Her voice was mild, inquiring. It confused Allanyn, who frowned and made an impatient gesture.
Geran answered, “All, lady. Both those he lost and those he gained in your company.”
Rwyan nodded solemnly. “Then he’ll remember his sworn vow,” she said. “He’ll remember Daviot and I are his friends.”
Allanyn liked that not at all.
We were taken from the vault to another chamber. Not that sparse cell we’d occupied before, but a more spacious’ room, clearly intended for overnight occupation. It was furnished as would be the chamber of a good tavern: comfortably, with all necessary requisites; but of that same blank white stone, and without decoration. There was a window-again of sealed glass-and through it I saw night had fallen. There was a table set with food and wine. We found our appetites were returned.
Rwyan filled a goblet and drank thirstily before she spoke. I was somewhat dazed by what I’d witnessed, and now that we were alone again, I felt trepidation return.
I said, “Tezdal shall have back his memory?”
Rwyan nodded, her face thoughtful. It seemed she took that restoration for a sure conclusion. She said, “They’ve far greater power than I suspected.”
“They convince you?” I asked.
And then I must drink wine to assuage the dread her answer should give. My hand trembled as I raised the cup.
She said, “They do.”
I set the goblet down. The wine soured in my belly. I steeled myself, meeting her calm gaze. I must ask a question now for which I’d no taste.
I suppose my expression was clear enough, for Rwyan gave me a wan smile and shook her head and said, “Not yet, my love. We’ve time yet.”
I sighed and filled my cup again. A few drops fell to the table. They shone in the sourceless light.
Rwyan said, “I’d see Tezdal wake and know the fuller measure of their abilities. And I think they’ll not force me ere then.”
I nodded. “How long shall that be?”
She shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Such magic is unknown in Dharbek.”
Had I been sure of the God’s existence, I’d have sung his praises then, for that small gift of time. No less, I’d have prayed that man I deemed my friend sleep on: I’d have betrayed him for Rwyan’s sake.
I said, “Think you he’ll truly honor his vow, are all his memories restored?”
“I believe he’ll try,” she answered. “But does he wake a Sky Lord reborn, he must surely find his loyalties divided.”
“And you,” I asked, “will not reconsider?”
The look she gave me was answer enough, words redundant. I felt ashamed: her resolve was so much stronger than my own.
She smiled at me then. “Have faith, Daviot. Until that moment comes, we’ve hope. I’ll not believe we’ve come so far only to die here.”
I forced a smile in answer. I saw no reason why Trebizar should not be that place the Pale Friend came for us. Our fate seemed to me only delayed, no more. I thought that did the magic of the Changed work its miracle on Tezdal or not, still that demand should be made of Rwyan; and she refuse. And then I must be bound by my promise, else I betray her and betray our love; and that I would not do. So I foresaw only that we had a little time; that too soon must come the moment I should strike her, and then-doubtless-be myself slain. That mattered nothing: without Rwyan, nothing mattered.
I heard her say, “Put off that glum face, my love. We’ve time yet, and hope.”
I stretched out my lips in facsimile of a smile and did my best to assume a cheerful manner that would match hers. “Yes,” I said, “and they feed us well.”
“And give us a most pleasant chamber, no?”
Her eyes moved sideways, in the direction of the bed.
I felt an urgency then: we had, I thought, so little time left us. I rose and went around the table. Rwyan rose to meet me, and we embraced, our kisses ardent. Of a sudden we were on the bed and not much slower naked. I was entirely unaware of the occult light dimming, for the moon’s glow took its place, silvery on her skin.
When the sun was risen a hand’s span above the walls, our door was opened and Urt stood there.
He said, “Day’s greetings, Daviot; Rwyan.”
She answered him in kind, calmly, as if his appearance afforded her no surprise. I hesitated, no longer sure whether I looked on a friend or an enemy. He wore a shirt of homespun linen that was not quite white, and plain brown breeks, soft boots: nothing much different to what I’d known him to wear about the College. There was nothing to mark his elevation; in Durbrecht he’d have passed as a servant Changed, unremarkable. I studied his face-clear now-and saw lines etched there that had not been present in Dharbek, In his eyes I saw-I was not sure-a graving, perhaps, of age. He seemed somehow older in more than mere years, weighted by knowledge and experience. I wondered what that had been, and what it was.
I said, “Day’s greetings, Urt,” cautiously.
He smiled-regretfully, I thought. “Doubtless you grow bored of confinement. Would you walk awhile in the garden?”
I asked, “Tezdal wakes?”
“Not yet.” He shook his head. “Perhaps the gifted must work their magic again. But meanwhile …” He gestured at the corridor beyond the open door.
Rwyan said, “It should be pleasant. Eh, Daviot?”
I shrugged and nodded; and we followed him out.
He was alone, which surprised me, and as we paced the corridor, I asked, “Are you not afraid, Urt? To be alone with us?”
He gave a little chuckle and met my stare. “Would you harm me then, Daviot?”
I said, “I’d slay any man who harms Rwyan.” And thought of Allanyn, and so added, “Or any woman,”
He said softly, “I offer you no harm.”
He spoke eompanionably enough, but I sensed a hesitancy. I sought to read his face, the language of his body, but without success. I wondered if he hid his feelings. My own were utterly confused. Was he still my friend? Or was he now committed to the strategies of the Changed? Did I walk with an ally or an enemy? I could not know, only follow.
We came to a door of plain wood, latched, and Urt thrust it open, waving us through.
Now we stood beneath the portico, the garden spread before us. The air was pleasantly fresh, neither possessed of summer’s heat nor cooled by autumn’s advancement, but poised on that enlivening axis between the two. I thought it should have been turned more decisive between the seasons, and then that this valley was, indeed, a place governed by magic. The sky was blue, decorated here and there with drifting billows of pristine cumulus. The absence of birds was strange. Urt beckoned us as he set out along a path that wound amongst hornbeams and hazels. In moments, the Council building was lost to sight. It was as if we strolled some wildwood.
In a while Urt halted by a pond surrounded by drooping willows and green alders, fed by a little stream. Without preamble he said, “I am commanded to speak with you; to convince you.”
Rwyan said, “You waste your breath, Urt.”
He said, “Lady, I know that; but still I’d speak with you. Shall you hear me out?”
His tone was urgent, and in his eyes I saw such a look as brought back memories of Durbrecht. I motioned that he continue; Rwyan ducked her head in agreement.