The Shadow Roads

Twelve

Dease noted each of his visits to Lady Llyn Renne in theback of a book. He did this so that he could not lie to himself about thefrequency of their talks. There were reasons of decorum that would justify thisscrupulous accounting-you simply didn’t visit a lady too often unless you werebetrothed. But that wasn’t really his concern; he didn’t want to appearfoolish before Llyn. Everyone in the castle knew that she loved Toren. It wasDease’s fondest hope that she would one day see the futility of her feelingsfor Toren, then Dease might woo and win her affections.

But now he had heard another rumor; while he was away, Llynhad often been visited by Lord Carral Wills, and she had allowed him into hergarden and met with him face-to-face.

A feeling like falling came over him, and he could not helpbut shut his eyes. The darkness brought no comfort. Unlike Dease, Lord Carralwas blind. The minstrel could never look upon Llyn’s scarred face. She did notknow that the people who loved her cared not at all about her appearance, nomatter how terrible she thought it herself.

Dease didn’t care, that was certain. The longing to be inher presence, to be near to her, was at times unbearable. He would lie awakenights thinking of nothing else. He dreamed of Llyn, of seeing her face forthe first time. In some dreams she was hideous beyond bearing-and he would runaway, down long endless hallways. In other dreams her beauty was dazzling.Sometimes he dreamed that he traveled far, and against great odds, found a curefor her burns, and carried it back to her.

But these were dreams. In real life, he kept count of howoften he visited so he should not appear too foolish-like an infatuated boy.

A maid curtsied him out onto the balcony, where he stood,gazing over the walled garden. By day, he had never seen it. By night it was amysterious place, filled with shadows and unrecognizable shapes in shades ofgray. Lavender was the scent of the place, and a small tinkle of running waterwas its voice. That, and the sighs and whispers of the trees.

Dease gazed down into the shadows, starlight glinting offthe water of a small pool. He struggled with the feelings inside of him, as healways did in this place.

“Ah, Lord Dease,” came Llyn’s lovely voice. It stabbed intohim like a blade-then the pain dissolved into an ache.

“Lady Llyn,” Dease said softly.

“I cannot tell you how happy I was to hear that you’d returned.”

“And that Toren had returned with me, no doubt.”

A small hesitation. “Yes … I was happy to hear of Toren’sreturn, as well.”

Movement caught his eye. She was there, beneath the thin foliageof a lace maple. Her famous blond hair caught his eye, and he remembered thescent of it-that night they’d danced, she in costume and carefully masked.

He shut his eyes a moment and breathed in the scent of lavender.

“Lord Carral is a guest of Castle Renne, I’ve been told?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice soft and tentative. “He hasbecome our ally, as you’ve no doubt heard.”

“So I understand.” Dease read much into her voice, into thepauses, the little inflections, the warmth with which she said a name. Later hewould revisit each little nuance, wondering what they meant. Pondering themover and over, until he had made so many interpretations of her words that hewould finally lose all sense of what she might have truly meant.

“There are rumors all around the castle that you traveled tosome distant place and saw magic performed …”

“We did not appear to travel far-a few days’ journey-but wewere in strange lands all the same. It all seems like a dream, now-or anightmare.”

“And did you meet a rogue there who called himself Alaan?”

Dease was taken aback by this. “Has someone told you of ourjourney already?”

“No one has. But you did meet such a man?”

Dease moved his hand on the smooth railing, gazing down intothe dark, trying to make sense of this new interest. “Well, I would not say Imet him. He was ill nearly unto death and hardly able to mutter a few wordsmost of the time, let alone carry on a conversation.”

“Then Toren did save him?”

“No more than a number of other people. We all foughtHafydd, who sought this Alaan to murder him.”

“How utterly strange,” Llyn’s voice drifted up from beneaththe canopy of leaves. A moment she was silent, the soft whispering of the windin the branches, like some languorous speech, too slow for man to comprehend.But then, Dease thought, the trees had so many years to live, why should theyhurry like short-lived humans?

“And Samuel and Beldor; did you ever find them?”

“Yes. Toren granted them immunity, as long as they neveragain set foot on Renne lands.”

She seemed to consider this a moment. “It is like Toren tobe compassionate, but not at the cost of justice. What transpired, I wonder, tolead him to make such a decision?”

“It was very simple, really: we needed Samul and Beld tofight Hafydd and his … supporters.”

“Ah,” Llyn said. “The Renne have made many such alliances inour history. Some for good. Some for ill.”

He could almost feel her staring up at him through theleaves, and he was suddenly uncomfortable, almost embarrassed.

“What became of Samul and Beld?”

“No one knows. It is something of a miracle that Toren and Isurvived and found each other. Many, I fear, were lost, including Samul andBeld, which would be for the better, in many ways.”

“I suppose it would, though I would dearly like to know whatthey were thinking, trying to murder Toren.” He saw her thick cascade of hairshake in the starlight.

“Beld did not need to think; he hated Toren completely. Samul…? Well, who ever knew what Samul was thinking?”

“I did not know him well,” Llyn said, “but it would seem tobe true. He was a hidden man. I wonder how many people came away fromconversations under the impression that Samul agreed with them, when he did notat all? There was never any truth to him. Nothing revealed. I wonder what madehim so?”

The question did not seem to really be addressed to Dease,but he tried to answer it all the same.

“I don’t know, Cousin,” Dease said. “He was always thus.Even when we were children, or so I think now.”

“I shall have to hear the story of your adventure in itsentirety sometime. I am delighted to see you have returned unharmed. And theblow to your head that you suffered trying to save Toren?”

“It is healed. The headaches gone”-he raised his hands, andsmiled-“as if by magic.”

“There is some good news, I’m glad to hear.”

There was the quick crunch and scatter of gravel as someonetrotted along the path.

“Your grace?” a maid said softly.

“What is it, Anna?”

“A company of men-at-arms has just arrived with a man theyfound wandering in a wood. He is said to be Lord Samul Renne.”

Dease closed his eyes, leaning his weight against the railing.

Suddenly his head throbbed, and the fatigue that had besethim seemed to cast its net over him again, dragging him down. He thought hemight begin to sob and went quickly from the balcony, collapsing into one ofthe chairs in the small drawing room.

Would he never be shut of Samul and Beld? Could they not dieor flee? As long as they remained alive he would know no peace. The truth wouldcome out one day,

Llyn’s words came back to him then. There was never anytruth in him.

She should have been speaking of me, Dease realized.

He turned to look back out toward the garden but caughtsight of his own dark reflection in the glass of the opened door. How shadowedhis eyes were. How contrived the look of his face. He was becoming more likeSamul each day, a hidden man. A man in whom there was no truth. And how wouldhe ever change that now?