Page 84 of Valdemar

It was the second night of the full moon. Rothas and Lythe were sealed into their quarters, and had been since twilight last night. They could still come to the door or window and talk, they just couldn’t leave, and no one could enter. And the unraveling appeared to be working! Rothas had been able to stay awake for three whole candlemarks after full darkness fell last night, and Lythe had been able to stay awake for five this morning.

As he sought sleep, Kordas tried to concentrate on that, rather than on worrying about the preparations for what now looked like an inevitable clash with an Adept. But he tossed and turned, molded his pillow a dozen times, got too hot, then too cold, and finally Isla sat up in bed and threw the covers off of both of them. “I’m going to the fire and making you a sleeping posset,” she said. “And you are going to drink it. No arguments.”

“Yes, milady,” he said meekly, and got up. That didn’t feel like enough, so he added the first thing he could think of. “Pebble finished what I asked him to do today.” It had all been underground work, of course. Tunneling where no one could see him unless they knew to scry underground, which was a difficult proposition to say the least. But now there was an escape tunnel from the hertasi tunnels where the children and other noncombatants would hide, a tunnel that would take them very far from Haven indeed. It stretched a league. Inside, Pebble had somehow made the surface just like the roadways he had been laying down, and created tiny ventilation holes that came up beneath bushes or hedges. Now we just have to hold off an army until everyone gets a chance to get down in those tunnels.

He followed Isla into the main room, where she put wine, cream, honey, and herbs into a little long-handled pot and held it over the fire to warm. “Oh, I meant to ask you, did you find out if Pebble is a boy or a girl?” she asked, as if that was the only thing in the world to worry about.

He had to chuckle at that question. “No, but not because I didn’t ask. He giggled and said, ‘I didn’t know I needed to choose! I might do someday, but I haven’t decided yet.’”

“Well . . . Elementals are by their nature changeable. Many of them can change shape and size entirely, so I suppose it’s not out of the question for them to change their gender.” She pulled the pot out of the fire and sniffed it. Satisfied it had warmed as she wished, she carefully poured the contents into a tall copper beaker she had sitting on the hearth and gave it to him. He took it and sipped it appreciatively as she went to the bathing room to wash out the pot.

They talked mostly about Elementals in general and Pebble in particular while he waited for the posset to take effect. She was much more widely read in magic than he was—her father’s magical library had been absolutely enormous, and his one regret about the hasty way he had come to get Delia was that he had not also taken the time to loot that library on the grounds that the Emperor had gifted the manor, title, and land to the new owner, not the contents of the manor. I wonder what happened to that library. Stupid prig wasn’t a mage, I know that for certain, so it’s not as if all those books were any use to him. The thought of making raids on the old Empire for resources like that raised its head again, and he squashed it quickly. Things would be desperate indeed to even consider trying.

“Sleepy yet?” Isla asked, plucking the now-empty tankard from his hands.

“Somewhat?”

“Then go to sleep. I’ll tidy up.” She looked as if she might say something more, like We’re doing all we can or Worrying won’t speed up our preparations, but she didn’t. Instead, she took his hand, pulled him to his feet, and pushed him in the direction of the bed. Whatever had been in that posset was effective. He had trouble keeping his eyes open, and while he didn’t fall asleep immediately, at least his mind quieted down and allowed him to get to sleep at all. Of course, Ardatha may have had a part in it too.

• • •

He was out of bed and standing in his bare feet on the floor when he recognized what had startled him awake, startled straight out of bed before he even consciously recognized what had awakened him. It had been the sounds of the alarm horns on the Palace wall, and the earth-shattering boom as the portcullis gates and iron-banded doors on the wall slammed shut. Trumpets took up the alarm out in Haven and outward.

Isla was standing up next to him, shocked awake the same way he had been. She had a stiletto from somewhere in one hand, and a pillow in the other held defensively like a shield.

:Ardatha, tell me.:

:A Gate is delivering monstrosities in measured waves and formations. The Palace appears to be the objective.:Ardatha’s Mindvoice was clipped and to the point. :The Gate does not touch the ground and is deformed at the edges. It’s wide, and wavering; forces that trip on its edges are losing feet. It looks like the Adept’s city on the other side, emptying staging grounds to here. Guard is delaying engagement but they’re tense. Quarter defense is mustering in Haven, and Palace contingencies are being executed. We’re meeting our Heralds at the stable.:

His armor stood ready on its stand. Isla emptied her hands by dropping the pillow and throwing the stiletto into the floor for easy retrieval. Kordas pulled his boots on while Isla retrieved wrapped bars of Ponu’s design from the valet stand—black and lumpy, containing nuts, seeds, and outright candy. These were not everyday fare—they were expressly for events when the mind must be sharp, pain blocked, and metabolism at its best efficiency. She started chewing on one while unwrapping another for Kordas, and fed him pieces between pulling on her own trews and boots. It was best to not think about the flavors.

Kordas exhaled loudly between chewing and quipped, “They were good plans.”

Her glance showed that Isla was in a similar mood—concerned, exasperated, and angry, yes, but in a seething, tight-lipped way. “It was a gamble all along. Sounds like someone just flipped the table.”

Isla served as his squire before his own valet reached the suite. She had helped him armor up countless times before this, and there was a sort of comfort in feeling her sure hands buckling straps and tying off ties. Within moments, he was geared up and out the door, just as one of Isla’s former maids dashed in to help her armor up. He already knew that Ardatha was waiting for him; all the partnered Companions were lining up at the stable to be saddled, but Ardatha was the King’s Companion, and as such, came first in line, followed by Dendalin. And sure enough, Dendalin was standing right beside Ardatha, looking as tranquil as if everyone was just going to a training exercise.

Now that the worst was on them, he somehow felt very calm. Every thought, reasoned, clear, immediate. He grabbed the pommel and leapt into the saddle as easily as if he was still Restil’s age. Ardatha raced to the front gate, which was now barred by an iron portcullis and a massive wooden, iron-bound door at either end of the tunnel. Leaping from Ardatha’s back, he raced up the stairs to the top of the wall.

He had no idea what he was about to find, but what was out there was much worse than his worst nightmares.

Beneath him was a sea of monstrous creatures. The wyrsa milled around down there, of course, and there were giant boars and snarling cold-drakes, but there were also things he couldn’t even put a name to. The horns were still sounding, and it must have been mere moments since the Companion watching the gate had detected the Gate opening and gave the alarm. :Ardatha? Is the watch Companion safe?:

:She lost a few hairs from her tail, but she made it inside just ahead of the barriers coming down.: Good. He could let that go. One less thing to worry about.

:Wait—that isn’t our Gate, is it?: The open Gate seemed to be in the wrong place!

:It’s not,:Ardatha replied. :She’s drawing on the same power source, but it’s unanchored and about three lengths to the right.:

He swore. I should have sealed and locked the power source. But if he had, wouldn’t she just have done what they’d feared she would, and taken over their Gate by force?

Doesn’t matter. Concentrate on what’s in front of you.

In the distance, the Gate still spewed enemies, obscured by fog on the far side until they reached Valdemaran ground. Disturbingly long-legged, forest-green relatives of the water spiders they’d disturbed at the Red Forest passage stalked out in triangular formations taking horse-length steps, and they were followed by humans. Probably smart to put the humans behind the monsters. Keep them focused on the food in front of them—us.

This was not a war. Wars played out over the course of months, even years. There were not enough combatants here for a war. There weren’t even enough to make this a “proper” battle by Imperial standards. It wouldn’t even last the morning. By luncheon, this would be over, at least for those inside these walls—one way or another. This is going to be brutish and short.

And what they needed to do right now was buy time. Time for all the noncombatants to get down into the tunnels, with whatever they had with them or had packed into the tunnels anticipating this moment. Pets had to be evacuated too; Lythe had spent a full week making sure all the pets in the Palace knew what to do when those horns sounded. His stomach knotted up at the idea that even one child would be weeping because they could not find their beloved pet, but Lythe had assured him that this would not happen. The pets, even the cats, had agreed to stay with their people until everyone was safe underground.