The Lost Realm (21 page)

Elodie wanted to join Sylva, but her feet felt as if they'd taken root. All she could do was stand and watch as Cedric was borne away.

Oh, Cedric. I'm so sorry.

Throughout it all Lord Vicerin stood in silence. When she glanced at him, Elodie saw that his quizzical look had been replaced by something else. It took her a moment to identify the expression. Then, at last, she had it.

Lord Vicerin looked disgusted.

The Room of Healing was situated at the top of a squat tower. The room was round, and although it had no windows, light flooded down from dozens of narrow apertures in the roof. It was quiet here, a place of sanctuary, a place of peace.

Elodie's mind was anything but peaceful. Seated with Lady Vicerin and Sylva beside Cedric's bed, she felt sick. Sick to see Cedric so horribly wounded, and sick that Lord Vicerin had not seen fit to visit, even when the healer had pronounced him close to death.

“I can't believe Father isn't here,” Sylva whispered in Elodie's ear. Elodie jumped, startled to hear her own thoughts spoken aloud. “Cedric nearly died fighting in his forsaken war.”

“Please, there is no need to whisper,” said Lady Vicerin, regarding them both through tearstained eyes. “Oh, my boy. My poor, poor boy.” She tightened her grip on Cedric's left hand.

His only hand
, thought Elodie with a shudder.

“But why isn't he here?” said Sylva. Was that a note of defiance in her voice? Or just raw emotion?

“Your father is a busy man,” said Lady Vicerin defensively. “He will come.”

Elodie thought that unlikely. From the look on Sylva's face, it was clear she shared her doubts.

“How is he?” Elodie asked the healer, who had just finished adjusting the fresh bandage she'd wrapped around the stump of Cedric's arm.

“He will sleep,” the woman replied gently. She was round and placid; her white apron was immaculate. “I have given him a sleeping draft. Given time, he will recover.”

Bowing low, she left the room.

“It breaks my heart that my boy can no longer carry his sword,” said Lady Vicerin. “All he ever wanted to do was to honor his father.”

Who can't stand to look at him now.

With a flurry of petticoats Lady Vicerin rose to her feet. She bent and kissed Cedric's forehead. “Sleep well, my boy. Heal fast.”

As Sylva and Elodie followed her into the corridor, a pair of guards fell into step behind them. Sylva waved them away.

“I will walk with my sister alone,” she said.

“But we have orders . . .” the first guard began.

To Elodie's surprise, Lady Vicerin turned on him, her red-rimmed eyes flashing. “Do you refuse my daughter's request?” she snapped. “My son lies broken in that room and you will not let the girls grieve in peace? Get you gone!”

“Of course, my lady,” said the second guard hurriedly. With some relief, Elodie watched him hustle his companion away.

Sylva kissed Lady Vicerin's cheek. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Do not be late for dinner,” said Lady Vicerin. She clutched her handkerchief between both hands. “You know how upset your father gets about such things.”

She rustled away. Sylva turned to Elodie.

“I know you want to escape. I could see it in your eyes the minute you arrived. Don't deny it.”

Elodie went cold.

So I was right. She did see through me!

“I don't know what you're—” she blustered.

“Elodie, we grew up together. I know you better than anyone. You can't fool me.”

Elodie's dress felt tight around her chest.

“I . . . I was trying to fool everyone,” she whispered.

To her amazement, a smile flashed briefly on Sylva's rosy face. “You
are
fooling everyone. Everyone except me . . .” Her voice trailed away. She looked suddenly sad. “This isn't the place you were meant to be, Elodie. You're lost here. But you're not alone.”

Elodie hitched in a breath, let it out slowly.

“If your brother managed to escape, you can too.”

Elodie thought she'd had her day's share of surprises. Now this. “You knew Tarlan was here? But you never said anything about it. I thought . . .”

“Oh, we're all supposed to keep quiet about him, especially around you. My father's very embarrassed about it, you know. Your brother freed a group of children from the dungeons, and as for those giant birds . . . what are they called?”

“Thorrods.” Elodie grinned. The thought of Tarlan running rings around Lord Vicerin thrilled her deeply.

“They were spectacular!”

“You should try riding on one.”

“Have you done that?” Sylva's eyes grew very wide.

“A couple of times. But Tarlan's the real expert. I can't wait to see him again.”

“Nor can I!” Now Sylva's eyes were blazing.

“What do you mean?” said Elodie, growing serious once more. “Sylva, what are you going to do about me? Aren't you going to tell your parents the truth?”

“Oh, Elodie. Don't you understand? I want to escape too!”

Another table. Another meal. Everything different. Everything the same.

They think this castle is the whole world
, Elodie thought as the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen took their places along either side of the enormous table. At the head, powdered and proud, sat Lord Vicerin.
They think themselves so important. But it's really such a tiny place. And they are so small.

Six servants placed an array of silver trays on the table. Each was filled with nests of pastry containing tiny hard-boiled eggs, no bigger than her thumbnail. The guests oohed their appreciation, while Elodie judged that this first dish in the nine-course meal to come would have fed half the men in the Trident camp.

But before the staff could begin serving, the big doors at the end of the dining hall crashed open. A grizzled man strode in, his gaunt face all but obscured by a long, ragged beard. His tattered furs swayed as he walked, his enormous boots thudding on the polished floor.

The guests shifted uneasily in their seats. Several of the women pressed their napkins to their mouths. Lord Vicerin's expression folded into a frown.

As the man made for the head of the table, a guard scurried in after him.

“Come back, you! Sorry, my lord. Begging your pardon. I told him to wait, but he just—”

“What is the meaning of this?” said Lord Vicerin, rising to his feet.

The visitor stopped just short of the table. He stood, feet planted wide, his big hands curled at his sides. Elodie got the impression that, beneath his furs, his body was as thin as his face. Yet he seemed to emanate strength.

“Oy, you! On your knees!” said the guard, drawing his sword. But Lord Vicerin lifted his hand and waved him back.

“I am not accustomed to seeing such a filthy specimen in my banqueting hall. I demand that you tell me who you are.”

The man said nothing, simply glowered. Titters ran down the length of the table.

Warming to his performance, Lord Vicerin stepped away from his chair and began to circle the newcomer—though Elodie noticed he made sure to keep out of striking range.

“What are you, I wonder? A traveling bard, perhaps? Have you come to tell us a story? Or perhaps sing us a song? You'll need a tongue for that, of course. But, oh, it seems you have forgotten where your tongue is.”

The titters turned to laughter. One of the diners, bolder than the rest, lobbed a piece of bread at the man. It bounced off his head and landed on the floor. Several people applauded.

Looking closer, Elodie saw that the man's eyes had a dazed look about them. And those big hands were trembling slightly. Strong but thin, and unimaginably weary. What trials had he suffered?

And why are you here?

“I do have a story,” said the man. His voice was cracked, as if he hadn't used it for a very long time. As he spoke, the laughter died away. “You may know it, Lord Vicerin. Or part of it, at least.”

“I do not think—” Lord Vicerin began.

“Once I was an Eye. An Eye of Idilliam. You know of the Eyes, I think, my lord—rangers under the command of King Brutan. We traveled far and wide throughout the kingdom, seeking out those who caused unrest and . . . suppressing them.”

“Look, my man, I really do not—”

“Those were difficult times.” The man's voice grew deeper as he spoke, losing some of its hoarseness. His eyes brightened. “We were busy men. Very busy. Then a rumor came to Brutan. A rumor of a birth, of triplets born in the realm of Isur. Brutan's first thought was of the prophecy and so, even though no new stars appeared in the sky, he feared for his life.”

Elodie sat forward, listening intently, for this was a story entwined closely with her own.

“This is all very interesting,” said Lord Vicerin, “but neither I nor my guests wish to listen to your ramblings.”

From the guests' fascinated expressions, Elodie could see that wasn't true. Despite this, Vicerin waved the guard forward.

“Wait,” said a voice. “I would hear his story.”

To Elodie's amazement, the speaker was Lady Vicerin. Had she ever challenged her husband in public before? Elodie couldn't remember a single time. Perhaps Cedric's misfortune had woken her up at last.

“My dear,” said Lord Vicerin. “I do not believe it is appropriate to—”

“Let him speak,” Lady Vicerin replied with a tight and haughty smile. “He is no bard, but his story is of interest.”

Lord Vicerin's eyes flashed with rage. Nevertheless, he stopped the guard in his tracks. “Finish your sorry tale,” he snapped. “Then I will show you what I do with uninvited guests.”

If the man was intimidated, he didn't show it. “Brutan lived his whole life in fear of the prophecy. Whenever he heard rumors of a new birth, he sent out his Eyes to investigate. This time he changed his orders to match the depth of his terror. He commanded us to kill every newborn child we found.”

A woman gasped. Lord Vicerin's frown deepened. Elodie suppressed a shudder.

“I am pleased to say I refused to carry out my orders.” The man sighed heavily. “How could I commit such an atrocity? As for my colleagues . . . alas, they were not so squeamish. The first village they came to, they found me waiting for them.” He paused. “They did not leave that village alive.”

“Is that the end of your tale?” said Lady Vicerin. “I do not believe it is.”

“There is a little more, my lady. Years later the prophecy finally came true. Triplets were born to King Brutan, and the three stars appeared in the sky. They hang there still, as you all must know. But before Brutan could kill the newborns, they were handed over to trusted guardians and carried to places of safety. The wizard Melchior did this.”

The man paused again. He pressed his trembling hands to his face, then dropped them once more to his sides.

“I was one of those guardians.”

Gasps rose from the listening guests. Elodie would have gasped too, only she couldn't breathe. Across the table, Sylva's normally red cheeks had turned deathly pale. Lord Vicerin had stiffened, his face an unreadable mask.

You looked after one of my brothers! Was it Tarlan or Gulph? By the stars, you were there on the night we were born. You were
there
!

“Captain Leom,” said Lord Vicerin slowly. Faint pink glowed through the powder on his cheeks. “I thought you were dead! If only I had known it was you!”

The man—Captain Leom—regarded Lord Vicerin solemnly. “Thirteen years shut inside a cave changes a man.”

“A cave?” said Lord Vicerin.

“I took the child to Yalasti. I myself had grown up there, and I planned to hide him in my home village. Yalasti is cold and remote, and would have been far enough from Brutan's grasp for us to be safe.”

“What happened?”

“Just short of the village, I was attacked by Helkrags—vicious barbarians who track herds of elk. I took to my horse and fled. I thought I'd evaded them, only to find they'd surrounded me. There was no hope of escape. I wrapped the child in my cloak and hid him behind a snowdrift, near the track used by the villagers to forage in the woods. I hoped someone would hear his cries and find him.”