Night fell. There was no light, and the darkness was everywhere. Jordan discovered he couldn’t hear or feel anything either, and fought down a brief surge of panic. He clenched his hands into fists, but he couldn’t feel the chair arms they rested on, or even the pressure of the fingers against each other. The darkness swirled about him in a slow, steady rhythm, and his panic slowly ebbed away. There was nothing disturbing about the dark; in fact, it was almost restful. Like lying in bed at night with your eyes closed. He waited patiently. Something came into the darkness with him, and without knowing how or why, he knew it was Viktor. They drifted closer to each other, and then Jordan tried to scream as a flood of information washed over him in an endless tide.
The garden was full of flowers. Their rich and heady scent filled the air now that the rain had finally stopped. He picked a rose, and the thorn pricked his thumb. The drop of blood it drew was the same color as the rose … He rode across the empty moor as twilight fell, his horse plunging beneath him, a good length and more in front of his nearest rival. The cold wind blew tears from his eyes … Thick smoky air diffused the lantern light into a dim amber glow in the back-alley tavern. He knew he shouldn’t be there on his own, in the worst part of Kahalimar, and he didn’t give a damn … He had his hands around Dominic’s throat, and he was crying as he tried to murder his brother. Elizabeth watched them struggle, and there was nothing in her face but an endless weary contempt.
Past and present rolled into a single kaleidoscopic mosaic that battered at Jordan’s mind in overwhelming detail. He swayed and shuddered under the assault, but still clung stubbornly to his own sense of identity. Years of pretending to be people other than himself had given his mind a strength and resilience beyond the norm, and even as Viktor’s memories strove to convert him into a duplicate of themselves, Jordan was already fighting back. He had to. His mind, his soul, everything that made him unique was in danger of being supplanted by the other man’s memories. He clung fiercely to what was his, and slowly, gradually, the pressure faded. He began to pick and choose among the endless stream of information that flowed to him from Viktor, taking only what he needed. How to move, how to talk, how to seem Viktor without actually being him. And still the memories came and went. Jordan moved among them at his leisure, searching for anything that looked useful or interesting. He came across something strange, and Viktor tried to pull back, to hide the memory from him. Jordan took control easily, and looked closely at what Viktor hadn’t wanted him to see.
Viktor lay on his back in bed, with Heather snuggled up against him. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes idly following a long wavering crack in the plaster.
“Viktor …” said Heather muzzily.
“Yeah?”
“Do you really think there’s going to be a civil war?”
“Bound to be. Too many factions, and none of them willing to compromise. Best way, in the long run. I wouldn’t feel safe as long as my brothers or the Regent were still alive.”
“I can see that, Viktor. But if there is a civil war, thousands of people could die.”
“Probably. It doesn’t matter. They’re only peasants, after all. Breed like rabbits. Don’t go all squeamish on me now, Heather. I’m going to need your strength. I learned my lesson during those long years in exile. Look out for yourself first, and everyone else second, if at all. I don’t give a damn for the peasants or the courtiers or anyone else in this stinking country. None of them lifted a finger to help me when I needed help. To hell with them all.”
Jordan recoiled in horror. He’d thought he was prepared for almost anything, but the depth of contempt that Viktor had for his subjects shocked Jordan profoundly. The prince used that moment to pull free. There was a soundless roar, and a blinding light filled Jordan’s eyes. He lurched forward in his chair, unable to deal with anything but the returning rush of sensations. His face twisted as a series of agonizing muscle cramps hit him. The pains slowly faded away, and he coughed harshly, his throat dry and raw. His eyes ached, and he knuckled them as best he could with his shaking hands. Already much of what he’d learned was slipping away below the conscious level, but he clung grimly to what was important. He looked coldly at Prince Viktor, sitting slumped in his chair. The prince’s face was deathly pale, and he was barely responding to Heather and Roderik’s attempts to wake him up. Jordan shuddered suddenly. He didn’t know why he’d been so shocked at what he’d found in Viktor’s mind. There was no law that said a king had to love his people. And compared to his brothers, Viktor was almost a saint. Perhaps it was just that Jordan was disappointed in Viktor. He’d hoped for better in the man he was to portray.
I was right the first time, he thought grimly. I am playing a villain.
Roderik leaned over him, and asked something about how he was feeling. Jordan gestured vaguely, trying to force words past his numb lips, and then Gawaine was there, pressing a glass of brandy into his hand. Jordan sipped the stuff gratefully, and his scattered thoughts slowly began to settle. He looked up and saw that Roderik and Argent were half leading and half carrying Viktor out of the room. The prince’s face was slack and dazed. Roderik and Argent paused just long enough for Heather to pull Viktor’s cowl forward so that it hid his face, then they hustled the prince out into the corridor. Heather hurried after them, swearing continuously under her breath. The guards pulled the door shut again, and Jordan was left alone in the room with Sir Gawaine. He held out his empty glass, and Gawaine poured him some more brandy. Jordan indicated for him to keep pouring, and didn’t take his glass back till it was full to the brim.
“Have one yourself,” he said hoarsely. “How’s Viktor?”
“He’ll recover,” said Gawaine, pouring himself a small measure of brandy, and savoring the bouquet approvingly. “You’re looking better, sire.”
“I’ve felt worse. I take it no one expected this strong a reaction to the spell.”
“Right.” Gawaine frowned. “Sometimes I think Roderik doesn’t know half as much about sorcery as he claims. If I’d known the spell would be this dangerous to the prince, I’d never have allowed him to use it. Still, it’s done now. Did you learn anything useful?”
“Yes,” said Jordan. “I learned a few things.”
Gawaine waited a moment, until it became clear the actor wasn’t going to say any more. He looked thoughtfully at Jordan, then emptied his glass and placed it carefully on a nearby table. “Seeing as you’re well on the road to recovery, sire, I’d better go and see how Viktor’s doing. If I were you, I’d get some sleep. Tomorrow is liable to be a very busy day. You’ll be quite safe here. This suite is protected by strong magical wards, and the two guards outside will keep anyone from disturbing your rest.”
“Before you go,” said Jordan, “perhaps you’d answer a question for me.”
“If I can, sire.”
“Why hasn’t Roderik put a geas on me, like he did DeGrange? That way he could be sure of controlling me.”
The knight smiled thinly. “I’m sure the idea occurred to him, sire, but a geas would have been far too conspicuous. Any number of people here would have recognized it for what it was. Is there anything else, sire, before I go?”
“Yeah,” said Jordan. “What about the dog?”
Gawaine looked at him blankly. “What dog, sire?”
“Viktor’s dog,” said Jordan irritably. “The one he keeps in his bedroom. What am I supposed to feed it on?”
“I think you must be mistaken,” said Gawaine slowly. “Viktor doesn’t have a dog. He can’t stand the creatures.”
“Look for yourself,” said Jordan. “It’s right there in the bedroom.”
Gawaine walked over to the bedroom door and pushed it open. He looked inside, then pulled the door shut again. “There’s no dog there now, Your Highness. Perhaps a stray got in here somehow. There are enough of them around the castle. They help keep the rats down. I shouldn’t worry about it. Good night, Your Highness. Pleasant dreams.”
He bowed formall
y, and left. One of the guards pulled the door firmly shut behind him. Jordan looked puzzledly at the closed bedroom door, then got up and walked slowly over to it. He was proud to note that his legs were only slightly unsteady. He put his brandy glass down on a garishly ugly little table, and pushed open the bedroom door. The room was empty. Jordan shrugged, and wandered into the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and ran his hand caressingly over the luxurious eiderdown. It had been a long hard day, and he had enough things to worry about without brooding over some vanishing dog. He pulled off his boots, and wriggled his grateful toes. The bed felt wonderfully soft and comfortable.
If nothing else, at least while he was at the castle he should be able to get a good night’s sleep.
Prince Lewis stood outside his brother Dominic’s door and knocked politely. He waited impatiently for a reply, and tugged surreptitiously at the chain mail vest hidden under his jerkin. His guards had sealed off the corridor at both ends, but he still felt uneasy. Ironheart stood motionless in the middle of the corridor, his armor gleaming dully in the torchlight. If anyone did get past the guards, they’d still have to face him. And there was always the Monk. He stood silently at Lewis’s side, a gray, baleful presence that was still somehow comforting. If you had to enter the lion’s den, the best protection was to take something in with you that was even more dangerous than the lion. Lewis shuffled his feet restlessly, and wondered whether to knock again in case they hadn’t heard him. Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, Lewis was dying to see what Dominic’s new quarters were like. No one except Dominic’s own people were ever allowed inside, and none of them would talk about it. They couldn’t. Dominic had put a geas on them.
Lewis started as the door swung silently open. He quickly regained his composure and stepped forward into the antechamber, carefully keeping both his face and his posture very calm and assured. In dealing with Dominic, it was important to appear confident at all times. He looked around to see who had opened the door for him, but there was no one there. The Monk entered the chamber, and the door slammed shut behind him. Lewis sniffed. More of Dominic’s playing at sorcery. Let him keep his little tricks if they amused him; they didn’t impress Lewis. He’d seen the Monk do things that would have scared Dominic out of what was left of his mind. Lewis looked casually about him, and frowned. Dominic’s antechamber was bare and austere, the only furniture three straight-backed chairs set out on the bare stone floor. The bleak whitewashed walls were spotlessly clean, and subtly depressing. This wasn’t a room where people lived, it was just a room where people waited, while Dominic decided whether or not to see them. Lewis moved over to the nearest chair, flicked imaginary dust off the seat with his handkerchief, and sat down. The Monk took up a watchful stance beside him.
Lewis looked around sharply as Dominic and Elizabeth came in through a door he would have sworn wasn’t there a moment ago. They stood alone by the door, and Lewis stiffened slightly as he realized that Dominic hadn’t brought any troops to guard him. Either he didn’t see his brother as much of a threat, or he was confident in his own sorcery to protect him. Dominic bowed briefly to Lewis, and he nodded curtly in return. He didn’t get up from his chair, but they didn’t seem to notice. They sat down on the two remaining chairs, and took their time making themselves comfortable.
“Well,” said Lewis finally, “this is very pleasant, isn’t it. Must be all of four years since you and I last sat down to talk together, Dominic.”
“That’s right,” said Dominic. “Dear Viktor had just been banished from Court, and you and I were discussing how best to turn that to our advantage. You proposed a partnership, as I recall, but nothing came of it. We didn’t trust each other. We knew each other too well, perhaps. Do you feel things have changed since then, Lewis?”
“Probably not. But we do have things to discuss. The Regent has just made a difficult situation suddenly even more difficult with the Rite of Transference. Interfering bastard. I should have had him killed a long time ago. He’s always been too honest for our good. We’ve got to find the crown and seal quickly, Dominic. Since I don’t have them, and my spies assure me that you don’t have them, it seems to me the odds are very much in favor of Viktor having them. There must be some good reason why he hasn’t used them yet, but now that the situation has changed so drastically, he could try for the Stone at any time. We’ll have to take the crown and seal from him, and neither of us is strong enough to do that on our own. DeGrange’s guards are all over the place, and Viktor’s fire magic is as strong as ever. You saw what he did at Court.”
“Yes,” said Dominic. “It was most impressive. But what makes you so sure Viktor has the crown and seal?”
“Process of elimination,” said Lewis smugly. “Outside of the three of us, who is there? A few nobodies who fancy themselves as kings, or kingmakers. My spies have kept a close watch on all of them. On the other hand, something is definitely happening with Viktor and his people. I haven’t been able to find out what, they’re too well shielded. But whatever it is, it’s important. So important they’ve killed all of my people who even looked as though they might be getting near the truth.”
“You’re quite right,” said Elizabeth. “There is something going on. But they don’t have the crown or the seal. They’re as baffled as we are.”
Lewis looked at her thoughtfully. She was smiling too much, the cold calculating smile of someone who knows something you don’t. On the other hand, that wasn’t exactly unusual where Elizabeth was concerned.
“Just how sure are you of your information?” he said finally. “Last I heard, your people had been having the same problems as mine. Or have you and Viktor been getting acquainted again, now that he’s back?”
“Hardly,” said Elizabeth sweetly. “No, my dear Lewis, it’s much simpler than that. We have a spy in their inner circle. A traitor. Would you like to meet him?”
Lewis fought to keep his face calm and undisturbed. If Dominic really did have a traitor in Viktor’s camp, he had an advantage Lewis couldn’t hope to match. How the hell had Dominic managed it? Lewis had tried everything from outrageous bribes to open death threats, without any effect at all. He would have sworn that all of Viktor’s people were under a geas, they were so sickeningly loyal. Either that, or they didn’t know anything good enough to be worth selling. He realized Dominic and Elizabeth were still looking at him inquiringly. Did he want to see the traitor? They knew damn well he couldn’t afford to say no. He nodded stiffly, and got to his feet. Dominic and Elizabeth took their time getting up, and Lewis seethed inwardly. There had to be a catch in this somewhere. They were just baiting him, for the fun of it. If the traitor’s identity had any real value, they’d never have mentioned his existence, let alone offer a chance to meet him.
“He’s waiting for us in my private chambers,” said Dominic calmly. “I thought you might like to take a look at them while you’re here. I designed them myself, and I’m rather proud of the way they’ve come out. This way.”
He turned to the inner door, and it swung smoothly open before him. He offered Elizabeth his arm, and the two of them walked unhurriedly through the doorway. Lewis jerked his head at the Monk, and hurried after them, barely able to contain his curiosity. The Monk followed after him, the hem of his long robe brushing noisily against the stone floor. Dominic and Elizabeth stood to one side as Lewis and the Monk entered the main room, and Lewis stumbled to a halt just inside the door, staggered by what he saw.
All of the intervening walls in Dominic’s suite had been removed, turning it into one gigantic chamber. Lewis hated to think how many spells Dominic must be maintaining, just to keep the ceiling from collapsing. The outer walls had been painted varying shades of blue and green that shifted subtly as he watched, suggesting the endless tides and swells of the ocean. The air was unpleasantly moist, but the carpeted floor showed no signs of damp or rot. The scattered rugs and hangings were a depressingly bitter shade of green. Lewis supposed they were meant to repres
ent seaweed. They were ugly enough. The delicate filigreed furniture seemed out of place in the grotesque setting.
Lewis walked slowly forward, drawing strength from the silent figure of the Monk at his side. The glistening wall to his left swirled and heaved constantly, and Lewis suddenly realized he was looking at a vast expanse of water. He thought at first it must be contained behind a wall of strengthened glass, but when he moved over and reached out a hesitant hand to touch it, his fingers slid unimpeded into icy cold water. There was no wall. Only Dominic’s sorcery held the water in place. Lewis stirred the surface of the water with his fingers, fascinated by the slow ripples that rolled away from the disturbance, and then something moved deep in the darkness of the water. Lewis watched, openmouthed, as a huge shark, easily thirty feet long, came surging out of the distance toward him, growing larger and larger as he watched. He snatched his hand out of the water and fell back a step. For one horrible moment, he thought the shark was going to burst out of the water after him, but at the last second it turned aside and swam along the length of the wall. Lewis’s belly tightened as the shark’s flat black eye rolled slowly in its smooth gray head, watching him. It knew he was there. Its teeth were a jagged row in a mouth that had never known a smile, and in its cold dead eye there was all the hunger in the world. The shark flicked its tail suddenly and was gone, gliding back into the immeasurable depths beyond the wall of water.
How far back does the water go? thought Lewis dazedly. What the hell has Dominic done here?
“One of my pets,” said Dominic behind him, and Lewis jumped in spite of himself.
“Very impressive,” he said tightly. “I never knew you were fond of fishing.”
Dominic smiled, and Lewis felt something cold move within him. For a moment, Dominic’s eyes had looked just like the shark’s.
“I promised you an audience with my spy,” said Dominic. “And here he is.”
Blood and Honor (Forest Kingdom Novels) Page 16