The Keys to the Realms (The Dream Stewards) Page 16

  “She will.” Pedr managed half a smile. “Have faith, little brother.”

  FIFTEEN

  “Sovereign?”

  Glain let herself in, carrying the meal tray she had taken from the attendant who was waiting outside the suite when she arrived, having received no answer to his knock. The receptory was empty, but the torches still burned, and the adjacent sitting room was bright and warm with the heat of the fire. Glain set the tray on a table near the divan.

  The doors to Alwen’s bedchamber were closed, but the private scriptorium was open, and Glain could just make out a robed silhouette at the window. “Sovereign.”

  Alwen remained unresponsive. Glain paused in the doorway that separated the scriptorium from the receptory, and then realized that Alwen was spirit-faring. Glain had found the Sovereign entranced like this many times before and had been transfixed to witness the psychic sharing of minds. It was inspiring to behold. Such elegant magic required a rare blend of innate talent and acquired skill. Alwen had both in abundance, whereas Glain had discovered she had little of either—at least when it came to this particular discipline. Alwen, however, was a natural master of the spirit-faring. It was an extension of her telepathic gifts, and Glain believed that Alwen could send her consciousness to cohabit nearly any sentient being she chose.

  Glain waited quietly so as not to disrupt the sojourn or inadvertently cause Alwen an unexpected shock. A mage was vulnerable in any altered state, but especially so when her psyche was separated from her physical form. It was best to wait until Alwen returned, and then gently intrude.

  Half an hour passed in silence. Glain wondered with what creature Alwen was riding. Generally, she preferred the birds, as they had the advantage of lofty vision and swiftly traveled distances, and tended to be most welcoming of her companionship. It could be most any being, though—a wolf or a rabbit, or even a merchant on the road to market.

  Another quarter-hour passed, and then Glain noticed Alwen’s steady, even breaths grow increasingly shallow and rapid. A few moments later her body shuddered slightly, and with a sharp gasp, the stasis was broken. Alwen had returned.

  “Sovereign?” Glain whispered just loud enough to be heard and waited for Alwen to react.

  Alwen turned from the window and placed a hand on the nearby desk edge to steady herself. “Bledig and Aslak will soon join Thorvald. Both caravans are closer than I expected, but still several days’ ride north of here.” She took a single step forward and hesitated, as if she hadn’t the strength to go any farther. “Thorvald escorts two cloaked women and a new soldier—Ffion and Branwen, I presume, with her Cad Nawdd guardsman. But Bledig’s party contains only men.” She sighed, and even her dejection sounded exhausted. “Apparently Tanwen was not to be found.”

  “How long have you been at this?” Glain was concerned. Alwen was obviously drained by the spirit-faring, but Glain wasn’t sure whether to offer her assistance.

  “Longer than I intended,” Alwen admitted. “The nighthawk led to the owl, and the owl to the ferret, and then another nighthawk, and so on. But I needed to know.”

  “I think you should sit.” Glain decided help was needed and bolstered Alwen with a gentle hand beneath her right elbow, guiding her to the divan in front of the hearth. “Here, by the fire.”

  “Thank you.” Alwen lowered herself onto the divan with much more difficulty than it should have taken. “Some aleberry perhaps.”

  Glain was already pouring. As she handed the cup over, she noticed that Alwen’s fingers trembled. “Your evening meal is on the little table next to you. It would help to eat something.”

  “Later.” Alwen held the cup to her nose. She appeared to be comforted by the vapors.

  “Sovereign.” Glain perched on the edge of the hearth, directly facing Alwen so that she would not have to move to meet Glain’s gaze, but neither could she easily avoid it. “What is happening?”

  Alwen’s weak smile barely penetrated the layers of pain and exhaustion that seemed to have appeared overnight. Glain had not noticed any of this before, and at first she thought it might just be a trick of the light. However, the longer she looked, the more she realized that weeks of unending struggle had gradually etched the first furrows into the youthful, silky skin of Alwen’s face. And now she seemed to have aged years in a matter of a few days.

  “I am being overcome.” Alwen seemed to shrivel into the stuffed and tufted back cushion. “For a while, I thought it was only the natural aftereffects—the fits of unrest and bad temper that anyone might experience having endured our recent, well, difficulties. But eventually, I began to wonder.”

  Glain waited, out of respect, until the lull between the last statement and the next lasted a little too long, and Alwen’s presence seemed to fade. “Wondered what, Sovereign?”

  Alwen’s eyes centered on Glain’s, and all trace of the weak smile slid away. “After Madoc was entombed in the Well of Tears, and the dream-speak would not come to me, my first thought was that somehow I had not swallowed enough of the waters for the enchantment to take hold. But clearly that could not be possible, considering I nearly drowned.”

  Alwen held out her empty cup and continued while Glain poured again. “Then I thought I was missing something, that there was some secret bit of knowledge Madoc had forgotten to share. So, I studied his writings and searched the scriptorium for clues. I learned a great deal about a great many things, but the one answer I wanted could not be found. Finally, I was left with only one explanation. It could only be that something in me was lacking.”

  “Sovereign,” Glain objected. “I hardly think that could be true—”

  Alwen held up a hand to stop Glain from arguing. “It was easy for me to think it, though I do know better. Even then I was beginning to sense what was happening, though it was weeks before I could see the proof.”

  “What?” Glain was on tenterhooks. “Proof of what?”

  Alwen sat forward and pulled back the cuff of her right robe sleeve as she held out her arm. “See for yourself. It’s been worse since the Cythraul violated the Fane.”

  The blackening that had taken over Alwen’s fingers when she had tried to save Madoc from the freezing well waters had spread to the outer edge of her palm and was creeping up her arm. Glain was horrified. “Why didn’t you say something before this?”

  “I cannot afford to show even the slightest weakness.” Alwen withdrew her hand and returned to cradling her cup in both palms, as though nothing at all were the matter. “No one else is to hear of this, Glain. The only reason I am telling you now is that I am no longer able to keep the effects from showing. As I’m sure you have already seen.”

  Glain tried to return Alwen’s attempt at levity with a smile, but the effort yielded little better than a nervous twitch at the corner of her mouth. Glain was worried. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call for a physician?”

  “I am sure,” Alwen insisted, but the effort seemed to pain her.

  Glain stifled her concern and focused on what she could do to help. “What do we do now?”

  “Well…” Alwen let herself collapse back into the cushion. “We will proceed as you proposed. I am in no condition now to hold another audience, so you will assist me by drafting a decree, which you will then enforce on my behalf. The mage hunter will continue his pursuit, with Rhys to help him. Hywel will carry a warning to the Protectorate escort, secure the safety of Cerrigwen’s daughter and whichever of the remaining guardians have been found, and then he will engage Clydog, as he must. Cerrigwen will go with him, but send Odwain as her personal guard. He is all that is left of the Crwn Cawr here, at least alive and able and fit for such a duty.”

  “What will become of Odwain’s father and his brother?” Glain went to the desk in the scriptorium and returned with quill and parchment. “What judgment will you pronounce on them?”

  “Pedr, I believe, has suffered quite
enough. Neither he nor Finn has committed any crime against the Order. If anything, I would have to say they have more than fulfilled the intent of the oath.” Alwen was apologetic. “And I suppose it could be said that Finn paid any due he might have owed by enduring that audience the way he did. If there was an offense, it was a violation of military regulation. For all intents, he abandoned his post. Leave it to Emrys to impose whatever penalty is required by the law of the Cad Nawdd—or not, as he sees fit.”

  Glain nodded, furiously jotting notes and prioritizing her missives. She was profoundly relieved to finally have some understanding and a course of action to follow. And though she was prepared to defend her own behavior, Glain was grateful that Alwen seemed to have decided not to address it.

  “That should take care of the matters brought before me today and by all means set it all in motion as quickly as possible,” Alwen said. “But see that Hywel leaves enough of his men behind that the work clearing the path to the well continues.”

  “So that is why you agreed to the excavation.” A sudden realization brought Glain to a pause. “You think curing the curse on the Well of Tears will cure the curse on you.”

  “And free Madoc’s knowledge,” Alwen said. “In the three months that I have been his proxy, many nights I have dreamt, and many times those dreams have brought me omens, but never once have I heard the dream-speak. There are times when I sense Madoc and the other spirits attempting to speak to me in my sleep, but it’s as if they are speaking a language I do not know. Not so surprising, I suppose. The gift of the dream-speak was never meant to be mine. Perhaps I will never be able to master it.”

  Glain knew how much Alwen had hoped the wisdom Madoc had promised would come to her, and that she considered it her failing that it had not. “The murky well water might be to blame for this as well, you know.”

  “You may be right,” Alwen said. “Even if you are not, it might not matter. We have three of the four keys, and soon we will have Branwen with us, and her amulet. Perhaps, as you suggested, Ffion can be persuaded to take her mother’s place in the circle. Then we need only fill Tanwen’s seat somehow. But you,” Alwen pointed a shaky index finger in her direction, “you must find that missing scroll.”

  Glain nodded, masking a momentary twinge of old guilt. “We must also keep you strong, Sovereign. What more can be done?”

  Alwen sighed as though she had tasted something unpleasant. “When you have finished the decree, and before Hywel can take her, figure a way to bring Cerrigwen to me here. Tonight. Quietly, though. No one can know.”

  Glain waited outside the doors to Alwen’s chambers as though she were one of the Cad Nawdd sentries standing guard. In effect, she was standing guard, though she was desperately hoping no one would come along. If Alwen meant to keep her private meeting with Cerrigwen a secret, she would have to hurry. Already nearly half an hour had passed, and Glain was beginning to worry she’d never have Cerrigwen back in her room before the guard she had relieved returned. Or worse, before Ynyr or Ariane or one of the prefects decided to retire for the night.

  She dared not interrupt, though impatience tempted her to knock. Her nerves were only slightly less jangled than her thoughts. Once she had finished with Cerrigwen, her next task would be to deliver Alwen’s directive to Emrys. She had wanted to take the news straight to Rhys, but it was proper that the captain of the Cad Nawdd issue orders to his soldiers and grant custody of Cerrigwen to Hywel. But once she had informed Emrys, she would give Thorne Edwall his leave to depart, and this would be the last chance she would have to see Rhys again.

  Finally, she heard movement near the doors and the latch clack as it opened. Cerrigwen stepped into the hallway and acquiesced to Glain with a slight bow of her head.

  Glain pulled the door closed and gestured down the west annex hallway. “Were you able to help her?”

  Though she was no longer bound by the mage tether, Cerrigwen walked with her hands clasped in front of her and kept her face fixed straight ahead. She did not respond, and Glain wasn’t sure whether she’d been heard or if Cerrigwen simply did not want to answer. Either way, the next two dozen paces were spent in uncomfortable silence.

  Just before they reached the entry to Cerrigwen’s quarters, she came to an abrupt stop and turned to confront Glain. “You are a very foolish girl.”

  Glain was stunned, and a little piqued. “I—I beg your pardon?”

  “You fail to see the most obvious signs.” Cerrigwen cocked her head and peered at her more closely, as though she couldn’t believe what she saw. “Remarkable, really, considering how much time and effort you spend trying to make sense of them.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Glain said, trying to be polite.

  Cerrigwen’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you don’t.”

  The cryptic retort was unnerving. Perhaps the woman really had lost her mind. Glain started to move past her and open the door, hoping to put an end to the exchange, but Cerrigwen stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Take care, young lady, when it comes to the men of Cadell’s house. They seduce with their sincerity, you see, not with flattery, which is what makes them so much more dangerous than they seem.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Glain bristled, taking the warning as an insult or an accusation of something sordid. Cerrigwen was obviously referring to Hywel, which made Glain feel as though her privacy had been invaded.

  “If that is true, you are even more foolish than I thought.” Cerrigwen frowned at her and let go of her arm. “There are pretenders among your trusted, you do know that much, don’t you?”

  Glain nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She scoffed at the very idea that she had been misguided in her alliances. Every one of them had earned her trust. And yet, she thought of Nerys, and the cloaked Stewards she’d seen sneaking out of the apple grove, and even Ariane. But why was she entertaining this conversation in the first place?

  “Good.” Cerrigwen seemed relieved. “You may be foolish, but at least you’re not stupid.”

  Glain took offense. “Take care how you address me, Cerrigwen.”

  “Well,” Cerrigwen said, almost smiling, “at last a little spark, a little glimmer of spirit. I was beginning to worry you had no sense at all of who you are.”

  Glain was now wary and a little irritated, but she had to ask. “Just what is that supposed to mean?”

  Cerrigwen’s expression sobered, and then turned quizzical, as though she were listening to voices in her head and trying to make sense of what she heard. This made Glain so nervous, she wished she had never said anything at all to Cerrigwen. Then the sorceress began wringing her hands. Her gaze dulled and her lips moved as though she were speaking, but there was no voice to her words.

  “Stop this,” Glain demanded, a bit panicked. She couldn’t be sure whether Cerrigwen had slipped into some addled state or had entranced herself in a spell casting. Whichever it was, either Cerrigwen could not, or would not, cease.

  Glain grabbed Cerrigwen by the shoulders and shook her, hard. “Stop!”

  Cerrigwen’s gaze refocused on Glain. At first she appeared lost and uncertain, but she was no longer wringing her hands or talking to herself. Recognition registered in her eyes, and then profound sorrow. “It was never me who harmed her child. She knows that now.”

  It was a random thing to say, but not meaningless. Glain did not know how to respond or if she even should. “Oh. I—I see.”

  Then the moment of vulnerability passed, and Cerrigwen’s gaze hardened. She clasped her hands together again and turned toward the door to her room, waiting for Glain to open it.

  “I have lent Alwen endurance, nothing more,” Cerrigwen said as she entered the chamber. “What afflicts her will worsen, but more slowly now. You should watch her carefully, but she will sleep well tonight.”

  Glain whispered her grati
tude to the Gods, for never had she been so relieved to leave anyone’s company. And blessing upon blessing, she turned toward the welcome sound of the new sentry reporting for his turn just as she pulled the door shut behind Cerrigwen.

  The guardsman presented himself with a half-bow and took his position. It was only then, as the full length of the hallway came into view, that Glain saw Ariane standing near the door to her own chamber—between Glain and the stairs.

  “Oh, great Gods,” Glain muttered to herself. “How long has she been there?”

  “She was already standing in the hall when I passed.”

  The unexpected reply startled her, but the information was helpful. “So you didn’t see her on the stairs?”

  “No, there was no one else.”

  “Thank you,” Glain said, absently, calculating the potential risk. Ariane had to already have been in her room when Glain escorted Cerrigwen back down the hall, else Glain would have seen her come up the staircase while she was waiting outside Alwen’s suite. This was disastrous. What explanation could she give without revealing what must remain hidden?

  And then Glain realized that she need not give any explanation at all. She did not answer to Ariane on any matter, and so what if an acolyte was left wondering about things that were none of her affair? Glain squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and proceeded back toward Ariane with purpose and aplomb, as if there were nothing at all out of the ordinary.

  She tipped her chin in greeting as she passed. “Good evening, Ariane.”

  Ariane’s mouth opened as if to speak, but Glain never so much as slowed her pace enough to allow for a polite reply. There would be recriminations aplenty later on, if Ariane were able to find a way to speak to her alone. Glain resolved to make that as difficult as she could, which brought a sly smile to her lips. How Ynyr would appreciate this development, she thought, making note to mention her new attitude when next she saw him. She wondered briefly what Ynyr had discovered. It was hours since he’d gone to search the second-floor storeroom, and he’d promised to report. She considered seeking him out, but it was late, and she had yet to speak to Emrys.