Wizardborn (56 page)

For as long as there have been Runelords, there have been Days. But the number of Days in the world is never precisely known, and seems to swell and wane from time to time. Mad King Harrill, it is said, had three Days in his attendance at all times, and went to great lengths to evade them. One can well imagine that he needed more watching than others.

Yet we know from the chronicles of Erendor that not even one in twelve kings had a Days in attendance during his lifetime. This state of affairs lasted for nearly four hundred years. Hence, because so much of our history is lost, we sometimes speak of the Dark Age of Erendor.

—
Excerpt from
Chronicles,
by Deverde, Hearthmaster in the Room of Time

While the world slept, Iome retreated to the palace at the Courts of Tide, there to wait while Abel Scarby gathered the dogs that Gaborn needed.

The guards ushered her in and called a chambermaid who would have waked the whole staff in a panic if Iome had not forbidden her to do so.

The immensity of the palace overwhelmed Iome. Her father's entire keep back at Castle Sylvarresta would have fit in the Great Hall. Sixteen huge hearths lined its walls.

Around the room hung dozens of lanterns backed by silver mirrors, their bright flames subdued beneath rose-colored crystal. The oil that they burned gave off a pleasant
scent of gardenias. Enormous windows facing south would have lit the room throughout the day.

The tapestries on the walls, depicting scenes of ancient kings in love and in battle, each looked as if they might have kept a village full of women weaving for a year.

The postern and lintel above each doorway had been intricately carved to show scenes of foxes and rabbits racing over trails in an oak forest.

The king's table was set with golden plates, brightly polished. Iome took one gasping look, and just stared in amazement. She'd never grasped how wealthy Gaborn might be. She'd never imagined how insignificant Heredon's splendor must seem to him.

Before one great hearth, a girl in a plain scholar's robe sat hunched on an elegant couch. Her brown hair was long and braided in cornrows, then tied together in back.

Upon hearing footsteps, she turned to look at Iome.

“Oh, there you are!” she said in a pleasant voice. The girl's face was freckled, her eyes an ordinary brown. Iome took one look, and felt as if she'd known her all her life. She was perhaps sixteen, a little younger than Iome.

“Are you my new Days?” Iome asked.

The girl nodded. She had a pimple on her chin. “I heard that you had arrived. Did you have a good ride?”

“It went without incident,” Iome said, sure that the girl wanted only the historical details.

The girl's face fell a little, as if she'd expected more. “But—it was pleasant, I hope?”

Iome's mind did a little twist. She'd never had a Days inquire as to whether something pleased her.

“Very pleasant,” Iome said. “I have to admit, I'd never imagined how vast Mystarria was. The land here is so rich and fertile, and this castle overwhelms me.”

“I was born not far from here,” the Days said, “in a village called Berriston. I know everything about Mystarria. I can show you around.”

Iome had never had a Days offer to show her anything. Most of them were cold and aloof. But she recognized immediately
that this girl felt just as lonely as Iome did, just as overwhelmed by her responsibilities.

“I would like that,” Iome said. She took the girl by her hand, squeezed her fingers.

It felt distinctly odd. At home, friends had always surrounded Iome. Whether they were dried-up old matrons or other young women in waiting, she'd always had a female companion nearby. She'd come to the Courts of Tide knowing that she would feel out of place.

Now she wondered what it would feel like to have a Days as a friend. “Do you know the castle?” Iome asked. “Can you show me to the tower?”

“Indeed,” the Days said. “I've been here all afternoon.”

The girl took Iome to the base of the tower. Together they climbed the long stairs until they reached the room where Gaborn's father had slept.

A guardsman in Mystarria's colors stood at the door, opened it with a key.

Upon opening the door, Iome smelled King Orden's scent—his sweat, his hair—all so strong that it seemed impossible that her husband's father had been slain only a week ago. The scent belied his death, made Iome expect that at any moment old King Orden might appear on the parapet outside the window, or stir from an antechamber.

At the very least, his shade ought to be here, she thought.

The room was overlarge, with rich furnishings and a huge canopied four-poster bed draped with woolen curtains. Iome went to it, patted the firm mattress. This is where I am destined to sleep, she thought. This is where—the Powers preserve us—I'll bear my son. This is where Gaborn will get more sons upon me.

Iome's Days went to a window, opened it wide. “I've heard that the view of the city here is beautiful,” she exulted. “We should see it from the promenade.”

Iome wouldn't be able to sleep, she knew. With so many endowments of stamina and metabolism and brawn, she needed very little of it. From now on when she did take rest, she would take it as powerful Runelords were wont to
do—by standing quietly and staring off at private dreams. She still felt rested, and the Days' tone was infectious.

Iome went out to the promenade. It was three stories beneath the very topmost ramparts of the tower, where the far-seers kept their vigil. The promenade was well lit. A huge red lantern hung just beneath the far-seers' outlook.

“That wasn't lit a while ago,” Iome remarked.

“The queen wasn't in residence a while ago,” the Days replied. “It is lit in your honor.”

In her castle back home, there had been no such practice. Castle Sylvarresta served as the bastion of defense, and Iome had seldom left it. But Mystarria was another matter. Gaborn's family maintained half a dozen castles that could serve as resorts during time of war, along with palaces that had sometimes served as homes during times of peace.

Below Iome the various buildings of the Courts of Tide hunched in the darkness—lordly castles with their proud towers raised high, manors and estates squatting in their splendor. Markets cascaded to the west, the light of the horned moon glinting on their slate roofs; while beyond them, in the poorer quarters, the pitched roofs of thousands upon thousands of shanties jutted up like sharp stones.

Beyond it all was the vast ocean, placid. Salt tang tickled her nostrils. It was not a cold night.

“It's beautiful up here,” the Days said. “Just as I always imagined.”

She went on. “When I was young, my mother told me a child's tale. She said that there was a castle filled with giants on each edge of the world, and that those of the east are making war with those of the west. Each day, the giants to the east load their catapult, and send a flaming ball high overhead, to smash against the roofs of the castle to the west. And each night, those same giants send a great stone hurtling overhead. The ball of flame is the sun. The ball of stone is the moon. And when the day comes that the sun no longer rises, you'll know that the war has ended.

“The commoners in their shanties in town say that the King's Tower is so high,” the girl continued, “that a farseer
standing here can look across the ocean, and spot the giants working to load their catapults.

“It was from this very tower that Fallion's far-seers spotted the gray ships.”

Iome smiled. Overhead, several stars lanced through the sky at once. One, in particular, was a huge fireball that hurtled slowly, leaving a flaming trail. She teased. “It looks as if your giants must have run out of rocks. They're hurling shot tonight.”

The Days laughed. She turned, her eyes sparkling. She knew her history and she loved it. The girl's dream was to stand at the side of a queen and watch history unfold. But assuming that Gaborn even could stop the fell mage that led the Underworld, Iome would be stuck in this tower for weeks, doing nothing. The notion wrung her heart.

How long, Iome wondered, before this girl grows bored with me and regrets her choice of occupation?

Iome scanned the far horizon where water sparkled in the night. She couldn't discern any ships, or even a pod of whales. “No giants,” Iome said. “No ships either.”

At that, the girl stiffened involuntarily just a bit, and her fingers tightened on the stone rail around the parapet. She laughed again, but her laugh sounded forced.

Ships are coming, Iome realized. The Days knows it. Ships are coming to attack the Courts of Tide.

But whose ships?

Iome began to think furiously. To the south were the Inkarrans, who had never made war upon the north, though they were doing so now. Still, sending fleets was not how they practiced war. To the north were half a dozen countries that could muster a fleet—Lonnock, Toom, Eyremoth, Al-nick, Ashoven, and Internook.

I'm jumping to conclusions, Iome thought. Yet she had to wonder. This Days was young, perhaps the youngest she'd ever seen. The rest had always been far more mature. Perhaps she wasn't fully trained.

For long centuries there had been rumors that Days sometimes acted as spies. Could this be the source of such
rumors—a Days who involuntarily twitched an eye or looked away nervously when the conversation strayed to dangerous topics?

“So,” Iome said. “You said you grew up here, in Berriston?”

“Yes, it's nearby,” the girl answered.

“Can we see it from here?”

The Days took her to the north side of the tower, pointed up along the coast four miles. “You see the village there, the one with just a few lights.”

“Ah, so close,” Iome said. “You could see the towers here from your home every day.”

“Not in the winter,” the Days said. “Not when the fog rolls in.”

Iome had never known a Days who spoke so much. “Does your family still live there, your mother, father, brothers, sisters?”

“My mother died years back,” the Days said. “But my father is here, and my older brothers. They're twins. I never liked my stepmother.”

“Have you visited them recently?” Iome asked.

Now the girl clutched at the railing again, nervous. “No.” Was she worried for her family, or did the idea of visiting them make her nervous?

“Would you like to?” Iome said. “Perhaps I could take you.”

“No!” the Days answered. “Time does not roll backward. We should not try to make it do so.” She did not speak this last with full conviction.

“I suppose not,” Iome said. “I shall certainly never see my parents again, and nothing I can do will ever bring them back. It seems a shame, though, that your family would be so close, and you not able to see them.”

The Days clutched at the railing again, then looked away to the northwest, avoiding the subject.

Iome strolled around the promenade, until she faced west. Overhead, a star streaked across the sky, followed almost instantly by another.

“My husband is out there,” Iome said, “fighting the reavers. He fears that the end may be coming, three or four days from now. But I suppose you know all that.”

The girl fell silent and leaned forward, gazing west.

Iome continued. “He's facing so many enemies. It's not just the reavers. It's the Inkarrans to the south, now, and Raj Ahten. And mad King Anders. I worry for him.”

The Days did not clench the rail. She merely stood gazing out. Iome read her reaction: Gaborn is safe. Don't worry.

Iome's head felt near to bursting. She suspected that she was on to something. This girl was not fully trained. So long as she did not suspect that Iome could read her, she would continue to reveal what she knew in her reactions.

Iome circled the promenade. “It's getting late. You'll probably want some sleep. I hope that your quarters are adequate?”

“They're wonderful.” To a girl of peasant stock, any quarters here would seem luxurious.

“And you've had dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Iome said. “I've never given it much thought before, but I suspect it must be hard for a Days at first, to be stuck here without any friends.”

“Oh, I have friends,” the Days answered.

Iome knew of them. She knew that the girl had given an endowment of wit to another, a friend who granted the endowment back, so that now they were of one mind. Gaborn had spoken of how he himself envied those who had such deep relationships.

Beneath Iome, the tower began to sway slightly, and stones bucked under her feet.

At first she thought that she imagined it, and she reached for the railing more worried that she would look silly than from any concern about the safety of the tower.

Then the tower really did sway, and the ground trembled and shook. Iome's heart pounded.

“Earthquake!” the Days cried.

Her mouth opened in surprise, just as a rumbling sound rolled through the city.

The great tower began to thump up and down as the soil rolled beneath it in waves. Of all the places in the world that Iome would want to be during an earthquake, this tower was the last.

She heard glass shatter down in the palace as the huge windows in the Great Hall burst.

Throughout the Courts of Tide, people began to scream in alarm. Dogs barked and horses whinnied. In a castle on an island nearby, a whole tower collapsed, went sliding into the sea.

The Days grabbed the railing around the parapet, as if afraid that she might fall.

“Let's get out of here!” Iome shouted. She grabbed the girl's hands and pulled her through the door, into the tower proper. The king's books tumbled from a shelf, along with a helm that clattered loudly. The canopy above the bed swayed.

Iome pulled the Days into the room just as a sound of cracking rock split the night air. The parapet outside splintered and fell.