David Farland - The Lair of Bones

Erin took off her own soggy riding cloak, leather armor, pants, and boots, but left on her long undertunic. As she hung her things by the fire, Celinor set down his oil rag and took her in his arms.

“Let’s try out the bed. My father won’t mind if we’re a few minutes late for dinner.”

“We’ll not be needing a bed,” Erin said. “You’ve already got your seed in me.”

Celinor’s face fell, as if he were hurt. “You’re angry about something, aren’t you?”

“You told your father about the sending. You told him that Paldane is my sire. You broke every confidence I’ve ever placed in you! And now you wonder that I’m angry?”

“I—” Celinor began, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Of course I told him everything. My father and I keep no secrets. I never have to worry what he’s thinking, for when he is with me, as soon as a thought enters his mind it comes out on his tongue.”

“That’s no excuse,” Erin said. “You can control your own tongue.”

“I’m trying to win his confidence,” Celinor argued. “How can I hope that he’ll trust me with his innermost thoughts if I don’t seem to reveal my own? If he is mad, I need to know it. I need proof of it.”

“You went to Heredon as his spy,” Erin said. “Tell me, are you still his spy?”

“Of course not,” Celinor said. “But he must believe that I am.”

“And what of me?” Erin demanded. “He sent you to learn my lineage. Did your father demand more of you? Did he tell you to be courting me?”

“Now you’re the one who is talking madness!” Celinor said. He backed away a step and shook his head.

“You think I’m mad?” Erin said. “You told me that you thought your father was mad! Is everyone mad but you?”

“You’ve met my father now,” Celinor said. “What do you think? Is he mad? Or is he the new Earth King? Is it possible that he is everything he says that he is?”

“I think,” Erin said, “that your father is either a madman or is infected by a locus.”

“And what of the Nut Woman?” Celinor asked. “She’s an Earth Warden, and she backs up his tale.”

“I don’t know.” Erin’s head was whirling. She looked hard at Celinor. “I asked you a question a moment ago, and you never answered.”

“What question?”

“I asked, ‘Did your father send you to court me?’ ”

“What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one, from the heart. You say that you and your father keep no secrets. Will you keep secrets from me? Tell me, did your father ask you to court me?”

Celinor’s smile faltered. She saw now that he had been trying to smile in the face of her accusations. He stood gazing at her for a long moment, sadness and worry warring in his countenance. “Yes,” he admitted. “He thought it would be well if I courted you—that is, if indeed you were Gaborn’s kin.”

Erin turned away, her back going rigid with anger.

Celinor put his hand on her shoulder. “But that’s not why I wanted you,” he said. “I wanted you because you’re strong, smart, and beautiful. From the moment I met you, I fell hopelessly in love with you.”

He turned her around, and she thought that she could detect sincerity in his eyes. She stared hard at him and wondered, What kind of man are you? Dare I speak my mind to you ever again?

No, she decided, I can’t.

It was all she could do to keep herself from killing him.

Only one thing held her back. She didn’t know who was more dangerous, the father or the son.

That night, Erin Connal went to dinner in the uppermost chamber of the Tower of Wind, high above the plains. Six hundred steps the staircase climbed.

From time to time, as she ascended the winding stair, Erin would pass archers’ slots. From these she could peer below.

To the south, ages ago, the Great Rift had sliced the land in two, so that Raven’s Gate roosted on the lip of a cliff. From these lofty heights, one could peer down onto the green plains of Beldinook. An ancient road climbed the cliff, weaving this way and that, until it met the city gates.

By the time Erin reached Anders’s chamber atop the tower, she could see for miles. The wind whistled around the tower, and lightning snaked across the heavens.

Anders was not in the room when Erin and Celinor entered. A fine feast lay spread about on a small table, but Anders had left it. He’d thrown open a door, and stood out on the parapet, the wind lashing his hair.

He grinned when he became aware of Erin and Celinor, and came in. “I was admiring the view of Beldinook,” he said, “as Sendavian must have in his day. I cannot imagine that one of the wind-born like him would have been able to stay inside on a night like this. Come, let’s to dinner.”

The king sat at the small dinner table in the center of the room and carved from a venison roast. He held silent all through dinner, and did not look up at Erin, nor at Celinor, who often exchanged curious glances.

Erin found the silence to be disquieting.

“Father,” Celinor asked after several minutes. “Did you want to talk to us?”

King Anders peered up at them as he had forgotten that they were in the room.

He is mad, Erin thought.

“They say that bad news should never be taken with dinner,” the king answered, fumbling his fork, “for it is not easily digested.”

“You have bad news?” Celinor asked.

Anders swallowed a piece of venison, nodded his head, and would say no more. Indeed, he merely peered at his dinner, as if a bite of turnip or mouthful of wine might supply an answer to the question. After a long moment, he continued eating.

Erin’s stomach was tight with hunger, so she shoved a few bites in her mouth. When the king finished, they all pushed their plates back.

King Anders smiled, and gave his son a pained look. “As you know, I’ve played Gaborn falsely in the past. I asked you two here, I asked Erin here, so that I could apologize.”

“Exactly how did you play him falsely?” Erin asked.

“I sent messages to King Lowicker of Beldinook and warned him to beware the pretend Earth King. I also plotted with Internook to invade Mystarria, and these two lands granted support. Others were more reticent to rush to judgment, though, as you can see, many a foreign lord has come to join my army. Only one man alone I did not seek to entice into my war—Raj Ahten, for I feared that he was beyond even my power to redeem.

“But since the Earth called me to be its king, my heart has grown uneasy. You see, every man, woman, and child is precious to me now. Every one of them. Yet I’ve sent the kings of the earth to battle Mystarria. Without endowments to protect them, the folk of Mystarria are doomed. My only hope is that we can reach them before Gaborn’s enemies do, and thus bring enough aid to turn the tide of war.”

Erin drew close and suggested, “If haste is needed, then let’s ride now, as fast as we may.”

“My heart forewarns that we would lose many men if we ride tonight,” King Anders said. “Even if we could ride in such a storm as this, would our horses have the legs to fight when we reached Mystarria? Would our warriors be fit? I think not. Better to rest briefly. Still, haste is called for, and I am making haste. I’ve sent messengers to Lowicker’s daughter, and to the warlords of Internook, begging them to withdraw. But I cannot guarantee that these two will stay their hands. Rialla Lowicker is filled with rage at her father’s death, and the warlords of Internook are ruled by greed, not reason. So we must be prepared for battle. A ragged band of tired knights would avail little. A powerful army must ride from the north, like a mighty wind, blowing succor to the people of Mystarria. We must save Mystarria.”