Shards of Time

by Lynn Flewelling

  “You know Elani won’t care,” said Seregil. “How much do you know about this commission of ours?”

  Micum used the tongs from the mantelpiece to light his pipe with an ember from the fire. “Only that the governor of Kouros was murdered and Klia’s been made acting governor and sent to investigate the deaths. I assume that’s why she’s taking us along.”

  “There may be ghosts,” Alec told him.

  Micum raised a shaggy eyebrow at that. “That’s a detail Thero’s message left out.”

  “He probably thought Kari would make a fuss if she knew,” said Seregil.

  “She might have, at that.” The love between Micum and his wife ran deep—deep enough for her to accept his wandering ways all these years—but as they grew older, Kari worried more than she used to. “If it is a ghost, is there anything we can do about it?”

  “Just offer proof, I suppose, and perhaps warn other people off,” said Alec. “Seregil’s already decided there isn’t one, though.”

  “I have not! I’m just keeping an open mind.”

  “I hope there isn’t one,” Alec admitted. “Give me a nice, live enemy any day.”

  “But if there is?” Micum puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. “Does Thero have any magic of that sort?”

  “He claims to,” Seregil said with a shrug. “Are you coming to our investiture tomorrow?”

  Micum grinned around his pipe stem. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  THE following morning they dressed with care. Alec stood in front of the long glass as he tied up the front of his embroidered linen shirt and slipped into his new coat. The rich wool fabric was nearly the same dark blue as his eyes, and the buttons, which Seregil had insisted on at the tailor’s, were stylized golden flowers set with polished sapphires. The bands at the collar, cuffs, and down the front edges of the coat were stiff with gold embroidery in an elaborate pattern of leaves.

  “If I fall into water, this will drag me to the bottom,” Alec muttered.

  Sitting on the edge of their silk-hung bed, Seregil grinned as he pulled on his best boots. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry too much about that at the Palace.”

  “So Elani finally has her way.”

  Elani had come to regard them as friends during their investigations of the plots that had threatened not only her life, but those of the queen and Princess Klia. She’d wanted to make them courtiers then, by way of reward, but her uncle, Prince Korathan, had talked her out of it on Seregil and Alec’s behalf. After consulting with Thero, Seregil, and Alec, Korathan had gone to his niece and explained something of their work for Skala as Watchers—the network of spies overseen by Thero. Elani had been thrilled to learn their secret and had at once renewed the royal approval of the Watchers, which her aunt, Queen Phoria, had rescinded before she died.

  Seregil stood and Alec held out the dark red coat. Seregil slipped his arms into the sleeves and shifted his shoulders to settle it. The garment was as elaborately styled as Alec’s, with golden buttons shaped like crescent moons cradling round disks of jet. Going to the dressing table, he opened a small casket, took his ancestor Corruth í Glamien’s ruby ring from its velvet bed, and slid it on his right forefinger. He already wore a small diamond ring on his left little finger—a reward from Elani. Alec wore a similar ring set with an emerald, also from her own hand. The young queen was generous with her gifts—a charming trait that had nearly gotten her killed during the previous year’s reign of terror.

  Brushing back his long dark hair, Seregil hung a dangling ruby earring from his right earlobe. With a bit of sleight of hand, he produced a matching one set with a sapphire for Alec.

  “It’s not my name day.” Alec laughed as he put the bauble on.

  Seregil gently touched Alec’s ear, admiring the way the jewel matched his lover’s eyes. “We have to put on a proper show. We are about to be barons, after all.”

  Downstairs they found Micum dressed for court as well, though not so resplendently as they were. He had little patience with fripperies, as he called any sort of unnecessary ornamentation. His fine green coat was well cut, though, with silver buttons, and his belt was beautifully worked Aurënfaie leather, like his scabbard.

  He grinned at them as they came down the sweeping staircase to join him in the salon. “You two look like a couple of soft-handed court lapdogs.”

  Seregil made him a mocking bow. “Just what we were aiming for.”

  At the Palace a page accompanied them to the huge, vaulted audience chamber. The assistant chamberlain took their names and business, and they went to join the crowd of petitioners gathered in front of the royal dais.

  “Ah, here you are, Micum,” said Thero, emerging from the crowd with Mika close by his side. “Thank you for getting here so quickly.”

  Thero was dressed for court in a fine blue robe, and Mika wore a short white robe banded in his master’s colors.

  “Well, hello there!” Micum ruffled the boy’s hair. “I suppose Master Thero is making a lesson of this?”

  Mika grinned. “I’ve been learning all the ranks and titles. I can still call Seregil and Alec ‘my lord,’ so that will be easy.”

  “Are you excited about our journey?” asked Micum.

  Mika’s grey eyes widened, and so did his smile. “Oh, yes! Though Master Thero says I have to keep away from dangerous places. He promised Mama.”

  Just then the elderly lord chamberlain, Duke Waris, tapped his carved staff on the marble floor and announced, “Attend Her Majesty, Queen Elani.”

  At seventeen, flaxen-haired Elani was still slim as a boy, and deceptively delicate looking as she took her place on the carved stone throne. Even so, she looked every inch a queen. She wore the ruby-studded diadem, and a golden breastplate over her gown of royal red silk chased with the royal emblem of flame and crescent. The great Sword of Gherilain, the ultimate symbol of her power, hung at her side, and a golden war helm rested on a cushion at her feet, constant reminder that the queens of Skala were first and foremost warriors and protectors of the land.

  Her uncle, Prince Korathan, stood at her right hand in his capacity as vicegerent, wearing the robes, heavy chain, and flat black velvet hat of his office.

  The chamberlain summoned each petitioner in turn. As he waited for their names to be called, Alec watched Elani carefully. Favors were asked, pleas made, and grievances presented. The girl listened intently to each one, occasionally consulting Korathan before she made her pronouncements. Alec admired her impassive demeanor. Only once did her expression threaten to give way to emotion; a dyer’s wife fell on her knees, wringing her stained hands as she begged for her husband’s life. Apparently the man had killed an apprentice in a fit of anger. For an instant Alec was certain he saw pity in Elani’s eyes, but she shook her head and the woman was led away by relatives, sobbing into a handkerchief.

  The queen was the supreme justice in the land and Alec suspected that it weighed heavily on the shoulders of a girl five years his junior, despite her training.

  At last the chamberlain called out, “Lord Seregil of Rhíminee and Lord Alec of Ivywell. Present yourselves.”

  He and Seregil stepped forward and knelt before the dais. Elani came down to stand before them, left hand resting on the pommel of her sword.

  “Be it known throughout the land,” Korathan announced, “that these two men, though foreigners, stand in the queen’s favor.”

  Elani drew the sword and held it up before her in both hands.

  “Do you swear fealty to the Throne and Skala?” she asked.

  “By the Four, I so swear,” answered Alec, who’d been coached on the ritual responses by Seregil.

  Seregil solemnly repeated the oath.

  “Do you swear to come to the queen’s aid in times of war?”

  They both swore to do so, and Alec wondered if that meant serving as officers. He’d always envied his friend Beka Cavish, now a commander in the Queen’s Horse Guard, a little.

  “Demonstrate your devotion to
Skala and the Queen,” Korathan intoned.

  They prostrated themselves at Elani’s feet and kissed the hem of her gown.

  “Kneel,” Korathan ordered.

  With the hint of a smile tilting the corners of her pale green eyes, Elani touched them each on either shoulder with the tip of the sword. “As you have both sworn your loyalty before these witnesses, so I invest you with the title of Barons of Mirror Moon, with all lands, waters, and chattel that belong to it.”

  “We will be faithful stewards, Your Majesty, and serve at your pleasure,” Seregil replied.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Alec.

  Elani sheathed her sword and offered her hand for the kiss of fealty. Her fingertips were cool against Alec’s hand, and callused from the bowstring. When he straightened up again, he caught her smile and the faint flush infusing her fair cheeks.

  Elani ascended the dais and took her seat. At her nod, Korathan proclaimed, “To all here before gathered, at the queen’s pleasure, I present to you Baron Seregil of Mirror Moon and Baron Alec of Mirror Moon. Accord them all respect due their rank.”

  The crowd of commoners bowed to them, along with the lesser nobles among the courtiers. Those who held rank higher than baron merely nodded. Micum grinned, making them an exaggerated bow.

  And with that Alec found himself, for the first time in his life, a landowner with a legitimate title, his previous one having been fabricated by Seregil when he first brought Alec to Rhíminee.

  “The queen wishes to speak with the three of you when the audience time is over,” the under chamberlain informed them when it was over and Elani had turned to the next duty.

  Several hours later they were led to a private drawing room, where Elani and Prince Korathan joined them.

  “Thank you for accepting my commission,” Elani said as they all bowed and kissed her hand.

  “It would be unthinkable not to, Majesty,” said Alec.

  “I have the utmost faith in all of you,” Elani replied with a smile. “And I hope you’ll forgive me, Baron Seregil, for elevating you against your wishes. Uncle Korathan said you wouldn’t like it, but it is more than deserved.”

  Seregil gave her a gracious nod. “I am honored, Majesty, and will do my best to uphold the honor of Mirror Moon.”

  “I’m told it’s a very pleasant place, with considerable lands.”

  “And a fine herd of island-bred horses,” added Korathan. “They’re said to be a match for the horses of Aurënen.”

  “Then they’re very fine indeed,” said Micum, a horse breeder himself.

  “Now, to business.” Elani drew a folded letter from her sleeve and gave it to Seregil. “This is the report I received from the governor’s secretary, Lady Zella. If you’d be so good as to read it out for the others?”

  Seregil unfolded the fine vellum and smoothed it on his knee. “ ‘To her most Royal Majesty, Queen Elani, on the twenty-seventh day of Klesin. Honored Majesty, it is with great sorrow that I must report the death last night of the archduke, Governor Toneus. He and his companion, Duchess Seria, were killed while in residence at the palace in the old capital, which the archduke had been rebuilding in advance of your visit here.

  “ ‘I am most distressed to report that the archduke died under mysterious and horrifying circumstances. When the door to his chamber was broken down, a scene of unspeakable carnage was discovered within. Both occupants had been torn to pieces in a most vicious and brutal fashion. I must beg your forgiveness for not going into more detail than that, as I can hardly comprehend it, even having seen it with my own eyes. At the same time, it was reported that another guardsman saw a ghost nearby. Whether this is true or has any bearing on the deaths I do not know, but I beg you to send someone who can make a thorough investigation of the facts.

  “ ‘While Governor Toneus had established friendly relations with much of the population here, in the absence of a Queen’s representative, I fear for the stability and security of the island and your loyal subjects. I beg of you, Majesty, to send assistance as soon as possible to maintain your sovereignty on Kouros. Your most humble servant, Lady Zella.’ ”

  He looked up. “She paints a dark picture.”

  “And she certainly sounds desperate,” Micum noted.

  “Yes, she does,” said Elani. “I’m sending Aunt Klia back as acting governor with a force to keep order, and Lord Thero as her wizard. I require your special talents to assist them in discovering the reasons and real means of the deaths, and any implications they have for our control of Kouros.”

  “We welcome the challenge, Majesty,” Alec replied.

  “I am most grateful for Your Majesty’s confidence,” Micum added.

  “You were indispensable in that business last year, my lord. And Lord Thero told me that you and Seregil have been the most accomplished of the Watchers for many years, and that Alec is your equal in skill.”

  “You honor us, Majesty,” Alec replied.

  Elani smiled. “You are very modest, Baron Alec. All of you are. You serve Skala quietly, without any expectation of renown. Quite the opposite, it would seem. That’s quite rare in my experience at court, and most refreshing.”

  “The work is its own reward,” said Seregil.

  “There aren’t many I’d believe saying that,” she replied. “But I believe you.”

  THE day of departure dawned cold and grey. A damp wind off the harbor whipped Seregil’s cloak around his knees and blew his hair across his eyes as he walked down Whale Quay with Alec and Micum. For an instant he felt a pang of anxiety, though he wasn’t certain why. Something tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t seem to remember what it was.

  The flagship, a large carrack named Courser, rode at its mooring while sailors carried the last of the baggage and supplies up the swaying gangway. She had high castles fore and aft and looked solid as a house. It was a good thing, too. Even here in the relative shelter of the inner harbor moles, the water was choppy and flecked with foam. Three similar ships rode at anchor just beyond, loaded with horses and soldiers.

  Klia stood with a small crowd of well-wishers near the Courser’s gangway. With her, as always, was her friend and aide-de-camp, Commander Myrhini. Klia was dressed in a fine traveling gown today, but Myrhini was in uniform, wearing the close-fitting doeskin breeches and green tabard edged in white of the Queen’s Horse Guard, with the embroidered emblem of a pair of crossed sabers supporting a crown on the front. A well-used long sword hung at her side and a golden gorget of rank glistened at her throat.

  “Here you are, my noble lords!” Klia called, striding over to embrace the three of them. “I was sorry to miss your investiture, but I was away in Cirna, seeing to the defenses at the Canal. Peace is already making some people lax.” She clasped hands with Micum. “Beka and Nyal send their regards.”

  “Thank you,” he replied. “The queen is certainly keeping you busy.”

  “It’s nearly as much work as war,” Myrhini replied with a laugh. “Less bloody, though, and we don’t go wanting at mealtimes.”

  By the end of the war Klia—then a regimental commander of the Queen’s Horse Guard of which she was now general—had been gaunt and sunburned, but months of peace had restored her beauty. Her dark chestnut hair was drawn back from a sharp widow’s peak, and a few strands of it had escaped to frame her heart-shaped face in soft, curling wisps. Windburned color only heightened her beauty. Seregil had watched her grow from a pretty child to a formidable warrior and had always been proud that she called him friend.

  Myrhini, tall and dark-haired, looked more worn, though her dark eyes sparkled with the old good humor as she looked Seregil and Alec over. “Barons, eh? What if this Mirror Moon of yours is some ramshackle old farm?”

  Klia laughed. “I suspect my niece thinks too much of them for that.”

  “You’ll see for yourself, soon enough, I expect,” said Alec.

  “I’m afraid not,” Myrhini replied. “I’m staying here to command the Horse Guard i
n Klia’s absence. I just came along to say farewell. You two will have to look after her for me now.”

  “Look after me?” Klia snorted.

  Alec grinned and made a smart salute, fist to chest.

  Thero and Mika soon joined them, dressed for traveling in coats and breeches. In such ordinary attire, the young wizard could have passed for the boy’s older brother.

  Mika was fairly vibrating with excitement. “Are we really going to sail on that? Can I stay on the deck? How long will it take to get to the Canal? Oh, hello, Klia!”

  “Decorum, Mika,” Thero reminded him. “You must address her as Your Highness when we’re in public.”

  “Your Highness, I mean,” Mika amended.

  Klia gave the boy a wink. “Once we’re under way, it won’t matter so much. It’ll be like a holiday.”

  “A holiday?”

  “Not from your lessons,” Thero warned, though not unkindly.

  “I like my lessons, Master Thero, but I’ve never been on a holiday before,” said Mika.

  “Well then, I suppose we’ll learn how well you like traveling by sea today.”

  The boy looked from him to the ship. “Why wouldn’t I like it?”

  The Courser and her escorts sailed smoothly out through the inner and outer moles. Standing on the stern castle, Seregil watched the harbor and the city on its tall cliff recede into the distance. For the first time in months he was excited, with something new and possibly deadly to look forward to. Alec gave him a knowing smile as they joined hands and leaned against each other, sharing a moment of mutually understood excitement. The slap of waves against the hull, the cries of the gulls, the cold salt breeze, a journey to a place unknown: it all spoke of adventure.

  That, and the unmistakable sound of Mika being sick over the ship’s rail.

  When the shoreline had faded away in mist and distance, one of Klia’s aides summoned Seregil, Alec, and Micum up to Klia’s cabin, leaving Thero above with Klia’s drysian healer, Yana, and her apprentice, who were tending to Mika’s seasickness.