by Carol Berg
“Well, then… ” She hadn’t left me much to say. “You, of course, may speak of whatever you please.”
She sat gracefully on the parapet next to her lantern, the light-beams dancing on the crystal beadwork of the riding gown visible beneath her blue cloak. “We heard the first reports more than two years ago,” she said, “whisperings among those bold enough to touch on forbidden subjects in the presence of the king: a commander with reports of a maimed soldier who disappeared in the middle of one night… a duke’s vanished mistress whose legs were crippled by a disease in her bones… a military governor investigating accusations of witchcraft. My husband thought little of these incidents until a man named Maceron demanded an audience, claiming he had evidence of an invasion from the world of the sorcerers.”
“Maceron!” I almost left the garden right then. The murderer Maceron, the despicable hunter of sorcerers who had exposed Karon’s secret to my brother and the king, who had served the purposes of the Zhid when they tried to use the Prince of Avonar to destroy the Bridge, the mundane henchman of the Lord Ziddari. “Madam, Maceron is a vicious, lying scoundrel.”
“Yes, you have every reason to despise the man. But you must hear me out.” She motioned me to sit beside her. “Maceron brought us a list of more than three hundred disappearances from all corners of the kingdom. Tales of disturbing dreams, fantastical visions of roads or doorways or impossible landscapes, almost every one of them including mention of three odd strangers with mysterious powers. Magical powers. These sorcerers were said to be most bizarre in their aspect: one of them huge with a beast-like hide, one black and emaciated like a creature of charred bones, one a dwarfish man with only one eye, crude in his speech and action. They were blamed for thievery, for tormenting of beasts, and for every manner of mischief and ruination. Strangely enough, almost every person who had disappeared was also deformed in some way, lame or blind or otherwise afflicted.”
The queen’s hands rested quietly in her lap, pale against the dark blue folds of her cloak as she posed her query. “One would never have believed such a history. Yet identical descriptions of the three villains originated from every region, from people who had never left their villages and from people who had traveled widely and were little amazed at any oddity. And the ruffians had been seen in places hundreds of leagues apart on exactly the same day! Though we hold no admiration for this Maceron - indeed he is a repulsive villain - his evidence is compelling. So, tell me, Seriana, are these beings from the other world? If not, then who are they?”
I shook my head slowly, my thoughts in a jumble. “This cannot be an invasion from Gondai, Your Majesty. As I told the king, though the skills and talents of Dar’Nethi differ from ours, their appearance does not. They are not monsters, but human creatures fair or plain as the case may be. Even the Zhid are but Dar’Nethi who have been wickedly enchanted. The works of the Lords of Zhev’Na in our world are far more subtle and terrible than these nursery frights.”
I believed what I said, but her description of the three odd thieves had shaken me with echoes of another story. A bent man, no taller than your waist… a one-eyed jongler… And the storyteller’s son had been born with only one hand. So, had the storyteller heard the tales of monsters and adopted it to explain his son’s disappearance or was there something of truth in the old man’s account? In the past, some of Karon’s ancestors, exiled in this world, had used illusions of monsters to impose their will upon the people of the Four Realms. Anxiety needled my spine like a kitten’s claws.
The queen held her tongue, and her gaze did not waver.
No, no, no. Except for the very few like Kellea and Gerick, the Exiles - those Dar’Nethi who, like Karon’s family, had lived in this world for centuries - were all dead, hunted to extermination, burned and forgotten by men like Maceron and Evard. My blood surged hot.
“These events you describe are beyond the capacities of either Dar’Nethi or Zhid, Your Majesty. Only the Prince of Avonar can cross between the two worlds at will, and he is certainly not abducting lame or deformed Leirans. I’m sorry, I’m unable to explain your mystery.”
The queen touched my hand. Her pale fingers were freezing. “Then you must investigate the case for us. My husband trusts no one but you in these matters. The kingdom is in the most terrible danger.”
I snatched my hand away. “Excuse my boldness, madam, but I’ve heard nothing to justify such a claim. These incidents are tragedies, yes. Crimes, yes, and mysteries, certainly. But since when has the disappearance of healthy citizens concerned King Evard, much less these pitiful creatures you name? If crimes are being committed, then look, not to sorcerers, but to Maceron and his kind, these vermin that your husband has nurtured.”
“The danger is unquestionable!” The queen jumped to her feet and crossed the bridge to stand gripping the broken remnant of a sculpted naiad that had once marked the apex of the span. “The very circumstance that has brought me here tonight in my husband’s stead is but another confirmation of it.”
She folded her arms tightly across her breast and faced me again, her back to the broken statue. “Last evening, I left the King of Leire in his bedchamber with two valets, preparing for a feast to celebrate our daughter’s birthday. When he failed to meet me as we had planned, I went back to fetch him. Though the guards swore that the king had not left his room as yet, my knock went unanswered. I returned to the feast and made excuses to our guests. But then my daughter left the feast abruptly… and soon sent word for me to join her in the king’s apartments.
“Evard sat on his bed, his garments immaculate, no evidence of injury. But he was not, and is not, himself.” She stared at me unblinking, her huge eyes demanding I believe her, insisting I answer her charge. “My husband is mute, Seriana. He is deaf, perhaps blind. I cannot tell. He says nothing, responds to nothing. Our physician, the finest in the realm, cannot tell me what ails him. I had the valets and guards questioned - seriously questioned - and I am convinced that the king was himself when the valets left him and that no one entered his apartments. Every door and window was locked from the inside. What can this be but sorcery?”
“My lady - ”
“No one knows of his condition save his physician, one servant, two of our most trusted counselors… and my daughter, of course. With their help, I’ve deceived even the Council of Lords. Everyone believes my husband merely incommoded with business. But you can understand how difficult it will be to keep up this masquerade for long. And you can imagine the results if the truth becomes known.”
Evard and his queen had produced only a single daughter to inherit the Leiran throne. Though Leiran nobles would never tolerate being ruled by a woman, the promise of a royal betrothal would have given Evard a stranglehold on every nobleman who was unmarried or had an unmarried son, nephew, or cousin. But with the girl yet unpledged, and Evard incapacitated…
She pressed harder. “I know of your past and the part my husband played in it. I do not excuse his actions. But I also know Evard would trust you with our lives and those of our subjects. You must leave behind your personal judgments, Lady Seriana, and come to the aid of your king.”
I shivered, but not from any evening chill. If things had changed, if the Lords had truly found a way to send monstrous henchmen across the Bridge to destroy a king in his own bedchamber, I couldn’t even imagine the danger. Panic. Riots. Murder. Civil war. The chaos caused by the destruction of the most powerful man in this world could be the very fodder to strengthen the Three of Zhev’Na beyond any possibility of defeat. And Karon was on the verge of his attempt on Zhev’Na.
“Tell them,” I blurted out. “Tell the people that King Evard has set out on a mission to take care of these disappearances, that he’s attacking those who are disturbing their sleep… as near the truth as you can make it. You’ll have to spirit him away, of course. As long as he’s in Montevial you’ll never be able to hide his condition long enough for us to learn what’s happened. So use the time to his benefit.
Tell his people that he’s working to save them, and then do something in his name: proclaim a general amnesty, repeal the poaching laws, shorten indentures, revert a portion of their taxes to the landowners, anything to divert attention.”
I couldn’t believe what I was doing - advising Evard’s wife on how to protect his throne. But I would not see what civilization we had dissolve into anarchy. Chaos was exactly what our enemies wanted.
“And what will you do?”
Despite her protestations, to confess to the Queen of Leire that I was guilty of acts for which she could have me executed still caused a twinge in my gut. But evasion would profit nothing. “Prince D’Natheil must be told of these matters. He can investigate, decide what’s best to do. And if anyone can heal the king’s affliction, it is he.”
“He’s the sorcerer you told of, the ruler of this other place who has the power to travel between?”
“Yes.”
She turned sharply, her blue cloak swirling in the lamplight. “Perhaps he’s the one who causes all this! Perhaps he’s not as benevolent as you think.”
“Your Majesty, you have honored me with your trust” - indeed her secrets were worth her life and her daughter’s, as well as Evard’s - “and I ask you to extend it a little further. Prince D’Natheil is the most worthy of allies, bearing a deep love for this world and those who dwell here. For a thousand years, his family and his people have borne the burden of our survival as well as their own. Their Bridge is designed to balance the worlds, to restore them, to heal the evils their kind have caused.”
“How do you know? Perhaps he deceives you with his magics.”
I sighed and prayed I was not acting the fool. “Because he is my husband, lady, and he would do nothing to bring my people harm.”
“Ah.” She relaxed her shoulders as if I’d finally told her something that was clear. “Tell me more of these people and their war. Clearly there are things you didn’t mention to the king.”
“Indeed it’s a very long story, Your Majesty. Too long for tonight. I need to go.” I was anxious to talk to Radele. Surely he had some way to contact someone in Avonar. Karon had to know what was happening.
“Before you go, you need to know of one more complication.” The pain on her face and the slight tremor in her voice signaled the first breach in her composure.
“My daughter reported seeing a cloaked man in my husband’s chambers when she first entered. We found no one there; it was impossible, as I’ve told you. I gave her report little credence. Over the past years my daughter has reported a threatening man in her apartments a number of times, but we’ve considered her stories merely a girl’s prattling. Last night I scolded her for continuing such foolery when her father was so ill. After we carried the king to a private chamber, my daughter locked herself into Evard’s rooms, vowing to prove me wrong. Today… she is nowhere to be found. What if these monsters have attacked us yet again?”
“Ah, my lady, surely she is just angry with you. Playing a cruel prank.”
“I pray that’s so. But you must understand how precious is that which I entrust to you and your prince. Roxanne is so young… ”
“I’ll do whatever I can, Your Majesty. I promise.”
She lifted her chin, no further slip betraying her emotions. “Have you need of funds? Men? Weapons?”
“Not yet. I can’t say what might be needed in the future.” Her honesty compelled me to add more. “My lady, I’ll not insult you by pretending feeling for Evard. The simplest reason declares that to be impossible. But I honor the crown he wears, and I would see it safe until a better man wears it. And I do not avenge myself on children.”
“Your frankness serves you well, Seriana.” She gave me her cold, pale hand, drew me close, and kissed me on each cheek. As we parted, she dropped a small brooch into my hand, an opal encased in gold filigree, fashioned in the design of an owl - the symbol of Valleor. “If you should have need of me, this will gain you or your messenger instant admittance to my presence. Good night.” She picked up her lamp, and hurried down the bridge and the path. The light-beams danced among the shadows.
“Good night, Your Majesty.”
CHAPTER 8
The bridge parapet was still warm from the queen’s lantern. I sat sideways on the wall, knees drawn up under my gown, eyes growing accustomed to the thick darkness. Though anxious to get back to Gerick and away from this haunted place, I needed to make sure no one lurked nearby, waiting to follow me back to him. Martin had always said that love and honor among royalty was very like their bread, described by the same words, but usually of a very different flavor from that found among the common run of people. Besides, I had a great deal to consider. Somehow I had to convince my husband to aid the man who had burned him to death. Even Karon’s generous spirit might not stretch that far.
All seemed secure. No incongruous shape appeared among the shadows of flora gone wild. No untoward sound intruded on the rustlings of the wind and the occasional hoot of an owl. After perhaps a quarter of an hour, I swung my feet to the ground. As I left the bridge and started up the long path to the road and the gatehouse, I heard footsteps on the gravel path. Enchantment stung my skin like a shower of ice crystals.
“Where is he, Seri?” said a low voice behind my shoulder.
I spun on my heel, thrilled and delighted, certain that the vehemence of my wishing in the last hours had drawn him across D’Arnath’s Bridge to help me solve Leire’s great mystery. But news and greetings died upon my lips when I saw his face and felt the grip on my arm. “Karon, what is it?”
“Where is the boy?” he said. His fingers came near cracking my bones. “Tell me where the deceiver lurks, in what web he hangs waiting to dispense more of his poison. Oh, it was a fine performance. No thespian in any world could fault him. Now the actor is unmasked… but at such cost… ”
“Earth and sky, Karon, what’s happened? Is it Gerick?”
“He is not Gerick!” His lips curled in disgust. “Give him the name of his own choosing: Dieste the Fourth Lord, the Destroyer. No name has ever been more apt.” The night darkened with his anger. His hand quivered, and his eyes sparked gold and blue like a blacksmith’s forge. “Tell me where he is.”
I wrenched my arm from his grasp and stepped backward, moving into the path between him and the gatehouse. “What makes you say such things?”
“The boy is not what you think, Seri. Not what I thought. My healing… your nurturing… our worry and hope and love… all wasted. He remains as he was in Zhev’Na. But tonight he stands within range of my sword, and I must and will destroy him before he can compound his evil.”
“Karon, tell me what you’re talking about.” Panic left my voice ragged, my veins hollow. “Gerick has scarcely been out of my sight for four years. There is no deceit in him. What do you think he’s done?”
“Murder, Seri. Torture and betrayal done at his word as surely as if the bloody implements were yet in his hand. Only six knew of Jayereth’s work. Now she lies dead, her promise, her brilliance, drowned in agony so terrible I cannot think on it. Only six knew of Marcus, Nemyra, and T’Sero and their mission in Zhev’Na, but two days after Jayereth was destroyed, their corpses were returned to Avonar… defiled.” His voice shook. “And the Circle, Avonar’s noblest, most skilled men and women, each one leaving home, husband, wife, children to stand vigil on the borders of the Wastes, awaiting my command, every one of them attacked that same day. No more than fifteen out of two hundred survived. All our preparation… four long years and we were ready to begin, and now it’s all gone, and we’ve no time to start again. Need I tell more? Will you ask me how I can be sure? Must I show you his bloody works as they will ever remain burned into my soul?”
All Karon’s plans for healing the ravages done to his world and mine, all his hopes of rescuing the Dar’Nethi slaves from bondage, everything had been bound up in Jayereth and the Circle and the three who had once been Zhid. But why did he blame Gerick?
�
�There must be some other explanation. A spy. One of your Counselors suborned… Think! Gerick left Zhev’Na freely, saved our lives. Sword of Annadis defend us, Karon, you’ve linked with his mind repeatedly. How could he have deceived you?”
Karon gripped an outstretched alder bough as if it were the handle to his fury. “I didn’t want to believe it either,” he said, his rage cold and controlled now. “Of course I didn’t. I would sooner have believed that I myself had done it, than it be my son. But on the night I last came to Verdillon, I spoke to the boy alone. He was the fifth I spoke to that day. Each one of the five I told a secret, unknown to anyone but myself, each secret a prize the Lords could not refuse. All false, of course, but of such a nature that I would know if any betrayal was done.”
I remembered Gerick listening intently in Verdillon’s garden. Arms folded. Expression unreadable… as it was so often. No, I won’t believe it.
“Four traps remain unsprung, their mythical prizes unclaimed. The fifth was ingenious, I think.” His hollow laugh was worse than his rage. “I told him that Jayereth had left transcripts of her work hidden in an abandoned bathhouse in Lyrrathe Vale. I said that the secret of nullifying mordemar had not died with her, but would remain hidden there until I named her successor, telling him that he needed to know these things in case anything happened to me. Then, I set a watch on the bathhouse. I willed the cache to remain untouched, Seri. I prayed to be left with unfathomable mystery, rather than unimaginable betrayal, and on each day that passed, I gave thanks. But yesterday I named the Alchemist Mem’Tara to the Preceptorate, saying she would take up Jayereth’s work. And last night, the fifth trap was sprung.”