Dragonfire

by Charles Jackson

  “They’ll be all right…?” The younger man asked worriedly as their mounts drew near and Randwick pulled momentarily back on his reins. “The queen will be all right?”

  “Safer where they’re going that anywhere we could take ‘em,” he answered confidently.

  “And where are they going, sir…?”

  “Now that, young William, even I don’t know…” the old man replied with a sly grin, lying outright. “Perhaps in time we’ll find out…” he added, not wanting to give any great offence “…but for now, the fewer who know that information, the better…”

  For his part, William accepted that answer without question and headed off to collect his horse, Randwick watching him carefully with suspicion in his eyes.

  XXI

  Hidden Agendas

  Zeehn was already cast in the shadow of twilight as William rode up to his family’s farmhouse for the second time in as many days, this time alone. Tying his horse up at a water-filled trough by the front door, he took great pains to shake the dirt from his boots on the mat before entering with a single knock. His mother was generally an easy-going soul but she was house-proud to a fault and no one in the family was stupid enough to risk her wrath by making the floors dirty.

  With her head barely reaching William’s chest, she wrapped her arms about him as he stepped through the door and held him tight as his father stepped forward and shook the boy’s hand from a distance.

  “I can’t stay long, mother…” he warned apologetically as they separated. “General Randwick’s taking the army south below the ranges to regroup: we’re moving out tomorrow.”

  “So he’s a general now, is he…?” His father growled darkly, not sounding at all impressed. “Never saw him closer than a mile from the front lines the whole time I marched me colours, back in the day… That was a quick promotion sure enough, with the king dead and the princess gone into hiding and all…!”

  Taller than his son by several centimetres, Alexander of Zeehn was a tall, solidly-built man with body well-tuned by decades of hard work on the farm and a razor-sharp intellect to match.

  “She’d queen now, father,” William corrected almost automatically, then frowned. “And how do you know she’s gone, anyway? That’s supposed to be secret!”

  “Not much misses our doorstep, son – you should know that by now. I’ve me own little ‘connections’ hereabouts who tell me things from time to time, and I hear tell that a ship weighed anchor at dawn this morning with Her Majesty on board, bound for ‘parts unknown’. She ain’t no queen neither – not yet, at least: ain’t been no coronation to make it official and there’s some sayin’ that may never happen; not if the viceroy gets his way…”

  “Amun Baal is a bloody traitor and no friend of Huon,” William spat angrily in return, having seen some of the man’s dastardly handiwork in person. “He murdered King Phaesus and betrayed Huon to the Blackwatch!”

  “Aye, I been hearin’ that too,” the old man conceded as William’s mother, already bored by political talk, made her way over to the crackling wood stove in the corner where several pots were bubbling for dinner. “And he may well pay for his crimes before this is all done, but mark my words… there’s some strange tales been getting about these last few days about the ‘queen’ too – tales that don’t bear thinkin’ about or repeatin’ right now… I’ll tell y’ this straight: there’s like to be a reckoning for quite a few of them royal hobnobs on both sides before this thing’s good and done. Never mind any ‘o that now, anyway,” he continued, waving a dismissive hand as William began to respond. “We’ve little enough time to spend with y’ as it is, and I know we never agree on politics anymore. I just thank the Shard you’re still well and in one piece. You’ve time to take dinner with us before y’ head back…?” He added, clapping a fatherly hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “The gen – uh – Master Randwick gave me the rest of the evening at least, and some of Ma’s best would be a fine way to say goodbye before I head off.”

  “You always could smell my stew cookin’ from a mile away, son,” his mother chimed in, beaming with pride as she stirred the largest pot on the stove. “There’s a good fifteen minutes or so before its done: go and see your brother and spend some time with him before we eat.”

  “Rolly…? Rolly’s here…?” William exclaimed, suddenly excited and not daring to hope for such unexpected good news. “I feared the worst after what happened at Cadle: they’ve been burning priests as traitors all over the countryside since the news broke that the Brotherhood was in league with Harald.”

  “He’s in the storm cellar,” Alexander advised, barely managing a smile. “We thought it best he stay out of sight with what’s been goin’ on, like you said, and thanks be to The Shard, the Gods have kept him safe so far. Sorry we couldn’t tell you last night, with them soldiers about an’ all. Head on out and say hello: you know where it is.”

  “Tell ‘im we’ll bring some stew out by and by,” his mother called out as he strode across the kitchen and threw open the back door.

  The main farm buildings comprised the farmhouse and two separate barns behind, one large and the other smaller. William headed out through the rear with an excited spring in his step, making straight for the smaller of the two barns and slipping sideways through the narrow gap between its already-open main doors. The inside was dark and musty, but his father was too careful to ever leave tools lying about or stand for anything being out of place and William had spent enough time playing in there as a child to know his way around blindfolded.

  This time however he did find several loose hay bales stacked somewhere they definitely shouldn’t be and almost fell over them before he’d worked out what they actually were. With a few soft grunts of exertion, he pushed them aside and reached for the handle of the trapdoor he knew had been hidden beneath. Lifting it high, he was immediately presented with the sight of a large and relatively spacious cellar below, dimly lit by the flickering light of a lantern placed somewhere beyond his line of sight. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned, placed his foot on the top rung of the ladder leading down, and lowered himself inside, pulling the trapdoor back over his head as he entered.

  “It’s good to see you, brother…” a familiar voice declared from behind as his feet reached the cellar’s hard, earthen floor, and as he turned toward the sound, William of Zeehn found himself face to face with Prelate Roland of Cadle.

  Ocean Breeze had rounded the heads of Mockery Inlet and turned west, the captain taking her away from the coast and heading for deeper water. A storm had blown in from the south-west by mid-morning, the blustery winds bringing with it a vicious chill and biting rain that kept everyone below decks save for the unfortunate crew on duty. The seas had roughened substantially with the storm’s arrival, forcing the vessel to tack heavily through crashing waves as they fought to make headway against the oncoming wind. There’d been not a single thought of dolphin sightings during those first few hours as the cog lurched savagely up and over each huge wave, only to come crashing down again on the other side as any number of stomachs both above and below decks also did more than their fair share of heaving. It was mid-afternoon before the storm had finally passed, blowing away to the east and leaving the skies cloudless from one horizon to the other.

  The captain’s quarters had been set aside for the queen’s use, the spacious cabin placed in roughly the same position at the stern of the ship as Baal’s had been aboard Rapier (as was the case on basically every other vessel of similar design). A large feather bed the size of a standard double lay in the centre of the space, the headboard backed up beneath windows that covered the entire width of the ship’s stern from port to starboard. A low set of drawers stood on either side of the bed, while at least three burning kerosene lanterns hung from the ceiling on short chains, swinging lazily from side to side in time with the rise and fall of the ship cutting through the calming waves.

  The bulkheads to port and starboard were lined wi
th further windows, some blocked by several large book cases fixed to the walls with long, narrow slats fitted to the front of each shelf to prevent anything falling out during rough weather. Near the centre of the room, roughly half way between the doorway and the bed, a large, ovoid table stood bolted to the deck surrounded by a number of high-backed wooden chairs with heavy weights attached to their feet for added stability.

  Several large steamer trunks filled with a variety of clothes had been brought up to the room, and with seas and stomachs now calmer, Charleroi was finally able to break some of them open to cast an eye over the choices Randwick had made without her knowledge.

  “Well, at least half of these are too old…” she grumped softly, her heart not really in it as she and Nev sat at the foot of Farouk’s large feather bed “…and some of the others are just too short now! Never let a man make wardrobe decisions…!”

  “The lace work on these is amazing!” Nev declared, not feeling particularly judgemental but nevertheless silently filing the queen’s remarks under ‘first-world problems’ as she ran her hands over the ornate bodice of a bright blue gown that looked almost Elizabethan. “It must’ve taken hours to make…!”

  “Probably weeks, I suspect…” Charleroi mused vaguely, not really certain herself but able to make a more educated guess at least. “I think there’s only one or two seamstresses in the whole of Huon can even do anything this fiddly.”

  “Uh…yeah… it is really pretty…” Nev replied awkwardly, feeling silly now as she realised that – of course – the work must’ve painstakingly been done by hand rather than on some kind of intricate machine.

  “I shouldn’t complain… without Randwick, I’d not even be here to complain about my dresses…” Charli conceded grudgingly, rising from the bed and walking slowly over to the multi-paned windows that ran right across the entire width of the stern, affording a fine view of the darkening ocean and the ship’s wake spreading behind them. “I wish he’d at least told me where we’re going…”

  “I’m sure it’ll be somewhere safe,” Nev assured as Charleroi pushed open one of the windows on its hinges and breathed deeply as cool, fresh air wafted in with the breeze from outside. “I don’t know him very well, but he seems to be a pretty decent guy… and pretty sharp too…”

  “‘Sharp’…” Charli repeated, glancing back at Nev as she turned the word over a few times in her mind. “You…mean… smart, yes…? Yes, he is very smart,” she continued, not waiting for a reply as she turned back toward the open window. “And a very decent man … finest I’ve ever known, save for…” Her voice tightened and faded then as she fought against her own grief, knuckles white as her fingers – already resting on the sill of the open window – tightened almost into claws with sudden tension.

  “It’s okay to miss him…” Nev ventured carefully, eyes moistening with her own surging emotions as she watched a single tear trickle its way down Charli’s cheek in the fading light.

  “I’m queen now…” she whispered softly, bitter defiance in the words as she struggled to retain control. “I have responsibilities… a kingdom to think of: I’m not allowed the luxury of grief…!”

  “Everyone has a right to grieve…” Nev replied, her tone still gentle but sounding more confident now as the subject moved onto firmer ground. “Sure, you’re a queen… but that doesn’t mean you have to walk around not showing any emotion twenty-four/seven… uh… every hour of the day, I mean…”

  “History hasn’t been kind to the Namur…” Charli observed sadly, turning back from the window and taking a seat on the bed once more. “My father lost his older brother, father and his grandfather to war or assassination: we’ve learned the hard way to ignore our sorrow and just move on. It’s almost a family pastime. What about your family…?” She asked suddenly, trying to brighten a little as she decided it was time for a change of subject. “What are they like? I bet they miss you, wherever you come from…”

  “I – um – I miss my dad… miss him a lot…” Nev admitted after pausing for a moment to compose her thoughts. Lost my mum when I was a lot younger; we grew pretty close after that…”

  “I’m so sorry…”

  “It’s okay – I came to terms with that a long time ago… still miss her of course, but it doesn’t hurt as much now… not like it did back then…” she paused, taking a deep breath as Charli waited patiently, knowing when to stay quiet and just listen. “Where I come from… well, it’s really different from here. We have machines that can do just about anything for us: machines to cook our food… to fly around in… machines we use to speak to someone on the other side of the entire world. My dad worked at a mine – they have those here? A huge hole in the ground where they dig for coal…? He works lots of hours to pay the bills…” She continued sheepishly as Charli nodded quickly and the question suddenly seemed a little silly. “Sometimes he jokes that it’s me who looks after him, but I’m still just a kid really. I go to school there… high school, we call it…”

  “I had personal tutors, being a princess…” Charli shrugged. “Most people in the kingdom don’t have that luxury, of course. Used to be that one had to be the child of a lord or nobleman to be given any education, but father was trying to change that. Even back when he was just a prince, he’d started opening free schools for the commonfolk in the bigger cities and towns. “Father… was not popular with everyone…” Charleroi admitted after a long, difficult pause. “He’d always been seen as a friend of the people, even before Uncle Rizal was assassinated, but that was little more than an annoyance as a prince, whereas once he became king…” She took another moment to compose herself, before adding: “Being loved by the commonfolk often creates enemies elsewhere who are far more dangerous… even among your own relatives sometimes, it seems…”

  “My world’s history is full of stuff like that,” Nev admitted with a shrug of her own. “People in charge trying to kill or imprison anyone who tries to give power back to the people… not so usual to see that in a king though…”

  “My father never wanted to be king; never expected to be…” Charli explained. “He was a gentle, decent man. The only ‘crime’ he was ever guilty of was that he cared…” There was a long silence then as both were momentarily lost within their own thoughts, the only sounds being the faint sounds of the waves outside the windows and the creaking of the ship as it cut through them.

  “And now you’re queen…” Nev pointed out carefully, not sure whether the observation was good news or bad.

  “Perhaps not for long as things stand,” Charli replied with a thin, rueful smile, “although there’s still hope… I’m not ready to surrender just yet…”

  “How difficult is it to be a queen in this world?” Nev asked thoughtfully, considering the other girl’s situation in greater depth. “This stupid ‘Keepsake-blindfold’ thing obviously applies to monarchs as well as commoners: how are you supposed to rule a kingdom you’re not even allowed to see most of?”

  “My father and I spoke on exactly that subject just a few days ago…” Charli admitted, her expression darkening “…and we didn’t come up with a solution then either.” She gave an exaggerated ‘humph!’ of displeasure and scowled as she picked daintily at her fingernails. “I was pressing my luck daring to travel from Cadle without a visard… not sure even as queen I’d get away with that too often. Come to think of it, I might even be the first queen ever… I don’t know anyone who can remember a time in the Osterlands when there was a queen ruling on her own before. Most of the time, royal families with only girls just keep having babies until they get a boy – which takes care of that ‘problem’ – and those few that are left usually have their daughters married off before they have a chance to ascend the throne in their own right…”

  “…And I assume the husband then takes over everything anyway…?” Nev responded, giving a scowl of her own.

  “Not… officially…” Charli shrugged, not bothering to hide her own annoyance ‘…but everyone
knows what’s really going on. A royal baby factory: that’s all anyone expects a queen to be around here…”

  “But not you…?”

  “Not likely…!” Charli spat venomously, eyes narrowed. “Make me wear a blindfold, will they? Shard willing, if I see it through this current disaster I’m going to rule my kingdom my way, husband or none, and I’ll be damned if I care what the Kings’ Council thinks of that! When have they ever done anything for The Osterlands other than maintain the status quo? They’d never accept a queen ruling in her own right. Don’t know why I’m surprised; they have king in the title after all…”

  “Men are such bastards…” Nev muttered vaguely, shaking her head.

  “Well… not all men…” the queen suggested, almost managing a smile then. “There’s Randwick, of course… and that Guard Captain, William seemed honourable… and handsome…!” Her expression turned almost sly in that moment as she turned her head and sent a glance in Nev’s direction. “Your friend, Godfrey seems quite nice…”

  “Oh, for goodness sake: not you too!” Nev moaned plaintively, instantly recalling memories of the uncomfortable conversation with Randwick a few days earlier and torn between whether to feel annoyed or embarrassed (or settle for both). “Is there anyone who doesn’t know about this…?”

  “Well… probably Godfrey, knowing how slow boys tend to be with this sort of thing…” Charli replied with a conspiratorial wink, taking the tone of a teenager completely confident in their comprehensive knowledge of all things. “Maybe he needs more of a hint…?”

  “Oh, my God, don’t even…!” Nev almost choked as the queen giggled, happy her intentional tease had hit home. “I’d be mortified… seriously…!”

  “So, you don’t like him, then…?” That next, very intent question was delivered with a seriously-raised eyebrow.