The chamber was already filled with every person of importance in the castle, so that the atmosphere, laced with tension, was thick and close. Even without laran, Eduin would have recoiled from the jangle of nervous energy.
Lord Brynon sat in his accustomed place, with Romilla on a smaller throne at his side. The girl’s face was as set and pale as the first day Eduin had seen her, but her expression was grim and her eyes alight with inner fire. Domna Mhari stood a little to the side, her hands cupped between her breasts.
As Eduin and Saravio entered, a courtier came forward and escorted them to two chairs near the front of the room. As they took their places, the crowd fell silent except for the occasional nervous cough or rustle of a lady’s skirts.
Lord Brynon gestured to the captain of his guard and a moment later, two armed men brought out the physician. One held each elbow. They halted before Lord Brynon. Dom Rodrigo delivered a formal bow with the same ease as if he were a welcome guest and not a prisoner. Even so, fear rose like a dark mist from his mind.
“Vai dom!” the physician cried. “I beg of you, tell me why I have been brought before you in such an unseemly manner. I am no common thief, to be thus surrounded by armed men.” Shrugging his robes into place, he jerked away from his guards. “If some malcontent has laid a complaint against me, let me hear it from his own lips, that I may refute the scoundrel!”
“Silence!” Lord Brynon’s voice rang out above the rumbling of the court. “Let there be not a single word spoken until all is prepared,” he nodded to Domna Mhari, “and let us speedily reach the heart of this matter, for the very thought of such treachery is abhorrent to me.”
Mhari turned her palms upward. The blue-white fire of her starstone flashed in her cupped hands. She bent her face over the gem, as if breathing in its power.
Eduin braced himself for the first stirrings of the truthspell, although he had no reason to fear it. He had done nothing to injure any person within these walls.
Old habits of secrecy died hard, and he had carried secrets for as long as he could remember—his true identity as the son of the outlaw laranzu, Rumail Deslucido, his unsuccessful attempts to assassinate Prince Carolin Hastur, he who was now king, his successful murder of Felicia Leynier, the circle he had illegally gathered to defend Hestral Tower, his role in the riot at Hali Lake . . . Depending upon how the questions were phrased, it might become apparent that he was hiding something. There was so much to hide. If pressed, he could draw upon the Deslucido Gift, as he had in the past. That was the greatest and most terrible secret of all.
The leronis began the ritual phrases that would establish the spell. “By the fire of this jewel, let the truth lighten this room in which we stand.”
Eduin had seen the setting of truthspell a number of times, and had been trained to do it himself; he knew that he alone possessed the ability to nullify it, and yet the process stirred him on some deep and wordless level. From the small blue jewel in Mhari’s hands, a glow began, slowly suffusing her features. It filled the room, creeping slowly from face to face as if it were a living thing with an intelligence of its own. He felt it shimmer across his skin, cool as polished glass, saw it bathe Saravio in a twilit glow.
The blue light touched each according to his nature, heightening the essence of the person. Romilla looked as if she had been carven from alabaster, her father a cragged bird of prey. Dom Rodrigo’s features turned blotched, the folds and lines of his face becoming crevices of darkness.
Mhari lifted her head. In that moment, she seemed taller, worthy of her own pride. “It is done, my lord. While this light endures, the truth alone may be spoken here.”
“Now, we will have the truth of this business.” Lord Brynon’s voice deepened, like distant thunder. Hearing it, Eduin remembered the unnatural storms over Thendara, the crackle of unspent lightning, the taste of power in the air.
“Dom Rodrigo Halloran, stand forth.”
Visibly gathering himself, the physician stepped away from his guards. He licked his lips and bowed deeply to his lord. “I am here, and ready to serve to the full capacity of my skill and training.” He paused, then added with a trace of his old arrogance and a sidelong glance at Saravio, “As I always have.”
“You say you have always served this house?” Lord Brynon asked.
“I have ever sought the health and welfare of every member of the ruling family.” The blue light remained, clear and steady, on Rodrigo’s features.
“And all who dwell within these walls?”
The physician hesitated before replying, “That I cannot swear for certain, my lord, for I do not know all of them. I am bound by the oaths of my profession to harm no one, regardless of my personal feelings.”
“So there are none whom you dislike here in this company?”
Dom Rodrigo remained silent.
“Make him answer!” Romilla cried, half-rising. “He must not hide behind silence!”
“None whom you wished any ill? What about Sandoval, who saved young Kevan’s life? Who succeeded in restoring Lady Romilla to sound mind when you had failed?”
“My lord, I cannot—” Rodrigo lifted his arms in a piteous gesture. His hands shook.
Lord Brynon rose slowly to his feet and pointed to Saravio. “Did you attempt to harm that man?”
Dom Rodrigo fell to his knees. The only sound that emerged from his mouth was an incoherent stammer. “I—I—” The blue light on his face wavered and then went out.
For a moment, stunned silence hung over the room. Eduin jumped to his feet. “My lord, I ask you—on behalf of the Blessed Sandoval—permit me a question or two before you pronounce judgment.”
Romilla touched her father’s arm. “Yes, let him speak. Let us know the will of Sandoval in this affair, for it is he to whom I am indebted and he who has been injured by this treacherous villain.”
Eduin bent over until his mouth was beside Saravio’s ear. “Attend carefully to what I say, and watch this man’s reactions. Remember that it is Naotalba’s will that all men love her and rejoice in her service, and also that they suffer in the presence of her enemies.”
Saravio nodded.
Taking a step toward the cowering physician, Eduin pitched his voice so that the entire assembly could hear him clearly. “Dom Rodrigo, for the moment let us set aside the matter of whether you acted alone or at the orders of some other party. Instead, I ask this on behalf of the man you would have harmed: What do you know of Naotalba?”
In an instant, Dom Rodrigo’s expression went from guilt to confusion. The blue light of truthspell flickered across his features once more. “Naotalba? I—I know nothing—have nothing to do with her. Why should I? She does not even exist, except as a tale to frighten foolish maidens.”
Eduin bent over Saravio again, giving the appearance of consulting about the next question. “Do you hear? He denies even her existence.”
Saravio’s eyes glinted in response. The muscles of his jaw clenched.
“But he is no leader,” Eduin went on. “We must find out whom he serves.”
Eduin straightened and asked, in the same tone of voice. “What about Varzil Ridenow? Do you also know nothing of him?”
“Of course, I do! I am no ignorant simpleton!” Regaining a measure of composure, Dom Rodrigo heaved himself to one foot and then the other, standing. Now the blue glow steadied. “Varzil of Neskaya was first trained at Arilinn Tower and is perhaps the most notable Keeper of our time.”
“So you approve of him? Believe in him?” As he spoke the words, Eduin felt a lash of fear and anger from Saravio. Romilla flinched visibly. Mhari paled within the aura of blue light.
“What kind of questions are these? Unlike the mythological figure you previously cited, this man is real and so are his accomplishments. Together with Carolin Hastur, he rebuilt Neskaya Tower. Now he is emissary to that same King Carolin and his name is often praised as a force for peace and justice. Many call him Varzil the Good.”
“And you? Do
you admire him also?” Eduin pressed.
“He is honored wherever he goes.”
Again Saravio’s mind sent forth an intimation of fury, stronger this time, like caustic over raw skin. The courtiers murmured, restive. Several voices rose above the others.
“Traitor!”
“He sold us out!”
“The Hasturs? Could they be behind this?”
One of the chief councillors, an older man with a dignified bearing, stepped forward. “Vai dom, must this continue? The prisoner has failed the test of truthspell.”
Lord Brynon stirred in his great chair. Truthspell turned his features stark and grim. “I do not understand this line of inquiry. What is your point?”
“He has not yet told us who sent him here to destroy Kirella’s hope for the future,” Eduin said. “We must have the entire truth.”
“Varzil Ridenow?” the old councillor said, astonished. “Why would he concern himself with Aillard business? You cannot seriously—”
“Silence!” Lord Brynon cut him off. Drawing himself up like a predator about to strike, he said, “Dom Rodrigo Halloran, did you place poison in the food of Sandoval?”
The physician stood like a beast at bay. With an odd dignity, he raised his head so that all might see the truthspell. “I did add a substance to a meal intended for this charlatan. It was no poison, and would have brought no harm to any ordinary man. But I did not believe him ordinary. How could any normal man presume to intervene with the treatment of the young mistress? Since the moment of his arrival, I suspected this Sandoval as being a wild laran talent, untrained, lacking even the rudiments of discipline, erratic and unpredictable, in short, dangerous in the extreme. How else could he have suborned Lady Mhari, a legitimate leronis, and recruited her to be his ally? How else could he have cast his net of seduction over this entire court, especially young Lady Romilla, who in her illness and confusion, fell victim to his wiles? I sought only to reveal his true nature—”
“You admit it, then?” Romilla cried out, her voice sharp and harsh like the scream of a hunting falcon. “You admit you tried to poison him? Or at the very least incapacitate the one man who could bring light into my darkness?”
“You know not what you speak, damisela,” Dom Rodrigo returned, his voice now soothing. “Sandoval might have seemed at first to help, but in the end, his lack of training would surely have brought you even greater illness. What his purposes are, I cannot say, beyond his own advancement in this court through illicit control over your susceptible mind. I, on the other hand, have always been your true physician, desiring nothing more than your happiness and well-being, and have ever sought to use my knowledge and skill in your service.”
Throughout the physician’s oration, the light of truthspell remained on his face. He truly believed what he spoke. Pompous and self-important he might be, but not deceitful. He had indeed served the court of Kirella for long years.
Dom Rodrigo’s speech, so measured and reasonable, spread like balm over the restive crowd. Eduin saw in their faces that many believed him and even now were thinking that what he had done was not so very terrible. Many in the courtly audience had benefited from his skill. Sandoval, as they called him, was an outsider whose aloofness had earned him little friendship outside of Romilla’s circle. A few more minutes, and some might even begin to wonder if it might be simpler to dismiss Sandoval and let the physician continue in his former place.
“My Lord!” Knowing he had to act quickly, Eduin spoke up. “This man stands convicted by his own words, but he has not yet revealed the extent of this conspiracy. We must discover who sent him, what power lies behind this dastardly plot. For Romilla’s sake, for the sake of all Kirella, we must know.”
“What is this nonsense?” Regaining his confidence, Dom Rodrigo whirled on Eduin. “Who said anything about a plot? I acted in the defense of Kirella and its young mistress, nothing more!”
“But you admit that you admire Varzil Ridenow, that insidious agent of the Hasturs?” Eduin continued. “Can you then deny that you seek to spread his influence here in Aillard lands and bring us under the rule of King Carolin?”
“This is outrageous! Preposterous!”
His words were cut off as, under a renewed burst of pain and anger from Saravio, Romilla screamed, “The fire! The fire! Sandoval, save us!”
Lord Brynon watched with a horrified expression as his daughter, whom he thought cured, shrieked and trembled.
The audience surged like a wild beast straining against a cage. Lord Brynon, his face suffused with darkness, leaped to his feet, shouting out orders. His guards shoved the crowd back. Steel clashed. A woman shrieked. Domna Mhari wavered and collapsed in a faint. The pale blue light of truthspell vanished.
Eduin took Saravio by the shoulders and forced the other man to meet his gaze. “You must calm them. Call upon Naotalba in this place and bring her peace to them. Only then can we defeat her enemy.”
Although he could barely hear his own words above the uproar, Eduin saw the light of recognition in Saravio’s face. Saravio got to his feet and stepped into the middle of the chamber. The milling crowd parted for him. Guards lowered their weapons. Courtiers fell back. Dom Rodrigo, who had been struggling in the grip of a guard on one side and a young lordling on the other, abruptly stopped his resistance.
Saravio raised his arms and began to sing.
“Oh, lady of the starless night,
Bring us into your shadow.
We give ourselves to you.
Take us now, take us speedily now—”
For an instant, Eduin’s vision went white as the familiar wash of pleasure swept over him. It was too much, he thought, and then he could not think at all.
He stood once more in the gray forest, where willowy trees lifted their pale branches to the sky. Music chimed, soft and distant, awakening a resonant vibration in his bones. Chieri moved through the grove in the serene complexity of dance. They encircled him, embracing him with their luminous eyes, brushing him with their fingertips or the strands of their long, loose hair. He moved through their midst, caught in the ebb and flow of movement. Time itself seemed suspended. The sadness and beauty of the song pierced him with sweetness. A figure stood in the very center of the interweaving dancers, muffled in a cloak the color of shadow.
When he opened his eyes, he saw order emerging from chaos. Weapons were lowered. Some had sunk to the floor, heads thrown back. Romilla had thrown herself at Saravio’s feet, sobbing. Mhari got to her feet and went to her mistress, helping her to rise.
Lord Brynon ordered Dom Rodrigo to be taken away and kept under close guard. The chamber quickly emptied. Eduin knew that within the hour, the story of what had happened here would not only spread throughout the castle and surrounding villages, but be well on its way to Valeron.
As he turned to go, Lord Brynon gestured to Eduin and Saravio. “Attend me privately, both of you.”
A few minutes later, they stood before him in a small sitting chamber, more suitable to an intimate family gathering than the grim business at hand. A small fire gave off faint warmth. A servant hastily added more wood, lit a range of candles, and retreated.
“After what I have seen and heard,” Lord Brynon said thoughtfully, “I now have cause to suspect that the physician’s perfidy is not his alone. Despite his denials, I cannot believe he acted by himself. His might be the hand that wielded the poison, but not the will. He thought he was doing nothing more than his duty to this house. Someone must have used his loyalty to their own ends.”
Eduin waited for a moment, then said, “I believe we can say who that was.”
Frowning, Lord Brynon strode over to the chair beside the fireplace and lowered himself into it. “You were the one to bring up the names of Varzil Ridenow and King Carolin Hastur. Until today’s events, I would have said they had nothing to do with us. Now, I wonder. Why did you speak of them? What else do you know?”
“Varzil the Accursed has long opposed the will of Naot
alba,” Saravio said.
“What he means,” Eduin said, “is that together these two men seek to alter the balance of power with their talk of a Compact, persuading king and lord alike to surrender their most powerful means of defense. What purpose can they have, except to plot the eventual domination of all Darkover?”
As Eduin spoke, Lord Brynon nodded, eyes hooded and thoughtful. “The realm of Hastur has indeed grown powerful. Now that Carolin has his throne back, and there is none to stand against him . . .”
“As you say, my lord, without anyone to stand against him, how long can even the best king remain free from ambition? Carolin may have begun his reign with noble intentions, but even he must succumb to the temptations of power and conquest. He has the most powerful laranzu on Darkover, the great tenerézu Varzil Ridenow, to do his bidding. Together, they will disarm any who might oppose him. If we do not act soon, it will be too late for any mortal power to withstand him. Darkover will be united under one king and that will be Carolin Hastur!”
Lord Brynon’s frown deepened. “If what you say is true . . . I cannot decide these issues alone, for Kirella is but a small part of Aillard. As soon as may be, we must confer with the Lady of Valeron and the wise councillors there. I expect—I ask—that you and the Blessed Sandoval make ready to accompany me.”
BOOK IV
24
Dyannis Ridenow did not leave Cedestri Tower until almost the following spring. At first, there was too much work yet to do, tending the immediate injuries of matrix workers and villagers alike. Some were so badly burned, the reconstructive healing required many sessions. Over and over, she thanked whatever god might be listening that the Aillards had used ordinary fire-bombs and not clingfire. In addition, a supply of bonewater crystals had been returned to the Tower after Varzil convinced the pilots to abort their mission. Some of the storage containers had been shattered in the attack. Each particle had to be sought out and destroyed, a meticulous and exhausting task. Dyannis thought it ironic that Cedestri’s experiment proved to be a greater danger to itself than to its enemies.