‘Why were they after you? The paladins.’
‘I sometimes wonder if they need a reason.’
‘True.’ His features took on a troubled cast. ‘Tan. About…Kinsel.’
Her insides did a flip. Her knuckles were white from squeezing the seat rail.
‘It’s just…’ he stumbled on, ‘…just that…I don’t know if you heard, but-’
‘I heard.’
He didn’t think to ask her how. ‘I’m so very sorry, Tan.’
‘You don’t have to be. We don’t know that he’s…gone. Not for sure. Officially he’s just missing.’ A cold thought touched her. ‘Unless you know any different?’
‘No. We’ve heard nothing beyond that ourselves. And you’re right; while there’s a chance we have to keep hoping.’
Tanalvah came close to telling him she knew he’d argued for Kinsel’s death, but she was hardly in a position to do so.
The houses they passed were less densely packed together, and the roads were rougher and pot-holed. There were glimpses of vegetation between buildings. The city’s gravitational hold was weaker out here on its farthest edge.
They were heading east. The low mountain range that hugged this side of Valdarr was beginning to loom. In the crisp, moonless night it looked as black as a paladin’s soul.
It was cold, fit to snow. She gathered her cloak more tightly.
Disgleirio glanced her way. ‘We’ve never really recovered, you know. From the betrayal.’ He made it sound like a confidence. ‘It tore the guts out of us, Tan.’
She’d dreaded him bringing up the catastrophe, though she knew it was inevitable he would. A nod was all she could manage.
‘We lost…well, who knows how many,’ he went on. ‘Including quite a few you would have known.’
She was afraid he’d wonder why she hadn’t asked about that herself. ‘I…try not to think about it,’ she replied truthfully.
‘Can’t say I blame you.’
‘What about Serrah and Caldason? And Kutch? Any word on them?’
‘On the Diamond Isle, last we heard. Don’t know how they’re faring, but at least they got away.’
‘That’s good. Oh, and what about Phoenix?’
‘He got away to the Diamond Isle too. Or at least we think he did. The rest of Covenant linked up with us again within a few weeks of the betrayal.’
Tanalvah shouldn’t have asked her next question, but couldn’t help herself. She had to know. ‘Does anybody have an idea who…’
‘Sold us out? There are plenty of theories, but no real evidence. Might not have been just one person, of course. Could have been a disaffected faction in our ranks. Perhaps we’ll never know. But one or a hundred, I could never understand the mentality of a traitor.’
‘Perhaps whoever it was felt…compelled to talk.’
‘Torture, you mean?’
‘Yes.’ It was a kind of torture, she reflected.
‘I don’t want to bring back unpleasant memories, Tan, but Kinsel suffered that and he didn’t break.’ He shot her a sympathetic look. ‘To his great credit. But as I said, I doubt we’ll ever know what happened.’
‘Is that how everybody sees it? That we’ll never know, I mean. Are they getting over it?’ As soon as she said it she realised how idiotic a question it was, born of desperation.
‘It’s not something you get over, Tan.’
‘I know. I’m being stupid. Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. We’d all like to forget it if we could. But the prospect of maybe never knowing who betrayed us hasn’t dampened our passion for finding out. There isn’t a member of the Resistance who wouldn’t cheerfully slit the bastard’s throat, given half a chance.’
It was getting too uncomfortable for her. She tried changing the subject. ‘I didn’t ask about Karr. How is he?’
‘Damn near died when this thing first broke out. His heart. He pulled through, but his health suffered badly. Being Karr, of course, he’s made little concession to taking it easier. For once I think he’s right. We’re all working like demons just to stay alive.’
She looked away, her eyes stinging. Guilt’s hot knife twisted in her gut.
‘We’re nearly there,’ he said. ‘You’ll be able to rest soon.’
If only that were true. She made an effort to collect herself, and dabbed at her eyes with a cloth. He was staring at her. ‘The cold air makes them water,’ she explained lamely.
‘Sure,’ he said, not seeing.
At length she started taking an interest in their surroundings. The scenery was becoming semi-rural, with buildings standing more in isolation, and now she saw barns and smallholdings. Much further and they’d be in farmland proper.
‘Quinn,’ she asked, ‘where exactly are we going? The only thing I know of in these parts…’
‘Is the Pastures of Sleep. You guessed, Tan.’
She couldn’t suppress a shudder. Had this all been an elaborate scheme after all? A ruse to lure her into a terrible retribution of some kind?
He read her expression. ‘No need to look so grim. I know it isn’t everybody’s favoured location, but it’ll be fine, believe me.’
A couple of minutes later they had first sight of their destination.
The Pastures of Sleep was Valdarr’s oldest and most extensive necropolis. It had already existed in a modest form when the city was founded, and over the centuries it had grown in size, and in the elaborateness of its monuments and tombs. For generations it served as the last resting place for high and low alike. Bhealfa’s leading dynasties maintained grand family mausoleums within its grounds, but less regarded, or easily seen, were the acres given over to paupers’ mass graves. Now the cemetery was full, unfashionable and largely unused.
A high stone wall surrounded the burial ground, though many of its more ostentatious memorials stood taller, displaying the tips of decorated spires. Mature trees towered higher still, their skeletal branches swaying in the brittle wind.
‘It wouldn’t be safe going all the way in this carriage,’ Disgleirio announced. ‘We’ll have to lose it and walk the last part. Can you manage that?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
He pulled into a small piece of open land with only a single darkened house overlooking it. After helping Tanalvah down he went to the gig’s horse and gave it a reassuring pat. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, assuming her interest in the animal’s well-being, ‘I’ll see he’s taken care of.’
They set off.
Curfew was in force and the streets were deserted, though that didn’t make Disgleirio any less alert. However, their short walk, hugging shadows, was uneventful, and soon they approached the cemetery’s imposing iron gates. An impressive entrance demanded an impressive lock, and the necropolis’ gateway was no exception. It bore a mortise larger than a man’s hand.
‘It’s got an alarm spell,’ Disgleirio explained as he dug into his pocket. He produced a key the length of a small dagger. The gate creaked shrilly as he opened it just wide enough for them to pass through, then he ignited a glamoured orb to light their way.
It was, literally, deathly quiet. They took the central avenue, a broad boulevard edged with ghostly sepulchres. At the avenue’s far end, dark and brooding, stood an imposing temple, now falling into decay. Well before they reached that, Disgleirio led them round a corner and along a much narrower path, which was less well maintained, with crooked gravestones on either side, amid a tangle of untended vegetation. There was barely enough room for them to walk abreast.
A voice growled, ‘Remember me!’
Tanalvah squealed and grabbed Disgleirio’s arm.
‘Steady, Tan.’ He took her hand. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of; they’re only living memorials. Look.’
Several nearby headstones had activated, projecting spectral likenesses of the graves’ occupants. The one that had spoken was an ancient man, bald of pate and with skin like yellowed parchment.
‘Passing sets them off,’ Disgleirio continued. ‘Sorry, I should have warned you.’
She disentangled herself from him, feeling foolish. ‘Silly of me,’ she said.
They carried on.
Every few paces they triggered a glamoured memorial, conjuring animated images of the dead. Men, women, old, young; ailing in appearance or hearty; smiling or scowling. Tanalvah noticed that not all the graves were set off though.
‘They only work if relatives keep recharging the magic, of course,’ Disgleirio offered, almost conversationally. ‘It’ll all run down eventually.’