Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

“You will be with her again. I’m sure of it.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because she loves you as I do, and I can’t bear to go a daywithout seeing you.”

Carral smiled his perfect, unself-conscious smile. “Is itbecause I’m so handsome?”

“No, it is your charm that I can’t resist.” She took hishands.

“Your hands are cold,” he said.

“It is that mask. It never dries, and it is always cool.”

“Have you … put it on?”

“No. I’m afraid to.”

“Magic is disconcerting. There is no doubt of that.”

“True, though I’m not sure that’s the reason. Will you comewith me? I will tell you a story while we walk.”

“Certainly,” Carral said, and they both rose. “Where is itwe go?”

“To visit someone.” She led him through her rooms to thedoor that opened into Castle Renne. A door she had seldom been through.

“Your grace,” her servant said, as Llyn unbolted the door.

“It is all right,” Llyn said. “I know where it is I go.” Sheopened the door and led Carral out into the hall. For a moment she could notcatch her breath, but then she did.

They passed servants who started at the sight of her, butthen bowed and went on their way. Some of her cousins nodded but said nothing.

Carral squeezed her hand tightly. “Llyn,” Carral whispered. “Youare very brave.”

“I’m not going into battle,” she said.

“No, but death is not always our worst fear.”

She flushed.

“You said you’d tell me a story …” Carral said.

“Yes. But first I must ask you a question: do you love me?”

“With all my heart, as I have said a thousand times, thoughrepetition does not seem to have made it more believable.”

“Something exceedingly strange has happened this night, andit has to do with you and with me.”

They continued down the hall, passing people now and then,Llyn telling her story. Carral clinging tightly to her hand, lest she slipaway, as had his wife and daughter before. Clinging like a man to his love, andshe like a woman to her husband.

Toren had last been to A’brgail’s small tower with hiscousin Arden. He had failed, then, to convince Arden to join the Knights of theVow, which had surprised him at the time. It was not a mystery, now-Arden hadbeen involved in a plot to take his life. Toren closed his eyes at the memory.His own cousins …

Two guards stood outside, their great, two-handed swordsheld point down to the ground, so that Toren thought they looked like statuesin the dim light of dusk. They bowed to him as he dismounted, and one took thereins of his horse. Toren was led into the great hall, hung with ancientbanners, lit by torches. Arden had stood there, by the long table. Toren couldrecall him in perfect detail. Remembered the strange, troubled look on hisface-guilt, he realized now. Not long after he’d been dead, killed by one ofhis own.

A door opened, and A’brgail hurried in, looking verydignified in his gray robe.

“Lord Toren! I apologize for keeping you.”

They clasped hands.

“You look much recovered from our ordeal,” Toren ventured.

“As do you,” A’brgail responded. His look was very solemn.

The truth was that A’brgail looked like a man who had seentoo much, or had seen things that forced him to ask difficult questions.

“And what of the others?” A’brgail asked. “Has Lady Elisebeen lost to us?”

“I have not seen her; nor have I had word. Perhaps she hasreturned to the river, Gilbert. One might go sit by the bank … Strangerthings have happened.”

“Sianon sacrificed herself to bring down Caibre,” A’brgailsaid softly. “I became the ally of a nagar-worse-a woman who bore such amonster inside her. It was the avowed purpose of my order to see that thesecreatures did not return. And I became their ally.”

“The world changed, Gilbert. Without Elise Wills and yourbrother, Hafydd would rule these lands now-Hafydd and the thing that dweltinside him. You did the right thing.”

Toren noticed that the hilt of a massive sword lay on thetable. “Slighthand’s sword!” he said.

“Yes. Or at least what remains of it. You have seen myguards with their two-handed swords? That is a tradition of my order. Somethingwe have done for centuries in honor one of our founders, Orlem Slighthand.”

“It is appropriate that this has come to you,” Toren said,running his hand over the hilt. “I still can’t believe that I met such a legend.To think that he and Kilydd lived all these centuries.”

“Yes. The man who now calls himself Kai is not interested inany of the honors we have offered. He would be welcomed among us, veneratedeven, but he will have none of it. He has moved on.” A’brgail shrugged.

“I would not give up on Kai. He might have a place among youyet.” Toren took a rolled paper from his cloak and set it on the table.

“And what is that?” the Knight asked.

“A charter,” Toren said. “Signed by myself and LadyBeatrice, sanctioning your order to bring peace and safety to the roads of ourlands and those of our closest allies. I know it is a small start, Gilbert, butonce the Knights of the Vow earn the trust of the people, moreresponsibilities will be granted to you.”

A’brgail took up the paper, slipped off the ribbon, and letit unroll. “Don’t apologize, Lord Toren, my order has much to prove. Ourhistory is both glorious and shameful. Only by our actions should we be judged.”He laid the paper on the table by the remains of Slighthand’s sword. “I cannotbegin to thank you,” he said.

“You don’t even need to begin,” Toren said. “I will soon bethanking you, I think.” Toren smiled, then quickly changed the subject. “Nowtell me again of these lost companies of Knights.”

“They were led into the hidden lands by Orlem Slighthand tofight alongside Slighthand’s people.”

Toren shook his head. “A people all the size of Slighthand.We had better not offend them.”

“I think they are a peaceful people, Lord Toren. That is whythey needed our help.”

“Yes,” Toren said. “We are not a peaceful people. It is thegreat tragedy of our race. War is in our blood.”

“But there are more noble qualities in our blood as well,” A’brgailsaid. “That is what I leaned from Elise Wills. She struggled against that sideof her. Sianon did not conquer her. If Elise Wills can do that, then it givesme hope for the rest of us.”

Toren looked up at all the rows of banners of fallencompanies. “If only my family could learn that lesson,” he said. “But I fear hatredand vengeance will always be so much more alluring. Reason is a thin wallagainst the storms of passion.” He looked over at Gilbert. “Perhaps that willbe your part, Gilbert. To be that wall of reason. To stand between the Renneand the Wills, who I fear would sink back into their cycle of murder andrevenge at the slightest provocation.”

“Justice rather than vengeance?” Gilbert said.

“Yes, in all of its imperfection. Let us try that.”

They decided to slip away at first light, and very nearlydid so unnoticed. Tuath, the vision weaver, stood by the entrance to the Faelencampment, watching them with her icy pale eyes. She seemed, though, lessghostly that day, as though a little of spring’s color showed through the snow.

“I hope you have no visions to darken the road ahead?”Fyn-nol said.

“I have had no visions at all,” she answered. “It is asthough we have come to a division of the roads and have gone a wholly new way.All that lies ahead is a mystery to me and might be for some time. Luck to youon your journey. Perhaps I will travel north with my people one spring and comesee the Vale of Lakes. It is said that the people there are friends to theFael, and make them welcome.”