The troll touched her wizard stone and a thread of light appeared in front of her. The mark burned white for a moment and faded to black. Gertie stuck her front paws in the pulsing line. She wrenched, the muscles of her powerful shoulders bunching, and the streak widened to a black square with an audible pop. Gertie shoved her head and shoulders in the hole. Her upper body disappeared, leaving only her hairy rump and massive back legs visible.
Raine giggled. “You look like a bizarre lamp table.”
“What’s that?” Gertie’s voice was muffled.
“Nothing. What are you doing?”
“Looking for something, obviously.” There was a loud thump and the sound of things being moved around. “I know it’s in here somewhere…. Now where the devil did I—ah, here it is.”
The troll pulled her head out of the opening. She held a leather pouch in one large paw. “Here, take this,” she said, tossing the bag to Raine.
Raine caught the pouch with both hands. It was heavy. The ties at the top unraveled, and coins spilled out of the bag and onto the floor.
“It’s money,” Raine said, staring at the glittering treasure.
“Can’t gull you, even for a moment,” Gertie said. “What’d you think it was, a bag of rocks?”
Raine set the bag on the floor and bent to pick up the fallen coins. “I can’t take your money.”
“Why not? Plenty more where that came from, and you’ve no money of your own. Come Trolach, you’ll want to purchase gifts. It’s a tradition.”
Raine straightened. “Thank you, but no,” she said, dropping the coins she’d retrieved in the sack. “It wouldn’t be right.”
Gertie folded her furry arms on her powerful chest, her massive lower jaw jutting at a stubborn angle. “Going to earn your own way in the kitchens, are you?”
“If they’ll have me.”
“Don’t be a ninny. The rowan won’t allow it. A fine how-do-you-do that ʼud be, the king’s ward working as a scullery maid.”
“His—” Raine blinked at the troll. “But, I’m not—did you say ward?”
“He’s given you his protection. What else would you call it?”
“I…I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You do that a lot, you know—don’t think. Going to cause you grief, one of these days.”
“This from the troll who thought it a good idea to dive down a giant worm’s throat?”
“That’s different. I knew what I was doing.” Gertie picked up the bag and held it out to Raine. “Take it, and no more argument.”
“But, Gertie, I can’t. It’s a fortune.”
“It’s metal, and I’ve loads more where that came from. I’m the trodyn Mother of Finlara, Raine. Thousands of years old, and every cycle, the people make offerings in my name, and the money is delivered to me. The rowan makes sure of it. I’ve begged them to stop, but they refuse.”
“They love you, and they’re grateful.”
“How much money does one person need?” Gertie shrugged. “I’m a troll of simple tastes. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”
“You could give it to Raven.”
“Aye, I could,” Gertie said, “but Raven has money of his own, and plenty. He’s made a fortune at sea.”
“Mauric?”
“Mauric inherited his father’s lands and title. Might as well take the money, pet. When Gorne learns you’re penniless, he’ll insist on funding you.”
“I don’t want the rowan’s money either,” Raine protested. “I’ve caused him enough trouble.”
“Knew you’d feel that way about it. ‘Bree,’ I says. ‘The gal would druther take a bit o’ the ready from a friend,’ and Bree agreed. ʼSpect he’ll be offering you money, too.”
“Oh, no,” Raine said, dismayed.
“He feels responsible for you, pet. We all do.” Gertie shoved the bag into Raine’s hands. “Now, when Gorne tries to open his purse, you can look him in the eye and tell ʼim you’ve got money of your own.”
Reluctantly, Raine took the sack. “Thank you, Gertie. I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing to say. Happy to do it.” Gertie snapped the pads of her paws together. “Botheration. I forgot the pretties.”
Back she went into the hole, and Raine heard more things being shoved about. “Been a while since I laid my paws on them, but I know—there you are. Come to Mama.”
Gertie emerged once more, and the window folded in on itself and vanished. She offered Raine a velvet pouch.
“What’s this?” Raine asked.
“Open it and see.”
Raine set the bag of coins onto the floor and took the pouch from Gertie. Going over to the table, Raine carefully emptied it. Silver and gold trinkets and baubles of diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and pearls winked up at her. She traced the design on a delicately wrought bracelet with her fingers.
“Gertie,” Raine said, her voice a breathless whisper. “These are exquisite.”
“Told you. Trolls like to make pretty things.” Gertie picked up a diamond and sapphire belt and fastened it around Raine’s hips. “This is one of mine.”
“You made this?” Raine trailed her fingers over the priceless girdle. “It’s exquisite.”
“Aye, and there’s a necklace to match.” Gertie nestled a jeweled star in Raine’s curls. “I see Bree showed you how to conceal your wizard stone.”
“Yes, before we docked.”
“Good. The fewer people know you’re a wizard, the better, and your wizard stone wouldn’t go with this.” Gertie picked up a diamond and sapphire necklace and fastened it around Raine’s neck. “Beautiful.”
Raine threw her arms around the troll. “Thank you, Gertie.”
“There, there, pet.” Gertie patted Raine awkwardly on the back. “You’re getting my fur wet.”
Raine sniffled and stepped back. “Sorry. I’m weepy today, for some reason.”
“It’s the translocation, I expect,” Gertie said. “And you’ve had other things to deal with, like being in a strange place, and the attack.”
Raine wiped her eyes. “Yes, and I’m worried about Flame and Chaz.”
“Your dragon’s fine. Why are you stewing about the boy? Is it his growth spurt?”
“No…well, yes, that’s part of it. Tiny thinks Chaz may be part giant.”
Gertie stroked her chin. “Could be, I guess. That would account for the sudden change in his size.”
“Have you ever known a giant wizard?” Raine asked.
“Sure. Borra the Braggart was fond of puffing himself up. Giganteum is like any other form of shapeshifting, only there’s more of you.”
“I remember him,” Raine said. “I read about him in Mastering the Glow. He kept making himself bigger and bigger until one day he popped.”
“Aye, they found bits of Borra for leagues about.” Gertie chuckled. “That was him all over.”
“But that’s not what I mean,” Raine said. “Are there any giants who are wizards?”
“No.” Gertie shook her head. “Magic takes brains and discipline. Giants, as a rule, are indolent and—no offense to Tiny—none too bright.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Nothing. Just curious.” Raine went to the windows and looked out. Night had fallen, and the stars were hard chips of brightness in the sky. “Do you recall whether Tekla had a mirror?”
“Full of questions tonight, aren’t you?” Gertie said. “As a matter of fact, she did. It was a wedding gift. A gift from Reba, I believe. Why do you—”
There was a knock on the door, and a page stepped inside. “Begging your pardon, Blessed Mother, but the rowan says you are to bring the lady at once.”
Gertie’s bushy brows rose. “That sounds remarkably like an order. Come along, pet. Gorne is getting his leather
s in a wad.”
Swallowing the lump of anxiety in her throat, Raine followed Gertie onto the landing. The troll dropped to all fours, bounded down the stairs, and burst through the lower door.
She waited impatiently for Raine to reach the bottom. “Took you an age. You get lost?”
“I walk upright,” Raine pointed out, “and you aren’t wearing a dress.”
“And a silly ass I’d look in that rig, too,” Gertie said. “Besides, blue’s not my color.”
Proceeding down the steps, Raine followed Gertie down one hall and then another. Rowan Fast was huge, and Raine was soon disoriented.
“Here we are,” Gertie said, stopping before a set of huge double doors. “If I remember correctly, this opens onto a balcony above the Great Hall.”
She opened the door and the sound of a crowd poured out. The din of the guests vibrated against Raine’s skin and made her temples throb. It took every ounce of her resolve not to turn and run.
“After you,” Gertie said, ushering Raine into the dark gallery.
“I know where I am,” Raine said, looking around. “Hedda brought me through here when I arrived.”
Tiptoeing to the balustrade, she looked down. Hundreds of guests in fine clothes and jewels sat at long tables, eating and drinking and chatting. Fires blazed on the huge hearths along the walls, and dozens of candles burned in sconces. Seated at a table on a raised dais at one end of the room were the king and queen of Finlara. The rowan was dressed in black velvet and cloth of silver. A simple circlet of twisted gold and silver sat at his brow. His handsome face was stern and unsmiling. Beside him, Hedda was resplendent in a gown of white brocade. Diamonds dripped from her slender neck and wrists, and a sparkling crown nested in her elaborate coiffure. She was a snow queen, ice and frost, and glitter, cold and remote.
Raine’s gaze moved down the row of guests at the king’s table. To the rowan’s right were Bree, Raven, and Glory. She studied Raven. Clad in unrelieved black, he stood out among the predominantly fair-haired guests, and his hard expression and the sardonic curve of his sensuous mouth drew admiring glances from the damsels in the room.
Mauric and his mother and sisters occupied places further along the dais, along with a dozen or more important-looking men and women, resplendent in furs and jewels. In the center of the king’s table was an enormous pig, roasted whole and stuffed with bread and fragrant herbs. The skin was cracked, and juices ran down the pig’s sides, pooling in a huge platter. All the tables in the dining hall were laden with food and drink, and the revelers were enjoying themselves immensely. Everyone was talking at once; the cacophony of voices drowned out the musicians playing in a corner of the room. Hedda turned to speak to a bearded man on her left. The man was dark of hair and eyes and had a prominent forehead. He wore a black velvet doublet with full sleeves, slashed to reveal a red silk lining. A chain of magnificent fire opals blazed at his breast.
“Joresh,” Gertie said, joining her at the rail. “Wouldn’t be a bad-looking fellow, but for the perpetual sneer. Always looks like he has shit on his upper lip, Joresh.”
“That’s the ambassador?” Raine said. “I was expecting someone older.”
“Glonoff’s ambassadors have a short life expectancy.” Wrapping a big paw around Raine’s arm, she tugged her to the head of the stairs. “Ready, girl?”
The troll touched her white wizard stone and a gong sounded, deep and sonorous. The room fell silent and everyone in the hall turned to look. Even the musicians stopped to gape at her.
“Gertie.” Raine felt the heat rise to her face. “Why did you do that? People are staring.”
“Of course, they’re staring, pet. That was the point.”
The troll’s form wavered and shimmied.
“Oh, no,” Raine said. “Don’t even think about it. I can’t do this alone.”
“Of course, you can,” Gertie said. “Chin up and bosom out. Go get ʼem, pet.”
With a sly wink, she disappeared.
Chapter 14
Elf Song
“Traitor,” Raine hissed at the spot where the troll had been standing, but Gertie was gone.
Squaring her shoulders, Raine started down the stairs, one hand resting lightly on the curved handrail for balance. The crowd stared and murmured, a low susurration of astonishment that swirled and eddied about the room. Stranger… Who is she who is she who is she?
Mauric surged to his feet. “Ho, Rainey, look at you.”
Flustered, Raine paused on the steps.
“Welcome, milady.” Raven’s deep baritone cut through the buzz of speculation. Striding from the dais, he crossed to the foot of the stairs. “You’ve a seat at the table,” he said, holding out his hand. “Will you join us?”
Raine gave him a grateful smile and continued down the steps. “Thank you, m’ lord,” she murmured, placing her hand in his. “You look very fine tonight.”
Raven brought her hand to his lips. “As do you. You take my breath away.”
Raine darted a quick glance at the sea of faces in the room. “Everyone is staring.”
“Aye.” Raven tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “The royal court is full of intrigues and backbiting, and we offer them a double measure of delight.” He smiled down at her. “Their bastard prince—and a scoundrel, by the reckoning of many—has returned home. To add sauce to the goose, a lovely stranger has appeared in their midst. ʼTis a wonder they don’t swoon from malicious ecstasy.”
Raine chuckled softly, her tension easing. “You, sir, are absurd.”
“Gograh?” Joresh sprang up as Raven and Raine approached the table. “I am Joresh Mul-a-khana, ambassador of the royal court in Zorbash.” He bowed. “The Imperial Mage sends his salutations and wishes you to know that he anticipates your homecoming with great eagerness. A ship awaits us in the harbor. We sail for Shad Amar on the morning tide.”
“I—that is, I don’t—” Raine stammered.
“Considerate of you, to be sure, Joresh,” the rowan drawled, “but the Lady Raine has elected to abide in Finlara.”
“Raine?” Joresh made a dismissive gesture. “The lady’s name is Rana Bel-a-zhezar, and she is—”
“Hara’s twin,” the rowan said. “Yes, I know.” A gasp rippled through the assembly and died when the king got to his feet. “Lady Raine—” He cut his eyes at Joresh. “Or Gograh Rana, if you will, has applied for sanctuary in Finlara, and the Mark has recognized her.” The throng broke into loud, excited chatter at his pronouncement, quieting again when the rowan held up his hand. “Sanctuary is granted. The lady has my protection, howsoever she is called.”
He sat back down again and picked up his goblet.
“What?” Joresh flushed with anger. “But you can’t—you don’t—” He rounded on the queen. “You assured me the matter was settled.”
“So, I thought, Joresh, but life is full of surprises.” Hedda directed a brittle smile at her husband. “And disappointments, as well, is it not, m’ lord?”
“Sadly lacking,” the rowan agreed, earning a tight-lipped glare from the queen.
“But this is a grave mistake,” Joresh said, trembling. “A grave mistake, indeed. Glonoff shall hear of this outrage. There will be consequences.”
“Reba’s girdle, was that a threat?” Brefreton leaned forward to lift a brow at the ambassador. The wizard had shed his shabby clothes for the banquet and was handsome in a green doublet with gold lacing. His shoulder-length red hair gleamed in the firelight. “Never good form to threaten a king, Joresh, especially in his own hall. Good way to get yourself skewered. Finlars, you know—stab first, and ask questions later. That’s their motto.”
Joresh paled. “I…I—”
“I feel certain that Joresh misspoke,” Glory murmured in her smooth voice.
“Thank you, milady. I meant no disrespect, but you do not understand,�
�� Joresh said, his voice rising. “If I return to Zorbash without the gograh, I am a dead man.”
Mauric set his goblet down with a thump. “Have done, you lummox. No one’s forcing you to return to Shad Amar. Catch the next ship south. Mayhap try your hand at spice trading or working the mines in Seth.”
Joresh drew himself up. “I am a member of an ancient and noble house, Lord Lindar. ʼTwould bring shame upon my family, were I to engage in trade.”
“It would, eh?” Mauric rubbed his jaw in thought. “Seems a trifle odd, but, then, I don’t know your family. Not from Shad Amar, you know, and trodyn glad of it. Strange place with strange customs. Seems to me, though, having your head on a spike or your body rotting on a gibbet would be a great deal more awkward.”
“A gibbet?” Joresh wiped his beaded brow. “But—”
Mauric waved a hand. “Your affair, of course. Do be a good fellow, now, and go away. The pork is excellent, and you’re souring my stomach.”
Joresh looked wildly around the room and fled with a strangled cry.
“Diplomacy. Ever Mauric’s strong suit,” Raven murmured as he seated Raine next to a portly, whiskered man in a mustard yellow jerkin worn over a purple doublet.
“Poor Joresh,” Raine said, settling her skirts about her. “You can’t help but feel sorry for him.”
“Save your pity for someone more deserving.” Raven gave the man next to her a hard look. “Like this fellow.”
“Roark?” The nobleman blinked uncertainly up at Raven. “Have I offended, somehow?”
“Not yet, Vegard.”
“I—I don’t understand, Roark.”
“Your chair, Vegard,” Raven said in a soft voice. “I would have it.”
“My—oh, yes, I see.” Vegard jumped to his feet. “Take it, with my compliments.”
The flustered man left the dais and went to sit among the guests in the hall.
“You, sir, are a bully,” Raine said as Raven slid into Vegard’s vacated seat.
“Yes, I’m a terrible fellow, but I get what I want.” Raven held up a carafe. “Wine?”
A Muddle of Magic Page 18