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We hurried across the courtyard and down a short flight of broken steps that descended between two short walls, ending at a narrow, shaded lane clogged with dead leaves and dirty clumps of snow. But instead of following the lane to right or left, Bareil glanced back at me, angled his hand left and then left again, raised his eyebrows, and disappeared. I tried to remember exactly where he’d stood. Then I made the turns and stepped into a stuffy passage that smelled like cooking bacon. Two oil lamps on the wall left the passage no better than dim, especially after the brilliance of mid-afternoon.
Bareil was moving carefully down the passage, past six or eight plain wood doors. No side passages. No people. No ornamentation that might be expected in a palace. Perhaps these were servants’ quarters. With a key pulled from his pocket, the Dulcé unlocked a door at the far end of the passage. He stood aside for me to enter and bowed me in.
The chamber was small and plain, holding little more than a low bed, a square table, two straight-backed chairs, and a small tiled hearth with a clean brazier. On the table sat four pewter mugs and small brass urn, the steam rising from it the source of the fruity, pungent aroma of saffria that pervaded the room. Above the entry door was a small bronze mask of a single head with two faces, one male, one female-the common image of Vasrin. Daylight, extraordinarily bright, clean, and sharp-edged, spilled through a clean casement onto a smooth wood floor. Drawn to the window, I gazed out on a scene of such beauty and wonder that I could explore its marvels for a year and never note half of them. A cityscape of white-and rose-colored spires sprawled across the steep foothills of a range of snowcapped peaks that stood starkly white against a deep blue sky. Arched bridges spa
The grand open space was paved with the same luminous white flagstones as the small courtyard we had crossed to get here. Crowds of men, women, and children of all stations and appearances hurried across the commard amid winter-bare trees that glittered with frost, and fountains poised in frozen exuberance. In the center of the space, a monumental sculpture depicted five leaping horses, the middle one ridden by a woman, her hair and garments and the horses’ manes and tails flying in the imagined wind.
Around the edges of the commard, vendors dressed in costumes of red, green, and yellow satin hawked sausages on sticks and drinks dipped from steaming pots, sets of colored balls, silk birds, and fluttering ba
But my perception took another jolt as I gaped, for beyond the commard, perched on the hillside above the steeply sloping sprawl of gardens and open commard, was the same palace I believed we had just entered by a hidden door-rose-colored towers, white and gold ba
I spun about to inquire what was going on, but Bareil had sagged onto a wooden chair, leaned his small hands on his knees, and dropped his head forward. “Your pardon, my lord, but I find myself a bit soggy at the knees.”
Pulling the flask of brandy from my pack and yanking the cork, I knelt in front of him. “I understand the vintage is exceptional,” I said. He reached for it, but his hand was shaking, so I held the flask as he drank. “Can you tell me this, Dulcé, did you not say we were at the west wall of the royal palace?”
“Yes, my lord.” He took another sip from the green flask, then leaned back in the chair, sighed, and closed his eyes. “Thank you, my lord. Most thoughtful.”
I left the flask beside his feet and returned to the window. “So, do my eyes play tricks or is that the same palace there beyond at least twenty acres of open ground and halfway up a steep hillside, its west wall tucked securely up beside it?”
“It is.”
“Then these hidden ‘doorways’ do not co
“It would depend upon whose expectations were being satisfied, my lord. If one recalled one’s childhood lessons- that were evidently not well attended by certain royal children-one might recall the ways of portal-making. To co
I wanted to know more. Much more. The touch of the world, the breath of fresh air, and the sight of the strange and marvelous city awakened excitement I’d not known in long months. But my hands were grimy from the garden soil where I had buried Dassine, and Bareil’s tunic was stained with blood that should have been ru
He sighed and closed his eyes, the pleasure draining from his face. “Master Dassine received a message yesterday morning, just after he had put you to sleep. I can recite the message for you, if you wish…”
“Please.”
“It said, ‘I have learned news of the most dreadful import. Our time has run out, and we are forced to deal with each other. The Third lives, and has obtained the prize he always wanted. Come to the observatory sculpture garden at sunset.’ ”
“And that was all? Who sent it? What does it mean?”
“That was all. Though the message carried no signature, I believe Master Dassine knew who sent it. He did not tell me. Something in the substance of the message caused him to cast aside any misgivings, as if it had confirmed his worst expectations.”
“What expectations?”
In some way the Dulcé‘s words were made more worrisome by the calm sobriety with which he delivered them. “My master feared this u
“I understand.” How strange it must be to have more knowledge than can be touched with one’s own mind, to know that another person must command your intellect to make it truly useful. Did it bother him? Perhaps when I knew him better, I could ask.
Bareil continued. “ ‘We have become complacent,’ Master Dassine has said ever since your victory at the Bridge. ‘We go about our lives as if the past thousand years have not happened. Why were the Zhid pulled back from battle? The Bridge is strong and the Gates are open, but the Zhid are not diminished…’” Bareil left off and sat staring at the blank walls of the room as if continuing Dassine’s monologues within himself.
“And so he went to this meeting?”
“Yes. Though he expected to be gone a slightly longer span than he usually left you, you were unlikely to wake before his return. As was usual when leaving the house, he commanded me to stay with you. There was always a risk that something would happen to him. That’s why he stored the knowledge of his purposes and methods in me, so I could help you if the worst befell. Last night he commanded me doubly”-the Dulcé closed his eyes again- “but I disobeyed, and the worst befell.”
“You followed him.”
The Dulcé nodded. “The open nature of the sculpture gardens forced me to remain at a distance, so I could not hear what was said or get a close look at the one who awaited my master at the appointed time. They talked for perhaps half an hour until the murderers attacked. When Master Dassine fell, I, like a fool, drew my sword and ran to his defense. Nowhere is there a Dulcé less likely to win swordfame than I, and I knew my duty lay here… but I could not abandon him.”
“I’ll not argue with your choice. Did he put up no defense?”
“The assassins bore swords and knives, not enchantments. Master Dassine distracted their swords and snagged their feet with confusion, but there were too many of them. I noticed only one thing as I fell. The one who had called him there remained standing.”
“Who was it?”
“I could not see a face, only that the person wore a blue Preceptor’s robe with a gold stripe down the side of it.”
“What happened next?”
“I was afraid the murderers would discover that I yet lived, so I crawled under a bench, hoping to regain some strength, but I fell out of sense. Later in the night I became aware of people with torches, hunting Master Dassine. One searcher said, ‘I’ll not believe Dassine is dead until I see his body. You must find him. I will destroy whoever is responsible for this.’ ”
“And who was it?”
“The Preceptor Madyalar. I tried to call out to her for help, but no one could hear me. Some time later, others came to search the gardens-in stealth, my lord. Quiet voices, hooded lamps. Master Exeget led this second party-I recognized his voice-and he was furious that Master Dassine was nowhere to be found. I remained hidden until they were gone. I trusted no one to help, so it took me a long time to get back to the house. Too long, it seems.”