them like a skipping stone, diving sometimes into the first layer of the clouds. As it approached, Suka wondered vaguely if perhaps it was much larger than a bird, much farther away. Her mind was on other things. It wasn t until she heard a sharp profanity from Rurik that she turned and saw the creature had shot up from underneath the clouds and now hovered above them, a wyvern pale belly, whiplike tail, night wings, long snatching jaws. It drove them back along the narrow causeway into the deserted stone piazza. Everyone was at supper in the great hall, where the Ffolk slaves were playing music. Incongruously, Suka heard a piece of it, a little wisp of delicate cadences, just as the beast rose to dive at them again. On the exposed stones of the courtyard, flickering with lantern light, they were sitting ducks. The wyvern, neck outstretched, rounded a stone column and dived toward them, screaming its harsh, airless cry.
This way, said Rurik. A narrow gate led to the side, and a stone staircase covered with moss and crumbling with age. It was different from the shaped blocks of the dwarf ramparts; shoddy, broken steps that nevertheless led quickly down, first through an almost vertical cascade of granite boulders, then through a landscape of clinging vines and rhododendron trees, their pink flowers wet with mist, which soon drenched Suka as she labored down, pausing finally under the knotted trunks of the cloud forest, while the baffled reptile screamed overhead.
What is this place? breathed Suka, though she knew. The mist beaded on her skin. The air smelled sweet, a cloying fragrance. Fireflies the size of Suka s fist blundered through the canopy, each one followed by a trail of glowing mirror-moths.
Oh shit.
Just the border, Rurik whispered. They stood in the middle of the leaf-meal path, which wound away southward into the thicker woods. We re here for a minute, and then we ll climb back up, he said, as if for someone else s benefit it was too late. Three eladrin stepped out of the trees, blocking their way back. They were dressed in silver caps and silver-scale armor, and they carried swords. The long, straight blades glowed in the shadow.
Slaves, said one, his voice melodious, and full of gentle melancholy. I am Lord Talos-claere. You have come into the land of Synnoria. Who is your master? Does he follow you? Or has he gone ahead?
We came by accident, murmured Rurik. We ll be going now, if you stand aside.
Alas, said Talos claere, his voice genuinely sorrowful. I cannot allow it. Our land is tainted now. These things take but a moment, a single misstep to insult and corrupt the spirits of this wood. As you walked under the sacred trees, we heard them crying out. How can you make amends? It is not possible. Not for such as you. Not through words or deeds. I am so sorry. It is not possible.
Captain Rurik stood, feet spread, grinding his teeth from side to side, a murderous expression on his face. The livid scar bisected his lips. How, then?
He should tell them who he was, Suka thought. He should say he is Mindarion s friend, in negotiation with Lord Askepel, that all this was a misunderstanding. But then she realized he had no desire to make excuses for himself.
My lords, he said, from what you say, and from your stern demeanor, I can only assume my life is forfeit, because as you say my foul breath has polluted this holy air, and my disgusting footsteps have polluted this sacred ground, just as surely as if I had defecated onto Corellon Larethian s shining hair, or pissed into his open mouth, or wiped my arse upon his beard. If we have inadvertently strayed across your border a few yards so as to save our worthless lives it is no excuse. Whatever I must give, I give it gladly. Perhaps my blood will offer some small recompense. He held out his empty hands.
Talos-claere blinked. The speech of your people is vulgar and uncouth, he said. What s done is done. The harmony of this forest, the fabric of this threatened space you have both touched and marred. I honor you for your self-sacrifice, but I fear it will not accomplish what we hope. He stepped forward, his handsome face empty of expression, and if he were capable of hearing any irony or sarcasm in Rurik s words, he showed no sign. Just as soon try to decipher the jokes of a dog, or a frog on a lily pad, Suka imagined, though even a child could tell when a dog was growling or might spring, or that Captain Rurik, frustrated over the failure of his hopes, was going to kill them if he could, these strange, apologetic, contemptuous, glittering fey.
As guests of the council, they had had to give up their weapons at the door. But Suka, as was her custom, had retained several small knives that she kept secreted around her body. One of these, now, she grasped behind her back.
Your blood will pollute our glade the more, continued Talos-claere. If you had come properly with your master, under his protection, then perhaps I could have overlooked your crime. But come. It is nothing. I only mean to mark you, to cut my mark into your cheek, so all men might recognize what you have done. Then I will lead you to the signal oak to send a message to your lord, so as to reclaim his errant property. He also will be punished, because of the freedom he has granted you. What is his name?
He had sheathed his sword, but had his own knife out, a long, slender, curving blade. He beckoned with his other hand, and his fingernails also, Suka noticed, were long and curved. He had no chance. He pointed south along the leaf-meal path, and Suka imagined a place of ritual punishment among the smooth silver trunks of the aspens, their leaves trembling in sympathy, although she felt no wind. She imagined a glade among the trees, and wildflowers winking in the soft grass, and a spring of fresh, laughing water, coiling over an ancient block of stone that was itself carved with runes of (doubtless) mystic but inscrutable significance he had no chance. Rurik also had kept a hidden blade, and as he passed the eladrin lord he gave a little cry, and stumbled against him. Horrified by his polluting touch, Talos-claere pulled back. A shadow of suspicion clouded his beautiful face, and he looked down to see the knife inserted upward through the scales of his armor and pressed in to the hilt. Puzzled, he turned away, his hand drifting downward as if to stem the trickle of his golden blood. In the meantime Rurik had seized hold of his sword and dragged it from its scabbard, and when the second lord slowly, delicately moved to confront him, Rurik stabbed him through the groin then dragged the blade upward into his belly. The third, Suka cut down from behind.
They left the lords subsiding there, expressions of astonishment disturbing their faces as they sank to their knees. They found the path upward, and Rurik threw the smoking sword among the rocks.
It hurts, he said in explanation as they climbed up through the mist of the cloud forest. Some kind of an electric charge. Then they stood panting, out of breath.
Ah, that feels good, he said. I had forgotten. I hate killing a man, but the fey, it s like stealing from the rich. His eyes glittered with excitement, and Suka watched a flush appear along his weathered cheeks. You ve taken all they were and all they ll be. A hundred thousand days apiece as much as an entire company of men. Time s wasted I ve changed my plans. I m gone tonight. Give them my regrets, he said, as they clambered up through the boulders to the gate.
Above the clouds the sky was dark, the sun had set, the wyvern had flown away. The lamps burned bright in their suspended lanterns. Suka saw no need to remind the captain she was also a fey, and would still be able to bear children when his bones were ash. Are you coming with me? he asked, wiping the blood from his hands.
I m for the coast. Me and my crew. We ll ride through the night.
She shook her head.
That s good. Suit yourself. There ll be some consequences here. Blame me.
She intended to, if it came to that. She shrugged, and shook her head. He turned, then stiff-walked over the open stones, still rubbing his hands.
Night had fallen, and there were stars. Hunching her shoulders against the chill, hands in her pockets, Suka found again the entrance to the council hall. Torchlight cascaded through the open door. She paused at the cloakroom, washed her hands and face in the stone basin, and peered into the glass. She poked her tongue out at herself, flexed the dog s head tattoo, and scraped her teeth against the silver stud. She relieved herself in one of the stone stalls, left the cloakroom, and walked down the steps of the hall to where the dignitaries were still milling around, Marabaldia and Prince Ughoth among them. Hands in her pockets, pretending a casualness she didn t feel, the gnome sidled up to her stone seat, and peered up at her broad, beaming face. What s going on?
I have news of your friends at Citadel Umbra, Marabaldia told her. I mean the man I saw with you at Caer Corwell, when they locked you up.
Suka breathed deep. That s good, she said. But I don t want to talk about it now.
Chapter Sixteen — Unquiet Dreams
