Guardians Of The Keep

CHAPTER 7

Seri

I sat for a long time in my mother’s garden. To interpret what had passed was like trying to analyze a streak of lightning. Already the event itself was fading, leaving only the bright afterimage. I tried to hold onto the moment of his laughter, the sound of his voice, and the look in his eyes as he made the tree bloom for me, and to ignore the disturbing ending of his visit.

Many wild dreams had grown unbidden in the past months. Though I had succeeded in dismissing most of them, one had lingered. Somewhere beyond my disbelief I’d held a secret hope that I might see Karon’s face again. Clearly, that was not to be. His face was Prince D’Natheil’s. Though aged by more than fifteen years in our few months together the previous summer, sculpted by his struggle to fuse body and soul, his appearance had changed no further since he had vanished through the Gate-fire with Dassine four months before.

Yet how could I be disappointed? Dassine had said I was not yet a part of his memory, and such was clearly not the case. He understood my fear of the dark and knew what would ease my sadness. As we walked through the arbor, his manner had been so like Karon’s that I could never have guessed he was not the man I married. He would remember me.

On the previous night I had told Nellia that I was not feeling well, and under no circumstances was I to be disturbed until noon at the earliest, but my subterfuge now seemed a bit foolish. As I locked the garden and walked through the herb and vegetable beds toward the kitchen door, it was not even mid-morning.

I pushed open the door to the kitchen and stepped into bedlam. Nellia was directing two white-faced serving girls to carry jugs of hot water upstairs as soon as they were ready, and another girl to take a stack of clean towels to the mistress’ room. When the housekeeper caught sight of me, she hurried toward me. “Oh, my lady, I’ve just sent Nancy to wake you. Though you said not to disturb, I knew you’d want to be told. It’s the duchess. Lady Verally has sent word.”

Philomena’s child. Weeks too early. “Has Ren Wesley been sent for?” I climbed the servants’ staircase alongside Nellia.

“I dispatched Francis right away, but-”

“… but it will be an entire day before he can be here. Has anyone on the staff had experience as a midwife?”

“Only Mad Lucy, the young duke’s old nurse.”

“She still lives here at the castle? Somehow I’d thought…”

“Aye, Duke Tomas let her stay as she’d nowhere else to go. But her mind’s long gone. She’s done naught but sit and rock in her chair for nigh on five years now.”

“Perhaps if we talked to her, even if she’s feeble in the mind, she might be able to help. Even when they can’t remember whether they’ve eaten dinner, old people can often remember what’s important to them-how to make bread or play a game or deliver a child.”

“No use. She’s a mute, you know. Even if she’d a thought to share, she couldn’t do it.”

“Then we must send to Graysteve for a midwife.”

Nellia puffed with effort as we passed through a door to the first floor passage. “But the duchess will have naught to do with anyone from the village. She says they’re common and ignorant. That’s why she hired Ren Wesley to come and stay for her last weeks, though, alas, it don’t appear the time was set right for him to come.”

“If the child is really on its way, I don’t think she’ll care. Send for the midwife.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Nellia turned back, while I continued on to Philomena’s bedchamber, only to find the door barred by an iron-faced Lady Verally. “You’ll not come in. The duchess is in her last travail. We must have a physician or a priest, not a witch. You may have weaseled your way into this house through my niece’s kindness, but I’ve a clear eye yet, and I can see what you’re up to. I won’t have you anywhere near her.”

“Ren Wesley has been sent for and also a midwife from the village, but it will take time.”

“I’ve already done all that can be done. Her fate is in the hands of the Holy Twins.”

Poor Philomena. I never imagined I could feel sorry for her. To face the loss of another child born early with only the grim Lady Verally to comfort her would be a dismal ordeal indeed. And neither the High God Arot, retired to his celestial palace in mythical Cadore, nor the Twins- male warriors as they were-were going to be much help with a woman’s labor.

“Will you tell me her condition then, so I can inform the young duke? He’ll likely be quite distressed by rumors. Tomorrow is Covenant Day, and we must be prepared for all eventualities.”

“I’ll tell you nothing, witch. I’ve advised the young duke to stay away from you until we have you removed from this house. Your deceptions will be uncovered, and you will burn as you should have long ago.” She slammed the door in my face.

Beastly woman. I hurried downstairs and sent a message to Gerick, telling him that it was possible that his mother would deliver her child early and reminding him that, no matter what happened, he would be expected in the great hall at first light on the next day to receive his tenants. Difficult though it might be, nothing must interfere with it.

For the rest of the day everyone in the house walked softly, as if an untoward disturbance of the air might precipitate disaster. The mourning banners that still drooped heavily on the castle doors took on an ominous new significance.

I occupied myself with preparations for receiving the tenants, trying to concentrate on the lists of names and families that Giorge had prepared, but I chafed sorely at being barred from Philomena’s room. Though I had no idea what I might be able to do to help, I believed I should be there. Nellia brought me periodic reports, gleaned from the chambermaids. Philomena’s labor had stopped after only a short while, but could resume at any time.

The midwife from Graysteve arrived, but Lady Verally insisted we dismiss her straightaway. I spoke to the woman, a neat, trim person of about my own age, and asked if she would be willing to stay through the afternoon and evening, in case the duchess were to overrule her aunt’s decision. The midwife said she would wait as long as necessary. Infants should not be held responsible for the concerns of their relations, she said, putting a polite face on our foolishness. I asked Nellia to see to the woman’s comfort.

I received no response from Gerick. Giorge had told me that the boy had sat with Tomas every Covenant Day since he could walk and had behaved himself admirably. I had to trust that he would do so again.

It was dark and cold when I rose on the next morning, and I dressed quickly. The custom was for the family members to dress in their best, but I had nothing fine. As I pulled on the better of my two dresses, I told myself that my dignity would have to be my adornment for the day. Even as I said it, I had to laugh. I sounded just like my mother.

I hurried down to the kitchen and pounced on Nellia as she came out of the larder. “Any word of the duchess?”

“The girls say the night was quiet,” she said, as she set a wedge of cheese on a plate in the middle of a tray filled with plates, bowls, and pots. “Lissa! Take this on up.” When the girl in the white cap hoisted the heavy tray, I was sure one moment more would see us all splattered with fruit porridge, boiled fish, sausage, scalding cider, and seedcakes. But the maid steadied her load and scurried away. “Lady Verally slept in the mistress’ room,” Nellia continued. “She’s pushed a chair up to block the door and will only let her own girls in. I had the midwife stay the night with me. I thought to ask you should we just send her home. Don’t seem needful to keep her from her own children when she’s not wanted here.”

“No, the duchess needs her. I’ve had an idea…”

Though I bore no love for Philomena, I would not see her life stolen if I could prevent it, so I gathered Nellia, Giorge, the midwife, the captain of the household guard, and two of the footmen whom Nellia recommended as highly loyal to Tomas, and I directed them to stand ready. As soon as we had a report that the duchess was in true labor, the midwife was to be taken to her. If Lady Verally refused to admit the woman, then the footmen were to remove Lady Verally from the room and confine her to her apartments until such time as Her Grace’s child was born or the aunt was sent for. I invoked my authority in the absence of the duchess for the purpose of preserving Her Grace’s life and that of her child. All agreed. I left them waiting for Nellia’s word to implement the plan. My own duties were in the great hall.

Comigor’s great hall was a long, narrow room, its floor area modest only in proportion to its immense height. Its arched ceiling was so tall that as a child I had marveled at the clouds that drifted there, and believed that if I were ever allowed to be in the chamber when it was dark, I might see a whole new universe of stars. Of course the clouds had been only the lingering smoke from the ancient hearths that gaped taller than a man, and the hundreds of lamps and candles required to light the place.

On this morning the banqueting tables and chairs had been pushed to the sides of the room. My footsteps echoed as I hurried across the wood floor to the far end of the hall. Giorge and his assistants had everything arranged: the small table with the flask of wine and two glasses, the two cushioned chairs for Gerick and me, and the plainer ones for the tenant and for Giorge and his assistant who would sit behind me and record the payments in their ledgers. Everything was the way the tenants would expect it to be. There is great comfort in five-hundred-year expectations fulfilled.

“Is the young master on his way?” Giorge joined me, his hands smoothing his gray velvet doublet. Rustling and murmuring could be heard through the front doors that had been flung open, and beyond the narrow windows of the hall, gray shapes moved about the courtyard, stamping their feet in the cold.

“I’m sure he’ll be here.” Of course, I was not sure at all, and I breathed at least as great a sigh of relief as Giorge when Gerick hurried into the hall. My nephew was outfitted in close-fitting breeches of black satin, white hose, a wide-collared shirt of patterned green silk, and a tight-fitting doublet of yellow satin, heavily embroidered in gold. His red-brown hair was shining, and his eyes could have frozen a volcano.

“You look quite handsome this morning, Your Grace,” I said.

Without deigning an answer, he sat down next to me, his back straight and stiff. He seemed a great deal older than ten.

“Have you spoken with your mother or Lady Verally this morning?” I asked. He shook his head. “Then perhaps you’ll want to know… I understand that all is well with your mother as of yet.” I didn’t expect him to dance with joy, but was astounded when he shot me a look of such unmitigated hatred that my skin burned with it.

I had no time to consider the cause of his current displeasure, for the first rays of the sun angled through the windows. The clatter and scrape of a hundred nailed boots echoed at the far end of the hall as a long line of sturdy, plainly dressed men surged toward us through the door. I rose from my chair and motioned to Gerick to do the same.

Giorge leaned forward from behind me and whispered, “This man is-”

“Goodman Castor,” I said, nodding to the squat, toothless man who stood proudly at the front of the line.

I had asked Giorge to prompt me discreetly if I hesitated on a name, as there was no way to learn all the new faces in a short few months or to be sure that I could remember the old. But this man had worked the Comigor land since my father was a boy.

I gestured toward the chair. “In the name of His Grace, the young duke, I welcome you to Comigor. Please rest yourself.”

“An honor, ma’am,” the roughly dressed man said loudly, his eyes narrowed as he touched his forehead and settled himself carefully into the wooden chair.

“Would you have a glass?” I asked.

“Thank’ee, ma’am, but not this morning. I’ve work as must be done.”

“Tell me, Goodman, how is it with your Kate? And Bon and Ceille must be quite grown up since I was here last. Do they still switch dresses to fool everyone into thinking one is the other?”

The man’s face lost its wary sobriety. “It is you, then!” He swallowed hard, and blinked. “No… no, ma’am. Ceille has done gone and got herself with child four times, but Bon’s not chosen a man, so they turn out quite different now. And my Kate fares well. Still has all her teeth.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“How is it with the young duke and his family?” The man dipped his head to Gerick, who nodded silently. A gracious and proper response.

“We are quite robust,” I said, “and give thanks to all who honor us with their service.”

We talked briefly of crops and the weather, and I had Giorge write a note that Goodman Castor could use an extra half-bag of seed, for he was farming the portion of his son-in-law who was gone to the war in Iskeran. The young soldier had no one else to work his plot, for his own father was dead and his eldest son only six years old. When all was duly noted, I stood up to conclude the interview. “We wish you a healthy winter and a good season, Goodman Castor.”

The man rose and touched his forehead again. “And for the lord and his family, my lady.” Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a grimy handkerchief, and carefully unwrapped it to reveal eight small silver coins. Reverently, he placed them in my hand.

“Thank you, Goodman Castor,” said Gerick, with a polite bow of respect for the senior tenant, surprising me almost as much as he surprised the farmer. Then the man was gone, and another stood in his place, eyeing me anxiously.

Many of the tenants I knew, heads of the families that had worked the Comigor land for generations, whose children had grown up alongside me, though our paths had never been allowed to cross. Others were new to the estate. A few refused to open their mouths even in response to my questions. Their reluctance might just have been unfamiliarity, but more than one made the flick of the fingers that was supposed to call the Holy Twins’ attention to a bit of the evil from which they were supposed to be guarding us. One after the other the tenants came. All morning, only a few moments apiece, and it was necessary to greet each one as if he were the first.

“Goodman Phinaldo, I welcome you…”

“… an honor, my lady…”

“… no wine this morning…”

“… a healthy winter, and a prosperous year…”

Two hours into the long day, a footman brought me a note written in Nellia’s threadlike scrawl.

The duchess is full into her labors and does not fare well. The lady aunt has been removed and the midwife brought in as you directed.

“Goodman Helyard, I welcome you…”

“… a new scythe, as the old one has been sharpened until naught but a nubbin…”

“… quite robust, thank you…”

There was nothing to do. We couldn’t stop. In between tenants, I passed the note to the boy, for he had the right to know. His grave expression remained unchanged after he read it, and he nodded graciously to the next man. I felt inordinately proud of him.

“… and for the lord and his family…”

“With seven children, you surely have a goat. No? Giorge, please make a note. Goodman Arthur must have a goat.”

“… quite robust…”

At midday, the footman returned.

The duchess has been delivered of a daughter. The child is frail. The duchess sleeps and seems well.

I passed the message to Gerick, and he reacted exactly as before.

“… many thanks for your good service…”

“… my son is ready to take a wife…”

“… a note, Giorge. Goodman Ferdan’s son, Gerald, should be next on the list for a plot. If we reopen the western fields as we plan…”

We did not stop for a midday meal. I had nagged at my mother unmercifully about how unfair it was that the tenants got to go home after their duty was done, but we had to sit all day with neither a drink nor a bite. She never dignified my complaining with anything but a single comment. “Someday you will understand, Seri, that asking a man to hold his year’s work so that you may fill your stomach is unworthy of one in the position you have been given in life.” Gerick did much better than I had done at ten, looking each man in the eye as he thanked him for his payment. Tomas had taught him well. I smiled as I welcomed the next man.

“… loathly ashamed, my lady. ‘Tis the drink what done it… makes me a madman it does… and the thieves took advantage…”

“… but this is the third year with no rent, and we have five young men waiting for land. It is time you yielded your place to those who will work honestly.”

“But where will I go? My wife… my kindern…”

“You should have thought of your family when you drank away your responsibilities. They will not reap the bitter harvest you have sown, but you will work your own portion no longer. You will serve Goodman Castor who works two plots while his son-in-law is away. He is to give you only a common laborer’s sustenance. Pay him heed, and he’ll teach you honor and duty.”

So passed Covenant Day until the last brushed and scrubbed man departed the great hall hours after the last shreds of daylight had faded. The glowing Giorge directed his assistant to pack up his ledgers and the plain steel box that now held the wherewithal to repair the forge and the west wing roof, to pay royal tax levees, the servants, the soldiers, and the wine merchant, and to ensure the security of the young duke and his family for another year. When he had sent the pale clerks on their way, the steward bowed deeply.

“A good day, my lady, young master. Properly done.” High praise indeed from the taciturn steward.

The carafe of wine sparkled deep red in the light of the candles that had been set out to illuminate the steward’s business. On a whim, I poured a little into each of the two glasses that had sat so neglected all through the day, and offered one to Gerick who slumped tiredly in his chair. He sat up straight, took the glass, and put it to his lips.

“Your father would have been proud of you today,” I said, smiling.

But my words seemed to remind him of whatever it was that had worsened the state of affairs between us. With a snarl, he threw the wineglass at my feet, shattering the glass on the floor and splattering my skirts with the ruby liquid. Then, he ran out of the hall. I was beyond astonishment.

The two notes from Nellia lay crumpled in Gerick’s chair, reminding me that I had not yet finished the business of the day. I thanked the wide-eyed servants, who came to clean up the mess and put the hall to rights, and started up the stairs to see Philomena.

Before I reached the first landing, a harried servant accosted me with a message from the chamberlain. A visitor was waiting in the small reception room, asking to see the duchess on urgent business. Perhaps Lady Seriana could see the man. I decided to get rid of the visitor first, leaving me uninterrupted time for Philomena and Gerick. I couldn’t imagine what might bring someone to Comigor so late of an evening, so with curiosity as well as impatience, I hurried into the plain anteroom that was used to receive messengers and low-ranking visitors.

“Good evening, sir,” I said to the cloaked figure that stood by the fire with his back to me. “Please tell me what is your urgent business with the duchess.”

“Only if you happen to be the duchess,” said the man in a supercilious tone that one did not usually hear from those consigned to the small reception room. He turned toward me as he spoke, and my retort died on my tongue. A handsome man of middle years, narrow face, dark, close-trimmed hair, conservatively dressed in garb suitable for a soldier of middle rank with connections at court. He had let his beard grow longer since I had seen him last, but I could not fail to recognize him. “Darzid!”

“You!” He gathered his self-control quickly, but I had seen astonishment, displeasure, and yes, an undeniable streak of dismay before he donned his usual mask of detached amusement. It gave me an unseemly jolt of pleasure to see him discomfited-even if only for a moment. “Lady Seriana. Never in all the vagaries of time would I have expected to find you settled in your brother’s house. Has her ladyship gone mad?”

Wariness kept my loathing on a tight rein. Only hours since Karon and Dassine had walked in a Comigor garden, and now here was the man I believed the most dangerous in the Four Realms. “Her Grace is not receiving visitors this evening, Captain. State your business, and I’ll do what I can for you.”

I had once considered Tomas’s darkly charming guard captain no more than a clever and somewhat amoral courtier, one who found cynical amusement in hanging about the edges of power and observing the foolish antics of those with high ambition. We had been friends as much as Darzid’s nature was capable of friendship. But I had lost interest in Darzid as I became involved with the greater mysteries of falling in love with a sorcerer. And then the captain’s amusements had taken a murderous turn. He had been instrumental in Karon’s arrest, trial, and execution, and those of our dearest friends. Darzid himself had brought my dead infant to show me, observing my grief as if I were some alien creature with whom he had no kinship. And on the day Karon had first returned to this world in the body of D’Natheil, Darzid had come hunting him in the company of three Zhid-sorcerer-warriors from the world of Gondai. Whether he was a pawn, a dupe, or a conspirator, I wasn’t sure, but he was certainly not innocent.

He stepped close, uncomfortably close, for I could smell anise on his breath from the sweets he favored. But I did not retreat. “Oh, this is very amusing,” he said, studying my face, “a twist in the paths of fortune that could never have been anticipated. But my business is quite urgent. A critical opportunity, I might say. The lady duchess will have someone’s head if it passes her by-yours, I suppose.”

“Either I deal with the matter or it will have to wait. The duchess has given birth to a daughter today.”

He smiled broadly, his cheeks flushed. “A daughter, you say. Poor Tomas. His last try at immortality comes only to another girl. And is this one as weak as the others?”

“I don’t see that as any of your business, Captain.”

“A fine thing he got a son the first time, is it not, else who would carry on the holy Comigor traditions?” He burst into entirely incongruous laughter. If he had not been standing so close, I might have missed the unamused cold center of his eye.

“Your urgent business, Captain? The hour is late.”

He flopped on the high-backed wooden bench beside the fire, his thin, sprawling, black-clad legs reminding me of a spider. “I’ve brought the duchess the answer to her prayers, but clearly circumstances have changed. Perhaps my news is out of date, undesired, or unnecessary… Tell me, my lady, how fares your nephew?” His voice was casual, drawling, but his gaze did not waver.

“Why would the young duke be of concern to you? When my brother died, so did your relationship with Comigor. Tomas forged no contract with you.”

Darzid smiled broadly. “Have no fear, my lady. I’m not here to insinuate myself onto the Comigor paylist, but only to do a last favor for my late, esteemed master. Deeming me unworthy to tutor a lord’s son, the duchess asked me to make some private inquiries as to proper fostering. Indeed, I have found someone who is both of sufficient rank to satisfy the duchess’s pecuniary ambitions and of sufficient tolerance to take on the task of making a man out of your brother’s, let us say, uniquely difficult progeny.”

“And who might this person be?” As if any selection of Darzid’s might be appropriate!

“Oh, you will delight in this. It is a matter of such delicacy that I shouldn’t tell anyone before I inform the duchess, but the chance to see your reaction is just too amusing. Can you not guess who might agree to such a responsibility?”

I didn’t answer. My skin burned where his eyes rested. I folded my arms tightly, so perhaps he would not notice my involuntary shudder.

“You will not give me the pleasure of a joust? Ah, lady, I do regret- Well, too bad.” He leaned forward. “It is our king himself who offers.” And then he sagged back against the spindled arm of the bench, smiling hugely.

“Evard wants to foster Gerick?” Only the fatigue of the long day prevented my disgust from exploding.

“Who else? His feelings for your brother were quite fraternal, and he wants to do for him as any brother would. I’d say that there’s a good chance young Gerick will get a royal bride out of the arrangement, if he can be made civil. Ironic, is it not? Comigor linked to the Leiran throne-the connection Tomas most wanted, only a generation late. And he is far too dead to appreciate it.”

It was not out of the range of belief; that was what was so appalling about the idea. Evard, King of Leire, had indeed loved Tomas, as much as a shallow, ambitious, unscrupulous man could love anyone. He might well be persuaded that if he were to give a home to his friend’s son and groom the boy as a suitable mate for his only child, the Princess Roxanne, then he would be ridding himself of two irksome responsibilities at once. And there would be no stopping it. The offer was, as Darzid said, the answer to Philomena’s prayers.

Darzid sat awaiting my response like the crowd before a gallows awaits the springing of the trap. No use for artifice.

“You’ll be delighted to hear that I have no say whatsoever in this matter, Captain. But I wouldn’t condemn the most deprived peasant child to life with Evard, so I’ll do everything in my power to convince the duchess that her son needs a mentor with some rudimentary concept of honor…”

“And woe to him who underestimates the Lady Seriana. I’ve come near it myself. Very near.”

“… but the decision, of course, rests with my sister-in-law. She may be able to see you tomorrow, but I won’t promise anything. Are you staying nearby?” I was not going to offer him a billet in the castle.

“I’m at the Vanguard in Graysteve and will return in the morning. The matter cannot wait. His Majesty expects the boy to be in residence by tomorrow night. But then… perhaps the game is changed now you’re here… yes, I think so… Even the soundest strategy must respond to an unexpected play.”

“I’ll have the servants bring your horse.”

Without shifting his languid posture, he gave me a smirking nod. “As you wish, my lady. As you wish.”

Still puzzling over Darzid’s position in the scheme of things, I made my way upstairs to Philomena’s bedchamber. The room was dim, only a few candles sitting on the mantelpiece, casting a pale light on Philomena who slept soundly in the great bed, her cheeks and lips rosy and her golden hair tangled on the fluffy pillows. Lady Verally sat at attention in a straight chair beside the bed, but her chin had sagged upon her black satin bosom, and she snored in a prim and ladylike manner. One could find many faults in the dismal woman, but she was indeed a devoted companion.

I found Eleni, the midwife, in the nursery, crooning softly to a white bundle in her arms.

“How are they?” I asked quietly.

Eleni shook her head and pulled back the wrappings so I could see the child. Never had I seen features so small. My smallest fingertip would cover her nose, my thumb her eyes. Surely even the gentle forces that hold us to earth must crush such frailty. A golden down covered her head. She was beautiful.

“We had a wet nurse in, but the little one has no strength to suckle. We gave her a few drops of milk from a spoon, but it will not sustain her. You can already hear the trouble in her breathing.”

“And what of the duchess?”

“She’ll be quite well, ma’am. The babe gave her no trouble, though the older lady made her believe it so. It’s clear neither one of them ever carried a full-term child to birthing.”

“I don’t believe Lady Verally has any children, but the duchess has a son who is quite healthy.”

The woman looked puzzled. “If I didn’t hear it from your lips and profoundly respect your saying, I’d say you are mistaken, ma’am. The duchess’s womb is weak and will always give way beforetime. I’ve never seen such a womb bear a child strong enough to live.”

“Thankfully her son is a sturdy child,” I said. “I suppose he was from the beginning. It’s good you were here, Eleni. I thank you for your patience and skill.”

The woman opened her mouth as if to argue the point, but instead dipped her head politely. “We’ve sent to Graysteve for a more experienced wet nurse. Another hour should see her here. I’ve been told to wait for her here, though it’s past time I got back to my own brood.”

“Certainly, you should go home. Pick up your payment from Nellia and get some supper before you leave. Tell her to send up the nurse when she arrives. I’ll watch the child until then.”

The infant didn’t weigh anything. Her hand was no bigger than a kitten’s paw and her tiny ringers wrapped themselves about one of mine. I walked her around the room, whispering to her of Tomas, and I shed a few tears for lost lives and lost years and lost promise. Then the wet nurse arrived and took the child, settling into the plain chair that had been left for her in a dark corner of the room.

Despite the late hour I went in search of Gerick, willing to intrude upon his anger so that he might see his sister while she lived and perhaps give his mother some comfort when she woke. James, his underemployed manservant, said the young duke had stopped by his apartments earlier and picked up his cloak. No one had seen the boy since then. Unusual for him to retire so late.

I retrieved my cloak and a lamp from my bedchamber and set out for the northwest tower. As a girl, I had often sought refuge there when I was upset. All the way up the stairs and into the secret room, I was unable to rid myself of a vague and growing anxiety.

He was not there. A bitter wind gusted through the doorway leading to the outer steps, the roof, and the parapet. My lamp cast eerie, dancing shadows on the curved walls. Gathering my cloak about me, I climbed to the tower roof. Gerick wasn’t there, either, but someone had been there quite recently. An acrid odor wafted from the firepit. I held my lamp close to see what caused such a vile smell. The smooth stone pit was perfectly clean save for a large, shapeless gray mass still radiating heat. I saw no clue as to the nature of the stuff until I searched beyond the stone ring and found a tiny arm of blue-painted metal. The soldiers. Somehow Gerick had dragged wood up here and battled the wind to set a fire, all so he could melt every one of my father’s lead soldiers. I didn’t know whether to scream or to weep.