Stained Glass Monsters

Chapter Twenty

Lecey Forest gave Rennyn a great deal of pleasure. It was very different from the forests of the north, which were grand and pine-scented and overwhelming. Lecey was full of smaller trees, none of which Rennyn had the knowledge to identify. Primarily twisty, black-barked ones, their canopies low overhead and the foliage dense. On a less well-favoured day it would probably be damp and gloomy, for there was moss and lichen decorating the undersides of all the branches, but the skies had been fortunately clear since they’d left Sark, and so the forest was a dapple-green playground for butterflies and sunbeams.

There were no convenient coach-roads running past the incursion point, but Rennyn had enjoyed being on horseback for an unhurried journey along trails winding between bushes and trees. There were plenty of berry brambles, too, offering a juicy selection of sweet and tart, and only a few scratches. Every so often the trees eased back, and they blinked at dazzling-bright clearings spattered with flowers.

The Sentene vanguard had widened and established camp in one of these, with fewer tents than usual and no provision for the handful of horses, which were taken back out again by the Ferumguard, since there was little room for them in the single circle of protection established. The trunks of freshly-felled trees had been pulled about a big central cooking area, and while they settled into camp one of the Ferumguard filled two frying pans with sausages, mushrooms and bacon, then broke eggs into the mix so they cooked together into savoury disks.

"Will you be able to locate the incursion today?" Captain Illuma asked, as Rennyn worked her way through lunch.

"Tomorrow morning at the earliest," Rennyn said, in a way glad to postpone the task another day. "Though I might take some readings later, to see what kind of reaction is detectable this far out."

After lunch, she checked how Kendall and Sukata were going with their exercises, and was surprised to see how far Sukata had progressed. Not that she could move something, but that she’d managed to rein in her own strength, and was nudging a small leaf about with a semblance of choosing the direction.

"The leaf’s a good idea," she said, approvingly. "Less chance of embedding it in someone."

Torn between trying to escape for a private walk and feeling unusually settled, Rennyn watched the pair self-consciously struggling with the task, thinking over Kendall’s accusation of the previous day. The offence not just of killing people, but of making decisions without their permission. Did all that come out of some past choice made on the girl’s behalf, or just the sheer mule-stubbornness of her personality?

She heard Captain Faille take a step behind her, but didn’t look back. She’d grown so used to his presence she’d started to notice his absences instead, and that made her hate the idea of Kellian bodyguards more than ever. Had it been inevitable that she end up surrounded by them, using them as Solace had? She was sure that Faille, like Kendall, would bitterly resent decisions made on his behalf. She wished that didn’t matter to her.

Thinking about the man, Rennyn nearly jumped out of her skin when he reached down and touched one sun-tipped finger to the thick bracelet around her right wrist, pushing it further along her arm. He straightened as she looked up at him.

"Meniar," he said, "Find some way to shield Lady Montjuste-Surclere’s wrists."

Lieutenant Meniar, who had been pretending to review his slates while he day-dreamed, gave them both a startled glance, then came across to study what Faille’s sharp eyes had caught. Resigned, Rennyn removed the bracelet, cradling the focus carefully in her lap, and allowed Meniar to inspect the circle of bruises and rubbed skin. He shook his head, then fetched salve and bandages.

"How heavy is that thing? To you, I mean?" he asked.

Rennyn picked it up doubtfully, controlling the faint, ever-present wobble which was its reaction to the Grand Summoning. "About four pounds?"

"Is it necessary to wear it all the time? Is that part of the attunement?"

"It’s to stop me dropping it," Rennyn replied, and placed the focus carefully on the ground. As soon as she let go it sank several inches, and then the earth around it trembled, compressing out in a series of rings which came perilously close to undermining the fire-pit. "You can imagine what would happen if it fell off my lap while I was in the coach," Rennyn added, as the entire camp stopped to stare.

Tenbury, one of the younger Hand mages, recovered more quickly than the rest and crossed to the depression, gauging it with probing fingers. "It mimics the distortion?" he said, more to himself than Rennyn, then looked sharply at her, adding: "You will allow us to divine this effect?"

His tone was more demand than request, but Rennyn shrugged, not inclined to spoil her day arguing. She didn’t like Tenbury, who never succeeded in hiding his resentment when she refused to share information, but she knew there was little he’d be able to do with the focus.

She watched their initial attempts to pick it up while Meniar salved her wrist and cast an encouragement to healing. "The bracelet doesn’t leave room for a great deal of padding," he said, winding on a thin layer of bandage. "Can you at least alternate hands?"

"Yes – the other’s just more awkward, especially if I’m writing. I only really need to carry it when we’re travelling. Or on marshy ground. Or in wooden buildings. It grows heavier with each expansion of the main distortion, but I doubt it will become impossible to cart about. That would defeat the purpose."

As soon as both her wrists were neatly protected with soft bandage, Rennyn changed her shoes and went for a walk, since the area in front of her tent was now crowded with excited mages. There were plenty of criss-crossing animal trails through the undergrowth, and she followed them at random. Berries, flowers, sun-spotted clearings, the occasional bird or small animal which would leap away. Guards. It was certainly the most well-protected bit of forest in all Tyrland.

She walked until the sun started slanting, stopping by a small stream, perhaps the same one which ran by the camp, though she had taken enough turns to have no idea where the camp was. There was a rock there which made a nice seat, and she studied the mix of sun and shadow on the water, then looked at Faille, who was as dappled as the forest. He moved near-silently, but she’d known he followed.

"The question of whether my distant uncle is loyal to Solace is giving me a lot of trouble," she said.

Shifting position from voiceless guard to consultative strategist without blinking an eye, Faille said: "The difficulty lies in the Azrenel."

Like Seb, he was quick to see critical points. "Hate us or not, sane or not, for Solace to loose an Azrenel is outside all expectations. Even if she were intent on destroying Tyrland instead of ruling it, to not do so personally is out of character. It was only through a fortunate set of circumstances that we were able to stop it so quickly. I just can’t see her enjoying a return to an empty kingdom."

"It may be the bargain she has made."

That was true. Being trapped within the cycle of the Grand Summoning could have brought her to total desperation. "Again out of character," Rennyn said slowly.

"Three choices. Queen Solace allowed it. Prince Helecho arranged it outside her knowledge. Or the Azrenel was an opportunist, following the activity of the lesser Eferum-Get."

Prince Helecho. The title distracted, raising so many issues, but Rennyn put it from her thoughts. "The organisation of the incursions falls under the same question: with or without her knowledge?"

"If Prince Helecho is disloyal, there must be some bar which prevents him from simply attacking Queen Solace. Else, we would not be facing this."

"Tiandel did give her a lesson in trust. Helecho may be operating under a deep-set injunction, the kind of thing where he would have to at least obey the letter of her commands, if not the intent."

"Much as you answer questions."

She looked over at him, but matters were coming too close to the end for her to smile at the comment. "True enough."

"Is it so difficult to trust us?"

Faille’s voice was even thinner than usual, and she met something exposed in his gaze. She should have known not to start a conversation, and realised she’d been drawn to do so precisely because she did trust him. Not just to keep the conversation to himself, but to understand the problem and help her see it more clearly. To support her.

"This isn’t about trust," she said, not able to hold sunlit eyes. Not when the explanation she dreaded was only a few days away, and would change everything. Not when she was discovering that it would cost her to hurt him.

Then, because there didn’t seem to be anything else to say, she started back to the camp, letting Solace’s focus lead her. He followed silently in her wake, voiceless guard once again. Tool in the service of a Montjuste-Surclere.

"And what is that one? To the right of the arrow?"

"Fel’s Veil. Down below it is Rothyria the Wolf."

"A wolf? How?"

"Eh, just the head, I guess. Kind of squashed. The ears are pricked up and pointing east, see."

Kendall was introducing Sukata to the stars. City-raised, the Kellian girl had spent too much time in stone buildings, and not enough looking up. Besides, with almost everyone off standing around some random patch of forest waiting for Rennyn and any other monsters to come out of the Hells, there wasn’t a whole heap to do.

"Are you certain you’re not inventing these?" Sukata asked for the third time.

"Look them up in that library when we get back."

"I will do that."

Kellian humour, Kendall decided. It was growing easier to work out Sukata. Not chatty, but a lot like Nina Lippon, who was the quiet, smart one of the Lippon brood. She wasn’t shy, she wasn’t particularly stuck-up, but she liked to listen more than talk. The thing was all the Kellian were like that. Maybe talking hurt them: their voices all sounded damaged in some way, thin and weak. Captain Faille had said the first Kellian hadn’t been able to speak at all.

"Do you see the wolf’s nose?"

"Possibly."

"Look the way it’s pointing and there’s a swirly clump. That’s the Emperor’s Clasp, the one the Emperor of Kole lost when he was trying to walk across whatever that sea is called."

"The Sanase. The Sea of Tears. It is…it is a lake, not a sea, but a large lake. The legend says the water is sweet. Have you heard the story behind that?"

Kendall didn’t answer right away, because Sukata had stopped looking at the sky, had turned her head and gone extra still. Then the Kellian girl reached out and gripped Kendall’s arm urgently, so Kendall managed to say: "Don’t think so."

"Alar Anase, the founder of Kole, was a wandering mage. This was after the days of the Elder Mages, when the kingdoms were fractured and Eferum-Get had begun to walk the world. She was exploring north, following the rivers and trying to penetrate the deeps of the Forest of Semarrak, but was caught in a storm-flood. She managed to make it to land, but was in a very bad state, and collapsed on the stony shore."

While she spoke, Sukata had produced the long knife she kept strapped to one of her legs and was slowly shifting, moving by inches to a better position in which to spring up. All the while Kendall strained to discover what it was she was reacting to. They weren’t alone in the camp, and Sukata was staring toward the tents around the central fire, where a few of the Ferumguard were working on dinner preparations.

"When Anase woke, she was in a palace," Sukata continued, rising to one knee. "Sumptuous in every aspect, the walls shimmering with colour. Servants of glass dressed her in robes of gold and conducted her to the palace’s lord, who was so brilliant she could barely look upon him, and yet his eyes were dark with grief. Anase was not a reverent woman, and she–"

Sukata moved. Moved like a Kellian, the first time Kendall had seen her do so. In star and firelight Kendall couldn’t even track her until she stopped, and when she stopped she had clapped one of the big cooking pots over something on the ground.

"What are–?" began one of the extremely startled Ferumguard, and broke off just as quickly as a sound like tortured metal erupted from the pot. Whatever was underneath was bouncing frantically about, wailing in ear-splitting tones. Then, just as abruptly, it fell silent.

"Is it a Night Roamer?" Kendall asked, as three more Ferumguard and a Sentene pair came hurrying up, weapons at ready. "But–" They were in a circle. Night Roamers couldn’t cross circles and surely someone would have noticed if a breach had opened in the middle of camp.

"Sukata, move away," said the Kellian half of the Sentene pair, taking the girl’s place in holding the pot firm.

The woman’s mage partner was Captain Medan, the huge man who had stayed with them inside Rennyn’s shield when the crab-thing was attacking. He unfolded his slate and said as he began writing: "What did you see?"

"Felt," Sukata replied, replacing her knife in its sheathe. "Worked magic. I noticed the signature of a casting – in Lady Rennyn’s tent."

Captain Medan grimaced. "Time to do a little housecleaning, then."

Kendall thought it very good timing that Rennyn Claire returned to camp just as Captain Medan was holding up a flimsy little silk undershirt left on her bedroll. Her brows rose very high indeed, then she said: "I don’t think it will fit you, Captain."

"Not my colour, anyway," Captain Medan replied, unembarrassed. As Captain Illuma followed Rennyn into the camp he nodded at the cook-pot, which was now in a circle of its own, with a rock sitting on top. "Drogan’s just headed out with a message about our visitor – must have missed you. A 'chanted animal. Sukata caught it coming out of your tent, Lady Rennyn, and while I can’t feel anything that’s about to explode, I’m certain there’s something off."

"What kind of enchanted animal?" Rennyn asked, with a flicker of interest. She took a step toward the centre of the camp, but Captain Illuma stopped her.

"To walk into a trap now would lose the advantage gained in discovering it."

For a moment Kendall thought Rennyn would object, but then she let herself be escorted to the far side of the camp, where she sat with her chin on her knees watching as her tent was dissected.

She’d been in a weird mood since dinner yesterday. Riding through the forest she’d seemed quite happy, going on about the use of symbols in Sigillic magic while eating every berry that came into her reach. But she’d come back from a walk yesterday totally withdrawn and gone straight to bed and then straight to the Hells the next morning, without saying more than two sentences the whole time. Now, while the Sentene pulled all her stuff out of the tent, she just sat and did nothing.

Kendall took her over a plate of pan bread, greasy with cheese. "You don’t seem too worried."

"They’re professionals." Rennyn took the plate, but put it down by her feet.

"I guess there wasn’t any great horde of Night Roamers at the breach?"

"A lone and very surprised Stalker."

"All this fuss and preparation–"

"I’m sure it amuses my Wicked Uncle no end." Rennyn lifted her head at that, and gazed out into the dark forest. Searching.

"You think he’s out there?" Kendall asked, realising just why half the Sentene had left the camp again.

"Not at this moment."

"Eat your dinner."

That won a brief glance, but no other response. Kendall squinched her eyes in frustration, and was annoyed at herself for caring. If Rennyn didn’t want to eat, let her starve. If she had circles under her eyes once again, then – but with a half-dozen Sentene playing with her tent, probably she had no choice about staying awake. Sukata brought two more plates and they ate their own meals and watched their teacher brood.

Finally Captain Illuma and Captain Medan came over and displayed a half-grown and very skinny grey cat, supposedly disenchanted, and a small lump of damp brown fur, apparently far from it.

"Underneath one corner of the bedroll," Captain Medan said. "The power signature isn’t large, but it’s a very elegant piece of casting."

It looked like a half-eaten mouse to Kendall. She knew by now that a signature was the detectable trace of magic from a spell or enchantment, and was disappointed to not feel anything at all from the lump. She was still too weak a mage.

Rennyn, on the other hand, tilted her head to one side, narrowed her eyes, then said: "Some kind of message?"

"We believe that it would cause a sleeper to dream along a set pattern," Captain Illuma said.

"Ah. Tailor-made nightmares."

"Or possibly an attempt to influence your waking behaviour. Magister Eldian will continue to attempt to divine its exact content."

"What are you going to do with the cat?"

Captain Medan hoisted the scrawny grey animal doubtfully. "Give it dinner?"

That brought the hint of a smile to Rennyn’s lips, but it was the last real response Kendall saw out of her that night. It was like she’d decided she didn’t want to be with them any more, was moving away from them even while she sat among them. Like she was already gone.