The Poisoner's Enemy (a Kingfountain prequel) (The Kingfountain Series)

by Jeff Wheeler

  “There there, wee one. There there,” she said softly.

  The queen looked utterly spent, exhausted to the point of insensibility. The babe’s squeals brought Tunmore into the room anxiously, his eyes wide with anticipation.

  “The babe’s come? It’s come?” he gasped hopefully. “What news! Tell me!”

  Ankarette rocked back and forth, humming softly to the babe.

  The little boy.

  “He has strong lungs, don’t you think, Deconeus?” Ankarette said, feeling tears well in her eyes.

  The look of relief on Tunmore’s face was palpable. “A son. An heir. Thank the Fountain! May it be praised forever. We are safe. We are saved!”

  His words were incongruous to her. Although it was good news an heir had been born, the little infant could do nothing to solve their immediate predicament. Did he mean something else? Something more?

  Ankarette brushed her lips against the pink forehead.

  The queen roused herself. “Is it done? A boy? Did I hear right?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Ankarette said, smiling, bringing the bundled babe to his mother. “Your son is hale and strong. Like his father.”

  The queen smiled sweetly, the pain forgotten. “I was going to name him that. Eredur—after his father. He will be a mighty king.”

  There was a soft whisper from the Fountain. It sounded in her ear.

  He is not the Dreadful Deadman.

  She blinked in confusion and turned to the deconeus. Tunmore’s face had reacted—as if he too had heard the words. The two looked at each other.

  No one else had heard the whisper.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Marq

  Sunlight flooded the diaphanous curtains of the deconeus’s chamber. Ankarette parted them, gazing out at his private garden. She saw clumps of ash-colored snow in a few of the shadowed nooks, but the barren trees were beginning to bud. A leathery gardener dragged a bucket of tools to a corner where he would begin to furrow the soil.

  The deconeus’s voice was ominous. “Your Majesty, if we do not send word to your husband soon, it may be too late.”

  Ankarette let the curtain fall back into place and turned to face her queen, who cradled her infant son in her arms and jogged from foot to foot. The babe had grown much in the months since his birth. There were no palace attendants here, no ladies-in-waiting save Ankarette herself. The Espion named Burke was stationed at the door, and it was his latest news that had cast a pall on the conversation.

  “What can we tell him that he does not already know?” the queen asked in a tired voice. “Surely Philip Temaire keeps his own spies.”

  “Indeed,” Tunmore said, “but he likely shares little information with your husband. The situation grows more dire by the day. The snows are nearly done melting, and while spring was late this year, summer is coming on winter’s heels. One need not be the Wizr Myrddin to predict what happens next. The North is lost if we do nothing. Horwath has had the advantage of the ice and snow to protect the passes leading into Dundrennan. My informers within the sanctuaries say that Warrewik has gathered an army sizeable enough to break Horwath’s grip on Dundrennan. While Warrewik reclaims the North, you can be certain that Lewis will invade Westmarch. If both or either fall, Eredur will fail. The king must return to claim his throne. Or the mad king will hand over Ceredigion to Occitania and it will destroy us all.”

  “Surely it is not that dire,” the queen said with concern.

  Tunmore planted his palms on his desk, looming over her. “Believe me, my lady. I’ve never known the situation to be graver. Eredur must be told.”

  “You are suggesting,” the queen said, glancing at Ankarette, “that I send her.”

  Tunmore nodded. “I am. It’s the wisest course of action.”

  “But where is Lord Hux?” the queen asked with concern. “We are blind to his movements. I need Ankarette near me, to protect my children.”

  Tunmore glanced at Ankarette. “You are already protected, my lady. Hux would not dare violate sanctuary. The city of Kingfountain is loyal to your husband. If he were to return here, the populace would rise up in support.”

  Ankarette disagreed and said so. “I don’t think it would be prudent for him to come to Kingfountain,” she said. “The people may be loyal, but Warrewik controls the city. It is just what the duke expects him to do.”

  “But he needs those who will fight for him,” Tunmore countered. “Horwath is trapped in his own castle while Atabyrion runs amok in the North. Kiskaddon is trapped between Warrewik and Occitania. He can’t defeat both alone. The garrison at Callait, as you’ve already told us, is in the pay of an Occitanian sympathizer. The king has been gone for six months already. His choices are few.”

  Ankarette turned to Burke. “Can you wait outside, please?” she asked him.

  He was her supply of information from outside the sanctuary. Many of the Espion were still loyal to Sir Thomas and Eredur and provided information discreetly from the gates, passing notes under the very noses of Warrewik’s guards. Some messages had even been baked into muffins. The Star Chamber might still be sequestered in the palace, but it was also operating from the sanctuary, and Ankarette was the center post holding it up.

  Burke obeyed and ducked out of the room.

  Ankarette came forward and dropped her voice lower. The queen leaned in eagerly.

  “I have been giving this much thought,” she said. She’d spent hundreds of hours at her needlework, trying to pull together a plan that would help Eredur reclaim his throne. The stitching had given her time to think, time to replenish her Fountain magic, sort through the ideas and facts, and try to put together a series of actions. The obstacles were significant.

  “I know you have,” the queen said. “You’ve kept it to yourself.”

  Ankarette smiled. “There wasn’t much to say until now. I agree with the deconeus that we must act. Your husband cannot read our thoughts, cannot know all the troubles he’s facing here. He needs to be warned. I think I should go to him in Marq. Let me explain my strategy.”

  “I’m anxious to hear it,” Tunmore said, furrowing his brow.

  “I would advise the king to land in the North, at Crowspar.”

  The deconeus looked perplexed. “That’s Warrewik’s domain. I don’t understand.”

  “I’m from the North, Deconeus,” Ankarette said. “My father was a lawyer in the city of Yuork, and my family was loyal to Eredur’s father, the Duke of Yuork. He told me an obscure story when I was a child, and I’ve since found the tale in one of the histories I read while living in Dundrennan. One of Eredur’s ancestors used a certain ploy to regain power, and I believe it could work for him. In the North, there are many there who are still loyal to the memory of Eredur’s father. I suggest that Eredur return to lay claim to his ancestral title. He can say he accepts the rulership of the mad king and seeks only to maintain his heritage as Duke of Yuork, not as King of Ceredigion.”

  Silence pummeled the room. It was audacious. Tunmore blinked in surprise, looking at her as if she were either brilliant or mad.

  “The mayor of the city of Yuork would never open the gates to him under such a pretext. Who but a fool would believe him?”

  Ankarette stared at Tunmore. “That is where you come in, Deconeus. You will make them believe him.”

  His eyes widened as he realized her meaning. She nodded. “For this to work, the queen must know your secret. I’ve never told anyone. But I think it should be revealed at last. And that is why I dismissed Burke.”

  “What does she mean, Deconeus? What secret?” the queen asked in concern.

  Tunmore straightened, his expression somber as he weighed Ankarette’s words. “And this is your entire plan?”

  She shook her head no. “It’s only the beginning of it. The mayor of Yuork will not open the gates unless he’s convinced Eredur is telling the truth. You are the only person I know who can do that.”

  “Tell me what is going on,” the queen insisted.


  The deconeus sighed and scrubbed his scalp vigorously. “You’re right, of course. I can no longer keep my secret. Your Majesty, Ankarette is not the only Fountain-blessed in your service.” He breathed in through his nose. “I was blessed with the gift of convincing. I can create a letter, forge it—if you will—and whoever reads it will absolutely believe what I have written to be the truth, even if it is a blatant falsehood. This ability led to my success at a young age. I’ve kept it carefully concealed, and I would ask Your Majesty to safeguard it if I use it on behalf of your husband.”

  A delighted smile brightened the queen’s face. “We have two Fountain-blessed?” she whispered in awe.

  Tunmore nodded sheepishly.

  Ankarette was pleased. “Starting in the North will throw Warrewik off balance and it will relieve the strain on Horwath, allowing them to combine forces. And there are many supporters who will flock to Eredur’s banner of the Sun and Rose once he lands. Our plan will trap Warrewik between Westmarch and us. And who will Warrewik call to aid him in such a dilemma?”

  The deconeus gazed at her in confusion. “I’m assuming you mean the Duke of Clare, his son-in-law. But how does that help Eredur?”

  Ankarette looked at the queen knowingly.

  The queen smiled. The strategy was perfectly clear to her now. “You see, Master Tunmore, my lord husband and his brother are already reconciled. Thanks to Ankarette.”

  The deconeus stepped backward, reeling from the information. A grin quirked the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I see. I see what you are doing. But if Warrewik still controls Kingfountain, he can escape as he did last time. He needs to be trapped in the middle of the realm.”

  “Exactly,” Ankarette said with a smile.

  One of Ankarette’s favorite parts of studying at the poisoner school was learning about other realms. Now, she was dressed in the traditional style of Brugia, in a white chemise that was puffy at the sleeves and had garter bands at the wrists and elbows. In another nod to Brugian fashion, she wore a jaunty velvet cap. She had arranged for the Espion to bring the disguise to the Genevese ship she had used for passage. Sneaking out of the sanctuary had been simple enough, for visitors came in and out of the grounds daily to worship at the fountains, and the guards could not keep track of everyone.

  Now that the queen knew Tunmore was Fountain-blessed, it had eased her concerns about temporarily losing Ankarette’s protection. Tunmore would be able to sense if Lord Hux used his powers in the sanctuary, and he’d vowed to toss the man into the river if he dared enter the grounds while she was gone.

  The ship dropped Ankarette off at one of the headwater cities, and from there she took a barge upriver to Marq. Burke had assigned another Espion to accompany her to Eredur’s hideaway in Brugia. She was grateful for the escort, and also that she would not have to discover his location on her own. The Espion who accompanied her, a man by the name of Hawkins, was in fear and awe of her. He refused to use her given name, referring to her instead by the title of the Queen’s Poisoner, or Her Ladyship’s Poisoner.

  The city of Marq exceeded the size of Kingfountain in terms of population. The outer walls were massive and the interior was all interconnected waterways, arched bridges, and tightly clustered buildings. The air was humid and had a mossy smell to it. Fleets of gondolas scudded along the placid waters, delivering passengers from one quarter of the city to another.

  “My lady, the king is staying at a small manor house at the inner rim of the city,” her guide told her in a small, nasally voice. “I have been there several times to deliver intelligence to Sir Thomas Mortimer. The only way to access it is by these strange boats. I’ve heard that King Philip keeps an eye on those who come and go, but no one has ever troubled us.”

  He arranged for a gondola to take them to their destination, and she found herself growing more anxious to see Sir Thomas again. She had expected to see him, of course, but she’d forced herself to keep her focus on the plan, not on what Sir Thomas might say to her after so many months apart. Somehow, she maintained a calm dignity as the boat glided on the waters and the poleman sang a humble tune to himself to pass the time.

  She watched the people on the roads and overhead bridges, reminded of her studies and fascinated by the accuracy of the information she’d learned at the poisoner school. Marq was so different from her land, but she was enamored of it already.

  The gondola turned a lane and began approaching a row of houses that faced the water. There was no street access, only a small wharf before each one. The places all looked similar and were in a state of disrepair. The dock posts were black with slime and the waters were stagnant and stale smelling.

  The poleman reached the dock of a two-story dwelling with curtained windows facing the waterway.

  “This is it,” Hawkins said, wiping his nose. A man came out to interrogate them, and when he made the Espion hand sign, her guide responded with the correct return signal. The newcomer nodded and then looked at her. It was Bennet, and a broad smile lit up his face when he recognized her.

  “Ankarette!” he said in welcome. His hair had grown longer and his clothes matched the fashion of the Brugians, including a ruffled collar. It had taken her a moment to see through his disguise.

  “Hello, Bennet,” she said. He reached for her hand and helped her out of the gondola.

  “We were not expecting you!” he said in surprise. “Let me bring you to Sir Thomas. He and the king will be overjoyed to see you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, giving him a fond smile. Her companion tipped the driver a few extra coins.

  She was ushered through a small gate, which led to a tiny walled courtyard. So this was where the king had found refuge during his exile? She had expected to find him at the palace in the center of town.

  The sturdy wooden door of the manor opened before they reached it, and then she was face-to-face with him once more. Sir Thomas had a rakish beard and he too had grown out his hair to match the style of the country. A sword and dagger were belted at his hips and he wore a dark jerkin decorated with slashes of green and little ruffs at the cuffs but not at the neck. She could see his desperation in the new worry lines on his forehead and around his eyes, the desperation of a man fighting to swim while sinking.

  And then he saw her.

  He halted as if he’d struck a wall of glass. The worry lines melted away, and the look he gave her—the warm smile, the brightening of his eyes—filled her with warmth and happiness.

  “Ankarette Tryneowy,” he said in disbelief, his voice throbbing with pleasure.

  Bennet coughed into his hand and tried to conceal a knowing smile. “Well, I see we’ve found him already. If you’ll excuse me.” He shook his head and ducked past Sir Thomas into the manor.

  Sir Thomas stood there, gaping at her. “No one said—”

  “There was no—”

  They’d both attempted to speak at the same moment. Her cheeks began to flush at the way he was looking at her. It was more than a look of just friendship.

  An awkward quiet stretched between them.

  “Look at you,” he said, chuckling softly, shaking his head. “You’re not that young waif I was sent to fetch from Yuork all those years ago. Have you come to bring us home, lass?”

  Her throat was suddenly thick, but she still managed to speak. “Yes. It’s time to go home, Sir Thomas.”

  He shook his head and took a step closer, reaching for her hands. When his fingers touched hers, she felt a lively jolt go up her arms. Her skin tingled. He looked a little shy, very uncertain of himself. “Just Thomas, lass. Thomas will do from now on.”

  Standing alone with him in the small courtyard, her heart began to burst open.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The King’s Gambit

  King Eredur received the news of Ankarette’s arrival with warmth and appreciation, and soon she was sequestered with him and Thomas in a private room, seated around a small table. Voices were kept low, for secrecy was essential.
The king listened with keen interest to her strategy and the news she had brought from Ceredigion. There was no doubt he realized his kingdom was perched like a precarious boulder—one false shake would send it crashing down with no chance of recovery.

  After she finished her explanation, Eredur rubbed his mouth, his intent gaze showing he was deep in thought. “Can I see the letter that Tunmore wrote? Everything depends on it, for if the mayor does not believe it, we’ll be trapped outside Yuork and vulnerable to Warrewik’s army.”

  “Of course,” Ankarette said. She removed the letter from the hidden pocket in her gown and handed it to him. Thomas got up and stood behind his shoulder to read it as well.

  She felt the rippling of the Fountain as they began to read.

  Moments later, Eredur’s hand dropped and the letter tumbled onto the table. “By the Veil,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m convinced it is true and I know it’s a lie! I had no idea the deconeus was Fountain-blessed. He’s kept this secret carefully guarded.”

  “Indeed he has,” Ankarette replied, glancing at Thomas over the king’s shoulder. He was giving her that look again . . . the one that said he truly saw her. Her emotions bubbled over inside and she nearly grinned like a foolish young woman.

  “You need to see Philip,” Thomas said, putting his hand on Eredur’s shoulder. “Right away. This instant. He must provide you with some boats and some men. We cannot let this opportunity pass. If he will not agree to help, then you must convince your sister to assist you behind his back.”

  “He’s not been very supportive thus far,” Eredur brooded. “He’s provided us a run-down manor to live in, far enough from court so that he doesn’t have to see me every day and be reminded of my plight.”