“Because I know the truth! Because I saw him kill Prince Marolan, and try to kill Princess Voerell, and kidnap Barilan. He’ll do anything to make himself king. Just now he tried to make me—” Her throat closed on the horror, and she couldn’t finish.
“Oh, my dear.” Siwell put an arm around her shoulder. “I feared as much. We’ve got to get you away from him. I know people who’ll listen to your story and be able to spread the word that Carlich’s lying. But we have to make sure you’re safe first.”
Maryn leaned against Siwell’s strong support. As the first flush of exuberance at her new freedom waned, the reality of her situation reasserted itself. Even without the compulsion spell, Carlich still had tremendous power over her. “How? I’m always guarded. They say it’s for Barilan’s protection, but it’s really to keep me from escaping.”
“That could be difficult.” Siwell paced to the hearth, gazing at Barilan where he slumbered in the chair. “There are guards all around the building. Tior got me past them by saying one of the guests summoned a midwife to deal with her female troubles. I have to be seen leaving alone, or they’ll start asking questions.”
Maryn fought panic at the thought of Siwell leaving her behind, still a prisoner. “Maybe Tior will be able to figure out some way to get Barilan and me out. I can tell him everything, now. Once he knows about Carlich, surely he’ll help us escape.”
“I hope he can, but we have to face the possibility he won’t be able to. Even at best it might take him several days to arrange something.” Siwell came back over to Maryn and put a hand on her arm. “You’ll need to remain fortified against Carlich’s compulsion until then. I can teach you the spell I used; it’s not difficult.” She led Maryn to the seating area by the hearth.
Maryn checked Barilan; he was still deeply asleep, nestled against the chair’s padded arm. Siwell took a seat on the settee and drew Maryn down beside her. Maryn listened intently as the midwife recited the incantation, elated to think that she would finally have a tool that could free her from Carlich’s control. She repeated back the syllables, throwing all her energy into committing them to memory. Over and over Siwell drilled her in the stanzas of the spell.
Eventually Siwell sat back, satisfied. “You have it. Just don’t forget. This spell fades over time, the same way the compulsion spell does. Whenever you feel Carlich’s spell weakening and know it’s close to time for him to renew it, work this magic. Do you have a knife, or something sharp?”
“No, but I can get one, or make something.” Maryn thought of the fine silver utensils the servants always brought with her meal.
“Good. And if it comes down to it, you can always use your teeth or fingernails. This spell only requires a drop or two to work, so don’t go draining yourself to no purpose. And be sure to make the cut somewhere Carlich won’t easily see it.”
“All right.” Maryn’s head spun with all she needed to remember.
“Be patient. Pretend Carlich’s spell is still in effect. Once Tior gets you out, come to my home. I’ll leave the back unlocked so even if I’m not there you can go in and hide while you wait for me. We’ll get you out of the city and Barilan back to his mother. The poor princess; she must be worried sick about him.”
“I suppose.” Maryn was sure Voerell was, at least in an abstract way. But the princess had always been so careful to keep an emotional distance between herself and her son. She’d often gone a week between visits to the nursery; the few days Barilan had been gone weren’t that different. His absence couldn’t be as hard on Voerell as it would have been on Maryn.
Maryn looked over at Barilan, sprawled on the other chair. “There’s something else.” She swallowed. Much as she hated to admit what she’d almost done, Siwell was the only one who might be able to help her. “Prince Carlich and Priest Vinhor tried to have me work magic on Barilan.” Stammering, she explained about the soul exchange.
Siwell sat up straighter, eyes blazing. “How dare that man call himself a priest!” She shook her head, her expression softening. “My dear Maryn, what a cruel thing to ask of you. What happened?”
Maryn dropped her gaze. “I agreed to do the magic. I mean, I wanted it so much, to have Frilan alive again.” She glanced up. Siwell’s expression held only compassion, but Maryn could all too easily imagine it changing to cold judgment. She looked down again. “But then…when it came to the point, I just…couldn’t.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Maryn rushed on. “I told them I’d done it. I’m sure they believed me. Even so, they were going to check him for the Kingship again to be certain. I managed to put them off. But in the morning I won’t be able to stop them, and the crown will appear just like it did last time, and they’ll know I lied to them. Prince Carlich will be so angry…” Maryn faltered as she imagined his rage. “There’s got to be some way, some magic you can do to interfere with their scrying and make it look like it really is Frilan’s soul in Barilan’s body.”
Siwell frowned. “Theoretically it should be possible, but I’m afraid I don’t know any spell that might serve. That has to do with illusions, and inheritance magic, and that’s far outside my training. You’re sure you can’t stall again?”
Despite her disappointment and fear, Maryn smiled wanly. “I’ll try, but they won’t be scared off by fear of a messy diaper forever.”
Siwell chuckled, and rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t know…I’ll check with the sorcerers I know, but it will be hard to inquire without alerting them to why. There are a couple I think I can trust not to report me to Carlich. I’ll get word to you if I find out anything. Tior could carry a message…but you don’t read, do you? He could bring me back here…” But she sounded doubtful. “Until then, you’ll just have to do your best. Maybe they’ll be careless enough to forget, or lazy enough not to expend the effort.”
Carlich was neither careless nor lazy, Maryn knew, or at least not enough to let such an important matter pass. But if Siwell couldn’t help her, she’d just have to keep improvising ways to distract him until Tior found a way for them to escape.
A quiet rap sounded at the door. Maryn sprang to her feet. Siwell rose more slowly. “I’ll do what I can,” she told Maryn. “I just hope it’s enough. If Carlich were to discover your deception…you’ve been in his company for a good while now. Do you think he might have enough feeling for you to spare you?”
Maryn swallowed. Carlich did sometimes talk to her as if he considered her a companion, a confidant. But surely he was much too practical to let so tentative a connection interfere with his ambition. “No. I’m nothing to him. He’d kill me without a thought.” She shuddered. “He killed his own brother. Now that we’re in the town, he’d easily be able to find another woman to nurse Barilan. So he doesn’t even need me anymore.”
For that matter, why hadn’t Carlich killed her as soon as they reached Ralo? Wouldn’t he prefer to replace her with some woman who didn’t know about his crimes and didn’t have to be controlled by sorcery? He must consider keeping her available to confirm his story and bolster his claim that he’d rescued her and Barilan from Voerell valuable enough to justify whatever effort it took to control her.
Of course, now he thought she’d willingly gone over to his side, and had her own reason to keep his secrets. “As long as he believes I really did switch Barilan’s soul for Frilan’s, I should be safe. He promised to reward me.” She felt nauseated at the thought of accepting Carlich’s blood money. She’d do it, though, and pretend to be delighted, if that was the only way to protect herself and Barilan. “I just have to get away before he learns the truth.”
Siwell bit her lip, her face drawn. “All right. Only be careful. Don’t put yourself in danger.”
“I won’t.” Maryn’s promise wasn’t entirely sincere. She wasn’t brave enough to try anything really risky, but she would dare a lot more than Siwell would approve of to escape Carlich.
“Maybe Tior will know an easy way for you to get out.” Siwell’s tone was encouraging, bu
t it lacked conviction. She went to the door and opened it for Tior.
He slipped in. “What took so long? I told Kempich I wouldn’t report him if he snuck off to get us some ale, but he’ll be back soon.”
Siwell held up a hand. “Wait. Maryn has something she needs to tell you first.”
Tior turned to Maryn with a puzzled frown. Maryn gulped, not knowing where to begin. “You’ve got to help me, Tior. Everything Prince Carlich is saying is a lie. I saw what really happened.” She poured out the whole story as tersely as she could.
Tior’s eyes got rounder and rounder as she spoke. Maryn searched his face for signs of outrage or anger, but all she saw were pale cheeks and a pinched mouth. She put all the desperation she could into her voice. “Please, Tior, you’ve got to help us. Barilan and I have to get away.”
Even before she finished speaking, Tior started shaking his head. “I can’t. There’s no way. Captain Tennelan has guards stationed at every door of this building. They check everyone going in or out. Most of them served with Carlich in Hampsia, back before I joined. They’ll never believe you.”
“You believe me, don’t you Tior?” Maryn tried to convey the truth of her words with her gaze, but Tior wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.
“I don’t know. I don’t think you’re lying, exactly, but Prince Carlich…all the other soldiers love him. Are you really sure what you saw, what you heard? Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding.” He twisted his hands together. “You don’t know what you’re asking. I’m sworn to obey my commander. If I tried to help you escape they’d catch us, I know they would. I’d be strung up for treason. And you’d be right back in here. No, you’ve got to be wrong. I can’t believe Prince Carlich would really harm a woman and a baby. If you cooperate with him, you’ll be fine.”
“Not if he finds out I lied to him!” Maryn’s eyes blurred with tears, and her throat was so tight she could barely force the words out. “I know what I saw. Carlich is a murderer, and if you don’t help us he’s going to succeed in putting himself on the throne. Don’t you even care?”
“That’s not—Look, I’m just doing my job. It’s not my place to question my orders.” A quaver in Tior’s voice betrayed his unhappiness. “I’m sorry, but I’m not…I’m not the kind of person who…who gets involved in this sort of thing. I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”
He finally looked at Maryn, eyes pleading for understanding. She turned away. “You are involved, whether you want to be or not. But I guess you’re too much of a coward to admit it.”
Tior drew in his breath. Siwell put a hand on Maryn’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Maryn. We’ll find some other way. You’ll just have to continue coming up with excuses to prevent them from scrying Barilan, and bide your time until you get a chance to slip away.”
Maryn turned her back on both of them. “Unless Tior thinks it’s his duty to go to Carlich and tell him everything.”
She could tell her words had stung by his hurt tone. “I wouldn’t do that. I won’t tell anyone what you said, or what you’re planning. I really do want to help you, Maryn.”
“As long as it doesn’t cost you anything.” He started to protest, but she cut him off. “Never mind. Siwell, I’ll manage somehow. I’ll keep working your spell, and keep looking for a chance to get away. Without help.” She glared at Tior, then turned and embraced the midwife. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
Siwell hugged her back fiercely. “If what you know can help save Milecha from a civil war, that will be more than thanks enough. But remember, take care. You can’t help Barilan or anyone else if you get yourself killed.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
Tior tugged at Siwell’s sleeve. “Kempich can’t stay gone much longer. You’ve got to go.”
Siwell gave Maryn one last hug and hurried away.
Seventeen
Maryn was exhausted. Disappointment over Tior’s refusal to help drained all the joyful energy she’d felt on first learning Siwell’s spell. Though the spell gave her the strength to resist Carlich’s compulsion, fighting it still took effort. Her arms felt leaden as she undressed and gathered Barilan up to carry him to the bed. She crawled in and settled him beside her. The disturbance roused him, and he cried a little, but nursing soon soothed him back into slumber.
But Maryn couldn’t sleep. Her mind was too busy with all that had happened. She went over and over the incantation Siwell had taught her. She would have to work it first thing in the morning, then call for Carlich to come renew his spell so he wouldn’t suspect anything. She fretted, wondering what opportunity might come for her to flee with Barilan. Carlich hardly ever let her out of her room. Would she have to wait until he set out on the planned march to Loempno? Would he even take Barilan and Maryn with him? Surely he would, for Barilan was still his best bargaining tool against Voerell.
She tried not to think of those moments alone in Vinhor’s office, when she had moved her hands in the gestures that, if they’d succeeded, would have sent Barilan’s soul to the Holy One’s courts. How much of that had been her own choice, and how much Carlich’s compulsion? The question burned in her heart, but she couldn’t answer it.
She thought back over all Vinhor had taught her concerning sorcery. She’d never given much thought to magic before. She’d certainly never dreamed she’d be able to learn more than the basic cleansing spell. Greater magic was for priests and sorcerers and healers, not ordinary folk.
But when she had spoken the incantation and made the proper gestures, the magic had answered her. It had sprung to life in her hand as crackling bright as it ever had in Carlich’s. If not for the interference of King Froethych’s spell, she was sure it would have worked just as it was supposed to. She ran her thumb along the aching cut in her palm in wonder.
Before Carlich and Vinhor had interrupted her, she’d considered improvising some sort of magic to block their scrying. Maybe she should take advantage of her privacy to try now. She concentrated, calling up Vinhor’s exact words. Someone with a strong enough will can use almost any motion to direct the spell. She’d never considered her will to be particularly strong. But she had Siwell’s spell to bolster it, and surely anyone’s will was strongest when their need was great.
The idea frightened her, but she couldn’t put it from her mind. Finally she pushed the blankets down and sat up. She parted the bed’s curtains so that a bit of moonlight could stream in. Arranging herself cross;-;legged, she gazed down at Barilan’s sleeping form.
Just a tiny bit of blood. She didn’t want her experiment to make much light or noise, or risk escaping her very uncertain control. She gnawed at the corner of one fingernail until she had bitten through the layers of dead skin to the living cuticle beneath. Blood seeped out, black in the moonlight. She rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, then pressed on the little wound until the bleeding stopped.
In a whisper she chanted the incantation to the Holy One, adding a fervent unspoken plea for him to guard her from danger. Finished, she held her blood;-;smeared fingers over Barilan. She hesitated, but then drew a deep breath and pressed her thumb and forefinger together into a ring and swept them down and up again, the other three fingers on that hand spread wide.
The magic woke instantly. Brilliant blue sparks shot from between her pinching fingers. Her throat felt full of buzzing bees.
For a moment she panicked, not knowing what to do. She almost blurted out the words of the cleansing spell. But she stopped herself and gathered all her courage. Almost any gesture would do. She parted her fingers, sending blue sparks showering, and waved her hand, palm down, in a circle over Barilan. She fixed in her mind a vivid image of the ghostly crown of the scrying spell and pictured it fading to invisibility, still there, but unobservable. She drove all her might into the mental image and swept her hand around faster and faster.
It was working; she felt it. Blue fire rained down over Barilan, haloing him with light in wh
ich no faintest image of a crown appeared. She pushed harder, exultant that her idea had succeeded.
A sharp pain stabbed into the corner of her nail where she had bitten it. She tried to slow her hand and pull it back to look at the spot, but she couldn’t. Some outside force had taken control of her arm and kept it relentlessly circling. The pain quickly grew to a fierce dragging ache. All the other half;-;healed cuts on her hands and arms throbbed in response. Horrified, she saw a tiny new stream of blood break free from her finger and fly to join the flood of magic, bursting into a shower of blue sparks.
Faster and faster her hand flew. She couldn’t stop it. Suction dragged her veins toward the spell’s vortex. The trickle of blood increased to a stream. The fresh scab on her palm bulged and started to crack. Magic flared higher, brilliant blue flames leaping toward the bed’s canopy, bright as lightning.
Terror lent her strength. With a tremendous effort, Maryn wrenched her hand back. She made a sharp cutting gesture, and cried the closing words of the cleansing spell. The blue fire subsided, and the controlling force released her arm. She fell back and stuck her burning finger in her mouth. The metallic tang of blood bathed her tongue as she sucked at the wound.
Barilan woke with a wail. Outside the bed’s shrouding curtains she heard the door open. Tior’s voice called, “What’s wrong? We felt magic; are you all right?”
Maryn pulled her finger from her mouth and pressed her thumb to the wound. “I’m fine.” Her voice trembled on the edge of a sob. “I, um…Barilan bit me, is all. I had to clean up the blood. I’m sorry I disturbed you.” She scrambled to gather Barilan up and get him latched on to her breast. His cries cut off as he began to suck.
“Oh. You’re sure you don’t need any help? You yelled.” Tior sounded concerned.
“No. It just startled me. Woke me up.” Maryn forced a little laugh. “Everything’s fine.”
“Well, good;-;night, then.” The other guard’s voice rose in a question, though Maryn couldn’t make out the words, and Tior murmured to him as the door closed.
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