Tigana Part 8

There was music in Devin's mind again, with that name, but this time it was different from the bells he'd heard before. This time it was a music that took him back a long way, all the way to his father and his childhood.

He said, 'You do know the words then, don't you?'

'Of course I do,' said Alessan gently.

'Please?' Devin asked.

But it was Catriana who answered him, in the voice a young mother might have used, rocking her child to sleep on an evening long ago: Springtime morning in AvalleAnd I don't care what the priests say:I'm going down to the river todayOn a springtime morning in Avalle.

When I'm all grown up, come what may,I'll build a boat to carry me awayAnd the river will take it to Tigana BayAnd the sea even further from Avalle.

But wherever I wander, by night or by day,Where water runs swiftly or high trees sway,My heart will carry me back and awayTo a dream of the towers of Avalle.

A dream of my home in Avalle.

The sweet sad words to the tune he'd always known drifted down to Devin, and with them came something else. A sense of loss so deep it almost drowned the light grace of Catriana's song. No breaking waves now, or trumpets along the blood: only the waters of longing. A longing for something taken away from him before he'd even known it was his-taken so completely, so comprehensively he might have lived his whole life through without ever knowing it was gone.

And so Devin wept as Catriana sang. Small boys, young-looking for their age, learned very early in northern Asoli how risky it was to cry where someone might see. But something too large for Devin to deal with had overtaken him in the forest tonight.

If he understood properly what Alessan had just said, this song was one his mother would have sung to him.

His mother whose life had been ripped away by Brandin of Ygrath. He bowed his head, though not to s.h.i.+eld the tears, and listened as Catriana finished that bitter-sweet cradle song: a song of a child defying orders and authority, even when young, who was self-reliant enough to want to build a s.h.i.+p alone and brave enough to want to sail it into the wideness of the world, never turning back. Nor ever losing or forgetting the place where it all began.

A child very much as Devin saw himself.

Which was one of the reasons he wept. For he had had been made to lose and forget those towers, he'd been robbed of any dream he himself might ever have had of Avalle. Or Tigana on its bay. been made to lose and forget those towers, he'd been robbed of any dream he himself might ever have had of Avalle. Or Tigana on its bay.

So his tears followed one another downward in darkness as he mourned his mother and his home. And in the shadows of that wood not far from Astibar those two griefs fused to each other in Devin and became welded in the forge of his heart with what memory meant to him and the loss of memory: and out of that blazing something took shape in Devin that was to change the running of his life line from that night.

He dried his eyes on his sleeve and looked up. No one spoke. He saw that Baerd was looking at him. Very deliberately Devin held up his left hand, the hand of the heart. Very carefully he folded his third and fourth fingers down so that what showed was a simulacrum of the shape of the Peninsula of the Palm.

The position for taking an oath.

Baerd lifted his right hand and made the same gesture. They touched fingertips together, Devin's small palm against the other man's larger, calloused one.

Devin said, 'If you will have me I am with you. In the name of my mother who died in that war I swear I will not break faith with you.'

'Nor I with you,' said Baerd. 'In the name of Tigana gone.'

There was a rustling as Alessan sank to his knees beside them. 'Devin, I should be cautioning you,' he said soberly. 'This is not a thing in which to move too fast. You can be one with our cause without having to break your life apart to come with us.'

'He has no choice,' Catriana murmured, moving nearer on the other side. 'Toma.s.so bar Sandre will name you both to the torturers tonight or tomorrow. I'm afraid the singing career of Devin d'Asoli may be over just as it truly begins.' She looked down on the three men, her eyes unreadable in the darkness.

'It is is over,' Devin said quietly. 'It ended when I learned my name.' Catriana's expression did not change; he had no idea what she was thinking. over,' Devin said quietly. 'It ended when I learned my name.' Catriana's expression did not change; he had no idea what she was thinking.

'Very well,' said Alessan. He held up his own left hand, two fingers down. Devin met it with his right. Alessan hesitated. 'An oath in your mother's name is stronger for me than you could have guessed,' he said.

'You knew her?'

'We both did,' Baerd said quietly. 'She was ten years older than us, but every adolescent boy in Tigana was a little in love with Micaela. And most of the grown men too, I think.'

Another new name, and all the hurt that came with it. Devin's father had never spoken it. His sons had never even known their mother's name. There were more avenues to sorrow in this night than Devin could have imagined.

'We all envied and admired your father more than I can tell you,' Alessan added. 'Though I was pleased that an Avalle man won her in the end. I can remember when you were born, Devin. My father sent a gift to your naming day. I don't remember what it was.'

'You admired admired my father?' Devin said, stunned. my father?' Devin said, stunned.

Alessan heard that and his voice changed. 'Do not judge him by what he became. You only knew him after Brandin smashed a whole generation and their world. Ending their lives or blighting their souls. Your mother was dead, Avalle fallen, Tigana gone. He had fought and survived both battles by the Deisa.' Above them Catriana made a small sound.

'I never knew,' Devin protested. 'He never told us any of that.' There was a new ache inside him. So many avenues So many avenues.

'Few of the survivors spoke of those days,' Baerd said.

'Neither of my parents did,' said Catriana awkwardly. 'They took us as far away as they could, to a fis.h.i.+ng village here in Astibar down the coast from Ardin, and never spoke a word of any of this.'

'To s.h.i.+eld you,' Alessan said gently. His palm was still touching Devin's. It was smaller than Baerd's. 'A great many of the parents who managed to survive fled so that their children might have a chance at a life unmarred by the oppression and the stigma that bore down-that still bear down-upon Tigana. Or Lower Corte as we must name it now.'

'They ran away,' said Devin stubbornly. He felt cheated, deprived, betrayed.

Alessan shook his head. 'Devin, think. Don't judge yet: think. Do you really imagine you learned that tune by chance? Your father chose not to burden you or your brothers with the danger of your heritage, but he set a stamp upon you-a tune, wordless for safety-and he sent you out into the world with something that would reveal you, unmistakably, to anyone from Tigana, but to no one else. I do not think it was chance. No more than Catriana's mother giving her daughter a ring that marked her to anyone born where she was born.'

Devin glanced back. Catriana held out her hand for him to see. It was dark, but his eyes had adjusted to that, and he could make out a strange, twining shape upon the ring: a man, half human, half creature of the sea. He swallowed.

'Will you tell me of him?' he asked, turning back to Alessan. 'Of my father?'

Of stolid, dour Garin, grim farmer in a wet grey land. Who had, it now appeared, come from bright Avalle of the towers in the southern highlands of Tigana and who had, in his youth, wooed and won a woman beloved of all who saw her. Who had fought and lived through two terrible battles by a river and who had-if Alessan was right in his last conjecture-very deliberately sent out into the world his one quick, imaginative child capable of finding what he seemed to have found tonight.

Who had also, Devin abruptly realized, almost certainly lied when he said he'd forgotten the words to the cradle song. It was all suddenly very hard.

'I will tell you what I know of him, and gladly,' Alessan said. 'But not tonight, for Catriana is right and we must get ourselves away before dawn. Right now I will swear faith with you as Baerd has done. I accept your oath. You have mine. You are as kin to me from now until the ending of my days.'

Devin turned to look up at Catriana. 'Will you accept me?'

She tossed her hair. 'I don't have much choice, do I?' she said carelessly. 'You seem to have entangled yourself rather thoroughly here.' She lowered her left hand though as she spoke, two fingers curled. Her fingers met his own with a light, cool touch.

'Be welcome,' she said. 'I swear I will keep faith with you, Devin di Tigana.'

'And I with you. I'm sorry about this morning,' Devin offered.

Her hand withdrew and her eyes flashed; even by starlight he could see it. 'Oh yes,' she said sardonically, 'I'm sure you are. It was very clear, all along, how regrettable you found the experience!'

Alessan snorted with amus.e.m.e.nt. 'Catriana, my darling,' he said, 'I just forbade him to mention any details of what happened. How do I enforce that if you bring them up yourself?'

Without the faintest trace of a smile Catriana said, 'I am the aggrieved party here, Alessan. You don't enforce anything on me. The rules are not the same.'

Baerd chuckled suddenly. 'The rules,' he said, 'have not been the same since you joined us. Why indeed should this be any different?'

Catriana tossed her head again but did not deign to reply.

The three men stood up. Devin flexed his knees to relieve the stiffness of sitting so long in one position.

'Ferraut or Tregea?' Baerd asked. 'Which border?'

'Ferraut,' Alessan said. 'They'll have me placed as Tregean as soon as Toma.s.so talks-poor man. If I'd been thinking clearly I would have shot him as they rode by.'

'Oh, very clear thinking, that,' Baerd retorted. 'With twenty soldiers surrounding him. You would have had us all in chains in Astibar by now.'

'You would have deflected my arrow,' Alessan said wryly.

'Is there a chance he won't speak?' Devin interjected awkwardly. 'I'm thinking about Menico, you see. If I'm named ...'

Alessan shook his head. 'Everyone talks under torture,' he said soberly. 'Especially if sorcery is involved. I'm thinking about Menico too, but there isn't anything we can do about it, Devin. It is one of the realities of the life we live. There are people put at risk by almost everything we do. I wish,' he added, 'that I knew what had happened in that lodge.'

'You wanted to check it,' Catriana reminded him. 'Can we afford the time?'

'I did, and yes, I think we can,' said Alessan crisply. 'There remains a piece missing in all of this. I still still don't know how Sandre d'Astibar could have expected me to be the-' don't know how Sandre d'Astibar could have expected me to be the-'

He stopped there. Except for the drone of the cicadas and the rustling leaves it was very quiet in the woods. The trialla had gone. Alessan abruptly raised one hand and pushed it roughly through his hair. He shook his head.

'Do you know,' he said to Baerd, in what was almost a conversational tone, 'how much of a fool I can be at times? It was in the palm of my hand all along!' His voice changed. 'Come on-and pray we are not too late!'

The fires had both died down in the Sandreni lodge. Only the stars shone above the clearing in the woods. The cl.u.s.ter of Eanna's Diadem was well over west, following the moons. A nightingale was singing, as if in answer to the trialla of before, as the four of them approached. In the doorway Alessan hesitated for a moment then shrugged his shoulders in a gesture Devin already recognized. Then he pushed open the door and walked through.

By the red glow of the embers they looked-with eyes accustomed by now to darkness-on the carnage within.

The coffin still rested on its trestles, although splintered and knocked awry. Around it though, lay dead men who had been alive when they left this room. The two younger Sandreni. Nievole, a quiver of arrows in his throat and chest. The body of Scalvaia d'Astibar.

Then Devin made out Scalvaia's severed head in a black puddle of blood a terrible distance away and he fought to control the lurch of sickness in his gorge.

'Oh, Morian,' Alessan whispered. 'Oh, Lady of the Dead, be gentle to them in your Halls. They died dreaming of freedom and before their time.'

'Three of them did,' came a harsh, desiccated voice from deep in one of the armchairs. ' came a harsh, desiccated voice from deep in one of the armchairs. 'The fourth should have been strangled at birth.'

Devin jumped half a foot, his heart hammering with shock.

The speaker rose and stood beside the chair, facing them. He was entirely hidden in shadow. 'I thought you would come back,' he said.

The sixth man, Devin realized, struggling to understand, straining to make out the tall, gaunt form by the faint glow of the embers. Devin realized, struggling to understand, straining to make out the tall, gaunt form by the faint glow of the embers.

Alessan seemed quite unruffled. 'I'm sorry I kept you waiting then,' he said. 'It took me too long to riddle this through. Will you allow me to express my sorrow for what has happened?' He paused. 'And my respect for you, my lord Sandre.'

Devin's jaw dropped open as if unhinged. He snapped it shut so hard he hurt his teeth; he hoped no one had seen. Events were moving far too fast for him.

'I will accept the first,' said the gaunt figure in front of them. 'I do not deserve your respect though, nor that of anyone else. Once perhaps; not any more. You are speaking to an old vain fool-exactly as the Barbadian named me. A man who spent too many years alone, tangled in his own spun webs. You were right in everything you said before about carelessness. It has cost me three sons tonight. Within a month, less probably, the Sandreni will be no more.

The voice was dry and dispa.s.sionate, objectively d.a.m.ning, devoid of self-pity. The tone of a judge in some dark hall of final adjudication.

'What happened?' Alessan asked quietly.

'The boy was a traitor.' Flat, uninflected, final.

'Oh, my lord,' Baerd exclaimed. 'Family?' 'Family?'

'My grandson. Gianno's boy.'

'Then his soul is cursed,' Baerd said, quiet and fierce. 'He is in Morian's custody now, and she will know how to deal with him. May he be trammelled in darkness until the end of time.'

The old man seemed not to have even heard. 'Taeri killed him,' he murmured, wonderingly. 'I had not thought he was brave enough, or so quick. Then he stabbed himself, to deny them the pleasure or whatever they might have learned of him. I had not thought he was so brave,' he repeated absently.

Through the thick shadows Devin looked at the two bodies by the smaller fire. Uncle and nephew lay so close to each other they seemed almost intertwined on the far side of the coffin. The empty coffin.

'You said you waited for us,' Alessan murmured. 'Will you tell me why?'

'For the same reason you came back.' Sandre moved for the first time, stiffly making his way to the larger fire. He seized a small log and threw it on the guttering flame. A shower of sparks flew up. He nursed it, poking with the iron until a tongue of flame licked free of the ash bed.

The Duke turned and now Devin could see his white hair and beard, and the bony hollows of his cheeks. His eyes were set deep in their sockets, but they gleamed with a cold defiance.

'I am here,' Sandre said, 'and you are here because it goes on. It goes on whatever happens, whoever dies. While there is breath to be drawn and a heart with which to hate. My quest and your own. Until we die they go on.'

'You were listening, then,' said Alessan. 'From in the coffin. You heard what I said?'

'The drug had worn off by sundown. I was awake before we reached the lodge. I heard everything you said and a great deal of what you chose not to say,' the Duke replied, straightening, a chilly hauteur in his voice. 'I heard what you named yourself, and what you chose not to tell them. But I know who you are.'

He took a step towards Alessan. He raised a gnarled hand and pointed it straight at him.

'I know exactly exactly who you are, Alessan bar Valentin, Prince of Tigana!' who you are, Alessan bar Valentin, Prince of Tigana!'

It was too much. Devin's brain simply gave up trying to understand. Too many pieces of information were coming at him from too many different directions, contradicting each other ferociously. He felt dizzy, overwhelmed. He was in a room where only a little while ago he had stood among a number of men. Now four of them were dead, with a more brutal violence than he had ever thought to come upon. At the same time, the one man he'd known known to be dead-the man whose mourning rites he had sung that very morning-was the only man of Astibar left alive in this lodge. to be dead-the man whose mourning rites he had sung that very morning-was the only man of Astibar left alive in this lodge.

If he was was of Astibar! of Astibar!

For if he was, how could he have just spoken the name of Tigana, given what Devin had just learned in the wood? How could he have known that Alessan was-and this, too, Devin fought to a.s.similate-a Prince? The son of that Valentin who had slain Stevan of Ygrath and so brought Brandin's vengeance down upon them all.

Devin simply stopped trying to put it all together. He set himself to listen and look-to absorb as much as he could into the memory that had never failed him yet-and to let understanding come after, when he had time to think.

So resolved, he heard Alessan say, after a blank silence more than long enough to reveal the degree of his own surprise and wonder: 'Now I understand. Finally I understand. My lord, I thought you always a giant among men. From the first time I saw you at my first Triad Games twenty-three years ago. You are even more than I took you for. How did you stay alive? How have you hidden it from the two of them all these years?'

'Hidden what?' It was Catriana, her voice so angry and bewildered it immediately made Devin feel better: he wasn't the only one desperately treading water here.

'He is a wizard,' Baerd said flatly. Baerd said flatly.