"Their rush to action could have sparked injury or even death."
The king set his chosen book down beside the lamp and rubbed his forehead. "The guards may have acted too soon, but they acted on behalf of your welfare. Could you not try to avoid such explosive situations for a while?"
For the first time, Aurelia realized the cause for the guards' overprotective behavior. They had feared another assassination attempt. she blushed, ashamed of not connecting the events earlier. "do you still intend to enforce the market tax?" she asked. "Or does knowing it will harm the vendors change your mind?"
He sank down in a chair beside hers. "I did not make this choice without thinking it through. The kingdom cannot run without funds, and the sellers in the marketplace gain as much as anyone when people come to town for a royal function."
she had not thought of that. "but what about the people's argument for having a voice in the process? maybe you could invite a city leader to the palace council meetings."
"I have considered it, Aurelia, but unlike you, I am not anxious to discard years of tradition. such a change will have results neither you nor I can predict."
"The results might be positive." she stood up. "besides, Tyralt is changing. With the settling of the frontier and the growing number of schools, the people have more opportunities than in the past. They don't need a lord or a stone wall to protect them from danger. They can make their own decisions and own their own land. They can travel to other parts of the kingdom, and choose their own type of work."
she thought about robert's parents and how they had given up the ease of palace life to forge their own home. she thought about the hope she had seen on the faces of her former classmates as they scaled the front steps of the university. she thought about her own dreams. And pushed them aside. Her voice was firm. "The council should adapt to those changes."
The king lifted his hand. "When you are queen, you may see that it does."
she hated the idea of her future resting on his death. How will I know what to do, she thought, if you never allow me to make decisions? What if I fail and cannot ask for advice because you are gone? "I want to help people and effect change now. I'm tired of feeling powerless. before you became king, didn't it frustrate you to have to wait to have a say?"
"If you want to lead, then you must show the patience required, Aurelia. being a leader is more about compromise than making choices." He dropped his eyes down to his book.
"yes, Father." she struggled with what to say next. she wanted to talk to him about the plot on her life, to have him hold her and tell her things would be all right, that he would protect her. Her father--the man who had lost his son and his wife in less than a month; the man who had spent a year in grief, out of reach from even his three-year-old daughter; the man who had married again and started a new life and did not want anything or anyone to interfere with that life. she would find no safety and comfort there. His method of dealing with pain was to pretend it did not exist.
Her gaze drifted to a stack of books on the nearby table. Relationships of Power, Royal Unions, Marriage Contracts. In horror, her eyes flew to the leather cover in his hands: Historical Alliances. "you're researching my marriage!" she accused.
He looked up from the book, startled. "Would you rather I didn't?" he said. "Would you prefer I toss you out the door with the next man who comes calling, regardless of the impact the union will have? Honestly, Aurelia. you claim you want power, but you refuse to take any responsibility for finding yourself a husband."
she sputtered in anger. "responsibility? What responsibility? you're going to decide who I should marry."
"Of course. you can't make such a vital decision." His voice deepened. "The future welfare of the kingdom depends on the match you make. you know this, Aurelia. stop behaving like a child. you've been no help at all. In fact, you seem determined to disrupt the entire process."
"I'm not allowed to decide who I'm to marry, but you think I should support the process?" Her palms clenched into fists. she could feel the heat flaring in her cheeks and her blood pulsing through her veins.
He slammed the book shut. "yes. Already I've had to explain your behavior to the men you have turned down. perhaps they were not the best choices, but you might at least have made your refusals seem reluctant. every time you offend one, you make it harder for me to find a husband for you who can improve the political future of Tyralt."
"good," she snapped.
His eyes rolled, and he confronted her with the ultimate blow. "you are just like your mother." The statement clung to the air, and she felt the invisible wall spring back up between them.
The Tyralian wall faded in the background as robert headed west. drew rode at his side without speaking, leaving the sound of horse hooves to click away the final moments of the dusk. massive tree trunks lined the northern edge of the Western road. slanting branches with shiny green tips crowded the air with the strong scent of fir. On the left, cleared farmland with fields of tiny strawberry plants and thick berry hedges gave way to gentle slopes.
"remember, lad." drew broke the silence. "No one comes on midbury land without an invitation. We're going there at the word of a friend of mine, and far as he knows, we're there to see a colt. Nothing else." The horseman paused, perhaps waiting for robert to explain the real reason behind the long evening journey, but no such explanation was forthcoming. drew knew more than enough already.
After more than an hour's travel, the two riders turned north on to a dirt road cutting into the kryshan Forest. Inky blackness soaked the air, and robert guided his mount along the road's edge. He had no wish to fall into the path of a carriage along this route. "How far are we from the queen's estate?" he asked as he dodged the threat of a low-hanging branch.
"you're on it, lad. Have been since we turned off the main road. Coming up on the center of the place now." drew gestured forward.
A thick wall stood amid the trees, its height matching that of the palace's outer wall. This gate was closed, though, and the guard looked stern. robert was glad to let drew explain the purpose of their entry. The horseman did not mention the colt, only the name of a friend who was expecting him. The guard grunted and motioned for another man to slip loose the latch and swing open the heavy iron gates. drew and robert rode through.
buildings sprouting chimneys like horns loomed out of the night. gargoyles seemed to hiss from the eaves of an old manor house, and a new manor towered against clouds of darkness. ragged tree limbs guarded a tangle of crossing paths, and at the heart of the estate stood the famed midbury stables.
After dismounting, robert tied Horizon to a hitching post. Then he stepped through the wide stable doors and felt his jaw drop. row upon row of unending stalls stretched out before him, each corridor brilliantly lit despite the late hour. The dirt aisles had been swept clean, and the smell of fresh hay muffled even the scent of manure.
To his right, an open door revealed a tack room the size of a small barn. He drifted toward it, staring in awe at the perfect slanting rows of bridles and halters organized by size. blankets, cleaned and folded, covered two shelves, and on the remaining shelves sat no fewer than two dozen saddles: every type, every size, every shade. He felt his stomach fall out from under him.
drew gripped robert's shirt and tugged, then headed down a long aisle flanked by stalls on either side. "No need to make it obvious you've never been here before," drew stated. "stick close. The queen's first husband turned this place into a cursed labyrinth."
"He built it?"
"designed it. The man was a famous architect, designed projects everywhere, including newer sections of the palace. made the stables his project after melony was born. Wanted to stay close to his daughter. didn't work out, though. Came down with a fever and died only a few months later. The queen watched over the final construction."
A small man sitting on an overturned bucket blocked one side of the aisle. Aged fingers brushed a bridle with a dark cloth. "Hey, Harvey." drew pull
ed robert to a halt beside the man. "Thanks for letting us in to see your new colt."
Harvey looked up from his work, wrinkles splitting into a wide smile. "What I'd like to know is how you knew that colt was bein' brought in tonight. you're the only bloke I know would travel two hours to get here and two hours back in pitch dark to see a horse."
"I wouldn't bet on that." drew clapped the older man's shoulder. "I reckon you've done a few crazy things in your life for the love of a horse."
Harvey chuckled. "more than a few, but, seriously, how did you find out about this colt? edward of Anthone went through a lot of trouble to get him here, and he had us pretty cowed into keepin' mum."
"I was lucky." drew lifted his hand. "The lad has been pestering me with questions about desert horses. I started doing research, and a fellow down by the docks let slip you lot were collecting a real desert colt this very night. I couldn't turn down the opportunity, and I'm real pleased you allowed robert to come."
"What edward don't know won't hurt him." Harvey grinned.
"speaking of edward," robert said, "why is he stabling this colt here instead of at the palace?"
"I suspect it's because desert horses aren't supposed to be bred outside the geordian," Harvey replied. "Horse breeders been fightin' for years to get rights to geordian horses, but treaty granted tribes all resources within their territory. Tribes in the Anthone portion give their reignin' monarchs each a horse, but only if all offsprin' are returned to the tribe. I reckon edward didn't want it whispered about he's broken treaty."
Harvey lowered his voice. "I try to keep my nose out of the politics. We've got horses from every country in the region. A geordian desert colt, though, that's somethin' I never thought I'd see in my lifetime."
"Listen, Harvey, I didn't mean to disrupt your work." drew looked over at robert. "seeing as we've got a minute before the colt arrives, I'd like to show the lad around. It's not every day a horseman gets to see a setup the scale of midbury."
Harvey chuckled. "show him around. Just act like you belong, and nobody will give you a hard time."
robert followed drew past dozens of nickering horses until Harvey's form faded in the background. Then, after turning down a corridor as vast as the first but in this case stabling teams, drew continued another twenty-five yards and pointed to his left.
Six black horses. robert picked out the lead stallion right away, and it picked him out as well. None of the other horses in the stables had responded to his presence with more than an outstretched neck; but this stallion snorted, shook his head, and raced to the back of his stall.
"Not too fond of visitors, that one," drew said.
A chill tingled robert's jaw. Wild eyes rolled in his direction. The black head lifted; neck muscles strained. The stallion rushed the boards, lifting his deep chest and pounding the rattling wood with the same powerful forelegs that had haunted robert's dreams. dust billowed from the stall door, and thudding echoed down the walkway, drawing the attention of stable hands.
robert backed away, pulling drew with him clear around the corner.
"myself, now," teased drew, "I'd pick about any other horse in this stable for laying down my money." robert ignored the comment. In the back of his mind, he had not really believed the horses would be here, not the same team from Carnival night, not that scarred stallion. "That was him?" prompted the horseman.
robert nodded, reality sinking in. "Is there a way to find out who drove him two nights ago?"
"you could try asking. There aren't many drivers could handle a team like that."
something in drew's tone made robert look up at his companion. "you know who drives that team," he accused.
The horseman hesitated. "I know a fellow who has driven that team. I can't be certain he was driving it the night you saw him." A pause. "Harvey ought to be able to tell you. He sees everything."
robert retraced his steps. With the name of the driver, he would have the name of the assassin--at least one assassin.
Harvey still sat on his bucket in the aisle, his fingers caressing another bridle. "enjoy your trip, youngin'?"
"He was enjoying it up until we ran into that mean black stallion of yours," drew answered. "What's his name again?"
"Animosity." Harvey frowned. "stupid name for a horse."
"seems a handful," said drew, propping a foot on a grain sack. "I've never seen anybody but gregory take that horse out."
"No one else can handle him." A bitter scent of polish wafted through the air as Harvey shook out his rag.
plunging into the conversation, robert said, "I thought I saw that team with the stallion a couple nights ago."
Harvey nodded. "gregory had them saddled up late, night of Carnival."
Gregory, Gregory, Gregory--the assassin's name pulsed in robert's thoughts. No longer just a driver, but a man with a name. "Where was he headed?"
"It's here!" A distant shout interrupted the conversation before Harvey could answer. "Over in the east corral." A crowd of people poured into the corridor from around corners, out of stalls, through doorways; the stables suddenly teamed with men, women, and children. robert felt himself scooped up and swept down the aisle, drew and Harvey with him.
"Where are all these people coming from?" robert called, his feet struggling to keep pace with the crowd as he turned one corner, then another.
"All over midbury," Harvey answered. "This place is stocked with underground tunnels." He gestured to the right, where a row of seven or eight doors lined a wall. "each of these doors leads somewhere. That one there will take you a couple miles east of here into the woods. In case you ever want to walk two miles in the dark."
robert did not have time to consider the chilling prospect as the crush of the crowd shoved him up against the smooth planks of a corral. A golden head tossed in the corral's center. dark halter straps gleamed on the colt's face, and a lead rope whipped about like wet cloth.
"He's of racing age," drew crowed.
The colt bolted from its stance, galloped in a broad circle, and reared up, a blazing sun burning in the dark. shoulder muscles gleamed above a smooth back and powerful hindquarters. eyes snapped with fear, and the lead rope dangled dangerously. robert fought a sudden urge to tear the crowd away.
motioning toward a lone man perched on top of the corral's far side, Harvey said, "speakin' of marcus gregory."
The assassin. From this distance, robert could not make out facial features, but he took in the slicked hair, long arms, slim torso, and short legs. perhaps a couple inches over five feet, the man could not weigh more than 110 pounds--the unmistakable build of a jockey.
robert's assessment was confirmed immediately. gregory hurtled into the paddock, snatched up the loose lead rope, and sprang onto the colt's back. Twisting in terror, the horse tried to unseat its invader, but gregory gripped the golden belly with strong legs. Arm muscles bulged as he clutched the horse's mane. The rope flashed into motion, beating the colt about the head until blood dripped from its ear.
Instinctively robert lurched forward, longing to rip the bully from the horse's back. drew's strong grip pushed down on robert's shoulder. "you can't go in there, lad," drew said. "Turn around, and walk back to the stables."
robert fled, unable to shake the vision of blood from his thoughts. The faint sound of drew's voice apologizing to Harvey ebbed in the background. robert moved without seeing, down the corridor, around the corner, down another corridor, around another corner, on and on. A net of dripping red draped over his mind, interfering with his ability to discriminate. He could not tell one stall from the next, much less one row or one intersection. Winding walls and empty halls closed in on him. The farther he ran, the tighter they gripped him, until the stalls were gone, the hay, the pitchforks, the light.
emotionally drained, he leaned his body up against a beam and waited for his eyes to adjust to the sudden dimness. He must have left the stables altogether. Instead of stalls, a solid wall rose up before him, featuring doors and
windows with bars. He eased away from the beam to peer into one of the windows.
The noxious smell of urine and molding hay boiled his tender insides. stomach muscles heaved, emptying their contents onto the dirt floor. gagging, he pressed the palm of his hand to his chest, then slid the hand up to cover his mouth and nose. His eyes strained against the shadows. He could just make out a set of metal chains anchored along the far wall. A dungeon, probably long out of use, but still reeking.
He turned around to backtrack, more anxious than ever to remove himself from his surroundings. Just get out, he told himself. Once you get out of this building, you can walk around the outside and find Horizon. Drew will meet you there. embarrassed by the blind flight, robert moved back into the stables and turned down a corridor. Keep moving in this direction. Sooner or later, you'll hit the outside wall or an exit.
sure enough, in less than ten minutes, he stepped into open air. His lungs expanded with relief . . . and caught.
Not five yards from the stable entrance sat a black carriage, its sleek sides and plain trim blending into the darkness. The carriage from Carnival night. And out the carriage door stepped edward, king of Anthone.
Chapter Nine
COURTING DANGER
THE VANTAUGE COAT OF Arms ON THE SITTING-ROOM wall seemed to gaze at robert with disappointment. He slumped into his uncle's chair. A full week had passed since the trip to midbury, and he was no closer to solving the case than he had been the night edward stepped out of that black carriage.
perhaps king edward was not involved in the plot at all. perhaps he was here solely on a diplomatic mission; but as each day passed, robert found that less and less likely. The Anthonian king showed no sign of returning to his own country, no sign of cooperating with Aurelia's father, no sign of enjoying Tyralt. day after day, he met in king Lauzon's official chamber, yet nothing ever seemed to come from the meetings.
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