The Temple of Heart and Bone (37 page)

Something seemed to have affected
her new friend and she wondered what it could have been. Perhaps the attack on
the way back from the Ythel manor, she thought. Certainly it had affected her.
She knew she was in trouble, but she just hadn’t expected
that
kind of
attack nor that level of violence. She hadn’t expected retribution to come in
the form of murder. That had been a surprise. Drothspar’s reaction had been a
surprise as well. She was quite certain that her assailant’s life had hung in
the balance for a few moments back in that alley. She had not expected such
aggression from her skeletal friend. Thinking back, it hadn’t frightened her
all
that
much. Being honest, she felt flattered instead. What a strange
thing to feel, she thought.

She had just opened her mouth to
ask him what
he
was thinking when a sharp knock sounded at the door.
Drothspar and Chance looked at each other and then back at the door. It wasn’t
the secret knock. The knock sounded again and the door crashed open. Wood
splintered from the latch and hinges. Several solid men dressed in chain armor
and surcoats stood outside as the door fell into the room. Dust kicked up into
Chance’s eyes as the door hit the floor.

“What’s going—,” Chance started
to say.

“We are here to escort a thin
priest to my Lord Ythel’s forces,” one of the men stated. “If it so pleases the
priest, his assistant may accompany him.” He looked meaningfully at Chance.
Drothspar looked from the man in the doorframe to Chance. She nodded her head.

“I’m going,” she said firmly.

“It does please the priest,”
Drothspar said in his deathly whisper. The man in the doorframe blanched slightly.
“She will come with us. We shall wait for Petreus as well.”

“I’m sorry, my Lord Priest,” the
soldier hedged, “but my orders are
quite
specific. I am to present you
as soon as possible to my Lord Ythel. I will leave one of my men to inform the
priest, Petreus, of your whereabouts and bring him to you.” He turned and
pointed to one of his men. The soldier nodded and stepped into the room.

“I see,” Drothspar said.

“If you will come with me,
please? My Lord Ythel informs you that you will be provided with whatever
sundries you may require when you join him.”

Drothspar nodded. Chance snatched
up her travel pack and stood to leave. They stepped over the door and out into
the hall. The soldiers formed up in the hallway ahead of them and behind them.
Their sergeant was not taking risks.

They marched down the hall and
out of the dormitory. Brothers who had come out of their rooms to investigate
the noise jumped out of their way like startled hares. The soldiers’ armor
jingled as they marched, keeping time to the tread of their feet. They passed
through the courtyard and the cathedral swiftly. Chance craned her neck to get
a glimpse of the craftsman, but a soldier’s head blocked her view. They halted
for a moment outside the cathedral as the soldiers recovered torches they had
left in spare rings mounted on either side of the massive doors.

The
sky was an endless black. Ythel’s men marched in a box formation around
Drothspar and Chance. The city was once again settled for the night. Shops were
closed with their doors barred. The Arle Square was bare of hawking merchants.
Candlelight glowed from second-story windows as citizens prepared for bed. The
clatter of the passing company echoed back from the brick and stone buildings.

The clear streets made for a
quick return to Ythel’s estates. Chance thought she might have seen someone
following their party, but their swift-moving march made it difficult to be
sure. The soldiers escorted them past the main house and into an adjacent
courtyard.

Torches were flickering
throughout the compound, illuminating hundreds of soldiers and horses. Orders
were barked as men rushed about with purpose. Formations were being assembled
and supply wagons loaded. In the center of the compound a man sat astride a white
horse. Drothspar recognized his father-in-law at once. Ythel was approached by
a steady stream of soldiers who stood smartly to attention, waiting for
instructions. The Duke gave his commands and watched as his men carried out his
orders. The escort halted before Ythel and waited for his attention.

“You’ve made it, I see,” Ythel
said to Drothspar as he turned to face them.

“Yes,” Drothspar answered.
Ythel’s eyes opened a bit wider as he heard Drothspar’s voice. He shook his
head as if trying to clear an image from his mind.

“Very well,” Ythel went on.
“Sergeant, find Captain Cardalan and bring him to me.”

“At once, my Lord,” the sergeant
replied, snapping to attention. He looked meaningfully at Ythel and the men
surrounding Drothspar and Chance.

“You may dismiss your men,
Sergeant, these people will do me no harm,” Ythel answered the unspoken
question.

“Yes, my Lord.” The sergeant
turned and snapped orders at his men. The escort fanned out efficiently to
search for Captain Cardalan. Ythel looked down his horse’s neck at Drothspar
and Chance.

“I regret that I don’t have time
to inform you of all that has taken place,” Ythel said. His voice sounded
strained, forced. “I must, however, deal with the mobilization. Cardalan can
explain to you what’s afoot when he arrives.” Another soldier came forward at
that moment to receive orders about the disposition of spare cavalry mounts.
Ythel turned his attention to the soldier and started giving orders.

Drothspar felt something nudge his
elbow. Chance stood very close to him, touching him occasionally with her back.
She seemed to be trying to take in the entire compound at once. Drothspar
realized that she was using him as a sort of wall, a safe point of cover for
her back as she assessed the unknown threats that issued from all sides. He had
seen the behavior before in guards and soldiers. He knew she wasn’t afraid,
just cautious. She backed into him again. He wondered if she were even aware
that she was touching him.

He had been so certain, when they
had first met, that no one would ever want to consciously touch the dead bones
of his body. In the beginning, he had repulsed even himself. Time and again,
however, Chance had offered a gentle hand to comfort him, and allowed him to do
the same. He thought that, being dead, he might be beyond the comfort of a
human touch, or immune to it. He wasn’t, though. He
had
found her touch
comforting. It was acceptance, he thought to himself. He had felt alone in his
state, alone in the world, and the simple touch of another’s hand had assured
him that he wasn’t. He put his hands gently on Chance’s shoulders. He felt her
body startle beneath his hands then settle. She turned her head to look back at
him and gave him a grateful smile. It was acceptance, he thought to himself.

Chance continued to survey the
compound and the working soldiers. Drothspar marveled that her eyes could take
in so much, so quickly. She tapped his hand and pointed past Ythel. Captain
Cardalan, the man who’d been guarding Ythel earlier, moved purposefully toward
his Lord.

“Cardalan,” Ythel said
gratefully, “our guests have arrived. See to them.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Cardalan replied,
snapping to attention. He turned to Drothspar and Chance. “If you’ll come with
me, please?” He led them to a row of buildings at the back of the compound.

“What’s going on?” Chance asked
quickly.

“We can talk about that inside,”
the captain replied.

The scent of horses was strong as
they moved back toward the buildings. Men were leading animals from the stables
to be staged in the courtyard. Other men continued loading wagons with bales of
hay. A sergeant berated his men for allowing a torch to get too close to their
wagon. Drothspar, Chance, and Captain Cardalan entered one of the buildings
amidst fading shouts and neighing.

The building they entered was an
administrative office. Several soldiers were organizing bits of parchment at
tables around the room. They all looked up from their work as Drothspar,
Chance, and Cardalan entered.

“Everyone, clear out,” Cardalan
ordered curtly.

“But Sir—,” one of the soldiers
started to protest.

“Now!” Cardalan said sharply. The
soldiers looked at one another, shrugged and hastily left the building.
Cardalan waited until the last man had left. He stepped through the doors at
the back of the room to make certain the building was clear.

“What is all of this about,
Captain?” Drothspar asked. Cardalan stared at him for a moment and then
answered.

“During our meeting earlier
today,” Cardalan coughed uncomfortably, “a messenger arrived from Sel Avrand.
It seems one of their western-most cities was razed. Completely. Not a single
living thing remained. The attackers set fire to the fields and woods around
the city.”

“I see,” Drothspar said evenly.

“No,” Cardalan disagreed, “I
don’t think you do. I said that no living things remained,” he reminded them.
“Well, apparently, not too many dead ones did either. When the relief forces
found the city, Sa Ruus, in ruins, they reported that the enemy had taken the
bodies of the fallen with them. Only the most horrendously mutilated and
incapacitated bodies remained behind.” Cardalan paused and raised his finger to
indicate a very important point. “The thing is, those mutilated bodies were
still, for lack of a better term, alive.”

“What?!” Chance stared at him
with wide eyes.

“The few bodies that remained
were still animate. The relief force said that the “eyes of the dead” followed
them wherever they went. They said that the dead tried to speak to them, that
the mouths moved but no voice came forth. They said that they poured oil over
the corpses and set fire to them, but that the bones still stirred, even in the
ashes.

“The council that my Lord
attended was called by our Sovereign, King Olventross, to give audience to the
Eastern emissary. It was this emissary that brought news of these black
miracles. Our Lord King has put out a general levy to call all the forces of
Marynd to stand to arms. My Lord Ythel has been given orders to send an
expeditionary force east to ascertain the veracity of these claims. I will be
leading that expedition.” The captain looked meaningfully at Drothspar. “My
Lord and I both desire your company in this effort.”

“My company?” Drothspar asked,
bemused.

“Quite frankly,” Cardalan said
with an ironic smile, “you’re the only dead person we know—at least that’s
still walking.” He looked furtively at Drothspar.

“And you think
I
am
somehow connected to this?” Drothspar said. It wasn’t really a question.

“Quite possibly,” Cardalan
admitted. “At the very least, you may sense something, notice something that we
might otherwise miss.”

“And what is that”?

“Honestly, I have no idea.”
Cardalan said truthfully. “If I were to take my men into an unknown forest, I’d
look for a local guide. You stand in a forest that no man has returned from… I
can’t think of a better guide for this expedition.”

“When do we get started?” Chance
asked, her voice firm.

“We?” Cardalan asked. “I’m sorry
miss, but my orders do not include you.”

“Where he goes,” she told the
captain, pointing at Drothspar, “I go.” Her eyes burned defiantly.

“I don’t think you understand
where we are going, miss. This is not a social outing. This is a serious probe
into hostile territory.”

“I don’t think
you
understand, Captain. I
am
going with you. I’ve been through the remains
of Æostemark. I’ve already seen what you have not. I can hold my own, and I
most certainly am
not
going to stay behind while my friend goes out into
that kind of danger. No.” She stared hard at the captain. “No way.”

Drothspar looked at Chance
feeling somewhat surprised. She, however, was fixed solely on Cardalan.
Cardalan stared back at Chance as if he couldn’t understand what she was
saying. He looked quickly at Drothspar seeking support.

“He’s not going to help you,”
Chance said to Cardalan. “Even if he doesn’t want me to come, I’m still going.”
Her voice had settled into a calm firmness.

“I see,” Cardalan said stiffly.
It was clear that he did not like being contradicted. “What do you say,
Priest?”

“Drothspar, Captain. My name is
Drothspar. If she wants to come, I think we should be grateful for her help.”

“Very well,
Drothspar
, I
will see to it that another horse is made ready.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Chance said
primly. Cardalan did not reply. He turned on his heel and left the room.

Drothspar and Chance did not have
time to discuss the situation. Cardalan returned after a few moments outside.

“Your mounts will be ready
shortly,” he said. Chance surmised that the captain had taken the moment to cool
down outside. Perhaps he’d taken it out on some soldier, she thought.

“You are most efficient,
Captain,” Drothspar said. Cardalan acknowledged the compliment with a curt nod
of his head. His bearing relaxed as he realized that he was not in for a fight.

“I want you to know,” he said
looking at Drothspar and Chance, “I was merely concerned for the young lady’s
well being.” His eyes shone with sincerity. “Truly, Miss, where we are going
will not be pleasant.” The captain was not used to losing battles. His body
tensed slightly as he spoke.

“And I want to thank you,
Captain,” Chance said brushing against the captain and lightly touching his
arm, “for being so concerned about my well being.” She batted her eyelashes at
him. “I do hope that I won’t be too much in the way.” Her voice was sweet and
gentle.

“Well, Miss,” the captain
sputtered, “I’m just not sure—”

“Captain,” Drothspar interrupted
the man.

“Yes?”

“My companion is well-traveled and
has, I assure you, seen hard times. She has also just stolen your dagger.”
Drothspar paused while Cardalan’s hand slapped toward his waist. “She is quite
resourceful, as you can see. I wouldn’t worry yourself overly much.”

Chance looked speculatively at
Drothspar and then back at Cardalan. She smiled wryly at the captain and gave a
little toss of her head. She let his dagger slide out of her sleeve and handed
it back. Cardalan took the dagger quickly and stared at Chance as if she might
be hiding something else that he might later miss.

“Don’t worry, Captain, that’s all
I took. Call it a ‘field exercise.’” She smiled again.

“Of course,” he said, though his
voice betrayed a hint of suspicion. “I will return shortly and collect you when
we are ready to move out.” Cardalan returned his dagger to his belt and left
the room.

“You’re very good at that,”
Drothspar told her. She eyed him for a moment, wondering
exactly
what he
meant.

“How did you know?” she asked.
“It’s been a long time since anyone’s caught me.”

“I knew a few pickpockets when I
was younger,” Drothspar explained. “One, in particular, thought he could rid
himself of the competition if he taught me how to spot the process.”

“Was he right?”

“Actually, he was. I became quite
adept at catching pickpockets, a number of whom were his competitors.”

“What about him?”

“You know,” Drothspar said
candidly, “I
never
could catch him.” He shook his head. “Believe me, I
tried. I think he thought it added a certain excitement to see if he could
snatch something while I was watching.”

“So you never caught him?”

“No,” Drothspar said sadly.

“What’s wrong then?” She felt a
measure of disappointment over Drothspar’s downturn in mood. Was his pride so
important that the escape of one thief could depress him?

“Timmer’s competition didn’t
really approve of him teaching me the tricks of the trade. A number of them
didn’t really appreciate being caught, either. One morning I found a body lying
face down in the street. It was Timmer.” Drothspar paused. “He was a nice old
man,” he said simply. “I liked him.”