by Tracey Alley
also required to become proficient in languages, alchemy, herb craft, and the cultures, traditions and laws of kingdoms other than their native home. The sheer volume of information required to pass the basic entrance examinations into most monasteries eliminated all but the very best and the Black Lotus was no exception. The few each year that were finally accepted into the ranks of the warrior monks were always exceptional.
Ursula did not consider herself to be exceptional, and she had no way of knowing if her efforts would even be acceptable to the monastery. Although, as she threw herself more deeply into her studies, she found that not only did the exercise pass the time, she was also learning at an incredible rate. Far more than she would have believed possible. Ursula found her studies interesting and challenging enough to provide her at least a partial distraction while she awaited the return of her father and his retinue. Something she reminded herself daily must surely be drawing nearer.
In fact, Ursula was surprised to find that if it had not been for Ulrich's increasingly pompous, officious manner, she would have actually been happy. Her mother’s death, while sudden and tragic, had not left the emptiness that she had expected. Likely it was because the beautiful Queen had been steadily ailing for almost a full year so her death had seemed to be almost a blessing. That was how she had felt until that fateful morning a ten-day ago.
At that stage in her study of herb craft Ursula had progressed from learning about the simple, readily available remedies such as oak bark, powdered crystals and common snake venom to studying the far more exotic, powerful and very hard to acquire ingredients such as milkstone, dragon’s blood and treant sap. These ingredients were extremely potent, and could often be used in two different ways, either as a poison or, in the right quantities, as a healing agent. While reading through the various uses and effects of dragon’s blood, in particular that of a black dragon, Ursula finally discovered the reason for her mother’s waxy skin and the odd, unpleasant smell to her breath before her death. Those symptoms, in fact the entire course of her mother’s illness from the first onset of her blindness, the lack of feeling that had developed in the Queen’s legs and her madness and eventual death, all these pointed to a slow and steady administration of black dragon’s blood given in ever increasing amounts. Ursula had flung the book away from her in utter shock. The young princess was certain then that her mother, Queen Urda, had been murdered. There was no possible way that dragon’s blood could ever be administered accidentally.
Ursula had stood so quickly that the wooden chair with its padded and embroidered seat cushion had fallen heavily to the floor. She had to find Ulrich; her brother had to know immediately that somewhere within the palace was a traitor, a murderer who had escaped detection, until now. Racing down the long corridor’s she looked everywhere she could think of for her brother. Ursula had finally found him, with their father’s senior advisors in attendance, in the throne room. Ulrich was wearing the royal regalia as had become his custom, which she found offensive enough, but now he was seated on their father’s throne, which shocked her completely. Saxenburg law was abundantly clear and definite on that point, only the reigning monarch was permitted to sit in the High Throne. To the right and positioned slightly lower was the secondary throne, used by Saxenburg’s queens or regents. That was where Ulrich should have been seated, not on the High Throne of their father.
Seeing her brother using their father’s traditional privileges had disturbed Ursula so much that for the moment all thoughts of her mother, and her demon sent death were pushed completely aside. That her father’s advisors, who owed allegiance to none but the High King, should be kneeling before her brother only made Ulrich's crime that much worse.
“Ulrich, what are you doing?” Ursula cried out in shock, “The law forbids…”
“Ursula! You should not be here sister. You know well that the throne room is off limits to all except at express invitation!” Ulrich interrupted her harshly.
“I have as much right to be in this room as you do, brother, while our father, the High King is absent. I came looking for you.”
“And so you have found me, however, I am very busy right now and you will have to wait for a more suitable time for an appointment.”
“I need make no appointment with you Ulrich, and the law forbids you the seat on the High Throne, as you well know.”
“Ursula, do not push me too far, I will deal with you later,” Ulrich said angrily, clenching his teeth as he always did when embarrassed, “I am in the middle of important affairs concerning the future of Saxenburg and cannot be bothered with your petty concerns.”
“I will leave brother, but before I do I must tell you the reason I was searching for you,” she began, slightly ashamed to note that her voice quavered with unshed tears.
“Ursula, I have been exceedingly patient but now is not the time,” Ulrich answered.
“Now is the time! Ulrich, our mother was murdered! I’ve found the proof, I know the agent that was used to kill her.”
Ursula opened her eyes, coming back to the here and now, rubbing away her tears with the heel of her hand. Ulrich’s look of abject panic upon hearing her conviction that their mother had been murdered had not immediately caused her to be suspicious but his actions over the intervening days had finally convinced her of his guilt. He immediately ordered an interrogation of all the palace staff, by whatever means necessary, including torture. Eight days later he had finally secured a confession from their mother’s handmaiden, Gilta.
Ursula had demanded to be allowed to speak with the aging dwarf, knowing of the woman’s absolute devotion to Queen Urda, but her brother had denied her the privilege. She had then tried to talk to her brother, tried to convince him he must have made a mistake. She had insisted that regardless of what Gilta may have said it simply was not possible for her to be the guilty party. She had pointed out that the dwarf woman would have had no opportunity to even obtain the dragon’s blood in the first place, but it had all been to no avail.
Two days ago Gilta had been executed, beheaded according to the traditions for the murder of a Queen, in the palace courtyard. Ursula had been sickened by the punishment, by Ulrich's refusal to accept he had erred, by her brother assuming the role of a High King rather than merely a regent but mostly she had been repulsed by the fact that Gilta’s punishment had been both public and humiliating. Something that would never have occurred if her father had been present. Only yesterday Ursula had demanded to see Ulrich and she had questioned his right to perform such a barbarous act without their father’s approval.
Ulrich had granted Ursula her audience, where he had coldly informed her that King Erich would not be returning, that he, Ulrich, was her monarch and overlord and would be crowned King of Saxenburg in an official ceremony in twenty-seven days time. As shocked as she had been by his pronouncement she had been even more shocked by the chosen timing. Twenty-seven days, or twenty-six days now, meant that Ulrich intended to be crowned on the Day of Victorious Ascent. A day dedicated to Vadatajs, marking his rise to power that began with The Sun Ascension festival. A vile and evil day of perverse worship that was contrary to everything that Saxenburg believed in, and her brother intended to stage his undeserved coronation on that day. It was at that moment that Ursula finally saw the truth she had been desperately trying to ignore. It was Ulrich who had murdered their mother, and all to gain the throne.
Rubbing one hand across her flat belly Ursula pushed herself away from the wall. Trying to stem the flow of tears, she refused to accept that her father was dead. If that were true then it meant the end of all of Ursula’s dreams, not only the dreams for her people or her kingdom, but her dreams for herself, as a woman. For if her father was dead, then surely so too would Wulfstan be dead, and that she could not bring herself to accept.
“Oh Wulfstan,” she whispered, closing her eyes and picturing his beloved face. He was her father’s favorite bodyguard, her childhood
playmate, her one true love. That their love was forbidden, both by Saxenburg law, because Wulfstan was not royalty, and by her own initiate status as a monk, made it no less real. Somehow, she vowed, she would find her father and Wulfstan, and together they would have vengeance on Ulrich and his schemes.
Leaving Ixlan
Tares listened as Nikolai outlined his plan to gather certain supplies, which would be put to use as a disguise. Then they would be able to leave, not only the city of Diablis but the island of Ixlan, which lent its name to the entire Ixlan archipelago. On the surface the necromancer’s plan appeared to be unnecessarily convoluted and difficult and contained some, to Tares at least, extremely distasteful elements it was nevertheless an excellent plan. It also demonstrated a great deal of forethought. As much as he might have liked to have protested the plan he could think of no good reason not to proceed exactly as Nikolai outlined. The minotaur priest could see that the plan offered them all their greatest chance of success.
“I will go along with your plan Nikolai,” Tares began slowly, “although I’m sure you’re aware that it will be difficult for me, however, I see the sense in your