“You remember him, Grandmother,” Terrik said, “that fellow, Dav Hill.”
“Who?”
“The man you got from the groundmites.”
“Oh, now I remember. He looks even worse than when he came in. We never did hear his whole story. We should make a point of it now, perhaps.”
Immerez stepped right up to the man, grabbed his forelock and lifted to see his face. He looked familiar. Immerez tried to see beyond the grime, the cuts and bruises, the eye swollen shut.
The eyes . . .
Immerez took a step back. The almond-shaped eyes. “He has Hillander eyes.”
“He said he was from L’Petrie, on the border with Hillander.”
“No,” Immerez said. “I mean he has Hillander eyes. Grandmother, do you realize who you have here?”
“What are you talking about?”
Immerez laughed. He’d been in chains the last time he’d seen King Zachary. Oh, the irony. The beautiful irony. It took some imagining to see beyond the ravages of captivity, but he knew that face. There was no mistaking it. And Terrik’s description of his fighting skill? Only further evidence.
“Grandmother,” Immerez said, “this is why that Greenie was poking around here. It has to be. This man is her king.”
He’d never seen her look so aghast. “Are you certain?”
“Very certain. He questioned me when they took me prisoner. I also saw quite a lot of his brother when he was hiding out with old Lord Mirwell. Amilton was sharper-featured, but the resemblance is unmistakable.”
“This is fortuitous,” Grandmother said calmly, though he could see the excitement in her eyes.
“Where . . .” the prisoner began in a voice much weaker than Immerez remembered from when he’d stood before that stern, unbending king. Look at him now.
“Where what?” Terrik demanded.
“Where is she? What have you done with her?”
“He means the Greenie,” Immerez said.
“Yes,” Terrik mused, “he would have seen her brought into the keep yesterday.”
“Where is she?”
“She is not your concern,” Immerez said. “Nyssa made her bleed. Painfully.”
They did not expect the roar from this diminished man, or for him to charge with the log on his shoulders and spin. Terrik had been right—the man was a berserker, and it was Immerez’s last thought as the log smashed into him.
Aaron Fiori, known as Arvyn the Bard to his Second Empire captors, sat before the fire in the great hall giving Lala her daily music lesson. It was not easy to concentrate on it, for he’d heard that prisoners had escaped during the night—the “Greenie” and someone else. He knew little more than that, but for rumors of flying cats. He could only guess there had to have been some kind of outside help. From what he’d overheard, Karigan wouldn’t have been in any condition to escape under her own power.
He closed his eyes remembering the schoolgirl he’d known, of age with Estral. They were best friends. He was horrified to hear what had been done to her and thanked the gods she had gotten out, however it had happened. He prayed for her recovery, and hoped that someone would come back for him and the king.
He attempted to focus once more on the lesson. He was trying to teach Lala chords to a ballad on his lute. She’d a natural sense of musicality, but she had not yet acquired the dexterity and strength to easily form the chords. Her singing, in contrast, was of the heavens, but of course it was Estral’s voice, her nuances of tone and style, with which Lala sang. If he closed his eyes, he would not have been able to tell the two apart. It chilled him every time he heard Lala speak or sing.
Sadly, he was no closer to learning how she had acquired Estral’s voice than when he first arrived, and thus could not know how to return it. There was a spell involved, of that he was certain.
“That’s very good, Lala,” he said when she finished singing and playing a simple lute tune. “It was lovely.”
Lala smiled in that odd way of hers and cocked her head as she gazed at him. “I saw the lady whose voice I’ve got.”
Fiori just sat there, digesting her words. As they sank in, he trembled with the effort to remain calm. “What do you mean?”
“Last night. She was with the Greenie Nyssa striped, but she had a new voice, and kitties, too.”
It took all he had not to reach out and shake her for more information. Estral had been with Karigan? Why? What had they been doing in the Lone Forest? With terrible clarity, he realized that Karigan had probably been looking for the king, but Estral would have been looking for him.
Dear gods, what could she have been thinking?
Worse were the other questions that occurred to him: Was she hurt? Had Nyssa touched her? Had she been the one who escaped with Karigan? He wanted to ask Lala all these questions and more, but a disturbance came into the hall.
“I want him! Let me have him!” Nyssa cried. “I will flay the flesh from him!”
Fiori had never heard her so worked up.
“No, my dear,” Grandmother replied in a soothing tone. “He is too great a prize for rash retribution.”
No, Fiori thought, guessing who “he” was.
“Varius will mend our dear Immerez, have no fear,” Grandmother continued. “I will see to him personally and help as needed. There will be punishment, but we must use this opportunity to the fullest.”
“What will you do then?”