"I wish you could convince my father but he gets more and more unreasonable. I can't . . ." Xankald stopped, embarrassed at talking so openly.
Lenera walked toward the bluff, saying, "Let me show you what it looks like, Meeral. Xankald showed me last night."
Xankald in a stern military voice said, "You are not to go off for private talks. Stay right here with me or I'll have to send you back to your room."
Those were the rules of their meetings. Lenera had more to tell Meeral but never had another chance for even a brief communication. Once MorToak brushed her hand with his, but they only spoke of things that Xankald could hear.
Prince Xankald asked about his sister. He looked shocked when she told him her mother's profession, but later said ruefully that a princess does not have much choice when she suddenly has to make a living for herself.
"I guess when Boktod died," he said, "Janshei had the choice of living as a peasant or having men court her, as she was accustomed to in the palace. She chose the life closest to her life as a princess."
"You make it sound as if she was unhappy," Meeral said. "She was a very happy -- with a contagious kind of happiness that people caught from her." She told about the six trees planted for her, and the things Zavona had said about her. There was no point in explaining how her mother often did things just for her own pleasure and how she caused Meeral so much unhappiness by splitting her life into two incompatible parts.
In the morning of their third day a servant brought Meeral a Drarie dress and told her she must wear it, King Quanzar's orders. She looked at herself in the mirror, wondering if she would ever get used to the feel of bare skin above the low-cut bodice. At least it showed off her pendant, she thought as she ran a finger over the parrot's beak. Could King Quanzar deny that she was his granddaughter when he saw it?
As a soldier opened the door of her room, another soldier stepped forward. He held something black in his hands, which she only recognized when he slipped it over her head and fastened the clasp. That fiendish hood
"King Quanzar's order," the soldier said.
She was led down the hall and guided to a chair.
She heard footsteps coming toward her. "So this is the woman who defeated the Drarie army." The voice was of an older man, gruff and with a slight quaver. "Will you tell me how you did it?"
"It's no secret to those who understand enhancing, your Majesty," she said.
She guessed correctly. This man was King Quanzar, for he answered huffily, "I understand enhancing. You move fire from one place to another."
"That's not the only use of enhancing. Pactyl's economy thrives because of the uses we make of enhancing."
But her lecture on the productive uses of enhancing was wasted. He must have turned to Xankald because he said, "If she is as lovely as her voice I've picked a good one for you. Have you seen her face?"
"She's had that hood off most of the time," Xankald said.
"Against my orders?"
"I was in charge here, Father. I did not intend to mistreat this woman, as Lenera was mistreated."
"Lenera?"
"I'm Lenera," the subject of the conversation spoke up. "I am sure, your Majesty, you did not intend that I spend days in a cell with fleas, poor food and no bath."
The king grunted, then said, "What precautions have you taken against the enhancer, Xankald?"
"Meeral understands that her friends will die if she harms us."
A soldier removed the hood and Meeral saw King Quanzar standing before her. His florid face contrasted against his white hair and he carried too much flesh on his short frame.
He walked over and looked at her. "Not beautiful, but still not unattractive. She . . ."
Suddenly he reached forward and grabbed the pendant and yanked it. Meeral cried out and fell forward, knocking his hand away. Four soldiers converged on them with drawn swords. MorToak started to rush forward but was held back by two soldiers. Xankald, his face white with anger, ordered the soldiers to return to their posts.
"It's not necessary to be rough, Father. If you insist on having it ask her for it."
The king turned on his son. "Did you know she had this?"
"Yes."
"Why should I be polite to her? She stole it."
"She did not steal it. Be reasonable. She wasn't even born when it disappeared."
The king held his open hand in front of Meeral's face. "Give me that necklace,Ó he demanded.
She rubbed the back of her neck. She had no choice. She took it off and dropped it in his hand.
"Where did your get it?"
"My mother gave it to me."
"Next you're going to tell me that murderer Boktod was your father."
"He was, and he was no murderer."
"He stole that necklace from my daughter's body. She was not your mother. I saw her die."
"She did not die," Meeral said, but he turned and paced across the room, holding the pendant in his hand and stepping heavily, banging his feet against the floor. A soldier came to the doorway and asked permission to speak to him. The king impatiently gestured him forward and listened as the soldier murmured something in his ear.
"Send him in," the king said.
Meeral saw him at a distance, walking slowly and deliberately. Chak. He gave her the same kind of smile he had given when he announced Shejani had died.
"I sent for you, Chak. I want to be sure we have the right woman," the king said. He pointed at Meeral accusingly. "Is this the woman?"
Chak walked up to her and looked at the flesh that Drarie dresses failed to cover and slowly nodded his head. "That's Meeral, the enhancer, the woman who sunk your ships and drowned your sailors."
Chak turned to the king. "Now you can pay me," he said.
MorToak's voice boomed with the same resonance Meeral loved to hear as he asked, "What's he getting paid for?"
"For bringing us the weapon that attacked our fleet," the king answered, "Now we're sending another fleet and we'll conquer Lurdoa."
"Haven't we done enough, Father?" Xankald said. "There are better ways to strengthen our country."
"I'm sending the fleet," Quanzar repeated angrily. "It's heading north. You can see it out there." He pointed past the round table, the stretch of lawn and the edge of the bluff. The ships were in full sail.
"What about the ships that were headed for Lurdoa City?" MorToak asked.
"We just sent a few to draw your defenses to Lurdoa City. It worked. Your Colonel Kaldoat took a large force with him across the LurPac mountains right after we captured you. But that won't help against our cannons. We'll conquer Pactyl and do enough damage to Lurdoa City in western Lurdoa so they won't interfere when we take over the eastern part of your country.
"Our people are tired of this war," Xankald said.
"Are you afraid to fight?" the king asked his son.
"You know I'm not," Xankald said. "But this is a senseless, spiteful war."
"I should have done this twenty years ago," Quanzar said, his face turning a darker shade of red. "I can do it now. The one thing that was preventing our victory over Lurdoa is sitting right there." He pointed at Meeral.
"You're wrong."
The king whirled around and faced MorToak who had said those two words. King Quanzar said, "Without her you haven't a chance."
"We have dozens of enhancers who Meeral has trained and who will defend the city of Pactyl, and Lurdoa City, just as she did."
The king turned on Chak. "You said this was the only one who could destroy our fleet."
Chak looked at Meeral in alarm, but then he smiled. "I thought you'd done something like that." To Quanzar he said, "Don't worry, Your Majesty. I already have it arranged. I have assassins all over Pactyl. The soldiers who guard those enhancers are getting sloppy. When you shoot off that first cannon, that's the signal. My gang will plunge their knives into those women. My boys do a good job."
"Killing women?" Xankald said. "Call off the fleet, Father. You don't want to
be in that kind of a war."
"Coward!" Quanzar said.
Chak stepped closer to the king. "How about that money you promised me. I've done my part."
"You've done nothing," the king said. "You brought me one enhancer, and Lurdoa is still full of them."
Chak's whined, "They'll be killed, your Majesty? I promise you they won't give you any trouble. I killed one of them myself. It's easy."
Meeral looked at the ships with their sails taking full advantage of a gentle east wind. She wanted to destroy both the ships that would attack Pactyl, and Chak and his evil plan. Chak was closer.
"Chak,Ó she said. "King Quanzar will give you money just as he gave my father the money due him. Ask him about it."
"I was going to pay him," the king said peevishly, "but he didn't deserve anything."
"Like you're going to pay Chak," Meeral said, relishing goading them both.
"You're just causing trouble for me, Meeral," Chak said menacingly.
"You won't get paid, and you won't be able to live in Drarie or Pactyl," Meeral said.
"You've done enough against me, Meeral," Chak said. "Jarph was a good wife until you worked on her."
"Now she'll call the magistrate if you show your face in Cyrtuno."
"You turned her against me." Chak's voice was low, almost a whisper. She saw him reach in his boot. MorToak lunged at Chak, knocking him over. Chak fell at the king's feet. The soldiers, seeing the knife so close to their king, plunged their swords into Chak's body.
MorToak drew an arm around Meeral whispered, "What are you trying to do?"
"I must destroy the fleet, even if we all die. It's our life against dozens of enhancers. I must, MorToak."
"How can I help you?" But they were separated before she could answer -- though she had no answer.
King Quanzar looked shaken as the soldiers removed Chak's body. A very pale Lenera called servants to clean up the blood. Meeral said to Quanzar, "I can show you how my mother escaped."
"She jumped off the cliff. I'd be happy to see you do that."
Xankald said, "No. We've had enough."
The King laughed. "If you jump off that cliff, and live, I'll send you safely back to Pactyl."
"Like you paid Chak and my father?"
The king scowled. "If you don't want to take my word, this is a good time to put you in prison where you belong. Guard!" he called to a soldier.
"Father. Listen . . . "
King Quanzar pulled a sword from the sheath of a soldier. His face was ravaged by anger as he said to his son, "If I hear any more of your mutinous talk, Xankald, I swear I'll execute her right here."
The soldiers moved next to MorToak who stood poised and tense, ready to help Meeral.
Meeral spoke, hoping to keep her voice from quavering. "Your Majesty, let me show you how your daughter did it. Then if I die, you will not be haunted by any feeling that I might have been right."
Meeral saw a worried frown in Lenera's face. MorToak held his lips together grimly while Xankald opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind when he looked at his father.
The king handed the sword back to the soldier. He rubbed his hands together and said, "By Gurkon, this will be something to watch. Guard. Put my chair out . . . "
"Was that where you were sitting when Shejani . . . your daughter began to walk across the lawn? You must do exactly as you did that night."
For a moment, Meeral was afraid he would not agree, but he sat down at the large table and invited Lenera, Xankald and MorToak to join him. The three of them stared at Meeral, their eyes pleading for her safety. She flashed a confident smile, more confident than she felt.
Xankald, with just a wave, directed the soldiers to stand away from the door that led to the lawn.
Meeral strode over to the other side of the large round table. With both her hands she grabbed the edge of the finely woven, round cloth and gave it a good yank. Dishes and flowers scattered.
"That didn't happen when Janshei . . . " Quanzar sputtered and started to get up.
"She carried a bundle, didn't she?" Meeral demanded.
The king nodded. "But . . . "
"Now follow me, just as you followed your daughter, " Meeral said, starting across the lawn.
The soldiers edged toward her but were restrained by a gesture of Xankald's hand.
Meeral walked across the lawn toward the edge of the bluff. As she walked, she wrapped the tablecloth around her back. Bunching the edge, she quickly tied it firmly around her waist. Holding the far side of the cloth above her head, she let the doubled cloth drag behind her. The king followed her, as he had followed Shejani.
She slowed her pace -- balancing the king's less agile steps that time had imposed on him. She had only a few steps to run, hands above her head, the cloth trailing behind her. As her mother had done years before, she threw a glance at the king as he came puffing toward her and she leapt off the edge of the bluff.
CHAPTER 22
For a few seconds the side of the bluff hurtled past her as she enhanced the air going into the tablecloth. When it billowed out, she quickly enhanced the pull upward. The cloth slipped upwards so it was uncomfortably pushing against her breasts. She could barely hold on, and was glad she had a good grip and wrapped the cloth around her hands. By the time her feet hit the water, she had slowed her fall.
The water of the ocean was so startlingly cold that she pulled her knees up in the hopeless impulse to keep out of the water. Instead, she went completely under the surface. She forgot to hold her breath and was choking on the water. She tried to thrash with her arms but they were encased in the wet tablecloth. The cloth seemed to grab her, covering her face and tangling itself around her in the blur of green water. Had she made it safely down from the top of the bluff, only to drown -- then she remembered what Xankald told her -- three feet deep at the most? When she straightened her legs, her feet touched the sandy bottom and she stood up. Her head was well above the surface. Choking and gagging from the salt water, she lifted the cloth so it no longer encased her head, but floated freely. It lost its grasp on her as she stood still and it spread out over the water. She walked slowly toward the beach that Xankald had told her about.
The tablecloth continued to cling firmly around her. The knot she had tied so securely held even more tightly now it was wet. She tugged with all her strength to pull the wet cloth onto the dry sand of the beach. No time to figure out how to untie it now. There was more important work to do.
The ships were in clear sight. She extended her enhancing into the earth to find the heat in its very core, as she had aboard the ship. She shivered though the day was hot. She concentrated on making the connection until it felt right, then aimed her concentration on one of the battleships that was sailing serenely north. Directing the impact of her enhancing to a spot just below its waterline, she avoided the cannons and explosive powder. Her goal was to scuttle the ships, not to kill more sailors. Soon the steam of the boiling water was joined with smoke from the burning ship. When it began to list, she concentrated on another ship.
Ships skittered in different directions trying to escape her destructive power. Small boats were launched while men swam in the water as she methodically moved from one ship to another. Once, while she was concentrating on the ships, something silver flashed right in front of her and fell in the water with a tiny splash. She could still see it lying on the bottom, but she was too busy to investigate, and had forgotten it when the last ship spewed men into the water.
Meeral sat in the sand and mastered the knot in the tablecloth. Her fancy Drarie dress was still wet, but her face was dry. She licked her lips, tasting the salt from the ocean. So much water in front of her, and nothing she could drink. Sand covered her hands, legs, and covered her dress. Brushing it with her hands seemed to have no affect. But the tablecloth that had tried to drown her now comforted her. She spread it out and lay down on it.
The sun, shining from the east, filled her beach with warm sunl
ight. She was exhausted. They would be coming after her soon. Would they kill her here on the beach or would they execute her in a grander style? She had no Boktod to rescue her, as had her mother. Could she escape and pass unnoticed in the Drarie countryside? No. She would have to kill again and again, all who stood in her way. She had been told often enough that MorToak and Lenera would be killed for what she had just done. Were those two people, so dear to her, dead? She was too exhausted to mourn them now.
She stretched out on the tablecloth with her hands clasped behind her head. Gazing at the blue sky, she smelled the salty-fishy smell of the water and listened to its monotonous lapping along the shore. She felt an instant of euphoria as she thought of her mother. Shejani had been in this same place, putting her trust in the hands of a Cyrtuno peasant.
She awoke with a start, confused because she had not remembered going to sleep or where she was. She thought she heard voices, but when she sat up a flock of sea gulls flew off, reproaching her with their almost human cries.
How thirsty she was. Her face felt hot. She stood up and walked from one end of her beach to the other. The tide went out when she slept so the beach was larger than at first. But the additional sand offered no advantage. There was no escape except by boat -- or flying like the birds. Could she use the tablecloth to carry her away? She didn't think so. It had only been enough to soften her fall from the top of the bluff.
She waited a long wait, wondering if this was their method of execution. The sound of oars hitting water and the murmur of voices gave Meeral time to decide that she was not going to take any Drarie soldier with her when they came near enough to kill her. Two sailors were rowing and three soldiers sat as passengers. Why not the four soldiers that usually guarded her, Meeral wondered wryly. Then she saw the fourth figure near the stern of the boat. But it could not be a soldier -- too small, with dark hair caught in a bun. Lenera!
"Don't hurt anyone, Meeral," Lenera shouted. Then a Drarie soldier helped her into a seat close to the bow. Every time she started to look around, or even wiggle, she saw the soldiers and sailors stiffen and their eyes widen in fright. No one spoke except when necessary. Lenera wordlessly handed her some fresh water to drink.
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