‘What are you doing?’ a voice hissed in his ear. Turning, he saw Yatsu’s alarmed face staring at him. It seemed to be at once very close and very distant. ‘What are you doing?’ Yatsu repeated.
Hawklan turned to indicate Andawyr, puzzled by Yatsu’s question. But the figure was no longer there, although he could still feel the healing flowing from his hands. He blinked in surprise and, as he did so, his head suddenly cleared and he was alone with Yatsu in the storeroom again.
He was half inclined to ask Yatsu if he had seen Andawyr, but he knew it would be to no avail. Whether it was dream or vision, he did not know but, whatever it was, it was for him only to see. He lowered his out-stretched arms.
‘Just dreaming,’ he said apologetically, with a faint smile. ‘Just dreaming.’
Yatsu’s face, however, indicated that something more urgent than his strange companion’s eccentricities was troubling him. ‘What’s the matter?’ Hawklan asked.
‘I’ve been out,’ Yatsu replied. ‘The Mathidrin are posting Dan-Tor’s response to our escapade every-where.’
‘Well?’ said Hawklan.
Yatsu looked quickly at the others still lying asleep, then he whispered in Hawklan’s ear.
Hawklan’s eyes opened wide in horror. ‘That’s be-yond me to advise,’ he said after a moment. ‘You know your own country and the value of these people to it. What will you do?’
Yatsu, however, had clearly made up his mind. ‘The Lords mustn’t know. Especially Eldric. I’ll take the consequences. We must get them out of the City immediately and away to their estates to start raising some real opposition to this man.’
Hawklan looked at him, unable to ease his burden. It had been no error on Eldric’s part to accept this man as Commander.
‘It’s a choice of evils,’ Yatsu said. ‘No choice really.’
‘What about Dacu and Lord Arinndier?’ said Hawk-lan.
Yatsu looked at the two figures on the floor. ‘Also no choice,’ he said. ‘They can’t stay here. I can’t leave them with any of our friends here, it’s too dangerous. They’ll have to travel with us. It’ll be easier, the further we get from the City. Will you come with us?’
‘How long’s the journey?’ Hawklan asked.
Yatsu shrugged unhappily. ‘Anything from one to two weeks, it just depends. Conditions are changing so quickly.’
Hawklan was torn. He was loath to leave the two sick men to face such a journey, but he was loath also to become involved in what was surely to be a protracted and bloody dispute between Dan-Tor and the Lords. He had come here to confront Dan-Tor for his own reasons, which, though still ill-defined, seemed more urgent than ever now. Then, there was the renewed urgency of Andawyr’s appeal. Go to the Cadwanol. Waken Ethriss.
A cold calculation came into his head. Let the Fyor-dyn fight. What better protection for Orthlund than their neighbours torn with civil strife? He crushed it angrily. Orthlund would not be served well by neighbours who had fallen into corruption and he sensed that Fyorlund now stood precariously balanced. The least movement could have consequences that would spread forever.
‘I’ll come with you, Yatsu,’ he said simply. ‘Isloman and I must face Dan-Tor at some other time, when he is weaker, or we stronger. I need to know more about you and your people. Fyorlund is perhaps Orthlund’s only defence against Dan-Tor’s corruption and, at the moment, you are Fyorlund’s. I’ll help you all I can.’
There was open, honest relief on Yatsu’s face. Hawk-lan’s heart went out to him. Here indeed was a man who would be more cruel than his enemy, but who would seek no violence and would stay his hand in victory.
Chapter 40
Dan-Tor pursued his leisurely walk around the Palace grounds. It was a rare moment for him. A pivotal moment. It had the stillness of a pendulum at the height of its sweep. For a little while there was nothing he could do. For a little while he must sit and wait on the actions, the responses, of others.
It was not a circumstance he relished. To sit too long was to release thoughts that should be forever bound. Constrained as he was against the use of the Old Power, the True Power, it was better by far to be scheming, manipulating, subtly betraying, weaving his own patterns into the Great Design that was His, each tiny stitch imperceptibly bringing nearer the whole, as a wind carves its will into a rock over the centuries.
Dan-Tor consoled himself with the knowledge that masks and cunning could soon be dispensed with, at least in part, and knives could be sharpened and used. Now was a time of harsh and sudden reality.
As if echoing his thoughts, the setting sun emerged from behind a cloud and glared across the expansive gardens, dazzling the eyes and throwing long dark shadows which melted down the solidity of the trees and ornaments and cast a strange new landscape of their own.
But mine will be more permanent, he thought. Nei-ther passing cloud nor turn of the planet will change it.
A towering figure loomed ahead of him in the yel-low-white glare, and he had to move into its shadow to see more clearly. It was the Queen, sitting motionless on her favourite horse and staring into the distance. Even in stillness she had a harmony with the animal that irked him.
He walked forward and stood silently by the carved stone balustrade that edged the raised area they were on and curved down a broad flight of shallow steps into a garden laid out with innumerable paths and elaborate shrubberies and flower beds. The glaring sunlight had leached all the colour from the scene transforming it into an unrecognizable patchwork of light and shadow which stretched out towards the two watchers as if trying to escape the sun’s mockery.
‘Lord Dan-Tor,’ said Sylvriss, acknowledging him with a slight nod.
‘Majesty,’ he bowed. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was taking a stroll to clear my mind of the turmoil of these past days.’
‘Terrible events, Lord Dan-Tor,’ Sylvriss replied. ‘I’m afraid I’ve had to tell the King something of them. It’s made him very restless.’
Dan-Tor did not reply immediately. It was the first time he had thought of the King since the riot started. Now Rgoric figured even less in future plans than before, but he would still be needed for some time, and could still prove a considerable nuisance if handled wrongly.
He nodded sympathetically. ‘Forgive me, Majesty,’ he said. ‘I’ve been so occupied, I’m afraid my duties as Chief Adviser have displaced my duties as Physician. I’ll come to him immediately.’
Sylvriss looked at him and smiled sadly. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘He’s quiet again now, and sleeping. It eased him to know you were looking after his affairs. It may unsettle him if he felt you were neglecting State duties to attend to him.’
Dan-Tor feigned doubtfulness.
‘Have no fear, Lord,’ Sylvriss continued reassur-ingly. ‘I’ll seek you out if his illness worsens.’
‘Perhaps you’d care to tell him that I’ve plans afoot that will bring the four Lords to heel very shortly,’ Dan-Tor volunteered. ‘And further plans to root out the other traitors in our midst.’
Sylvriss’s heart froze, but she gave no outward sign of her fear. What did this… creature know? How many of her informants would be, had been, discovered? And Dilrap? Her horse shifted uneasily, aware of its rider’s distress. She reached forward and stroked its cheek. Dan-Tor edged away a little. He had no love for animals, nor they for him.
‘That will be a comfort indeed should he ask,’ Sylvriss said, with mild indifference. Then, gently backing her horse, ‘Your burdens have been greater by far than mine, Lord. I’ll not disturb you further. Enjoy the solace of the sunset.’
Dan-Tor bowed again, and watched her as the horse trod slowly down the narrow steps into the gardens. Soon she had disappeared into the glaring sun.
Later, Sylvriss discreetly sought out Dilrap. She studied him as he sat opposite her. Being constantly in the presence of Dan-Tor had, over the months, taken its toll on the Secretary. She remembered her entry into the Lords’ cell and the sudden shock of seeing them all so changed, so grim-faced and lean. Now Dilrap was wearing the same expression. She asked him about the plans to which Dan-Tor had referred.