Duainfey (18 page)

"If she cuts it, the virtue will be lost," Altimere said, so softly that Becca scarcely heard him.

The trader Fey's ears were sharp, however. He turned and gave Altimere a brilliant smile only slightly less false than that which he had bestowed upon his late customer.

"She said nothing of cutting it," he pointed out, and inclined his head. "Altimere."

"Jandain," he replied, and brought Becca forward.

Jandain's eyebrows lifted. "But what delight is shown me here?"

"This is Rebecca Beauvelley," Altimere murmured. "My ally."

"Ah, is it so?" Jandain stepped forward and extended his hand. Becca felt pressure, like the sudden onset of a headache. Her hand twitched where it lay on Altimere's sleeve, and relaxed.

Gravely, keeping her eyes modestly lowered, she curtsied.

"Jandain, I am pleased to meet you," she murmured.

"And I am
very
pleased to meet you, Rebecca Beauvelley," he asserted, smiling into her face as she rose. His eyes still on her face, he said, "Altimere, she is exquisite. Allow me to make her a gift."

"Thank you, no," Altimere said, and Becca felt the pressure behind her eyes fade away into the familiar, pleasant warmth. "We cross the
keleigh
tomorrow, and then ride for Artifex."

"You are taking her with into the Vaitura? Is that wise?"

Becca felt a flicker of irritation, immediately extinguished by Altimere's mellow reply. "Why should I not bring my ally to the Vaitura? She is a woman of power and altogether admirable."

"Indeed," said Jandain. "
Altogether
admirable. And likely to quickly obtain admirers. Of which you may count me, Miss Beauvelley," he said, bringing his attention back to her so suddenly that she felt the tiniest bit of headache return—"your first, and most ardent."

Becca shook her head, giving him a smile. "Your admiration is a gift, sir, but Altimere is first in my regard."

"And are you first in his?" He held up a slim hand before she could answer. "Nay, heed me not! I will happily be your second admirer, cruel beauty! I trow you will find me ardent, indeed."

What,
Rebecca thought suddenly,
was she doing, flirting in the marketplace like a—a—
Her cheeks heated, and she dropped her gaze, staring at rough table with its burden of fragile clothes.

"
Wholly
delightful," breathed Jandain. "Altimere, where discovered you this pearl?"

"A pearl beyond price," Altimere murmured, "and rare, as well. Jandain, you must come to call on . . . us . . . when your business here is done."

There was a short, charged pause, during which Becca dared to raise her eyes, accidentally crossing Jandain's golden gaze.

"Yes," he murmured, then more strongly, "yes, Altimere, be assured that I will visit you both ere long." He leaned forward slightly, and Becca felt that unwelcome pressure again above her eyes. "Remember me, cruel beauty."

"Of course I will, sir," she responded, most properly, and with relief allowed Altimere to guide her away from the booth and back toward the high street.

"
Will
he come to visit . . . you?" Becca asked some while later, as they paused in the center of the bridge to observe the rush of the stream beneath their feet. "Jandain."

"Surely, he will come to visit
you,
" Altimere said in a light, teasing tone. "You have made a conquest, Miss Beauvelley."

"But, he must be disappointed," she said rubbing her arm absently. "For it is you—"

"It is I to whom you have entrusted your power," he finished for her. "But, you see, Jandain is of . . . a new house. He is fond of sensation and he has never aligned his power with another's."

Becca thought, watching the stream swirl white among the rounded stones. "Then he must be very powerful, mustn't he?"

"How quickly the child learns," Altimere said fondly. "Yes, my sweet, he is very powerful, indeed."

"And do you wish to . . . join power—to align yourself—with him."

Altimere laughed. "Droll child! I do not."

"Why not, sir?"

He glanced at her, his amusement filling her with a giddy sense of wellbeing.

"Well you should ask," he said, after a moment, and more soberly. "I am of an old house. One of ours was present when the
keleigh
was made—indeed, was instrumental in its construction. Jandain's house was a mere cadet branch, which would never have risen to the first rank—had the war not cost us so much."

"
Keleigh,
" Rebecca repeated. Altimere took her by the arm and turned her about.

"Look."

To the north, just behind the gables of the town's outlying houses, was a shimmering curtain of lights—purples, greens, and oranges dancing against the dusky sky. Becca shivered, as if in a cold wind.

"That is—the Boundary, is it not?"

"The
keleigh,
" Altimere corrected.

"But, the Boundary—your pardon! the
keleigh
—has been in place for an hundred years or more!"

"More," he said. "Considerably more."

His voice woke another shiver.

"Come, what am I thinking!" he said abruptly, and drew her hand through his arm. "You are chilled and wanting your supper. Let us walk back. There is a restaurant on Savory Lane which I think you may find acceptable . . ."

They had traveled the last two days under leaf, and Meri was the better for it. Though they were not Vanglewood, the trees had been generous to him: the pack he bore grew lighter with every step, the steps themselves firmer and less likely to wander, his woodsense sharpened—it even seemed to him that he felt a bare flutter of
kest
, far down at the base of his spine, like sap, waiting to rise.

It worried him not a little that he was to meet an Engenium in this powerless state. He had no illusions regarding his ability to resist such a one—Root and branch! A babe in arms could overcome his will! Sian—even the giddy, haphazard Sian he recalled from . . . before—would have no problem binding him.

Why she should want to do so—that remained a puzzle. The ocean had taught the Sea Wise to be cautious with their powers and niggardly in their use, a lesson the High Fey might profit from, as well. And though she had been fostered among the Sea Wise, as he had, himself, Sian was tied by blood to the Queen herself, in Xandurana.

She had demanded that he be waked and sent to her, ensuring that her order would be followed by sending the charm that, depleted as he was, he could feel vibrating from the depths of Ganat's pocket.

That these acts boded well for him, he very much doubted. The girl he had known would have been . . . incapable of forcing him to her will, even had she the means to do so.

The woman who had sent that . . . thing . . . to ensure his obedience . . . 

"Let us stop here for a meal and a rest," Ganat said from behind him. "We'll raise Sea Hold by sunset."

Sunset?

Meri turned on a heel and considered his escort. "Shall we fly, then?"

"Near enough," Ganat said, shrugging off his pack and dropping it at the foot of a gnarled elitch.

They had traveled together long enough for Meri to know that Ganat treasured a mystery almost as much as he did a joke. Indeed, the two seemed interchangeable in his happy mind. He also knew that silence would elicit the same response as the direct question that Ganat craved.

On the other hand, he thought, shrugging off his pack, what else did they have to talk about?

He sat down on the moss and leaned his back against another elitch, feeling the tree take quiet note of him.

Is it you, Ranger?
The voice in his head was slow and warm.

Now, that was a question, wasn't it? Meri thought privately. And trust an elitch to ask it.

I was once a ranger, Elder,
he told the tree, striving for exactness.
How may I serve you?

There was no immediate response, nor had he expected one; trees were unhurried beings. Meri reached into his pack for trailbread. A faint creak of leather warned him and he raised his off-hand casually to catch the culdoon Ganat had thrown.

"You are
much
improved," his companion observed, unwrapping his own rations with a sigh. "It will be a pleasure to stop at Sea Hold and taste something other than waybread."

Meripen sent him a sharp glance, but it appeared that this was a rare moment of seriousness. "I never thought to hear one of the Wood Wise speak ill of trailbread."

"You forget that I have been tainted by my time in training," Ganat said, in a return to lightness.

"True, I had forgot that," Meri said, biting into the fruit.

I think the proper question might be,
the tree's voice rustled inside his head,
how I may serve you?

Meri choked slightly and swallowed, tart juices starting tears to his eyes.

I can think of no service necessary,
he answered, which was true; those things that ailed him were far beyond a tree's power to heal.
I thank you for your care,
he told the elitch politely. Vanglewood was home to many elitch, and they had drilled him well in courtesy.

He cleared his throat.

"So," he said to Ganat, "when will you summon the giant birds to bear us to Sea Hold? If you wish to arrive for dinner, it had best be soon."

"Giant birds, indeed," the other mumbled around a mouthful of trailbread. "You think small, Meripen Vanglelauf."

"Teach me to think more widely then, O farwalker."

Ganat snorted. "A few paces on there is a shortcut, created and held by Sea Hold."

Meri blinked. Shortcuts were—expensive of power, and because of that, fleeting.

"That's a great deal of trouble to go to for a poor, empty Wood Wise," he said slowly. What in the name of the Vaitura itself did Sian
want
with him? he thought, panic building in his stomach.

He took a swallow from his water bottle and settled his back more firmly against the tree.

"Well, it would be—but it happens that it's not for you. There was a bit of trouble with the Brethren some while ago and Sea Hold placed the thing for their own ease."

That was understandable, though this news of difficulty with the Brethren was disturbing . . . 

"I thought there was a treaty."

"Oh, any number of treaties—as many as you will! And however many you like there will still be some of the Low Fey who feel themselves mistreated by the High, and take exception in ways that are the most trouble for Wood Wise, and disturb the High not at all."

"Except they disturbed the Engenium at Sea Hold enough to create and maintain an extremely expensive bit of artifice—"

"Nay, that's where you're out," Ganat said, dusting crumbs off his fingers and settling back against his tree. "It's not expensive at all."

Meri finished his fruit and wrapped the pit in a fallen elitch leaf before stowing it in his pack. Old habits . . . 

"I can see," he said to Ganat, "that there is a great cleverness involved in this that you are bursting to share. Please, don't stint yourself on my account."

Ganat grinned at him. "It draws off the
keleigh
."

Shock struck him, as Ganat must have expected it would, and it must also have shown on his face, for the other laughed aloud, and shook his head.

"Oh, it's nothing but a trick of geometry! Of course the
keleigh
is anchored—if it weren't, it would have long drifted free over the Vaitura—and the other place, too. The heroes who constructed it knew better than that! It happens that one of the anchor points is just a short walk out from here, as some clever Book Scholar at the Engenium's House found one day as she was pursuing her studies. She brought it to my lord, my lord brought it to his artificers, they did the calculations, crafted the appropriate permissions and accesses—and there it's been ever since, convenient in times of trouble—or of sloth—and largely ignored otherwise."

"And are we trouble, or merely lazy?" Meri asked, forcing tight muscles to relax. Warmth eased into him from the tree—which was a welcome service, after all—and he relaxed further.

My thanks, Elder.

Ganat shook his head, his eyes serious for the second time in an hour. "That question has troubled me since the chyarch bade me stand your escort," he said. "Can you think of
no
reason why Sian of Sea Hold requires you
now
?"

Meripen moved his shoulders, hearing leather scuff across bark. "Sian and I are cousins," he said. "When last I saw her, she was scarcely in control of her powers, and the last of the line I would have looked to find in Velpion's chair."

"Well." Ganat sighed. "By all accounts, she is a puissant and prudent lady. For which I suppose we must thank her time at court."

"Sian was at court?" How long, Meri thought, his stomach tightening, had he been asleep?

Many seasons, if you are in truth the Sea Ranger,
the elitch said inside his head.
Seedlings have grown into full canopy since last your footfall was heard 'mong the trees in this wood.

Oh
. Meri's thought came on a sharp inhalation.
Dear
.

Elitch matured slowly. If the tree's reckoning was correct—and whose reckoning was more exact?—then there had been time a-plenty for Sian to learn both court-craft and prudence—aye, and to take Sea Hold well in hand.

Unfairly, this realization only made the root question more poignant. If he had indeed slept so long, what possible use was he—to anyone? Even his revenge—the men who had imprisoned and tortured them, defiled Faldana, and slain her—

Ranger, you go unprotected
.

Elder, I do. I was . . . sore wounded, and have been . . . long away from the care of trees.

Have you been so long away that you have forgotten the care of trees? You do not walk alone into danger.

There was a sharp
snap,
and the scent of broken greenwood. A branch struck his shoulder, bounced, and came to rest on his pack.

Thank you for your care, Elder,
Meri said.

Came back, when you are stronger, and tell me what went forth.