globe. If need be, he would fling the glass bowl, spider and all, at the intruder and pray that none of the web touched his own skin before he escaped. 'Who sent you?' Jorani asked.
'The baroness. She said I am to tell you she used the potion, and that I am the result. I am to answer your questions.'
'Then sit,' Jorani said.
The man did, and pulled back the hood of his black cape. Certain what the youth had become, Jorani winced. How could she have done it, and how could she have let the man live when she saw the result?
'My name is Arman, and I am captain of Baroness Ilsabet's guards,' the man said, and in a simple, emotionless voice, he told his story.
'How do you survive?' Jorani asked Arman.
'On men taken from the dungeons, and when those aren't available, on sheep. Baroness Ilsabet said she is concerned about the loss of the sheep. She said that you would know what must be done.'
Would know! Jorani thought of all his suspicions about Marishka's death, then Mihael's. He'd always believed Ilsabet incapable of the murder of those she loved, but now he knew she was capable of anything. The affection he felt for Ilsabet vanished in the hour that he sat and spoke with Arman-not only because of her ruthlessness but because of her cowardice. She should have told him all of this herself, then asked for help rather than all but demanding it. 'You tell me that she created two of you?' Jorani asked when Arman had finished.
When Emory hunted, he occasionally came across Arman in the hills above the town. He helped Arman hunt his prey, watched him kill with such savagery that Emory was sickened by it. Nonetheless, they were brothers; Emory would never betray him.
Emory rarely slept at night, and when the sheep attacks began, he had an excuse for staying awake. Though his mother worried, he stayed outside with their flocks, guarding their corral. Spring had rolled in quickly. The land smelled of life-new grass, new leaves, the early wildflowers that already dotted the hills.
One night, he saw his brother riding toward him, his face white in the moonlight, his eyes shadowed and dark. Usually he was alone, but tonight there was another rider as well, a tall man on a magnificent stallion. He recognized the horse first, then the rider.
Arman didn't greet him, didn't ask about the family. Instead, he said, 'Lord Jorani wishes to speak to you. The baroness wants you to answer all his questions truthfully.'
Emory sighed. 'Always more questions,' he said. They walked together down the path that led to the cliff above the river, the same cliff from which he'd said he'd lost his brother's body so many months ago. Below them, the swollen Arvid River cut a line of silver through the forest. The evening was warm, and only a few mists curled above the water. From that spot, Emory could see the tops of the castle walls and the towers rising above the trees.
They tied the horses' reins to low branches then sat together. In the next hour, Emory described how he had been changed, and how he'd killed his brother, then taken him to the baroness to be saved.
'And do you have to kill the way your brother does?' Jorani asked.
'I did in the beginning. Now I control the need and feed off my flock. I don't drink from the same animal twice in a row, and I make certain any animal I use gets extra food for a few days after.'
'Did you ever tell your mother what happened to Annan?' Jorani asked when Emory had finished.
'I couldn't. If I had I would have had to explain how I knew. It would have been one more tragedy among all the rest.'
'A wise decision,' Jorani said. He untied his horse. Arman did the same. Emory watched them mount and start down the narrow path to the river, with Lord Jorani in the lead. At the most treacherous part, Lord Jorani threw a handful of dust into the face of Arman's horse. The beast reared and tried to turn, slipping, falling over the cliff, carrying Arman with it. The rocks held the broken body for a moment, then released it to the insistent current.
Lord Jorani turned his mount carefully and rode back up the path to where Emory waited for him. Emory's arms were at his side. He bowed from the waist, never looking up as Lord Jorani pulled his sword. When the noble hesitated, Emory curled his hands into fists at his sides, nodded, and stood motionless as the sword sliced down through his neck.
When Jorani returned to the castle, he went directly to his tower rooms and penned a note to Ilsabet.
'I did as you wished,' it said.
After reading it, Ilsabet pulled out her journal and wrote: 'There's been too much suspicion in the countryside. Eventually Arman or Emory would have been caught, and my subjects would have learned the truth. Besides, since Jorani returned, Arman's usefulness is over. Now all traces of my experiment are gone, and I can rest easy, concentrating on the future.'
She hesitated, then added a happier thought. 'As I sit here, my child moves inside me. The midwives tell me it will be a strong boy. I'm thankful. At last I'll have my heir.'
PART III
TWENTY-FOUR
From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet
My child was born just after midnight on the spring solstice, following a labor of more hours than I care to remember. Fortunately, he was as strong as the midwives expected, for when they realized this, they were freer with the pain killing potions than they would have been. By the time of the delivery, I was giggling, and when I looked into the red-wizened face that resembled a sun-cured old man, I laughed.
Peto had been beside me through the delivery, holding my hand, doting on the newborn-hardly a pretty sight-with as much love as I felt.
We named him Lekai after the Obour ambassador who a century ago had forged the first trade agreements between Kislova and Sundell. Since it was also the name of my maternal grandfather, I thought it an ideal choice.
Lekai is a quiet infant. His coloring is strange. His skin is as pale as mine, his eyes deep amber, his hair a dark auburn. He resembles no one so much as Peto, and when I look at him I wonder if the potion I blended to Rilca's specifications had actually worked. I've tried to ask Jorani his opinion, but he refuses to discuss the matter, telling me only that everything turned out as it was intended to.
Now that the child is born, I wish I could move against Peto, especially since he's already planning our trip to Sundell this autumn. However, the mid-wives tell me the first two years of a child's life are the most precarious. I don't want to kill Peto until Lekai is old enough to be assured of one day ruling, but given Peto's strange behavior, I think I may have no choice.
Peto never before seemed suspicious of me. Though he no longer has his food tasted, he's arranged for it to always be served buffet-style. When I dine with him, my plate is filled first; he eats the same dishes I do, then lets the servants finish the copious leftovers. Fortunately, no one in the kitchen has fallen ill, or he'd undoubtedly blame me.
Soon after the child was born, I also discovered that Jorani had turned against me. When I went through the passage to his secret room, I found the door barred from the inside. In order to enter it, I'd have to go past the guards on duty and through Jorani's chambers. I could, of course, but once I did, one of the servants would run for Jorani and I'd have to face him. Better to wait for that confrontation. Besides, I already possess everything I need to move against my husband. There is no need to do anything now but wait.
Ilsabet ignored her journal for months while she tended her child and lands. Peto was content to let her
