The Wandering War--The Sleeping King Trilogy, Book 3

by Cindy Dees

  “Perhaps one day I will be in a position to have some say over the risks you take.”

  As her king, or as someone with a more personal stake in her life? Stunned, she mumbled, “Until then, I shall make my own choices.”

  That sent him off on another stomp around the grove.

  His face was inscrutable when he returned to her. He asked tersely, “How do you feel now?”

  “I’m plagued by headaches. And the voices are back. Sometimes the pain and noise are so bad I can barely cast magic.”

  “The mages’ backlash broke down the barrier between you and the spirit echoes from whom you draw your power. For now, I can only suggest you minimize the amount of magic you cast. Perhaps with time, the barrier will restore itself.”

  It had been a few weeks since the ritual, and if anything, the barriers were getting weaker, not stronger. But given how put out with her he already was about placing herself in harm’s way, she wasn’t about to admit that right now.

  “Are you practicing the exercises I showed you when you first started hearing the voices?” he asked.

  “Yes. Every day.”

  “Keep doing them.” He shoved a frustrated hand through his dark hair. “If only I were with you in physical form. I could heal the breach in a few seconds. But as it is, I can only help you here. Once you leave my grove, the voices and pain will return full force.”

  “One day, you will be fully restored,” she said softly. “And until then, I’ll manage.”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything foolhardy or suicidal between now and then.”

  It was a promise she couldn’t keep, so she merely smiled up at him and murmured, “Take care of yourself.”

  The grove started to fade out, and Gawaine called after her, “Beware the child…”

  CHAPTER

  25

  Gabrielle eased the hidden door open, unsure of exactly where in the Haraland chambers she would pop out. A glimpse of a painting and a bronze wall lamp came into view. The formal receiving room. She eased the door open another few inches and spied a familiar figure. Talissar. And he appeared to be conversing with someone. She studied the young man, who was dark-haired and handsome with blue eyes. He definitely looked familiar.

  She was so relieved the two men were not soldiers or inquisitors here to arrest her that she all but fell the rest of the way through the opening and into the room.

  Talissar and the young man whipped around defensively.

  “It’s me, Gabrielle!” she cried, hands held well away from her sides with no magic summoned to her fingers.

  “What on Urth?” Talissar exclaimed. “Why are you using a secret passage? Was there a problem with your mission?”

  She called for Bekkan and the others to join her, and they filed into the salon.

  “Lady Sasha?” Talissar exclaimed. “What on Urth?”

  Gabrielle explained quickly, “We ran into Sasha and her husband as we were approaching the trophy room. They were with High-Maker Meridine. Rafal escorted Meridine to her quarters while Sasha came with us.”

  “Where’s the thief—” Talissar started. He spied Roland and Giselle, who were last through the door, and finished, “Who are these people?”

  “These are my son, Roland, and my daughter, Giselle.”

  Talissar made a short bow to them, then repeated, “Where’s the thief?”

  “He continued through the tunnels toward an exit from the palace. It seemed prudent to get him out of the Imperial Seat as soon as possible.”

  “Why?” the dark-haired, blue-eyed young man with Talissar asked warily.

  Gabrielle answered grimly, “The thief murdered Meridine when she came back to check on us as we left the trophy room. Not satisfied to merely kill a high lady,” she said over their gasps, “your thief used an amphora of the Black Flame to send Meridine to the Void.”

  Talissar actually fell into a chair in his shock. Finally, he looked over at the young man and said grimly, “I told you he was a problem.”

  “So there’s no body and no physical evidence?” the young man asked tersely.

  Gabrielle was impressed. He’d set aside any immediate emotional reaction to her news and had cut instantly to the heart of the matter. “No. But as Sasha has pointed out, Grand Marshal Korovo and Archduchess Quaya will surely sense their daughter’s passing.”

  “Indeed, they will,” the young man said grimly. “Even I cannot protect all of you from Maximillian and Laernan on a rampage with Korovo and Quaya at their backs—”

  Gabrielle cut him off, already fully aware of the danger they faced. “We have one play. Everyone in this room must get out of the palace immediately, which means we need a distraction. Meridine said something that gave me an idea. She asked if my mind had been controlled again.”

  Talissar frowned. He’d been the one who found her years ago dancing in an undignified display in the Imperial gardens, her mind controlled by Tyviden Starfire. It had been that day he’d first placed the Octavium Pendant around her neck to shield her from any more mental assaults.

  “What do you have in mind?” the young man asked.

  “I’ll go to the gardens. Stage a display to make them think I’ve been controlled again. When everyone’s attention is on me, the rest of you will sneak out of the palace.”

  The young man stared at her for a long moment, and then began to smile. “We may survive this night after all.”

  Talissar nodded, more businesslike. “Roland and Giselle, into the bedroom. You’ll need more practical traveling clothes. Borrow some from your parents. As for you, my lady—we need to get you out to the gardens. We have only a few minutes before the Hand comes looking for Meridine’s killer. For nothing short of outright murder will take down a Kothite.”

  “What about you?” Gabrielle asked him. “Quantaine is every bit as much at risk as Haraland.”

  The young one answered, “I have taken special measures to defend my old friend’s mind from … incursions.”

  Gabrielle got the impression the word he’d been about to say was torture. Mayhap those special measures were also why Talissar seemed to know who the fellow was, and she could not quite seem to remember him.

  “Protect my children, both of you,” she pleaded. “At all costs, they must get away from here safely.”

  The young man replied, “I will walk them out of the palace myself tonight. I give you my word that no one will remember them. It will be as if they were never here.”

  Roland and Giselle ducked into the other room to change, and Gabrielle’s legs gave out from under her at last. She crumpled to the floor.

  Gentle hands raised her up and led her to a settee. Talissar murmured, “You have been very brave, my lady, and done all the peoples of Urth a great service.”

  “At what cost?” she whispered, heartbroken. “I have to give up my babies again.”

  “Think of all the mothers who will not have to suffer the same agony because of you.”

  She nodded miserably and took the handkerchief he passed her.

  “Did you find anything of interest in Maximillian’s trophy room?” he asked quietly.

  “Bekkan spotted a piece of septallum, and the thief told him to take it.” She added, “I think Korgan may have stolen a handful of Mindori mind gems, and my son took the keys to the fae realm. I tried to talk them out of the thefts, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Did Jossa take anything?” Talissar asked mildly.

  “If she did, I didn’t see it.”

  “We expected as much. Honestly, the theft of the other items will draw attention away from the septallum. It may work to our advantage.”

  “Are you always so optimistic?” she complained.

  Talissar smiled. “I try to make the best of those events I do not control. Like the death of Meridine. With some careful rumor planting, we should be able to cast suspicion on any number of the high lords and ladies.”

  “How?” she asked, startled.

 
“It’s long past time for Maximillian to relinquish his throne to another Kothite.”

  She stared at Talissar, aghast. “But … but … he’s eternal.”

  “You of all people know that’s not true. When the twelve Kothites conquered the etheri people, they made a pact that they would take turns ruling the Empire. Maximillian, in a bid to make himself more powerful than his comrades and retain the throne, did something that ended up driving him mad. That was when Ammertus briefly ascended the throne.”

  “Ammertus? Emperor?” She had to laugh at the improbability of that notion. “How did that go?”

  “Not well. It was known as the Dread Reign of Ammertus. In fact, it went so badly that the other members of the Twelve felt obliged to repair Maximillian with the Second Great Forgetting and remove all memory of Ammertus’s reign while they were at it.”

  “They put Maximillian back on the throne?”

  Talissar nodded. “The Empire was such a mess after Ammertus they felt only Maximillian could put it back together.”

  She absorbed all of that in amazement. Given the wonders she’d already heard of lost history from Bekkan and the horrors of the Kothite conquest over the etheri kingdom, she had no trouble believing this wild tale.

  Eventually, she asked, “Why would they change leadership now? The conquests of Pan Orda, Mindor, and Haelos are faltering, and all three continents are restless. Why not let Maximillian stay in power until the situation stabilizes somewhat?”

  Talissar grinned. “Because unseen forces—namely, us—seem to be pushing events into an ever-greater cycle of unrest. Also, Endellian and her cadre of bored scions are rumbling about wanting a chance at ruling. Of course, the other original Kothites also feel entitled to the throne. If Maximillian doesn’t step aside gracefully, any number of contenders for his job could form an alliance and push him out. He may be the most powerful Kothite of the bunch, but even he cannot withstand all of them at once.”

  “How exactly does Meridine’s murder play into this?”

  “Quaya is next in line to assume the throne. Honestly, she’s not a bad choice, given her skill with dreaming and intuition. The dream realm is in chaos, and that mess threatens to spill over onto Urth at any moment. But the death of her only scion will weaken Quaya. Not only does she lose a powerful force among the scions, but she may also have to siphon off a good bit of her own power to create another heir. I’m told she was close to her daughter, too. She may prefer to withdraw into a period of mourning.”

  “If not Quaya, then who would take over next?” she asked.

  “Korovo and Iolanthe are solidly Maximillian’s lackeys. Neither of them would take the throne from him. Our best guess is that Endellian or Ammertus will attempt to seize power. However, several other less-obvious candidates have amassed fewer enemies than those two. Thought Lord Rahl, Prescient Lord Evard, or even Worthy Lady Phendra could emerge from the Twelve as a favorite to replace Maximillian.”

  “Would any of them make better rulers than he?”

  Talissar made a sound of disgust. “I suppose that depends on how you define better. Kinder, more temperate, and more humane than Maximillian? Not bloody likely. They’re all warped by their infatuation with their own immortality.”

  She commented wryly, “Meridine’s death ought to puncture that balloon a wee bit.”

  Roland and Giselle emerged from the bedroom, and Gabrielle was out of time with them. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t believe this. I’ve just found you, and I must let go of you again. I have so much to say to you. So much I want to know of you both—” Her voice gave out, and sobs racked her. She flung herself at her beloved children, hugging them with all her strength.

  Giselle whispered, “We love you, too. We know it wasn’t easy for you to send us away—” She, too, broke down in tears and could speak no more.

  “But we’re grateful you did,” Roland finished for his sister. “We had a fine childhood, safe and free. Our nurse never let us forget how much love it took for you to let us go.”

  “When a little time has passed, come home to Haraland. I’ll be waiting and watching for you. Your father’s life will be complete if he can see both of you again.”

  “Give him our love,” Roland murmured.

  Talissar’s companion interjected, “Sadly, she will not be able to tell him of this visit lest she endanger your lives. Your brief appearance in the Imperial Seat is just the sort of anomaly that would make Maximillian suspicious.”

  “I will not let you take away my memory of them,” Gabrielle said forcefully.

  The young man bowed his head in her direction. “Nor would I try, madam. I have faith in a mother’s love for her children to keep you from betraying their visit to anyone.”

  There was one more round of fast, hard hugs, and then the young man led Gabrielle’s children and the others back through the secret doorway and into the tunnels once more.

  “Courage, Gabrielle,” Talissar murmured.

  Gabrielle’s legs wanted to give out then, but she had one last job to do. She must provide a distraction that ensured her children’s safety.

  Talissar stood up to take his leave. “Take comfort in the fact that after this night’s performance is over, your work for us will be finished. You will be able to go home. To be with your family. To rest. May the Lady bless you and keep you safe.”

  As she watched him go, she was startled to realize she felt nearly as hollow and bereft at this parting as she had when saying farewell to her children just a little while earlier. Except she didn’t think her work would be finished after tonight. Not by a long shot.

  Steeling herself to the task at hand, she recalled the strange compulsion that had drawn her to the Imperial gardens years ago, when Tyviden had, in a childish prank, planted a suggestion in her head to go there from time to time and dance like an undignified hoyden. That memory firm in her mind, she left the Haraland suite and headed down the grand staircase, past the Great Throne Room, and outside into the gardens. She ignored the guards and nodded absently at whatever people she passed in the hallways, praying one of them would say something to someone official about seeing her acting strangely.

  The Crown Plaza was a massive, city-sized space. What parts of it that were not filled by the palace itself were landscaped into extensive and magnificent gardens. She strolled across one of the great lawns and stopped to kick off her slippers and go barefoot in the grass. It was cold and wet, and frankly uncomfortable, but she wiggled her toes and pretended to enjoy the sensation.

  Dangling her slippers from her fingertips, she headed for the great rose gardens housing row after row of rare and gorgeous varieties of roses. In its own way, this garden was a second trophy room for Maximillian’s living treasures.

  Blooms shone pale in the moonlight, and a subtle perfume with notes from sweet to spicy wafted to her. She bent down to sniff a half dozen blossoms and then twirled away from each, giggling happily.

  It was hard not to look around, not to search for others who might have spotted her. As she recalled, she’d been oblivious to everyone and everything around her on those strange forays into the gardens.

  Past the rose garden lay the hundred plots of the Garden of Nations. Each kingdom of Koth was responsible for planting and maintaining a garden reflective of its own country. Haraland’s was colorful and fragrant, a rich variety of flowers crowding together in orderly chaos reminiscent of the vibrant energy of the people of Haraland. She trailed her fingers through the scented clusters of a lilac bush in full bloom, its lavender blooms silver in the moonlight. The lush fragrance of lilac went straight to her head, and it wasn’t hard to act a bit drunk on the scent.

  A pair of lovers strolled past her, averting their faces. An affair, then. She sang a silly greeting to them and whirled away, skipping deeper into the gardens. The place Talissar had first found her dancing years ago was the Quantaine garden, and she headed there now. Interestingly enough, Lyssandra had chosen to leave her country�
��s plot natural and untrained at all except for a pair of winding dirt trails mulched with pine bark that prevented them from becoming muddy. Supposedly, it was a homage to the ironwood forests of Quantaine. Ironwood was nigh indestructible, and the Imperial Navy’s Black Ships were built entirely of the stuff.

  It was an isolated part of the gardens of the nations, and her great worry was that no one would be out here at this time of night to spot her and draw attention to her. She needed to create a large enough diversion for her children to escape.

  But she’d forgotten that this was the time of night for furtive assignations, and the more isolated corners of the Imperial gardens were favorite destinations for lovers. She spotted at least a half dozen couples in as many minutes.

  She threw her arms up and twirled around in carefree abandon, humming a little tune to herself. Were this not such deadly serious business, she might actually be enjoying herself out here. As it was, she silently prayed that her Octavium Pendant would hold up to scrutiny and that all chaos would break loose any second.

  “Your Highness! Greetings! Is all well?”

  She spun around smiling, her hair falling down from its pins and wisps of it trailing across her face. Perfect. One of Korovo’s generals. A royal insider.

  “Isn’t it wonderful out here?” she cried.

  “It is, indeed, a lovely evening. Where are your guards, my lady? Your escort?”

  “This is the Imperial Seat. I have no need for guards,” she replied, caressing a paper birch tree, its ghostly white bark smooth and cool.

  “Sadly, events earlier this evening have proven that not to be true, Your Highness. May I escort you back to the palace?”

  “No. I’m fine.” She skipped away from the concerned general, moving deeper into the heavy shadows of the Quantaine forest. Off the two main trails lay a few small trails, and it was down one of those she darted now, intentionally losing sight of the general.

  There. That should force some sort of search party to head out this way. Regalo of Haraland was far too influential a man to risk having his wife murdered when something or someone at court was obviously influencing her.