“That’s an interesting assertion.” She settled her shawl around her shoulders. “I trust you’ll understand that I’d like some verification that it’s also a truthful assertion.” She smiled with very little humor. “I’m afraid I’ve become somewhat less trusting of late.”
“According to Her Majesty, My Lady, you’ve never been exceptionally trusting where enemies of your house are concerned.” The younger woman’s smile was much warmer than Lady Karyl’s had been. “She tells me that her father spoke to her often about your husband’s loyalty to the Crown … and yours. In fact,” those blue eyes, so dark they were almost black in the lamplight, met Lady Karyl’s levelly, “she told me to tell you she hopes the doomwhale is still hidden in the cliff lizard’s mouth.”
Lady Karyl never actually moved a muscle, yet her spine—as steely straight as the Iron Spines she’d grown up among—seemed to relax ever so slightly. She stood for several more seconds, gazing at the interloper through narrow hazel eyes. Then she stepped back to her chair and pointed imperiously at a corner of the library’s enormous hearth.
“Move where I can see you,” she said, settling back into the chair she’d shared so often with Styvyn. “Besides,” she added with a small, crooked smile as the other woman obeyed her, “you’ll be at least marginally warmer!”
“Yes, My Lady.”
Lady Karyl studied her more carefully. Cheshyr couldn’t afford to waste first-quality kraken oil on its lamps, even in the library, and her eyes were no younger than the rest of her. The brain behind them was still capable of careful observation, however.
The other woman was perhaps half a hand shorter than her own five feet and seven inches, with extraordinarily dark brown hair touched with auburn highlights. She was slim and graceful, almost delicate looking, yet there was nothing fragile about her. She stood very straight, despite the obviously heavy saddlebags over her shoulder, waiting patiently, sapphire eyes level, enduring Lady Karyl’s meticulous inspection with complete composure. Indeed, she was almost too composed for comfort, Lady Karyl thought. That sort of calm wasn’t normally the property of someone as young as she was.
“Very well, young woman,” she said finally. “Suppose you tell me what that nonsense about doomwhales and cliff lizards was all about.”
“I’d be happy to, My Lady … if I knew.” Her visitor, Lady Karyl discovered, had dimples. “From the way Her Majesty made sure I had it straight, I assume it’s some sort of recognition phrase. And if I had to guess, I’d guess it goes back to your husband’s relationship—or perhaps yours—with King Sailys. Unfortunately, a guess is all it would be.”
“I see.”
Lady Karyl gazed at her for another moment, then pushed back up out of her chair. Her father-in-law had disdained anything as effete as books, and in his day the room which had become Styvyn Rydmakyr’s library had been the keep’s trophy room. Since neither Styvyn nor Lady Karyl had wanted to shelve their precious books against an exterior stone wall, the trophies which had looked back into the room from between the windows during Truskyt Rydmakyr’s day looked back still, and she paused beside one of them.
The cliff lizard had been a giant among its kind, probably over three hundred pounds, and its mouth was open, displaying teeth equally apt for chewing meat or grazing. She laid a hand affectionately on it for a moment, then reached into that gaping mouth and extracted something that gleamed faintly in the lamplight. She carried it back over to the hearth and held it up, and it was the other woman’s eyes’ turn to narrow.
It was an exquisitely rendered doomwhale, about five inches long and cast in solid silver … except for the golden crown no true doomwhale had ever worn. That crown gleamed more brightly than the tarnished silver, and Lady Karyl turned it deliberately to catch the firelight on its thorny points.
“King Sailys gave this to Styvyn,” she said softly. “I believe there were less than twenty of them, and anyone who received one was charged to keep it hidden and keep it safe. Unless it was needed.”
She met those shadow-darkened blue eyes, and the other woman nodded.
“Tokens of his authority,” she said slowly, her voice soft. “From what Her Majesty told me, I knew your husband had been high in King Sailys’ confidence, but I hadn’t realized how high.”
“Few people ever did.” Lady Karyl’s long, still-strong fingers tightened around the small statue. “He and the King were careful to keep it that way, for a lot of reasons. And that fool thinks I’m going to forget everything Sailys—and Styvyn—fought and died for?!”
Her lips worked as if she wanted to spit, and the young woman laughed. There was very little humor in the sound. Indeed, if doomwhales had laughed, one of them might have owned a laugh very like it.
“That question I already knew the answer to, My Lady.” She bowed deeply, then straightened. “With your permission, I’d like to finish introducing myself.”
“Of course.” Lady Karyl seated herself once more, holding the doomwhale in her lap, clasped between both hands. “And when you’ve done that, perhaps you could explain how you got into this locked library without any of my admittedly understrength staff seeing you on your way here? Or, for that matter, without alerting me when the hinges shrieked like a soul in hell?”
“The introduction is easy, Lady Karyl.” The younger woman touched her breastplate in formal salute. “Men call me Merch O Obaith.”
“Ah.” Lady Karyl nodded. “I hope you’ll pardon my saying so, but your name seems rather … outlandish. In fact, it reminds me of a few other names I’ve heard. Would it happen you’re familiar with a gentleman named Athrawes?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Fascinating.” Lady Karyl leaned farther back and crossed her legs. “It would appear his reputation for coming and going as he wants despite any silly little things like locked doors is well deserved. And it would also appear seijins are coming out of the woodwork, as Styvyn would have said.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far, myself, My Lady,” Obaith corrected politely. “Although, if pressed, I would admit they’ve become rather more visible. I believe The Testimonies say that seijins will appear when they’re most needed, though.”
“And at this moment, I need one very badly,” Lady Karyl said somberly.
“Perhaps the services of one, at least,” Obaith acknowledged. “I’m afraid that tonight I’m only a messenger, however.”
“And what sort of message do you bear?” Lady Karyl’s eyes were intent in the flickering firelight.
“My Lady, Her Majesty wants you to know her agents are aware of what’s happening here in Cheshyr, not to mention in Rock Coast and Black Horse. Those agents are keeping a very close eye on the situation, and I regret that it’s taken so long for her authorization to share that information with you to reach Chisholm. We know about Duke Rock Coast’s efforts to ensnare your grandson, and we also know they’re in communication with Lady Swayle. Unfortunately, there’s very little we can do about the Duke’s machinations where your grandson is concerned. It would be … awkward for Her Majesty to rely on the sort of evidence we could provide in a court of law, particularly given the way Zhaspahr Clyntahn and the Inquisition have branded all of the ‘false, so-called seijins’ demons and servants of Shan-wei. The fact that everyone with a working brain knows that’s a lie wouldn’t prevent the Duke’s supporters from fastening on it as a means of discrediting evidence procured by such … irregular techniques.”