Dal-eDal had spoken to his House in a practiced murmur that would not carry beyond the worktable at which Lok-iKol sat, but now he pointedly looked at the servants and waited until Lok-iKol had waved them out of the room before he spoke again.
“They have gone, my House,” he repeated. “Escaped.”
“Impossible. Who freed them?” His hands were fists, and the scarring stood out bone-white from the rest of his face.
Dal had never seen Lok-iKol so angry. Fear could take a man that way, but somehow Dal doubted what he saw in Lok’s face was fear.
“Your pardon, my House,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. “No one needs to free Mercenaries; they free themselves. The cell was found locked, but empty.”
“The cell?-Etkyn! Etkyn, here!” One of Lok-iKol’s personal guard charged in from the anteroom, sword drawn. “Go to the east room immediately and check it.”
“But, my House-”
“Don’t argue, GO!” The man ran from the room.
Dal remained standing at the side of the worktable, watching Lok rap his knuckles against the tabletop. As Heir he was entitled to a chair, but he knew the answer Etkyn would bring, and he thought it best to remain on his feet.
Running feet in the outer room announced Etkyn’s return. His face announced his news. Lok’s scarred countenance darkened even further. “Search the House,” he whispered. “They may not have gone far.”
“My House, hear me.” Lok looked at him as if he had forgotten Dal was still in the room. With a raised hand he signaled to Etkyn to wait.
“Let them go, my House,” Dal said. “They have left without killing anyone. If we let it end here, they may take no action against us.” And we should count ourselves as lucky, he thought better of saying.
The new Tenebroso nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are right, Cousin. Perhaps so.” He sat back in his chair. “Very well.” He picked up the parchment he had been studying when Dal had broken the news. Etkyn glanced at him, and, Dal giving him the slightest of nods, left to return to his post outside the door. Dal prepared to follow.
“Cousin,” Lok said before Dal had managed more than a couple of steps. “I had intended to meet with our little cousin, the Lady Mar-eMar this morning. Would you see her for me and ask her something? Ask her-” Lok broke off, staring unseeing at the ceiling of the room. “Ask her at which inn the Brothers who brought her to Gotterang stayed when they arrived.”
“Certainly, my House.” Dal waited, but Lok returned once again to his parchments.
So much for letting them go. Dal thought, as he, too, bowed and left the chamber. Dal didn’t know what was so important about these Mercenary Brothers that Lok would endanger the House in the first place, and go looking for them in the second. Karlyn-Tan did not know either-though the Steward of Walls had now made it his business to find out. The problem was the number of men-at-arms who reported directly to Lok-iKol, and who were not part of Karlyn’s guard. The Scholar, Gundaron, he would know. And little Cousin Mar might know something as well. Dal began to walk faster.
Lan-eLan had called the younger relatives and senior staff to meet in the south sitting room, with the Stewards of Walls and Keys in attendance. Like Mar, most of those gathered had heard the news already, but this was the official announcement. The two sisters looked pale, Nor-eNor as though she was about to cry genuine tears, Mar thought. Ah, well, they knew the Fallen House. Only right they should really mourn her. This death changed their whole world.
And mine as well, Mar thought, as she watched the older girl wipe her eyes.
As soon as she could, Mar left the assembly and headed back to her room, threading the corridors carefully to avoid getting lost. She was mounting the second staircase when Gundaron caught up with her.
“You’re leaving the House,” he said, so quietly Mar had to tilt her head toward him to be sure she’d heard him correctly. “Your things this morning,” he went on. “You were packing.”
Mar risked a glance at his face. He was frowning, but not the kind of frown that seemed about to raise the alarm.
“That’s nonsense,” she ventured. Her hand slid forward on the banister as she continued up the stairs.
“I’m not going to stop you. In fact,” he swallowed. “I’m coming with you.”
“You are not.” Mar stiffened, her right foot raised for the next step. She couldn’t believe how easily he’d tricked her into giving herself away.
He patted the air between them. “Not so loud, do you want to be stopped after all?” He looked down the staircase behind him, and up to where it curved to the right. “Get your things, come to my room and I’ll explain.”
Mar wasn’t sure exactly how she managed it, but it seemed no time at all until Gundaron was showing her into his room, where she sat gingerly on the edge of the round stool at his worktable, watching him empty books out of stiff canvas bags and arrange them in tidy rows on the shelves.
“Here,” he said, handing her an empty book bag. “Put your things into this.”
“Why?”
“Because neither of us would ever be carrying around bags of clothing in this House, let alone out the gates. But we might be carrying books. I’d be returning them to the Library of Scholars, and you might be interested in coming with me, since you can read. We’ve no duties to perform for the Fallen House, either of us,” he added. “If no one sees us for a while, they’ll just be glad we’re not underfoot.”
Mar swallowed, the words she had to ask trembling on her lips. “Not that ‘why.’ I meant why would you come with me?”
He lowered his eyes, but not before she saw the fear.
“I can’t stay, knowing what I know. I can’t do it again. I could have gone to the Fallen House and resigned. She would have accepted my Scholar’s oath to keep the House’s business to myself. But Lok-iKol…” He turned away, began picking up his own clothing. “If we leave together, it’s like the book bags. Misdirection. We’ve no reason to run away together, so no one will think we are.” Gundaron took a deep breath and stopped, a clean and neatly folded undershirt in his hand. “I don’t want to stay here, and from the look of things, neither do you. We might be able to do together what we’d fail to do alone.”
Mar was aware of a small hollow in the center of her body, where she hadn’t been aware anything existed. He was coming with her because he had to leave the House, and doing so together made logical and tactical sense. Well, of course, she thought, gritting her teeth. What other reason could he possibly have? And yet there was that little hollow inside her.
Gundaron didn’t know how much he was depending on Mar’s agreement until she stood up from the chair and began transferring her clothes and possessions into the book bag he’d given her-and his heart started beating again. Most of what she was shoving into the book bag was clothes and similar bundles, but he recognized the oiled canvas package that held her pens, inks, and spare parchments. Wehave a lot in common, he thought. It makes sense for us to be together. He turned back to his own packing, struggling to keep the smile from his face.
He had been afraid to approach Dhulyn Wolfshead, but after learning of the Fall of the House, he’d left Mar and gone down to the cell in the western subcellar where the other Mercenaries were, hoping to explain and apologize. He’d found it locked, but empty. The Mercenaries had left without killing him. And maybe, just maybe, if he kept his head down, they wouldn’t come after him-they’d be satisfied with Lok-iKol. He and Lady Mar could get away. Together. He was starting to feel good about this.