The Queen of Mages

by Benjamin Clayborne

Katin blinked away sleep and sat up when the morning sun hit her eye. The servants’ quarters were small and bare, low cots between brick walls. The other two cots were both empty; the baron’s maidservants had probably risen before dawn. Katin had been so exhausted from their flight, she’d slept right through.

  She found a chipped basin and pitcher and washed her face and hands. Proper bathing would have to wait. Where is Liam? Probably hiding from her. No wonder he’d avoided telling her where they were going. Baron Parvis Stanton was the one who had raped that farmgirl, though Count Asmus had found the man innocent. Well, nobles protected their own, didn’t they?

  Liam hadn’t had any choice, he’d said. Well, he was probably right, but that didn’t make it better. She’d stayed with him, trusted him, even tried to offer herself to him—No, you don’t have to—shut up—

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry, and made herself breathe deep, reaching for a calm that might not come. He’d rescued her. Rescued, like a hero out of legend, spiriting her away in the night! But a hero did not brutally stab a harmless servant boy to death on his way out of the palace. Katin was not naïve enough to believe in legends.

  Still, he’d saved her. So she’d offered him the bed, but then he summoned gallantry like a magician pulling a handkerchief from thin air, something that should have been impossible. Even in the woods on those cold nights, they’d lain next to one another, and he did no more than curl his arm around her shoulders. He’d made the chase, caught the mouse, and then nothing. Why was he toying with her?

  She had thought about leaving, running away, going to hide where no one would ever find her. As if she knew where that was. But she would not leave him. She owed him that much. She owed him more. That debt would hang over her like a cloud until it was repaid. Maybe I should… I should… give him…

  She realized that tears were indeed leaking from her eyes. She stood up and wiped them away, then took more breaths to prepare herself. She went to the manor’s central hall, looking for Liam, and found him standing before Baron Parvis. Her spine stiffened as Liam’s eyes flicked over to her for a moment, but then he attended to the baron again. “We will be gone as soon as possible, m’lord.”

  “How thoughtful of you,” Parvis sneered. He twisted around in his chair and saw Katin. “I see your woman has deigned to rise, now that the morning chores are done.”

  Katin’s face burned, but she curtseyed quickly and went over to Liam. “I’m sorry, m’lord.” She wanted to explain how tired she’d been, but Parvis did not look like he wanted excuses.

  “You two will work while you’re here. Valai you might be, but a house is always in need of hands. Alvin will task you.” He stood up, brushing invisible lint from himself. He was dressed properly now, trousers and vest and coat. “I’m off to town this morning,” he announced, and an enormously tall man with black hair stepped out from a corner and handed a riding hat to the baron. That must be his valo. The huge man’s stare made Katin feel like a bug underfoot. He said nothing and followed Parvis out of the room.

  She and Liam were left alone. He smiled and reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. “You had to bring us here?”

  His smile wavered. Clearly he’d been hoping she wouldn’t bring it up. “Well I didn’t know of any other shelter nearby. Parvis hid us from the Warden! Would a prison cell have been preferable?”

  Katin folded her arms. “Of course not. But now what are we going to do?”

  Liam paused. “I’m not sure. I spoke with Alvin this morning. He has only gossip, as he rarely leaves here. Apparently Ilya and Calys went to Thorncross to reaffirm his fealty to the duke and to have Ilya declared the new count. There’s been no word of Dardan or Amira.”

  Katin grimaced. Her hope drained away, a small warmth she hadn’t even known was there, smothered by cold despair. “Then there’s little reason to stay here.”

  “Let us stay a day or three, at least. We need the rest, after the journey, and last night. And anyway, Baron Parvis commanded we not leave the grounds for the time being.”

  Alvin sent Liam out to the stables, and gave Katin to a plump young maid named Chelsea, who set Katin at the laundry. She let the mindlessness of it wash over her. This scutwork was a long step down from serving as a vala, but it suited her mood.

  In the rear of the manor, near the washing room, was a little nook with undersized replicas of the eight altars one would find in a Niderine temple. Even nobles rarely had such rooms in their homes, and Parvis did not seem the type to spend time wordlessly in prayer, so Katin found it odd. She eyed the miniature temple every time she passed it, and with only slight dismay realized that she ached to go in and pray at the altar of Despair, with its tiny statue of a mouse, its snout pressed down close to the little plinth.

  ———

  Baron Parvis was gone all that day. Again Katin and Liam were sent to the separate quarters for male and female servants. Despite everything, she missed his touch, holding close to him in the cold night, but sleeping in a warm manor house helped make up for it.

  The baron returned the next evening, a smug smile plastered across his face. Katin glimpsed him in the hall when he returned, thick as thieves with Alvin and the baron’s towering valo, who she’d learned was named Marten.

  Dinner came and went. Katin sat on the edge of her cot in the women’s quarters, pulling tangles from her hair with a chipped old brush she’d borrowed. Chelsea and the other girl, Delia, were finishing with the dinnerware. Chelsea had taken pity on Katin, who had evidently appeared miserable, and sent her to bed early.

  All during the day, as she’d scrubbed and thrashed at linens, she’d begun to allow herself a fantasy of staying here forever, an anonymous servant girl in an unremarkable country manor, not hunted or wanted by anyone. I had the same fantasy in Amira’s manse in Callaston, and look where I ended up. How much farther would she fall? She’d already seen the bottom, and did not for a moment relish a return to it.

  A shadow moved. She looked up, expecting one of the other girls to come in, but was startled to see Marten, the baron’s valo, filling up the doorway. His lank black hair framed ghastly cheekbones. His hands looked big enough to envelop her entire head. She swallowed down an instinctive cry. “Yes?”

  “M’lord wishes a word with you. About your situation.” His voice was deeper than any she could recall hearing. Like distant thunder.

  She stood up, wary. “He has some plan for us?”

  Marten shrugged. “M’lord is waiting.”

  Katin expected the valo to lead her to the sitting room, but when he went up the stairs her breath caught a little. The valo did not slow, taking the steps two at a time, and Katin reluctantly followed.

  He led her to a large bedchamber beyond a double door, lit softly by stand-lamps at either end. Baron Parvis stood just within, reading a parchment. He looked up at their approach, and tossed the parchment aside onto a table, seeming pleased with himself. “Thank you, Marten. That will be all.”

  Katin stepped inside, just far enough for Marten to close the doors behind her. They latched shut with a chilling click.

  Baron Parvis stood watching her, a vulpine smile etched onto his face, but his amiable tone belied it. “I must admit, when you arrived two nights ago, I was not best pleased. That valo of yours…” He made a face. “I’ve never liked him much. He’s full of himself. Puffed up, for a commoner servant. Of course, I saw him many times when we were boys, running about in town. I’m only a year or two older than him.” His eyes sparkled, black in the dim light.

  “M’lord…?” Katin prompted.

  “Ah. Yes. I spoke with Ilya Tarian yesterday, though Lady Calys is quite obviously running things at Tinehall. I do believe that girl has the best qualities of both parents, such as they are. Barring some misfortune, she’ll be a thorn in my side for decades.” Parvis for some reason still wore his coat, and just now he shrugged it off, tossing it aside carelessly onto a chair.

  “I’m glad to hear
the Tarians are well, m’lord,” Katin said. She felt her back brush against the doorknobs and realized she’d instinctively moved away from him.

  Parvis snorted. “Everyone always is. They’re such a sickeningly beloved family. I can’t say I miss Count Asmus, of course. But what Edon did…” His smile disappeared. He looked like he’d smelled something foul. “Even the Tarians should not have suffered so. I pray thanks to Sacrifice daily that my lands were not in Edon’s path.”

  What do you want? Katin felt herself tempted to ask, but servants, even valai, did not rush barons.

  Parvis went on. “You and your valo are a double handful of trouble, and I have gone to a great deal of effort to rid myself of you. It would have been easy for me to simply search out the Warden and report that you were indeed on my estate. Certainly he would have wondered why I lied, and of course I could have said that, for example, you had been holding my valo hostage against my good behavior. Not true, of course, as we both know.” He took a step closer. “But as you say, he was dispatched by the royal family—I checked on that—who are not in my good graces at the moment. So instead I went to Count Ilya, or should I say, Lord Ilya.”

  Katin blinked. “Lord Ilya? He is not the count?” Then that means—

  “Dardan Tarian lives. And so does your lady, this Amira. Or at least, they did, some days past. You see, when I told Ilya and Calys that their brother’s valo had returned with you in tow, and that I had you both safe, they exchanged a most astonished glance with one another. Children still, the both of them, and easy to read. I saw that they hid a secret, and pressed them. They admitted that when they went to Thorncross, to have Ilya declared the Count of Hedenham, they were told that Dardan and Amira had called upon the duke some days after the unpleasantness at Foxhill Keep.”

  Katin’s jaw hung open. They’re alive! Or they had been, however long ago this had happened. But if Amira had survived the days after Foxhill Keep, there was a good chance she still lived now.

  Parvis went on. “Apparently, the duke’s seneschal took umbrage at their presence and put them out, sending them off toward the east. Where they went from there, none can say. Of course, with Dardan known to be alive, Ilya cannot be made the count.” The baron’s smile had returned, making him look like a fat tom with a canary trapped between its paws. He held up a finger before his lips. “This is all in confidence, of course.”

  “Of course, m’lord,” Katin murmured. If Dardan and Amira had gone east, perhaps they’d headed to Seawatch. They could be anywhere, really, but the flame of hope had sprung up anew in her heart.

  She was startled to realize that Baron Parvis stood within arm’s reach. “So the question remains, what is to be done with you? I gather that you and Mister Howard,” the name came out with a sneer, “wish to find your masters.”

  “We… we will head north at once,” Katin said, her lips dry. “Tonight. We will be gone and trouble you no more, this instant.”

  Parvis shook his head. “You will never make it that way. Warden Penrose has set patrols of men from the garrison on all the roads near Hedenham Town, looking for the pair of you. Tinehall is watched day and night. Even going straight over terrain, you would likely be caught.” He held up one hand, and something glinted between his fingers: a gold coin. “But as it happens, there is a trade caravan wending its way through Hedenham County at this very moment. And tomorrow they will be stopping in Elmsburn, not five miles from here. I will pay for you to join the caravan, as apprentices. I have it on good authority that they will be heading east. You can use it as cover to follow after your mistress. I suspect that between you and your sweetheart, you have enough cunning to find a way to depart from the caravan when it has carried you far enough.”

  Katin’s pulse raced. She tried to keep her breathing even. “M’lord, I cannot thank you enough.”

  He held the coin up now before her face, then with a twist made it disappear into his palm. “The deal is not sealed yet. As I said, I have undertaken this at great personal risk and expense. A barony is no bar to arrest by a Warden, and while I have no doubt that Count Asmus would have had the guts to stand up to this Penrose, I am equally certain that Calys does not. If I am to complete my perfidy against the crown, I will require… payment.” He stepped aside and looked over toward the canopied bed. Katin had not paid it any mind before, and saw now that the bedcovers were thrown back.

  No! NO! A piercing shriek sounded inside Katin’s head, a memory of laughter—

  The merchant with the black moustache pushed her roughly down onto the bed. “Sir, there’s no rush,” she protested, “you’ve got me for the whole evening with the coin you paid—”

  “Quiet!” He slapped her hard across the face, and while she lay disoriented on the bed, he tore her clothes off and climbed atop her. She lay still, as she’d been trained—some men wanted to hit and hurt, Miss Lucy had told her, and they pay extra for the privilege. Just lie back and think of the hearthfire, and drink your tea, and put the memory behind you afterward. The bruises will fade. Why, you’ll get three whole days off to recover.

  The young man with barely a fuzz on his cheeks, but he had coin, and he was so terrified—

  The dead-eyed captain who came in as regular as the tide, did his business and left without a word—

  The blacksmith, who wore a cloak and hood as he crept into the brothel, thinking no one would recognize him, but who did he think he was fooling? He declared over and over that his wife was cuckolding him, so this was only fair—

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “You can, and you will, if you want my assistance. I’ve already given you more than you’ve earned. I could have held close the news that your lady still lives, and Lord Dardan. I could have told you nothing, and put you with the caravan tomorrow with no explanation, or let you stay here to rot, or simply put you out. I could have turned you over to the Warden, at no cost to myself.” He took her hand, not roughly, not cruelly, just a simple touch. “I require only this. Believe me, it will not take long.”

  Katin felt encased in ice. Escape. Amira. East. Had anyone missed her? Being called up to the lord’s bedchamber at night must surely have raised an eyebrow. No; Parvis had his reputation. No one would care. Liam would never know; the other servants would have been ordered to stay silent. Liam never has to know.

  And if I refuse? He’ll turn us in. Back to Elibarran, to the dark cells, never to see light again. Edon will return, and he’ll burn us with his terrible gaze.

  Baron Parvis spoke, startling her. “This offer does not last forever,” he said testily. “You need not enjoy it. You need only do it.”

  “Isn’t there another way?” She almost sobbed the words. Parvis’s silent glower was her answer.

  A matching silence filled her mind. Then she prayed. Terror. Sacrifice. Caretaker, protect me.

  Katin took a step forward.

  ———

  The wagons sat in a circle in the town square of Elmsburn, closed up tight against the night’s chill. All the trading would have been done by sundown. Large shapes moved through the darkness: caravan guards, watchful eyes in the dark.

  Katin sat atop the borrowed palfrey, holding perfectly still. Susan Smith. Nothing bad ever happened to Susan Smith. Liam sat atop Bandit a few yards away, the stallion whickering irritably at having been denied sleep. Baron Parvis had graciously lent Katin a horse, saying that speed was of the essence and that they should not take the risk of a single horse carrying two riders in the dark, even over well-travelled country roads. Katin could not have stood to ride double with Liam, and so she felt grateful to Parvis. That gratitude made her want to vomit.

  Now they waited, concealed between two low wooden buildings on the edge of the square. Marten, the valo, was a hulking shadow watching the rear approach, just in case. They had no reason to suspect anyone might be trailing them, but there was no sense in being lax.

  Parvis had gone alone to the caravan master to arrange their passage. He carrie
d a fat purse—ostensibly to pay for two new “apprentices” to join the wagon, but it was little more than a bribe. The caravan master would rightly wonder about being asked to take on two more hands in the dark of night, but such men lived by the shine of gold only. If the purse was fat enough…

  She sensed something, and looked aside at Liam. He was staring at her. The faint glow of distant lanterns barely illuminated his face. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  Katin nodded and looked away. Susan is all right. She wanted Parvis to return, for them to be gone, for this to be over. They could still be caught. The caravan master might grow suspicious and decide to alert the town constables, who would send for the Warden at once. Her breath came shallow, drawing her attention inward, a bitter reminder of a price paid.

  Just a transaction. His coin’s as good as any man’s. She bit her lip to fight the tears.

  There came hoofsteps and a black silhouette ambling toward them. She recognized the shape of Parvis atop his horse. He stopped close. “It is done. Master Coalridge will take you on. I should not have to remind you how unwise it would be for you to return here.”

  Liam bowed as low as he could atop Bandit. “Baron Parvis, we are forever in your debt.” He dismounted and helped Katin down as well. The horses would have to stay in Hedenham, but Parvis had given them a few changes of clothing and a battered leather trunk to carry them in.

  “Hardly true at all,” the baron said. He glanced at Katin. “In fact, should you encounter Lady Calys, you should thank her.”

  “M’lord? For what?”

  “Why, it was House Tarian who provided the funds for this little adventure of yours.” He chuckled, then rode between her and Liam. He and his valo were gone within moments, taking Bandit and the borrowed palfrey with them.

  Katin felt sick, but the pain she knew was written on her face would be invisible in the darkness. That bastard told me he paid for it. But this didn’t cost him a thing—never mind, Susan Smith doesn’t care, Susan Smith knows nothing about it.

  Liam squeezed Katin’s hand. She let her fingers slide through his, not feeling anything. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, lifted her end of the trunk, and took a step forward. Is the debt repaid now?

  A hulking caravan guard held up a hand at their approach. “Who goes there?”

  “New apprentices,” Liam called softly. “To see Master Coalridge.”

  The guard peered at them. “The wagon with the lantern.” He watched them pass.

  Caravan wagons were always brightly painted, but in the dark they all looked shades of gray. On the back step of one of them sat a man, squat and broad. He stood up at their approach, hefting a lantern. “You two the ones he sent?” he growled.

  Liam nodded, bowing a little. “I’m Oliver Smith, and this is my wife, Susan.” New names, new pasts, iron marriage rings to complete the illusion. Katin curtseyed. I am Susan Smith. “You must be Master Coalridge,” Liam added.

  “Aye. You two had best get within. There’s a bunk in the laundry wagon you can share.” He hopped off the step and led them on.

  The caravan’s horses stood haphazardly in the pen made by the circle of wagons, sleeping. Coalridge showed the “Smiths” to a wagon, larger than the rest, crammed to the brim with gear. Katin couldn’t make out most of it. On either side were bunks stacked two high, barely wide enough for Liam and Katin to share one. Shapeless lumps covered in blankets occupied three of the bunks, snoring soundly.

  “We leave at dawn. You’ll get your jobs tomorrow. Don’t wake no one.” Coalridge stared at them for a moment longer, and patted at his coat, making something clink. He went out, shutting the wagon door.

  Liam put the battered leather trunk atop a crate. He offered her the bunk. “There’s some linens here I can lie on. Won’t be too bad.”

  Husband. Just pretend. “No. A married couple would share,” she whispered. Liam hesitated, then nodded and started to undress.

  The bunk’s thin straw mattress was little comfort, but better than the cold stone floor of a pitch-black cell. The crunch of boots on dry dirt marked the passage of guards outside. Katin counted their circuits for a while, until sleep came to drive away her uncertainty.

  INTERLUDE:

  MASON