I held myself ready, and waited.
“Sorry,” he said. “You startled me.” His eyes were fixed on Lady Teldra, who was currently a long, slim knife with almost no crossguard.
I remained very still, watching him. Loiosh hissed, just for effect. The guy looked nervous, but still had his hands out in front of him. The posture looked defensive, or even entreating, but you can’t be sure with sorcerers, so I waited.
“I really didn’t mean to attack you,” he said. “I thought you were … you startled me.”
“Lower your hands,” I said.
He nodded, but it took him a while to do it, like maybe he wanted to, but his hands didn’t feel like moving. I’ve been there.
Eventually he lowered them. “Sorry,” he said again. “My name is Discaru, and I have the honor to be Lord Zhayin’s consulting sorcerer.”
“Taltos,” I said. “I’m just a guest. I assume you mistook me for that, uh, that thing?”
“My lord?”
“Is that what you thought you were attacking?”
“I don’t know to what you refer, my lord.”
“Big thing, not really human, sort of pale?”
“My lord?”
“You didn’t see it?”
“No, my lord.”
“Or hear the scream?”
“Scream, my lord?”
“Huh,” I said. I should add that, this time, I was pretty sure the “my lord” had a lot to do with the weapon I was holding. I sheathed her.
“Thank you,” he said, and bowed as to almost-an-equal.
“But you’ve never seen a big, ugly, not-human thing in these halls?”
“Of course not, my lord. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be about my business.”
“Looking for that thing you’ve never seen and don’t know anything about?”
“My lord?”
I shook my head. The sorcerer bowed his head and continued down the hall. I heard footsteps from behind me, and almost drew again, but it was only Harro, coming down the hall more quickly than he wanted it to seem. “There you are, m’lord. I had feared you might become lost.” Issola always seem to have a melodic tone to their voices.
“Lost,” I said. “You were worried I might have become lost.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“That’s what you were worried about?”
“M’lord?”
Issola have a way of standing at just the right distance and holding themselves so they don’t seem to be towering over you. Lady Teldra used to do that too. I wondered what Sara was doing right then.
“You didn’t hear the scream?”
He tilted his head and raised his brows. “Scream?”
“And I suppose you didn’t see some sort of very pale, big, ugly thing wandering about?”
“You are pleased to jest, m’lord,” he said with an indulgent smile.
“Lady Teldra was a better liar, Boss.”
“Yeah, she was.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m jesting. I jest like a, ah, a jesting person.”
“Would you care to accompany me back to the sitting room? I’ve had the cook prepare something while you await the door.”
What cook? “Oh, you have? Well, of course, then.”
He bowed and set off; I followed him. Back in the sitting room there was wine, and a plate with smoked pinkfish, longbeans, and a loaf of bread. The bread was fresh. And visible.
“Thank you, Harro.”
“Of course, sir.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t hear a scream?”
A smile flicked across his face—exactly the right smile for someone who is aware of a jest, but doesn’t actually think it’s funny. He bowed and took his leave through the small door.
“Yeah, Loiosh. He’s lying.”
“Share the fish, Boss.”
The bread was good. The fish was kind of bland, but not really the sort of thing you can screw up once it’s been smoked. I’d have enjoyed the food more if I didn’t keep wondering where it came from. The empty kitchen was as disturbing as whatever it was I’d seen out of the back of my eye. Almost as disturbing.
“How long are we going to sit here this time, Boss?”
“About as long as last time.”
I guess I should explain my thinking here. First of all, Devera needed my help; I wasn’t going to turn her down. Also, well, I was curious, and I knew there were all sorts of things going on around me that I didn’t understand, but I did have some theories. For one thing, I was pretty sure there was necromancy at work in the place. If you aren’t familiar with it, necromancy is magic that has to do with death, which involves places that can’t be reached by means of normal travel. The Necromancer herself once explained that death was only a passage to such a place. She might be wrong, but until I had evidence to the contrary, I was going to assume she knew her stuff. For one thing, she came from a place like that. For another, well, she’s called the Necromancer, right?
And the bread indicated something—the smell had been there in the kitchen, but there was no sign of anyone having made it. No sign of fish in the coldbox. Nothing at all, in fact, in the pantry, the coldbox, or the kitchen. Except apples. Why were there apples? That was at least as odd as the other stuff.
I didn’t want to just sit there, but I also wasn’t comfortable about just aimlessly running around the place. I thought about finding Zhayin and putting a knife or maybe Lady Teldra to his throat, and politely asking for a few straightforward answers to some simple questions. But not yet. Not until I had some idea of what sort of forces he might have available. I don’t like to threaten someone and then discover that he’s got the edge on me. I’ve had that happen a couple of times. It’s embarrassing.
I finished up the bread, the fish, and the wine. Loiosh and Rocza shared the longbeans, because they always taste like soap to me no matter how they’re prepared. Wherever the food came from, and whatever it indicated, it was better than not eating. Except the beans—not eating was better than the beans.
“I wonder if the wine cellar is empty, too,” said Loiosh. It took me a moment to realize he was being serious. But either way, what would it tell me? Besides, I doubted that I’d have more luck finding it than anything else.
On impulse, or something like it, I got up, left the room, and went back toward the front doors—just to see whether the doors I’d seen before were still there, or if everything had moved while I wasn’t looking, like one of those castles in an Eastern folk tale. No, they were still there, which was some relief. I turned around, went past the doors I knew, and took the hallway to my right that led to the empty kitchen, then kept walking. At the end of the hall, where I’d met Discaru, I turned left, under some sort of vague notion of going from one corner of the structure, the “platform,” to the opposite corner.
Ahead of me, a pair of doors stood open. I went through like there was nothing to worry about, and in fact there wasn’t—it was a very large ballroom with a high ceiling, strategically placed cabinets with bottles and glasses, a stage at the far end, freestanding full-size mirrors in each corner, and two curving stairways leading up that looked like they were made of white marble.
I got closer, and yes, they were marble. I ascended, and found myself on a balcony that wrapped all the way around the ballroom. I wondered what it would be like to be up here when the floor was full of dancers and the room full of music. Cawti would have said something about how many Easterner or Teckla families could be fed for the price of one of the gowns or doublets.