“Of course, Your Majesty.” I sat, noticing Randel nudge Bridget into place behind me. It was her first real audience with royalty, poor girl.
“I must compliment you on your Sarns. Rarely have I heard a Cormalen noblewoman speak it so well. You barely have the trace of an accent.”
“When it became apparent I was to be the only girl in my generation of Landers, Sir Mordric made certain I was educated properly.”
“Ah, Mordric.” She spoke his name fondly. “I imagine he was a fearsome taskmaster.”
“He could be. More so for Merius than the rest of us, but we all felt the lash of his ill humor on occasion. I’m grateful for it now--he‘s taught me much.”
“And Merius as well, it seems. What relation are you to Merius?”
“Third cousin, Your Majesty.”
“You grew up together?”
“Yes--I‘m but a year older.”
“He’s a fascinating young man,” she remarked, oddly thoughtful.
“I didn’t realize you’d met him.”
“Oh yes, my dear, both him and his wife. Those two are quite a pair--they can hardly take their eyes off each other. And no wonder--he inherited Mordric’s looks and charisma, and she’s quite the little witch.”
I didn’t dare start at the word witch, for her intent gaze was on me so closely that she was likely counting my breaths. However, uneasiness rippled inside. She’d cast a stone into the calm pool of my thoughts, thoughts so carefully collected for this audience. Witch? Was it a coincidental choice of words? I doubted it, not with the way she was watching me.
“Sir Mordric opposed their pairing at first,” I said.
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“It happened so swiftly, you see. He hardly had time to reconcile himself before they were married, and Merius can be quite headstrong.”
The queen laughed, a thin fall of crystal. “Indeed.”
At that moment, a guard entered the chamber. “Your Majesty, I apologize for the interruption, but you said to tell you when Sir Merius arrived.”
Queen Jazmene gave another thin laugh. “Oh my, what a coincidence. Show him in immediately, Feodras. He’ll want to see his kinswoman.”
Randel shifted behind me, knowing as well as I did that this was no coincidence. She had planned this, though for what purpose I could not yet discern. Merius and his witch were in trouble all right. I sat back and awaited developments, every nerve on edge.
A moment later, Feodras escorted Merius into the chamber. A younger, lankier version of Mordric with perpetually tousled hair and an erotic shadow of dark stubble across his jaw, Merius looked much the same as I remembered. Like the erratic comet our favorite tutor had shown us once, Merius moved too fast for anyone to understand his orbit. Trust him to seduce a true witch, go on campaign, get taken hostage by SerVerinese traders, engineer his own escape, return to Cormalen only to elope with the witch, throw away his inheritance, and run off to a foreign country with his new wife to guard some book-crazed ambassador, all in the space of a few months. The House of Landers was dull without him around.
He started when he first noticed me and Randel, then quickly recovered and strode forward. He acknowledged Her Majesty with a bow before he turned back to me. “Why, cousin Eden, this is a surprise.” His tone was warm but his gaze was guarded--he had never trusted me, with good reason. I told tales to Mordric.
I rose, and we performed the ritual half embrace of nobility where we gripped each other’s elbows and pretended to kiss each other’s cheeks. God, he smelled good, a clean male combination of sandalwood and leather. As if he sensed my thought, he stepped back quickly, resting his hand on his sword hilt. He glanced at the queen, his eyes still guarded. “Has there been any word, Your Majesty?”
“No. My guards searched all day--still no sign. I‘m sorry, Merius.”
“Damn it,” he swore softly. Then he sighed and ran his hand through his hair, his fingers gripping the back of his neck as he stared at his boots.
I glanced at Queen Jazmene. Her eyes narrow, she leaned forward in her seat, fascinated as if she were watching a talented jester make her marble palace vanish in a puff of smoke. “Don’t worry--you have my oath my guards will search every day until they find her. Her and the blackguard who took her. He’ll suffer the full force of my wrath, believe me. I‘ll send him straight to the block.”
He looked directly at her. “Thank you for that, Your Majesty. I don’t know what I would do without your help, the help of your guard. I’m on the verge of madness, not knowing where she is, not knowing if,” he paused, “if she still breathes, even.”
“Wait--is Safire missing?” I demanded, already guessing the answer but wanting to sound stupid for the queen’s benefit. “What happened?”
Merius sighed again and began to recite the facts, his words terse as if he’d had to tell this painful story one too many times, “Yes, three nights ago. We were having supper at a tavern. A band of vagabonds came in and there was a fight. I got pulled into it, and when I looked around, she was gone. Just like that. I think maybe one of the vagabonds took her, but I don‘t know. I just don‘t know.” His voice grew louder at the last, less controlled, and his hand tightened on his sword hilt as he began to pace.
“Here, you must be exhausted,” the queen said, all motherly concern. “You can rest here for the evening, and then . . .”
“Rest? I can’t rest. I have to search for Safire.”
“If you insist on searching, we’ll send some guards with you. Merius, I’m sure she’s still in this city. There’s no way anyone could smuggle her through the gates with the city watch and my guard everywhere. We’ll find her. For the time being, sit down and take some refreshment with us. You need to eat, and you haven’t even asked Eden why she’s here.”
He sat, his long legs tensed as if he could spring up at any moment. Once when he was nine, he fidgeted so much during our lessons that the tutor tied him to his chair. Arilea threw a fit, and Mordric sacked the tutor. The next tutor was far more interesting, taking us on frequent trips outside for our botany lessons and letting us perform our own alchemy experiments--Merius’s fidgeting magically stopped then.
“Aren’t you wondering why Eden is here?” the queen prodded, predatory under her gentle demeanor.
“Father sent you, didn’t he?” Merius asked tonelessly. In five short words, he had given me the perfect hint on how to proceed without being obvious about it.
“Yes.” I paused and swallowed, playing my role as the great conciliator to the hilt. “He wants you to come back.”
Merius snorted. “He wants me to come back,” he repeated quietly. “Why didn’t he come himself to get me then?”
“He thought you’d be more inclined to listen to me.”
“He can go to hell. Pardon me, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s eyes skipped from me to Merius. So much drama, so little information, the perfect Landers smokescreen.
“He knew you’d still be upset. As a matter of good faith, he’s reinstated you as his heir. You‘re free to return at any time and claim your titles and lands again.”
“But still no apology?”
“Your reinstatement as his heir seems apology enough.”
“No, it seems like forgiveness. It would be like him to grant forgiveness when he should be seeking it.”
“He needs an heir, Merius, and he’s willing to do anything for you.”
“Except apologize.”
At that moment, the spiced wine and cakes arrived. We took repast, Merius’s movements tightly constrained as if he were trying to conceal the depth of his rage. Perhaps it was an act, perhaps not--a sea and several months had likely not dampened his anger towards Mordric. When it came to injury done to the women in his life, Merius could hold grudges for years. Arilea had been dead over a decade, and he and Mordric still argued about her. I sighed inwardly, then took a deep breath when the queen happened to glance away to speak to one of her maids.
<
br /> “Merius, what would he have to do to appease you?” I said finally, dabbing the corner of my mouth with my napkin.
“Leave me alone.”
“That’s unrealistic, and you know it. What about the duty of your birth?”
“I’ve fulfilled that by joining the king’s guard and becoming a captain. His offices are not my duty.”
“That may be correct by court protocol, but others won’t see it that way. You’ll always be Mordric of Landers’ son.”
“She’s right, Merius.” The queen set down her crystal goblet. “Your father has too much influence for you to be a mere captain of the guard, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but I can’t think about this now.” Merius sprang up and began to pace. “Safire is still missing.”
“Certainly. Let me call my guards to help.” All solicitous concern, the queen motioned to Feodras and whispered something to him. He nodded, his eyes on Merius. I was certain her concern masked a desire to keep Merius watched as often as possible--evidently, she believed, as I did, that he knew precisely where Safire was. But why should she care if the witch was found or not? And why should he conceal Safire’s whereabouts with this complicated charade? I longed to talk to him alone, but I knew that was impossible--even when he seemed alone, he was likely being followed. As was I. I glanced around at all the entrances, suddenly chilled.
Merius inclined his head at me, easily lapsing into courtly formality again. “It was good to see you, cousin, though I wish it had been under better circumstances. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow.”
“Perhaps. I’m so sorry to hear of Safire’s disappearance. What a terrible thing to happen--I hope you find her soon. If there’s anything I can do to assist . . .”
“Thank you. Her Majesty has been most gracious and offered her own guard to help me search, but I‘ll not forget your offer, cousin. Good afternoon to you both. Your Majesty.” He bowed to the queen and with that, he and Feodras strode out of the chamber. I met the queen’s gaze. She smiled, but her smile was brittle. She had hoped for more from Merius’s and my exchange, that somehow one of us would be surprised into dropping some clue. But we had disappointed her. Despite many words and strong emotions, we had managed to say little about Safire and nothing about the reason for Merius and Mordric’s fight.
Chapter Ten--Merius
I sat up, fully awake as soon as my head left the pillow. The candle, almost dissolved in a pool of wax, still flickered feebly, enough for me to see by the hands of my pocket watch that it was five minutes to nine. Cursing softly, I pulled my boots on. Falken had said his friends would be in The Spyglass, the tavern across the street, at nine tonight, and I needed to be ready by then. I buckled my sword and dagger to my belt and threw my hooded cloak over my shoulders. I extinguished the candle between my fingers and went over to the bedchamber window, the only window that faced the street, to await nine o’clock.
It was a moonless night, and the street below was all shadows except for the yellow circles under the street lamps and oblong pools of light from windows. It had rained earlier, and the curb gleamed, shreds of mist drifting near the ground. A few cloaked figures moved below, an occasional coach and four rumbling over the cobbles. Being near the embassies and palace and under the scrutiny of the watch, this part of the city was fairly quiet. I wished now we had chosen rooms closer to the locks, where there was more activity at night--it would have made my task easier. I gripped the edge of the sill. Although they tried to hide themselves, I could see the queen’s spies. When Safire had disappeared, Jazmene had made a great show of lambasting the guards for their carelessness. Then she had let me leave the palace without guards, likely hoping I would be stupid enough not to realize she had spies following me and lead them straight to Safire.
There were two spies tonight, one directly across from the entrance to the boarding house. He had tried to conceal himself in an alcove, but the polished edge of his boots caught the light. The other was easier to see--he stood outside the door of The Spyglass, seemingly waiting for someone. I smiled. Those poor blackguards.
At that moment, a huge man charged out of the tavern, crushing the spy against the wall. Three or four men followed him, all yelling. Taking my cue, I hurried into the other chamber, almost tripping over the large iron trivet on the hearth in my haste to reach the window, which looked out on to an alley. I jerked open the casement. There was a narrow ledge that ran around the edge of the roof a few feet above our chambers.
My back to the street, I crouched on the broad window sill and slowly rose until I was standing. The stone wall barely an inch from my nose, I reached for the roof ledge. Falken's friends were still yelling, apparently fighting over a bad hand of cards. I only hoped they could keep the spies distracted long enough for me to manage my acrobatics.
Gripping the ledge, I inched past the window, the rough stones scraping at my cloak. And my skin. I bit my lip, wishing I could wear gauntlets. Unfortunately, they would deaden the feeling in my fingers and perhaps be slippery against the wet rocks, an outcome I dared not risk. I took another deep breath and focused on the task before me. Finding what purchase I could with my feet in the crevices between the stones and my hands on the ledge, I moved sideways over the wall like a spider until I reached the gutter pipe that ran down the edge of the wall. The hilt of my sword clattered against the lead, and I winced, glancing towards the street. The yells were more distant now, but still there.
I shinnied down the pipe, feeling with my feet for the braces that held it to the wall. There was a story-high wall at the end of the alley, flush with the wall of the house. I stepped on the wide wall gratefully and ran across it to the roof of a lean-to on the other side. I clambered down and jumped into a deserted alley. This led to the Serpentine, the main street that curved down to the lower sections of the city. Even at this time of night, a steady flow of traffic moved here, and I pulled my cloak hood over my head, blending in with the other shadowed shapes of travelers.
I slipped into the tavern near Cirsir's market where Safire and I had seen the vagabonds and lost the guards only six nights before. Falken, who watched for me from the corner table, rose and met me at the door to the common room. Had it been my decision, I would never have sought out Falken for help with hiding Safire from the queen’s men. However, Safire and I had little choice in the matter. We had run into Falken a few streets away after leaving this tavern the night of our escape. An interesting coincidence, that. I didn’t trust his glib explanation that he’d heard the commotion from the vagabonds’ riot. I was sure he’d been following us and the guards, though for what purpose I couldn’t immediately discern. As it was, the damage was done the instant he saw us fleeing the queen‘s guards. He could have gone to the queen that night, letting her know that he’d seen us. Instead he’d offered to help. It was either kill him because of a vague suspicion or allow him to help us. And we needed help, even if it came from the queen’s dead brother’s bastard.
“How is she?” I demanded as soon as Falken and I were far enough from any prying ears.
He chuckled. “Painting like a mad woman.”
“Has she been eating properly?”
“She eats everything I bring her.”
“It’s only . . . well, she gets in a trance sometimes when she works. You almost have to put the food in her mouth, or she won‘t remember to eat it.”
His face twitched as if he hid some secret amusement. “She’s been eating fine. Truly, her only ailment has been pining for you.”
“Is it safe for me to see her?”
“Are you certain you weren’t followed?”
“If I was followed, the queen must have the very air in her service.”
“The shadows are thick tonight, my friend . . .”
I grabbed his shoulder and steered him into an alley, where I pushed him against the wall. The only sound was the drip of water into the rain barrel and his breathing. “Listen,” I said softly, my voice ho
arse, “don’t condescend to me. If I was followed, I never would have come this far and endangered her. I know all their tricks as well as you. I’m grateful for what you’ve done, but I don’t trust anyone in this, even you. You’ve got your own reasons for helping us. Now I need to see her--I’ll not trust anything but my own eyes to see if she’s fine. Better the queen have her than the Numerian rebels who tried to kill Rankin.”
“You think I’m a rebel?”
“Would you tell me if you were?” I let him go.
“No--the rebels are sworn to secrecy.”
“And you question why I need to see her?”
“All right. All right, my friend. But I’d only advise a few hours at the most.”
“Wise advice.”
He led me around corners and through narrow spaces, both of us jumping at every odd noise or furtive shadow. Soon we were in a the shabby maze of crowded inns and cheap boarding houses and shops that lined the locks. Made of the same red stone as the rest of the city, the locks’ streets hid their poverty well. By day, only a few tattered curtains and crumbling walls evidenced the struggle most here had to survive. By night, I would hardly know I was in a slum save for the smell. In Cormalen, the same place would be crawling with consumptive whores and pickpockets, but the Sarneth poor concealed all their dark secrets in the gutter chambers.
Falken ducked down an alley and glanced around us before he pulled a large, elaborate key out of his pocket and unlocked a narrow door in the alley wall. Once inside, we climbed an ancient spiral staircase, the treads huge, thick slabs of dark wood. A few smoky lanterns lit our way as we came out on the third floor landing. Everything was clean but bare, the only furniture some three-legged stools and a tall shelf containing several books with cracked bindings. Falken crossed to the shelf and touched something around the side that clicked. The shelf swung open like a door, and I followed him through the dim opening into a hall with no lanterns or windows. Feeling our way through the dark, I counted two doorways to the right before he stopped at the third, fumbling for the latch. There came a muffled chirping like a mischievous sprite whistling behind the wall, and I started before I remembered those damned canaries.
Tapestry Lion (The Landers Saga Book 2) Page 18