The Silent Shield (The Kingfountain Series Book 5)

by Jeff Wheeler

  Never take a life unawares or out of revenge.

  It was one of the five oaths she had taken to become an Oath Maiden. The Wizr Myrddin had warned her that she would be tempted to violate the oaths. Adhering to them had given her great power and access to the wellspring of the Fountain’s magic, but breaking them would bring grievous consequences.

  “But I see that you have been treated fairly. There are no hovels or hunger in this place. You have truly made the desert bloom. It is a notable accomplishment. So far you have had a benevolent master. And you will have another in his stead. I give you my word.”

  As he finished his speech, he turned around completely and now faced Trynne and Sureya. In the darkness, he squinted a bit, looking at her more closely, and her heart began to clench with dread.

  “You look familiar,” he said. “You are not from these parts; your skin is too pale. You are from the West? Take off that veil. Have we met?”

  Trynne didn’t know what to say. She bobbed a curtsy, feeling vulnerable.

  “My lord, might I entreat you kindly to speak to the captain of the guard?” Samrao said in a diffident tone, deliberately interrupting the exchange. “Captain Ashok has orders from my master to defend the oasis, but I wish to avoid bloodshed.”

  “Yes, bring him to me,” Gahalatine said, giving Samrao a stern look. “Let me judge his character before deciding to replace him or not. He was loyal to Sunilik?”

  “We all were,” Samrao said with a humble bow.

  Trynne took Sureya’s wrist and whispered the word of power that would make them invisible. She was wrapped up in the magic instantly and felt her supply of it start to slowly drain. The princess gripped her hand back, almost hard enough to hurt, and Trynne led the way around the columns and furniture. They needed to get around Gahalatine so she could access the ley line.

  The servants who had crowded into the hall to hear the speech could not see them, and a few bumped into Trynne, only to stare in surprise at the seemingly blank space before them. Many of them were visibly relieved, their countenances changed by Gahalatine’s words. His magic had convinced them of his goodness and fairness, and now that the threat of destruction had passed, they were resigned to his victory.

  “Who was that young woman?” she heard Gahalatine ask Samrao. “Where is she?”

  “My . . . my lord?” Samrao asked in confusion.

  “The one who was standing right there? Where did she go?”

  “Whom do you speak of?” Samrao said. “The room is full of servants.”

  Gahalatine started after her, pushing his way through the crowd. He was clearly drawn to her use of the magic, which he could no doubt sense in the cavernous room. Since he was Fountain-blessed, he could follow her. Sureya, whom she was still pulling along, bumped into her, but Trynne didn’t slow her pace.

  When she finally glanced back, Gahalatine was looking in her direction, his eyes livid, his mouth pursed in a determined frown. She watched him lift the metal circle dangling from one of the leather cords around his neck. It was hollow in the middle, but the outside was covered in little spokes, like starbursts that went at odd angles from the round. The opening in the middle was the size of a forefinger and thumb connected into a circle. He picked up the medallion by some of the pointed ends and brought it up to his left eye as he walked.

  Trynne felt the ley line just in front of her and tugged on Sureya’s arm to hurry them both.

  “Stop!” Gahalatine commanded. “I know of you. Stop!” His magic blasted at her in a hot spurt, but it rolled off her effortlessly. She knew then that he was looking at her through the hole in his strange medallion. He could see her. His eyes blazed with blue fire, and his cheek muscle twitched with desperation. He tried to reach out his hand toward her, but he wasn’t close enough.

  “Kennesayrim,” Trynne uttered, holding fast to Sureya’s arm as they both stepped onto the ley line and lurched away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Zenana

  Queen Genevieve listened intently to Trynne’s tale of the narrow escape from Chandleer Oasis. When Trynne finally finished, the queen patted her own heart and pulled Trynne into a relieved embrace.

  “Thank the Fountain,” she murmured, stroking Trynne’s hair and arm. “I could have sent Morwenna, but I did not want her knowing about this new alliance quite yet. I’m so thankful you are safe, Trynne. I had not realized I would be sending you to such a dangerous place. This Gahalatine can strike anyone, anywhere, it seems.”

  Trynne’s heart had calmed enough that she could now look back on the narrow escape with a certain amount of excitement. It had been close. Perhaps too close. She worried that Genny would be more cautious the next time before sending her away.

  “And you, Princess Sureya,” Genevieve said. She gestured for the girl to come closer and join them. Sureya had edged away during Trynne’s recounting of the details, likely because her father’s defeat was still much too fresh for her.

  As soon as the princess reached them, Genevieve took her hands, examining the tattoos that wound partway up her arms. In Chandleer, Trynne had felt out of place while wearing the fashions of her own people. She imagined Sureya had a similar feeling. The girl looked lost and uncomfortably cold. “You are most welcome to Kingfountain,” Genevieve continued. “Only I don’t imagine you are called a princess in Chandleer? What is your title?”

  Sureya, still holding the queen’s hands, managed a sort of curtsy. “Rani, Your Highness.” Her voice trembled. “Does Your Majesty know what may yet happen to my father? To the other rulers Gahalatine has conquered?” There was a sheen of worried tears in her eyes.

  Genevieve put her arm around the girl and guided her to the window seat, where she sat down with her. Trynne had known the queen her entire life and was one of the few who still called her Genny. The queen, who was originally from Atabyrion, had adopted the fashions of Ceredigion, although less ostentatiously than previous queens. She was kindhearted and generous, a true partner and equal to her husband, King Drew, who relied on her counsel and was completely devoted to her. Since the birth of their first child, the royal couple had been a bit beleaguered by the lack of sleep because they refused to let their many nurses share all their burdens. Genny had had an easy pregnancy and delivery, however, and she and Drew were pleased to welcome the little girl they had named Kathryn, after Drew’s mother. Trynne gazed down at the babe, tucked into the soft downy blankets of her crib, wondering what dreams Kate could be having.

  They were all deeply worried about the life awaiting the innocent child. A haze of despair and dread had settled over the realm after the Battle of Guilme. It had been a harsh teacher, showing them how unprepared they were to face such a mighty enemy.

  Trynne could still remember the enormous treasure ships she had seen anchored off the coast of Brugia before the battle. They had brought a hundred thousand soldiers from Chandigarl, and the Espion had since learned that Gahalatine’s full army was nearly ten times that number. He had more than a dozen Wizrs serving him, whereas Drew only had one left. Trynne’s mother.

  Gahalatine had called off the attack after learning that Owen had fallen victim to some sort of foul play—but he’d promised to return in a year to finish what he had started. He’d left a garrison to control Guilme, and they had learned much about their enemy from watching the goings-on there. What they had learned made their situation seem even more desperate.

  “My dear,” Genevieve said softly, stroking Sureya’s hands, “since your father was taken to the imperial palace in the Forbidden Court, he will be chosen for some duty for the emperor. Our poisoner has been there, and she says the city is so massive that it is difficult to traverse it within a day. Gahalatine changed the capital of Chandigarl to the Forbidden Court after he started ruling his empire. Your father will likely live in comfort. That’s what we know so far. From what Trynne just told me, it sounds as if Gahalatine was perhaps interested in you?”

  Sureya nodded miserably. “Your Highness,
it was my greatest fear to be taken to the Forbidden Court.”

  “Why is that?” Genevieve asked. “From our understanding, he is not yet married.”

  Sureya wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, and Trynne noticed that the tattoos smudged. “Gahalatine has been gathering his own zenana, my lady.”

  Trynne hadn’t heard that word, and judging by Genny’s baffled look, she hadn’t either.

  “I am sorry, our cultures are so different,” Sureya apologized. “A zenana is a sanctuary for women, guarded by women. One can go there for protection. If a girl is abused or hurt by a family member or her father, she can flee there for shelter and no one can force her to come out. She is treated with dignity and honor. It is like the sanctuary of Our Lady.

  “Gahalatine has created a large zenana, and the most beautiful and skilled daughters of all the rulers whose lands he has conquered have gone to stay there. They wish to win his heart, but there are so many of them, he cannot choose. The competition in the zenana is fierce, and the girls can be very cruel to newcomers. Gahalatine wants someone who is Fountain-blessed—and I am not. To be taken to that place, to be made to stay . . .” She shuddered.

  Genevieve nodded slowly. “The idea behind the zenana is a noble one. There are many girls who suffer. But like everything Gahalatine has done, it is the sheer scale of it that causes the problem.” She rubbed her mouth. “And the zenana is guarded by women, you say?”

  Sureya nodded. “The Urdubegis.”

  “What does that name mean in our language?” Trynne asked.

  Sureya thought a while. “Promise Keepers? That is near enough to it. They embody the Lady of the Fountain. The protectors of the home. I told my father that if I had to go to the zenana in the Forbidden Court, I would rather be trained as an Urdubegis. Gahalatine may never decide who he wants to marry because he doesn’t stay in the Imperial City for long.”

  Genevieve gave her and Trynne a knowing smile. “Some men can be that way. You are here now, Sureya. And I think it’s the Fountain’s will that you are. Lady Tryneowy is an Urdubegis. In our language, they are called the Oath Maidens. She has been secretly training defenders of Kingfountain. When I heard of your plight, I thought you might wish to join them.”

  Sureya’s eyes widened with eagerness. “Is this true? To become an Urdubegis is my greatest wish!” She turned to Trynne. “You are a warrior, my lady?”

  Trynne nodded and offered a small shrug.

  “Gahalatine believes in the power of the Urdubegis. After Gahalatine won his first victory, the Emperor of Chandigarl sent his general with a massive army to destroy him. The emperor—Gahalatine’s father—had many children who were old enough to fight for him and was no longer accustomed to the rigors of war. His brothers ruled the court and the Wizrs ruled them. His general’s reputation was one of ruthlessness, and the people hated him. Gahalatine summoned all the women in the city—the one that became the Forbidden Court—to defend himself. They did everything they could. Some even threw steaming potfuls of water down from the walls to injure his enemies. Many knew how to use bows and spears. Some fought with swords. Without the women who rallied to him, he might never have achieved his victory.” She paused before continuing. “They say he is blessed so that people wish to follow him whenever he speaks. I felt the power of his words in my father’s oasis. They stirred my soul, but I did not feel compelled by them as I feared I would. Why do so many others? My father stood up to him. I don’t believe he was swayed. Is he losing his power?”

  Trynne knew very well why it didn’t happen, but she was not prepared to share her secrets so quickly. “Your father has a very strong sense of duty and integrity, I suspect,” Trynne said. “And he has imparted that to you as well.”

  Sureya flushed and bowed her head respectfully.

  “My thanks to you both. Trynne, can we speak on the balcony for a moment? If you’ll excuse us?” Genevieve added, looking at Sureya, who seemed startled that a queen had begged her pardon.

  Trynne retreated to the balcony with Genevieve. Outside, the air was fresh and cool, smelling of late summer. From her vantage point, Trynne could barely see the magnolia gardens. Her heart lurched from the memory of the last time she had been there. She’d not stepped foot in the gardens since Fallon had made his proposal to her—a proposal she had rejected despite her heart’s desire for him. Her mother, whose visions of the future always came to pass, had seen her marrying someone else. Fallon was unreliable too, and despite her feelings for him, she couldn’t trust him.

  Any relationship between them would only end badly.

  Kingfountain had always been a treasure to her, a place of childhood memories, a second home. But since their confrontation in the garden, those old memories were tinged with bitterness. She and Fallon had hardly spoken since then, and whenever they did come face-to-face, her wounds felt raw and painful. Fallon had changed in the months that had followed. He was more serious, more circumspect and distant. She missed his quips and teasing now that they were lost to her.

  “You’ve a faraway look in your eye,” Genevieve said.

  Trynne gave her one of her crooked smiles. “I left Averanche in the morning, arrived in Chandleer at sunset, and now it’s midmorning again. I’ve been halfway around the world and back, and the day has hardly started. It was enough to make my head spin.”

  Genevieve knew she was being deflected—the look in her eyes said as much—but she didn’t press. “I am indeed grateful that you are safe. Gahalatine is full of surprises. One moment he’s in one place. Another he’s gone. He’s completely unpredictable.”

  Trynne nodded. “He’s restless, I think. Full of ambition.” Her brow furrowed. “But I’m concerned by something he shouted just as I was leaving.” She looked into Genny’s eyes. “He said, ‘I know of you.’” A cold feeling welled up inside her, making her shiver. “He knew I wasn’t from the oasis.” She quieted, staring out at the river, at the sanctuary of Our Lady and the surging waterfall that could be heard in the distance like a soothing murmur. She imagined Kingfountain being attacked by that fleet of treasure ships. She imagined Wizrs turning the river backward and making it possible for soldiers to cross. The defenses of the city, which had once seemed impregnable, now seemed wholly inadequate.

  “Yes, it’s obvious he recognized you, but that doesn’t mean he placed you.”

  “It doesn’t help that I’m so small,” Trynne muttered darkly. “I worry about King Sunilik. Gahalatine will likely question him at the Forbidden Court. Without me there to protect him, the king will no longer be immune to his powers. Gahalatine may learn that I was there.”

  Genevieve paled. “I hadn’t thought of that. It also seems that his people can travel outside of the ley lines. That cylinder you mentioned . . . what sort of device is it, I wonder? There’s so much we don’t know. I had assumed Gahalatine might be with his fleet.”

  “Has it been spotted since it set sail earlier this summer?” Trynne asked.

  Genevieve shook her head. “None of the Espion hidden in the ports along the coast have seen it. But Lord Amrein has learned that fleet doesn’t need a port. It can go for months without a harbor. What baffles me is how Gahalatine has accumulated so many vessels and conquered so much in so short a time! He’s barely older than me, and look at what he’s done! Ambition is certainly one of his gifts from the Fountain.”

  Trynne nodded, rubbing her palms along the stone lip of the railing. “Do you think he will attack Kingfountain first?”

  Genevieve touched her shoulder. “Would that I knew,” she answered with a sigh. “Your mother’s visions are our only hope for a warning. I’m worried about her,” she added, her voice dipping to a lower pitch. “Her grief is so consuming.”

  Trynne wanted to refute her, but it was true, and there was no sense in hiding it. “She’s withdrawn deeper into herself. Morwenna has offered her some calming drafts to try and help her, but she refuses to be comforted by an elixir. When she’s not here
or training Morwenna, she walks at her favorite beach in Ploemeur. She’ll be there for hours sometimes.” Trynne’s heart pinched with the pain of her own grief. Her father’s loss had struck a terrible blow to the entire Kiskaddon family.

  “Drew would like to see her as soon as possible,” Genny said. “But please . . . don’t hurry her if she’s not well. We will abide without her for as long as we can.”

  “Very well, my lady,” Trynne said, giving her another hug.

  Genny kissed her cheek, then gripped her by the shoulders. “You haven’t asked after Fallon in a while.”

  Fallon was Genny’s younger brother. She reminded Trynne of him a little in the way she smiled. Sometimes it was comforting; sometimes it was excruciating.

  “No, I have not,” Trynne replied.

  “He still cares for you,” Genny said.

  “It would probably be for the best if he didn’t,” Trynne said. Her own heart had been dashed to pieces in their last confrontation.

  The queen folded her arms and stared out at the garden. “You are my friend, and he is my brother. I hate seeing you both hurting so much. I understand your reasons for saying what you did. He deserved it. But he hasn’t come to terms with it yet. He’s fighting it. I’m . . . worried about him. Worried he may do something . . . I don’t know. He’s another one who’s difficult to predict.”

  Before the Battle of Guilme, Fallon had told Trynne that he suspected Severn Argentine, the former king of Ceredigion and Morwenna’s father, was involved in a conspiracy to unseat the king. The men who were involved, he’d told her, dressed in black and wore silver masks. On the eve of the Battle of Guilme, Trynne had visited Fallon’s tent while disguised as the Painted Knight. She’d found the exact outfit he’d described—silver mask, black coat—discarded on the floor. Despite her feelings for Fallon, and her desire to believe the best of him, it had filled her with suspicion.