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Even if he never remembers who I am； Iome told herself； it will be worth it to sing。 In time； he might learn to love my singing。
When she finished changing him； Iome dressed him with a cloth diaper beneath his tunic。
The bailey of the Dedicates' Keep was filled with ruined men and women； people who had given endowments the night before。 The influx had overwhelmed the caretakers。 As quickly as Iome and Chemoise finished caring for their own fathers； they began caring for other menguards who'd faithfully served House Sylvarresta since childhood。
The cooks got breakfast ready； and Iome carried plates of blackberry…filled pastries among the Dedicates。 She knelt to waken one young woman who slept in the sunlight beneath a green blanket； a guard named Cleas； who'd escorted her on many a trip into the hills。
Rarely did women serve as guards。 Even less rarely did they serve as soldiers of the line。 Yet Cleas had done both in her life。 She had endowments of brawn from eight men； had been one of the strongest swordmasters in Sylvarresta's service。 Raj Ahten had delighted in taking the strength from her。 Now Cleas did not breathe。 Sometime during the night； she'd bee too weak to draw breath。
Iome hurt at the sight； did not know whether to feel angry or grateful。 With Cleas' death； fifteen people who had given her endowments would have suddenly bee whole； easing the overcrowding in the Dedicates' Keep。 Yet Iome had lost someone she'd loved。 Iome's throat felt tight。 She knelt over Cleas； weeping； looked back。 Her Days stood watching。 Iome expected the woman to be cold and dispassionate as ever； her little V of a face tight…lipped and empty。 Instead； she could see lines of sorrow in her expression。
〃She was a good woman； a good warrior；〃 Iome said。
〃Yes； it is a terrible waste；〃 the Days agreed。
〃Will you help me get her to the tombs？〃 Iome asked。 〃I know a vault we can use； a place to honor the guards。 We will place her with my mother。〃
The Days nodded weakly。 On such a dark day； this small gesture struck Iome powerfully。 She felt grateful。
So Iome finished feeding the Dedicates； then she and the Days got a litter； spread a blanket over Cleas to use as a pall； and carried her to the south wall of the keep； laid her on the ground next to five other shrouded litters。 Four of those litters held Dedicates who had not lived out the night。
Iome's mother； Venetta； lay under the last black burlap shroud。 A slim golden circlet； resting atop her chest； identified the body of the Queen。 A black…and…white jumping spider had climbed onto the circlet； hunting a bluebottle fly that buzzed about。
Iome had not seen her mother's face since her demise； almost dared not pull back the shroud to look at it。 Yet she had to see if her mother's body had been properly prepared。
All morning； Iome had avoided this duty。
Chancellor Rodderman had e in the night to tend to Venetta's funeral arrangements。 Iome had not seen him since。 Perhaps he had business outside the King's Keep； but Iome suspected that he had decided it was best to avoid Raj Ahten。 He might even have dodged his responsibilities in preparing the body。
Raj Ahten's men had brought the corpse here； to the Dedicates' Keep。 He would not have left it in the Great Hall； where custom dictated it be placed for the morning； to be viewed by vassals。 The Queen lying dead on a pallet； for all to see； might engender discord in the city。
Instead； it had been secluded within the high and narrow walls of the most inner keep； where only the Dedicates might see。
Iome pulled back the black burlap covering。
Her mother's face was not what she'd imagined。 Apart from the terrible wound； it was like gazing into the face of a stranger。 Her mother had once had several endowments of glamour； had seemed a great beauty。 But at death the beauty had gone out of her。 Unexpected threads of gray hair were woven into her black tresses。 The shadows under her eyes looked dark and sunken。 The lines on her soft face had grown hard and old。
The woman on the pallet had been cleaned； but nothing could hide the gash on the left side of her face where Raj Ahten's signet ring had torn her skin； the indentation in her skull where her head had met the paving stones。
The woman beneath the shroud seemed a stranger。
No； Raj Ahten had no need to fear the vassals。 They would not rise up in outrage at the death of this old thing。
Iome went to the portcullis； to the captain of the guard； a dark little mustached man in big armor； a helm embossed with silver。 It seemed strange for Ault to be gone； or Derrow； when they had stood under this stone alcove for so many years。
〃Sir； I'd like permission to take the dead to the King's tombs；〃 Iome said； holding her breath。
〃De castle is onder attack；〃 the captain said gruffly； his Taifan accent thick。 〃Is no safe。〃
Iome fought the urge to slink away。 She did not want to antagonize the captain； yet she felt that it was her sacred duty to bury her mother； show the woman that one last act of dignity。 〃The castle isn't under attack；〃 Iome tried to sound reasonable； 〃only a few nomen trapped in the woods are under attack。〃 She waved her hand out over the burned battlefield before the castle。 〃And if Orden should attack； you would see him ing from half a mile； and he would have to breach the Outer Wall。 No one is likely to reach the Dedicates' Keep。〃
The little man listened intently； his head cocked to the side。 Iome could not tell whether he understood her。 Perhaps she'd spoken too fast。 She could have spoken to him in Chaltic； but she doubted he'd understand。
〃No；〃 the little man said。
〃Then let her spirit take vengeance upon you； for I am guiltless。 I do not wish to be haunted by a Runelord。〃
The little man's eyes flashed in fear。 The spirits of dead Runelords were said to cause more trouble than mostparticularly if they suffered violent deaths。 Though Iome did not fear her mother's shade； this little Taifan captain was from a land where such things were taken far more seriously。
〃Hurry；〃 the little captain answered。 〃Now。 Go。 But take nothing more than half an hour。〃
〃Thank you；〃 Iome said； reaching out to touch him in gratitude。 The captain shrank back from her touch。
Iome called out to Chemoise； to her Days。 〃Quickly； we need bearers to carry these littersand some charnel robes。〃
Chemoise ran into the kitchens； brought out some of the deaf and mute bakers； the butcher and his apprentice； kitchen helpers with no sense of smell。 In a few moments； two dozen people came to help bear the litters。
The butcher trundled over to the Dedicates' Hall； came out with an armload of black cotton charnel robes； with their deep hoods and long sleeves。
Each pallbearer donned a charnel robe； so that the ghosts in the tombs would know they had not e as grave robbers； and at the hem of each robe was a silver bell whose tinkling would drive off any malicious spirits。
When they had finished； they went to the litters and began carrying the dead to the portcullis。 Iome took the front right handle of her mother's litter； as was her place。
When they were ready； the Taifan captain and his sergeant put their backs to work； raising the po