by Frank Morin
Ailsa was not one to make idle threats, so Shona waved the delegation to wait, then stepped back inside. Ailsa was one who always seemed to know more than she should and could find answers. That was exactly what Shona needed.
“What danger are you referring to?” She asked when they stood inside alone.
“You’ve heard of the coup, but you’re walking into a trap that few have survived in recent days,” Ailsa said gravely. “The queen seeks worthy servants. Everyone who arrives with a summons like you must present themselves to her for an interview. Most of them do not survive. The lucky ones are executed.”
Shona’s fears redoubled. “I can’t leave.”
“No. It’s too late for that. No doubt Dreokt would take that as a sign of guilt and dispatch an execution squad to track you down. I believe you are one of the few people clever enough to understand and utilize the information I’m about to share with you.”
“I’m listening.” More than that, Shona felt terrified, desperate to hear what Ailsa had to say. She tried to keep her expression neutral, though. No sense giving Ailsa too much advantage.
Ailsa edged closer and whispered, even though they stood alone in the speedcaravan. “The queen is an ancient Petralist. She has powers not seen since the Tallan wars. No one is prepared when they meet her.”
Her absolute assurance set Shona’s heart racing even faster. “But you can help me?”
Ailsa considered her for a moment, and the hesitation drove Shona’s anxiety to a fever pitch. What if she refused to share the information after all? What if this was some kind of tease, some kind of retribution for how Shona had treated Connor at the Carraig? She prepared arguments, ways to convince Ailsa that she had done what she had thought was best.
But Ailsa spoke. “The queen possesses powers unavailable to anyone else I know about. She can read the minds of those with whom she speaks.”
Shona paled. Invading the minds of others was the worst form of personal violation. No secrets could be kept, no privacy.
Ailsa added, “And that’s not the worst of it. She also has a terrifying ability to influence those minds that she touches.”
That seemed a bit far-fetched.
Ailsa read her expression. “You’ll see it for yourself, and if you fail your interview, you will more than see, unless she executes you outright.”
Shona paced away, her thoughts a dizzying blur. “So how can you help?”
“If you’re as clever as I believe you are, if you focus carefully, and if you’re more than a little lucky, you might survive.”
“If I fail, she’ll know you tried to help me, won’t she?”
Ailsa flashed a tight grin. In that moment, she reminded Shona of Connor and his daring. “All life is a risk, and I’m willing to take this risk for you.”
“Why?” Shona wished she had taken the time to learn more about Ailsa.
“Because I think we will be able to help each other. I can help you survive today. We will need each other to continue surviving here.”
Shona extended her hand. “I accept your proposal. What do I do?”
Ailsa took her hand, her calloused grip strong. “There is no defense against the queen’s ability to touch your mind. You need to understand this truth. Most of those who have suffered since she took over have tried to conceal their thoughts and present a false face to the queen. Such duplicity enrages her, and she has at times done terrible things to people whose service she needs. Her mood swings dramatically from one moment to the next, and there’s no telling what she’ll do, but there are ways to position yourself to not draw her wrath.”
“How?”
“You may not be able to block her access to your mind, but the trick that few people seem to realize is to present a mind that is uninteresting, or one that would take too much effort for her to decipher.”
Ailsa tapped Shona on the side of the head. “Any time you are in her presence, you must present a consistent, simple, yet compelling mindset. Your father is her foremost counselor at the moment, so she may already be predisposed to like you. I recommend you focus on your father. Think about him and nothing else. Fill your mind with thoughts of pride for what he has accomplished, and with the single, overruling desire to make him proud and do his will.”
As Shona considered that Ailsa added, “If you do this, she will see in you a daughter determined only to serve her father. From the insights I’ve gathered in recent days attending her, such an image would be most likely to make a positive impression. As a result, you become a person whose mind she does not need to delve deeper into.”
Shona nodded, understanding. “I see how that could work. It’s simple but brilliant. If she touches my thoughts, she finds nothing surprising or even very interesting, but something she approves. I can do that.”
Ailsa gave her an encouraging nod. “I thought you might. If your concentration lapses, if you let your thoughts wander, or if you react too strongly to any of her surprising antics, you may draw her attention again. If she decides further investigation is warranted, there may be no hope for you.”
Shona wanted to ask more, but Ailsa gestured toward the waiting delegation. “We’ve lingered long enough. We don’t want the queen to glean from any other mind that there was anything unusual about your arrival. She’s incredibly smart and absolutely ruthless.”
Shona stepped out of the carriage and Ailsa followed, her hat once again pulled low over her face. She slipped away along the track and seemed to blend into the background, completely uninteresting.
The delegation waiting for Shona consisted of four soldiers in dress uniforms and a man she did not recognize, but who dressed as one of her father’s personal attendants. He looked to be in his twenties, tall, with strong features. His black hair was carefully groomed, and he bowed over her hand with perfect etiquette.
“Welcome to Donleavy, Lady Shona. I am Ian. It is my pleasure to escort you to your father in his tower.”
“Thank you, Ian, but where is Goshka?” Her father usually sent his elderly valet to meet her, and she had been looking forward to seeing his familiar face.
“Goshka is no longer with us. He made the mistake of expressing a contrary opinion in the presence of the queen.”
“Oh, no,” Shona breathed. The man was one of his father’s oldest servants. Hearing of his death in such a matter-of-fact way reinforced Ailsa’s warnings.
“It may comfort you to know that the queen herself executed him on the spot,” Ian offered, his expression still carefully neutral. “I am told it is a great honor for a servant to die by her hand.”
“That’s not exactly comforting,” Shona said coldly.
“I apologize,” Ian said. His careful facade cracked for a second and he glanced around, moving his eyes more than his head. He spoke in a low voice intended for her ears alone, “Take great care what you say and who you speak with here, Lady Shona. Donleavy is a dangerous place right now and you’re a newcomer. If you survive today, things will start making sense.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He gave her an encouraging smile. “We’re all wishing you great success.” Then his expression turned carefully neutral again and he said more loudly, “If I may escort you to your father.”
Shona had planned to ask Goshka additional questions, but doubted Ian would again risk breaking out of his role. From what she was seeing, he had taken a great risk to even share that much with her.
So she studied the people they passed as they climbed the grand central stair up to the main level of the central palace. The enormous entry atrium rose five stories to gilded ceilings, with seven staircases leading off to the main halls. The falls plunged down along the rear of the vast room behind a wall of tall, pivoting windows that stood closed, shielding the hall from the billowing spray.
The palace was busy as always, but it seemed unusually quiet. People moved about quickly, with their heads down, their expressions a mask of false happiness, but it was far too easy t
o read their fear.
She caught people casting glances in her direction, but they did not speak. When she spotted a girl she knew from the Carraig, she raised a hand in greeting, but the girl turned and hurried away, her expression terrified. For a second, Shona felt hurt, but then realized she hadn’t survived her interview yet. The girl probably did not want the queen gleaning any suggestion that they were friends until Shona proved her worthiness.
That thought chilled her with an even deeper fear. The queen had only just returned, but already she’d cowered the proud populace to a degree Shona never would have believed. Residents of Donleavy must feel like the world had turned upside down. Donleavy was the seat of power in Obrion and the home of the great game of houses. Politics and intrigue were the norm, where lies and half-truths and double crosses were daily occurrences. People in Donleavy appreciated astute political maneuvering and all the baggage that came with it. The queen threatened to destroy their entire way of life.
Ian led Shona to the western palace and up to her father’s tower. When Shona entered their luxurious apartment, she found him dressed in full, formal finery. He’d been waiting for her and swept her into a welcoming hug that he held several seconds longer than normal.
“Shona, I’m so glad you came quickly. Any delay would have been unwise. Quick, change into one of your gowns.”
He looked healthy, but tired and drawn. Her father was always a master at concealing his true emotions, but Shona could read him better than anyone. She read tension in his eyes and nervousness in his grip on her arms.
“I was hoping to speak with you for a few minutes about what’s going on here.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, something she had only seen him do once or twice in her entire life. “There is no time. The queen is aware of your arrival, and she has already sent for us to attend her.”
He gestured toward her room. “I took the liberty of picking out a suitable gown. Attendants are already waiting to help you.”
She resisted his push in that direction. “Father, I’ve heard rumors about her. Please explain the situation. Surely she can wait a minute or two.”
Dougal attempted to give her a reassuring smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. That more than confirmed her worst fears. “The queen is the ultimate Petralist, wielding power that we have been seeking to restore for over three hundred years. We celebrated power that was but a shameful shadow of the truth. She is power, and we must embrace this opportunity and serve her.”
“It doesn’t sound like we have a choice,” Shona said, shocked by his attitude more than by his words. He spoke as if trying to convince both of them. She’d never seen him like this. He was always the person in control, the man who knew more than anyone else.
Not anymore.
“We will serve her, and that service grants us access to that power.” He looked deep into her eyes and added forcefully, “There are some risks, but if we help our queen secure her throne, she will deal with our enemies and establish an unbreakable rule across the entire continent. However, you cannot show any doubts. You cannot show any hesitation, any criticism of anything she ever says, or even think anything that she might disapprove of. If you do, not even I could save you.”
She started asking another question, her mind whirling with questions and the growing fear that she would die within the next hour, but he grabbed her hands, his expression one of fearful excitement.
“My dear Shona, you are my pride and joy. If anyone can survive an interview with the queen and benefit from it, it’s you. I trust you. I’ve trained you well. You are the most capable young woman I know.” He gave her an encouraging grin. “If you survive today, we’ll have time to discuss everything. It will be wonderful. Hurry.”
Shona allowed him to push her to her bedroom, with his words ringing in her ears. He had spoken the exact same words Ian and Ailsa had.
If you survive today.
13
The Deeper Sound of Sounds
Connor followed Aifric onto the battlements atop the citadel’s outer wall. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the city of Altkalen in soft orange light, setting the western-facing windows glittering like diamonds.
They stood alone on a shadowed section of the wall, overlooking one of the large gates facing one of the bridges over the river. A wide courtyard just inside the wall was bustling with activity. The wall was patrolled by the citadel guard, but it also appeared to be a popular place for couples to stroll together as evening settled over the city.
Connor loved the unparalleled feeling of discovery he experienced when establishing affinity with a new power stone. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for other Petralists who might only get to enjoy it once. A few others managed a secondary affinity with a sedimentary stone, and fewer still with a metamorphic, tertiary-affinity. Only a handful in every generation unlocked Agor or Dawnus dual powers.
The recent training with chert had left him a bit shaken from the intense emotional journey, but surely serpentinite would be far simpler. Before Aifric could begin the training, a couple came strolling past. The pretty blonde woman who clung to the arm of a tall, muscular officer, glanced at her, then looked again. With an exclamation of joy, she released over.
She spoke excitedly in Grandurian and seemed to know Aifric.
Aifric coughed, the movement masking the little shudder as she smoothly shifted personalities. Her features softened, her eyes seeming to grow wider and more vulnerable, and her voice rose to a higher, sweeter pitch.
She hugged the woman enthusiastically and spoke in Obrioner. “It’s so good to see you Alena, but what are you doing so far south?”
Alena looked startled by the shift in language, but transitioned smoothly with a laugh. “What about you? I can’t believe your boorish father would let you come to Altkalen so soon after the fighting.”
Aifric-Cacilia shrugged, a mischievous look in her eyes. “You assume he approved.”
“Oh, you can be such a dare,” Alena gushed in mock shock, although she looked thrilled to hear of Cacilia’s disobedience.
“Don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Alena assured her. She glanced at Connor and her eyes widened with new delight. “Tallan be praised, you’re the Blood of the Tallan!” She added excitedly, “Oh, such a scandal.”
Connor tried to protest, but Cacilia shushed him and took his arm. She tried to look demure and asked, “Am I wicked for trying to comfort this deserving hero while he waits for his love to awaken?”
“Not at all,” Alena assured her with mock sincerity and obvious delight.
Connor couldn’t bear the thought of generating rumors that he might be unfaithful to Verena. He had enough to straighten out with her already, but when he tried to protest, Cacilia shushed him again.
She declared, “Then I shall have to work harder.”
Alena glanced at her officer, who looked eager to resume their private walk, then said, “You must come visit me, Cacilia. I’m only here another week.”
“Of course,” Cacilia assured her.
After the couple left, Aifric shivered, her features shifting back to Student Eighteen and she frowned after Alena. “Such a fool. She’s the perfect friend for shallow Cacilia.”
“What was that all about?” Connor demanded.
Student Eighteen sighed. “Cacilia is one of my Grandurians. She’s my version of the daughter of an arrogant lordling in southwest Granadure who oversees an important quartzite quarry. Her entire purpose is to generate rumors to infuriate him.”
“Why?”
“The man discovered and nearly captured Mister Five’s wife, who is one of our best infiltrators.”
“Wow. How did he manage that?”
“I was sent to discover that very fact. In the guise of my Longseer officer from northern Granadure I visited his quarry on the pretense of inspecting their processes. I learned that the man has a perfect memory. He remembers everything he’s
ever seen or heard or thought.”
“How is that possible?”
She shrugged. “It’s a very rare condition. It was also unknown to Mister Five’s wife. The man caught her in a lie. Once he grew suspicious, her mission was compromised.”
“So did you, ah, punish him?” Connor asked awkwardly. He didn’t want to say the word assassinate.
“Killing him wouldn’t have been productive, but I have punished him.” She nodded toward the distant form of Lady Alena. “I created Cacilia based on his daughter. I look a little like her, but I periodically go about in her guise, spreading rumors that will eventually get back to him.”
“What does that accomplish?”
“Like I said, he’s arrogant. With his perfect memory, he considers everyone else little better than buffoons. So when he hears rumors about his daughter, he knows they’re false since he keeps her at home at all times. So he browbeats the messengers and makes enemies. He damages his own reputation and reduces his influence in circles of power.”
“That’s terrible.” It was better than killing him, but it was far from nice.
“He does the damage to himself. I just give him a chance to demonstrate his poor qualities. Perhaps the rumors will encourage his daughter to take a chance and try living her own life on her own terms someday.”
Connor thought about that, but she said, “Enough distraction. On to serpentinite.”
She extracted from a pocket a small rock and handed it to him. It felt rough and uneven, but in the deepening shadows he couldn’t see it clearly. So he used a small piece of limestone to create a soft glow.
“I see where it gets the name.” Serpentinite had a mottled exterior of shades of green and blue, and even a little red. It looked quite a bit like the skin of a serpent.
“Different variants have different coloration, but all power-grade serpentinite I’ve ever seen looks pretty similar to this. It’s found only rarely on the surface, although our lore masters suggest there may be much more underground.”
Connor turned it over in his hand, savoring that sense of wonder. “Affinity with this metamorphic stone is a doorway to manipulate sound?”