The main foyer opened on the hallway Willow remembered from the previous night. Another suit of armor, this one gleaming with a golden wash, stood sentry at the intersection. Stairs wide enough to allow six people to walk up them, arms linked, lay opposite the door. Unlike the servants’ stairs, these were well-polished oak stained a deep red that coordinated with the walls. Willow made for them immediately.
“Stop right there!” a man said. Willow turned to see another group of soldiers, smaller than the one outside, approaching down the wide central hallway. It was led by a black-haired man with very pale skin who wore no rank insignia.
The man came to a stop about twenty feet from the door. The soldiers in a double column behind him stopped more randomly, like drunks missing their step. “Who are you, and why are you trespassing on Silverfield territory?”
“It’s you who are trespassing,” Willow said, pushing past the insurgents to stand at the front of the group. “Lord Frazier did not invite you here. You’ve violated every principle of hospitality in taking over the manor, imprisoning the Lord’s family, and forcing Lord Frazier to reject the overtures of the true King.”
The man sputtered. “Why—you—” he said when he finally regained control of himself. “How dare you!”
“You’re not in charge,” Willow said. “I think you might be a sergeant—am I right? Never mind. The point is, your captain is either dead or a prisoner, all but one of your Ascendant overlords is dead, and we’ve cut off the last leg you had to stand on. Surrender now, lay down your arms, and I’ll give you the chance to swear to the true King.”
“Don’t do it,” said a man from above Willow’s head. Willow looked up at the second flight of stairs, at the man descending them toward her. He was elderly, with graying brown hair rucked up on one side, and his olive skin shone weakly in the light from the blue traceries up and down his arms. “She won’t deal fairly with you.”
“You can sense lies,” Willow said. “Lord…Smythe, I think.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Lord Smythe, I’ll give you the same deal I gave these men. Swear fealty to King Felix, and you live. Fight us, and you get no such promise.”
The blue lights burned brighter. “You lie.”
“You know I don’t. One chance.” Could the Ascendant sense her sweaty palms, the way her heart beat faster?
“My lord…” the sergeant said, then let his voice trail off into uncertainty.
“I’m thinking.” Lord Smythe descended the stairs, one hand resting on the railing for balance. “You’re unarmed. And injured.”
Willow let her knife fall into her left hand, provoking an exclamation from the sergeant. “We’re not soldiers. That doesn’t make us helpless. What’s your answer?”
Behind her, someone took a step forward. “Don’t,” Willow said, though she had no idea who it was or what they had in mind. She locked eyes with Lord Smythe, daring the man to take what was offered him.
Lord Smythe’s eyes were dark, dark brown, so dark as to be almost black. He gazed at Willow unflinchingly. “Very well,” he said, and the sergeant let out a whimper. “Stand down.”
“My lord—”
“The bitch is dead. She has no more power here. I order you to stand down.”
The sergeant made a little gesture, and the soldiers lowered their weapons, though they remained as tense as if they were facing an army. “Drop your swords,” Willow said, “and…line up against the wall.”
“We’re giving our parole,” the sergeant said.
“Yes, and part of that is giving up your weapons until I’m satisfied you’re not a threat.” Willow sheathed her knife. “Do it. Now.”
A series of thumps rang out as swords hit the carpet running the center of the hall. “Face the wall, please. Lord Smythe, hold still.” Willow gestured to three of the insurgents, who aimed their wands at the Ascendant. Lord Smythe’s eyes went wide as the silver and copper discs turned a bright, glowing blue.
“What did you do to me?” he whispered, putting a hand to his chest as if he were having palpitations.
“Removed your source. You may only have sensory powers, but I’m not taking chances. Face the wall, please.”
Willow crossed the hall back to the door. The pounding had stopped, and it was eerily silent. She felt a lot of swords nearby, bright silver streaks that were mostly stationary, and in the distance the harness and tack of horses. She tried to lift the bar and couldn’t manage it one-handed, so she gestured to the insurgents and had two of them manhandle it back into place. Then she unbolted the door and peeked outside.
The battle was over. Men lay everywhere, sprawled in the indignity of death. Most of them wore black and red, but there were some in gray and a couple dressed in ordinary clothes. Some distance away, horses milled around a handful of men in Valant colors who were clearly captives. Willow threw the door open and found a body lying just outside the threshold. She tried not to gag at the sight and shoved, gradually moving it away.
“Willow!” Kerish ran toward her. “Are you all right?”
“We have some more prisoners. I need someone to take charge of them. And another Ascendant for the collection.”
Kerish chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course you do. Where’s Lord Frazier?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t make it past the stairs.”
“Go find out. I’ll take care of your prisoners.”
Willow ran back inside and up the stairs to the third floor. There were no guards at Lord Frazier’s door, but she knocked carefully all the same. “Lord Frazier?” she said, trying the latch. The door was locked. She knocked more firmly. “Lord Frazier, it’s Willow North. Are you all right?” Why had she left her lock picks in camp? Because you don’t bring lock picks to a sword fight.
She’d begun casting about for something she could use to pick the lock when the door swung open and Lord Frazier’s large figure appeared. How did he have the key? “Back again?” he said.
“You’re free to leave, my lord. The Ascendants are either dead or surrendered.”
“And my family?”
“Safe in our camp. We’ll bring them back, or you can come with us.”
“Why would I come with you?”
“There’s still the matter of swearing fealty to King Felix.”
Lord Frazier laughed, a booming, amused sound. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“Felix is the King, my lord. And I think you no longer have the luxury of supporting neither side.”
The smile fell away from his face. “You want me to come out in open rebellion against my King.”
“Is that what he is? The man who murdered his way to the Crown and tried to have his nephew killed to cement his claim to it? The man who sent thugs to terrorize you in your own home? That’s the man you call your King? Lord Frazier, I don’t know you, but I can’t imagine you’re that craven.”
“Nobody—” Lord Frazier roared, then half-turned away, regaining control. “I’m no craven,” he finally said. “And I can see the truth when it’s handed me on a silver platter. I’ll swear to young Felix, Lady North. How can I serve my King?”
Chapter Eleven
“I wonder what Terence was thinking, sending Ascendants and troops to force Lord Frazier to do his will,” Willow said. She and Kerish were watching the Fraziers reunite, from a discreet distance. The camp was bustling with soldiers marching prisoners back and forth from the manor and the insurgents who’d killed the Ascendants telling the story to anyone who’d listen. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Too bad Kent is dead and can’t answer that question. Maybe Lord Smythe knows.” Kerish put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “I’m concerned about Rafferty.”
“What about him?”
“He looked unusually grim when we brought the Ascendant back to camp. I think he might try something.”
“Like what? You mean, attack them?”
“Or something. I don’t kn
ow. I’m probably reading too much into his behavior. He hasn’t approached Lady Godfrey the whole time she’s been with us.”
“He knows we need the information she can give us. He’s not stupid.”
“No.” Kerish released her. “And speaking of information, we should talk to Lord Smythe. I’d like to know what Terence intended.”
They strolled through the camp, ignored by the rushing people, until they reached the guarded tent near its center. It was almost identical to the command tent, down to the guards stationed at its entrance. Soltighan had insisted they keep Lady Godfrey, and now Lord Smythe, where they couldn’t easily escape. Willow didn’t think Lady Godfrey would try it. She was increasingly certain the woman meant it when she said she would follow Felix. But trusting an Ascendant went against her nature, so she’d let Soltighan have his way.
The guards at the tent door didn’t challenge her or Kerish, which might be bad security, but Willow liked being able to move freely within the camp, and if that meant the soldiers knew her face and trusted her, that was fine by her. She pushed the heavy flap aside and entered. The tent’s interior smelled musty, as if it were infrequently aired—well, that was probably true. Two more guards waited inside, standing stolidly near the back of the tent. Willow waved them out. Soltighan wasn’t taking any chances, but she hated having them hover over her when she came for questioning.
Lady Godfrey lay on a camp bed with her arm over her eyes and both her knees drawn up. Willow didn’t think she was asleep. Lord Smythe paced a slow, tight circle that the departing guards had to step wide around. “When will you give me back my source? I feel deaf and numb. It’s like being partly dead.”
Willow knew exactly how it felt. “When you’ve proven yourself faithful to King Felix. When we’re sure you won’t use your power against us.”
Lord Smythe laughed bitterly. “What could I do to you? I have no offensive magic. If anything, I could help his Majesty—I can hear lies when they’re spoken to me, I can find people and things. I can tell when someone has a concealed weapon.”
“Forgive me if I don’t trust your sudden change of heart.”
“Gillian Kent is dead. I’m grateful for it. The things she planned…”
“What things?”
“The murder of Lord Frazier, eventually. The King—that is, Lord Valant promised her the barony if she did as she was told. She concluded that day would come more quickly if Lord Frazier weren’t in the way. It was just a matter of the details.”
“And what did Lord Valant tell her to do?”
“Something evil, no doubt,” Lady Godfrey said without removing her arm. “It would not be the first time Terence Valant used Gillian to do his dirty work.”
“Why wasn’t she Lady Kent?” Kerish asked.
“She came up from the streets. Lord Valant as Eminence dangled that carrot in front of her for years, promising her nobility if she did just one more thing, then another, then another… I think she might have been in love with him, if she was capable of love. That was the one thing she never did—murmur against Lord Valant.”
“So would he have given her the barony? Made her a Lady?”
Lady Godfrey shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Had she killed Lord Frazier at his order, he might have needed a scapegoat to appease the masses,” Lord Smythe said. “Someone who would allow him to distance himself from the murder of a Baron.” He stopped pacing and turned to Willow. “We—the other Ascendants—were simply her pawns, sent to enforce her commands. But we would not have condoned killing the Fraziers.”
“You’d have stood by while it happened, though,” Willow said.
Lord Smythe looked away. “What could we do against her? Her power was greater than ours.”
Willow could think of a number of things they could have done, starting with smothering Kent in her sleep, but if Lord Smythe was representative of the Ascendants who’d come with Kent, it was unlikely they were capable of cold-blooded murder. She wasn’t totally sure she could bring herself to do it, either, so maybe she shouldn’t be quick to judge. “I don’t expect anything better of you. It’s how you Ascendants are, isn’t it? Everything’s about your own survival.”
“There’s nothing wrong with fighting for precedence,” Lord Smythe said. “And it’s not as if you’re an Ascendant. You have no idea what it’s like.”
“And I don’t care.” Willow looked from one Ascendant to the other. Lady Godfrey still hadn’t moved. Lord Smythe’s fists were clenched, though he didn’t look particularly angry. “Lady Godfrey, are you ill?”
“Just a headache. I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Caring is the wrong word. Interested in your continued well-being as servants of King Felix, maybe. I’ll have the physicker come to you.”
“No need. It will pass soon enough.”
“What can you tell us about Ter—Lord Valant’s plans, Lord Smythe?” Kerish said.
“Not much. I know Silverfield is not the only place he sent Ascendants. He has the allegiance of the Countess of Cullinan and the Count of Harroden. I don’t know about the northern baronies. Lord Quinn is fighting Lord Valant’s troops around Kingsport and throughout County Waxwold. The last I heard, before we came to Magrette, was that he was holding his own.”
“And Aurilien?”
“What about Aurilien?”
“Is the capital defended?”
“The army is there. So far he hasn’t needed to send it out to subdue anyone. There are a lot of Ascendants in County Waxwold. We’re better than an army.”
Kerish nodded. Willow wasn’t sure why this was significant, but she put on what she hoped was a knowing expression and said, “Thank you for your cooperation.”
“You could show your appreciation by not having soldiers accompany us to the privy tent,” Lady Godfrey said.
“You’re not going to roam free through this camp, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Willow glanced at Kerish. “But we can arrange for it to be a woman who goes with you, Lady Godfrey.”
“And the guards inside the tent? Surely they’re not necessary?” Lord Smythe said.
“I’ll decide what’s necessary,” Willow said. “The physicker will be here shortly.”
Outside the tent, Willow waved the guards back in, then walked a good distance away before saying, “Should they be this cooperative?”
“What choice do they have?” Kerish said. “They’re helpless, and even if they did escape, Terence won’t be gentle with them for having assisted us, even under duress. He has strong opinions about loyalty. Besides—” He lowered his voice. “From what you said about the effects of being drained of source, they have to be feeling unsettled. If cooperation with us is what gets their source back, I’m not surprised they’d comply.”
“True.” Willow stretched, winced at how it jarred her broken bones, and carefully didn’t look at Kerish. “I want to talk to Lord Frazier now. We saw nothing of the Silverfield militia and I want to know why.”
Lady Frazier was the first to notice their approach. She took a step away from her husband, who had his arm around her shoulders, and bowed to Willow. “Lady North,” she said, “I haven’t had time to express my gratitude for what you did for us. How did you manage it?”
“Luck, mostly,” Willow lied. “Much as you had luck in leaving Magrette without alerting the enemy soldiers.”
“You didn’t tell me they’d assaulted Genevieve,” Lord Frazier said. “Now I feel like a fool for staying locked in my room. I should have fought back.”
“You’d just have given that Kent woman an excuse to kill you,” Lady Frazier said. “Heaven bless whoever ended her life.”
Willow shifted her weight awkwardly. She hated it when people were grateful. “Lord Frazier, I was wondering what happened to the Silverfield militia while you were imprisoned. We saw no one but Valant soldiers.”
“The Silverfield militia is a volunteer organization, captained by a few professional soldiers. They wer
e imprisoned when we were, in the old barracks. Silverfield hasn’t had a standing army since the last Ruskalder war.”
“I see.” Willow kept the disappointment off her face. She’d hoped for more soldiers. Well, Lord Frazier could probably be induced to supply their army, if nothing else.
“I’m meeting with my captains this evening,” Lord Frazier went on. “We’ll spread the word that the militia is re-forming. Silverfield will be ready to support the true King.”
“Oh, but…” Willow couldn’t find anything to say that wouldn’t be construed as ungrateful or an insult.
Lord Frazier smiled. “Thinking, as a volunteer force, we’re not much good as soldiers? You must not know that Silverfield bowmen have an unparalleled reputation as hunters. It’s not that far a step to being hunters of men, if need drives. You rid us of Ascendants who can burn or deflect our arrows, and we’ll wreak havoc on the pretender’s men.”
“I think we can arrange that.” Willow hoped they could arrange that. “We’ll have a strategy meeting first thing in the morning, if you’ll join us for that.”
“You should approach Lord Quinn,” Lady Frazier said. “He’s already fighting the Ascendants and could use those strange weapons of yours.”
“Lord Quinn has already rejected our request,” Willow said. “I was thinking, perhaps the Count of Harroden, but I hear he’s given his support to Terence.”
“And you’d have to cross the battlefield that is County Waxwold,” Lord Frazier said.
“Time enough to work that out in the morning.” Willow caught the Frazier boy—she had no idea what his name was—staring at her hand and resisted the urge to put it behind her back. He couldn’t know what had caused the damage, after all.
“We would like to invite his Majesty and his advisers to dine with us this evening,” Lady Frazier said. “In thanks for freeing us.”
Champion of the Crown Page 13