Shadowbred (24 page)

Tamlin looked startled. “Into the city?”

“Out, I should think,” Vees said cautiously. “We are already overcrowded.”

Cale kept his voice calm. “They are coming anyway, unless you plan to lock down the city. You do not, do you?”

Tamlin raised his eyebrows. “We considered it.”

Cale blew out a breath. “Lord Thamalon, you must stop taking steps that suggest desperation. The first thing the people need from you is the sense that you are in control, that things will soon return to normal. You can earn some goodwill by getting the steel off the streets and using it to ensure that your citizens are safe.”

“Unwise,” Vees said, and hurriedly added, “and I mean no offense, Mister Cale. But the Noble District will be overrun by refugees the day the Helms exit the city.”

“Nonsense,” Cale said, and Vees stiffened. “Subsidize the cost of food during the crisis. Distribute it through the Scepters. Require the temples to direct their priests to use magic to make food and distribute it.”

“They will not do it,” Vees said dismissively.

“Some are already doing it,” Cale answered. “This is just a matter of forcing the rest. You could lead by example, Talendar. You’re a priest, no?”

Vees nodded tightly. “Construction occupies my time, Mister Cale.”

Cale scoffed and continued. “Do not make an announcement and force a public fight with the faiths, my lord. Instead, let the high priests know through back channels that if they do not obey, the temples’ taxes will increase markedly and you may revoke their charters. You have the tools, Lord Hulorn.”

“The gods grant spells, Mister Cale,” said Vees. “If the priests say the gods will not grant the spells to make food, then what? Would you have the hulorn hold a blade to the gods?”

Cale did not mention that he had done exactly that in an alley just hours before. Instead, he said, “The gods will not refuse. They need their priests as much as their priests need them.”

Vees looked startled by Cale’s statement, but Tamlin looked intrigued. “Interesting, Mister Cale. What do you think, Vees?” Tamlin asked.

The sound of hurried footsteps coming down the hall toward

the parlor interrupted whatevet Vees might have said. All three men turned to the doorway, and Tazi appeared, breathing heavily.

“Thazienne,” Vees said, but she did not even glance at the nobleman. She had eyes, wide eyes, only for Cale.

“Erevis?”

Sweat pasted Tazi’s dark hair to her face and she held a riding crop in her hand. She wore tight breeches and boots rather than the more decorous riding dress customary for Sembian noblewomen. The year since he’d seen her last had not changed her at all. She was as beautiful as ever. Her green eyes sparkled under the waves of her hair.

Cale had feared how seeing her might make him feel. To his surprise, he felt only fondness, not desire. He had left his love for her behind when he’d left Stormweather and it had died in the intervening year. He smiled at her.

“Well met, Mistress Uskevren.”

She ran a hand through her sweaty hair. “I was just on a morning ride when I heard you had returned. I ran right over.” His words registered, and she asked, “Did you call me ‘Mistress Uskevren’?”

“Thazienne,” Cale corrected with a smile. “Tazi.”

“That’s more like it,” she said with her own smile. She crossed the chamber to embrace him.

Tamlin said, “Tazi, I do not know—”

“What I am cannot harm her, my lord,” Cale said, interrupting him and embracing her. She felt tiny in his arms and smelled, as always, of lavender. He kept the shadows from leaking out of his flesh.

Thazienne pulled back and looked from Cale to her brother. “What you are? What does that mean?”

“It means nothing,” Cale said softly. “It is wonderful to see you.”

“And you,” she answered. She eyed his hair, his skin, cupped his cheek in her palm. “You feel cold. And you look so different. What happened to you? Where have you been? Ren told us what you did for him. It seems you have made a habit of saving the members of this household.”

Cale felt his skin warm with embarrassment. He had once saved Thazienne from a demon attack within Stormweather’s walls.

“Many things have happened,” he said. “We can talk about it another time. You look the same as ever. But happier. That pleases me.

She smiled and he saw in her expression the ghost of the shy girl he had watched grow into a bold woman.

“Ahem,” Tamlin said. “Tazi, perhaps you and Mister Cale could continue your reunion at a later time. We are discussing matters of state at the moment. Time is short.”

She kept her dark eyes on Cale and smiled. “He has grown serious, don’t you think? Not as serious as you, but serious enough. Father would be proud, I think.”

Cale nodded, though he was not as sure.

“Talbot will want to see you,” she said. “But he is away at Storl Oak. I will send word.”

“We will speak later, Tazi. Well enough?”

She smiled wistfully. “Over a brandy in the butler’s pantry?”

They often had stayed awake late into the night, talking over spirits in the pantry.

“Perhaps in the dining hall?” Cale said. “For a late breakfast? The pantry is no longer my domain. Irwyl is king there now.”

“I will see you there,” she said. “Brilla has a wonderful torte you should try.”

“So I have heard,” Cale said.

Tazi grinned, nodded, neglected to curtsy to either Tamlin or Vees, and took her leave.

Cale watched her go, pleased that his heart was steady, that his feelings for her had matured. His mind turned to Varra and he wondered how she was faring.

“As I was saying,” Vees continued. “I do not agree with all of Mister Cale’s suggestions. I believe he thinks too highly of the refugees and too little of the priesthoods. Do as you think best, Deuce,” he said, using Tamlin’s nickname.

Cale held his tongue while Tamlin sipped his wine and pondered. Silence hung heavy in the room.

Tamlin stared down at the chessboard for a time, then put down his goblet and said, “My father relied on your counsel for years, Erevis. I will not disregard it lightly. But I will not pull the Helms off the streets,” he said, with a nod to Vees. “I will, however, order them to assist with food distribution. And I will send word to the high priests as you suggested. A more serious commitment on the part of the temples should keep people from starving.”

Cale figured a partial victory was better than none at all.

“Well decided,” Vees said, and Cale disliked the nobleman even more.

Cale asked Tamlin, “When will we leave for Ordulin, my lord?”

“I began preparations upon receiving word from the High Council. Things are taking longer than I had hoped, but we will be ready to leave in the next day ot two.”

Vees said, “Many other nobles have already left for Ordulin. We know that the Saerloonian delegation is en route already. They passed Selgaunt two days ago, though they skirted the city.”

“Skirted the city?”

“Tension appears to be very high in the capital, Mister Cale,” Tamlin said. “And it has spilled out into the countryside. The nobles are lining up behind Mirabeta Selkirk or Endren Corrinthal. The Saerloonians do not trust us, so they avoided Selgaunt altogether. Things are sharp at the moment.”

Cale took in the words, feeling unsuited to the task of helping Tamlin. He had been solving problems with his spells and blades for so long that politics felt foreign to him.

Tamlin picked up his goblet and drained it. “But all that in due time. I apologize that we will depart so soon. The schedule does not leave you much time for settling in. And my day will be full since I need to sign the orders we’ve just discussed. We will dine this evening, however. My apologies.”

“I will manage, Hulorn,” Cale said. “I remember my way around.”

“Of course,” Tamlin said, and smiled. “I am interested in hearing your explanation about… the other events.”

“Yes, my lord.” Cale said. “My lord, where is Lady Uskevren? I would like to speak with her before we leave.”

“She has been away upcountry with Talbot,” Tamlin answered. “This city, and the manse, make her unhappy these days. We rebuilt the old upcountry manor house at Storl Oak. She seems to enjoy it there. But she is to return later this morning to see me off. Your presence will be a pleasant surprise.”

Cale knew Shamur to be a former adventuress, and she knew him to be more than a steward. They had come to respect and admire each other over Cale’s years at Stormweather.

Tamlin continued, “Meanwhile, is there anything you need before we leave tomorrow?”

“No, my lord.” Cale had his armor, his blades, his armor… and his holy symbol.

“Very good, then. 1 will leave you to your own devices. Vees, accompany me to the palace. I have orders to issue and we have much to discuss.”

Vees offered an insincere farewell to Cale and they parted. Before Cale left the parlor, he again advanced the pawn on Thamalon’s old chessboard.

He wandered Stormweather Towers for a time. Servants and members of the house guard nodded and smiled at him when they passed him in the halls. Every room through which he walked held a memory.

Throughout all the events of his life, his love for the Uskevren had been a constant. And he had always known, deep down, that he could return to Stormweather if he had need. It was his sanctuary. The manse was where he had been born, or at least reborn, and it pleased him to be able to return to his birthplace. After wandering for a time, he headed for his quarters to await Shamur’s return.

Even when Cale had been Stormweather’s steward, he had never done much to personalize his quarters. The room was as bare as he had left it. He opened the shutters, sat in his old reading chair, took out Jak’s pipe, tamped and lit. He spent some time remembering with fondness the adventures he and Jak had enjoyed in Selgaunt. He removed the book he had taken from the Fane of Shadows from his backpack—the book that contained lore about Mask, Shar, the Weave, and the Shadow Weave—and opened it.

To his shock, the pages were blank.

He flipped one, another, another. The whole tome was blank except for the final pages. On them were words written in purple ink in a tongue Cale could not read. Stating at the writing made him nauseated, so he slammed the cover shut. He looked at the cover of black scaled leather and assured himself it was the same tome. It was. He blew out a cloud of smoke and replaced the book in his pack. He did not know what to make of the book, but it made him uneasy. Had its magic served its purpose, and was now destroying itself?

Thoughtful, he smoked two bowls of pipeweed before a knock on his door disturbed his reverie. He laid the pipe on the side table and opened the door. Shamur stood in the doorway, still dressed in her green daygown. Jeweled pins held up her auburn hair. Cale thought the lines in her face, around her eyes, and at the corners of her mouth only made her more attractive.

She did not look surprised at his appearance. Perhaps she had been forewarned. “You look well, Erevis.”

Cale bowed, embarrassed by the cloud of smoke that billowed out of his room. “And you, Lady, look as young and beautiful as ever.”

She smiled, stepped forward, and embraced him warmly. “Mister Cale, you still lie as well as ever.”

They separated and he gestured her in.

“Smoking, Erevis? That is new.”

“A long tale, Milady,” he explained. “A friend got me started. I will put it out.”

He moved to the table to snuff the pipe.

“No need,” she said. “The smell is not unpleasant. Thamalon enjoyed a pipe, you will recall.”

Cale did recall. The Old Owl had not smoked often, but when he had, the entire east wing of the manse would smell of pipeweed for days. In the spring, Cale had the staff open the windows to air out the house. In the winter, nothing could be done but to wait for the stink to pass.

Shamur looked around the room, then turned to face him. “Your quartets look much as you left them, but you have changed

a great deal. And not merely your appearance. What has happened to you?”

Cale smiled gently. “Nothing that can be undone or made easier to bear by sharing, Milady. Suffice to say that I have changed, but serve your family still.”

She smiled. “Of that I had no doubt. It is good to have you back under our roof, Erevis.”

“It is good to be back,” Cale said, and meant it. “Please, sit.”

Shamur sat in his reading chair. Her hair glittered in the fading sunlight.

Cale did not have another chair in the room so he sat on the bed nearby. Before he could speak, she said, “This house has been dying for a year. It started with Thamalon’s passing. Then you left. And Talbot is gone almost always. Tamlin spends most of his day and much of his nights away at the palace. I hate it here.”

Cale looked away. He did not know what to say so he broke with decorum and reached out to take her hand in his. Her skin felt warm. Shadows sneaked from his skin and danced over hers. She gasped but did not withdraw her hand.

“What happened to you, Erevis? Tell me.”

Cale did not look her in the face. “Milady, I… must carry this alone.”

She caressed his hand and he felt such a sudden, powerful attraction for her that he pulled away and stood up before it caused him to do something he should not.

“What is it?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He moved the conversation to the purpose for which he had wanted to see her, or at least the purpose for which he thought he had wanted to see her.

“Lady Uskevren, I have reason to believe that things are … unsafe in the city.”

She leaned forward in her chair. “What do you mean? Have you informed Tamlin?”

Cale shook his head. “No, Milady. It is nothing that we can act on, nothing that I can easily articulate. But I would advise you and

Tazi to leave the city for a time.” He struggled to find a better explanation, failed.

“You want me to abandon Stormweather? I have only just returned.”

“Not abandon, Lady. I am suggesting only that you retire to the upcountry estate until things settle down here.” He grasped for an excuse, found one. “Tamlin would be better served with fewer things to think about. I will watch over him and vouchsafe his person.”