Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  “And yes, your sister, Princess Aidelia, is mad. She is irrational and frequently violent.”

  “If she is, does that mean that I might…” Katrin went pale.

  “No, my dear. If you were mad, we’d know about it. You and your sister have different fathers. You are only half-sisters. Aidelia’s father was mad, and she has it from him. Your father was absolutely sane – as you are.”

  “I see,” Katrin said slowly, drawing her feet up to rest them on the large branch she was seated on. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “Not a good situation to walk into.”

  “No, it isn’t. I wish I could make it otherwise, but I have no choice but to take you.”

  She was quiet for a moment, looking over at the house.

  “You didn’t take me those other times,” Katrin announced. “You always made up some story or another.”

  Menders looked at her in astonishment.

  “Yes I knew, sometimes. I used to wonder why we didn’t go. Then one day I understood. You’re in danger, aren’t you?” she asked. “I can tell by your voice.”

  “Yes my dear, there is some danger because I have not raised you according to the way royal children are supposed to be raised, because that is a brutal regimen and I would not inflict it on you.”

  Katrin nodded. He had told her about toughening. The very idea sickened her.

  “You, Kaymar, Ifor and I will leave tonight,” he told her, wanting to get away from the topic of danger to himself. “We’ll take the boat. The crossing is fast and easy this time of year. I’m hoping that we will finish our business at the Palace quickly and be back here before long.”

  She nodded, taking a deep breath.

  “Try not to be afraid, Katrin,” Menders said. “There is no danger to you, I’m sure.” Except for the danger that your drunkard mother will decide you have to stay at Court with your murderous sister, he thought. I can’t tell you that and I won’t let that happen, if I have to kill the Queen herself. Even if they put me on the spit for it.

  “I’m not afraid for myself,” she said softly.

  “Katrin – if I am called away from you at any time while we’re there, you are in Kaymar’s care. If he tells you to do something, you must do it, without question, and without hesitation. Do you understand? He will have direct orders from me, so anything he says you must consider to be coming from me.” He reached out and took her hand. She gripped his hand hard in response.

  “I understand,” she said, looking at him with those brilliant blue eyes that had mesmerized him from the moment she had been put in his arms.

  ***

  Menders squeezed Katrin’s hand as they stood outside the doors to the Queen’s Throne Room. It was late afternoon. They had arrived the previous night. Menders was infuriated that after all the fuss and drama of obeying the command to bring Katrin to Court, they had been allowed to linger until now before being presented.

  Upon their arrival they had been shown to a small room where Katrin, exhausted by the late hour and the excitement of the boat trip, had fallen asleep. Menders and Kaymar spelled each other keeping watch until dawn - and then they had cooled their heels the rest of the day. They had been given nothing to eat and were hungry to the point of being faint.

  Menders didn’t dare speak to Katrin now but when she squeezed his hand in return he knew that she was as calm as she could be under the circumstances.

  She looked wonderful in a white dress embroidered with golden snowflowers. It had been her Winterfest present from Eiren. It suited Katrin’s pink and gold coloring and made the most of her tall, graceful figure. Her posture was perfect because he’d taught her to hold herself well. Her hair hung in a shimmering fall down her back, held back with two golden combs that had been his Winterfest gift.

  He and Kaymar stood on either side of her, waiting.

  Finally, the door swung open and the Queen’s Chamberlain stood before them.

  “Princess Katrin Morghenna of Mordania and her guardian, enter. The bodyguard will remain outside,” he proclaimed.

  Pretentious ass, Menders thought, hearing Kaymar’s soft snort of disgust. He released Katrin’s hand and stepped behind her, trying with all his might to project confidence and strength into her.

  He need not have worried. Katrin walked forward as if she entered this room every day of her life. She sank down into a formal curtsey while Menders simultaneously executed a formal bow. She held the curtsey effortlessly at its lowest point, waiting for the Queen’s bidding.

  “Rise,” the Queen said sharply, her voice scarred and hoarse from years of drinking.

  As Menders straightened, he looked at her.

  The lighting in the chamber was low, the corners all but in darkness. The Throne was centered in a pool of yellow light cast by a ring of sputtering gaslamps hanging from the ceiling.

  The wretched woman, Menders thought. What a visage to present to your daughter on your first meeting!

  She was wearing the entire regalia of The Queen of Mordania - the heavy jeweled, armored, blood-red formal gown, the hideous red wig and worst of all – the teeth. Her pale, heavily beringed hand gripped the black iron staff that was the symbol of her authority.

  The Queen’s grandmother had gone through the painful process of having her teeth filed, as legend insisted the early Queens of Mordania had, to present a fearsome appearance. Since then, Katrin’s grandmother and mother had resorted to a set of false teeth clipped over their natural dentition, but the effect was still horrifying. Her mouth looked like a demonfish’s, jagged teeth yellow-white against the dark interior as she sat, gap-mouthed, staring at the thing of beauty that was her second daughter.

  Katrin raised her eyes from the floor to look at her mother, and Menders felt a rush of admiration. An older child than Katrin would have flinched or even cried out upon being faced with such a horrible apparition, but Katrin remained calm, waiting for the Queen to address her.

  “You are Katrin?” the Queen asked, her voice hissing and whistling through her pointed false teeth. Menders thought it an absurd question. Had the Queen slipped further into alcoholic madness than he had imagined?

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Katrin said quietly, but firmly.

  “How old are you now?” the Queen asked, looking confused.

  “I am eleven years of age, Madame,” Katrin answered.

  The Queen’s eyes shifted to Menders and he saw that she was rattled. Good!

  “She looks older,” the Queen said.

  “Princess Katrin has always been tall for her age, Your Majesty,” he responded.

  “Come closer,” the Queen said to Katrin, who obeyed until her mother’s hand went up, stopping her short about ten feet from the Throne. The Queen’s motion sent a wave of stench toward Menders that nearly made him lose countenance. Where Katrin stood it must have been appalling, but she made no sign.

  “Turn around,” the Queen commanded. Katrin did so gracefully, her eyes dutifully downcast. The Queen stared at her, then looked at Menders again.

  “She resembles her father,” she said sharply.

  “Yes, Madame,” Menders responded. He sighed slightly with relief. She’d acknowledged, in that statement, that Katrin was her child. Indeed, Katrin’s resemblance to Bernhard Markha was marked, particularly now that she was in this tall, leggy stage. The color of her eyes was his, not the Queen’s aqua, which had once been beautiful, but was now bleared and bloodshot. Katrin’s hair was Markha’s, as was her tall, strong body. The Queen was tall, but corpulent. Flesh bulged over the top of the formal gown and ringed her neck thickly.

  “What have you achieved in your schooling?” the Queen asked, staring at Katrin.

  “Madame, I have been reading Gerhalt’s History of Mordania and Erenson’s Moral Philosophy,” she answered. “I am learning geometry and have also done algebra. I am studying astronomy and the geography of Eirdon. I play the spinet, the cromar and am learning the viol. This spring I have been working on my penmanship, be
cause it isn’t as good as it can be. I study Surelian and Samorsan. I ride both Artreyan and Mordanian style and own a pony named Snowflake and a farlin named Trouble. I have learned all the formal dances of the Mordanian Court. I have recently read all about electricity.”

  “Impressive,” the Queen replied slowly. “Who are your teachers?”

  “I have two tutors, Madame, Mister Trantz and Mister Menck. I also have a governess.” Katrin responded so easily that Menders was stunned. He had not coached her this far. He’d had no idea that the Queen would ask anything beyond a few basic questions.

  “Are they pleased with you?” came the hissing voice.

  “Very often they are, though at times I fail to do so – so I try harder,” Katrin answered softly, with a hitch of regret in her voice.

  A brief, carnivorous smile passed across the Queen’s face.

  “I am pleased,” she said. “Your ward is most satisfactory.” Her eyes flicked over Menders’ face, but showed no emotion. “You may go,” she said to both of them.

  Menders delayed his own bow by a second so he could observe the Queen’s expression as Katrin sank down into her formal curtsey again, her head touching her knee, her skirt billowing out around her in a field of white and gold. In parting, according to etiquette she rose in her own time and backed gracefully to the door. It swung open and she and Menders backed into the hallway.

  With a last look into the Audience Chamber, Menders saw a single human emotion flicker across the Queen’s face.

  Regret.

  ***

  Thoren Bartan, the Court Assassin, knocked gently on the door of the room where Menders, Katrin and Kaymar were waiting – waiting for anything, a meal, word that they could go, word that they had to stay. It had been hours since Katrin’s interview with the Queen. Menders could tell she was faint with hunger. His own stomach was a roiling vat of acid. He dared not send Kaymar out, he wanted him close by. Menders paced and fumed despite Kaymar’s assurances that all would be well.

  Bartan was a welcome sight. He shook hands heartily and then bowed with great respect to Katrin, his dark eyes taking her in with one glance.

  “It went well,” he said in lowered tones, opening a bag he carried and removing packets that smelled wonderful. “You can forget about regular meals in this place. These are safe, they aren’t from the kitchens. My wife made them in our suite.”

  Katrin opened her packet and began to eat. Kaymar and Menders did likewise.

  “I think they’re about to let you go. The Queen was very impressed with the Princess,” Bartan continued. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you before now but one must be careful. Once you’re released, I’ll let you into a passage that leads directly to the docks. Kaymar knows the way. Believe me, no-one will notice or care, now that the Queen has had her way.”

  They finished the food with small talk, though Menders noticed that Katrin kept her counsel. She had been very quiet since the interview with her mother. He’d also told her that it wasn’t safe to speak much. She’d spent some of the afternoon resting on the bed and reading a book she’d brought along with her. He knew she had questions, but didn’t want to speak before Kaymar and certainly not before Bartan.

  Bartan was just gathering himself up to go when there was an abrupt knock on the door. Menders motioned to Katrin for silence before opening it.

  The Queen’s Chamberlain stood in the doorway. He gestured to Menders

  “You are to attend the Queen immediately, my Lord.”

  Bartan cast a look of complete bewilderment at Menders. Menders turned to Kaymar. Katrin realized he was confused, while Kaymar looked ill.

  “I’ll see you in a while,” he said, smiling at Katrin. When he turned back, he saw that the Chamberlain had stalked on down the hallway, confident that Menders would be right behind. With two rapid steps, Menders was at Kaymar’s side.

  “Get her to the boat. If I’m not there by midnight, sail.”

  Kaymar nodded silently. Menders turned to Katrin, cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her quickly on the cheek.

  “Kaymar speaks with my voice,” he reminded her, smiling.

  As he went out the door, he whispered to Bartan, “Help them.”

  “I will, brother,” Bartan answered.

  ***

  For the second time that day, Menders stood before the door to the Queen’s Audience Chamber. This time he was sickened, pleading with fate that Bartan would get Katrin and Kaymar out of the Palace. Somehow he must buy them time by keeping the Queen busy, however he had to do it.

  He was sure he was already a dead man. If he could stay alive long enough, Kaymar would get Katrin away to safety.

  He took out his watch with a minimum of movement. Half past eleven.

  The door swung open. Menders walked forward, going through the entire bowing and waiting routine.

  “Rise,” the Queen said.

  When he did, he saw she was seated on the Throne, no longer in her armored gown, the teeth not in evidence. Her stench reached him, making the food he’d just eaten churn in his stomach. He mentally turned off his nose or he would vomit all over the floor, though it was so grimy that no-one would notice.

  “Come forward,” she commanded.

  ***

  Katrin followed Kaymar from the room they’d waited in all day. She was terrified for Menders.

  The corridor was long and dim. Suddenly Bartan shrank back into the shadows of the room and Kaymar stepped in front of Katrin.

  There was a girl standing in the corridor. Katrin smelled her before she saw her. It was the same filthy reek that had come from the Queen earlier, as if she had never had a bath in her life. It made Katrin’s eyes water. Her stomach tossed at the thought of someone being that dirty.

  The girl came forward into a small pool of light cast by a nearby lantern. Katrin drew back involuntarily.

  The girl’s eyes rolled, roving from Kaymar to Katrin and back to Kaymar again. She had red hair, like the Queen and her mouth gaped open. She was drooling, a thick stream that slimed her lips and dripped onto the floor.

  “So it’s you,” she hissed, trying to duck past Kaymar toward Katrin. Kaymar kept himself between Katrin and the disgusting creature. Katrin realized this was her half-sister, Princess Aidelia.

  “Country cow, country pig,” Aidelia chanted, clawing at Katrin, reaching around Kaymar. Katrin could see her fingernails black to the quick and stayed tight behind Kaymar’s back. “Fat little bitch! You’ll never be Queen!”

  Suddenly Kaymar’s hand descended on Aidelia’s wrist as she lunged at Katrin, her jagged fingernails raking through the air.

  “You’ve laid hands on me!” Aidelia growled at him, her eyes slewing in his direction as she tried to bite him. “You laid hands on a royal person! That’s treason, you’re a traitor!”

  “I’m your cousin and a royal person as well. I can touch you, Aidelia, and you know it,” Kaymar answered calmly, holding her fast. “Who will believe you when you carry on this way?”

  Aidelia thrashed until she was free of his grip and stepped back.

  “I’ll kill you one day, country pig,” she slobbered. Katrin could see a terrible network of scars on her arms, as if someone had taken a razor and slashed her again and again. “Just as I killed that governess. No-one will ever stop me! They’re afraid of me and I will be Queen!” With that she turned and ran away down the corridor, weaving from side to side, finally turning off to the right and out of sight.

  Kaymar held tight to Katrin’s hand as Bartan hurried them down the corridor and along a long, dank passage. She clung to the small case that held her best dress and shoes and tried not to give way to tears.

  Suddenly they burst out into the night and were in a darkened garden. Bartan led them down a path between dense and overgrown bushes, then keyed open a small gate, standing aside for them.

  “I’ll get him out to you if I can,” he said to Kaymar. “Take care of her, she’s precious.” With that, he was gone, ba
ck into the shadows.

  Kaymar tugged at Katrin’s hand. They ran down the darkest side of the street. They ran to a corner, turned left, then ran further.

  They turned down street after street, people scattering out of the way when they saw Kaymar coming. Katrin saw light reflecting on water. A moment later they were running down the dock to the boat. Kaymar helped her into the cabin.

  “Stay there, Cuz,” he said gently. “I have to talk to Ifor. I’ll be right back.”

  She listened as he went up on deck and spoke in hushed tones to Ifor. Kaymar’s voice was low but she heard him say Surelia.

  Surelia! Go to Surelia! What could he mean? That was mad! What would happen to Menders?

  Menders had said that Kaymar spoke with his voice, that his words were Menders’ words. For some reason, Menders wanted her taken to Surelia. Something had gone terribly wrong.

  Menders – where was he? She should have talked to her mother! She should have done something to save him!

  Katrin began to cry and didn’t realize that Kaymar was back in the cabin until he sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Go ahead, Cuz, let it out,” he said gently. “But it isn’t time to be so worried just yet. I know Menders well, and I know the Queen too. He’ll be along, I think.”

  Katrin put her head on his shoulder and wept.

  ***

  “Is the child intelligent?” the Queen asked, looking blearily at Menders.

  You saw her with your own eyes, what did they tell you, he wanted to say.

  “Yes, Your Majesty, she’s very intelligent,” he answered. “She has always been very advanced for her age.”

  The Queen cogitated on that for a moment or two.

  “Is she mad?” she asked, very quietly, staring at Menders.

  He took off his glasses – the light was low enough – and looked directly into her eyes, so there could be no question of his sincerity.