"Gerick. Please, just Gerick." Probably foolish to use my own name, but neither my father nor his Preceptors had ever published my name in Avonar, believing anonymity was safer for me. As poor as I was at this spying business, I wasn't sure I could manage a false name.
She smiled, and the sweat trickled down my neck. "I'll have someone bring you wine. Or perhaps cold ale would better suit this warm day?"
"Ale . . . yes. Please."
"Consiliar, if you would …" The tall gray man bowed and vanished through the wide doorway.
The Lady smiled and motioned me to follow. "Welcome to my home, son of K'Nor."
I stepped inside, and she led me through a series of rooms and passages.
In my days with the Lords, I'd had the power to take any form I wished and explore the most hidden and remote places of the earth. On one of my journeys, I had taken myself to the deeps of the ocean and swum in the form of a fish through a series of cold stone caves: smooth, clean lines, uncluttered and pleasing, one space easing into another—that's what I remembered of it— the dim, green-flecked light sufficient for my fish's eyes to see my way.
D'Sanya's house had a similar feel. The curved lines of the smooth white walls, not one square corner anywhere, were simple and pure, uncluttered as you passed from one comfortable space to another. The peace and quiet soothed the lingering aggravations of the unfamiliar saddle and the too-bright noonday, and a soft breeze filtered through the shady passages, cooling the sweat of the ride.
We came to a round, high-ceilinged chamber with at least six arched doorways that opened onto long passages. Above the doorways were rounded window openings that had no glass or shutters to filter the bright sunlight. The narrow dome was a well of light.
The consiliar Na'Cyd was waiting for us, a Dulce at his side. "You will find your father in his apartments or his private garden," he said. "Bertol here will show you the way once you have refreshed yourself."
I shifted both bags into one hand as the Dulce pressed a glass goblet filled with amber ale into the other. I hadn't even removed my riding gloves yet.
"Whenever you come here in the future, you must go straight to your father," said D'Sanya. "This is his home now, and you are welcome in all these public rooms and gardens. Here, let me show you. . . ."
D'Sanya was already halfway up a short straight stair. The consiliar and the Dulce remained behind while I hurried after her to the top of the stair and onto a curved balcony with an iron railing. From this vantage we could look out over the entire compound. Most of the hospice was built on one level, neat, narrow arms leading out from this main house and surrounding many small courtyards and gardens. At the westernmost end of the place, across a wide green lawn, stood a modest house of three stories enclosed by its own small garden.
"That's my residence," she said, as if she had followed my eye across the red tile roofs. "The wings of the main house are for our guests. Out that way"—pointing with three ringed fingers, she indicated a cluster of tidy buildings set off from the others out beyond the orderly rows of a large orchard—"are the attendants' quarters, the storehouses, and such. The tall whitewashed structure is the stable, and the square of buildings to the right of them are workshops for metalworking, pottery, and all manner of activities. Even lacking their true talents, some of our residents enjoy pursuing their former occupations, and they enrich us all by their work. In this building you'll find the common rooms, the dining room, the library, sitting rooms, and studies that all may use."
"It looks very comfortable." I clutched the sweating goblet, but didn't drink.
She drew me down the stair again, scarcely giving me time to take in one thing before showing me something new. "The families of my guests are always welcome here. All I ask of my visitors is that they do not intrude on the residents who wish to remain apart."
She guided me through a warren of rooms with comfortable seating, colorful rugs and hangings, and many bookshelves, each room giving onto elaborate gardens thick with flowers, trees, and fountains. Though the consular was no longer in sight, the Dulce trailed after us.
"It is perhaps one of the more difficult aspects of the hospice, that those who live here must inevitably lose a measure of their privacy. I try to help them maintain it as they wish. I share no names unless permitted, and provide each resident with a private apartment and an attendant to see to his or her needs. Only if they desire company do I invite them to join us in the common room to dine, although I do encourage it. Companionship can be helpful at those times when their families cannot be with them. They say the reasons that bring them here are often less clear when they are alone."
"I think—" I tried not to stammer. "I believe it is important to my father to remain private. He was a Healer before this illness felled him, and it makes him uneasy to take this road when he has left so many others. . . ."
"You've no need to explain. I have not and will not pry into his affairs, though I must confess a slight violation of my own rules already." We had arrived at an open foyer that I believed was the place I had first entered the house. She tilted her head to one side, and wrinkled her face in mock dismay. "I did ask your father about you . Only a small misdemeanor. I didn't ask him about himself, you see. But there was something when we met the other day. …"
I swallowed uneasily. "And what did he say?"
"He apologized profusely, saying that as you had passed the age of eighteen by several years and had gone out on your own, he, as any father, must refuse to answer any more for you. He is a most charming gentleman, your father. Tell me"—she laid a hand on my arm—"would it be insufferably impertinent if I were to invite you to walk with me this afternoon? You need not feel obliged."
This was exactly what I had come here for, a chance to question her, yet those deepest instincts that warn us away from mortal danger demanded I run away; even through my sleeve, her touch set my arm afire.
"Perhaps after I've seen my father," I mumbled, my feet already retreating. I set my untouched ale on a marble table and shifted the heavy bags again into both hands. "I've brought him some books, and a few of his clothes."
"Of course, you must go to him first! I'll be in the library should you decide to indulge me after. Anyone can show you. Bertol, please show the gentleman to Master K'Nor's rooms."
The Dulce stood waiting in the doorway behind me. I felt the Lady's eyes on my back as he led me down the passageway, but I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. I wanted to make sure I could still do as I pleased. She could not be trusted. She had come from the heart of corruption.
We walked across two wide courtyards and down a marble cloister paved with flagstones that were delicately carved with vines and flowers. At last the slight, dark-eyed man bowed and pointed to a doorway tucked behind a vine-covered arbor. The door stood open.
I thanked the Dulcй as he withdrew.
Peering inside, I tapped on the open door and called out. "Father?"
I stepped from the glaring sunshine into the cool dimness of a spacious room. Before my momentary blindness allowed me to locate the bedchamber door, a shadowed figure rose from a chair next to the windows.
"No need to look farther. If nothing else, I'm set free of my bed for the moment."
He wore a simple high-necked robe of dark blue, and though pale and gaunt, he showed no sign of the pain that had made even so simple an exercise as standing unsupported impossible a short week before.
"Are you all right?" I dropped the bags on a settle and embraced him. He was scarcely more than bones, a man who had once been a warrior unmatched in the history of any world.
"I will say it's good to be up and about."
The room was well aired and comfortably furnished: a wide hearth, a small dining table, several couches and chairs, and a writing desk set to take advantage of the large windows. On the left a door led to a bedchamber similarly appointed. A pair of glass-paned doors opened onto a walled garden sheltered by spreading elm trees.