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By Root 921 0

for himself, I suppose, and could not see why she was being bartered to an enemy instead. Lord Pechma’s rank and wealth were scarcely more than poor Illvin’s, though of course he had not Illvin’s military reputation. One night . . . one night, she sent away her attendants, and Illvin . . . visited her.” Cattilara swallowed. “Wethink Pechma must have seen, and followed. Next morning, Illvin was nowhere to be found, until her women entered her chambers and discovered the most dreadful scene. They came and woke my lord and me—Arhys would not let me enter the chambers, but it was said”—her voice dropped still lower—“Lord Illvin was found naked, all tangled in her sheets, senseless, bleeding. The princess had fallen dead near the window, as though she had been struggling to escape or call for help, with a poisoned Roknari dagger lodged in her breast. And Lord Pechma, and his horse and gear, and all the purse of the Jokonan party that had been entrusted to him, were gone from Porifors.”

“Oh,” said Ista.

Cattilara swallowed, and knuckled her eyes. “My lord’s men and the princess’s servants rode out together, looking for the murderer, but he was long fled. The entourage became a cortege, and took Umerue’s body back to Jokona. Illvin . . . never awoke. We are not sure if it was from some vile Roknari poison on the dagger that pierced him, or if he fell and hit his head, or if he was struck some other dire blow. But we are terribly afraid his mind is gone. I think that horror grieves Arhys more than even Illvin’s death would have, for he always set great store by his brother’s wits.”

“And . . . how was this received in Jokona?”

“Not well, for all that they brought their evil with them. The border has been very tense, since. Which did you some good, after all, for all my lord’s men were in readiness to ride out when the provincar of Tolnoxo’s courier galloped in.”

“No wonder Lord Arhys is on edge. Appalling events indeed.” Leaking roofs, indeed. Ista could only be grateful to Arhys’s short temper, not to be lodged tonight in Princess Umerue’s death chamber. She considered Cattilara’s horrific account. Lurid and agonizing, yes. But there was nothing uncanny about it. No gods, no visions, no blazing white fires that yet did not burn. No mortal red wounds that opened and closed like a man buttoning his tunic.

I would look upon this Lord Illvin, she wanted to say. Can you take me in to view him? And what excuse would she give for her morbid curiosity, this dubious desire to enter a man’s sickroom? In any case, she did not want to gawk at the high laid low. What she really wanted was to mount a horse—no—a cart, and be carried far from here.

It had grown dark enough to drain the color from her sight; Cattilara’s face was a fine pale blur. “It has been a very long day. I grow weary.” Ista climbed to her feet. Cattilara sprang to assist her up the stairs. Ista gritted her teeth, let her left hand lie lightly on the young woman’s arm, and pushed her way up with her right hand on the railing. Cattilara’s ladies, still conversing among themselves, straggled after them.

As they reached the top, the door at the far end swung open. Ista’s head snapped around. A runty, bowlegged man with a short grizzled beard emerged, carrying a mess of dirty linens and a bucket with a closed lid. Seeing the women, he set his burdens down outside the door and hastened forward.

“Lady Catti,” he said in a gravelly voice, ducking his head. “He needs more goat’s milk. With more honey in’t.”

“Not now, Goram.” With an irritated wrinkling of her nose, Cattilara waved him off. “I’ll come soon.”

He ducked his head again, but his eyes gleamed from under his thick brows as he peered across at Ista. Curious or incurious, she could hardly tell in these shadows, but she felt his stare like a hand on her back as she turned right to follow Cattilara into the suite of rooms waiting for her on the gallery’s other end.

His footsteps clumped away. She glanced back in time to see the door on the far end open and close once more, an orange line of candlelight flaring, narrowing,