The High King's Vengeance

by Steven Poore

  “Gods above and below, not that one,” Malessar rasped, his voice so quiet she had to lean over the bed to hear the words at all. Rais had also come forward, dropping to one knee on the other side of the bed. He cast an enquiring glance at Cassia.

  “Pelicos and the maidens of the Krale,” she said with a shrug. “My father was fond of it.”

  Malessar drew in another breath. “It never happened. Pelicos made it up.”

  He lay silent for another minute or so, but his breathing appeared to strengthen and his jaw worked slowly.

  “Cassia,” he said at last. “You live.”

  There were more layers, more meanings to those few words than she could ever count. “Yes, sir,” she said quietly. “Do you know where you are?”

  Another long pause. “Yes. The palace.”

  “Do you know what that means, Malessar?” Rais asked.

  The warlock moved his head a fraction. “Prince Rais. You have grown.” He sighed, a sound of resignation, Cassia thought. “Yes, I know.”

  She looked sharply at the prince, but Rais ignored her and sat back on his haunches in apparent satisfaction. “We will talk more, then. Tomorrow, perhaps. For now, I will let the sisters do their work.” He stood again and motioned to Cassia. “That will suffice.”

  Malessar’s hand tightened on her own and she hesitated.

  “Cassia . . . I gave you my sword.”

  Layers of meaning again. This time she knew exactly what he referred to: her unconscious betrayal of his trust in her. The crucial act that Baum had banked upon; that had destroyed the curse wards of Caenthell. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I failed you. I am sorry.”

  Rais tilted his head, one brow cocked in clear impatience. Cassia ignored him and waited while the warlock dragged through the last embers of his waking strength.

  “We will talk more, then. Tomorrow, perhaps.”

  She flinched at the way he deliberately reused Rais’s words. They were a promise of retribution, of explanations she did not want to give. Truths she did not want to face. Malessar looked up at her for a moment and then closed his eyes. Immediately the sisters of Peleanna moved in to surround the bed, forcing Cassia further away, towards the door. Rais took her elbow and guided her out of the room.

  “That was enlightening,” he said.

  She pulled her arm away, thankful he did not pursue the contact any further. “Really? Just from those few words?” she said waspishly.

  Rais nodded. “Of course. He answered to his name – did you not hear that?”

  “So you believe me?”

  “I believe that man is Malessar,” Rais said. “There is a distinction.”

  “I thought princes were supposed to be courteous and have proper manners,” Cassia snapped.

  Rais smiled, but his voice turned hard. “And I thought we should be treated with deference and as much courtesy as you expect for yourself, as befits our rank and title. I have seen no such humility in your manner.”

  His tone broke through Cassia’s indignation, and her sense of self-preservation reined in her emotions. She ducked her head in apology and kept her peace while Rais led the way back through the palace to his garden. His servants had already cleared the tables, leaving only a few goblets and a decanter of water.

  The prince paused to take one of the cups before seating himself on the edge of the nearest couch. This time he did not motion her to sit, so Cassia remained standing, careful to keep her demeanour more subservient than before. Why had she done that, dared to argue with a prince? She remembered being so scared of Meredith she could hardly even speak to him. How could she have changed so much in such a short time? But Meredith was not a real prince, in the end. Perhaps that was a factor. Perhaps it was more than that.

  I am the Heir to the North.

  “What will you do now . . . sir?” she asked at last, when the silence stretched to become too awkward.

  Rais stared into his goblet, apparently deep in thought. “I shall talk to my father. He will need to know what I have learned today.”

  “But . . . what of Malessar? And . . .”

  “And what of yourself? We shall see. You are still in debt – though whether to myself or to the Watch has not yet been settled.”

  She could not prevent her temper from bubbling up again. “Because I have not yet made that decision,” she said flatly.

  “Then you may make it in more salubrious surroundings than your cell,” Rais said. He tilted his cup at a doorway on the other side of the garden. “This is my Court. You may rest in there tonight. You will not be disturbed.”

  Cassia stared at him, trying to uncover the subtle meaning he must have hidden behind those words, but after a long moment she realised she would have to take his offer at face value.

  She would be closer to Malessar. She could help him. And she was exhausted too, both physically and mentally. She would be no use to the warlock if she could not rest tonight.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said.

  Rais favoured her with a sudden, unexpected smile that turned him from a prince to a dashing young commander once more. He stood and bowed to her, his movements as swift and graceful as Meredith might have made. “Then I will leave you to your peace, Cassia of the North,” he said, and walked back into the halls of the palace before she could find another word.

  3

  Rais was as good as his word. When Cassia peered out into the pre-dawn gloom of the garden, looking for signs of movement amongst the slender columns along each side, she found nothing. Not a single guard or servant had been left to watch over her.

  Or so I am meant to believe.

  The inward-facing courtyards, connected like a fine, fractured mesh by the covered walks and small compounds between them, were like much larger and more ostentatious versions of the house she had started to become accustomed to back in the mede. Most of them were built on a single floor rather than two, but the walls behind them were still high enough to reflect away sound from beyond, as well as retaining the heat and light of the day. From what Rais had said, and what little she could remember of her father’s tales of the Galliarcan kings, Cassia gathered that each garden was also called a Court – thus, the Court of the Watch. The prince’s rank entitled him to his own Court, she supposed, which meant it must be guarded in some manner, even if such guards were not visible from within.

  And, logically, Rais himself must take rooms here too. She would have to move with great care.

  Cassia had barely slept, despite the comfort of the long bedroom Rais had allowed her. Her mind returned again and again to the same subjects, picking away at the bones of facts and events like a starved dog, and even though she was physically exhausted she could not relax long enough for sleep to take hold. It had not taken long to decide she could not spend the entire night just waiting.

  The stones of the garden were unpleasantly cold to her bare feet. One step took her onto the edges of a flowerbed; the soil pushed up between her toes and brought back fleeting memories of the North. Dew-smothered hillsides, frosted grasses snapping underfoot, the wind whipping layered clothes against her skin. Travel without end, and towns in which she never felt absolutely comfortable. The certainty of Norrow’s perpetual anger and wine-fuelled temper, on the other hand, was something she had become so used to that she had numbed herself to it. Now there were no such certainties. With the next step she returned to the stone pathways, leaving those thoughts behind with the cold earth.

  The palace was a maze, of course, and Cassia suspected she had only seen a fraction of it, but she thought it wouldn’t be too difficult to find her way back to where Malessar lay in the care of the sisters of Peleanna. Just as long as I can get past the guards. I wish I had my staff, at least. Her hands felt empty, and she closed them into fists as she stalked between the columns on the far side of the garden.

  Closed doors led into other rooms – among them Rais’s chamber, she guessed – but she heard nothing from inside. She began to relax into
her new role, fitting the rhythm of her breathing to her steps. I am the thief of the night – just like Pelicos. She had to suppress her smile. Except I’m not here to steal away the princess.

  I am the princess.

  She almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all, but she sobered quickly as she thought she saw a movement at the edge of her vision. She flinched back against the nearest column, pressing herself tight to the cold marble. Something had been on the other side of the courtyard she was passing through. Not someone – she was certain of that much. Something.

  Cassia waited, balanced on the balls of her feet, muscles tensed to flee at the first sign she had been discovered. Rais would not be forgiving; the other members of his family even less so, if she was brought before them instead. What was the punishment for an intruder in the palace? She did not want to find out.

  After a long moment – so long that her chest burned from lack of breath and her legs ached with the strain of terrified anticipation – she forced herself to relax again. Her mind was playing unkind tricks on her. That was the rational explanation. The night already hid one skulking shadow. Surely the guards on the walls would not allow another into the palace.

  She followed the smell of burning herbs for the last part of the darkened journey, though she was already certain she had the correct room. Peleanna’s sisters were working through the night. Cassia hoped her sudden appearance would not cause an outcry.

  The door hung ajar, moving silently on well-oiled hinges. Cassia opened it just enough to slip her slight frame into the chamber, narrowing her eyes against the light within. The layout of the room had already changed, the bed angled towards another set of windows, the shutters open to the night air. Several of the sisters lay on mats in a half-circle around the bed, plainly sleeping, while the remaining pair knelt, hunch-backed before their small shrine. The burner cast flickering lights across the sleeves of their robes.

  Cassia pushed the door gently closed, her nerves on edge. There should have been guards outside, just as there had been earlier. If Rais truly believed Malessar was who he claimed to be, then the prince would not have left this room unguarded. The sisters of Peleanna would be no match for a sorcerer, even one in such a weakened condition. For a moment she considered fleeing and returning to her room, covering her head with the soft blankets Rais had left her until morning came.

  I don’t have to do this.

  But she did.

  And I am here now.

  None of the sisters stirred as she stepped between them to reach the side of the bed. It reminded her of Arca’s recital of his adventure in Kebria. She glanced across at the pair at the shrine and was both disturbed and relieved to see that neither had noticed her arrival. They both sat deep in prayer, their eyes closed and their mouths hanging slightly open as if awaiting a kiss. There was even a degree of somnolent ecstasy in their expressions. All they lacked was a real, physical partner. Cassia could not look at them for long: they made her feel distinctly uneasy.

  “I thought I heard you.” Malessar’s voice was a dry wheeze, the words scraped from his throat. Cassia looked around again in alarm, but the sisters slept on.

  “And so the gods slumber,” the warlock said. There was a faint smile upon his bruised lips.

  He couldn’t know what she was thinking, or else he would have known of Baum at the very beginning. But though bedridden and sorely wounded, Malessar had plainly lost none of his observational skills, and his intellect was undimmed.

  “Have you . . . bewitched them?” she asked, afraid to raise her voice too far.

  Malessar moved his head slightly. “No. Not I. Perhaps Peleanna, but not I.”

  “I owe you an explanation,” Cassia said awkwardly. She did not know where else to start. She had thought about this meeting all through the night, but now she found she had no idea what to say. Nothing she could say would ever make it right again. Narjess would still be dead, as would Baum, and Meredith would still be stone . . .

  “An apology, yes,” Malessar corrected her. “Not an explanation. I have had enough time to understand how this happened.” He had to pause for breath, but his eyes held her fast where she stood. “Not all of it, of course, but enough to count.”

  She ducked her head. “I am sorry, sir. I did not know. Not all of it. Not until it was too late. And I did not want it. I don’t want it at all.” The words came out in a rush, coursing up before a flood of rage and tears that she knew she would not be able to hold back.

  “Far too late for that,” Malessar said bluntly. “You took your side with Baum.”

  “And I was wrong.”

  “You took your side with Baum,” Malessar repeated. “There at the start, on the steps of the library, you were his creature. When you came aboard my ship, you were his creature. And when I trusted you with my house, my food, my name – you were his all the time.”

  She dropped to her knees, the strength she had fooled herself into believing she possessed disappearing like morning mist. “But I didn’t know! I didn’t know . . . I thought you were Karak. And then I didn’t know what to do . . .”

  Her sobbing fell into silence. The sisters of Peleanna did not stir, and the only sign that Malessar lived was the slow rise and fall of his chest. Cassia let the soft sheets absorb her tears until she was able to control her voice again.

  “All the tales I ever heard said that you were evil. Inhuman. You abandoned Stromondsea. You destroyed Caenthell. You held cities to ransom. Baum told me that too. I believed him.” She sniffed. “What else could I have done?”

  Malessar remained silent.

  “He wanted to free the North from the Emperor’s fist. I thought that would be a good thing.”

  Still he said nothing. Cassia raised her head to look at him, wondering if he had drifted back into sleep. Or worse. But the warlock’s stare was focused hard upon her, unblinking and unreadable. He seemed to be waiting for something more. A deeper reason for her betrayal.

  “And I thought it would be a grand adventure to tell,” she said, more quietly now. “Like the Age of Talons again. Or the Golden Rule. To make my name.”

  “You have what you wanted, then.” Even weakened, Malessar’s tone was as flat and dark as she imagined it must have been when Jedrell and Aliciana had betrayed him. “The North will know your name. The world will know your name.”

  “But I stopped wanting it,” Cassia said. “I don’t want this any more! None of it!”

  Malessar turned away from her. A small movement that wounded her more than any words could have done at that moment. She had wanted this, a voice reminded her. She had dreamed of seeing the warlock fall, of seeing Meredith claim his birthright. Men and women would have gathered from miles around to hear her recite those events, and she would have been happy. And free. And she would have been better – so much better – than her father.

  “Please, sir, you have to listen to me,” she begged, still on her knees by the side of the bed. “You can call me greedy, or stupid, or . . . or anything – but I did not know. Baum never told me all of the story. And then – you were not like his stories. And I was confused. I didn’t know what to do. You were kind to me and you trusted me, and I was scared, and then Caenthell . . .”

  She forced herself to slow down and took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer voice. “Caenthell showed me that I was wrong. But I didn’t know how to say it. But when Baum came – I tried to help you. I really did. I believed you were right. I couldn’t let Meredith . . . couldn’t let him kill you.”

  Her voice had caught on the false prince’s name. She twisted so her back rested against the frame of the bed, too exhausted to plead any longer. “I only ever did what I thought was right. And still I was wrong. I never wanted this to happen. I’m sorry.”

  It was impossible to hold the tears back any longer. They came hard, stinging her eyes and her lips, and her breath was ragged and short. The sisters of Peleanna remained motionless on their mats, oblivious to the sound of
her sorrow. This was not a hurt they could heal.

  She felt Malessar shift upon the bed, but still he was silent. I can’t say any more. There’s nothing left.

  The drums had returned, more muffled this time. They sounded as though they came from the heart of the mede, away over the walls of the palace, reminding her of what she had unleashed even when she covered her ears.

  “I can leave,” she said. Now she talked as much for her own benefit as anything else. “Rais said he’d let me leave. I’d be exiled, but I’d be free. I could live in the mountains – perhaps even beyond them. Leave everything behind. I’d never come back.”

  The warlock laughed sourly. Derisively. “You think it would be that easy? Oh, Cassia, no. Not easy at all.”

  She sighed. “I know.”

  “No, you don’t know. You are barely beginning to comprehend just how much the North has you in thrall. I can see it around you, just as it surrounded me. There are drums, aren’t there?”

  Cassia hesitated before making the admission. “Yes.”

  “War drums of the North. No matter how far you run, the North will always call you home again. You have what you wanted,” he repeated with another laugh.

  “Can you put the wards back in place?” she asked.

  “I remember you wanted me to remove them, not so long ago.”

  Cassia set her jaw against the pointed sarcasm. “And I was wrong. I said that.”

  “You did. I may have you say it a few more times before we are done.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I cannot save the North. Look at me, Cassia. I am ruined. Even Artrevia’s patronage may not save me. Nine hundred years of hate and rage – I have nothing left to work with. This problem, I think, will be yours to solve. If you can.”

  Cassia swung around and stared up at the warlock in alarm. “Mine?”

  The magnitude of the task fell upon her with the strength and sheer inevitability of a landslide. She had been instrumental in releasing the twisted forces pent up behind Caenthell’s curse wards. It was she who would have to lead the way in defeating them once more. No hero of the Golden Rule had ever been set such an impossible task.