Children of Enchantment

by Anne Kelleher Bush

  He put them on reluctantly.

  He stopped by the kitchens and took a mug of hot cider and half a loaf of bread and went to the barracks where he knew he’d find Brand. The men-at-arms were washing at the stone tub outside the low wooden building, and they straightened to attention as he approached.

  “Lord Prince,” they said in a ragged chorus.

  Roderic nodded. “Good morning. Where’s Captain Brand?” he asked the nearest.

  “Inside, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Brand was shaving, standing bare-chested in his spotless cubicle when Roderic entered. He stopped, and force of long discipline brought him to attention as Roderic entered. “Lord Prince.”

  “I came to talk about yesterday.”

  Brand picked up his razor and turned to the mirror. “What about it?”

  “Have you spoken with Barran?”

  “What did you think you were doing, Roderic? He’s a good soldier, and the One knows I’d trust him with my life, but he’s only one man. If you’d encountered any real danger out in those woods, what did you think he could’ve done about it? What if you’d met Amanander?”

  “What did he tell you?”

  Brand twisted his face to the mirror and did not reply. Finally, he wiped his chin with a linen towel. “He told me a story I’d say was the ravings of a madman, if I hadn’t heard it come from my own son’s mouth. Nonsense about the witch and the tower and a lost princess. What do you have to say about it?”

  “It’s true.”

  Brand swore beneath his breath and turned to face Roderic. “You listen to me. I’m only the Captain of the King’s Guard, and you’re the Regent of Meriga. But I’m sworn to protect you with my life, and before you make that any more difficult, you listen to me. Forget Vere and his Muten nonsense—“

  “What about Amanander and his men? You saw them—are you going to tell me that was nonsense, too? And Jesselyn— our sister—is dead because of him. If he can kill his own sister, he can kill all of us.” Roderic put the mug down and waited.

  With a shake of his head, Brand picked up his shirt. “But, Roderic, think. If the Mutens had the Magic, why haven’t they used it against us? Does what Vere said make sense? You don’t know Vere the way I do. He was always the odd one, poking around under the castle, wandering in the tunnels, looking at books. When he finally ran away, to tell you the truth, he wasn’t even missed. All right, Amanander’s guard did frighten me. But there are only four of them, Roderic, four, against our thousands. And the Congress—yes, there are some malcontents, there always have been. Yes, Missiluse is a problem, as well as Senifay and a few others. But don’t you see? You can’t go chasing after shadows. Vere’s stories are better used to frighten naughty children.”

  “Two weeks ago, Amanander was at the witch’s tower.”

  Brand paused in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head, and his face suddenly lost its exasperated scowl. “He was?”

  “With his four companions. They didn’t get in—apparently no one gets in unless the Witch wishes it. But Vere was right. They did come for the girl. Nydia said they went west. I think they must have gone west to Alexander.”

  Deliberately Brand smoothed his shirt and tied the laces. When he raised his face to Roderic, his mouth was set and grim. “Care to join me at practice?”

  Roderic nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Why not?”

  In silence, they walked to the practice fields. The sun had risen above the trees, but the morning air was chill. In the shadows beneath the trees, patches of white frost lay on the ground. Despite the splashes of spring color, the temperature had dropped below freezing in the night.

  They chose swords from the weaponsmaster, and Roderic tested the balance of his as they faced each other across a marked-off square. That was another lesson he was unlikely to forget. His father had insisted that, unlike many lords, who would only use their own weapons, made and balanced for them alone, Roderic learn to use any sword with ease.

  Around them, many men faced off, and their swords rang together with hollow clangs in the crisp air. They saluted briefly, and the blades met in a loose arc.

  “So you think he went to Alexander?”

  Roderic shrugged and attacked. “Where else?”

  “Mmm.” Brand grunted an assent, blocked the blow, and riposted right.

  Roderic dodged, and circled, point raised.

  Brand swung the sword at Roderic’s midsection and he backed away. He feinted to Roderic’s right and attacked again to his left. “And now?”

  Roderic brought his own blade up and under and caught the hilt of Brand’s sword in his. Brand shoved him back, and retreated as Roderic attacked with a series of blows to his unprotected legs. He tripped, rolled to the side and came up crouched in a fighting stance. “I’ll send messengers to the Lords of Mondana, the commanders of the garrisons and the toll plazas. Perhaps we’ll be able to apprehend Amanander before he ever reaches Alexander. Two weeks is not so very long.”

  Abruptly Brand lowered his sword and leaned upon the hilt. Roderic lowered his own blade and looked around. All the others were engaged; no one was paying them the least attention. “Look, Roderic, forgive me for speaking to you as I did. It’s just, well, sometimes I think of you as a son, rather than a brother. And my Prince. It’s not for me to tell you what to do, or how to govern.”

  Roderic nodded slowly. He needed Brand, needed the advice and counsel of this eldest brother who had served their father for so long and so well. He had been foolish to venture out without a bigger escort, and he had thoughtlessly risked Barran’s life as well as his own.

  “What will you do about the girl?” asked Brand.

  Roderic hesitated. He knew that Brand’s words carried a certain amount of truth, that Brand was level-headed and utterly loyal, that Brand would sooner cut his own throat than lead him astray. He wanted to ask Brand about Nydia, what he remembered about her, how long she had been at Ahga and at Minnis. But perhaps it was better to discuss such things with Phineas. It had not appeared last night that Phineas would simply dismiss such questions out of hand, as it seemed Brand would. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I accept your apology.” He handed Brand the sword. “Thanks for the practice.”

  Roderic walked back to the hall deep in thought, feeling more alone than he ever had, knowing Brand stood watching him with a troubled expression. “Has Lord Phineas awakened yet?” he asked one of the serving maids.

  “I shall see, Lord Prince.”

  He sat down on a wooden bench by one of the hearths and leaned his chin on one hand. What should he say to Phineas? he wondered. Is this girl your daughter? How did one confront any man about a child he might not even know he had? Was it possible to think that Phineas would have lain with anything so hideous?

  “Lord Prince?”

  The voice made him jump. Before him stood a kingdom messenger. His cloak was spotted with flecks of mud, and a faint sheen of sweat shone on his forehead. “What news?”

  “Message from Ahga, Lord Prince.” The messenger gave a brief bow and offered a wooden tube. The seal had been done in haste, for the wax was smeared across its surface.

  Roderic picked at the seal and pried the scroll from its cover. He read the contents in disbelief. “An earthshake in Ahga?” It was from the commander of the garrison of Ahga, the division which protected the walls of the City. He could hardly understand the scrawl. “What does this say—the west wall of the city collapsed?”

  The messenger nodded. “In three places.”

  “Three places? Is any of it left standing?”

  “Most of it was demolished, Lord Prince.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “There wasn’t time to make an accurate assessment before I left, but I would estimate several hundreds.”

  Roderic waved a dismissal. “Thank you, messenger. Get some rest.”

  The man made another bow. “As you say, Lord Prince.”

  H
e rolled the parchment and placed it back inside the tube. Ahga had not been invaded in over twenty years, and the people were bound to be nervous. If the Harleyriders should hear that the walls had been breached, they might even try a raid. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. There had not been an earthshake in Ahga since the Armageddon. Was this an omen of what was to come?

  “Lord Prince,” the maid servant bobbed a curtsey. “Lord Phineas can see you now.”

  Roderic forgot the situation at Ahga as he read his father’s letter to Phineas. “There.” He threw the paper like a challenge down on the table. “Could you please explain this? Why does my father want me to marry the daugh’- , of a witch? What is the fate of all Meriga, and why does t’is affect everything he ever lived his life for?”

  Phineas drew a long breath. “Yoi father had some dealings with the woman—I know that.

  “Dealings? That’s not what I hear. I hear she was pledge-bound to him—that she was something called a prescient, and that he relied on her to work the Old Magic for him. And I hear that the daughter I brought here last night is yours.”

  Phineas did not reply, and Roderic pressed on. “And what were you to my father that he should banish the woman and keep the man who betrayed him by his side?”

  “I was the Captain of the King’s Guard.”

  “You?”

  Phineas straightened his bent frame painfully, proudly. “I was not always as you see me now, Roderic. Once I too was young and tall and strong. And the King loved me like a brother.”

  “What happened?”

  “What may happen to anyone who lives by the sword. I was terribly injured in a battle. But the King brought me back to Ahga, and when I recovered, valued my counsel so much he gave me the honor I have now.”

  Roderic stared at Phineas, trying to understand why he had the sense that there was far more to the story than Phineas admitted. “Why did you weep last night when I told you the girl had come?”

  “Nydia warned the King of impending evil, before you were born, which could be overcome if you married her daughter when you came of age.”

  “What evil? Magic?”

  “There was only one kind of evil which your father understood. The dissolution of the kingdom was the worst thing that could happen, and something he would seek to prevent— at all costs.”

  At all costs. Those words echoed in Roderic’s head like a mourning bell. And marriage with a witch’s daughter was the price he was expected to pay. “This makes no sense to me, Phineas.”

  “I am certain Nydia must have shown the King the future, even as she showed you. I do not know what he saw, but it could not have been very different. He never spoke of it, except to say that if for some reason he was dead when she came to you, I should do all I could to urge you to marry her.”

  “Did you ever see this witch?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she look like?”

  Phineas turned his head away, though not before Roderic saw his mouth work. The silence grew louder. “She was very beautiful.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “That’s what you all say.” Roderic rose restlessly and paced over to the window. The wind swirled the leaves around the trunk of the ancient tree, and he was reminded of the storm. Involuntarily, he shivered. “So now what? Should I marry this—girl, or whatever she is, and risk offending anyone with a marriageable daughter? What if she’s really a monster like her mother?” He did not wait for an answer. “And now, now I must return to Ahga today or tomorrow at the latest. I’ve had a dispatch—there was an earthshake just after the court left. The west wall of the city collapsed.”

  “Earthshake?” Phineas sat back and frowned. “This is troubling. There has not been an earthshake in Ahga since the Armageddon.”

  “Maybe that witch brought it on us with her Magic.” Roderic picked up the letter and folded it carefully.

  “Amanander.” Phineas whispered the name, and his wrinkled face was as pale as the bleached linen pillows behind his head.

  Roderic stared at the old man. “What made you think of him?” He related his conversations with Brand and Nydia. “So those orders will go out today. We will find Amanander. He cannot have disappeared without a trace.”

  “Abelard did.”

  The silence in the room was suddenly charged, and Roderic felt as if a heavy hand had wrapped around his throat. “Amanander—he had something to do with Dad’s disappearance,” he whispered. “You think so, Phineas?”

  “I’m afraid to even consider the possibility.”

  “Do you think he’s still alive?”

  “Abelard? No.”

  “But why conceal—?”

  Phineas moved his head on the pillow, shifting right and left as though seeking an answer in the darkness before his eyes. “Perhaps to throw us all off guard. With the King missing, you can’t be crowned for seven years. All the allegiances to you are sworn in the name of the King. And if enough could be convinced that the kingdom would be better served by another … ?” He let his voice trail off. “And it would buy Amanander time, time to find Nydia, and the girl.”

  “Do you think we’ll find them?”

  “I think Abelard will be found. Dead, most likely. As for Amanander—“

  “If we don’t find him first, he’ll move against us all. I intend to send word to Alexander that Amanander is likely on his way.”

  “Good. But as far as the girl is concerned, Roderic, you do realize that 90 matter whether you ultimately decide to marry her or not, you must make it clear to the entire household that she is under your personal protection.”

  Roderic hesitated.

  “It would be better if her identity could be concealed.”

  “It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. I shall see that she is watched.”

  “But you must protect her as well. Not only from Amanander. Your father may have had reasons which you might never know, and you may not decide to accept his choice, but he would not want her treated poorly if he believed she should be your Queen.”

  “When have I ever allowed anyone in this household to suffer?”

  “But you are often gone and superstition is strong. How do you think the servants, the priests, will react?”

  Roderic folded his mouth into a narrow line at the mention of the priests. “I see.”

  “And furthermore, if Amanander is interested in her, for whatever reason, we must assume the girl needs to be protected. Have you talked to the girl at any length?”

  “No.” Roderic’s voice, even to his own ears, sounded childishly sulky.

  The sunlight shone through the few wisps of Phineas’s hair and surrounded him with a golden aura. “Roderic, you’ve done well so far and your father would be proud. Don’t allow your anger and your fear to interfere with your ability to make this decision.”

  Roderic looked down at the table and was shamed. “Nydia may have been beautiful once, but she certainly isn’t now. It is hard for me to believe this is the marriage my father would make for me.”

  “Will you at least speak to the girl?”

  “After I have washed and changed. But I must go to Ahga. I’ll leave her in your charge, Phineas. The servants are more afraid of you than they are of me.” He went to the door, opened it and looked back at Phineas. “Phineas—is she your daughter? Is she?”

  Phineas turned his head in the direction of Roderic’s voice, and his shoulders shook with a suppressed sob. “Oh, my son,” he answered in a breaking voice, “would that she were. Would that she were.”

  Roderic ordered Annandale to attend him in the late afternoon when the golden spring light filtered through the brilliant leaves and the first of summer’s warmth lingered in the air. He was not sure where he should confront her. The gardens and the hall were too public. He knew he would feel too exposed if he took her into the forest, and he had no wish to seek her in whatever place Peregrine had found for her.

  Peregrine escorted her as the servants arrived to kind
le the fire against the night’s cold. He put down the book he was pretending to read and leaned back in his chair, trying to ignore the way his pulse had begun to pound. “Thank you,” he said to Peregrine. “You may go.”

  She threw him an angry look and flounced away with a loud swish of her skirts. He waited until the door was shut and the servants gone, and in the interval, he looked closely at the girl who stood before him.

  She wore a brown dress, clean and patched, and her dark hair was covered with a short white veil. The sleeves were too long, the bodice ill-fitting, and the skirt ended just above her knees. Her legs were bare, and she wore heavy felt houseslippers, such as the housemaids did. Obviously, Peregrine had not opened her coffers. And then, he remembered that he had not asked it of her.

  “Your name is Annandale.”

  “Yes, Lord Prince.” Her voice was low and sweet, each word like the note of a bell.

  “Look at me.” She raised her head and he felt a leap in his chest at the sight of that extraordinary face. Some part of him had said he was mistaken: that her beauty was a trick of the witch or a fool of firelight—but with the sunlight streaming full across her face, there could be no doubt.

  Her mouth was neither full, nor thin; her nose neither long nor short. Her chin had the shadow of a cleft, her cheekbones high and round. Her eyebrows were dark and arched over her blue eyes—eyes as blue as the Northern Sea on a clear day. Her skin was smooth and tinted with a hint of rose.

  It was a face so beautiful that looking at her was a pleasure to be savored, like that of a rare jewel or a good meal, or a harp perfectly tuned. He literally had to tear his eyes away.

  “Your mother expects me to marry you.”

  She dropped her eyes and a deeper pink stained her face. “Yes.”

  He was growing more and more uncomfortable. “I’ll be brief. I’ve not decided what I’ll do with you. You will stay here with the rest of the court, and when it is time, you will accompany us to Ahga. It is the seat of the Ridenau Kings— my family has ruled in Ahga for hundreds of years, long before Meriga was united. I leave tomorrow: I do not expect to see you again for some time.”