Clandestine Circle

Chapter Four

Linsha’s lodgings were small and rundown and, best of all, inexpensive. They also had the advantage of being close to Windcatcher’s stable on a side street halfway between the West Gate and the harbor. Although she could have chosen to get a free bed in the billets at the guards’ camp, being one of the few women in the guards prompted her to look for her own place. Besides, as Lynn, she would have much preferred a room closer to the action of the gaming houses and taverns.

With a tip from her leader, Lady Knight Karine Thasally, she found an elderly widow seeking to rent the top floor of her house. Despite Lynn’s uncouth, uneducated manners, the widow Elenor took the wild Lynn under her wing and did her best to care for the young woman. Perhaps she appreciated having a member of the guards under her roof; perhaps she was lonely. Whatever the reason, Elenor reminded Linsha of her grandmother, and she was not loath to return the regard.

After stabling and rubbing down Windcatcher, Linsha walked gratefully home. The house was a narrow two-story timber-and-stone edifice with a tiny garden in the back and leaded windows that looked out toward the harbor. Elenor’s husband had built the house for her shortly after the arrival of Hogan Bight, and for over twenty years, she had lived in the house while her husband plied his trade in the Newsea. Time and illness had taken her husband, worn down her house, and aged her once pretty face, but Elenor seemed to Linsha to be indomitable.

Elenor was standing on a ladder, slapping whitewash against the stone chimney, when she saw Linsha approaching.

“Oh, thank goodness, I can take a break,” she said as Linsha came closer.

“Elenor, what are you doing? I thought we agreed you would hire the Kellen boy to do that! You shouldn’t be up on a ladder in this heat.”

Elenor came carefully down her ladder one step at a time. “He was busy. But I think you’re right. I’m parched. And you look all wrung out. You’re late! What did they have you doing today?”

Linsha gave her a weary smile. She was tired and wanted to get out of her sweat-soaked clothes, but Elenor loved to hear the news and gossip of the city and counted on Lynn to spend a few minutes to tell her all about her duties and activities. In return, she plied the young woman with ale, tea, or cooled juice, and honey cakes, tea cakes, cookies, shortbreads, or whatever she had taken from the oven that morning. Linsha thought it was a fair return. She crossed her arms and said casually, “I had to take a message to Lord Bight.”

Elenor’s creased face lit up. “My dear, come in the kitchen and tell me all about it. We’ll hang that tunic of yours in the breeze to dry and share a pitcher of cold cider.” She rubbed her whitewash-speckled hands on her apron. “Do you know, old Cobb down at the Dancing Bear contrived to bring some ice down from the mountains. Oh, my stars, you should have seen the crowd there this morning! When I took the order of tea cakes to his kitchen, he gave me a bowl of ice in thanks. Come have some before it melts.”

They walked through the small house down a central hallway to a kitchen attached to the rear and finished several glasses of icy cider and a stack of tea cakes. Linsha thought she had never tasted anything so delightful. It was nearly noon before she reached the end of her tale and exhausted all of Elenor’s questions.

Drooping with weariness, Linsha trudged up the narrow stairs to her room. Elenor had opened the two small windows wide for ventilation and cleaned the room as usual. The largest room contained a bed covered with a faded quilt, a chest, a few pegs for clothes and weapons, a small table and chair, and a lamp. The furnishings were plain and simple and showed little of the occupant’s personality. The second room, hardly larger than a pantry, was used mostly for storage. The little apartment was hot, but after the oppressive heat outside, the shade and the slight breeze were a relief.

Out of habit, Linsha inspected the room for things or intruders that were not there when she left. Then she stripped down to a light linen shift and collapsed gratefully on the bed. Her eyelids slid closed.

“Don’t get comfortable,” a soft, raspy voice said from the window above her head.

Linsha groaned and cracked open one eyelid. “Varia, you’re out late.”

There was a sudden whisper of air through feathers, and an owl, russet and cream-colored, landed lightly on the bed beside her knees. With deliberate care, the bird sidestepped up the quilt until it could peer unblinkingly into Linsha’s sleepy face.

The woman opened both eyes and stared into two agate-black orbs only a few inches from her face. The owl’s deep-set eyes were surrounded by ovals of cream-colored feathers circled by narrow lines of deep brown that made the bird look as if she was wearing spectacles. Linsha stroked the back of a forefinger down the bird’s softly spotted chest. She still could hardly believe her good fortune that a bird such as this chose to be her companion. Varia was similar to the rare and elusive giant talking owls of Krynn, but whether she was one of a kind or part of a species related to those Darken owls, she never told Linsha. Smaller in size than the giant owls, she nonetheless had their abilities to communicate with humans and to judge the true worth of a person’s character. Varia had found Linsha during a search mission into the Khalkist Mountains and, after a careful scrutiny, had decided to attach herself to a friend worthy of her companionship.

Linsha had been riding hard and fast through heavy woods with a patrol of Dark Knights close behind when Windcatcher swerved to avoid something lying on the ground, and Linsha found herself flat on her back, winded and furious. The something proved to be an owl about eighteen inches high, delicately patterned with creamy bars and spots, flapping in agony with a broken wing. In spite of the danger behind her, Linsha couldn’t bear to leave the owl without help. She bundled the bird into her cloak and took off running after her panicked horse. Chuckling a throaty owl laugh, Varia had squirmed out of the wrapping, revealed a miraculously cured wing, rounded up the horse, and scared off the Dark Knights with a spine-tingling chorus of demonic screams, barks, yowls, and maniacal screeches. Then she led Linsha out of the woods and had been with her ever since. It was only later that Linsha learned the talking owls often used such tactics to test the mettle of possible companions.

The owl bobbed her round head a few times and said, “I would have been back earlier except Lady Karine left a message. You are to check in with Lady Annian immediately.” Linsha felt a stab of annoyance. “Now? What’s so important?”

“I did not see her, just the message.”

Linsha’s annoyance turned to mild apprehension. What could be so important that the commander of the undercover Knights of Solamnia needed her to meet with her contact immediately? Usually Lady Karine preferred to keep contact to a minimum with all her Knights—for their safety and hers.

“What did she leave?”

“A dead chipmunk on her window ledge.”

Linsha’s eyebrows rose. “A chipmunk?” Lady Karine, one of the few people who knew of Varia’s existence, had suggested using the owl as a messenger and had devised a system using some of Varia’s favorite delicacies. A chipmunk meant “Come at once. Most secret.” Despite her usually cool and regal demeanor, Varia did not seem to mind “playing pigeon for the spies,” as she called it. In fact, Linsha thought the owl fancied the intrigue. To Varia, it was just a game played by humans.

To Linsha, the game could turn all too deadly, and no matter how tired or hot she was, a dead chipmunk on the window ledge of a certain house was an order she could not ignore.

She rolled off the bed to her feet. Her guard’s uniform was too damp and too conspicuous to wear, so she pulled out an old short-sleeved blue tunic, dry pants, and soft boots to wear. She also slipped her daggers into her belt and strapped on her sword.

“Hurry back,” Varia called. The owl was ensconced on her favorite perch by the window, where she could watch the street. But she wasn’t watching street this noon. Body hunched and eyes closed, the owl settled down for a nap.

Smothering a yawn and a grumble, Linsha slid past the vigilant Elenor, back on her ladder, and slipped into a narrow back alley. In moments she swaggered into the pedestrian traffic on a busy street three blocks away and melted into the crowd.

Linsha’s contact, Lady Knight Annian Mercet, like Linsha, preferred to have her domicile outside the city walls where the chances of escape were greater. She ran a small perfume shop ideally situated between a bathhouse and a jeweler near the Street of Courtesans. Her shop was small but well known in Sanction, and her business, like so many others, prospered in the growing fortunes of the city.

When Linsha reached the perfumer, she stopped outside. Before her lay a small open courtyard formed by a low stone wall. Inside sat a domed oven, an open fire, and several braziers tended by one very busy youth. As Linsha watched, he thrust a heavy clay pot of resin into the oven and dashed around to stir pots on the braziers. She inhaled the rich fragrances of spices, heated fats, herbs, and oils that issued from the pots. Annian did not need a sign to advertise her wares. All she had to do was fire her braziers to heat the oils and scents and open her door.

Linsha went inside the workshop. Glancing at the shelves that lined the walls, she saw countless vials, pots, stoppered jars of stone and glass, and exquisite hand-blown bottles filled with liquids of every color. A woman was busy grinding spices with a pestle and mortar at the back of the store.

“I’m looking for something to repel chipmunks,” Linsha said loudly.

The woman chuckled, a deep, throaty sound of amusement. She broke off her grinding and dusted her hands. When she stood up, she towered nearly a head taller than Linsha. Slender, fair-haired, and pale-skinned, the woman hardly looked the part of a Solamnic Knight, and that was part of her success as an operative.

“I’m afraid my wares are to attract, not repel. If you’re interested in an unguent for those calluses on your hands, I have just the thing.” She pulled a squat stone jar of glossy black from a shelf and placed it on a counter. Casting a quick glance out the door to check on her apprentice, she rubbed some sweet-smelling unguent on Linsha’s hand.

“The Circle wants to see you. The sooner, the better,” she said softly.

Linsha tried but could not entirely stifle a groan. The Clandestine Circle, the commanders and planners of the Solamnic covert operations, never met their agents face-to-face unless it was imperative. In all the years she had been in Sanction, she had never met them. The fact that they wanted to see her now was not reassuring.

“Do you know why?” she asked Annian with foreboding.

The Knight shook her head. Straightforward and practical, Annian rarely wasted words. “Need-to-know basis only. They just told me to send you. Same place.”

Linsha nodded once and thoughtfully rubbed the unguent into her skin. “Nice. I’ll take some.” She smiled a brief grimace. “It reminds me of my mother’s roses.”

While the transaction was made and Karine wrapped the jar in a small cloth bag, Linsha asked, “Have you heard about the ship full of dead men that crashed into a galley at the south pier?”

“One of my customers mentioned it earlier. It caused quite a stir.”

“I wonder what was wrong with them…” Linsha’s voice trailed off and she shivered.

Lady Annian handed her the bag. “I hear you impressed the governor and his commander.”

Linsha’s eyebrows lifted. “How do you know?”

An enigmatic smile danced on Annian’s pale face. “I have my contacts.”

Shaking her head, Linsha took her purchase outside, past the fires and the sweating apprentice, and walked into the street. The noon sun shone hot and fierce, like a dragon’s eye, and the heat had grown oppressive. Already the people were slowing down and street traffic was beginning to thin out. Reluctantly she turned her steps back toward the stable. Once again she bridled her startled mare and rode out into the streets. Instead of entering the inner city, she skirted the wall and rode north into the outlying district where many of the city laborers and dock workers lived. The housing was poorer here and consisted mainly of apartments and little houses crowded together. But even here, in what used to be a huge slum, city services kept the streets clean, water was available in city fountains, the houses were in good repair, and the inhabitants looked healthy and busy. There were fewer taverns and gaming houses on this side of the city and more small businesses. Most of the city’s population of kender lived here, too, on a lively broad avenue aptly named Kender Street. Perhaps half a mile from Kender Street, the neighborhoods came to an abrupt end in a strip of small orchards and gardens, and the road turned to a dirt path that led out into open fields and gently rolling hills of the vale.

Just to the north of the road sat the refugee camp run by the mystics of the Temple of Huerzyd. The camp was built on the far side of the city wall on the long slope of a hill that rose to meet the great ridge jutting out from Mount Grishnor. It had been established years before to handle the influx of refugees fleeing from the terror of the dragon overlords, and over time it had gained an air of permanence. Newcomers in need of shelter and aid were sent to the camp and, under the auspices of the temple, were given a chance to build a new life in Sanction. Under Lord Bight’s rule, anyone was welcome as long as that person obeyed the city laws and did not harass the citizens. That open-door policy had drawn folk from all over Ansalon, and while it created interesting problems for the city council, it also gave Sanction an open-minded, multicultural population.

Linsha glanced up at the camp as she passed by and saw that the place looked busy. A new group must have just arrived. Her attention turned back to her mare, who sniffed the open grassy stretches ahead and fidgeted for a canter. Linsha let her have her head. Stretching out her neck, Windcatcher happily threw herself forward into a smooth, fast-paced canter. She ran along the path toward the mountains and slowed only to cross the stone bridge that spanned the wide lava moat.

Narrow and heavily guarded, the bridge served as a link between the city and the increasing number of small holdings and farms that nestled in the protective shadow of Mount Grishnor. The guards recognized Linsha and waved her on. She had made a practice of exercising Windcatcher out this way for that very reason. North of Sanction lay one of the safe houses of the Clandestine Circle and one of the few escape routes from the city open to horses.

Past the bridge, Linsha trotted her sweating horse slowly up the road. It rose into the pine woods and scattered fields that grew on the volcano’s skirts. As soon as she was well out of sight of the guards, she reined Windcatcher into a copse of pine and cedar and stopped where she could watch the road. They waited quietly in the green shadows until Linsha was sure they had not been followed. Satisfied, she turned the mare onto a narrow path that wound its way up for nearly a mile past the road, through dim woods and meadows dry in the summer heat. A few flocks of sheep lifted their heads and watched as she rode by; a solitary shepherd waved. Only another covert Knight would know that shepherd was a fellow Knight standing guard near a small croft used as a meeting place and safe house by the Clandestine Circle.

Linsha found the croft with no trouble, having been there twice before for different reasons, and she tethered Windcatcher out of sight in a narrow lean-to barn. Three other horses stood contentedly in the shade and nickered to the mare.

The lady Knight walked around to the front door. Although no one was in sight, she knew other sentries watched silently out of sight. She hesitated only a moment in front of the closed door before she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and went inside.

Two small windows were open to catch the breeze, but after the hot afternoon sunlight, the croft’s single room seemed dark and cool. Linsha closed the door behind her and paused to let her eyes become accustomed to the gloom.

Three men sat around a low table near the fireplace and ate stew from trenchers of dried bread. They were dressed as travelers in coarse, light tunics, high boots, and breeches. Although it was difficult to see their faces clearly, no pilgrim’s clothing, no matter how travel-stained and ragged, could disguise the balanced, self-assured manner of all three men, men accustomed to authority and power. They raised their heads in unison to observe Linsha. For a moment no one said a word.

As her eyesight sharpened in the low light, Linsha realized she had never seen these three men before. She didn’t know their names or their ranks, and she probably never would. The identities of the leaders of the underground Clandestine Circle were a closely guarded secret. She couldn’t even be completely certain these men were Solamnic Knights.

Then, “State your name, by the order of Sir Liam and the oath you took,” came a resonant voice.

At least they had the coded greeting right. She took one step forward. “Rose Knight Linsha Majere.”

The three men rose from the table and raised their hands in salute.

At that moment, the persona of Lynn fell from Linsha like a discarded cloak. She was Linsha Majere, granddaughter to two heroes of the War of the Lance, daughter to two heroes of the Chaos War, and the first non-Solamnic woman to be a Knight of the Rose. Shoulders thrust back, chin up, she saluted the three Knights, not for who they were, but for what they represented: over two thousand years of honor, tradition, and service.

The men returned to their seats and resumed eating. They did not offer a seat to Linsha.

Clasping her hands behind her back, she stayed where she was and waited for them to speak first.

The man on her right, a well-built man of middle height and middle age, broke the silence. “We understand you had a meeting with Lord Bight this morning.”

News travels fast, Linsha thought to herself. “I had to deliver a message for my sergeant,” she replied.

“Tell us.”

Linsha described briefly her experience earlier that day while the Knights ate and listened without interrupting.

“You did not mention you asked to serve the governor in some capacity,” the first Knight said pointedly.

The lady Knight started. She had left out that unprofitable exchange. “How do you know that?”

“Do not concern yourself with our sources,” replied the second.

“Well, yes, I did, but I was turned down.”

The third Knight, an older man with a grizzled beard, responded this time. “We believe that after the incident on the ship this morning, you will be accepted. We do not know yet what employment they have in mind, but we order you to take what is offered.”

Linsha crossed her arms and stared at the men. “What makes you think Commander Durne is going to change his mind?”

“Not Durne. Bight. He has apparently taken a liking to you,” said the Knight to her left.

“How do you know this?” she insisted. This was incredible. She couldn’t believe someone as cautious as Lord Bight would take a liking to her in such a short period of time, nor would the governor or his commander change their minds so soon about accepting her. How had the Circle found out so quickly?

“It is our business to know this,” said the first Knight. “Once you move closer to Bight, you will learn all you can of him. We want to know about his strengths, his weaknesses, his friends, his plans for Sanction, his dealings with allies or enemies, anything you can find. Look for ways to undermine his authority.”

She shot them a narrow glance. The gist of these orders was what she had been doing all along, investigating Hogan Bight and keeping a watch should he ever reveal a secret treaty with the Knights of Takhisis or an alliance with the Dragonlords, particularly the black dragon Sable, whose realm bordered the southern Khalkist Mountains and stretched as far as the mouth of Sanction Bay. But undermine his authority? What was this supposed to mean? She knew the leaders of the Clandestine Circle, who often worked without the knowledge of the Solamnic Council, had long-range plans for Sanction. Ideally they wanted to oust Lord Bight and turn Sanction into a Solamnic stronghold, something she did not necessarily agree with. Did this group have some new plot hatching? Were they working with Sir Liam’s blessings or on their own? What were they up to?

Linsha pursed her lips. A thousand questions crowded her mind, yet she knew from experience that covert leaders were not usually forthcoming with answers. She decided to try a few anyway. “What about the Legion? How do they fit in right now?”

The third Knight spoke. “The Legion’s presence in Sanction is weak at the moment. There are a few legionnaires in the refugee camps around the Mystics’ temple and in the city. There are none that we know of in Bight’s closest circle of advisers. Unless you learn something of importance, avoid the Legion. They are incompetent.”

Linsha bit back a retort. That statement was uncalled for. The Legion was as incompetent as the Solamnic Knights. They had all made mistakes; they had all had successes. But the Circle did not even try to cooperate. A small tendril of frustration began to curl around in her mind.

She tried another question. “Do you know any more about the runaway ship that crashed this morning?”

“Little more than you. No one knows where it came from and no one yet has recognized the disease that claimed the crew. One of Bight’s healers is examining the dead this afternoon.”

A grimace crossed over Linsha’s face. She didn’t envy the healer that task. The smell of the dead had been bad enough in the morning. In this heat, it would be horrendous by now.

Well, the Knights seemed to be fairly informative this time, so Linsha asked the question that bothered her the most. “Why do you want to discredit Hogan Bight?”

Although she could neither see it nor hear it, Linsha felt as if a door had slammed shut. The Knights did not move, did not show any reaction, but there was a tension in the cool air around her that was as palpable as a gathering storm.

“It is not necessary for you to understand. Do your duty, lady Knight. Dismissed.”

Linsha knew she had little choice. The Circle’s orders were inviolable, and no matter how she might question them, she still had to obey. Duty came first.

She kept her face impassive as she saluted the motionless Knights and strode out of the croft. After fetching Windcatcher from the lean-to, she rode thoughtfully back to the city and stabled the tired mare. The small root of frustration remained in her thoughts, delving deep into buried resentments and feeding on her stifled sense of injustice. Under normal circumstances, perhaps she would not have let the Circle’s orders bother her so much, but this afternoon she was hot and tired and had little patience. Still brooding, Linsha made her way back to her lodgings, slipped by Elenor, and returned to her room. While she did not slam her own door, her agitated entrance was enough to wake Varia.

The owl opened her eyes in time to see a boot go sailing across the room and slam into the wall. “Unless you want Elenor up here checking on you, you’d better find something quieter to throw around,” the bird suggested.

Linsha pulled off her tunic, threw it silently on the floor, and opened the chest by her bed. From it she withdrew three small leather balls. One by one, she tossed them in the air and began to juggle. Up and down sailed the spheres, rhythmical and soothing. Her brother had taught her this trick, and whenever she felt agitated or confused, she juggled. As long as the balls were in the air, she had to focus on keeping them there, giving her body time to relax and her mind a moment of distraction from her problems. She often combined the motions with a meditative spell she had learned from the mystics that soothed away the worst of her tension and calmed her furious thoughts.

“Your meeting go well?” Varia prompted.

“I had to meet with the Clandestine Circle,” Linsha replied between gritted teeth.

The owl hooted softly. “The three Lords of Stealth?”

Linsha ignored the bird’s flippant tone. “They think Lord Bight will favor me with a job.”

“Oh? Why?”

Flipping the balls in their constant circle, Linsha told her friend everything that happened that morning and finished with her interview with the Knights of the Circle.

Varia squawked a note, a noise like an out-of-tune psaltery. The owl was a virtuoso of sounds. “You’ve had quite a day.”

Linsha’s balls moved faster. “You know, this shouldn’t bother me. I agreed to this duty when Sir Liam assigned it. He explained to me the importance of my task and the inherent honor in the goal. I knew what I was getting into.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“No. I don’t like it! Oh, I tolerated it at first It was fun pretending to be someone else. Now… there is something tainted about living a constant lie. Est Sularus oth Mithas. My honor is my life. Huh! What honor is there in this subterfuge? How will I ever bring honor to the Knights of Solamnia or my family name by acting like a street-tough, unscrupulous sell-sword in a guard’s uniform the rest of my life?”

Abruptly Linsha snatched her juggling balls out of the air and banged them down on the table. “They called me up there to tell me they want to find a way to discredit him, to undermine what he has done here,” she growled, her anger growing by the moment at the Circle’s unfeeling, self-centered attitude.

“Why?”

“They would give no reasons.”

“What if you don’t find anything?”

“They did not mention failure,” replied Linsha. She flopped into one of the chairs and stared wearily into space.

Varia hopped from her perch. Her wings rustled softly when she flew to land on the table, her talons clicking on the wood. She gazed up at the woman with her large black eyes unblinking. “Since owls are generally wiser than humans, I will give you my advice, and you may do with it as you will. Watch and wait. If your offer is accepted by Lord Bight, take it. You will be obeying orders, and perhaps taking the path Destiny has ordained for you. You are a good woman, Linsha Majere. You will follow your heart.”

Linsha pulled her lips into a wry smile. “The gods are gone, Varia. Destiny is only what we make it to be.”

The owl hooted a gentle laugh. “Your gods are gone. Who can say with certainty that there are not others?”

A sudden yawn took Linsha by surprise.

“Sleep now,” Varia suggested gently. “You are due on patrol in just a few hours.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Linsha said, standing upright. The juggling had helped, and so had Varia. Her heartbeat had slowed, and the tension was gone from her back and shoulders. The tendril of frustration was still there, but Varia was right. Lord Bight, the Circle, the guards, everything could wait, at least until after a few hours of sleep.

Linsha scratched the owl’s shoulders in her favorite itchy spot, then she stretched out on her bed and was asleep before her head sank into the pillow.

Varia fluffed her feathers. Silently she swooped to the bedpost, where she settled down as still as a carving to watch over the sleeping woman and wait for night.