King's Folly

by Jill Williamson

  Except that Nazer had Ferro. Mothers always went after their children.

  Kal pushed back through the men. Find the boy, and Inolah would not be far away.

  Qoatch

  Qoatch shifted on the stone floor and shivered. The cell was terribly cold, and he had lost his pelt in the fight. For three days in this cell, he thought he might not have to worry about whether or not to complete his mission of killing Jazlyn. Her shadir had shown mercy in healing her, but her overuse of evenroot had left her in a haze. Just this morning she had finally begun to speak clearly, a sign that she would be herself again soon.

  In the darkness of the cell, Qoatch’s thoughts drifted to home. Had the Kushaw killed the other Great Ladies? It could be that Jazlyn was the last of her kind. He glanced at her and his heart seemed to swell into his throat. Fool! Why did he let her kindness to him count for so much? He should have told Duvlid about his affection. The Kushaw would have replaced him.

  “Gozan tells me he released the empress from her cell,” Jazlyn said.

  Why didn’t the creature release them as well? Where had he been?

  “Someone comes,” Jazlyn said. “Help me with this. Quickly!”

  Uncertain what she wanted, Qoatch scrambled on hands and knees across the sticky floor to his lady’s side. She was struggling with the coil of hair atop her head.

  “What do you need, Great Lady?” he asked.

  “There’s a vial of evenroot inside the twist.”

  She hadn’t fully healed from her last purge. It would be too much, especially if Dendron served the emperor as shadir. Qoatch pulled her hairpin and the coil of hair loosened. He unwound it. Something slid off the back of her head and clattered to the floor. He felt for it, hands closed on the vial. “Great Lady, please. You must take care with . . .”

  Footsteps clacked outside the cell door.

  “Give it to me now!” she hissed.

  Qoatch handed it over and stood to meet the visitor. A shadow blocked the crack of light under the door. A key scraped in the lock. The door opened.

  Light spilled inside, illuminating a spider that scurried back into the dark shadows. A guard entered, squinted. His gaze found Qoatch.

  “Get the woman up,” he said. “His Eminence wants to see her.”

  Qoatch crouched beside Jazlyn. “Great Lady, you must wake. It’s time to leave this place.” He studied her face and hoped she hadn’t taken any root.

  Jazlyn extended her hand. “Help me stand.”

  Qoatch did as she bade. Once she was on her feet, she stepped up to the guard.

  “Take us to the emperor,” she said.

  “Oh no,” the guard said. “Just you. Your fighting man stays here where he’ll cause no trouble.”

  “I think not.” Jazlyn waved her hand at the guard and whispered, “Nahshaw.” She passed her left hand over Qoatch, said “pasas,” and his body vanished, invisible again.

  Qoatch’s heart sank. She had taken the root.

  He stepped into the corridor and jumped, startled to see Gozan when the shadir had abandoned them for so many days. The shadir glowered at him, which made Qoatch look away.

  “Well?” the priestess said to the guard.

  “What was I about?” The guard frowned and scratched his head. “Oh, right.” He bustled out of the cell. “Follow me.”

  Jazlyn did, and Qoatch stayed right beside her. Gozan followed behind. The guard had forgotten Qoatch ever existed. As they traveled out of the dungeons, they passed a cluster of Igote, standing outside a cell.

  “No sign of forced entry,” one guard told another. “Someone must have freed them.”

  “Impossible!” another guard said. “No one came in or went out.”

  Jazlyn smiled and glided past the puzzled Igote, her head held high. Behind Qoatch, Gozan chuckled.

  Their guard led them up several flights of stairs and on such a twisting journey that Qoatch had no idea where they were. More of Gozan’s flock had joined them along the way. The Veil was clouded with colors and eyes that only Qoatch and Jazlyn could see.

  The guard finally led them through a set of gold-leaf doors and into a dining room. A long table, which Qoatch guessed could seat some thirty guests, was set for two. At the end of the room, floor-to-ceiling bay windows protruded in a half circle.

  The emperor stood in the bay, his back to them, looking out on the view of the Upper Smoke Canyon, Dendron’s Tail, and Mount Lâhat, which oozed charcoal smoke from its missing peak. Gozan and his flock floated farther into the room. The great shadir put himself between Jazlyn and the emperor. Qoatch stayed at his lady’s side.

  “I hope you have good reason for keeping me in your dungeons, Emperor Nazer,” Jazlyn said. “I should think you would have been happy to see me leave.”

  “Not when you took my wife and sons with you.”

  “They wanted to go. They know the Tennish army will rake this city to dust.”

  The emperor smiled. “Still set on war, are you? Woman, you have no concept of who I am. I’ll speak plainly so your feeble mind can comprehend. I am Emperor Nazer of Rurekau. There is none higher than me in all the realms. I have at my disposal the favor of the gods and shadir, which you yourself worship. They fall at my feet and tremble.”

  This made Gozan and his companions laugh.

  “You dare rank yourself so high?” Jazlyn asked. “You are a greater fool than I imagined.”

  “You will help me,” Nazer said, “or you will die.”

  “Oh? Why does one as great as you require assistance? Let alone help from someone as low and feeble as I?”

  “I have secured the assistance of a powerful shadir but have not yet learned how to craft spells.”

  Gozan shook his head at Jazlyn. His shadir is nothing.

  “Yes, I can smell the magic on you,” Jazlyn said to Nazer. “But a measly persuasion spell will not subdue a Tennish priestess. Nor will it stop me from killing you. Do you have any idea how much power I wield?”

  “Your words do not scare me, Priestess,” Nazer said.

  “They should.” She glared at the emperor. Qoatch knew that look. She was trying to rein her temper. He almost wished she would strike this arrogant man in a way he would never forget. “Is this why you abduct our women?” she asked. “To learn magic?”

  “Your mantics have proved too ignorant for the spells I wish to cast.”

  “What is it you want me to teach you?”

  “First, put a spell on Ferro.” He snapped his fingers and a guard entered, pulling the frightened boy by the arm. “Ferro will replace his traitorous brother as my Heir. But I need him to forget his mother. She is dead to us.”

  “She’s not dead!” Ferro yelled.

  “She will be,” the emperor spat. “And once this great lady assists me, you will believe it.”

  The boy began to cry.

  “You have abducted my people and insulted me in every way,” Jazlyn said. “Why would I ever help you?”

  “Because I have taken your evenroot supply. And if I send you back to the dungeon, your shadir will leave you in search of one who can feed it.”

  Humans are such fools, Gozan muttered.

  Fools, fools! a slight sang.

  “You may have seized my belongings,” Jazlyn said, “but I had a vial hidden on my person. I have taken it.”

  The emperor’s confidence wavered. “You bluff.”

  “Show me your shadir,” she said.

  “My shadir wishes to remain hidden.”

  “Mine does not,” Jazlyn said. “Herah aht etsemek, Gozan.”

  Gozan faded from the Veil and into the human realm. He appeared more vivid here: coal-black skin blacker, hair thicker, smell stronger, muscles bigger.

  The emperor gaped. Ferro yelped.

  “Letpev avet!” Jazlyn yelled.

  Gozan lumbered toward the emperor, who took one step and froze at a command from Jazlyn. The creature picked up the emperor in his hairy fist.

  The emperor screa
med. “Don’t eat me!”

  “This is Gozan, Your Highness,” Jazlyn said. “Call forth your shadir. Now!”

  The emperor grunted and tried to pry open Gozan’s hand. The shadir turned him upside down, and the emperor yelled, “Fine! Herat at-tat, Dendarholn.”

  With a tiny pop, a second shadir appeared between Jazlyn and where Gozan held the emperor. A slight! It stood no taller than Prince Ferro. It had yellowish-green skin and three bulging, toad-like eyes. A slender tongue darted in and out between fat lips as it glanced around the room. When it saw Gozan and the emperor, it squeaked and stumbled back into a dining chair.

  “Your mantic has summoned you, slight,” Jazlyn said. “It seems he requires your assistance.”

  The tiny shadir bowed before Gozan. “Has my wielder caused you trouble, mighty one?”

  Jazlyn answered, “He told us your name was Dendarholn.”

  “What? That’s incorrect. Fool wielder! Are you deaf?”

  “What is your name?” Gozan asked, his voice a rumbling growl.

  “Of little importance. We must learn why this human lied. I’m of a mind to part from him for such a blunder. I think I will. Emperor Nazer, I absolve our bond as of—”

  “Not so fast,” Jazlyn said. “I have declared war upon this emperor and therefore you.”

  The slight whimpered. “Great Lady, have mercy on a shadir of the lowest level.”

  He vanished. Ferro screamed. The slight had somehow crossed the room and grabbed the boy.

  “Lesherr avet!” Jazlyn yelled.

  Gozan’s swarm of minions flew at Prince Ferro, snatched him from the slight’s arms, and threw the boy toward Qoatch, who caught him, despite still being invisible.

  Ferro screamed and kicked. “Put me down!”

  “Take the boy to the empress,” Jazlyn commanded Qoatch. “She will be worried for him.”

  This quieted the boy. A wave of Jazlyn’s hand sent the swarm of shadir into the wall. The stone shattered, leaving a dusty doorway into the adjoining room.

  “I will return for you, Great Lady,” Qoatch said, ducking through the opening with the boy.

  “Only when you have seen the empress and her family to safety,” Jazlyn said. “This city will not see dawn. Make sure she understands that.”

  “Yes, Great Lady.” Yet Qoatch lingered, watching his lady turn her attention back to the trembling slight.

  With the thrust of her hand, the emperor’s shadir shot out of the room like a pitched stone. He smashed through the wall of windows and soared higher and higher, arching toward the distant, smoking mountain.

  “Radaph!” she yelled to Gozan’s minions, who soared out the broken window in pursuit of the slight.

  Jazlyn walked to the broken window. The wind snaked inside, blew her dress against her and her loose hair back. In the distance the shadir, now no bigger than a swarm of flies, sank into the smoking hole. The ground shook once—hard and violent—then Mount Lâhat exploded.

  Kalenek

  Kal was halfway up the dungeon stairs when a rumble shook the walls.

  “Earthquake!” someone yelled.

  Not again! Kal flowed with the crowd as they pushed up the spiral staircase as one. On the ground floor the guards scattered across the foyer. Kal headed up the grand staircase, trying to recall where the emperor’s chambers were. On the second floor a large group of guards joined him, all talking at once about a witch and her magic.

  “What’s happening?” Kal asked.

  A guard beside him answered. “The Tennish witch destroyed the emperor’s dining room—blew out all the windows. She’s got him trapped there.”

  “She shook the earth,” said another.

  “Called forth her shadir,” said a third. “It took form.”

  Kal shivered. He hadn’t seen a shadir take form since the war.

  As they rounded the landing halfway between the second and third floors, a woman’s scream snaked down to them.

  Inolah. Kal spilled off the landing with the guards and ran toward a set of towering gold-leaf doors, one of which was open. The guards stood ten deep before the doors; there must have been five dozen, all looking in. Over the helmets and bald heads, Kal saw a massive dark shape pass by the doorway.

  Not merely a shadir, but a great. Gods help them all.

  “My child is in there! My Ferro!”

  Kal’s gaze found Inolah a good twenty paces down the hall. Two guards were holding her arms. She fought to pull away, straining toward the dining room, her stomach great with child. Behind her, pressed against the wall, Kal recognized a much older Prince Ulrik, bald head covered in black henna tracings. A barrier of guards boxed them in.

  A general approached the pack of guards, who all began talking at once. “Report!”

  “A shadir has the emperor!”

  “Prince Ferro floated away!”

  “A witch is killing the emperor!”

  “She set the mountain on fire!”

  “The emperor is a mantic!”

  “Silence!” the general yelled. “One at a time. Where is the emperor?”

  “In the dining room. The shadir has him.”

  “Prince Ferro?”

  “Floated away, General. Through a hole the witch blasted in the wall.”

  “Which wall?”

  “The east wall, sir.”

  The general’s scowl landed on Kal’s stolen uniform. “Commander! Take ten men and find Prince Ferro. Captain!” He faced another guard. “Get those men back and open that second door.”

  Kal took the opportunity his uniform provided and walked toward what he thought must be the east hallway. If he could get Ferro, Inolah might leave with him. “Ho, up!” he yelled. “Who is with me?”

  A gaggle of men surged around him.

  “Too many!” he yelled. “Castle men, step forward!”

  Nine men did so. “Good enough,” Kal said. “I’m a city man. What’s on the east side of the dining room?”

  “The drawing room, which leads to the royal ballroom, then the guard’s chamber,” a guard said.

  “Does each have its own entrance?”

  “No, sir. The rooms open into one another.”

  “Lead the way,” Kal said. “Hopefully we’ll come upon the prince from the opposite end.”

  The man took off, Kal right behind. They passed through the Igote guard’s chamber to the royal ballroom, and there they met Prince Ferro.

  The boy was indeed floating. Not in a menacing way. His arms and legs were wrapped around . . . something, as if he was being carried by an invisible man. A shadir, no doubt. Like his older brother, henna tracings covered Prince Ferro’s shaved head. Rurekan royalty and their bizarre customs.

  “Witchcraft!” a guard on Kal’s right shouted.

  The guard on Kal’s left pulled his sword.

  “Hold!” Kal raised his hands and took two steps forward. “Prince Ferro, I come on behalf of your mother.”

  The prince wriggled, his arms stretched toward Kal. “I want my mother.”

  “Stay with me,” a voice whispered.

  Kal went down on one knee, held out his arms. “I will take you to her.”

  The boy floated back a step. The carpet wrinkled on the floor beneath.

  “Who holds you, boy?” Kal asked.

  “Ko-ach. He’s taking me to Mother.”

  “Qoatch is the witch’s eunuch,” a guard said.

  Not a shadir, then. Good. “Leave the room, all of you!” Kal yelled, standing. “Wait for me outside the doors.”

  “But, sir—”

  Kal waved them back. “Out! Now! Keep the doors shut so he can’t escape. Open them only when I say.”

  The men scrambled out of the room. The door shut.

  Kal turned back to Prince Ferro and spoke softly. “I speak to the man holding the prince. My name is Sir Kalenek Veroth. I am shield to Sâr Wilek Hadar of Armania, brother to the empress and this boy’s uncle. When they refused to let me see the empress, I stole a g
uard’s uniform.” Kal pulled off his helmet to reveal his hair. “If escape is the empress’s goal, I will assist her.”

  “There is little time,” a man’s voice said. “The mountain has ruptured. My Great Lady and her shadir will see that it destroys the city.”

  Such foreboding words sent a thrill of fear through Kal. A mantic conjuring spells of that scale would fall into a haze soon enough, but she could do immense damage before then, especially with no one to fight her. “Give the boy to me and return to your lady. I’ll get the empress and her children to safety.”

  Silence stretched between them. Ferro wiggled in those invisible arms.

  Distant breaking glass made Ferro float several steps back toward the drawing room.

  “Your lady needs you,” Kal said.

  Ferro slowly sank to the ground until he was standing on his own feet. He ran into Kal’s arms.

  “Tell the empress to go quickly,” the eunuch said. “We will follow, but do not wait for us.”

  Not a problem. “I’ll tell her.”

  Footsteps scuffed the floor, fading. Kal reached out and felt the place where he thought the man had been standing. “I guess he’s gone.”

  “He went back to the mantic witch,” Ferro said. “She made me fly.”

  Kal shivered and replaced his helmet, tucking his hair out of sight. “Did she?”

  “All the way to the ceiling. Are you really from Armania?”

  Kal took hold of the boy’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Prince Ferro. Your mother and brother are being held outside the emperor’s dining room. What I said is true. I’m from Armania. I’m an old friend of your mother’s, and I want to help. What is the quickest way out of the castle without being seen?”

  “Through the wall tunnels. We can get to them from the library. It’s not far from Father’s dining room.”