In which the web ensnares the weaver who spun it….
Mors was in the library when Cadaela arrived the next morning. His clothes were a bit less plain than they had been the night before, and he affected disinterest in her after wishing her a good morning. He watched her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, though. Her own clothing was simply another version of what she had worn the day before, this time in pale blue silk instead of brown. The beads on her multitude of thin braids were blue glass, ranging from deep as midnight to nearly as clear as ice.
She managed to find what she was looking for, and something else besides. A collection of notes and rumors cobbled together by an Aes Sedai who was little more than legend herself was quoted extensively in a book about the Third Age that predated the founding of the Second Empire. The darling, deceased woman’s notes concerned the beginning of the Shadowspawn created on Andurin. Cadaela spent much of the morning copying the section into a small journal before turning to her other find. The second was really just a curiosity; an account of a Kernin’s experiences with the people of Hyboras. She took a few notes on a loose sheet of foolscap, but mostly just enjoyed reading about faraway lands.
At midday, Mors interrupted her studies to invite her to luncheon. Cadaela refused politely, though he insisted she dine with him that evening. She took all the fruits of her research with her and went back to the Three Bells, again taking her meal in a private dining room with Dorinne. The innkeeper had produced a footman in Cyradi livery who told Cadaela of a hidden vault behind one library wall, much like what existed in the Tower and probably every other major library in the world. Considering the way Mors had watched her all morning, Cadaela doubted she would have a chance to look into it. She gave the man a few gold pieces to find out for her whether there was anything in the vault concerning the Third Age, the Circle of Blood, or Shadowspawn.
She continued to read about Hyboras that afternoon, making a show of taking more notes, though it was primarily for Mors’ benefit. She needed time for the footman to look through the vault. Mors’ eyes continued to follow her as she went in search of more books of interest. She shivered a little when a draft caught her, and he immediately built up the fire. His attention was more than a little unnerving, but Cadaela ignored it. She would not have to endure it much longer.
* * *
Supper that evening, she was told, was to be a formal occasion, and she dressed accordingly. Her usual clothes had been traded for Tolmari gown of thin silk, the color of age-darkened ivory. Her hair was out of its usual braids and piled on top of her head in a loose mass of auburn curls, held by intricately carved ivory pins. Creams applied to her eyes, lips, and cheeks completed her Tolmari garb, and Cara’cand had been left in the Three Bells’ stable in favor of a palanquin. Her Great Serpent ring had been tucked carefully into a safe at the inn, along with all of her research. With the wards around it, not even Dorinne would be able to open it.
As she stepped down onto the front step of the Tynaeus villa, Cadaela realized something was wrong. She had assumed that formal occasion meant a fete, yet there were no other carriages or palanquins. It was possible he had told her to arrive early, or perhaps she was late and the other guests had already arrived. More likely, though, was that Mors had arranged a private dinner with her. Careful, she warned herself, twisting the wedding band absently.
She nodded slightly as she entered the house. The lamps had been extinguished in favor of a few candles, and their dim light provided a path to the smaller of the two dining rooms. Inside, so many candles burned that she wondered they did not set fire to something. Mors stood at the far end of the room, waiting for her. Without speaking, he handed her a glass of dark red wine. She watched him warily as she sipped from her glass, and he from his. The taste of forkroot was almost entirely hidden by the heavy spices in the wine, but she recognized it as the glass tumbled from her suddenly clumsy fingers and the rest of the wine spilled across the thick white carpet. Her lips formed one soundless word as she lost consciousness.
(to be continued)
