Page 45 of Chained Knight

The group halted near sundown, gloaming thickening between trees, stripes of phosphorescence brightening on certain plants. Tiny flickers like lightning bugs gathered in clouds amid the canopy, their swooping near-random patterns nauseating to watch.

A long rectangle of slick white stone shimmered through the undergrowth, pillars marching at its margins. The roof, steeply pitched and pierce-carved, was of the same material, and the whole thing floated like a dream, its edges sharp and distinct as the road’s. Equine hooves made soft musical sounds as the beasts stepped onto what seemed like marble floor between pairs of carved columns, and though Jazarl and his men looked pleased, Hannixe frowned.

“It’s so different.” She peered in every direction, twisting in the saddle. “This must be the Small Pavilion, so the Mere is that way. But… oh, the groves of shanbark are gone, and thenaryin. Once these woods were full of song, and thecres-moss made for lovely pillows. And the paths were of white stone—but where are they?”

So this Mere was close by, and Ari still didn’t have a clue what the approaching ceremony entailed. She saw nothing but shadows, faint nasty glimmers from fungus or glowing insects, and the steamsmoke rising as the chained man’s passagethrough the Poisonwood healed over. Maybe ‘healing’ was too strong a term—the forest oozed to cover the scar, soft and repulsive, full of slow toxic pleasure.

A chill walked down her back. This place’s foul, expectant near-silence felt very much like the house on Hardison Hill, actually, and the old breathless tension gripped her middle.

The chained man lifted her down from the saddle as usual, but did not move away once he had set her carefully on both feet; the slippers were holding up surprisingly well, even with metal stirrups rubbing against embroidery.

“Do not wander,” he murmured, his breath touching her hair. “I did not think the rot had spread so far, nor burrowed so deep.”

That’s hardly comforting.Still, the heat and bulk of him felt strangely protective. Ari turned, once again nearly trapped between him and an equine; he seemed to like doing that. Instead of anxiety at being so close to a big male, a curious, utterly ridiculous sense of safety poured through her, dispelling all unease for a single heartstopping moment.

It couldn’t last. Ari’s shoulders tensed, wanting to creep up to her ears.Come on, give me a hint. “What happens next?” It was ludicrous, she should’ve been trying to slip away, restoring a modicum of personal space, instead of freezing.

“Your Cupbearer will find us, I think.” He glanced aside, checking their surroundings. “Jazarl tells me she roams this place at will, too canny for the traitor’s abominations to catch.”

Sounds like another Keners. “And the Mere?”

“It may wait another night for your attention, my lady.” A slight edge of humor tinted the words. “Come. Let me show you something small, which may amuse you.”

Jazarl and his men set about tending the equines, Hannixe lingered at the edge of the marble floor, peering at the woods.Keners hovered nearby, clearly hoping she wasn’t about to take a stroll.

Which left Ari walking next to the chained man, the heavy sway of her skirts mimicking saddle-rhythm, the equine’s rocking gait lingering in her legs.

In the pavilion’s center a white stone dish easily six feet across rose upon a plinth, looking for all the world like an oversize epergne. Carving rioted over the stem, figures on horseback leaping and cavorting, but the bowl was decorated only with fruit and leaves, greenery frozen in stone.

It looked far healthier than the current flora, that was for damn sure.

The chained man held out a hand, armored fingers flicking once. A spark bloomed in the bowl’s bleached, pristine depth, underlighting a shimmer like summer heat over pavement; a slight coughing noise, and a ball of blue fire appeared. Its top stretched upward, tapering to ever-shifting points, and it produced a lot of light for such a tiny blaze.

“No need for wood,” the chained man said. “You said it would be a shame to burn thekaloidyeiand shanbark, so the Pavilions, greater and smaller, were raised and are lit in this fashion.”

Oh.“She,” Ari said, and could have kicked herself.

That got a reaction. The chained man’s hand dropped, and he turned to focus fully on her. “What?”

“Shesaid it. Not me.” It definitely wasn’t the time for this conversation. Of course, there was never going to be a good moment, and Ari needed to know if this entire thing was going to end with some kind of Wicker Man episode. Whatever she was supposed to do at this Mere would likely be unpleasant, and she was on pins and needles waiting for it.

“Ah.” No trace of anger, audible or visible; the chained man simply nodded as if he’d expected her reaction. Of course, if he could bury rage so deep even Ari’s finely tuned antennaecouldn’t pick it up, she was probably—as Mike would say—cruising for a real bruising. “You are the same as ever, to us. Does it disturb you?”

That’s one word for it. Ari wanted to step away, but his gauntlet shot out and braceleted her wrist, warm and irresistible.

She froze. “I really do want to help you.” Ari stared at the blue flame, shadows bringing the carvings to flickering life. Were they actually moving, fueled by magic or tech? Maybe it was just a giant gaslamp.

Wouldn’tthatbe hilarious.

“Allof you,” she continued quietly, hoping to keep this discussion private. “But if I was… what you think, wouldn’t some of this be familiar?”

“Can you say it is not?” Iron-clad fingers tensed, though they didn’t squeeze. “Is nothing in our company of any comfort? I would have thought your closest and most honoured handmaiden, at least, would meet with your approval.”

Bad move, Ari. How could she explain this was better than whatever waited for her back home, and yet more terrifying than Mike’s hands on her throat?

At some point in her marriage she had understood he would eventually kill her, and accepted as much with a variety of fatalistic fatigue. It was one thing to anticipate that everyday danger; what human female could avoid it? The statistics were clear, soaking every moment spent in society.

But if she lost this detail-saturated, dangerous, lovely world, finding herself once more blinking and dazed at the verge of a summerstorm landslide or staggering away from the smoking Oldsmobile on a winding road, the police cruiser squealing to a stop, its lights stab-flashing…

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