The Ale Boy's Feast (49 page)

Ryllion thanked him. “I’ve known no stranger moment than this. To be fed and protected by a … a man of House Cent Regus. One that Cyndere herself befriended. You are Deuneroi’s dream come true, Jordam.”

“I know,” said Jordam. Then he paused. “rrTrue? You there … under Abascar? You …”

“I killed Deuneroi,” said Ryllion. “I was afraid. And I wanted strength.”

Jordam nodded, silent.

Ryllion set the plate down. “Are you allowed to take me outside? I want to see the stars.”

“rrYes,” said Jordam. “Stars are very good.”

They made their way out of the tower and up a long stair to an unguarded stretch of wall. They stargazed in silence for a while, until Ryllion turned and leaned against the parapet and looked up at the moon.

“For many years I believed the moon was the source of all good things. But Myrton told me he’s studied it. It’s just dust. A ball of dust. The sun is shining somewhere, and the dust catches the light and casts it down to us. A reminder. Some hope in the dark.”

Jordam stared at the moon, amazed. Such an idea had never occurred to him before.
It’s like … O-raya’s boy. Bringing help into the dark
.

Ryllion looked down into the dark gully beyond the wall. “I laughed at him. Thought I knew everything. I said, ‘It’s more than dust.’ But he agreed. He said, ‘Oh, yes, dust is just what it’s made of. But it has a purpose. Like everything. It’s all some vast conspiracy to keep us from pride. And despair.’ And then he moved off through his greenhouse. And I realized, the place was full of mirrors. Not mirrors like those the Seers made, to show us ourselves. But mirrors reflecting light, helping all those green things grow.”

Jordam closed his eyes.
There will be two moons at O-raya’s caves tonight. One in the sky. One on the water
. His throat clenched, and his eyes filled with water.
I must go there. Soon. To see if she’s come back
.

“When the Seers turned against me,” Ryllion went on, “I thought I’d start to hate the moon. But I don’t.” He gripped the wall as if worried he might fall. “You give me hope, Jordam. If you can find a new life, maybe I can too. What was it?”

Jordam grunted, baffled by the question.

“What … what brought you out of the Curse?” Before Jordam could answer, Ryllion held up his hand. “Emeriene mentioned that girl from the stories. Auralia.”

“O-raya,” said Jordam, “made me know … I was thirsty.” He pressed his hand to his heart. “For … something I didn’t have. A good … strength. Then, Bel … 
Sin
-der … 
she came. And she had good strength too. She shared it. And then … O-raya’s boy needed help. I could be strength. Strength for him.”

Ryllion nodded. “Strength for him.”

“Now.” Jordam shrugged. “He is gone. Needs help, somewhere. And Bel. She needs help. Help with the little one.”

“The beastchild.”

Jordam was surprised that Ryllion knew. “Yes. rrWant to help her grow. So small.”

“That will be difficult.”

Jordam nodded. “Like … climbing a mountain.”

Moonlight gilded the rocks below. A disturbance, a small pattering of stones, drew Jordam’s attention, and he saw Ryllion tense.

“Something’s down there,” Ryllion hissed.

“rrCrawlers?” asked Jordam. “Feelers?”

They listened.

Ryllion pointed down at the gulley. Two small figures moved about on the rocks. Jordam was impressed. Ryllion’s eyes were as good or better than his own.

“Emeriene’s boys?” Ryllion asked, incredulous.

“rrHow?” Jordam rumbled. “Outside the walls? Did they fall?”

A burst of fire. The boys had found a sparkstone and lit a branch, which crackled and spat.

“Are they burning a viscorclaw?” asked Ryllion.

“No,” said Jordam. “Those branches don’t move.”

“Just playing then.” Ryllion leaned forward sharply. “But what’s that? Something’s moving. Toward them. Creeping up the gully.”

And then Ryllion was gone, leaping over the parapet, clutching at faint ridges and ledges with his claws, scrabbling his way down.

Jordam barked after him. Unarmed save for the torch, he ran along the wall until he was right above the boys.

Ryllion dropped to the gully and sprang into the space between the boys and the advancing viscorclaw.
He has no weapon
, Jordam thought. He barked again, then
tossed the torch out into the air. It fell, sparking, trailing a ribbon of flame. Ryllion caught it easily.

Torchlit, the boys stared at Ryllion’s back as he lunged toward the advancing viscorclaw. Burnt, smoking, the crawler retreated.

As it did, Ryllion cried out and fell. His robe was on fire. The boys were attacking him from behind, beating him with burning branches.

“rrStop!” Jordam roared.

Ryllion rolled across the rocks screaming. One of the boys pulled something from his pocket—a gleaming blade—and struck.

“No!”

Jordam vaulted over the edge and fell, dragging his nails along the wall. But he did not have the claws that had once helped him climb like a bearcat. He slowed his fall but still crashed into the rocks.

He leapt to Ryllion and beat on him, trying to pound out the flames. Ryllion was groaning, the fight going out of him. Jordam’s hands were sticky with blood. “rrNo!”

The boys lit new branches, readying to come for Jordam. “rrHow you get out?” he growled. His fearsome voice drove the children back.

They pointed forward, directly into the shadows where the burnt viscorclaw was coming back.

“You!” came a shout from the wall. Jordam looked up and saw two guards staring down, holding up torches. “What’s happening down there?”

“rrCrawlers!” Jordam roared. “Tell the king!”

The guards did not move, lifting torches higher as if that would help them see.

“Don’t help them,” shouted one of the boys to the guards. “We don’t want them here. A beastman and a traitor!”

Ryllion clutched at the embers of his chest, the source of the pulsing bloodstream. Jordam pulled out the knife. Ryllion wheezed suddenly, kicked against the rocks, and went still.

The viscorclaw advanced.

Jordam lifted a flaming branch that the boys had dropped and leapt at the
predator. Moments later it was scuttling away, fire spreading up its spine until it crumbled. Now Jordam noticed the vent and saw signs in the dust that confirmed this as the boys’ way out. He stuck his head in the shaft and sniffed.

A mess of carnage reeked in the passage. Something, or someone, had been ripped to pieces there.

As the boys approached him slowly, wielding lit branches, an arrow struck the stones at his feet. He looked up. One of the guards was clumsily firing into the dark. Jordam shouted for the king, but the guard did not understand.

So Jordam ran at the boys. Frightened, they dropped their torches. He raised his arm in anger, then paused.

Stop, Jordam
.

He drew a deep breath.
Stop. No killing
.

Restraining himself, he struck the older child down with a measured blow. Then he lifted that unconscious boy and stuffed him under his arm. The smaller child began to cry, and Jordam seized him by the back of his cloak. “Don’t fight,” he growled.

Then he turned to the wall, puffing a sigh, and began the perilous climb. His cargo wailed and struggled while moonlit arrows streaked past him like stars across the sky over Deep Lake.

An arrow pierced him just above his collarbone, and he lost his grip, slid, and caught himself. Wheezing and snarling, terrifying the boy, he climbed further until he heard one of the guards say, “That’s Jordam. He’s got Cesyr and Channy. Stop shooting!”

A few moments later Jordam was sitting down on the wall, leaning back, pressing his hand against his wound to try to stop the bleeding. One of the boys raged, telling the guards to kill Jordam, while the other still lay unconscious.

One of the guards ran off, and in hardly any time at all, Emeriene was there, shrieking and running to gather her children into her arms. She looked at Jordam with fury.

“Ryllion’s dead,” Jordam said flatly.

“Ryllion?” asked Kar-balter. “Who’s Ryllion?”

“Where?” Emeriene demanded. “Where is he?”

“rrCal-raven … tried to help him. Told me to guard him.”

Emeriene’s eyes widened in amazement. “The stranger in the tower?”

Jordam gestured to the boys and explained how they had climbed out into the wild. He described how Ryllion had jumped down to save them. Emeriene’s expression was a fit of bewilderment.

“rrRescued them,” he said. “Fought the crawlers.”

“Viscorclaws?” exclaimed Kar-balter. “Where?”

“The crawlers … they killed Ryllion?”

Jordam could not speak. If he told Emeriene the truth, what would happen to the boys? But he knew the trouble that would come from lying about a death. He remained silent. And as the guards scanned the darkness and Emeriene comforted her boys, Jordam took advantage of their distraction and staggered away.

He was thinking of that vent the boys had crawled through and the smell of blood. He would seal it, then go hunting for viscorclaws.

Lanterns flickered in the dungeonhouse, but Jordam found no guard on duty and no one inside.

Two men charged up from the dungeon and past him, fleeing as if they were hunted. He could smell the blood of their scrapes and gashes, in spite of his own blood soaking his arms and chest.

He leaned weakly against the doorframe. A man’s voice was raised in distress below.

A flicker of light caught his eye. He descended. Figures draped in gold shrouds vanished, stair by stair, before him. A wave of dizziness spun him around, and he grabbed at the wall, then tumbled down the stairs.

He landed in the dungeon corridor. He could see rocks scattered along the path, indicating a struggle, and distorted stone that suggested stonemastery.

All the cells were open. Krawg stood beside one of them. The old man’s eyes
were wet with tears, and in his hand he held a ring with three keys. “Did … did the king send you to arrest me?”

Jordam shook his head, bewildered. He glanced into the cell.

“Jordam,” said Milora, standing up. “You’re just in time.”

He blinked, his vision blurring. He saw a strange mess of colors on the wall behind Milora’s small, slender figure. But the scent, the voice …

“O-raya,” he said.

Auralia flung herself into his arms. He choked, lifting her off her feet and pressing her cheek against his. An unfamiliar feeling seized and shook the breath from him.

“My beastman,” she whispered. “You know me.”

The shaking would not stop. He held on to her while the world spun around. “rrLooked for you,” he gasped. “Couldn’t find you.”

“You’ve found me. And I know your name this time. You never told me.” She leaned against him. “May I still call you Hairy? You’re not so hairy anymore.” She leaned back from him, looking down at his shoulders and her arms, which were now stained with blood. “You’re hurt! Put me down!”

“Yes,” said Jordam, ignoring her alarm. “rrCall me Hairy.” He let her down and scowled. “Why?” he wheezed, reaching out to shake the cell’s open door. “Why lock you up?”

“I was a fool and a thief,” she said. “I took from Queen Thesera the goblet I’d made for Cal-raven. I meant no harm—just wanted him to notice me. But the queen had the right to claim it. It was her furnace, her glass. Now I’ve made all kinds of trouble. So I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? rrCan’t get out,” Jordam growled.

“Krawg has the king’s keys,” said Auralia. “He … he borrowed ’em to get me out.”

“We’ve sealed the vent,” came a girl’s voice from deeper in the dungeon. “Nothing’s gonna crawl through here now.”

“rrNo!” said Jordam, his large hand fastening around Auralia’s arm. “No leaving, O-raya. Take me too.”

“You can’t leave us!” Krawg gasped. “You just got here!”

“Krawg, a long time ago King Cal-raven gave me his Ring of Trust,” said Auralia. “He promised me he’d keep me safe. But he’s forgotten. And now he’s got all kinds of trouble to worry about. I can’t fix it for him. Best thing I can do is get out of here. Before I get angry and cause any more trouble.” Her voice was sharp with bitterness. “And I could cause a lot of trouble.”

“Just show them who you are,” Krawg said. “Show ’em tricks and inventions and things! Play like you used to!”

“Krawg, I can’t play on command,” she laughed sadly. “When I remembered who I was before, I wanted to be that girl again. But now I’m older. I’ve changed. I feel different. The world’s heavier. I can’t … I can’t make the colors work together. And it wouldn’t make a difference if I did. Nobody’s paying attention.”

“rrGo back to caves,” said Jordam. “Where O-raya belongs.”

“Don’t tell me what to be.” Anger flared in her voice. “Don’t tell me where I belong.”

“No … no leaving. The boy … the boy …” Jordam slumped forward.

“Hairy!” she said, squeezing his thumb in her small hand. “Krawg, we’ve got to help him down to the river. We’ll take him there. That’s a way out … isn’t it?”

Krawg nodded, picking up the glass trumpet that Jes-hawk had left in the corridor. “I’m takin’ this horn,” he muttered, “in case we need an alarm.”

“Take me with you,” said an unfamiliar voice.

Ryllion stepped out of the stairwell shadows.