by Speer, Flora
The Great Mage lifted the stone lid. The box was lined with a soft green fabric. Inside reposed a silver casket that was perfectly plain, oblong, with a domed top. The smooth metal gleamed softly in the faint light.
“How lovely,” Calia breathed.
“You appreciate the beauty of simplicity,” Ultan said. He gave Calia the parchment and she laid it on the casket, knowing the gesture signified her agreement to obey Ultan. Then Ultan closed the stone box. His right index finger traced the line that separated the lid from the body of the box. The line vanished, leaving the box as a block of solid stone.
“Give the box only into Laisren’s hands, in private, and tell her that I sent it,” Ultan said. “She will know how to open it. See that you tell no one but Laisren that you have it.”
“I will do as you ask,” Calia whispered, accepting the box with a sense of awe. She found it surprisingly heavy for its small size.
“My thanks go with you.” Ultan’s finger, the same digit he had employed to seal the box, traced the shape of a star on Calia’s forehead.
“Never fear your Power,” he said. “Now go. We will not meet again during this visit. Captain Pyrsig will want to sail at dawn tomorrow.”
“I thought we were to stay in Tannaris for several more days,” Calia said.
“You may depend upon Pyrsig’s skills. He is wiser than he knows.” Ultan waved one hand and Calia turned from him and went out the door, away from the Great Mage and his beautiful room, into the garden.
The Kantian Queen sailed out of the bay on an ebbing tide, leaving early morning mist and smoky volcanoes behind. Away from the land, the sky was perfectly clear and so was the water, with no sign of pirate ships lurking in the distance.
“Now, Captain Pyrsig,” Lady Elgida declared with considerable force, “I expect you to sail directly to Kinath. I have suffered enough delays during this journey.”
“Ye must understand,” the captain said, “that I cannot do what ye want.”
“And why not?” Lady Elgida sputtered, her cheeks flushing with irritation. She took a threatening step toward the captain. “You were hired to convey me to Kinath!”
“We cannot sail directly south,” Durand interrupted her incipient tirade, “because the wind is blowing from the south, against us, you see.”
“I do not see!”
“We’ll have to tack,” Captain Pyrsig explained. “We’ll sail back and forth, covering twice and perhaps three times the distance to Kinath. We’ll get ye there my lady, but it’ll take longer than ye want.”
“Captain Pyrsig, I am most unhappy about this situation,” Lady Elgida informed him.
“So am I,” the captain responded. “I’d gladly put ye ashore this very day. If ye know a magical spell that will change the direction of the wind, I’ll be happy to hear it.”
He spoke with great seriousness, but Calia noticed the twinkle in his eyes and knew he was enjoying the argument with Lady Elgida. The woman who was accustomed to imposing her will on everyone in her service and the captain who was sole ruler of his ship had met their matches in each other.
“It’s too bad Lady Elgida isn’t twenty years younger,” Durand murmured into Calia’s ear. “If she were, I do believe he’d carry her off to some secret lair that only he knows of and keep her there until she surrendered to him.”
“Lord Durand, really!” Calia gasped, then broke into helpless laughter that lasted until Lady Elgida directed an angry glare at her.
“You ought to laugh and smile more often,” Durand said. “How pretty you are.”
“Mind your manners, sir. I am not amenable to flattery.” Calia turned away from him and came face to face with Garit. He glanced from her to Durand, then spun on his heel and stalked to the far side of the deck.
“Now look what I’ve done.” Durand spoke softly.
“It’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter. Please excuse me, my lord. I have chores to see to in our cabin.”
Calia hurried below, seeking a few moments of privacy. She knew she had only herself to blame for Garit’s present coolness toward her. He had taken her at her word when she’d said she found his attentions offensive. He had stayed well away from her in Tannaris and now he was avoiding her as much as was possible on a ship that wasn’t very large. He spoke politely to her when speech was necessary and otherwise asked her no prying questions. For several days he had not put his arms around her again, nor tried to kiss her.
Calia told herself she was glad he was behaving sensibly. She didn’t have time for the distraction that Garit presented. She had an assignment to carry out, a duty imposed by the Great Mage himself.
The stone box that Ultan had given her lay at the bottom of the wicker hamper where her clothes were packed. She had examined it again, in bright daylight, and she could detect no hint of the separation between the lid and the box. She wasn’t surprised. Ultan had sealed the lid with magic and only Queen Laisren would know how to open it.
Calia did wonder what treasure the silver casket contained. Was it something extremely valuable, or just a tender token of affection between father and daughter? Ultan had not seemed to be a particularly affectionate person, but Calia’s own experience provided no clues about the love a parent might bear toward a child, especially an only child, as she knew Laisren to be.
Calia reasoned that her problem was not the question of what the casket in the box contained, or why Ultan had entrusted the stone receptacle to her, or even why he’d instructed her to tell no one she had it. Her problem was twofold: how to deliver the box to the Queen of Kantia, and how to do so privately, as Ultan had specifically directed.
If Lady Elgida’s grandsons were not at Kinath, then part of the problem would be resolved with no effort on Calia’s part, for they would surely continue their journey onward to Kerun City. Laisren had taken the boys into her service. That meant the chances were good that Calia could reach the queen, ask for a moment alone, and give her the box. If any difficulty arose, she could ask Durand for help. Or else ask his sister, who was said to be close friends with the queen.
But if the boys were at Kinath, Lady Elgida would see no reason for visiting Kerun City, which meant Calia would have to devise an excuse for leaving her, for a short time at least. The difficulty was compounded by the prospect of having to deal with Mallory.
Feeling burdened by a duty she had not invited, fearing her meeting with Mallory, Calia began to hope that Lady Elgida would not find her grandsons at Kinath.
Chapter 13
Five days of tacking against a wind that that blew so hard from the south that the women spent most of the time in their cabin brought them to the cliffs of Kinath.
The castle was situated so close to the edge of the cliff on which it sat that Calia, gazing up at it, wondered how the great blocks of stone could have been maneuvered into place and kept there. Probably, with great loss of life, she thought.
“It hasn’t changed at all since the last time I saw it,” Lady Elgida murmured from her position next to Calia at the rail. “Kinath is still the strongest, most impregnable castle in eastern Kantia, just as my dear Belai built it to be.”
“It’s terrifying,” Calia whispered, shivering. “Especially because I know who is living there.”
“A castle is supposed to be daunting. Never fear,” Lady Elgida said with her customary assurance. “I will protect you and all will be well.”
Calia doubted that anyone could protect her from Mallory, but didn’t say so. Fortunately, Mairne provided a diversion from her trepidation and from her belief that very soon Garit was going to hate her forever.
“How will we get ashore?” Mairne asked. “I see no wharf.”
“Of course not,” Lady Elgida said. “A wharf would be an invitation to invaders. My Belai chose the site well. Nearby is a place where the water is deep enough for The Kantian Queen to sail close to shore. You and Calia and I will land from a rowboat.”
“But, my lady,” asked Mairne, “how wi
ll we climb that high cliff?”
“On horseback, of course,” Lady Elgida answered.
“But, how will the horses go ashore? Oh, my.”
Mairne broke off her questioning to gape as the ship eased around an outcropping of rock and into a quiet cove. There the cliff ended abruptly, subsiding into a steep, rocky hillside. Captain Pyrsig ordered the anchor dropped close to a narrow beach that edged the cove.
“We will go ashore here,” Lady Elgida said. “My Belai planned it so. Garit has come to Kinath many times by this hidden way and he knows where the deep water is. He has been giving directions to Captain Pyrsig.”
“I still don’t see how we can climb all the way up there,” Mairne insisted, looking at the castle, so close to the cliff edge on this side, too, that it seemed ready to tumble off the land and into the sea.
“Do be quiet, child, and watch,” Lady Elgida commanded.
Most of Mairne’s questions, along with Calia’s unspoken ones, were quickly answered. The gangplank was set in place with its end held down by a sailor who stood on it, swearing rather colorfully at the chill of the sea. Meanwhile, the deck hatch was opened, a ramp was affixed to its edge and the horses, blindfolded to keep them from bolting, were urged up the steep ramp, across the deck, and then led down the gangplank. Several of the men-at-arms chose to ride their own horses into the water, a procedure that seemed dangerous to Calia, particularly when she realized the horses had to swim a short distance to the beach.
“We’ll want a quicker way to re-board, should we need to depart in a hurry,” Durand said to Garit. “I doubt your men will by pleased at the thought of leaving good horseflesh behind.”
The words sent another shiver down Calia’s spine. Did Garit or, more likely, Durand, know who awaited them at Kinath Castle, and did he expect trouble?
“What you ought to do,” Lady Elgida told Garit, “is send a man ahead to inform whoever is presently at the castle to prepare for my arrival.”
“What I ought to do,” Garit responded coldly, “is leave you women aboard ship until I can be certain a visit there won’t be dangerous.”
“Nonsense.” Lady Elgida scoffed at the prospect of danger. “My Belai always said that in warfare an unexpected appearance provides a strategic advantage.”
“Have you any reason to believe we’ll meet hostility there?” Garit asked. “Perhaps an instance of the treachery of Kantian nobles to confirm your opinion of them?”
“Of course not,” Lady Elgida snapped so loudly that Garit looked at her in surprise and Calia understood that she was thinking about Mallory.
“We cannot be certain Fenella and the boys are there,” Lady Elgida added in a quieter tone. “If they are not, we may have to reload all of the horses, and the men, and our baggage and sail elsewhere to find them. Sending one man ahead to announce us could save us a great deal of trouble.”
“I thought you were hoping for a strategic advantage,” Garit said with a frown, “though I think it’s likely that any lookouts posted on the walls will have seen us by now. The horses are awaiting us on the beach. Let me help you into the rowboat, Grandmother.”
The small craft that was to take them to shore waited by the gangplank. Garit guided Lady Elgida halfway down the slope and then lowered her into the boat with one of the rowers steadying her from below. Calia and Mairne debarked in the same way. The rowers took them to shore, then returned for Garit, Anders, and Durand.
“I invited him to accompany us,” Lady Elgida said when Calia remarked on Durand’s presence. “Another nobleman may prove useful, and I am sure he’ll be glad of a few days on solid land.”
What Durand would really be glad of, Calia thought, was the opportunity to investigate the situation at a Kantian castle. He probably intended to send a report to King Henryk on what he found at Kinath.
Once everyone was on shore and the rowboat was heading back to the ship, Garit saw the ladies mounted and then, riding his own horse, he led the way across the beach to a path that was half hidden by bushes and tall grass.
Calia quickly realized the path could not be seen from the water, or even from the beach unless one knew where it was. Obviously, the arrangement was intended as yet another discouragement to would-be invaders. But Garit and Anders both knew where they were going.
Their way led back and forth up the hill, heading inland. A pebble dropped from the castle wall would have landed on the beach within a moment, but to Calia the slow ride to the castle gate seemed endless. Once they were on top of the hill another slope presented itself. This one boasted a gravelly road that led directly to the gatehouse.
As they approached they were hailed by a sentry who demanded that they state their business.
“Elgida, the dowager lady of Kinath, widow of Lord Belai and mother of the late Lord Kinen, requests admittance,” Garit declared in ringing tones. “She has come to visit her old home and to meet her grandsons.”
Calia noticed the sentry moving his finger and guessed he was counting the members of their party. Kinath was so huge and so formidable that it must be staffed by a large garrison. She didn’t see how anyone could think that two noblemen, a squire, seven men-at-arms, and three women could present a danger. Apparently, the sentry felt the same way, for he called out an order to open the gate.
The drawbridge was already down over a deep, rock-strewn gash in the earth that served as a dry moat. Within moments the portcullis began to rise and Garit led his party through the gate to the outer bailey.
The initial greeting was polite, but distinctly cool. A knight clad in leather as dark as his hair and eyes introduced himself as Sir Kelin the seneschal. He conducted them to the inner bailey and then up the stairs to the keep and the great hall. Along the way half of Garit’s men-at-arms detached themselves from the group and at Anders’ direction headed for the stables to attend to the horses.
As they crossed the inner bailey, now on foot, Calia saw men-at-arms, squires, and servants watching them with great interest and she heard the murmuring that said the former lady of the castle had returned, but she couldn’t get a sense of whether they were glad to see Lady Elgida, or not.
As for herself, her stomach was in knots, her heart was thudding, and she feared her knees would give way when she met Mallory again. She was very glad that Lady Elgida knew of her past and would stand with her against Mallory if need be. Unfortunately, Garit was soon going to learn about her past and she greatly feared he would not be as understanding as his grandmother.
When Durand offered his arm as they went up the steps to the keep, she grasped it in the same way a drowning person would seize a log floating by, though she knew his chivalry would make no difference to what was sure to happen when she met Mallory. Caught between her ruthless brother and the man she loved, she could only pray that she would not disgrace herself when the confrontation came.
The interior of Kinath Castle was every bit as forbidding as the outside. The great hall was a place of stark austerity in which Calia recognized her brother’s uncompromising taste. A few narrow windows interrupted the solid stone of the high walls and, since it was by now late afternoon, only a pale, slanting light shone through the heavy, greenish glass. In that peculiar light the very air appeared murky and green, as if the hall were underwater. Not a single tapestry on any wall offered a brighter color to relieve an eye looking for some cheerful contrast.
A fireplace at the far end of the hall, which would provide warmth to the diners on the dais, was supplemented by the original firepit in the center of the floor. An opening in the roof above the pit was meant to carry off the smoke, but it was more effective as an entry for birds. Calia saw several small birds flying about the hall with such purpose that she suspected they’d built nests somewhere up in the crossbeams.
“That fireplace is new since my time,” Lady Elgida remarked, looking around. “Just see how poorly the new stone is matched to the original walls. Where are the tapestries? And what happened to all the banners that u
sed to hang from the rafters? When I left here, banners from every battle that my Belai ever fought in, and those of my son Kinen’s battles, too, were hanging up there. All of those carved chests you see along the wall were used to show off the silver, but the silver is gone now. How cold the hall is,” she finished, drawing her cloak tightly about her shoulders.
Calia was sure Mallory had ordered the banners removed. Her brother would not want evidence of someone else’s glory displayed in a hall where he was the master. He had most likely found his own use for the family silver and the tapestries, too. She very much doubted that any household adornment was safely locked away in a storage room. Most likely, they’d all been sold or traded, with Mallory reaping the benefit.
Before Lady Elgida could offer any further comments on the state of her old home, Mallory and a young woman appeared. Calia held her breath, but as far as she could tell her brother didn’t notice her. He was looking from Garit to Lady Elgida and the unholy light in his eyes terrified Calia. She knew at once that Mallory’s recent good fortune had not softened his hard heart.
He certainly looked the same as when she had last seen him. Tall, with close-cropped black hair and dark eyes in a narrow, hard-bitten face, he strongly resembled their father, a fact that had always made it easy for him to control his sister, who had spent too many years longing for her father’s approval.
“I am Sir Mallory, guardian of this castle. My wife tells me that you are Garit of Kinath, once her step-son,” Mallory said. Whatever his inward thoughts, his outward manner was pleasant and assured. “Allow me to welcome you back to your childhood home. I am pleased that you have returned while I am here.”
“Sir Mallory.” Garit did not respond that he was glad to be home. He offered his host only the slightest bow, barely enough for the required politeness, before he turned to his erstwhile stepmother. “Lady Fenella, it is a pleasure to see you again.”