They rested their burden again right beside the door. “The secret word is the same as before,” Inos said, still puffing. “It was my father’s name, of course. But watch out for the wind.”
“I think I’ll watch for the step, mostly.” Sometimes Kadie showed signs of Rap’s dry humor.
“You’ll be in Kinvale, don’t worry.”
“Darling Mama, please don’t think I don’t trust you—” Inos laughed. ”I know it looks scary, but remember this is sorcery! When you step through that door, you’ll find yourself in a very charming little parlor, in Kinvale. It belonged to my Aunt Kade, and no one uses it now. It’s been left just as it was, as a sort of memorial to her. It’s a wonderfully cozy room, you’ll love it. Go ahead.”
Kadie nodded uncertainly.
“Watch out for the wind, though,” Inos added. “There’s always a wind. Sometimes the door will hardly move, sometimes it flies open in your face. You want me to do it?”
“Er, no.”
“Then go ahead—try it.”
Squaring her shoulders, Kadie turned to the magic portal and twisted the handle. Nothing happened, because of course there was no door there yet.
“Magic word!”
“Oh! Holindarn!” Kadie proclaimed. The door rattled and she jumped.
“Well, open it!”
Kadie heaved. With a great struggle, she managed to haul it wide, while the cold air of Krasnegar wailed through the sorcerous opening, filling the little parlor beyond with billowing clouds of fog. Propping the heavy door with a foot, she stooped to lift her end of the stretcher again. Stumbling, Inos followed her as she lurched through. The journey ended with a rush as the door closed on Inos’s back, propelling her forward. Then it slammed shut with a shuddering boom! The whole episode was over so quickly that the matching slam of the parlor door itself came a moment later.
Now that was odd! Why should the door of this unused little room have been open? The fog swirled, misting the windows, slowly clearing to reveal the comfy old chairs, the elegant little tables . . . Kadie screamed and dropped her end of the stretcher.
Taken off balance, Inos tripped over a footstool and sprawled to the floor. Gath rolled on top of her with a cry of protest. “Mom!” Kadie shrilled. “A body!”
Body? Inos lifted her face off the rug and stared in horror. It was a body. It was Aquiala, duchess of Kinvale. There was blood all over her gown and the carpet around her.
Smoke! She could smell smoke. And all that noise in the distance . . . Obviously Aquiala had been trying to reach the magic portal . . .
Gath was trying to rise. “Mom!” he wailed. “I told you!”
The door to the corridor flew wide and the goblins came in to see who was slamming doors and screaming.
There was blood on their swords.
A new face:
There’s a new foot on the floor, my friend,
And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.
— Tennyson, The Death of the Old Year
NINE
Questionable shapes
1
“Funny,” Ylo said. “I hadn’t realized it was so far from Hub. ”
He was sitting on a hillside, eating lunch. Shandie sprawled beside him, doing the same. Their horses grazed the dreary winter grass nearby. For once, the sun was shining’ almost warmly, dappling the landscape with cloud shadows. The wind had a nasty edge, but there was a vague odor of spring in it. The vast ducal palace of Rivermead sprawled below them, its paddocks, outbuildings, and ornamental gardens filling the valley floor from side to side.
“I never imagined anywhere so big, either,” he added. “You’ve never been there?”
“Once, when I was very small. We weren’t on the main line, you know.” Great-uncle Yllipo had been a distant, awesome figure in his childhood.
“Well, you are now,” Shandie said, gnawing on a hunk of sausage. ”The first thing I do when I regain my throne will be to make you duke of Rivermead. That’s a promise!”
“It looks like an awful lot of work. All that grass to cut!” Shandie flickered a grin. “It’s virtually a small kingdom within the Impire. Most of the great dukedoms originated as warlord fiefs during the last interregnum. But if you’d rather have something closer to the capital, then you’ll only have to ask. I mean that, Ylo. I will grant you any honor within my power!”
Ylo chewed for a moment in silence. So that was Rivermead. Now he had seen it, and there went the last of his excuses.
He had never meant to come so far with Shandie on this journey, but one thing had led to another. First there had been the Covin’s siren call, and the need to save the imperor from that, with the aid of Eemfume and his three friends. When the Covin had given up, he had decided to hang around for a few days to make sure that was not just a trick. And then there had been the opportunity to pervert Shandie’s too-rigid code of ethics by introducing him to the arts of wenching and debauchery.
That had been a lot of fun, but the need for further education seemed to be over. The imperor was still a reluctant lecher, but he was a great deal more competent than he had been. He could roister with the best of them now, and Ylo never heard complaints from the next bed anymore. Shandie was a lot more human than he had been. In fact, he was excellent company, and that was the root of Ylo’s problem—he was enjoying this excursion. Somehow he always seemed to put off his departure for one more day. Recently he had justified his procrastination with the never-to-be-repeated opportunity to take a look at Rivermead.
There it was. Now what? If he did not depart soon, he was not going to make it back to Yewdark in time for the daffodils. Who was he to negate the prophecy of the preflecting pool?
“Wonder what that is?” he muttered, pointing westward. A faint haze of dust on the skyline looked eerily familiar—looked, in fact, like the dust raised by a marching army.
“What what is?” Shandie asked. He rose to his knees and stared.
2
At the bottom of the hill, Rap eased back on the reins and let the team come to a halt. He set the brake and jumped down to the dirt. As he stretched to ease his stiffness, Thinal peered out the coach window. For the last hour, Thinal had been expertly shaving dice.
“Something wrong?”
“Just letting the horses have a breather.”
The sun shone low in a cloudless blue sky. Here in the dry lands it gave real warmth even so early in the year—Rap wiped his brow. All around him, the land was rumpled and brown, bereft of signs of human habitation except for a few crumbling cattle pens in the distance. In another month the grass and scrub would turn to a brief green lushness before summer burned them dry again. An ominous line of cloud to the south concealed the icy summits of the Mosweep Range, the highest mountains in Pandemia. This side was almost a desert; the far side held the great rain forests that were his destination.
He strolled forward to comfort his weary stock. Thanks to some skillful trading, they were a far better collection of horses than he had set out with, but they had had a long day already.
Thinal climbed down and looked around with disgust. “Desert does not appeal,” he remarked sourly.
“Quite.” Rap walked back to confront him—that being the main reason for the halt. “By evening we should be in Ysarth.”
“So?” The thief’s ratty face became even more cagey than usual.
“So tomorrow I’m going to sell off the coach. It’s served its purpose. ” Here, in the south, fauns would be less exceptional, and there would be few observers anyway in a land so thinly inhabited.
“Horseback?” Thinal muttered, pouting.
“Horseback. Quicker.”
“Not my style.”
“ ‘Fraid.of that. Besides, I promised to tell you if I smelled danger. I don’t, yet. But I feel I’m going to, soon, if you follow me. Can you call a replacement now?”
Thinal hesitated, as if making some internal test. “Yup. It’ll be an effort, but yup. Who do you want?”
Rap smiled. “What’s my choice?” Obviously Thinal could not call Sagorn, who had called him.
“Andor or Jalon.” The thief grinned back. “I can’t call Darad for you this time. You might be safer with someone who can, if things are going to get dicey.”
Jalon would be good company. Andor would not, but Rap would have to deal with Andor sooner or later. “Let’s have your brother, then.”
Thinal nodded. “How’s your war coming, King?”
He had never shown the slightest interest before. Was he mellowing, or was he only concerned with his own chances of surviving in a world ruled by the Covin?