The Burning Stone

“And now they obey me,” retorted Alain softly. Ai, Lord and Lady! He was furious, and yet the anger lay muted, red-hot coals banked by ash. Geoffrey had concealed his plans all this time. Had Lavastine suspected? No doubt he had. That was why he had wanted Geoffrey to appear at his deathbed, to swear an oath; Geoffrey hadn’t come.



“But if it was witchcraft all along, then you could have witched the hounds as well. You have no other proof that he sired you. I’ll call every soul in this county forward to swear to what they saw, or didn’t see, eighteen years ago when that servingwoman was brought to bed with the child she claimed was his bastard. Any woman can lie. Or you could have lied, hearing the story, and pretended you were what you are not. God Above!” Geoffrey turned to Duchess Yolande, as though pleading to her. “How can we trust the testimony of these hounds? They’re creatures of the Enemy. Everyone knows that these very hounds killed my cousin’s wife and infant daughter, ripped them to pieces.”



Tallia whimpered and shrank against Yolande, whose eyes had widened with appreciative interest. “If this is true,” said Yolande, “then how could Lavastine tolerate such beasts in his train afterward?”



“She lied to him,” said Alain hoarsely. “The child wasn’t sired by Lavastine but by another man.”



“So he said,” replied Geoffrey. “So he said to cover his own guilt. No one spoke of it, no one accused him, because they feared him.”



This was too much. “His own people trusted him because he was a good lord to them and looked after his own!”



“Who will look after them now?” Geoffrey turned again to Duchess Yolande. “The hounds are a curse, not a gift. But the curse was laid on my great-uncle Charles Lavastine, not on my own grandfather. The curse passed from the elder Charles to the younger Charles and then to Lavastine, who was swayed by sorcery and duped by this boy. But my line is free of the curse, and my daughter is healthy. She was named by Lavastine as his heir on the day she was born. She is the rightful heir to this county, not this—this—” He did not look at Alain, merely gestured toward him as toward an animal about to be led to the slaughter. “This common-born boy who defames all of us by pretending to be of noble birth.”



Fear lunged.



“Peace!” cried Alain, but the damage was done. Fear bowled Geoffrey over, knocked him flat, and would have torn off his face if Alain hadn’t leaped forward to grab his collar and yank him back.



“If there are any besides me to whom you should owe allegiance,” said Alain furiously to the straining hound, “then go to them now!” He let go of Fear’s collar.



Fear bolted for the door. Guards jumped out of the way, frantically hacking at the great hound with their spears. Yolande shouted a command and they formed up, belatedly, making a wall to protect Yolande, Tallia, and the prostrate Geoffrey. Outside, retainers scattered and shrieked.



Rage growled but did not stir. Sorrow stalked forward two steps, and halted, shuddering, when spears lowered to graze his big head.



“Peace,” said Alain, more softly, although his voice trembled. The two hounds sat obediently.



Geoffrey climbed to his feet, brushing him off. “So you see,” he said to Yolande. “The hound went.” He no longer looked at Alain; he turned his back on him.



“The king must judge what you have laid before me,” said Yolande. “Come, Cousin,” she said to Tallia, who was is white as death and scarcely more mobile than a corpse. “You must lie down. Be assured that I will protect you until I see that justice is served.”



They moved off together, strength in numbers. Tallia didn’t even look back once.



It was quiet in the church. Lavastine lay still in death, a statue in all but truth. Did his spirit mourn, hearing Geoffrey tear his hopes asunder? Or did he already rest in peace in the Chamber of Light?



“Ai, God.” Rage nosed his hand, then licked his fingers. He started, recalling himself and where he was. Two of his stewards remained, looking restless and troubled. Sorrow whined softly and padded over to the door, ready for his nightly run. Alain led the hounds outside. Some of his servingmen had waited for him outside; some had left with the duchess.



He looked for Fear in all his usual haunts: the kernel, the bedchamber, Lavastine’s empty chamber where only the musky scent of stone remained and the track of the sledge they had used to drag Lavastine’s stone corpse over the floor. But Fear had vanished.



In the morning he looked again, but he found no trace of him even with Sorrow and Rage hunting at his side. Then he went to take the noon meal with Duchess Yolande, in the chambers allotted to her.