The Lost Heiress

18

I saw my brother suffer a hundred years of remorse.

He had worked with evil and fought to be free of it.

I saw how despair turned cold in his heart.

Apocalypse of Tamar

CARYS STEPPED BETWEEN the two oak trunks warily.

In the deep hollows, crisp leaves were piled; she stood knee-high in the forest’s debris. Above, the gnarled branches rustled in every breeze, a new gilt shower tinseling down. Under the slow pattering, she waited.

The wood was silent, its pathways lost behind trunks and branches.

But she knew they were here.

Careless, she leaned back against the oak trunk, squatting down in the fork between immense sprawled roots. Her crossbow was loaded. She could wait.

The dream had come two nights ago, just when she was running out of lies to tell Braylwin. A great black bird had perched on the end of the bed, some village girl’s bed she had borrowed for the night, and it had spoken to her with Galen’s voice.

“Keilder Forest,” it had said. “Near the Watchhouse.” And then it had gone, flapping out of the window as if it had really been there.

She turned at a cracked twig. A skeat eyed her coldly, then padded off among the bracken. As she watched it, she glimpsed a sharp face looking at her between branches and glanced away to hide a grin. It was the Sekoi.

Galen came out first, brushing between ferns, Raffi a shadow at his back. They squatted.

“Took your time,” she said coolly.

“We had to make sure you were alone.”

“The Watch are never alone.”

“Neither are the Order.” Galen looked sharp, as if power moved in him.

She grinned over his shoulder at Raffi. “You look older.”

To her surprise that startled him, even scared him. “Do I?” he breathed.

“Well, don’t worry. Not that much.”

The Sekoi had ambled over; it crouched in the deep leaf-drift. “All together again. How cozy.”

She made a face at it.

“We’ve found the Interrex,” Galen said quickly. “At least we know where she is.”

“She?”

“We think so.”

“In this forest?”

He looked hard at her, then tipped his head to where the distant edge of the Watchhouse roof showed beyond the trees. “There.”

Carys stared, astonished. “In a Watchhouse!”

“We think so,” he said again.

She whistled, then shook her head, pulling a leaf out of her hair absently. “No wonder you want me! How do you know she’s in there?”

“The Makers told us.” He was watching her steadily; she knew he suspected her, that he guessed something. Abruptly she laughed. “I never know what you mean when you say that, Galen. Well, if she is in there, you’ve got your work cut out. She’d probably slit your throat rather than let you take her.”

That stung him. His face darkened, and she saw suddenly how he hated this, that even the heir of the Emperors should have been tainted and corrupted by his enemies. And she hated it too. So much, she even surprised herself.

She tucked a stray hair behind one ear. “So what’s the plan?”

“I thought I’d leave that to you. You know these places.”

Indeed she did. Grim, bare classrooms, icy courtyards, the stark dormitories, the punishments, the ones who sobbed in the dark, who disappeared one day, never to be seen again. The guards, the passwords. Nowhere to hide. No way out. And what it did to you.

She looked up at him suddenly. “Listen, Galen, get out of here. Go now! Go quickly!”

At once the Sekoi hissed, its yellow eyes narrowing, “What do you mean?”

“She means,” Galen said softly, “that we’re surrounded by the Watch.”

The creature leaped up with a snarl. Galen never took his eyes off Carys.

“I can explain,” she said.

“I’m sure you can.”

“If you knew, why did you come?”

“Because I wanted to find out why.”

Harnesses clinked in the wood. Raffi was on his feet, feeling the sense-lines shatter, praying that Galen knew what he was doing.

Ten men on horses faced them. Each crossbow was firmly aimed. The horses were painted red; the men wore the black patrol-helmets of the Watch, their eyes bright in the slits. On the end of the line sat an extraordinary figure, a fat man in a great waxed coat, his puffed face rimmed with black, oily hair, perfectly curled. He smiled, his swollen fingers tossing the reins. “You must introduce me to your friends, sweetie.”

“Drop dead,” Carys said. Her face was hot and angry.

Slowly Galen stood up and turned. He stood, feet apart, staring calmly across the clearing. “I’m Galen Harn, Relic Master of the Order of keepers.”

Braylwin smirked. “Are you now. And I’m Arno Braylwin, Captain of the Watch, Spymaster, first grade, thief-taker, interrogator of sorcerers.”

Raffi felt cold. He couldn’t take his eyes off the nearest crossbow. One twitch, he thought, and sweated with the effort to keep still.

Braylwin gave a haughty nod.

One of his men slid down and brought a small set of wooden steps, garishly painted, which he put in the leaf-drift. One hand on the man’s shoulder, Braylwin climbed unsteadily down. Then he flicked some leaves off a log with his coattail and sat down.

The Sekoi snarled at Carys. “You betrayed us,” it hissed. “I always knew you would.”

“I had no choice!” Suddenly it was all too much. She scorched into temper, leaping up and pushing Raffi aside so fiercely that he lost balance and crashed into the thick drift of leaves. Crossbows swiveled after him. He lay still.

“He knows something about me! I thought it would help if I told him about you, and it was a way of telling you about the Interrex! For Flain’s sake, Galen, I never thought you’d really find her!”

The Sekoi spat. “Playing both sides, as ever.”

Galen stood listening, silent.

Carys marched up to Braylwin and stared down at him, her hand quivering with fury. “But this slug has brains. He’s like a shadow. Whatever I tried I couldn’t throw him off.”

She turned her head, suddenly not sure whom she was angry with. “I’m sorry, Galen. All of you.”

“Impressive.” Braylwin looked at her admiringly. “You’ll go far. I almost believe it myself.”

Stubbornly she glanced at Raffi. He looked away. What was she doing? What was she really up to?

Galen stirred, ignoring the taut bows. He looked coldly down at the Watchlord. “I’ll give you no information, no matter what you do.”

Braylwin shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The boy will talk.” He smiled easily. “Believe me, I know. I’ve seen them scream and beg to tell me anything, even to die. He looks terrified already.”

Leaves pattered in the bitter silence. Braylwin scratched his cheek with a thumbnail. “So. The Interrex exists and is in the hands of the Watch! It seems all your dreams are in ruins, keeper. It also poses an interesting little problem for me, actually. After all, I don’t want to tell the schoolmaster in there why I want her. There’ll be a stiff reward for this one, and I don’t intend to share it.” He glanced over. “Except with my loyal staff, of course.”

Carys glared at him. She looked so cold and expressionless Raffi was suddenly icy with terror—the sense-lines wreathed around the backs of his hands, raising the small hairs. She raised the crossbow slowly, until it was pointing directly at Braylwin’s head.

He smiled, sweating slightly. “Don’t you love your uncle, then, Carys? You ought to, you know. Fire that weapon and you and these will die in the same shower of bolts, and that would be a shame, now, wouldn’t it. Such a promising career.”

The bow didn’t waver. Confused, a few of the horsemen aimed at her reluctantly.

“He’s right.” Galen’s voice was harsh and steady. He watched, a half smile on his hooked face, his eyes dark and sharp. “It wouldn’t be worth it, Carys.”

She whirled so the bow faced him. “Maybe I should kill you, then. Profitable for me, better for you. Better than torture, anyway. I’ve seen what they’ll do to you.”

Dry-mouthed, Raffi watched. No one was looking at him anymore, but he didn’t dare to crawl away.

“I think,” Galen said softly, “you should remember your own first rule. Isn’t it something about the Watch always being watched?”

He moved, walking slowly toward her while the Sekoi fidgeted with terror. Coming close, he put a hand on the bow and pushed it gently down. Taints of purple sparked from the keeper’s fingers; Carys saw them and stared.

The bolt smacked into dry leaves.

At the same time, out of nowhere, arrows slashed across the clearing into the Watchmen, sending their horses swirling in a sudden crashing, whinnying panic. A bolt slammed into a tree above Raffi; he rolled, scrambling and wriggling deep under the leaves and away.

When he raised his head and looked back, Galen and the Sekoi hadn’t moved. Neither had Braylwin. But the five Watchmen lay still, and the rest were scrambling from their horses’ tangled harnesses.

Around them, among the trees, a war-band laughed and mocked; a dirty, gold-decked, gaudy army, dressed and painted in crazy colors, their horses’ manes tangled with bright ribbons.

Galen looked at Braylwin. “You may be ruthless, my lord. But here’s someone who could give you lessons. I too have my troublesome shadow.”

Braylwin stood and stared at the tiny man in the blue quilted robe who was leaping from his horse.

“You may have heard of him,” Galen said drily. “His name is Alberic.”

The dwarf grinned, immensely pleased. “This is a feast, Galen Harn, a feast! Not only you and that tale-spinner, but a Watchlord! A ripe, fat, money-dripping Watchlord!” He was hugging himself in delight, dancing a few happy steps among the leaves. “Down, boys and girls! Pick up those bows. Whip some rope around our prisoners.”

Appalled, Braylwin glowered. “You can’t. You wouldn’t dare . . .”

“Shut it, flesh-pile!” Instantly Alberic’s joy died. His shrewd eyes flicked around the clearing. “Wait!” Then he whirled on Galen and roared the question the keeper had been waiting for.

“Where’s your scholar? And where’s that girl!”