"You mean… the other gods are dead?"
"Not dead, but sleeping, child. But the sleep of the gods has already been ages long, and it will continue until the world ends."
"Sleeping? Then the gods are… gone?"
"Not entirely, but that is another story. And I do not doubt that a few more aging demigods and demigoddesses like me are still caring for their forests, or landlocked lakes that once were small seas. But I have not
talked to one of my kin in the waking world for so long I can scarcley remember."
"No gods? They left us?"
Lisiya's smile was grim. "Not by choice, mortal kit. But they have slept since your ancestors first set stone on stone to build the earliest cities, so it is not as though anything has changed."
"But we pray to them! I have always prayed, especially to Zoria…!"
"And you may continue to pray to her if you wish, and the others as well. They may even answer you-when they sleep, they dream, and their dreams are not like those of your kind. It is a restless sleep, for one thing… but that is most definitely a tale for another time. As it is, we have dallied too long. Come, rise."
"What? Are we going to walk again?"
"Yes. Follow." And without looking back to see if Briony had obeyed her, Lisiya went limping away through the forest.
The late afternoon sun was burrowing into the distant hills when they reached the edge of the Whitewood. As they stood with the great fence of trees behind them, Briony looked out over the meadowlands of what she could only guess was Silverside. The grassy plains stretched away as far to the north and west as she could see, beautiful, peaceful, and empty. "Why have we come here?" she asked.
"Because the music calls you here." Lisiya fumbled in her shapeless robes and drew out something on a string, lifting it over her head with surpris¬ing nimbleness. "Ah, a little sun on my bones is a kindly thing. Here, daugh¬ter. I am sorry we have not had more time. I miss the chance to speak to something less settled and slow than the trees, and for a mortal child you are not too stone-headed." She held out her claw of a hand. "Take this."
Briony lifted it from her hand. It was a crude little charm made from a bird skull and a sprig of some dried white flowers, wrapped around with white thread. "I am too old to come when summoned," Lisiya said, "and too weak to send you much in the way of help, but it could be that this might smooth your way in some difficult situation. I have one or two wor¬shipers left."
As she drew the leather cord around her neck, Briony asked, "Have we reached the place you were talking about? You're not going yet, are you?"
Lisiya smiled. "You are a good child-I'm glad it was given to me to help you. And I hope this path will lead you to at least a little happiness."
"Path, what path?" Briony looked around but saw nothing, only damp grass waving in the freshening evening wind. It was the middle of nowhere no road, no track, let alone a town. "Where am I supposed to
go…?"
But when she turned back the old woman had vanished. Briony ran back into the forest, calling and calling, looking for some sign of the black-robed form, but the Mistress of the Silver Glade was gone.
24
Three Brothers
Listen, my children! Argal and his brothers now had the excuse they needed
and their wickedness flowered. They went among the gods claiming that
Nushash had stolen Suya against her will, and many of the gods became
angry and said they would throw down Nushash, their rightful ruler.
— from The Revelations of Nushash, Book One
"THIS DOES NOT SEEM A GOOD IDEA to me," Utta whispered. "What does he want from us? He is dangerous!"
Merolanna shook her head. "You must trust me. I may not
know much, but I know my way around these things."
"But…!"
She fell silent as the new castellan, Tirnan Havemore, walked into the chamber. He held a book in his hands and was followed by a page carry¬ing more books with-rather dangerously-a writing-tray balanced atop them. Havemore wore his hair in the Syannese style that had swept the cas¬tle, cut high above the ears, and because he was balding he looked more like a priest than anything else-a resemblance, Utta thought, that Have-more was only too eager to encourage. Even when he had been merely Avin Brone's factor he had seen himself as a philosopher, a wise man amid lesser minds. She had never liked him, and knew no one outside of the Tollys' circle who did.
Havemore stopped as though he had only just realized the women were in the room. "Why, Duchess," he said, peering at them over the spectacles
perched on his narrow nose,"you honor me. And Sister Utta, a pleasure to
ve you, too. I am afraid my now duties as castellan have kept me fearfully
busy of late-too busy to visit with old friends. Perhaps we can remedy that
now. Would you like some wine? Tea?"
Utta could feel Merolanna bristling at the mere suggestion that she and this upstart were old friends. She laid her hand on the older woman's arm. "Not for me, thank you, Lord Havemore."
"1 will not take anything, either, sir," the duchess said with better grace than Utta would have expected. "And although we would love to have a proper conversation with you, we know you are a busy man. I'm certain we won't take much of your time."
"Oh, but it would be a true joy to have a visit." Havemore snapped his lingers and waved. "Wine." The page put down the books and the teeter¬ing tray on the castellan's tall, narrow desk, a desk which had been Nynor Steffen's for years and which had seemed as much a part of him as his skin and his knobby hands. Unburdened, the page left the room. "A true joy," I lavemore repeated as though he liked the sound of it. "In any case, I will have a cup of something myself, since I have been working very hard this morning, preparing for Duke Caradon's visit. I'm sure you must have heard about it-very exciting, eh?"
It was news to Utta. Hendon's older brother, the new Duke of Summerfield, coming here? Doubtless he would bring his entire retinue-hundreds more Tolly supporters in the household, and during the ominous days of the Kerneia festival as well. Her heart sank to think of what the place would be like, full of drunken soldiers.
"So, my gracious ladies," said Havemore, "what can I do for you today?"
Utta could not imagine anything that Tirnan Havemore could do for them that would not immediately be reported to Hendon Tolly, so she kept her mouth closed. This was Merolanna's idea; Utta would let the dowager duchess take the lead. Zoria, watch over us, here in the stronghold of our enemies, she prayed. Even if they knew nothing of the astonishing business she and Merolanna had embarked upon, the ruling faction held little but contempt for either of them, for one key reason: neither one of them had anything to bargain with, no strength, no land, no money. Well, except Merolanna is part of the royal family and a link to Olin. I suppose the Tollys want to keep her sweet at least until they've got their claws well into Southmarch.
"But Lord Havemore, you must know what you can do for us," Merolanna said. "Since you called us here. As I said, I don't want to intrude
on your time, which is valuable to all of Southmarch, and especially to Earl Hendon, our selfless guardian."
Careful, Utta could not help thinking. Merolanna had moved and was out of range of an admonitory squeeze of the arm. Don't be too obvious, He doesn't expect you to like him, but don't let your dislike show too openly.
"Hendon Tolly is a great man." Havemore's grin looked even more wolfish than before-he was enjoying this. "And we are all grateful that he is helping to guard King Olin's throne for its legitimate heir."
The page returned with wine and several cups. Utta and Merolanna shook their heads. The page poured only one and handed it to the castel¬lan, then stepped back to the wall and did his best to look like a piece of furniture. Havemore seated himself in his narrow chair, pointedly leaving the dowager duchess standing.