The Queen of Mages

by Benjamin Clayborne

A slight lessening of the stench was Amira’s first hint that the river was near. Her world had shrunk to an endless series of pitch-black sewer tunnels, permeated by the smell of decaying vegetables, rancid grease, and worst of all human waste. Her stolen servant’s dress was soaked with muck and filth.

  The endless dark was relieved only occasionally by morning light slanting down from the public drains. Twice she’d almost had nightsoil dumped on her head as she passed under one. She kept her hand on the wall, following the flow downstream toward the Brinemoor, and tried to ignore the skittering and squeaking she heard from time to time. Rats. Just think of them as large mice.

  Her strength had begun to flag. She was terrified that she’d pass out and drown in the sewage. But the scent of the river gave her a surge of energy.

  A pale blue dot grew in the distance. The sound of the river echoed up the tunnel toward her, the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. The dot grew into a circle, and finally she stood at the lip of the drain. The waste spilled down a few feet into the river itself. Compared to the first drop, back at the palace, this would be easy.

  She plunged in. Her body stiffened with shock at the water’s chill, and when she surfaced, she gasped and swam to a stone quay at the water’s edge. With a final push, muscles aching, she heaved herself onto the quay. She spent several long minutes gulping down air, savoring the river’s relatively clean smell.

  She had to get home. Would Edon have guards searching the city for her? Well, she’d find out sooner or later. She looked down at the patch sewn on the breast, the silver eagle with its flaming talons. She’d already attract attention, wet and filthy as she was, but with the royal sigil it would be even worse. She pulled and picked at the thread until it came loose, and threw the patch into the river.

  There was plenty of traffic on the docks, longshoremen and porters and sailors swarming over the piers where ships had put in. A few of them wrinkled their noses as they passed her, staring at her rumpled hair and grimy dress, but she ignored them; she wanted nothing more than to be home safe.

  She went north past the docks and their warehouses, past the hostels, brothels, malthouses, and gambling dens that catered to sailors. Past the homes of the poor, mean tenements occupied by a dozen families. She wanted to tell them all what a monster Prince Edon was.

  Further north, where the homes and shops grew less shoddy, Amira came to a low brick wall, barely taller than her. A strong man could climb it with ease. It stretched off in a curve to either side, and Amira realized this must be the wall of Ulisharran, the headquarters of the Niderium. She could see one of its spires peeking over the wall. Perhaps that was the legendary Temple of Aendavar. Or it could be something else entirely. She’d never paid much attention to the Niderium itself, as much as she loved praying at her local temple.

  She followed the wall, and her heart leapt when she came to the Way of Trade. Amira kept her head down and went north with the flow, staying out of the way of coaches and men ahorse, cargo wagons and city constables watching for trouble.

  The sun was near its peak by the time she reached the Grainway. She made it to Willbury Street, hoping that none of the local shopkeepers would recognize her as she passed, if they managed to look past her filthy dress to recognize the lady they’d all seen before.

  None of them did. She turned onto Willbury Street, leaving the noise and traffic of the Grainway behind. Two ladies and their valai were out for a stroll; she recognized one of them as a neighbor of hers, but they pointedly ignored the soiled servant girl. Amira moved steadily along past the maples until she stood across the street from her manse. No one was outside, but next door, before the Tarians’ manse, stood a large, ornate coach, a driver, and two guards.

  It took Amira a moment to realize that the guards wore cloaks checked purple and blue, and the coach’s side bore the eagle of House Relindos. They came for us.

  She wanted to scream, to run, and thought to hide in the stables, when the door to Amira’s own manse opened and Liam and Katin came out. Amira gasped and began to call to them, but then bit her tongue. No, this time she would not be impulsive. She waited to see what the valai did.

  They walked next door, right up to the guards! The taller of the two guards stopped them for just a moment, exchanging a few words before letting the valai pass inside.

  If Katin is not afraid of a royal coach… What was going on in there? Who was in there? She had to know.

  She trembled as she put one foot before the other. Am I putting myself into their clutches again? she wondered. The guards would stop her, wouldn’t they? And they did, when they noticed her aiming for the Tarians’ front door.

  “Halt,” one of them said, holding a hand up and scowling at her filthy dress. “What business have you here?”

  “I—I was sent on an errand for Countess Besiana Tarian,” she said, trying to sound small and harmless.

  The guard peered at her. “What’s your name?”

  “Miss—Marks,” she said. Marks was her maiden name.

  The guard who’d questioned her glanced at the other, who shrugged. The first guard went inside, and returned a minute later—with Katin. Amira’s vala nearly shoved the man aside to get a look. Her face went white. She grabbed Amira’s arm and dragged her inside at once.

  Two more royal guards lurked in the entry, but Katin ignored them. “Where on earth have you been!” she cried, throwing her arms around Amira, who returned the embrace. They both burst into tears, but Katin quickly wiped her face with a sleeve and stepped back to look at her lady. “No one knew where you were. The queen said—oh dear—”

  Amira gasped. “The queen is here? Why?” Aside from perhaps Prince Luka, she could not think of a less threatening member of the royal family. Better her than Edon come to visit.

  “To apologize, I gather. On behalf of her son. Liam just came to get me.” She looked down at Amira’s filthy, unfamiliar dress. “I think you have a tale for us as well,” she muttered.

  “Wait.” Amira grabbed Katin’s wrist and pulled her toward the stairs, away from where the queen’s guards might overhear. “What did Edon ask you about?”

  Katin glanced around, double-checking that no one was close enough to hear. “About your power,” she whispered. “Not in so many words. He asked if you were strange in any way. I said nothing. He asked Dardan and Liam the same thing, but of course they had no clue what he was talking about. What happened to you?”

  “Time for that later. Let’s go meet the queen.”

  “Like that? You look like you fell into a sewer!”

  “I did,” Amira smirked. “The story will ring truer if I’ve got the smell to prove it. Come on.” Against Katin’s protests, she strode into the sitting room.

  Besiana and Dardan sat together on one of the long couches. Liam was propped against the wall behind his master as usual. Besiana’s vala sat in a chair nearby, and a lady with golden curls sat with her back to the door, with an unfamiliar dark-haired woman at her side. Four more royal guards lurked around the edges of the room.

  Dardan glanced up when he saw them enter, looked back down for a moment, then shot to his feet, eyes wide open. “Lady Amira!” he shouted. His mother gasped, holding a hand to her breast, and the golden-haired woman turned around in her chair to look. “Where?” she said, casting about for a lady and seeing only two servants. It was Queen Alise.

  Amira fell to her knee. “Your majesty,” she squeaked down at the carpet.

  “Please, rise, my lady,” the queen said. Her voice was musical, full of life and vigor. Amira had never felt half so common as she did now. This was a woman who clearly knew what power she commanded. Amira stood up and met the queen’s eyes.

  They were the same brown pools she’d seen at the receiving line, but now she was much closer, and the wrinkles at their corners were more apparent. The queen was not beautiful, but motherly, and at once Amira wanted to curl up in her lap like a child. Then she made the mistake of picturing this, and a laugh erupted fr
om her lips. She covered her mouth and winced. “My apologies, your majesty, everyone. I have had the most dreadful day.”

  The queen stood up. “My lady Amira. You have endured much, and on behalf of the royal house of Relindos, I apologize for what transpired yesterday. We have part of the story, and I believe your friends here are much intrigued about what happened to you, as am I. Please, sit.” She gestured at an empty chair. The dark-haired woman beside her was obviously her vala, with a spine and a face so full of iron that Amira was terrified of her at once. But the woman did not stare; her eyes moved about constantly, as if searching.

  Bertram, the house major, squealed in protest when Amira made to sit on a silk-upholstered chair with her soiled dress. He bade her wait while he fetched a towel and lay it on the seat. Amira wondered if the queen would be annoyed at the delay, but that smile stayed ever on her lips.

  Amira looked around. She wanted to tell her story, especially to tell Katin where she had been, but she felt overwhelmed by the crowd. “Ma’am, the—the guards?” she whispered to the queen.

  Alise smiled and nodded in understanding. “I believe I shall be safe if left alone with our friends here,” she said over her shoulder. The man nearest the door nodded and led the other guards out into the foyer.

  Once they were gone, Amira began her tale, but she could not relate what had really happened with the prince. Instead she said, haltingly, “He said… he accused me of hiring a witch to cast a spell on him… to make him fall in love with me.” It sounded absurd, and she blushed from the telling of it, but he had called her a witch. Sort of. Maybe he believed in that sort of thing, hedge witches and magic potions and such. The idea doesn’t sound as absurd as it used to. Queen Alise’s eyebrows went up, but she said nothing.

  Amira let out a sob, only half-feigned, when she said that he had subsequently attacked her and tried to tear off her clothes. She had to elide everything about her ember, of course, and only Katin looked at her askance when she said that she’d thrown a burning candle at Edon’s face, splashing hot wax onto him. The prince’s shout had brought Sir Thoriss running, but he’d burst into the room just as she was running from it, and Amira said she’d unintentionally knocked him down. From then on, the story stayed true. Her flight through the servants’ ways, the laundry and the linen closet, skulking about after dark. Besiana squeaked in horror when Amira described her descent into the sewers. Dardan ground his teeth the whole time and dug his fingernails into the couch’s armrest. The queen nodded and encouraged Amira to go on when she faltered.

  Finally her story came to its end, and everyone was silent for a moment. “You are a remarkable young lady,” the queen said at last. “I am sad to inform you that Sir Thoriss was found dead, however.”

  Fear washed over Amira for a moment, but the queen’s eyes did not seem accusing. “How?” Amira asked after long moments of silence, pretending not to know. “How did he die, I mean?”

  “I do not know,” the queen admitted. “He had bled from his ears, but there was no other visible injury, so his majesty the king told me. I did not see him myself.” Her eyes sparkled at that, but Amira did not know what to make of it.

  Amira put her hand over her mouth for a moment. “I don’t—I couldn’t have done that, could I? I just collided with him, I thought he fell, but…” She sobbed once, and bit her hand to make herself stop. She could feign any emotion if she had to, but the grief and regret were real.

  The queen clucked. “Now, now, dear, no one can rightly blame you for what happened in there. Perhaps Sir Thoriss hit his head on the wall as he fell, in just the wrong way.”

  “I’ve seen men fall from a galloping horse,” Dardan interjected, startling Amira, “and rise unharmed, while others trip over their feet, hit their head on soft earth, and die from it.” He stared at her, looking a mix of miserable and relieved.

  “Just so,” the queen agreed. “We may never know what truly happened. But that is behind us, and cannot be changed. The important thing is that Prince Edon has departed the city for some time.” Her eyes narrowed. “And so must you.”

  Amira blinked. “Ma’am? I don’t understand.”

  Alise turned her head slightly and locked eyes with Besiana. The countess sat up straighter and cleared her throat, looking over at Amira. “Rumors fly around the city with blinding speed. I don’t know where they come from. But alas, though all here know that you are completely blameless in this whole affair, it would be best if you spent some time out of the web, so to speak. Soon enough some other scandal shall arise, and this one shall be forgotten.” She hesitated for a moment and cleared her throat again. “Unless you have a country estate I’m unaware of, we would be honored to host you at our manor in Hedenham County, the seat of House Tarian.”

  “What?” Dardan asked, startled. Amira tried not to glare at Besiana. The countess had played this very well; Amira would be in unavoidable proximity to her son for an extended period. She gained a small measure of respect for the countess.

  Besiana ignored her son, and instead eyed Queen Alise. The queen tapped her fingers together. “Hm. Not so far as to seem like a flight from retribution, but not too close either. It is settled, then.” The queen stood, and everyone else shot to their feet. She turned to face Amira once more. “Again, my lady, I am deeply sorry for what has occurred. Should you ever have need of my assistance, it is yours.”

  Amira went to her knee again, taking the queen’s hand and kissing it lightly once. “Your majesty. Thank you.” She’d completely forgotten she was still in her filthy servant’s dress. The queen seemed to ignore such trivialities.

  Queen Alise smiled once more and left. Her stoic vala followed her out, and there was much commotion outside as the queen’s guards escorted her from the manse.

  Amira looked around. Katin stood at one wall, Liam at the other. The air had gone out of Besiana and Dardan after the queen left. Hosting the queen in one’s sitting room was a draining experience, it seemed, even for someone as formidable as the countess.

  But Amira felt invigorated. She was home—almost—and safe. Her ordeal was over. An extended stay in the country would be an ordeal of another sort, but one for which she was much better prepared. Just then Sir Thoriss’s face flashed in her mind’s eye, and she felt a wave of grief all over again.

  For now, at least, no one would deny her anything. “As you all must expect, I am quite exhausted,” she said, letting herself slouch. It was not feigned. “I must return home and recover. I gather the queen would like to see our backs sooner rather than later.”

  Besiana ushered her from the room, Katin following close behind. Dardan bowed to Amira as she left, but Besiana barely gave them time to wave a farewell.

  “You are correct on that account,” Besiana said. “I would suggest several days’ rest before you travel, but I believe the queen would not take it as kindly as she usually does. You must leave on the morrow. I will arrange a coach, although I suspect Dardan and Liam will insist on riding those horrible beasts.”

  “I believe they’re called ‘horses,’ m’lady,” Katin said dryly.

  Besiana sniggered, then giggled at herself. “Oh, dear. We are all out of sorts today, aren’t we? Well. Off with you, my dear,” she said, patting Amira’s cheek. “You must sleep and eat and recuperate. The future will hold better days, I believe.” She smiled, satisfied, and went back into the sitting room, closing the door behind her.

  By the time they stepped outside, the queen’s coach was gone. Amira wasted no time assembling her own servants and assuring them that she was well and unharmed. Sara nearly fainted when she saw her lady, and then cried tears of joy for hours thereafter, every time she saw Amira again. Katin finally had to send the girl out to the gardens to get some air.

  Once they were finally alone, and Amira had washed and dressed properly, she sat in her bedchamber with Katin and told her the parts she had omitted from her story to the queen. Katin’s eyes were hard, but she listened intently and did not
interrupt.

  “I trust you know how serious it is that you… did what you did to Sir Thoriss,” Katin said. She seemed afraid to say the words.

  “Of course. But the man had his sword out. He was going to kill me.” The grief and terror came rushing back, making her stomach feel like an empty pit, even though she’d eaten. She seized on her ember for comfort. “It is only by this that I survived.” She tapped her temple.

  Katin nodded slowly. Amira thought about the argument they’d had the night of the ball. Two nights ago. Such a long time. She felt a pang of regret at how cruel she’d been to Katin, but dredging that up would just hurt them both.

  Afternoon turned to evening, and Amira talked much about the upcoming journey, to take her mind off Edon and Thoriss and all that horrifying mess. Katin pointed out that Besiana was clearly setting her up for a marriage proposal. Amira had supposed that she might remarry, if she found the right man; certainly she had no need to marry for wealth any longer. Dardan could very well be a tolerable match, if not half so charismatic as Valmir had been. Though marrying Valmir had been entirely for the sake of convenience. Amira got financial security, and Valmir got a beautiful, vivacious wife who he could show off.

  She’d have to see how things went in Hedenham. At worst, she’d turn down the offer and come back to Callaston. And what if Edon’s here? What then? Keeping Edon off her mind was harder than she thought.

  Katin and the other maids went through the ritual of packing again. Her vala asked Amira’s leave to go back to the Tarians’ manse and inquire about the arrangements. Hedenham Town was sizable, with its own dressmakers and jewellers and everything, and what they did not pack they could buy once they arrived. No doubt the Tarians would provide everything Amira would need anyway, all the better to impress upon her their seriousness about Dardan’s courtship.

  When night came and supper was done, Amira asked Katin to bring her an unlit candle. Katin looked at her oddly, but complied. Amira sat in her chair and held the candle before her. The ember sat there in her mind, pulsing as calmly as ever. Whatever this power was, she had best master it. Should she find herself in peril again, she wanted better options than fleeing in panic or accidentally killing someone.

  She moved the silver bead into the candle’s wick, and held it there a moment. Nothing happened. She slowly began to push energy into it, and after a moment the wick caught fire. Katin sat on the floor, watching intently. Amira blew out the candle and tried again, this time pushing even more gently. The wick smoldered for a few seconds before igniting. She repeated the experiment two score times, fascinated by how the little bead moved and how its energy flowed.

  Katin finally insisted that they needed to sleep well before travelling. By now, Amira was well and truly tired, and fell easily into a dreamless slumber.

  CHAPTER 11

  LIAM