“Tell us what you feel,” she said, pointing the wand at Carrington. His eyes went wide, but before he could step aside, Willow turned the ivory cuff. Immediately the disc turned a bright, glowing purple. Carrington gasped.
“What did you do?” he exclaimed, shaking his hand as if it pained him.
“This wand removes source from anything containing it,” Willow said. “The intersections of lines of power—and Ascendants.” It would remove source from anyone with inherent magic, Ascendant or not, but Willow wasn’t about to give up her secret.
“What did you feel?” Lady Heath asked Carrington.
“As if someone else were dowsing from that source, but at ten times the speed of a normal dowser.” Carrington still had his eyes on Willow. “How is that possible?”
“I’m sure you know who Serjian Kerish is. Terence Valant’s former dowser?” Carrington’s eyes flicked to Kerish. “In Eskandel they’re developing a new way to use source. It’s called Devisery, and Kerish will be happy to explain it to you and any other dowsers who live here.” For the first time it occurred to Willow to wonder why, if Lady Heath didn’t have any Ascendants in her County—and it certainly sounded like she wasn’t welcoming of them—she had a dowser in her train. Something to ask later, once they had Lady Heath’s true loyalty.
“Remove the source, and they can’t wield magic,” Lady Heath mused. “But you’re only one woman.”
“We have over a hundred wands and people who are trained to use them. Lady Heath, we did not come to Tremontane unprepared.”
“I see.” Lady Heath’s attention remained on the place where the source was, not that she could see it. Then she let out a deep breath, the sound of someone profoundly relieved to lay down a great burden. “Your Majesty, my people are yours to command. Will you join me in Huddersfield Manor? I would be honored to host you and your followers.”
Willow examined her closely. She didn’t look like someone who intended treachery; she looked sincerely pleased. She could be trusted—for now. Be wary. It’s still a long road ahead of us.
***
They made an interesting procession, driving through the middle of Rannis. Willow had put up the Valant banner despite her reservations about what people might think. Felix was the true King, after all, and more deserving to fly the black and red colors than Terence. She also pulled two of Rafferty’s insurgents out of the line of march, dressed them in Valant colors and put them on horses to ride immediately ahead of the wagon, shouting Felix’s name and rank.
“My people are sworn to serve the King,” Rafferty had said with a grin, “but I’m not sure they anticipated this kind of service.”
“It’s that or we look like we’re afraid to announce his presence,” Willow had countered.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m saying Bess and Rosie never expected to be royal heralds.”
“If they do it well, Felix might give them a permanent job.”
Bess and Rosie were doing a wonderful job as far as Willow was concerned, belting out “Make way for King Felix Valant! Long live the King of Tremontane!” as if they’d been born to it. Willow glanced over her shoulder at Felix, who sat on a bale of hay to raise him up where he was visible and waved at the curious crowds.
“They’re not cheering,” Willow murmured to Kerish.
“I think most of them don’t understand what’s going on,” he replied. “We need to start spreading the word that Felix has returned.”
“Lovely. One more thing to put on the list.”
“Let me take care of it. You worry about getting information out of Lady Heath.”
The crowds were growing thicker, and Willow heard a few cheers. “Maybe some of these people will spread the word for us.”
Ahead, Huddersfield Manor dominated the skyline. It took up two city blocks’ worth of space in the middle of Rannis, built in the style of a hundred years previous: tall, skinny towers at all four corners, vaulted arches supporting the roof, stained glass windows in leaded frames. Willow assessed its construction, the wear on the granite blocks it was built from, and concluded this was a carefully constructed illusion. It couldn’t be more than ten years old. “Did you have a reason for moving your residence, my lady?” she asked Lady Heath, who was riding beside her, behind the Huddersfield standard bearer.
“What makes you think I moved?”
Did she sound defensive, or curious? “The construction of your manor is recent, and the street is newly paved—within the last five years. You built a new manor—I was just wondering why.”
Lady Heath gave her an appraising look. “The old Huddersfield Manor burned down eleven years ago, and it was less expensive and more central to build in Rannis. Are you a connoisseur of architecture?”
Only the bits you can climb on. “I have an interest, yes.”
“And yet I’ve never heard of you. What is your sign and shield?”
Willow’s hands on the reins of the wagon went numb. “Oh,” she said.
“Lady North chooses not to raise her standard while she is Felix’s guardian,” Kerish said. “To avoid any confusion.”
“But you must have one. Have I seen it before?”
Willow’s thoughts tumbled about like dust devils, whirling to and fro without stopping to present her with any reasonable response. “I,” she began.
“The North sign and shield is dark blue and silver, with najabedhi rampant,” Kerish said.
Lady Heath turned her appraising look on Kerish. “What is…what you said?”
“Najabedhi is a jungle predator found in Eskandel. It symbolizes defense. Protectiveness. The North family is sworn to protect the King against all comers.”
Willow kept her mouth shut. Kerish was a much better liar than she’d thought. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie.
“I see,” said Lady Heath. She didn’t sound completely convinced. But she shrugged, and said, “Excuse me,” and moved a little faster until she was riding at the head of their procession.
“When did you come up with that?” Willow demanded.
“It was meant to be a surprise. I thought, so long as you’re a noble house now, you should have a sign and shield. Do you like it?”
“Like it? Kerish, I’m not—” She lowered her voice. “I’m not actually noble.”
“You are as far as these lords are concerned. I had a coat sewn for you and everything.”
“Kerish is right. You’re my guardian, and they will treat you better if you’re noble. And the King is allowed to make someone a Lady. Besides, you like najabedhi!” Felix pulled himself up on the seat so his feet were dangling again.
Willow sighed. “You’re right. Both of you. Kerish…thank you. You may have saved me.”
“I live to serve, my lady,” Kerish said with a grin.
A wall of pinkish-yellow stone surrounded the manor, and Heath led them toward the arched gate, where the chilly iron bars stood wide to receive them. Willow suppressed a shiver as she drove the wagon through the gate and into a wide, shady courtyard with paving stones that were already cracked from use. Windowed stone walls rose up around them, three and sometimes four stories high, half of them catching the sunlight and the others in shadow.
Willow drove the wagon across the courtyard, following Lady Heath, who dismounted and handed her reins to a stable hand. Willow stopped near the Countess and bunched up the reins in her hands, looking around for someone to hand them off to.
“Travers,” the Countess called out, and a wiry old woman, sinewy and lean, limped over to Lady Heath’s side. “Take Lady North’s wagon and see to her horses. Travers is the stable mistress,” she told Willow. “She’ll make sure everything’s cared for properly. Please come with me, your Majesty, Lady North, and I’ll show the King to his chambers.”
“Won’t I stay with Willow?”
“If you want,” Willow said, saying goodbye to the room with a lock on the door. She certainly couldn’t let him sleep alone in this strange place.
“I can guarantee your Majesty’s safety, if that’s what concerns you,” Lady Heath said.
“I don’t like being alone.”
“Suppose I share your quarters?” Gianesh took Felix’s hand. “Then Ernest will have Maresh as a companion.”
Felix’s face brightened. “All right.”
The Countess looked as if she wanted to know who the strange Eskandelic man in the King’s retinue was, but was too polite to pry. She led them across the courtyard and into a dark hall whose walls were hung with tapestries. It was too dim to make out the details, but they seemed related to hunting. “The work of former Consorts,” Lady Heath said when she noticed Willow’s interest. “They were saved from the fire. Most of the west wing of the old manor escaped the flames, but you’ll see that much of the furnishings here are new.”
They went up a flight of stairs broad enough for Willow, Kerish, Felix, Gianesh, Lady Heath, and two of her four escorts to walk side by side. Soft crimson carpeting held in place by brass stair rods covered the steps, and Willow tried to tread lightly, conscious that her shoes hadn’t been cleaned in over two weeks. She was probably tracking red dust everywhere she trod. The delicate scent of freesias in tall vases came from everywhere at once, their white and lavender blossoms softening the angles of the walls and floor. It made the imposing manor seem more friendly, less alien to eyes accustomed to the soft opulence of the Serjian estates.
On the third floor, Lady Heath turned right and led the way down a hallway lined with doors painted white to match the walls. Little pedestals bearing statuettes of young women wearing not much clothing stood between the doors. They might be worth something to the right collector, but they were too heavy to justify the effort. Not that Willow was interested in stealing from Huddersfield Manor. That was all in the past. But she couldn’t help thinking about it.
Lady Heath stopped at one of the doors and held it open. “Your suite, your Majesty.”
Willow followed Felix into the room, which was an ornate sitting room with couches and tables burning with traceries of gilt. Tall windows looked out over the courtyard, not the wall, thank heaven, and one of them stood ajar, letting in a warm breeze.
Felix had already gone to the next room. “The bed is really big, Willow,” he called out.
“Thank you,” Willow said to Lady Heath.
“I will have someone bring a bed for his Majesty’s attendant.”
“You have a problem with that?” Heath’s tone had been too casual.
“I have pledged myself and my people to his Majesty. If that’s not good enough—”
“His Majesty has survived several assassination attempts,” Willow said. “And he’s an eight-year-old boy. He doesn’t like sleeping where there’s no one to help him if he screams. It’s not a reflection on you.”
“Assassination?”
“Terence Valant really doesn’t want Felix to return to Tremontane. I doubt those will be the last.”
“I see.” Lady Heath’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Then I think you should have the room next to his Majesty’s. Just in case.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“I have three children who were all eight once.”
The room next to Felix’s was a suite nearly identical to his, with a different style of furniture Willow recognized only as expensive. “This will be fine for us,” she said.
“Us? I thought the young King would not sleep with you?”
“My husband and me.” Willow linked her fingers with Kerish’s.
Lady Heath’s eyes narrowed again. “You’re married to Serjian Kerish?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“Then he is Kerish North now?”
“We were married in Eskandel and haven’t had a Tremontanan ceremony. So we’re not sworn and sealed to each other. It’s…complicated.”
“I see.” Lady Heath didn’t look as though she did see, but she stopped asking questions, which relieved Willow’s mind. “I invite you and his Majesty to meet with my council before supper, which is served at seven o’clock. I apologize for not being able to entertain you in the manner you’re accustomed to, your Majesty.”
“Thank you for your welcome,” Felix said. “Where will the others stay?”
“My housekeeper will see to the rest of your party. Are you certain you wish your troops to camp outside the city? I’m sure we could find an inn—”
“That’s all right,” Willow said quickly. The last thing they needed was to bring a couple hundred Eskandelic soldiers and she had no idea how many peasant insurgents into Rannis, setting them loose to cause trouble out of boredom or ignorance. “We don’t want to disrupt the city. And their tents are very comfortable.”
“Then I will see you at supper.” Lady Heath bowed and returned the way they’d come.
“I think you should have a bath, Felix,” Gianesh said, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We should all bathe.” He winked at Willow, who blushed. Could everyone see what had been on her mind since Lady Heath had shown her the suite?
“Come along, Willow, and I’ll…scrub your back,” said Kerish, with the same mischievous look Gianesh had. Willow let him take her hand and drag her into the suite’s bathroom. Behind her, the suite’s door shut with a definitive click.
Chapter Three
“You look beautiful,” Kerish whispered in Willow’s ear. “This gown suits you.”
“I’m glad, because it’s the only one I have.” Willow turned around to face Kerish, who’d just finished doing up the back of her dress. It was Tremontanan in style rather than Eskandelic, with a full skirt of three layers of silk and a stiff bodice that pushed her breasts up high. It was dark blue and silver—“Aren’t these the colors you told Lady Heath were North colors?”
“The dress gave me the idea. That, and how much you liked your Eskandelic robe and trousers.” Kerish flung open their trunk and rummaged through its contents, managing not to disturb the folds of their clothing. “Here. Your own formal coat.”
Willow brushed her fingers across the night-blue satin heavily embroidered with silver-colored thread—not real silver, thank heaven—and trimmed with silver ribbon. “It looks so…official. How did you manage that?”
“An expatriate who loves a challenge. I think she was a forger, by how interested she was in making it look exactly like a noble’s court dress.”
“But when do you suppose I’ll wear it?”
“When we crown Felix…” Kerish’s voice trailed off as he remembered that if they were successful, Felix would never wear the Crown of Tremontane. “Um. Maybe I wasn’t thinking so clearly.”
“No, it’s perfect.” Willow folded the coat and laid it back in the trunk. “And yet you’re not wearing North blue.”
“I put all my efforts into producing your noble wardrobe and forgot about mine.” Kerish straightened his formal tunic, full-sleeved and falling to mid-thigh. “But I’m not invited to this meeting, so it hardly matters. Even so—”
“Best not to talk about it,” Willow said. She’d already checked the room for signs that someone could listen in, and found nothing, but Felix’s future was important enough not to take any chances. “Let’s see if he’s ready.”
Felix was sitting quietly in a chair, making Ernest sit and then lie down. He wore a smaller version of Kerish’s tunic and hose, but in Valant colors, black and red. His short golden hair gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the window. “Is it time?”
“Will Ernest be well-behaved if he waits here for you? Because I don’t think Lady Heath wants dogs at this meeting.”
“Maresh and Ernest will be company for one another,” Gianesh said, emerging from the bathroom. He wore a violet Eskandelic robe and trousers shot with real silver threads, but had left off the headwrap that would normally go with those clothes. “Though I think Lady Heath is uncertain as to my role in Felix’s company. I believe she thinks an Eskandelic is not suited to be a Tremontanan’s tutor.”
“You’re a valued member of King Felix’s retinue, Gianesh. She’s not going to make a fuss if we assume you have a right to be here. Which you do.”
Gianesh shrugged, a gesture so typically Eskandelic it transported Willow back to the Serjian Residence. “I bow to your experience.”
As if I’m not just making it all up as I go.
A knock at the door preceded the entrance of a young man liveried in the Huddersfield colors, pale green and lavender, too delicate to take seriously. “Please allow me to escort your Majesty to the Countess’s council chamber.”
Willow took up a position behind Felix, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that she was poised to intercept an attack aimed at the boy. She wanted to tread the fine line between protecting Felix and not implying they didn’t trust the Countess. You don’t trust her yet, Willow’s inner voice said, and you’re not stupid. On the other hand, too much paranoia about the Countess’s trustworthiness could lead to losing her support entirely, and that would be stupid. She would give the Countess the benefit of the doubt. And continue to go armed. The beautiful gown had the same full sleeves as Kerish’s tunic, hiding her knife easily.
The liveried page led them at a measured pace down halls that Willow examined narrowly, assessing their contents the way any thief would, though of course she had no intention of stealing from Lady Heath. There wasn’t anything portable, anyway: mostly portraits of people she didn’t recognize, possibly by famous painters. Art had never been one of her specialties as a midnighter. The walls were plastered and painted in the same antique style the manor had been built in, a base coat of plum with white scrollwork along the moldings. It looked old, and smelled new. It was one of the odder houses Willow had ever been in.
Ahead, the corridor came to an end in an arched doorway flanked by white marble pillars, and their guide stopped just past it and said, in a clear, carrying voice, “His Majesty, King Felix of Tremontane.”
Felix came to an abrupt halt, and Willow bumped into him and had to steady herself against his shoulder. “Keep walking,” she said, but almost wanted to flee herself. More portraits lined the walls, men and women looking sternly across at one another like children engaged in a staring contest. A single long table filled the long, narrow room, and a dozen men and women stood surrounding it, all watching the door like a pack of wolves—no, that was her imagination. But it wasn’t imagination that they all had their eyes on Felix.
Champion of the Crown Page 3