Then I slipped the spyglass inside my waistcoat and walked downhill until I stood next to the stone walls that channeled the rushing stream toward the stone culvert under the road. I concentrated on imaging a narrow stone bridge affixed to the wall on the north side. A dark, ledgelike structure appeared.
I swallowed, then put one boot on the ledge. It seemed firm. I put my full weight on the structure, then moved forward, staying close to the wall. Once I was past the extension of the stone walls and off my imaged ledge bridge, I imaged it out of existence, because I didn’t need anyone to see it.
Standing where I was, at the bottom of a gradual slope that ended with the stream to my right, Ryel’s chateau, and especially the tower off the low-walled terrace beyond the south wing, loomed into the pale blue sky. The edge of the stream was marked with perfect pale white gravel that ended at a stone coping at the top of the stream bank. Neatly cropped grass covered the three yards between the coping and the waist-high boxwood hedge that bordered the stream. Uphill from the hedge was another swathe of grass with curving stone walks winding around flower beds already mulched and banked for the winter, topiary representing various animals, and perfectly trimmed trees of all sorts, both deciduous and evergreens. Varying patterns of grass and walks and trimmed vegetation filled the entire space between the stream and the gray stone wall that formed the base of the south wing of the chateau, the terrace, and the lower part of the tower. Earlier, I had judged the square tower to be five yards on a side, but it seemed smaller, perhaps because the chateau and terrace base seemed larger from below. From the middle of the terrace, a wide stone staircase descended to a landing halfway down the wall, and from each end of the landing, staircases circled back to rejoin and descend to the gardens.
A low howl issued from somewhere uphill, and I immediately glanced to the north, my eyes trying to pick out the kennels that held the guard dogs. I thought I could see the grayish tile roof of the kennel building over the garden foliage, but I wasn’t completely certain. Another low howl followed. I waited, but there were no more howls, not for the moment.
I returned my attention to the terrace. It appeared empty.
Because I needed to get closer to the chateau and especially to the tower, behind my concealment shields I edged along the stone walkway leading toward the northeast. Some hundred yards farther into the gardens, I stationed myself beside a narrow evergreen, on the downhill side, but where I had an angle to see who was on the terrace or tower, at least near the southern side of each. After slipping the spyglass case out I used the telescope to study the open top of the tower. No one was there.
From what I could see, everyone was inside, and only two guards stood on the terrace.
Had Ryel called off his festival? How could he have, when I’d seen two coaches, obviously belonging to High Holders, headed toward his estates, and seen one of them actually pass through the gates?
Had I been set up as a target? By Iryela? By Veblynt? Or was everyone inside because it was too cold to celebrate in the chill wind? Would that make my plan totally useless?
Slowly, I used the spyglass to survey the deciduous trees that looked to have leaves and were visible from the tower. The tightness in my chest eased slightly when I saw a placard on the third tree I checked, an oak. Then I saw another placard on a maple.
I took a deep breath. Surely, Ryel would at least have to come out on the terrace.
He might have to, but the faint bells of fourth glass chimed from somewhere, and no one had yet appeared outside.
Even in my heavy woolens, and shielded from the wind, I had a hard time keeping from shivering as I waited . . . and waited. Every so often, a low howl issued from the kennels, and the two guards I could see on the edge of the terrace changed their positions.
In time, the five bells from that distant anomen chimed the glass.
Then, without warning, there were four guards on the terrace, and ten appeared on the wide stone staircase, walking down toward the gardens in which I waited. At the base of the stone stairs, they spread out into five pairs, all with drawn pistols, although they also had what appeared to be sabers at their belts. All wore black jackets and trousers with silver piping. One pair looked to be walking directly toward me. As I stepped back closer to the evergreen, a fir of a type unfamiliar to me, I could only hope that my concealment shields would indeed keep me from being discovered.
The two guards passed within several yards, but barely looked in my direction.
“. . .never had to check the grounds this much . . . third time today . . .”
“. . .you want to question Armsmaster Gwillam?”
“. . . nonsense . . . who’d want to get in here? Besides, what could they do down here?”
I scarcely dared to breathe as they passed because while they might not see me, they certainly could hear any sound I might make.
After close to a quint, the guards patrolling the gardens returned to the staircase, but four remained at the base, while four stationed themselves at the landing midway up toward the terrace, and the remaining two joined the four guards who had stayed at the top.
Because I was still a good fifty yards from the base of the tower, I moved slowly across the grass until I reached another vantage point behind a low and bushy fir, only about thirty yards from the southwest corner of the tower and directly below the stone staircase leading down to the gardens.
Finally, I could hear voices. They all sounded as if they were male. Several heads bobbed up and down, moving toward the tower. One figure stopped at the top of the staircase to gaze down in my general direction. I used the spyglass to look at him closely. Although he was resplendent in a green and gold jacket and black trousers, I did not recognize him, except as a likely High Holder and guest of Ryel’s.
The voices diminished, and I trusted that was because they were ascending the tower through an internal staircase. Through the spyglass, I began to study the top of the tower. For a time, I saw no one at all.
Finally, Ryel appeared, standing against the crenellated southern wall of the tower. He gestured expansively, pointing toward one of the placarded trees. I eased the telescope farther left, catching sight of a face I did not know, then another.
Where was Dulyk? I kept scanning the tower, but I still could not see the younger Ryel as the other four High Holders clustered around Ryel and gestured in slightly varying directions, presumably toward different trees.
Abruptly Dulyk appeared beside his sire, holding what looked to be a small golden tree of some sort. That meant there were at least six people on the top of the tower, all High Holders.
Did I dare go ahead?
I lowered the telescope. Did I really have any choice? My opportunities were few, my resources fewer, especially if I did not want overt signs pointing back to me and my family. As Master Dichartyn had pointed out, unless there was proof, people could surmise, but they could not act against or through the Collegium, Council, or Civic Patrol.
Based on my experiments with the walls of the old mill, I’d decided against even trying to image out the mortar. That wouldn’t collapse the tower, and it would warn people. I needed to do what was necessary quickly-and all at once. Unfortunately, I hadn’t practiced my technique extensively, not the way Maitre Dyana would have wished, but how did one really practice destroying entire buildings in a city where one’s duty was to protect the people and their dwellings?
As I concentrated on imaging out whole sections of the base of the tower, I focused on drawing energy from everywhere around me, but especially from the gardens and the stream. My mouth was dry, and I was all too conscious of a strange stillness that had descended upon the estate as if time had slowed to a stop, even every sound frozen as if part of a portrait that held not only colors and shapes, but sounds, energies, textures-everything that comprised the world.