She floated back, smiling at her husband. And she said: “Wake up, my lord and master.”
King Farsun groaned up, silvery drops spilling onto his cheek. He brushed at them absently.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
And she said: “Hurry, my Lord. Your son awaits your throne.”
“Monavia?” he said, peering this way and that, but not seeing his wife’s spirit. “Where are you?”
He shook himself. “Too much drink,” he muttered. The bitch gives me nightmares. But wait ’til she sees her son’s head. I’ll cut it off tomorrow. Then we’ll learn whose dreams are sweeter!”
The Queen’s other self laughed and it was like garden chimes in a soft wind.
King Farsun swiveled, nearly falling from his seat as he looked to see where the sound came from.
Then the poison struck and he shrieked in agony, flinging his wine goblet to the floor and clutching his ear. The pain must have been awful from his cry.
Our blood turned cold but the Queen only laughed and floated away.
When the doors slammed open and the alarmed courtiers poured in, their queen was safely gone and their king lay dead on the floor.
Confusion reigned in that room for long minutes, as the courtiers ran about, saying “what’s to be done?” and “what could have happened?” and “I blame the doctors for this! They should have known he was unwell.”
A hush fell as Queen Monavia came through doors. This was the real Monavia, not the murderous ghost we had seen. She had a robe cast carelessly over her sleeping clothes as if she had dressed in a hurry. She saw the King on the floor and walked over — quite calm — ignoring the whispered condolences of her subjects. She brushed aside the doctors and knelt down by the corpse.
Monavia stared long at her husband’s florid face.
Then she hissed, “Coward!” And spit into it.
The courtiers were plainly shocked, although we saw nods of satisfaction from some. But they said nothing as their Queen rose and turned to them.
She said: “My husband is dead, no doubt from over indulgence.”
There were murmurs of agreement.
Monavia continued. “I want my son released tonight. He’ll assume the throne tomorrow and despite the ill treatment he received at his father’s hands I expect he’ll declare an appropriate period of mourning.”
The courtiers murmured approval. There were many smiles breaking out now it was plain which way the winds would blow. Farsun had not been a popular king.
The Queen looked at the remains of the feast and wrinkled her lips in disgust. “This has been a most shameful time in our history,” she said. “And this room and this palace has seen us all humiliated by Ba’land and his fiends. But that has ended, lords and ladies. My son, I expect, will order them from Tyrenia the instant he dons the crown.
“As for this chamber, none of us are ever again to set foot in this hall of shame. I want it closed up, you hear? Leave everything as it is. And shut the doors.
“The first thing I shall urge my son to do is to empty this entire palace and seal it off. We can build another, more worthy home for your monarchs. And I, for one, shall not sleep another night in these halls.”
The Queen stalked out amidst the applause of her citizens.
Then I heard Janela sigh, the scene dissolved and we were all back in the cobwebbed court chamber again.
My heart leaped when I saw Janela sprawled over the dancer’s platform.
I ran to her and lifted her up. She gave me a weak smile.
“Did they see how it was done, Amalric?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Now, rest, my dear.”
Tobray leaned over us. “Do as he says, my Lady. We can discuss this later.”
“Still,” she said. “You understand now, don’t you? There’s a gateway here. A gateway to the demon world.”
“Yes, yes,” Tobray said. “I understand. Now, rest. When you are well you can teach us how to open it.”
Janela nodded, then closed her eyes and slept. I didn’t think I have ever seen her look so peaceful.
* * * *
I took her back to her room and put her to bed. I followed the instructions she left, dribbling elixirs between her lips. Then I disrobed her and bathed her slender body with sweet-smelling potions, working them in as tenderly as I once cared for my own daughter — gone to the Seeker so many years now.
I covered her up and was about to depart when she murmured for me to stay. So I curled up beside her and held her until I too slept.
Late that night, I was startled awake. Janela was up, hastily pulling on a robe.
“What’s happening?” I said, speech slurred by sleep. “Get back in bed. You’re ill.”
Janela ignored this, saying, “Come with me, Amalric! Quickly!”
I bounded up and followed her out of the room. We ran to my son’s quarters and I cursed when I saw the open door and the sentry asleep at his post.
“Sorcery!” Janela hissed and ran inside.
The other sentry was slumped on the floor, also victim of a spell.
Another body made a heap in the center of the room. But this was a corpse — and blood was spattered about him in a wide circle.
It was Lord Modin.
Fear added strength to my limbs and I burst ahead of Janela and flung open Cligus’ door.
The room was a welter of blood. My son was stretched out on the gory sheets of his bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling in a deadman’s stare.
I stood over him, the room spinning as if I were at the center of a devil’s top.
Janela’s voice slipped through the mad whirl: “They aren’t just dead, Amalric. They’ve been drained. Soul and all.”
“Who?” I said, limbs numb. “Who did this?”
“Only a demon could have done it,” she said. “And even then... it was very powerful.”
“King Ba’land?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “King Ba’land.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JOURNEY’S END
The grief I experienced over Cligus’ murder nearly overwhelmed me. If someone had said only a day before that I would feel so wounded I’d have called them a liar. But when I saw the soul-less husk that was his corpse all the pent-up emotion, all the anger and the guilt joined with a whole confusion of other human frailties to paralyze me. I didn’t weep. I didn’t faint. I stood there unable to move gazing at the man the gods had decreed would be my son.
Weak as she was Janela summoned strength enough to send for Quatervals to do what was necessary and then — assisted by Pip — helped me back into our quarters. She gave me a draught to make me sleep then held me in her arms until weariness overtook her.
But we didn’t rest long. In the morning there came a hammering on our suite’s outer door. I heard voices and as I struggled into awareness Quatervals was tapping at our chamber entrance and saying we had been summoned by the King.
I grumbled up still numb from the potion to splash water on my face and don my clothes. Janela stirred and asked what was wrong.
“The King calls,” I said. “You go back to sleep. I can deal with him myself.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, my Lord,” Quatervals broke in, his voice tight with worry. “But the messenger says you both must attend his Majesty. I tried to argue but there’s King’s soldiers in the hall to make certain his orders are carried out.”
Janela bolted up. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Her face was gray from fatigue and her eyes feverish. I didn’t have to look twice to see she would take much longer to recover her strength than the last time she’d been stricken.
But I could only repeat what Quatervals had said, for when a king sends his messenger — and that messenger comes with soldiers attached to his message — you’d best follow his commands to the letter.
* * * *
For supposed heroes we made a less than glorious entrance when we entered King Ignati’s court.
It was as glo
omy as before with only the throne area lit and the soldiers seemed nervous as they ushered us across the floor that was engraved with the names of so many of their own heroes. It seemed to me they performed their task with reluctance and no little shame.
And they seemed as startled as I was when we saw the demon standing next to Ignati’s throne.
He was large as most demons are and shaped like a lizard. But this lizard stood on two feet like the reptiles who run with the jackals in the hills outside Jeypur. His snout was broad, his eyes small red coals and he had venomous sacs on either side of his neck that were engorged and scarlet with anger.
As we approached a feathery snake-like tongue darted out from his snout tasting the air for our fear.
“So these be the mortals,” he hissed, “that have given so much trouble to my king.”
Ignati glared down at us from his throne. “It’s my kind heart that’s to blame,” he said. “Shouldn’t have tried to please the rabble. Isn’t that so, Tobray?”
I wrenched my gaze from the demon to see who else was with us. Besides the soldiers and a few other guards I saw only Tobray at first. Then I spotted Vakram’s long form leaning lazily against a far wall and wondered what he was doing here. I did not see his master Prince Solaros.
Then I realized Tobray hadn’t answered and turned back to see the King glowering at his chief wizard.
“I said,” the King repeated, “... isn’t that so, Tobray?”
The wizard seemed disturbed as he forced an answer. But it was not the answer I expected.
“In this case, your Majesty,” he said, “I believe you have been wise in listening to your people.”
The demon emissary hissed displeasure, then said, “How dare you address your king in that manner? Are you a fool or a traitor?”
Ignati squirmed. He plainly didn’t like the demon taking such liberties with his own man. Even if he plans to have you beheaded no king appreciates such open interference from an outsider. The way a monarch sees it he might as well be introducing a termite queen to his throne.
“Yes, yes,” the King said to the demon. “I quite understand your pique, Yasura. But pay no mind to Tobray. He’s a good fellow. Means well. Only saying what he thinks. Which I like to encourage in my court.” And then he added, reflexively, “Isn’t that so, Tobray?”
Tobray gulped. Then said, “Yes, you do, your Majesty. That is what makes you a great sovereign. And if I am to continue to serve your Majesty honestly and faithfully I must again risk your wrath and beg you to spurn this demon — and any of his king’s demands.”
My estimation for the wizard grew immensely. It’s nothing for a brave man to say a brave thing. But for one such as Tobray it was an act of extreme courage.
“Do you want war?” Yasura screeched.
Ignati shook his head. “Of course we don’t. And I wish you wouldn’t use that word. Can’t two reasonable kings differ on a teensy thing or two without shouting war this and war that?”
His hand came out as if to give the demon a placating pat, then he snatched it away scant inches before he touched the demon’s scales.
I sallied into the gap. “What is it we have done, your Majesty?” I asked. “Have we violated any of Tyrenia’s laws? I can’t see how we could. All our actions have been in the open, and we sought and received your permission every step of the way.”
Prince Solaros’ voice rang out: “That’s absolutely true, father.”
The Prince, boiling out of a small private entrance, rushed to the throne breathless, clothes in disarray from hurried dressing.
“Before we get into that, father,” he said, “I must beg you to tell me why I wasn’t notified of this meeting? You know my friendship for these two. And you know my deep interest in our future relations with King Ba’land.”
Ignati snorted. “I also knew you’d try to interfere,” he said. “The time for that sort of thing has passed. Much at stake here. Much at stake. Take my word for it.”
The Prince eyed Vakram. “And what are you doing here, my Lord?”
Vakram remained at ease. He did not seem troubled by his prince’s displeasure. “Observing, your Highness,” he said. “Nothing more.”
“I find it odd,” Solaros said, “my personal wizard should attend such an affair without notifying me.”
Before a confrontation could erupt Ignati swatted the air as if the whole matter was all a buzzing of pesky flies. “Lord Yasura requested his presence, my son,” he said. “He wanted details of that little incident in the old palace.”
The King shook his head. “I must say it seemed a nasty business. All my wizards taken in by a charlatan. And a gods-denying charlatan at that?”
“If you had attended yourself, Majesty,” Janela said, “you might have acquired a different view.”
“View of what?” Ignati snarled. “Parlor tricks and war mongering from what I’ve heard.”
“It is King Ba’land who seeks this crisis, father,” the Prince said. “He makes demands on us that will leave us helpless if we agree. And all are his demands are unconditional. That’s war talk if I ever heard it.”
“And what is the intent of your recent military training, your Highness,” the demon said, “if not to make war?”
“There’s that word again,” the King said. “War, war. I wish we’d all start using more positive language. Peace is so much nicer on the tongue. It has a sound like a tempting dish. Pear, for instance. In a sauce of cherry wine. Whereas war, why that sounds like...” the King racked his brain, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t know what it sounds like in particular. But if I did think of something I’m certain it would be nasty.”
Despite his silly talk I could see Ignati’s temper was beginning to fray.
“King Ba’land insists this training must stop,” Yasura said.
Ignati nodded. He turned to the Prince. “There you go,” he said. “That’s not so difficult a demand. And if you think on it, my son, you can see how one’s, ah, former, ah, competitors... that’s it... competitors... might take offense at our actions.” He looked at Yasura. “Which were merely to keep our forces from growing bored. Yes, that’s it. The training was merely for the purposes of improving morale... Isn’t that so, Tobray?”
The wizard started to answer but the King quickly waved for silence. “Never mind,” he said. “Can’t tell what may come from your mouth these days, Tobray. I say, are you feeling quite well?”
The demon hissed, impatient. “More will be required than that, your Majesty,” he said.
The King looked at him sharply. “I must speak to your master,” he said, “about his choice in representatives. I don’t appreciate fellows who run around requiring me to do things. I wear the crown here and if there’s any requiring to be done I’ll do it. On the other hand if there’s a request you want, why request away, sir. A good king considers all requests.”
The demon bowed. “As you wish, your Highness,” he said. “Request it shall be. However, it should be noted these are very firm requests.”
The King frowned at this dicing of terms. Then he nodded. “What is it exactly that your master requests then?”
Yasura looked at us. “Punishment,” he said.
Ignati looked relieved. “That’s quite reasonable,” he said. “Tell him that I shall severely punish these two.” Then to Solaros: “You see how simple it is, son?”
“I fear that won’t be satisfactory,” the demon said. “King Ba’land requires more than your reassurance.”
Ignati looked concerned. “How’s that?” he said.
The demon emissary didn’t answer but only stared hard at the King. The King broke first.
“You can see how it is?” he said to Janela and myself. “My subjects’ lives against your own. But rest assured I shall personally — “ and he glared at Yasura — “request that King Ba’land disposes of you quickly with as little torment as possible.”
He smiled at Yasura. “There you go,” he said. “Problem solve
d. Misunderstandings set straight.”
Solaros boiled forward. “I won’t permit it father!” he cried. “Lady Greycloak and Lord Antero are under my protection. Ba’land might as well ask for my life as theirs!”
“That too can be arranged, your Highness,” the demon said.
Ignati was shocked. Then the shock turned to fury and he tore at his beard. “How dare you?” he shouted. “How dare you threaten the life of my son? And don’t tell me it was a slip of that filthy thing you call a tongue! You are impertinent to the extreme and you shall languish in my dungeons, sir, for that impertinence until your master sends me his immediate apologies. And that is a firm requirement, sir, not a request!”
He turned to his wizard. “Isn’t that so, Tobray?”
Tobray smiled hugely. “As usual, your Majesty,” he said, “your choice of words is perfection itself.”
The King nodded, pleased. Order had once more been restored to his court.
Then he said, “Guards, remove Lord Yasura from my presence. You know where to put him. I needn’t spell it out.”
The soldiers grinned, snapped salutes and started forward.
“You see?” the King said to his son. “That’s how it’s done. Mark well my actions for your future reference when I am gone. Speak kindly but never let the other fellow mistake kindness for weakness. Isn’t that so-”
“Enough of this foolishness!” Vakram shouted.
He shot up from his perch and stalked toward the throne.
“Beware!,” Janela cried, running forward. “It’s Ba’land!”
She drew her dagger as she ran. I didn’t ask, I didn’t ponder but drew my own dirk and leaped after her.
Vakram turned to face us. He roared and as he did flesh peeled from his face and a snout exploded through showering us with flesh and blood and his body twisted up and up, scaly bone and muscle rending his courtly wizard robe; and he was Ba’land, the demon king and his single eye was a horrible torch of fury, his breath a hot sulfurous reek and his hands were gory talons that stretched out for us.
Smoke and fire burst from those talons with such force that we were hurled back many feet. As we lay there another burst struck us and I was screaming agony and then had no breath and was fighting to draw it in but all that came seared my lungs.
Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) Page 47