by CJ Archer
"It contains a gemstone that pulses when touched," Dane said.
I tried very hard not to show surprise that he told the truth about the gem. I hadn't expected him to be this honest.
"Or goes near it," Brant corrected him. "I only touched the cabinet, but I felt the thing inside throb, like it were alive."
Magic.
The word rippled around the room, passed from guard to guard in whispered wonder. Only Brant seemed unsurprised. He'd felt the pulse and suspected all along that magic caused it. Perhaps the others hadn't fully believed him and expected Dane to give them a different explanation, something more reasonable and tangible. But he had not, and now the notion that magic had been used to clear their memories seemed very real. And very troubling.
"Do you think that's what's in the gemstone, Captain?" one asked. "Magic?"
"I don't know," was all Dane said. "I don't know what magic should feel like."
"Course it was magic," Brant said. "What else could explain it? What did the king say, Hammer?"
"Captain Hammer," Erik snapped. Brant ignored him.
"I haven't asked the king, and nor will I," Dane said. "Not yet."
"Why not?" Brant exploded.
"Aye," several others chimed in, including Erik. Quentin, however, didn't protest. The youth trusted Dane implicitly.
"The king must know what the stone's for," Brant said. "He must have used it to make the palace."
"Probably," Dane agreed.
Brant slapped both palms on the table, making his tankard and my nerves jump. "Then why not ask him about it? You a coward, Hammer?"
"Captain!" Erik snapped again.
"He's not a coward," Quentin added. "He's smart, and he's thinking about all of us. All of you."
Brant stabbed a finger at Quentin. "Shut your hole, Pest."
Quentin folded his arms. "Pest? That the best you can do?" He was cocky when Dane stood beside him.
"I haven't asked the king about it because I doubt he'll give me the truth," Dane told them. "If he used the magic gemstone on us, on himself, or this palace, then why would he admit it? He'd be a fool to do so. Not only will he lie, but confronting him will make him aware of our suspicions. If he sees that as a threat, he might take steps to remove us."
"Not if you threaten to slit his throat if he don't talk," Brant snarled. "A blade to the throat loosens tongues."
"And then what will I do if he refuses to talk? Kill the one person who can give us answers?"
"See?" Quentin said. "Told you the captain is smart. He does things for a reason."
Brant shot out of his chair and lunged at Quentin. Quentin yelped and fell off his chair in an attempt to scurry away. Brant sat back down with a harsh chuckle, but no one laughed with him.
"So how are you going to get answers?" one of the guards asked Dane.
"Investigate and research," Dane said. "Balthazar and Theodore are reading books from the palace library. Josie is speaking to an expert on magic to find out what he knows."
"And? What have they learned?"
"Nothing yet." It was the only lie he'd told so far. "We'll keep looking, keep asking."
"And if you fail?" Brant said. "What then?"
"We won't fail."
Brant snorted and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Some of the others looked skeptical but none disagreed with Dane, not even Brant.
Dane leaned forward, palms on the table. "This cannot be spoken about outside servant circles. Is that understood?" He met the gazes of each of his men, lingering longest on Brant. "If anyone outside the palace staff hears that the king may have gained his position through magic, there will be repercussions. I don't think I need to remind everyone that our lives are linked to his. If he loses the crown—"
"Or his head," one of the guards cut in.
"—then we could disappear from here just as quickly as we apparently arrived. No one yet knows what will happen to us. We should never suppose or assume anything. I won't risk a single life. If one of you gets impatient for answers, and takes matters into your own hands, there's a prison cell waiting for you." A hushed silence blanketed the room. Dane straightened and folded his arms again, a commanding presence that had recaptured his men's respect, even Brant's. "If you do discuss what I've said with the other servants, you must impress this fact on them too. Is that clear?"
Quentin nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir."
"Aye, Captain," Erik added.
The other guards agreed, including Brant. I'd never seen the sergeant so amenable. The fear of what might happen to them, of not knowing what would happen if the king was suddenly no longer the king, was a powerful motivator for obedience.
Dane studied a slate board hanging from a hook on the wall above the sideboard. He glanced at the names written on it in chalk. "Erik, you'll lead the next group of men on the roster into the village and relieve Sergeant Max's shift. We'll maintain a presence in Mull until the danger of a riot has passed. That means a skeleton shift will patrol here."
"There ain't much happening here anyway," Quentin said, gathering up his sword belt.
He didn't know about Ruth, but even so, he was right. Ruth had been the rapist's only victim at the palace. It wasn't even clear if the rapist was based here.
"And me?" Brant asked.
"Patrol duty," Dane said.
Brant didn't argue, perhaps relieved he wasn't assigned to the prison anymore.
Dane and I left the men as they strapped on their weapons and organized themselves for duty.
"I don't think telling them so much was a good idea," Dane said as we headed through the warren of service corridors. "If one of the Glancian dukes gets wind of it, or one of the Vytill or Dreen representatives, then the king will be in danger, and so will we."
"I admit I wasn't expecting you to tell them the entire truth," I said.
He stopped and his narrowed gaze slid to me. We stepped aside to allow two footmen carrying a small table between them to pass by. I watched them rather than the captain of the guards, although I felt the sharpness of his glare.
"However, your judgment proved better than mine in this instance," I added in a whisper.
"Are you buttering me up so I don't lecture you about being more specific with your suggestions?"
"Is it working?"
"You should have told me you didn't mean for such honesty, Josie."
"I didn't think you required direction from me, Captain."
"I didn't think so either." He set off, his long strides making it difficult for me to keep up. "But it turns out I appreciate your opinion."
"Why?"
"To confirm that my instincts are correct."
I couldn't decide if he was being arrogant or sweet. Perhaps a little of both.
"You were right to trust your instincts," I said. "Brant is a different man after that meeting. He trusts you again."
"For now."
It took us some time but we eventually left the palace through the servants' entrance opposite the commons building. By taking the service corridors, from the northern garrison to the exit in the south wing, we'd avoided the forecourts where the nobles preferred the vicinity be unsullied by the likes of me. I was equally glad to avoid them, in case Lady Deerhorn or one of her offspring was near. I'd walked those corridors so many times now, I could probably even find my own way out, but I didn't tell Dane. I liked that he escorted me.
Our place slowed to an amble. I wasn't in a hurry to leave, even though the shadows grew long and dusk would soon settle. It would be light long enough yet for me to walk home.
"Do you think Brant or any of the others will tattle to the wrong person?" I asked.
"They'll inform the other servants they've befriended but they won't tell outsiders. Of that, I'm sure. It's the other servants I can't be certain about. I don't know them as well as I know my men."
"I'm still digesting what it all means," I said, not wanting to elaborate as a stream of servants passed, hurrying toward the palace. Some carried
trays of clean glasses or covered platters, while others held fine clothes or shoes that had most likely come from the laundry. It was a pleasant time of day for a walk in the gardens, now that the sun had lost some of its heat. The liveried footmen were probably on their way to setting up food and drinks around the fountains and in the secluded gardens where lovers conducted their trysts.
I would've liked to have my own lovers' rendezvous behind one of the garden fountains, but that was unlikely to happen now that Dane had made his disinterest clear. Besides, the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't help being reminded of poor Lady Claypool, accosted by the duke of Gladstow behind a hedge. Kitty's husband was a revolting man, and she didn't even know it.
"The implications of what we suspect to be true about the gemstone are troubling," I added.
"It's important to remember they are only suspicions," he said.
"Suspicions that must be correct. There are no other explanations."
We had reached the commons where more servants accumulated, some lounging against a wall during a quiet moment, others waiting for food or linen to be brought out by the servants tasked with those duties. The palace was a complex mechanism with each maid, footman, guard, gardener or groom acting as a cog. If one failed, the entire system failed until a working replacement stepped in. It never ceased to amaze me that they each knew what to do on the first day they woke up without their memories. Knowing only their names and their function at the palace was key to solving the mystery of their memory loss, yet a vital piece of the puzzle was still missing—perhaps several pieces. We might have learned about the sorcerer and his three wishes, and we might be certain the king freed the sorcerer and was the one to be granted those wishes, yet we were no closer to getting the palace staff’s memories back. No wonder they were all frustrated, their nerves and tempers stretched to breaking point.
"Come with me," Dane said, continuing past the commons.
"Where are we going?"
"For a ride."
"I can't ride."
"I'll see that you're given a quiet mare. All you have to do is hold the reins."
His strides lengthened, and I raced to keep up. "Why are you determined to torture me? A lecture would suffice."
He shot me a smirk and slowed down. "Riding isn't torture."
"It is for someone who doesn't ride."
"You'll learn to enjoy it, given enough practice."
He sounded like he planned more rides for me. That, at least, was something to look forward to. "You sound like Kitty."
"The duchess of Gladstow does enjoy riding, particularly with Lady Miranda. Are they trying to avoid someone, by any chance?"
"Several someones, most likely. In Kitty's instance, it's probably her husband." I kept my voice low as we rounded the pavilion and made our way to the main gate where sedan chairs waited to ferry nobles to the front steps of the palace. They lay idle, with few nobles in sight. They must all be inside preparing for the entertainments before dinner.
It was a short walk to the stables, where Dane asked for his horse and a calm one for me. "Very calm," I told the groom. "Something that considers a plod too fast."
"You want an old nag ready for the knackery then, miss," the cheeky youth said with a grin.
"You understand perfectly."
Dane led me to the edges of the practice yard, which was as long as my entire street. Grooms put horses through their paces and several strong ones were being fitted with armor to protect their faces, necks and flanks.
"Why do the horses look as though they're about to head to war?" I asked.
"They need protection if we're called to break up a riot in the village." He leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles and arms. It was a relaxed stance, but his eyes betrayed him. His gaze darted around, ever watchful, taking in each of the faces nearby. Once or twice it even flitted to me, though it did not settle.
"They'll be ready if war arises too," I said heavily. I still couldn't fathom it. There hadn't been a war in Glancia for nearly two centuries. Most of The Fist Peninsula had been trouble-free for that time too, except for Freedland, where a revolution had overthrown the last king some forty years ago.
"There won't be a war," Dane said gently.
When I didn't respond, or even look at him, he touched my chin and forced me to.
"There won't be a war, Josie. Not if I have anything to do with it."
A weak smile was all I could manage. He was kind to try to allay my fears, but although he was a capable man, stopping wars before they began was not one of his many talents.
Instead of letting me go, he gave my chin a gentle shake until I lifted my gaze again. "You don't believe me," he said.
"Given everything we've learned today, and given Barborough's own suspicions about magic and the king, it's hard to think that anything other than war is in Glancia's future. If King Phillip believes King Leon isn't the rightful heir, Vytill won't wait. They can afford to pay an army now, but they may not be able to in the future. If they wait too long, Glancia will have raised and trained her own army."
"I'm not so sure. If Barborough thinks magic is at play, Phillip would be mad to start a war if Leon has the sorcerer in his pocket."
I nodded slowly, seeing his point. "If I were King Phillip, I'd wait for our two dukes to expose Leon as a fraud, remove the sorcerer from his possession, and let them fight for the throne among themselves, and only then bring my army here, when Glancia has had enough of their nobles' squabbling."
He let me go. "Now you're thinking like a ruler."
"There are only two problems. One, the sorcerer is an unknown. Neither we nor Barborough know how many wishes Leon has left, and two, there's the danger of one of the dukes taking the sorcerer's power for themselves."
"If that's even possible."
"That's the whole problem. We don't know what's possible."
"And Barborough does."
"I'm not so sure," I said. "I think he's guessing too, and perhaps hoping to learn more while he's here. That's why we have to get rid of him. He might find out more than us and use that knowledge against Glancia."
He blinked hard. "I thought you believed in non-violent measures to solve problems."
"I meant sending him home to Vytill, not killing him!"
"Right. I meant that too." He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed again.
The groom approached leading two horses. I recognized the one Dane usually rode, a muscular stallion with a sure step and head held high. The other looked as if she wanted to be in her stall with a feedbag strapped around her neck. The groom informed me her name was Sky.
"I understand how you feel, Sky," I said, stroking her nose. "But I promise not to go faster than a walk, if you promise not to startle at anything or think it amusing to throw me off."
"I put a sidesaddle on for you, miss," the groom said. "All the ladies use them. Let me help you."
"I'll help her," Dane said, stepping forward. He showed me where to put my hands and feet then ordered me to lift myself up. It took two attempts but the horse remained steady, even as I hooked my right leg around the pommel and secured my knee against the part Dane called the horn. "Now take the reins."
"Can't you lead me out until we're away from people?"
"You'll be fine. Nobody's been holding her this entire time." He showed me his empty hands. The groom showed me his, grinning from ear to ear. I decided I no longer liked him.
"She won't bolt," the youth said, stroking the horse's neck. "She's too agreeable for that."
"How do I make her move?" I asked. "Is there a command?"
"She'll follow Lightning."
"The perfect female," Dane said with a wink for the groom.
The youth laughed. I scowled at them both.
Dane mounted and rode out of the yard through the arch. Sky followed a few paces behind, her steps slow but steady. We headed toward the palace, but instead of going through the main gate, we turned right and followed the
palace's northern wing.
"It would have been faster to walk ourselves," I said as we left the palace behind.
"Want to ride faster?"
"No!"
He chuckled. "Then stop complaining and enjoy yourself. Sometimes it's nice not to walk everywhere."
That was true, at least, but I was used to walking. I wasn't used to sitting on the back of a creature that could crush me if it fell on top of me. I'd attended patients who'd been struck by a kicking horse, fallen off a horse, or been trampled. The latter was a drunk who'd stumbled into the path of the Deerhorns' speeding carriage. The coachman hadn't stopped to see if he was all right.
The avenue met the village road outside the palace estate. A short ride to the east would see us pass the intersection, where the palace's Grand Avenue also met the village road, and then it was a further five miles to Mull. We rode west, however, in the direction of Glancia's capital city, Tilting, a journey that took three days if the roads were good.
We followed the wall of the palace until it disappeared behind dense trees. After several more minutes, Dane veered off the road and into the forest. The track was barely visible. Low hanging branches brushed my face, and Sky had to step around bushes encroaching on her path.
"How did you know this track was here?" I asked. "If I hadn't been watching, I would have missed it."
"I just knew."
"You mean it was one of the things you knew when you woke up that first day? Like your name, your job, and the names of the others?"
He nodded. "I seemed to know my way around the palace and every inch of its grounds, although I'd never been here. Not that I remembered, anyway. I came looking for the gate recently and here it was."
"The gate?"
Just as I said it, he dismounted. I waited, not feeling confident enough to dismount without assistance, and watched as he pushed aside some thick vines growing up the estate's outer wall to reveal an arched wooden door. He fished a key out of his doublet pocket and unlocked it.
"Mind your head," he said, leading Lightning through.
Beyond the gate were more trees and bushes. The path was clearer here, however, and no vines grew up the wall.
"Where are we?" I asked, following Dane along the narrow path.