Book Two: Nikolad
IX: Late April & May 770
"Well," said the Countess Vivian, as she sat around with her gathering advisors in the great hall in Tarnhold on a sunny windy day, "let's try not to feel sorry for ourselves. We're here."
The day after Lord Sperrin de Faal's men took over the citadel of Vonnis, Vivian and her band of riders had risen in the grey before dawn and ridden in haste to Tarnhold, a distance of about eighty-five miles up the Rocky River valley. They were three times as many as the original escapees from Vonnis. Added were the Rain sisters, two-month-old Jack Rain, their maid Martha, six more soldiers and five more women of the household from Vonnis, and a tax officer named Maura d'Acali. She had escaped from a window in Vonnis late at night, after the Farlain soldiers had detained her and then failed to keep an eye on their prisoner.
Now Vivian sat drinking wine with Thane Horst and Sir Rogier as the servants were lighting the lamps. The news had preceded her by several hours. "They were quite clever," said Sir Rogier, "getting me and the Thane here out of town first. They must have feared our prowess as advisors."
"I think they now fear your prowess as an archer, my Countess," said Thane Horst. "Make again that face the short guy had after you shot him in the back."
"Listen," said Sir Rogier. "We're not going to avenge this overnight. But we are going to avenge this."
"Never doubt it," said Vivian.
Thane Hugo of Tarnver made pasta that night. During the evening several landholders of the Countess's Domain showed up to renew their fealty. Two hundred Clanish peasant boys manning Tarnhold's stout walls were augmented by five hundred infantry from around Angren and a steady trickle of men from the Vonnis garrison. Thane Hugo assured her of the indomitability of his town. Tarnhold was built of blocks of granite at the point where the Tarn River flowed south through a stony gate out of the mountains into the Rocky. The Tarn's narrow valley was carpeted by little farms whose houses were forts of stone, carved from the bones of the mountains, and the houses outside in the Rocky valley were also little stone castles surrounded by steep farmland terraced with stone walls.
Vivian decided to stay three nights, the better to hear the latest news, and the sooner to see the cataphracts if they managed to extricate themselves. So on the afternoon of 19 April she stood with Ellean on the walls near the gate to the southeast, and as the clouds lowered and sprinkles of rain started to fall, the form of a horseman appeared down the road. He was riding hard, and in a few minutes he reached the gate. In view of all who were abroad that day, Vivian went down and stood just inside the gate, and when William Willd was admitted, she pulled the rider down and into her arms. They cried, they kissed, they mumbled sweetly, and it was only Ellean clearing her throat that stopped them.
"Willd," said Vivian, "I'm so glad to see you."
"I got that impression too," said Ellean.
"My lady," said Willd, "I am so relieved to see you're all right. I have news, some good, some not."
"The good news," said Ellean, "had better be the news about Francis Weaver, or you're in for it when you get inside."
"Which we should do before we're soaked," said Vivian. As the clouds began to burst, the three ran to the door of Thane Hugo's keep. They found their way to the Great Hall, whose tables were empty now, and the Countess called for tea and whatever food was available.
"My lady, I was at Angren this dawn," said Willd. "Lord Weaver and 900 horse are behind me. None of them could run with that little filly of mine, or compete with my desire to come to where you were."
She gave him her sudden, most radiant smile, then she said, "But Lord Weaver must have come close, on the second count at least, once he found his house empty. The not-so-good news?"
"Well, of course they've occupied Angren. At first they sent five hundred infantry, and then when Weaver slipped from their grasp two nights ago, they moved in another thousand. And there are more Farlainers coming up through Intror. The word is that Thane Karlan has recognized Duke Maladar of Farlain as his lord."
"That bastard. I'll kill him personally. Recognizes the Duke. As if he could just quit his Clanish obligations. Oh, I'll kill him."
"I'm not sure if I should tell you any more, my lady."
"Sorry, go on, I won't say anything, no matter how bad it is."
"Well," said Willd, "apparently they've appointed a Viscount. Farlain's annexing as much of Clane as they can get their hands on."
"Who are they appointing Viscount?"
"Uh, Neil of Gorngold." Vivian, true to her word, said nothing.
"He what?" repeated Thane Horst an hour later, sitting at the same table, as places were being set for dinner. "I'll kill him myself. He is no son of mine. I never taught him this. I am loyal to my Countess, and I do not waver in the prevailing winds. I do not commit treason." He paused for breath and went on. "He is not my heir. I name Agnes as my heir. My lady, you were right about Mirabel de Nikolad; I should have gone the next logical step. I do so now." He fumed for a moment, then added, "What I should have done, is held back from having one last child." He shook his head. Suddenly tears welled up even in his old eyes. "Jacob should be alive, Neil dead," he muttered.
"Is there room for us?" asked Angeline from behind them in her perkiest tone. She was hanging on the arm of her Francis, who held Jack in his other, long arm.
"You're just in time," said Vivian. "We're not quite completely depressed and angry. Now you can tell your story, Lord Weaver."
"My lady," said Francis Weaver, sitting down, still holding his son. "The sun will shine on us in the end. I have brought back most of the horsemen that I took with me, and most of the rest will probably make it out of the hills today. That should settle once for all the question of whether I wish to throw my life away for glory."
"Oh, you big baby," said Angeline, hugging him. "Just tell your tale."
Trays of food were being brought out--it was a good thing Tarnver had just had one of its best fall harvests ever. When Jen came near with a large bottle of wine, the Countess grabbed her by the arm and made her sit down. More people crowded in, refugees from Vonnis and lords from Tarnver and Siret and Selac. The audience grew steadily as Weaver told his tale.
"We were bedding down for the night," Weaver began, "when Captain Sendry brought Willd in. Up to then, nothing seemed strange, but once Willd told us his tale, everything that the Farlain knights had said or done all day, right up to the choice of bivouac, seemed sinister. We were hidden in a ravine with a rocky floor and a stream, while the knights were outside the ravine near the Lavan. I suppose they thought we could not possibly learn of their treachery until morning, if we learned at all. I wonder if they thought they were going to attack us, or just kill the commanders, or what. In any case, we would have given them more than they bargained for."
"I'm glad you didn't," said Vivian. "Maybe you could have taken their thousand knights, but you would have suffered heavy losses, and there are a lot more Farlainers in this world than there are Clanishfolk."
"I could hear my Lady Angeline giving similar counsel in my mind," said Weaver. "So I got all of my captains and lieutenants together, it was not quite midnight I think, and we decided to try to slip away. We had scouted a bit, and we had Willd's excellent advice--he'd come down to camp through the ravine, and knew a way back up on horseback. But it was single file in a few places, so it was slow going. Still, the Farlainers could not organize themselves quickly enough to do much about stopping us. We must have had half the force up and out of the ravine before they knew what we were doing.
"We drew lots, and Sendry won the right to hold the rearguard. Sir Pelleth d'Olari inquired politely as to our movements, and Sendry, never a great diplomat, told him where he could plant his Farlain flag. Not what I would have done, but you understand, we were all a bit browned off. Several of my captains voted for attacking the Farlain knights in their camp and then storming the gates of Vonnis--Sallier especially favored going on the attack, so I sent him out first to scout our escape route. He did an excellent job. I was high up in the ravine when we began to hear the sounds of fighting. We hastened to get the rest of our men up the narrow path in the darkness, and we managed it with the loss of only two men and their horses who fell when they dislodged rocks; and three more horses to broken legs. Meanwhile, Captain Sendry held our rearguard for two hours or so against increasing numbers of Farlainers, but it seems that Sir Pelleth d'Olari is inclined to fight in open country and during the daytime, because the knights eventually went over to breaking their own camp to try and head us off. I regret to say, my lady, that Sendry himself died fighting at the ravine's mouth, but most of his men fell back in good order and were not pursued."
"That debt," said Thane Horst, "is one of many. But go on."
"Well, we skulked up in the hills north of Bald Mountain yesterday morning. I ordered my men to get as much sleep as they could, while my scouts went forth toward Angren. They found it occupied by a force of Farlain infantry, who had just gotten there in the late forenoon when we were preparing to move again. We were not being pursued--the Farlainers must have been quite leery of such a chase through our own familiar hill-country--but we considered attacking these infantry at Angren, rather than take an extra day to go around them in the hills. So I sent the scouts back for a better look, and ascertained that Rain Hall had been abandoned. A column of infantry was coming up the road from Vonnis.
"Meanwhile, my rearguard had rejoined us. We only lost two dozen in the fight in the ravine, and there would have been three score empty saddles in the Farlain contingent when Sir Pelleth d'Olari got on the road yesterday morning. We stayed in the hills last night, and today came down to the road."
"And the Farlainers?" asked Sir Rogier.
"We found their knights not far behind. We drew lots, and this time it was Captain Michal Michalson who won the right to take the rearguard. He should be coming through the gate about now. I sent Willd on ahead from there, and sent three riders back toward Vonnis to find the rest of the infantry, as well as the two companies of cavalry we left in Intror. I with the bulk of my force rode hither. Every man of my force is ready to go back out and fight these honorless invaders."
"Ah, that won't be necessary, just yet," said Vivian. "But the time will come. You've done very well, and you were right to be careful. If anyone gets to risk their lives, it'll be on my orders."
They set out the next morning from Tarnhold, in the company of a hundred cataphracts and a growing force of friends and adherents on the journey to Nikolad. There they spent the night of 22 April with Thane Horst at Gorngold, taking time out to proclaim Neil outlaw and to endow his sister Lady Agnes and her husband Lord Marruth with the manor. Then they rode on, camping in the wild hills on the night of the twenty-third of April.
The evening was beautiful and cold like a fairy queen from a story. Vivian and Ellean were sitting huddled in cloaks by their fire, before their tent, talking, sipping young wine late at night, when William Willd walked up. "My lady," he said.
"I'm leaving," said Ellean.
"There's no need to, on my account," said Willd.
"Sweet dreams, Ell," said Vivian.
The next day, the Countess of Clane and her company rode across barren hills rising into healthy young snow-capped mountains. The road ran along the rim of precipices and beneath beetling cliffs, and at each turn new summits appeared in the mists. The air was moist but cool, the ground covered with snow, the many gullies and ravines filled by deep drifts.
The sun was low over the mountains before them when they climbed to the top of a cliff over a deep-cut river valley. The road wound along the edge until they turned the corner of a rocky ridge that rose above them, and now they saw a great length of the Glass River's gorge open before them to the west. Ahead, another river joined the Glass, both so deep in their canyons that they looked like upland brooks. Just this side of their junction, surrounded on three sides by precipice, stood a castle. Its back was to an old mountain, bent but still tall. The castle's only access seemed to be a long shapely stone bridge across the Glass ravine.
The riders stopped and stared at the castle, mountain and bridge of Nikolad. Many of them gasped. Ellean muttered, "Wow!" and looked over, smiling, at Vivian. The Countess was smiling too, but it was a smile of recognition, as if she had only now returned to her childhood home after twenty years away. It was all as she had seen it, though she saw it now for the first time.
"Yes," she said out loud, "this is the place."
On the first day of May, Vivian awoke in what seemed a strange bed, from strange dreams of fire and flight. She wanted to sleep again, but she also wanted desperately to go jump on her horse and ride like the wind to Vonnis. She fought back both urges. Simone, the long-haired calico who had been sent on ahead weeks ago with the Countess's other valuables, yawned, stretched, gave her mistress a sidelong look through narrow eyes. She then curled up and went back to sleep in her just-out-of-the-way spot at the foot of the bed. The sound of the Glass River echoing from the valley below came in through the half-open window, as did the chill air of morning. A snore came from a pile of blankets on the other side of the bed. Vivian looked at the lump with a raised eyebrow. The snore came again: now Vivian could see a lock of auburn hair escaping the covers. She got up and looked out the window.
The view was to the south, over the ravine. She could see, to her right, the arch of the High Bridge bearing the full weight of the Sun. The bottom of the ravine was still dark; mist rose along with the noise of waters. Vivian leaned out and took in breath after breath of the cool air, but the sound of the river kept reminding her of something else. She grabbed her robe from a hook and pulled it on over her thin nightgown, and, thus dressed, she peeked out the door.
A soldier was standing in the hall: Stephen from the Vonnis garrison. He had been reading from a thin volume, which she saw him set aside on hearing the door. He looked up, but not straight at her. "My lady," he said, "shall I fetch Jen?"
"Yeah," she said, "thanks. Bath and breakfast."
"Right away!" He hurried off. His book was sitting on the chair which he had not been occupying. She picked it up. It was "A Chronicle of the Empire", by Gregor Gregalla. She raised an eyebrow, leafed through it and went back inside. The lump of blankets had transformed, and now someone resembling Ellean Rain was petting the cat. "Good morning," said Vivian, reaching under the bed.
"Mmmph," said Ellean. She shifted around but still resisted getting up. She sprawled back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"This overcrowding is going to be a real problem," said Vivian, seating herself upon the ornately painted commode.
"Oh, you'd hate to be alone, admit it," said Ellean.
Vivian didn't argue. Jen entered, carrying a basin with hot water. "Shall I go back and get breakfast?" she asked.
"No. We'll come down. I bet the, um, advisors are looking for work."
In a few minutes, Vivian, Ellean and Jen sat down to tea in the Hall, augmented by a half dozen of last fall's apples, wrinkly but still sound; a loaf of some sort of bread, with a slab of butter; four hard-boiled eggs; a dish with a little salt in it; another almost full to the brim with a viscous brown liquid. It was not the sort of thing that folks ate in Vonnis.
"Well," said Jen, "shall we see about the bread?"
"Yesterday it was full of blueberries," said Ellean with a curl of the lip.
"I thought it was fine," said Vivian, taking a piece. "Bits of something. Always bits of something in the bread--apple this time. Don't they ever not put stuff in the bread?"
"My lady," said Sir Rogier, crossing the dining room toward them, "I have the latest scouting reports."
"Oh, great," said Vivian, munching on syrup-dipped bread.
"Lady Mirabel," he called. "Over here."
Mirabel, just appointed Lady of Nikolad, came in from the kitchen. She bowed to the Countess, who was a couple of years older than her and about six inches shorter.
"Lady Mirabel," said Vivian, "I want you to keep a running tab of all the inconveniences and costs from having me here. We'll pay back with interest when this is over. We'll pay Neil back with interest too! Oh, my. At least this thing has shown me who I can trust."
"A high price for that counsel," said Sir Rogier. "Oh, and another item of interest: those treasury records you brought?"
"You've been looking in my room?"
"Well, no, they were on Lady Mirabel's desk, which I take it is a public place."
Vivian looked at Mirabel. "I'm sorry, Lady Mirabel, but I've been using your desk in the study down the hall from my room. You'll have to put up with a lot of that. But I think you needn't worry about taxes," said Vivian, "With the food and lodging of the Countess and her ministers, I consider the accounts well-paid. This is some good stuff, this syrup you put on things. Are you guys going to join us? But Rogier--what were you going to say?"
"Oh. Well." But a dozen people were coming into the hall, including several ministers. He shrugged. "I'll tell you afterward, my lady."
"After what?"
"My lady," said Purcell Colmack, stumbling in looking exhausted.
"Master Colmack!" cried Vivian jumping up. "You made it!"
"I rode all night, two nights running. My lady, they made me dress as a damn woman, meaning no disrespect--"
"To escape from Vonnis?" asked Sir Rogier.
"Well, there's Farlainers all over the show, they've taken Angren as well but no more, there must be ten thousand in the area. They've put some in jail, Sir Everard and the scribe Edgar and the High Priest Trofim most notable." He seemed at a loss and looked at the Countess before going on. "I heard some of the Avars crossed at the Deep Ford and are hanging about on the road to Skavin. Lot of people left Vonnis, most stopped at Angren. Lot of empty shops. Farlainers stealing everything as ain't nailed down. Lot of folks mad. My lady, them as didn't appreciate you before, they appreciate you now."
"Well, silver lining," she replied. "Have something to eat, and tell us about Angren."
"It's not tore up too bad considering. But Vonnis, well, Neil, calls himself Viscount, and I guess I'm safe around here in saying I don't agree with his sense of style. Farlain flag flies on the towers, for one thing. But Lord Armand's trying to take care of Angren, I guess that's the only excuse for him cozying up to Neil and Lord Sperrin, lots of folks grumble about that too."
"He's cozying up because I told him to," said Vivian.
"Well, and there's about four thousand Farlain troops in the town square."
"Where we got married?!" Angeline cried out.
"A-yup. They've gone and made Rain Hall into their HQ. That, my lady, was when my men made me dress as a woman. You see, they were asking at the Angren bridge of anyone who crossed, if they had seen Purcell Colmack. Never in my life, my lady, have the constables been out asking after me at the road crossings. And, uh, here I am, as I said, my lady."
"And your boys?"
"Most of them are in Dubkarin now," he said. "Two got families at Vonnis they couldn't move. It's not so hard for common folk to move around, it's a question of their livestock, really. Every time you take your cattle past a Farlainer post, you know, they take one or two."
"Damn it," said Vivian, "they're even oppressing the cows. Well, what other news?"
"Siret, Selac, Tarnver and of course Westdubbik," said Thane Horst, standing behind Sir Rogier and munching on a syrupy roll, "all reaffirm their allegiance to you. Skavin's cut off, but I doubt it's threatened. Of course the Rugians are loose in Siret and Selac. The Farlainers have not pushed into Westdubbik, which is just good sense on their part, since Fugad is the first thing on that road, and I would make them remember well their first visit to my home town."
"Tarnhold," said Sir Rogier, "is unlikely to fall in the near or distant future."
"Yes," said Vivian, "Those are some walls. What of the Avar threat to Vonnis?"
"They can't take it," said Sir Rogier, "as long as it's defended with a reasonable degree of foresight. Sadly, that's not within our purview anymore. I hesitate to mention this, but we do have some council positions to fill. We have to govern that half of Clane that remains under the rule of its lawful Countess. We know that three of our council members are imprisoned: Father Trofim, Scribe Edgar and Sir Everard. And then there's our former treasurer."
"Sir Everard, in the dungeons. Or the High Priest. You don't think they'd torture them?"
"For information, my lady? What information? About our defenses? What about the defense of Westdubbik does Neil not know? And what could they ever get from Everard? In any case, I think that just being stuck down there not knowing what's going on outside will be plenty of torture. Especially for poor old Trofim."
"Before, it was my enemies who were thrown in the dungeon."
"Yes," said Sir Rogier. "Another example of the importance of point-of-view. But until we ransom the poor souls, we have to think about replacements for them."
"We have a priest," said Vivian. "Father Petrus is a perfectly good priest, though he hasn't Father Trofim's beard. And Mirabel's got a scribe named Clark, how about that? And his son and daughter are both scribes. Of course no one's replacing anyone, they're just filling in. And the obvious choice to fill in for Sir Everard is Thane Horst."
"My lady," he replied, "I did not want a job with the government before, but I can see that all of us will be performing many functions. Besides, the family name has to be cleared. I only hope we get Everard back soon."
"Me too, no offense," said the Countess. "Now how about the treasurer? Anyone want to volunteer? The last one's for the chopping block."
"I can't add worth a damn," said Sir Rogier, "in case you want to know."
"Me either," said Ellean and Angeline together.
"Well, how about that tax collector we picked up on our way here? She was scared someone would have her killed if she was caught. She must be wise to some budget tricks, don't you think? Sir Rogier, do you remember her name?"
"Maura d'Acali. I've been talking to her, as it happens, about, well, something that your ladyship and I need to discuss."
"Oh, well, that sounds intriguing, doesn't it?" She looked around at the others. "All right, maybe not. We'll think about it. Next item." She turned and looked at Francis Weaver, who smiled nervously. "What about the military situation?"
"Well, my lady, as has been said, the Farlainers occupy Vonnis and Angren and all of Intror, and they've brought several thousand more troops up from Farlain. We still hold all of Westdubbik and Tarnver and most of Siret and Selac, but Simkin's hard beset by the Rugians."
"I thought they didn't go in for sieges."
"They don't, my lady," he replied. "They go in for slaughtering supply trains. There are about five hundred people inside the walls, most of them infantrymen, some of them women and children, and we have no prospect of consistently supplying them without a major military effort."
"And no prospect of that, if every time we have to push through to Simkin it costs us as many men as we lost in that battle near Acali," said Vivian.
"Exactly."
She sighed. "Then I'm afraid we'll have to abandon Simkin. Can we get them out safely?"
"I think so, my lady, but it'll take troops. Cavalry, I'd suggest, since we'll need mobility in order to keep the Rugians back from the people we're pulling out."
"If we abandon Simkin," said Thane Horst, "how will we hold Radun?"
"Do you think we can hold Simkin?" asked Vivian.
"Uh, no, not really."
"All right, then, how are we going to evacuate it?"
Horst and Weaver looked at each other. Horst said, "I think our Cataphracts will be enough for an evacuation. We have, let's see, about twelve hundred infantry, five hundred of that at Tarnhold, three hundred at Radun. They have to stay in place. That leaves four hundred, right? Right. Four hundred at Fugad." He grimaced. "It's barely enough, really."
"Barely enough is enough," said Vivian. "It'll have to do." She sighed. "The Countess's reach shrinks again. Now we have to think about yielding Radun. Of course I'm going with you."
"No!" squealed Sir Rogier.
"What? What do you mean, no?"
"You can't, my lady. I really feel I must put my foot down. Not under the present circumstances."
"I agree," said Thane Horst.
"I've always gone along before. What about Acali? Wasn't I the leader on the field?"
"My lady," said Sir Rogier, "the situation is different in a very important way."
"How?"
"Before, if the worst happened, we'd certainly have had an interesting time looking for an heir--I guess old Count Robert's younger daughter has descendants with fiefs in Intror, and there must be other relations in the county. Far be it from me to tell you or your father when to produce an heir. But now if you were to be taken from us, the County of Clane would cease to exist."
"No. No, it wouldn't."
"It would. Promptly. You know it. We could never keep our forces and our few friends together while we searched for a new rightful count. What if Farlain found an heir of their own? My lady, you are all that holds Clane together, and will be as long as we are out of Vonnis."
"I give up," said the Countess, unable to think of any other answer. "You win. But Weaver has to promise not to die in my stead."
"I second that," said Angeline.
"I promise not to die in your stead," said Francis Weaver.
They went on to the budget, the roads, the stars, the weather and the food. Eventually most of the ministers and lords who had something to report, or just an oath to reaffirm, got the Countess's ear. They drifted out toward the courtyard or in toward the living quarters. Sir Rogier stopped Vivian before she could slip away. "My lady, a word."
"Oh, yes, about the treasury books."
"Very interesting reading, for the discerning eye," he said, holding out one of the books and putting on his glasses. "I think you said some of the lords were not paying their share?"
"Yes," said the Countess. "Three of the thanes, in fact, and a number of the lords holder."
"Including the former Lord of Nikolad, by the way; he paid 61 florins in 767, then 48 in 768, then 31 last year. But I'm sure Lady Mirabel will pay her taxes in full."
"As I've told her, I'm sure she's already paying more than her share, in the form of food for you and me and the army."
"Yes. Well, in any case, that's a children's game, that business of cutting one's payments under the new regime. It's tempting to try and easy to spot." He started to go on, then stopped and said, "Which three thanes did you get?"
"Karlan, Ellimer and Burley."
"Burley!" exclaimed Sir Rogier. "I didn't even check his. I had Hugo as a questionable. Let's see, I think Tarnver paid eight hundred in 769, down from about a thousand in 767. But I wasn't sure that meant anything."
"I'd say it didn't. He's been a rock in other ways, and he depends heavily on trade from Siret and Selac. As for Burley, well, he cut his payment in half or so from Dad's last year to my second year."
"He got invaded."
"True. I still don't think it'd be half. Not that I hold it against him either. He was still holding out last we heard, but with the Avars all around him, I expect he'll keep our tax money himself for the duration and find many worthwhile uses for it. May the Sun shine on him, I say."
"Well," said Sir Rogier, "it shows two things. One, this is all guesswork; two, cheating is so tempting that it's hard not to, especially when others cheat. Anyone else among the Council?"
"No. You're paid in full, messire de Clatu."
"May I have a receipt on that? No, what I wanted to talk about was Neil. Of course, as far as taxes are concerned, he's also paid in full. How nice. But look." The minister of state pointed to a page in the budget book, which was from 769.
Vivian squinted at it. "It's expenditures?" She took the book and looked closer. "Special Expenditures," she read. "What's that?"
"He's been writing himself budget lines. Oh, we always had special expenditures, but only in emergencies. Look at the descriptions."
"Hmm. I see what you mean. Fifty florins, 2 September 769, miscellaneous goods. A hundred, 29 September 769, diplomatic purchases. There are dozens of these lines."
"Dozens. No one but the Minister of State has any reason to make diplomatic purchases, or so I would like to think, and I'm the Minister of State. I doubt I've authorized a diplomatic purchase in the past five years--if I want a horse or a messenger or a ream of paper, I just get them from the Countess. Of course, normally I would never have seen this book, but you happened to leave it out."
"And I really had no idea what to look for," said the Countess. "What else does he have? This--a hundred florins for special emergency expenses. Last November?"
"There's sort of an ongoing emergency, my lady," said Sir Rogier, "or so one would think from the books. Maybe Neil was just doing his part in the continuing crisis. We also have Petty Expenses, which come to over a hundred last year; Reimbursements of Unexpected Expenses, another hundred and fifty; and two hundred for something tantalizingly called Anticipated Transition Costs."
"Transition Costs! Oh, that scum! Anticipated!?" She steamed for a moment, then asked, "What does this all come to?"
"Well, if my addition is correct," said Sir Rogier, smiling in triumph and brandishing a sheet of figures, "in 769, there were approximately twenty-two hundred florins' worth of special expenditures, and I'm sure that at least the lion's share went straight into Neil's wardrobe and wine cellar. Maybe all of it."
"Twenty-two hundred! I'm going to go kill him right now."
"Patience, Countess, we'll take care of him in due time. No need to ride all the way back to Vonnis and put yourself in danger. As I pointed out--"
"I know, I'm so important, I should've been shipped to Nikolad packed in straw." She pouted for a moment. "Did he do this to Dad too?"
"Yes, but it just got more and more." He pulled out a piece of paper. "In 767, by my estimate, three hundred fifty. 768, eight hundred. Then twenty-two hundred. No one could tell unless they knew what they were looking for--and also had the chance to look."
"Which means me, and the treasury officers."
"Which brings in Maura d'Acali. She was chief tax official for the Countess's Domain and the Lavan provinces. Apparently she came to know about this through one of Neil's assistants, who himself was killed the night they took over Vonnis."
"Is she honest?"
"Are you thinking of her for Treasury? She knows more about it than anyone else available. As for honesty--my lady, how much can you ask? I think she's more honest than Neil."
"Sir Rogier, I can do the job myself if I have to."
"I really don't think that's necessary," said Sir Rogier, "but you're wise to look at the books now and then." He smiled and stepped out. Lady Mirabel grabbed her to introduce a couple of her gardeners. Then she remembered she'd almost finished toting up her lost possessions, and Jen refilled her tea, and before she could get up again from breakfast, Sir Rogier was back. "My lady," he said, "I've brought Maura d'Acali to see you. I wonder if you could give her a quick interview."
Maura d'Acali was a stout woman of fifty or so with thick spectacles, who had a clever gleam and a knack for calculation. Vivian sighed, smiled, sat back down and grilled her mercilessly. She determined that Maura had learned some, and guessed more, about fraud in the Treasury from her friend the deputy treasurer. He was corrupt and liked to brag, Maura said as delicately as she could, "in intimate circumstances." She was guilty, it seemed, of kissing and being scared to tell, and when the deputy was killed, she had fled in terror. Vivian thought she would make the perfect Treasurer: she was scared of the Countess. And even under stress, she could subtract four digit numbers in her head.
Vivian had a look around the grounds of Nikolad Hold, ate dinner with Lady Mirabel, Sir Rogier and Thane Horst, and then went back to her room, where she found Ellean and Angeline and Jack waiting for her, with a wooden cask of about a gallon and a half volume, and three large mugs. The sisters had started already--their mugs were half full of foamy liquid.
"I take it there's no wine?"
"Beer, Vivie," said Ellean. "Ale. Remember? This is ale country."
"So? Couldn't you find some wine around here?"
"Not easily," said Angeline. "Hey, when you're in Avigon, you have to do like the Avigonians, right?"
They poured Vivian a mug and she tried it, which required finding the way through an inch of foam. When she got there, she found the ale was spicy and bitter and much foamier than even a sparkling mead. This made even the ale from Acali seem like wine. She made a face. "Do I have to?"
"Yes," said Ellean. "You have to. Just this once."
"All right," said Vivian, taking another brave sip. She wiped the foam from her mouth, leaned toward the other two and said, "I've got to get out of here. I'm feeling really trapped. Stuff's going on back home and--"
"We're going with you," said Angeline. "I hope you didn't think we were going to try and talk you out of it."
Eventually Jen showed up and they sent her out for another cask (and a mug for herself). Hours later, when Willd came to see his lady, he found them singing, and if they were all singing the same thing, what it was could not be determined. Jen was asleep, propped up in a chair, but her lips sometimes moved as if to sing along. They dragged Willd in and made him join them, and it was he who had to go get the next cask. While he was out, Angeline and Ellean and Vivian conferred.
"Should we tell him? He'll want to go too," said Vivian.
"No! You'd just smooch a lot," said Angeline.
"You're a fine one to complain."
"Just us three," said Ellean.
"Jen's gonna take care of Jack," said Angeline. "Right, Jen?" They poked the maid, who mumbled in the affirmative.
"Then it's all settled," said Ellean. "Sssh! He's coming back!"
Then Willd came in, lugging ten or fifteen pounds of ale, and found them giggling and poking each other.
From that night's dreams Vivian recalled only the sense of fire and flight. But the next morning it was raining, and Vivian and Ellean woke up in bed together huddling for warmth, and the realization dawned on both of them that they were too hung over for any adventures. Instead, they eventually got up and saw off Francis Weaver and his riders on their way back to Tarnhold, and Thane Horst and a handful of Westdubbik knights on their way back to Dubkarin to take charge of the defense of the remainder of the county. Then Vivian went back to bed and did not rise again until midmorning. The only significant decision she made was to send Willd off scouting toward the province of Siret, whose unpeopled mountain frontier with Westdubbik lay over a hundred miles to the north.
"We have to know what's going on in Siret," said Vivian, "and besides, we have to get him off on some mission or he's certain to follow us."
"Yeah, and it's pretty safe, right?" replied Ellean.
"Don't say that," Vivian said quickly. She tensed up as she thought of the perils that might hide on the mountain trails. Then she thought of His Lady Sigrith and she smiled wryly. Ellean gave her a questioning look. "It's dangerous enough," said Vivian.
Vivian spent the day attending to business. In the early evening she made a circuit of the walkway around the top of the wall in the company of her senior errand rider, William Willd. Then Vivian presided over a dinner with the council and Lady Mirabel. "We plan on being back in Vonnis as soon as possible," said Vivian. "We don't know how soon that is. Much as we all love this castle and its beautiful surroundings, I don't plan on growing old and grey here."
"I do," said Mirabel, "though it's probably not as exciting as living at Vonnis."
"Oh, yes," said Vivian. "The big city, indeed. I hardly think the Farlainers find it the fast life. But I'm a Vonnis girl, born and bred. It's my home."
"We'll see," said Sir Rogier, "how exciting we can make Vonnis for the Farlainers over the next few years."
"Next few years!" repeated Vivian. "Don't say that!"
After a long dinner, and a single glass of wine with her hostess, the Countess got up the courage to broach a subject that had been nagging her since her arrival. "Lady Mirabel, I know we've imposed on you already, but."
"You are welcome to, my lady."
"Well, the thing is, I need to impose on you some more. And it won't be the last time."
"Name it, my lady. Nikolad is yours."
"Well, it's yours too," the Countess replied, "but I really need a place where I can work in private. I mean, at Vonnis Citadel there was this tower where the Counts always went to be alone. No one but the Count was permitted in the High Room: only my servants were even permitted on the stairs. It wasn't very big, but it served, and I miss it now, seeing as I'm even sharing my room."
"You could have a room of your own. We can shift people around."
"Oh, I'm fine sharing with Ellean--she's sort of my bodyguard. But I still need a place to work in private."
Mirabel looked up at her butler, who looked back at her thoughtfully, poised with a bottle of wine. "I don't know, my lady--but there must be--"
"If I may," said the butler, "how about the private library?"
"My father's library," Mirabel said. "Yes. It's small, and I hardly ever use it."
"It's yours to give or not to give," said Vivian, "but if you give it, I want it to be mine and only mine. You'll need to take the books out if you ever want them."
"I will go and browse there, my lady, and pick out the ones I most want. How soon would you like it?"
"As soon as possible," said Vivian. "Can I look at it?"
"Certainly," said Lady Mirabel, as the butler said, "Of course."
Half an hour later, Vivian was seated on the floor in a room with only one small window, full of books, in many ways the opposite of her High Room at Vonnis. She reflected, while her mind was clearing, that she was thousands of feet higher now, on the small third storey of Nikolad Hold, than she had been in the little room at the top of the Counts' Tower. She brought two candles out of her bag, and then a cup, and poured out a mere mouthful of wine from her flask. To it she added a single flake of her crystals. She lit the righthand candle from a taper on a stand, then blew out the taper. She drank the wine, and with her mind she lit the lefthand candle.
She was falling through darkness, but it was as if she had a hand still on the sill of the small window as she plummeted. Ahead she saw the arch, and she fell through the wisps of evil and bane toward it. Then she landed, softly, on the grass.
Someone was before her. It was the woman from the fountain. There was something terribly familiar about her, and about the little girl that stood behind her leg. They were sad, immeasurably sad, but they were glad to see Vivian. The woman was trying to tell Vivian something, but no sound came. They held their tableau for some time: Vivian sitting on the grass, the woman and the girl standing before her, everyone smiling at everyone else.
Vivian stood up, unsteady. She was being pulled back toward the arch, and then she realized that there was a shadow further on, a figure perhaps, in the far distance of the garden. The woman noticed too. She urged Vivian to go back, and go back Vivian did, with a final mouthed word of farewell. Then Vivian fell upward for only a fraction of a moment before coming awake in the library of the Lords of Nikolad.
She gathered her things and found a cabinet with room enough among its odds and ends for two candles, a book, some cards and a cup. She went out and down to her room, feeling somewhat renewed. There was Ellean, asleep already. Vivian put out her taper and lay down, but it was an hour before she fell asleep. When she did, her recent dream came again, of fire and steel and blood on the stones.
And then she opened her eyes in the grey of dawn and choking panic filled her heart: someone was leaning over her, the ceiling just a shade lighter than the black of his head. She smelled Willd. "Whh?" she mumbled.
"I'm off for Hvanar in Siret," he whispered.
"Hvanar?" she replied. "Oh. Reminding Thane Ellimer I'm still around. I'll get up."
She left Ellean asleep, pulled a robe over her nightgown and went out into the hall with Willd. There was no one there. He turned to her and they melted together in a passionate embrace. Several times they almost parted, but looked into each other's eyes and were caught again. At last they stood, their eyes still kissing, their hands gently, absently clasped between them.
"I'll see you to the stable," said Vivian, knowing that Willd could not bring himself to say it was time he left.
"There is no need, my lady," he replied, but she went with him anyway. He had his saddlebags over one shoulder, and Vivian carried his other hand like a child carrying a favorite stuffed animal. In the stable, a groom was banging about in a shed.
Willd found his horse, saddled up, and arranged his bags while the Countess watched. She suddenly felt a great desire for him, her first experience of impossibly timed lust. Still they heard the groom in the shed; he seemed to be shifting boulders around.
"My lady," said Willd, when he was ready.
"Be careful," said Vivian, her eyes moist.
"I will," said Willd softly. He seized her, practically picked her up off the ground, and held her tight. "You be careful too," he whispered into her ear, which he then kissed. Then their lips combined once more, silently. Finally they separated, he climbed into the saddle, and they gave each other one more long look.
"Willd," she said softly, "I love you." He mouthed something back to her, and then rode off into the morning. She looked around, found herself alone, as the dawn light grew. She smoothed her robe and turned back to the castle, smiling in spite of it all.
Two hours later, three riders came out of the gates of Nikolad. It was the third day of May, and the Countess was going for a morning ride. They crossed the flying span of stone over the Glass River and then galloped away at a top speed. Finesse had been spoiling for a race and was completely recovered from the slow (to her) journey up from Tarnhold. Behind her, That Colt, his stallion muscles overjoyed with the chance to open up all the way, flew through the thin air. The bony mountain mare carrying Angeline let her comrades run in front.
Angeline was feeling pangs of remorse for leaving Jack with Jen, but there was no need: Jen doted on the boy, and one of Lady Mirabel's servants had recently given birth and had milk enough for two. Vivian was thinking about Willd, of the kiss she still felt on her lips. Ellean thought of little other than the roar of the wind and the slow marching past of the snow-topped mountains. So they rode into the day, while now far behind them the castle of Nikolad, de facto capital of the County of Clane, awoke and demanded of Jen the whereabouts of her mistress.
"Off for a ride?!" repeated Sir Rogier to the flustered maid.
"Yes, that's right, sir. That's what they told me, sir."
Meanwhile, the three young women sped eastward across the barren hills that lay between the Glass and Dubbik Rivers. They paused for breath on a windswept ridge naked of all greenery above the most squalid grasses. "Will we make Gorngold today?" asked Angeline, reaching for her canteen.
"We'd better," said Vivian. "We should get further."
"I think we're almost there," said Ellean. "Do we want to go through town?"
"I think not," said Vivian, fingering the medallion she wore against her chest, hidden by shirt, sweater and cloak. "Not that it'd be dangerous. I just don't want a bunch of attention."
"Even assuming people there are still friendly," said Angeline, "you don't want word to get around that you're, um, on the loose."
So they rode the farm lanes along the edge of the Westdubbik highlands, and they saw no one. They camped among some trees along a watercourse fifty yards from the trail. Rations for a week were in their saddlebags, but they made a little campfire anyway: the wood they found was quite dry, and Ellean was clever about getting fire started. The three women sang and talked, and passed a flask that Angeline produced: "The 760 vintage of Rain Hall," she said. It was brandy.
"Ah!" announced Ellean, after gulping an ounce or so. "Goes down good!"
"Wow," said Vivian. "Good enough for me."
"Never," said Angeline, sipping, then recapping the flask.
The three slept under the stars while their horses huddled together, perhaps whispering gossip about the riders. Vivian huddled close against Ellean, with Angeline against her back. She stayed quite warm, and there were many young men of the county who would have paid to lie where Vivian lay. Perhaps it was her sleeping company that kept the nightmares away: all she recalled from her dreaming was walking the open hills in the twilight of dawn with the woman with the sad eyes.
The Countess of Clane awoke, on the fourth day of May, with her front sweaty and her back frozen. She tried to cuddle up to Ellean, but she could not get warm all over, and Angeline could be heard moving about, banging pots and pans and trying to be quiet. As Vivian became more awake, her own body reminded her of a very good reason to brave the cold world. She rolled onto her back and sat up.
"We need more blanket," were her first words.
"Good morning!" replied Angeline. "Isn't it beautiful? A little chilly, but you were in the middle all night, so don't complain. Tea will be on soon!"
"Sounds good," was all Vivian could come up with. She had never had to deal with Angeline's early-morning perkiness. She got up and wandered off into the brush. She passed Ellean on the way back, and soon they were all three sitting on a log drinking scalding hot tea from metal cups, and pulling pieces of bread off of a hard loaf.
The road followed the line of the Dubbik River at a distance, and they got a glimpse of it now and then; the land was more fertile, and more farmed, here in the river valley. They saw people, but the three women were dressed as county errand-riders. From a distance of ten yards, they could have all been male; all carried bows and quivers, and all had long knives at their belts, and all had hair cut to shoulder length in the fashion of Clane's young soldiers.
The three women passed Dubkarin in the afternoon. It was the chief town of Westdubbik, a city indeed to folk from Nikolad or Gorngold. They kept to farm roads around the town. At last they were in familiar territory. Before the sun was gone over the rolling plains to the west, they were across the River Dubbik at a ford, and on the road to Fugad. They camped again under clear cold skies, behind a hill from the road, with a pond nearby.
They lit no fire, but it was warmer down here in the lowlands. After tying up the horses, they laid out their blankets among some bushes and huddled together talking softly and eating. "Well, Countess," said Angeline, "what's the plan tomorrow?"
"Angren first," said Vivian. "Then have a look at Vonnis."
"You know this is crazy, right? We're all crazy. Francis will kill me."
"You think you're in trouble? You don't have to face Sir Rogier. Anyway, we want to circle to the north of town, maybe climb Bald Mountain. Yes, that's it. I want to look out from the top of Bald Mountain. It's either that, or bathe in the Lavan. Want to go up Bald?"
"Are you asking?" replied Angeline. "Of course we do."
"I guess it's too much to ask for a bowshot at Neil of Gorngold," said Ellean.
"Just a tiny bit too much," said Vivian.
In the night, huddled against Angeline's back, Vivian dreamed of being chased, chased by soldiers, chased by dogs, and always chased by the hooded figure. Several times she beheld him face to face--and saw what she had seen once in her high room, a long bony nose protruding from the shadow of a dark hood, hands hidden in folds of robe. Then at last she escaped into the woods, and woke up wrapped in blankets concealed beneath an arching bush. Her companions were curled up together. It was the moment when the first grey light enters the world. She got up quickly and crept out to the pond, carrying soap and pots for tea.
She froze with fear. There was someone there. But it was no shadow figure: it was a woman, or a female thing, beautiful beyond humanity. She bathed in the mists of dawn. Vivian stood charmed.
Then light broke through the trees and color touched the world, and Vivian blinked sleep away. The woman bathing was gone.
She thought for a moment, then shrugged and went to the ice-cold water. Finding a rock to sit on, she washed as best she could while leaving at every moment the least possible exposed skin, and she returned from her bath frozen to the marrow.
They decided to cross the Rocky between Angren and Vonnis, and return to Angren in the night. "The mill bridge," said Vivian, and they all knew it well. It was a gorgeous day. By noon, traveling on cart-tracks among the farmlands, they found the Rocky River, and they passed down it on its south bank until they were past Angren. They saw only a few farm people out in the fields and gardens.
The mill bridge was a bridge built onto a dam, used by farmers going to and from either Angren or the capital. Vivian stopped when she noticed, as they approached the bridge from the west along the shore, Farlain soldiers standing at the south end of the span inspecting those wishing to cross. They looked each other over: all the weapons were hidden, and they seemed sufficiently scruffy. They swallowed their doubts and rode down to the bridge.
There was nothing to it. The soldiers hardly even glanced at them. They crossed and joined the throng on the Vonnis Road. Three hours past noon, they turned aside into the woods at the feet of Bald Mountain. "Too late to climb?" asked Ellean.
"I don't think so," replied the Countess. "I want to get an overview. That's what we came here for, right?"
"Right," said the Rain sisters.
They tied up their horses among trees along a brook, with plenty to munch on. An hour later the women had climbed up ravines and onto the bare ledges of the top. They came out in the bright May sunshine and stood looking down upon their hometowns, Vonnis and Angren, and the vales beyond. The sky was vast and blue, as the sun westered over the Rocky Valley. They saw millions of trees waving in the light, snowy mountains ranging across the north quarter of their view, two rivers combining in a deep green trough of a valley, and the great river that resulted marching south into the vague distance. They also began to notice, tiny but in little masses of hundreds or thousands, people in the valley, riders on both sides of the Lavan below them.
Sir Pelleth d'Olari had failed to get his fight against the Clanish cataphracts--the night skirmish in the ravine did not quite qualify--but on the fifth day of May of the year 770, the knight, born in 701 and a veteran of several armies of the Last Emperor, got his battle.
The Avars had massed some seven or eight thousand warriors, mostly on horseback, a wild barbarian cavalry armed with bows and sabers, on both sides of the Lavan River just above Vonnis. Their Khan demanded to treat with the Duke of Farlain, but the Duke, who had not set foot in Clane, would not deal with the barbarians. Now he sent his knights, which had always been the best in the Empire, under his most trusted cavalry commander. Five thousand Farlain cavaliers would be plenty, though there were three times that many Farlain troops now in occupied Clane.
The knights crossed the river at Vonnis and rode up the east side of the river across wide meadows. Their standards suddenly as one unfurled, five hundred yards from the Avar camp, and they spurred their warhorses to a gallop. They crossed the intervening quarter mile with deadly speed. With a loud cry the Farlain cavalry fell upon the barbarians, whose horse bowmen struggled in their haste to remount.
But when they pushed on into the mass of the Avar soldiery, there were many knights left behind on the ground with arrows in them. Sir Pelleth d'Olari found himself in among the enemy, with their wild horsemen and their skirmishers on three sides. The knights' momentum waned; they came to a complete halt. Now the Farlainers began to fall in rows as the horsebows behind the Avar front row picked off their opponents with well-placed arrows: eyes and mouth and neck were uncovered by the usual Farlain helmet. In a few minutes it was clear what direction the battle was taking. Sir Pelleth d'Olari, the wind rustling his long white hair, raised his voice and cried, "Retreat!" The call was taken up eagerly by the Farlain trumpeters, but Sir Pelleth did not hear it: struck by an arrow, he fell from his horse and was trampled to death. Many of his countrymen joined him on that journey. Barely half of his five thousand escaped back down the valley, speeding toward the Vonnis Bridge. But the Avar Khan, perhaps seeing an opportunity to discomfit a foe that he particularly despised, sent forth his horsemen to reach the bridge first. The knights went right on past the bridge and did not stop until they got to Passaya. Meanwhile, the Khan's swordsmen descended on Vonnis from the north, and as evening fell, they broke through unprepared troops at the Orlad Gate and entered the Countess's hometown.
The three women on the mountain looked down and saw the barbarians loose in the city. Farlain troops fought in the streets of the northern neighborhoods, and the other gates of the city became choked with people fleeing with all their belongings. Soldiers gave up trying to close the gates, and instead, under the command of Prince Salvar, heir to the Duchy, turned wholly to driving out the Avars. It became like a battle in the woods or the marshes, slow and tricky with many chances for nasty surprises, but the Farlainers, more heavily armed and more numerous, seemed sure to win.
Then there was yellow: a spot of light on the side of a wooden house. More spots appeared, across the north end of town, growing together into larger patches. The blaze was spreading southward and eastward toward the river as the winds swirled uncertainly. As the three women stood transfixed, the Avars retreated toward their camp, and the Farlain soldiers fled the blazing town as well. Soon there was not a person in Vonnis not pressing towards one of the gates. Most escaped the flames themselves--the fire spread along lazily, methodically eating the city--but many townsfolk died in the fleeing, and in the fighting that preceded it. It passed the stone Citadel, then burned on down Citadel Hill, up Streamside, up Moon Hill and beyond, north, south and west. By midnight, both fight and fire were mostly over.
The women had left the mountaintop long before. They found their horses. No one said a word. They walked down the steep path and meandered in the woods below for an hour before stopping and making camp. They ate a little, passed the flask in silence and then dropped off into quickly to sleep. Vivian's was, for once, dreamless.
Vivian was awakened by Angeline late in the morning. She lay in her blankets in a thicket. Ellean stood nearby, with the horses.
"What's going on?"
"Soldiers," said Angeline.
They sat quite still and the patrol moved on. Then they saddled up and rode on cautiously westward in the wooded hills north of the road. In the afternoon they came down to Rain Hall on the far side of Angren, now the headquarters for several thousand Farlain infantry. The women stood beside their horses in the shadow of trees across a pasture from the house.
"Apple trees are cut down," said Ellean matter-of-factly.
"That's all we ate as kids," said Angeline. "You had ten bushels last year from us, didn't you, Viv?"
"Yes," said Vivian absently, through a foggy headache. "I can still taste them."
"Of course the cows are all gone," said Ellean.
As evening fell they decided to slip into Angren, which turned out to be easy at the busy Vonnis Gate on the far side of town from Rain Hall. Leading their horses, they attracted little more than a glance from the Farlain soldiers at the gate, and the crowd was so dense that pursuit would have been difficult.
The three women managed to push their way into the side lane that led to the back of Lord Armand's hall in the middle of town. There suddenly seemed to be no one around at all, though Vivian sensed the fears of hundreds of people hiding in their basements and back rooms. The hall of the chief lord of Angren was empty, its back door swinging loose on its hinges, some of its windows broken. They stood across the alley from it and stared. "Let's get out of here," said Angeline. The other two raised no protest.
Vivian felt unsteady. They turned and trudged back toward the main road, pressing themselves and their horses into the throng. Vivian was in a haze, trying to fight back a sickening headache. Faces sailed by her, her fellow Clanishfolk, and others leering and strange. Out of the fog suddenly she was face to face with a robed figure. The crowd pressed them together, as her friends drifted ahead. Its eyes bore down on her. There was no sound, but she felt it laughing at her in triumph and unexpected luck. A white hand came out of its robe with a blazing silver knife, set with blood-colored jewels. She grabbed the robe and tore off the hood. The head had features of some sort, but Vivian never could remember what they were, and then the jeweled knife plunged into her stomach.
She grabbed the hand that held the knife. Her eyes blazed with rage. She looked down, as blood dripped onto the stone of the road.
"You!" she said to the figure. It stood startled by her survival. "You have caused the blood of the Countess of Clane to be spilled on her own ground, even here in the very heart of her domain. You will die in this land."
The figure fell back from her. She advanced, still dripping blood. She looked upon this thing and saw much: its great pride, whose source was a hidden majesty; its fear of being known, its infinite cleverness, its total certainty whose edges were fraying with paranoid doubt. It was great, whatever it was, but it was cowardly, and it retreated from the Countess's anger, hiding in a shadow that was empty when Vivian approached.
There Angeline and Ellean found her, sitting on the ground, clutching a stab-wound on her left side, her clothes soaked with blood. She looked up at them and smiled fiercely. "I don't feel so bad, considering," she said, and managed a laugh.
"Tarnhold," said Vivian, still staring at the unmarked white ceiling. "My usual room."
"Good call," said Ellean. "How do you feel?"
"Um, fine. Fine. How's Willd? Is he safe? What happened to me?"
"Willd's a lot safer than you were. Some guy stabbed you in the crowd. I didn't get a good look at him."
"Oh. Oh, I'm not surprised you didn't."
"You seemed to be chasing him. He got away, somehow. We found you in a corner--we hid you in an alley till you were a little bit stronger. We stopped the bleeding almost right away, fortunately. I thought you were a goner when we saw you. It's a good thing you survived--Sir Rogier would have been very cross."
"That's for sure," said Vivian. "He was right. It was stupid, going back like that. The time will come, but that wasn't the time. At least we got to see what happened at Vonnis, and I got to-- Was that yesterday, or how long have I slept?"
"It was yesterday noonish we left the alley," said Ellean. "We pretty much dragged you here, but you said you'd be all right."
"Soldiers didn't stop us?"
"What soldiers? The place was in chaos. The entire population of Vonnis is moving up the Rocky River. A lot of them were coming here. Oh, and when we got here, we couldn't get in to see the Thane for hours. You were in a bed in the barracks while Angeline stood in line."
"Thane Hugo saw me?"
"Finally. We were scared to show the Medallion to anyone but him. He called in his doctors and they said your recovery was remarkable. That's the exact word."
"Remarkable," said Vivian. "Well, I seem to have slept plenty." She pulled up her gown and looked at the wound. It looked faint and distant, and yet she could recall instantly the pain of the blade in her flesh. "It was strange, but--I was lucky, I guess. What about Vonnis?"
"Well," said Ellean, "I talked to two of the scouts, and they say only the stone buildings are left in the city. They say hundreds of people died in the fire. The citadel is intact. The Farlainers hold the walls, but no one lives in Vonnis now."
"In Vonnis," repeated Vivian. "No one lives in Vonnis. It was always so crowded." She swung her legs off the bed and stood up. "All I ever wanted for Clane was to live in peace, to be left alone. And in the end," she added, "whoever he is, he'll wish he'd never disturbed the peace of the County of Clane."