by Greg Keyes
“It might be difficult for us to meet after today,” Anne said. “And I have nothing to write with.”
“Surely we can think of something.”
Anne considered that for a moment, and it struck her that she could send not only Roderick a message, but also one to her father, warning him of her visions and the threat they foretold to Crotheny. “You have seen the coven?” she asked.
“Not yet. It is around the hill, yes?”
“Yes. My room is in the highest room of the highest tower. I will write the letter, weight it with a stone, and drop it down. Perhaps we can contrive something with string for you to send his return letters up. Or perhaps I can meet you here again. If so, I will drop further notes to you.” She looked up at him. “Does this require too much of you?”
“Not in the least,” Cazio replied.
“You aren't going to wander on?”
“I am comfortable in this region for the moment,” he said.
“Then I thank you again,” Anne replied. “Your offer is more than I dreamed to hope for. I will find some way to reward you.”
For an instant, it almost looked as if Cazio was blushing. Then he shrugged again. “It is nothing. If there is a reward, it shall be our friendship.” He raised his glass. “To friendship.”
Smiling, Anne matched the toast.
Cazio grinned wryly to himself as he crossed the fields toward Orchaevia's manse. He was well pleased with himself. It might be that there was no one in these parts worthy of his sword, but at least he had found a challenge. Love, no. Orchaevia was a foolish romantic. But the chase, yes, that was worthwhile. It would make the loving all the sweeter when Fiene submitted. She was a project worthy to occupy his time.
And if this Roderick should come looking? Well, then Caspator might teach him a lesson or two, and that would be even better.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
PURSUIT
“I HEAR THEM,” Stephen whispered in as low a voice as he could manage. “That way.” He thrust his finger east, pointing through the trees.
“I don't hear anything,” the holter said.
“Shh. If I can hear them, they may be able to hear us. The faneway blessed my senses, and some of them have marched the same fanes.”
Aspar just nodded and laid his finger to his lip in a gesture of silence.
After a time, the sounds of horses and riders receded.
“They're out of earshot,” Stephen told the holter, when he was sure.
“They took the false trail, then. Good.” The holter stood. His face was still strained and pale, and he moved as if his limbs were half-severed.
“You need rest, and attention,” Stephen said.
“Sceat. I'll live. I'm feeling better.”
Stephen was dubious, but didn't argue. “What now?” he asked instead.
“Tell me exactly what you heard them say.”
Stephen repeated the conversation as he'd heard it. When he came to the part about Fend, the holter stiffened.
“You're sure. You're sure they mentioned Fend?”
“Yes. My memory is better now, too.”
“Fend and a bunch of monks, off to kill the queen. What in the Raver's eye is going on?”
“I wish I knew,” Stephen said.
“Cal Azroth,” Aspar mused. “It's in Loiyes. It's where the royals go when they need extraordinary protection. I don't see how a handful of assassins plan to get in there.”
“They have the greffyn.”
“I'm not so sure about that,” Aspar said. “They were following it, yes, and it didn't attack them, but I don't think they control it.”
“But the Briar King controls it,” Stephen replied. “And the Briar King seems to be behind all this. And who knows what powers Spendlove has gained from the dark faneways?”
“Yah,” Aspar grunted. “Doesn't matter. We'll follow 'em and kill 'em.”
“You're not in any shape to kill anyone,” Stephen said. “Can't we contact the king? Get him to send knights?”
“By the time we could do that, they'll be at Cal Azroth.”
“What about Sir Symen?”
“Too far out of the way.”
“So it's just us?”
“Yah.”
Stephen took a deep breath. “Well, then. I guess we'll do that.” He cast a glance at the holter. “Thank you, by the way.”
“What for? Was you saved my hide. Again.”
“For believing me. Trusting me. If you'd paused to question—”
“Listen,” the holter said. “You're green and naïve and annoying, but you're not a liar, and if you see danger, it must be pretty damned obvious.”
“I almost didn't see it in time,” Stephen said.
“But you saw it. Must be those new eyes of yours.”
“I didn't see it in time to save the fratrex,” Stephen said, feeling the dig of that fact in his belly.
“Yes, well, the fratrex was there longer than you. He should have known, himself,” Aspar said, moving toward Ogre. “Anyway, this is a waste of time, all this back-patting and bemoaning. Let's pick up their trail before it cools.”
Stephen nodded, and they mounted and set out. Around them, the forest sang of death coming.
PART IV
THE BLOOD OF REGALS
THE YEAR 2,223 OF EVERON
THE MONTH OF SEFTMEN
O mother I am wounded sore
And I shall die today
But I must tell you what I've seen
Before I've gone away
A purple scythe shall reap the stars
An unknown horn shall blow
Where regal blood spills on the ground
The blackbriar vines shall grow
—FROM Riciar ya sa Alvqin, A FOLK BALLAD OF EASTERN CROTHENY.
CHAPTER ONE
AN EXCURSION
NEIL MEQVREN CAST HIS GAZE around the hillside, searching for murder. He clucked under his breath to Hurricane, urging him to catch up with the queen and Lady Erren, riding sidesaddle just ahead of him on the raised track of road.
“Majesty,” he said, for the third time, “this is not a good idea.”
“Agreed,” Erren said.
“I'm aware of your opinions,” the queen replied, waving off their protests. “Indeed, I have heard them at least two times too many.”
“We came to Cal Azroth for its protection,” Erren noted.
“So we did,” the queen replied.
“But if we are not in Cal Azroth, what protection can it afford?” She motioned toward the keep, which was still visible behind them. It wasn't large, but it did have three defensive walls, a garrison, and a good position on the hill, further surrounded by broad canals. Ten men had once held Cal Azroth against two thousand.
“I am not convinced we are any safer in the fortress than out here,” the queen replied. “It is protected against an army, I'll give you that. But do you think anyone will send an army to kill my daughters or me? I do not. More and more I come to share Sir Neil's opinion.”
“What opinion is that, if I may ask?” Erren asked mildly, giving Neil a glance so sharp it could have cut steel.
“That William was maneuvered into sending us here by someone—Robert or Lady Gramme perhaps—who wants us away from the court for a time.”
Erren's eyes narrowed. “Not that I don't suspect that myself,” she said, “but I would like to know why Sir Neil did not mention this opinion to me.”
I am just the sword, remember? Neil thought. “I was certain my lady had a more informed opinion than mine.”
“You were right in that, if nothing else,” Erren replied. “But did it occur to you that if someone maneuvered Her Majesty and her children here, the goal might be more than to merely remove their influence from court? The intent to do them harm, as well?”
Before Neil could answer, the queen laughed. “If that's the case, then the last place we ought to be is in the fortress, where our hypothetical conspirators expect us to be gathered, lik
e lambs awaiting the butcher's hammer.”
“Unless they count on you doing something stupid, like riding out to Glenchest.”
The queen rolled her eyes. “Erren, we've been prisoned in Cal Azroth for near two months. Elyoner's home is less than half a day's ride, and we have twelve armored knights and thirty footmen with us.”
“Yes, we're eminently noticeable,” Erren commented.
“Lady Erren, Sir Neil, surrender!” Fastia advised, riding up from behind. “Once mother has made up her mind, it is set, as at least you ought to know, Erren. We're going to see Aunt Elyoner, and that's that.”
“Besides,” Elseny chimed in, “I'm tired of that old castle. There's nothing to do there.” She sighed. “I so miss the court. Prince Cheiso, Aunt Lesbeth's fiancé, was to have arrived by now, and I wanted to meet him.”
“You'll meet him soon enough,” the queen soothed.
Neil heard all of that with only one ear; the other he kept pricked for danger. The road they followed passed through mostly open country—pear and apple orchards, fields of wheat and millet. And yet even such terrain offered ample opportunity for ambush. A single well-placed arrow from someone hidden in the branches of a tree, and all was lost.
As Erren said, they made quite a procession. The queen, Erren, Fastia, Elseny, and himself rode in a close clump. Audra and Mere—the maids of Fastia and Elseny respectively— rode a few yards behind, chattering like magpies. Prince Charles trailed farther behind, singing a children's song as Hound Hat capered along beside him on foot. Today the jester's red cap was so large it covered him nearly to the knees, and though Neil was sure that the Sefry could by some artifice see, exactly how he couldn't say, for the hat had no holes in it.
Around the royal party, mounted Craftsmen and the Royal Footguard formed a loose hollow square, ready to tighten at any moment.
That didn't give Neil much comfort. For all he knew, any or all of those men might turn against him. Still, if that were the case, the queen was right: they could as easily do murder in a keep as in clear light.
“Why so glum, Sir Knight?”
Startled, Neil swung about in the saddle. Concentrating on the middle and far distance, he hadn't noticed Fastia dropping back to pace him.
“I'm not glum, Archgreffess. Just watchful.”
“You look more than watchful; you look as nervous as a rabbit caught in a fox hunt. Do you really expect danger out here? We're in Loiyes, after all, not Hansa.”
“And we were in Eslen when your mother was attacked.”
“True. Still, it's as I said a moment ago—Mother won't be dissuaded, so you might as well make the best of it.” She smiled, and it was so unexpected on her normally tightly composed face that he couldn't help but follow suit.
“That's better,” she said, still smiling.
“I—” He suddenly worried that he had a bug in his teeth or something. “Is something funny, Archgreffess?”
“Turn and look behind you.”
Neil did as he was told. There was Prince Charles and Hound Hat, the maids …
When his gaze touched Audra and Mere they both turned as red as ripe cherries and then burst into giggling. Mortified, Neil turned around quickly.
“They've been back there talking about you all morning,” Fastia said. “They really can't seem to get enough of watching you.”
Neil felt his own face burning and guessed it a good match for the girls. “I didn't—I mean I haven't …”
“So much as spoken to them? I know. If you spoke to them, I expect they would fall off of their horses.”
“But why?”
“Sir Neil! Please. You're a handsome man, and you must know it. There were girls in Liery, weren't there?”
“Ah—well, there was one.” He was uncomfortable with such talk, especially around the prim Fastia.
“One? In all of the islands?”
“I meant only one who I, ah …”
“You had only one sweetheart?”
“She was never my sweetheart,” Neil said. “She was betrothed, soon after we met.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
“She was betrothed when you were twelve? And so after that, no young woman has ever pursued you?”
“Some did, I suppose. But my heart was given. I promised her, you see, that as long as she lived I would love no other.”
“A promise given when you were twelve. And she never released you from your vow?”
“She died in childbirth, Princess, a year ago.”
Fastia's eyes widened and went oddly soft. He had never seen them so soft. “Saint Anne bless her,” she said. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
Neil merely nodded.
“But—and forgive me if this sounds cruel—you are released from your vow now.”
“That's true. But I've taken another—to protect your mother.”
“Ah.” Fastia nodded. “You will find, I think, that few men keep vows as you do.” A note of bitterness crept into her voice. “Marriage vows in particular.”
Neil could think of nothing tactful to say to that, and so remained silent.
Fastia brightened, after a moment. “What a bore I can be,” she said. “Anne is right about me.”
“I do not find you boring,” Neil replied. “Of everyone I have met in this court, you have been the kindest and most helpful to me.”
Fastia's cheeks pinkened. “How kind of you, sir. Your company these past months has been appreciated.”
Neil suddenly feared he had crossed some threshold he should never have approached, and so he needled his gaze around the landscape again. Along the side of the road, stalks of spindly flowers like tiny spiral stairs caught his attention with their vivid orange blossoms.
“Do you know the name of that flower?” he asked, for want of anything better to say. “I have never seen it in Liery.”
“Those are Jeremy towers,” Fastia said. “You know, I once could name every kind of flower on this road.”
“Would you entertain me by doing so, Princess? It would help me stay vigilant. I know it is impolite to look away while conversing, but …”
“I understand completely. I would be happy to entertain you thus, Sir Neil.”
When they stopped to water the horses, Fastia braided necklaces of pharigolds—one for each girl and Charles, and one for Neil. He felt rather silly wearing it, but could think of no polite way of refusing it, either.
While the party reassembled itself, Neil rode to the top of the nearest hill, to get a better view.
The land was rolling and lovely, copsed with trees but mostly pasture dotted with brown-and-white cows. About a league away, he could make out the slender towers of a castle— presumably Glenchest, their destination.
Hoofbeats signaled the arrival of Sir James Cathmayl and Sir Vargus Farre.
“Well, if it isn't the captain of the queen's guard,” Cathmayl said. “How do our chances look, Captain? Do you think you can take her?”
“Pardon?”
“You're a fine tactician, I'll tell you that. You've got the ice princess smiling, up top, which is a good first step to that smile down below.”
“Sir James, I most honestly hope you are not implying what you seem to be.”
“Let imps lie where they may,” Sir James said.
“Crudeness aside,” Vargus interposed, “you do seem to have a way with her.”
“She's still a girl, under that dress,” James said. “That fool Ossel barely touches her, they say. But I've never seen her show an itch till now.”
Neil regarded Sir James seriously. “Princess Fastia, if that's who you mean, is a perfect and gentle lady,” he said. “Any kindness she shows me is from politeness, I assure you.”
“Well, let's hope she very politely licks your—”
“Sir, stop there, I warn you!” Neil shouted.
James did, and let a wicked grin spread across his face. Then he chuckled and rode off.
“Sir Ne
il,” Vargus said, “you are far too easy a target for James to hit. He means no malice, but he loves to see your blood up.”
“He should not talk that way about the archgreffess. It offends honor.”
Vargus shook his head. “You were brought up by Sir Fail. I know for a fact that he taught you that honor has its place. But so does levity, and even a little crudeness.” He swept his hand at the party down the hill. “We're ready to lay down our lives for any of them, anytime, and Sir James is not the slightest exception. Why begrudge us a little harmless fun? More to the point, the guard isn't going to like you, if you keep this stiff, standoffish mien. And you need the men to like you, Sir Neil. You are to assemble a staff for the queen's new bodyguard, yes, and captain it?”
“I am.”
“Better to have men who like you.”
“Most will not like me anyway, however I act. I am not of gentle birth, and many find that offensive.”
“And many do not. There are ties that can bind warriors much more surely than any title or rank. But you have to be willing to make some of the rope.”
Neil pursed his lips. “I was well liked in Liery, as you say. I fought alongside lords and called them brother. But this is not Liery.”
“You earned your place there,” Vargus told him. “Now earn it here.”
“That's difficult, with no battles to fight.”
“There are many kinds of battle, Sir Neil, especially at court.”
“I know little of that sort of warcraft,” Neil admitted.
“You're young. You can learn.”
Neil nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Sir Vargus,” he said sincerely. “I shall keep that in mind.”
Glenchest, as it turned out, was not so much a castle as a walled amusement. Its towers were tapering, beautiful, and utterly impractical for defense. Its wall, while high enough to keep goats and peasants out, would do little more than make an army pause. The gate was a joke, an elaborate grill of wrought iron made to resemble singing birds and blooming vines, through which could be seen a vast park of trees, hedges, fountains, and pools. Besides the towers Neil could see the roof of the villa, bright copper, shaped very much like an upside-down boat.