Flight Into Darkness Part 6

"Mother." Enguerrand glared at her.

"What could possibly be more important than drawing up a list of potential brides for you? What about Astasia Orlova of Muscobar?"

"That young lady is already taken," said Ruaud, "by the Emperor Eugene. She was crowned Empress in Mirom at what was, by our amba.s.sador's account, an impressive ceremony."

Alienor's plucked eyebrows shot up but she carried on, undaunted. "I've always thought that Esclairmonde de Provenca, my cousin Raimon's elder daughter, would make an excellent choice."

"I'm not ready to get married yet," said Enguerrand.

"Or there's her younger sister Aude-"

"Mother!"

"This really is most inconvenient. We shall continue our discussion after dinner tonight, Enguerrand." Alienor rose at last and swept out of the chamber.

"I'm sorry." The flushed look of embarra.s.sment on Enguerrand's face was revealing; the king had not yet learned to hide his feelings very successfully.

"I imagine that her majesty is merely anxious to see you happily settled," Ruaud said, unable to stop himself from adding, "with a bride who will give Francia a healthy heir to the throne."

The flush deepened. "The urgent state business?" Enguerrand said, swiftly changing the subject.

Ruaud repressed a little smile as he handed the decrypted letter to the king. Enguerrand was learning fast. "It's from Fabien d'Abrissard, our amba.s.sador to the New Rossiyan Empire."

Enguerrand looked up. "These Tears of Artamon-what do we know about them, Ruaud?"

Ruaud had asked Pere Judicael to research the ancient history of Artamon's reign. "It seems that the Emperor Artamon's sons fought so bitterly over the succession that his empire was divided into five and the ruby in the emperor's crown was also divided into five, and one fifth given to each of the princes."

"So Eugene's claim is legitimate?"

"So it seems."

"But if anyone else were to seize the rubies, his claim to the throne would be equally valid?"

"That might prove difficult, sire," said Ruaud, smiling openly at his pupil's line of reasoning. Enguerrand was beginning to think like a statesman. "But technically, legally, yes."

CHAPTER 2.

"Pilgrims?" The Rossiyan officer looked up from the travelers' papers to see a dark-haired priest and his servant-a fair-haired youth, pretty as a girl. "You've come a long way, Pere Jagu. All the way from Francia! And you've got an arduous journey ahead of you. I hope you're both used to roughing it." He let out a brusque laugh as he stamped their pa.s.sports. "Don't expect a warm welcome from the locals, either. They don't like foreigners-and they don't hide their feelings!" He handed the papers back. "Can't blame 'em, I suppose. They didn't ask to be part of the new empire. But be on your guard." He stared pointedly at the youth, who had not said a word, although his blue eyes had widened at the warning. "There're robbers... and worse... out there in the wilds."

"What a wretched place," Celestine muttered to Jagu as they set out, Jagu leaning on his st.u.r.dy metal staff. Dilapidated warehouses and wooden sheds lined the quay; every building they pa.s.sed was weather-battered, with peeling paint, exuding a reek of damp and rotting timber.

"What can you expect? It's completely cut off by the ice all winter."

But just around the end of the quay, they found themselves caught up in a surging tide of people.

"Fish market," said Celestine as they pa.s.sed fishwives, hoa.r.s.ely crying out their wares. The stink of pickled herrings was making her eyes water. Jostled by traders, she was soon separated from Jagu, confused by the babble of voices in different tongues, mingled with the raucous screaming of seagulls overhead.

Jagu grabbed hold of her by one arm and pulled her into the doorway of a tavern. "Wis.h.i.+ng you hadn't volunteered to come?"

"It's a little late for that. You know how important this mission is to me. And ever since the news leaked out about Lord Gavril's arrest-"

"Be careful what you say here."

She glowered up at him. "With the New Rossiyan Army in control, the Drakhaon's imprisonment isn't exactly a secret anymore."

All the inns surrounding the harbor at Arkhelskoye were filled with merchants and sailors. Jagu and Celestine tramped from one to another, only to be turned away every time.

"What did you expect, Father?" said the landlady of the last hostelry on the quay as she poured out ale for her noisy customers. "Once the thaw comes, this place is overrun. Now with the Tielens here as well..." She raised her eyes heavenward. "You could try the Osprey's Nest. Take the cliff path from the northern end of the harbor. Better hurry; looks as if sea fog's setting in. You don't want to miss your step; it's a long drop to the rocks down below," she added, wheezing with laughter at her own joke.

Celestine looked up at Jagu. He shrugged, as if to say, What choice do we have? What choice do we have?

Celestine stubbed her toe on a loose stone as they tramped up the cliff path. Jagu caught her as she lost her balance and righted her.

"Thank you."

"Watch where you place your feet," he said sternly. "One false move and you're in the sea."

Did he think she wasn't aware of the sheer drop down the rugged cliff face to the churning White Sea below? Was he already wis.h.i.+ng that Kilian-or dependable Viaud-had been his partner for this mission?

It had been difficult enough having to hide the fact that she was a woman aboard s.h.i.+p, especially when the curse of her monthly bleed arrived. She had taken special herbs to suppress its effects and to calm the cramping pains, but having to pretend that she had eaten something that disagreed with her could only convince Jagu for so long. As she had lain curled up in her little bunk, it had occurred to her that this pretense was probably as much for her own benefit as his. Though she had never heard him mention sisters, he must have guessed that she was as vulnerable to "women's troubles" as any other girl.

She was determined to see the mission through, if only to prove to herself that she was strong enough to cope with its challenges. And because the Faie had whispered to her that there were ancient mysteries hidden in the wilds of Azhkendir.

It took a good quarter hour's tramp up the cliffs to reach the Osprey's Nest-a dilapidated little inn overlooking the White Sea. The keen breeze off the rough sea below was a constant reminder that the spring thaw had only just melted the ice and Celestine was soon s.h.i.+vering.

"It's rather remote," she said, gazing at the single lantern glowing in the gathering dusk.

Jagu set down his bag on the rocks and took out two of the books of prayer he was carrying. "Let's not take any risks," he said. Concealed within a secret compartment in each book lay a pistol, powder, and shot. "Here."

"Lucky the Tielens didn't search us too zealously," Celestine said, priming the second weapon. "Or should I call them Rossiyans now? That officer was a Tielen; I could tell from his accent."

"According to our sources, the troops currently occupying Azhkendir are from Field Marshal Karonen's Northern Army." Jagu finished loading his pistol and tucked it beneath his priest's robes. "Let's hope we're not obliged to use these."

The smoky fug in the inn made Celestine's eyes water. Blinking, she saw men staring at them from around the large tiled stove. A strong, unsavory odor a.s.saulted them from a bubbling cooking pot. Fish, Fish, thought Celestine, her empty stomach contracting at the thought. thought Celestine, her empty stomach contracting at the thought. And none too fresh either. And none too fresh either.

An old woman was stoking the stove and a gust of smoke billowed out from the glowing coals inside. She slammed the door shut, securing the latch with the handle of the shovel, and pushed herself to her feet, grunting with the effort.

"Priests?" she said in the common tongue.

"Can you put us up for the night?" Jagu asked, in a mild tone of voice. Was Jagu actually enjoying acting out the role of a shy, scholarly priest? "All the taverns in Arkhelskoye are full."

The old woman hobbled closer and stared up at him, hands on her hips. "You don't sound sound like Tielens," she said suspiciously. "Tielens aren't welcome here." like Tielens," she said suspiciously. "Tielens aren't welcome here."

"We're from Francia. Our order was founded in memory of Saint Serzhei."

"Francia? That's all right, then. I can give you a room. Don't expect anything fancy, though. You're not in Azhgorod here. Oh, and you pay me first." One gnarled hand shot out, palm upward. "Dinner's herring stew. Extra for bread. And ale."

"Celestin, pay the landlady," said Jagu. They had agreed to keep her a.s.sumed boy's name as close to her own as possible, in case of the odd, unintentional slip. Celestine dropped the coins into the landlady's outstretched hand, aware that the other drinkers were watching her every move.

"So priests do pretty well for themselves in Francia?" The landlady bit a coin with yellowed teeth. Too late Celestine realized that they had both misread the situation. Azhkendi priests were probably too poor to stay in inns.

"My master will give you a blessing if you let us eat for free, lady."

"Nice try, boy." The landlady cackled, retreating to ladle out two bowls of stew from the steaming pot.

"We're on a pilgrimage to Saint Serzhei's Monastery," said Jagu as they ate, "and we're looking for someone to be our guide."

Celestine was prodding at the stew in the earthenware bowl with her spoon; she had spotted a piece of herring tail, but the other chunks floating in the oily water were most probably winter vegetables: turnips, maybe, and parsnips... The "herring" was only there to give flavor. She dipped a chunk of dry bread in and cautiously sucked the liquid out of it, trying not to wince.

"You've come a long way, Father," observed the landlady, adding with another cackle, "and you've still got a long way to go! It's several days' journey from here to the Kerjhenezh Forest."

"I could take you by boat to the samphire beaches," a grizzle-bearded fisherman said, puffing out an acrid waft of tobacco smoke from his pipe. "Though you need good sea legs; the seas are mighty rough around the Spines this time of year."

"By boat?" Jagu looked up from his bowl of stew.

"Most pilgrims from the capital take the route through the forest, but from Arkhelskoye it's far quicker to go by sea-once the ice has melted. It's hardly a day's journey on foot to the monastery from Seal Cove. Half a day for you hardy young people."

Jagu consulted Celestine with a look. She nodded, wondering how good her sea legs would prove in a little fis.h.i.+ng smack.

"Let me buy you a drink," said Jagu to the fisherman. "An ale for my friend here."

"He's called Chaikin," said the landlady.

"Ugh. This room stinks of fish too." Celestine sniffed the air of the poky little room, searching out the source of the smell. "It's coming from the lamp! They must be burning fish oil."

"Herring fis.h.i.+ng is one of Azhkendir's main sources of trade and income," said Jagu. "Alongside furs and mineral ores."

"Must you speak like a traveler's guidebook? And there's only one bed, or hadn't you noticed?"

He shrugged. "I'll sleep on the floor."

The harsh wind off the sea rattled the shutters, setting the lamp flame fluttering. Celestine threw down her cloak and ran her fingers through her cropped hair. She became aware that Jagu was staring at her in the dim light. "Well?"

"I still can't get used to seeing you this way."

"With short hair? How else was I to disguise myself as your servant? Priests don't usually travel about with young women-or boys with luxuriant tresses. Besides, it'll soon grow again." She tugged her fingers through the thick strands. "But it badly needs a wash. Oh, for a long soak in a hot bath..."

"I still don't understand why the Maistre sent you on this mission. Kilian or Philippe Viaud would have been a much safer choice."

"Safer for me, or for you, Jagu?" She saw him blink; the slightest of reactions, but enough to show that she had touched another sensitive spot. First the hair, now this. Yet it had taken weeks of travel to get him to begin to open up about his concerns; he had been even more reticent than usual. "I asked asked the Maistre to send me. You know I have skills that make me the best suited to this mission." the Maistre to send me. You know I have skills that make me the best suited to this mission."

This was not the first time they had entered into this argument, and Jagu did not even bother to reply. Instead, he undid the top fastenings of his habit and drew out the chain concealed beneath, bringing the attached crystal out and holding it up to the flickering lamp flame.

"No change in the Angelstone," he said, as the facets reflected the yellowish glow.

"If anything the trace of darkness has grown fainter. It's almost as if we're moving farther away from the daemon," she said, puzzled.

"Or it's moving away from us." Jagu carefully unscrewed the head of his Staff and slid out the cylinder concealed inside.

Celestine watched Jagu check the brittle fragments of the ancient Staff, making sure that the delicate golden wire binding them together had not become dislodged.

"And the irony is that, thanks to the Emperor's conquests, it's never been easier to enter Azhkendir." Jagu gently slid the precious relic back and secured the end of the tube. "I never thought I'd have any reason to be grateful to the Tielens, but they've already made the ports and roads much safer for travelers."

"As long as they don't suspect us." Celestine drew her feet up onto the narrow bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Of what? We're members of the Francian church, here on pilgrimage. What's suspicious about that?"

"Let's not underestimate the Tielen agents. Have you noticed, Jagu? News travels remarkably fast in this new empire." She had been thinking about this during the long sea voyage.

"Tielen is a remarkably efficient nation. Their communications network functions far better than ours."

"Suspiciously better. We're still dependent on carrier pigeons and swift horses."

"And your theory?" Jagu sounded drowsy. Maybe the local beer was more potent than he was accustomed to.

"My father's invention. The one Kaspar Linnaius stole. The Vox Aethyria," she whispered. "The device that enables the human voice to be carried hundreds of miles through the air. If only we could find out..."

"Lend me your cloak."

"What are you doing, Jagu?"

"Just making sure we're not disturbed." He rolled up her cloak and inserted the precious metal cylinder in the middle. Then he lay down by the door, pillowing his head on the bundle. "Now that we're ash.o.r.e, we'll have to take precautions to make sure they don't try to rob us in the night."

She stared at him. "You can't go to sleep down there," she said after a few minutes. "There's a howling draft. Your back will be so stiff by morning that you won't be able to move."

"I'm fine." He turned on his side, away from her, and snuffed out the lamp wick. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

"Listen to the wind. Such a lonely sound. There's nothing out there but the sea and the night." Suddenly she felt so small, so vulnerable, an insignificant grain of sand blown along on the fast-flowing current of time. "We're so far from anywhere here, on the edge of the known world. If you get sick, how can I carry on this mission alone?" she said into the darkness. He did not answer. "I'm cold." Which was true. "I need my cloak. What's the harm in sharing the bed? It's not as if we're going to take our clothes off and lie naked together. It's just to keep warm."

She heard him sit up. He let out a sigh. Next moment she felt the wooden frame creak, then shudder as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Move over," he said in resigned tones. He wrapped her cloak around her, then lay down beside her. She snuggled down, her earlier sense of desolation melting away in the warm shadow of his long, lean body. The bed was so narrow it was impossible to lie side by side without touching.

"Jagu?" she said softly. All she heard was his breathing: slow, regular, rea.s.suringly soothing. Asleep already? Or just feigning it? Asleep already? Or just feigning it? She closed her eyes, smiling to herself in the darkness. She closed her eyes, smiling to herself in the darkness.

The sharp light of dawn pierced the cracks in the shutters. Jagu opened his eyes. For a moment he lost all sense of where he was, aware only of an unfamiliar feeling of warmth and contentment. Then he saw the golden head lying so close to his.

Gently yet swiftly, he drew back his arm which in sleep he had unconsciously, protectively, wound around her. She was so deeply asleep that she only murmured like a dreaming child, nestling closer to him. She must have cuddled up to him in the night, instinctively drawn to the warmth of his body.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, gazing down at her as she slept on, oblivious to his presence. The urge to touch those tousled strands of golden hair was almost too much to endure.

His hand crept out, hovering over her.