Moth and Spark (33 page)

“That’s the idea,” he said. Those rooms were reserved for only very high-ranking guests and were much more sumptuous than she was entitled to. That too had to have been his father’s doing. What was he thinking? When Aram had kissed Tam’s forehead last night, Corin had been as stunned as the rest of them. It was beyond courtesy.

“I’d rather take my chances with a crowd,” she said. “It has one advantage, though.”

“What’s that?”

“No one will know if I sleep with you.”

“We can’t,” he said.

It hurt her. “Why not?” she asked stiffly.

“It’s too great a risk now that they know about you. If there were to be a child—”

“There won’t be,” she said with certainty. “I am not my father’s daughter for nothing.”

It relieved him, yet saddened him too. He did not want to have his heir born out of some loveless obligation.

“They don’t know that. They would try to find you and kill you to end the line,” he said. “Even if they had already killed me.”

“I can choose my risks,” she said. “We’ve had this argument already, remember?”

He found it suddenly very hard to speak. He kissed her lips, remembering that very first kiss, the taste of Illyrian wine and cold wind and curiosity. “I’ll send you home with a dozen bottles of the best wine,” he said. “No point in leaving it for the Sarians.”

“Don’t change the subject,” she said. She kissed him passionately.

He put his arms around her and pressed her close but said nothing. It was brutally unfair that Tai and Mari had lost this. How could he trust anyone else to keep her safe? He had to. He had to go. He lifted her soft hair with his hand and let it spill down the side of his arm like water. He could not even ask her to wait for him. She deserved better.

“Well?” she asked softly.

“You can come,” he said. He felt closed in, pressed upon by too many other presences. She ran her hand down his back, and suddenly he wanted her more than he could endure. He forced himself to step away.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing beyond what you know of. Nothing to do with you,” he said.

There was a silence. She looked around the room. It was the first time she had been there, and he wondered how it matched her expectations. He remembered looking down at her yesterday from the balcony—had it only been yesterday?—and being aware, as he was supposed to be, of the gulf between them. He didn’t want her to feel that here.

“Sit down,” he said. “Not in that chair, it’s uncomfortable.”

“Intentionally?” she asked with a trace of wryness that reassured him.

“It keeps people from staying too long.”

She smiled at him, a shadow of her usual grin, but did not sit. He watched her clasp and unclasp her hands, several times. Her fingers were slim and elegant and beautiful.

At last she looked up. Her face was white. “Your father—your father says I have power.”

That threw him. Not so much the power, whatever it was—she had seen the moths and the dragon in the carousel—but that his father would know. It was such a secret thing. “What did he say?”

“He said I’m a Seer. And that it’s a natural force we do not understand. He was very calm about it.”

“He always is.”

“But what—how could he tell?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He thought of the wizards, hidden away in their tiny mountain enclave. He had gone twice, once when he turned eighteen and was told the secret and a second time a few years later. Aram had gone more often. Perhaps he had learned the signs of power.

But Tam was no wizard. She could not even carry it in her blood from some distant ancestor; any child got of the two races was barren. It must be a wild thing, springing into being of its own accord. The thought that she might not be able to bear children flittered treacherously across his mind. He pushed it away.

“Tam,” he said, “don’t let my father get under your skin. He has a full
bag of tricks and he can’t help using them. There’s enough to worry about without adding him.”

She pointed at the door. “What about him? Joce. I don’t need an assassin to watch over me. Don’t try to tell me he’s an ordinary soldier.”

“If Joce had been with my sister, she never would have been taken,” he said bitterly.

She came to him. They put their arms around each other. Neither spoke for a long time.

At last she said, “If it will help you for me to go, I will.”

“Oh, Tam.” He knew what that meant to her.

Teron’s chair scraped on the other side of the door. Corin took a deep breath. “Let’s decide later,” he said. “We’re about to be interrupted.”

A knock. “Come,” he called.

The door opened. Liko stumbled in, followed by Bron. Corin thought Bron had probably given him a push. The scent of soap clung to him. His hair was clean, and his clothing was new.

He opened his mouth to ask Tam to leave. He did not want Liko to know anything about her. What came out was, “Stay here, my lady. Captain, bring Joce in, please, and shut the door.”

She looked startled. He knew it was the dragons moving through him. He whispered into her ear, “Sit down, love, and watch,” then took his own seat. He turned it to face Liko, who stood sullenly with Bron and Joce flanking him.

He looked at Bron. “Any trouble?”

“Nothing to speak of, sir.”

“Good. Liko.”

The man mumbled something that might have been an acknowledgment.

Corin said pleasantly, “I’ve no time for games. Don’t make me ask you anything twice. I want you to tell me everything you didn’t the last time about Lord Cade.”

Liko said nothing. Finally Bron stepped closer. Then Liko spoke. “He spent a lot of time talking to the Myceneans, and he had Imperial coinage.”

“What else?”

“You won’t believe me. It was absurd, even for him.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Liko still looked sullen and defiant. He said, “He wanted me to put
him into trance so that he could get instruction from the Emperor. He said Hadon would not write it or use a messenger, but that they could speak together in the dark place. Obviously I refused.”

“Did he find anyone else?”

“I’ve no idea. I told you before that he would have killed me if I went along with it and found out what was in his mind. Not that there was much in it.”

Corin remembered how Liko had hesitated before telling him the stories of the docks. He pushed. “You believed him, didn’t you, Liko?”

“Of course not, my lord.” His voice was faster than usual, his face a little flushed.

“You believed him and you were afraid of what might happen. Afraid of what he might do, what Hadon might do. You aren’t entirely a charlatan, are you? Have you got some power?”

Silence. Bron moved restlessly. Liko mumbled, “Cade had no power, nor have I. No one does. The wizards are all dead.”

“Then what would have been the harm?”

“He was speaking treason!”

“That’s not what stopped you, though. You could have turned him in for a nice sum. Why didn’t you mesmerize him?”

The man stared at him. Clearly he thought he was being trapped or made a joke of.

Corin said, “I don’t hold the truth against anyone. Even if it seems absurd.”

Liko looked down, then said almost inaudibly, “He meant to go into the dark place to talk to Hadon. I don’t know what it is, but it’s real. He knew that too. Putting someone in trance is like water on a road, it goes to the ruts that are already there. I didn’t want to risk it if someone else had already let him through.”

“How would Cade have been let in in the first place if no one has power? Or were you lying about that too?”

“It’s—” He broke off and thought. His eyelids fluttered rapidly. He made another false start, then said, “Sorcery works that much, if one has the will and the strength. Not many do.”

Corin interrupted. “You do.”

Liko made a small, mocking bow. “I did.” Once. Before. A long time ago.

“How does it work?”

“The spells, the rituals, they focus the mind, that’s what opens it. It doesn’t matter what color candle you burn or where you burn it or how the planets are aligned, it’s the attention to the flame that counts. Trance is the same.”

“You might as well call that power,” Corin said. He did not want to think about the implications at the moment. “Cade had no power, he had to use someone. Who would it have been if not you?”

Liko shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t come back.”

It was no use asking him if he thought Cade had found his way in. He would have nothing to say on that count either. Corin shifted focus. “The dark place, can anyone be brought there?”

Liko looked uneasy. Corin suspected he knew where this was going. “If they want to, my lord. But both men have to really will it, and the one has to have the strength. It’s not going to happen by accident at a dinner party.”

“Could you have brought him through if you wanted to?”

“Perhaps. I haven’t tried for years. There’s a reason that place is separate, I don’t want to open something I can’t shut. It’s a bad place. And if anything in there gets a chance to come out it’s not going to stop to thank whoever released it. Devour him, more likely.”

Wise man. He remembered the trapped thing, clawing at him, hungering. Cade might have realized he would be a victim and tried to back out, or simply failed in his attempts to speak with Hadon, but by then he knew too much. The pieces clicked neatly into place. Tyrekh advanced, Tai was kidnapped, Corin came home—things were moving, and Cade became a liability. A little Sarian poison put Cade away and shifted the gaze eastward, and other plans were made. Arnet was not foolish enough to risk himself in the dark place just to speak to Hadon, if he even had needed to. Corin knew he should be that sensible.

But the dragons had touched him. Him and Tam both.

Must you do it?
Tam had asked.
Must
was a hard word. He did not believe in destiny or fate. He had the choice. He should do his duty by his country and not go haring off on a fool’s quest he would likely fail in for the sake of the dragons. If he did free the dragons, Mycene would fracture and leave Caithen to be even more firmly gripped by Tyrekh. He could not let that happen either. There was nothing to be gained at all by following the path the dragons laid before him.

He had vowed to not even glance at Tam so as not to draw Liko’s attention to her, but he could not help himself. She was looking at him. Understanding flashed between them. He stood on the brink, and her hand was in his, not to pull him back but to leap with him if that was what he chose.

He faced Liko again and committed himself. “Mesmerize me.”

Bron said, “My lord!” at the same time Liko said, “What!”

“You heard me,” Corin said. He shot Bron a glance that he knew would quell him. He would hear about it later, but the captain would not challenge him now.

Liko said carefully, “You want me to put you into trance.”

“Yes.”

“I can mesmerize you. There’s no certainty anything else will happen.”

Corin shrugged. “Attempts fail. But one must try.”

“What warrants my freedom if something goes wrong?” Liko asked.

“Is there a risk?”

“My lord knows where his own mind might lead him better than I do.”

A few centuries ago such disrespect would have earned him a summary beheading. But it was true. Corin said, “You have three witnesses.”

“All loyal to you.”

He heard Tam try to keep back an exclamation. He said, “You don’t want me to hold you in contempt. Do it.” He was not doing well today at getting what he wanted diplomatically. He hardly cared.

Liko had the wisdom not to say anything else. There was a cord tied around his neck. He slid it over his head, revealing an attached shiny agate pebble. He stepped closer to Corin and stopped with a courtier’s instinct for what was too near.

In the most serious voice Corin had ever heard from him, he said, “Watch the stone.” He began to swing it gently back and forth. “Sleep,” he said. Corin followed the movement of the stone, let the rhythmic words drift over him. His eyes grew heavy. Darkness fell.

Someone was shaking him. He jerked into awareness and saw Bron beside him, looking worried. The captain dropped his hand. Tam was next to him, grinning. He hoped Liko could not see her face.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You were too tired,” Tam said. “You fell asleep.”

“Well,” he said, and laughed. “So much for that.” He could still choose to forgo the dragons’ path.

Tam leaned forward. “Let me do it.”

He went serious at once. “Tam,” he said in a voice too low for the others to hear, “you don’t know what might happen.”

“Neither did you. I’m the one who’s already been there,” she whispered.

Even so, he was frightened for her. He gave up on pretending she did not matter and said, “You’ve just been through a shock.”

“A word, my lord,” said Joce. Everyone looked at him.

He would know. Corin beckoned. Bron and Tam moved aside without being asked. Joce bent over and said into Corin’s ear, “I can watch them both. She’s strong enough.”

That was some safety. It was not enough. But someone had to See, and she had done it. She had done it with enough clarity for his father to know.

“Does he have power?” he whispered back.

“I don’t think so. He’ll ride her wake.”

“Is there risk?”

“There’s always risk, sir. But I don’t think much.”

He glanced at Tam. She was no more going to back down than he would. He said, “He thinks you’ve recovered. Do you?”

“I’m not afraid of ghosts,” she replied.

He wondered if she knew this was a turning point. Their eyes met. She gave him a sweet smile that almost made his heart break with fear of losing her. She knew.

He stood up. She took his place. He noticed how very blue her eyes were, how perfect the line of her neck. Brave one, he thought at her. He waited until Joce was standing behind Liko to say, “Go ahead.”

Liko looked nervously at him, then began to swing the stone. His hand shook a little. Tam slipped into trance quickly and smoothly. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful.

“Who are you?” Liko asked.