“There was a man who looked just like her, with the same eyes and everything, and he came here, to the palace. And then she crumbled, and then there was blood everywhere.”
“By the Powers.” Bridge’s heart had started to pound.
“What does it mean, Daddy?”
“Did the man touch her? Is that why she crumbled?”
“No,” Lyndred said. “It was three quick Visions. The first was of this man, coming to the palace. The second was of Arianna crumbling, and the third was of the blood. But they seemed to happen one right after another, like they were related.”
Bridge knew better than to make a story out of Vision. He had been trained not to. But it seemed so easy, so logical with this one. Gift arrives, decides he doesn’t like how Arianna is running everything and kills her, leading to Blood against Blood. Perhaps no one had warned Jewel’s children of the dangers of war within the Black Family. Maybe they really didn’t know.
Lyndred was staring at him as if she hadn’t really seen him before. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It might be,” he said. “But I’m not an expert.”
“There aren’t any Shaman here. I’ve been spending all morning wishing for one. I’d like to talk to somebody who’d know, and who’d keep the secret.”
Bridge wished she could. “There are no Shaman on the Isle,” he said.
“Then we can go to Nye and consult one. Please? Let’s leave.”
He took her hands in his. They were cold and clammy, and she clung to his fingers tightly. “First, let me hear what else you’ve Seen. Was this the only Vision you had?”
“Today, yes.”
“Have you ever Seen that man before?”
“The one who looks like Arianna?” Her lips thinned and she blinked hard. He thought for a moment that she was going to turn away, but she didn’t. “He’s the one who kills you, Daddy.”
A shiver that he couldn’t hide ran through Bridge. “He kills me—how?”
“In a boat. You drown, Daddy.”
“He pushes me over?”
“He’s there when you go in.”
“And I drown.”
“Yes.”
“Does he try to save me?”
“I don’t know.”
Bridge’s stomach twisted. “Do you actually see me die?”
She shook her head.
He let out a small breath of air. Then maybe she wasn’t seeing his death at all, but something important, some kind of turning point.
“And that’s the only other time you’ve Seen this man?”
“No,” she whispered.
“What else have you Seen?”
“He’s holding a baby, a newborn baby, and he’s crying.”
Bridge wished even harder for a Shaman. None of this made any sense, and he hadn’t had any Visions to compare with it. “Before or after I fall into the water?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “He looked the same in all the Visions.”
“Were there any more?”
“No.” She sounded sad. “What does it mean, Daddy?”
“I wish I knew, honey. It sounds like you’re describing Arianna’s brother Gift.”
“The one who wanted to be a Shaman?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought a Shaman can’t be violent.”
“You think he’s violent?”
“He kills her. He kills you.”
“But you never Saw him actually hurting us.”
“Everything happens because of him.”
Bridge froze. He’d heard that before, long ago, in his training as a Visionary and a Leader. That phrase was one to pay attention to. “How do you know that?” he asked. “Did anyone say that in your Visions? Did anyone imply it?”
She shook her head. “I just know it. He’s the center of it all.”
The center was different than being the cause. Rugad used to say that Jewel was a center, and Bridge was jealous of that. He hadn’t understood it until his sister died. Maybe not even until Rugad had died. For if Jewel had stayed on Nye as she was supposed to, the Black King would probably still be alive. Bridge certainly wouldn’t be sitting in this palace worrying about Arianna, who would never have been born.
The entire fate of the Empire had turned around Jewel, as apparently, it would now do around her son.
“That’s important, isn’t it, Daddy?” Lyndred said.
For all her youth, she knew how important it was.
“You weren’t hiding from Arianna because of the death Vision, were you? You were afraid it would come out that her brother is the center.”
Lyndred’s eyes filled with tears. He kept a firm hold on her hands. A tear ran down her cheek and finally, he pulled her close. She was so tall now, so thin. His daughter had been just a tiny girl only an instant ago. Now he could barely hold her close, she was so lanky and strong.
After a few moments, she sniffled and pulled away. “You think I’m silly.”
He shook his head. “I’m not quite sure what the tears were, but no, I don’t think you’re silly.”
She smiled just a little. All her life, he had said that to her, about not being sure about what caused her tears. Once he had confessed that he knew nothing of girls and it had startled a laugh out of her, a laugh he could sometimes get her to repeat.
Lyndred swallowed so hard he could see her throat move. “What if,” she said, and took a breath, as if just forcing the words out would make something come true. “What if I tell her this, she decides she hates him, and that’s what causes all the blood?”
It was a legitimate fear. That was the dilemma with Visions after all, trying to figure out when to tell, and when not to; when to heed them and when to ignore them. It was one of the most difficult things about being a Visionary.
He thought for a moment. “There’s no hurry, is there?”
“She’ll want to know what I’ve Seen. She asks me every day if I’ve had a Vision.”
He started. That wasn’t normal. “Every day?”
Lyndred nodded.
“And that’s why you’re hiding?”
Lyndred nodded again, then bit her lower lip. “So she’ll know, right? She’ll know why I’ve been hiding from her.”
Arianna was smart. Of course she’d know. He ran a hand through his hair. “Not if you get real sick, sweetie.”
“Why wouldn’t I call a Healer?”
“Because you couldn’t?” He sighed. Lyndred was right. Arianna would see through that as well. He was never good at subterfuge. He ran a hand through his hair. “One thing at a time. Is there any other reason to tell her quickly?”
“You haven’t heard the rumors?”
He’d heard a lot of rumors. This place seemed to thrive on them. “Which ones?”
“The ones that say Gift is coming back. They sent for him before we came.”
He had forgotten. The Gull Rider who arrived on his ship had had a message for Gift, and she had told Bridge to hurry to Blue Isle. He had thought then that she was implying Arianna was going to die, and when he saw Arianna healthy, he thought no more about it. But he had sent one of his best Riders in her place to find Gift. And if the message was for Gift to return, he would be getting to Blue Isle in the next few months.
“That complicates things,” Bridge said. He thought for a moment while Lyndred watched him. Usually she snapped at him when he did that, because her mind worked so much quicker than his. It was a sign of how much she needed his advice that she let him go at his own pace.
What would his father have done? Better yet, what would his grandfather have done?
They would have looked for the thing that wasn’t obvious. The piece of the puzzle everyone else overlooked.
His daughter was worrying about talking to Arianna, about telling her the wrong thing as Gift returned to Blue Isle. But that wasn’t the central problem. The central problem was that the Fey’s great Visionary was asking an eighteen-year-old girl what her Visions were. Daily
. Which meant either that Arianna was having constant Visions herself or she was having none.
If she was having constant Visions someone would have noticed. The Visionary fell forward, eyes rolled in the back of the socket, hands twitching. It could happen anywhere. He had heard from some of the other Fey that Arianna had tried to keep her Visions private for the sake of the Islanders who weren’t used to such things, but even a minor Visionary like Bridge knew that sometimes Visions couldn’t be held back, and couldn’t be had in private.
“Have you ever seen Arianna have a Vision?” he asked.
Lyndred shook her head. “But she saw me once.”
He didn’t doubt that. He’d seen Lyndred have one after they’d arrived. It seemed as if Lyndred’s Visions had increased tenfold since they set foot on Blue Isle.
“You know, Daddy, she didn’t want us here until she saw me. Until she discovered that I had come into my Vision.”
He had forgotten that. The look in Arianna’s eyes when she saw Lyndred for the first time. What had she said? I don’t believe in courtesy. I believe in expediency. And it’s obvious you might have information that’s useful to me.
Bridge had always thought Arianna had meant his trip and the Gull Riders. But her cold blue eyes had become speculative when they saw Lyndred, and Lyndred had bragged that she was a Visionary.
Perhaps we could compare Visions sometime, Arianna had said. But they never had compared Visions. Lyndred had been supplying them all.
He shook himself, then clenched his fists. Acting without knowledge was as dangerous as trying to interpret a Vision, maybe more so when discussing Blindness in a Black Ruler.
“We need more information, Lyndred,” he said. “Before I can help you with these Visions, we need to know if Arianna is having any. We need to know for certain.”
“How can we learn that?”
Bridge squared his shoulders. He hated sending his daughter into a battle, even a verbal one, with someone like Arianna, but he had no other choice. “You’ll have to ask her for some so that you can compare. Say you feel odd, not having heard anyone else’s Visions since you’ve arrived.”
Lyndred was biting her lower lip so hard the skin around it was turning gray. He leaned forward and rubbed his finger against her chin, like he used to do when she was little. She stopped biting and licked her lip as if it hurt her.
“I don’t want to sound like I’m quizzing her.”
“Then don’t,” Bridge said. “Make it casual.”
Lyndred nodded, looking vaguely ill. She was afraid of Arianna; that was becoming clear. Bridge was too. Arianna could do nothing to them. They were members of the Black Family, related by blood.
Still, Rugad had found ways to get rid of family members he didn’t like. Accidental ways. Oversights. Allowing someone to make a mistake that Rugad knew would result in banishment or death.
Arianna had some of that cunning in her.
“I’ll do what I can, Daddy.” Lyndred sighed, then ran a hand through her hair. “Though I’m not going to tell her anything until we decide.”
“Until we’re sure,” he said. “I don’t want to give her information the Powers believe she should not know.”
He didn’t want to give her ammunition either. If she was ruling Blind, then Lyndred couldn’t be her eyes.
“Now,” he said. “We need to figure out what to tell her about your absence this morning.”
Lyndred smiled. “We’ll just tell her I was in bed.”
“She won’t believe you. You didn’t call a Healer.”
“I’m not going to say I was ill. There are just some times a person doesn’t want to get out of bed. Especially when she’s not alone.”
He flushed. He didn’t want to think of his daughter that way, and yet he knew she’d had lovers already. That Nyeian poet who wanted to marry her was the worst, but Bridge had worried most about the Gull Rider on the trip over. Fortunately, he’d found a way to get the Gull Rider off the ship.
“Is there someone here?” he asked.
Lyndred’s smile faded a little. “No. And there won’t be either.”
She spoke with a firmness that she hadn’t had a moment ago. He believed her. Her Vision, the one of the child, had so terrified her that she didn’t want to come to Blue Isle at all. Maybe that was the one good thing that would come out of this trip. Lyndred’s interest in men would decline and she would finally become her own person.
“Arianna might want to know who you spent the night with.”
“That’s one thing not even the Queen needs to know,” Lyndred said with a haughtiness that actually sounded like Arianna.
He leaned over and hugged his daughter. “You’ll do fine, you know.”
“I hope so.” She spoke so quietly he could barely hear her. “Because otherwise, this conversation might be construed as treason.”
“It’s not treason. We’re not talking about overthrowing the Black Queen.”
“Oh, really?” Lyndred pulled back just enough so that she could look at his face. “What do we do then, if we learn that she’s Blind?”
That was the question. If it were true, a bloodless coup was the only answer. And if Arianna was anything like Rugad, such a thing might be impossible.
“We’ll face that if we need to,” he said. “Until then, we remain loyal to our Queen.”
FOUR
MARKOS LEANED against the waist-high stones and stared at the ocean below. Water frothed and boiled. The rain was heavier now, slanting sideways with the wind, hitting his face like small needles. He was cold, too, and he had no idea how long it would be before someone would relieve him.
He could barely see the Stone Guardians and he was as close to them as a man could get on land. He stood at the edge of the natural bowl where the trouble all started. In the center of the bowl, on the flat stone surface, King Alexander had set up tables and sold his son to the Fey.
Prince Nicholas had copulated with the enemy and created two demon children: a woman who now ran the country, and a son who had gone to the Fey to learn how to be Black King.
Now the son was returning, and those who knew said he would destroy the Islanders once and for all. He would wipe out his father’s people and let the Fey overrun the Isle. Just as his great-grandfather had tried to do fifteen years before.
The world Markos had been born into was not the world in which his father had been raised. Blue Isle, its religion, its customs, its traditions, were no more, all destroyed at the hands of the Fey.
The Fey, it seemed, were everywhere. He’d even seen some of the most unnatural ones, the ones that were part-bird, flying around the Guardians. He’d thought that suspicious, until he mentioned it to Doron. Doron had smiled.
If we know that the Black Queen’s brother is coming, don’t you think she does too? She’ll want to give him a proper escort.
As if half birds were a proper escort. Markos shivered. He was tempted to use his bow and arrow to pick off some of the unnatural creatures, but he restrained himself. Doron’s instructions were that no one call undue attention to this mission. And so far, everyone had listened to Doron. Doron was the best leader the freedom fighters had ever had.
The Fey made freedom fighting exceptionally difficult. When Markos was five years old, the Black King of the Fey had come to Blue Isle and destroyed everything. Some Islanders had fought back, exploding a Fey weapons store, and the Black King had retaliated by burning every building in the center of the Isle.
Markos remembered that fire. He remembered watching the Fey soldiers set fire to his house, killing his father. His mother, holding Markos against her, had hidden them in the root cellar. Her hand had smelled of dirt and sweat, her fingers digging into his skin. Through a small opening in the cellar door, they had watched his father die and had seen everything they owned destroyed.
The Fey who had done it had laughed.
For years after that no one rose up against the Fey. Some said things would get better beca
use King Nicholas’s half breed daughter ran the country. They said that even though she was Fey, she was raised Islander and would make sure all the traditions remained.
But the Rocaanist kirks remained empty. The Auds were dead. A few Danites practiced in secret, but everyone knew that to practice the religion was to court the wrath of the Fey. Occasionally the half-breed Queen would issue decrees, and while they made the land more fertile, a lot of the crops now went off-Island, to places Islanders had never been. Some Fey were even marrying Islander women, destroying the purity that had been the Isle’s hallmark from its very beginning.
Occasionally, there would be resistance to the Fey. Someone would stand up, refuse to do things the Fey way. Then visitors would come, usually Islander ones who would convince the rebel that the only way to do things was to play along.
Now, it was said that the half-breed brother was returning, having learned all the Fey tricks from his uncles on Galinas. He would begin where the Black King left off, destroying all the remaining Islanders. He’d been raised Fey, and he was coming here with the express purpose of making Blue Isle a completely Fey stronghold.
Doron held a meeting of all the dissatisfied Islanders he knew and asked them if they wanted to strike a blow against the Fey. Those that didn’t were asked to leave. The remaining group—twenty that night, thirty by the next—agreed that this might be their only chance.
There was the risk of retaliation, of course. Doron had mentioned that too. But Queen Arianna had shown herself remarkably lenient with criminals. It was the hope they could all rely on. That, and the fact that if they succeeded, her brother—the one with all the Fey training—would be dead.
It was what kept Markos standing here in the rain, letting the cold water drip down his back. Doron’s plan, the hope it provided, and that laugh—the one he still heard whenever he closed his eyes. The Fey thought they had conquered Blue Isle. They thought they could destroy it.
They were wrong.
“Hey, Markos!”
He turned. Blasse stood behind him. Blasse was a large man, but with his hair plastered down by rain, his beard dripping, he looked much smaller. He had a bow over his shoulder, and his quiver was full of arrows.
The Black King (Book 7) Page 4