happened there, only stone and dust. Coins, knives, shards of pottery, the rubbish of the past, were constantly being unearthed as fields were tilled or foundations were dug. A gift from the Old Ones, people said, flinging them aside. The past was everywhere in Caithen, and therefore unremarkable. But here there was a continuity to it; the building continued through time, but the roots were ancient and undisturbed. If she could strip off the graceful layers she would find something unmovable and strong. For a thousand years, long before warring lords had been united under a single king, this place had been a center of power. She could not help feeling humbled.
In the next room, the clock struck softly. Three. She should really go back to bed. But there was something very pleasant about sitting here, safe, alone, watching rain. It was quiet and still as the palace never was between dawn and midnight. She pulled the blanket more snugly around herself.
A steady light appeared in the courtyard, coming from the walkway opposite her. It moved but did not flicker—someone was carrying a lantern. He put it down and leaned against the nearest pillar. The yellow light reflected on the wet stone. Not dazzling, but bright compared with the darkness. She frowned in perplexity. Even if it was a guard doing rounds, he could have seen immediately that the courtyard was empty.There were no high bushes or walls anyone might lurk behind. Who would stay and wait on a night like this? On any night, for that matter. But the man continued to wait.
A few minutes later, a second man joined him. All Tam could see of either one was dark hair and men’s clothing. The dark hair could have been blond in the wet night. They were talking, she could tell that from the gestures, but the rain drowned out their voices. The lantern was so steady that it had to be of excellent make and use expensive oil; these were not a couple of servants gossiping. The palace was huge; there must be dozens of places where two men could talk in private. It was not just privacy they wanted, then. They could not be seen to have any connection to each other.
The hair on the back of her neck and arms rose. It amazed her; she had not thought that happened anywhere except in three-volume novels with dashing men and swooning ladies. She realized the men were looking up toward her window. Her body had known. They could not see anything, she was sure of that, not with the candle out and the rain rippling on the glass. Maybe they had noticed the window was open a bit. Or they were looking at all the rooms. She stayed entirely still. They turned away.
She remained motionless. It was not the freeze of a frightened rabbit. But if they looked again the patterns of darkness might have changed. She had no idea if they could tell whose room it was, or if they would even care, but she did not want to leave a trace of her accidental spying. The men wanted secrecy and she was breaking that, even if they did not know, even if she did not intend it. Whatever required this sort of meeting was either criminal or illicit.
They talked longer. One was taller and thinner, and his cloak was so well cut he had to be a lord. There was a hint of deference in the second man’s posture that made her guess he was a commoner, perhaps even a servant. That was not much to go on. Even if she had been able to see their features through the rain and the shadow, she would not have known who they were. And if she did, what would she do with that knowledge? Nothing. If she told a guard, she would only be laughed at. There were probably dozens of other intrigues. Wherever there was power to be gained, there was plotting. Following them to find out more was out of the question. It would be the end of her reputation to be outof her room at this time of the night. Three years ago she might have anyway, but maturity had calmed some of her impulses.
A light came on in a room on her floor on the western side of the
In the next room, the clock struck softly. Three. She should really go back to bed. But there was something very pleasant about sitting here, safe, alone, watching rain. It was quiet and still as the palace never was between dawn and midnight. She pulled the blanket more snugly around herself.
A steady light appeared in the courtyard, coming from the walkway opposite her. It moved but did not flicker—someone was carrying a lantern. He put it down and leaned against the nearest pillar. The yellow light reflected on the wet stone. Not dazzling, but bright compared with the darkness. She frowned in perplexity. Even if it was a guard doing rounds, he could have seen immediately that the courtyard was empty.There were no high bushes or walls anyone might lurk behind. Who would stay and wait on a night like this? On any night, for that matter. But the man continued to wait.
A few minutes later, a second man joined him. All Tam could see of either one was dark hair and men’s clothing. The dark hair could have been blond in the wet night. They were talking, she could tell that from the gestures, but the rain drowned out their voices. The lantern was so steady that it had to be of excellent make and use expensive oil; these were not a couple of servants gossiping. The palace was huge; there must be dozens of places where two men could talk in private. It was not just privacy they wanted, then. They could not be seen to have any connection to each other.
The hair on the back of her neck and arms rose. It amazed her; she had not thought that happened anywhere except in three-volume novels with dashing men and swooning ladies. She realized the men were looking up toward her window. Her body had known. They could not see anything, she was sure of that, not with the candle out and the rain rippling on the glass. Maybe they had noticed the window was open a bit. Or they were looking at all the rooms. She stayed entirely still. They turned away.
She remained motionless. It was not the freeze of a frightened rabbit. But if they looked again the patterns of darkness might have changed. She had no idea if they could tell whose room it was, or if they would even care, but she did not want to leave a trace of her accidental spying. The men wanted secrecy and she was breaking that, even if they did not know, even if she did not intend it. Whatever required this sort of meeting was either criminal or illicit.
They talked longer. One was taller and thinner, and his cloak was so well cut he had to be a lord. There was a hint of deference in the second man’s posture that made her guess he was a commoner, perhaps even a servant. That was not much to go on. Even if she had been able to see their features through the rain and the shadow, she would not have known who they were. And if she did, what would she do with that knowledge? Nothing. If she told a guard, she would only be laughed at. There were probably dozens of other intrigues. Wherever there was power to be gained, there was plotting. Following them to find out more was out of the question. It would be the end of her reputation to be outof her room at this time of the night. Three years ago she might have anyway, but maturity had calmed some of her impulses.
A light came on in a room on her floor on the western side of the
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