The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (10 page)

IT WAS A ROOM TO WHICH VERY FEW HAD KEYS. DBASE COUNTED himself honored to be among the few. As a room it had no particular merit—a small parlor with a hearth, and doors leading out onto a narrow balcony. It was the balcony that gave the room all of its importance, for it overlooked a walled garden. Dease had never actually seen the garden by daylight and did not know if it was beautiful or overrun by weeds—somehow he did not think it overrun by weeds. He pushed open the doors, being sure to rattle them adequately as he did so. When certain he had given proper warning, he stepped out onto the balcony. The night was redolent with the perfume of flowers, and the air had a soft dampness one would never sense above a stone-paved courtyard.” You have caused my nightingale to fly," a woman said, her warm voice drifting up from below. Dease stared into the dark garden, letting his eyes adjust to the night. Only fragments of starlight found their way beneath the overhanging trees. It was a garden of shadows.” I am sorry," Dease said softly.” I'm a poor substitute for a nightingale." A soft laugh came in reply.” Llyn? Are you well?" A second small laugh, lovely as a breeze, came from below.” Of course I am well. And you, good knight? How goes your summer of tournaments?" "Well enough. Toren has felled me at every turn, so I have been second to the best knight in the land at every tilt.""And this disheartens you?" "To the contrary. I am flattered to be in such company." "But if not for Toren, Lord Dease Renné would be the champion of the field this season...."

For a moment he did not know what to answer.” It is always cooler in the shadow, Cousin," Dease said at last. Did she whisper yes? But the word was lost in a breath of wind and he could not be sure. He could distinguish her now. A ray of moonlight twined in her yellow hair, but her face was hidden. She moved beneath a screen of leaves, though he could still trace her silhouette.

"Is there no family news that you might tell? No gossip?" "I rely on you for this," Dease said. It was true. Llyn, a daughter of his father's cousin, knew more of the family and their doings than he—more than he ever cared to know, in XTVIXYI—wYiich was remaikab\e considering Y\yn \ivec\ ill solitude within the castle. She was tended by three loyal servants—the most discreet servants Dease had ever known. As a child, Llyn had been horribly burned. Had almost not survived, in fact, and ever since had lived in cloister, hiding herself away. Of all the family, only a few had contact with her at all: Dease, Toren, a few of their female cousins, an aunt or two. Dease did not know the full range of Llyn's acquaintance but it was not large. He felt such pity for her, though she told him repeatedly that pity for her was both wasted and unwanted.

"I have very little current gossip, though I can tell you much from years gone by." "How goes your history of the illustrious Renné ?""Well enough, though I will tell you, Dease, when you begin to look into the history of our family—really look, not just accept our own myths ... well, it is not such a story of honor and nobility as the minstrels have made of it.""No," Dease said, closing his eyes a moment.” I suspect you're right.""If I had realized the effort and time this history would take, I would never have begun it. So much has been lost since the kingdom was split—the great Record Hall of the Kings and many of the chronicles of the noble families as well. All the years of war have blotted out our history, like ink spilled on a page. It is a terrible thing to happen to a people: like not knowing who your parents are and wondering if there is madness in your family, or the bleeder's disease." "There are the songs of the minstrels and the stories people pass down." "Certainly, yes, but there is often more art than truth in a minstrel's song. As for stories passed down ... well, look at the stories told by our own family. We are ever the aggrieved, never the wrongdoers, which we both know is not the truth." "The Fael have their story finders..." Dease ventured.” Do not laugh, Cousin. That is what I often feel I am doing—finding stories piece by piece." She sighed.” Have you seen much of Beldor this summer?" she asked suddenly. Dease was a bit thrown by the change of subject. Did Bel-dor visit Llyn? Beldor!? "Too much," he said quickly.” Which might be very little, I think... ?" Dease nodded, then realized she might not be able to see him in the dark; but before he could speak Llyn went on.” Many have remarked that Lord Beldor has grown—that he has matured. It is said that he has finally put aside his jealousy and pettiness and does not resent Toren as he did. That he has mastered himself, at last." Silence followed these words. He could hear her light footfall as she progressed through the garden, the sound of fine gravel shifting beneath her feet. She listened, but he found he could not speak. Did Llyn have some suspicion? Dease felt as though his sense of balance betrayed him. As though he might lose his perception of up and down and plunge from the balcony. Fall into the bottomless sky. Llyn was the most insightful individual Dease had ever known. What was she saying about Beldor?

"You do not answer, Dease," she said softly.

"I did not hear a question, Cousin. It is true that Beldor has seemed less resentful of Toren. ... I have thought it rather a relief and hoped this apparent maturation would last."Llyn did not answer immediately, but only moved quietly through the garden below.” Beldor will not change, Cousin, any more than a mad horse will grow tame. Such an animal might grow sly and bide its time, fearful of the whip, but it will not suddenly become sound of mind or character. Not will Beldor, I have tried to warn Toren, but he will have none of it. Will you watch over him, Dease? Will you promise me this?"Dease felt his mouth grow dry. He wanted to gainsay her. Tell her that Beldor's apparent change of heart was true, but he could not. Somehow he thought she would detect the lie, and then what would she believe?

"I will, if you ask it, Llyn." He could never refuse her.

He heard her sigh.” Thank you, Lord Dease," she said warmly.” There are too few men of virtue. Men of their word."Yes, Dease thought, and I am not one of them, not any longer.

"You are silent in your modesty," she said.

"Should I protest?"

"You've no need of false modesty with me. You know your merits better than most—and your shortcomings."A strain of music drifted over the garden wall, silencing them both. It traveled from some distance and had grown sparse and thin in its journey, so that Dease could not quite discern the melody. But even so it seemed to carry a memory with it.

Some years ago, before the Renné costume ball, Dease had sent a gown and mask to Llyn's room. Only he of all who attended had known who the sun spirit was. How beautiful she had looked in her gold mask, the curls of her silky-wheat hair like the rays of the sun. And they had danced and whispered and laughed. And as they danced he had held her, feeling her yield a little with each step, draw a little closer. Before the unmasking she had slipped away. For a week after, she saw no one. They never spoke of it again, and though there was a costume ball each year at high summer, Llyn never attended again. Dease closed his eyes and could feel her close to him.” Did we dance to this tune, Cousin?" Llyn asked softly.” I think we did." Silence followed, and Dease could feel himself willing her to speak, willing her to say what was in her heart—or what she had felt that night.” I've had a dream," Llyn said, suddenly self-conscious.” Three times I have dreamt that a small bird came and sat upon the railing of the balcony, where you are now. And each time he called once forlornly, whist. And each time the doors behind opened and set him to flight. A man stepped out onto the balcony, but I could not say who. And then I awoke." Llyn moved a few paces.” The whist is a foreteller of... ill fortune, Cousin." It was a foreteller of death, Dease knew.” Yes, though to the Fael it is a good portent." "No Fael has a key to my balcony." "And you have no idea who it might have been?" Suddenly it was important to know. Toren. It must be Toren.” I cannot say, for he did not speak and was lost in shadow." "As you are now." "I'm not lost, Dease." "No. No, you're not." He took a long breath.” Do you remember our dance, Llyn?" She didn't answer a moment. He heard her light footfall crossing the garden. She hesitated at the door.” I remember," she said softly. Before he could speak he heard the door open and quickly close.

He was alone. For a while Dease stood, watching the fragments of faint moonlight stir about the garden, moved by the wind in the leaves above: a rustling of moonlight.

He could not go, hoping for something—perhaps that Llyn would return, but he could not say. And then a bird alit upon the garden wall. Dease caught his breath.

The bell-like song of the nightingale filled the air, so beautiful and true, and somehow this pained him more than anything he could imagine. More than a whist calling out his name.

BAORE AND FYNNOI BROUGHT THE BOAT TO THE FOOT OF THE fields and beached it on the coarse sand. Tarn had seen them coming from afar, the two of them bent to the oars, pulling like puppets.

A cloud shadow swept over the small, breaking waves, turning whitecaps to gray and winging south like a great hunting bird. Tarn pulled closed the door to the house, looking around the garden once. Little would change by autumn. At the foot of the garden he met his grandfather waiting by the gate. The old man was looking older than usual this past week, having twisted his foot so that he limped stiffly.” I won't walk you down," he said, and reached behind the wall to produce a sword in a new sheath.” It was my father's," he said.” After what happened last time you left the Vale I think you should take it."Tarn took the sword by its hilt, feeling it balance easily in his hand. A powerful desire to stay came over him unexpectedly.

"Go carefully," his grandfather said softly, placing a large hand on Tarn's shoulder. Tam nodded, stood a moment longer, and then went out through the gate, trotting quickly down the lane, toward the lake. He found Fynnol and Baore lashing the belongings he'd left on the shore into the boat.” Ah, he's coming after all." Fynnol looked up.” And bearing arms, too." Fynnol pointed at something in the boat.” Baore's brought his shod staff, so I shall have the two of you to protect me . . . and I can't tell you how distressed that leaves me." Tam lashed the sword to the thwarts, and the three pushed the boat out onto the smooth waters of the lake. Tam looked back toward the house, seeing the dark figure of his grandfather still standing by the garden gate. Tam waved once, even though he knew the old man could not see him so far away, and then settled himself to the forward oars. The line of poplars that followed the lane stood out in the morning sun like golden flames, leading like beacons back up toward his home. What if, in our absence, war came to the Vale? Tam thought suddenly. But he pushed the thought aside. It was more than unlikely. The Vale was far from the populated areas of old Ayr, and even there peace reigned. The Vale would be safe, Baiting for them upon their return. Fynnol had scrambled into the stern, smiling triumphantly at the two who'd taken up the oars.” Put your backs into it, lads," he said.” It's a long way to Wold of Kerns.-where our fortune awaits us." "It is a long way to the bottom, too, Cousin," Baore growled. Fynnol peered over the side.” Not so far. I can see it quite clearly. Row on," he said, stretching one hand above his head and waving it like a banner.” I'll take my turn soon enough. We're away! Away from this cursed place, walled in by its mountains, shut off from the larger world." He grinned at his companions, foolish with delight, then bounced up to his feet, as though he could see over the hills even now. The boat rocked, and the others steadied it.” How can you look so dour?" Fynnol asked, standing with one foot on the gunwale.” It is a joyous day. But let's beware of strangers and keep watch on our boat both by day and night. We'll tether it to you each evening, Baore. That'll be anchor enough to hold it Yes, beware of fair-spoken strangers and keep your bows ready."They passed the length of Shadow Lake and through the Neck into Blue Hawk Lake, the wind at their backs. Sailing scows passed them by, spreading their tanbark sails to the breeze, white foaming about their blunt bows. Farms sailed north, the trees in new leaf drawing like sails. Occasionally someone would raise a hoe and wave, for it was no secret that the young men were setting off into the outside world, despite what had happened on their last attempt.

Tarn was sure he had told the story of the attack at Telanon Bridge to every individual in the Vale, and to some more than once. It must have made quite a change from the usual domestic gossip, but everyone thought they were mad to leave a second time. Even their friends were not so sure they should risk it again.

But leave they did. They swept into the river that emptied the lakes, down the green-shadowed gorge past the Stone Gate. The waters flowed more swiftly here; and Tarn took his place in the stern, using his oars to back and ferry, guiding them surely between the banks and around the occasional rock.

As they rounded the bend before the bridge they found a figure seated on the bridge rail, dangling his legs calmly over the side. He hailed them as they drew closer, standing up on the parapet.

"There is our story finder—skylarking, apparently," Fynnol said, shading his eyes.

"I'll bring us up on the gravel beyond the bridge," Tam said.

In a moment the crunch of wood on small stone brought them to a halt. Fynnol and Baore jumped out and pulled the boat up a few inches more.” Are the Fael still camped here?" Baore asked. Tam shook his head.” They said they would go on the next day. I can't think why they would change their plan...." The branches of the trees parted and Cynddl appeared, sliding down the embankment, a bag over his shoulder and a bow in either hand.” You made fast work of your boat," he said, eyeing the craft appreciatively. Then he held out one of the bows.” I have brought a gift from Cian and Aliel for Tam." Tam stepped out of the boat and took the bow in his hands as though it were a great prize. The dark red-brown of the yaka wood was polished to a deep luster, and the wood was warm to the touch, as if it still lived.” To replace the one you lost to the river," Cynddl said, and gave Tam a quiver of beautiful workmanship. Tam drew an arrow out and stopped short, for it was not tipped for hunting but for the piercing of mail. Tam looked up at the Fael.” What do they expect us to find upon the river?" "It isn't what they expect you'll find, Tam, but what they fear you'll find that has prompted this gift." He turned to Baore and Fynnol.” And for you Aliel sent these." Cynddl gave each of them a small bag, beautifully embroidered.” It isn't gold, I'm afraid, but the spices used on the rabbit you so enjoyed. Now you'll be able to cook like the Fael." "Cian and Aliel are here?" Tam said.” No, my people went north days ago. Only I stayed, listening to the whispers. What stories linger hereabout! How I wish I had the whole summer to gather them." He shook his head.” But all I've found in my short stay are fragments— like scenes of a play, most of them sorrowful." Xho\x$\X Cynddl covwpkXety unlike, the lead he had known: where they were guarded and resentful, Cyndd seemed open and trusting. But he had such an air of terrible loss around him. Even when he smiled there was a sense ol melancholy to it. His hair, gray far too early, added to this,ci course—and his thin face—but there was something more a distracted air, as though his mind were elsewhere and littlt concerned with matters at hand.

"We're at your command," Tarn said.” If you wish to stay longer..."But Cynddl shook his head.” No, the stories I've come to collect wait farther south." A surprisingly disarming smilt appeared.” And Aliel has asked me to keep you from trouble, for I've traveled all across the land between the mountains, and you've barely left your gardens." Cynddl passed his bag to Baore, and Tarn noted a blade strapped to the side.

"There aren't many places where a boat can land in this section of the river," Fynnol said, looking around.” Let's have a meal here, where we can sit ashore and make a fire.""Do you like fish?" Cynddl asked.

The Valemen all agreed that they did.

"Then I'll catch us our meal. I've found all the places where the big bass hide."He took a small bag from his belongings and disappeared into the trees. A moment later he appeared, barefoot, standing on a rock, a line in his hand with something small flashing on the end.

"Watch for the sly otter who lives in these waters. Twice she has taken my catch. Twice!" He laughed. But today they would not share their meal with otters, and in no time Cynddl had pulled two fish out into the flashing sunlight.

They roasted them over a fire, Cynddl taking charge of the cooking. To the fish they added fresh bread baked by Baore's mother, which had to be eaten before staleness or river water ruined it.

Tarn looked around him at the gorge. Sunlight skipped off the water, and the cliff-top trees made moving shadows on the rock walls and the green river. Beneath the bridge he could just make out the tooth of rock and the tree beneath which they had taken refuge that strange night. It made him shiver to think of it: the men shooting arrows at them in the dark—and Tam shooting back; Alaan down upon the bridge, his attackers over him.” Where do you expect to find these stories, Cynddl?" Fynnol asked.” Do they just lie about upon the bank, awaiting you?" "No, Fynnol," Cynddl said.” It's me that waits for them. There are places along the river where the lost race built their strongholds. If their stories can still be heard, I'll find them there. For the next few days, though, there'll be no need for me to stop." Before Fynnol could speak again, Tam interrupted.” We've never been in the wildlands," he said.” Is it very different from here?" "You live in the wildlands, Tam," Cynddl said, smiling. But then more thoughtfully added, "I've only traveled up the road and never down the river, so I don't know how different it might be. South of here lies a beautiful land—the wild-lands you call it, though my people call it Greensprings for the uncounted springs of pure, clear water that pour from the rock." He looked from one Valeman to another.” Not many people make their homes among the hills of Green-springs now, for it's a strange place, as you've no doubt heard. No one knows what befell the people who lived there long ago, but there is a sense of sadness over the land that's not imagined. You'll feel it yourselves.” Nothing remains of the ancient people now but the stories that echo in the places where they made their homes; and even these stories are now so faint that even the most gifted story finders can barely hear them.” Men who've traveled through Greensprings tell strange stories. They claim to have seen and heard unsettling things: voices, the cries of unknown beasts, and lights in the forest and even in the river itself." Cynddl took up a pebble and tossed it into the river.” Most of the land is forest, though there are meadows where grasses and flowers thrive. Twice the road crosses the river—once by bridge and once at the ford at Willowwand.

"It's a rich land but not for farming, for the bones of the earth lie close to the surface. You can see animals in the Greensprings that have disappeared elsewhere. I've seen HOD as we traveled and bear and the great hart. Wolves are not uncommon; the silver fox lives there still, though is seldom seen. Birds of all kinds live in Greensprings in summer, even the white eagle that we call the ghostking.

"The trees there must be very old. Some are seen only in the Greensprings and nowhere else in all the known lands, There is silveroak, which is also called knight's tree. Golden beech, waterwillow, cedars of many kinds, great firs taller than every tree but the ancient alollynda. And the rose dan is scattered everywhere: apples and crab apple, wild roses, mountain ash, and wild cherries. Witch hazel we'll see, and perfect laurel trees. Sweetgum, doveplum, tallowwood and hornbeam." He laughed.” It is a long list and I'll point them out as we go." He turned his attention back to his meal, which Tarn thought was better than any fish he had eaten and wondered what Cynddl had done to prepare it so.

Cynddl opened his bag and took out a roll of paper, pressed flat in the packing. He unrolled this on a rock. They all gathered around, for it was a Fael map of the land between the mountains.

Putting his finger on the map, Cynddl said, "We're making our picnic here, by Telanon Bridge." He ran his finger down the meandering line.” I can't vouch for the course of the river. My people haven't traveled this way in generations, so all we know comes from others. Here we meet the north bridge, and from that point on, the river is somewhat better known." Tarn stared at the map, feeling his excitement grow. His grandfather had a book of maps, and as a boy Tam had spent many delight-filled hours poring over it. Maps were like doors into the imagination for him—as though he were a great bird looking down on the world from high above. But then, in his imagination, he would swoop down and see the world close up, change into the form of a knight and travel the roads to tournaments.” A map of possibilities," Tam said aloud. Everyone looked at him oddly.” It is what Aliel said when she found me staring at a map as a child. I didn't know what she meant then—it was a map of old Ayr I looked at—but I understood soon after." He nodded toward the map.” And now, perhaps, we'll make some of these possibilities real." Cynddl looked at Tam and smiled.” The Fael have a saying: 'Only a perfect fool hopes for adventure.' " He touched the map again.” Once we've passed the ford at Willowwand the river should run much more smoothly. Although the people of the Vale think the lowlands start there, we'll still be among hills for some time. Is it about a fortnight to Inniseth?" "About that," Fynnol said, "then another ten or twelve days to the Wold of Kerns." "Then it will take you forty days or more to return. The road runs a long way to the east before swinging back in a great loop to come west to Telanon Bridge." He ran his finger over the land south of Telanon Bridge.” There's said to be an old trail, but it won't accommodate our carts, so my people have never taken it. But you might be wise to keep to the road for your return journey. The path might be difficult to follow, or even to find, and if you're lost in the wood you could spend many more days than on the longer way.” The ruins of Cooling Keep stand here, on an island where the River Dyrr joins. The last Knights of the Vow perished there, and the battlements were torn down and what could be burned set aflame." Picking up a feather that lay on the ground he ran the quill down the river south of the Wold of Kerns.” The land is beautiful here, too, and still wild by the standards of the old kingdom." The quill moved south, like a winging bird.” The inhabited lands start here, though the border of the old kingdom proper is still far off. These were thought to be the farthest reaches of civilization then, if civilization it could be called. Men who were sent to the outer duchies and principalities to represent the King thought they'd been sentenced to a fate worse than the darkest dungeon. To them anywhere beyond two days' journey from court was a hardship beyond enduring.