“You spoke truth without knowing it,” Alkoryn said. “Well, at least they have been warned. What else can you tell me?”
Dhulyn only half heard Fanryn’s first words. So Mar and Gundaron of Valdomar had come here. Looking for what?
“Lok-iKol holds the Dome and the city,” Fanryn was saying, leading the way out of the room that, to anyone who didn’t know better, held nothing but the old cistern of Mercenary House. “Of the High Nobles, Jarifo and Esmolo Houses are with him-”
“We saw their men in the Dome,” Dhulyn said as she followed the other women up a short flight of stone steps and through another counterweighted chunk of wall.
“The other Houses are holding off, waiting to see how true Lok-iKol’s arrow will fly, though there’s talk that the Tenebroso will be acclaimed by midday,” Fanryn continued, her face showing her displeasure. “The only one demanding to be shown Tek-aKet Tarkin, living or dead, is the Penradoso.”
“I know that House,” Dhulyn said, thinking back over the years to the last time she’d fought in Imrion. When she and Parno had met.
“You should,” Alkoryn said, pausing with his hand on the wall to take a deeper breath. Dhulyn didn’t like the look of the man, his color was worse than a sleepless night walking underground should make it. “Fen-oNef Penrado was an old ally of Tek-aKet Tarkin’s father, and he fought on the old Tarkin’s side at Arcosa. You’d have seen him there. The odds are very short that he’ll come to Lok-iKol’s side without proof positive that Tek-aKet’s dead.”
“Lok-iKol’s gone ahead and scheduled his anointing for next new moon,” Thionan added. “Twelve days from now. And the Jaldeans have agreed. So old Penrado hasn’t much time to decide.”
They’d reached Alkoryn’s map room by this time, and the old man looked better for being able to sit down in his own chair. Dhulyn leaned against the wall between the two windows, angled into a corner of the map shelves where she couldn’t be seen from outside, and stifled a yawn. If she sat down, she thought, she’d fall right to sleep.
“Is there anything more?” Alkoryn said.
Fanryn considered, her head to one side. “There’s seventeen Brothers in the House,” she said. “Eleven of those from the Carnelian Guard who were out in the streets overnight. They felt their oaths were to Tek-aKet Tarkin, rather than the Carnelian Throne, so when he Fell, they came Home.”
“Did any die in street fighting?” Dhulyn asked.
“None. In fact, they saved some of the other Carnelian Guardsmen, and we’ve got them hidden around the quarter, some in the Old Market. None in the House, of course.” Fanryn looked over at Thionan when her Partner cleared her throat. “Besides the children you sent us, we do have a guest, however, who was visiting in the House when your orders came to shut the gates.” Fanryn waited to be sure she had both Dhulyn and Alkoryn’s attention. “Cullen of Langeron is here,” she said, “an intimate of Yaro of Trevel, and a Racha man, no less. Seeing that Yaro was once of our Brotherhood, we gave them sanctuary.”
“That may turn out to be very lucky.” Alkoryn leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “How many Marked have we in the tunnels?”
“Including the Mender’s children Hernyn brought us, seven.”
“Delay no longer. See that they go now, before the day is out. Send also our own youngsters, any waiting for Schooling and any not ready for their badges. Let them go with the Marked as far as the Tourin Road, then to Nerysa Warhammer. The Marked to Pompano, unless Cullen would like to take this opportunity to return to his home, in which case he may want them to accompany him to Langeron. Who is scheduled for the task?”
“The sisters, Jenn IceSea and Jess Riverhorse.”
“Let them choose two others to help them and go with the group to Nerysa. If Cullen of Langeron decides to go, ask him to have word with me before he departs.” He nodded twice and looked up at Fanryn. “If there is nothing else pressing, I’d like a few minutes with Dhulyn if you would, my Brothers.”
Both Fanryn and Thionan straightened to their feet. “I’ll have some food and drink sent up,” Thionan said.
“Considering we may need a place to hide the Tarkin Tek-aKet and his family, it’s a very lucky thing indeed that the Racha man is here.” Alkoryn spoke half to himself. “No one would think to look for them in the Clouds.”
Dhulyn stayed at her perch by the window, consciously relaxing each muscle group as she waited for Alkoryn to turn his full attention to her. She could think of only one reason Alkoryn would have sent both Fanryn and Thionan away. He’s going to ask me to See, she thought. That’s the reason I’m not in the caves with the Tarkin.
“I must say, Dhulyn, my Brother, if the reaction of the Tarkin and his counselor is any indication, I am not at all surprised that you tell no one of your Mark.” Alkoryn sat up straight and laid his hands palm down on the map of Gotterang that still covered his table. “But I would fail in my duties as Senior Brother and Commander of this House if I did not ask you, despite what you and Parno have told me of your experience, is there no way you can look for a Vision that may be of help to us?”
Dhulyn looked at him for a long moment. He was asking her in the same way he would ask a swordsmith how many weapons were ready for use. No judgment, just a request for the kind of information that would help him plan his strategy. A tightness she had not been aware of loosened in her chest. Whatever she said now, he would take her at her word. She was still among Brothers. In Battle or in Death.
“It’s worse than Parno told you,” she said. “Worse than I knew myself. Only very recently I have learned that some of what I See is not the future at all, but the past. If I cannot even tell which is which, the Visions I do See are useless to us.”
The knock at the door was soft, almost as if the person outside wanted the room to be empty. Karlyn-Tan’s “Enter” was so automatic he did not even look up from his lists of work orders. A moment passed before he realized that someone had indeed come in, and that she was waiting for him to speak. He glanced at Semlin-Nor’s face and he sat back, lowering his pen to the tabletop. Born in the House, Semlin was the most unflappable of the House Stewards, and not even the fall of the Old House had given her that gray skin, that tremor in her clasped hands. Seeing her face, Karlyn had the feeling he was going to be sorry to have answered the knock. Maybe even that he’d got up at all today.
“Word has come from the Dome,” Semlin said, and cleared her throat. “The Tenebroso is on his way.”
“Sit down, Sem.” Karlyn shoved his paperwork to one side. There would be time to do it once Lok-iKol had come and gone. Both he and Semlin-Nor had received messages from the Dome in the twenty-four hours since Lok-iKol had taken the Carnelian Throne, asking for one thing or another that the new Tarkin had decided he wanted from his own House. A levy of men from Karlyn-Tan, a favorite chair from Semlin-Nor. There were only two things the Tenebroso could not send for, Karlyn thought, and they were both in this room.
Semlin had shaken her head and remained standing, her hands on the high back of the chair across from him. “Which of us do you suppose he wants?” Semlin’s voice was steady and true, but Karlyn-Tan had an idea from the whiteness of her knuckles on the chairback how much that steadiness cost her.
“I can think of no area in which you’ve failed the House,” he said. “And I shall say so, should I have the chance.”
“As will I for you,” Semlin said, nodding.
Karlyn looked at her carefully, but there was no insincerity in her face. “No.” Karlyn leaned back in his chair, tapping his lips with the fingers of his right hand. “I have reason to believe it will be me. Don’t try to shield me, you can’t know the cost.”