The Black King (Book 7)

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  “I think you’re going to have to do that anyway,” Skya said. “Obviously some people don’t want you here.”

  Gift frowned and looked at the cliffs. “Ace, get the Bird Riders together and scout the cliffsides. We need to know whether there are any more archers ahead.”

  Ace nodded, and shifted back to his gull state. Then he took a run along the deck, and flew off.

  “You should have let him rest,” Skya said.

  “I don’t think we’re going to get a chance to rest,” Gift said. “I think it’s going to take everything we have to survive.”

  SIX

  COULTER’S STOMACH was churning as he walked back to his school. The building had once been a single stone house, but over the years he’d added rooms. Now it looked like several stone houses pushed together, with a dirt magick yard that in any other place would be a garden or a playground in the very center.

  He’d left Arianna at the river. For the first time, he was glad she was no longer residing in his head. He didn’t want her to know how upset she had made him.

  He understood her points. In fact, he knew she was right. But to do what she wanted meant he had to ask people he cared about to risk their lives, to follow a plan that probably wouldn’t succeed.

  But he had known, deep down, that waiting was wrong. That Rugad was too smart to return here, the place where he had died. He would know that inside the Roca’s Cave, the place the Fey called the Place of Power, he would probably die again.

  There were all sorts of magicks inside that cave, all developed by Rocaanists to get rid of magickal beings. It was a strange tautology: magick, which helped form the religion, became its anathema. But in order to wipe out the magick, the religious had to use magick.

  Coulter could only think of one tool in the Roca’s Cave—or at least, the one tool he understood—that would get Rugad out of Arianna’s body, and that was the Soul Repository. Somehow, Matthias, the Fifty-First Rocaan, had used one of those dolls to trap Jewel’s soul. Coulter wasn’t sure how he did it, but he knew there was a magick—or a religious ritual—that provided for it.

  Matthias’s son, also named Matthias, was an Enchanter like his father had been. But unlike his father, young Matt was receiving training so that he could learn how to control his magickal abilities. Control was the essence of all magick, Fey and Islander. Without control, the most magickal, like Enchanters, often lost their minds.

  Coulter didn’t expect young Matt to have a quick answer on how to work the dolls, but Coulter did know that Matt had access to the Vault beneath the Cliffs of Blood. The Vault was where the Secrets of the Rocaanist religion were stored. Matt’s father had become keeper of that Vault until his death half a year ago. Now his other son, Alexander, had taken his place.

  Alex, like his father, hated the Fey and feared all things magickal—despite the fact that Alex had great Vision. He saw it as a curse rather than something he could control. Alex would never let Coulter into the Vault, but Alex probably wouldn’t deny his brother entry.

  Coulter opened the back door and let himself into the kitchen. It smelled faintly of baked bread, overlaid with the sharp spices from the fish stew they’d had for lunch. Three of his students were still doing dishes and laughing as they worked. They stopped when they saw him.

  “Do you know where Matt is?” Coulter asked Thea.

  She frowned as if surprised that he had asked her. Thea and Matt had built a tentative friendship, some of it based on their feelings of rejection. Thea was half Fey, the result, he’d heard, of a love-match that the Islander family didn’t approve of. They took their pregnant daughter back into the family, and when she’d died in childbirth, had tried to hide Thea from their Islander neighbors.

  Then Thea’s magick started appearing. She was a Weather Sprite. She started, as most of them did, making small rainstorms in water basins, then graduated to covering herself with rays of light, even on the stormiest days.

  Her abilities terrified her family and they neglected her. She finally ran away, somehow finding out about Coulter’s school, and covering half of Blue Isle to arrive at his doorstep, thin, starving, and wary as a stray dog.

  In the short time she’d been here, she’d fattened up and had begun to make friends. Only recently had she stopped stealing food from the kitchen when everyone else was asleep. Coulter had never mentioned it; he figured she needed to view this place as her home.

  She continued to stare at Coulter as if debating how to answer him. Even he, the person she trusted most, got assessed much of the time.

  “Matt’s in the library,” she said at last.

  “Thank you.” Coulter smiled and left. The library was through the dining hall and down some narrow corridors. It was Coulter’s favorite room and it had become Matt’s as well. Many times, Coulter had discovered Matt in there, reading one text or another, always on magick and its history.

  He opened the door now. The room seemed musty in the daylight. Usually Coulter visited the library at night, with a fire in the grate and candles burning in the lamps set on the tables.

  Matt stood as Coulter entered, looking nervous. He had an illustrated book from Nye open before him—a book of poetry.

  Coulter tried not to smile.

  “It’s all right,” Coulter said. “I was looking for you.”

  Matt nodded, but continued standing. He was a slender boy with a lanky build that implied he would be very tall one day. He had golden curls that surrounded his head like a halo, and distinctive features that in a woman would be considered beautiful.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I’m here,” Matt said.

  He’d become timid in the last year. Before he’d snuck here while his parents slept. His father had gone insane. When his father died, his family didn’t bother to tell Matt, and he left home for good. Ever since then, he’d been quiet, uncomfortable and somewhat meek.

  Coulter was beginning to rethink his plans. “I don’t mind. I’ve told you before you have the run of the place.”

  “Leen says books will corrupt me.”

  Coulter smiled. Leen was pure Fey, an Infantry soldier who had been beside Coulter since they were young. Once they had been lovers, but that ended long ago when they both realized that Coulter could never love anyone besides Arianna. Leen was his second at the school and was very good about questioning all sorts of teachings that had gotten both of them in trouble. But her attitude towards writings and books was very Fey. She believed they were unnecessary wastes of time.

  “Books might corrupt you,” Coulter said, “but only in a good way.”

  He got one of Matt’s rare smiles then. It lit up the boy’s face. Then Matt’s smile faded as he watched Coulter. The boy knew something had changed.

  Coulter waved a hand. “Matt, please sit.”

  Matt replaced his book and sat on one of the upholstered chairs. He sat at the very edge of it, as if his body might contaminate it.

  Coulter ran a hand through his hair, and headed for the fireplace. He looked at the flames. They were small and golden, licking at the wood without much passion. “I’m going to ask you to do something. I’m not sure if I want you to do this, but I do want you to consider it. You’re welcome to refuse me. If you do, nothing in our relationship will change. Everything might change if you accept it.”

  He turned. Matt was watching him, blue eyes wide.

  “Rugad is looking for an Enchanter,” Coulter said.

  A slight frown creased Matt’s brow. “He has been for a long time. You told us not to go.”

  “Arianna has convinced me that we need to take action against him soon. We need to remove him from her body, and I can only think of one way to do that.”

  Matt threaded his long fingers together. “He’d suspect if an Enchanter tried to hurt him.”

  “Yes, he would. So we gain his confidence and then try an assault he doesn’t understand.”

  Matt didn’t move.

  “The Soul Repositories, do you know ho
w they work?” Coulter asked.

  Matt shook his head. “My father wouldn’t let me near the stuff in the Vault.”

  “Well, as best I understand, they use blood to lure a trapped soul into the repository. Your father actually did that once.”

  Matt’s face seemed blank. He had learned to mask his emotions whenever anyone mentioned his father. Coulter didn’t know how to get past it. Someday Matt would have to talk about his family.

  “We need someone to get close to Rugad, to lure him out of Ari’s body, and then, the moment that he’s gone, help her back in. Would you be able to do that?”

  Matt’s frown returned. “I don’t know the spells.”

  “I can teach you some. The others—how to use the repository, for example—will have to come from the Vault.”

  Matt flinched.

  “Actually,” Coulter said, “the spells are the least of my concerns. I’m more worried about you spending time near Rugad. He’s a powerful man, extremely smart, and you would have to watch yourself every moment. He might have you do things you don’t want to do.”

  “Then I wouldn’t,” Matt said.

  “You might to convince him that you really work for him.”

  Matt bit his lower lip. “How long would I be there?”

  “I don’t know,” Coulter said.

  “What if he catches me?”

  “We’ll try to get you out. I have some ideas on how we can get to you.”

  Matt nodded, but his eyes seemed far away, as if he were trying to picture this. “How would Arianna know that the body is empty?”

  Coulter sighed. “You and I would remain Linked. You would let me know. I’d make sure Arianna is close by.”

  Matt was silent for a moment, then said, “This seems risky. Why can’t she just stay here?”

  “She’s afraid if she does, she’ll never be able to go back. We’ll be governed by the Black King forever.”

  Matt frowned. “If she goes back, I’d never see her again.”

  Coulter put a hand on Matt’s shoulder. It was rigid. Matt and Arianna had developed a strong friendship in the time she was here. “You’d see her again. You’d see her the way she’s supposed to be. If you did this, you’d give her her heart’s desire.”

  Matt looked pensive. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

  SEVEN

  LYNDRED STOOD in the door of the North Tower, trying to catch her breath. All the stairs in this palace irritated her. She had never lived in a place that had so many stories and maze-like rooms. Her father said it was because the palace had once been a fortress that had been added onto, which was odd because Blue Isle supposedly never had war until the Fey arrived.

  Lyndred hated it here. She associated this tower with the Black Queen, who seemed to spend most of her time here, staring out the windows as if she were imprisoned in this place.

  Now Lyndred had actually come to find her. It had taken most of the day for her to get up enough courage.

  Arianna was standing on the opposite side of the large room, her legs spread, her hands clasped behind her back. Her long black hair was braided and fell along her rigid spine. She wore breeches and a jerkin, an outfit that suited her more than the Islander dresses. She didn’t seem to notice Lyndred, but Lyndred had learned long ago that what Arianna seemed to notice and what she really noticed were two very different things.

  “Are you going to hover all afternoon?” Arianna asked. “Or are you going to join me?”

  Lyndred’s mouth went dry, even though she had been expecting the comment.

  “I’ve been wondering what’s happened to you. Neither your father nor I have seen you all day. I suppose he found you?”

  Lyndred felt a blush rise in her cheeks. It was involuntary, and it was appropriate, at least for this lie.

  “He did.” Her voice sounded weaker than it had on Nye. Once she felt she had the most imperial voice among the Fey, but it was nothing compared to Arianna’s.

  Arianna didn’t turn, but she did raise her chin slightly. “How did he convince you to leave your rooms?”

  “He didn’t exactly.”

  This time, Arianna did turn. It was a sharp movement, almost a reluctant one, as if she were unwilling to stop her contemplation of the mountains in the distance. “Oh?”

  Lyndred shrugged. “There are certain things a woman does in her life that she doesn’t want her father to see.”

  “A woman?” For once, Arianna didn’t seem to understand. “You had female troubles? If so, you should see one of the Healers.”

  The comment startled a laugh out of Lyndred, then her blush increased. “I wouldn’t call it trouble. My father knows I have lovers. He just doesn’t need visual confirmation.”

  Arianna’s cold blue eyes widened slightly as if she hadn’t expected this. Then an expression flitted across her face—amusement? Annoyance?—it was impossible to tell before the expression vanished. “And who is the lucky man?”

  “Unimportant,” Lyndred said.

  Arianna’s gaze became hooded, and without her saying another word, Lyndred knew what she was thinking. She would ask servants, other Fey, guards who Lyndred’s lover was, and she wouldn’t stop until she found out.

  “Did you come to see me for advice, then, about your lover?” Arianna asked.

  Lyndred smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “No. I’ve had lovers since I came into my Vision.”

  “Are the two events—your getting your Vision and taking a lover—related, then?” Arianna asked.

  The question was so prescient, it startled Lyndred. She had to pause before she answered.

  The two events were linked. But she didn’t know if she should tell Arianna that.

  “What did you See that encouraged you to first take a lover?” The question was softer than the others, a bit more intimate, as if Arianna were a friend who was entitled to know.

  Lyndred stepped inside the room, and closed the door. It was time to get closer, to see if she could use these questions to her own advantage. “I Saw a blond man who would give me a child and break my heart.”

  “And you sought to prevent that?”

  Truth, then. It would be her weapon. “I want no man to have that kind of power over me.”

  Arianna’s eyes narrowed, and this time Lyndred thought she saw a trace of laughter in them.

  “You are the most independent member of my family I have met in years.” It was an obvious compliment from a woman who gave none. She beckoned with her hand. “Come stand beside me, and look at this small kingdom. Do you know how insignificant it is?”

  The switch in topic startled Lyndred. She crossed the room, past the columns and the tables, until she reached the floor-to-ceiling bubbled glass.

  Below, the courtyard was barely visible, and beyond it, the city of Jahn extended for miles. Her great-grandfather Rugad, the Black King, had been killed east of here. This land was powerful enough to slaughter the greatest of the Fey. She did not think it insignificant.

  Arianna was watching her. “You disagree with me, don’t you?”

  The question wasn’t hostile. Arianna seemed to like Lyndred’s spirit, even though Lyndred didn’t know why.

  “I think any place that can defeat the Black King has to have significance,” Lyndred said.

  Arianna’s body went rigid. It seemed like an involuntary movement. Then she relaxed. “Blue Isle is part of the Fey Empire now.”

  “Yes,” Lyndred said, “but it’s the only part that entered voluntarily. You could have held this place against the rest of the Empire, and dared them to try to take it.”

  “I could have,” Arianna said, as if that had never crossed her mind.

  “Our grandfather tried to conquer this place and failed, then our great-grandfather tried and failed. That makes Blue Isle significant, don’t you think?”

  This train of thought seemed to bother Arianna. Lyndred felt a perverse pleasure at shaking her seemingly unshakeable cousin.

  “I think,
” Arianna said, “that the Black King ultimately got what he wanted. Blue Isle is part of the Fey Empire, ruled by Fey.”

  “With its own traditions intact,” Lyndred said.

  “Like Nye.” There was a definite edge to Arianna’s voice, one Lyndred had never heard.

  “And if the Islanders rebelled in any way, we don’t know if we can hold them down.”

  “Are you sleeping with a rebel then?”

  “No,” Lyndred said. “You called this place insignificant. I told you I didn’t think it was.”

  Arianna took a deep breath as if she were trying to calm herself. Then she turned back toward the window. “What made you do so much thinking about Blue Isle?”

  Lyndred felt dizzy. She could talk about Visions now, and Arianna was the one who opened the door. Unexpectedly.

  “My Visions,” Lyndred said. “They’ve increased since we’ve come here.”

  “Do you think that’s because of the Isle or because something significant has happened?” Legitimate questions, both of them, but neither were very helpful. Arianna was good at word games.

  Lyndred would have to be direct. “Have your Visions increased lately?”

  The skin around Arianna’s eyes tightened, as if she were struggling to control her expression. “Since you arrived?”

  “Yes,” Lyndred said, her heart pounding.

  “No,” Arianna said. “My Visions have not increased.”

  “What about other Visionaries? I haven’t talked to any. The Infantry Leaders seem too busy with maneuvers, and I don’t know of any others.”

  “Except your father.”

  Lyndred always forgot that her father had Vision. It was so minor that it seemed like he had none at all. “My father rarely Sees anything.”

  Arianna was silent. Lyndred hadn’t expected that.

  “So,” Lyndred said, “if no one else has had increased Visions because of my arrival, then it must be the Isle that’s doing it.”