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.Firelight flickered, and the harsher light of glow-globes, and then came more grating and he was lifted bodily onto the softest bed he’d ever lain upon.There was light, too, if dim, and he caught a few words before those who’d carried him departed.“It would be best for him to become himself before the meeting.One can be gone too long.”“And the other?”“He should be back soon.He came to us.He will need to be addressed.”He came to us, Eddyn noted.And then comfort claimed him, and true sleep, and Eddyn knew no more.Eddyn woke to what seemed an unbelievable splendor of comfort, though, in fact, the chamber was perilously close to bare.He was in a windowless room two spans to a side and the same high.Floor, walls, ceiling: All were seamless stone, and all but the first whitewashed.A plain brown rug covered the floor, while heat flowed in from a grate to one side to exit through vents in the ceiling.By the sulfur smell, he suspected it was born of a hot spring.This was no way station, though; the size and architecture were wrong.He sat up abruptly, noted that he was still clothed, and found that he’d lain atop a bed pad spread across a stone platform along one side of the room.A table and a chair were the only other furniture; light came from candles in iron-wood sconces.The door was thick oak, hinged on the outside, and - when he tried it - locked.Someone had left food, however: bread, cold meat, tart cheese, and water.More water stood on a platform opposite, with a towel beside it, along with a plain long-tunic of midnight-blue, obviously either brand-new or expertly cleaned.An alcove proved to be a welcome garderobe.He was a prisoner then, though decently accommodated.But a prisoner of whom?He tried to think, found it impossible, and sat down in a nauseous muddle as thoughts of the past turned to thoughts of smoke and days of drug-induced lethargy.But why?His mind whirled.He had to close his eyes, to bend over with his head between his knees, to retain consciousness.It helped enough for him to recall one thing.Rrath had been with him.Rrath had drugged him.Rrath had contrived it so that they had come here.Rrath was Priest-Clan.Which explained much and would explain more if only he could think.Maybe food would help.He staggered to the table, sank down in the chair, and feasted, finding the fare filling and juicy, if underspiced.He drank a great deal of water, then stripped to his underbreeches, wincing at the smell of sweaty cloth and smoky, much-used leather.The water and towel made him feel better, and he succumbed to the lure of the robe and put it on, then lay back down with the wet towel across his somewhat feverish brow, wondering why he would ever in the world desire anything to be cool.He slept - maybe.In any event, he woke to find nothing changed, but himself feeling much improved.His mind felt clearer, too, but along with that came two disturbing realizations.One was that he’d heard off and on of secret sects within Priest-Clan that formed a kind of shadow government not always in tune with the King or the crafts and clans.A government that had as its only goal assuring Priest-Clan’s continued primacy.It wasn’t as easy as it might seem.Every generation, learning increased in Eron.Every generation, people became more secular and fewer believed in The Eight, though enough of High Clan saw the King manifest them to know something untoward occurred.And the King - this King, anyway was certainly no Priest-Clan dupe.Still, they might feel threatened.And if that gem of Avall’s did what he suspected, and what Rrath seemed to think it could, it made sense for Rrath to contact those among his own kind to whom that information would be most useful.But was Rrath himself a member of this cabal or did he merely know of its existence? He knew how to contact them, but he’d also had to wait for them, which in turn implied the existence of at least one contact inside Gem-Hold.Reality, it seemed, was not what it appeared.Eddyn sat up abruptly, poured himself another mug of water - and froze, staring.Was it safe to do this? To eat? To drink? Maybe even to bathe in the water his captors had provided? He’d been dragged at least twice already - more, if what he suspected about the drunk that had precipitated his departure in the first place was true.His captors were masters of fumes and potions.Was there therefore any reason to assume that he wouldn’t be poisoned again? Plied with other herbs to other ends?He felt normal enough; his thoughts ran as clearly as they had since starting out.But would he one day reach for a reflex, skill, or piece of knowledge and find it gone?As if in answer, the door opened to admit a pair of tall, robed men with white-gauze masks over their faces and plain, cross-hiked swords at their sides.Eddyn tried to peer beyond them to whatever lay without, but glimpsed only dimly lit whitewashed walls.“You’ve found what we left,” the one to the right murmured, his accent flattened in a way Eddyn couldn’t identify until he realized that the man had probably been trained to disguise his voice lest he be recognized.“About now you should be wondering if it is safe - or if you’ve put yourself at risk again.”Eddyn’s mouth dropped open, though he stifled the response with an awkward cough and tried to appear calm.“It is for you to decide,” the man went on.“This only we will tell you.You will soon meet the Warden of this place.You would be wise to heed the Warden.”Before he could reply, the men turned on their heels and departed.Eddyn sat back down (when had he stood?), got up and paced, then lay down again.Eventually the door opened once more and the same two men entered, accompanied by a third, bearing a pile of what proved to be more substantial clothing.They watched impassively while Eddyn donned the thick, dark blue house-hose, matching boots, and long-tunic of dull gray edged with royal blue, all beneath a hooded tabard [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]