The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [44]
***
"I feel better, yes," Embra told them quietly. "But I also feel… empty. As if something within me is gone, or torn away." She shrugged. "I just don't know. Perhaps Hawkril had better learn to be a mighty mage after all."
Craer winced. "I don't think we've years enough to spare for that. We've probably tarried here too long already; I can't believe the baron will just sit and brood over the loss of his daughter when he knows where we fled."
"If they want to come in through that door chamber," Hawkril growled, "it'll take a lot of digging."
"Not if the right spells are used," Sarasper told him sharply. "Every stone could be lifted and hurled in here at us like a missile, breaking joints until we're helpless, if the wizards are skilled enough." He turned back to the Lady of Jewels, the snap of anger back in his voice. "Just who works magic for your father?"
"Ingryl Ambelter, once apprentice to Gadaster Mulkyn, and the most dangerous; Klamantle Beirldoun-a quiet, cold man of whom I know almost nothing; and a young, ambitious man from somewhere outside the Vale, who fancies himself handsome: Markoun Yarynd. His eyes are hot on me, that one. Cruel, calculating men, all."
"Gadaster I remember," the healer said slowly, "and hearing of his death. The apprentice Ambelter I may have laid eyes on, once or twice, but in truth, they're all unknown to me. Capable and ruthless cold-hearts, I assume. What plots has your father set them to?"
Embra shrugged. "Finding ways to rule all Aglirta, of course. Slaughtering any folk of Blackgult and wizards they may find, along the way. They were trying to fashion me into a 'Living Castle.' I'm not sure if you know the term, but it's-"
"A scheme Gadaster boasted of perfecting," Sarasper said almost smugly, nodding. "It starts with the bindings. Once your mind had been shaped to their will with the proper spells-that takes a long time-they'd have severed both your arms at the shoulders… to turn your hands into little fetch-and-carry enchantments to fly around the castle at their bidding. Then the bloodletting starts… years of it, because they have to work a few drops of your flesh and blood into the mortar or plaster slather on every stone in the place." He grimaced, and looked away. "I read too much."
Embra merely nodded, but Hawkril shuddered, waved his arms as if to sweep away all thought of vicious mages and armless women, and then flourished his sword at the walls and ceiling around them. "But what of this place? Once the seat of the Silvertrees, aye, but why was it abandoned? How did it get haunted? Why was sh-Embra so angry when we came here?"
Craer sighed, and Embra and Sarasper both chuckled.
"Where to start?" the healer asked of the room in general and then shrugged and pointed at Embra. "The house belongs most to you. Lady: the tale is yours."
Embra shook her head. "We haven't days to waste, but… well, this is 'the Silent House' because its owners can't live here, so it-the high-minded bards presumed-stands empty. More properly, it is Silvertree House, once the mansion of the Barons Silvertree."
She looked at the ceiling, sighed, and adopted the cultured voice of an aged tutor: "The house was abandoned to the role of being the burial ground to the family when a powerful curse was laid on it by the wizard Harabrentar, long ago. To whit: any of the blood Silvertree to dwell herein for more than a month slowly but irreversibly change into a loathsome, dangerous beast-akin to the nightwyrms conjured by my father's mages, but flightless-and end their days hunted and mad. The efficacy of this curse has been demonstrated several times, down the years… usually when a particularly arrogant baron decided to reoccupy the house, or a desperate rebellious son ran away to hide here."
Embra slowly got to her feet and strolled across the room. Hawkril watched her every step, his sword tight in his grasp. "The house has become a feared place," she continued, "shunned by outlaws