The Seven Realms- The Complete Series

by Cinda Williams Chima

  The dead at the Wien Hall library had been strangers to Oden’s Ford. None were wizards. They’d been seen around the academy for several days, asking questions. Either they carried nothing in their pockets, or whoever had killed them had stripped them of identification.

  Han slipped into Micah’s dormitory, familiar from his many visits, and tossed their rooms. They had departed in a hurry—leaving many of their belongings behind.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence. Had they left because they’d murdered her? Or had they taken her with them? No matter how Han put it together, it didn’t make sense. Three of the dead had been killed with wizardry. Had Rebecca been witness to the killings, and been killed or carried off for that reason?

  Han walked over to Grindell Hall the morning before he planned to leave. The dormitory was a hive of activity—cadets running up and down stairs, packing their belongings.

  Byrne met with him in the common room. The bluejacket had lost some of his military edge—his eyes were ringed with dark circles, and he hadn’t shaved in several days.

  “Looks like you’re leaving,” Han said.

  “Rebecca is no longer in the area,” Byrne said. “I believe she’s gone north. We received a report from Tamron Seat that someone resembling Rebecca was caught in a skirmish with Ardenine forces along the border between Tamron and Arden. We’re riding to Tamron Seat to investigate. It’s possible she’s there, in the capital.”

  Han hesitated, then went ahead and said it. “You think she’s alive, then,” he said.

  “She’s alive,” Byrne said, as if he hadn’t a doubt. He ran his hands through his hair. “But I need to find her. If she’s in Tamron, she’s in grave danger. Gerard Montaigne has invaded from the east. He’s got the capital encircled, demanding their surrender.”

  “And you’re going into that?” Han shook his head. “You’re a mettlesome one, Corporal.” He paused. “If Bayar carried Rebecca off, and she’s still alive, I’d guess he’d take her back to the Fells, wouldn’t you? And if she left on her own, she’d head home, too.”

  Byrne nodded. “If we don’t find her in Tamron, I’ll keep heading north, looking for signs she went that way. If I find her trail, I’ll follow it. Otherwise, I’ll cross into the Fens and enter the Fells at Westgate. If you hear anything, send a message there.”

  “I will,” Han said. “But I came to let you know that I’m going back to the Fells, too. I didn’t want you to think I’d kicked town on you.”

  “Which way will you go?” Byrne asked.

  “I’ll go north to Fetters Ford, then east to Delphi,” Han said. “I’ll search for Rebecca that way, ending up at Marisa Pines Camp. If you find anything, or hear anything from the capital, send word to me there.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Byrne extended his hand. “Be careful,” he said.

  Han gripped the offered hand. “You too,” he said. “See you at home.”

  Abelard sent a runner for Han in the afternoon. When he entered her office, she stood staring out the window. “Did you know that the Bayars have left school?” she asked without preamble.

  “I heard,” Han said. “They left in a hurry. With their cousins. And Wil Mathis.” He told her what he’d found at their dormitory.

  Abelard turned around and looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Sit.” She motioned to a chair.

  He sat. “That incident at the Wien Hall library, those people that were killed,” Han said. “I think the Bayars had something to do with it.”

  “Do you?” Abelard toyed with a small jewel-encrusted dagger. Sunlight reflected off it, sending sparkles racing over the walls. “Why would you think that?”

  “They disappeared the same night. Along with a friend of mine.”

  “Friend?” Abelard tilted her head. “Who?”

  “A Wien House cadet. Rebecca Morley. She used to work for the Bayars. She disappeared the same time they did.”

  “I don’t know her,” Abelard said, dismissing Rebecca. “But it is likely the Bayars had to do with the killings at the library, in an indirect way.” She paused, those gray-green eyes assessing him. “The four dead are all assassins in the employ of Aerie House.”

  “Assassins?” Han rubbed his head as if he could reshuffle his thoughts and be dealt a better hand. “Why would they come here? And who would’ve killed them?”

  “I thought perhaps you could tell me,” Abelard said, running her thumb over the honed edge of the blade.

  “Me?” Han shook his head. “I’m not following.”

  Abelard gave him a don’t try to fool me kind of look. “They worked for the Bayars,” she said. “They were killed with wizardry.”

  It finally clanked into place. “You think I did it?”

  “Who in Oden’s Ford would the Bayars want to kill?” Abelard said. “An attack on the High Wizard can’t go unanswered forever.” She shrugged. “And who might be most likely to survive such an attack?”

  Han leaned forward, hands on his knees, willing her to believe him. “Look, I don’t know why they were here, or who hushed them, but I had nothing to do with it.”

  “It speaks for your reputation that Lord Bayar sent a team of four to do the job. I think that when Micah and Fiona found out what happened to their father’s assassins, they decided to leave before you came after them.”

  Han shook his head. “It wasn’t me. Like I told you, my friend Rebecca disappeared from the library where the one assassin was found.”

  “Perhaps she saw something she shouldn’t have?” Abelard said.

  Han stood. “This is a waste of time,” he said, fighting back fury. “If you think I would have had anything to do with—”

  “Sit down, Alister!” Abelard said. “It’s in your best interest to hear me out.”

  Reluctantly, he sat, arms folded, glaring at her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t look so distraught. There was nothing at the scene to tie it to you. And, I must say, I am more impressed than ever with your abilities.”

  Han gave up. There was no way he’d persuade the dean that he hadn’t done the four, not when it all fit together so well and he had no other story to tell.

  “Well, I think the Bayars left town for another reason,” he said. “And that’s what we should be looking into.”

  Abelard nodded, tapping the desk with her blade. “You may be right. I would prefer to keep young Micah Bayar under my eye since he is central to his father’s ambitions.”

  “I’m going back, too,” Han announced. “Tomorrow. I won’t be here for the summer after all.” He tipped his chin up and looked her in the eyes.

  Propping her elbows on the desk, Abelard laced her fingers, resting her chin on her hands. “If you are thinking of taking revenge on the Bayars, I would advise you not to do anything rash,” she said.

  “Never worry,” Han said. “If I take revenge, I’ll do it with great forethought and deliberation.”

  The dean laughed. “You are amazing, Alister. Your clothing, your speech—you’ve gone from street rat to courtier in less than a year.” She paused. “I’d advise you to stay. If you go back now, you’ll be on your own. I can’t offer much protection from here.”

  “I’m going anyway,” Han said.

  Abelard shrugged. “I do have allies, however, and I will tell them to watch out for you. I intend to come back home in the summer or fall for an extended stay. Matters are accelerating such that I believe they require my close personal attention.”

  Abelard reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a heavy purse. She plunked it on the desk in front of Han. “This will tide you over in the meantime.” The dean went on to give Han a list of jobs to do and people to meet after he arrived.

  “The important thing is to keep the Bayars from further consolidating their influence with the queen,” she said. “I’m told that in the absence of the Princess Raisa, they hope to see Mellony named heir and married off to Micah. It may be why he’s returned home so suddenly. You must do
everything you can to prevent this.”

  “Everything?” Han raised an eyebrow.

  Abelard smiled. “Good-bye, Alister. Stay alive until I get there.”

  Han’s head spun as he descended the stairs. Was it possible that Micah Bayar was headed home for a wedding? And if he was, what could he, Han, do about it? Assassinate the bride and groom? Plan a massacre at the marriage feast?

  Han had too many gang lords.

  Cat and Dancer helped Han carry his saddlebags and panniers down so he could load his horses. “I still don’t understand why Abelard is sending you to Tamron Seat,” Dancer said. “Even if they have a large library, they can’t have much of a magical collection.”

  “It’s more about politics,” Han said. “I need to keep her happy if I want to come back to school in the fall.”

  Han scratched Ragger between the ears, and the pony laid back his ears and showed his teeth, ill-tempered as usual. “You like being lazy, sucking up hay in a warm barn, don’t you?” Han murmured. “Well now you have to get to work again. Both of us do.”

  There had been little time for riding over the past few months. Now they’d get reacquainted.

  “Can’t you at least stay until Dig—Night Bird leaves?” Dancer said. “She’ll be gone by the time you come back.”

  “Night Bird and I haven’t got much to say to each other these days,” Han said. Their evening together had been awkward at best. Too many secrets divided them.

  “She came all this way to see us,” Dancer said. “I think she’s getting used to the idea that we’re wizards. I mean, I think she’s sorry for the way she reacted when we—”

  “The Demonai are just like everyone else: they ditch their high-minded principles whenever it’s convenient,” Han said.

  Dancer frowned, his eyes searching Han’s face. “This is Bird we’re talking about,” he said. “You should give her a chance.”

  Han didn’t really want to have a heart-to-heart about Digging Bird. Night Bird. Whoever she wanted to be these days. “Anyway, you’ve been working on amulets since exams were over, too,” Han said.

  “I have to work on flash in the summer,” Dancer said. “It’s not part of the curriculum at Mystwerk House.”

  Cat had been all twitchy during this long exchange, flinging back her hair, pacing back and forth, signaling that she had something to say.

  “You should let me come with you,” she said. “I can’t watch your back if your back is in Tamron and I’m here.”

  “I want you to keep looking for Rebecca,” Han said, strapping down his bedroll. “Keep asking questions. See if anyone knows anything. There’s a chance somebody saw something. And watch Dancer’s back. That’s what you should do while I’m gone.”

  When everything was in readiness, Han leaned back against his pony, strangely reluctant to leave. There needed to be places like this—places to read and write and study and argue and debate with all different kinds of people and not have to look over your shoulder all the time. Places where the desire for knowledge overwhelmed boundaries and differences.

  It was part of the reason he’d resisted hushing Micah during those first few weeks when his anger had threatened to spill over into violence.

  His first task was to make it to Marisa Pines Camp without getting killed or recruited into somebody’s army. He’d look for Rebecca along the way. Corporal Byrne had seemed convinced she was alive, but Han couldn’t conjure up much hope.

  Once back home, he’d find the Bayars and make them talk.

  Han embraced Dancer, then Cat, and mounted Ragger.

  “Travel safely,” Dancer said, in Clan. “Return to our hearth.”

  Han nodded, wondering if he would ever return to Oden’s Ford.

  For my maternal grandmother, Dorothy Downey Bryan, a gifted musician and indifferent housekeeper who had the second sight. Grandma had a lap that would accommodate several small children, but she always kept a shotgun in the closet.

  And in memory of Ralph M. Vicinanza, who left us too soon.

  C H A P T E R O N E

  IN THE

  BORDERLANDS

  Raisa ana’Marianna huddled in her usual dark corner at the Purple Heron, picking at her meat pie. She’d learned to stretch a meal and a mug of cider over an entire evening.

  It was risky to sit out in the common room of a tavern every night. Lord Bayar’s assassins would be searching for her. They’d failed to kill her at Oden’s Ford, thanks to Micah Bayar, Lord Bayar’s son. But the High Wizard’s spies could be anywhere, even here in the border town of Fetters Ford.

  Especially here. Bayar would prefer to intercept Raisa before she crossed the border into the Fells. It would be tidier that way, her murder easier to conceal from her mother the queen and her father’s people, the Spirit clans.

  Still, she couldn’t hide out in her room all the time. She needed to be visible to the people she wanted to find her. Somehow she had to get home, reconcile with Queen Marianna, and confront those who meant to take the Gray Wolf throne away from her.

  The name Rebecca Morley was no longer safe. Too many of her enemies knew it. These days she called herself Brianna Trailwalker, a nod to her clan ancestry. Her story was that she was a young trader returning from her first journey south, held up by the turmoil along the border.

  After a month in the limbo of Fetters Ford, she knew the regulars at the Heron—mostly pilots from the ferry service on the river, and the blacksmiths, farriers, and stablers who serviced travelers along the road. Locals were in the minority, though. The town churned with the comings and goings of wartime.

  Raisa scanned the room, picking out the strangers. Two Tamric ladies occupied a corner table for the second night in a row. One was young and pretty, the other sturdy and middle-aged, both too well dressed for the Heron. Likely a noble lady and her chaperone fleeing the fighting to the south.

  Three lean young men in Ardenine civilian garb played cards at a table by the door. Four had come in, but one of them had left a while ago. Several times, Raisa looked up and caught one or another of them staring at her. Apprehension slithered down her spine. Thieves or assassins? Or just young men showing interest in a girl on her own?

  There were no easy answers anymore.

  Most of the rest of the patrons were soldiers. Fetters Ford swarmed with them. Some bore the Red Hawk of Arden, some the Heron of Tamron, others carried no signia at all—either sell-swords or deserters from King Markus’s army.

  Any of them could be hunting Raisa. It had been a month since she’d escaped Gerard Montaigne, the ambitious young prince of Arden. Gerard hoped to claim at least three of the Seven Realms by overthrowing his brother Geoff, the current Ardenine king, invading his former ally Tamron, and marrying Raisa ana’Marianna, the heir to the Gray Wolf throne of the Fells.

  Any day, they expected to receive word that the capital of Tamron Court had fallen to Gerard. The prince of Arden had laid siege to it weeks ago.

  When Raisa arrived in Fetters Ford, she’d planned to ask the local Tamric authorities to send a courier to the garrison house at the West Wall in the Fells. They in turn could send her message on to her father, Averill Lord Demonai, or to Edon Byrne, Captain of the Queen’s Guard—perhaps the only two people in the Fells she could trust.

  But when she arrived in the border town, there was no authority. The garrison house was empty, the soldiers fled. Some might have gone south to the aid of the beleaguered capital city. Likely, most had melted into the general populace to await the outcome of the war.

  Raisa was left with the hope that her best friend, Corporal Amon Byrne, and his Gray Wolves might follow her north and find her here in Fetters Ford. She could travel on, hidden in their midst, as she had in the fall, on her way to the academy at Oden’s Ford.

  As the future captain of her guard, Amon was magically linked to Raisa, so he should have a rough sense of where she was. But the weeks had dragged on and Amon had not appeared. Surely if he were coming, he’d be here by n
ow.

  Her other plan was that she might fall in with a clan trader heading back north. She was a mixed-blood; with her burnt-sugar skin and thick black hair, she could pass for clan. But that hope had also faded as weeks passed with no traders passing through. With Tamron in turmoil, most travelers preferred to avoid the marshy Fens and sinister Waterwalkers and use the more direct path through Marisa Pines Pass and Delphi.

  A shadow fell over Raisa’s table. Simon, the innkeeper’s son, was hovering again, summoning the courage to ask if he could clear away her plate. Most days, it was an hour of hovering to three words of conversation.

  Raisa guessed Simon was her age, or even a little older, but these days Raisa felt older than her nearly seventeen years—cynical and jaded, wounded in love.

  You don’t want to get involved with me, she thought glumly. My advice is to run the other way.

  Han Alister still haunted her dreams. She would awaken with the taste of his kisses on her lips, the memory of his scorching touch on her skin. But in the daylight it was difficult to believe their brief romance had ever happened. Or that he still thought of her at all.

  The last time Raisa had seen Han, Amon Byrne had driven him off with a sword. And then she’d disappeared from the academy without a word—abducted by Micah Bayar. Han wouldn’t have fond memories of the girl he knew as Rebecca. Anyway, it was unlikely she’d ever see him again.

  By now it was near closing time, another day squandered while events at home rushed ahead without her. Perhaps she’d been disinherited already. Perhaps Micah had escaped Gerard Montaigne and even now was proceeding with plans to marry her sister Mellony.

  Someone cleared his throat right next to her. She flinched and looked up. It was Simon.

  “My Lady Brianna,” he said for the second time.

  Bones, she thought. I have to get better at answering to Brianna.

  “The ladies over yonder invite you to join them at their table,” Simon continued. “They say as it can be awkward for a lady, dining alone. I told them you’d already eaten, but…” He shrugged, his hands hanging like twin hams at his sides.