The Born Queen tkotab-4

by Greg Keyes

  "I promise not to harm your person in any way, Highness, and I won't try to escape during our conversation. After I leave this room, I can't make any such promise."

  "That seems fair enough to me, inquisitor."

  "Lady, it is still not appropriate."

  "I say what's appropriate in my own house," Brinna purred. "And there will be no gossip of it, or I will know where it came from."

  "I serve your father, not you," Walzamerka said.

  "But unless my father gives a very specific command to disobey, you will do my will."

  "Why do you want to be alone with him?"

  "Because I believe you can torture Sir Neil for a thousand days and learn nothing. But a candid conversation held in private might yield some…insights."

  The inquisitor's mouth parted, and a look very like fear passed across her features. "I see, Highness," she said. "I didn't understand."

  "Good."

  When she was gone and the chamber door had closed, Brinna smiled.

  "Walzamerka thinks I'm going to tear your soul out."

  "Are you?"

  She gestured toward a chair. "Sit, Sir Neil."

  He did so, and she stared at him for several moments with those eyes of hers, so deep blue that in any light other than sunlight they appeared almost black.

  "Did you also come here to kill me, Sir Neil?"

  "I swear by the saints my people swear by that I did not, Princess Brinna."

  Her lip quirked, and she poured two goblets of wine.

  "This is not poisoned," she said. "Would you have some?"

  "I would."

  She handed him the goblet. He took it with numb hands.

  "You're Marcomir's daughter," he said at last.

  "Yes," she said. She reached up and removed the mask, revealing the strong cheekbones and contours he remembered so well. Only her gaze was different; it looked slightly unfocused.

  "I don't understand," he said, unable to look away from her dark eyes. "When I met you-"

  "Fancy a game of Fiedchese?" she interrupted.

  "Fiedchese?"

  "Yes."

  She rang a bell, and a moment later a young girl in braids brought a board and pieces. The board had squares of rust and bone. The girl left again through a cleverly placed door Neil was unable to see once it had closed.

  "It's the same board," he said. "From the ship."

  "Yes, of course." She placed the pieces in their starting positions. "This set is rather dear to me." Her eyes shifted up. "King or raiders?"

  "Raiders, I suppose," Neil replied.

  Her melancholy little smile broadened, and she made her first move. He saw now it was more than her gaze. There seemed to be something slower about her, dreamier. Not stupid, but calculating and diffident.

  "I'll answer all of your questions, Sir Neil," she said. "I've nothing to hide from you anymore."

  Neil made his own move mechanically, unable to concentrate on the game.

  She tsked softly. "You're better than that," she said.

  "I'm distracted."

  "As am I. I didn't know I would be so nervous at this meeting. I've thought about it often." She shifted the king a few spaces.

  He remembered their kiss months before. It had been soft, inexperienced, tentative, and at the same time frighteningly sincere. It was more real at the moment than anything else in his recollection.

  "No," he said, moving another raider. "It's not silly."

  "Now you know what tower I was trying to escape from and why I couldn't tell you at the time."

  "Yes," Neil replied, watching her capture a double-headed ogre. "And no. Why were you fleeing your own father?"

  She studied the board. "It wasn't just my father I was running from," she said. "It was everything. Look around you, Sir Neil. This tower has five floors. I live in the top three. Everything I need is provided for me. Attentive servants surround me. I once had friends, but since my escape, many of them are now out of my reach."

  "I'm sorry," Neil said. "I know it was because of me. But I still don't understand why." He sent a lizardish monster down the board.

  "I was born in this tower, Sir Neil. I have lived all of my life here except for the few months of freedom in which we met. I will die here, in this place with one window."

  "What about the rest of the castle? The city? The countryside?"

  "All denied me," she said.

  "Then you are a prisoner."

  "I suppose so," she said, moving another of the kingsmen to block Neil's weak stratagem.

  "Again, why?"

  A frown pinched her brow. "I've been watching you, Sir Neil."

  He had the sudden feeling of the very sky growing heavy and fragile above them, a huge plate of glass pressing on the tower, crushing them and breaking under its weight.

  "At the battle of the waerd," he said. "I thought-"

  "I was there," she said. "I saw you fall. I did what I could."

  And then he knew.

  "You're the Hellrune," he said.

  "What a funny way of saying it," she replied.

  "Wait," Neil said, closing his eyes, trying to put it all together. Anne's insistence on his coming, Alis' many questions about the Hansan seers.

  Brinna was the enemy, the beating heart of the Hansan war beast.

  "Don't look at me like that," Brinna said softly.

  "How long have you been doing this?" he asked.

  "Don't," she said. "Please."

  "How long?"

  "They knew when I was born. They started giving me the drugs when I was two, but I was nine before I was of much use. Move, please."

  He did so, a reckless attack that she swiftly crushed.

  "And how old are you now?" he asked.

  She paused. "That's an unfriendly question," she said. Then, more softly: "I had nothing to do with your father's death, Sir Neil. I have twenty-three winters, but you don't imagine I was seeing for a band of Weihands."

  "And yet you know-"

  "I have seen it now," she said, "The death of your father, your first hard wounding. As I said, I have been watching you, past and present."

  "Nevertheless, in these years you have caused the deaths of many friends," he said. "The fleet at Jeir-"

  "Yes, that I was responsible for," she replied. "You understand? I will not lie to you."

  "I lost an uncle there."

  "How many uncles did you slaughter, Sir Neil? How many children did you leave fatherless? It was war. You cannot be so squeamish or judgmental."

  "This is hard, Brinna," he managed.

  "For me as well."

  "And now you're waging war on my queen and country."

  "Yes. Because it is my duty. We discussed duty, didn't we? You approve of it if I remember correctly."

  "I did not know what your duty was then."

  "Really? And would you have advised me differently if you had? Is my duty less relevant when it conflicts with your own?"

  He looked at the game he'd just lost, trying to find something to say.

  "Or would you have sacrificed yourself and killed me?" she asked very softly.

  "No," he managed. "Never that."

  "Then you still consider yourself obligated to me."

  "I consider myself more than obligated," Neil replied. "But that puts me in an impossible situation."

  "I had escaped," she said. "Do you know that? Even after the delay taking you to Paldh, we sailed through the straits of Rusimi. My father would never have found me."

  "What happened then?"

  She sighed. "You."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Sir Neil, I found you nearly dead, hurt to the heart by betrayal, yet still steadfast in your duty even to those who betrayed you. That grew in me. It was because of you that I returned. You and a vision."

  "A vision?"

  "I'll tell you more about that later. May I tell you why I left in the first place?"

  "Of course."

  "You're beaten in two mo
ves," she said.

  "I know. Why did you leave?"

  "I have two roles in this life, Sir Neil, two obligations deeper than birth. I enjoy neither of them. One obligation is to be my father's haliurunna. I dream and send men to death. I take drugs that allow me to see better, but days of my life vanish sometimes. There are whole months I have no recollection of. I know too much and too little all at once. But I did what I was told, dreaming one day of freedom, knowing in my heart I would never have it. I fastened myself on duty and pride in defending my father's throne-and especially on my higher calling-and hoped that would be enough. And it might have been, but my father asked me to do something…wrong. Worse, I did it, and it ruined something in me. Soon it wrecked far more than that."

  "What was that thing?"

  "I broke the law of death."

  For a moment Neil was speechless. "My queen, Muriele. She believes she did that, with a curse."

  "Oh, she did the worst of the damage. But my brother Alharyi was dying, and my father always loved him best. He commanded me to stop his death, and I managed it before understanding what I had really done. Once I knew, I tried to mend the law, and I think I might have done it, because I only stopped him from his rightful death, I didn't bring him back from it. But then Muriele made her curse and brought Robert back, and the law was well and truly breached."

  "What about your brother?"

  "He went to Vitellio after Anne. His men found him chopped into many pieces-by your friend Cazio, I think. The parts were still alive. There is a ritual. The power was passed on to my cousin Hrothwulf, whom you cut into pieces." She shrugged. "Anyway, after making my brother a nauschalk I no longer wanted any part of it. I made my escape."

  "And willingly returned. Because of me. Because of duty to Hansa."

  "Because of duty to the world," she replied. "I am in part responsible for what is coming. I must do what I can to stop it, although I don't think there's much hope."

  "Stop what?"

  "Your queen, Anne."

  "Why? I know your father wants Crotheny."

  "Oh, yes, he does," Brinna said. "But I wouldn't have returned here to feed his ambition. I wouldn't be a part of a war waged because of an old man's vanity."

  "Then why?"

  "Because if she isn't stopped, Anne will destroy us all."

  The forest smelled fresh, of evergreen and rain. Muriele tried to focus on that, on seeing beauty at the end of her life, trying to not have fear be her last feeling.

  Everyone dies, she thought. If not now, later. There is no escape.

  But that was not what her gut told her. She wanted to beg, and every moment brought it closer to the surface.

  How far was it, this bog? How long did she have to live?

  Berimund was resolved; she could see that. The boy in him was hidden again, replaced by the hard man he was becoming.

  She wished she could see Anne once more. There were things she should have told her when she had the chance.

  Had Anne foreseen this? Part of her wondered. Had her own daughter sent her to her death? Was some greater purpose being served?

  She had to be brave a little while longer.

  "Berimund," she murmured. "One thing, please."

  "What's that?"

  "Let Sir Neil and Alis take my body to Liery. Give me that, at least: a resting place with my ancestors."

  Berimund's response was to look at her as if she were crazy, and her heart sank.

  "You don't think I'm actually going to kill you, do you?" he exploded.

  She was afraid to understand that at first.

  "But Marcomir-"

  "That's Father. He's old, near to losing his mind. I won't execute you on his whim. It goes against all honor and all common decency. My brothers may do his every bidding, but I will not."

  Muriele felt relief, but it was guarded. "Where are we going, then?"

  "A place only my wulfbrothars and I know about," he said. "A place we found during our roving days. You'll be safe there until I can either calm him down or arrange passage for you back to Eslen."

  "You would do that?"

  Berimund nodded grimly. "I am no traitor," he said. "Our war with Crotheny is just, holy, and right. But that means our actions have to be just, holy, and right. I will not become evil to fight evil."

  "My daughter isn't evil," Muriele said.

  "I wouldn't expect you to believe so," Berimund replied.

  "Do you think I am evil?"

  He shook his head. "I think you are in every way honorable." He smiled. "And I've never heard anyone talk like that to my father. For that alone, I would spare you."

  "Then how can you imagine I would serve an evil cause?"

  "Without knowing you do so," he said.

  "Couldn't the same be said for you? Mightn't you be serving the wrong master?"

  "My father might well be the wrong master," Berimund said. "But the holy Church is behind us."

  "You think you can trust the Church?"

  "Yes. But even if I couldn't, there is someone I do trust. Someone very dear to me. And I know we have to fight your daughter."

  "Then we are enemies, Berimund."

  "Yes, we are. But we shall be civil ones, yes? We shall behave honorably."

  "You're still hung over," Muriele said.

  "Indeed. And as soon as possible I shall cure that by being drunk."

  "And your men?"

  "My wulfbrothars. I've known them all since childhood. Our first oaths are all to one another. None of them will betray me."

  Muriele nodded, but in her mind's eye she saw Robert watching her being led off and the words he had mouthed at her. She hadn't caught them then, but now with sudden clarity she knew what he had been saying:

  I'll see you soon.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE COMMANDER

  ACREDO'S POINT struck the knight just below the gorget and slipped up beneath the helm. Helped by the man's reflex of throwing his head back, the weapon lodged in his throat. Cazio let his elbow bend as the blade struck home, but the shock was still terrific. The knight flipped back out of the saddle, and Cazio, helpless to control his flight, followed him to the ground.

  He hit hard on his off-weapon hand and used it to tumble head over heels, but he had too much momentum and ended up rolling four times before he could come back up on his feet. When he did, he turned unsteadily to meet his fate, Acredo still in his hand.

  But the other knights weren't paying much attention to him. The men swarming out of the woods were filling them full of arrows or stabbing at them with pikes, and that seemed to have distracted them.

  He recognized them then. They were what remained of the troops Anne had given him to invest Dunmrogh.

  He checked the fellow he had hit and found him without breath, then watched Anne's soldiers finish off the knights. He rubbed his shoulder, which hurt as if Lord Aita were racking it in his halls of punishment. He wondered if it was dislocated.

  Z'Acatto peered up from the front of the carriage.

  "What are you doing back there?" he asked.

  "A lot more than I needed to, it appears," he replied.

  "Nothing new there."

  A few moments later, one of the men came over and doffed his helm, revealing a seamed face with a long white scar across the forehead and a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times. Cazio recognized him as a fellow named Jan something or other.

  "That was timely," Cazio said. "Many thanks."

  "It was at that," Jan said, his tone cool. "We reckoned you dead, Sir Cazio."

  "I'm not a knight," he pointed out.

  "No? I reckon you're not, are you? But we were put in your charge."

  "Yes, and look how well I did for you," Cazio said. "I led you straight into a trap."

  Jan nodded. Some more of the men were walking up.

  "Yeah, you did, didn't you?" another of them agreed, an older, nearly bald fellow with thick features. "Near half of us are dead or missing. Playi
ng sausage with Her Majesty don't make you a commander, does it?"

  Cazio's hand twitched on Acredo's hilt. "I'll agree I'm no commander, but you'll take that back about Queen Anne, and you'll do it now."

  The man spit. "Pig guts, I will," he snarled. "If you want-"

  "Easy, Hemm," Jan said. "No good dragging the queen into this."

  "She put us here as much as he did," Hemm said.

  Cazio lifted his weapon toward the guard. "Take it back."

  The men had surrounded him.

  "You'll take us all, then, with your fancy little sword?" Hemm asked.

  "I'll certainly kill you," Cazio promised.

  "And I'll help him kill the rest of you," z'Acatto's voice said sharply from outside the circle. "Are you pigs or soldiers?"

  Hemm looked puzzled. "Pigs or soldiers?" he repeated. Then his face lit up oddly, and he spun toward the old man. "Emrature? Cassro dachi Purcii?"

  "Ah, zmierda," z'Acatto swore.

  "It is you," Hemm said.

  "Sodding saints, it is!" another gray-haired soldier agreed. "Older and uglier than ever."

  "You're still just as stupid, Piro," z'Acatto bit back. He pointed his sword at Hemm. "You want to fight the son of Mamercio, go right ahead, but it'll be a fair fight, just you and him."

  Hemm glanced back at Cazio. "That's Mamercio's pup?" He rubbed his bearded jaw. "Yeah, I see it now."

  He turned fully back to the swordmaster. "No harm meant," he said. "I just, well, the rumor is-"

  "Is wrong," Cazio said firmly.

  Hemm held his palms up and out. "Then it's wrong. I stepped in it."

  That sounded enough like an apology, so Cazio lowered his sword.

  "There's a good lad," Hemm said, clapping his hand on Cazio's shoulder. "Me and your father and that old man there, we saw some times. I was sorry to hear about your papa." He pointed at z'Acatto. "He was the finest leader a band of probucutorii ever had. He used to call us his purcii, his pigs."

  "It wasn't a term of affection," z'Acatto said. "It's what you smelled like."

  "Sure," Hemm agreed. "And the worst-Whatever happened to that old sow Ospero?"

  "He went into business in z'Espino," z'Acatto said. "I saw him a few months ago."