A dog snarled from a side street, and Romilly knew it would burst into a frenzy of barking . . . she reached out, silenced it, felt its bewilderment, where had the disturbing one gone… ? She crept silently past.
Now she was far from the walls, the sentry-birds silent. Would they have thought to guard the rest of the city against laran? Or had it stretched the few leronyn at Rakhal’s command, to guard the gates, so that they were open inside the city?
Carefully, ready to retreat at a moment’s touch, she reached out . . . Orain had little laran, she knew, but he was not head-blind and she could feel him somewhere; he lay wakeful with the pain of his injuries . . . she must not let him feel her presence; he might be monitored by Rakhal’s or Lyondri’s sorcerers. Yet she moved, softly, nearer to him, block by block of the ancient city, and as she stole quietly through, no dog barked, no mouse in the walls squeaked aloud. Silence, silence, peace on the city. Horses drowsed in their stables, cats left off chasing mice and dozed before hearths, restless babies quieted under the powerful spell; from one end to the other of the ancient city of Hali, no living soul felt anything but peace and silence. Even the woman in labor fell into a peaceful sleep, and the midwife dozed at her side.
Peace, calm, silence.. ..
Outside a silent house near the opposite wall – she had traversed the whole city in her entranced spell – Romilly became aware of the two minds she had touched before. Orain; Orain lay within, somnolent under the sleep-spell that she had put on all things, but through it she could feel pain, fear, despair, a hope that perhaps he could somehow manage to die. Carefully, carefully, she thrust out a tendril of thought.. ..
Keep silence, do not move or stir lest someone be alerted when you wake. . . .
The door creaked, but so still was all within that the sleeping man outside Orain’s door did not stir. Beyond him, in an inner room, she sensed the stony wall of Lyondri Hastings thoughts – he too was deeply troubled. The dreadful thing is that Lyondri is not a cruel man by nature. He will not even watch the torturer who does his beastly work. He does this only for power!
His thoughts seemed to quest out, seeking an intruder . .. Romilly quickly submerged her own mind in that of a cat, sleeping across the hearth, and after a moment Lyondri Hastur slept… the watchman drowsed…
Even if 1 kill him too swiftly for him to cry out – Romilly’s hands tightened on the dagger in her belt, his death-cry even in thought – will waken Lyondri! But perhaps he would stop at killing Orain with his own hands. . ..
She must. There was no help for it. Then she realized that the watchmen was more deeply asleep than she, with her soothing consciousness extended throughout the whole city, could have managed; and felt another mind touch hers. Then there was a soft movement behind her, and she whirled, alert, dagger in hand-
“Don’t kill me, Romilly,” Caryl whispered. He was wearing a white child’s night-gown, and his fair hair was tousled as if he had come from his bed. He reached out and gripped her in a great hug … but not for one moment did the spell relax. . ..
“Oh, Romilly, Romilly – I pleaded with my father, but he would not hear me – I cannot bear it, what they are doing to Orain – it – it hurts me too – have you come to take him away?” His whisper was all but inaudible. If Lyondri Hastur stirred in his sleep, and touched his son’s mind, he would think him gripped in nightmare.
And Lyondri Hastur did this where his son could know of it, feel it.
“He said it would harden me to the necessity of being cruel sometimes, when the good of the realm demands it,” Caryl whispered, almost inaudibly, “I am – I am sickened – I did not think my father could do this-” and he struggled to hold back tears, knowing that would waken his father too …