Crown of Stars Read online

  “And your sweetest singer is fled,” remarked Conrad with an innocent expression. “Fled to the angels from which he arose.”

  Her eyes flared, and her horse minced as she jerked the reins. Off along the verge, where the hounds padded, Rage barked, a rumble that startled the nearest horse and set off a chain of missteps among the riders and then the stewards and mounted soldiers behind. “Enough, Conrad!”

  “She did not sing for me, that lovely creature,” said Conrad, continuing as if he had not noticed the rogue current he had stirred into life. “Mother Armentaria, I think her name was. I do wonder about my cousin and that dark little creature who held the holy woman’s skirts and stared at me with eyes so rich a brown. A taking thing. I don’t know if it was girl or boy, but it was pretty enough to be either even if scarcely old enough to walk. It might have been a beggar’s child, or a prince’s. How can we know when the mother will not or cannot speak?”

  He glanced at Alain before turning his attention back to his courtiers.

  “It’s said Prince Sanglant sowed a hundred bastards, being a bastard himself,” said one of the younger courtiers, “but is it true?”

  “He’s a handsome man,” said Conrad. “Were I born a woman, instead of a man, I suppose I might try a kiss from him. As it is, I can only envy him, for he has a fair beauty for a wife, a fine creature as bright as fire.”

  “Of uncertain lineage,” said Sabella. “Both bastards, most likely. She is excommunicated and accused of being a sorcerer.”

  “Yes, truly,” said Conrad with a crooked smile, “it is as well you and I, Sabella, make our way to save our grandfather’s precious kingdom from such usurpers.”

  “Your great grandfather,” she said curtly. “Tallia is your very distant cousin.”

  “Yes, indeed, distant enough that we might be married with the sanction of the church,” he agreed cordially. He had an expression that might have been amused or annoyed. “Yet when I pressed my suit elsewhere, my dear cousin Henry deemed my cousin Theophanu too close to agree to the alliance.”

  “Don’t speak to me of Henry!”

  Her look was meant to quell, but Conrad smiled. “We are among allies, Sabella. No one in our retinues will cry to the church that I have married consanguineously. What is it? Seven degrees? Eight? Six? Far enough except for Henry’s taste, since he wanted no such connection between his children and mine.”

  “He feared you.”

  “Perhaps. I think all along Henry was only waiting.”

  “For what?” she asked him, and all the courtiers, heads turning side to side as they looked first at Sabella and then at Conrad and then back again, fixed their attention on Conrad.

  “Waiting to find a way to raise Sanglant as heir above Sophia’s children. He found it. We battle not Sanglant, but Henry’s sentimental attachment to the child who could not have the thing Henry most wished to give him. He has gotten it anyway. Sanglant always did seem to get his own way, though he was never gloating or crude about it. The best of men!”

  Sabella smiled harshly. “Say you so, Conrad? Will you be turning your milites east to join up with him? The best of men?”

  Conrad had such an infectious way of laughing that everyone joined in. When the fit of hilarity had passed, he spoke in a voice whose easy charm did nothing to affect its sincerity. “I am sure of what I want, what I deserve, and what I intend to claim.”

  “Horses ahead, my lord duke. My lady.” A sergeant called from the foremost line of riders, and a ripple—men checking swords, easing spears free—passed backward through the company. “Nay, it’s only the scouts.”

  Atto returned with the trio of men sent ahead to help him seek out their way, and to make sure he did not bolt. Certainly the lad looked nervous enough, sweating and pale and hair a rat’s nest since he couldn’t stop running his hands through it. He consulted with Sabella’s captain, and in time they came to a fork in the road. Instead of continuing on the main road, they cut into broken woodland along a rutted track where they had to ride two abreast. Their line of march stretched back a good ways. The other nobles competed for position, but Alain hung back and let the main part of the company pass before swinging into line with the wagons. He nodded at the soldier who was riding beside the great cage meant for the guivre.

  “My lord,” said Captain Tammus reluctantly, dropping his gaze while his hands clenched on the reins.

  Sorrow growled, low in her throat, but Alain let the captain and these foremost wagons pass as well and came up behind the supply wagons with their barrels of ale and sacks of grain or flour and small woven sapling cages filled with squawking chickens and a furious goose. A trio of steers paced at the end of ropes. Two dozen sheep followed, pursued by a pair of shepherds and their clever dog. Behind the last wagon walked a half dozen men, each one pushing a flat-bedded cart on which lay the trussed carcass of a deer.

  “Where have these come from?” he asked one of the stewards.

  The woman rode a stocky pony and was young and weary, hair covered by a pale yellow scarf. She wore a glove on her right hand and her left bare, revealing a rash prickling across her three middle fingers.

  “You know the way of it, my lord,” she said cautiously, recognizing him, as any good steward must recognize by sight every noble who rode with the lady. “Three our hunters brought down yesterday and the day before. We hung them all night, though they’ll still be tough. The others came from the manor. Folk are hunting deer in numbers early this year. The sheep we took as part of the tithe, together with the grain. Out in the forest we’ll not find much provender, for few folk live in the wilderness. We must feed all with what we gain here.”

  He nodded, and to her evident relief he fell back to ride alongside the rear guard. Farther behind might be found the rear scouts, but he held his position the rest of that day. The land changed its character, and they entered a region of precipitous hills, rugged rocky outcrops, and low spines of rock protruding from otherwise unexceptionable earth. Streamlets flowed in plenty, and there was no sign of human habitation. Folk whispered that they were nearing the lair of the guivre, who hid within a maze of stony dikes. Even the animals grew nervous. A faint odor of rotting carcasses laced the breeze at intervals, but faded as quickly as he caught its touch.

  9

  KANSI’S voice came sooner than she expected, echoing out of the darkness. “What creature stalked our land? What was it?”

  “Set me free, and I’ll tell you,” said Liath, hoarse from weeping and exhausted with rage.

  “Tell me!”

  Although Kansi-a-lari cursed her and commanded her, Liath did not speak.

  After that came silence for a long while during which she slept, drank, ate, and slept again. Although she had taken no physical harm, she felt battered and she felt bruised, and the right side of her face where the galla had swept closest was as tender as if she had scraped it against rock. Strangely, the wound in her thigh did not hurt as much.

  When the exhaustion passed, the rage remained, but now she knew better than to curse impotently at Kansi-a-lari, who had her own schemes and hopes but who had not, after all, called the galla. She hoarded her strength, and made her plans.

  “Li’at’dano!”

  It hurt to hear her name spoken in the antique manner, but although she wanted to scream in fury for everything she was guilty of and quite a bit she was not, she answered in as calm a voice as she could muster.

  “Here I am. What do you want?”

  “The answer to my question. That creature murdered a child, four adults, and many precious goats in its passage through our land. Flensed them to the bone. Is this your way of doing battle against us?”

  “Lower down more food and drink. Then I’ll tell you.”

  “I know how much you have. There is enough, if it’s rationed.”

  “I want more. And a knife.”

  She laughed. “No knife. Knives you will have enough of, if I decide to give you to the priests.”

&nbs
p; After that came silence, but later, listening, Liath heard a faint scraping and a fainter thump.

  Out of the darkness, Kansi spoke. “Answer my question. I have done as you asked.”

  She is above me.

  “I will,” said Liath, “once I am sure I have what I want.”

  Since Kansi-a-lari was speaking from above, surely the provisions should have hit the floor in the same place she had found them the first time. Since it had not, there must therefore be other openings, hidden to her salamander eyes. Kansi-a-lari could not be speaking from a place where daylight gleamed, or Liath would have discerned any least particle of light’s being. A cave above a cave? Rock sheltered Kansi. Liath could get no sense of her position, her scent, or even her presence except for her voice.

  She walked the circuit of the wall, sweeping her feet and finding her leg aching, but sturdy. After 435 footfalls she struck riches: a dozen bulbous fruits; a dozen flat circles of bread; three big leather pouches swollen with a sweet-tasting nectar; a cheese that tasted better than it smelled; eggs cushioned in greasy uncombed wool.

  No knife.

  “I am satisfied,” she said, pitching her voice to carry upward, “that you have dealt fairly with me in this particular matter. Set me free.”

  “I will not.”

  “Then listen. The creature is called a galla. It comes from another plane of existence.”

  “From the aether?”

  “I think not. Step sideways through a crack in a wall and you may come to a lost garden. Step sideways through the spheres, and there may be other worlds.”

  “A curious notion,” said Kansi. “Go on.”

  “The galla are called, with blood, to this world. The one who calls them grants them their freedom in a name. This person they must hunt down and devour. When they have devoured the one they sought, the crack in the wall opens, and they can return to their home.”

  “Why did you call it?”

  “I did not call it. I have been attacked by such creatures before. That is how I know what they are.”

  “How did you rid yourself of it? Is there a spell?”

  She choked, but eventually found her voice, because she had to speak. “Griffin feathers dispel the galla. It is the only way to banish them, that I know of.”

  “You came to us naked except for your clothes. How did you banish this one?”

  “You may believe I came to you with nothing, but I banished it nevertheless.” She had to push on, before she thought too hard and burst into tears. She burned with anger, and she must remember the right person to blame. “I have no griffin feathers now. If another galla comes for me, I am helpless.” She could not swallow; she could not speak lest her voice tremble. Yet, why not? Let Kansi believe her terrified. It was the truth.

  “If you want me alive, understand that I am helpless now against the galla. And understand this: The galla are after your son as well.”

  “Zuangua says Sanglant has griffins. He is well protected. Wise boy!”

  “He had griffins. They are flown back into the east to breed. He has seven feathers left him. For each galla that comes, he has one less. Do you mean to let him die once he runs out of griffin feathers?”

  “I cannot fight these galla without griffin feathers? Then tell me, Liathano, if you care for my son: what sorcerer calls the galla to pursue you?”

  Liath smiled, and her lips formed a silent prayer as she weighed her words and spoke. “I cannot know for sure, I admit. There is only one person who in the past had the knowledge and the skill and the desire to call galla. Her name is Sister Venia, although she was also once called Biscop Antonia of Mainni. I don’t know where she is.”

  There came silence for such a long time that Liath finally decided that Kansi must have left. She peeled open one of the fruits and savored the sweet, sloppy mess inside. She tasted bitter to herself, wiping her chin with her fingers and licking off the trails of juice.

  Kansi’s voice slipped out of the darkness, surprising her.

  Her tone was cool, but it made Liath shiver. “My people will find her, and I will deal with her.”

  “Why do you keep me here?”

  “That is a foolish question. You are—what would they call it at the court of Wendar, this game of carved pieces moved across a board? You are a pawn, in my keeping. With you in my hand, I have power over those who desire to take you for themselves.”

  “Who would that be?” Liath demanded, for it seemed strange and ominous that Kansi used the plural.

  “The blood knives, and of course—” She broke off, then finished.“—my son.”

  “Sanglant wants peace. He needs peace, to rebuild after the cataclysm. Why do you wish to fight him?”

  “I wish to protect my people. We cannot trust humankind.”

  “You let Henry raise him.”

  “That was all along the intention of the council of elders. A poor plan, which failed. We will do better, I promise you.”

  “Those days are long past. We must trust each other in order to survive.”

  “These are tiresome words. Do you even believe them yourself?”

  “Sanglant is not your enemy.”

  There was no answer, and in time Liath had to accept that Kansi had gone.

  So be it. She rested a while longer and ate and drank a little more, starting with the raw eggs, which were sure to get broken. Afterward she chipped away at one of the blunt rocks to get more of an edge on it. She took off her wool outer-tunic and stripped off the lighter linen under-tunic before putting the over-tunic back on. The wool itched, but it was better to save the sturdier, warmer tunic. With the scraper she severed threads and managed with real effort to separate the tunic so that with knots and curls she could hang all of her provisions safely around her hips. She finished the eggs, rose, and walked and jumped a little to test the security of her knots.

  They held.

  Facing the center of the cavern, she called her wings.

  They flared and faded so quickly that it left afterimages against her eyes. She tried again, but it was no use. The undercurrents of aether still thrummed through this heart, but something was missing: Li’at’dano’s power calling to her from the far side of the gateway.

  Had it always taken two to open the gateway of the burning stone? Was there a thread woven between one and the other? Did she need more of a focus, or was the burning stone fading surely and slowly from the compass of the world?

  She wiped away stinging tears and scratched her itching shoulders and allowed herself one burst of frustrated overpowering thwarted despairing fury, not a scream but a wash of emotion like the tidal surge that had obliterated the shore.

  “Liath.”

  Just like that, she snapped alert. In like manner, a hound comes to point, sensing an enemy. Any creature does. She was clear and empty and as sharp as steel.

  “Liath,” he said again.

  It was like an hallucination, because there was no possible way that Hugh of Austra should be speaking to her in this place at this time when she was imprisoned at the very heart of the land belonging to the Ashioi.

  But it was his voice, and it was obvious from his tone that he knew she was there.

  When she did not reply, he went on.

  “I am a prisoner of the Ashioi.”

  This comment bestirred her, because for some reason she found it amusing. “Not so deep in prison as I am, it appears, since you are there, and I am here. How came they to capture you?”

  “They caught me on the road as I was fleeing Queen Adelheid.”

  He paused again, and she played along. “What cause had you to flee Adelheid? Before, as I recall the story, you were her ally.”

  “No longer. Adelheid blames me for Henry’s death.”

  “Can you possibly believe that I might believe you innocent of any share in Henry’s death?”

  “Believe what you will. Adelheid desired to kill me.”

  Liath forbore to comment, and in any case she was having
a difficult time parsing his tone into its component emotions without the text of expression and his body’s language to study.

  “I took Blessing away from Adelheid,” he added.

  Blessing! The name felled her. She sank, found herself sprawled on the ground. Her hands had gone numb. Hugh’s smooth words flowed over her as though she were stone.

  “I freed her from captivity. Adelheid would have murdered her in revenge for the death of Berengaria.”

  She tried words on her tongue and found that she could speak. “Who is Berengaria?”

  “The younger child. She had two by Henry, Mathilda and Berengaria.”

  Two children, Henry’s youngest offspring. Of course she remembered them. They held a claim to the Wendish throne that many would consider more legitimate than Sanglant’s, even if their mother was Aostan.

  “I stole Blessing away to save her from Adelheid. The Ashioi captured us. We are prisoners here, as you are.”

  This story made no sense, but no matter. She wiped sweat from her forehead, although it wasn’t hot.

  “How did Blessing come into Adelheid’s custody?”

  “I don’t know. She and her party were discovered by Adelheid’s soldiers on the road near Novomo. How did the child’s father come to carelessly leave her behind in Aosta? I would not have done so.”

  She hesitated, knowing she must phrase both questions and answers precisely in order to get the information she needed without giving away too much. “She was too ill to be moved,” she said as evenly as she could.

  He laughed. “She has recovered. Her uncle Zuangua is training her to be a warrior. You and I, however, have common cause. We desire to escape. I will help you.”

  She found herself trembling between one breath and the next, only there was nothing within arm’s reach to strangle. At last, she sorted past laughter and weeping and found pragmatism. “In exchange for what?”

  “Nothing. I seek only to aid Wendar.”

  The first shock survived, this made her smile cruelly. Surely Hugh was too subtle to believe that she would believe this!