"Ah, my heart, you are awake at last." Carillia bustled into the bedroom. That, and the tempo of her words, caused Silvas to look up in some surprise. He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard her approach, and she was moving and speaking so much faster than usual. There was less of her normal grace. She might almost have been some shopkeeper's wife from the way she came into the room.
"I cautioned everyone to stay away until you woke," she continued. "You were so spent last night that I was determined to let you sleep as long as possible."
Silvas nodded, rather dully. He needed another moment to collect his thoughts enough for speech. "Little enough good the sleep did me, my love," he said, recognizing the hint of wonder in his own voice. "But the night seems to have wrought great changes in you."
The smile Carillia gave him was more mysterious than sweet. Silvas perceived a little additional depth to it, something new in the eyes that topped it.
"The time seems to demand it, my heart," she said. "I knew that I had to be as strong as possible while you recovered your strength." She went to the wardrobe and pulled out fresh clothes for Silvas rather than calling for Koshka or one of his fellow servants.
"I don't know how much strength I recovered," Silvas said, sliding his legs out of bed and sitting on the edge. "For all the hours of sleep, I feel little different than I did at the start."
Carillia finally stopped her bustling and stared at Silvas. Her eyes narrowed in a look of intense concentration that was as alien to her normal habits as scurrying about and rapid speech.
"Your sleep was troubled?" The question was tinged more with sharpness than solicitude.
"Troubled and full. And yet…" He hesitated, then shook his head. "Yet I can grasp so little of it. The memories are confused, incomplete, like fever dreams."
Carillia laid her hand on his forehead. "You are sweaty but not hot." She looked at the bedding. "If you had a fever in the night, it has broken." For an instant her voice modulated into more familiar tones, but then the new briskness was back. "The water for your bath is being heated. That and a good draught of one of your elixirs will put you as right as possible."
Silvas's new smile almost widened into a grin. He was beginning to find an appreciation for this new manner of Carillia's. "You are probably right, my love." He could hear the amusement in his own voice. "You usually are."
This time Carillia gave him a more familiar smile. "We have to make use of the time we have before the Blue Rose comes again," she said, with almost her accustomed softness.
There was a quick knock at the door and Bosc came in, hardly waiting for Carillia's call. He bobbed his head at her, then focused on Silvas.
"I'd not bother you so, but Lord Bay is quite restive." Bosc bobbed his head a couple more times in the peculiarly jerky fashion of his kind. "And I feel most on edge myself, Lord Silvas." He shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other.
"What is Bay so restive about?" Silvas asked, noting at the same time that the water was being poured for his bath. He stood and stretched.
"He rumbles and moans like, lord, about this village and about the Blue Rose and a dozen other things all jumbled together, and he paces his stall like there's a mare in heat just out of reach."
"Tell him I'll be out there as soon as I can," Silvas said.
"Aye, lord." Bosc bobbed his head one final time before he hurried out the door.
"It appears that everyone is out of sorts this morning," Silvas said quietly, heading for the bathroom. "The evil of the Blue Rose is still working on us, in one fashion or another."
"We are merely preparing to face it, my heart," Carillia said. She didn't bother to follow him to the bath.
– |Silvas settled himself in the tub and closed his eyes. The water came almost to his chin. It was hot, steaming-too hot at the start, but that meant that it would remain comfortable longer at the end.
I need time to think, Silvas told himself. If I could but remember all that I experienced in the night. But the images and sequences had come so rapidly on the heels of each other that each new segment had overlain and erased the one before. Try though he might, Silvas could do no more than capture isolated scenes and phrases, and that bothered him.
The lacunae might be the most important parts. That seemed to be the way of life, even for a wizard-potent. It was like trying to reconstruct a fine Italian mosaic from one tile in ten, not knowing what the complete picture had originally been. Silvas spent the time in his tub trying to recall the general pattern of his nocturnal experiences.
After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and slid down in the tub until he was completely submerged, and he stayed down until his lungs felt ready to burst. When he pushed himself up he took in several deep breaths of the humid air. He leaned back, head against the stone of the tub, eyes closed, while water dripped from his hair and face.
Nothing, he thought. There weren't even enough fragments of the puzzle in his mind to space out the framework for the missing majority. And it might be vital. There were certain spells he could try, but they would take considerable time and energy, and Silvas doubted that enough of either remained for him to spend them, particularly since those spells were not certain, not when he applied them to himself.
As the water started to lose its warmth, Silvas hurriedly went through the motions of scrubbing, trying to scour himself into greater alertness. Satin and Velvet came prowling into the bathroom. Each sniffed at the water and at Silvas. Their growls were more throaty than normal, their movements as uncommonly edgy as Carillia's had been.
"This has got to all of us, hasn't it?" Silvas said softly. He didn't reach out to pet the cats. They wouldn't appreciate wet hands. The cats left the room, but they were back in less than a minute, going through the same routine of sniffing the water and Silvas before turning to leave again.
"You want me to hurry too?" Silvas chuckled. Satin growled in a particularly short-tempered fashion. Silvas chuckled again. "If I thought it would help, I would have foregone my bath, kittens. But it wouldn't help, and it won't help for me to hurry now. But I am nearly done."
The cats fled the bathroom when Silvas stood to get out of the tub. Staying meant getting wet as Silvas splattered and splashed and toweled himself dry. Satin and Velvet were no more thrilled with wet fur than any other cats.
Silvas felt much better when he returned to the bedroom to dress. Carillia was gone. Satin and Velvet came and went, as if they were still checking to see how much longer he would be.
"Such impatience," Silvas said as he adjusted his knife belt. "It's not like you." The cats left the room again.
Breakfast-a selection of fruit and cheese, with spiced wine on the side-was waiting for Silvas in the small sitting room. He sat but did little more than sample the food.
"I think I'm ready to face the world now," he said after only a few minutes. "At least for a time." He stood and stretched, then headed for the stairs. His first stop had to be the mews.
Bay was pacing rapidly around the confines of his stall. Though it was much larger than most, even compared to Bay's unusual size, the stall was hardly sufficient for such frantic pacing.
"You want to go out into the bailey so you have more room?" Silvas asked when he looked in the open top of the stall's half door.
"It would not be room enough," Bay said, coming to an awkward halt. "The itch I have makes me want to run as far and as fast as I can, in any direction. Or even in circles, if the circles are large enough."
"That wouldn't help," the wizard said, uncomfortable at the echo of his own dream. "We could ride forever and not reach our destination."
Bay nudged open the bottom half of the door with his nose. Silvas stepped back to let Bay come out of the stable.
"Bide a moment," Bay said. When Silvas nodded, Bay started along the wall, moving from a walk into a slow canter, an easy lope that consumed distance quickly. Bay lapped the courtyard a dozen times before he returned to Silvas.
"It is not enough, but it must suffice for now," Bay said. He looked closely at Silvas. "They told me you were sleeping."
"I was, little good it did me," Silvas replied. "My slumber was long but not easy."
"It shows," Bay said. "Are you fit for what may come?"
"I won't know until whatever may come does come," Silvas said. "I feel better than I did when I first woke. I might have the strength to get through the next hours." He looked at the sky. There were no clouds over the Seven Towers. "I didn't stop to look at Mecq," Silvas said, as much to himself as to Bay.
"Braf says that the sky over Mecq remains overcast," Bay said. "When you had not appeared by mid-morning, I bade him look for me." The turret that looked out over Mecq, or whatever location the pillar of smoke was in, was as far out of Bay's reach as the stars were for Silvas. The narrow circular stairway leading to that turret was much too small for the horse.
"You told Sir Eustace to be especially watchful of the passes from Blethye," Bay said. "You could make the passage much more costly for Blethye, if that is the source of this disease."
"If," Silvas said, seizing the single word. "But focusing too narrowly on Blethye might make us overlook an attack from elsewhere until too late."
"Not focus, simply prepare," Bay said. "Something to make the more distant pass even harder for soldiers. Something to drop on the near pass if an army tries to come through."
"And the energy it would take?" Silvas asked. "The Blue Rose wizard appears to be my equal. I can't afford to waste myself now, not when every confrontation already drains me so thoroughly."
"As for wasting yourself…" Bay started. He didn't need to finish. Silvas glared at him anyway.
"The levels do not compare," Silvas said. "Anyway, it is all part of the dance. The Blue Rose was behind many of the ills I cured here, and mending the injuries was just as important. I couldn't give the enemy the satisfaction of seeing their evil abide, or endanger our support any further."
"We have come too far to worry about support," Bay said. "If the battle is upon us, they have no choice but to support us or perish."
"I can't be that callous," Silvas said. "If we forget the people we help, how are we different from the Blue Rose?"
"I leave you to worry about theology," Bay said. "It is enough for me to worry about survival. If we don't survive, what use are we to anyone, including these people you want to help?"
"I'm going to the village," Silvas said. "More than half the day is gone. They will be wondering if something has happened to me. They'll need reassurance."
"They'll want to know how you will prevent another storm coming over them, or worse. And they'll want to know when you will fulfill your promise to provide them with adequate water."
"An easy prediction, Bay," Silvas said, his voice softening a little. "I know the questions that will come."
– |Bay remained within the Glade. Silvas emerged from the smoke and headed for the Boar and Bear. Apart from Master Ian, there were only a couple of boys in the public room of the inn, trying to put some order to the place.
"Good afternoon," Silvas said as he entered.
"Lord Wizard," Master Ian said, nodding politely.
"I'll have a mug of ale, if you please, Master Ian," Silvas said, taking a seat at the nearest table. "And if you have any food ready?"
"There's stew a-simmering," Master Ian said as he filled a mug for the wizard.
"Stew and bread would do nicely," Silvas said.
Master Ian brought the ale, then went for the food. When he came back, the innkeeper gave Silvas time to taste his stew before he spoke.
"Some folks has been wonderin' if somethin' was wrong," Master Ian said then. "As the day moved along, as it were."
Silvas looked up and shrugged. "The storm, and the work yesterday, took a lot out of me. I needed time to gather my strength against the next time the Blue Rose strikes. Wizardry is not a simple affair of muttering spells and waving arms. It is work at least as hard as farming… or smithing."
Master Ian shrugged back at the wizard. "I'd not know about that. But that's another thing folks has been askin' about. The next time. It worries 'most all of us. We be simple folks. All these magics and all. It begins to tug at folks' innards."
Silvas dragged his bread through the stew's gravy and leaned close to the bowl to eat off that end while he waited for the innkeeper to continue.
"Simple folk may not know about all the high-flown things that be the bother of wizards, but they can see that the storm that come chasin' your rain was unnatural."
"Aye, it was." Silvas wiped his hand across his mouth, then reached for his ale before he went on. "It was a weapon hurled by the Blue Rose, another punishment for Mecq."
"Or was it merely sent to test you?" Master Ian asked.
Everyone has had their tongues loosened, Silvas thought. Is that natural or more work of the Blue Rose? That brought a fleeting smile to his mind: I begin to see their work in everything.
"At this point one cannot be separated from the other," Silvas said, clearly not the answer Master Ian had expected. "The form of the attack was clearly a response to my gentle rain. The fact of the attack was not."
"I've heard more than one ask today why you cannot make good your promise of water and leave," Master Ian said. "Folks think that if you go, the Blue Rose may follow. Or turn their attention elsewhere for a bit. Some go so far as to say that we'd be better off if you just left, even without the water."
"My leaving would not divert them," Silvas said. "The Blue Rose has condemned Mecq for whatever reasons. I didn't draw them to Mecq. The presence of the Blue Rose is what drew me here. To help. Our Unseen Lord sent me." Silvas drained his mug and handed it to Master Ian for a refill. When the innkeeper came back, Silvas took a long drink and set the mug down.
"The water problems are tied directly to the evil of the Blue Rose," he said. "Unless they are defeated here, things can only get worse for Mecq, and everyone else. That is most especially true if I run away from the confrontation."
Master Ian was clearly not satisfied with the explanation.
"Ask your vicar," Silvas suggested. "If needs be, wait and ask Bishop Egbert himself, since the good bishop realizes that this matter is serious enough to draw him out of St. Ives. Whether we like it or not, Master Ian, there's no turning back for anyone now."
The frown didn't leave the innkeeper's face, but the look of intense concentration did.
"As to the water," Silvas continued, "I will make good my vow unless I perish in the fight. That too is possible." That admission was enough to send Master Ian back to his kegs and mugs. Silvas returned to his stew. It was beginning to cool, but it remained surprisingly good. Or else my hunger was greater than I cared to admit, Silvas thought. He thought about asking for another bowl, but Brother Paul came into the inn and Silvas put off thoughts of eating another helping.
"Good afternoon, Vicar," Silvas said, making a gesture for the friar to join him at the table.
"God's peace to you, Lord Wizard."
"Master Ian. Ale for the three of us," Silvas called. He drained his tankard and set it down. He pulled out the coins for his meal and the extra ale and dropped them on the table.
"I have had additional word from His Excellency," Brother Paul said while he watched Master Ian drawing the ale. "He will arrive in Mecq today."
"That is welcome news," Silvas said. "I have hoped that he would arrive before the next attack."
Master Ian arrived with the drinks, and the three men shared a long pull at their tankards. Then Master Ian asked Brother Paul some of the same questions he had put to Silvas. The vicar's responses were similar, which did little to improve the look on Master Ian's face. But news of the bishop's impending arrival did help a little. After a few moments the innkeeper went back to his work.
"Has Sir Eustace been told yet how soon the bishop will arrive?" Silvas asked as he got near the bottom of his mug.
Brother Paul shook his head. "I was about to send someone up when I heard that you had come in here."
"Then I might as well carry the news," Silvas said. "That will also give me a chance to hear whatever new complaints he has thought of since yesterday." I am certain he will have new complaints, he thought.
– |Silvas wasn't surprised to find Bay emerging from the smoke, fully harnessed, as he approached it. The surprise, if there was one, was that Bay had not been waiting at the door to the Boar and Bear.
"The bishop will be here this afternoon," Silvas said before he mounted. "We carry the news to Sir Eustace." Since they were in Mecq, Bay didn't reply. Silvas almost wished that he had been able to give Bay the news within the cover of the Seven Towers, just to hear the horse's comment.
Silvas stopped Bay just before they reached the castle on Mount Mecq. The wizard looked across the valley, focusing his telesight in the direction of St. Ives, scanning the possible approaches.
"No sight of him yet," he said softly. Bay went on to the gate of the castle and inside. There were six men-at-arms on the wall now. Their attention was concentrated to the north, on the duchy of Blethye and on the gap leading through to it.
Sir Eustace was waiting for Silvas. The knight had obviously been warned of his approach, and Sir Eustace had progressed far beyond mere unhappiness.
"I marvel that you have the gall to present yourself before me," Sir Eustace shouted as Silvas entered his great hall. The knight stepped close to Silvas, completely unconcerned that the wizard was a foot taller than him.
"I will remind you that Mecq is my fief," Sir Eustace said, still shouting. His face was the deep red of anger. "It is my responsibility to determine what help my people need and deserve. I am as upset about the deaths and destruction as you claim to be. Most likely my concern is even greater. Mecq is my village. These are my people." He loaded each possessive with as much volume and anger as he could.
Silvas kept any show of emotion from appearing on his face. After what I have already heard today, this should come as no surprise, he thought. Anything less would have been incongruous.
"I don't like outsiders coming into my demesne uninvited," Sir Eustace continued. "I thought I made that clear at our first meeting. And I will not abide outsiders confusing the loyalties of my people and placing them in great danger. My people have hard enough lives without you risking their usefulness to themselves, and to their liege lord."
When Sir Eustace finally seemed to run into a void for a moment, Silvas gave him the vicar's message. "Bishop Egbert will reach the village today, perhaps well before sunset."
"More trouble!" Eustace said. He turned and stormed out of the great hall, climbing the stairs to the level above.
Silvas looked around the great hall, not moving from where he stood. He was alone in the chamber. "It seems I am dismissed," he said softly, with more than a trace of amusement. Sir Eustace's rage didn't call forth a like response from the wizard. The changes in everyone that day served not only to exaggerate the knight's anger, but also to put it in a different perspective.
Silvas started for the door. The session with Sir Eustace had been shorter, if no less sour, than he had expected. The mood Sir Eustace is in, I should rejoice that he left so quickly, Silvas told himself. It was almost enough to make him laugh.
He was halfway to the door when he heard light steps hurrying down the stairs into the great hall from above. Almost against his will he stopped and turned. It was, as he had suspected, Maria. Silvas waited, letting her expend the energy to cross the hall.
"I was afraid you would leave before I could get down," she said.
"I was just leaving. Your father is particularly angry with me today."
"He fears that you will make him look bad before the people of Mecq," Maria said. Her tone seemed to suggest that Silvas had already done that… and that she enjoyed her father's discomfiture.
"I think it's wonderful what you have done," she said. "You are so brave to stand up to the heretics who killed my grandfather, so bold to challenge them. My father wishes that you would leave. I wonder that you don't. It would be safer for you, and you wouldn't have to face the ingratitude of my father and Master Fitz-Matthew. It would serve them right if you left and made them face the heretics alone."
"My duty would not permit that, even if I were base enough to flee in the face of danger," Silvas said. The words sounded stuffy, and that was intentional. Sir Eustace's wife might have lost her yen for the wizard, but Maria obviously had not.
"There is that as well," Maria said, moving so close to Silvas that they were almost touching. "I have never met a man like you before."
Silvas slid half a step back, but Maria hardly noticed. She moved forward into the gap as if they were tied together.
"You will leave someday soon, though, won't you?" she asked.
"As soon as the threat of the Blue Rose has been met." Providing I survive the conflict. If I don't survive, my departure will no doubt come rather sooner. "There will doubtless be other villages that need my help."
"You don't spend all your time in tiny places like Mecq, do you? You get to cities like London and York and other grand places, don't you?"
"At times," Silvas admitted.
"I know you have your lady, Carillia," Maria said. "But I want to leave Mecq with you. There's nothing for me here, and you may be my only chance to escape. Soon enough my father may force me into a nunnery. I can't hope to find a man worth marrying here."
Silvas stepped back again, surprised at the echo of his own assessment of her probable future… and even more surprised that she would be so candid about it.
"I could make no promises like that." He held his hands up to stop Maria from coming so close again. "Your father has enough excuses to revile me. And I still have a dangerous battle to face with the Blue Rose." She makes me as nervous as the thought of that battle.
"My father has never needed excuses to revile anyone," Maria said. "It is his nature to spew bile at all who come around. He could not think worse of you, and he might even offer grudging thanks if you removed the problem of my future from his shoulders."
"It is too soon to talk, or even think, of things like this," Silvas said. "I must put all my mind to the coming battle." He backed up another step. "And now, young lady, I really must be leaving."
"If you must." She didn't bother to suppress a sigh. "I will see you to the gate."
"That isn't necessary."
"But it is," Maria insisted. "My father didn't stay to perform that courtesy. I would not have you think the entire family is so crude."
Silvas bowed to the inevitable.
"I beg you to consider my request as you may," Maria said as Silvas opened the door. "I must escape this place, and you are my only hope."
"As I may," Silvas said, knowing how little that vow cost him.
They crossed the courtyard together. Silvas had Bay at his left and Maria so close at his right that she kept brushing his arm. Then one of the sentries on the wall pointed across the valley and shouted, "There are riders approaching the village."
Silvas hurried up the wooden stairs that led to the ramparts and stared off in the direction that the soldier had pointed.
"There are thirteen riders," Silvas said as he focused his telesight on the group-nearly two-thirds of the way across the valley, "and I see the pennant of St. Ives above them. It is Bishop Egbert and his monks."
The sentry who had spotted the riders scurried down the stairs and ran for the keep. Silvas was a little more cautious descending to the courtyard.
"And now I really must hurry," he told Maria.