But for her, this homecoming brought no celebration. At least not until she knew the meaning of the Queen's curt message. Not until she knew that she and Caldan would survive.
She glanced over her shoulder at the highlander. Confident, relaxed, Val Torska looked as if he were happy to be returning to the castle. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded to the Saire. Take heart, Elzin, he had told her. Do not let her scent your fear, or she will be on you as a lion on a lame foal. She forced a smile and turned in her saddle to face the gates of Sheldwinn.
Acknowledging the crowds within the courtyard with an exuberant wave, she led the party through the open gates, a half-dozen of her guards in tight formation by her side. The entire castle seemed to have turned out to receive her. Everyone except the Queen. Where was Hulgmal, and what could her absence mean?
Best to act as if nothing were amiss. She would go to her apartments, take a bath, and rest. Perhaps she wouldn't have to see the Queen right away. Elzin's magically amplified sigh resounded through the corridor.
Her gasp, too, echoed, as she rounded a corner and came face to face with the Queen. Hulgmal, attended by her own elite guard, blocked the hall with her huge bulk.
"Do close your mouth, Saire Elzin," the Queen said with a rapacious smile. "You look more absurd each time I see you. And don't bother to convey your fond words of greeting. I've no wish to have you bring the masonry down around our ears."
The luminescent Saire shrank as the Queen approached, squinting as if to more closely examine her discomfort. Her smile flickered, like a candle's flame, then was extinguished. Her hand whipped out and struck Elzin full across the face.
Shagril pulled his charge back. Elzin's guards interposed themselves between the women.
The Queen surveyed the Saire's elite with renewed interest. "They've all been in your bed, I see. What an exciting trip you must have had. My dear Elzin, I'm surprised you didn't drop dead of exhaustion, what with all those days and nights of riding."
Elzin stood immobile, one hand on her throbbing cheek. Superior Gage met the Queen's malignant glare with his own defiant one as he hustled the Saire to her apartment.
"Saire Elzin!" she bellowed. "You have not been dismissed!"
The door slammed behind the blonde. Two guards remained outside, on either side of the entrance.
One of them, Thelwinn, dropped to one knee. "Your Majesty, I must inquire about my wife and little girl."
The Queen's red face grew placid. "So, you fret over your beloved family, traitor. Well, never fear. I found your reports most useful, so I spared them both. I won't attest to your lady's condition, after so many weeks in the dungeon, but you may have her and your brat back, I suppose." She smiled and placed a hand on Thelwinn's blonde head. "Perhaps you can be useful to me some other time as well."
She departed then with her own guards, but paused just around the corner to listen. The sounds were most satisfactory.
"You have betrayed the Saire!"
The drawing of a sword. Too late, the stunned protest, "No! Never!" A cry and then a soft thud.
Such a pity, thought the Queen. Thelwinn was a handsome man. He reminded her of Elzmere, after a fashion. Of course, she doubted that he would have been a satisfactory lover once he learned of his wife's execution and the unpleasant fate of his only child.
Things might have gone better for the fool had he yielded to her threat and turned informer. But to have Caldan's son on her side was better still.
She went to her chambers to prepare.
o0o
"Your Majesty, the prince desires an audience."
The Queen tied her robe with uncommon care. Heratinn? Heratinn sought her out? Sinking into the thick cushions of her sofa, she slapped a thigh, then stroked the pugs that leapt onto her lap.
She could not remember a time her younger son had come to her of his own choosing. He had always been a strange boy. Sometimes she half-fancied him a changeling, he was so different from her and Stantinn. But, Heratinn was all she had left now, and she would mold him as best she could.
"Send him in and leave us. And keep my physicians away. They have been extremely tiresome today, with all their ridiculous warnings."
o0o
"You may be seated," she offered, but, as always, he stood.
"Why did you order our return, Mother?" he asked.
Our. Stantinn, so often preoccupied with his own importance, would have said "my." Who else did Heratinn worry for? Certainly he hadn't called her Mother in many, many years. And never had he been so curt. Had her little bookworm acquired a backbone during his long journey?
She smiled at him oddly. "Perhaps I missed you, Heratinn."
"And perhaps the seas have all gone dry. Why did you order our return?" he repeated.
He demanded? Heratinn? The Queen studied him carefully and answered. "The prince royal has been killed, murdered in Seacoven. It falls to you to take his place."
He was instantly grey, as if he might be ill. He even sat upon the offered chair. "Stantinn. How?"
She waited, relishing the disbelief, the shock, the seeds of comprehension as he measured the impact on his life. No grief at all. The two brothers had despised each other.
She shrugged and answered. "A knife fight. The vermin have escaped. Nevertheless, I've been able to keep this quiet to help ensure your safe return. It pleases me you have arrived. Your life is of great value now."
"I thought it was worth something before," he said drily.
"The Saire, Heratinn," she hissed, leaning forward. Two dogs yelped, mashed beneath her massive breasts. "Is she a threat to me?" The bookworm had always been perceptive.
He answered much too quickly. "No! Not Elzin. Not unless you move to cause her harm. The strength of her magic is unprecedented and the people love her, but she has neither the knowledge nor the desire to use whatever influence she has gained. Leave Elzin to her scented baths and lovers, and she'll be too preoccupied with her pleasures to trouble you."
The Queen's eyes narrowed. "Have you been one of her 'pleasures', Heratinn?"
The prince looked scandalized. "Of course not. No. She is the Saire, and nothing else."
Her Majesty's grimace softened. "Good. You must father heirs, and that little slut would hardly be suitable. Remember that, my son. I will let her live by your counsel, but I will kill her in an instant if you ever touch her."
"You need not worry, Mother. If you will excuse me, I have chronicles to attend."
"As you wish, Heratinn." She smiled malignantly. "I, too, have important business."
o0o
Caldan went through the papers on his desk again, but again without comprehension. Whom would the Queen summon, and when? She would not harm Heratinn, now her only son and heir. Shagril would warn him should Elzin be called. What could be the delay? The Queen did not care to postpone her 'little pleasures'.
Castandra refused to go. She sat cross-legged on the floor, still wearing the dark brown riding habit he had sent for so she would have something decent to wear into Sheldwinn. A book was on her lap, its pages unturned. She twined her fingers loosely in Talisman's silver fur.
He had tried everything to convince her to return to Tarska. Reason had availed him nothing. He had tried to make her feel shame at the danger in which she put their people. He had ignored her, and he had hurt her, but nothing seemed to drive her away, and every cruel tactic that he had used against her had been like a knife in his own heart.
o0o
When the knock came, she abandoned decorum completely. Scrambling to her feet, she raced to beat her father to the door.
And found herself opening it wide to admit her worst fear: Mizboril, and half a dozen of the Queen's Royal Elite. "Her Majesty summons Count Val Torska to her chambers. Immediately."
He gave her the most perfunctory of kisses on her cheek, as if nothing were amiss. Just a summons from the Queen, that was all. She wanted to scream, to shatter the farcical normalcy of the moment. Instead, she said, onl
y a little timorously, "I'll hold dinner for you until you return."
He smiled at her, surreptitiously giving her hand a squeeze as he chucked her beneath her chin. "That is thoughtful of you, Castandra. But, please, do not. I may be late."
And then he was gone.
o0o
At the door to the Queen's apartments, he stopped to relinquish his dagger. The Queen permitted no weapons in her presence, and each day, at the precise moment that it expired, she had renewed the spell that caused all weapons within her proximity to hum a warning. He made as if to go in, but the guards stopped him at once.
"By Her Majesty's command, your dogs may not enter."
"Of course," he answered calmly. He stroked the hounds each once behind the ears and gave them just enough time to catch the scent on his hands. "Seek," he said.
o0o
A polite scratch at her door, in the fashion that a Kyr might announce himself at the flap of a tent. Castandra opened it, and then sank to her knees in despair. Dagger and Arrow sat serenely before her, resplendent in their jeweled collars. His hounds. He was never without them.
They have not bayed yet, she reminded herself as she woodenly retrieved her cloak from the cedar wardrobe. He still lives. But the thought brought her little comfort. Better death than that he should be alive and in Hulgmal's power.
o0o
Elzin lingered her bath for an hour, but although Kezwann added pan after pan of newly heated water, the blonde's thoughts of her missing brother refused to melt away. Gods! Where had he hidden? Why didn't he return to help her now? He should know she was in trouble. He had always known before.
It was Elzmere who noticed when their father's anger had turned violent. Elzin said nothing; satisfied with her own forms of revenge, she had tried to appear strong before her brother. Still, he had guessed when he visited, and he had taken her away.
Elzmere had always known. When the schoolmaster had taken a notion to teach her more than letters late at night, her older brother had put a stop to it. When his half-drunk friend had pushed her roughly to the ground, Elzmere's vigilance had cost him his front teeth.
Elzin put a wrinkled, steaming hand to the cheek struck by the Queen. Elzmere, please come back and make it better. Please come back and keep her from hurting me. He had been all to her since her mother died. Why hadn't she told him so? Did he know how she admired him, how she wished she could be good like him?
Elzin closed her eyes and tried to picture him. She couldn't. Water sloshed to the floor as she sat up, dismayed. Try harder to remember. Elzmere: curly, golden hair, like hers, but slightly darker; broad shoulders, well-muscled from years of practice with the sword. His face: why could she not recall it. Might she never remember it again? Never remember it or see it? Please, Elzmere, come back!
"Lady Val--er, Duchess Everfast has asked to see you, Great Lady," said Kezwann.
"Goddess, not an argument. Not now," mused Elzin distractedly. Still, she stepped from her bath and fastened her robe. Company might take her mind off her troubles. Even Castandra's company.
But the duchess offered no comfort at all. Very softly, she asked if she might stay with her a while.
It was then Elzin noticed Caldan's dogs.
She moaned and dropped to her knees before the black hounds. All this time she had been thinking only of herself and… "Does this mean--is he--dead?"
"No," answered Castandra tonelessly, "but he is with the Queen."
"Don't you see? She's always allowed the dogs before! Always! The only reason--Goddess, no! She can't! I have to stop her!"
o0o
"Count Val Torska has been summoned by the Queen," reported Petril, superior of Heratinn's Royal Elite. "She has commanded he leave behind his dogs. It is my duty to advise you, Your Highness, to refrain from any attempt to intervene."
Heratinn sighed and wondered what his mother's official reasons might be for Caldan's execution. Oh, he knew the real one. He had heard it in his conversation with his mother earlier. It was Elzin. The Queen was jealous of the miller's daughter, murderously so. Still, she had enough sense not to attack the Saire directly. Caldan's death, on the other hand, would be simple to explain away to an apathetic populace, and it would be a shattering blow to Elzin.
"You are dismissed, Superior."
"Your Highness…"
"Oh, tell me what you've come to say, and don't waste our time dancing about the formalities." He cleared a book-strewn sofa so that both of them might sit. "Bear in mind that I'd be offended to think, after all this time, you might believe I could be easily distracted or stalled from more important matters."
Petril smiled gravely. "Not I, Your Highness. You see, I do know you better.
"You are now Prince Royal, and, with the exception of Her Majesty, the last of Sheldwinn's line. I know that you are fond of Count Val Torska; many of us are. But, my Prince, you have grave responsibilities, not the least of which, as I see it, is to survive that you might rule.
"It has come to my ears that our Queen has worked herself into one of her rages; she will not be satisfied until she has let blood. Thwart her, and your blood may flow as well. We both know that only later will she consider consequences. It's up to you to think of the consequences for her--think of them, and of the obligations of your royal blood.
"That is all I have to say, Your Highness."
Heratinn wanted to believe that it was possible that Caldan, using all his formidable diplomatic skills, might convince the Queen her reports had been in error. The count might not need his assistance. But Petril had been right. His mother would never relent until Val Torska had been murdered -- in the most vile, excruciating manner she could devise. Her ears, in this state, were as deaf to logic as they were to cries for mercy. Caldan was as good as dead.
Surely, there must be something he could do. Poor Castandra! How she must be suffering! How desperately he wanted to help her father, for her sake as much as for the count's own.
But he must do nothing to intervene. His mother would suspect the hated Saire had sent him, and that would seal all their fates. Petril was right. There was more than his own life to think of; he must live to ensure the stability of Lhant. Without a son of Sheldwinn to take the throne, how many others would rise up to claim it? How many lives would be lost in civil war among the island's lords?
After so many years of studying and recording history, somehow he had become embroiled in it. His years of research should at least make him aware of the possible consequences of ill-thought actions, even those that seemed right at the moment.
Elzin! She would learn of this through her Royal Elite, just as he had. And she would try to stop the Queen. By Shador, what a disaster that would be! It would take little more than her appearance to cause his mother to forget whatever caution ruled her saner moments and have her rival killed as well.
No, not Elzin too! Caldan was beyond his help, but Elzin he might save. Trailed by sprinting elite, he fled his room and ran headlong into the Saire.
"Please, Great Lady; we must go to your apartments," he panted as their respective guards hauled them to their feet. "I must speak to you at once."
"No, Heratinn, not now --" Her arm jerked uselessly against his grasp.
"Elzin, no! Listen to me first."
"But Caldan!" she sobbed.
"I know. Please, you must hear me out. I want to help. We must go to your apartments -- now."
o0o
"Castandra!" he exclaimed, surprised to find the sorceress in the parlor of her acknowledged adversary.
"Never mind her! You have to help Caldan! You promised!"
"Great Lady, I can do nothing--"
"Then I will!"
"No!" He firmly grasped her arm "You must not confront the Queen."
"Let me go, or prince or not, by Telriss I'll set my guards on you!"
"Listen, Elzin! If you go to her, Caldan will have no chance at all."
Confused, the Saire turned in desperation to Castandra, but th
e highlander only stared.
Deliberately, he spun the lie he hoped would save her. "Saire Elzin, my mother summoned us because Stantinn has been murdered. She wanted me safely back in Castle Sheldwinn, where I could be protected.
"But that's not all. I believe she seeks some evidence of a relationship between you and Count Val Torska. What do you suppose will happen if, while she questions him, you burst into her apartment and demand his release?"
Elzin clutched nervously at the collar of her robe. "I don't know."
Castandra met his gaze, her grey eyes bleak with comprehension. Even so, she built upon his falsehood.
"I do," the sorceress answered. "Her fears will have been confirmed. She will kill you both."
"She hit me today. She hit me in the hallway. What if she has already decided?"
"You can only hurt his cause if you go," Heratinn insisted.
"His Highness is right, you must stay here."
The prince's admiration for Castandra swelled. It was within her power to lash out in her pain, to convince Elzin she must go and thereby take the life of her rival. But instead she had conspired with him to save her.
"I must leave. If I learn anything, I will send news of it here." News of it and a swift horse, thought the prince, for Castandra would need one if she were to escape. His mother hated leaving possibly vengeful "loose ends" about the castle. He would arrange, then, for her swift departure, while she was too distracted to think of such details.
o0o
With Heratinn gone, the sorceress folded her legs beneath her and let the coursers crowd around her like a thick comforter of fur. She bowed her head, ashamed of the tears which forced their way through her lashes to splash on her fine velvet skirt.
The Night Holds the Moon Page 31