The Shattered Vigil

by Patrick W. Carr

  When he came out, he spoke to Carrick. “They may enter, but the queen requests all of us attend her. We’ll bar the door.”

  Memories of the king filled the air around me. The library had been changed, but some of the king’s personality remained: many of the books on the shelves were collections of tales, moralistic stories Laidir had referred to as books of wisdom, and odd bits and pieces of devices that had captured his interest.

  But the clutter was gone and I grieved its passing. The organization of the king’s private study had been an insight into the man himself and it had shown a wonderfully complicated individual with surprises everywhere. The queen’s style, while neat, was too severe to reveal much about her personality except that she liked order. Despite the fact that I’d delved her twice, her officious demeanor left me with the impression that I hardly knew her. She’d resolutely refused to be shaped by her past and circumstances.

  Cailin embodied a mystery I needed to solve for other reasons as well. She was the one person besides me who’d survived the Darkwater with mind and sanity intact. But she’d done it better. Not a trace of the forest remained in her mind. I knew. I’d broken her vault months before with the full expectation she’d come out of that delve like all the others—a drooling, mindless shell.

  I still had no idea how she’d survived the process, nor did anyone else in the Vigil.

  I entered the room along with my companions and Wag, pausing to descend to one knee at a respectful distance from the throne that had been Laidir’s, Cailin’s doting husband, the man she’d killed when her vault had opened during Bas-solas. Beside me, Duke Orlan bowed, giving the precise acknowledgment his title owed the ruling monarch. But while he flowed smoothly through the moves of his respect, I faltered on my way down, catching my balance with one hand on the rich carpet.

  In retrospect I should have known Gael would be here, but her presence surprised and unbalanced me, as it always would. An ache in my chest made me aware of a hole I hardly knew was there until I looked at her.

  “Rise,” Queen Cailin said.

  I came to my feet, my gaze still drinking in the sight of Gael.

  “It’s customary for supplicants to the throne to reserve their attention for their liege,” the queen said. “Though you might be forgiven.”

  “Peasant,” Orlan muttered, “will you never learn?”

  “Probably not,” I said.

  Queen Cailin sighed audibly as she glanced over my shoulder at Ronit. “They did surrender their weapons, didn’t they?”

  At his nod, she allowed the merest hint of a smile to touch her lips. “Good. Your Grace,” she prompted, “what is this about?”

  Duke Orlan managed to fill his glance for me with the affection a man would feel for the weevils in his porridge before he answered. “Lord Dura—even that lowly title is unfitting—means you to force me to acknowledge the woman, Fynn, as my daughter.” He took a deep breath.

  Cailin nodded. “Ah, yes, the young girl who came to court some months back. I will ask you the same question now as I did then. Is she your daughter?”

  Orlan just stared at her for a moment, and then said, “The question is pointless. I forbid it.”

  I may have underestimated the duke. With that one command, he’d removed any other option from the queen. Anything less than her forcing Orlan’s acknowledgment of Fynn as his daughter would make her appear weak—and as regent, any sign of weakness would prove her undoing. The other nobles would throw off all restraint.

  “You are dismissed, Your Grace,” the queen said in a voice like ice breaking. “I will speak with Lord Dura alone.”

  Orlan gave a bow stiff enough to make me wonder why I didn’t hear his spine cracking before he turned to lean in close to speak in tones only I could hear. “If she forces me to acknowledge Fynn, Lord Dura, you will no longer have anything to fear from me.” A hint of amusement wove its way into his voice. “But my wife may be another matter. Best you keep your guard close.”

  After the door closed behind him, I turned to see Cailin and Gael eyeing me with surprise and amusement. “Skillfully done, Willet,” Gael said.

  The queen nodded her agreement. “I suspect the duchess will see through Duke Orlan’s ruse, but it was well played.” She smiled. “It seems both of you will have what you wish. I will force the duke to acknowledge his daughter.”

  I nodded, split in my satisfaction—thankful to have aided Fynn but not so pleased that in doing so I had also aided Orlan.

  Now on to my business with the queen. “I have tidings, Your Majesty.”

  “Doubtless,” Cailin said, “but I have to wonder why those tidings are being brought to me instead of the Chief of Servants.”

  Cailin did not hold the gift of kings. That had passed to her son, but Collum’s blond-haired queen held talents in several areas that almost rose to the level of gifted.

  “Doubtless you know of my imprisonment at the hands of the church,” I said.

  “Hardly imprisonment, Lord Dura,” the queen said. “They merely wished to keep you and your gift safe.”

  “If I gild the iron bars with gold do they not still create a cell?” I asked. “However we wish to define it, I needed my freedom.” I stepped to one side, allowing the queen to see the sentinel pup behind me.

  I saw the queen take note of Wag’s eyes, then fix on the long wound that ran down his side. She nodded. “Well done, Lord Dura. Are there others?”

  “No.” I stopped. “Yes,” I said after a moment. I paused before correcting myself again. “No.”

  Cailin’s delicate brows rose as she watched me fumble for an answer. Then I realized what her question meant. “You knew the sentinels were in danger?”

  She gave me a single inclination of her head that monarchs use to appear wise and regal. “Hardly a week after you left, the Chief of Servants and I received tidings from the Eldest that the sentinels and their trainers were being killed.” She nodded toward Wag, who sat in the middle of her rug regarding the proceedings with his own royal disdain. “We believe all the other sentinels are dead, Lord Dura. Please tell me you managed to save more than one.”

  “There are two sentinel pups alive, Your Majesty, but the female is in the hands of our enemy.”

  Already fair, the queen’s face paled, and she regarded Wag with a kaleidoscope of emotions running behind her eyes I couldn’t hope to understand. “Who is our enemy hunting?” she asked.

  “Those who threaten him the most,” I said.

  She almost smiled. “Glib, but we both know it’s you and the rest of the Vigil he’s after.”

  A seed of doubt, no larger than a single grain of wheat, pulled the next words from me. “We’ve been surprised before.”

  “And what will you do to surprise him in turn, Willet Dura?” Gael said.

  I paused to enjoy the way her resonant voice caressed me with my name before I answered. “We tracked him to Bunard, but the wind shifted just before we crossed the Rinwash. If he’s delved the other pup since then, he knows another of the sentinels has survived. Regardless, our next step is clear. We use Wag to hunt him.”

  “Ah,” Cailin nodded. “And you are here because you hope to convince me to aid you, knowing that the Chief of Servants would never agree to let you go free to pursue such a foolish plan.”

  She stood and descended the shallow steps of the low dais. Gael came with her until she stood close enough to touch.

  “And it is foolish in the extreme, but I do agree, Lord Dura.”

  Chapter 41

  I looked from the queen to Gael and back again. Behind me I heard Bolt mutter something ominous about a woman’s agreement under his breath that sounded like a warning.

  “Naturally, my aid will have a price, Lord Dura,” the queen said. “You’re asking me to let you go free in defiance of the church.”

  I held up one hand. “It’s not defiance, exactly. I merely came to you first and you agreed to aid me when you saw the necessity of protecting the Vigil
. The urgency of the situation kept you from consulting with the Chief of Servants before the decision was made.” I smiled.

  Cailin returned my expression. “That’s a splendid plan, Lord Dura. If the Chief of Servants is an idiot—which she is not—or if I could deceive her into thinking I’m an idiot—which I can’t.” She turned and ascended the dais to resume her seat. “You needn’t worry, my lord. The price I ask is an inconsequential thing. No more than a moment.” She looked around the room. “But I think I prefer to tell you in a more private setting. Guards, please escort my guests and wait without. Only Lord Dura, Lady Gael, and I will remain.”

  When the door closed behind Adair, the queen inhaled deeply and let her breath out in a long sigh, her posture loosening until the chair embraced her like a cup holding water. She reached up with her right hand to remove the circlet of gold from her head. “How did Laidir stand it?” she breathed. “Having to appear kingly all the time?”

  I tried not to dwell on the irony of Cailin’s visible affection for her dead husband. “He took as many breaks from formal court as he could, Your Majesty,” I said. My throat tightened. “And he kept friends, genuine friends, around him.”

  Cailin glanced at Gael and gave her a smile. “He was a wise man.” She ran her hands through her blond hair, pulling it back away from her face. “You will take Lady Gael with you, Lord Dura. That is my price.”

  “No,” I said before I could exert any semblance of control over my mouth.

  The queen’s eyes flashed at my defiance. “This is not a negotiation, Lord Dura.”

  I nodded, once, sharply. “As you say, my queen, it is not. I will not take Gael with me.” I caught her in the stubborn gaze I gave the queen. For once, the fact that her eyes had turned from an agreeable blue to the slate of storm clouds failed to sway me. “Putting her in harm’s way is needless and foolish.”

  “The same may be said of you, my lord,” Gael said. She still stood close enough to touch. I tried not to remember what her skin felt like beneath my fingertips.

  “That’s different—I have to go.”

  “Hardly,” the queen scoffed. “Your guard can manage the sentinel and use it to track your enemy.”

  “That’s just it,” I said. “He can’t. In all of Bunard there is only one person who can, and that’s me.”

  Cailin and Gael, both of them more intelligent than I, absorbed this information in stoic silence. Then I saw understanding dawn in their eyes.

  “What does this have to do with your gift?” the queen demanded.

  “The sentinels are more than just large dogs, Your Majesty. They’re gifted. From the moment Wag’s dying dam put her paw on his head, he became more.” I shook my head. “His thoughts are much like what you would expect from a puppy, but his mind is growing. He’s beginning to grasp language.” I shook my head in amazement. “And his sense of smell is so keen it borders on magical. When I delve him, I smell everything he does.”

  Shock and fascination chased each other across the queen’s face before Gael spoke, her voice tight. “Aer help us. He’s hunting you, Willet.”

  “You know this?”

  She nodded. “Five nights ago the guards at my uncle’s estate were killed.”

  “That same evening, watch guards reported seeing a man with a large dog prowling the area around the tor,” Gael continued, “never quite coming into the light, always slipping away as they approached.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but my denials died on my lips. Gael’s estate would be the easiest place to pick up my scent. Entering the Merum cathedral or the tor would have been too risky even without his aversion to light, and I never used my small estate in the nobles’ quarter.

  “Perhaps,” Queen Cailin interrupted my thoughts. “But perhaps not only you. There were other incidences around the city as well, odd occurrences that might have been our enemy trying to pick up the trail of the rest of the Vigil.”

  I tried to digest that information, but it sat in my stomach like a rock. “The sentinels remember scents the way we remember faces, Your Majesty. There is nothing preventing him from having more than one target. Regardless of who he is hunting, I have no choice but to use Wag’s gift and my own to run him to ground and, hopefully, kill him.”

  The queen and Gael nodded, Cailin in acceptance, Gael in fear, but she could see the grim necessity as well as I. “Your Majesty”—I bowed—“I need your aid.”

  Cailin’s brows rose—she was unaccustomed to being surprised. “Haven’t I already given it?”

  “You have, but this goes deeper and is of a more personal nature.” I looked up, meeting the gaze of green eyes like seawater under sunlight. “Of all those who have entered the Darkwater Forest only two people have emerged with a vault in their mind and survived.” I swallowed. “And they are both in this room.”

  Cailin grew so still Bolt would have complimented her on it. “And we have survived in different ways, have we not?” she asked, her voice soft. When I nodded, she went on. “Pellin came to me in the days after Bas-solas.”

  “He wanted to delve you.”

  She nodded, then cocked her head at me. “But I refused. The reprieve you’d granted me was still too new, too tenuous, to grant another access. Pellin mustered every ounce of authority he could to persuade me to allow it. Later, he sent Bronwyn, and I almost relented, but I still couldn’t quite bring myself to believe some part of the Darkwater didn’t remain in my mind.”

  I saw grief gather at the corner of her eyes, but Cailin strengthened, putting steel in her frame, and the tears remained unshed. She stood, walking the breadth of the dais like a lioness. When she turned back to me, her eyes were dry.

  “Finally, Pellin sent Toria Deel, and she swore oaths to preserve my life and the regency no matter what she found.” The queen’s eyes flared at the memory. “But I had nothing to gain by granting such a request. I already held my life and the regency under my own control. What could I possibly gain by risking that for her guarantees?”

  “Nothing, Your Majesty,” I said. There would be no point to making my request. The queen had made it plain I had nothing to offer her in exchange for the privilege of delving her. I cursed myself for my ignorance and inexperience. If I had been more focused on truly delving Cailin after Bas-solas instead of exacting revenge by breaking her vault I would have access to all of her memories instead of the trifling sample I now held.

  “But I will allow you, Lord Dura, to do what no other member of the Vigil has been permitted to do,” Cailin said. She held out her arm, slender and bare, as if she were offering a sacrifice.

  I shook my head. “You have no reason to grant me this, Your Majesty.” I glanced at Gael. “Unless there is something you want from me in return. Why is it so important for her to accompany me? There is nothing but the threat of death, and any oath I take to keep her from it would be a lie.”

  Cailin never blinked or shifted on her throne or gave any other sign that I had done anything other than offer my agreement to her terms. “Because she asked it of me, Lord Dura.”

  I almost laughed. “She asked it of you?” Gael stood in the light of the queen’s library like a study in contrasts. Too tall for most of the men at court, I found her height and grace compelling. Far from the small-featured beauty currently in fashion, she owned a more aquiline nose, but the fullness of her lips and the sweep of her jawline brought her features into harmony, if not agreement, with the current standard of beauty.

  Then I did laugh. “Granted, I find it difficult to refuse her anything, but I doubt if she exerts the same influence over you, my queen.” When Cailin didn’t answer, I went on. “And once I delve you, I will know the why of your request at any rate.”

  She nodded. “But before then I will have your oath that you will allow her to accompany you.”

  I tried to remember the last time I’d won an argument with a woman, any woman, and couldn’t, but Gael accompanying me wasn’t some trifle. She could die, or I could die trying
to protect her, or both of us could die.

  “Why?” I appealed to her directly. “You know all the reasons you shouldn’t accompany me.”

  “A queen pays her debts, Lord Dura,” Cailin said from her throne, straight-backed and imperious once more. “At the moment, that is all you need to know.”

  A mulish refusal curled my shoulders forward and I set my head as if I expected blows. “If you have a debt to her, this is a poor way to show your regard, Your Majesty.”

  “Lord Dura,” the queen said, “I don’t think you understand the lengths I’m prepared to go to secure your agreement. If you do not accept Lady Gael’s company, I will summon the Chief of Servants and inform her of your plan to track your enemy. I’m sure you can predict her response as well as I.”

  I shook my head, but before I could speak, the queen leaned forward to spear me with her gaze. “Before you deny me again, Lord Dura, understand that if you refuse, one or possibly all of the Vigil will die.”

  “Why would you do this?” I pleaded with Gael.

  “To keep you safe, husband,” she said.

  “I’m not your husband.”

  She gave me a smoldering look that at any other time would have transformed me into flames. “If you live you will be.”

  I stood unspeaking, and Cailin moved past me to the door. For a moment I considered laying hands on the queen without her permission, but the tiny part of my mind that could see past my anger restrained me. Barely. She put her hand on the latch. “You must believe me, Lord Dura. I will do as I’ve said.”

  “Very well, Your Majesty, I accept your terms.” I turned to Gael, as angry as I’d ever been in my life. “You and I are going to discuss this at length, my lady.”