In the Eye of Heaven Part 39

"All right," said Coensar. "Everyone get comfortable. There are alcoves in here somewhere. And likely a candle."

"Rushlight," the abbot corrected from the corridor.

Durand and Agryn followed the old man into the pa.s.sage, Lamoric between them.

"Wait," the abbot said.

Astonished, Durand watched as the old man pulled a black ring of keys from his belt, rattled the door shut, and turned the key on an armed conroi. Sigils had been painted over the door.

"Right. Follow me," the old man said and tramped off between the sheer, dark walls at a pace that curled Durand's lip.

THEIR SMALL PARTY walked another hitched circle round the maze, then turned inward once more where a vast well gaped at the heart of the monastery. walked another hitched circle round the maze, then turned inward once more where a vast well gaped at the heart of the monastery.

Durand hesitated on the threshold of the shaft. It might have been a keep hollowed from the storerooms to the open Heavens, or a mine, opened to the air. They were at the bottom of an emptiness, thirty paces wide and nearly twenty fathoms deep.

Beyond a screen of pillars, he heard shovels.

Monks, bent in prayer, shuffled in an open square. None looked up. As Durand wavered, he understood what he was seeing: They had locked a turf maze at the bottom of the stone one, the scuff of countless sandals wearing knee-deep tracks in the earth.

Lamoric's weight hung on Durand's shoulder. Agryn shot a look over the lord's neck: come on. come on. They were losing the ancient abbot, and Lamoric could not last much longer on his feet. As it was, he hardly moved his legs. They were losing the ancient abbot, and Lamoric could not last much longer on his feet. As it was, he hardly moved his legs.

Durand held his questions, and they pa.s.sed two more shrouded bodies as they slipped through the deep garth. Fresh earth lay strewn on the flagstones.

The abbot with his yellow-smeared forehead stood, his arms crossed round his staff like some Banished thing from a mountain cave.

"Here," he said. "Bring him this way."

And, with a nod, they did, hauling Lamoric into another dim chamber. This one, however, was not empty. Wounded men-the abbot's brother monks by their garb-occupied several pallets.

Durand looked to Agryn. "What's happened?"But the abbot silenced him with a raised hand: Wait. Wait.

"Leave him and go," the abbot said. "He'll be right again in no time. The warder will let you back." He gave Agryn another of his pointed looks. "I expect you can find your way, brother."

"Yes, Father Abbot," said Agryn, and caught Durand by the arm and rushed him out to retrace their steps through the stone maze.

"What's going on?" Durand demanded. He heard the bite of spades once more around some distant corner. "It is difficult to be sure," Agryn hedged. "He seems to know you."

"Aye, he knows. A man must be hard to live this way. They are watchers here. Pacing the maze since the Cradle. Cradle. I do not know the story of this hill, but some wild chieftain will have called up some fiend here. And, whatever it was, seventy generations have not tramped it down. The people of this land were desperate when Saerdan and his Sons of Atthi first came. Your Heremund will not tell you that, I fear, but here you can feel it, even under this sacred weight of masonry." I do not know the story of this hill, but some wild chieftain will have called up some fiend here. And, whatever it was, seventy generations have not tramped it down. The people of this land were desperate when Saerdan and his Sons of Atthi first came. Your Heremund will not tell you that, I fear, but here you can feel it, even under this sacred weight of masonry."

The slap and rattle of their boots and scabbards followed them down the pa.s.sageways.

Durand suddenly had a glimpse of the hill in his mind's eye: packed with clawed things. He imagined the solemn men in the cloisters, overwhelmed in a moment, buried or hauled under.

Agryn had truly begun to hurry.

"And they've lost men just as we nearly lost His Lords.h.i.+p on the Barrow Isle. All across the kingdom, it will be the same. It is a dangerous business to spill the blood of kings. People do not understand."

"That old man's stare," Durand said. "It's like a razor.""He's blind, Durand. Cataracts."Durand missed a step, but Agryn's pace was insistent.

"We must move," he said. "From what I can see of the Heavens, we are nearly at Last Twilight. I would not be abroad in this place after."

He was almost running, taking turning after turning with speed enough that Durand's flat soles caught and slid to keep up. Finally, Sir Agryn pelted into a corridor Durand recognized. A monk waited by a low and painted door, a ring of keys rattling in his shaking fist.

As the door shut them in darkness, the bells of the monastery's sanctuary rolled in their high towers, tolling for the last light of day.

The rushlights fluttered on a dozen amber faces against the dark.

"We're locked in," whispered Berchard, "but there's a half a wheel of sharp cheese, and a few pints of claret to wash it down."

It was the only time Durand ever heard old Agryn laugh.

A RUSHLIGHT'S RANCID RUSHLIGHT'S RANCID flame is short-lived, and the old abbot had spared no more than they needed, so soon the men subsided into their stony niches. Beyond their dormitory, chilling sounds bounded down the dark pa.s.sageways of Cop Alder. Monks chanted. Distant screams shot through the dark. Agryn muttered; the click of his tongue and teeth matched the monkish rumble. Durand could feel the air s.h.i.+vering in his clothing like a living thing. flame is short-lived, and the old abbot had spared no more than they needed, so soon the men subsided into their stony niches. Beyond their dormitory, chilling sounds bounded down the dark pa.s.sageways of Cop Alder. Monks chanted. Distant screams shot through the dark. Agryn muttered; the click of his tongue and teeth matched the monkish rumble. Durand could feel the air s.h.i.+vering in his clothing like a living thing.

"Ah," said Berchard. "It's nights like this I see things with my Lost eye, you know."

"For G.o.d's sake," hissed Badan from the blackness, hissed Badan from the blackness, "keep them to yourself. Talk of something else." "keep them to yourself. Talk of something else."

"What of Moryn then? What do you think of him tracking us north, eh?" said Berchard.

"Aye," Badan said. "What's that wh.o.r.eson want now?"

Coensar answered, "He's bound for Tern Gyre, just like us." There were oaths and groans. "He'll be carrying his father's vote to the Great Council. They must all be there."

A yowl leapt through the pa.s.sages beyond the door, the shock so strong the hinges clicked.

Shadows twirled the thread of light under the door, while knights and s.h.i.+eld-bearers stared, mute.

Someone hissed, "G.o.ds." "G.o.ds."

"Sleep all of you," said Coensar. "I promised you beds, and you have them. Now sleep."

In his alcove of hard-edged slates, Durand rolled onto his shoulder, listening to Agryn's mutter and the thready sounds beyond the door. He wondered what had gone on in Yrlac. Nearly, he prayed that it was Radomor who'd been hounded to his death: a death at the hands of that grim-faced cadre of knights who surrounded Duke Ailnor. It would mean that this was the worst, and that the shock would pa.s.s and the kingdom emerge whole and sound. But he had seen Radomor, with his bald skull hot as a cauldron, glowering from his father's throne.

He must know. It was good they were going to Tem Gyre. The magnates were gathering: Beoran and Yrlac and h.e.l.lebore and Windhover and Gireth and all the others. Lying there in the dark, Durand knew that he needed to see what storm had struck the realm.

As exhaustion pulled him down into sleep, he heard many men threading their whispers with Agryn's muttered prayer.

WITHOUT WARNING, THE door rattled open, spilling watery daylight across the room. The abbot stooped in the gap, twisted and black as some hieratic sign. door rattled open, spilling watery daylight across the room. The abbot stooped in the gap, twisted and black as some hieratic sign.

"First Twilight, Milords. Time you were gone." He paused a mad instant. Then the bells tolled for the daylight. He grinned, saying, 'There. I wouldn't lie to you," and was gone.

Durand rolled painfully from his stone cot, planting booted feet on the flagstones and scratching fleabites on his neck. "Bricks and beds," said Berchard.

"Wha?" Badan was grimacing.

'Two things you shouldn't make without straw," was Berchard's answer.

Others groaned and brayed like a barnyard.

"I'll check on His Lords.h.i.+p," said Coensar, hands on his knees. His breath steamed in the chill air. "The rest of you see if you can pry something warm to eat out of these tight b.u.g.g.e.rs. Remember, we'll see Tern Gyre in a few days, right?"

Durand's first need, however, was the privy. First on his feet, he ducked into the pa.s.sageway and got directions from the warder monk-too many twists and turns-and set off.

It was strange seeing the place under the pale twilight after the wild sounds of the night before. Like memory, a mist swirled around his ankles and beaded the carved Powers and. beasts round the doors. Whatever Lost souls had been racketing through the place, they were sleeping now that the Eye had returned to the vault of Heaven.

Meanwhile, Durand's quest was getting urgent. Twice, he doubled back, certain that he must have gone the wrong direction. Finally, he ducked into a narrow room he had never seen. A stone bench along the wall sported six holes.

The blind abbot stepped out in front of him.

"You, is it? Wandering off?"Durand wasn't about to explain.

The man grunted. "You're not at the center yet, but you will be, yes?"

"Father, that's not where I'm going." "What? What're you going on about?" He grinned in the pale light, showing gaps between wide yellow teeth. "You'll find your way to the center yet, mark me. But there'll be trials: fire and water and faith and blood."

All Durand wanted was to be left alone with the privy bench; he'd had enough of prophecy.

"Ah," the abbot said. "They've already been at you, haven't they? Have they called you Bruna?" the abbot said. "They've already been at you, haven't they? Have they called you Bruna?"

Durand took a half step backward.

"Bruna of the Broad Shoulders. It's a wise woman's game. They'd see Bruna in you, and say nothing-or warn you that honor and treachery are two sides of the same door. Hags. You're a big stone. You'll make ripples. That's all they see. They love to natter about the big stones, the wise women."

A white brow twitched over one bright, blind eye. There was still a cracked smear of ochre.

"Don't worry," said the old man, leaning close as a conspirator. "What I see is mine to know. I keep secrets." He was tapping his nose. "All of this business. Oaths and fear. Just remember what we're fighting here."

"Fighting?"

"The Son of Morning. His Host. The Banished. This is a kingdom that'll fall hard when it tumbles. It's like a net stretched tight over all those things-a net of knotted oaths. Creation is packed with Lost souls and creeping fiends, and, the Patriarchs of old, they stuck the king in like a finger holding all the knots. You think we're not all fear-mad in this place? That we would not run away if we could? Cop Alder's shaking like a fat man's buckles. But we've sworn oaths fit to curdle the blood, and, if we ran, who would hold the door behind us?"

The man's pale head nodded. "It is the same wijth you: hemmed in with oaths and fear and dreams and women."

Durand ducked past the man's leer, stalking down the narrow room. He could wait no longer, and, when he looked up, he saw that the ancient abbot had not left.

"Remember what is at stake," the blind man said. "Remember it is everything!"

No ONE WAITED ONE WAITED in the refectory when he found it; everyone was crammed in Cop Alder's tall kitchen. He heard Lamoric's voice before he saw him. Durand took the last steps to the doorway warily. in the refectory when he found it; everyone was crammed in Cop Alder's tall kitchen. He heard Lamoric's voice before he saw him. Durand took the last steps to the doorway warily.

"As soon as we're able, we must go. It was clear as-" he hesitated, staring from startled knight to startled knight before s.n.a.t.c.hing up a knife. "As this blade, I tell you. Every bit of it.

"The banners rippling over the headland like fresh blood. Blades and helmets flas.h.i.+ng. Knights and warhorses storming the lists by the hundred. Wooden stands steep as a thousand siege ladders thrown against the walls' all around. And everyone was there."

Pale as a candle, Lamoric stood in the midst of his retainers, eyes s.h.i.+ning like a pair of fat pearls. He still held the knife.

"You were wrapped up in it, Badan. And Coensar." He spotted Durand hesitating in the entrance. "And you, Durand, you were there. Powers of Heaven..." He goggled like a fish, while Berchard and Heremund and even Deorwen shot Durand looks from apologetic to pleading. "Walking on the horses, by my oath. Walking on the horses with that old sword flas.h.i.+ng. And Agryn." He wheeled to face Agryn. "I saw you. You were riding. Riding all wrapped in your yellow gear. I saw yellow everywhere."

Deorwen's face was stricken.

Durand tried to make sense of what he was hearing. "Was it a dream?" asked Durand. "Have you had a dream?"

"Aye," said Lamoric. "While I lay in that infirmary. I've had one of Deorwen's dreams! They were cheering us, Durand. Cheering us! The whole kingdom was looking on and cheering us! I should tell the wise women. said Lamoric. "While I lay in that infirmary. I've had one of Deorwen's dreams! They were cheering us, Durand. Cheering us! The whole kingdom was looking on and cheering us! I should tell the wise women.

"We must thank these holy men for their hospitality, and then make all haste to Tern Gyre! Come on!" - Lamoric tottered past Durand and out of the kitchen. A dumbfounded troop of knights and serving men churned in the room, then s.n.a.t.c.hed up loaves and cheese, and followed their lord. Durand felt the first stirrings of something like a crusader's frenzy in his heart and was carried along on the. tide.

He caught hold of Heremund in the press."Did he really have the dream, Heremund?" A man could fall from Creation with his eyes shut. He might have glimpsed Tern Gyre. A man could fall from Creation with his eyes shut. He might have glimpsed Tern Gyre.

"I reckon so," hissed Heremund with a glance around, "But Deorwen, she went to the infirmary door for him. The monks said there was screaming. All night, he was wild with fever and screaming." hissed Heremund with a glance around, "But Deorwen, she went to the infirmary door for him. The monks said there was screaming. All night, he was wild with fever and screaming."

"Heaven's King," breathed Durand. breathed Durand."Aye," said Heremund. "We are not finished yet, friend."

22. Wings of Memory

A day's ride from Cop Alder, the Lawerin Way sank into a coppiced wood near Medlar. There, between little Medlar and a nameless hamlet, the party pitched wet tents and gathered around a double campfire to fight the chill. The skald plucked the first notes of a hollow tune from his mandora. He had hardly played in days.

Pulling a blanket up around his ears, Ouen let the firelight flash in his gold teeth. "I'm going to get me a wife and hall somewhere. Settle down before I catch one the monks can't patch. What's fame for if not land and women? And not just anyone, either. Only the fairest widows for Sir Ouen. He was with the Knight in Red at the Gyre, eh?"

Beside him, Lamoric laughed out loud. It was hard not to believe in the young lord's dream, gleaming over the dark of bruises and omen. Every man had caught his ardor. "That's the way, isn't it?" said Badan, leering. He grappled , with his belt and jingled the pennies in his pouch. "Gets them every time."

Across the fire, Lady Bertana clucked her tongue. Glancing up, Durand caught a look from Deorwen.

He had not allowed himself one word with her since he had learned the truth. He wanted to forget everything that had happened between them and simply be the man the others thought he was. But she took his breath. With the smallest of gestures, she let him know that she wanted to step away.

He would not leave.

"What about you, Heremund?" asked Lamoric. "Will you fight beside us?"

"Me?' The skald smiled. "I'll be singing 'the Red Knight of Tern Gyre.'" He startled a chord from the gut strings of his mandora. The skald smiled. "I'll be singing 'the Red Knight of Tern Gyre.'" He startled a chord from the gut strings of his mandora.

Deorwen had begun to stand, her eyes on Durand. He felt the pressure to join her.

Just then, a sharp knock among the trees turned every head back toward Cop Alder. No one moved.

Coensar was still as a hawk, watching.

Another knock followed, then a pop sharper than anything coming from the campfires.

Durand got to his feet.

"Right," said Coensar. "See what's out there. And take Agryn." Agryn nodded, standing. "Any trouble, come right back." said Coensar. "See what's out there. And take Agryn." Agryn nodded, standing. "Any trouble, come right back."

Without a word, the two men stepped from the firelight and into the gloomy damp. Durand had left Deorwen, and, even facing G.o.d-knew-what in the dark, there was relief in walking away.