Goddess of the Ice Realm (56 page)

“The temple gave me the cage!” Panya said. “I did what I was told!”

“We sent you an Old Kingdom manuscript of Celondre's
Odes,
your highness,” the high priestess murmured. She frowned at Panya. “With an inscription in Celondre's own hand.”

“Mistress?” the spy who'd entered the council chamber said to Liane. She nodded but turned her head, biting her lip.

The spy gripped Panya by the hair and kicked her feet out from under her. His fellow stepped out of the way.

Panya cried out as she fell forward. The spy thrust her face into the basin of the fountain and held her there in a flurry of froth, then lifted her again. He didn't release her. The priestess gasped and spluttered, crying uncontrollably.

Liane turned. “Mistress,” she said, “your head will go under water each time you refuse to answer me. Each time will be longer. Eventually you will answer or you will die with your lungs on fire. Who sent you with the cage of birds?”

“I can't—” the priestess said. The spy thrust her forward.

“I'll tell!” she screamed. “I'll tell you!”

“Talk,” said Liane. There was more mercy in a flash of lightning than in her voice. “Quickly.”

“Count Lascarg's twins came to me,” Panya said. She closed her eyes; her neck muscles were taut so that her head didn't hang painfully from the spy's grip on her hair. “Monine and Tanus. They said I had to help them or they'd, they'd say things about me.”

Garric nodded in grim understanding. His enemies had corrupted Moisin, the priest of the Lady, with money, but they'd used blackmail to control the Shepherd's emissary.

“Go on,” said Liane. Garric was glad she had enough stomach to conduct the interview. He wasn't sure he could do it himself.

“There wasn't any harm,” Panya said desperately. “The
birds would sing, that's all, and nobody would tell, would say that I. . .”

She closed her eyes again, her lips working silently.

“Do the birds report what they hear to Monine and Tanus?” Liane asked. “Is that why you were to give them to Prince Garric?”

“I don't know,” Panya said. She or her conscience must have felt the spy's hand twitch. Her eyes opened again and she screamed, “I really don't know!”

“It doesn't matter,” said Garric. “We'll learn from the other end. Lord Waldron, I'd like you to take charge here with Lord Tosli's regiment while I return to the palace. It's crucial that no one leave the precinct to get word back to Lascarg's spawn.”

“Tosli can take care of that,” Waldron said. “He's a good officer, for all that his family's bloody Valles merchants. And if you're worried that this is a lot of running back and forth for an old man like me—”

That was
exactly
what Garric was worried about.

“—then don't be. I can march the legs off you and half the Blood Eagles, even if I do prefer riding a horse!”

“Let's go,” Garric said, starting for the stairway. Lord Waldron was exaggerating—
probably
exaggerating—but if he said he was ready to jog back to the palace, Garric wasn't fool enough to call him a liar.

“Your highness?” Liane called to his back. “What would you like done with Lady Panya?”

“She doesn't matter now!” Garric said. “Let her go, for all I care.”

He was out of the suite when he heard Lady Estanel say, “The temple will deal with the traitor, milady. Because I assure you, we care very much about her actions!”

Garric didn't laugh the way the king in his mind did; but neither did he go back to insist on mercy for a woman who'd been a traitor to her God and the kingdom both. Monine and Tanus, the dimly glimpsed puppeteers who'd toyed with him and Carus in dreams, were his present concern.

“Aye, lad, it'll be a pleasure to see them dance on a rope instead of us for a change,”
growled the king through a savage
smile.
“Assuming we take them alive, which wouldn't be my choice!”

A crimson flash from the jewel shattering between Cashel's thumbs turned the walls gripping him transparent. He still couldn't move, but he could see where he was. That didn't make him comfortable, exactly, but at least it was a change.

The demon Kakoral stood in front of him, laughing with a sound like a thatch roof ablaze. His body was a thousand shades of red, but now that Cashel saw the demon close-up he got the impression that the skin had no color at all—that instead it reflected the light of a different world.

The room was vast beyond anything Cashel had seen—except the sky from the deck of a ship at sea. Girders of light slanted from unguessible heights to the walls and floor. Cashel instinctively grasped their pattern, though his conscious mind couldn't
understand
it at all.

“Well, Master Cashel,” Kakoral said. “I thought I'd come myself this time, since you've proved to me that Kotia is not only Laterna's offspring but mine as well.”

Besides the structural members, a spiderweb of fine lines trailed through the interior space. Where they intersected, objects hung. Some were tiny, no bigger than a pear, but others seemed the size of large buildings. Kotia hung nude in a transparent enclosure like Cashel's own, slightly higher and a half bowshot away.

“I didn't prove anything,” Cashel said, frowning as he tried to puzzle out the question. “I just came to get her out.”

He paused, frowning harder. “If I could.”

“He means that Kotia found you for her champion,” said Evne on Cashel's shoulder. “Did you think that was a little thing, master?”

A gray globe was forming in the middle of the room. Cashel was good at judging sizes, but this thing tricked his eyes in a fashion he didn't understand. If he had to guess he'd have said it was large;
very
large, too large even for this huge space. But he also felt he could've spanned it with his arms if he'd been free to climb the cobwebs of light to where it hung.

“I don't think finding me counts for much, seeings as I'm trussed here like a chicken at market,” Cashel said.

Kakoral roared with laughter. His body seemed to swell to the scale of the room. “You brought me through the Visitor's defenses, Master Cashel,” he said. “That was enough to suit me. It will suit him too, like a hemp collar!”

The demon reached out a foreclaw toward Kotia. The crystal cage exploded in a crimson flash, leaving the girl sprawled in the air. She rubbed her biceps; she'd been spread-eagled in her prison like a hide pegged out for drying.

The globe was now a perfect solid with the glint of steel. It stabbed a needle of blue wizardlight toward Kakoral.

Toward where Kakoral
had
been. The bolt ripped a deep furrow across the floor, mounding material like smelter slag up on either side. The demon was a furlong high in the air, his hands spread.

Axeblades of red fire chopped at the globe and glanced off with ripping sounds. One sheared a girder and the other sparkled through a swath of the fine cords crisscrossing the interior. A second blue needle stabbed and missed.

The demon and the Visitor's globe rose in alternating pulses, leapfrogging one another and blasting wizardlight as they went. Neither of the opponents seemed to exist in the spaces between their successive stages.

Cashel followed the battle until even the searing flares of azure and crimson twinkled like the stars seen through horsetail clouds. He lowered his head, sighed, and gave a tentative pull at the quarterstaff. He'd hoped he'd find that the invisible substance binding him had softened since last he tried moving. It hadn't.

“I wish Kakoral had cut me loose before he left,” Cashel said, as much to himself as to Evne. He smiled. “I guess he had other things on his mind, though.”

“So do you, master,” the toad said, pointing with her right leg. “I rather thought we'd be seeing that one again.”

Cashel turned his head. Ansache was walking toward him, down a line of light that seemed to have no more substance than the sun's reflection in a pond. The wizard held his violet athame vertically in front of him like a ceremonial mace.

Cashel strained again. It didn't help any more than he'd thought it would. “Ah, Evne?” he said. “Can you stop the fellow? Because I can't, not tied up like this, and I don't think he has anything good in mind.”

“While the Great Lord of All Worlds deals with your pet, vermin . . .” Ansache said, pointing the tip of his athame at Cashel. “I will rid his domain of you!”

“Oh, I don't think either of us need to exert ourselves, master,” the toad said, rubbing her pale belly with a forepaw. “Let Lady Kotia do it, why don't we? She's had time to rest.”

“Brido ithi lothion!”
Ansache called, looking along his athame like a soldier sighting a catapult.

“Phrene noumothili!”
said Kotia from behind Cashel. A web of red wizardlight wrapped Ansache. It looked like the dazzle of a faceted jewel in full sunlight, but there was a roaring crackle as well. Ansache screamed.

Cashel turned his head. Kotia was walking toward them from the place where she'd been confined. In front of her, spinning in midair, was a golden disk—one of the objects Cashel had seen suspended from threads of light.

“Oba lari krithi!”
Kotia said. The golden disk slowed perceptibly; from it shot scarlet sparks that danced down over Ansache and tightened the bonds already in place. Ansache screamed again, but on a diminishing note. His shroud of red light collapsed to a point.

Ansache's athame clattered to the floor, blackened and smoking. Kotia frowned at it.
“Rali thonou bo!”
she said. The shimmering metal vanished in a thunderous crash, leaving motes of soot dancing in the air where it had been.

The disk settled with a hum that grew deeper as the spinning slowed. When it finally stopped with a liquid chime against the floor, the hum stopped also.

Kotia rubbed her forehead with both hands. Cashel waited till she'd lowered them and her eyes had cleared of the fatigue of the wizardry she'd completed.

“I'm glad to see you again, mistress,” he said. “Would you get me loose from how I'm held here? If you can, I mean.”

“What?” said Kotia, frowning. She looked at him closely, then gave a warm smile. “Yes, of course.”

She bent to raise the golden disk, then waved a dismissive
hand at it. “Faugh, there's no need,” she said. She touched the quarterstaff, apparently hanging in the air, with her index finger.

“Boea boa nerpha,”
she said in a firm, quiet voice.

The staff dropped into Cashel's waiting hand. His legs and lower body were free, and he felt like he'd just set down a heavy weight. It'd bothered him to be trapped that way; bothered him more than he'd realized till it was over.

“I see being a guest of the Visitor has brought you more in touch with your father, girl,” Evne said as she walked down Cashel's left arm and perched on the back of his hand where it held his staff. Her tiny claws prickled but her feet had a clammy stickiness that he found oddly pleasant.

“And who are you?” Kotia said, her eyes hardening as they focused on the little toad.

“She's my friend Evne,” Cashel said, surprised at the hostility in Kotia's tone. “I wouldn't have gotten here without her, mistress. I wouldn't have come close.”

“And I suppose you think she's a toad?” Kotia said to Cashel, raising an eyebrow.

“I
am
a toad, girl,” Evne said in a tone every bit as cold as Kotia's. “Unless you insist on having things a different way.”

Kotia laughed with a mocking undertone. “No, of course not,” she said. “I don't suppose it matters.”

“Not for me, it doesn't,” the toad agreed. “Nor for you either, I would judge.”

Cashel had heard every word of the exchange. The girl and the toad might've been chanting gibberish for all the sense he made out of it. He'd been around people—and especially around women—enough to know not to ask them to explain what was going on, though.

Kotia looked in the direction of the ceiling. The flickers of wizardlight were too distant for Cashel's excellent eyes to make out, though he still felt the tremble of the accompanying roar through his soles.

“There's no way to get out before it's over, I suppose?” Kotia said to Evne.

“No,” the toad said. “But it shouldn't be long now.”

Cashel saw the light again as she spoke: glittering, then glaring; blue and red intertwined in a savage purple rhythm,
spinning around the edges of the vast room. The battle was descending as swiftly as the opponents had risen out of sight.

Not long.

“Mistress Evne,” he said. “Get back on my shoulder, if you please. Or get down so that I won't hurt you if I move.”

“You're going to fight the Visitor if he defeats a demon, master?” the toad asked in a mocking tone.

“Yes, ma'am,” said Cashel. “I am.”

“Of course,” said Kotia in a quiet voice. Evne hopped to Cashel's neckline in a single motion, the most graceful thing Cashel had known her to do.

The thunder of the downrushing combat filled the air. Not long at all . . .

Sharina awakened. The stars were dim points in a sky pulsing crimson and azure with light as cruelly cold as icebergs. She didn't know what had aroused her. The night was silent, save for the sighing wind.

“The great wizard has gone off again, mistress,” said the axe her cheek rested on. “I wouldn't care what happened to him, of course; but if we're abandoned here, there'll be only your companions for Beard to dine on.”

“Gone?” said Sharina, jerking upright and throwing off the bearskin wrapping her. “He took the ship?”

She leaped to her feet, then felt a surge of relief. She could see the Queen Ship's mast through the branches of a birch tree, on the other side of the little island. She and the rest of the band had moved to the western edge to sleep out of the constant wind.