Shadowplay

"No, curse it, he's dead. Hendon's men killed him and threw his body in the ocean."

For a moment the duchess faltered and if Brone had not been holding her hand, she might have fallen. She pulled away and sat down. "Nynor is dead?" she said at last. "Steffens Nynor?"

"Murdered, yes. He was talking against the Tollys and he spoke to sonic one he shouldn't have. Word got back to Hendon. Berkan Hood dragged Nynor out of his bed in the middle of the night and murdered him."Brone clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. "I heard it myself from someone who was there. They cut that good old man into pieces and smuggled his body out of the castle in a grain barrel. They can't quite get away yet with slaughtering their enemies without even a mock trial. Not quite."

"Oh, by all the gods, is that true? Killed him?" Merola

"No." He shook his head again. "There are certainly things going on, and you don't know all of them, Merola

The duchess stared at him for a long time. "So that is your defense, is it?" She smiled a little, but her words had a bitter edge. "That you are already hard at work on other, more important things? Well and good. But I will discover this moon-piece myself if I must, and find out what happened to my child-our child-even if I have to pull this castle down stone by stone to do it."

"You are no spy, Merola

"No. But I am a mother." She reached a trembling hand up to touch her face. "Sweet Zoria, I must be a terrible mess. You've made me cry, Brone. I'll have to repair myself before I go talk to Utta." She gazed around the cluttered room, slowly and wearily now, energy mostly spent. "Look at this. We sit at the center of the capital of all the March Kingdoms but you do not even have a glass for an old woman to fix her face. How can it be s‹› hard to find a simple mirror?"

PART THREE

25

The Gray Man

The Firstborn were as large as mountains and as small as gems in the

private earth. They came from all parts, choosing to side with either the

children of Moisture or the children of Breeze, because the wounds would

not close themselves and in the rising storm the only songs that could be

heard were of blood and answers. Thus came the War in Heaven.

The children of Moisture first drew a ring around the house of

Silvergleam, which had as many rooms as the number of times

the People have drawn breath.

— from One Hundred Considerations out of the Qar's Book of Regret

Barrick's anger had shrunk to a cold, hard thing inside his

chest but it was not going away. He was glad: it gave him life, of a sort-better angry than empty. He stared at Ferras Vansen, who was chewing a piece of stale bread. The rest of the prisoners, quickly sorted into wi

Stop. Gyir pushed Barrick's hand with the heel ofbread in it. Eat. He brought you food.

But he hit me!

I would have hit you myself if 1 had been closer. You were acting like a nestling- no, not even that. No child of the People would be so foolish. 'This is a dangerous place-how dangerous we do Hot even know yet. There is no time to waste on such tricks. A percussive thump jarred the floor of the cell like a giant hammer falling in the depths of the earth below them. Barrick had heard the thun¬derous noise, like a ca

Gyir pulled a chunk from his own loaf, one of the largest pieces any of the prisoners had secured, and slipped the rest into his cloak. What you don 'I eat, save. We may need it later.

Why? Barrick asked, making the thought as bitter as he could. You don 'I even eat, do you? Besides, this is a god who has captured us. What can we do?

No, I said Jikuyin was a demigod, not a god. Trust me, there is a world of differ¬ence. What can we do? Wait and watch-and, especially, think. They have taken our weapons but not our wits. The fairy hesitated for a moment, as if he had some¬thing more to say. Then, to Barrick's astonishment, Gyir's face peeled away from the bone, rolling up from his chin to just below his eyes.

No, that wasn't it, the prince realized after a boggled moment. The fea¬tureless skin between what would have been the chin and nose on an or¬dinary man had folded back, flexible as a horse's upper lip, exposing even paler flesh beneath, shiny with damp, and a small, almost circular mouth. Vansen was staring now, too. Ignoring them both, Gyir pushed a piece of bread into the toothy hole. Bones and muscles worked beneath the second layer of skin-his jaw was clearly hinged in a different way than theirs-as he chewed, then swallowed. The fairy stared back at his two companions as if daring them to speak.

Yes, your question is answered now, Gyir said at last. He seemed almost angry. This is how one of the Encauled eats. It is not pretty,

But how do you breathe? Barrick asked. You keep it… your mouth… cov¬ered all the time.

Gyir brushed his lank, dark hair back from the side of his head. There are slits here behind my ears, like a fish's gills. When necessary, I can close them. The next thought was a curious, wordless burst of something Barrick could not at first grasp. That way, I do not drown when it rains hard, he finished. The wordless sen¬sation had been a laugh, Barrick realized, although not a happy one.

Gyir ate the rest of his piece or bread, then the llap of skin folded back down again, curling just beneath his chin like the skin of a drum, leaving him smooth as ivory once more beneath the red eyes. So, he said. Your cu¬riosity has been satisfied. That is what it means to be born with the Caul. Now per¬haps we can go back to thinking about what is truly important. Gyir rose and stretched. Several of the other prisoners scuttled away, but he ignored them. I feel stronger than I did-/ think the power of our enemy's voice has affected me, somehow-but I could not directly challenge a force like Jikuyin on my best day. Still, if he is as careless as he has been in the past, we have a chance.

"What do you mean?" Vansen said aloud.

Do not use your voices, Gyir ordered. J will interpret between the two of you when necessary.

Barrick scowled. Only a day before it had been him alone to whom Gyir would speak, but now the soldier was included in everything. What good was suffering as Barrick had suffered if it did not make him special?