Queen (Brotherhood of the Throne)

by Jane Glatt

  “I’ll be fine. I have another libo nut that I’ll chew on when we stop for the night,” she replied. “Just another two days and then we’re going down again.” She rubbed her hands against her arms, trying to stay warm. She’d tried to walk the first day but once she’d started wheezing, Dasid and Pater had insisted she ride on the wagon. And she hated it - hated feeling weak - hated feeling like she was a burden - hated the inactivity but most of all she hated that her body had betrayed her.

  “Yup, and yer to make sure ye don’t overdo it from now until then,” Pater said.

  “And you’re to make sure I make sure,” Brenna grumbled.

  Pater chuckled and she smiled in spite of herself. There were worse places to be on a crisp, fall day. His hands flicked the reins slightly as the team of horses struggled up a steep pitch.

  “Where did you learn to drive a wagon?” she asked.

  “I grew up on a farm,” Pater said. “Least aways in the summers. I used to drive the wagon when we were into picking season for apples and pears. Now don’t look so surprised.”

  “I always assumed you were from Kingsreach.”

  “Well, I am, but my brother works the family farm over t’ the Wheton River in Comack. Summers were for tending the crops. I took over the stand in the Quarter when I was about your age.” Pater smiled over at her.

  For the rest of the day Brenna tried to sit quietly and conserve her strength. Dasid had asked her not to use magic or old steel unless it was necessary and Brenna was surprised to realize how quickly she’d become dependent on her talents. It was less than a year and a half since she’d first tried to steal the knife from the priest and already she counted on old steel to sense if friends or foe were around. And it was becoming the same with magic. Until she consciously decided not to use it she hadn’t realized how often she tweaked the wind to bring a warm breeze or harden the mud under her feet.

  Brenna shook her head and reached down to her knife. She ran her fingers across the leather grip, worn smooth from hours of use from her mother, and now her. Even when she was healing she was using magic. At the noon break one of the men had come to her for a poultice for a blister and she’d caught herself pulling in magic and whispering spells when she was cutting up the lavender. No wonder most folk disliked witches so - they could never be sure anything they did was free of magic.

  “Pater, are you afraid of witches?” she asked.

  The older man reined in the team of horses. They’d come to a steeper section of trail and the wagon always went up separately.

  “Well, I’m not sure I’d say I was afraid of ‘em,” Pater said. “I’ve dealt with my share of Aruntians and though most folk call ‘em witches I never seen ‘em use magic.”

  “What if you couldn’t see them use it but they were using it anyway. To, I don’t know, influence you, make you buy something you didn’t want or need.” Brenna paused. “And what if neither they nor you realized they were doing it? What then?”

  “Well, I guess if it’s not done a purpose there’s nothin’ t’ be done about it, is there?” Pater turned to look at her. “And if I don’t know, then what’s the harm? Less of course ye ruin my business by makin’ me buy things I can’t sell t’ my customers.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Brenna said.

  “And ye think witches can do this?”

  “I’m not sure, Pater.” Brenna looked over at him. “At least, I’m not sure other witches can but I’m pretty sure I can. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve been using magic constantly since I first knew I could.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry so much if I were ye, Brenna. Yer heart's always been in the right place. I’m sure ye wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Pater shook the reins and the wagon started up the steep incline.

  “I hope you’re right,” Brenna said. She pulled her coat more tightly around her. Just because she had good intentions didn’t mean she could justify using magic to make people do things. Is that why Kane listened to her? Is that what made him her consort? Had she somehow manipulated him? And what kind of ruler uses magic to make people do what she wants? That’s was as bad as the threats Duke Thorold used. Worse even, because at least with an open threat there is a conscious choice. When she used magic she’d taken away conscious choice.

  It was well into the evening and Brenna, sipping Neemah’s foul tasting tea, finally decided she couldn’t resolve the issue tonight. Besides, she had other worries. One more night and she’d be on the way down – then the day after that they needed to get past Blackwall. Brenna dumped the rest of the tea out beside the fire and lay down, wrapping her bedroll around her. Just one more day and night, then she’d ask Kane if she was making him do anything he didn’t want to.

  Kane sucked in a lungful of cold night air as he sprinted after Eryl. It was fully dark and the chill of winter had definitely made its way into Kingsreach. Eryl stopped at the edge of the alley and Kane reached out and touched the other man’s arm. They both froze, listening intently. The sounds of pursuit were fainter but still there, back and to the left. Kane gestured to Eryl and they silently headed right.

  They’d been in the Crooked Dog, as usual, when one of Eryl’s lads had burst in shouting that the Kingsguard were coming their way. As Eryl and Kane left by the back door they’d heard pounding on the front. That had been half an hour ago. They’d been pursued by Kingsguard who had been placed near the Dog and now they were trying to lose them. Kane followed Eryl into a rough shack.

  “We can hide out here for a while,” Eryl said, leaning against a rough wooden beam, panting.

  “No, we have to keep moving,” Kane said, his voice low. “The longer we wait the more Guard there’ll be on the streets. We have to get out of the Quarter in the next two hours.”

  “Why two hours?”

  “That’s how long it takes to rouse men from the barracks and get them moved into position,” Kane replied. “I think there are about eight to ten Guard following us right now. There will be another twenty to thirty on duty and most of them will have been posted around town, many in the Quarter. But the barracks hold over four hundred men. Once they’ve been deployed I doubt we’ll be able to get past them all.”

  “Can’t we find a safe place and hide out for a few days?” Eryl asked.

  Kane could only see the other man’s outline in the dark but he heard the worry in his voice.

  “If Thorold finds out that it’s me he’s looking for he will tear down every single building in Thieves Quarter to find me. There is no safe place in the Quarter. Maybe not even in Kingsreach.” Kane touched his sword briefly. If he could contact Brenna she could find them some help. He let his hand fall from his sword hilt. She’d be struggling with the altitude right now - he would not put her in danger by asking her to use her abilities while she was in the mountains.

  “Come on,” he said to Eryl. “You find us a way out of the Quarter. I have an idea of where we can go. Head towards the river.”

  It took just over an hour for them to get out of the Quarter. Eryl’s path took them through back alleys and over fences and once, across a steeply pitched roof. Kane knew that Brenna would have had no trouble with any of it but he’d had to move slowly at times, trying to muffle the noise of his sword and his boots so he didn’t give away their position.

  “All right,” Eryl said. “This is where you take over.”

  They had left the Quarter behind them six blocks ago and now stood alongside the riverbank. The river looked black as it murmured gently in the darkness. Kane smelled the rich, damp earth of the bank. He eyed the sky.

  “We have about another two hours until dawn.” He looked from his torn and dirty clothing to Eryl’s. “We can’t be caught out in the open when daylight hits. Not the way we look.” He sniffed. “Or smell. Come on. Follow me.”

  He kept them close to the riverbank, making sure that both he and Eryl were under cover of trees and shrubs as much as possible. They stopped once to let a dog nose around - Kane held his breath and prayed t
o Jik for the dog to not bark. Eventually the dog snuffled off and Kane and Eryl started moving again. Soon he reached familiar territory and Kane stopped and looked around, searching for a specific landmark.

  He hadn’t been here since his Uncle Feiren was alive, since before he and Brenna had fled Kingsreach. He felt sadness at his uncle’s death but when he passed under the large willow tree that trailed branches into the river, he smiled. Many summer days of his childhood had been spent sitting in the tree, watching the boats on the river go by. Kane sighed and turned back to his task.

  It should be close. He looked back at the tree. It was hard to judge how far he had to go based on his childhood perspective and it might have been lost when - after his uncle’s death - the Brotherhood sealed the rest of the tunnels. No, there it was. Kane knelt down and scraped twigs and dirt and leaves away. Then he pushed. He exhaled in relief when the door started to swing inward.

  “Here,” he said to Eryl. “Get inside.” He followed Eryl in and pushed the door closed from the inside. They couldn’t do anything about the disturbed ground in front of the entrance but at least they were inside, out of sight.

  “What is this place?” Eryl asked

  Kane shuffled carefully past him. If he was very lucky he would find a few things left by his childhood self.

  “It’s a cave of sorts,” Kane said. “It used to be part of a whole section of tunnels built by the Brotherhood. I used to play here when I was a child.”

  “Tunnels? Does this lead anywhere?”

  “No. There is an old cave-in a few hundred feet down the tunnel.” Kane held his hand out in front of him as he moved slowly in the dark. He felt the high shelf he’d been searching for. “And I never did find the cave-in when I started at my uncle’s house. Ah, there you are.”

  “We’re close to your uncle’s house?’ Eryl asked, his voice rising.

  “Yes. We’re a few hundred yards away from the stables.” Kane brought the items down off the shelf - a stub of a candle and a small flint and steel. “Do you have anything I can use as tinder?”

  “We can’t stay here, Kane. We need to get out now. Barton has this house now,” Eryl said.

  “I know who lives in the house, Eryl,” Kane said, his lips tightening. “And I can’t think of anywhere that’s safer right now. As far as I know neither Thorold nor Barton know about this cave. Even if they found some of the other tunnels, this one has been sealed off for years. Now, do you have anything I can use for tinder?”

  It had been a very long time since Kane had tried to spark a flame in the dark like this but eventually some shredded cotton from Eryl’s coat caught enough to light the candle. Kane looked around at the smooth stone walls and floor and felt some comfort in knowing that Brothers had built this many, many years ago. It gave him a sense of peace and calm to know that all that history, all those men and women, had worked so diligently to enable the events that were now taking place. And now their act of creating this tunnel was sheltering him.

  “Now what?” Eryl asked. He sat slumped across from him, his coat pulled up to his chin.

  Kane smiled - at least Eryl had a coat, he had only a thick cotton shirt and vest. And his sword and knife.

  “Now we wait,” Kane said. “When it gets dark we’ll decide if we should stay here or go somewhere else.” Carefully he set the candle on the ground and slid down to sit beside it. “Might as well get some rest.”

  When Eryl’s breathing evened out in sleep, Kane leaned over and blew out the candle. No sense wasting it - there was little enough left of the candle and who knew when they’d be able to get another. As he sat in the dark Kane went over the things he’d left behind at the Crooked Dog. There was nothing that directly pointed to him but there could be enough to convince Duke Thorold that he’d been staying there. And that would mean that the search would take days, weeks even. Sighing, he stretched his legs out in front of him and closed his eyes.

  There was no sound, no smell, just the red orange glow. And the heat. Brenna wiped her brow and her hand came away damp and black with soot. She was standing high up, on a roof maybe, somewhere in Kingsreach. She looked out across a sea of flames as a great swathe of the city burned. Thieves Quarter. She knew in her heart that the Quarter was on fire. Somehow she was close enough to recognize some of the buildings and her panic started to build. She turned her head, left then right, searching for familiar landmarks. There, to the west, was it? She thought she could make out the flame-engulfed form of the Crooked Dog.

  “Kane,” she cried, her whole being reaching out to him. “Kane, where are you?” She thought she heard a brief answer and her racing heart slowed. The vision faded and she settled back into an uneasy sleep.

  Kane woke with a start, his heart pounding, Brenna’s name on his lips and his hand on his sword hilt.

  “Easy, Kane. There’s no need to be waving that thing around in the dark.”

  Kane recognized Eryl’s voice and he relaxed.

  “I’m all right, Eryl.” Shakily, Kane slid his sword back into its scabbard. Though he’d been fast asleep, he’d drawn the sword by instinct and training. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

  “Yeah well, you have warned me before about startling you when you were asleep,” Eryl said. “I figured what with you calling out Brenna’s name it might take a while for you to recall that I’m a friend.”

  “I called out for Brenna?” Kane asked, trying to remember what had woken him. “Yes, I remember. She was afraid, but not for herself. And there were flames, lots of flames.” He rubbed his eyes and stared out into the dark of the cavern.

  “Maybe she was afraid for you?” Eryl asked and Kane tested that, the trying to feel if Brenna’s fear was for him.

  “That could be it,” he said. “It feels almost right.”

  “Could she know we’re in trouble? Brenna’s always been smart and now that she’s got all that magic …” Eryl’s voice trailed away in the dark.

  “She’s been told not to use her magic,” Kane said. “It’s far too dangerous until she gets out of the mountains.”

  “Huh,” Eryl grunted. “And Brenna always does what she’s told. Besides, the way her magic’s been coming on maybe she didn’t use it, it used her.”

  “Her magic used her?” Kane sat up. “I think you’re right. Brenna had a Seeing, a vision, a while ago. In it she saw Thieves Quarter burn. I think that what happened last night might have set those events into motion.”

  “You think the Quarter will catch fire?”

  “No, I think the Quarter will be set on fire. Thorold wants me out of the way and we know from what Beldyn has said that he doesn’t care what happens to the people of the Quarter. Especially now that they’re eating all the food he’d planned to buy his army with.”

  “Do you have any idea when this will happen?”

  “I’m not sure, but soon, I think. We’ll need to warn people.” If he had no other choice Kane would contact Brenna to get the word out, he’d have to. Neither one of them would ever forgive him if he didn’t and hundreds of people died. But not now, not today. Seeings always taxed her energy and she needed as much as she could get. She would be close to the highest elevation of her trip through the mountains. In just another day or two she’d be on her way down. Then he’d try to contact her and have her warn the others. Then he’d ask her why by the old gods he was now sharing her visions. Kane settled his back against the cold stone of the tunnel wall and waited for night to fall. Whatever the risk to Eryl and himself, they did not have the luxury of hiding out another day.

  twelve

  Thorold narrowed his eyes and looked at the two of them - his son and his captain. He’d never had high expectations of Beldyn, not since he’d been a little boy clinging to his mother’s skirts. Barton, on the other hand, had shown great promise.

  “Captain Barton, explain to me how the occupants managed to escape when you had over an hour to surround the inn and take them.”

  “I have no defe
nse, my Lord,” Barton said, his head hanging low. “I have failed.”

  “Yes, you have,” Thorold said. “But at least you acknowledge your failings.” He turned to glare at Beldyn. “Whereas you, my King, have deliberately plotted against me. I should have you hung.”

  “On what charges?” Beldyn glared at him. “I’m king - you can’t charge me with crimes against the crown.”

  Thorold sat back in his chair and frowned at his son. The boy was becoming a problem. “Perhaps I should send you to the High Bishop for some religious instruction.” He smiled when Beldyn’s face paled. “Don’t worry. I hear the High Bishop is quite skilled – he will not leave any visible marks. I want to know what you were doing at that vile inn. Who were you meeting with?”

  Beldyn stared at the floor, ignoring the question. Thorold nodded at Captain Barton. Barton had to redeem himself and he could teach two lessons at once.

  “Bring in our guest, Captain,” he said and Barton left the room. Thorold continued to stare at his son. Did he still need him to validate his hold on the throne? Perhaps he could arrange for his son to have an accident - one that didn’t kill him but left him incapacitated. As regent he would then have all the power. “You will tell me. I will not have you working against me Beldyn,” Thorold said.

  “What did you expect Father?” Beldyn asked. “Whether you like to admit it or not, I’m your son.”

  “Yes, but I do have another.”

  The door opened and Thorold smiled when Beldyn’s face paled even more. The whimpering was distracting, of course, and when he looked closely at what Barton was dragging into the room he knew that it was past rational thought.

  “Well my king, this is what happens to those who help you,” Thorold said.

  Impassively Barton brought his prisoner to a stop directly in front of Beldyn.

  “Take a good, long look,” Thorold said.