“No,” she said in a voice gone suddenly grim. “But Kieran listens to you. And his word rules here at Tramontana. If he says, ‘Send clingfire to High Kinnally,’ then clingfire will be sent.”
I once thought to go back to Verdanta in a glider, carrying the fire-fighting chemicals I had created myself. Now the thought of returning home in the glider of his dreams, bearing the living hell of clingfire, brought only soul-deep sickness.
Yet, in her overly dramatic way, Liane had the right of it. Damian Oathbreaker, for so he would always be in Coryn’s thoughts, must be stopped. Already, a handful of smaller, weaker kingdoms lay under his rule, adding their resources to his. With each new conquest, his power grew. Coryn, like any mountain-bred boy, knew that the longer a forest fire burned unchecked, the higher the cost of putting it out. The inferno that was Deslucido must be put out before it grew beyond any man’s control.
In the end, Coryn went with Liane to plead her case with Kieran, determined to temper her argument and persuade her to reason. He prayed with all his heart that some other way might be found to deal with Deslucido. Surely Kieran with his experience and wisdom would see a less horrendous path. At least, Liane’s desperate grief might be restrained until she could see reason, even as his own pain had been. This much he could do for her without betraying his own people.
Once more they met in his chambers and stood beside the fireless hearth. After listening to Liane’s petition with a grave expression, Kieran flatly refused to supply her with clingfire. It was, he said, too dangerous for any Tower to meddle in local politics of which it knew nothing.
“Local politics!” Liane flamed, for once losing her usual deference in the Keeper’s presence. “My family and my home are at stake! Even Coryn, whose land has long held a feud with us, agrees we must take action! What do you propose we do, think nice peaceful thoughts at them?”
Kieran shifted in his chair. His mind was tightly shielded, but Coryn read his distress in that small movement.
“If you will not command your circle to make the clingfire ,” she went on, begging now, “then let me gather one. Coryn will help me—and Aran, if I ask him—and some of the others. We can do it on our own time, the Tower need not be officially involved—”
How can I? Yet how can I refuse her? Aldones, Son of Light, show me a way!
“And who will act as your Keeper, binding such a circle together?” Kieran’s pale brows pulled together and his voice grew a shade quieter, more deadly.
“More importantly, who in the outside world will believe the Tower had nothing to do with it? You would endanger everyone working on the project—under criminally careless conditions, I might add—and you would put the entire Tower at risk of retaliation. The reason, the only reason,” he repeated the phrase for emphasis, “for a Tower to make such weapons is at the lawful order of the lord to whom it owes fealty. We do not make policy, nor do we decide the fate of kingdoms.”
“You sit up here on your mountain while people suffer and die and you could prevent it!” Liane cried, wiping away a splash of tears. Coryn put out a hand to steady her, but she brushed him off.
“What do you think the world would be like, if we in the Towers allowed ourselves to be drawn into every petty quarrel?” Kieran said. “What if we had supplied High Kinnally with clingfire years ago? Oh, yes, your people asked us. As did yours, Coryn. They used the same desperate words you do now. If it is not one good cause, it is another. Then you would have used it on one another with the same fervor you would drop it on this King Damian.”
Coryn’s heart skipped a beat, as he realized where Kieran’s argument was going. Verdanta and High Kinnally, each armed with an inferno, with all the simmering years of hatred and nothing to restrain them. Forest fire would be as nothing compared to the destruction clingfire would have brought. Might still bring.
“If you had,” Liane went on stubbornly, “then we would not be in this position now! We could have defended ourselves. Ambervale would never have dared—”
“Ah, but what if we had supplied both High Kinnally and Verdanta?” Kieran repeated. “As both of you had asked when the feud first began?”
Liane’s eyes widened. “No . . . No, we would not—”
“We would both be ashes many times over,” Coryn said as gently as he could. “Kieran’s right. Listen to him, breda. Ambervale and its king must be stopped, yes, but not this way.”
“What—” Struggling visibly for control, she turned in his arms. “What else can stand against them? And while High Kinnally falls under this invader, what should I do?”
What I did when Verdanta was taken. Accept. Heal. You helped me then. Let me help you now.
“You are a leronis,” Kieran said in a voice so colorless it hardly sounded human. “You must use the discipline you have been taught. Gareth will monitor you to safeguard your health, so that you may return to work as soon as you can.”
Coryn took Liane’s slender hand in his, drew her toward the door. She came passively, her fire quenched. Outside the door, in the stillness of the corridor, she drew a shuddering breath. He reached for her, to draw her close.
She whirled and slapped him full across one cheek, hard enough to snap his head around. “That’s for not standing up for me! I thought I could count on you. How could you give up so easily?”
“Kieran was right,” Coryn said, his face burning.
“You idiot, you worship the ground he walks on! If he said the sky was green and there was only one moon, you would agree with him! What does he know of family, of honor?”
“He is Keeper at Tramontana. He answers only to his own conscience. Listen to me, Liane. I would give anything to have my father alive again—” and Kristlin! “—and Verdanta free. Anything! But Kieran is right. Can you imagine what would have happened if Ambervale had been armed with clingfire?”
“Tell that to King Damian! If we are not able to defend ourselves, what is there to stop him from using those weapons anyway?” she snapped.
“Liane—” He held out his hands.
“I really thought Kieran would listen!” she cried, brushing him aside. “What a fool I was!”
“Fool, no. Just blinded by what you wanted to hear, the false hope of a quick victory.”
She spun around and strode away, leaving Coryn standing there. This time, he made no attempt to go after her. Verdanta was gone, his family dead or scattered; then Aran, who had been like a brother to him; now Liane. He had never felt so desolate in his life.
12
Coryn, after several sessions with Gareth monitoring and clearing his laran channels, returned to work. The intense concentration allowed him to leave his grief behind for a time. The Tower, with Kieran at its heart, seemed to him as solid as the rock upon which it stood. If it would not move as he, in his anger, wished it to, then neither would it fail him, home and sanctuary in one.
Liane took longer to join the others at communal meals and gatherings by the fireplace, on the lengthening winter nights when one or another might take out a rryl and sing a ballad.
As for Aran, Coryn ached every time they passed in the corridor or acknowledged each other with only the most polite words. Though Aran kept his eyes averted, Coryn dreaded the pain he would see there. Surely the other workers, especially Kieran or Bronwyn, felt the coolness between them, but no one commented on it.
What was there to say? What was there to do? If he reached out for his friend, he would only make things worse, intensifying Aran’s distress. He drew on the discipline of the Tower and forced his heart to beat more slowly, his breath to come more deeply.
One morning, when the frost lay thick upon the dry curled grasses, more news came to Tramontana Tower. A squadron of armed men halted just outside the gates. They wore the livery of Ambervale, breasts crossed with scarves of the colors of both Verdanta and High Kinnally. Under a white flag of truce, their captain spoke privately with Kieran and the other Keepers.
Coryn, still awake after a night
working the relays, sought out Liane. He feared the arrival of the squadron meant High Kinnally had fallen. He did not know what he might offer to comfort her, but he knew he had to try. He found her rushing from Bronwyn’s quarters, followed by one of the novices who often ran messages for the Keepers. Her eyes were reddened and swollen, her cheeks pasty. She pushed past him without a word, not even meeting his eyes, and hurried off in the direction of Kieran’s chambers. Even though she had shielded her emotions, he caught the edge of barely-contained panic.
Aran was waiting in the central chamber, along with Cathal and a few of the others who were neither asleep nor working the Second Circle.
“Liane’s been summoned to the Keepers,” Coryn said.
Aran nodded. “It doesn’t sound good.”
Coryn lowered himself onto a bench beside his friend, his hand a hair’s breadth away from Aran’s. This was the closest they’d been since that awful night. He struggled to think of the words that would set things right between them.
Deliberately, he laid his hand on Aran’s. Under the warm skin with its feathering of fine crisp hairs, he felt clean-edged bone, warm flesh. He half-closed his eyes, letting himself sink deeper into the contact. Aran’s mind rose to his with that unmistakable touch, filled with Aran’s personality. Coryn saw him as a shaft of sunlight, as a bird dancing on the wind, as a horse running free across moonlight-silvered fields. The images faded, and it was as if Aran spoke to him without words. He knew then why Aran had avoided him these past few weeks. It was not from any offense or injured feelings. Quite the opposite, Aran’s love for him ran just as strongly as it had before. In that moment of rapport, their friendship had changed. Aran had desired him and, knowing that Coryn could not return that desire, had withdrawn rather than risk their friendship.
“I’m sorry,” Coryn said, in a half-whisper.
Aran, turning away and blinking hard, slid his hand out from under Coryn’s. “I surprised myself as much as you. I didn’t know I felt that way. Maybe I didn’t, until that moment. Times like this, they lay us open and raw, running for comfort. And then, once it was done—anything I said would only add to your burden.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Coryn said. “You caught me by surprise. It isn’t—you know I love you. I would trust you with my life. Aran, bredu, you didn’t offend me. But something inside me—” He felt the muscles of his face tighten, his belly clench. He couldn’t go on.
“It’s all right,” Aran said with a fleeting smile, like a ray of sun breaking through storm clouds. “Things will get better with time. They always do.”
Kieran and the other two Keepers swept down the staircase, along with a handful of senior technicians. One Keeper led the way for the armed Ambervale soldiers, while the other two brought up the rear. Coryn thought that if any of the armed men had stepped even a hair’s breadth out of line, he might be blasted as he stood, so grim were the Keepers’ expressions. The men seemed to realize this, for their faces were as white and set as stone.
After the soldiers had been escorted outside the gates, Tomas, Keeper of the First Circle, returned to address the group, which had swelled to almost the entire population of the Tower. Gareth stood at the back of the room, still clothed in the thick white wool which he wore while monitoring a working circle.
“We have striven to remain apart from the petty conflicts of the outer world, excepting the lawful commands of those who hold our loyalty,” Tomas said. Neither his voice nor his posture gave away anything, so complete was his mastery. “Yet upon occasion, the world intrudes. The home castle of Liane Storn, who has lived and worked as one of us as monitor, is now claimed as fiefdom by King Damian Deslucido. He has sent his men to demand her presence as hostage for proof of her brother’s fealty.”
A ripple of emotion swept the room. One of the younger women cried out. Aran drew in a sharp breath.
Coryn got to his feet, his hands curled into fists. “You will not give her over? You cannot!”
Tomas turned slowly to lock eyes with Coryn. “Ordinarily, we would not surrender one of our own to any petty lordling who takes it upon himself to issue such commands.” Beneath the harmonics of his words rang another message, one everyone in the Tower could clearly hear. And we have the means to defend ourselves against such rabble.
Then he drew his breath and Coryn’s heart sank. “In this case, the lines of fealty are not clear. This King Damian may indeed have the legal right to make such a demand. We will consider his claims in light of historical precedent and the titles he now possesses. However, Liane herself has consented to go with them.”
“What!”
“Why?”
Coryn started to join the protest, but a sudden realization stopped his voice. If Liane stayed, Ambervale might well use the refusal as a reason to retaliate. Even if Tramontana defended itself, it might well be drawn into a larger conflict. This was the only way to remain neutral, if for a short time only.
Tomas held up one hand for silence. The moonstone ring on his middle finger glinted in the light. “For her own reasons, Liane has chosen. Her Keeper has permitted it. There is nothing more to be said. It is a private matter.”
Cathal jumped to his feet. “Other men with ambitions won’t see it that way! They’ll think all they have to do is march up to any Tower they please and make demands!”
The muscles of Coryn’s hands ached, and his nails dug crescents into the flesh of his palms.
“Then we must teach them otherwise!” someone else cried.
“For the moment, we will not do any teaching at all,” Tomas said. “We will go about our business and let Liane go about hers.” With those words, he swept from the room.
Like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, Coryn bolted up the stairs for the women’s quarters. Aran followed a pace behind. Liane’s door was slightly ajar, revealing her, along with Bronwyn and one of the younger matrix mechanics, a shy girl from the mountainous country near Aldaran, sorting through clothing and folding it into Liane’s carved chest.
“Liane!” Coryn cried. “You can’t go! You—”
Bronwyn drew herself up to her full height, eyes flashing cold light. Coryn’s next words died on his tongue. Liane herself, after a quick expressionless glance which took in first Coryn and then Aran, bent once more to smooth the creases from a delicate linex chemise.
“This is no place for you,” Bronwyn said to Coryn, her voice firm but not unkind. She stepped outside the room and closed the door behind her.
“But Liane—”
“If you care for her at all, you will not add to her distress in this manner! Do you think this is easy for her? Do you think she would willingly choose the life of a hostage?”
Coryn shook his head. “She doesn’t have to go! Kieran will not surrender her if she refuses, and as her Keeper, he has ultimate authority. She doesn’t know what she’s doing!”
“She knows precisely what she is doing,” Bronwyn answered in a voice like the crack of a whip. “And it is not many who would demonstrate her courage or her loyalty. Tomas did not explain the terms of Ambervale’s demands, for such are truly not the business of the Tower. But since you are involved as possible heir to Verdanta . . .”
Her eyes flickered to Aran, standing beside Coryn. Coryn shivered, realizing the vulnerability of his own position. With Eddard a prisoner in his own castle and Petro missing, he might well be the next legitimate Lord Leynier. It was a role he had never wanted, scarcely even considered. How long would it be before Deslucido commanded Tramontana to surrender him?
Now Coryn drew himself up. If he might be a lord, he could act that way. “Aran is my sworn brother,” he used the inflection suggestive of paxman. “Speak before him as before me.”
The outer edges of Bronwyn’s mouth curled slightly. “Then understand this. Liane is to travel not to Ambervale but to Linn. She may be a prisoner, hostage against her brother’s obedience, but she will be treated gently there. Her surrender is the price of her brother continuing to ho
ld High Kinnally as an Ambervale fief. The alternative,” she paused briefly, studying him, “is to place High Kinnally under Verdanta rule.”
Two thoughts burst across Coryn’s mind. The first was that King Damian was very sure of his control over Eddard. The second—the threat to the Storns that they submit to their long-held enemy. Once he might have rejoiced, even gloated, at the thought, but his years in the Tower and his friendship with Liane had given him a larger perspective. Now he asked himself what if the situation were reversed, and Verdanta were forced to bow to High Kinnally? It was not to be imagined, not to be borne! So Liane, too, must have felt.
The moment of silence drew on. Bronwyn said in a softer voice, “Do you see why she cannot speak with you? Not even to say farewell?”
“I would have hoped—” Coryn’s throat tightened around the words, choking them. “She and I, all we had together, our work in the circle—Kieran’s dream of putting all that behind us—I thought she loved me.”
“She does, as a brother. Which is precisely why the kindest thing is to leave her with her choice.”
Oh, Liane! His heart ached for her.
“And I,” Aran spoke up, “may I see her?” Coryn heard the generosity, the compassion behind his words. Aran might not return her love in kind, but he offered what he could.
Bronwyn’s expression betrayed nothing. “Once she has settled things here, I will ask her. Go now, both of you. Let us do our work.”
Aran did see Liane, although he said nothing to Coryn of their conversation. Coryn saw her from a distance, as he watched from one of the turrets as the Ambervale soldiers escorted her away. He wondered what might have happened if Tramontana had sent clingfire to High Kinnally, if Liane had not been right all along. Bronwyn said Liane did not blame him; he wished he could be so generous to himself.