We apologize to the reader if, in our desire to learn the fate of poor Eremit, we have accidentally neglected others toward whom the reader may feel some sympathy, or at least interest. At the top of any such list of persons must, it would seem, be Livosha, whom we have shamefully neglected, indeed, about whom we have nearly forgotten, since the first chapter of our history introduced her. That our attention has been taken up with other matters that seemed to us vital is no excuse for this neglect, with which the reader cannot help but be impatient, wherefore, as no apology is as acceptable as one that repairs the breach, we will, without further delay, return our attention to Livosha as well as to some of the other individuals whom our history has hitherto brushed past in a more or less perfunctory fashion.
In order to determine what has become of Livosha, we warn the reader, it is absolutely necessary to look into the past, to back up, as the teamsters say. We trust this requirement will not unduly disturb the reader, who, insofar as he has understood that this entire narrative is history, must have also understood that to turn our attention to events that have already occurred is not only a part of the study of history, but is, in fact, the very definition of it. Moreover, we will, in hopes of atonement, continue her history well past the point where we have left Eremit. If we must then look back again in order, in turn, to follow the events befalling the young gentleman, that, at least, we can leave to another time, another chapter, as we now turn our attention to the young lady.
Looking back, then: after the dinner, which, we must observe, Livosha found as pleasant as Eremit had, she went into the small but well-furnished library and busied herself for a few hours by reading Vestigan’s Commentaries On Procedure, for, although she was not a licensed advocate, she had every intention of becoming one, and thus devoted herself to reading law whenever not otherwise occupied—an idiom we hope the reader will forgive, as it is trivially obvious that anything one does, one does while not otherwise occupied, that is to say, when not doing something else; nevertheless, the sense is that this was an activity to which, if we may be permitted, she gravitated and so engaged in more than nearly any other when the opportunity presented itself. It should be obvious that by using the term, while not otherwise occupied, we are able to convey this sense without the need for a lengthy explanation, which could not fail to try the reader’s patience.
After several hours, Livosha became aware that not only was she requiring herself to read the same passage two or even three times in order to gather the sense of it, and not only did she feel her eyes drooping as if they had minds of their own, and these minds had decided, each independently and both together, that it was well past the time when they should close, but she also realized that the hour had become quite late. These factors, taken together, convinced her to put her book down and retire for the night.
This decision was no sooner made than acted upon. She placed a marker in the book—a thin gold cloth with her name and house emblem cunningly embroidered upon it—and closed the book. Her thoughts, which had until this moment been concerned with certain aspects of courtroom etiquette and regulations, turned back to Eremit, and to their upcoming nuptials, which thoughts resulted in her lips curving up into a contented smile. She carried this smile with her—for it had occurred so naturally, it could not be considered a burden—as she climbed the front stairway, with its charming sculpted handrail, up to her bed chamber. She observed that, in fact, it had become extremely late (indeed, it was just at this time that Eremit, having received his mission, was mounting Stony to begin the ride to Dorindom).
With the assistance of her handmaid, Suzil, she got into her nightclothes, climbed into bed, and at once fell into the deep, untroubled sleep of those who are young, in love, and foresee only contentment, perhaps mixed with a few happy surprises and a manageable number of minor obstacles, the overcoming of which will only heighten, by contrast, the pleasure of the rest. This sleep, which was free of dreams, although not of that pleasant, relaxed, even mildly euphoric sense that can come over the mind of a sleeper whose natural disposition is cheerful, was interrupted in the fifth hour after midnight, or at the time when Eremit was nearly midway between Hargon’s Point and Axelsbroke, by a loud sound best described onomatopoeically as a “thud,” which seemed to come from the floor below, which is to say, the “first floor” as the Vallista and the Serioli call it, or the “ground floor” in the parlance of nearly everyone else.
She sat up in bed and reached for a robe, putting it on as she crossed the three paces between her bed and the door. The instant she touched the handle, however, she heard a scream that caused her first to stand frozen and unable to move, and after—be it understood this first reaction lasted only a part of a second—to open the door and run toward the sound. A few steps brought her to the top of the stairway, where she was greeted with a sight that nothing in her experience had prepared her for: there were some eight or ten individuals wearing dark clothes and masks and holding naked swords, standing over the body of her handmaid, Suzil, who lay in a pool of blood that was still growing—more blood, in fact, than Livosha had realized could be contained by a human body.
Her first thought, and we say it to her credit, was to try to remember where she had put her sword. That her sword was, in fact, in the same place it always was, and that only the extreme excitement of her senses drove this thought from her mind, must not be held against her, the more so as this location, that is, the place where her sword was kept, happened to be next to the very door that now stood open and which was blocked by several of the invaders, thereby making it, the reader must understand, impossible to reach without fighting through a press of hostile forces, which, however great her skill, she could not consider doing without the very sword that would be her object, thus creating a sort of “Kehat’s Paradox,” named for the popular character in folklore who remarked, “If I knew how to perform a listening spell, I could overhear Issyur’s conversations in which he explains how to perform a listening spell.”
To return to poor Livosha, standing at the top of the stairway, her heart pounding, unsure of what to do, she heard the voice of her father behind her calling her name. She turned and saw at once by the expression on his countenance that he was fully aware of the situation. In his hand was a sword, and next to him were standing her brother, Kefaan, and the servant, Coru, the latter holding a stout club. Her father said, “Here. Take your brother, and keep him safe.”
“But, how am I to do that?” she asked as he pushed his way past her, even as four of the attackers began to climb the stairway while others began to run through the rest of the house.
Without wasting a word, as he took his guard position at the top of the stairs, her father said, “In the wardrobe in the west guest chamber is a passage; it is already open. Close it behind you. See to the boy. Now.”
“Where is—”
“Your mother is looking after your sister. There is no time, my darling daughter. I cannot tell you where to go or what to do, only escape and protect your brother! Promise me you will, and then go!”
Livosha understood, both from her father’s tone, and, even more, from the sight of the invaders coming up the stairs preceded by their swords, that there was no time to waste, that even the slightest delay could be deadly. “I promise I will keep him safe,” she said.
“Then take this and go.”
With this, he handed Livosha a device of some sort on a chain. She accepted it without looking, and, taking her brother by the wrist, she ran down the hall to the room set aside for visitors and where certain clothing was stored while it was out of season. As promised, the wardrobe was standing open, all of the clothing pushed to the side. There was a hole in the floor, and she could see the top rung of a ladder.
“Quickly,” she told her brother. “You go first, and I will follow.”
“But Papa!”
“Come, you heard him, did you not? We must follow his orders to the letter.”
“Very well, I will do as you say.”
“And you will be right to do so.”
The young man then set his foot on the top rung of the ladder and began to climb down. The instant his head was beneath the level of the floor, Livosha closed the door of the wardrobe. Understanding that their only hope was to not be found, she pushed the clothing back behind her and then herself climbed down the ladder. She reached up and took hold of the door that covered the passage and, as she climbed down three more steps, pulled it shut behind her, at which time they were instantly plunged into darkness.
“I can’t see!” said Kefaan.
Livosha nearly performed a light spell, but then, upon a sudden thought coming to her, instead said, “Well, but you have been studying the sorcerous sciences, have you not, dear brother?”
“And if I have, my sister?”
“Then let us see if you can use these skills to light our way, for I do not wish to stumble around in the dark along an unknown path to an unknown destination.”
“Well, but sister, can you not perform this spell yourself?”
“Oh, I? Yes, I can, but I must guide us and watch for danger, and thus I do not wish to spare the concentration required for sorcerous activity. Come, can you not attempt it? For you perceive, whatever is happening, we are in danger, you and I, and now is when you must step forward and do your part to bring us to safety.”
“Ah, well. I will try my best. Only, let me continue down this ladder until I have solid ground under my feet once more.”
“Very well, with this plan I agree.”
They continued down for a considerable distance until Kefaan announced, “I am at the bottom.”
“That is good, then. Make us a light.”
“I am attempting to do so this very moment.”
“I await you, then, with every confidence in your ability.”
The reader, no doubt, has already come to understand that much of the reason Livosha asked her brother to do the spell was that she understood, with the acute sensitivity that comes naturally to some, that he would be less frightened if his mind were occupied with a task, and that, moreover, to permit him to feel useful under such trying circumstances could do the young man’s spirits no harm.
After a lengthy pause—lengthy, that is, under the circumstances, by which we mean, long enough for Livosha to fear he would be unable to do it—a thin, pale-blue light occurred around them.
“I’ve done it!” he cried.
“So much the better,” said Livosha, who, now that she was able to see, finished climbing down the remaining few rungs of the ladder and looked around. They were in a tunnel, it seemed, carefully and securely built from baked brick, tall enough to permit them to stand upright, and wide enough, although with little to spare, for them to walk side by side. The only direction it led off in was, if Livosha had not become confused, to the south. She remembered the object she was carrying, then, and looked at it: it was her mother’s emblem in the form of a pendant made of platinum, set with a pair of rubies, with her lineage block cunningly inlaid in mother-of-pearl. Livosha put it around her neck, and, as she did so, she noticed a sort of peg on the wall. The peg, in and of itself, was scarcely worth observing, but the peg held a belt, and the belt held a scabbard, and the scabbard held a sword. She at once drew the sword and examined it with a skilled, though only somewhat experienced, eye. It seemed to be of good steel, with the markings indicating the famous Smithy of Hostra in Aussiar in Wirav. She tested the edge, and then the balance, and nodded her satisfaction. “Good,” she said. “You perceive, we are armed.”
We should explain that Livosha knew that whatever dangers they might encounter, it was unlikely that a single swordsman with a single sword would decide the issue—any meeting she was unable to avoid would likely involve more enemies than she could defeat. But merely having the weapon eased her mind; she no longer felt so helpless. She tried to put the belt around her waist, but it was too large, and she had no leather punch with which to shorten it, so she slung it over her shoulder and said, “Let us see what else has been left here, for it is clear this is an escape route planned for a long time.”
They both looked and immediately found a sack with straps cunningly arranged so it could be carried over the shoulder, much as certain military units used for long journeys. Inside it were several sealed tins upon which had been engraved such things as, “dried fish,” and “smoked sausage” and “jerked beef.” In addition, there was a thick iron knife of the sort used to punch through cans. Livosha nodded her approval and picked up the pack, but Kafeen said, “No, my sister. You have the sword, you must do me the honor of permitting me to carry the pack, it is only fair.”
“I will do so, then, since you insist upon it, but you must promise me that, should it become overly burdensome, you will let me know in good season.”
“I give you my word.”
She handed him the pack and helped him fix it over his shoulders until they were satisfied that it was as comfortable as it could be. He did not appear to mind the weight, at least not yet.
“Come,” she said. “We must not delay a minute. Perhaps they will not find the passage, and at any rate they will not find it quickly; but it is best if we do not delay and are gone from here as quickly as possible.”
“Gone from here,” repeated the boy, his voice trembling and the light he had created flickering momentarily. “But gone to where?”
“As to that, I confess, I am as ignorant as an Easterner. Nevertheless, our lord papa said this is what we must do, and so we ought to follow his orders, do you not agree, my brother?”
“Yes, I agree,” said Kefaan, though to judge from the hesitant tone, his agreement was neither absolute nor given with any great pleasure.
Before setting out, they took a moment to listen, but were unable to hear anything from above them. Without another word, they started down the tunnel. The light, of course, remained with them, permitting them to see either before or behind some twenty or twenty-five feet. Livosha attempted to keep a rough track of distance, both because she was aware this intelligence might be useful, and because, her mind working in much the same way as Eremit’s would sometime later, she wished to avoid dwelling on what might be happening behind and above her.
After what seemed to her to be about the eighth part of a mile, they came across another ladder. Livosha hesitated, for the tunnel continued, and her father had said nothing about what to do under these circumstances. After giving the matter some thought, she said, “Good my brother Kefaan.”
“Well,” said the boy, obviously working to keep the fear out of his voice.
“Can you wait here, and keep the light-spell working, while I endeavor to discover whither this leads and if it is safe there?”
“But why must I wait? I should rather stay with you.”
“Yes, I know. But you must be brave. It is my duty to explore, and we cannot risk both of our lives.”
“Why can we not?”
“Because one of us must be able to speak, to say what has happened.”
“But, what has happened?”
“As to that, I know no more than you, but—” she thought quickly, “—in the worst case, you must attempt to discover it and find a way to inform His Benevolence the count.”
The boy was silent for a moment, then he said, “Well, I perceive it is my duty, so I will do as you say. Only, sister—”
“Yes?”
“You will be careful?”
“I give you my word, I will take no risks that can be avoided.”
“Then I wait, hoping only you are not gone too long.”
“I will return as soon as I can,” she said, and climbed up the ladder awkwardly, for the sword belt made it difficult, slung as it was. It seemed a long way up, though in point of fact it was little different than the climb down had been before. At the top was a door similar to the first one. She listened and, upon hearing nothing, pushed the door open. Even before her eyes adjusted to the dimness, the smell told her she was in the stables. Her first thought was that they should get horses after being certain it was safe, but then she stopped—in fact, she more than stopped, she froze, hardly daring to breathe, because she suddenly heard voices, close enough to make out the words, though far enough away that they were probably on the other side of the wall against which the trap door had opened.
The first was a woman’s voice, and she said, “What was that I just heard?”
The second voice belonged to a man, and the reply came, “I am convinced that it is rodents of some sort as often live in barns, for, you perceive, it came from the place we have only just inspected and found empty. In all probability, our presence excited them, and now that we are gone, they are attempting to reach what they consider safety.”
“Well, the brats must be somewhere, and either we find them, or—”
“Yes, or?”
“Or it’s no sleep, no wine, no completion-pay.”
“They didn’t come through here, at all events,” said the man. “You perceive, the number of horses is right, none are missing.”
“In my opinion, they’re still in the house, in a hidey-hole of some kind.”
“Well, I do not say you’re wrong, but if they are, Fidra will find them, as he found the mother and the other girl.”
“That is true, and if he does, well, he will cut their throats just as prettily.”
“So much the better if he does, because in all truth—”
“Yes?” said the woman. “In all truth?”
“I do not relish cutting the throats of children, or of those who aren’t able to fight.”
“You killed the father quickly enough.”
“He had a sword and was defending himself. And the proof is, he killed Cichani and gave Jir and Moriva wounds that won’t heal quickly.”
“I do not question that. And to answer you—”
“Yes, to answer me?”
“That sort of killing is no more to my taste than it is to yours. But it is, after all, what we agreed to do.”
“Oh, I do not question that! We have been paid, from Berwick’s hand to Fidra’s, and from Fidra’s to ours.”
“And so?”
“And so we will do what we have agreed to do.”
“Exactly.”
“But come, wherever the two brats are, they must be somewhere, and now, having proven they are not in the stables, we must find somewhere else to look.”
“Well, lead on then, I follow.”
Livosha remained where she was, unable or unwilling to move, as she realized that she and her brother were now all that remained of the family. Her first thought was to draw her sword and find the two villains she’d heard talking and fight until they were dead, or she was, and then, should she be alive, go into the house and kill as many of the others as she could. And she nearly did so—that is, her hand was on her sword, and she had begun climbing the remaining rungs when she remembered that she had been given responsibility for her brother and had accepted that responsibility. I promise I will keep him safe, she had said.
Was there any condition? Could she somehow find a way to do what she wished without breaking her vow? After a moment, she realized she could not. The very simplicity of the contract precluded any special circumstances that could justify it being set aside. Moreover, she had promised her brother she would return, so it would require breaking two agreements. She must do as she had agreed. She stood there on the ladder, her head just above the door, and felt tears stream down her face, though she didn’t make a sound. How long she stood there she was never certain, but after a time she heard a whisper from below: “Hsst, Livosha?”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, took a deep breath, and climbed back down, closing the concealed door over her head. She made her way down the ladder and said, “Come, my dear brother. We must go on and see where the tunnel goes from here.” And before he could ask any questions, she set off.
Livosha no longer attempted to keep track of the length of the tunnel; all of her efforts went toward continuing to walk, and keeping herself from revealing to her brother, by word or action, the extent of the tragedy that had befallen them, yet it must have been more than a mile before the tunnel ended in a heavy doorway.
“Where are we?” said Kefaan.
Livosha shook her head, though what went through her mind was, The end. We are at the end. There is nothing after this.
Livosha, we see, was as yet too young to have learned the most difficult lesson of life, the lesson that brings hope and despair together, and is how the one flows into the other, which lesson, although each individual (I include, to be sure, the reader) must learn for himself, which can be expressed in these terms: There is always something after this. Life continues, there is another step, another obstacle, another defeat, another victory. And when we have passed on from this life, whether to another or simply to a long, perhaps final, rest, still, life proceeds, and it takes our actions and uses them as it will in the endless, continuing progression of time.
While there is considerably more to say on this subject—indeed, entire volumes could be written on it, and the proof is, there have been—we are now in danger of straying from the strict matter of history into areas which are not only beyond our expertise, but we cannot even precisely name, for which reason we will at once return to Livosha, having now, we hope, given her time to consider the door in front of her, the brother next to her, and the horror behind her enough to have reached a decision.
The door—and we apologize if we ought to have sketched it sooner—was made of thick wood and bound with iron, with three heavy bars leading into iron brackets to hold it shut. A brief inspection told her that these were controlled by a lever next to the door at head height. After only a moment’s hesitation, then, Livosha pulled the lever and the bars retracted. She gripped the two handles by which the door could be moved and pulled. At first, nothing happened, but then, at length, the door began to move. It opened, and she led Kefaan through it.
It was still dark, being either the late hours of the night or the early hours of the morning, as the reader prefers, and Eremit was still riding, having left Hargon’s Point and being now on the way to Axelsbroke, but there was sufficient light from Kefaan’s spell to see that she was in another stable, although, in point of fact, she would have had no need to see in order to make the determination that this was a stable, for, as the reader well knows, stables have an odor—beloved by those who love horses—that cannot be mistaken for anything else. This stable had six stalls, five of which were occupied.
There was a door to the stable. She listened but heard nothing, and, after opening it, looked out, and at once knew, from the position of the shore and of the few lights from the village, that this was Riffetra’s House, formally known as the Wriggling Dolphin, but always called simply Riffetra’s House, or sometimes simply “Riff’s” by the locals. It had been built into the side of the same man-made hill upon which Livosha’s home had been, and the door she had opened had emerged from inside this hill.
“Dim the light,” she said, which order Kefaan followed instantly and without making an unnecessary reply.
It was quiet now, and what passed through Livosha’s mind was theft. Could she steel herself to take two of good Riffetra’s horses, or, worse, horses that might belong to a guest? And if she did, could she do so quietly enough? Because, as is well known, the discomfort one feels when engaging in an act of dubious probity is multiplied considerably when one is caught. As matters fell out, however, she was not required to make this decision. She heard the sound of a door closing, and, even as her heart raced and she was looking around for the fastest means of escape, she heard the sound of a low, raspy voice, which voice (or, rather, the individual to whom the voice belonged), said, “Who are you, and what are you doing?”
Livosha drew her sword and prepared to defend herself and her brother to the last when it came to her that the voice was familiar, from which she concluded that the individual to whom the voice belonged would, almost certainly, be familiar as well.
At that moment, Riffetra himself came into view, holding in his hands a staff that was taller than he was.
“Riff?” she said.
“Who is it? Identify yourself, girl!”
“It is I, Livosha, daughter of Cerwin.”
“Ah, forgive me, good Livosha,” said Riff. “In the dim light, I failed to recognize you. And is that your brother behind you?”
“It is,” she said.
“But, why are you holding a sword?”
“Why? Well, for the same reason you are holding a staff.”
“But, you perceive, you are in my stables.”
“Well, that is true. Only I had not realized at first that is where I was.”
“But how could you not know … ah! Did you, then, arrive from the underground passage?”
“You have guessed it,” she said.
“And are you exploring on a lark, or were you sent there? You must understand, this question I ask you, well, it is of so much importance, that to answer with anything less than perfect candor could have disastrous results for you, and for me, and perhaps for others as well.”
“In that case, since you insist upon it, I will tell you the truth.”
“So much the better! And the truth is?”
“I was sent here, and by that route.”
“Ah, ah! And who sent you?”
“My father, that being Lord Tiscara, husband of the baroness.”
“So it has happened! Just as she said!”
“I do not know to what you refer as ‘it’ good Riff, no more than I know of whom you refer to as ‘she.’ Nevertheless, from my experience this very night, I am certain the answer is yes.”
“Then there is no time to lose. You wish to escape, do you not?”
“My whole thought is bent that way.”
“Then we must saddle two horses at once. You, young Kefaan, you ride, do you not?”
“I do,” said the boy with a laconicity that belied his years.
“Then let us be about preparing them. Here, this is Bottle, who is small, but with an easy gait and good endurance, she will do for you, young man. And for you, Livosha, I would suggest Red, who can go all day without stopping and has such an easy gait that you might fall asleep while riding.”
“I will accept your recommendations without question, good Riff.”
“So much the better. Apropos, do you know where you are going?”
“First, to Cryden House, to speak with the baroness and the baron, and to Eremit. After that, to Dorindom Castle, where I will speak with His Benevolence. Come, what do you think of this plan?”
“I think,” said Riffetra, and he hesitated. “I think perhaps you will do that, but perhaps you will not.”
“I fail to understand you,” said Livosha.
“Well, then you two begin saddling the horses. I will return briefly to the house, and then, well, then perhaps we will see!”
After these mysterious and even foreboding words, he left them. They had not yet finished saddling the horses when he returned holding a bundle, a purse, and a note. The purse contained some twelve imperials, which Riffetra pretended would be sufficient to get them to their next destination. The bundle contained three sets of clothing, simple garments of cotton and leather in brown and white, that is, with nothing to identify House or any other particulars. Riffetra turned his back while they dressed; Livosha made no mention of the third set, clearly intended for her sister.
When they were dressed, the innkeeper took their nightclothes and put them in a sack along with the third set, and put the sack into a stove that was kept there to heat the stable boy’s bed (on those occasions when he employed a stable boy) on especially cold nights, and set it burning. When the fire was going well, he wordlessly handed Livosha the note, which was sealed with her father’s stamp. She at once tore it open and read it by the light of the little fire.
The letter, which we will not withhold from the reader for an instant, and was dated a mere two years before, read as follows:
My dear children:
For some time now, we, that is to say, your mother and I, have come to suspect a conspiracy between Baron Berwick and His Benevolence, Count Dorin, in order to take for themselves the operations of the mining, refining, and transport of the sealstone deposit that has been discovered. While this conspiracy, we believe, is mostly directed at Wetrock, nevertheless there is reason to believe our family may also be in danger. We have on many occasions spoken to our good friends Sudora and Nessit, and, alas, they, generous-spirited as they are, remain unconvinced that Berwick would so conspire, and perfectly certain that Dorin could never have anything to do with such treachery.
We do not know when the attack will take place, nor in what manner, whether a direct, violent assault, or through the legal system, or in some way we have never considered, but we have made what arrangements we can to protect you, our children, whom we treasure more than anything else save honor. If you are reading this, then not only was there an attack on our home, but it came in such a way as to preclude any choice except the tunnel, which we have caused to be dug in secret, for exactly this reason.
Which of you are there, we cannot know; as of this writing, we can only hope it is all of you. Nor can we know all of the circumstances, save that it was necessary for at least one of you to escape this way. As for what to do next, all we know for certain is, you must escape! The worthy Riffetra, to whom we have entrusted your lives, has a small amount of money to give you to travel, and a map which will guide you to the town of Aussiar. In that town, you will find a moneylender and advocate named Gystralan, who will put into your hands the funds with which we have entrusted him and the legal documents that will prove your ownership of and entitlement to our property.
What direction this may take, my children, I do not know, and so I cannot give you more precise instructions. But your mother and I charge you with this, above all else: protect each other and preserve your lives. It is our fondest hope that you will never read this, but, if you do, know that you have remained, always, in the thoughts and hearts of your mother, as well as I,
Your Father,
Tiscara
Livosha put down the letter and, for a moment, stared off, as if into the distance, too overcome with emotion to speak. The silence was broken by Kefaan, who said, in the voice of someone twice his age, “They’re dead, aren’t they? Everyone is dead.”
“Come,” said Riffetra. “You must be on your way. The enemy is looking for you and must come here eventually. By the time they arrive, you must be gone, or all is lost.”