Idrys was silent a moment. Is wizardry a consideration, then?
Hasufinʼs, yes, sir.
Hasufin Heltain?
I donʼt know all his name, sir, but he made a bird fly at my window. It killed itself. And in the lower hall, in the banner hall the lines were almost gone, that protect this place. Emuin brought them back.
It was deliberate, that confidence, a test he made of Idrys and how far Idrys did see; and Idrys did not exclaim in exasperation or walk away. Idrys only gazed at him steadily. So has Orien Aswydd flown at the glass, has she not? What do you recommend we do with her?
Idrys turned back his test, he thought, whether he had the resolve Idrys thought a lord needed. Cefwyn had not condemned her. Cefwyn had not gotten to that matter. Or Cefwyn shrank from it.
He did. It was one thing on the field. It was another in reasoned thought to kill. And a lord, he thought, ought to be able to do such things as Owl had to eat mice.
Come, sir, Idrys said. Do I trouble you? I had thought you unmoved by the ladyʼs charms.
At least, Tristen said, and found his hands shaking, she should not die as Heryn did. He nerved himself to say that Idrys was right, and that Orien should die, but then he thought of the lord Regent, who was also a wizard. But where she is buried, where she dies, she will be like Hasufin. She might ally with him. She would be bound to this place. I think that would be dangerous.
He had not given Idrys, he thought, what Idrys looked to have. Persistent, you mean.
Sir, as best I understand she is less a wizard than Auld Syes up at Emwy. Very much less. I think she did very little but let Hasufin in, and perhaps helped him a little. I think she hates us. But I would not let those women together. I would send them all apart, and send them all away from here.
Does it run in families? Idrys asked. Heryn is buried here.
It was a disturbing thought. I have no idea, sir. Heʼd always have a Place here, if I understand it. But I would move him. Bury him among good men. Holy men.
Holy men.
I think so, sir. That is my advice.
Digging up corpses, Idrys muttered. Holy men. This is not to my liking, young sir. Not at all. So wizard me who did this. Who set the fire? Who cracked master Emuinʼs head?
Iʼm not a wizard, sir.
Just like Emuin. Never the hard questions. Idrys began to walk away.
Sir, Tristen said as an odd recollection came to him. He had spoken. He had Idrysʼ attention. He hesitated, then said: Lord Sulrigganʼs dish was salty, at the dinner. He was furious at his cook.
Was he, now?
Cookʼs boys played a prank. It seemed incredible to him that so small a thing could do so much harm. He would have been very angry. And Sulriggan was leaving.
Idrys drew a long breath. An angry cook. Well. Well. Sulriggan. And what of the other, lord of Ynefel? Who struck master Emuin?
I donʼt know, sir. That, I truly donʼt know.
An Amefin shrine, Idrys said. Lord Heryn had his connections. So has Orien. Of various sorts. Youʼve given me enough, lord of Ynefel. Quite enough to serve.
But A terrible thought came to him. And he had not thought. Idrys had started a third time to leave, and stopped again. Sir. Orien knows about the lords leaving. She knows about Lewen plain and the full moon she must have found out.
Sulrigganʼs cook, carrying lady Aswyddʼs messages? Idrys asked. Hardly likely. And in the wrong direction. A Bryalt priest, now, or someone connected to him
No, sir. Thatʼs not the point. Lady Aswydd doesnʼt need a messenger. Hasufin needs none. She could have told Hasufin. Hasufin will have told Asyneddin, across the river. Asyneddin knows the place. He knows the day. He will move before that, sir. He will cross at Emwy and take Lord Tasienʼs camp. Isaid it would be the new moon.
Idrysʼ face had gone very still, expressionless. Say nothing of this. However you wizard-folk say such things, keep it to yourself.
Sir, Tristen said, thinking of the bird, and the cook, and how very small things could move, even against their will. Sir, itʼs as well the lord physician went with Sulriggan.
Another damn witch?
No, sir. An angry man. Things do what they want to do. But the bird didnʼt want to fly into the glass. If it had wanted to, it would have been easier.
Idrys did go away, then, quickly, to Cefwyn, he was sure.
He thought that they had very little time, now. For no particular reason he had thought of the new moon.
He remembered Maurylʼs cipherings. The moon-plottings. He had never understood them. But no more did he understand the work of masons or wizards than he ever had. He only knew that something very dire was coming at Amefel, and at Cefwyn, and, now, purposefully, he realized, at him.
He said it would be sooner, Cefwyn said, and sat down. Damn.Damn the woman.
That would have been my inclination, Idrys said.
It would not have prevented this, Cefwyn said, with all they had been talking about in council all the figures and estimates of supply and logistics tumbling through his head. Why didEmuin not perceive this going on, if Tristen didnʼt?
I could not possibly guess, Idrys said, save that master grayfrock showed no enthusiasm for wizarding. Perhaps he didnʼt whatever wizards do. Perhaps lady Orien didnʼt whatever mʼlord Tristen thinks she did: whatever Tristen does: talk to passing birds, or hear it from the frogs, or whatever. This is far beyond my competency, mʼlord King, but Tristenʼs chancy warnings have in the past been of some weight.
I should have heard this one, Cefwyn said. I told him not to speak. I tried to silence him in council, thinking him
Feckless?
Innocent. The room seemed stifling. He rubbed the leg, which was both sore and itched devilishly with healing, asking himself whether he was remotely fit, and distractedly adding in the back of his mind the same figures they had added in council, and wondering if three days was enough to see him more fit than he was and the baggage train delivered to Lewenside. Fear crept in the sensible sort, that said there were additional troubles, of the sort he could have expected.
Did I not say Idrys began.
Oh, you often said, master crow. And I listened too little.
He isstill the mooncalf. But on the field he seems to have a very clear understanding. He comprehends in council. He says Orien alive or dead should not remain here. That her brother should not be buried here. Nor anyone of great animosity. He seems to imply though I was already past my understanding that anyone of animosity, wizard or not, could be moved by a wizard to act against us.
Good loving gods, there are grudges. There will be grudges.
That was my impression. It may be incorrect. But he was definite about two things: first, that, through Orien, Asyneddin knows our plans, which may include, I would surmise, lord Hauryddʼs mission into Elwynor, and that fortification at Emwy, and the day on which we plan to move. And second, that Orien Aswydd and Heryn must move Heryn to holy ground.
Holy ground. Heryn!
Idrys held up a languid hand. I assure my lord, it is not my fancy.
He said the lord Regent had to remain at Althalen. That he came there to die.
We are contending with the dead, mʼlord King. Iʼd take the advice of one who should know.
Cefwyn drew a deep breath and shook his head. And had a chilling thought. The skulls from over the gates. Send those with Heryn Aswydd to the same interment. Tonight.