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sixteen
When the tumultuous day
ended, and Kilian and his henchmen had been sent on their way to Zeth Abbey in
a prison-coach guarded by a detachment of
the Palace Guard and three highly talented Brethren vouched for by Stergos, Conrig sequestered himself in his own
apartment. Attended only by Lord
Telifar, the prince ate a small supper then dismissed the lord-in-waiting and
occupied himself reading the replies to the
urgent letters sent out that morning. Earlier,
Red Ansel had reported that Tarnian mercenary sealords would come to Cathra's defense only if they were paid in corn,
not gold, so Conrig had had the royal scribes draft appeals to Cala's
grain merchants and shipowners.
The responses were
predictably bleak.
With profound regret, the
merchants informed the Crown that they were unable to donate wheat and barley
from their reserve stores. What little grain they had was already promised to
certain high-ranking lords of Cathra (at a pretty price, quoted in the
letters), and surely the prospects of an imminent attack from the south were
vanishingly small and no mercenaries were needed. Why, Lord Admiral Dundry had
said so himself!
In a similarly apologetic
fashion, the shipowners told the Crown that even though they would gladly
cooperate, no Cathran master mariner would be willing to set sail for Tarn at the present time, since the season of storms
was due to strike the
Conrig muttered imprecations under his breath. The
damned trader-lords were confident they could ignore his appeals to
patriotism with impunity. There was no helping
it: he'd have to pay the inflated reserve price for the grain and do whatever
was necessary to hire ships to carry it.
He
worked for nearly an hour, drafting responses to the least venal-appearing of the prospects,
inviting them to confer with him at the palace. Then there came a scratching at his door. He hastened to throw it
open, expecting Snudge. But it was his wife, Princess Maudrayne.
"My
lord husband," she said by way of greeting, and sailed into the room as boldly as always.
He had not yet bade her welcome home, since she had kept to her chambers
during the day's commotion.
Conrig nodded graciously to
her. "My lady, I trust you've begun to recover from the rigors of the
pilgrimage. I apologize for not presenting myself to you earlier. As you probably know, there's been hell
to pay. This morning I received evidence that Vra-Kilian was guilty of
treason—"
"The
Queen's Grace told me everything. Including the fact that suborned witnesses testified
against the Royal Alchymist and his associates. She also said that it was only through her personal plea for clemency
that Kilian was banished rather than
having his head chopped off. The poor woman was beside herself when she told me the story, but I have the impression that
she bore up rather stoutly while bargaining for her brother's
life."
Conrig smiled. "She did
indeed. Please be seated. May I offer you refreshment? I was going to have some malt myself." He gestured at the
table covered with papers. "I'm still hard at work, you see."
"My
poor beleaguered love. Yes, I'll have a drink. Don't be stingy pouring."
She took the chair at the
table opposite his, arranging her loose robe of tawny velvet trimmed with dark mink. Conrig handed her a crystal goblet,
which she drank from liberally and
then set down. He resumed his seat and sipped his own drink, keeping his
eyes on her. She was two-and-twenty years of age and looked more beautiful than
ever, her unbound auburn hair flowing down her back like liquid fire and her
fair skin luminous in the candlelight. Bazekoy's Brisket! If only she'd given
him an heir .. .
"It's true enough," he said offhandedly,
"that Kilian was convicted of treason
through perjury. It's also true that he was
guilty as the devil himself. The evidence came to me through one of my
most trusted men, who gathers intelligence for me secretly. I couldn't possibly have let him testify before the
tribunal and reveal himself, so the dissembling was necessary."
She
took up her cup again and stared into the amber depths. "You needn't justify yourself to me, Con. I'm no friend of the
Royal Alchymist. His evil influence on King Olmigon was deplorable. I'm
quite sure Kilian got what he deserved."
"No,"
the prince said starkly. "Not yet. But one day he will, when I'm king. You see, we're going to war against Didion. Kilian
found out and informed Beynor of Moss, who
has allied himself with the Didionite princes. The gang of them hatched a plot to foil our military operation
and assassinate me after Father passed away. With that pudding-head
Shiantil Blackhorse on the throne of Cathra, Kilian would rule the realm
absolutely." He gave a vulpine grin. "Until Beynor's confederates in Stippen and Foraile launched an attack on our
southern seaboard and Didion hammered
us in the north. Presumably, Cathra was to be carved up like a roast ox, and I doubt Kilian would have been invited
to the feast. Plots within plots, my
lady! I've been hard put to keep up with them, but all's well for the
moment."
She
inclined her head without comment. Then: "Tell me about Ullanoth of Moss."
Conrig's
eyes narrowed. For a moment, he kept silent, wondering how much she knew. Finally,
he said, "She's our secret ally in the war against Didion—the press for Sovereignty. Months ago, she came to
Stergos and me at Brent Lodge and
told us of a scheme by which we might invade Didion over
"Ah!"
"I must ask you to
swear to keep this information secret."
She
said, "Do you really think I'd betray Cathra and send you to your
death?" He only stared at her
evenly.
"Of course I swear." Her tone was
clipped.
He continued as though there had been no interruption.
"Ullanoth pledged magical assistance
that would enable us to enter Holt Mallburn without detection and seize King Achardus, his sons, and his
high officials. I intend to implement this plan within less than two
weeks. The announcement that my Heart Companions and I would go to Beorbrook
Hold to help the earl marshal repel incursions
over
"What reward did Princess Ullanoth ask of you for
her assistance?"
"Money," Conrig said. "A
lot of it. And my solemn promise to set her on the throne of Moss when the
Sovereignty is established, an, and declare her First Vassal—which means low taxation, among
other things."
Maudrayne
swirled her liquor in the faceted cup. Her expression was unreadable. "That
may not be easy, now that her brother is king and she's barred from the
succession."
"When
Moss is part of the Sovereignty of High Blenholme, its laws of succession will be as I decree. The
princess is also a powerful sorceress, with her own ways of countering her brother's
claim to the throne. She's a very formidable young woman."
"Oh,
I don't doubt that," said Maudrayne. She was silent for a time,
then downed the last of her drink and said, "Con, I wish to spend this
winter in
"I'm sorry, my lady. Your place is here."
"But
I have set my heart on going! I've nursed King Olmigon devotedly for months.
Now he's at ease as he approaches his end, but I'm dog-weary. I must find some way to refresh my
battered spirits. Let me see my own country again! If you wish, I can even speak to my uncle, the High
Sealord Sernin, of your plan for Sovereignty—"
"No. That would be . . . premature and contrary to
my wishes. And a voyage
could be perilous,
with the season of storms nearly upon us. No, you must remain
here, Maude. If all
goes well with the war, you shall visit your homeland next year,
as consort to the
Sovereign of High Blenholme and its Lady Ambassador to
She leapt to her feet, sea-blue eyes blazing. "But I want to go now! How
can
you object to my absence? You're never here! And now you talk of going off to
conquer Didion, leaving me once again. Do you have any idea of what my life is
like? I'm nothing but an object of pity and derision to these noble Cathran
snobs!
Conrig's barren, oh-so-unsuitable wife! They whisper about me and snicker
when they think I don't notice. I have not a single friend at court! My chief
lady‑
in-waiting reports my every action to Queen Cataldise—and she patronizes me and invents things
to quarrel about when she's not ignoring me altogether. Only your father treats me like an intelligent human
being, and he's dying. I'm suffocating here, Conrig! Let me go!"
"I cannot," he
said, rising and taking her hand. "The times are too critical. You must
remain in the palace and perform your duties cheerfully—or at least willingly.
As your loving husband and lord, I command it."
"Faithless
cock-hound!" She tore her hand from his, seized her empty crystal goblet, and dashed it onto the hearthstone where the
shards scattered like fiery sparks.
"You dare speak to me of your love?" she screamed. "Liar! I know
you've betrayed me with that Mossland slut. I know everything about you!
Everything, Conrig
Wincantor." A ferocious triumph shone in her eyes. "Remember that,
when you meet again with the witch Ullanoth."
She
whirled about and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Futter me," said the prince wearily, slumping
back into his seat. My dearest one. If I were only there to console
you.
He
started up from the table, nearly upsetting the decanter of liquor over the papers. "Is it you, Ulla? Were you
watching?"
Yes,
and waiting. This is the first opportunity I've had to bespeak
you. And what do
I descry? A wife threatening her husband—and king-to-be—with revelation of his
deepest most perilous secret. Even though my lip-reading ability is minimal,
that part of her tirade was plain enough.
"Ah, God, no!"
Conrig let his brow fall onto his knuckles. "She can't have meant that.
She knows nothing of high magic and the indicators of talent. And she'd not tear the crown away from me, knowing it
would go to one so unworthy as Duke Shiantil . . . would she?"
It's
evident that she eavesdropped upon our meeting last night. I think she hoped to
return to
He sat bolt upright,
addressing the empty space that Ullanoth seemed to inhabit. "I will not
harm her; he said. "Never!"
So. You still love your wife.
"No!" he cried. "It's over between us. But now is not the
time to publish the breakdown of our marriage. It would alienate
She might violate her oath and betray your invasion. Her
silence must be assured.
"I
can manage that. Stergos can supply the proper potion. It'll be no surprise that she falls slightly ill, after such an arduous
journey. Later . . . everything can be resolved."
My
dearest prince. Maudrayne will run away. And the Tarnian shaman Ansel will help her.
He
thought furiously. "I'll have her sailboat disabled. Send Ansel off with
the grain
ships—if I ever get the cursed things organized. Take my mother and Lady
Sovanna into my confidence and leave them to
deal with Maude while I'm away in Didion. It can all be worked
out."
What's
this about sending grain to
"We
need mercenaries to help defend Cala, in case Beynor incites the Continentals to launch an attack. The sealords agreed to
send twenty double-tier frigates, but they demand to be paid in food, not gold,
and won't set sail for Cathra until
grain-ships arrive in
No accident! It happened as soon as
he signed the decree granting Beynor the right of
succession. The little pismire tried to have me arrested and confined, but
I escaped him using two of my sigils.
I'm still secure in my tower, but I won't remain here for long. As soon as I've
conjured the appropriate enchantments, I'll leave for Didion, where I'll assist
you to enter
Conrig
felt himself going boneless with relief. The invasion would not have to be postponed after all.
He found his goblet, refilled it, and swallowed half its
contents, ignoring the flames in his
gullet. "Thank heaven you're safe, Ulla! I feared for your life." It's
about time you thought to mention it.
He
groaned, putting his heart and soul into it. "Ah, lady, this day I've been tried like a blade in a forge. Forgive
me my distraction. The good news is, I've disposed
of my old enemy Vra-Kilian. He's convicted of high treason, his talent
is extinguished, and I've sent him off to lifelong exile in the Abbey of
Zeth."
Well done. And I also have news to cheer you. Your
northern allies have begun to send groups
of fighters toward Castle Vanguard, according to your plan. So I've instructed my
magical partners to bring down the
first of the fog.
To hide the troop movements?
Exactly. At the
appropriate time, I'll blanket all of northeastern Cathra, from Beorbrook Hold
and the Great North Road to the eastern shore, and as far south as Swan Lake and Lake Brent. For now, there'll be
small areas of mist just enough to confuse Beynor or other hostile
windwatchers of the Glaumerie Guild. If they spy warriors on the move, they'll assume they're converging on
"Thank God."
I have a sigil able to spy
through any enchantment Beynor may try to
hide behind, vouchsafed me by the dead hand of my mother. It is
not yet empowered, because it
is one of the Great Stones that afflicts
its owner with considerable suffering.
But I will bring it to life when the
proper time comes and use it to remove my brother from the throne he stole.
Conrig caught his breath.
"But—you told me you would not resort to Beaconfolk magic, save to conceal
and protect yourself, and visit me!"
I do what I must do. I have seven stones, just as Beynor
does. Two of my Great Stones are not yet alive,
because the thaumaturgical debt to the Lights increases with each sigil made active. And so does the danger of
having the creatures . . . intervene in the magic, as my poor mother
discovered.
"What happened to her,
Ulla?"
We won't talk of it now.
Be assured that I intend to be far more cautious than she. The stones are
perilous, but so is a sharp sword in the hands of a child. I'm no child, my
love. I know how to control the power of the Coldlight Army, and so does my damned little brother. He only has six stones
left now, after losing Concealer, but three of them are capable of
tremendous magic. Our war is against Beynor as much as against Achardus of
Didion.
"And ... you also
possess sigils capable of tremendous magic."
What if I do? I won't be hamstrung by your ignorance or fear, Conrig. If you aren't willing to trust me, then tell me to be
gone.
"All, lady! What else
can I do but trust you?"
You do have
other options, of course. Call off your
invasion! Command your brother Stergos to bespeak the windvoices of your
allies and recall the troops. Try to
make peace with Didion by freely sending
them food to ease their famine. Perhaps sweet charity will accomplish what your high-handed Edict failed to do!
Or else abandon your dream of the Soverignty of Blenholme until you
conceive another scheme more likely to succeed than this one I gave to
you—along with my love.
"Ullanoth, don't be
angry with me. I must trust you and continue as we've planned. I can do nothing
else, God help me!"
I will help you, Conrig.
II Hold fast to that certainty and lead your Heart Companions from
He uttered a harsh laugh. "If my royal father rises from
his deathbed." What? Are you
making mock of me?
"Hardly. That's the answer Emperor Bazekoy's oracle
gave to King Olmigon's Question. Father asked if I would succeed in unifying
the island. The oracle told him: `Only if you rise from your deathbed to assist
him: "
I—I
knew nothing of this. Why didn't you
tell me?
"I presumed you learned
of it already through your occult arts, Conjure-Princess."
No. This is . . . a very
interesting thing. I must think about it and consult my books of prophecy. No king of Cathra has Questioned the emperor
for nigh unto three hundred years. I presumed the oracle was extinct.
"The king was convinced
it was quite real. The Question's answer can be interpreted several ways, of
course—including the ruin of all my hopes! But Bazekoy did accomplish the
unlikely reconciliation of my father and me, so I'm inclined to keep an open
mind."
Quite right, my prince.
And so will I. Now rest and dream of the great triumph to come. I must be about my work.
"Calling
on the Beaconfolk to make fog?" he suggested cynically.
Not at all. A simpler
enchantment will accomplish that. Good night, dearest love.
He hesitated only a moment
before responding, "And good night to you, princess of my heart."
Since
it was not yet the tenth hour of evening, Conrig went to the apartments of Queen Cataldise to make his peace with her and ask
her assistance in dealing with Maudrayne.
There was no time to waste, given the famous impulsiveness of the
princess.
The queen's principal lady-in-waiting, a battle-axe named
Vandaya Gullmont, who had changed Conrig's swaddling clouts when he was an infant, greeted
him with a forbidding frown.
"Look here, my prince!
I can't let you in. The Queen's Grace is most distressed by the events of the
day and none too pleased with you. Come back tomorrow."
"Vandaya, has Mother
gone to bed yet?" Conrig demanded.
"No, but—"
"Then I'll see her, by
God."
He pushed past the
spluttering woman and went into the queen's sitting room. Cataldise, wearing a nightrobe, sat on a footstool in front of her
favorite fireside armchair. The chair itself was occupied by a
long-haired white mother cat and four
nursing kittens, which the queen stroked gently. Her eyes were puffy
from weeping, but she looked up with a calm expression as Conrig came and knelt
beside her.
"See how beautiful
Syla's babies are," she said abstractedly. "Three snowy little girls
and one coal-black boy. They'll be wonderful fun now that their eyes are
finally open."
"Mother—"
Conrig took her plump hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry for what you've had to suffer this day. So very sorry."
A fresh
tear appeared and trickled down the queen's cheek. "Your father will be gone soon. And
now my dear brother as well. Not dead, but banished so far away that
I'll never see him again. And if I hadn't been there to plead for him, poor
Kilian might have gone to the block."
Conrig was gentle but firm.
"All of the charges laid against him were true. And you may as well know
his motive, even though it wasn't spoken of before the tribunal: He intended to
put your silly nephew Shiantil on the throne after assassins had disposed of me, and rule Cathra through him."
"Yes,"
the queen conceded, her tears falling faster. "Kilian would do that. He hates you, my
dear, because he knows he can never control you. I'm ashamed of him and regret with all my heart that he gave in
to the base lure of illicit power. But I can't help but love him
still."
He
folded her in his arms. "I know. And thanks to you, he'll live and do penance for his treason and perhaps experience
remorse. If you wish, you shall visit him regularly. He won't be
imprisoned—only confined to the abbey grounds. His magical powers are
abrogated, but he may still enjoy use of the library and socialize with certain
of the Brethren, including his three close friends
who were convicted with him. Their punishment is actually very lenient."
She nodded, took a lace-edged handkerchief from her
sleeve, and wiped her eyes. "I know,
dear."
"So
you aren't embittered toward me?" He held her at arm's length, entreaty in his gaze.
"No, of course not. I
understand what you had to do. You're the Prince Heritor and soon you'll be my
king, and I'll be your loyal subject until I die. But even more, I'll love you
because you're my dear son. Whatever you do."
He took
a breath. "Mother, I need your help in a very delicate matter."
"Only
ask." She had regained her composure and once again began to stroke the nursing cat.
"It's a sad thing,
regarding my lady Maudrayne. She begged me to let her travel to
"She's
very unhappy." The queen's voice held little sympathy for her daughter-in-law. "You know why."
"Maude has her duty.
And I would beseech you to help her know and appreciate it. And if she will
not, then I ask your assistance in making certain that she does nothing
foolish. I must go north very soon to help Beorbrook guard the frontier. When the snows fall and
The
queen was thoughtful. "She's a headstrong woman. Stern measures may be needed, but I'll do my best to combine them with
compassion. Rely on me."
The prince said, with
evident relief, "Tomorrow, Stergos will provide you with remedies against
melancholia, if the princess's health should require them. He'll also make
suggestions for her care, and Lady Sovanna will doubtless be eager so assist.
I'm so glad I can depend on you, Mother."
"Always,"
Cataldise replied. She rose from her stool and took his hand. "And now you must be off. Tomorrow I'll make arrangements
for Maudrayne's .. . well-being."
They
kissed, and Conrig left the sitting room. Lady Vandaya asked the
queen whether she needed anything further, then retired when Cataldise shook
her head. When the woman was gone, the queen
went about the room snuffing candles
before returning to gaze fondly at her cats. The three white kittens were nestled
against their dam, fast asleep, but the venturesome little black male had
tumbled out of the chair onto the carpet and was creeping feebly about.
She picked him up and held
the soft, warm little body to her cheek. But he would not be caressed, and squirmed and squealed and scratched her hand
with minute claws.
"Naughty boy!" the queen chided, and fetched
him a smart tap on the head with her
finger before giving him back to his mother.
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