.

I won’t disturb your concentration, Keeshah
, I thought to myself.
It would only upset you, anyway, to know that you’ll get here too late to help. I don’t see a chance in the world of my surviving—all I want to do is buy Tarani the time she needs. You’ll know when it happens
, I thought, with a sensation of writing a letter I knew would never get mailed.
But now you won’t be so alone, Keeshah. You’ll have Koshah and Yoshah. I’m glad that happened.

Tarani and I were awake at first light, having slept only fitfully. A different guard brought us a breakfast of water and porridge, and a bowl of water to use in washing. Time passed slowly. It was Zaddorn who put into words what was on all our minds. “I have an uneasy feeling about your leaving these protected, if uncomfortable, walls,” he said, just before we heard the corridor door clang open.

“They will be safe,” said Thanasset. “I have promised they will be heard.”

The lattice door across my cell was lifted away, and I stepped out into the hallway to face Thanasset. The guard moved to Tarani’s cell and began opening the bronze fastenings into which her door was mounted. Thanasset misread the look on my face.

“Are you so surprised that I should keep my word, Rikardon?” he asked bitterly.

“Don’t come with us,” I urged him. “There’s going to be trouble, Father, and I’m sure Ferrathyn would jump at the chance to see you dead.”