“Where is she?” I leapt from the saddle and charged through the billowing smoke toward the blackened stonework, nearly throttling the first person who chanced within my reach. “Tell me she’s dead and you’ll wish you were likewise.”
The man in the red shirt didn’t answer, only choked and gasped and fought, dragging me to the ground with his struggle.
“She isn’t here,” said the calm voice behind me, “and killing my servants won’t get her back… my lord.” Men’Thor peered down his straight nose and bowed slightly. What a portrait I presented: groveling in the dirt with a common soldier, the filth of battle dried on my clothes. “Radele says Ven’Dar has abducted both your wife and the Destroyer’s minion. And it appears as if the Preceptor is responsible for two murders a few days ago. The situation is unfathomable. The man must have gone mad.”
“Seri and Paulo abducted? By Ven’Dar?” I shoved the gasping soldier away and scrambled to my feet, fighting for composure, for clarity. “Why the devil would he do such a thing? Where did he take them?”
“Having just arrived myself, my lord, I’ve no answers for you. No sooner did I walk into the house than the man set the place alight over our heads. One of my men saw the three of them ride deeper into the Vale, but we’ve searched and found no sign of them. Ven’Dar’s surely made a portal to transport them elsewhere. They could be anywhere by now.”
Calm yourself, fool. Breathe. Think. I could not help Seri if I could not think. Heat pulsed from the rubble. I ducked under a smoldering beam and wandered through the broken walls, waving a hand at the destruction. “You’re saying Ven’Dar did this, too?”
Men’Thor folded his arms as we moved through the ruin, scuffing the ash with the toe of his knee-high boot. “The Preceptor cast as he escaped. We’re fortunate no one else lies dead. Happily Radele had dismissed the servants. The whole thing reeks of madness… of the Lords.”
Blackened piers and beams stood at rakish angles, a macabre pattern against the morning. Wind sighed across the hilltop, swirling smoke and ash in our eyes and fanning the embers. This was lunacy. I could certainly comprehend that Ven’Dar had decided he could no longer support me. But beyond the simple matter of desertion, nothing of this story held together. Two guards murdered by a man who so treasured the Way? By Ven’Dar, who understood and grieved for what I had become? Persuasion was Ven’Dar’s favored weapon, not a knife, not fire and destruction. He wielded power backed by virtue and wisdom, not hostages or blackmail.
And a mystery of less mortal consequence, yet still profound: Nentao had once belonged to Exeget, Ven’Dar’s mentor. This house and garden had held everything that remained of a brilliant, honorable, difficult man that only Ven’Dar had truly loved. What circumstance could cause him to destroy a place he so treasured? If it was the Preceptor…
I whirled on Men’Thor and gripped his arm. “Are you certain it was Ven’Dar? Did you read him?”
“These events transpired but moments after my arrival, lord.” A man of infinite patience was Men’Thor. “If you remember, I have been fighting Zhid the past five days. Besides… I would never take it on myself to read a Preceptor.” Men’Thor’s voice did not falter, though my fingers ground his flesh against his bones.
“You took it on yourself to come here unasked.”
“On the contrary, sire. You did not respond to my son’s urgent message and so, very properly, he summoned me. Radele indicated that your wife was ill beyond the continuing sad state of her mind, a disease of enchantment the Healers did not recognize. My son was concerned for her life.”
“Not enough, it seems.”
Men’Thor’s jaw tightened, bulging his cheeks; the sinews of his arm stiffened like taut rope under my fingers. Yet even now his voice remained even. “Speak as you will to me, sire, but I’ll not have my son’s abilities or loyalties questioned, even by you. Neither man, nor Zhid, nor cowardly tool of the Lords of Zhev’Na has ever prevailed against my son in combat. He has defended your kingdom since he could hold a weapon, as have my father and I. Tell me the same of your son, Your Grace.”
His words laid down a gauntlet that I could not pick up. I released his arm.
“Yes, Men’Thor. Radele is very accomplished. And a man of honor, as is his father.” That’s why I had chosen the noble bastard to watch Gerick and to guard Seri. “Where is the man who witnessed Ven’Dar’s escape?”
Men’Thor called out to one of his guardsmen that the Prince wished to see H’Kale as soon as possible. It was Radele, his mouth set in an uncharacteristically grim line, who held a youngish man firmly by the sleeve and dragged him Stumbling through the ruins a few moments later. “Here’s the fool who let them get away,” snapped Radele.
The fellow fell to his knees, stammering. “My lord, I’ve never seen the like. The spider… I’ve a horror of them… caught me up… By Vasrin Creator, I saw it as the size of a dog, and so real… I felt the pincers… felt the web sticky… ”
“Just tell me where they went - the Preceptor and the others.”
“Into the Vale, my lord. I’ll swear it. Down the track where I was caught, back behind the stable, and then up farther into the hills. They didn’t circle back as… some others say. On my mother’s bones, I’ll swear it. First the youth and the Lady, and then the Preceptor close behind just after he set the fire.”
Radele sneered at the blubbering young guardsman, gripping his hair and jerking his head back, allowing us to see the slimy evidence of terror dribbling from his nose and mouth and smeared across his cheeks. “You’re either blind or traitor, H’Kale. There’s nothing in the Vale within a day’s ride. We sent - ”
“Did you search the tower, Radele?”
“My lord?”
“Ven’Dar’s tower in the Vale. Did you examine it?”
“We searched every house and rock and glade within ten leagues of this house. We saw no tower.”
“Bring my horse,” I bellowed, kicking the young guardsman to his feet and sending him stumbling through the blackened ruin, before confronting Men’Thor and his son again. Blind, self-important fools. “Are you a complete imbecile, Radele? Every Word Winder has a retreat. He’s just cast a winding to hide it.”
“A. winding,!” Men’Thor whirled on Radele. “You didn’t look for enchantments in the Vale?”
A properly stunned Radele hurried along beside me as I hurried out of the ruin. “Ah, my lord… I wasn’t told… I didn’t know… ” Was it panic I detected in his voice? “Please, my lord, you must allow me to redeem this oversight. You and my father have fought these past days… the guesthouse is unharmed… you should rest… ”
But I had no time to let a preening fool restore his honor. “I’ll rest when my wife is secure.”
I raced down the track into the Vale, while Men’Thor and Radele were yet calling for their mounts.
Sunbeams glared in my face as I came to the barriers, enchantments so subtle you wouldn’t realize they existed unless you noticed how your eyes constantly strayed from the path. Your inclination was to veer off in any direction but straight ahead. And no sooner did you glimpse the white tower than your eyes slid off it and you forgot it existed… unless you had once been privileged to be a guest there… unless your dying wife was being held hostage by a man to whom you had bared your soul and a youth who held allegiance to your mortal enemy.
I pushed through the barrier, knowing the intrusion would warn Ven’Dar - if the man was indeed Ven’Dar and not my son destroying yet another of my friends. At the same time, I reached ahead with my thoughts, calling out the traitor. Give them up, Ven’Dar, or I’ll have your head even before I take the Destroyer’s!
When I rode into the tower clearing, a grave, unsmiling Ven’Dar stood waiting for me. His clothes were filthy, his graying hair damp and tousled. As I dismounted and approached the tower, he knelt. “Ce’na davonet, Giré D’Arnath.”