“Would you youngsters be so kind as to wait in the inner room while my Partner and I consult?” The two pages exchanged identical worried glances. “You’ll be safest there,” Parno continued, “and no one will be able to ask you any questions you’d rather not answer.”
This reassured them, and they both stood. “Come, Tel,” Rab-iRab said as they walked toward the door Dhulyn held open for them. “You look as though you could lie down.” Dhulyn gently closed the door behind them.
“What are we going to tell the Tarkina?” Parno said.
“I think we’ll rather ask her if she’s seen anything unusual, anything that has given her pause.” Dhulyn rubbed her eyes. “Are we crack-brained? Do we make too much from the maunderings of a half-crazed old man and the nerves of a young page who has seen perhaps too much in the last half moon?”
“A half-crazed old man who knew the Shadow well, and a young page who knew his Tarkin. Add to that the fact that we’ve not spent time in the Tarkin’s presence since the restoration, when he would hardly be parted from us before.” Parno shrugged. “Evidence enough at the least for us to investigate further.”
Dhulyn tapped the table lightly with the side of her right fist. “Think what we risk if we don’t learn the truth. I’d rather beg pardon if I’m wrong, and take what punishment might be awarded me, than be sorry I never tried to be sure.” Her eyebrows drew down in a frown. “Where’s Gundaron, where’s the Scholar? It’s not like Mar not to go to him first.”
“Set your mind at ease,” Parno said. “He went off this morning to the Library and hasn’t returned; likely intends to spend the night there. He’s been poring over all the old books he can find, looking for any mention of the Green-eyed Shadow.”
“Send Corin Wintermoon to fetch him,” Dhulyn said. “All things considered, whatever he’s found so far, I’d like to have him here while we discuss this.”
“And sending Corin has the added advantage that it will stop her flirting with the guards before she hurts one of them.”
Zella turned over on her couch and blinked herself awake. What was that sound? Sitting up at night with Tek had left her exhausted, and she must have dozed off without realizing it.
There it was again, a low thumping, as if-Zella shot to her feet, almost falling as she tripped on the shawl Denobea must have tucked around her legs. The sound was coming from her own bedroom, where Tek was yet again lying down. Pushing open the door, she ran into the room and found her husband by the side of the bed on his hands and knees, crawling toward the door. He shrank back as she entered, blinking at her in the dim light that followed her through the doorway.
“Zella?”
“Tek, what’s happened?” She ran forward to help him to his feet. He hunched his shoulders, cowering from her and narrowing his eyes to a squint.
“Zella?” His voice stronger now, but there was a note of query in it that made her pause, her hands still outstretched, ready to raise him to his feet. Before she could help him, he clutched at her forearm with such force that her sleeve tore.
“Tek-” she gasped. “You’re hurting me.”
“Zella,” he shook her. “Where’s Dhulyn Wolfshead? Bring her, get her now.” The fierce focus died out of his face, the painful grip on her arm relaxed as he collapsed onto the floor.
Gundaron pushed his chair back from the table and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Here since daybreak, he thought, and all I have to show for it is headache and eyestrain. He’d found the first scroll he was looking for-an early history of the Marked in the last days of the Caids-but not the equally important commentary written by the Scholar Holderon. Without it, all he could do was try his best to duplicate the other man’s work. And somehow he felt he didn’t have that much time.
The Index of Materials told him this Library did indeed have a copy of Holderon’s Commentaries, but no one could find it on the shelves. Yet Gun was certain he’d seen the scroll himself.
The history covered a period about which there were more legends known than facts, the early rise of the Marked, before they had formed into Guilds, and, interesting but not so significant for his present purpose, it had a section on the Sleeping God as well. But it was Holderon’s interpretation of this piece of ancient learning-if Gun remembered what he’d read correctly-that the Mercenary Brotherhood, the Jaldean Priesthood, the Marked, and even the Scholars themselves all appeared at the same time-just after the fall of the civilization that was now called the Caids. If Holderon was right, Gun thought, if there was a connection of some kind between the disparate groups, surely that could be a starting point, a guide for them to-
The sound of footsteps made him look up, and the sight of Karlyn-Tan heading toward him brought him to his feet. He found his mouth dry and tried to swallow, brushing down his tunic with trembling hands, conscious of being once more in Scholar’s dress. Logic told him he had no reason to fear the former Steward of Walls, but he found he still wasn’t really comfortable with anyone but Mar.
“Karlyn-Tan,” he said. “I didn’t think to see you still outside Tenebro House.”
The older man smiled and shrugged one shoulder into the air as he propped his hip on the edge of the next carrel. “Nothing’s made permanent, Gundaron. The Lord Dal-eDal is giving me time to think. I’m not altogether sure that I want my old post back. I was Walls for fifteen years, never thinking to come out.”
“But now that you are out…”
Karlyn nodded. “Exactly. Now that I am out-I may be more useful outside the Walls, and, well, it’s rare a Steward has a chance to rethink such a choice, and I’m using the opportunity.”
His own heart being well awake now, the significance of certain looks and gestures suddenly dawned on Gun. “It wouldn’t be Dhulyn Wolfshead who’s making you rethink your choices?” Gun asked, made bold by Karlyn-Tan’s friendly tone.
Karlyn-Tan laughed. “It might, though perhaps not in the way you’re thinking.”
Gun sat down again. “What brings you here?”
“Dal needed a message sent, and I felt like a walk. When they told me you were in here, it seemed like a gift from the Caids. There’s a deal of scrolls and books left in your room at Tenebro House, Gundaron of Valdomar, and-what have I said?”
Gun stopped striking his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I was looking for a scroll and wondering why I couldn’t find it and all the time it’s probably sitting in my study at Tenebro.”
Karlyn-Tan looked at Gun with such sympathy that Gun lowered his eyes. “You’d rather not think about Tenebro House, wouldn’t you?” the man said. “Put it all behind you, as it were?”
It was Gun’s turn to shrug.
“Your pardon, Scholar Gundaron.” It was one of the youngster Scholars that Gun didn’t know. “There’s a Mercenary Brother at the gate. You’re to come to the Dome.”
Gun glanced at Karlyn-Tan.
The older man nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
Running footsteps in the outer room warned them as the door was flung open, and Zelianora Tarkina, a white-faced Mar behind her, swept into the room. The sleeve of the Tarkina’s dress was pulled loose from the shoulder seam, and her dark hair was escaping from her court veil.
“The Tarkina was on her way here,” Mar said.
“Mar has told you, then?” Parno said, rising to his feet as Mar entered behind the older woman and shut the door. The young woman was shaking her head even as Zelianora spoke.
“Told me? Told me what? No.” She looked wildly around the room before focusing her eyes on Dhulyn. “Dhulyn Wolfshead,” Zelianora said, reaching out her hands, “Please come, Tek asks for you.”
Dhulyn stood slowly. “What are you not saying?” Four days ago this request would not have brought the Tarkina herself. Four days ago Zelianora would have sent a servant.