by Jeff Wheeler
A man hung precariously from a weathercock on a roof, waving his cap like a flag and screaming her name. When she waved up at him, the crowd cheered her all the louder. There were so many people, it was impossible to focus on anyone for very long.
“Almost there!” the mayor shouted to her, gesturing as Pent Tower loomed ahead of them. The walls were crowded with spectators, citizens who had helped storm the greenyard in a selfless effort to save her life. The outer walls were in the mayor’s control now. The keep itself had been bolted and shut, but the mayor’s men had also taken control of the river leading to and from the palace. Several nobles had already been caught trying to flee, and the rest were hunkering down within the keep for a siege.
“Have your men be gentle with the crowd,” she told the mayor. Then she had to repeat herself, yelling this time, for him to hear.
He looked at her askance. “My lady, we are doing our best to hold them back!” he shouted in reply. Then he beamed with satisfaction. “I have never seen such a mob! Not even on Whitsunday!” He gave her a victorious smile and tapped his stallion’s flanks with his spurs, urging the reluctant horse onward.
The garbled shouts from the crowd washed over her. She heard men crying out praise for the king’s daughter, as if it were a title of the greatest honor. Others shouted out their support for the reign of the new queen. Each clop of hooves brought them nearer to their destination, and Maia could not help but wonder what would happen when they actually reached the gates. Demanding the castellan to open the gates was a risk. If he refused and challenged her authority, it would be an inauspicious beginning. Yet the mayor was convinced that the castellan would surrender rather than face the wrath of the mob that followed Maia. There were not enough soldiers in the city to tame the restless hive. The city’s very vulnerability—months, nay, years, in the making—had prepared it for Maia’s claim.
As they reached the outer walls, flower petals started snowing down on them. How it had happened, she did not know, but it felt as if every flower seller in the entire city must have gathered their wares together to be shredded and tossed from the heights. Rose petals mixed with daffodils and daisies to create a fragrant, beautiful rain. A small blue forget-me-not landed on Maia’s hand, and she snatched it up before it blew away, smiling at the memories it inspired.
The mayor guffawed at the display, his features glowing with the triumph of the moment. He motioned for Maia to ride under the arch and into the main bailey. The greenyard was off to the left, and to her relief, the scaffold was not still standing. It had been broken down, the plinth knocked onto its side and broken to pieces. The greenyard swelled with people—merchants and tanners and weavers all jumbled together and waving and screaming her name.
The mayor beamed. “I have never seen the like,” he shouted. “By the Blood, what a scene!”
Maia’s heart beat hard in her chest as their horses continued to approach the huge doors of the keep. There were guards stationed on the walls looking down at them. Their helmets concealed their faces, but they wore her father’s uniforms.
The mayor reined in his stallion, and the beast stamped nervously. Maia’s own mount still trembled with fear, and she tried to soothe it by stroking its mane.
The mayor held his fist high in the air, and the folk in the bailey fell silent, though the roar from outside the walls did not abate. Tension and dread hung in the air. Maia’s mouth went dry as she gripped the reins, squeezing the leather straps hard enough to bite into her skin, and stared up at the walls.
The mayor raised his voice loud enough to boom through the courtyard. “In the name of Marciana Soliven, heir of Comoros, I command you to open the gates! She is the rightful ruler of Comoros, upheld by the people of Comoros! Castellan! Open the gates!”
There was a tremor of anticipation as the crowd awaited his decision. Maia stared at the huge barred gates and heavy doors. It would not be an easy task to burst them down.
A few moments passed with no action on either side, but then there was a clattering sound, then a groan, and the gate started to rise as the winches began tugging on it.
The crowd went wild with cheering before it had risen even an inch. The air was raw with energy, and Maia felt a shiver go down her back. The screams deafened her. She watched with relief as the portcullis lifted and then the yawning chasm of the doors parted and opened.
The first people who emerged were Dodd and Suzenne, hand in hand, grinning at her triumphantly. Maia almost wept with the joy of seeing them together and hale. Behind them was the Earl of Caspur, a limping and bruised Captain Carew, and several other nobles who doffed their hats and joined in the cheering. So she had supporters within the castle as well. Her heart felt ready to burst.
Maia kicked away from her stirrups and was about to jump down when a soldier rushed up to help her dismount more gracefully. Along with the mayor, who had also climbed off his horse, Maia strode forward to greet her friends. She hugged Suzenne fiercely, blinking back tears as Dodd grinned like a fool at her from over his wife’s shoulder. His only obvious injury was a mottled bruise on his cheekbone, and Suzenne looked well behind the haze of sleeplessness.
“You are alive!” her friend whispered in her ear. “We feared it was a trick!”
Maia hugged her even tighter before pulling back and greeting Dodd with a hug.
The Earl of Caspur gave them a moment before stepping forward. He dropped to one knee and gazed up at her.
“Lady Maia, Your Majesty, I thought if your friends were the first people you saw, it would help you understand the truth of our allegiance.” Captain Carew also dropped to one knee, though he grimaced with pain at the effort. Soon the entire group before her had dropped to their knees, her dear friends included. Hearing a flutter of motion, she turned to see the entire courtyard was now kneeling before her. Tears swam in her own eyes as she beheld her people.
“The city is yours,” Caspur continued in a hoarse voice. “The kingdom, you must fight for, but we stand with you, my queen. We are yours to command.”
Maia’s heart nearly burst as she continued to stare at the courtyard, at the tears streaming like rain from the faces of her people. Even the mayor was tear stricken. She felt their fresh hope, their imploring looks that begged her to change things for the better. Her throat was swollen, and she did not know if she could speak. She only knew she must.
Maia faced the courtyard, her heart brimming over. Then she sank to her knees before them. There was a gasp of surprise as she did so.
“I am your servant,” she called out as loudly as she could. As she knelt there, she felt the presence of dozens of Leerings within the castle. Some were in the kitchen for heating and cooking food for the castle. Some were for water. Some made light. She felt them all at once, a combination of usefulness—each one carefully sculpted and carved to serve a purpose. And in that moment she invoked them and summoned the Medium through them. All she wanted was to give the people a taste of it, a chance to feel what she had so enjoyed upon arriving in Muirwood.
Welcome, she bade them to say. Welcome home.
Maia rose and turned to the Earl of Caspur. She did not know where his loyalties truly lay. He had been part of her father’s Privy Council. He owed his wealth and station to her father’s whims. Yet when last they had met, she had seen something in his eyes.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “They are hungry,” she said, gesturing back to the crowd that had assembled behind her. “Open the larders and start feeding them.”
He looked at her in confusion. “All of them? There are too many.”
“As many as you can,” Maia said, patting his shoulder.
It was the strangest experience of her life. Maia had often walked the halls of Pent Tower during festivities, but in those days, she had been a shadow, a pariah, earning looks of sympathy and sadness. This day could not be more different. The castle was buzzing like a hive of bees as her servants strove to fulfill her first order—to feed those who were gathe
red outside. Bread was baking in the many ovens. Casks of wine and cider were being carried from the cellars. The butchers were hard at work, and everyone was occupied in a task.
In the midst of all this activity, Maia gathered in the throne room with all her supporters. She wanted to be seen, wanted to do things out in the open. The doors of the castle were being kept open, against the advice of the mayor, to allow the people to come and go freely.
“What happened to you?” Maia asked Suzenne, gripping her hands and pulling her down onto a bench situated near the dais and throne. Dodd hovered nearby. “When the kishion pulled me into the fog, Trefew used you to protect himself. I was so worried!”
“You were worried?” Suzenne said in wonder. “Maia, you were taken away by force and vanished in that stinging smoke! You were the one we feared for! Trefew let me go as soon as the kishion fled. He was only concerned for his own skin.”
“I was safe,” she answered, keeping her explanation simple for the moment. “Now tell me what happened here.”
Dodd interrupted. “Let me tell it,” he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “There was a little war between Chancellor Crabwell, Forshee, and Caspur. Forshee hoped to fulfill the chancellor’s orders to execute you, knowing they would all lose power if you rose. Caspur did not support either of them, but without enough men to openly defy them, he felt he could not act. As soon as Forshee witnessed your abduction, he fled the city by boat, and Caspur’s men joined forces with Captain Carew to defeat the chancellor’s personal guards, led by that villain Trefew. We tried to arrest Crabwell, but he went into hiding. The search goes on to find him. Caspur made sure Suzenne was safe and then came to the dungeons to free me and your other supporters.”
“Where did you go?” Suzenne asked.
Maia shook her head, refusing to disclose that information publicly. “I went to an inn for safety,” she said. “The mayor met me there and helped rally the people. Who is on our side?”
“It does not matter right now,” Dodd said, beaming. “When word spreads of this, supporters will come flocking to you. I would count on Norris-York. But watch out for the south. Kranmir escaped, and is no doubt bound for Augustin to cause trouble.”
Maia frowned.
Suzenne nodded. “He was one of the first to flee. I am sure he intends to wait out the storm at his abbey. You hold the capital city, Maia, but how you fare with the rest of the kingdom depends on how many earls support you and will fight for you.”
The mayor waved his hand. He pitched his voice lower so that the bystanders would not overhear. The commotion in the throne room would have made it difficult anyway. “Forshee will try and rally the people in his Hundred, but they will not fight for him when Dodd Price is standing near you.” He grinned mischievously. “He will be an outcast in his own lands, but then he was always an insufferable braggart and a cockroach. You will enjoy squishing him. Caspur is gambling on your weakness right now. You need allies, and he needs patrimony. He will watch the winds, though. You must be careful of him.”
“I am not my father, Justin,” Maia told the mayor. “I will rule by law and reward those who are obedient. I believe in forgiveness, and will give all of them a chance to prove their loyalty.”
The mayor’s eyebrows twitched. “Even Forshee?” he asked.
“Even him,” Maia replied. “You see, they were only doing as they had been rewarded for doing. My father did not value the truth, so he attracted liars. I am different, but I am also just.”
The mayor looked her in the eye. “Your father put me in my current position,” he reminded her.
She reached out and took his arm. “I have not forgotten that you served him. Nor will I forget the service you did me today.”
The Earl of Caspur strode into the throne room, flanked by several guards. He looked a bit nervous and pale as he approached her and made to kneel, but Maia waved off the gesture.
“Are the people being fed?” she asked him.
He seemed surprised that it was her first question for him. “Yes, my lady. The preparations in the kitchens are all underway, and the staff is working hard. It will take some hours before they are fully ready, but the commands have been given.”
“See that they are obeyed,” she said. “Thank you. That is my highest priority at the moment. It will be dark soon, and the people thronging the castle need to eat. What else do you have to report?”
He chaffed his hands together. “How will this . . . generosity be paid for?” he asked.
“The city can levy a one-time fee,” the mayor said offhandedly. “No need to worry about that, Caspur.”
“No,” Maia said, shaking her head. “My father has a treasury, does he not?”
“A substantial one,” the mayor replied. “It is spread throughout the realm and guarded to prevent any one cache from becoming all-important. I do not know the amount, but I have heard it is sizable.” The mayor scratched the strip of hair below his lip. “He hoarded wealth, my lady. He was loath to spend his own coin, and always asked others to pay.”
Maia nodded. “Then I understand your question. I will pay my obligations,” she said. “The cost for the food will come from the royal treasury. Who has the keys of the Exchequer? Crabwell?”
“Yes, my lady,” Caspur said.
“Has he been found?” she asked.
“Not yet, my lady. He was not seen leaving the castle. I have had guards placed at every door to look for him. He is skulking somewhere, and we will find him.”
“I want Crabwell found and brought to me,” Maia said with determination. “He is not to be harmed. If he surrenders now, he will be pardoned. I do not seek his blood.”
Caspur balked. “My lady, he—”
She gave him a stern look and he clammed up. “Go on, my lord,” she said softly.
“Well, I can see by your expression that you are prone to be merciful.” He shook his head. “He ordered your execution after your father was poisoned. If any man deserves to be punished, it is he.”
“I must say I agree, Your Highness,” the mayor chimed in. “Crabwell was chancellor of the Exchequer, but he took more authority upon himself than his station permitted. I understand he had men tortured into confessions. That is why he hides from you, my lady. He has committed a myriad of crimes, and he fears being held to account for them. Do not be rash in pardoning him.”
Maia sighed. “I will be merciful,” she said simply. “Sometimes we commit acts that we regret. That does not mean we do not live with the consequences of those actions. But I do not seek his death. I have always felt that mercy and patience are as important as justice. These first days will be critical in persuading people whether they will follow me or no.” She also secretly feared that the reason he had not been found yet was because the kishion might have gotten to him first.
“My lady, I agree,” the mayor said, his teeth grinding. “But if you are too lenient, they will rebel against you. You must make examples to win men’s obedience.”
She smiled at him. “That is the way things have been for many years, my lord. I prefer to be an example, rather than make them. My father would have rebuked you for contradicting him. But I value your counsel even if I choose not to heed it.”
Just then, Collier entered the throne room with a girl at his arm. Maia squinted and saw that it was Jayn Sexton. As soon as she too registered the girl’s identity, Suzenne gasped and rushed across the room to embrace her longtime friend. Maia smiled at Collier and nodded. She had not needed to ask him to find the other woman—he had guessed at her wish.
“Find Crabwell,” Maia told the mayor and Caspur. “But have no fear,” she said with a small smile. “He will not be my chancellor.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Privy Council
When they did find Crabwell, it was at the bottom of Pent Tower, dead.
The next morning, Maia listened with a queasy stomach as the lord mayor recounted the news to her in the throne room. The hall was empty except for
Justin and Suzenne and a pair of guardsmen posted by the door. Although Maia was exhausted, she dared not sleep. As soon as she had dozed off the night before in her room in the palace, a feeling of blackness had seeped into her, accompanied by frightening whispers. She had summoned Suzenne for company, and the two had walked the palace all night, fighting to stay awake.
“Are you feeling well?” the mayor of Comoros asked her, pausing in his narrative of Crabwell’s demise. “You look as if you did not sleep soundly last night.”
“I did not sleep at all,” she replied. There were so many ghosts in this palace still, so many things that reminded her of her father. Many of the Leerings, she had discovered, especially in his personal chambers, had been chiseled from the walls or defaced so that they would not work. Almost as if he had been unable to bear them looking at him. “Go on, Justin. I am sorry.”
“What I was saying is the evidence of what happened is unclear. Was Crabwell pushed off the tower, or did he jump? There was a hastily written confession that implies he killed himself, but that could also have been forged. Or he may have been duped into writing it.”
Maia sighed and glanced at Suzenne. Her friend frowned, indicating she too had trouble believing it was a suicide.
“So there is no evidence he was murdered or by whom?” Maia asked.
“None,” the mayor replied, shrugging. “My lady. Let me say this delicately. People feared Crabwell. No one loved him. I really do not think it worth the bother of an inquest. No one cares how he died, only that he is no longer the chancellor. It is a relief that he met his end by a hand other than yours, and will not oppose your coronation.”
Maia gave him a stern look. “But should we not order an inquest into the murders, Justin? My mother, my father, and the chancellor have all died in rather short order. If we do not follow due process, someone may one day try to assign the blame to me.”
He looked shocked. “No one would dare accuse you!”