“i’ve seen him before, but I can’t think where,” Nyctasia mused, looking down in some perplexity at the drugged youth. “Well, we’ll soon find out.” She crushed a few pungent leaves between her fingers and held them to his nose. After a moment he opened his eyes, choking.
“Teiryn or Edonaris?” Nyctasia demanded.
“Wha-?”
“Who sent you to kill me-the Teiryn or the Edonaris!”
He looked about him, still groggy, realizing that he was lying on a bench in a strange room. When he saw who it was who questioned him, he gasped and groped for his knife.
Sandor strode up, holding the missing knife as if it were a toy. “Her Ladyship asked you a question, man!”
The young man stared at him, then broke into a feeble laugh. “I should have heeded your advice, friend.”
“What advice was that?” said Nyctasia.
“I told him he was too hasty by half, my lady. He’s a raw one and no mistake.”
“He must belong to the Teiryn, then. Only they’d hire such a bungler.”
“I’m no hireling killer! I came to avenge Lord Rhavor on my own.”
“Of course!” Nyctasia exclaimed. “Rhavor’s servant-you were often with him of late.” So that was how he’d known where she was likely to be found. She cursed herself for her carelessness. When she and Rhavor ar’n Teiryn had met in secret, this fellow had been in attendance on him, yet she’d never given him a thought.
He was glaring at her. “I was with him the day you set your curse on him-just before he died! I heard you!”
“Then you merely heard me speaking to him. You must have heard any number of people speak to him that day. Why don’t you kill all of them while you’re about it?”
“You’re the one did it. Everyone says so.”
Nyctasia laughed. “My nurse used to say, ‘If everyone tells you the sun’s the moon, it will still be the sun.’”
“He died of the same curse as the rest of them!”
“Yes, he did. And Teiryns were dying of it long before I was born.” She paused and said sadly, “Though your master might have lived years longer, if he’d not weakened himself with drink. Many’s the time I tried to tell him it would be the death of him.”
Rhavor’s servant was puzzled by Lady Nyctasia’s manner. Why should she deny the deed when she had him in her power? The words came back to him: “Rhavor, you’ll be dead by first frost!” Could they have been meant, not as a threat, but a warning? He didn’t believe her, yet somehow he was no longer afraid of her.
“You bewitched him,” he muttered sullenly.
“Why is it,” Nyctasia sighed, “that everyone believes my lies, but I can never persuade people of the truth?”
“Lady, if you let him go, he’ll only come after you again,” said Sandor.
Nyctasia looked defeated. Motioning Sandor aside, she said, “Lock him up downstairs and see that someone fetches him away after dark. Once I’ve reached safety, I’ll send orders for his release. If you’ve anything to report, I’ll be at the corner house till midnight. Stay at your post else.”
“Very good, my lady.” He bowed. “Good fortune await you. Lady Nyctasia.”
“Farewell, Sandor.” She crossed to the threshold of the next room, then paused.
“Be careful,” she said.
Nyctasia pushed aside the dark drapery curtaining the window and looked out across the city to where the last rays of the sun gilded the western towers of the Edonaris palace. For hundreds of years, its walls had witnessed the proud history of the Edonaris line. Ever since they had come to power in the city, the Edonaris had been known for their liberality and benevolence. They had been responsible for the elimination of slavery in Rhostshyl, and had tempered the harshness of the city laws in other ways as well. Thieves were no longer put to death in Rhostshyl, and many cities along the coast had followed this example.
It was while the Edonaris dominated the Rhaicimate that Rhostshyl had entered the Maritime Alliance, benefiting from treaties of trade and mutual defense. The city had prospered and grown under their rule.
Nyctasia had always been proud of her name, but now she feared that this heritage had been betrayed. Though the Edonaris had come to power by lawful means, there were now those among them who would use any means to keep that power in their own hands. She was sure that it would not be the enmity of the Teiryn that destroyed her House, but the ruthless ambition of the matriarch Mhairestri and her supporters.
And yet she herself was not guiltless-she had been forced to take measures that repelled her, in order to counter her enemies. It had sickened her to learn what callousness she was capable of, what deceptions she would use, for her own ends.
She had never thought to find herself taking prisoner a young fool like that-yet that was not the worst thing of which she accused herself.
Nyctasia leaned her head in her hands. She was resolved to put all that behind her and leave Rhostshyl while her spirit was still her own. She would be free of this madness! Erystalben needed her, and she could now do no good by remaining.
With Rhavor’s help, some compromise with the Teiryn might have been possible.
But there was no one else among them who would listen to reason.
Rhavor had made no secret of his belief that his family’s fanatical rivalry with the Edonaris was absolute folly. He had often held the feud up to ridicule.
Nyctasia half smiled, remembering an encounter with the drunken Rhavor in Market Street. He had accosted her with a cheerful, “Ho! An Edonaris in my way! Cut her down, cut her down!” in blatant parody of his kinfolk.
Nyctasia had joined in the game: “A foul, Teiryn! Have at you, miscreant!”
Waving their rapiers with exaggerated menace, they’d engaged in a ridiculous duel, parting with mock threats and laughter. How ironic that she was accused of his murder, when in truth she missed him sorely.
It was probably his own kin who killed him, she thought bitterly, though he’d plainly been set on destroying himself ever since the death of his wife. He had seemed to welcome the onset of the wasting sickness which cursed the Teiryn line, and had refused to husband his strength by abstaining from drink.
Lord Rhavor was already familiar to Nyctasia by reputation, when she’d first contrived to meet him at a tavern he was known to frequent. He’d not been long a widower, but Nyctasia was still a girl, and he’d been more amused than offended when she’d blurted out her plans for a marriage-alliance between them.
“My dear girl, not only am I twice your age, but I’m an ailing man as well. I’d soon make a widow of you.”
Nyctasia flushed. “But, my lord, think what it could mean! If a Teiryn and an Edonaris should wed, there might be an end to this senseless feuding. Our families would be forced to come to terms!”
“Or to murder us both,” he suggested with a smile. “You know as well as I that they’re too caught up in their game to let a dying man and a child stand in their way.” In truth. Lord Rhavor was not yet gravely ill. He spoke thus to discourage Nyctasia, but she would not be swayed from her purpose.
“Then you’ve nothing to lose, have you? And for my part, I am willing to take the risk.”
“I believe you. But you’re surely not of an age to marry without your family’s consent, and I very much doubt that the Edonaris would think me a suitable match for you.”
“I know all that,” said Nyctasia impatiently. “I shall come of age in due course. But till then you must not take another wife-that’s the gist of the matter!”
The mask of frivolity fell from Lord Rhavor’s countenance. “I have no mind to marry again,” he said coldly.
“That is all I ask,” said Nyctasia, rising. “Forgive me. If the affair were not of such consequence, I should not intrude upon your grief.” She tugged awkwardly at her sleeve for a moment. “Naturally I don’t mean to take her place,” she said stiffly, “I propose a political alliance. At least give some thought to my plan.”
“Just as you like, Lady Nyctasia,” he said indulgently. “We shall speak of it again when you come of age, if I live to see the day.”
Lord Rhavor had many years yet to live, but when Nyctasia had reached her adulthood, he continued to oppose her plan. By then the illness had taken its toll and, though the remnants of his days meant little to him, he was reluctant to let Nyctasia risk her life for such a doubtful venture.
They continued to meet, however, and she’d still had hopes of persuading him, up to the time of his death. Now even that hope was gone.
Nyctasia let the curtain fall back, covering the window. Darkness had descended on the city, and the towers of the palace were lost from view.