By Zandru's hells! You sound enthralled!
I think you might be right. Will you come?
Just me? Shouldn't I bring . . . no, I see now. I understand, I believe.
Liri, bring a goodly carriage, and . . . damn, I am fading again.
I will come, bredillu! I will set out as soon as I can!
The contact vanished, and Mikhail sat there, savoring the term "bredillu," "little brother." He was older than his sister by more than a year, but he really did feel like a younger man at that moment. The affection in the word touched him, warmed him, and reassured him. It would 'be good to have-her there, to be able to speak to her, and get her wisdom. Odd. He had never thought of his sister as wise, but she was. And it was time he began to respect it!
10
Liriel arrived at Halyn House six days later, at the tag end of a small snowstorm. Even before she entered the house, Mikhail knew she was in a foul temper. This was unusual, because Liriel was remarkably steady in her moods, calm and cheerful, for the most part. He had almost forgotten how much she loathed journeys.
Mikhail could not really blame her, for traveling, even from Arilinn, across the relatively flat plain of Arilinn and down the River Valeron, was not pleasant at this time of year. Ever since he had sent for her, he had been plagued with second thoughts, rocked with doubts, and wished he had not done it. He had just gritted his teeth and hoped he had not brought her on a fool's errand.
"I have traveled more this year than I have in my entire life," the large woman informed him, as she descended from the covered carriage she had come in, "and I like it less with each journey. I swear that if there was a rock to be found, my driver managed to find it."
She was muffled in a cloak of heavy green wool, and she had a shawl draped over it, so she appeared almost shapeless in the dim light of late afternoon. Her usually pale cheeks were quite rosy from the cold. Mikhail found he was very glad to see her. He had not realized until this moment how much he missed his family, even his mother and father.
The driver overheard her, and flashed Mikhail a broad grin. The carriage she had traveled in was large and well-sprung, the windows glazed and curtained to keep out the cold. Behind it rode four men, two in Guardsmen's uniforms and the others in ordinary clothing. Where was he going to put everyone? Halyn House was not large, and the servants' quarters remained in a sorry state of disrepair.
Still, he was sure that Daryll and Mathias would help him sort things out, and it was not important. What was important was that his sister had arrived, and he now had someone to confide in.
"I am glad to see you, too, Liri! Come in and have a hot bath. That will take the ache from your bones and restore your usual good humor." He offered her an arm to get up the slippery stairs into the house, and she took it, clamping a strong hand around his forearm in a grip which surprised him.
She leaned against him a little, then sniffed the air. "I had not quite realized how close to the Sea of Dalereuth this place stood. Funny sort of smell. Cousin Marguerida says that travel is broadening, but the last thing I need is broadening," Liriel continued as they entered the foyer of Halyn House. She gestured at her body with a wry smile. "The smell of the sea disturbs me, Mik, and I don't know why. I am sure Marguerida would like it, though. She often longs for her Thetis, and sighs for warm winds and soft seas, you know."
"Yes, I have heard her muse on it a few times. And she sings those songs. ... Some of those she recorded for Diotima's stasis are really wonderful. Do you think Dio can hear her voice?" He ignored the tightness in his chest that the mere mention of Marguerida's name brought on, and tried to appear uninterested. More, he tried to put from his mind how difficult it had become to communicate with his beloved the past few weeks. It was maddening and frustrating for him to be too tired to reach her most nights, and when he did, he found her remote and preoccupied with some matter that she would not discuss. She spoke of Istvana Ridenow's rather unorthodox methods of training, and about her new friend, Caitlin Leynier and the others at Neskaya, but underneath he knew that something was worrying her. He had begun to ask her a few times, but his attention had wandered, or one of the children had awakened. It was as if some force were determined not to let him have any peace and quiet.
"Hear the songs? What an interesting idea." Liriel gave her brother a warm look. "But I am sure you and Marguerida have much to discuss, other than her singing." There
was no innuendo in her words, just a sisterly affection that made his heart swell.
Mikhail let his shoulders drop a little. There was no fooling his sister. She knew how he felt about Marguerida, and how Marguerida felt about him, better than anyone except Lew Alton. But she was discreet, and he knew she would not tease him more than a bit. "There is always the weather."
Liriel chuckled as she unwound the shawl and draped it from a hook, then removed her cloak as well. "If the two of you spend a moment discussing the weather, then I am a cristoforo." She glanced up at the darkened rafters, then at the walls, hung with motheaten tapestries, and shook her head. "This is not a comfortable house, is it?" Behind her, one of the men was bringing in the luggage.
Mikhail shook his head. "You should have seen it before I got the workers in to mend the window frames and clear the chimneys. Priscilla and her children seem accustomed to the climate, but they were camping out in five rooms when I arrived."
"But why?"
"Damned if I know. Priscilla will not tell me why she insists on living in this moldering barrack. Maybe you can make more sense of her pronouncements than I have been able to." He hesitated. If he told Liriel about the séance, he would break his oath, even if it had been given to a ghost. With all the doubts he had, he could not quite bring himself to do it. But he had not promised not to speak of what little he had learned from the "villagers.
Mikhail cleared his throat. "I believe it has something to do with a local superstition, Liriel. There is a hot spring about a mile up the road, which the village folk claim has healing powers, and a guardian spirit. Priscilla seems to have some obsession about this Guardian—don't ask me what it is, though. I haven't been able to find out more than I just told you. I wanted to go and take a look at it, but, frankly, just keeping up with the children has left me little time for anything else. I don't know how women manage so well. My respect for our parents and their skills at householding have increased enormously."
"Yes, I know. Mother showed me your letter when she came from Armida last month. It was kindly written, but I
do not think she appreciated it much. She wants your loyalty, not your admiration, I'm afraid—but you know Mother!"
Mikhail shook his head. "I cannot serve two masters, and having to choose between Regis and Mother was very difficult. But I am sworn to Regis, to Hastur, and that takes precedence over any other consideration."
"I know, brother, but she cannot see that. It is one of the differences, I believe, between males and females, that an oath can be more important even than blood." She sighed deeply, then smiled slightly. "Fortunately, she is deep into brooding over Ariel's pregnancy just now, and has let everything else go for the present. Once the child is born, you can expect her to start her intrigues once again. She is determined to put forth Rafael as Elhalyn Regent when she goes to Thendara. She is in residence at Arilinn now, since the weather will make travel more difficult as the season progresses. She was quite curious about my departure, since I can control Ariel better than anyone, and when I said I was only going to Thendara, I do not think she believed me. It is a terrible thing to lie to one's own mother." She did not sound as if she thought it was really a terrible thing, and Mikhail grinned. Liriel had always been subtly mischievous, and he had forgotten what a delightful quality it was.
"Thank you! Though Rafael would be welcome to the Regency, and never thank me for it, if he got it. I don't think Mother realizes how determined Uncle Regis is to do things his own way. No matter. How is Ariel?" Mikhail found he was not surprised that Javanne w
as intent on getting him out of the Elhalyn Regency, and while it saddened him a little, he realized that she would not see what she was doing as an act of disloyalty or betrayal. Javanne expected her children to be loyal to her, but did not seem to know that it went both ways.
"She seems quieter than she was right after Domenic died. But she is still very fragile and delicate. I tried to persuade Mother not to bring her to Thendara for Midwinter, but she is convinced that she must be in the city, and that Ariel needs her clucking and attention. Still, the coming of a daughter, so longed for for all these years, has done a great deal to help her cope with the loss, and she
keeps herself busy sewing gowns and blankets. You would be astonished at her industry. Not to mention the amount of embroidery she plans to burden the child with."
"Ariel always did like to decorate any plain surface. Do you remember when she painted the walls of your room with vines and flowers?"
Liriel chuckled. "I remember that Father had a fit over it, though it was quite pretty."
Priscilla Elhalyn came down the corridor toward them. In the shadows beside the staircase, her eyes appeared larger than they really were, and the faded red hair and prominent Elhalyn nose made a somewhat grotesque appearance. Her mouth was tight and withholding, as if it had forgotten how to smile. She wore a shapeless brown wool robe whose hem was worn, and her head was covered with a rectangular veil secured at the brows with several hairpins. Beneath the veil, the butterfly clasp in her hair had caught the threads in several places, so it was pulled and even torn.
Priscilla paused and looked at Liriel. She did not appear very pleased with the new arrival, but she sniffed and extended one thin hand stiffly. "Welcome to Halyn House. I trust your journey was not too wearisome." Then she. noticed the man with the baggage and frowned. At that moment, one of the two Guardsmen who had accompanied Liriel came in, stamping his feet. Priscilla looked at Mikhail, a small frown on her brow.
"Thank you, Domna Elhalyn. Other than the wind finding its way through every crack and crevice in the carriage, and howling a great deal, it was not unpleasant."
"I have not traveled farther than ten miles from Halyn House in many years, and I do not intend to. I think one should stay nearby one's home. All this gallivanting around from place to place seems a foolish occupation for a sensible woman."
"Of course it is, but sometimes it is necessary. Mikhail cannot properly test your daughters for laran, you know, so he asked me to come and do it."
The front door opened before. Priscilla could reply, and old Duncan entered, followed by the rest of Liriel's entourage. There was more baggage, and suddenly the entryway seemed quite crowded. The smell of wet wool and snow
wafted up as an icy blast from outside chilled the already cold chamber even further.
Duncan sniffed, rubbed his rosy nose, and said, "I dunno know where we're to put all these folk, domna. And there ain't fodder for all these horses. Though the stables is ready." He gave Mikhail a grin, as if he were proud that the barn was now clean and in as good repair as could be managed with a shortage of workmen and not a great deal of materials. The roof no longer leaked, the grain room was dry, and the horses lived in rather more comfort than the people in the house.
The Guardsman who had come in first, whom Mikhail now recognized as Tomas MacErald, the youngest son of the current armsmaster in Thendara, nodded at him, then spoke. "We can bed down in the stables, if we must."
"No," Mikhail answered. "I think we can get the back rooms in the servants' quarters into shape—though they will not be a great deal warmer than the stables, truthfully. And do not be surprised if Daryll and Mathias fall upon your neck with glad cries, Tomas. They have been standing watch, and will be delighted to share the task. And if you have some good gossip from Thendara, as well, their cup will be overflowing."
Domna Elhalyn glared at everyone, then turned to Liriel, as if they were quite alone. "I don't know why you should test my daughters," Priscilla said. "It is not as if I will permit them to go off to a Tower and learn things they do not need to know. I never should have allowed Regis Hastur ..." She stopped speaking abruptly.
Liriel gave her brother a sharp look. My goodness—she is even more eccentric than you told me.
I know, and it troubles me. I have tried to tell her several times that wild telepaths are dangerous, but she only says that everything will be taken care of by the Guardian. Who that might be, I can't imagine.
Another figure came into the corridor and approached them. Mikhail had to restrain himself from shivering. He looked at Emelda, and saw the feral expression that seemed a permanent one. Her eyes were greenish in the light of the foyer, but they had a burning intensity that was disturbing. Except for their brief exchange of thoughts on the day of his arrival, he had never been able to sense her
mind, not even the slightest thought. She seemed a blank point in the room. She glanced at Liriel, at Mikhail, then back to the tall technician. "This is the Disrupter I warned you of, vai domna. We must be careful, or the Guardian will be displeased," she whispered to Priscilla. Then she looked startled at the men who had accompanied Liriel. "These should not be present! They must depart immediately!" Her hiss was like steam on a griddle.
"My sister is weary from her journey," Mikhail announced ignoring Emelda. "I will show her to her chambers. Duncan, will you show Tomas and the others where the old maids' room is, and help get things settled."
Tomas gave a little sigh. "I don't suppose there are any old maids in the room, nor young ones either," he muttered quietly, and his companions guffawed. Priscilla looked bewildered, and the expression on Emelda's face turned murderous.
Mikhail could not bear the tension a moment longer. He wanted to grind his teeth or shout, anything to relieve the rage that was boiling in his belly. He turned, grabbed Liriel's baggage from where it sat on the floor, and started up the stairs. After a moment, he heard his sister's footfalls behind him. Mik, she is like a witch from some old tale.
Who—Priscilla or Emelda? They both seem like crones to me, even though they are not much different in age than we are. I should have warned you, but, frankly, everything here is so strange that I didn't know where to begin. Priscilla won't even pick her clothing without consulting Emelda. She seems completely in her power. And the children . . . !
Who is she? There is something about her . . . I can't put my finger on it.
Emelda? Well, she claims kinship with the Aldarans, though she refuses to be specific. She could be some nedestra child, I suppose. But I can't read her at all, which is very disturbing.
Hmm. Aldaran. Now, what does that remind me of? My brains feel like cotton.
She seems to have that effect on me as well.
What? Do you mean . . . ?
I think she is influencing me, but I can't seem to do anything about it.
I see. That makes sense—you do not seem yourself, quite. Does Regis have any idea of the situation?
Frankly, no. I have only Managed to communicate with him a couple of times, and he seemed preoccupied. I have not wanted to bother him with my own troubles. He gave me a task, and I intend to complete it! And he has enough on his 'plate, right now, what with Father being difficult, and the Comyn Council being at sixes and sevens. I. . . wasn't sure but what I was imagining things. It is so strange here, Liri!
Mik, you are an idiot. That woman reeks of laran, if laran had a scent, and she clearly has enthralled Priscilla to a great degree. You should have asked for help much sooner. And you should never have been sent out here on your own. I cannot think what Uncle Regis is doing!
Mikhail hesitated. He would not criticize Regis Hastur, even to his sister, no matter how he felt. Nothing could make him disloyal to his uncle. And, since his mother had behaved so badly to her brother at the Council meeting, he was even more determined to be a faithful vassal. But Regis had put him in an untenable situation—asked to do a job he could not complete to anyone's satisfaction, let alone his own. It is my
understanding that Priscilla was willing to let me become Regent for as long as it took to find which of her sons might be suitable to take the throne, but nothing more.
And Regis agreed to that? Mik, that doesn't make any sense at all!
I know. It has been driving me crazy, when I can think at all. He backed me into a corner, at the Council meeting, and he would not explain why. I almost feel that he sent me here to get me out of the way, for some reason I do not understand. I have always trusted Regis, more than I trust anyone alive, until this. And I wanted to do a good job here, to prove that I was useful.
Useful? What for? I mean, Mik, you are a fine fellow. You don't need to prove anything!
Thank you, sister. But would you think so if we were not family?
What is this nonsense? You are as capable and intelligent a man as I have ever known.
It must be trying to keep my head above water here. I don't feel very capable, let alone intelligent! And the plain truth is I want to find a suitable Elhalyn to take the throne,
so I can be free of the Regency! I don't want to end up having to take the Elhalyn throne and answer to Danilo Hastur for the rest of my life.
I see. I had not thought of it in that light, of course. So, tell me about Priscilla's sons.