The Master of Heathcrest Hall (46 page)

This statement shocked Rafferdy. The progression of Lord Baydon’s illness indeed seemed familiar. Only it was not Lady Marsdel’s late husband who came to mind. Rather, it was his own father. It had been just like this for Lord Rafferdy. He had begun to waste away, growing ever weaker and more gaunt despite all the efforts of his physicians.

And then death came.

The dog squirmed and gave another little whine. Rafferdy resumed petting its head.

“Is it still your plan to leave tomorrow?” he said. “I hope you will not delay. I have heard reports that Huntley Morden’s forces are already marching eastward from Torland. Though I am sure it is impossible that his army would ever reach Invarel.”

“Nothing is impossible, Mr. Rafferdy. Besides, the war need not reach the city for it to have an effect upon us, or to deprive us of one of our own. I fear that if things begin to go ill, an order of conscription will come down from the Citadel, compelling all able young men to join the army in defense of Altania.” Her gaze traveled across the parlor, toward where Mr. and Mrs. Baydon sat. “Do keep this between us, Mr. Rafferdy, but while I love my nephew, I do not think he is very well suited for making war.”

Rafferdy could not help a grim laugh. “I wonder who can really be suited for such a thing?”

Lady Marsdel turned her gaze on him now. “I believe you would do very well as an officer, Mr. Rafferdy. You lack discipline, of course, which would be a hindrance. But my brother is right—you are clever. And more importantly, you have an exceedingly
high opinion of your own worth, and from this a strong sense of self-preservation naturally follows. There can be no characteristics more suitable for a military man, I think.”

Rafferdy would have thought he was the victim of wry mockery, were her expression not so solemn.

“What of bravery?” he said. “And loyalty to one’s companions? Are those not the most important characteristics for a soldier to possess?”

“I believe you demonstrated a more than ample supply of those particular qualities, Mr. Rafferdy, when you made it clear you would not abandon Lady Quent.”

For a moment, Rafferdy could only stare. “You have not abandoned her either,” he said at last.

“No, but I am a woman, Mr. Rafferdy. And even were I younger, I could not join you on the battlefield no matter what qualities I possessed. A woman must fight in her own manner.”

Rafferdy found himself thinking of how Mrs. Quent had prevented the magicians of her father’s order from gaining the Eye of Ran-Yahgren, or how she had compelled the trees to carry her and Rafferdy through the Evengrove. Yes, a woman could be as brave as a man, or even braver still. And there were other ways to fight than with a rifle and bayonet.

“I will do all I can to protect my own, Mr. Rafferdy,” Lady Marsdel went on. “I know you will do the same. Now, return my dog to me, for I will require him in Farland Park.”

Rafferdy realized that the dog had crawled entirely onto his lap and curled up. “I have no doubt he is both loyal and brave,” he said, “and will snap at the shin of any rebel that might try to approach you.”

Gently, he handed the little creature back to its owner. Then he started to rise from the sofa. Only before he could, Lady Marsdel leaned over to give his cheek a firm kiss.

“We shall miss you very much, Mr. Rafferdy. I hope we will not be parted for long.”

He found he could only nod. Once again, Rafferdy had received
warm affection when he had expected something colder and sterner. Perhaps, he thought, he should cease being so astonished.

It was time for Rafferdy to depart. The denizens of Lady Marsdel’s household needed to make their final preparations for the trip to Farland Park in the east. And Rafferdy had his own tasks to see to.

He bowed to Lady Marsdel and wished her farewell, then went to say good-bye to the others.

“I trust you will work in Assembly to do what is best for the nation,” Mr. Baydon said, rising to his feet.

And what was best for the nation? No doubt Mr. Baydon had firm ideas on this matter. But for his part, Rafferdy did not know anymore. There was only one thing he was certain of—that what Assembly was about to do was for anything but the good of Altania.

All he said was “I will, sir.” And he shook Mr. Baydon’s hand.

“Do not worry after us, Mr. Rafferdy,” Mrs. Baydon said. “We will want greatly for your company, but will otherwise be well. But you must take good care of yourself while we are gone. And of Lady Quent.”

He nodded. “Be assured I will try my best.”

“I know you will,” she said, and then her blue eyes became very bright. “Oh, Mr. Rafferdy, I’m so frightened for her. For all of us.”

And she threw her arms around him, holding him tightly. Her husband gave her a startled look, but Rafferdy could not say he was surprised by this reaction. Mrs. Quent was very dear to her.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Baydon,” he said quietly in her ear and patted her shoulder. “I cannot yet see how all the pieces will fit, but as you know, every puzzle works out in the end.”

She stepped back from him, and though there were tears in her eyes, she smiled up at him. “You’re right, of course. They always do.”

He kissed her hand, and she his cheek. After that, there was
only one more farewell to make. While the others busied themselves with plans for tomorrow’s departure, Rafferdy went to the chair by the window.

“Oh, good morning, Mr. Rafferdy,” Lord Baydon said, looking up. Despite the sunlight, his blue eyes were dim, like the sky as twilight draws near. “But aren’t you supposed to be at Assembly voting on some important measure or another?”

“The Hall of Magnates is not in session today,” Rafferdy said. “It will convene tomorrow.”

“Excellent! I trust you’ll come to agreement on what to do about this villain Bandley Morden.”

Rafferdy knelt beside the chair. “You mean Huntley Morden. It’s the Old Usurper’s grandson who has landed in the west.”

For a moment the elder lord’s eyes were hazed, but then he nodded. “Of course, Huntley Morden. That’s what I meant.”

“I hope to be able to visit you soon, Lord Baydon. In the meantime, I am sorry you are being bothered by your health.”

“It is no bother,” the older lord said, his voice rasping but resolute. “Rather, it was the least I could do. After all, I was too frail as a lad to go into the army and join them on their adventures. But life is peculiar, isn’t it? For I became more hale, and they grew weak. So it only seemed right that I should help them, when I could not do so earlier, and share the burden with them.”

Rafferdy frowned, trying to comprehend this utterance. Was Lord Baydon’s mind wandering, as his sister had said it often did? The older man’s hand twitched upon his lap, and Rafferdy realized there was a piece of paper there, tucked in the folds of the blanket. He reached out and took it.

It was an impression—the very same one that Rafferdy and Mrs. Quent had previously discovered in Lord Marsdel’s library. The picture showed three young men wearing the coats of Altanian army officers, but with turbans on their heads, standing before bending date trees and a sea of sand. It was Earl Rylend, Lord Marsdel, and Lord Rafferdy. They were the three Lords of Am-Anaru who, along with Sir Quent’s father, had gone into a cave
deep in the desert and discovered the Eye of Ran-Yahgren within. And they had found something else there as well: a malady—or perhaps a curse—that struck them all down in time.

A chill came over Rafferdy, and a fascination as well. “What do you mean, Lord Baydon? How did you share the burden with them?”

The elder lord’s face had gone slack, and he seemed to look past Rafferdy. “The onyx box,” he said faintly. “Lord Marsdel said the three of them had each taken a bit from themselves and put it inside the box. And all I had to do was open it. I was very hearty, he said. It would cost me but a few years, and would grant them all many. And I had seen what became of Rylend’s steward. Poor Mr. Quent! What a dreadful end. So how could I not help them? I opened the box, and gladly. How like an adventurer I felt! Like one of their little band, boldly venturing into the desert. Like …”

He gave a rattling sigh and fell silent.

Now it was with a horror that Rafferdy gazed at the elder man. The impression slipped from his fingers and fell onto Lord Baydon’s hand. The elder lord gave a start and blinked.

“What is it, Mr. Rafferdy? Was there something you wanted to say?”

Rafferdy drew in a breath. “I just wanted to say good-bye, Lord Baydon.”

A smile crossed his thin face. “Well, no need for such formalities, Mr. Rafferdy. You can always call on us again tomorrow.”

Rafferdy made no reply. He simply squeezed the elder man’s hand. Then he rose and exited the parlor. In the past, he had attempted to go as long as possible between visits to Lady Marsdel’s. Yet as he departed the house on Fairhall Street, he found himself wishing he could indeed call again the lumenal next. Only no one would be here if he did.

Besides, he had other affairs to attend to tomorrow. And if he was right about what was to happen, then he hoped her ladyship would depart early in the morning, and drive with all possible haste.

T
HE NIGHT WAS LONG, and the morning broke sluggishly over the city, as if reluctant to cast its light in witness upon what this day was to bring.

For his part, Rafferdy was anything but sluggish, but was rather filled with a peculiar energy. He rose in the dark, dressed by lamplight, and took a breakfast of only coffee, being in need of no further sustenance. By the time the sun heaved itself over the shoulder of the Crag, he was already in his cabriolet as his man drove him through the Old City.

Three lumenals ago, these streets had all been in turmoil as he drove to Mrs. Quent’s house. Now they were orderly, even quiet. A few people moved about on their business—as did what seemed a nearly equal number of soldiers in blue coats.

When the news of Huntley Morden’s ships landing in the west reached Invarel, a great tumult had ensued. Some people had cried out in glee, many others in dread, and thieves and hooligans took it as a holiday. Things were quickly brought to order, though, as a great number of redcrests marched down from the Citadel and throughout the city. Crowds were dispersed, fires snuffed out, and any belligerents who resisted the soldiers were hauled off to Barrowgate.

If prior to all this some had called the Crown foolish for withdrawing so many soldiers from the Outlands in recent months and recalling them to the city, they now praised it as wisdom. A few skirmishes occurred, but all were quickly resolved in favor of the soldiers, and by the following lumenal order had been restored.

In fact, the city seemed almost tranquil now. That it had lost a sizable fraction of its population in the last few lumenals was certain, as, like Lady Marsdel and the Baydons, many families that had resisted departing for their estates in the east did so now. At the same time, most of the young men who had run about waving green banners and shouting “The Hawk” three days ago had since left the city themselves. Only it was not to the east they fled, but rather to the west.

For the last two days, a calm had ruled in the city, but it was an uneasy sort of peace. The princess had yet to make any appearance or statement, which was a matter of much talk and speculation. All waited, wondering what news would come next out of the West Country—or down from the Citadel.

A bit of news Rafferdy was waiting on himself was word from Eldyn Garritt. He had dispatched another note, but again no reply had come back. As a result, Rafferdy’s concern had increased. If he did not get a reply soon, he would have to seek out Garritt in person to assure that he was well. How he would have liked to be sitting in a tavern with his friend, sharing a pot of punch! At the moment, though, other business required him.

The cabriolet came to a halt. Rafferdy opened the door and climbed out. Members of both Halls were already ascending the marble steps before Assembly. Rafferdy followed suit, moving more quickly than most, though he could not say this was from any eagerness. Rather, if an awful thing must happen, it was best to get on with it.

As he went, he could not help thinking about Lord Baydon. Until yesterday, Rafferdy had continued to hope that the elder lord would again be able to accompany him to Assembly someday. Now, after what Rafferdy had learned yesterday, he feared that would never happen.

What had Lord Marsdel done to Lord Baydon? But it was all too clear, Rafferdy supposed.
The three of them had each taken a bit from themselves and put it inside.…

Rafferdy could only wonder if Earl Rylend and Lord Rafferdy had been aware of what magick Lord Marsdel planned to work with the onyx box—how he intended to take most awful advantage of his cheerful and good-natured brother-in-law. Had Rafferdy’s own father been complicit in this dreadful plan to cheat the curse of Am-Anaru, extending their own lives at the expense of another’s?

Rafferdy wanted to believe that his father would not willingly and knowingly commit such an abhorrent act. Yet who was to say that even a good man might not rationalize such a deed in order
to preserve his life, telling himself it was for the sake of his wife and infant son? A man could justify the most heinous of deeds if he convinced himself it was for the greater good. Were they not about to witness that very thing this morning?