The Lord of Castle Black Read online

  Morrolan, Teldra, Arra, and the warlock discovered where they were in the simplest possible way: They happened to meet a peasant as they followed the road from Chorbis, the village where they had managed to find an inn the night before. This worthy Teckla had stopped upon seeing the two aristocrats riding proudly along with two Easterners, a dog, and a cat. As he gawked, he had been asked to name the place where they were. "Bellows" had been the answer, more squeaked than pronounced.

  The Teckla being dismissed, they continued on their way. "Welcome home," said Teldra.

  "Well, and this is my home?" said Morrolan.

  "You are now within the confines of Southmoor, and, were there an Empire to recognize titles, you would be recognized as its Count."

  Morrolan considered, then said, "I believe we should look for a place to spend the night."

  "Your first night in your own domain," said Teldra.

  "Well, yes," said Morrolan. "And I should be less than honest if I did not admit that this notion pleases me."

  "And well it should," said Arra.

  In the event, they were unable to locate an inn, and so once more slept out in the open, just off the road under a few trees, guarded by the warlock's "friends" as he called them. Teldra, Arra, and the warlock awoke early the next morning to find Morrolan already awake, and staring to the west. Arra took his hand in her own and said, "Yes, my lord. In that direction, as far as you can see."

  "Once, and perhaps again. And yet, there is no Empire, so what then?"

  "What the Goddess wills," said Arra.

  Morrolan nodded. "Perhaps," he said, "she wills that I take back what is mine. Soon several hundred witches will make their way here, and, after that, who knows? Perhaps I can find warriors as well."

  "Hundreds now," said Arra, "and a thousand to-morrow. And with warriors as well, yes, you could reclaim your land."

  "I will do so, then," said Morrolan.

  "I should be glad," said Teldra, who came up next to him, "to offer whatever assistance I might be capable of."

  Morrolan said, "I had another dream last night."

  Arra looked at him quickly. "Tell me of it," she said.

  "It was another occasion when I was looking for something."

  "But then, for what were you looking?"

  "I don't know."

  "You don't remember?"

  "I remember that, in the dream, I didn't know, yet I was determined to find it, nevertheless."

  "That is right," said the warlock. "I know many people who do not know what they want, yet are ready to kill for it, and that is in the waking world. So much the more should you be willing to look for it in a dream."

  "And yet, when I awoke, I had a vision before me, as of a staff, or wand, that was all black, and had a jewel, also black, on the top of it, and I wonder if that is not what I was seeking in my dream."

  "Well, it is possible," said the warlock.

  "Was there more?" said Arra.

  "Just before I woke up, I seemed to be looking upon water, but it was all black."

  "But," said Arra, "where did you look from?"

  "From a great height."

  "You seemed to be above the sea, looking down, as from a mountain?"

  "No, I seemed to be floating."

  "And you saw black water?"

  "Only for a moment, as I have said, just before waking. Before that, well, I saw only the ground, but as from a great height."

  Teldra said, "I have spoken to you of the floating castles that many of your line had before Adron's Disaster."

  "Yes, that is true," said Morrolan, "although I had not considered that until this moment."

  "It may be that there is some connection," said Arra.

  "Perhaps," said Morrolan, "there are the rains of such a castle nearby."

  "I am certain there is at least one," said the warlock. "At any rate, I have heard of such a thing."

  "Where?"

  "Perhaps sixty or seventy miles west of here."

  "Then let us go there."

  "Very well," said Arra.

  "I agree," said Teldra.

  The warlock indicated he would be willing to accompany them, and so, after saddling and then mounting their horses, they set out. The day was uncomfortably warm, forcing them to stop often to water the horses in the ponds or streams they passed, with the result that ten or eleven hours after setting out, they had traveled some fifteen leagues, bringing them, at the end of that time, to the wall that circled the village of Nacine, on the Hightower Brook. Nacine, we should say, was not, by any means, a normal village, for Southmoor or anywhere else. To begin with, its name, Nacine, was a mispronunciation of Nerise Séteen, or "High Tower" in the ancient language of the House of the Dragon, which House had first reached the district in the Dragon Reign of the Third Cycle. In fact, there was not, and never had been, a high tower near-by; rather, the town, and, for that matter, the river that ran near-by, were both named for a guard tower that Lord Drien had intended to build there.

  Lord Drien was known to have favored extravagant plans of all sorts, and was better than usual in carrying them out. In this case, his idea was for a series of towers, anchored in that spot, to serve as a center of communication between the coast to the south, the Shallow Sea to the east, the Adrilankha River to the west, and Dzur Mountain to the north. For this reason, he had not only planned the line of towers, beginning with High Tower, but brought in (at considerable expense, we might add) a number of artisans from the House of the Vallista to aid in the construction. The Vallista arrived in droves, prepared to begin the well-conceived if ambitious project, and prepared a list of materials they pretended were required. These materials were then gathered, along with armies of Teckla to perform the menial labor as well as to provide food as best they could where conditions permitted little to grow except sugarcane and wetcorn.

  The Vallista, however, had barely begun their work when Dzur Mountain, some seventy or eighty miles north, had unexpectedly erupted, either because of the arcane activities of the Enchantress or in spite of them. The eruption had resulted in a remarkable flow of lava, which, in turn, resulted in the river becoming blocked to such an extent that it was no longer suitable for navigation; indeed, as the astute reader may have observed, it came to be called a brook, rather than a river; and we should add that the intervening years have done nothing to increase the flow of water, but rather the reverse: the brook is now sometimes dry for months at a time, in spite of the prodigious amount of rainfall generally received in the region.

  For a number of years, those who lived there expected the reduced flow of the river to reverse itself—that is to say, they thought the river would regain its former majesty. When it became clear that this would not happen, there was some consideration by the Vallista engineers over the possibility of unblocking or rerouting it, but before any decision could be reached, Drien had been taken to Deathgate Falls and the Cycle had turned, bringing to preeminence a Lyorn Emperor less interested in expansion, and so the project was, ultimately, abandoned.

  However, the Vallista had, by this time, become so well settled into their new homes that it appeared never to have occurred to them to leave, and, moreover, the peasants of the district somehow contrived to not only wrest a living from the land, but to positively flourish (a condition, it must be admitted, that was no doubt aided by the fact that the nominal baron of the district was involved at the court and had never paid sufficient attention to the holding to receive his due). The end result, however, was a tiny area centered around the village of Nacine where the Vallista had built, and built, and built. Around the village was a wall of blue and green mosaic tiles. Within the village itself, every building was constructed of stonework; in some cases of marble imported millennia before from quarries near the southern tip of the Eastern Mountains, in other cases of granite brought north from the coast. The lowliest keeper of the poorest livery stable had a house of granite with a marble fountain in front of it; the Speaker's house, though the
re had not been a Speaker for ten thousand years, would stand for another ten thousand even if no Speaker were appointed.

  The reader can well imagine, then, the amazement our friends felt upon passing the gate as evening fell and they came upon these surroundings as if they had crossed a necromantic gate into another world. None of them spoke at first, being too astonished to find words; and for their part, the villagers found the visitors no less startling as they rode down the main street—which street, we should add, had been paved by carefully crafted rectagonal stones, so that the horses made an extraordinarily loud sound as they walked, which sound not only alerted the villagers of new arrivals, but served as well to disquiet the horses.

  "Let us," said Morrolan, controlling his mount with an effort, "endeavor to find an inn."

  The warlock wordlessly pointed out a sign, on which, beneath a symbol they could not yet make out, was printed in large, bold script: "Inn."

  "I hadn't realized," said Morrolan, "that you knew your symbols."

  The warlock shrugged.

  "Well then, do you also see a livery stable?"

  It was Arra who pointed out a sign depicting a horse, curled up in a bale of hay and sleeping soundly, with a feed bag hanging over it.

  "Well," said Morrolan, "that seems clear enough."

  They went to the livery stable, and Teldra entered (they having discovered that, especially when dealing with humans, she was by far the best at negotiating the rate with the coinage they had) while the rest of them dismounted and waited. She returned shortly thereafter along with a groom who, notwithstanding the unusual makeup of the group before him, agreed to tend their horses with all due care. This accomplished, they proceeded to the inn, where Morrolan, feeling expansive, arranged for a separate room for each of them, after a meal consisting of the local fish, called freshwater whitefish, which they prepared by a system they called "double-cooking." This peculiarity of the region required them to saute the fish with slivered rednuts and toe mushrooms, and then, after sprinkling them with sesame seeds, to cook them briefly in a large baking oven. The consensus among Morrolan and his friends was that this procedure was successful, but not worth the amount of time they were required to wait.

  The beds were soft, and, moreover, of solid construction—these, too, showing signs of Vallista craftsmanship. Needless to say, they slept well, and were up early the next day, prepared to start on their way once more. Of them all, the warlock was up earliest; Morrolan found him in the jug-room of the inn, breaking his fast on fresh bread with honey, goat's milk, and thick slabs of bacon. While he ate, he was simultaneously in deep conversation with a Vallista with a bony face and a pronounced forehead. The warlock rose and bowed when Morrolan appeared; the Vallista did the same.

  "My lord Morrolan e'Drien," said the warlock, "permit me to name Sir Fineol, a Vallista who is willing to speak with Easterners."

  The two humans exchanged salutes and, at a gesture from the Vallista, they sat down.

  "Sir Fineol," said the warlock, "pretends that he knows where, not fifteen miles from here, are the ruins of a castle that once floated above this district."

  "Indeed?" said Morrolan. "Well, I should be grateful if you would take me there."

  "I should be glad to do so," said the Vallista. "Yet it is just as easy to tell you as to show you. Once past the west gate, continue for three or four leagues until the road curves left to avoid a pond. After following it to the left, you will almost at once see a smaller trail also going to the left. Take this trail up into the hills, and, from the top of the hills, you will see the ruins of the castle spreading out before you."

  "Well, that seems easy enough," said Morrolan.

  "It is," said the Vallista. "Nevertheless, if you wish, I will take you there myself."

  Morrolan shrugged to signify that this offer, while courteous, was unnecessary.

  The others joined them and broke their fast, eating quickly because it was apparent that Morrolan, though he said nothing, was anxious to be on his way. When they had finished, Morrolan paid the shot—including that of the agreeable Vallista—with the local coins he had acquired in change from the livery stable. As he was doing so, Arra said, "A moment, my lord."

  "Well?"

  "May I see that coin?"

  Morrolan shrugged and passed it over. It was a silver orb—showing, in fact, a representation of the Imperial Orb on one side, and, as was customary with moneys of the Empire, a throne and a face on the reverse side. Arra examined it, then showed it to Morrolan. "Consider the features of the face, my lord."

  Morrolan did so, and said, "What of it?"

  Teldra looked over Arra's shoulder, and said, "Yes, I see it. There is a resemblance to you, my lord."

  "How, is there?"

  "Indeed. And a strong one, too. I would venture to guess that this coin was minted nearby, and that this is a picture of your father, Lord Rollondar e'Drien."

  Morrolan took the coin back and examined it carefully. There was not only the face imprinted in it, but, on the orb side, there was stamped the Serioli symbol for "17," indicating that it was a product of the Seventeenth Cycle, and a minuscule glyph that, upon close examination, appeared to be a jhegaala.

  "It is recent," said Morrolan.

  Teldra nodded.

  Morrolan stared at the first image of his father he had ever seen, and, if this was accompanied by certain emotions, we hope the reader will understand if we permit him some measure of privacy regarding these feelings.

  After some few moments, Morrolan pocketed the coin and handed a different one to the host, and said, "Come. It is time to go."

  They retrieved their horses from the livery stable, the proprietor of which helped them saddle the beasts and then mount, and made their way to the west gate of Nacine and the road beyond.

  The Vallista's directions were sound, and following them brought Morrolan and his friends, after some hours of riding, to a series of low hills. They climbed the tallest of these hills, stopped, and looked down.

  Morrolan had not been certain about what he expected—perhaps a mound of rubble, or maybe something that appeared to have once been a castle, only now collapsed upon itself. What he saw, instead, was a wide area, roughly circular in shape, over which pieces of stone and brick were liberally spread. There was no sign of anything resembling any part of a structure, nor was the rubble even piled upon itself; just pieces with no indication that there had ever been anything built by man.

  Morrolan looked it over for some time with none of his companions venturing to comment. At length, Morrolan gave his horse a nudge, and made his way down the hill. The others followed behind in single file, maintaining their silence.

  When he reached the bottom of the hill, surrounded by rubble, Morrolan dismounted and stood amid the rains, looking about. After a while, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and remained in this attitude until, at length, Arra ventured to say, "My lord, you seem to be deep in thought."

  Morrolan nodded. "Yes, I have come to a decision."

  "If my lord would be pleased to tell me this decision, well, I should be glad to hear it."

  "I have decided," said Morrolan without further preamble, "that I have come home."

  Chapter the Thirty-Eighth

  How Grita Collected Information

  And Left Some to Be Collected

  As Wadre attempts to gather his band and Pel attempts to gather information, we assume the reader is not so naive as to believe that Grita has, upon receiving the setback at Deathgate Falls, abandoned her schemes for power and revenge. In this, the reader would be entirely correct; far from abandoning them, she in fact redoubled her determination. Making her way some distance from what had been the scene of battle, she looked for a place from which she would be able to remain concealed while observing anyone who returned along the Blood River. As the mountainous terrain was ideally suited to such clandestine activities, she found such a place easily enough, and waited there with the patience of someone who has
already waited hundreds of years for her opportunity and is determined to wait hundreds of years more if necessary.

  The reader should understand that this quality, this ability to remain patient even when burning with anger and the desire for vengeance, is an uncommon trait, and one that, in another context, might be considered a virtue; and it is exactly this that made her dangerous. With this patience, then—patience cultivated by decade after decade of nurturing her hatred—she took her position and waited for Piro and his friends to pass by. How long was she prepared to wait? This we cannot know—perhaps weeks, perhaps years. But in this case, it was a little more than a day, because her quarry stopped to rest for the night in a place a kilometer or so north of her, then proceeded directly past where she awaited them early the next morning. After permitting them to pass her by, she began following them at a good distance, so there would be no chance of being observed. And it must be admitted that she exercised a degree of skill in this activity; at any rate, she was not detected as she followed them, nor even, late that night, when she drew up near their camp hoping to overhear somewhat of their conversation.

  And in this, we must say she was successful: She heard Mica explain to Lar how well his saddle-sores had healed, while Lar, on his part, held forth upon the proper way to "season" cast-iron cook-pots. While this was not what Grita wished to hear, it was, nevertheless, what was said, and she was required to accept it as much as the reader—although the reader is perhaps more fortunate insofar as he is not required to hear the entire conversation, but only a summary of it. It is well known by those who make a career of listening in on private conversations—by which we refer to those who do so for the Empire, as well as those who do so for personal reasons of one sort or another—that one must often listen to a considerable amount of wearying, trivial discourse before hearing anything of interest.