The Queen and the Mage

by Wilma van Wyngaarden

  “There was a sorcerer—possibly two—about the court, but we have dispatched both of them.” Mako returned a cold smile.

  “Dead?” asked Woliff with apparent interest, but no surprise.

  “Very dead. Let us not revisit the events. Suffice to say we are more guarded against traitors than before.”

  “How was Queen Scylla able to survive the attack? Did the sorcerers have an amulet or other magic source? Perhaps that is what we feel.”

  “She escaped into the forest,” Mako said curtly, ignoring the latter question. “She wandered for days before we found her. As you see, she is not fully recovered.”

  Scylla looked away from Woliff’s clothes-stripping gaze. Her hand closed tightly on the hilt of her sword stick, quivering with the effort not to get up, cross to the head table, and pierce him through the heart. Or perhaps… a slice into his thick neck with the sharp tip as she had finished off the rogue priest at the hunting lodge.

  “She appears very frail and younger than her reported age… seventeen, is she not?” enquired Woliff, oblivious to Scylla’s ferocious fantasy.

  Mako nodded sharply. He sniffed at his wine and then took his time tasting it. “We are honored – all of us – by your king’s proposal. As you are aware, our court is in mourning and Queen Scylla will not contemplate marriage for at least six months.”

  His head turned toward Woliff. “More wine, High Priest?” He beckoned to a servant and another two bottles plunked on the table between Woliff and Mangus. Two open bottles were whisked away.

  “It may be desirable to move ahead sooner,” said Woliff, in his pleasant voice. “The merging of our kingdoms could be, as I have mentioned previously, very advantageous for you… all.” His lips drew back in a smile and his eyes traveled past Mako to meet Scylla’s. She broke the gaze indifferently, reaching for a tidbit of roast chicken and wrapping it in a lettuce leaf before putting it into her mouth.

  “I assure you we will take your words into consideration… we are truly honored, High Priest Woliff.”

  “Protection, assistance in modernization... so much potential is wasted at present. For example, a canal could be dredged through the delta, expediting travel to and from your shores. Also, you may consider moving King Tobin’s gold to a guarded location, rather than carrying large amounts openly, as Queen Scylla did.”

  “The coins have been moved to a safe vault,” Herron spoke up for the first time, without looking at either Woliff or Mako.

  “As I said earlier, those coins came out of a chance encounter during the queen’s pilgrimage and have been stored away,” Mako added smoothly.

  “This pilgrimage—to which spring was it?”

  “Deep in the forest… difficult to find.”

  “I am told Rellant has vast forests. And other untouched resources as well.”

  “Not exactly untouched,” said Mako. “But yes, we have large forested areas. Also, flocks of sheep producing many bales of wool. Have I told you how many sheep were counted in our last reckoning?” His voice drifted back to Scylla as the musicians started up again. The noise throughout the hall added to the clamor until she could hear no more from Mako and Woliff.

  She entertained herself by surreptitiously studying the six strangers. The three soldiers and the manservant had drunk very little—if at all—and their hard eyes remained alert, moving from person to person. They glanced often to the far corner where the open doorway led to the castle courtyard, and they watched the serving staff as they traveled back and forth. Her own guards did the same, despite the warning to avoid an air of tension. Many more castle soldiers were in evidence compared to Woliff’s men, and occasionally a pair would leave the hall and later return.

  There was no way to tell what was happening elsewhere. Beside her, Sorrell moved restlessly in her chair and flexed her broken arm.

  Scylla glanced at her. “Have you had enough, Sorrell?”

  “More than enough, but suit yourself.”

  “I too,” said Scylla. She turned her head to look for Coltic and raised a hand to attract his attention. He was at her side in an instant. He looked more exhausted than before, his eyes strained and his mouth clamped in a straight line.

  “An incident has taken place near the docks,” he whispered into her ear. “There will be no attack on the castle.”

  “Is Woliff or his secretary drinking any wine?”

  “Only a little… Not one of the six is anywhere near drunk, and none of us either, except perhaps Herron who often drinks too much. I have told the servants not to serve him more wine.”

  “Hmmm. Do you think Sorrell and I should stay here longer?”

  “A little longer, Princess. I am told there is a fire in the delta but it is burning itself out.”

  She nodded and turned her head toward Sorrell. “Did you hear that?” she said without moving her lips.

  Sorrell gave a slight nod and chose a piece of pie from the feast in front of them. She took up a fork and idly picked at the crust, placing a small piece in her mouth. Scylla tapped her fingers to the musicians’ lively tune and stared at the opposite wall. Maris’s wall hangings… they definitely had to go. Perhaps Minda could have her weavers design a new set that did not remind Scylla of her stepmother every time she looked at them.

  She yawned, covering her mouth with her fingers as the musicians ended their latest number.

  Woliff had returned, it seemed, to the possibility of a sorcerer in the castle.

  “… sure there is none?” he was asking. “I and my secretary both feel a certain power… or magic.” Mangus nodded in agreement, while his narrowed gaze flicked restlessly throughout the hall.

  “A sorcerer would not be welcome here,” Mako replied. “No magic… no sorcerers. No.”

  “Perhaps it is the priests’ books we are aware of,” Woliff pressed. His head turned to the four men standing stiffly on guard behind him and Mangus. An unreadable glance passed between them. He turned back.

  “More wine, High Priest?” said Mako, beckoning again to a servant. “Try this one… it is more than excellent! Hmmm… the priests’ books. Why do you mention them? They have been burned. I was advised we should destroy them.”

  “Ah, as you say. But some of these books have a life of their own and cannot burn. Perhaps my secretary could travel to your priests’ house tomorrow to look around.”

  “I sent orders to burn the priests’ house.”

  “There may be an amulet of some kind, or books that survived,” Woliff pressed again. “As I suggested earlier, it may be best for us to take such things into our custody. In Gryor, our library is heavily guarded. Sorcerer’s magic disrupts the world, therefore, one must be careful into whose hands these things may fall.”

  “You may be right. Well, perhaps tomorrow.” Mako smothered a yawn.

  “Ah, we are keeping you up, Chancellor,” Woliff said genially. “I apologize that we neglected to send an official message to prepare you for our arrival.” He turned again to exchange glances with his men. None of them moved, other than the shifting glances around the hall and to the far corner with its open doorway.

  “My apologies! No, no… we are truly honored to receive you… a true honor for our court to host the High Priest of Gryor, the Protector himself! Allow us to carry on the great tradition of our beloved King Tobin. If he were still with us, he himself would have raised toast after toast until dawn.”

  Yes, Scylla thought cynically… had he not been betrayed and murdered ten days ago.

  Woliff laughed a little too heartily. “Perhaps not quite so late! Recall that we traveled for several days before we set foot on your docks.”

  “More wine!” Mako urged. “More wine, so we all may sleep untroubled tonight!” He topped up Woliff’s and the secretary’s glasses and picked up his own. The musicians broke into a loud and bawdy ballad, with a shouted play-act about lovers between the verses.

  Scylla exhaled slowly, sending thoughts of gratitude toward the Goddess wherever sh
e might be. She hoped her intentions could survive the smoky, stale air and the commotion… and the lurking menace of Woliff, the men behind him, and the narrow-eyed secretary.

  “Mage, my eye,” she said from the corner of her mouth. “That secretary is a sorcerer.”

  “I wonder what it is they are ‘feeling’,” Sorrell whispered back. “Some object belonging to the high priest Soler? Or the books in the vault? Or perhaps… is there truly another sorcerer among us?”

  A chill went down Scylla’s spine and she sat up straighter in her uncomfortable throne. “I cannot imagine… but if there is, may he be on our side!”

  The dinner dragged on. A new set of musicians took over and played faster, longer and louder than the first. The two lords from nearby districts, Winterbyne and DeCarrow, drew up chairs to sit in discussion at the head table. It was the most unusual dinner Scylla could recall, as so few within the hall were anything but stone cold sober. And yet the narrowed eyes watched each other, and every guard stood at the ready.

  Finally the musicians wound down, and Mako took the opportunity to raise his hand.

  “Thank you all!” his voice rose above the clamor. Voices died away to a hush. “A fine dinner with excellent entertainment! I know we all could drink more, eat more and tell more stories… but I suggest we get some sleep so we can do it all over again tomorrow!”

  “Hear, hear!” came the shouts in response.

  “High Priest Woliff! May we escort you and your men to your chambers? After our Queen Scylla retires, of course!”

  Scylla stood up promptly, although she swayed a little. Coltic stepped up promptly to offer his elbow, and she took it.

  “A magnificent feast!” she spoke up. “May everyone have a restful night!” She gave her best regal nod, and turned to leave.

  “Captain, you look a wreck,” she said quietly. “I hope you are not ill?”

  He managed his usual twinkle in return, despite his apparent exhaustion. “Not ill, Princess. I will be fine tomorrow.”

  Scylla hobbled up the steps, clinging to his arm and thankful for the leather binding supporting her ankle. Sorrell followed a pace behind, carrying Scylla’s sword in her good hand. As they passed through their own doorway a short time later, Scylla glanced over her shoulder to see Woliff and his men escorted up the grand staircase toward the guest chambers. If they thought it odd that almost every soldier in the Great Hall trailed them, they showed no signs of it… other than perhaps a cynical exchange of glances.

  But nothing was said.

  “I expect you will have guards in evidence outside these doors, Captain?” Scylla said as she sank into her chair.

  “Absolutely! Woliff and his men are effectively contained. If they leave their chambers, a troop will be waiting in the hallway and below. Our soldiers who had no sleep last night are off duty tonight, as is the chancellor. I am on guard overnight.”

  “My sympathies, Captain,” Scylla told him fervently.

  “Please be careful,” Sorrell added.

  “I am far from finished!” Coltic said with a grin. “Sleep well, ladies!” He withdrew and closed the door.

  Minda bolted it. “How did you survive the dinner?” she asked.

  “It was remarkable so much wine was passed around and so little actually drunk! A terrible waste, I’m sure,” Sorrell said.

  “I’m sure they can pop the corks back in and drink it later. Axit, the prince, and Jay are all asleep. You ladies may go to bed as well. I will keep a watch.”

  “I thank you,” said Scylla. “Truly. I don’t know how I stayed awake during dinner. I am beyond exhausted! Oh… and those wall hangings in the Great Hall… they must be removed. Perhaps we can have some others made that do not remind me of yon wicked Queen Maris!”

  Her head had barely touched her pillow before she was fast asleep. She slept all night until shortly after dawn, when she woke with a start in her darkened alcove.

  “What is that uproar in the hallway, Minda?”

  “Shhh, I am listening!” Minda’s voice called softly.

  Scylla sat up, yawning and blinking. Was some looming disaster about to strike? The commotion of loud voices and stomping feet continued, although muffled by the heavy door and stone walls. Finally, the noise subsided.

  “They have all gone outside,” Minda called. She left the door and came to pull the curtain back from Scylla’s alcove. “A fisherman sent news that Woliff’s boat has drifted out to the delta and there are no sailors on board. Two of the Guard have gone to the docks and confirmed that this is so. Woliff and his men want to know why, how, and why they were not immediately informed. Mako asks where Woliff’s sailors are and how many there were. Woliff says three. Mako says the fishermen saw more than three. I could not hear more than that… they are now escorting Woliff and his men to the docks.”

  “All his men?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Hmmm!” Scylla yawned. “I will get up. Perhaps I will go down to the docks myself.”

  “Perhaps you should not, Princess—until we hear from Mako or the captain.”

  “You should not,” Sorrel’s voice called from her bed across the room. “Recall that the secretary may be a sorcerer!”

  “Woliff and his secretary claim to be mages—their interest is the study of magic—but say they do not have an inborn talent for it as a sorcerer would. They also say they feel a sorcerer is present in the castle, or perhaps an amulet of some sort,” Scylla told Minda. “What do you think of that?”

  “I am not sure what to think. I am sorry our trellet left us, as we could have consulted with him.”

  There was a groan from Sorrell as she got up from her bed. “How long must I suffer with these broken ribs?” she muttered testily. “I hope whatever is present in the castle intends goodwill, whatever it calls itself… amulet, mage or sorcerer!”

  “I confess I did not know there are different types of magicians,” Minda said.

  “I did not know there were magicians at all! Perhaps the priests’ books can shed some light on the question.”

  “Dear Goddess!” A wail announced Jay’s arrival, pulling on his tunic as he stumbled out of the bedchamber where he had spent the night. “Mistress Minda, may I take the pony home now?”

  “Eat some breakfast first. Sorcerers or none, the kitchen will soon send up enough food for all of us. Also, I expect the chancellor or Coltic will be here with a report this morning.”

  “Yes… what exactly occurred last night in the village?” Scylla said, sitting up in her alcove and looking around for her ankle binding. “The captain hinted at something. I cannot wait to hear!”

  “Your boat has lodged itself on a sandbar,” said Mako. “As I told you, the fishermen say it is abandoned.”

  The rising sun illuminated the delta with a golden glow and spread long shadows on the reeds, the water, and the distant boat that had floated away with the current.

  Beside Mako on the dock stood Woliff and his secretary, with his so-called manservant and three soldiers behind them. Their faces seemed as if they were carved from stone—thunderous but still. They stared at the boat on the sandbar.

  “May I ask… how many sailors were on the boat and where are they?”

  “Three,” Woliff said.

  “Plus the cabin boy,” his secretary added quickly.

  “Four,” said Woliff. He turned his head toward Mako. “I ask again… why is the boat adrift? And why was I not informed immediately?”

  “As I said, the fishermen informed the castle guards at the gate, and they sent two soldiers to confirm. When they saw it was as the fishermen reported, they returned to their captain, who informed me.”

  “And…” said Woliff slowly. “Where are my sailors?”

  Woliff and Mako exchanged level glances, cold and hard. They were about the same height, while Woliff was heavier and more than a decade older. “I would ask the same question… where are your sailors?” Mako said.

  “I smell smoke,�
�� Woliff observed with little expression, as a light breeze wafted off the delta. “Why do I smell smoke?”

  “I suggest you and I go out in a boat and look at the situation.”

  “My men will accompany me.”

  “The boats are not large enough for both your men and mine. You and your men go out in one boat—I and my men will go in another.” He raised his voice. “Is there a fisherman who will take High Priest Woliff and his men out to the boat?”

  “I will take you and yours, Chancellor,” volunteered a fisherman who stood with several others some distance away, their expressions carefully blank.

  “Is there someone who will take the High Priest?”

  There was a moment of hesitation as the fishermen muttered among themselves. Then a stocky older man with salt and pepper hair responded with a sharp nod. “I will.”

  Some time later, the fishermen rowed their boats down the river toward the Gryor boat. Crowded into one were Woliff and his five men. In another were Mako and three guards, and in a third were four others.

  “I see smoke and a burned section of reeds,” Mako called to Woliff across the water. “It appears the marsh was on fire, beyond your boat. Probably the rain during the night has doused it.”

  “How would the marsh catch on fire?” Woliff enquired, swatting irritably at a swarm of insects.

  Mako shrugged. “Perhaps lightning? It happens occasionally. The delta is very large, as you see. It stretches for miles in all directions.”

  “I do not recall hearing a thunderstorm last night.”

  “I doubt anyone inside the Great Hall would hear it, considering the music and the noise. What is that beyond the island?”

  They floated nearer to the silent, stranded boat, while everyone’s attention suddenly focused beyond it.

  “Good Goddess!” Mako exclaimed incredulously. “Is that another boat?” The sun had risen high enough for its rays to strike upon a blackened hull. Tendrils of smoke trailed lazily from ashes on the island, and also from the remains of the boat. The trees and shrubs on the small piece of solid ground were mere sticks, as the fire had burned off most of the vegetation.