by Carol Berg
“You’ve likely not been introduced to her brother, the Duke of Comigor. Tomas, have you met your sister’s chosen lord and master?”
“No, sire.” Tomas raked Karon with a glance. His lip curled slightly. Karon bowed, but the courtesy was not returned. Tomas jerked his head at his lieutenant. “My aide, Captain Darzid.”
“A delight, of course.” Darzid smiled cheerfully as he bowed to me, and, in a surprisingly intimate gesture, offered Karon his hand. Karon did not rebuff him, of course, and as they touched, Darzid stared with unabashed curiosity. When he finally released Karon’s hand, Darzid grinned at me in his most charming and mischievous manner. “Sorry I can’t stay,” he said. “My lord’s business calls.”
He genuflected gracefully to Evard, bowed to Tomas, and leaned toward me with a not-at-all-private whisper. “I wish we had found time to talk about my dreams, my lady. Too late now, I’m afraid.” He bowed to me and left the group.
Sir Geoffrey, courteously ignoring the awkward greetings, reminded Evard of the matter which had drawn his interest.
“Ah, yes. The monolith. An interesting choice to guard the Crown Vault.” His lack of interest in artifacts was quite apparent.
“Such was its function in the Dorian Empire, Majesty,” said Karon. “It seemed proper.”
“It serves.” Evard drew two fingers along my jaw. “You look exceptionally well, my lady. Town living must suit you. At some time during this cheerful season, we must dine.” I curtsied, which put my face nicely out of his reach. “Thank you, Your Majesty. My husband and I would consider it a privilege to dine with you. We wish you and your queen a fair Seille.” That for you, you sly devil. Two can play these games.
I had begun to think that all might actually be well, for Darzid was gone, Tomas distracted, and Evard already engaged by a giggling young woman who looked as if she would be thrilled to have the king’s fingers trace her jaw. But before we could withdraw, Sir Geoffrey bustled toward us again, towing someone in his wake. “Karon, Lady Seriana, don’t leave yet. Your Majesty, may I present the belle of the evening, Misara, the Lark of Valleor?”
Karon quickly slipped behind me, as if to make room for the singer.
The girl made full obeisance in the Vallorean way, which was the way of penitents in Leire, kneeling, arms spread wide with the forehead touching the floor. Evard frowned and gestured to one of his attendants to pull her up. “No penance is necessary for such a performance as we’ve heard this night,” he said. “Now you must excuse us. We have other business.”
The guests bowed or curtsied as Evard moved toward the supper room. We were almost free. But as we rose from our genuflections, the singer came face to face with Karon. “Mi Dispore!” she cried. Dropping to her knees, she grasped Karon’s hand and kissed it.
At the young woman’s exclamation, Evard glanced back and saw what she did. “What’s this?” he said, scowling over his shoulder.
Misara, tears streaming down her face, said in broken Leiran, “It is the Dispore, Majesty, the saving hand. After the earthshaking, my family were dead, their house fallen. But this one digs… so careful… all night. Pulls the stones away, crawls in the tiny passage, earth still shaking, again and again, and we thought he was to be dead, too. Such a long time. But then each one he brings out: my father, my mother, Leno, Jasra, Tegro, Niste. All living. Five days were they under the stones, Majesty.”
Sir Geoffrey leaned toward Evard. “Karon was in Xerema to examine an ancient tomb site and was himself injured in the terrible earthquake.”
“I am in your forever debt, mi Dispore . Command me,” said the singer.
Karon spoke softly, looking only at the girl. “Everyone who could so much as stand or lift a stone did the same.”
Now quiet your tongue, foolish girl , I thought.
But she would not stop. “Not like you, sir. You were everywhere bringing hope. I sought for you to save my family because I heard of you. Everyone knew. It was a miracle… the Dispore.”
Evard cut her off. He flicked his hand in dismissal, spun on his heel, and murmured to Tomas, loud enough that we could hear. “Might have expected Seri to dredge up a paragon.”
My hand was already on Karon’s arm, my feet moving toward the doors. “Dear boy, one more thing.” When Sir Geoffrey accosted Karon yet again, I wanted to scream. “I do wish you would view this manuscript given me earlier today by Jahn Gronne who is just back from Iskeran. I must value it and return it to Gronne by morning, so if you could spare one more moment before escorting your lovely wife home…”
Karon pressed my hand and smiled at me with encouragement. “Only a moment.” Then he followed Sir Geoffrey to his library.
I remained by the hearth, not at all cold, but most definitely shivering. What if the girl had seen Karon work his magic or mentioned the rumors of the supernatural that had floated about Xerema?
Karon was back in a quarter of an hour. “Good night, Sir Geoffrey. A marvelous evening.”
“I hope you will soon feel yourself again, my lady,” said the old knight.
I curtsied. “I’m sure I will. Thank you, Sir Geoffrey.” Once more Karon and I moved determinedly toward the exit doors. I breathed easier when we walked into the cooler air of the spacious, lamplit foyer. But no sooner had the porter summoned a footman to fetch our cloaks than two men appeared between us and the outer doors. One of them was Darzid. The other was the fish-eyed sheriff I had last seen in the innyard at Threadinghall.
No time to think. Frontal assault was always the surest tactic. “Captain Darzid,” I said. “I was beginning to wonder if you were a separate being from my brother, and now I see you are attached to someone else. It’s refreshing to know you’ve not taken root upon my family tree. Introduce me to your friend.”
Darzid glanced at his companion. “I believe you have already met Maceron.”
“Oh, yes,” said the sheriff. “No doubt of that.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I never forget an acquaintance.” I approached my brother’s lieutenant, all the while screaming in my mind for Karon to run. But instead, I felt him stroll up behind me. His hands would be clasped behind his back as always, as if waiting patiently for the cloaks and his foolish wife. “So what mischief are you about, Darzid?” I asked, fighting to make sure the man could not read my terror.
The sheriff was not to be fooled. “I’m sure of them both. The woman is the whore from the inn, and the man”—his thin lips parted in a smile of purest hatred—“the man is the sorcerer.”
The devastating accusation hung in the air like a hawk poised on the wind, ready to dive for his prey. Karon put his arms around me from behind, bent forward, and softly kissed my hair.
A moment later, green-clad guards ripped him away, and I whirled about to see such love and regret in his blue eyes that I thought my heart might crack. Maceron shoved me aside, and while two guards pinned Karon’s arms cruelly behind him, the sheriff smashed a brutal fist into Karon’s face. I cried out, “Stop!” and reached for Maceron’s arm. But Darzid grabbed me and held me fast. A second blow left Karon dazed and with a bloody gash above one eye.
“There’s an easy way to confirm our contention,” said the sheriff. “If we’re right, he’ll be wearing his perfidy, not on his sleeve, but inside it.”
Karon shook his head groggily. “Wait—”
The fish-eyed man struck Karon again, this time across the mouth, and then pointed one thick finger at me. “The next blow will fall on the woman.”
I wrenched my arms from Darzid’s grip and found my voice, shaking though it was. “What is the meaning of this, Captain Darzid? How dare you lay hands on a daughter of the house of Comigor or an official of the king’s household? Where is Sir Geoffrey? Where are the guards? My brother—”
“Ah, no.” Darzid raised a finger in warning. Never had I seen such cold darkness as his gaze. “I learned years ago not to underestimate you, my Lady Seriana, so you needn’t fear I’ve left anything to chance. You
r brother has been properly notified of my suspicions, as has His Majesty. They are awaiting my report. If I’m wrong, then the mistake was an honest one… but I’m not wrong, am I?” He knew. Blessed Annadis be merciful, he stripped the truth from me even as I stood there. A wintry smile brushed his narrow face.
Darzid pushed me into the hands of one of the guards. Drawing his knife, he slit Karon’s left sleeve from shoulder to wrist, exposing the scars for the crowd that had begun to gather by the music room doors. No assault could have been more devastating. Karon, blinking and trying to shake off the blows to his head, struggled to pull his arm close in to his body, but he could not move.
“Take them to the king,” said the sheriff, motioning to the heavily armed soldiers who had appeared behind him. “Have a care with the man. He is dangerous beyond your imaginings. Bind his eyes. Keep four spare guards ready at all times.”
Darzid took my arm again. “If he utters a sound, I’ll kill the woman.”
We passed a blur of wide-eyed onlookers, including a bewildered Sir Geoffrey, as Darzid propelled me down a softly lit, wood-paneled passageway and into a comfortable sitting room. Evard slouched on a brown velvet couch, and Tomas stood stiffly behind him.
“Your Majesty,” said Darzid, with a deep bow. “The information provided by Sheriff Maceron has proven correct. It is no paragon of virtue to whom the Lady Seriana has gotten herself wed, but to a sorcerer—if such a sublime state as matrimony can be said to apply to a fiend.” Underneath his display of shock, I felt him laughing.
Four soldiers shoved Karon into the room. A scarf of incongruously bright green was tied about his eyes. Blood soaked one side of it.
“Your Majesty, I beg you right this injustice,” I said. “Is this the way your servants treat members of noble families or men who hold positions in your household?”
Evard looked past me to Darzid. “He is incapacitated?”
Darzid nodded. “He’ll not be dangerous as long as we control him, prevent him from speaking, and keep his eyes covered. And as long as we have the woman.” He was as cool and matter-of-fact as if he were discussing the finer points of a new horse.
Nodding, Evard rose from the couch, walked over to Karon, and stared at his arm. “Oh, Seri, my dear girl, what have you done? You could have been queen of the Four Realms. Instead you’ve chosen to consort with a demon.” He bent over to examine Karon’s scars more closely. I wanted to scream.
“He’s bewitched her,” burst out Tomas. “This is all Gault’s doing.”
“Gault will be dealt with.”
“Is that what this idiocy is all about?” I said, desperate to gain some foothold. “Martin has long relinquished all claim to the throne. You’ve no need to manufacture some fantastic plot to discredit him. Tomas, can you believe I would marry a sorcerer? I had the same tutors as you.”
But no one was listening to me.
“And so, Sheriff,” said the king, straightening up again. “What is it that such creatures as this do?”
“These scars indicate that this one claims to be a healer,” said Maceron, moving to Evard’s side. “In fact, sorcerers of his kind can indeed pull a passing spirit from the brink of death. What could be a more disgusting distortion of nature than depriving a soul that is done with life of its proper end? The sorcerer does it, not out of generosity, of course, but to create a spirit slave who has no choice but to do his foul bidding.”
“And it causes this?” Evard curled his lip as he touched Karon’s arm. Karon jerked away and the guards twisted his arms tighter.
“In all its perversity, it’s quite an impressive show. Would you like a demonstration, your Majesty? There would be no danger in it as long as Captain Darzid and I control him. He can do only one working at a time. And it would be inarguable evidence at his trial.”
I looked from one to the other, trying to understand what they were saying.
“I don’t see how you could make him do it.” Evard flopped onto the couch again, looking skeptical.
“I know a very good way,” said Darzid. He whipped off Karon’s blindfold and nodded.
Karon blinked, and his gaze flicked to something behind me. For the first time since I’d known him, I saw fear in his eyes.
“Karon, what is—?” Fire exploded in my back, and roaring erupted in my ears. Karon yelling… Tomas, somewhere far away, cursing. My head spun. I couldn’t get a breath, and my knees turned to water. Only as I felt warm wetness spreading across my back did I begin to comprehend. “No… don’t…” I tried to warn Karon, but my tongue refused to obey me. There would be no going back if he did it. They had no proof unless he gave it to them.
My knees gave way. Someone caught me. “Damn you. Damn all of you. Get a surgeon in here.”
I floated in and out of awareness, the words and shouts drifting through my spinning head.
“… a knife, clean and sharp.”
No, Karon, no. They’ll not let me die . My tongue wouldn’t work.
“… grace your son…”
“Damnation, what is it he does?”
“… fill my soul with light…”
Fire ripped my arm. No, Karon …
“… death to touch either one of them while he…”
“J’den encour , my dearest love…”
I had been so cold sleeping, but now all was warm again. I lay on my back. A smile crossed my face. Connor Martin Gervaise was getting big enough that sleeping on my back was becoming uncomfortable. And the bed was so hard. I tried to roll over, but couldn’t. Karon was there. I felt him breathing. Tassaye, tassaye, he whispered. Softly. Softly. He was holding my arm so tight. I couldn’t move it, and my eyes fluttered open to see him leaning over me. What had happened to his face? Was it from the earthquake? Such terrible bruises… and blood all over… one eye swollen shut, and he was so pale… almost transparent like the day at Windham…
It all came flooding back to me. “No,” I said weakly.
His eyes flicked open… such love in them. When he smiled, I felt the warmth of his life flowing in my veins. “Cut it now,” he said to someone over his shoulder. And to me, “It is a wonder. All of it.”
My arm was released, but before I could reach out for him, they dragged him away, and there on Sir Geoffrey’s fine carpet, they beat him until he was insensible. Fear lent weight to their fists.
I sat unmoving on the floor where they’d left me, and stared at the door through which they had at last taken him away. Someone came up behind me, and I flinched, but the hands that lifted me up and led me to the empty brown velvet couch were not rough hands. Tomas sat me down and knelt in front of me. No one else was in the room. “By Annadis’s holy sword, Seri, what is he?”
I fingered the place on my arm where Karon had made the incision. There was no remnant of it but the fire in my memory. It would have been too difficult to hold me around the back where the knife had gone in. Better to make a new place to mingle the blood… the blood of life.
Tomas spoke as if I were a child. “Has he bewitched you? Silenced you with some ensorcelment? Is that what happened three years ago? Did he control you even then?”
I stared at my brother, trying to comprehend what he was saying. My mind was in chaos, horror and wonder entwined in a mortal embrace.
“Seri, tell me you’re all right.” Fumbling, he examined my back. My gown felt damp and scratchy—stiffening as the blood dried where Maceron’s blade had gone in. “Holy gods, it’s impossible.”
Finally I gathered words. “Tomas, you must help him.”
Awkwardly he put his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll take care of you, Seri. We’ll find out what must be done… the priests… to purify you. Are you free of him now he’s away from you?”
“No. You don’t understand…” I tried to tell him about sorcery and the J’Ettanne. But the longer I spoke, the farther he withdrew from me, and by the time I noticed, it was too late. I had told him about our child.
Tomas spoke in muted horro
r. “You let him do that to you? Plant you with his venomous seed? How could you live? Was there no knife, no sword to put an end to your debasement?”
“Tomas, you’ve heard nothing I’ve said.”
“I’ve heard enough. This is an entirely new situation. Evard must be told that taking care of the sorcerer is insufficient.”
“Tomas!”
“You’ll not burn. You’ll not die. You’re still of the house of Comigor, and Evard has sworn to me. But you’ve consented to evil beyond my imagining, and it will be undone.” He stormed out of the room, leaving me alone in the library.
Sometime in the night I was taken to the palace and locked in a bare, cold room, such as scullery maids might live in. My locket and my wedding ring were taken from me, and my bloodstained green silk was replaced by a muslin shift and a plain black dress. I would not weep. I would not.
CHAPTER 18
The morning dawned cool and gray, as did most summer mornings in the Uker valley, but the rising sun burned off the fog early. I awoke cramped and tired from the night on the dirt floor of the charcoal burner’s hut, and the lingering disturbance of my dreaming was hard to shake. Stars of night, why could I not be rid of it? Perhaps if I could get the unpleasant prince and his annoying servant on their way, I could go back to Dunfarrie and bury it all again. Yet I wondered. My cottage now seemed as remote as D’Natheil’s Avonar.
Tennice and Baglos were quiet that morning, too, brows furrowed and shoulders tight as we passed around chunks of dry black bread, spread with a paste of beans and leeks that was long past fresh. D’Natheil showed no interest in breakfast, but sat in the open doorway, intently scribing his wood chip with the point of his knife.
“What is it he makes?” I asked Baglos, as I smoothed my still-damp clothes into some semblance of order.
“I’ve asked, but he does not respond.”