Beneath the Veil Read online

I should have gone to the fight field, but I wasn't ready to face Lir. I left the White Palace and stalked the streets, walking because I could think of nothing else to do. I had some coin in my waistpurse, and I thought perhaps to spend it on ale to drown my sorrows.

  I never made it past the front door of The Prince's Arms. Someone had tacked up another of the posters, this the most explicit I'd seen. The sight of it put me out of the mood for poetry and lager. I turned as the clouds that had been haunting the sky all morning parted. A shaft of sunlight fell upon The House of the Book.

  Someone had desecrated the white stone.

  Black marks, drawings and text, covered the rounded building as far as I could see. Big words and small, pictures of women unveiled, pictures of Our Lord Sinder with his quiver of arrows and the Forest of Time around him.

  The hour was early, but I was not the only person on the street. One by one, we gathered around The House of the Book. Nobody said anything.

  "What will come next?" Asked a merchant from beside me, his old man's voice quavery and uncertain.

  "I don't know."

  He pointed a gnarled finger. "This violates the Book itself!"

  "'Tis only a building, old father." A plain-dressed man beside him scowled and looked me up and down as though daring me to speak. "'Tis only words. Words is what're in the Book, too, you know. Words is all they are, and if we ain't supposed to pay attention to some, why should we pay attention to others?"

  "But if you believe what's in the Book, you can't believe what's written there," said a third man who'd stepped out of the poetry house behind me. "You know that, Godfren."

  Godfren jerked his chin toward the black-streaked wall. "The priests and the Book Monster tell us what's in the Book. I've never read it, myself. How do I know what they're saying is true?"

  "Are you saying that what's written up there is true?" This from another of the crowd, a burly man with an angry face. "That men and women were meant as soul mates to each other?"

  Godfren spat and moved closer to the burly man, who stepped back. "I'm saying I can read those words on that wall and decide for myself to believe them or not. Why shouldn't I have the same right with the Book itself?"

  "Nobody's denying you the right to read the Book," I said quietly. "Anybody can read it."

  "Yeah," Godfren said slyly. "But which one? Did you know my father's father's Book has different words in it? But I can't prove it to you, no, because the priests decreed they needed tribute. All copies of the Book had to be put into the fire."

  "I remember that," said a younger man. "But King Harrigan gave everyone new ones."

  "New ones," said Godfren. "New words."

  The crowd began to mumble and mutter at that point, and Godfren backed down, shaking his head as he pushed his way past the scowls and taunts. The old man beside me shivered and glanced at me with his good eye.

  "He's right," he whispered with a nervous look toward the men now crowding around the House of the Book again. "Stupid to spout it, but he's right."

  "You know this, old father?"

  He nodded and leaned even closer, as though to tell me something more, but his good eye looked toward the crest on my tunic, and his wrinkled face went white. He stepped back, shaking his head and bowing a little.

  "Your mercy, my young Lord! I meant nothing....I'm an old man...." And he ducked away into the throng before I could find him again to ask him what he'd been going to say.

  This smacked of Daelyn's handiwork, and I grudgingly gave him credit. If Rosten were frothing about mindless garbage scribbled on his pristine white walls, he'd be too distracted to count the number of follies gone missing in the night. Still, the act had been risky and foolish, for all it incited those who saw it to sympathy or violence.

  Daelyn was up but not dressed when I returned. He sat in the chair by his bed, his breakfast tray untouched and his hair tangled. He'd propped his feet on a low ottoman and covered himself with a knitted throw.

  "Your mercy, my prince," I said as soon as I entered. "I would have returned sooner –"

  He waved a hand at me. "Never mind, Aeris. I told you to go with Lir. I told you before, I have many who can cater to me."

  I didn't tell him I hadn't been with Lir. The sight of him looking so worn tugged at me, and all the jealousy and anger of the day before fled.

  "What do you want from me, Daelyn? If I'm not only to be your fetchencarry, and not your companion, but something else...won't you tell me what that something else is?"

  His cheeks were pale, his eyes red-rimmed. He wore no cosmetic. He had fresh scrapes on his face...and dark grime beneath his fingernails. Boldly, I put my hand on his.

  "Why did you take me from the market?"

  His fingers curled over mine. "Aeris, when I saw you that day, I knew you were destined for great things. I wanted to help you reach them."

  "But...why?" Confusion roiled in me.

  He brought my hand to his cheek for a moment before letting it drop. "Because I could."

  I shook my head, still uncertain. "I'm grateful for all you've given me. Please don't think I'm not. But I'm still unsure about my role here. With you."

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Are you asking me to tell you the future?"

  "I only ask you to tell me the present. I'll let the future take care of itself."

  He smiled. "Then, at present, you are my companion. You shall serve me in the manner I wish to be served, when I find it necessary, for no other reason than I wish it to be so."

  I thought hard before answering. "I'm not very good at humility. Servitude scrapes at me."

  "I knew that when I saw you in the marketplace, and I chose you anyway." Daelyn rested his head on the back of his chair and closed his eyes again. His brow furrowed as though in pain. "If it scrapes at you, that is something you must get used to, or fail here."

  "Fail at what?" I got to my feet. "How can I succeed, or fail, when you won't even tell me exactly what it is that you want from me?"

  "Your voice is too loud."

  I didn't lower it. "I’m not your lap dog, Daelyn!"

  My cry echoed in his chamber. The sound of it embarrassed me, but my anger wouldn't let me yield. I'd lost too much recently. I looked out the window to the fight field, where Lir's figure, grown small with distance, instructed a score of young boys wielding wooden swords. The clouds that had been building earlier in the day gathered yet more fiercely, turning the day to a chill gray.

  I waited for him to speak behind me. My body tensed.When only quiet pursued me, I turned to face him.

  He was looking at me without even the glint of annoyance I was used to. "I don't think you are my lap dog."

  "Then what am I?"

  I went to my knees in front of him. I didn't care. I only wanted to hear him speak kindly to me.

  "I don't know." He put his hand to my face again.

  To my alarm, I noticed tears glimmering in his eyes. "My prince?"

  He swiped at his eyes and shifted in the chair. "You're lucky I don't feel well, or I'd have the hide whipped off your back for speaking to me in such a manner."

  Somehow, I didn't believe him. "You don't feel well? What's wrong? Can I help?"

  "No, Aeris. It’s a malady for which there is no cure. I'll be fine in a few days. I just need to sleep...."

  "I'll get you some warm tea. And draw you a bath? A fresh gown?" I rang the bell for a folly to bring hot tea, and I started the water in his tub. When I came out to tell him it was ready, the look on his face alarmed me. "Are you in pain?"

  He'd pressed his hands to his belly, and his face grew whiter. "A bit of the grippe, naught more. Don't fuss over me, Aeris."

  "You love to be fussed over." I took his arm and helped support him to stand. "Let me help you."

  He allowed me to walk him to the privy chamber, but stopped me when I made to unloose the tie at the throat of his nightrail. He closed the door in my face, and I turned from it. I caught sight of my reflectio