by J F Rivkin
“You weren’t to know, but you may be certain that Mhairestri did. Brethald probably acted at her behest.” Nyctasia rose and began to pace about the room.
“Mhairestri should never have convinced me it was my duty to concern myself with the interests of our House and the governing of the city. That’s what set me to studying the family chronicles and the City History in earnest. But they taught me that there were no grounds for our claim to rule of Rhostshyl, no just cause for our continued feud with the Teiryn.
“Like a little fool, I thought that those facts would change matters, if only my elders knew them. It never occurred to me that they had known them from the start. Before these inconvenient discoveries of mine, Mhairestri and I could tolerate one another, but once I became a threat to her ambitions for the Edonaris, she was determined to be rid of me, and she didn’t do things by half-measures. She sent assassins after me more than once. But to try to use Mescrisdan! He was no murderer-I daresay he only agreed from fear of refusing Mhairestri to her face. We were all afraid of her. But he probably never meant to see it through, Jade. Mhairestri should have known that he’d not succeed where skilled killers had failed.”
Lhejadis shook her head sadly. “She tried again when we first heard rumors of your return. And even when you were in the city. It was when that failed too that she told me you couldn’t be killed, that the spells protecting your life were too strong.”
“Mhairestri believed that?” Nyctasia’s tone seemed to dismiss the idea with contempt, but she did not deny it outright.
“Yes, but she said that no spell could protect your reputation, and that your disgrace would serve our purposes as well as your death. There seemed no other way to prevent Tiambria’s marriage to Jehamias ar’n Teiryn. Mhairestri didn’t believe you’d be able to obtain Tiambria’s consent to the match, but when you did-”
“Jade! Do you mean to say that you knew Mhairestri meant to take poison? And you did nothing?”
“Did you ever succeed in turning Mhairestri from her purpose, when she’d made up her mind?”
“Well, no, but didn’t you tell the others, at least?”
“She was dying already, ’Tasia, or so she said. She told me she hadn’t long to live-mere days perhaps-but now I wonder if even that was true.”
“Very likely it was,” Nyctasia said thoughtfully. “The signs were there. Who but Mhairestri would think to make use of her own death to strike a blow at her enemies?”
“We agreed that if her death didn’t put an end to your plans, mine should follow, to confirm your guilt.”
Nyctasia caught her breath. She had thought that nothing could shock her, but this confession chilled her to the bone. “Oh, no, Jade. Mhairestri told you to-?
She gave you bloodbane?”
“I asked her for it. I didn’t want to live, I only wanted vengeance.”
“My poor Jade, you may have thought it was your own idea, but I’d wager my fortune that Mhairestri trapped you into asking for the poison.”
Lhejadis only shrugged. “I hadn’t the courage to take it, after all, even when Leirven and Deirdras disappeared. It was my duty to stop you, in the only way possible, and I thought that if I’d done it sooner I might have saved Emeryc’s children. I despised myself for my cowardice-I, an Edonaris!-but still I couldn’t bring myself to it. Then when Erikasten, too, was sent away-”
“But, in the vahn’s name, ’Kasten’s gone to the Midlands, to Vale-there was no secret about that!”
“So he said, but I thought you’d deceived him, that he would never return, like Rehal and the children.”
“I was afraid of that,” sighed Nyctasia. “Jade, Rehal is soon to be married, and I’ll prove to you that she and the children are alive, if you’ll swear to me not to tell the others where they are-at least, not yet.” It was a bold step to take, perhaps a dangerous one, but Nyctasia felt strongly that now, if ever, was the time to confide in Lhejadis despite the risk, and she did not attempt to resist the prompting of her spirit.
It was Lhejadis who hesitated. “No, don’t tell me…” she said slowly. “I don’t want to know more than the others, but neither do I want to betray your trust.
If you assure me that they live, that suffices.”
Nyctasia nodded, relieved. “That is wise.” She kissed Lhejadis and said, “I’ll go, you need your rest. If I send you a cordial to give you strength, will you dare to drink it, do you think?”
“I believe I shall,” she said, smiling. “But, ’Tasia, you must
…” She paused, gathering her resolve, and went on with an effort, “You must understand-Mescrisdan-he meant to carry out Mhairestri’s orders if he could, and I encouraged him to it. We believed what we wanted to believe. You must forgive us, ’Tasia, you must forgive us both!”
Nyctasia embraced her. “What does it matter what we’ve done, Jade? We all did things we regret, and failed to do what was right, but we must forgive one another, and forgive ourselves as well. Only the future matters now. When I think of the past, I find I have forgiven all and everything.”
And even as she spoke, she realized that it was true. She had forgiven everyone, even Brethald, even Mhairestri, yet when or how she had done so was a mystery to her. She too had been healed, though it was not her healing-trance which had brought this to pass. Her magic had failed completely, but she was not disappointed.
17
trask protested at being dragged back to Chiastelm, but he didn’t give as much trouble as Corson had expected. “I don’t see why I have to go just because you’re leaving,” he argued. “Why can’t I stay here on my own?”
“Because someone at court has to be answerable for you-and don’t think that
’Malkin will take responsibility for you, because if I know that one, he won’t.”
Trask suspected the same thing. ’Malkin had only so much time for his new pupil, and expected him to keep his distance when he wasn’t wanted. Trask was not to make demands on ’Malkin’s attention. He was not to put himself forward or presume to be familiar with ’Malkin before others. But, all the same, ’Malkin did take an interest in Trask’s education, praising his determination to better himself, and his quickness to master what he was taught. And this was more encouragement than Trask had ever received from anyone else.
“How can I learn to read if I leave now?” he complained.
Corson considered. It was hard on Trask to lose such an opportunity, but she couldn’t leave him to shift for himself at court-Nyc wouldn’t hear of it. “Well, listen, Nyc wants me to muster a troop of mercenaries for her, so I’ll be back and forth between here and Chiastelm a good bit, and you can come with me, if Steifann gives you leave.”
Trask brightened. “I can deal with Steifann,” he said confidently.
“Huh,” Corson snorted, “I daresay you’ll fare better with ’Malkin like this anyway. He’ll grow tired of you if you’re underfoot too much. If you come and go, you’ll not wear out your welcome so soon.” She hesitated, and said uncomfortably, “Trask, don’t expect too much from ’Malkin. That one’s not to be counted on. He really cares for no one but himself.”
“I know,” said Trask. “I think a courtier has to be like that, Lucky for me that I am.” He grinned. “Truth to tell, he’s no more tired of me than I am of him.”
Trask felt that he really could do with a rest from ’Malkin’s overbearing ways and his insistence on keeping Trask in his place. He was even beginning to understand why both Nyctasia and Corson claimed that court custom and ceremony were a nuisance. Such things fascinated him as much as ever, yet it would be rather a relief to let down his guard for a while, and not have to think every moment about acting and speaking correctly. Always provided that he could come back soon, of course…
“’Malkin’s a high-handed bastard,” he agreed, “but he’s been nice to me, you know, Corson, in his way. So long as he’s willing to teach me, I don’t mind playing toady to him. And absence lends charm, they say. Maybe he’ll miss me if I’
m gone for a while.”
“You really are a disloyal little cur, aren’t you?” Corson said, laughing. How could she have thought it necessary to warn Trask against growing too attached to ’Malkin? He could take care of himself.
“Well, Asye’s teeth, Corson! If I don’t look to my own interest, who will?”
“Steifann would,” Corson pointed out.
“All right, Steifann, I grant you-but there aren’t many like Steifann. I’m loyal enough to him, you know, but he can’t give me a chance to make anything of myself.”
“No,” Corson said thoughtfully, “there aren’t many like Steifann. Come along and take your leave of Nyc-and don’t pester her to let you stay, either, because I happen to know that she’d rather have a mad dog loose at court than you.”
“I haven’t the least intention of pestering Her Ladyship,” Trask said loftily.
“Not about that.”
Nyctasia was sequestered with her court officials and advisors, all intent on informing her of a great many matters that demanded her immediate attention.
Lord Aithrenn had arrived in the city during her unexplained absence, she was told, and to make matters worse, he had presented himself at the palace after her return, only to be told that the Rhaicime was unable to see him. Now it seemed that nobody knew whether he was still in Rhostshyl or had returned to Ochram.
“But why wasn’t he offered accommodation here?” Nyctasia demanded, dismayed at this breach of courtesy and hospitality.
“He was, my lady, but he declined. It is to be feared that he interpreted Your Ladyship’s failure to confer with him personally as a deliberate affront.”
Nyctasia sighed. “If he chooses to be offended, it can’t be helped. I cannot be expected to receive people when I’m insensible and half-dead. There’s nothing to be done about it at present, at all events. What else have you there?”
While a clerk gravely consulted a list, Lord Therisain broke in impatiently,
“Half the House of Shiastred is demanding an audience with you.”
With a start of guilt, Nyctasia realized that she had hardly given a thought to Erystalben’s return. “Indeed?” she said. “What do they want of me?”
“Well, some want you to recognize Erystalben formally and restore him to his place, and the others want you to withdraw the impostor you’ve inflicted upon them.”
“Impostor, is it? How dare they! Of course he’s ’Ben-I ought to know.”
“So ought his father to know, one would think, but he denies that this stranger is his son.”
“I see! So Lord Descador finds his nephew a more satisfactory heir than his son.
I suppose I ought not to be surprised at that. He never did think ’Ben suited to his position, and now that he’s lost his memory…” She shook her head. “I can compel the Shiastred to acknowledge him, of course, but I’d best see ’Ben before I take any steps at all, and learn what his wishes are in the matter.”
“He’s been trying to see you for days,” Therisain observed, but your bodyguard would give entrance to no one.” His tone was resentful, and Nyctasia hastened to explain.
“I expected to recover long before you returned from Salten with ’Ben, else I’d have left orders that you were to be admitted.” She had made a point of receiving Lord Therisain before anyone else. “Though there’s nothing we could have done for one another, after all.” Turning to the clerk, she said, “Send word to Lord Erystalben to attend me this evening, if he will. He’s to be admitted to my chamber whenever he arrives, What more is there?”
“The Lord Anseldon desires a word with you, my lady.”
Nyctasia nodded. “I want to see him as well, and the Lady Elissa both. Inform them that I shall be pleased to receive them at their convenience. What remains?”
“Messengers from the governors of Heithskor await Your Ladyship’s notice.”
It might be as well, Nyctasia decided, to let them wait. “Presently, presently,” she said with a negligent wave of her hand. “Ask their business and report it to me. Is that all?”
“No, my lady. The Lohannes have requested a hearing concerning the redress owed them by the Anderleys for the burning of their storehouse.”
“Then the Anderleys have not yet made restitution? The judgment against them was decisive, was it not?”
“Entirely so, my lady, but they have sought to circumvent the obligation by disowning Jacon ash Anderley, and disclaiming responsibility for his deeds and debts.”
“Clever,” said Nyctasia, “but it won’t do. Had they disowned him before the fire, they might have had grounds for appeal, but it’s plain that they were behind the business. They’re only angry with Jacon for being caught at it. Send them a warning letter from me, and another to the Lohannes with my respects, and due apologies for the delay, saying that I’m attending to the matter. Just bring them to me to be approved, signed and sealed.”
“As you will, my lady. And a pair of physicians from Celys, with letters from Your Ladyship, seek to present themselves.”
“Very good. They must be the Master Scholars Anthorne and Tsephis-arrange an audience for them directly. Now-”
But she was interrupted by Corson and Trask, who arrived at that moment, unexpected and unannounced, without having requested an audience or stated their business to anyone.
Nyctasia was officially not to be disturbed while conferring with her advisors, and Corson took considerable pleasure in flaunting her unique position at court by ignoring this prohibition. There was not a guard in the palace garrison who dared deny her admittance to the Rhaicime at any time, and, in Corson’s experience, Nyctasia was only too glad to be disturbed on such occasions.
“Ah, Corson, there you are,” she said, quite as if she had sent for her. “You are in good time-we have just concluded our affairs.” She stood, to dismiss the others politely, remarking in a businesslike tone, “We must discuss the reinforcements to the city guard.” But as soon as the rest had taken their leave, she hugged Corson and exclaimed, “Thank the stars you chased them off, pet! I was on the point of perishing. Do you think you could sneak me out of the city again, as you did before? It won’t be as easy this time, I warn you. I only had to elude my enemies then, but now I want to escape my allies.”
“Poor little Nyc. Are your people bullying you, then? I’ll kill the lot of them, shall I?”
“Ah, would you? I’d appreciate it very much.”
“But if you want to run off again, you’ll tell me first, next time! Is that understood?”
“Yes, Corson. I suppose I must put up with your bullying, since I’ve no one who can kill you for me. Except perhaps Greymantle?”
The dog looked up, waved his tail once, said, “Hruf?” and went back to sleep.
There were no threatening scents in the room. He was familiar with Corson and Trask, and considered the first a friend, and the other harmless.
Corson pointed a warning finger at Nyctasia. “Not even Grey can save you if I decide to teach you a lesson, so you’d better do as I say, or you’ll regret it.”
Nyctasia laughed and threw herself down on a couch, feeling much refreshed.
After the morning’s formalities, Corson’s threats were as welcome as a cool breeze to a laborer. “I never should have made you a Desthene. You were bad enough before, but now-!”
Trask, who’d been awaiting an opportunity, now came forward and made Nyctasia his best bow. It was quite an accomplished and graceful performance.
Nyctasia applauded. “Bravo, brat. Well done!”
“Then can I come to the wedding?” he asked eagerly, “Please, Nyc?”
Nyctasia threw up her hands. “If I hear another word about this everlasting marriage-! I am not betrothed to the High Lord Aithrenn, I’ve never seen the man, I don’t even know where he is!”
“You don’t?” said Trask, surprised. “He’s staying at The Golden Horn, isn’t he?
That’s where he was a few days ago.”
Nycta
sia stared. “If you want to know what’s taking place in the city, don’t ask someone in the palace,” she said finally. “It doesn’t do to forget that.”
“And if you want to know what’s taking place in the palace, don’t ask someone in the palace either,” said Corson wryly. “The only folk who know anything are gossipmongering minions like our Trask.”
“No, they’re not the only ones who know tidings of the palace,” Nyctasia corrected her. “They’re the only ones who’ll tell. What else have you heard about His Lordship?” she asked Trask.
“Only what everyone knows,” Trask said with a shrug. “They say he’s older than you, but a fine-looking man still, and that he has half-grown children who are his acknowledged heirs, though he’s never had a wife.”
“What everyone knows, indeed! Everyone but me, it seems-I’ve had no time to make inquiries. I’ve sent spies into Ochram, of course, but I haven’t received their reports yet. I might better question one of my own scullions, apparently, or any idler in the marketplace.”
Corson was skeptical. “It’s probably just rumor, Nyc. Why would the High Lord stay at the Horn when he could have lodgings here in the palace?” She turned on Trask. “Tell me that if you know so much.”
“His Lordship didn’t tell me his reasons! I just-”
“Oh, I can guess his reasons readily enough,” Nyctasia put in. “He means to take this chance to have a good look at the city, without interference, and see how badly she was wounded by the war, before he commits Ochram to any irrevocable union with her. And very prudent of him, too. He naturally assumes that I’d show him only what I wanted him to see.”
“Would you?” asked Corson, curious.
“No, I’d insist that he see everything-not because I’m honest, but because his spies have no doubt reported the truth to him already. It shows a commendable diligence on his part to take the trouble to confirm the condition of the city for himself.”
These considerations did not interest Trask. “But aren’t you going to marry him, Nyc?” he persisted. Having seen the splendor and pageantry of the Lady Tiambria’s wedding, he’d been looking forward to Nyctasia’s with great anticipation. And what better occasion for displaying his newly-acquired skills and courtly graces?