Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  “Best go see to Vil,” Ifor reminded them in his deep slow tones. Kaymar and Menders started guiltily and moved for the stairs, hurrying back upwards and out into the Courtyard, where Doctor Franz was crouched beside the little corporal, who was more angry than anything else.

  “Hells, it’s hardly in there, Franz, just squeeze the bastard good and stand back, the bullet will pop right out,” he was griping. Hemmett crouched on the other side of Villison’s wiry body, looking exhausted. There was blood on his uniform. Not all of it was from Villison.

  “We’ll take you inside and do things right,” Franz said with some amusement.

  “Bastard came out of that carriage shooting and then ran right over me, put his damn big foot right in me shoulder,” Villison raved.

  Hemmett looked up at Menders, who shook his head.

  “We lost him, some damned secret stairway,” he sighed. “Turns out he was an old friend. Therbalt.”

  Hemmett groaned and stood up.

  “All right,” Franz said. “Hemmett, could you carry Vil in for me, please, take him back to Katrin’s suite? I need to see if I can get that bullet out of him.”

  “’Ere, let me sit up first, I don’t fancy bein’ lifted like a fairy princess in a dead faint,” Villison groused, heaving himself up from the ground. Hemmett hoisted him easily and went off into the Palace.

  Menders looked at the carriage in disgust. The driver had obviously fled during the chaos. The horses were frightened, showing the whites of their eyes.

  “Ifor, can you see to these horses?” Menders asked. “Kaymar, the bodies in The Palace have to be removed and disposed of. I don’t want any of them found. It’s as if they never existed. Has everything been done?”

  “Yes,” Kaymar answered quietly. “The Men are filtering back. They aren’t going to catch him. I’ll get them started on the rest of it.”

  “Thank you.” Menders turned and walked into the Palace to see to Villison.

  6

  When We’re Grown,

  What Shall We Be?

  Borsen sat at the table overlooking the vineyards of Menders’ house in Surelia, watching the sun set.

  He’d been here for five days with no word from Erdahn. Despite his worry over everyone involved, he had finally been able to sleep decently. He felt much less fragile and shaky. Though still worried about what was happening at home, being away from the continual fear and strain was a blessing. He could draw a breath without feeling his tense muscles creak.

  Stevahn walked out on the verandah and came over, putting down a plate of cheese, butter and bread provided by the new housekeeper, who bent over backwards to do everything she could to make them feel welcome. She was quite a contrast to Madame Spinta.

  Borsen had to smile, remembering how Katrin had drawn herself up in majesty and confronted that particular she-dragon. The smile faded, as he wondered what was happening in Erdahn and if she was all right.

  Stevahn sat down.

  “It’s hot, but it’s peaceful,” he sighed, reaching for the bottle of wine on the table. “I’ve just talked to Karlen and Varnia, who walked down to town. No word of Mordania in the newssheets.”

  Borsen sighed, but not with contentment. He wished he knew something – anything. The not knowing was the reason why he had resisted coming here for so long, though he had to admit seeing his name on a death warrant was enough to make wings grow on his feet.

  “I have to assume that something has happened, because I know Uncle was going to make a move,” Borsen said. “Just what, I’m not sure. I’ve been half expecting he and Katrin will drive up at any time. I know there was a plan to get her out of Mordania altogether.”

  Stevahn shook his head.

  “I haven’t expected it,” he said. “I was privy to more than you were, I’m afraid. The plan was to eliminate Aidelia but with Katrin where she couldn’t be declared Queen.”

  “I guessed that,” Borsen said. “That opens another can of worms with a Regent determined to eliminate the Thrun and Katrin too, since she would be a threat. I just wish we knew something.”

  “Me too.” Stevahn sipped his wine and looked over at Borsen.

  “You aren’t sitting there feeling guilty because you’re out of it, are you, light of my life?” he asked.

  “You know I am,” Borsen answered, looking directly into his eyes.

  “Don’t. You did all you could, to great detriment to yourself. You proved yourself a very brave man,” Stevahn said. “I didn’t say anything at the time, as you had enough weighing on you, but I was incredibly proud of how you stood up to it all.”

  “And here I thought I was a fainting violet through the entire crisis.” Borsen couldn’t help smiling.

  “Because you showed the strain? We all did. Last time I saw Menders, he looked like Grim Death himself. Borsen, you don’t have the constitution the rest of us do, despite your ability to walk on your hands and shoot the eye out of a fly at a hundred paces. Pressure is always going to affect you. You gave your home over to operations that, if they were found out, would have resulted in you being tortured to death. You risked everything you have. Day after day of not knowing if each minute wasn’t going to be your last – that wasn’t an easy thing to bear, and you bore it well. Pappa was bragging about you just the other day, when I went to tell him we were going. Said he’d never known anyone so gutsy. His very own words.”

  “Dear Pappa,” Borsen laughed. “He just thinks I can fly because I’m so nice to you.”

  “Courage isn’t always charging up the Promenade with a sword and hacking off heads,” Stevahn laughed. He fell silent as Borsen sat up straight and sniffed.

  “What?” Stevahn whispered. He’d learned to trust Borsen’s senses.

  “I think we’re about to be invited to play a game of Watch the Lady,” Borsen said, smiling and slumping back in his seat in relief. At the same moment, Stevahn smelled what Borsen had moments before, a peculiar cigar smoke.

  “Evening, gents,” Villison said as he sauntered around the corner of the house and came up the verandah steps, one of his favored cigars, a rare and expensive brand, in his mouth. His right arm was in a sling and he looked a bit pale, but was obviously in good form otherwise. He pulled up a chair and sat as Stevahn reached to the sideboard for another wineglass.

  “Come on, Vil!” Borsen said impatiently.

  “All are well,” Villison said. “Katrin’s declared Queen.”

  “What? Uncle was going to get her away so that wouldn’t happen!” Borsen cried.

  “Yeah, I know it, but Katrin bolluxed everything. She panicked and killed Aidelia herself, poisoned her with ramplane,” Villison said.

  “Grahl’s Teeth!” Stevahn muttered. Borsen stared.

  “Aidelia threatened to kill Menders, you, Hemmett and everyone else and then sent Katrin back to her suite for wine. When Katrin found the suite empty, she thought everyone had been rounded up and put in the dungeons. Knew there was no way out but to put Aidelia down, so she did.

  “The Council was in a meeting and needed Aidelia’s signature, went up and found her growing cold, ran down the hall and declared poor Katrin Queen. Of course, some of that is Menders’ fault, as he kept her in the dark about the plans, hoping it would protect her. Hells, there’s no way to know the best way to do these things. What would’ve happened if Katrin didn’t become Queen – it would still be just as dangerous and as big a mess, with her in danger as well as everyone else.”

  Borsen groaned with frustration, but knew Villison was right. There was no happily-ever-after answer to the situation, no matter how you looked at it.

  Arden, Villison’s little boy, ran out onto the patio.

  “Uncle Borsen!” he bellowed, throwing himself on Borsen’s lap. Borsen was one of his favourite people.

  “You’re getting so big,” Borsen laughed. “Brought the whole family?” he grinned at Villison.

  “Got meself wounded in the cleanup operations,” Villison grinned back, bran
dishing his arm. “Turns out that Prince Talbreth was an old friend. Same fellow called himself Therbalt, the charming gentleman who sent DeLarco after the lot of you, as well as those two women who tried to kill Eiren and Katrin. I tried to get him out of his coach and he shot me in the arm, then ran over me – with his feet, not the coach. His boots did more damage than the bullet, cracked me collarbone. So I’m sicked out. Ere, son, don’t grab at the food like that, you’ve been raised better!”

  Villison snapped the fingers of his good hand resoundingly. Arden immediately stopped shoveling cheese into his mouth and smiled winningly at his father, who shook his head, trying to suppress a smile.

  “So Petra and the baby are here with you as well?” Stevahn laughed, reaching for a small plate and arranging a snack for the young fellow, who kept admonishing him to pile on more.

  “All of us, taking a bit of a family holiday until things are more settled and I’m of use again,” Villison replied. “They don’t need me with all the Guards and Menders’ Men crawling around the Palace. I’m glad for the rest. Even minor gunshot wounds aren’t pleasant and cracked collarbones let you know you’re in pain every time you breathe. Ol’ Vil’s more than ready for a rest cure.”

  “I’ve missed you, Uncle Borsen,” Arden declared, between mouthfuls of cheese and bread. “You haven’t been to see me in a long time.”

  “I’ll have to make up for that,” Borsen answered.

  “I want you to make me a coat,” Arden said. “A red one, with the big gold B on the inside.”

  “I’m sure I can manage this,” Borsen grinned, resting his chin on the top of Arden’s curly head, winking at Villison, who rolled his eyes. Arden had no idea that what he was demanding would cost anyone who was not “family” a small fortune – but Borsen would deliver the little coat gladly and free of charge, complete with the monogrammed B on the lining that identified it as his own hand work.

  “Good. I’ll need to be measured. I’ve been growing again, though I shall probably stop for a while so I can be sure to wear the red coat a lot,” Arden said, holding out his plate to Stevahn to be filled again. He was firmly convinced that he could start and stop his growth at will.

  “All right, me boy, that’s enough from you,” Villison laughed

  “We’ll go ahead and plan to go back,” Borsen said, but was surprised when Villison looked pensive.

  “Fellows, listen to ol’ Vil here a bit,” he said after a moment. “I stopped in both your places of business before coming on over. I have messages for both of you, but your seconds assured me that all is well and they can hold the fort for a while. Katrin is refusing to have a coronation, so there isn’t going to be any sudden rush for clothes at your place, Borsen. Your Pappa is up and around and able to stop into the bank for a while every day, Stevahn, so you’re covered there if the markets start to go wild, which it doesn’t look like is going to happen. Take a week. Let the dust settle.”

  Borsen raised an eyebrow and waited. It was obvious that there was more, but you didn’t rush Villison.

  “My meaning is this,” Villison said after he’d puffed on his cigar a few times. “Menders has his hands full with what’s going on. Katrin isn’t happy, but she’s giving it a good try. Give her a little while with just herself and Menders working on the situation. It’s a mess, as you can imagine. Having too much family around right now – not good. It would distract her and she needs to adjust. The less distraction, to my way of thinking, the faster she’ll get over being upset about everything, and get on with business.

  “Oh, hells, I nearly forgot, that youngster works for you, Petran? He’s alive and going to be all right.”

  “Thank the gods!” Borsen burst out.

  “That was right in my ear, Uncle Borsen,” Arden groused. Borsen hugged him in apology, feeling ashamed that he’d forgotten to ask about his employee.

  “Yeah, sorry I didn’t mention it. Katrin had him released, all the prisoners that Aidelia had taken too. He’s hurt, but nothing that won’t heal in time. He’s back home with his Mamma now and your fat man, Mister Evanov. Looked very perky when I checked on him on me way to the boat.”

  “So you see,” Villison went on, “I think a bit more time to recover wouldn’t be bad. And not to be rude, but you’re far from your usual bloomin’ image, Borsen. You’ve had a rough time. Be good to yourself.”

  “Yes, and you could shoot a snake for me so I could have some snake shoes too,” Arden added. He had been well tutored in the saga of Borsen and the viper.

  “’Ere, don’t you be worrying about the snakes here, they’re not like the little friendly fellows we’ve got back home,” Villison laughed.

  “I’m full, let me go see Mama,” Arden demanded, clambering down and running away into the house.

  “So what’ll it be, gents? Gonna take Brother Vil’s advice?”

  Borsen and Stevahn exchanged a look. After a moment, Stevahn nodded.

  “I don’t think we need to be involved in what’s going on at the Palace right now,” he said slowly. “We’ve always been a step away, having lives separate from The Shadows and now the Palace. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “It’s best,” Villison said. “That’s why I always stayed a step back too. I love all those folks like life, don’t get me wrong. I think the world of Menders and I’m devoted to the service of my Princess, but it’s not a good thing to be sucked in and become a royal hanger-on. You’ve got a nice life. Keep it that way. You can see plenty of them, but you don’t have to be inside it.”

  “A little time away sounds good enough to me,” Borsen said. He was gratified to see Stevahn smile to himself and relax.

  ***

  “You asked me not to keep things from you,” Menders said levelly, looking at Katrin, who was seated at the head of the table, surrounded by himself, Kaymar and Ifor, Hemmett and various of Menders’ Men. “I’m doing as you asked. Your cousin Glorantha’s father is a very real threat to you – to your life and to your throne. It is a situation that must be dealt with. We sent a man into his home to see what is going on. It’s not good at all. Kaymar?”

  “I had young Marius go in as a manservant,” Kaymar said to Katrin. “The girl is twelve years old, as we know. She’s been raised in the good old Mordanian way, including toughening. She seems fairly bright but very beaten down. She always wears red dresses cut to look like the Queen’s formal gown. Her father constantly talks about Mordania needing a real Queen and has pushed the poor child toward that all her life. There’s even a little red throne that he has her sit on when they have guests.”

  Hemmett grimaced in disgust.

  “We’ve been over all this before. If Glorantha came to the throne now, not being of age, her father would act as Regent,” Menders said, picking up the thread of conversation. “He is known to be one of the main proponents of exterminating the Thrun. It is also very likely he would not tolerate an abdicated Queen, no matter how sincerely you tried to convince him that you don’t want anything to do with the Throne. He’s one of the biggest war profiteers in Mordania and has been a major supporter of all the wars in recent history.”

  “He has been known to talk about eliminating Aidelia, and before her, your mother,” Ifor said quietly. “It’s inevitable that he will consider eliminating you. Since Glorantha is your Heiress, he will be more motivated than he was in the past. He has the money and the power to support an assassination. So far, he’s biding his time. We’re watching him and his connections.”

  Katrin looked around the table.

  “What suggestions do you have?” she asked.

  “The easiest and most certain route would be to have Glorantha come to Court as your Heiress, thus removing her from her father’s influence. Then, eliminate him,” Menders replied cooly.

  “No! No-one else will die because I’m Queen,” Katrin snapped. Menders sighed and ground his teeth.

  “Katrin, unfortunately this sort of thing is a fact of life in royal circles,” Kayma
r said tiredly.

  “No-one else is going to die. I won’t order it and I don’t want you men going behind my back to do it,” Katrin declared. “What else do you have to offer?”

  “You could get your own Heiress,” Menders said, the coldness of his voice making her look at him fearfully.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, the snap gone from her voice.

  There had been a nasty confrontation between them two days previous that ended in Katrin blaming him for her situation. It had been painful for both of them. For once, Menders didn’t feel particularly forgiving. He readily admitted keeping her out of his plans had been an error, but when she’d ignored his apology out of frustration and anger at being in the situation she’d never wanted, he’d gone cold and distant.

  Making matters worse, Eiren and Franz had been abruptly recalled to The Shadows. Bad news had come back. Eiren’s mother was seriously ill with one of the internal rots that killed its victims slowly and painfully. Franz predicted that it might take two to three years before the disease killed Marjana Spaltz. Most of her remaining time would be a pathetic torment of pain, illness and and increasing debility.

  Menders was deeply grieved by the news and understandably wanted to be with Eiren, helping her through the coming ordeal – but he was bound to stay with and help Katrin as well.

  Katrin suddenly turning on him had angered him deeply. He was in no mood for more of the self-pity and blaming of others that she had been engaging in since the shock of her ascension to the Throne wore off.

  “I mean that you can have a child who will be your Heiress,” he explained quietly. “Then Glorantha will be bumped out of that position. Of course, that would mean her father would have designs on your child, but you don’t want him eliminated, though it would be an excellent thing for Mordania if he was.”

  “I – I might not be able to have a child,” Katrin replied in a small voice.

  Menders knew it. Her cycles had never returned to any sort of regularity after her long illness. Franz had expressed doubts as to her being able to bear children after the long infection of her womb. But she had asked for her options and he was going to give them to her. She was convinced that he had erred by protecting her from some of the harsh realities that went along with being a royal person, and he would err no more.