'Now then, what is it?' asked Lady Korinne.
'Before delivering the linens here, I dropped off some others to the maids' chambers.'
'Yes.'
'In one of the rooms, the elf-maid looked as if she had been playing a harp that Istvan had lent her.'
'I've heard she's quite a talented musician, especially on that instrument.'
Mirrel took a deep breath.
'What is it?'
'Lord Soth was in the room with her.'
The color drained from Lady Korinne's face and she suddenly looked quite pale. She placed a hand on the desk in front of her to steady herself.
'Are you all right, milady?'
'What happened?' asked Lady Korinne.
Mirrel shook her head. 'Perhaps I shouldn't say. I don't want to dishonor milord.'
Lady Korinne breathed deeply, composing herself. 'Tell me,' she said, her voice steady and surprisingly strong, perhaps even a little bit angry. 'And I promise you your words will never leave this room.' Mirrel nodded, leaned forward and told her.
The night was cool, but Lady Korinne hardly felt its chill. She walked through the rows of the keep's small garden, her eyes open but seeing nothing through the emotional storm cloud that hung over her like a pall. It was made up of many different parts: rage, disappointment, sorrow, fear.
When the maid first told her what she had seen, Korinne's first reaction was to deny it. And in fact she'd tried to tell herself that it simply was not possible, that the great Lord Soth, Knight of the Rose, was bound by the Oath and the Measure and would surely never betray her in such a way. But as the maid continued to speak, Korinne knew in her heart that she was telling the truth.
She had no proof, but evidence of Soth's waning love was always there, in the way he talked to her, in the way they kissed, in the way … She was losing him… to an elf-maid.
But maybe it wasn't too late. Mirrel had seen the two kissing. Kissing, that was all. He was still her husband.
Perhaps it wasn't too late to pull him back, catch him before he strayed too far.
It was worth a try. And one thing was for certain, she wasn't about to lose him without a fight. And she knew just what form the fight would take.
'You called for me, milady?'
Korinne turned and saw the young man named Engel Silversword. He had been sent to Dargaard Keep from Palanthas by Korinne's mother. He had high hopes of someday joining the Knights of Solamnia. Due to the fact that he had ties to Palanthas and the Gladria family, his loyalty to her would be assured, and since he had yet to become the squire of any knight, she could arrange to have him sponsored in a matter of days. If he served her well, she might even be persuaded to speak as a witness to his honor.
'Yes, I did,' said Korinne. She sat down on a bench. The young man moved closer to her but remained standing at a distance of two paces. 'I have a task for you.'
'Anything, milady.'
Korinne nodded.
'I wish you to travel to Vingaard Keep.'
The squire immediately stood straighter as he realized this task was one of significant importance.
'When you arrive at Vingaard Keep, I wish you to contact my cousin. Lord
Eward Irvine, Knight of the Sword. When you see him you will tell him that his cousin, Lady Korinne has asked that he call Lord Soth to
Vingaard Keep on a matter of urgent business and that he keep him there for no less than two days. If he doubts you in any way, you may give him this as proof that I have sent you.' She handed him a locket emblazoned with the Korinne family emblem.
Engel nodded. 'Yes, milady.'
Korinne rolled forward on the bench and spoke in a lower voice. 'As you might have guessed, this is not something I wish others to know about.'
'Of course not, milady.'
'And if you speak of this to anyone I will deny everything.
No one will believe your word against mine.' Her words trailed off and she was silent for a long while, allowing the magnitude of what she'd said to settle in.
'I understand,' Engel said. 'I will not fail you.'
'I know you won't.'
Korinne's faith in the young man prompted him to stick out his chest with pride.
'You will leave tonight,' she said. 'Under cover of darkness. Now get out of the garden before someone sees you.'
The young man was gone in seconds.
Korinne arched her neck and looked up into the sky.
Solinari and Lunitari hung full in the sky like a pair of watchful eyes, one a bright and shimmering white, the other tinged with a slight crimson, the color of blood.
Chapter 14
Istvan sat hunched over his mixing table, cropping pinches of blue hyssop into a small pile of powdered comfrey. According to the journals he'd read, the hybrid mixture was supposed to do wonders for easing the pains in joints brought on by the passage of time. Old age.
He drew his mixing stick in circles through the reddishblue powder until it was a deep-purple hue. Then he scooped it off the table with a flat stone and gently shook the mix into a small leather pouch. After closing one end of the pouch, he tied it around his waist so the mixture would always be close-at-hand.
He'd been taking the powder for several days now and couldn't yet decide whether it was working or not. He would continue the treatment for two more days. If his pain didn't lessen by then he'd end the experiment and dismiss the exercise as being nothing more than the wishful thinking of an old fool.
There was a knock at the door.
'Who is it?' asked Istvan.
'Parry Roslin,' said a voice from the other side of the door.
Istvan's eyebrows arched. Roslin was the captain of the keep's guards.
At this time of night, Roslin's visit could only have to deal with official business. 'Come in.' 'Beg your pardon, healer,' said the large and stout, redhaired guard. ''There are four elf-maids at the gate wanting entrance to the keep.'
Istvan nodded thoughtfully. 'So why are you telling me this?'
'Milord and milady have retired for the night.'
'And what of knights Caradoc and Farold?'
'The women say they are here only to see Isolde and no other. They say they're here to bring her back to Silvanesti.'
Istvan looked at the guard a moment. 'I see.'
'And because the elf-maid is in your charge I thought I'd bring the matter to your attention first.'
Istvan was silent, considering the situation. He glanced down at the mixing table and saw the speckles of blue hyssop that had fallen in the cracks between the wood, blue hyssop on which Lord Soth had spent a tidy sum.
'You've done well,' Istvan said at last.
Roslin smiled, as he'd probably had some doubts about whether he was doing the right thing coming to see Istvan first.
