a loud grunt of despair that he realized someone else was already sitting there.
“Oh! Your pardon, Lady...”
The woman in the dark dress looked up. Her eyes were red —she had been crying. An ivory-colored mask sat on her lap like a temple offering bowl. Tinwright’s heart jumped, and for a moment he could not speak. He leaped to his feet, bowed, then remembered to take off his mask.
“Master Tinwright.” She turned away and lifted her kerchief, drying her tears in a slow, deliberate fashion. Her voice was hard. “You find me at a disadvantage. Have you followed me, sir?”
“No, Lady Elan, I swear. I was only...”
“Wandering in the garden? Enjoying the weather?”
He laughed ruefully. “Yes, as you can see I have quite immersed myself in it. No, I was...well, I must be frank. The Baron of Graylock and some of his friends had taken it into their heads that I should entertain them, and it wasn’t clear how much I should have to suffer for my art.” He shrugged. “I decided that I would entertain them with a game of hide and seek instead.”
“Durstin Crowel?” Her voice grew harder still. “Ah, yes, dear Lord Crowel. Do you know, when I first came here, he asked Hendon if he could have me. ‘I’ll break her for you, Tolly,’ he said—as if I were a horse.”
“You mean he wanted to marry you?”
For the first time she turned to look at him, her face a mask of bitter amusement. “Marry me? Black heart of Kernios, no, he wanted to bed me only.” Her face twisted into something else, something truly disturbing. “He did not know that Hendon had other plans for me. But yes, I know Baron Durstin.” She composed herself, even tried to smile. “Very well, Master Tinwright, you are forgiven for your intrusion. And in fact, you may keep the arbor for yourself and I’ll tell no one where you are. I must go back inside now. Doubtless my lord and master is looking for me.”
She had risen, the mask halfway to her face, when Tinwright at last found the words.
“What is he to you?”
“Who?” She sounded startled. “Do you mean Hendon Tolly? I should think that was obvious, Master Tinwright. He owns me.”
“You are not his wife but his sister-in-law. Will he marry you?”
“Why should he? Why should he pay for a cow whose milk is already his?”
It sickened him to hear her speak so. He took a breath, tried to find calm words. “Does he at least treat you well, my lady?”
She laughed, a cracked, unpleasant sound, and put the white mask to her face so that she seemed a corpse or a ghost. “Oh, he is most attentive.” Her shoulders slumped and she turned away again. “Truly, I must go.”
Tinwright grabbed at the sleeve of her velvet gown. She tried to pull away and something tore. For a moment they both stood, half in, half out of the rain.
“I would kill him for causing you unhappiness,” he said, and realized in that moment it was true. “I would.”
She lowered the mask in surprise. “Gods help us, do not say such things! Do not even go near him. He...you do not know. You cannot guess what evil is in him.”
Tinwright still held her sleeve. “I...would not treat you so, Lady Elan. If you were mine, that is. I would love you. As it is, I think of you day and night.”
She stared at him. Tears welled in her eyes again. “Ah, but you are a boy, Master Tinwright.”
“I am grown!”
“In years. But your heart is still innocent. I am filthy and I would begrime you, too. I would stain you as I myself am stained, corrupted...”
“No. Please, do not say such things!”
“I must go.” She gently pulled free of his grip. “You are kind —you cannot know how kind—to say such things to me. But you must not think of me. I could not bear to have another’s soul on my conscience.”
Before she could turn away again he stepped forward and took her shoulders, felt her trembling. Could it be she had some feelings for him? She looked so startled at his touch, so frightened, as if she expected to be hit, that he did not kiss her mouth, although he wished to at this moment beyond any dream of riches or fame he had ever coveted. Instead he let his hands slide down her arms. As if his fingers stole her vitality where they passed, she let the mask drop clattering to the walkway. He took both her hands in his, lifted them to his lips, and kissed her cold fingers.
“I love you, Lady Elan. I cannot bear to see you, and to know you are in pain.”
Her cheeks were wet, her eyes bright and frightened. “Oh, Master Tinwright, it cannot be.”
“Matthias. My name is Matthias.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then pulled his hands up to her mouth and kissed them in turn. “Would you really help me? Truly?
He was soaking with rain, but he could feel her tears on his hands like streaks of hot lead. “I would do anything—I swear by all the gods. Ask me.”
She turned to look out into the darkness. When she turned back her face was strange. “Then bring me poison. Something that will cause a quick death.”
For a moment Matt Tinwright could not breathe. “You...you would kill Tolly?”
She let go of his hands and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “Are you mad? With my sister married to his brother Caradon? The Tollys would destroy her. They would burn my parents’ house to the ground and murder them both. Not to mention that Southmarch Castle would be left in the hands of Crowel and Havemore and others almost as blackhearted as Hendon, but not as clever. The March Kingdoms would be drowned in blood in half a year.” She took a breath. “No. I want the poison for myself.”
She pulled away from him again, bent and picked up her mask. When she stood, she was again a phantom. “If you love me, you will bring me that release. It is the only gift I can ever take from you, sweet Matthias.”
And then she was gone into the rain.
21. The Deathwatch Chamber
Brave Nushash was out riding and saw Suya the Dawnflower, the beautiful daughter of Argal, and instantly knew she must be his. He stopped beside her and held out his hand, and at once she too fell in love with him. Thus it is when the heart speaks louder than the head—even gods must listen. She reached up to him and let the fire god draw her up into the saddle. Together they rode away.
Vansen lay on his face, still trembling, unable to find the strings to make his limbs lift him again and uncertain that he wanted to. The terrible voice that had blasted through his head like a crack of thunder was still echoing, although whether that was inside or outside his skull, or both, he could not have said.
Vansen whimpered despite himself. He felt as though an ocean wave had picked him up and dashed him onto the rocks. He clung to the floor and wondered if he could hit his head hard enough on the stone flags to kill himself and end this throbbing, agonizing clamor.
When the voice rolled over and through him again, the words and the mocking laugh were quieter—painful but not crippling.
