Song of the Lioness #4 - Lioness Rampant

by Tamora Pierce

  "No!" Claw yelled. "You need me—"

  The door slammed open. Alex stood, sword unsheathed; Claw's hands were filled with two sharp knives. Roger of Conté swept in, followed by a frightened guard. "My lady, I couldn't stop him, not him—" the guard stammered.

  "Return to your post," ordered Delia, and he obeyed. Delia, who'd once been Roger's mistress, rose to curtsey to the Duke. "Roger, this is a pleasant surprise—"

  "I wanted no independent action on your parts." They stared at him, seeing he was in a rage, and were suddenly afraid. "Do you think you assisted me? Now the King-to-be watches me; my Lord Provost suspects me. And I find I owe this happiness to you four."

  Delia sank prettily to her knees, skirts billowing. Reaching up, she touched his hand. "Forgive our enthusiasm, dear lord," she murmured. "We meant to bring you to your rightful throne—"

  "Enough." He dragged her to her feet. "You cherished dreams once of becoming my consort. Unless you wish to be the consort of Carthaki snake-breeders, you will await my orders." He threw her into Alex's hold and turned to Josiane.

  "Josiane of the Copper Isles, I have known you only since my return from the dead, but I understand you well. Jonathan courted you to spite Alanna of Trebond. Still, you might have kept him, with some restraint on your part. Now you want to punish him, and so you meddle with things that do not concern you. I am not your pawn. Stay out of my affairs. If you wish to be a part of this, you will await my commands—either here, or on the river bottom. Do not cross me again!"

  He looked at the thief. "Ralon of Malven. The present Rogue is worth twenty of you. Your choice of tools is bad, Delia. He'll betray you when he's done with the thieves."

  Turning to Alex, the fury in Roger's sapphire eyes faded to puzzlement. "I am surprised at you, my former squire."

  "I told them to do nothing," Alex shrugged. "I said you'd have different plans. They thought matters could be—hastened. Frankly, I didn't think it was important enough to bother you for."

  Roger smiled grimly. "You might have been right. The trouble with ambitious plots is that those who are not involved get wind of them—as they did this time. That person, or those persons, took what they heard to Jonathan, and he took their information to my Lord Provost. But you—I know you are not a plotter, and I know you are not ambitious. What do you want from this?"

  Alex met his eyes for a long moment; then, smiling slightly, he bowed. He knew Roger would guess what he desired of any plan to take Jonathan from the throne.

  Roger tugged his beard. "We shall see. Perhaps… You haven't changed. As for you others," he said, looking at them, "no more plots. No more assassins. Steal nothing for me, bribe no servants for me. My plans are my own, and you will await my instructions. I warn you this once."

  He raised a hand. Slowly blood-colored fire—the fire of magic—collected in his palm. With a savage gesture he hurled it at a small table, which exploded into chips of burning wood and molten pieces of brass and porcelain.

  In the silence that followed, Roger whispered, "Don't think to disobey me." Turning, he walked out.

  Delia was ashen. "But his Gift was bright orange…"

  Alex picked up a cooling bit of glass in his handkerchief. He looked it over and began to smile.

  6: Homecoming

  THE TRAVELERS set out from Port Caynn immediately after landing, eager to reach their destination. Riding slowly, to reaccustom themselves after several weeks out of the saddle, they would be in Corus before nightfall. They halted shortly after midday at an inn Alanna and Raoul remembered, where the squires had often stopped on trips to Caynn. The food was good, the place so quiet that a rest seemed in order. Buri and Thayet napped; the men played chess. Alanna took Faithful to sit under a courtyard tree, scratching his ears and enjoying the sun. She was half drowsing when she heard an approaching rider.

  Someone in a hurry, the sleepy Faithful remarked. Alanna nodded, refusing to open her eyes. The buzz of summer crickets was soothing after days of waves and gulls. Never would she board a water vessel again!

  Curious, she peeped through her lashes; the rider entered the yard. With a yell she leaped up, dumping Faithful to the ground. "George!"

  The thief grinned and grabbed her. His brawny arms closed tight; she was lifted, spun, then well kissed. Alanna looked up into dancing hazel eyes. "How did you know we were here?" she asked, wiping teary eyes on his sleeve.

  "Stop that, lass," he whispered. "Messenger birds, remember? You're thin. Haven't you been eatin', my hero?"

  "I was seasick." She grinned. "It was the only way to get home in time. Are you all right? You look worn."

  George kissed her again, taking his time to convince her of his health. He released her, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "Now your Dragon can kill me—I'll die happy."

  "You know about Liam?"

  He chuckled. "Sweet, everyone knows the Lioness and the Dragon were prowlin' Sarain. I heard two songs about you this week."

  "Have you counted her fingers yet, Cooper?" Liam walked toward them, his eyes pale crystal.

  George smiled. "I never thought you wouldn't take care of her, Dragon." He held out a hand, keeping a grip on Alanna. "I assume you're used to bein' sung about."

  Liam's eyes darkened to blue-gray; he shook the offered hand with a smile. "They'll have more to sing about, I guarantee."

  George stared past Liarn, eyes wide. "Bless me, Crooked God," he whispered.

  Thayet and Buri emerged from the inn, still yawning. Alanna knew what had caught George's attention: the afternoon sun sank into Thayet's midnight hair while it turned her skin a deep cream. Thayet would look good anywhere, Alanna thought, with only a touch of envy. "Princess Thayet jian Wilima, may I present George Cooper? George, this is Princess Thayet of Sarain, and her guard Buriram Tourakom."

  "Don't bother," muttered Buri. George released Alanna to bow and kiss Thayet's hand. "He won't remember anyway."

  George straightened and winked at the K'mir. "I'm awed, Buriram Tourakom, but I'm rarely that awed."

  Charmed in spite of herself, Buri smiled. "Alanna told us about you," she said gruffly. "We've been warned. It's Buri, anyway."

  "I told you I'd bring them back," Raoul said.

  George looked at Alanna and gave her a squeeze. "I'll never doubt you again, lad."

  "Ye would be the first," Coram announced. He and Raoul had brought the horses around.

  George laughed. "Were I you, I'd treat my wife-to-be's cousin and king better than that." The two men gripped each other's arms in greeting.

  George exchanged his tired horse for a fresh one, joining them for the ride to Corus. His presence made the journey pass quickly. He refused to relay the news, but had no trouble wheedling tales of their adventures from Buri and Thayet. Alanna was not fooled. The past months had taken a toll on George: he was thinner; small lines fanned out from his eyes and framed his broad mouth. She wondered precisely what had been going on. Where was his court—Scholar, Solem, Marek, Rispah, and the others? If she asked now, she knew he would laugh and ask the questions she didn't want to answer.

  "Has he always been this obstinate?" she asked Faithful.

  The cat sniffed. You're a fine one to talk.

  She grinned. "If I don't know obstinacy when I see it, who does?"

  At the crest of the hills between seaport and capital, Buri drew up her pony. "Mountain gods," she whispered, her black eyes huge with awe. The others stopped beside her.

  Corus lay on the southern bank of the Oloron River, towers glinting in the sun. The homes of wealthy men lined the river to the north; tanners, smiths, wainwrights, carpenters, and the poor clustered on the bank to the south. The city was a richly colored tapestry: the Great Gate on Kings-bridge, the maze of the Lower City, the marketplace, the tall houses in the Merchants' and the Gentry's quarters, the gardens of the Temple district, the palace. This last was the city's crown and southern border. Beyond it, the royal forest stretched for leagues. It was not as lovely as Berat nor as c
olorful as Udayapur, but it was Alanna's place.

  "Glad to be home?" George asked.

  "Yes."

  He reached to wipe a tear from her cheek. "It's been that long a journey, has it?" he whispered.

  Alanna met his eyes. In their hazel depths she saw a degree of love that frightened her as it warmed her.

  INSIDE the City Gate waited a small company of Bazhir, Hakim Fahrar at its head. They bowed to Alanna from their saddles. She bowed in reply. Hakim fell in with Coram; the others formed a loose circle around the travelers.

  "Is this necessary?" Alanna asked. "We wanted to be inconspicuous." She and Thayet exchanged rueful glances.

  "It is," George said. "You wouldn't've been able to do it, anyway—not with yon big, brawny lad amongst you." He nodded toward Liam, who talked with a Bazhir rider. "Things've changed somewhat, and all Corus knows you're Jonathan's knight. You'd do worse than ride with a guard." The gate at House Olau was open. The hostlers greeted Alanna cheerfully, showing no surprise at the size of her party. It was Thayet who hesitated, a worried frown on her face. "Buri and I should find an inn somewhere," she pointed out. "If you can direct us—"

  "I know one," Liam said. "We can stay together—"

  "Don't be ridiculous," Alanna interrupted. "Why should we split up?"

  "He's expectin' you," George told them.

  "Oh?" commented Thayet. "Where'd he learn about Buri and Liam and me?"

  "The Voice?" Alanna asked Coram.

  The burly man chuckled. "Ye have to admit, Lioness, the Voice is a useful man." Turning to the others, he explained, "I've been in contact with the Voice of the Tribes since we entered Marenite waters. We're expected, all of us."

  "You'll hurt Myles's feelin's if you go elsewhere," George said. "He's that hospitable. He puts up my mother and cousin also. The man shouldn't be a bachelor, not with a fine, big house like this."

  Thayet smiled ruefully. "If you're certain…"

  George bowed. "I can't lie to a pretty lady."

  Alanna dismounted, giving her reins to an hostler. Faithful leaped down to vanish into the shadows as Eleni Cooper and Rispah came out to the courtyard. Alanna rushed to hug them, trying not to cry anymore. How could she have forgotten what being home was like? She introduced Thayet, Buri, and Liam. She didn't know what George's mother and cousin were doing in Myles's home, but she was glad to see them.

  Glancing to her left, in the shadows she saw Coram taking Rispah in his arms. Smiling, she looked away.

  George nudged Alanna, pointing to the wide-open front door. "Go say hello to him. He's been up since dawn."

  Alanna ran to Myles and hugged him. Neither of them required words, which was just as well, since both were unable to speak. Myles wept unashamedly, soaking his beard as he beamed at her with delight. He too looked older and worn, with bits of grey in his hair. He doesn't think Roger isn't dangerous, Alanna realized. She had to find out what was going on.

  "Come in, come in," Myles told the others. "Welcome, all of you!"

  After dinner they gathered in the library. The others talked, but for the most part Alanna listened, happy to be there. Grim subjects and the Jewel were left for the next day. Thayet, Buri, and Liam were never given a chance to feel left out; once they were introduced to Myles, the knight made them welcome. Thayet's offer to find somewhere else to stay was brushed off by their host, as Alanna had known it would be. Coram stayed close to Rispah, and Alanna realized with a twinge of sadness that his days as her mentor-companion were done. It surprised and delighted her to see Myles take Eleni's hand; George saw her looking and winked. Later she accused him of matchmaking and he made no attempt to deny it.

  Finally Alanna dozed off in her chair, waking slightly as Liam carried her to bed. Kissing her forehead, he whispered, "Sleep well, Lioness."

  "I don't like being 'Lioness' to you." He didn't seem to hear. Gently Liam closed the door, and she slept again.

  She woke instantly some time later. What had roused her? She listened, but the house was silent. Looking around, she saw a blot of brownish light by the window. Lightning hung nearby; she lunged and unsheathed it as the blot gained size and substance.

  "Put that thing down," a familiar voice snapped. "I haven't hurt you."

  "Thom?"

  Even before he finished materializing, he glowed enough for her to see his features. Crossing his arms on his chest, he lifted an eyebrow. "Don't you have any nightshirts?" Liam had removed only her boots and stockings.

  Alanna jumped up and grabbed her twin, holding him tightly. Thom's embrace was as hard as her own. He buried his too-hot face in her shoulder.

  "Thom, what's wrong? D'you have a fever?" Her voice faltered. "You're... glowing…"

  He gripped her shoulders. "Calm down! The heat's part of it, so just—calm down." He touched the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, traced the hard line of a cheekbone, smoothed over the thin crease that edged her mouth. He too had lines that weren't his before, and he was even thinner than she. He looked tired—mortally tired. On impulse she touched the emberstone at her throat.

  With the talisman's aid she saw that Thom shone with a rust-red fire, the color of old blood. "How do I look?" he whispered, knowing the ember's properties.

  She tried to smile. "You don't want to know." Swallowing, she added, "It's as if you have another Gift, or your own is—"

  "Corrupted," Thom finished. "Enough. We'll trade stories later. You look half dead." He smoothed her hair with a shaking hand. "I just wanted to look at you, and see if… if you forgive me."

  "There's nothing to forgive," she insisted. "You did me a favor. Now I can talk with him. I can see for myself if I made a mistake when I—you know. If he could've redeemed himself, somehow."

  "Nice try," he scoffed in his old way. "I think you could've lived with it if he'd stayed in his tomb."

  "But it's true," she protested.

  "Go back to bed, all right?" He began to fade. "Get some rest." He vanished.

  She stared at the spot where he'd been. Did anyone else know Thom was dying? Couldn't they have warned her? But what was there to warn about—besides the fact that he glowed in the dark?

  Her eyes blurred; she sniffed. Was Myles still up? Slipping barefoot out of her room, Alanna made for the library, Myles's favorite room. The library door was open. She froze on the landing, not wanting to intrude on any private reunions.

  "I couldn't get away sooner." The deep voice was Jonathan's. "We don't have parties because we're in mourning, but these 'quiet get-togethers' take hours, all the same."

  "You should've waited." Alanna recognized George's lilt. "She fell asleep in her chair, poor thing. She's weary. They all are."

  "And there's little rest for my lady knight here," Jonathan sighed.

  "Does he know she's back?"

  "He knows. I just don't—what?"

  George came out and bowed to Alanna, indicating she should go into the library. Pushing her inside, he closed the door, leaving her alone with Jon.

  He stood before the hearth, cradling Faithful. She'd forgotten he was a head taller than she. His black clothes emphasized his sapphire eyes; his mustache and hair were darker than his velvet tunic. She looked at his elegantly carved mouth and straight nose, thinking, Jon's still the most handsome man I've ever seen—and that includes Roger! He'd changed since their angry parting; his face had stubborn lines, and there was a seriousness about him she liked.

  Deeply moved, she knelt and bowed her head. "My liege. I am yours to command."

  He put his hands on her hair. "You're sure, Alanna?"

  She met his eyes. "Until death and after, Jonathan."

  He swallowed. "I accept your fealty, Sir Alanna. I accept, and I vow to return fealty with fealty, honor with honor, until death and beyond it." Lifting her to her feet, he kissed each cheek. The kingliness faded. "You don't know what it means to have you home." His eyes filled suddenly. "He killed himself, Alanna. He made it look like a hunting accident, but it wasn't.
Oh, gods! Why did I have to lose both of them?" He covered his face with his hands and cried. Alanna held him, shushing him and weeping herself.

  When he was calm again and she had dried her tears, Alanna said, "We may not have another chance to be alone for a while. What do you want me to do with the Jewel?"

  Jonathan drew a deep breath. "You really have it?"

  "I'll get it, if you like." She tried to pull away, and Jonathan tightened his arms.

  "Not yet, all right? This is so comfortable. It's been almost a year since I held you, remember?" He sighed and released her. "Keep it safe, for now. I need to think of a way to present you—and it—suitably." He smiled briefly. "You don't know how much it means, to be able to tell people we have the Dominion Jewel. Perhaps it will even stop the rumors of a curse."

  A short time later, George rejoined them. "All's well, then?" Alanna and Jonathan smiled at each other. "At last," George sighed. "I never felt right when you two were on the outs with each other. We were havin' tea," he told Alanna. "Will you join us?" At her nod, he got a third cup and filled it from a kettle on the hearth, refreshing Jonathan's cup and his own. "It's Copper Isle Red Griffin," he explained to Alanna, who squinted at the scarlet liquid. "The taste grows on you."

  Jonathan raised his in a toast. "To old friends, the best friends."

  "So mote it be," Alanna replied.

  "Hear, hear," George added.

  "Oh, I'm sorry!" a low female voice exclaimed.

  Jon turned to the door and froze, eyes widening in awe "Great Merciful Mother!" he breathed.

  A tousled Thayet stood there, clutching a dressing gown at her throat. "Faithful woke me up, and then I couldn't sleep." The cat jumped into Alanna's lap, startling her. She hadn't even seen him leave. Thayet, flustered, avoided Jon's eyes as she tried to tuck her bare feet under the hem of her robe. Alanna concealed a grin with her hand.

  George drew the Princess into the room. "We're havin' a bit of tea," he told her, closing the door. "There's a seat by the fire—over next to Jon."

  The King-to-be stood and raised Thayet's hand to his lips. Their eyes met; Thayet's puzzled, his searching. Quickly the Princess drew her hand away, saying dryly, "We haven't been introduced."