***
Nicholas paced the tower room, thinking hard. He had been
prisoner here for almost a week. His wound was not completely
healed, but he could hold a sword or a pistol, if only he could
get hold of one. Andre leaned over the narrow sill, staring out,
as he did each day. Nicholas glanced down and saw the bright
banners hung from the palace’s high walls to greet his sister
who was arriving today for her wedding.
“We would need a flying machine to get out of here, Andre.
Keep your mind on another way for us to get to the abbey. For
that’s the only hope we’ve got.”
“I’m aware that escape is impossible, Nikki.” Andre’s eyes
glittered like those of a man stretched too far. “How could she
do this? To agree to this marriage. To put herself in danger.
How the hell could she, knowing I love her?”
“She’s giving us time. Remember, Andre. There hasn’t been
a fight we haven’t won.”
“If it hadn’t been for Sera, we would have lost the one in
Iman Hadar’s palace.”
Sera. He had thought of her so often, and each time he
thanked God she was safely away from all this. “Damnit, Andre.
Concentrate. You’ve got to give me a distraction. That’s not too
much to ask. Just one instant, and I’ll get to the abbey and take
down Galerien.”
***
Sera knocked on the door to Emmanuel’s study. “You sent
for me, Grandfather?”
Emmanuel looked up from the scrying glass. Instantly, the
glass fogged over. “Come in, my dear, and sit here beside me.”
Sera closed the door behind her, laid her cloak across a
bench, and took the seat her grandfather offered. Jacob paced
the room, she noted, with a most peculiar look upon his face.
He was flushed and frowning furiously. Normally cerebral and
serene, Jacob looked very much the Outlander at the moment.
Jacob’s restlessness grated on her today, perhaps because
she was so weary.
“Jacob, why don’t you take your bad mood elsewhere?”
her grandfather said.
“Absolutely not. I have every right to be here. Sera is still
unable to make reasonable decisions, and I should—”
“Oh, do cease storming about.” Sera bent her head and tried
to massage the throbbing out of her temples.
The last days at home had been difficult. Only the other
night, Jacob pressed her to dine with him and his friend Lysander
Antiocus, a man she’d always admired. He had made it clear
that Lysander, with a little encouragement, would ask for her
hand in marriage.
When the dinner party was over, Lysander had taken her
aside. Smiling kindly, he said, “You need time to return to us,
Seraphina. I shall not press you until you are ready.”
From the time she’d reached the age of dedication, she’d
known that Lysander was everything a man of Arkadia should
be. He was brilliant, comely, and kind. His line and the Aestron
line would breed beautiful children who would, perhaps, lead
Arkadia into a golden age greater than the one Pericles knew.
Lysander would care for her. He would respect her. But he
would never look at her as Nicholas did, with passionate
intensity. He would never tease her, or move her to the heights
and depths of every emotion within her.
Lysander was not Nicholas.
Fiercely, she reminded herself that Nicholas had broken
her heart.
Her grandfather’s serene regard somehow called her from
her bitter musings. “I must ask you to look into the glass, Sera,”
he said in that gentle tone he’d been using with her since her
return. “Tell me what you see.”
“All right.” The swirling fog dissipated slowly as a picture
formed and sharpened, all its colors and movement hurting her
eyes.
“It’s Katherine and a host of the ministers. Katherine is
dressed in white velvet. She and the courtiers are riding through
a city. A very poor city. People in dull, patched clothing with
pinched faces line the streets as they ride through. They don’t
cheer. They don’t do more than stare. What is this place, and
what is happening here?” An icy chill of dread crept through
her, and she trembled.
“Look again into the glass, Sera.” Grandfather’s face wore
the look of the Mage. His voice was no longer gentle, but
commanding.
The colors swirled, changed, resolved themselves into
another scene, and this one took the breath from her body in a
rush. She held to the sides of her chair so hard her fingers hurt.
“It is Nicholas. He is locked in a small, gray room high above
the city through which Katherine rides. Andre is with him.”
She put her hand to her heart. “Oh, Nicholas looks tired. See
how pale he is? Thinner, too.”
“They are in Constanza, a small city in Beaureve,” said
Grandfather. “Galerien holds them for ransom. The price he
demands is Katherine’s hand in marriage. They wed today. Of
course, he plans to kill the king and his friend after the wedding.
Then he’ll claim both Beaureve and Laurentia.”
Cold crept into Sera, settling deep in her blood. She couldn’t
move for a moment, she was so cold. Nicholas to die! And
Katherine to wed that beast? “No, no. That must never happen!”
Sera grasped her grandfather’s hands. “There must be something
you can do, Grandfather. You cannot let this happen!”
The Mage shook his head. “My duty is to Arkadia, Sera. I
cannot help them.”
Sera nodded slowly and straightened her back. Feeling
returned to her body, and with it, the ability to breathe, to move,
in spite of the terror. She felt that her life was a scrying glass,
and she had finally allowed herself to look deep within it.
“Of course,” she whispered. “This is not your responsibility.
It is mine.”
“By the gods, I knew you had lost all sense among the
barbarians! Lysander, the best of all the men in the City, asks to
address you, while that man treated you like a common doxy.
And you decide to risk your life to save him and all those fops
who laughed at you and called you whore. Where is your
perspective? Where is your mind, sister?”
Sera stood slowly and squared her shoulders. She gave
Jacob a brilliant smile. “I have been thinking long and hard
about this. It struck me that even in Hadar’s palace, when
Nicholas thought I was a harlot, he treated me with respect. I
don’t believe he would have acted so discourteously unless he
wanted to hurt me into leaving—perhaps for my own safety.”
She lowered her head and blinked to banish the sting from her
eyes.
“Don’t be a fool!” Jacob glared at her.
She opened her hand and held it out to him—a pleading
gesture. “Don’t you see? My whole life has led to this moment,
this choice. The important thing is not what Nicholas feels for
me, Jacob. I love him. I love Laurentia. I have no doubt that
I
could love my own people, those poor, hopeless men and women
lining the road into Constanza.
Jacob made a sharp sound of frustration and wheeled away
from her. She walked to him anyway and took his hands, willing
him to understand.
“Do not fling yourself away from me because I am half
Outlander. I finally realize it is not such a terrible thing to be.
Jacob, remember everything we’ve learned. It screams out at
us now.
“Evil threatens those I love, and I may be able to stop it
with the truth. How shall I live afterwards if I do not try?” Sera
reached up and tugged a lock of his hair in the old gesture she
had used at parting since they were children.
With an angry sigh, he bent his head, and she kissed his
cheek, hugging him fiercely. “Don’t be too angry for too long,
Jacob. I need to know you’ll forgive me.”
“I forgive you already,” he said. “I shall come with you.”
“No,” said Sera. “You are the Mage to be. Your duties lie
here.”
“Sera,” said Emmanuel as he rose to kiss her brow.
“Remember, you may be half Outlander, but you are also half
Arkadian, and an Aestron. The blood runs very true in our line.”
“Thank you, Grandfather. It is a good thing to know when
one goes to confront a monster in his lair.” Sera picked up her
cloak and left the room.
***
The door to the tower prison swung open, and Katherine
burst into the room. Her gaze swept to Andre and Nicholas.
“Oh, captain, I am so overcome with emotion,” she said in a
high, fluttery voice entirely unlike her own. “If I could have
just a moment with my poor brother…” She smiled tremulously
at the beefy guard, and he frowned but obligingly left the room,
locking the door after himself.
“Quickly,” whispered Katherine. She knelt on one knee on
the flagstones, unbuckled a holster from about her calf, and
whipped out two knives. Nicholas leaped from the bed and
grabbed them.
Andre grabbed Katherine, pulled her to her feet and into
his embrace. “You clever, wonderful girl. How did you get
Galerien to let you in here?”
Katherine shrugged. “It was easy, actually. I simply played
on my reputation. Who would fear a plain, awkward, frightened
little rabbit like me? I also happen to be a little muddled in my
thoughts, as you have doubtless told me during many a
philosophical argument.”
Andre laughed softly, and his lips covered hers in a long
kiss. “Oh, my love, you are the wisest of us all. Now we have a
chance.”
“There are only three of them outside the room. My
charming escort and the two guards who have brought you the
slop they’ve been feeding you. Nikki, they told me you were
still weak from your wound.”
Nicholas felt a bit of modest pride, himself. “I suppose
acting runs in the family. I, too, thought a complacent enemy
better.”
“Ah—the Rostov motto—take every possible advantage.
But hurry, there isn’t much time,” said Katherine. “Galerien
only promised me five minutes to assure myself that you were
still alive.
“Galerien’s soldiers are everywhere, Nikki, a veritable army
of them. Galerien insisted I bring none of our own here. We are
all alone with only one chance, and that a slim one. We must
take Galerien out during the ceremony.” She reached into her
sleeve and another knife magically appeared.
“Oh, no, Katherine,” said Nicholas. “I’ll not allow my little
sister to take part in any of this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nikki,” snapped a flaming Katherine
he had never seen before. “I’ve been practicing all week.” Her
vengeful look wavered as some terrible thought struck her. Then
she straightened her shoulders. “I assure you, my brother, if
you do not reach Galerien, I shall.”
Katherine cocked her head. Nicholas heard the guard’s
heavy tread outside the cell and returned to his bed. Katherine
motioned to them both and called out to the guard in a timid,
tear-choked voice. “I am ready to proceed to the abbey, sir. If
you could but open the door for me, I believe I can manage the
stairway.”
The guard appeared at the door.
“Ah, me, I am so overset, my legs are trembling.” Katherine
sniffled into a lace handkerchief and looked up at the guard
weakly. “If you would be so kind as to escort me, I shall try to
walk by myself.”
The guard kept his eyes on Andre, who stood by the window
with his head in his hands. Nicholas lay in bed moaning and
tossing. Satisfied that the one man who might give trouble was
too overcome to do so, the guard gave Katherine his right arm
and reached with his left to shut the door. Katherine tugged
once sharply, and the man stumbled to his right, losing his hold
on the latch. Nicholas lunged from the bed and covered the
guard’s mouth, holding him down with an elbow locked round
his throat.
“Move, Katherine.”
“But—“
The man flailed beneath him with all his might. “Katya.
You’re in bridal white, remember?”
“Oh.” Katherine moved away, and Nicholas slit the guard’s
throat.
Katherine, stared, her face dead white. The man gurgled,
and his limbs twitched wildly. Blood sprayed over the floor.
“Come on,” whispered Nicholas, pushing Katherine toward
the door. He peered through the crack to watch her performance.
The two guards in the hallway barely had time to look up when
an ashen-faced Katherine stumbled to the table, nearly
collapsing.
“Oh, sirs, my brother—the kind guard who brought me
here—please, in there!” The men leaped to their feet and ran
into the tower room. Andre and Nicholas gave each a swift chop
to the jugular. The guards dropped like stones. Grabbing their
swords and the braided tunics off their backs, Nicholas and
Andre quickly shrugged into those and the high beaver caps of
the palace guard.
“Well,” said Katherine as they locked the door and ran to
her side, “I’m happy I didn’t have to witness the rest of that.”
All three raced down the winding stone stairway. “So that’s
what you men do when you go to war,” she muttered to Nicholas.
“I should think you would have outlawed that particular
international solution eons ago.”
“When we’re safe home, I’ll abolish war in my next speech
to parliament.”
They had reached the ground floor. Here, soldiers milled
about, watching out for any sign of trouble from the visiting
Laurentians. Galerien paced the marble floor waiting for a sign
of Katherine.
“Our soldiers are gathered at the border, Nikki,” whispered
Katherine. “That is the closest I could get them. I must go, now.
Wish me luck.” She squeezed his hand and threw her arms about
Andre, hol
ding him very hard. Then she was gone, walking
toward Galerien in an awkward, hesitant manner, wringing her
hands as she greeted him. Due to some trick of acoustics in the
hall, Nicholas could hear every word clearly.
“M-m-my b-b-brother is v-v-very ill. Please, c-c-could you
send the doctor to h-h-him after the c-c-ceremony?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said Galerien absently. “Now, hurry
to the abbey, my dear. I shall see you in but a few minutes.”
Katherine stumbled and sniffled her way out the door.
“Damned half-wit,” muttered Galerien. “I’ll get a couple
of brats off her, and then she’ll go the way of her brother.”
***
It was dark and dim inside Constanza Abbey. Even the
candles seemed to fight weakly to stay lit against the gloom. A
fit cave for the beast, thought Sera. Hood raised, she walked
down the long aisle, past disheartened nobility, clever ministers
with their fox eyes and gold badges of office, and guards, in
their blue and gold uniforms, everywhere. One of them, close
to the far side of the aisle, stood with such straight grace that
she took a second look. Nicholas! And beside him stood Andre,
with his unruly gold locks hastily shoved beneath a beaver hat.
They had managed to escape, after all, but they stood behind a
large company of soldiers armed to the hilt. She turned her gaze
to the altar, where two figures knelt like statues, and a third
read from a book.
The man reading wore a tall hat and robes of crimson. His
voice intoned a service over the bride and groom. As Sera drew
closer, the words flowed to her through the incense clouded air.
Something about marriage not being taken lightly. What irony,
Sera thought.
The moment was coming, the one she had feared and run
from all her life. How would the beast try to kill her? For indeed,
he would try. Probably, he’d shout to the guards, who stood
now to her left and right as she strode soundlessly up the aisle.
Galerien was never one to do his own dirty deeds, although, as
she recalled, he vastly appreciated seeing the results.
The soldiers would probably take her before she could raise
the hood of her cloak and disappear. But perhaps her appearance
could give Nicholas the time he needed to reach Galerien.
Sera had studied this ceremony at university, learning the
Lennox, Mary - Heart of Fire.txt Page 39