Tapestry Lion (The Landers Saga Book 2)

by Nilsen, Karen

  Jazmene graced me with one of her dazzling smiles. “Hard at work, I see.”

  I finally remembered my manners and curtsied with more haste than grace. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “You paint as one possessed, my dear. Your output has been quite astonishing, in both number of paintings and their subject matter. The only other artist I know who could produce so much in a fortnight is Korigann himself.”

  “I have few distractions here, Your Majesty, and unlimited pigments and canvas. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of that.”

  “And you hunger,” she murmured as if to herself, her gaze unblinking as she considered me. “Your hunger spurs you on.”

  “Forgive me, but I don’t understand. I’m not hungry. Your servants feed us very well,” I said, my tone tart.

  She sauntered closer, her eyes never leaving my face. “Are you still angry with me, Safire?”

  *Merius, Merius, where are you? My panicked inner voice demanded before I could stop it. I swallowed and met the queen’s gaze. “Your Majesty, what does it matter if I’m angry or not? You’re the queen here, and you command all of us as your servants and prisoners. Our feelings should be no more significant to you than a mouse’s feelings are to the serpent as it devours the hapless creature.”

  Her merry ripple of laughter chilled me. “As usual, you speak truly, though it should insult me that you compare me to a serpent, a sign of the anger you so poorly conceal. And you’re wrong in one respect--your feelings matter a great deal, Safire.” She reached out and ran her fingertips over my temple, through my hair, then down my neck, her nails brushing the edge of my ear so lightly that I couldn’t help a shudder. When I tried to jerk away, her hand slid under my jaw, her grip too tight to escape.

  “You’ll never be content here, will you?” she asked, seemingly a rhetorical question as she continued, “Of course, contented artists rarely make great art, and I doubt you could be truly content anywhere on this earth. Neither you nor Merius . . .”

  “We’d be content with our freedom.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Don’t delude yourself, Safire. It’s not in your nature to be content, not for long. Even if you were free, soon you would hunger again and take to wandering, and Aesir knows what would happen to you then. You’re safe here at least.”

  “Is this how you justify to yourself what you’ve done to me and Merius, what you plan to do? Do I detect the faint whiff of guilt clinging to your words, Your Majesty?” The instant the question escaped me, I wished I had it back, for her eyes narrowed to slits, and she released my chin so quickly that it seemed my skin burned her.

  “We’ll see if you’re still so willful when this afternoon is over,” she spat. “Guards, call my physician in. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but--”

  I dodged to the side but Jazmene anticipated me, for she grabbed my arm, her grip so strong it hurt. I tried to wrench away, but she’d had a lot of practice holding a scepter apparently, for her grip only tightened. I gasped--my arm felt stuck in a vise--and then I tried to lunge away again. My shoulder socket seemed on the verge of popping, so I paused, my breathing ragged.

  “Your Majesty?” One of the guards stepped forward. “I can hold her.”

  “Just get the physician,” Jazmene barked. “I’ll be fine.” She twisted my arm, forcing me in front of her. If she had been a guard or handmaid, I would have kicked or hit her, but I still retained enough good sense to realize threatening the queen’s safety in front of her guards was a bad idea. This was how I found both my arms in her grip, her breath ruffling through my hair. “That’s not turpentine I smell,” she muttered, “or soap. It almost smells,” she paused, inhaled again, “of a wood fire, spicy like . . . like cedar. A cedar fire. Whatever do you put in your hair, Safire?”

  I laughed then, a bit hysterical. “Nothing except ordinary soap, Your Majesty. You must be imagining things.”

  “Just like we all imagined the movement in your drawings? You have a lot of secrets yet to be discovered, don’t you, little witch?” Her voice lowered to a hiss. “This could have been much easier, you know, if you and Merius had only yielded in the beginning. I’ll never understand your insane defiance.”

  “That’s a lie. I doubt you would have taken well to guards dogging your every step.”

  *Safire, what is it? Merius’s voice broke into my thoughts. *What is she doing? If she hurts you--

  Oh no--I hadn’t meant to summon him, not when there was nothing he could do. *Just watch yourself, for God’s sake. If you want to help me, watch yourself.

  He ignored me. *Your arms hurt. Why is she holding you like that? If she or Toscar touches you . . . the way she looks at you sometimes, it’s, it‘s . . . Damn it, Safire, why do you have to be so headstrong?

  *Why did you challenge Toscar to a duel?

  *All right, all right. I don’t want to argue about this again, not now.

  I stiffened as a slight, wispy-haired man in a rumpled black doublet and striped black and white pants approached. The crowd of guards and handmaids parted around him, an odd thing to see as most of them towered over him, including the handmaids. The scene resembled a flock of chickens scattering around a tiny bantam rooster with black and white feathers, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  *Only you would think something like that at a time like this. You really are a lunatic. Safire, sweet, please, please, please don’t fight it, whatever it is.

  *Look who’s talking.

  *She wants to break your spirit while leaving your body intact. The more you fight, the nastier she’ll get.

  The physician stood before me, his mild brown eyes peering at me through half-moon spectacles, his broad, shiny forehead furrowed. “I understand your nerves are a bit frayed, my dear?”

  “My nerves would be fine if Her Majesty would let me go, and the guards would bring my husband back.”

  “I see.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large handkerchief and a small vial filled with what looked like salt crystals floating in a clear liquid. When he uncorked the bottle, the strong scent of spirits mixed with the languid sweetness of moonflowers filled the air, so powerful it chased away the lingering turpentine odor. He sloshed several drops of the liquid on the handkerchief, soaking it, the scent even stronger now. The scent was actually quite pleasant, if a bit overpowering. I tried to gather heat from my aura, the auras of those around me, the way I had the night I’d broken Undene’s mirror—I thought perhaps I could make the vial in his hand hot so he would drop it. But the scent made me heavy-headed, and I couldn’t concentrate enough to summon the rage I needed to make heat. Besides, Merius wasn’t here—I had realized he was my main source of energy when I heated objects.

  “At least three more drops, Lichester,” the queen said.

  He frowned at us. “But Your Majesty, she can’t be much taller than five feet, if that.”

  “She’s tougher than she looks, and a witch besides. Remember what Undene said about Ursula’s Bane when we used it on Merius, how it doesn’t work on witches and warlocks the same way as on ordinary people? Merius only has a slight talent. This one--she’s a true witch.”

  Lichester peered at me doubtfully, then muttered something to himself as he uncorked the bottle and put three more drops on the handkerchief. “Now, if she gets sick or has violent nightmares, don’t blame me, Your Majesty.”

  “Lichester, just do as I say.”

  Lichester shook his head as he balled up the handkerchief. Then he reached up and pinched my nostrils so I was forced to open to my mouth to breathe. When he started to stuff the handkerchief in my mouth, I bit his fingers. He jerked his hand away. “Little minx,” he said, staring at me as he wrapped a thick piece of linen around his fingers.

  “I told you,” Jazmene retorted. “Now, try again--there’s not much time.”

  “Merius,” I yelled, shaking my head from side to side. “Merius . . .”

  “Shh,” the queen’s lips were soft against my ear. “It’s n
o use calling for him, Safire. This is to calm you, not hurt you. I would never hurt you. I’ve used this to calm myself at times--it’s perfectly safe, excellent for seasickness . . .” Her voice trailed off, and I realized my mouth seemed full of some foul-tasting cottony dryness. The handkerchief . . . when had he put the handkerchief in my mouth . . . I couldn’t remember.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “What in God’s name did you give her?” Merius’s voice sounded muffled. Perhaps he spoke behind a door? I tried to open my eyes, but the lids seemed stuck together, as if someone had smeared sap on them.

  “I don’t appreciate your tone, Merius. Safire’s fine, better than fine--my physician gave her a small dose of Ursula’s Bane to calm her--” Jazmene said. She sounded muffled too.

  “That same poison you gave me?”

  “All right, if you speak like that again, I’ll put you and Safire in separate chambers. The Ursula’s Bane didn’t go in Safire’s veins. She inhaled a small amount, that’s all--the effects are far less potent when it’s inhaled. I’ve taken it myself that way.”

  Something thumped then, and Merius swore, a long litany of curses I couldn’t follow with my sluggish ears. It seemed a scuffle ensued, each clunk and crash sharper and easier to hear than the last. I lifted my hand to my face and rubbed my sticky eyes, my sinews protesting the slightest movement with a strange looseness. It felt as if my muscles had been stretched past their natural ability, and now they couldn’t contract. I blinked slowly. A shadowy vaulted ceiling of some pale stone whirled above me, so fast that I closed my eyes again.

  “I feel drunk,” I forced the words past my lips. “Merius . . .”

  The thumping and crashing and swearing abruptly ceased, and I heard harsh panting, the sound of several men trying to catch their breath after exercise. Someone touched my cheek then, the skin cool and soft, not warm and callused like Merius’s skin. I forced myself to blink again--flashes of Jazmene’s face, her dark and glittering eyes, appeared and then disappeared above me. I shut my eyes tight and turned my head to the side. I blinked again and saw the spouted decanter of wine. The queen's antechamber then--why had they brought us here?

  “I told you it would take three more drops, Lichester,” she said then.

  “Are you certain she‘s awake, Your Majesty? She could be speaking during a vivid dream. I used nine drops on her--she shouldn‘t be waking yet,” the physician said, his wispy voice echoing in whispers against the vaults of the ceiling.

  “She’s awake, and we’ll need even more drops before the end, I warrant.”

  I shook my head. “No . . . please.”

  *Safire, can you hear me? Merius demanded, his loud thought jarring me further out of my stupor.

  *Of course I can hear you--why are you shouting? I grimaced.

  *Thank God, you sound sane again. Your thoughts have been sheer nonsense for an hour or more, ever since they gave you the Ursula’s Bane.

  *Why did they bring us here?

  *One of these guards has my sword, which likely means the duel.

  *But it’s a fortnight too soon--she promised a whole month when you issued the challenge, didn’t she? I was glad that the drug apparently kept my muscles limp despite Merius’s news, since if I stiffened now, Jazmene would be sure to notice.

  *Does it surprise you she breaks her promises?

  *Where’s Toscar?

  *Wish I knew. If there’s a wasp in the room, I want to know where it is.

  “All right,” Jazmene hissed then, her fingers curling around my shoulder. “If you two don’t stop mind reading this instant, I’ll give Safire more of the Ursula’s Bane.”

  “I’m just showing her what's happening, Your Majesty.”

  “Let her find that out for herself, Merius. Do you want her more agitated than she is already?”

  “I’m fine, Your Majesty. Please don’t give me any more of the Ursula’s Bane,” I said with great effort, the word please leaving a sour taste on my tongue.

  “Can it be you’re at last learning some manners? Or at least the semblance of them? The semblance is enough for me, for now at any rate.” Jazmene’s tone was soft rather than mocking.

  "If I could spare you from their posturing, I would, but I can't in good conscience leave you out of an event that has such bearing on your future well-being. Rest assured, the Ursula’s Bane you've had so far will at least keep your nerves subdued. According to Undene, the Ursula’s Bane should also keep you unable to use your witch talents properly for a period of time. We don’t want you tempted to interfere, do we? It will also lessen your mind bond, which can only help Merius, as the bond seems to be such a distraction. We want a fair match, don‘t we?”

  “How can it be a fair match when it’s a fortnight earlier than we agreed, Your Majesty?”

  “Well, Merius,” the queen’s tone became distinctly snide, “remember that the original agreement was a month to allow your ribs time to heal. Given that you healed with such unexpected alacrity, it seems only fair . . . ah, Lord Toscar is here.”

  I turned my head and opened my eyes. The chamber still spun, but I was able to focus this time enough to catch a glimpse of Toscar, tall and whip-thin in brown pants and a loose, cream-colored linen shirt, stride into the chamber, his sword at his side. I had never looked at his sword much before, but now I stared at it, the jagged lines of the steel basket hilt, made to look like lightning bolts, the cold, blue jewel that formed the tip of the pommel. A cruel blade for a cruel man. He didn’t acknowledge Merius, instead coming forward to offer Jazmene a deep bow. I shut my eyes again, my jaw clenched.

  So I would be forced to watch Merius duel a ruthless blackguard who wanted him dead and just happened to be an acclaimed sword master, and I would be unable to help in any way. Despite what she said about wanting to spare me, I was certain Jazmene had planned it so that I would have just enough of the Ursula’s Bane to render me powerless but still conscious. She couldn’t have devised a better method to bring me to my knees, begging for her mercy. I swallowed over the lump in my throat, my ears buzzing as if a swarm of hornets circled the inside of my skull.

  *Remember, Undene lied to Jazmene about the effects of the Ursula’s Bane. Merius’s inner voice sounded muffled by the mad buzzing in my brain.

  *The effects on the mind bond, yes, but this is different. I’ve never felt so weak, not even right after I gave birth.

  *It’s only your body that’s weak--your mind is strong as ever since you’ve woken up, and your mind is where the witch talents originate, right?

  *I suppose--I’ve never really thought about where they come from.

  *Undene’s body is frail and old but she’s still a powerful witch. You’re not powerless, no matter what they’ve given you. Jazmene’s looking daggers at me--we better block each other. Merius thought--he had a harder time disguising the fact he was mind-speaking than I did. He looked like he was in trance whenever we conversed silently.

  I not only blocked Merius but tried to block the whole nightmarish scene. I kept my eyes shut and traced the lines of my latest sketch in my imagination. The chamber in the middle of the man‘s brain would be a library with a giant globe and an ornate hourglass to mark the passage of time spent in scholarly solitude. The man himself was there, bent over a scroll, sweat glistening on his prominent forehead . . . well, naturally he had a big head, with all those twisting hallways and chambers inside it. One could get lost for years in a mind like that. The only thing missing was a crown. A king, then, and certainly nothing like the only king I’d ever seen, King Arian, who was lanky and looked haggard all the time, as if someone somewhere might be committing a sin he didn’t know about. The king in my imagination didn’t worry--he plotted, his fingertips on the globe, his ears at every keyhole . . .

  Suddenly, I felt gentle hands circling my arms. I opened my eyes to see two of Jazmene’s handmaids at my side, their faces obscured by veils. I found myself sitting up, the maids’ hands at my elbows, and my heels on the floor. My bo
dy felt distant, as my mind floated far above it and controlled my earthbound limbs with long strings. Then I was standing, gliding over the floor on feet I couldn’t feel.

  Merius leaned in the archway to the receiving chamber, his back to me as he stared out at the gleaming expanse of marble tiles. He turned then and looked back at me, our eyes locking. The guards shifted around him, a couple of them looking to see what had his attention.

  I tried to shake the handmaid's hand from my arm, but her grip only tightened. “Let me go,” I said.

  “I can’t. Her Majesty said you’re not allowed to touch each other, my lady.”

  “What?” Merius demanded. “But she’s my wife. Even men condemned to hang are allowed a moment with their wives first.”

  “You’re not condemned to hang, pet,” the queen said from where she had ensconced herself on her throne, her voice echoing in the high ceiling of the reception chamber, “and none of those men you mention have witches for wives. We’ve all seen what happens when you’re upset and you touch Safire. I’ll not risk my gown being charred or my tapestries set on fire. Now, if you receive a mortal wound, I’ll let her tend you.”

  “That’s a comfort,” he spat, his aura flaring so brightly I blinked.

  We stared at each other, no thoughts between us, our auras reaching for each other, then twining together, touching with soft warmth. Then he was gone, blinding trails of silver in his wake as the guards led him out to the middle of the reception chamber, boot tramps loud on the marble. I shivered at the sudden loss of his presence.

  “My lady?” one of the maids asked.

  “I’m fine.” I took a deep breath as the maids handed me off to two guards, one at each elbow as they escorted me out behind Merius. I looked up at the domed ceiling looming overhead--I had never noticed it particularly before, since every other time I had been here I had been so taken with the paintings that normally filled this room. Now the vast space above us, all that carved heavy stone, the thousands of dancing dust motes, weighed down on me, and I found each breath more difficult as the guards seated me on the blue-upholstered chair diagonal to the queen’s throne on the dais. Jazmene looked over at me, one brow arched.