The fall of Highwatch

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Guric slumped in his chair. He'd turned it to face the door of his personal chamber, but A rgalath still had not come. The flagon dangling from Guric's right hand had been empty a long time. The wine had thickened his head, making him feel warm and the world around him soft, but it had not dampened his ire.

He heard voices. Someone knocked on his door. "Enter," Guric said. He did not get up, did not even straighten in his cha ir.

The door opened, and Sagar stepped inside. "He's here, my lord."

"Send him in. Alone. And shut the door behind you."

Sagar turned and left the room. Guric could see more guards, and beyond them, Argalath, head buried deep in his hood against the light. Vazhad and Jatara lurked beyond their master. Argalath entered the room, and Sagar slammed the door behind him.

Argalath bowed. "I come as bidden, my lord."

"Drop your cowl, counselor. I would look at you when you speak."

"The light, my lord…"

Guric had ordered the hearth packed full of wood and blazing, every lamp in the room lit, and more candles brought in. One might have thought it was High Festival by the look of things.

"Then close your eyes. I like to look at a man when he lies to me."

Argalath laid the palm of one hand against his chest and bowed even deeper. "You wound me, my lord."

"Drop that cowl, damn you!"

Slowly, Argalath straightened and lowered the hood. He squeezed his eyes shut and placed one hand over them. "How have I lied to you, my lord?"

Guric stood. He towered over the spellscarred man by more than a head, but he still found himself hesitant to approach. "I have two questions for you, Argalath, and I want the raw truth. No evasions."

"Might you dampen some of the lamps, my lord?"

"No," said Guric. "Where is my wife?"

Argalath licked his lips. "We have been over this, my lord. I assure you, your beloved's body is being well cared for until we can return her to you."

"Where is her body being well cared for?"

"Someplace safe."

"She's down beneath the fortress, isn't she? In those caves. Down there with your other monsters. Isn't she?"

Argalath stepped toward Guric and laid one hand on his shoulder to push him toward the bed. "You sound so tired, my lord. You aren't thinking clearly. Please, take your rest. I will see to everything. If you so wish it, I will have her brought back to the tower at once."

Guric took one step back, his legs crashing into the chair behind him, then smashed the empty wine flagon against Argalath's skull. The baked clay was thick, but it shattered. The man grunted and went down in a tangle of his own robes.

The door slammed open, and Sagar and Isidor rushed in, swords drawn. Jatara stood just outside the door, struggling with two guards, who were keeping her out of the room and preventing her from drawing her sword.

"Do you need assistance, my lord?" said Isidor.

Guric looked down at Argalath, who was rubbing the side of his head and brushing shards of pottery off his shoulder.

"No. Everyone out. If anyone"-Guric caught Jatara's gaze-"enters without my word, Sagar, you have my leave to run them through."

Sagar smiled and gave the fallen Argalath a rather disbelieving-and very relieved-glance before following the other guard out. Guric walked past Argalath and shut the door behind them.

Argalath pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.

"What was the other thing you wished to know of me?" Argalath said. His voice lacked his usual deference, and he seemed more angry than hurt.

The first pang of doubt hit Guric, like a little shock at the bottom of his skull. "What?"

"You asked where Valia is," said Argalath. He stood before Guric, eyes still closed, but he stood straight now, not cowering against the light. "But you said you had two questions. What is the other?"

"I trusted you," said Guric. "I trusted you with everything. My life. My future. Everything I had. Even after you turned Valia into that… that thing, still I clung to your word. But I was wrong, wasn't I? This was your game all along, wasn't it? Those Nar I saved you from all those years ago, they were right, weren't they? You are a… a monster."

"Am I a monster? What is a monster but a trial for the hero in bards' tales? I gave you all you asked for, never asking anything in return. And you are no hero, Guric."

A low growl built in Guric's throat. No one had ever spoken to him in such a fashion. Had he been sober, he might have given Argalath a cold laugh and summoned the guards. But the wine had opened his eyes, had showed him that when the really important things of life are at stake-and nothing was more important than his beloved Valia-all the trappings of society, of court, of civilization, all the bows and "by your leaves" were only so much pretty ribbon on an unbroken horse. Pretty it up all you like, the horse still would suffer no master-unless the master broke it.

He had a dagger at his belt. No. Too swift. Guric wanted to beat this monster with his bare hands. He balled both fists and charged.

The patches of pale skin mottling Argalath's skin suddenly flared with cold, blue light, and pain-agony like he had never known, like he had never imagined any one person could know-struck Guric in the chest, then radiated outward. He couldn't cry out. Couldn't even draw breath. His entire chest seemed to constrict, and he fell at Argalath's feet. Darkness was closing in around the edges of his vision.

"Guric," said Argalath, "because you have been such a useful tool in my hand, I will answer your last question. And it will be your last. Those men you rescued me from all those years ago were doing exactly what I told them to do. They played their roles perfectly."

The pain evaporated, and Guric spent every ounce of his strength drawing breath into his body. He opened his eyes. His vision was clearing, though the room seemed to dance and swirl. All the lamps had gone out. All the candles. Only the fire in the hearth remained, bathing Argalath's robes in a hellish light.

On the other side of the door, he could hear men screaming. The clash of steel on steel.

He looked up at Argalath. The man was smiling.

Guric tried to push himself up, but a new pain struck him, right in the middle of his head.

"That is a vein in your brain bursting," said Argalath. "That warmth, that… fuzziness you're feeling is your own blood flooding the inside of your skull. Your own heartbeat is killing you. So, Guric, I will answer your question: Yes. This was my game all along. Thank you for playing."