His smile was kind and his voice echoed it. But his slight stoop and his hawk no se seemed terribly reminiscent, in the flickering light, of the pitiless bird of prey Jamie had compared him to, and his eyes did not speak of kindness. Even in the firelight they were cold, with a peculiar quality, a flint y hardness I had seen only once before.
At least Jamie had been on my side.
In that moment I decided to play the innocent. What could it cost me I had not lost already?
"What keeps you wakeful this night, Lady Lanen?" asked Marik graciously. His hand was poised negligently on his sword hilt, as though there were no other sensible place to put one's hand. A coincidence, no more.
I looked down and swallowed, but could not banish my fear. My voice I knew would betray me, so I kept silence and hoped I might seem merely distracted.
He laughed softly. "I know the accommodations are not as spacious as those at the White Horse, but surely you don't mind a little rough living for the chance to make your fortune? Or do you still seek the True Dragons?" He smiled, chilling me. "You know I have spoken with one. They are real, as you believed and I did not. And I was the first to speak with one in more than a century." There was a portion of wonder in his voice, but underneath it lay a kind of petty smugness. He was pleased that he had spoken with the Dragons before I had, that he' had taken that much of my dream from me.
I had no choice but to reply, and I feared he would hear it if I lied. "Yes, Marik. I still seek them, above even the riches of lansip, and I envy you the speech you have had with them." That at least was true enough. As for who he was, I prayed silently that the Lady would make my ignorance believable. At the least it was worth a try. "But I still don't understand about your name. Marik suits you better than Bors anyway, and what is the difference?"
He was surprised and more than a little suspicious. "Do you tell me you have never heard my name before?"
I smiled my most gracious smile, hoping it would at least be convincing by firelight. "Your pardon, Lord Marik of Gundar, but it is not an uncommon name in Ilsa. There were two Mariks in my village," I lied smoothly. How to get rid of him, how to protect myself—then I remembered something Jamie had taught me. A lie is best served with an open countenance, a sincere voice, and buried deep in the midst of truth. "Jamie once told me of a Marik, someone my mother knew, but he must be twenty years older than you."
"Your mother?" he said, slightly curious, no more. "Do you know, I thought you reminded me of someone. What is her name?"
"Her name was Maran Vena," I said, trying to hold my voice steady, frightened at being this close to truth.
"You amaze me. I did indeed know her, for surely there has never been more than one with that curious name. But you say was? Is she dead?" He tried to restrain himself, but even in firelight I could see his whole body tense, his voice give the merest suspicion of a waver as some strong emotion gripped him.
"I don't know. Probably. She left me when I was yet a babe in arms, I have no memory of her at all."
"Indeed. It sounds like the Maran I knew, if you will forgive me. She left me as well, after she stole a certain trifle from my home. Did she even speak of it to you? Or" —and in one swift move he was at my side: not a handsbreadth away, and his voice was low and intense—"did she perhaps leave it with you for a birth-gift? It was a globe of smoky glass, no larger than might be held in two hands. A mere bauble, but I would fain have it back. Tell me, Lanen, do you have it?"
I turned to him, my eyes clear and truth in my voice. "I have never seen such a thing. If she took it, she must have it still, if she lives. I hope you find her—I owe her nothing but I cannot help you. I have her looks, I am told, but apart from that nothing of her. I'm sorry."
He stepped back and bowed, and his eyes were a little more kind. "I thank you. But still I wonder," he said, "does not your father know where she might be found? Surely the life of a child is a bond not so easy to break—"
Help me, Lady, I prayed silently. "My father Hadron died at midsummer. If he knew where she was he took the knowledge with him."
"I see. Well, it cannot be helped, I suppose." He stared at me still, and I took advantage of the silence.
"My lord, it has been a long and wearying day, and I suspect I won't get much sleep for the next week, so if you will excuse me—?"
He hesitated a moment, then bowed gracefully, smiling, his dancing eyes on mine the whole time. "Of course. It is not as if you could leave me as you did in Ilsa. There will be time later to speak of such things—but for now, sleep well, and work hard for both of us. We shall speak again soon."
And he was gone, striding off to the cabins in the darkness. I breathed again, but I knew my relief must be short-lived. He was right. There was nowhere I could go, and for some reason he seemed quite willing to wait, I felt like a mouse in the paws of a cat—I might provide him some amusement, but in the end I was caught sure.
I went back to my tent, moving quietly so as not to disturb Rella, whose snores were reassuringly safe and homelike. I drew off my boots and lay on my blankets, my mind whirling. How if I was his daughter? From what Jamie had told me, Berys had made the deal to have control of an infant. I couldn't imagine what it would mean to be given to demons as a thinking adult, but I suspected that death would be preferable. I could think of no escape, no way out, when like a candle in darkness I saw all clear. I very nearly laughed.
The Dragons. Those whom I had sought all my life, they were my way out. If—no, I reminded myself grimly, when—Marik and his cronies tried to trap me, I would do my best to lose myself in the deep forest, but if that failed all I would need to do was cross the Boundary. I did not relish the idea, but death was not as frightening as being demon fodder. Unless, of course, my madness bore fruit before then. Unless I really did manage to speak with one of them.
And with that thought, I was whisked away from the intrigues of evil. I had meant to sleep for an hour or so, but I could no more sleep than I could fly. The Dragons were so near I could all but smell them. I could wait no longer. I rose quietly, slipped my boots back on and from some sense of fitness I laid aside my old black cloak and wrapped myself in my fine new green one.
As I stepped outside I was thankful for the weight of my lovely cloak and the thick weave of it, for the night had turned cold. I pulled the hood over my head, for warmth and to cover my hair, lest it reflect moonlight and betray me. The moon was up and only a night before the full, but a thin layer of clouds obscured its light, scattering it blue around the clearing. The dying grass was soft under my feet; a noise like the sea surrounded me as I walked, listening to the light breeze as it swished the last lingering leaves against the sleeping branches overhead.
I kept to the shadows and moved as quietly as I could. It had occurred to me, belatedly, that I might not be the only one abroad; that thought saved me from crying out when I glimpsed a cloaked figure ahead of me. I was nearly at the Boundary when I saw it ahead of me, moving quietly through the tree shadows. I was about to speak when there was a break in the clouds, and the change in light made the figure whirl around.
It was one of the young men who had been on Joss's boat with me—Perrin or Darin, I couldn't remember which. I had seen them in passing on the journey over. Surely the idiot boy realised this was the very thing we had been warned against. Hadn't he listened to the Master? Or did he think...