House of Shadows(85)

The streets were crowded at first, but shortly Benne turned the horse down less-traveled ways that took them away even from these travelers, toward the sea. Even from this distance, the sound of the waves crashing against the broken shore was clearly audible.

The cliffs where the mountains came down to the sea were gray as wet slate. The sheer white walls of the Laodd loomed over the city, powerful and cold as ice poised for avalanche. Beside the Laodd, the Nijiadde River plunged down from the heights and shattered into roaring spume in its broad lake; then the river poured in wild haste from that lake along its narrow channel to the sea. There, where the incoming waves battled with the river’s powerful current, the rugged rocks were black as charcoal. It was like no other shore Taudde had ever seen. It possessed, poised between the steady roar of the Nijiadde River Falls and the constant ebb and flow of the sea, a unique music that he had never yet been able to capture, though he had tried repeatedly during his time in Lonne.

Now Benne drew the horse to a halt on the edge of this shore. They had come out farther than the road led, but not very much farther, for the harsh rocks here were not easily navigated by wheeled vehicles. The horse sidled and tossed its head, restless in the cold salt-laden wind that broke against the cliffs and came down along the shore from odd directions. Benne set the brake and slid down from his seat to stand by the horse’s head. The big man took hold of the animal’s bridle and patted it reassuringly, then turned to look inquiringly up at Taudde.

Of course Benne had come before with Taudde out to this shore. Taudde had come down to the edge of the sea half a dozen times, covert and solitary, compelled by the rhythm of the waves against the rocks and the slow receding music of the outgoing tide. When he’d come here with Benne, he’d thought it was safe enough. He’d believed any man from an inland country might reasonably be expected to find the sea compelling. Now… now Taudde bent to fetch a packet of papers and a good-quality quill pen out from their packet in the carriage. The quill was magecrafted, inelegantly but with some attention to detail; one might use it to sketch for an hour without the ink needing renewal. It was not the sort of item bardic sorcery could make, and Taudde had already purchased a good many such quills to take home with him when he finally quitted this city.

He tossed the papers to the rocks at Benne’s feet and followed this with the quill pen. The wind tried to snatch the quill away and send it spinning out over the sea, but Taudde checked that errant gust with a low whistle. The quill fell straight and struck the papers point down, with an audible little shick. It stayed there, its sharpened tip embedded in the packet like a miniature dagger.

Benne watched the quill fall, then lifted his gaze.

Taudde took out his small wooden flute and turned it over in his fingers. He did not look at the instrument he held, but only at the other man. When he spoke, his voice was not loud but pitched to carry over the sounds of sea and wind. “I wondered how it was Lord Miennes came to discover that I am from Kalches. Then I wondered if perhaps Ankennes had discovered it. Then at last I realized I should wonder how it was that you discovered it.”

Benne straightened his shoulders and stared back at Taudde in, of course, silence. Yet neither did he shake his head or otherwise try to deny the accusation. It occurred to Taudde that Benne, voiceless, was almost as helpless in the face of disaster as the horse would have been: No more than an animal could a mute offer excuses or plead for mercy. His broad, coarse face had set in the blank expression of a man preparing to endure whatever a harsh fate might mete out.

“How did you discover me?” Taudde asked him.

There was an almost imperceptible pause. Then Benne went to one knee and bent to retrieve the packet of paper. He pulled the quill free and took out a single leaf of paper, supporting it on his other knee to write. Even under these straitened circumstances, the man wrote a quick neat hand. Finishing, he held the paper out toward Taudde.

Taudde took it and read, My lord, you were not subtle enough. I saw a Kalchesene sorcerer once, and heard him speak. I heard that quality in your voice, lord, and sometimes I heard you play. I watched you listening to the sea.

Taudde looked again at the other man, lifting an eyebrow. He crumpled the paper absently in his hand and tossed it into the wash and ebb of the wave that broke on the rocks. Quickly waterlogged, the bit of paper sank into the water and followed the retreating waves out to sea. Taudde let his eyes follow the path of the waves for a moment, then turned back to Benne. “I knew perfectly well a mute need not be deaf. And yet I see that sometimes I forgot this. I am sure many others have made the same mistake. Miennes owned the house I have been renting, yes? And placed you there to spy on those who might rent it?”