'You are his mother. What other answer do you need?'
Ilsabet was being baited, but she refused to show her anger. 'Show me his future,' she demanded.
'A simple demand,' Sagesse replied, and pointed to the milky pool.
The water glowed white, pink, blood-red. Cold flames rose from its depths, licking the surface of the pool. In their center, a small body burned, Ilsabet heard chanting, weeping, the wailing of an old woman.
'Turn from vengeance, or your son's fate will be on your conscience with the rest.'
'I'd never hurt him!' Ilsabet whispered, horrified by the sight of the small body slowly consumed by the fire. When there was nothing left but bones, the vision began to fade until the pool was white again.
'The first death made the second easier, the rest were easier yet.' The faces of Marishka and the others formed in the water as Sagesse spoke. 'Consider how many you've killed already. When you Finally raise your hand against your son, you'll feel nothing. Whether he lives or dies is no matter. The issue here is your own soul; that and the judgment the fates will render on a woman capable of killing her own child.' Ilsabet stood, turned away from the pool. 'No. The vision lies,' she said.
'This future may not come to pass, but the vision never lies.'
Sagesse did not move from her place beside the water. She looked into it and continued, 'I know all you will do. Years ago, when your mother came to me, asking about your future, I said your devotion could be your undoing. Sadly, this has been true. If I could stop you, if I could raise my hand and end your life, I would. But it has always been my place to know, not to act.'
'Knowing is enough,' Ilsabet said. A drop of blood-red formed in the center of the water. Ilsabet did not notice it. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the dagger she'd brought as an offering. 'I cannot allow you to know, and live.'
'The fate of the ruler is the fate of the land. Kill me, and it will be cursed forever as you will be.'
'Then curse us both,' Ilsabet said. She lunged for the knife and whirled, facing Sagesse.
She needn't have moved so quickly. Sagesse's attention was centered on the pool, on the drop of red, expanding in the water as if the pool had tapped some new and terrible spring.
'Be done with it,' Sagesse whispered.
Ilsabet stood behind her. With the dagger held in both hands, she stabbed downward. The blade entered behind the breastbone. Ilsabet pulled it out, ready to strike again. But blood spurted across the water and Sagesse fell forward, her body sinking into the pool.
The cave's color changed as the water changed, blood-red and pulsing. Ilsabet flung the knife into the water and fled.
The sky had darkened, and the wind had shifted to the north, becoming cold and vicious. Ilsabet pulled her cloak tight around her body and made her way down the path to where Sagra waited beside a roaring fire.
'And I thought it was cold yesterday. Should I go up now?' she asked.
'You can't. There's a storm coming. We need to find better shelter. Ruven's estate is only an hour away.'
'You promised I could ask her a question.'
'You'll be blown off the mountainside if you try to go up now! Now come on.' Ilsabet went to the horses and began loading their few belongings on the packhorse. Sagra, still grumbling, joined her.
They'd just mounted when the full force of the storm hit. Pebbles fell from the cliffs above them as they galloped away. Moments later, the ground shook, and the two women paused and turned, watching the rockslides destroy the path leading to the Seer's cave.
'Are you sorry you didn't go up?' Ilsabet asked.
Sagra shook her head, then followed her mistress down the well-traveled road.
TWENTY-SIX
As Ilsabet was being received at Lord Ruven's estate, Peto was just getting up from a long nap. The attacks of dizziness over the last few days had vanished, leaving him with a lingering headache. He'd done little through the morning but watch the work on the walls while listening to some of the landowners from the area discussing their methods for raising healthy sheep.
It was hardly the sort of morning he'd spend in Sundell, but these were country people, in touch with the land and its creatures. Besides, all he was required to do was nod from time to time and occasionally add what little he knew about the breeding and feeding of sheep. This gave him plenty of opportunity to watch Lekai sleeping peacefully on his lap.
As soon as Ilsabet had left on her journey, a dark cloud seemed to lift from around the castle. Peto spent more hours with his son, helping the servants bathe the boy, rocking him to sleep. As he did, he sometimes imagined Marishka standing beside them, looking down on them both. Once, her presence seemed so real that tears came to his eyes. This should have been their son; she should have been his wife.
Though it was a cowardly move, he'd decided to go home tomorrow and take his son with him, raising him there, away from the influence of his mother and the barbaric superstitions of Kislova. When the boy was old enough, he could return here and take his mother's place-father and son ruling their lands together.
Peto's bags were already packed. Lekai's things would be assembled quickly just before they left so there would be no chance that Ilsabet would be alerted to what he intended to do.
But he could not go without leaving some sort of explanation. Reluctantly, he handed his son to his nursemaid and went inside, where he took out quill, ink, and paper. He thought for some time before picking up the quill and beginning: Dearest Ilsabet,
It is difficult to tell you why I am leaving with our son. There are many reasons; hopefully not all of them valid. The first is political. There cannot be two rulers in the same land. Now that I am here, it seems all the nobles come to me for advice and aid, and because I am used to ruling, I let them. This is hardly what you or I planned. I want you to rule this land until our son is able to do so, and you can rule it only alone.
The second reason stems from fear. Too many people have died in this castle, and there are rumors of plague. I will not subject our son to it.
The third is personal, and the problem may be entirely mine. I have tried but I cannot lay my suspicions to rest. Lord Jorani tells me… An attack of nausea and dizziness more terrible than before made him shudder and drop the quill. He tipped over the inkwell. As he tried to stand, his knees gave way, and he fell, heaving on the floor like a sick child.
'Gidden!' he called, amazed how soft his voice was.
Lieutenant Shaul had just been coming to see the baron when he heard the weak cry. He and Qidden pulled Peto to his feet and laid him in his bed. While Shaul saw to the baron, Gidden turned his attention to the mess. The floor could wait. The ink, however, had spread on the desk and ruined the baron's letter. Gidden pulled the quill out of the small puddle and began to clean it off. As he did, he felt faint, and sat down quickly in Peto's chair, his hands gripping the carved arms as he tried to keep his body from shaking.
'You're almost as sick as the baron,' Shaul said, frowning. 'Baron, what should I do?' he asked.
'Lord Jorani… send for him,' Peto replied.
'Stand guard,' Shaul said to the soldiers outside.
He ran up the tower stairs, then pounded on Jorani's locked door for some time before Jorani opened it. The room was well lit, and Jorani's clothes smelled of lamp oil but Shaul had little time to wonder what the man had been doing. He explained about the attack. Even before he finished, Jorani was rushing down the winding stairs so quickly that Shaul had difficulty keeping up.
In the short time Shaul had been gone, the baron had gotten much worse. His eyes were shut, his breathing labored. Gidden had recovered a bit and was bathing the baron's head with cool water. Shaul moved the servant back to the chair so Jorani could sit close to the baron.
'Tell me what happened,' Jorani said.
Peto took a long time to reply. When he did, his voice was weak, his words disjointed. The story was clear enough that when he'd finished, Jorani walked to the desk and studied it a moment. 'Take that basin and fill it with hot water. Bring a washrag and some soap,' he said to Shaul.
