The White Mists of Power: A Novel

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Adric almost shook his head. He wanted to be his father’s opposite. “I don’t mean to cause trouble,” he said.

  “Well, see that you don’t cause any more,” his father said. “Come along, Constance.”

  His mother squeezed Adric’s hand. “Be safe in the city. Don’t do anything alone.”

  “I won’t, Mama,” Adric said. His mother’s hand slipped through his, and she walked with his father back to the west wing. They fell into shadow, their bodies almost ghostly pale in the dimness. Adric watched until they went back inside, then returned to his bench.

  If his father hadn’t known of the trip into town, then maybe it wasn’t going to happen. But he had seen that look on his father’s face before, often in front of a council member at dinner, discussing a policy his father was supposed to have made. Adric clenched his fists. He would not just take the advice of others. He would make his own choices. And if his father didn’t want him to learn, Adric would make sure that his father never discovered what Adric was doing. He would learn. He would become one of the wisest men in the kingdom. By the time he was twenty-one, he would be able to give his father advice, just as lords Boton and Ewehl did. And his father would listen.

  The bench seemed chillier than it had before. Adric crossed his arms over his chest. The sun had grown brighter now but not warmer. It almost seemed like a winter sun, thin rays without heat, but the winter was long past. His stomach rumbled again, and he wondered if he should give up when he heard the faint clip-clop of horse hooves.

  He stood up, then sat back down, not wanting to seem too eager. He had never been to the city, but he knew what it would be like. All the tall, fair people wearing robes similar to those worn by the council, circling the carriage and paying obeisance to their prince. He would lean out the window and wave at them, commanding them to stand up and see him. They would, and he would smile, and then he would get out of the carriage and someone would fix him a spectacular lunch. Word would get back to his father about how well Adric had done in the city, and his father would be proud.

  The clip-clop had gotten louder, and behind it Adric could hear the rattle of carriage wheels on stone. His hands had turned cold. He clasped his knees and leaned forward. The carriage rounded the corner, and the air hissed out of him in surprise. It wasn’t the blue carriage with the royal insignia painted on the sides, but an unmarked black carriage, the one they used for funeral processions. Four black horses pranced in front of it, their manes caught in black plumes and their tails braided with black ribbon. A groomsman rode in front and two footmen stood in the back. Adric refused to let his disappointment show on his face. That wasn’t his carriage. His carriage had still to arrive.

  Yet the carriage stopped in front of him. Adric inhaled the scents of horse sweat and leather. The rounded door creaked open, and Lord Ewehl stepped out.

  Lord Ewehl was short but so excessively thin that he seemed tall. His skin had sunken into his face, leaving his bone structure jutting prominently. He licked his lips and smiled, but like the sun, his smile had no warmth.

  “Are you ready to go to Anda, Highness?”

  “Lord Boton was supposed to take me.”

  “Lord Boton was called on business. He asked me.”

  Adric looked at the carriage and then at the lord. He hated Lord Ewehl, and Lord Boton knew it. Perhaps this was a test to see how much Adric wanted the things he was asking for. If he said no to this trip, he would probably never receive anything else.

  “And you chose this carriage?”

  “For safety’s sake, Highness.”

  “Young master!”

  Adric turned. One of his mother’s maidservants waved at him from the west wing of the courtyard. She picked up her skirts and ran across the uneven stone, her bare feet making slapping noises. When she reached Adric, she curtsied.

  “What is this?” Lord Ewehl asked.

  Adric took the girl’s hand and helped her to her feet. Her skin was rough and already lined, but her hair seemed soft. He wondered if this was one of the women his mother had rescued from the kitchen. The girl glanced at Lord Ewehl, then reached into the folds of her skirt, and brought out a small sheath.

  “Your mother asked me to bring this to you, young master, for your trip.”

  Adric took the sheath. The leather case was warm. A pearl-studded hilt extended from it. He wrapped his hands around the gems and pulled. A thin knife the length of his forearm emerged.

  “She bids you to wear it on this trip, and to be safe.”

  “He doesn’t need any weapons,” Lord Ewehl said.

  The girl glanced at him, and Adric thought he saw something like hatred in her eyes. “Milady the queen told me not to leave until her son accepted the gift and promised to take it with him.”

  Adric undid his belt and slipped the sheath through it. “Thank my mother,” he said. The small gesture of support warmed him. The girl curtsied again and ran off down the courtyard.

  “A weapon might cause you more trouble than you need,” Lord Ewehl said.

  “My mother thinks it necessary,” Adric said, “so I will wear it.”

  The lord shrugged, grabbed the bar beside the carriage door, and pulled himself inside. Adric did the same.

  The smell of leather was stronger inside the carriage. Two padded seats ran along the front and back walls of the carriage. Lord Ewehl took the front sear. Adric reached back, grabbed the door, and swung it shut. The carriage rocked. Adric sat on the other seat near the far window.

  The seat coverings were made of smooth black satin, as were the window curtains. Lord Ewehl tapped on the roof with his fingers, and the carriage lurched forward. Adric hit his head on the wall, sending a wave of pain from his skull down his neck.

  “You must rock with the carriage, Highness, or you will get bruised.” Lord Ewehl’s lips curved with a trace of amusement. Adric wished Lord Boton sat across from him. Lord Boton would have touched his knee and asked if he was all right.

  “What kind of business is Lord Boton doing?” Adric asked. The pain in his head had eased to a dull throb.

  “Documents, with your father.”

  “My father is with my mother. I just saw them.”

  “The work was left over from yesterday. Your father wanted to see them first thing today.”

  Adric glanced out the window. They were still inside the palace grounds. “My father didn’t say anything about that when I told him Lord Boton was taking me to Anda.”

  “Your father had probably forgotten.”

  “Then Lord Boton could have come with me.”

  “He does his duty, whether the king remembers what he asked for or not.”

  Adric glanced at Ewehl. The lord still had a faint smile on his face. He was lying. Adric had been right about the test, then. He felt a trickle of disappointment that Lord Boton would trick him, test him. Lord Boton had always been the one he could trust. But when he got back, he was sure Lord Boton would tell him all about it, and would praise him for doing well.

  Through the window Adric saw the tall, carved stone of the walls pass by him. And then they were outside the palace on a dirt road that curved ahead through rows of large trees. The carriage bumped for a moment, then settled into the ruts that lined the road. The trees outside the window were large. Their leaves and branches formed a canopy above the road, letting only patches of sunlight through. Adric was glad that they were traveling by day. The dark road would be gloomy at night. And even though the trees were young and straight, they reminded him of the whistle-wood trees near the Cache. Those trees had seemed almost alive, as if they could reach out and hold him. These trees lacked that vibrancy, but they still had a presence.

  “Do Enos guard these trees?” Adric asked.

  “There is a land Enos here, but it is untamed. I believe it works with the Cache Enos. The land here still belongs to the palace. I will let you know when we cross into Lord Demythos’ land.”

  Adric frown when he thought of Lord Demyt
hos. The lord wore only black, and when he arrived for the council meetings, he made it a point to give his greetings to Adric. Adric did not know if the lord expected something from him or was simply paying him a courtesy.

  Adric’s stomach rumbled, and he placed a hand over it. “How long until we get to the city?”

  “Perhaps an hour.”

  “Lord Boton said he would tell me what to do once we reach the city.”

  Lord Ewehl leaned back and crossed his legs, putting his ankle on his knee. “Lord Boton makes too much of this. Use common sense, Highness, and you can survive the city.”

  “Is common sense why you chose this carriage?”

  The smile slid from Lord Ewehl’s face. He tilted his head back and gazed at Adric through hooded eyes. “I suppose you could say that.”

  “I thought we would take my father’s carriage, the blue carriage.”

  “And announce to the city that the young prince has arrived and is ready to be taken? Not sensible, Highness.”

  “You’re saying that I’ll be in danger in the city?”

  “Highness, many people see you as a way to get to your father.”

  “Why would they want to get to my father? He’s well liked.”

  Lord Ewehl chuckled. The sound echoed in the small compartment. “By the gentry, of course. But as you’ll see once we reach the city, many others aren’t fairing so well by his policies.”

  “They’re your policies too. You’re one of the ones who advise him.”

  “So I do. And just because people disagree with the policies does not make them bad.”

  “But they threaten my father.”

  “No, Highness. They just make certain places unsafe. Which is, I’m sure, why your lady mother gave you that knife.”

  The carriage tilted on two wheels as it rounded a corner. Adric grabbed the satin seat and leaned into the curve. The trees were thinning and the road was growing lighter. The rattle of the wheels seemed louder inside, but Adric could barely hear the horses. The carriage itself groaned as it rocked.

  “What did the Cache Enos tell you?” Lord Ewehl asked.

  Adric felt as if the carriage had stopped moving for a moment. He willed himself to breath. Someone had been spying on him and had reported to Lord Ewehl. “I have never seen a Cache Enos.”

  “Highness, you saw her a fortnight ago, and ever since you have been hounding us to make you into a ‘good king.’”

  “I asked her what would make a good king, and she told me.” Adric licked his lips. They felt dry and cracked.

  “Enos never give advice. They prophesy.”

  Adric shrugged. “This one gave me advice.”

  “You lie, Highness.”

  Adric sat forward. “You wouldn’t talk to my father this way.”

  “Your father isn’t ten years old.” Lord Ewehl hadn’t switched his position, but his body had gown tense. “What did the Enos say to you?”

  “Why is it so important for you to know?”

  “The prophecy might be important to the kingdom.”

  “Then I will tell my father when I get back.” Adric tightened his fists against his legs. His father bristled at even a slight comment about leadership. Adric couldn’t imagine telling his father about the Enos’s comments. “If you’re so curious, why don’t you ask the Enos yourself?”

  “Because I am not a member of your family, Highness. She will not speak to me.”

  Adric frowned. “I thought the Enos were there for us all.”

  “They deign to speak to some of us sometimes, but they belong to the land. Only the cities have no Enos protection. And the Enos only speak to those who control the land.”

  “You control land. She should speak to you.”

  “My own Enos does. The Cache Enos only speak to the royal family. You should know this, Highness.”

  “I don’t know it!” Adric’s voice sounded shrill. “And when I was with her, I made mistakes, too. No one tells me anything. Now do you see why I want to learn? I want to know the things you know and my father knows and what Lord Boton knows. You say common sense will help in the city. I don’t even know what common sense is!”

  Lord Ewehl finally sat forward. He patted Adric’s knee. Adric moved away. “You will do just fine, Highness. You know more than you think you do.”

  Adric looked out the window. The trees had disappeared, replaced by rolling fields lined with hedges. Rows and rows of leafy plants braced against sticks ran perpendicular to the carriage. People knelt beside the plants, picking red balls and placing them in buckets. Adric squinted at some of the plants closest to the road. Tomatoes. He wondered how anything could grow in the drought his father complained of. He stared at the people. They were servants. Their clothes were worn, but none were tattered. Many wore no shirts and revealed sun-darkened skin.

  “Lord Demythos’ land,” Lord Ewehl said. “He lets his peasants work unsupervised.”

  Lord Ewehl’s tone sounded disapproving. But the people looked contented to Adric. They seemed to be working hard and getting a lot done. He sighed and leaned his head against the curtain. “How much farther?”

  “Not much,” Lord Ewehl said.

  They rode for the next few miles in silence. Adric watched as the fields eased into hedges and then into trampled grass. Finally, around a corner he saw the spires of Anda, looking tall and spindly against the clear sky.

  “We’re here,” he said, not caring about the excitement in his voice. Another road merged into the one they were on, and they suddenly found themselves in traffic. Another carriage pulled in ahead of them, and riders along either side. Adric looked at the horseflesh, and decided that it was of poor quality. The riders wore dusty clothes and had sweat trickles on their sunburned faces.

  Lord Ewehl leaned his head out the window and looked around. “Congestion,” he said. “I hate the city.”

  The rumbling of the other carriages mingled with their own, and the thud of the horse hooves grew louder. Voices cried out to one another, and Adric caught only part of the words, nonsense syllables mostly, it seemed to him. A stench grew in the air. He was able to recognize manure and rotted food, but there were other smells equally as foul blended in.

  He looked out the window and saw a long wall that encircled buildings. Dozen of horses and carriages were going in and out a gate. The wall and gate were made of wood planks strung together. Adric squinted. Inside, he could see the edges of more buildings made from wood.

  As the carriage pulled inside the gate, the noise and smell grew stronger. People, many in rags, their bodies unwashed and coated with dust and dirt, teemed against the carriage. More people, some without hands or with large sores covering their skin, cowered next to the gate. A man on a horse whipped them as he went by. Shouts, calls, whistles, an occasional whinny, and the rattle of carriages built to a cacophony in Adric’s head. A man stood on a large rock near one of the buildings, screaming something about the vengeance of the Old Ones. Hands pounded against the carriage, reached for Adric. Voices called for a coin, sir, just one, spare me some money, sir, I haven’t eaten in days. Adric wanted to shrink back into the carriage, but he didn’t want to miss anything. The city was nothing like he had imagined. It was thriving, alive on its own, and yet frightening at the same time.

  The carriage stopped, and Adric had to grip the windowsill to keep from falling. The hands that were reaching suddenly grabbed on, and Adric heard a whistle, crack, and snap of the whip the footmen used to keep ragged people off before he saw the black tip draw blood. Adric gazed across the crowd at the buildings that seemed scattered haphazardly beside the roads. The buildings were top-heavy, their second story hanging out over the first. A woman leaned out an upstairs window and tossed the contents of a slop jar into the street. The liquid splattered people below, and one, a fat man wearing green velvet robes, shook a bejeweled fist at the building. Down the other streets the crowd seemed thinner. The edges of signs blocked his view. Dogs ran through the crowd and he th
ought he saw a chicken scratching at the dirt.

  “Can we get out here?” Adric asked.

  “We haven’t even reached the central city,” Lord Ewehl said.

  “But we’ve stopped.”

  “There must be something in the road ahead. We will start in a moment.”

  Adric gazed out the window. His stomach was jumping, and he felt as if he had to move. “I only have the day,” he said, “I want to see everything. Let’s move.”

  He stood up. Lord Ewehl remained sitting. “I will stay with the carriage. One of the footmen will accompany you. Tell him when you want to go back, that we’ll meet in the usual spot in the center of town.”

  “The center of town. Okay.”

  “Wait.” Lord Ewehl reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch. “You’ll need this.”

  Adric took the pouch. He felt the coins clinking against the cloth. “Thank you,” he said. He let himself out the door. The sunlight seemed brighter. It was warm here, but the smells seemed less cramped, less closed up. He climbed down the steps into the crowd, and winced as unwashed bodies rubbed against him. He glanced up once to see a footman climbing down from his perch behind the carriage, and then he pushed his way through the crowd to one of the side streets.

  As he got outside the throng, he saw merchants pushing carts and calling their wares. One had meats, another fresh fruits. Adric stopped one of the meat carts and bought a chunk of beef, but when he bit into it, the meat tasted rancid. He spat it out and looked for the merchant to complain, but the man had already disappeared. Adric tossed the meat aside, and noted with surprise that a dozen people dove for it.