Marune: Alastor 933 (17 page)

“That hour, Your Force, will fall in the middle period of mirk.”

“Oh … in thirty hours, then. One other matter - do not inform Singhalissa of this meeting, nor Destian, nor Sthelany, nor anyone who might transfer this news; further, do not give instructions within the hearing of these people, and do not make note of the occasion upon paper. Am I sufficiently explicit?”

“Perfectly so, Your Force.”

Agnois departed the room.

“If he fails me this time,” said Efraim, “he’ll not find me lenient.” He went to the window and presently observed the departure of six under-chamberlains.

“There they go with the message. The news will reach Singhalissa as soon as they return, but there is little she can do.”

Lorcas said: “She’s probably resigned herself to the inevitable by now. And yonder on the terrace, is that not Sthelany? With your permission, I will go out and enliven her life.”

“As you like. But one word, while the thought is on my mind. That word is ‘caution.’ Mirk approaches. Unpleasant events occur. Lock yourself in your chambers, go to sleep, and don’t stir till the light returns.”

“Reasonable enough,” said Lorcas slowly. “I wouldn’t care to meet any gharks nor, for that matter, any hoos.”

After six hours of aud, Furad and Osmo left the sky. Cirse and Maddar, instead of slanting toward the horizon, settled vertically with ponderous purpose.

Maddar disappeared first, to leave the land momentarily in green rowan, then Cirse sank behind Whispering Ridge. The sky flared and dimmed; darkness fell.

Mirk had come to Scharrode.

In the farmsteads lights flared and flickered, then were extinguished; in the town shutters clanged, doors slammed, bolts thudded home. Those secure or fearful or uninterested in adventure took themselves to bed.

Others by candlelight denuded themselves, then donned black shoulder pieces, black boots, and hideous man-masks. Others removed gray gauze gowns, to don loose smocks of white muslin; then they loosened the shutters of their windows or the bolts of their doors, but never both; then, with a small taper in one corner of the room casting almost no fight at all, they lay themselves on their couches in a tremulous mixture of hope and fear, or a peculiar emotion in which perhaps one component was muted horror. Some who had bolted both shutters and door, to huddle on their couches in a ferment of aching melancholy, presently arose to unbolt door or shutter.

Through the mirk moved the grotesque shapes, taking no heed of each other. When one found the window of his choice unshuttered, he hung a white flower on the hasp, that no one else should enter; then climbing through the window he displayed himself to the silent occupant of the room - an avatar of the demon Kro.

At Benbuphar Strang, lights were extinguished, doors bolted, windows shuttered and barred as everywhere else. In the servants quarters, some made preparations; others composed themselves to uneasy slumber. In the towers, other folk performed their own arrangements. Efraim, armed with his small pistol, bolted shutters, barred and bolted doors, searched his quarters. He checked the security of the door blocking ingress from the Sacarlatto and also that passage to the second level of Jaher Tower.

He then returned to the parlor where he threw himself into a great scarlet leather chair, poured himself a goblet of wine, and sat in gloomy meditation.

He reviewed his time on Marune and tried to assess his progress. His memory was still gone, his enemy as yet unknown. Time passed. Faces floated before his.eyes. One face returned and would not depart - a pale fragile face with lustrous eyes. She had as much as assured him that her door would not be bolted. He jumped to his feet and paced back and forth. A hundred yards away she waited.

Efraim stopped short and considered. No harm could come by making a trial. He need only climb to the second level of Jaher Tower, inspect the corridor; then, if all were clear, stride fifty feet to her door. Should the door be locked, he could return the way he had come. Should the door be open, Sthelany expected him.

The mask? The boots? No, they were foreign to him; he would enter Sthelany’s chamber as himself.

He climbed the steps of the shortcut and came to the exit panel. He slid aside the peephole, searched the corridor. Empty.

He opened the door and listened. Silence. A faint sound? He listened with even greater intensity. The sound might have been the blood rushing through his heart.

With stealth and care he opened the door a foot, two feet. He slipped out into the hall, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. No one in sight; no sound.

With racing pulse he ran to Sthelany’s door. He listened. No sound. He inspected the door: six panels of heavy carved oak; three iron hinges, a heavy iron latch.

So now. He reached for the latch …

A sound within, a scraping as of metal. Efraim backed away and stood looking at the door. It seemed to look back at him.

Efraim moved further from the door, confused, uncertain. He retreated to the passage, closed and bolted the door, returned to his chambers.

He sank into the red leather chair and thought for five minutes. Once again he rose to his feet and, unbarring the main portal, went out into the foyer. In a storage closet he found a length of rope which he took back to his chamber, and again locked the door.

He brought out the chart of the mirk-ways and studied it for a few minutes. He then went up to the Sacarlatto, and so made his way to the unoccupied chamber directly above that of Sthelany.

He went out onto the balcony, made the rope fast, and tied a series of knots along its length, to serve as handholds and footrests. Cautiously he lowered the rope so that it hung down to Sthelany’s balcony.

He descended with great care, and presently stood on the balcony. Shutters covered the glass, but a glow of light issued through a crack. Efraim pressed his eye close and peered into the room.

Sthelany sat beside a table in her usual garments. By the light of a candle she played with a toy puzzle. Beside the door stood two men in black pantaloons and man-masks. One carried a mace, the other a dagger. Behind the door, over the back of a chair, hung a large black sack. The man with the mace pressed his ear to the door. By his posture, by the stoop of his shoulders and long powerful arms, Efraim recognized Agnois, the First Chamberlain. The man with the dagger was Destian. Sthelany glanced at them, gave a slight shrug, and returned to her puzzle.

Efraim felt dizzy. He leaned on the balcony and looked off into the darkness.

His stomach convulsed; he barely prevented himself from vomiting.

He did not look again into the room. With flaccid muscles he pulled himself back to the upper balcony. He hauled up the rope, coiled it, and returned to his chambers. Here he made everything secure, and placing his pistol on the table before him, poured out a goblet of wine and settled into the red leather chair.

Osmo rose in the east, followed by Cirse from the south and Maddar from the southwest to dispel the dark with the gay light of isp.

Matho Lorcas was missing from his chambers; nor was he to be found anywhere within Benbuphar Strang.

The mood in the castle was taut and sullen. Agnois brought word to Efraim that Singhalissa wished an audience with him.

“She must wait until after I confer with the eiodarks,” said Efraim. He could not bring himself to look at Agnois.

“I will so inform her, Your Force.” Agnois’ voice was gentle. “I must call to your attention a message from Kaiark Rianlle of Eccord to the members of the kaiarkal household. He invites you most urgently to a fęte at Belrod Strang, during and tomorrow.”

“I will visit Belrod Strang with pleasure.”

Hours of time moved past; Efraim went out into the meadow beside the castle, then wandered down beside the river. For half an hour he stood tossing stones into the water, then turned and looked back toward Benbuphar Strang - a silhouette of sinister significance.

Where was Matho Lorcas?

Efraim sauntered back to the castle. He climbed the flight of steps to the terrace and halted, reluctant to enter the oppressive dimness.

He forced himself to proceed. Sthelany, leaving the library, paused, as if wishing words with him. Efraim walked past without so much as a side-glance; in truth he dared not look at her, lest she read in his eyes the intensity of his emotion.

Sthelany stood looking after him, a forlorn and thoughtful figure.

At the time appointed, Efraim came forth from his chambers to greet the fourteen eiodarks of Scharrode, all wearing ceremonial black gowns and white vests. Their faces wore almost identical expressions of skepticism, even hostility.

Efraim ushered them into the Grand Parlor, where footmen and under-chamberlains had arranged a circular table. At the tail of the procession came Destian, dressed like the others. Efraim spoke crisply: “I do not recall summoning you to this meeting, Squire Destian; and in any event your presence will not be required.”

Destian paused, glanced around the eiodarks. “What is the will of this company?”

Efraim signaled a footman: “Expel Squire Destian instantly from the chamber, by whatever means you find necessary.”

Destian managed a mocking grin, turned on his heel and departed. Efraim closed the door and joined his company. “This is an informal meeting. Feel at liberty to express yourselves openly and candidly. I will respect you the more for it.”

“Very good,” responded one of the older eiodarks, a man solid and sturdy, brown as weathered wood. The man was Baron Haulk, as Efraim would presently learn. “I will take you at your word. Why have you expelled the Kang Destian from a colloquy of his peers?”

“There are several excellent reasons for my action, and you will learn some, if not all, of them presently. I will remind you that by protocols of rank, his title is only as good as that of his mother. As soon as I became Kaiark, she resumed her former status as the Wirwove of Urrue and Destian lapsed to Squire. A technicality perhaps, but by just such technicalities am I Kaiark and you Eiodark.”

Efraim went to his place at the table. “Please be seated. I am sorry to have delayed so long with this meeting. Perhaps this apparent slight explains your lack of cordiality; am I correct?”

“Not entirely,” said Baron Haulk in a dry voice.

“You have other grievances?”

“You have asked us to speak. candidly. Historically those foolish enough to accept such invitations usually suffer for their boldness. Nevertheless, I will take the risk upon myself.

“Our grievances are these. First, the indifference which you show the glorious tradition of your station, and I refer to the frivolous manner in which you return to claim your place only a few days before the deadline.”

“I will consider this Item One,” said Efraim. “Proceed.”

“Item Two. Since your return you have neglected to consult the eiodarks in regard to the urgent matters which confront the realm; instead you hobnob with a person of Port Mar, whose reputation, so I have upon good authority, does him no credit.”

“Item Three: In a most callow manner you have insulted and inconvenienced the Kraike Singhalissa, the Lissolet Sthelany, and the Kang Destian, depriving them of status and perquisites.

“Item four. You have wilfully antagonized our ally Kaiark Rianlle of Eccord, while ignoring the bandit Gosso, who slew Kaiark Jochaim.

“Item Five. As I recite these grievances, you listen with a face of bored amusement and obduracy.”

Efraim could not restrain a chuckle. “I thank you for your frankness. I shall respond in the same spirit. The amused boredom and obduracy of ‘Item Five’ are far from my true emotions, I assure you. Before I reveal certain strange circumstances to you, may I ask whence came your information?”

“The Kang Destian has been good enough to keep us informed.”

“I thought as much. Now, draw up your chairs and listen closely, and you will learn what has befallen me during these last months …”

Efraim spoke for an hour, withholding mention only of the events during mirk.

“To summarize, I returned to Scharrode as soon as possible, but I delayed meeting the eiodarks because I wished to conceal my disability until I had in same measure repaired it. I proposed a truce to Gosso because war with Gorgetto is weary, hateful, and unproductive. Neither Gosso nor his Forgets killed the Kaiark Jochaim; he was murdered by a Scharde traitor.”

“Murder!” The word seemed to echo from wall to wall.

“As to Rianlle and his demands for Whispering Ridge, I acted as any responsible Scharde Kaiark must act: I temporized until I could search the archives and discover what, if any, had been his understanding with the Kaiark Jochaim. I found no such record. In company with Matho Lorcas, I inspected Whispering Ridge. Certainly a beautiful site for a summer pavilion, but no more so than a dozen similar sites within Eccord itself. I called you here to make an exposition of the facts, and to request your best advice.”

Baron Faroz said: “The question immediately arises: why does Rianlle want Whispering Ridge?”

“The single distinguishing feature to Whispering Ridge, aside from the whisper itself, seems to be the Fwai-chi regard for the place. Whispering Ridge is their sanctuary, a station along their Path of Life. The Fwai-chi claim an accord with the Kaiarks of Scharrode in regard to Whispering Ridge, though I can find no mention of this accord in the archives. So then, gentlemen, what answer shall I take the Kaiark Rianlle when I visit Belrod Strang?”

Baron Haulk said: “I doubt if we need to vote. We refuse to cede Whispering Ridge. However, put this refusal in delicate language, in order that he may save face. It is not necessary to fling the refusal in his teeth.”

Baron Alifer said: “We might declare that Whispering Ridge is prone to quakes and we will not permit our friend thus to risk himself.”

Baron Barwatz suggested: “The pact with the Fwai-chi must carry weight. We can show reluctance on this basis.”

“I will carefully consider all your suggestions,” said Efraim. “In the meantime, I must trust no one now at Benbuphar Strang. I want a complete change of staff, with the exception of Agnois. He must not be allowed to leave. Who will see to this?”