Sky of Swords

by Dave Duncan

  “I will summon Bandit to Suasion,” Jongleur said.

  “Please read off the names you are assigned.”

  “Sir Chandos to Master…”

  “Sir Stalwart to Sleight…”

  And so on around the octogram.

  “Thank you. Face toward me, if you please, Your Grace. This is death point. You have your lines ready?”

  She nodded. “Even if this doesn’t work—and even more if it does…Thank you all.”

  “It is for us to thank you, Your Majesty,” Audley said.

  “We—”

  Jongleur cut him off, bellowing in a highly discordant voice. The séance had begun.

  Malinda had nothing to do until—unless—the dead appeared. Not being sensitive to spirits, she might have very little warning. The Forge was cold. Its bizarre acoustics sometimes made the eight voices reverberate and echo, and at others swallowed them like a winter’s night. The men invoked time, revoked death. They summoned the dead by name, each in turn. They revoked death again, invoked air and fire to reassemble the souls. On and on, singly or in unison, back and forth across the octogram.

  She had memorized her invocation; it was very simple, little more than a plea to be taken back to the moment before the rampage began, before Radgar squeezed the trigger on the crossbow. That scene was burned into her memory—the Blades clustered around her father at the top of the steps, making him an impossible target, and then opening a way for her, exposing him. No one had thought of archery, Radgar had cleverly distracted all of them, as Durendal had pointed out.

  He had been a despot, King Ambrose, but Chivial had needed him, his iron will, his supple hand, his very devious mind. One word from her would save him and see Radgar sail away frustrated. Princess Dierda would become Queen Dierda and produce countless litters of princes to secure the succession, while she, the disgraced Malinda, rejected by a common pirate…well she must just face a furious father and be married off to some other horror—not that Radgar had impressed her as a horror at all in the few minutes they had spoken. Queen Regent Martha had spoken very highly of him.

  The fires were dwindling. The Forge was growing darker and colder, very much colder. Goose bumps marched on her skin.

  The voices seemed locked in endless wheels of invocation, repeating and repeating the names: Chandos, come! Screwsley, come! Stalwart, come! Time had been revoked; perhaps it would never return. Heat had been revoked; she was freezing.

  The chanting had faded into the distance and the trickle of water had stopped. The glow of the fires had faded away, and yet the Forge was not dark, rather it seemed…foggy? Was this what it was like to be blind? Even to recognize darkness must be a kind of seeing. Everything seemed hidden behind smoked glass, as if the very air were becoming opaque. She could not see the chanters, only…only eyes looking down at her. Disembodied. A pair of eyes, a faint outline of a hand resting on Suasion’s hilt… More eyes, to right and left. Behind her? Yes, some there, also, staring down at her.

  Her mind went blank. She fumbled with the scroll with her invocation on it. Inevitably it rolled itself up; she unrolled it, and an icy breeze lifted it from her hand.

  Traitor! The voice was no more than a thought in her mind.

  “No!” she cried, struggling to remember what she must say. “Blades, you must save your ward—”

  This is the traitor.

  She betrayed us, said another.

  They were faint, insubstantial, no more than reflections on water, clustered menacingly all around her, hands on swords.

  Kill her. Take her mind. Twist, rend, scatter…

  Icy touches, wind or fingers…

  “No!” she screamed. “Save the King! Save your ward! There was a massacre. You died. Hundreds died.” She had forgotten her text. She gabbled. “The baby prince died later and I was dispossessed.” She wondered why the chanters were still wailing away in the distance. Could they not hear her screaming at the ghosts? “Take me back with you! Back to that moment and before. When I was walking back along the jetty—I will shout—”

  Traitor, traitor!

  Make her plead.

  Make her scream.

  She slew our ward….

  “I did not! I want to save him now, save you, all of you. Start again. I will shout a warning. You cannot shout, but I can. Take me back—”

  Make her suffer, suffer, suffer….

  “Sir Bandit!” she yelled. “Dian was left a widow. She wept for you, but she married another man.”

  Dian? Must I remember Dian? That silent thought was Bandit’s voice, all that was left of a fine man.

  “Take me back to the jetty! I will save you all.”

  Ghostly anger.

  Brothers, she also was our ward, our ward’s heir. That was Bandit. We swore, brothers. Let us trust her a little. If she fails us, we can still twist and rend.

  Ghostly murmurs of complaint…

  “Yes, yes, please!” she shouted. “Quickly! To the jetty. The Usurper’s men are coming.”

  She betrayed Eagle! That was Chandos.

  “I didn’t! Aid me and you will live again, the Blades will live again.”

  Let us do what Leader says, brothers…. That was young Stalwart. Remember our oaths.

  A surge of giddiness, of nausea…Light? The fog brightened. A scent of water, the sea. A faint memory of rain. Grass under her feet.

  And screams, screaming people, screaming horses.

  “No!” she yelled. “This is too late. This is when you were dying.”

  Ghostly moans and wails of despair: See, we fall! Madness! Shame! The eight wraiths were still with her, figures of mist around her, and apparently too engrossed in viewing their own deaths to heed her pleas.

  “Take me back! Back farther, before my father died. Back, farther back…”

  Somewhere a new voice shouted, “Surrender in the name of King Neville!” and the distant chanting became shouting and clashing swords. The Yeomen had arrived at the Forge. More blood, more death. Malinda was in two places at once, two times at once. She was going to go mad. The conjurers had warned her….

  “Quickly!” she cried. “Spirits! Save the King! These are the last of your Order, save them. Take me back to give the warning!”

  Brothers, we must help her! Again, that was Bandit, and then she felt Chandos add his silent voice. And again Stalwart: She can save us.

  Another surge of giddiness, the anvil rocking, the grass moving under her feet, a misty rain in her face…A smell of the sea filled her nostrils, and she stared up at two brilliantly green eyes.

  “How kind of him!” Radgar said angrily. “Such was not his opinion when we met twelve years ago. It seems he came very close to lying to you about our acquaintance. Would you agree that he was trying to deceive you?”

  Too soon! The spirits had placed her back on the longship as it still drifted aimlessly on the rain-speckled water. The crew sat in silence, watching their king interview his new bride. The oars were spread out like wings, motionless. She could not disembark yet.

  “An honest answer, my lady! Did your father deliberately hide from you the fact that he and I know each other personally?”

  She heard her own voice reply. “Perhaps he forgot—” In some far corner of her mind she could still register the screams and swords, back in…in the Forge! Hard to relate to that and to this other place. Two places at once. Must not forget why she had come back. Soon she would disembark and warn her father that this green-eyed pirate was a monster. Must remember.

  The eight shades would be no further help—Killer! Monster! Oath breaker! Murderer! They were still there, but now their attention was all on the hated King of Baelmark. Liar! Deceiver! They flitted and flickered around him in frustrated, transparent fury, slashing at him with ghostly swords. Traitor! Traitor! Obviously neither Radgar himself nor any of the crew could see or hear them as Malinda could. Her mind was being ripped in pieces.

  “I am sure he did not!” Radgar snapped. “What other
tricks did he use on you? What threats did he make to force you into this marriage?”

  Again her voice spoke for her—the other Malinda spoke for her. “Your Majesty, I wrote to you! I testified before the—”

  “Yes, you did, because I would not sign the treaty until I was given assurances that you were not being forced into a union you found distasteful. I must still hear it from your own lips.”

  Thwack! Clang! Those were the terrible sound of crossbows. The Yeomen were shooting through the windows at the men trapped in the Forge and at Malinda herself. The quarrels rang from the stones. She was going to die there. The last of the Queen’s Men were going to be picked off like fish in a barrel, dying around her corpse.

  “Your Grace…” The multitude onshore had fallen silent, staring at the longship. They did not know what was going to happen, which was, er…which was a murder. Someone, yes, her father…

  “Why did you not wait for your two ladies to board?”

  “My lord husband, why don’t we sail?”

  “Later!” he said angrily. “Because you knew they did not want to come? Because they had been forced into accompanying you? So what about you? You are happy at the prospect of spending the rest of your life in Baelmark bearing my children?”

  “I am honored to wed so fine a king!” Could this man really be as bad as he was painted? Yes, yes! That was why she had come back! Back from where? Remember! She was fading. The real Malinda was driving out the wraith from the octogram. She seemed to be losing power. She wanted to scream. Perhaps she was dead. Was that Audley screaming?

  “Oh, rubbish!” Radgar said. “You may be terrified or disgusted or shivering with excitement. You cannot possibly feel honored. I’m a slaver and a killer of thousands. But my mother was forced into her marriage, and I will not take you as my wife unless I am convinced that you are truly happy at the prospect. I think you were bludgeoned into it. Speak! Persuade me otherwise.”

  He was bullying her, just like her father. “You call me a liar?” Without thinking, she swung. Her hand struck his cheek with a crack like an ax; with all her strength behind it, the blow made him stagger.

  The crew whooped and roared approval. The crowd ashore rumbled. She gasped with horror at her folly.

  The wraiths had gone.

  Radgar straightened up, rubbing his face, which was already turning pink. His eyes were wide with astonishment, and yet they shone with devilment. “Do that again!”

  The eight had gone; the chaos in the Forge continued. Yes, Audley screaming, and Lothaire…and Malinda. Pain!…More dead. And all of this was ultimately Radgar’s fault—

  “Your Grace, I beg your—I can’t imagine what—”

  “Do it again!” he said. “Go on, I dare you!” He offered his face.

  Dare her? How dare he dare her? Crack! Right hand last time, left hand this time.

  The sounds of the Forge stopped instantly, and she had a sudden vision of History like a huge rambunctious scroll breaking loose and rolling itself up….

  Radgar had been expecting the slap, but she was still fast enough to connect. He reeled back against the side of the ship. Her hand stung. Spirits! What would he do to her?

  The pirates cheered, howled, stamped feet, and shouted obviously lewd suggestions. The King reached out and gripped Malinda’s shoulders. The marks of her fingers were clearly visible on his face, yet he was grinning widely, like a boy. “You have convinced me! No one bullies you into anything. Make a wake, helmsman! I have a bride to take home.”

  Leofric yelled, “Yea, lord!” and something else in Baelish. His mallet hit the rail, the oars dipped and bit. The ship leaped forward. Malinda staggered. Radgar folded her into an embrace and kissed her. He was not Dog.

  The scroll, rolling faster, ever faster, ever shorter…

  But the ship was moving! She had not done what she intended, but she had done enough. Radgar had discarded his planned assassination. SHE HAD WON! It was enough. Ambrose would live. There would be no Wetshore Massacre. The eight wraiths would live again. All of them would live. Dian would stay married to Bandit. There would be no massacre at Sycamore Square. Granville would never rule. Horrible Lambskin would never rise above Grand Inquisitor. Courtney would rot away in Mayshire. Neville would never rule. Malinda would never rule, but she had beaten them all in the end! TRIUMPH! Ambrose might go on for years. Dog would live again—she would never meet him and even if they did meet, they would mean nothing to each other, but he would not die for her. Take back your life, darling, and find happiness…. The man kissing her was not Dog, but it was with a sense of farewell that she returned his embrace, putting fervor and her heart into it. Good-bye…

  Click! The scroll closed.

  Radgar released her, eyes like green fire. “My lady, you honor me!”

  “Your Grace, I am so ashamed!” Surely ladies did not behave like that when they were being kissed? What an astonishing slobbery business! And her fingers digging into him like that! What must he think of her? “I swear I will never—”

  He misunderstood. “Don’t swear! Any time you think I deserve a good whack, whack away! Always, always tell me when I am wrong, because that is what I need more than anything. Even the friends of my boyhood will not tell me what they really think now, because they all have too much to lose. Be my conscience, Malinda.” He released her, but carefully, for the ship was pitching as it cleaved the swell in the open river, heading toward its two sisters. “Such fire can only be honored with fire.” From a pocket he pulled a rope of rubies like a snake of flame. “I am sure these were stolen from somewhere, but they have been in my family longer than the crown of Chivial has been in yours.”

  “Oh, they are magnificent!” she said, completely bewildered by this extraordinary man and also annoyed that there was something niggling at the back of her mind that she could not quite put a finger on…something she must at all costs remember…. But whatever it was,it was good. Mostly good.

  He hung the rubies around her neck and kissed her again. Evidently he wanted more of the tongue contact and hands-on-the-back procedure, so she cooperated hungrily. The crew cheered even louder.

  Radgar paused in his wooing to glance back at the vanishing shore. “If you want to wave good-bye, Wife, you had better do it now.”

  “No! If you will grant me a single wish in all our marriage, Husband, it is that I need never more have anything to do with Ambrose of Chivial. I have paid any debt I owed him a thousand times. I despise him!”

  “Well, that’s certainly something we have in common,” the pirate said cheerfully. “But you don’t need my permission for that, my lady. Short of bearing children for the wrong man—and even that can be negotiated sometimes—a Baelish wife can do pretty much anything she pleases. I have far more important worries than making my wife answer her father’s letters.”

  He hugged her to him and beamed at her. He was taller, but not by much, just right. A powerful man. “There’s a wind coming, or I’m a Thergian. I have a carousel standing by off the mouth. We can transfer to it for the trip home.”

  “I don’t mind a longship!” she said bravely, although the prospect was more daunting when seen firsthand.

  Radgar chuckled. “I do! I was conceived in one, but I don’t intend to subject you to that.” He regarded her quizzically. “There is an alternative. If the weather does as I expect, we can be in Thergy before midnight.”

  “Yes?”

  “Then…”He laughed and shook his head as if changing the subject. “Taking a girl home? You know, you make me feel like a boy again, my Malinda? Mæl-lind! You shall be my Mæl-lind!”

  “Meaning?”

  “Mæl is ‘time’ and lind ‘a shield.’ You will keep me young.”

  He was certainly not acting as if old age was a problem yet.

  “What were you going to say about Thergy?”

  “Ah. My consul in Drachveld has built himself an emperor’s palace there—at my expense, of course, but he did a fine job of it.�
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  “Seahorses!”

  The coppery eyebrows shot up. “What about seahorses?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, confused. “I must have dreamed about…It’s nothing. It’s gone. Carry on.”It had felt like relief, so perhaps it was just the knowledge that this bridegroom she had been dreading for so many months was turning out to be a very pleasant surprise.

  “As it happens, I just wish his wife wasn’t quite so crazy about seahorses, but it’s fit enough for a royal honeymoon. We could spend a week or two there—incognito, of course.” His tone was wistful, almost pleading. His arms were iron bands around her. “Let you learn to be a wife before you have to practice being a queen as well. Drachveld’s a fair enough town, a bit dull, but we could have a few days there to get to know each other and then perhaps have a proper wedding, with both of us present. King Johan and Queen Martha are wonderful people; I’m sure they’d love to be witnesses.”

  She studied his angular face for a moment, that juvenile gleam. She recalled Dian saying that eagerness never failed, and no one was going to question his virility. Built like an oak keel, her father had said. He felt like an oak keel.

  “I thought we were married this morning,” she said. “Do we have to waste time going through it all again?”

  That was definitely the right answer.

  “Helmsman!” Radgar roared. “Can’t you move this bathtub any faster?” He kissed his bride again, even more thoroughly than before.