Not a chance tactic. Nor kind. No more kind than a prince could afford to seem, in getting at the facts of a case.
A simple question, Tristen. An easy question.
Yes, sir?
Who sent you?
Mauryl, sir.
Is that the truth I am to believe?
A hesitation. A careful, apparently earnest, rethinking. No, sir.
What is true, then?
Mauryl said to follow the Road.
And?
Nothing more, sir. Only to follow the Road. I thought
Go on, Tristen with no name. You thought
Thought, since the Road came here, through the gate, that this must be the place he meant me to be.
Maurylʼs student. Possibly. The young man could dice his reasons quite, quite finely, point by point, and say what he chose to say. A common villager did not do that. It came of courtly records. Priestly teaching.
And a prince could parse reasons down the list I, thou, he, whence, why, and to what end quite, quite well on his own.
And for what purpose, Tristen of no name, did Mauryl Gestaurien send you ah! bid you to take to the Road?
He never told me that.
Did he say go left or go right?
No, sir. It only seemed as the gate showed me.
And Mauryl is not well, at the moment.
No, sir.
In what way is he not well?
He Clearly they had reached an abrupt precipice of reason. Or a brutal wall of understanding. I saw his face above the door. In the wall, my lord. Like like the other faces.
From an improper sirʼ to a presumptuous my lord.ʼ And on such a chilling declaration. There was consternation at various points about the hall. He hoped there was none from him he tried at least to maintain calm. The matter of the faces was well-rumored, the work of the last Galasieni or the succession of Mauryls all hight Gestaurien: accounts varied, none of which he had taken as truth, and he would not be daunted, not by the claim, not by the innocence in the voice.
Like the other faces. Most remarkable. Or not, in that venue. Do casual strangers inhabit the walls? Or only outworn wizards?
I have no idea, sir.
Are you a wizard yourself?
No, sir.
What are you, then? Beggar, servant, priest of unwholesome gods?
No, sir. The gray gaze was frightened, now, as if this Tristen were well aware of mockery and yet had no means to discern wherein he was mocked.
Come, Cefwyn said, even the score, sir wayfarer. Ask a question of me.
Are you the master of this place?
Yes, he said, as plainly as the youth asked, and ignoring the ducking of heads and hiding of expressions all about the hall, stood fast in this assault of the wizardous and incredible. I am. Cefwyn. Prince of Ylesuin, for that matter, but, yes, master of this hall, this town, this province. And if I give you welcome, you are indeed welcome, Tristen late from Ynefel. Mauryl indisposed. Immured. This is astounding, even momentous news. Is there perchance more you should tell me?
I fear, the youth said faintly, I fear that Mauryl is lost. I think he would come back if he could. But heʼs in the wall.
What of the rest of Maurylʼs books? Emuin asked. Like a pebble in a still pond, that deftly-dropped wizardly concupiscence. Emuin was likewise refusing to be daunted. And the young manʼs eyes were at once wary and alarmed.
I suppose inside, sir. Everything was falling. I sat on the step outside. I feared to go back inside. When it grew dark I went to the Road.
I wager you did wisely, Cefwyn said, keeping his voice quite sincere. Mauryl was our neighbor for many years, vastly preceding my tenure here. Or my fatherʼs or my grandfatherʼs, for that matter. He kept his own borders and stayed out of mine. One can hardly ask for more in a neighbor of long standing. Idrys, perhaps instead of the blue room, which is doubtless musty is the gray hall in good order for a guest?
He himself doubted that was the case, but it signaled to Idrys the quality of hospitality he meant. Cedrigʼs chamber, Idrys suggested, is far airier, Highness.
Meaning to Idrysʼ knowledge it was clean, unoccupied, and might have advantages as far as the guard being able to keep a close eye on things, being upstairs and at the end of a cul de sac hallway. That would far better satisfy Idrysʼ concerns which were certainly not to ignore.
See to it, Cefwyn said lightly and, keenly aware Emuin wished the young man disposed otherwise, and that Emuin wished his own hands on the book, held out the book to their guest. The guards simple men but no dullards let him go then, and the young man set an intemperate foot on the second and the third step. Cefwyn held the offered book so he must ascend to claim it, not leaning forward to give it. It was a trap, and even as the youth laid hand to the book, Cefwyn did not let the book go, wishing the young man face to face and in privy conference with him.
Did Gestaurien teach you his arts? he asked in a low voice, not for other ears. He looked at close range at the prisoner, at the reality of grimed skin and tangled hair and those eyes that had no barriers in them. The truth, Tristen from Ynefel, as you wish my hospitality. Are you a wizard?
No, sir.
And what is in this book?
He said I should read it. I make some sense of the letters, but I donʼt know the words. Can you read it, sir?
Trapper became trapped in an earnestness, an expectation he had never met in anyone.
A few words. He by no means could do even that. Surely Emuin knows more. Perhaps he would teach you if you asked.
I hope so, sir.
What did Emuin say to you regarding it?
He said I shouldnʼt answer the guardsʼ questions any longer. He said I should come with him, and he would see you took care of me.
Did he? He cast a look toward Emuin, standing, hands folded in his sleeves and looking like the fabled cat in the creamery. And why would I take care of you?
I suppose because youʼre master here, sir.
If he said so, why, of course it must bind me, must it not, master Emuin? Believe him, young traveler. Like Idrys, there, do you see? Idrys is a very grim fellow a very dangerous fellow. But if he likes you well, and if I say so, nothing will ever come close to you in this hall that would harm you, do you follow me?
Tristen looked briefly askance at Idrys, and seemed not in the least reassured. Yes, sir.
I promise you. He let go the book into Tristenʼs keeping, locked his hands across his lap. Idrys, take our guest upstairs. Aman, thank you, and thank your captain for the astuteness at last to call Emuin. Good night, gods attend, back to your posts, all. And, Emuin,
Emuin was, ghostlike, halfway past the door he had not ordered opened. Emuin stopped still, and ebbed silently back into the audience chamber while Idrys took their guest and the guards away out the selfsame door and out of his immediate concern.
I take it, Cefwyn said as the door was shutting again, leaving himself and Emuin alone, you do read somewhat of the book in question.
I say we should go riding tomorrow.
Not to discuss within walls, Emuin meant.
Not a word tonight, old master?
Not on this.
A caution?
Emuin walked from the door to the dais and stopped, arms folded. In specific? You are in danger.