He shook his head slowly. “My knowledge is still weak.”
“But your people could help?” she asked, reminding him of their earlier discussion.
“The more of us working together, united, will progress the work.”
His face grew serious, and it concerned Gishna. It was a tremendous gamble bringing the valmasin back.
“Yes, I do like this union here,” he said, and continued explaining the traits and properties of the lines joined in that future daughter, the future of her house. Gishna closed her eyes and allowed herself a fantasy, a vision, of her hall full of fine, healthy Mornae.
It may be Julissa on the throne, but she would make it possible. She would put up with this strange man, with the diviners and their peevishness, and the other high houses nipping at her heels like hounds. She would risk violating the Fifth Accord to regain Hosmyr’s lost strength. To be Mornae. To shine again with the light of a thousand stars.
36
Boxes and crates lined the halls of the east valley estate. Taul had ordered the Halkamas estate emptied much to the chagrin of the house members. They’d thought their situation temporary while the high matron’s magistrates prowled their properties. They all thought her temper would cool.
He’d situated them in the outer villas and kept the main villa for the matron’s own household. It was only when dividing it all up that he realized just how vulnerable they were. He saluted a guard wearing a new tabard with the house sigil. Niral saluted in response, proud. He was young, a recent Isilmyr graduate and not yet poisoned by house politicking.
“Where are the vault crates?” Taul asked.
“Down at the end, sir. Zaknil thought that room was the best suited for the house's valuables.”
“Indeed. Inform the commander of the watch to change the room to the cellar beneath the matron’s apartment.”
“The cellar?”
Taul gave him a knowing glance, as if they shared a secret. “We can’t even trust our vassals. House above all.”
Niral beamed, repeated the phrase, and added, “At once, sir.”
Two young knights patrolling approached, having heard, and repeated the phrase as well. One was of Xura’s line, but at this moment, the moment of destruction, they were bound. For if Ryldia fell, and they had something to do with it, Taul would bring them down as well. He’d not sit back like that agent, smoking hallucinogens to ease his suffering.
“I’ll fight,” he said under his breath. “Like that fool in the goddess court.”
He glanced at the crates as they traveled the length of the hall and fell in beside a large one carried by two lads.
“I’ll open this one below,” he said. He motioned for them to continue.
In the foyer to the matron’s private apartment, Taul opened a narrow door hidden behind a panel and they descended to the cellar. It was more than a cellar, of course. There was a hidden escape route in the event things didn’t go their way. In the time of unrest after the Fall, some had used it to escape, but Ryldia’s ancestor had remained and consented to the Fifth Accord. But only if Hosmyr’s high matron ensured their claim to the ancient orchard in perpetuity, no matter what calamity befell them, no matter what laws or accords followed. An ancient sorcerer wrote the deed upon a kith plaque and two matron signets sealed it for posterity. Hosmyr could never tax it, never seize it.
“But all things change,” Taul said to himself. “When my brother arrives,” he said to a knight escorting their belongings, “show him down here, please.”
The knight, consorted from Lor’Pelaun to Yelara’s daughter, bowed and left him.
It wouldn’t surprise him if Maunyn Ilor’Hosmyr himself rode up with an escort of knights to kick them out. When the servants placed the last shipment of crates, chests, and boxes in the cellar, he ordered everyone out. He started opening the crates. Ancient silks and embroidered linens wrapped the contents. It all smelled of age.
Within a crate, he found a footlocker made of ironwood with glyphs carved into it. The lid bore Toshtolin’s embossed sigil and symbols of kithvyrae na’sen, the assassin’s hour, surrounded it. Against his better judgment, he opened the box. Mornae rarely imbued ironwood. Its nature as a once living thing was too changeable.
He laid the contents out on the cellar floor, unwrapping each, but without touching the kithaun directly. Here indeed were the ancient treasures of Lor’Toshtolin: kithaun daggers and knives, needles and rings, bracers and other devices housing the presence of sorcerers, priestesses, and knights. Who in his house could risk using these devices?
Ryldia wore the matron’s ring, but the previous matrons’ thoughts and power stored within could not harm her without harming their house. They wanted her to succeed. Would the minds in these weapons and devices feel the same about him?
He unwrapped a two-foot-long package, revealing a kithaun spearhead. It was pure Vakayne steel from before the Fall, a creation of ancient sorcerers and smiths. It would need a shaft, preferably ironwood, but who could he trust to wield it? Surely not himself. He’d ask Balniss to get it fitted in Velkamas.
He inspected a small, flat ring with a silk cord tied on either side.
“I need help with this,” he whispered. He dared not touch it. Indeed, he was getting a nauseous feeling, as if the ancients stored within the devices knew he was looking at them. Would Balniss risk tangling with the voices within them? He ran up the steps and stood in the hall, calling for a servant.
“Has my brother arrived?” he asked the first that answered.
The servant shook his head.
“Go find him!” Taul said. “He’ll be in the trade master’s chamber. If not, send someone up the road to see if he’s on his way.”
He should have arrived by now. Taul paced while waiting, feeling strong, energized by the arsenal of tools at his disposal. Surely, they would be enough to help him.
Balniss turned into the hall leading to the matron’s apartment. “I’ve been writing new contracts,” he said, frowning. “Confirming old ones, ensuring the high matron doesn’t steal more assets out from under you.”
Taul motioned for him to follow, and together they descended into the cellar.
“Oh my,” Balniss whispered. “What are you planning, brother?”
“I can no longer wait for anyone to help me. I have a lead.”
“To what?”
“Better not to share anything yet. I wouldn’t want to compromise your position. We need you as a magistrate now more than ever. But I need help with these things.”
Balniss nodded. “I would like to know more, but I will do what I can.”
