by Deborah Hale
This was the first Maura had heard of another part to Idrygon’s invasion strategy. She caught Rath’s eye and arched her brow in a silent question. He replied with a subtle shrug that told her it was new to him.
“If I may beg the Council’s indulgence a little longer,” said Idrygon, “my brother can better explain what must be done.”
“Very well,” grumbled Trochard. “Let him speak.”
Idrygon yielded the center of the Great Circle to his brother, returning to his own seat beside Rath.
Delyon looked far less confident than his brother, speaking before the full Council. Maura caught his eye and flashed him an encouraging smile.
It seemed to help. Delyon bowed toward her and Rath. “Highnesses, members of the Council. Trochard raises an important question—how are we to combat the Echtroi? It is true they channel powerful forces of destruction, but there is a power even greater that we might use against them, if we can find it. And I believe we can.”
“And what is this power, pray?” asked Trochard, his tone thick with scorn.
Delyon hesitated for a moment, as if wary of even speaking its name. “The Staff of Velorken.”
“Rubbish!” Trochard cried after a moment’s stunned silence. “If the Staff of Velorken ever truly existed, it was lost ages ago during the time of the Sundering.”
“What was lost can be found.” Suddenly Delyon sounded far more confident. He gestured toward Rath. “The Waiting King, for instance. Many questioned his existence…or only pretended to believe. Yet here he sits among us after being lost for ages. I believe the person who restored him to us can also restore the weapon only he or she can wield.”
Maura could feel all eyes in the room fixed upon her.
“As I have told the Council,” said Delyon, “my study of the ancient scrolls leads me to believe Queen Abrielle used the staff to free King Elzaban’s spirit, allowing him to be reborn until his destiny could be accomplished.”
Trochard muttered something Maura could not make out, but a cool stare from Madame Verise silenced him.
“The writings say Abrielle later hid the staff in the castle,” continued Delyon, “which is now occupied by the Hanish High Governor. I believe that our Destined Queen, a direct descendant of Abrielle, has the power to recover what her foremother hid.”
A shiver ran through Maura as some baffling intuition told her it was true.
She braced for Trochard’s retort, but instead heard a hostile rumble from Rath. “You mean to send my wife into the High Governor’s palace to poke around in search of some magic weapon you reckon might be there and you reckon she might be able to find?”
He leaped to his feet, assuming the stance of a warrior under attack. “It is too dangerous. I will not allow it!”
“B-but, Highness—” Delyon flinched from Rath’s fierce anger “—without the staff…”
“Slag the staff!”
The sages of the Council all gasped at once.
“Aira.” Maura laid a hand on Rath’s arm and felt the straining tension of his flesh. “The king in the council chamber, remember?”
Idrygon rose and joined his brother. “Highness, if you and the Council will only hear us out.” His tone begged Rath to show a little solidarity, at least until they could discuss the matter further in private.
“Very well.” Rath dropped back into his chair, slightly chastened. “But there is nothing you say that will convince me to put Maura in danger.”
What had riled him so? Maura wondered. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen her in danger before—sometimes on his account. She didn’t like the idea of probing the black heart of Hanish oppression, but she doubted Delyon would have suggested the idea if he’d seen any other way.
“No!” Rath paced the courtyard of Idrygon’s villa. “There must be some other way.”
Idrygon remained seated at the table with Maura and Delyon. The supper dishes had been cleared away, and the ladies of the house had excused themselves.
Rath had made a valiant effort to restrain himself until now. But it had been a long wearying day stuck inside the council chamber. He was a man of action—all the talking and arguing back and forth made him feel as if the walls were closing in on him. He had to vent his pent-up feelings before he exploded!
“Now, Highness,” said Idrygon in a tone Rath hated—as if he were trying to soothe a fractious beast. “You heard what Delyon and I told the Council. We must have the Staff of Velorken if we are to defeat the Echtroi. Our attacks in the north should draw troops and death-mages away from Venard. Her Highness will not undertake this mission alone. Delyon will go with her.”
“Much help he’ll be,” Rath muttered.
He had finally been able to stop brooding about the Oracle’s prophesy by vowing he would do everything in his power to keep Maura from harm. Then this whole business had ambushed him, as if to prove he could not fight destiny. So much for hill mazes and the notion of folks having some control over their lives!
“It isn’t as if we’ll be marching up to the gates of the castle and demanding entry.” The smirk on Delyon’s face made Rath want to pitch him headfirst into the fountain.
Maura’s safety was no laughing matter, damn it!
“Tell me more, Delyon,” said Maura, “about this new magical agent that will make us invisible.”
What was this will and us business? Rath’s scowl deepened. Why was Maura talking as if she meant to do this?
“It isn’t new,” said Delyon. “In fact, it was known and used many years ago, but the genow became scarce and folk had little need for invisibility, so gradually the spell was forgotten. It was one of the things I discovered while deciphering the ancient scrolls. It proved to a number of people that I was truly able to read them.”
Rath had caught a fleeting glimpse of a genow while he and Maura were on Tolin. At least he thought he had. The tiny creatures had an uncanny ability to make the color of their skin match the cover in which they hid.
“So the spell uses scales from the genow—like the cuddybird spell Langbard taught me?”
“Better than cuddybird feathers.” Delyon leaned back in his chair and sipped the last of his wine. “Genow are much more plentiful than they used to be, especially on some of the smaller islands. And their spell lasts longer.”
Rath strode back to the table and pounded his fist on it. A show of temper like this had often won him his way back in his outlaw days. “Being invisible isn’t the same as being safe! The Han have ears, too, remember. And their hounds have noses. You might bump into somebody or something.”
Maura didn’t look as if his outburst swayed or alarmed her. The gaze she fixed on him reminded Rath of Ganny’s when he’d misbehaved as a child.
“We won’t march around the place in the middle of the day looking for the staff, will we?” she asked Delyon as if she hadn’t heard Rath at all. “We’ll use the invisibility spell to steal into the palace at a quiet time. Then we’ll find someplace to hide during the day while we search by night.”
“Just so, Highness!” Delyon lavished Maura with a smile of unmistakable admiration that Rath would have liked to smack off his handsome face…except that would probably make her angrier.
Why should it vex her so that he wanted to keep her safe? Hadn’t he promised her something like that during their joining ceremony? What was the good of a man making such a vow if he didn’t mean to keep it?
“I doubt we will have to search long,” continued Delyon. “Once we find the staff, we will bring it to His Highness with all speed and prevent any more bloodshed.”
“What is the great power of this staff, anyway?” Once the question was out of his mouth, Rath wished he could recall it. It sounded too much as though he meant to go along with this risky plan of theirs.
“The power of the staff is very simple, but potent, sire,” said Idrygon, who had been unusually quiet until now.
“Aye?” Rath crossed his arms in front of him. This had better be goo
d.
“A wish, Highness.” Idrygon seemed to relish the flavor of that word upon his tongue. “A single, unlimited wish.”
11
O ne wish. If Maura had been given one wish in the days following the Council meeting, it would have been for Rath to stop being so pigheaded!
They had been over and over it—in the Council, in private with Idrygon and his brother and just between the two of them. Finding the Staff of Velorken was vital to liberating Umbria with the least destruction and loss of life.
“What I do not understand,” said Maura as she Rath and Idrygon rode toward the west coast of Margyle to launch a pair of ships, “is why the invasion and battles are necessary.”
Both men looked at her as if she’d gone daft, but she refused to be daunted. “If the Staff of Velorken has the power to rid Umbria of the Han, why does Rath not come with Delyon and me to Venard? We could search the palace, find the staff, make the wish and all would be well.”
She glimpsed a hint of agreement in Rath’s gaze, but Idrygon replied with a chuckle that sounded faintly contemptuous. “If only it were that simple, Highness. Trust me, this has all been many years in the planning. Our invasion of the north coast is essential to draw Hanish reserves away from Westborne so you may reach Venard safely.”
When Maura still looked doubtful, he added, “It is also a necessary demonstration for the mainlanders that the Waiting King has come to deliver them. If they simply woke one morning to find the Han gone, I fear there would be chaos. This way, by the time His Highness wields the staff, his subjects will have rallied to his cause and be prepared to settle down peacefully under his rule once the kingdom is liberated.”
Maura had to admit his reasons made sense. In addition to his leadership abilities, Lord Idrygon was a very persuasive man.
It had rained that morning, but the clouds had blown away and the summer sun now shimmered on the water of a snug inlet. Two ships rested on wooden platforms by the shore, ready to slide down into the embrace of the waves. They were similar in shape and rigging to Captain Gull’s, but larger. Today they would be given their sailing names.
The sight of them made Maura shrink from the prospect of crossing the sea again, especially without Rath. She wished he could accompany her on this quest to find the Staff of Velorken. With him by her side, she felt she could do anything…if only he would let her.
As they rode down the gently sloping road to the shipyard, a child called out, “Here they come!”
Folks rushed out of their houses. Reedpipe music lilted on the gentle breeze along with laughter and calls of welcome. Some young girls tossed a soft, colorful rain of flower petals over the royal visitors from the upstairs windows of a house.
Maura smiled and waved to the people, while Idrygon acknowledged their jubilant welcome with dignified nods. Rath looked as though the whole spectacle made him ill at ease.
“Smile!” Maura coaxed him. “Try to look as if you’re happy to see them.”
He did try, raising his hand in a rather stiff salute. No one seemed to mind, though. They continued to cheer. And when the royal party had passed, the crowd fell in behind them, parading down to the dock.
There, Idrygon gave a short speech, thanking the villagers for their vital contributions to freeing the mainland. A small troop of soldiers raised from the surrounding countryside assembled for review by Rath and Idrygon.
All her life, Maura had never seen soldiers except Hanish ones. Fortunately these warriors reminded her little of the Han. Their padded leather armor was designed more for stealth and swiftness of movement than for strength, though an old wizard proudly informed her that he had placed a spell of hardness on it, using sap from local trees.
The weapons, too, were very different from the cruel metal blades of the Han—mainly bows and staffs of various types. Rath looked a good deal more relaxed and lively as he moved among the men, stopping to ask questions about their armor and weapons.
Once the troop review had finished, Idrygon ushered Rath and Maura to the dock where he explained what they must do. Vestan folk, he told them, always had some sort of ceremony to mark the launching of a new vessel, though not often as grand as this one.
Maura was given a tiny basket in the shape of a boat. It was filled with dried flowers, leaves and bits of sea plants. As Rath spoke the ritual words of blessing, prompted by Idrygon, Maura sprinkled the plant matter over the bow of each ship.
Finally Rath announced in a ringing voice, “I declare the sailing name of this ship the Destined Queen. May it find fair winds and good seas. And may the Giver protect all who sail it.”
Props were cut away, and the ship glided down into the water with ponderous grace, throwing up great waves on either side. As the village folk cheered, Maura caught Rath’s hand in hers.
For a moment, his awkwardness and brooding anger lifted as he seemed to catch the spirit of the crowd. Was he imagining the same thing she was? Maura wondered. Picturing this scene played out in Windleford or Prum—with everyone looking well fed, safe and happy?
They launched the second ship, named the Waiting King with the same ritual, then Rath and Maura were rowed out for a tour of the two vessels. Afterward they were guests of honor at a feast. Night had fallen by the time they rode back to Idrygon’s villa, but Maura did not feel tired.
When Idrygon suggested he and Rath talk over more details of their attack on the Dusk Coast, Maura drew her husband away. “Tomorrow, my lord. It has been a long day.”
The bedchamber door had scarcely closed behind them when she turned and slipped her arms around Rath’s neck. “Wasn’t that splendid? Here we thought we might have to fight the Han all by ourselves. It turns out there are plenty of people wanting to help. They just needed a little spark from us to get started.”
“You were splendid today, aira!” Rath wrapped her in a warm embrace. “Everything a queen ought to be and better. I felt like a fool…looked like one, too, I reckon. I couldn’t help wondering if all those folk would cheer if they knew who I really am and some of the things I’ve done.”
“You did look a little…severe, perhaps.” Maura kissed one corner of his lips, then the other, until she coaxed them to curve in a smile. “But kings are allowed to look that way. They have a lot on their minds. No one took it amiss.”
She yielded to his kiss—a tender, lingering one.
“Besides,” she said when they drew apart a little, “who you were and what you’ve done is all in the past. What matters is the man you are now and the king you’ll become. This was your first real test since our crowning. You’ll become more at ease with a bit of practice. You did fine with the soldiers.”
Rath shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking about this king business, then. Just wanted to find out about their armor and weapons.”
“Perhaps that’s the secret of it.” Maura tugged him toward the bed. “Showing a little interest in folks.”
The past few nights Rath had seemed so sullen and distant after his talks with Idrygon. And she’d been so vexed with his stubbornness that they’d scarcely exchanged cool pecks on the cheek before rolling to opposite sides of the bed.
Perhaps Rath guessed her thoughts, for he murmured, “I haven’t been showing enough interest in you, my queen. At least not the proper kind for a bridegroom.”
He let go of her hand just long enough to shed his tunic and kick off his shoes, then he hoisted her in his arms and carried her the last few steps to the bed. “Will you give me leave to win your pardon?”
“You already have it.” Maura ran her fingers through his hair as he eased her onto the bed. “I know how hard it has been for you to go from outlaw to king. I of all people should have shown you more patience.”
Rath gave a deep melodious chuckle. “Funny you should mention patience, for you will need it tonight.”
He draped the netting around the bed. Then he made love to her with slow, gentle whispers of his hands, lips and tongue, as if she were a delicate treasure that mi
ght shatter if handled too roughly. The deliberate restraint of his touch teased her to greater heights of pleasure until her body quivered and pleaded for release. When at last he eased himself into her, she did shatter in a fierce, frenzied spasm of delight that sparked an answering one in him.
Rath cradled Maura in his arms after their lovemaking. The intensity of his long-delayed release had drained him of all the pressure that had been building within him of late. He hoped the tenderness of his seduction had given Maura a glimpse of how deeply he loved her. That might make her understand how cruelly he feared losing her.
She nestled against him, caressing his cheek with her hand. “You know I must do this, don’t you, aira? The legend says the Destined Queen and the Waiting King will work together to save the kingdom in its darkest hour.”
“But you have already done your part and more.” Had she only let him make love to her to appease him? “You found me. You made me come to the Islands when I would rather have run from this destiny of mine. It will drive me mad with worry to think of you wandering around the High Governor’s palace.”
In the darkness, he felt Maura prop herself up on her elbow. “This will be far easier than my quest to find the Secret Glade. This time, I know where I am supposed to go, and the distance from the coast to Venard is not great.”
Rath shook his head. “But I will not be there to rescue you from the Han…or from your own misplaced kindness.”
“I will have Delyon with me.”
“I don’t trust Delyon to protect you as I would!” Rath clenched his fist in helpless fury and pounded it on the mattress. “I don’t trust him…”
His own words turned and caught Rath by the throat. Could there be another meaning to the Oracle’s prophesy? Might Maura not be lost to him by death…but by betrayal?
She’d often said the handsome scholar reminded her of her late beloved guardian. Rath knew from experience that the shared adventure and danger of a quest could kindle passionate feelings between a man and a woman. If it could work between such opposites as Maura and him, what stronger bond might it forge between his beloved and a man far worthier of her?