Stormcaster

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “Do you really think so?” Hal said skeptically. “Surely General Karn would intervene to—”

  Karn laughed. “You have been away from court a while, haven’t you? My father will do everything in his power to pin it on me. If he intervenes, it will be to put the noose around my neck.”

  “If the thanes take the city before then—”

  “Then they will be fighting each other for the honor of executing me,” Karn said. “You see? No matter what happens, I will need leverage to protect myself and those who are important to me.”

  Hal was mystified. Who was the spymaster trying to protect—other than himself?

  “If what you’re saying is true, the thanes are smelling blood in the water,” Hal said. “Even if King Jarat offers improved terms, they will not be in the mood for negotiation.”

  “I realize that this is a desperate plan, but such are the kind made by desperate men. I will do everything in my power to prevent the empress from claiming the west as well as the east.”

  Hal and Robert exchanged glances. Hal had his own reasons for wanting to march against the empress, but what drove Karn? He seemed the type that would land on his feet no matter what. It brought to Hal’s mind his own conversation with Lyssa Gray, when he assured her that her life wouldn’t change much under Arden’s rule.

  This spymaster has secrets, too, he thought. Hal needed to buy time, to consider what move to make next.

  “All right,” he said, as if giving in. “The thanes will want to know who’s holding our families now. What am I supposed to tell them?”

  Karn frowned, thinking.

  “The queen in the north?” Barrowhill suggested, leaning against a tree and using the blade of a dagger to strip dirt from under her nails.

  “If I tell them it’s the queen in the north, I know exactly what will happen,” Hal said. “My lord father already thinks I’ve been bewitched by the wolf queen. If I told him I helped put our families into the enemy’s hands, he would know it for sure. He’d clap me in irons and send in the priests.”

  “Oh!” Barrowhill said, looking up from her work. “Damn, that’s too bad.”

  Something in the way she said it caused them all to turn and look at her.

  “What do you mean?” Karn said.

  “I mean that I’m serious,” Barrowhill said. “They are on their way to the queen in the north.”

  “You sent Harper and Mother to the witch in the north?” Robert practically shouted.

  Hal put his hand on his brother’s arm and shook his head.

  Karn’s hand crept to his amulet. “Explain yourself,” he said in a flat, deadly voice.

  “There’s this other part of the plan that I didn’t go over yet,” the smuggler said. “While the thanes and your spoiled boy king dither over who gets what manor house and title, the empress is on the march. I need things to move a little faster.”

  “Go on,” Karn said, a muscle working in his jaw.

  “You see, I have family in every port on the east coast,” said Barrowhill. “The empress has already taken Chalk Cliffs, and Spiritgate will be under attack before long. If you think she’ll stay north of the border, I have some genuine clan-made goods to sell you. My family depends on the sea for a living.”

  “So,” Karn said. “You betrayed us. And probably collected a pretty price from the queen for doing it.”

  “Betrayed is such a negative word,” Barrowhill said. “I think we’re all agreed on the final goal. I just want to move things along a little faster.”

  “I see,” Karn said. “And what’s this final goal? Barrowhill makes a fortune? I don’t remember signing on to that.”

  Barrowhill shook her head, looking a little hurt. “We all want to send the empress Celestine back east. That’s what we agree on. When word reaches King Jarat that Spiritgate is under attack, he’ll wake up to the danger. But if the thanes have their way, he’ll be dead by then.”

  Karn took a step toward her. “Tell me where they are, or you’ll wish you had.”

  Barrowhill’s dagger came up so quickly that he took a step back again.

  “You haven’t even heard my plan yet,” Barrowhill said. “I promise, it’s a good one. Kill me, and you’ll never hear it. Anyway, they’ve already set sail by now.”

  “Southgate, then,” Karn said, with a brisk nod. “That’s the only port close enough. It might be that we can—”

  Hal began to laugh, which seemed totally wrong, but once he started, he couldn’t stop. They all looked at him as if he’d gone mad.

  “Forgive me,” he said, swiping at his eyes. “It’s just so refreshing to see Lieutenant Karn swigging the same bitter medicine he dishes out.”

  “Captain Matelon,” Barrowhill said. “I know you have no reason to trust me, and many reasons not to, but I hope you’ll believe me when I say that the families will be perfectly safe—from the northerners, anyway. I’ve heard from my sources that you’ve been a guest in the north. Were you well treated?”

  “Yes,” Hal said cautiously, wondering why a smuggler would know that.

  “And you also had some experience with the empress? You were in Chalk Cliffs when it was attacked?”

  “Yes.”

  “As soon as you came home, you tried to convince your father to let you take an army north to aid them against the empress.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Barrowhill pulled out an apple and took a bite. “I talk to everyone,” she said, chewing. “I have a plan that will give you an army sooner rather than later. But you might not like some parts of it.”

  “I cannot wait to hear it,” Karn said, rolling his eyes.

  Barrowhill went down on one knee, spreading her arms wide. “Matelon,” she said. “How would you like to be king?”

  49

  TIES THAT BIND

  Leaving his mother under the care of Ty Gryphon and Magret Gray, Ash met with Sasha Talbot and Captain Byrne in the sitting room of the queen’s chambers.

  Talbot was visibly nervous, but determined and seemingly well prepared.

  “Hear me out,” she said. “As you know, Captain Byrne, I’ve been researching queens and their bound captains in the temple library. I’ve asked you some questions, too. From what I’ve seen and read and heard, having a bound captain now would make Lyss safer, and I’m for anything that would do that.”

  She stopped, as if waiting for questions or arguments, but Byrne only nodded. “Go on,” he said.

  Once started, it turned into a landslide of words. “I may be getting above myself, but I’ve spent the last three years of my life by Lyss’s side, and I—I don’t think there’s anyone more devoted to her. I know her as well as anyone, and if I could trade my life for hers right now I would do it.

  “I know the captain of the Gray Wolves has always been a Byrne, at least for a thousand years, and you might think I shouldn’t be angling for the job, but I have to speak my mind. Simon’s gone, and I’m here.

  “Long story short, I’m asking to be named Princess Alyssa’s bound captain. Now, rather than later.” She stood there, then, her fist on her heart, back straight, jaw clenched, as if waiting to be turned down.

  Byrne didn’t turn her down. He’d gazed at her, his eyes narrowed, rubbing his chin. Then he glanced at Ash and simply said, “Let’s talk about it in private, Corporal Talbot. I want you to know what you’d be signing on for.”

  They must have come to an understanding, because, just two days later, Ash was called to participate in a binding ceremony.

  The ceremony took place in the small temple within the queen’s rooftop garden, accessible by secret stairs from the queen’s bedchamber, and by others from the family wing of the palace.

  When moonlight flooded through the glass, the handful of celebrants cast long shadows on the stone floor. But Hanalea breathed, as the saying went. The wind from the Spirit Mountains rattled the walls and drove shards of cloud across the night sky, obscuring, and then revealing, the eagle moon.r />
  Ash wore his father’s robes, the Waterlow ravens over top. Sasha Talbot was barefoot, dressed in a loose, roughspun dedicate’s robe. She shifted from foot to foot, as if eager to see it done and over with. The naval commander Hadley DeVilliers wore a dress—something Ash had seen her do maybe once or twice in his life.

  It was the first time Queen Raisa had left her rooms since the day she was poisoned. Magret Gray and Titus Gryphon had carried her in on a litter and set her down in a chair. She was wrapped in upland furs, covered in clan-made blankets, her pale face wearing a fierce expression that said, Still a wolf.

  Participants could be distinguished from witnesses by their degree of nervousness. Hadley was as fearless as anyone Ash knew, but she stood, hands clenched, mumbling words under her breath, practicing. Speaker Jemson and Captain Byrne stood to either side of a small table bearing the regalia, which included a stone basin, a knife, a crystal bottle, and a silver goblet.

  Ash shivered. Lately, it seemed that his life was one blood ritual after another.

  “Welcome,” Speaker Jemson said, hauling Ash back to the present. “I apologize for the hour, but it was important that we do this without alerting any enemies of the Line. Tonight, we will celebrate not one but two milestones. Hopefully that will make it worth disturbing your sleep.” He paused, but nobody laughed; so he went on.

  “We will begin with the binding ritual, a ceremony that is at least a thousand years old. It has occurred on a battlefield, at a roadside inn, inside a prison, and aboard ship. Believe it or not, this is the largest group ever assembled for the purpose. The essentials are a willing soldier, the blood of the line, soil from the mountain home, and a speaker of the Old Church. Up to now, the ceremony has been held in secret—even from the royal family—and the willing soldier has always been a Byrne.”

  Talbot licked her lips, as if worried that she might be declared unworthy at the last minute.

  Jemson smiled at her. “But times change, secrets are revealed, and traditions deserve examination. Perilous times require a certain . . . flexibility of practice and an agility of mind and spirit. We began descending this slippery slope, as some would say, with Captain Amon Byrne, who was bound to the princess heir Raisa ana’Marianna before she was crowned queen, and before his father, Edon Byrne, had passed away. This was done because then-princess Raisa was in danger. We continued this practice with Princess Hanalea, when Simon Byrne was bound to her.”

  Jemson looked to Captain Byrne, who said, “Now Hana is dead, and Simon is dead, the Line is in grave danger, and there is a need for a new guardian. This time, it seems that the best candidate to perform this service to the line is not a Byrne, but Corporal Sasha Talbot.”

  Talbot’s cheeks pinked up, but she kept her eyes on the floor.

  “We have brought you all together to serve as witnesses. Going forward, you will hold the memory of what we do here, and be ready to testify to it if need be.” He looked around the circle. “Are you willing to be the memory of the realm?”

  “We are,” the chorus came back.

  “Corporal Talbot,” Jemson said, “are you willing to be bound forever to the line of Gray Wolf queens that began with Hanalea?”

  “Yes, sir,” Talbot said, bringing her fist to her heart.

  “Bare your arm, Corporal,” Jemson said, picking up the knife.

  Talbot did, scraping back her sleeve. Jemson ran the tip of the blade down her forearm so that the blood welled up and dripped into the stone basin.

  Now the speaker held up the stoppered bottle. “Behold the blood of the line,” he said. He didn’t specify whose.

  Do they keep Lyss’s blood on hand, just in case? Ash thought. Is it our mother’s blood? Or does it go all the way back to Hanalea? He couldn’t seem to shut down his scientist mind.

  Jemson spoke more words over the bottle, pulled the stopper, and tipped a small amount into the bowl. Lifting it, he swirled the contents together.

  As the ceremony continued, Ash thought of all the bound captains since Hanalea, all the secret ceremonies held with one purpose—to protect the Line and assure that it continued into the future.

  I’m bound to the Line by blood, too, he thought. I will not see it end while I live and breathe.

  Ash’s amulet warmed against his skin. More and more, he was hearing his father’s voice again, though he’d not yet achieved the kind of meeting his father’d had with Alger Waterlow, their ancestor. He hoped, with practice, he would be able to see his father again in Aediion—that meeting place between worlds. Again, he heard his father’s voice.

  You don’t get what you don’t go after.

  Jemson poured the contents of the bowl into the silver cup, then held the cup out to Talbot. Talbot wrapped both hands around it, knuckles white, as if afraid she might spill it on the way to her mouth.

  “Sasha Talbot, we ask of you this thing, that you be bound to the Gray Wolf line of queens, and, specifically, to the blood and issue of Alyssa ana’Raisa, Princess Heir of the Fells. You will swear that her blood is your blood, that you will protect her and her line until death takes you. Will you?”

  “I will,” Talbot said, her voice strong and forceful, despite her jitters.

  “Then drink to signify.”

  Tilting her head back, Talbot drained the cup, then staggered backward, all but toppling over. Captain Byrne seemed ready for that. He grabbed her arm to steady her, deftly plucking the cup from her grip before it fell. She put her hands over her ears, her eyes wide and panicked, an array of emotions tracking across her face.

  “You’ll learn to shut it out,” Byrne said, “and filter it, so you only take in what’s useful.” He glanced around, as if self-conscious at having these long-held secrets exposed in front of an audience.

  Gradually, Talbot seemed to find her footing, resuming her ready stance.

  The ceremony continued, as more blood was mingled with the earth in the garden to signify the connection between the queen, the bound captain, and the mountain home.

  “Now,” Jemson said, “we have one more milestone to celebrate. Most of you know that today is the princess Alyssa’s sixteenth birthday. It is our tradition here in the north that the sixteenth birthday is the day of Naeming, when young people choose their vocation, and when the heir to the Gray Wolf throne is named the Princess Heir. We had hoped to celebrate this day along with her, and with the queendom at large. At present, Princess Alyssa is too far away to celebrate with us, and so we have chosen a proxy, who will bring the good news to her.” He turned to Hadley. “Captain DeVilliers, are you willing to serve as proxy for the princess heir in this celebration?”

  “I am,” Hadley said.

  Jemson went on to describe Lyss’s accomplishments, mostly on the field of battle, and the virtues and talents she would bring to the throne. This ceremony, at least, was familiar, since Ash had been present at his sister Hana’s name day ceremony. His mother participated in this one, her voice ringing out strongly as she asked Hadley the Three Questions. Clearly Hadley had been studying, because she delivered the Three Answers flawlessly.

  Ash had never heard of this option for the naming ceremony—that of having a proxy—but Jemson said it had been done in the past, in times of war, or to solemnize a marriage between two people separated by distance.

  Finally, Hadley knelt beside the queen’s chair and bowed her head. Queen Raisa leaned toward her and set the tiara of office on Hadley’s head. “Rise, Princess Alyssa ana’Raisa, named heir to the Gray Wolf throne.” She paused, then whispered, “Rise, Gray Wolf.”

  Ash found himself joining a chorus of voices. “Rise, Gray Wolf.”

  On the other side of the eastern ocean, in the city of Celesgarde, Alyssa ana’Raisa stood on her terrace, looking to the west, where the sun must be setting beyond the boundary of wind and water known as the Boil.

  As on so many nights before, she’d awakened in the midst of a vivid dream of home. This time, she’d been in her mother’s rooftop garden. Talbo
t knelt before her, her sword resting across her outstretched hands, offering her blade like a knight in a story.

  I’m coming.

  After that, Lyss couldn’t sleep. Her mind seethed with plots and plans and schemes, each examined, tested, and discarded.

  The meeting with Jenna Bandelow had kindled a spark of hope that still smoldered at Lyss’s core. Hope that her brother might be alive. Hope that she’d found an ally. Hope that she could use that connection to turn disaster into triumph.

  Lyss and the dragon-rider were both keeping secrets, still treading carefully, doling out information bit by bit. For instance, Lyss had shared Ash’s real name, but hadn’t mentioned that she was the heir to the Gray Wolf throne. Jenna hadn’t disclosed the reason for her campaign against the empress, or shared the story of how she’d met Ash, or explained her kinship with the dragon she called Cas.

  They’d agreed to meet regularly, in the same place, to discuss strategy. Jenna was a predator at heart—she wanted to separate her target from the herd and go in for the kill. Lyss worried that a poorly planned attack would only alert the empress to Jenna’s presence and send Celestine’s armies into the mountains to hunt for them.

  She had a little time, at least until the dragon healed.

  The shutters rattled under the assault of the wind. The weather was bad, and getting worse, even for a place where wicked weather was the norm.

  Lyss threw the doors open and walked out onto the terrace, facing the ocean and the storm head-on.

  The wind teased her hair out of its braid and frothed the Indio into gray peaks and valleys that smashed against the seawall below her feet. Waves like packs of gray wolves, leaping higher and higher, scrambling for a purchase on the wet stone. The hairs on the back of Lyss’s neck prickled, and she shivered.

  I need to get home, she thought, even if the only way to get there is at the head of a Carthian army.

  She saw Breon only at a distance, and always in the presence of the empress. He was like a bird in a gilded cage, dressed in his court finery, attended by serving girls seemingly chosen for their beauty.