“Treachery of the lords? What are you talking about?”
She wiped her mouth. “Come, Prince. Koralane had value to you and your merchants as well. The tender ladies of your court will shiver this winter if the furs from the North can’t be brought into the capital. I’d have thought you’d be busy bringing the lords to heel.”
“You think the Lords of Mondana burned Koralane?”
“Well, you don’t think we’d do it, do you?”
He stared at her. “We received pleas from Mondana, asking for aid. They didn’t set the fire.”
“They lied.”
“I don’t think so. People who commit acts of treason don’t usually call for an army to come to their rescue.”
“It was a trap.”
“Lady, I beg your pardon, but you don’t know what you are talking about. I sent three divisions into Mondana to fight that fire—an army larger than anything the lords could muster. And why would they set the fire?”
“Why would we?”
They stared at each other, and finally she looked at the hissing flames. “So what do you want of me?”
“I came for my brother.”
“Alexander.” The word could have been a curse.
Roderic shifted his position, trying to read the expression on her face. Perhaps, finally, some of his questions would be answered. “Why? What happened? In all honesty, I thought your people respected Alexander. What made you turn against him?”
“He violated the most sacred tenet of our code, Prince. The one which says that we protect the innocent and honor the women. And I’m not the only one who wants his blood. I’m just the one who wants him most.”
“What has he done?”
She gave a harsh snort of a laugh. “You have sisters, do you not, Prince? Have you any that mean anything to you, other than as pawns to marry off to some lord or another?”
He nodded, thinking of Tavia.
“I have such a sister, Her name is Brea. She’s not like me; she’s young, soft, sweet. The kind of woman you Ridenaus prefer. Alexander came wooing her, with words as slick as honey, presents of every description from places I haven’t even heard of. And he asked me for her hand—“
“Yes, I know he loved—“
“Let me finish.” She stabbed the furs with her dagger and it stuck upright, hilt quivering with the force. “She was like one bewitched. She didn’t even see other men, though there were two who’d loved her since childhood. So I gave my permission. And shortly after that, they were wed.”
Roderic stared.
“I heard her screaming. But, frankly, I thought it was bridal nerves. Brea always was a bit skittish. The next day, her women found her in the center of a bloody bed. She was alive, if you want to call it that. Alexander had disappeared. I won’t say what he did to her. He left her pregnant, and now she moans and claws at her belly, as though she’d like to rip the child from her womb, or as though some monster eats at her from within. She hasn’t spoken a coherent word since that night.” She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, and the fire he saw in them was no reflection of dancing flames. “According to the code by which we live our lives, any man who harms a woman in such a way shall pay with his life. Now. Do you want to tell me why I should let him live?”
Roderic shook his head. “But Alexander loved your sister. I know he did. He spoke to me for permission to marry her… he had no intentions of harming her.”
She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “That’s not all. He tried to pit brother against brother, Chief against Chief. He threatened to tax our liquor, our wool, the furs we bring to the mainland. He went from holding to holding, from island to island, leaving chaos in his wake. Are you sure I wouldn’t be doing you a favor?”
“Did you know he has a twin?”
Her jaw dropped. “A twin? And I suppose you expect me to believe that this evil twin is responsible for everything that’s happened?” She laughed and her scorn was obvious. “Do you really expect me to believe that one, mainlander?”
“I do,” Roderic replied. “Because it’s the truth.”
For a long moment she stared at him, measuring and appraising. “Something tells me I ought to be believing you,” she said slowly at last. “But—but why? Why and how would a brother turn against a brother so?” She shook her head. “Of all the bonds we honor in these islands, Prince, the bond of blood’s the deepest. It’s death to any man who raises a hand against his brother—“
“He’s already turned against his sister,” Roderic interrupted. “He killed my sister, Jesselyn, a holy priest of the Church. If my own soldiers had not been sent out to meet them, my brother Vere, who was traveling with her, would have bled to death from the wounds inflicted by Amanander’s men. Yes,” Roderic said as Deirdre gasped and shook her head a little in protest, “so you see, lady? It is more than possible that Amanander has spread his mischief across your lands.”
“But why?” demanded Deirdre.
It was Roderic’s turn to pause and gaze into the heart of the flames leaping within the stone circle. He shrugged. “When it happens, lady, as I know it must, even here, among you islanders, why does any brother turn against his own?”
“Usually they both want the same thing.”
“Yes. Well, in this case, what Amanander ultimately wants is the crown of Meriga. And he asked Alexander to support his bid for the throne, and Alexander, who is an honorable man, as you all thought until these last months, refused to break the Pledge of Allegiance he had sworn to our father, and the one he was required to swear to me.”
“It never made sense to me,” Deirdre admitted after another silence. “But the laws of my people required—“
Roderic held up his hand. “I understand. We are both bound, you and I, by words and law. And so is Alexander. He is not the man to break his word. I know he isn’t.”
Deirdre sighed. “It won’t end so easily, Prince. I might believe you, and I do, but my people—” She paused and cocked a brow. “My men will not.”
Roderic nodded grimly. “We must work together. There are more pieces to this puzzle than either of us know. I came here in good faith, lady, for your father served my father faithfully and well. There is an oath which binds us—our interests are the same, ultimately. I’ve no wish to continue the bloodshed. There are too many questions we cannot answer alone. And I must settle this as quickly as I can, because if what I think has happened here is true, then the woman I love may be in danger even now. I give you my word, lady, that I will not leave until the peace is established once more.”
“Your word!” There was derision in her voice. “You are the brother of an oathbreaker. You expect much.”
“I give you the word of the Prince Regent of Meriga. Remember, there is an oath which binds us, lady.”
For a long moment she hesitated, and Roderic watched as emotions warred across her face. Finally, she rose to her feet and held out a blanket. “Here. Take off those wet things—wrap yourself in this. I will send for dry clothes for you.”
It was his turn to hesitate. He was wet to the skin, and he had little wish to negotiate naked under the bemused scrutiny of this woman.
“Oh, go on.” She laughed. “I doubt even a Prince has anything I haven’t seen before, and besides, I’ve always found men much easier to deal with when they are naked.” She winked, as though he knew she’d read his mind, walked to the door and spoke a few words to the guards.
Amused, despite his situation, he stripped the wet clothes off and with a quick motion wrapped himself in the blanket. She did not turn away. “Sit.” Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip. “Will you drink?”
“Water, please.”
“In this weather?” She handed him a flask. When he put it down, she leaned back against the piled furs. Her hair, so thick and lustrous it seemed a living thing in the firelight, fell over her shoulders. Her dark trousers clung to the lines of her thighs, and her hands looked strong and capable. The backs were as scarre
d as his. She was so different from Annandale, indeed from any other woman Roderic had ever known, and yet there was a potent vitality about her which appealed to him.
“If I am to convince my people, you must tell me everything you can about this twin of Alexander’s.”
Briefly, Roderic told her about Amanander, Jesselyn’s death, the fruitless search.
“I remember your soldiers coming to ask about the brother of yours,” she said as a knock on the door interrupted them. She got to her feet and retrieved a bundle of clothes from the guard. With a puckered frown, and a calculated expression in her eyes, she dropped the bundle in Roderic’s lap. “But I did not realize that he so closely resembled Alexander we could all have been fooled.”
Roderic unwrapped the bundle. Inside were clothes: linen underclothes, a short tunic woven in varying shades of green and blue, woolen trousers, and a short woolen cloak of the same tartan Deirdre wore. “At the time he disappeared, he didn’t look like Alex. Alex has a beard—Amanander doesn’t. Alex’s hair is short—Amanander wore his long and oiled. Amanander has a distinctive taste in clothes—Alex dresses like a soldier. But all those things are easily altered, and otherwise, the brothers are identical. And as for your sister, Alexander told me last year he loved her. He asked me for permission to marry her, and he spoke like a man in love. Alexander would never have harmed your sister in the way you describe.” But Amanander might, thought Roderic, if he believed his twin had betrayed him.
“And the man I’m holding here isn’t the man who’s caused all the trouble?”
“No, and if he were, we’d have a different issue to settle between us. I want him, too.”
She stared into the flames. “And the fire?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You say the Lords of Mondana didn’t set the fire in Koralane? That they appealed to you for aid?”
“At the same time we heard from Alex.”
“And he was besieged here—” She rose. Roderic heard her speaking to the guards outside. “You may speak with your brother.” She took a deep breath, her mixed feelings plain on her face. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. I want to warn you—” She broke off and Roderic looked at her with concern. “He is not well. I don’t believe it was the effects of the siege alone, nor do I want you to think he has been treated badly, for we don’t treat our prisoners of war cruelly. But your brother is a sick man.”
She gave a brief bow, picked up a dark red-and-blue cloak, and was gone in a swirl of plaid. Roderic rose and dressed mechanically in the clothes he had been given, turning her words over and over in his mind. His thoughts were interrupted as the door banged open and two guards carried in a prone form on a fur-covered stretcher.
“Alex!” He jumped to his feet.
The man on the stretcher bore little resemblance to the man Roderic remembered. He was thin to the point of starvation, hot with some fever. His black beard was long and tangled, a stark contrast to his white face, and sweat beaded his forehead. Shocked, Roderic knelt by his side and whispered his name. “Alex? It’s me, Roderic. I’ve come to take you home.”
Alexander plucked at Roderic’s sleeve with skeletal fingers. “Roderic? Forgive—“
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“You should not have come.”
“You’re my brother. Should I have let these people kill you?”
He opened his eyes. “Roderic—“
Roderic tried to suppress a sigh. There was no point in forcing Alexander to talk when he was clearly so weak. “It’s all right, Alex. We can talk later.”
“No!” He gripped Roderic’s arm with frantic claws. “Roderic, there’s no reason why this should have happened. Old Cormall’s dead. Died last summer. I never had a chance to ask for Brea’s hand. I wanted to ask Deirdre, but—“
“Alex, we’ll talk later.”
“No! There’s no time. Where’s Brand?”
“In Mondana. Trying to get through Koralane. The lords say the Chiefs set it on fire; now the M’Callaster says they did no such thing, that it must have been the lords. Did you know that?”
He sank into the pillow. “I have had such dreams.” His voice faded, and he stared vacantly at the beams of the ceiling. “Dreams of fire reaching to the sky.” His eyes focused, and he struggled to sit. “Koralane burns—Roderic, it makes no sense. It would be as if you poisoned the earth around Ahga. The Chiefs would never burn Koralane. It is their life—they need the forest as much as they depend upon the sea. And neither would the Lords of Mondana. To do so would be utter madness.”
Roderic pushed him gently back against the blanket. “Then if the Chiefs and the lords didn’t set it on fire, who did?”
Alexander wet his dry, cracked lips and spoke so softly Roderic felt rather than heard the name, “Aman.” It was less than a sigh.
“Amanander?”
“He comes to me in dreams, stalks my sleep.”
“Alex, you’ve been sick.”
“This is not raving, I swear it. I’ve had such dreams, Roderic, of great fires, and—and—Dad.”
Roderic gripped Alexander’s shoulder, searching his face for the truth. “What about Dad?”
“I don’t know. I see him on a throne—I know Aman wants me dead.”
The automatic denial died on his lips. Roderic remembered Annandale’s words.
Alexander met his eyes, and in that moment a recognition passed between them. “You think Amanander’s behind this, Alex.” It was a statement.
Alexander closed his eyes and nodded wearily. “Yes. I refused him, you see. I refused to help him win the regency, and so he turned against me.” A tear crept out of the corner of one eye and streaked down his narrow, too thin face. “I should have told you this at Minnis.”
“Alex, you need to rest.”
“Listen to me. Amanander wants the throne.”
“I know that. Here, I’ll call for the men—“
“Damn you.” Alexander clutched at Roderic’s tunic, and Roderic would never have thought a dying man had so much strength. “Listen to me. He won’t stop until he has it—I was wrong not to tell you after he killed Jesselyn.”
“Tell me what, Alex? I knew then he wanted the throne. So did Phineas, and Brand.”
“You don’t understand!” He gripped Roderic’s hand in both of his with such frantic urgency the knuckles cracked. “Listen. When we were younger than you are now—twelve—our grandmother quarreled with Dad. She wanted him to make Amanander his heir, and when he refused, she hounded him until he banished her.”
“What does this have to do—“
“She got her hands on some old books—books which went back before the Armageddon—books of Magic, she said. And she tried to learn how to use it. When she was banished from the court, she went back to Missiluse, and she took us with her.”
“What happened?”
“She and my uncle, Eldred, they found a Muten. I don’t know where or how, but they wanted the Muten to teach the Magic to them. And he did—or he started to. Dad came down after her, finally. Amanander overheard Dad tell her that it didn’t matter whether she knew the Magic or not, that Amanander would never be King, not with Magic or without it. And Amanander never forgot that. Aman knows the old Magic is real—he’s seen it work, and he did begin to learn it.”
Roderic gently disentangled his hand from Alex’s clawlike grasp.
Alexander looked at him with burning eyes. “He was pleased Dad sent him to Dlas—it would save him a great deal of trouble, he told me. Roderic, that’s not all, please, listen.” Tears ran down his face. “I should have told you everything Aman has convinced Reginald to join against you. And Reginald—“
Fear, pure and black and hard as the cliffs of Sentellen’s cut through Roderic like a blade. “What about Reginald?”
“Reginald is poised to break the treaties you signed last year with the Mutens—to rally the lesser lords of Atland and Missiluse—Roderic, don’t you see what he’s done?”
“Yes,” he whispered finally, when he could speak. “I do.”
“I just don’t know where he’s gone….” Alexander’s voice trailed off.
Roderic looked down at his weary brother. The room was so quiet, he could hear the incessant drip of water from the eaves, and the snap of the fire beneath Alexander’s ragged breathing. “I do,” he said, grimly. “I think I know exactly where he has headed and I understand exactly what he has done. The question now is only can we undo this mischief in time to prevent the worst from happening.”
Chapter Twenty-three
And what about my cattle?” The M’Cullen’s bellow was a challenge that reverberated through the thin frame of the hodge. Roderic groaned inwardly as the expressions on the faces of the men crouched around the hearth changed from those of grudging cooperation to avid interest.
“Not the time nor place to worry about your cows,” snorted the M’Cooley as he tipped back a wineskin.
“How many cows d’you think you had?” jeered a red-bearded giant across the room.
“Cares more for his cows than any man of us,” added the M’Clee, close by Deirdre’s side. He picked his teeth with a dagger and spat into the fire.
“That’s cause he diddles ‘em.” The red-haired chief reached for the mead.
Across the room, the M’Cullen began to rise, and Roderic glanced at Deirdre. She appeared to be listening patiently to the exchange, but as the M’Cullen began to move, his face distorted with rage, she grabbed the dagger away from the M’Clee and threw it. Roderic tried not to cringe. The blade went through the hem of the M’Cullen’s cloak, pinning him to the floor.
“Now.” Deirdre cleared her throat. “I agree the matter of your cattle is serious, M’Cullen.” She used the formal address. “But now is not the time or the place. You know as well as I that such matters are to be brought before the jury at the
Mid-Year Meet.” The Chief opened his mouth to protest, and she held up her hand. “1 will hear your grievance later. Not now. Not before this honored guest.” With a sweep of her hand, she indicated Roderic.
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