Caught in Crystal: A Lyra Novel (24 page)

The innkeeper chuckled. “I know what you mean; I’ve three of my own that are much the same. I’ll take care of it as soon as I’ve finished adding up his score for this gentleman.”

“Adding up… You’re leaving?” she said to Glyndon in surprise.

Glyndon shifted uncomfortably. “I’d planned to, yes.”

“Why?”

“I just thought it would be better if I went somewhere else.”

“Better how?”

“Last night…”

“So you got drunk. I’ve seen you drunk before, and last night wasn’t one of your worst. You didn’t even say anything offensive, that I remember.”

Glyndon gave her a long, searching look, then took a deep breath and blew it out. “Never mind. I’ve decided to stay.” He grinned at her suddenly. “Join me for breakfast?”

Kayl sighed in exaggerated exasperation. “For us, it’s lunch. Oh, come on; I suppose the sooner you get some food, the sooner you’ll get rid of that hangover.”

“How do you know I—”

“I told you, I’ve seen you drunk before,” Kayl said meaningfully, and grinned. “Over this way.”

They joined Mark and Dara beside the fire. The innkeeper brought them a loaf of dark, crusty bread, a slab of creamy yellow cheese, and four pottery mugs of ale. Kayl cut chunks for everyone. “Did you get my note?” Kayl asked Glyndon as the innkeeper walked away from the table.

Glyndon nodded with some care. “What did the Sisterhood want you for?”

The children looked at Kayl expectantly. Kayl sighed. “They’d called a council of the Elder Mothers, and they wanted me there as head victim. I have a lot to tell you, but not here.”

“Mother!” Mark protested. “You can’t just send us off somewhere and not tell us anything. It’s not fair!”

“Did I say I was going to do that?” Kayl asked.

“Well, no, but—”

“There are some odd things going on, Mark, and some of them are very serious. I don’t think a public room is a good place to discuss them. Particularly after what happened on the way here.”

“What’s that?” Glyndon asked sharply.

Kayl looked around uneasily. The room was nearly empty; the innkeeper and the other two customers were crowded around the counter, arguing amicably about the proper way of making winter wine. Kayl looked back at Glyndon. “A man in a green cloak stopped Dara and asked her a lot of questions about the Star Hall.”

“I see.” Glyndon looked at Dara. “And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing much,” Dara said.

“What does that mean?” Kayl asked.

“Well, he acted as if I were stupid or something. So I pretended I was, and kept repeating things and correcting myself and going on about things like how much I’d rather wear red than gray.” She grinned suddenly, and Kayl was reminded vividly of Kevran in one of his mischievous moods. “He didn’t like me much. I think he was getting annoyed.”

“I bet he was a spy,” Mark said.

“It’s entirely possible,” Glyndon told him.

Mark’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, looking very thoughtful. Kayl closed her eyes briefly; all she needed now was for Mark to go looking for Dara’s mystery man. She resolved to have a long talk with him very soon. In the meantime, she had more pressing worries. “Can you describe this man, Dara?”

“He had a mustache, and his hair was dark. He was just a man.”

“What kinds of things did he ask about?” Kayl went on.

Dara frowned, concentrating. “What the Star Hall was like, how many Sisters did we see, what did we do, what did people talk about. Things like that.”

Kayl and Glyndon exchanged glances. “We’ll have to tell the Sisterhood,” Kayl said. “You did well, Dara, and I’m proud of you.”

“I could’ve done better,” Mark muttered under his breath.

Kayl decided to have her talk with him that evening, sooner if possible. “There seems to be no harm done. Still, I want you two to be careful about discussing the Sisterhood and what goes on in the Star Hall, even between the two of you. I suppose I should have made a point of this before, but it didn’t seem particularly necessary.”

Mark and Dara nodded in unison. “Good,” Kayl said. “Now, if you’re all finished eating, I think we should continue this conversation upstairs. You, too, Glyndon.”

The children were subdued as they rose and followed Kayl. Glyndon brought up the rear. Kayl waited until they were all inside her room, then said, “Glyndon, would you mind warding the room?”

Glyndon looked startled, but he nodded. Mark and Dara watched in fascination as the wizard made a series of intricate passes before the window, then repeated them in front of the door. He spoke three unfamiliar words and struck his staff lightly against the floor. The draft from the cracks in the window shutters ceased abruptly.

“All secure,” Glyndon said, leaning his staff against the wall.

“Thank you,” Kayl replied with a glance at the window.

“My pleasure,” Glyndon said, and bowed.

“Sit down and let me tell you what’s been happening.”

Glyndon settled himself cross-legged on the floor beside the children and looked at her. Kayl took a deep breath and started. She covered most of the important things she had learned at the Star Hall, stopping occasionally to clarify something for Mark or Dara. She hesitated briefly when she came to Barthelmy’s revelation about the waning power of the Sisterhood’s magic, then included it in her narrative anyway. The Sisterhood might not trust Glyndon, but Kayl did.

She did not, however, mention whatever had happened to her memory; that would have to wait until she could speak with Glyndon alone. She did not want Mark and Dara fussing over her, or casting worried looks at her back, and they would certainly do both if she let them get the idea that something was wrong with her.

Glyndon stopped her only once. “Are you sure you want these two to have all the details?” he asked, nodding at Mark and Dara.

The children made protesting noises. Kayl raised a hand to stop them and said, “One way or another, this is going to affect Mark and Dara as much as it affects me. I want them to understand what’s happening. And they’re old enough to be trusted not to let things slip in the wrong places.”

Mark and Dara exchanged glances and sat up straighter, looking solemn. Kayl went back to her narrative. When she reached the Ri Astar Diary and the Elder Mothers’ cryptic comments regarding it, Glyndon turned white. She looked at him inquiringly, but he gestured for her to finish. She did so, then said, “Now, Glyndon, why did the Ri Astar Diary hit you so hard?”

“I have to see that scroll, Kayl,” Glyndon said. “I
have
to. If it’s that old, if it has information about the Tower, I might be able to understand…” His voice trailed off and he gestured aimlessly with one hand.

Kayl stared at him, appalled by her own thoughtlessness.

She had been so intent on the Sisterhood and its plans that she had forgotten Glyndon’s visions. “I can try, Glyndon,” she said after a moment. “But you know how the Sisterhood feels about Varnans.”

“You say they spoke of a crystal?” Glyndon said as though he had not heard. “I have to see that book!”

“Glyndon!” Kayl said sharply.

He blinked, then looked at her. “Sorry,” he said apologetically. “It’s just that, well, it means a lot to me.”

“I can see that. I’ll do what I can.” Kayl sat up suddenly. “Which reminds me, I have something else I want you to look at. Kevran’s rod.”

“You have it with you?” Glyndon said, sounding surprised.

“Did you think I’d leave it at the inn for the Magicseekers to find?” Kayl snagged the bundle with the rod in the bottom and dug through it until she found the carefully wrapped package.

“What is it?” Mark demanded, staring at the oilcloth as if he could see through it if he looked hard enough.

“It’s the rod your father used to channel his magic,” Kayl said. She looked at Glyndon. “Every time I touch it, I… remember things. Mainly the trip to the Tower.”

“It shouldn’t be doing that. You’re sure it’s the rod itself, not just associations?” Glyndon said. There were harsh edges to his voice, but his tone was gentle.

“I’m sure.”

“Can I try it?” Mark asked.

“No.” Kayl passed the package to Glyndon, taking care not to dislodge the wrappings.

Glyndon stared at it for a moment. “I suppose I’d better look at it,” he said finally, and laid back the folds of oilcloth.

Mark leaned forward eagerly as the dark, shiny wood came into view. Dara was looking at Kayl with a troubled frown. “Mother, why didn’t you ever
tell
us about any of this?” she said.

“There was no reason to,” Kayl said.

“There was no reason not to!”

“I thought there was.”

“What?”

“I don’t think this is the time to go into it. Later—”

“Later, later, you always say you’ll explain later and you never do!” Dara said angrily.

“That’s enough, Dara,” Kayl said quietly. “I said we’d discuss it later, and that’s the end of the matter.”

Dara sat back on her heels, her expression mutinous. Kayl waited until she was sure her daughter was not going to try to press matters, then turned away, feeling tired and a little guilty.

The rod lay on the bare floorboards. Glyndon knelt beside it, scrutinizing it with his hands clasped behind his back to avoid an accidental touch. He looked up as Kayl’s head turned. “Nothing’s changed in its appearance, and I can’t find any traces of magic lingering on it. Would you mind demonstrating?”

“If you insist,” Kayl said. Seeing Glyndon’s expression, she added quickly, “It’s not that bad, Glyndon. They’re only memories. Just tell me when.”

Glyndon started to say something, then stopped short and simply gestured Kayl toward the rod. She leaned over and brushed her fingers across it.

The man was tall and lean, with gray eyes and dark hair that was just beginning to show streaks of gray. Kayl watching him closely as he talked, letting her companions ask most of the questions.

“Yes, I know the mountains well,” he told Beshara. His voice was smooth as currant wine, and surprisingly deep for such a lean man. “I’ve lived in them all my life.”

Kayl blinked. Was there an undercurrent of anger in his last few words? Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward as Beshara smiled and said, “Would you feel capable of acting as our guide, then?”

“I’m capable enough,” the man said pleasantly, “but I’m no guide. I can direct you, though, if that’s what you need.”

“That is what we need. Among other things,” Beshara murmured.

“This is ridiculous,” Barthelmy snapped. “Ask him what we want to know, or let him go, but in the stars’ name stop sidling around the question!”

“Barthelmy.” Evla put a soothing hand on her arm.

“She has a point,” Kevran said quietly.

Beshara glanced at him and shrugged. “Oh, very well, do as you like.”

Kevran turned to the dark-haired man, who had been watching the exchange with interest. “We are, as you may have guessed, searching for something. We know it is somewhere in the Windhome Mountains, and we suspect that it is… unusual.”

“Not much of a description,” the man commented.

“No, but we are hoping you can suggest a place to start looking.” Kevran smiled wryly. “The Windhome Mountains are a lot to search, otherwise.”

The dark-haired man hesitated. “There’s a place I know of,” he said, and stopped.

“Tell us. Please,” Varevice said.

“It’s a valley, a little less than two weeks’ ride north and east of here,” the man said reluctantly. “There’s a tower… It’s an evil place; no one lives there. Those who know of it avoid it.”

Kevran exchanged glances with Beshara and Varevice. “It’s somewhere to start, and it’s in the right area,” he said. He turned back to the dark-haired man. “Can you tell us how to find it? We’ll pay well for the information.”

The man looked startled, and his eyes darkened. For a moment, Kayl thought he was going to refuse; then he said, “I will tell you how to reach the valley, but I will not take your money for it.”

“So?” Beshara raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “As you wish. Are you lettered? Write out your directions, then, and give them to Kevran there in the morning, and we will thank you for it.”

The man nodded and turned away. As he passed Kayl on his way out, she heard him mutter, “For this, there should be no thanks.”

Kayl’s fingers bumped against the floor of the room, and she blinked. Mark and Dara were looking at her with wary fascination. “That was weird,” Mark said tentatively.

Kayl smiled at him. “You don’t know how right you are.” She looked at Glyndon. “Did you find out anything?”

“Something happened, but I’m not sure what,” Glyndon admitted. “What was it like?”

“Like daydreaming, I suppose,” Kayl said. “I remembered the inn where Beshara found the man who told us about the Tower and the valley.”

“Mmm.” Glyndon looked down at the rod. “I suppose the next step is obvious,” he said, half to himself. As he spoke, he reached forward. Kayl’s protest was a fraction of a second too late to keep him from touching the rod.

Glyndon went white to the lips. Kayl knocked his hand away from the rod, then caught him as he swayed sideways and almost fell on top of it. He gasped and went limp in her arms. Frightened, she shook him. He did not move at once, and for a moment, she thought he had lost consciousness. Then he shuddered and pushed himself back up to his knees.

Kayl steadied him briefly, then let her hand drop. “See if there’s any water left in the wash pitcher, Mark,” she said.

“That’s not necessary,” Glyndon said, raising his head.

Mark looked uncertainly from Glyndon to his mother. Kayl nodded. Glyndon was still white, but she could tell from the set of his shoulders that he was going to be stubborn, and there was no point in getting Mark caught in a tug-of-war.

“Thank you,” Glyndon said as Mark settled back. He looked at Kayl and there was a gleam of amusement on his face. “I do believe you are right about this thing,” he said, indicating the rod.

“Good of you to admit it,” Kayl said, grinning back at him in relief. She wanted to ask what he had seen or remembered, but could not quite bring herself to do so.

“The question now is why.” Glyndon stared speculatively at the rod, curiosity chasing the signs of strain from his face. “Kevran said something once, a long time ago… I wonder if he ever did it?”