The Chronicles of Amberdrake

by Loren K. Jones

  Drake nodded. “Indeed she does. I’m still somewhat shocked though. She would have accepted less.”

  “She is a Lady of the Court.” Kenton smiled sadly. “Probably half of her friends are in such marriages right now. That’s how many alliances are sealed.”

  “That’s not what I would want. Not for me, and not for Mellody.”

  Kenton nodded, then led him back to the bath. “It would be unforgivably provincial of you to arrive at supper in the same clothes you wore to court.”

  Drake grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to be thought a provincial, now would I?” He laughed and threw a halo of light around himself. After a few breaths, he reappeared dressed in clothes that obviously impressed Kenton. He was, as was his preference, dressed in cloth of gold, but blue had been added as a striking highlight under his arms and on the collar of his shirt, and in stripes down the seams of his pants. The materials shimmered when he moved, throwing rippling shadows across his shoulders and chest.

  “Would this do?” he asked with a grin.

  “Oh, indeed. Indeed. I’ve never seen the likes of that cloth.” Kenton paused to survey him critically. “However, you need to…” Kenton proceeded to instruct Drake on modifying his clothes to match a more modern Vernardian fashion. This a bit wider, that not so wide. A bit longer here, a bit shorter there. Drake complied immediately with good humor. He had chosen the fashion to match some tailor-made clothes he’d owned back in the empire more than a hundred and sixty years in the past.

  There was a knock at the outer chamber door and Kenton immediately went to answer it. “Yes?”

  “You are summoned—Master Kenton, what are you doing here?” a young man asked, dropping his formal demeanor.

  “The queen asked me to see to Adept Drake, Elwin. We will depart for the dining hall immediately.”

  “Yes, Master Kenton,” the young man said, glancing beyond Kenton to catch a glimpse of the fabled Mage. Then he seemed to recover himself and bowed to Kenton before hurrying off.

  Kenton chuckled as he turned back to Drake. “He’s a good boy. One of my many apprentices. When a position opens up, I’ll recommend him.” Kenton paused for a moment and gave Drake another long, appraising look. “If you will follow me, I’ll guide you to the dining hall.”

  Drake immediately joined Kenton for the walk through the palace. It was a long walk, and Kenton provided an almost continuous monologue on the intricacies of palace etiquette. Drake listened attentively, nodding when it seemed appropriate. They finally arrived, and Kenton delivered him to a seat at the high table, reminding him not to sit or begin eating before the queen.

  Queen Rochelle Feldman of Vernardia arrived just moments later, accompanied by Mellody and ten other young nobles. They filed around the table, and Drake found himself standing directly across from Mellody, a situation that he thoroughly approved of. Once the queen had been seated, servants came forward to seat the nobles. Drake smiled as an older man held his chair. He seemed nervous, and Drake wondered if he had sought his duty, or been assigned against his will.

  Drake saw a young servant come to the queen’s side and bow, then take a seat at a low table immediately to her left. It took Drake a moment to realize that he was a food taster. He frowned deeply, but Mellody smiled.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Drake,” she said in a low voice. “No poison can get past me. They actually vie for the opportunity to sit with us.”

  Drake’s frown turned into a wry grin as he nodded. At the queen’s gesture, the servers began. A small portion was served to the food taster, and the young man ate it quickly. After a few moments, the same server served the same dish, with the same utensils, to the queen. So it went, dish after dish, as the meal progressed. Wine was served in the same way, and Drake had to endure wine with his meal rather than beer or ale.

  The meal itself took hours to complete. Drake counted thirty different dishes, and the food taster sampled each before it was served. Fortunately, Drake was allowed to skip some of them. The food taster wasn’t so lucky. Drake grinned as the boy started to look a little bloated toward the end.

  The queen rose from her seat with the help of her servants, and everyone in the room rose with her. She smiled at Mellody and nodded, then stepped away from the table and took a position where she could be seen by the entire room.

  “Adept Drake, attend us.”

  Drake immediately went to face her, going to one knee with his head bowed. “I am at your service, Your Majesty.”

  “Adept Drake, today in court we said we would consider any reward that you might ask for. Have you decided what you would wish of us?”

  Drake looked up at the queen and smiled. “I have, Your Majesty. I ask of you permission to take Lady Mellody Carstairs as my wife.”

  The queen’s lips didn’t curve, but there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes as she replied, “We happily grant your request, Adept Drake.” The assembled nobles of the kingdom sat in shocked silence for a moment, then an angry young man strode forward.

  “No! Your Majesty, this is outrageous! I have sought the hand of Lady Mellody for years, as you well know. Why would you grant her to this, this, this outlander over me?”

  The queen had fastened her eyes on the young lord as soon as he had stepped forward. “Lord Aric, you forget yourself,” she said in an icy tone.

  “I forget nothing!” Lord Aric Garthan snarled back. “For three years, I have sought Lady Mellody’s hand in marriage, and for three years I have been denied. Now you give her away to this foreigner? No! I will not accept it!”

  “You will accept it, Aric!” Mellody said loudly.

  “Never,” the young lord snarled, grabbing a carving knife from the platter next to him. He crouched and started toward Drake—and the queen. Just to be certain of her safety, Drake extended his personal shields around her as he looked down at the offended fool.

  Whatever Lord Aric would have tried to do was stopped by the sudden arrival of six very startled Queen’s Guardsmen. Startled they might have been, but they were also well trained.

  The guardsman closest to Lord Aric saw the knife and grabbed his wrist with one hand and slammed his opposite elbow into the startled lord’s nose. The next guardsman brought his pike crashing down on the young lord’s head. A third guardsman grabbed Lord Aric’s other arm and joined his compatriot in slamming the young lord face-first into the stones of the floor. All of this had taken place in less time than it took to take a breath, not that anyone was breathing.

  The queen stood frozen in place, shocked beyond comprehension. Her hand came up to her lips, and Drake noticed that she was trembling.

  Mellody stormed forward in a towering rage and Drake stared at his future bride with wide eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that mad. Glad she isn’t mad at me. “That was a surprise,” he said softly as Mellody stalked past him with her fury evident in her eyes and posture.

  Mellody ignored him. “Aric Garthan, I charge you with bearing a weapon in the presence of the queen. I charge you with threatening violence in the presence of the queen. I charge you with—”

  “That’s enough, Melly,” the queen said softly. “Bring him before us,” she commanded, and the guardsmen dragged Lord Aric to his feet. His nose was streaming blood, there was a lump on his forehead, and his eyes seemed to be slightly glazed.

  “Aric Garthan, you stand before us charged with treason. That you committed such treason here, in the presence of the full court, is not in question. That you have threatened the person of the queen is not in question. What is in question is your fitting punishment.” She paused to look around.

  “We find you guilty. It would be within the law for us to sentence you to death and strip your family of its lands for such actions, but we choose to be lenient.” She again paused, this time looking across the room into the eyes of Aric’s father before looking at Aric again. “You alone are hereby stripped of all titles and lands. You may not inherit, own, or hold land in the Kingdom of Vernard
ia. You shall reside in the Mount Royal prison for the term of twenty years. Upon your release, you shall be your family’s responsibility.”

  She stopped and looked down at her feet. Her voice was barely stronger than a whisper as she said, “It pains us to sentence you so. You were our friend in our childhood. That you have fallen so low is distressing beyond our ability to express.” She lifted her hand slightly and the guardsmen dragged Aric away.

  The queen turned away, a tear sliding unheeded down her cheek as she walked away from Drake. Mellody was instantly by her side, taking her arm and leading her out of the room. The sound of someone clearing his throat at Drake’s side drew his attention.

  “Adept Drake, please come with me,” an elderly lord said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. Drake nodded and joined the lord and several others as they left the room.

  Drake found himself surrounded by eight lords, varying in age from a man who was not much older than Drake appeared to be to an old man whose hair had long ago become as white as snow.

  The lord who had asked Drake to accompany him led the way to a small room. “Please be seated,” he said, and the lords sorted themselves out.

  Drake took a seat and looked around the room. Every eye was on him, and he found himself feeling somewhat self-conscious. “My Lords,” he finally said, nodding to the room in general.

  The eldest of the lords nodded in return. “Adept Drake, I am Buck Handy. With us are Wesley Buckhorn, Nole Falcon, Alain Cohen, Nathan Stillwell, Lonnis Courtland, Glen Hawkinson, and Parry Chapman.” Each of the lords nodded as he was introduced, and Drake made a mental note about each man. “The eight of us are the members of the Council of Lords who support the queen. We are opposed by eight other lords, including Dargan Garthan, that fool Aric’s father.”

  “That’s why that scene in the dining hall,” Lord Wesley said softly. He was the one who had invited Drake to join them. “The Carstairs vote has been absent for many years. If Aric had managed to marry Mellody, he would have swung the majority against the queen.”

  “So now I’m taking that place, and you count on me to hold the majority behind her.” Drake looked old Lord Buck in the eyes as he spoke and saw him nod. “That isn’t a surprise.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Lord Glen said softly. “Mellody is my niece, Adept Drake. It was only her mother’s wish that made her a ward of the crown and not a member of my household. She informed us of her intentions in a letter that arrived three days ago.”

  Drake felt his lips twitching, trying to smile. “I didn’t think it was a spur of the moment decision. She and the queen seem to have had everything planned except that incident with Lord Aric. What could he have been thinking?”

  The lords looked at one another and nodded. Lord Parry, the youngest of the lords, cleared his throat. “He may have been counting on Mellody to protect him from you, thereby showing her love for him.” Lord Parry looked down and shook his head. “Aric has been doggedly pursuing Mel for years, determined to make her his wife and her lands his own. We all, well, the younger lords at least, have grown thoroughly sick of him and his scheming.”

  “So now I have his father as an implacable enemy.” Drake looked around and saw nods of agreement from each of the lords. “Lovely.”

  “Don’t let it concern you too much, Adept Drake,” Lord Wesley said with a chuckle. “Half the lords in the court are the implacable enemies of the other half. Keeps things lively.”

  Now Drake saw an opportunity to ask a question that he had not considered before. “But I am not a lord, my Lord. How is it that I’ll be included?”

  The lords looked at one another briefly and shrugged. Lord Glen explained, “A woman who marries a lord becomes a lady. You marry a lady, you become a lord. It isn’t that hard.”

  “Oh.” Drake looked perplexed for a moment, then shrugged. “Not how it’s done back home, but it’ll do.”

  Lord Buck nodded. “After the wedding, Mellody will invest you with the title due her husband, as is her right.”

  Lord Nole added his nod of agreement. “Then you will be able to join us as an equal.”

  “And cast your vote as Lord Carstairs,” Lord Lonnis said softly.

  That caused Drake to raise his hand slightly. “Carstairs? Not Standralson?”

  The lords looked at one another. “I take it they didn’t tell you about that little wrinkle in their plan,” Lord Nathan said softly. “Figures. Women are used to giving up their family names when they get married, so I doubt either of them even thought about it.” He paused to look at his peers. “Adept Drake, the titles to Vernardian lands belong to the seventeen ruling families, and must remain in those families. Even if Mel married Aric, he would have become Lord Carstairs. You will have to become Lord Adept Drake Carstairs when you marry her.”

  Drake considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess I can live with that.”

  Lord Glen chuckled and nodded. “You don’t have much of a choice.”

  Lord Buck looked at Drake and nodded once again. “How familiar are you with the duties of a lord, Adept Drake?”

  Now Drake had to pause and think. “Not very, I’m afraid.”

  “So we surmised,” Lord Nathan said. “In the months to come, the eight of us, with some help from the queen and Mellody, are going to have to teach you what your duties will be. It isn’t the easiest job in the world.”

  “To that end,” Lord Wesley continued, “we would like you sit in with us in the Council of Lords as our guest. You won’t have a voice or vote in the discussions, but you should be able to get a feel for what we actually do. Besides scream and call each other names, that is,” he added with a wry grin.

  * * *

  Another, less friendly meeting was taking place at the same time. Lord Dargan Garthan sat in stunned silence as his compatriots raged around him.

  “Did you see what they did? How they manipulated the situation?” Lord Hewett Bergan shouted, striding around the room in impotent fury.

  “We saw, Hewett,” Lord Emmett Thorndike said softly, his own anger manifesting itself only in his clenched fists. “It was obviously a ploy. Our people with the army have been watching them closely. There’s been no personal contact between Adept Mellody and Adept Drake. This is simply an arranged marriage, nothing more. The only question I have is, who is arranging what?”

  “What do you mean?” Lord Hewett demanded angrily. “That bitch and her pet Mage arranged this to put this Adept Drake and the Carstairs vote firmly behind her.”

  “Did she?” Lord Emmett asked softly. “How do we know? Could it be that Adept Drake is behind this? Is he her pawn, or is she, our Queen, his pawn?” He paused as the others considered his question. “Is there any doubt that Adept Drake is powerful enough to manipulate this situation for his own gains?”

  “No, there’s no doubt,” Lord Dargan said softly. “Not in the least. He’s powerful enough, and a man with that much power must be ambitious. But the queen and Mellody are schemers of long standing. It could be that they are each under the impression that they are manipulating the other.” He stood and walked woodenly to the window. “Mellody has been refusing Aric for a long time. Too long to leave any doubt why. But in Adept Drake she has a man who will give her what she wants.” He turned back to the room with a bleak expression on his face. “Adept Drake has been heard to say many times that he is here on holiday. That he is not staying.”

  “A disposable husband,” Lord Emmett said softly.

  Lord Dargan nodded. “In a year she will bear his child. A boy, no doubt. Then he will go home, leaving her as the boy’s sole guardian. And, as such, she will have control of his vote in the Council of Lords as well as her own vote in the Council of Ladies. We must not underestimate the ambition of Lady Mellody in this.”

  Lord Emmett nodded. “And we must not allow it to happen.”

  Chapter 7

  THE PORT CITY OF BRESARD, CAPITOL of Bresardia, sat under the tropical sun of a fine summer’s d
ay. Located on Bresardia’s southern shore, Bresard was built in the remains of a long-extinct volcano that provided an almost circular deep-water port. The outer part of the harbor was formed by two spits of land called the Arms of Bresard. The Arms almost touched at the tips, leaving only a narrow passage between the harbor and the Bresardian Channel.

  Inside the crater was a bustling city that had been built on terraces carved into the rock and soil of the crater’s sides. Strong wood and stone piers jutted into the harbor on all sides to accommodate the sailing fleets of the trading houses that made Bresardia their home.

  The castle of the Kings of Bresardia sat poised on the cliff face directly opposite the harbor opening so it was the first thing that ships saw as they entered the harbor. It was an impressive sight. The castle had been carved from the living rock of the cliff rather than built of dressed stone like most of the city. It had an unobstructed view out of the harbor, and on a clear day such as this, the high basalt cliffs of the Vernardian Mainland were easily seen.

  King Malcom strode forcefully across his private drawing room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. General Flavian Boatwright knelt on the Bresardian crest that was inlaid in the floor with his head bowed, awaiting his king’s displeasure.

  “You failed us,” the king growled, not looking at the general.

  General Boatwright kept his eyes on the floor as he answered. “Your Majesty, we were overmatched. Our Magi could not hold against this new Mage the Vernardians have hired. We had the choice of withdrawing or being destroyed.”

  “Our sources in Mount Royal report that he was just a wanderer. A vagabond Mage who was passing by. He wasn’t even a part of their army when you cravenly abandoned our cause and ran for the border. We should behead you ourselves—” the king began, but a spectral voice whispered through the room.

  -{No,}- the voice said, silencing the king and freezing him in his tracks. -{It is never wisdom to waste resources. The general has served well and faithfully for many years.}- The voice was like a dry wind rattling through drought-blighted bushes. King Malcom turned to face the north wall of the room. There, reclining on a dais covered with furs, lay the speaker. Slit-pupil eyes narrowed as the king stared.