Chapter 174
Spitemorta stepped in from the balcony as the long velvet drapes ballooned into the throne room, twisting in a gust of dry wind. She set her skinweler into the fingers of its silver stand, kicked off Demonica's shoes and flopped herself onto the cushions of the throne.
“Let James's stupid subjects chew on that for a bit!” she said with a scoff. “Let them have my first delivery here full strength. I hope they liked how James murdered his own dear father King Edmond the moment he learnt that his new stepmother was carrying a babe who could well be the next king of Loxmere instead of him. And let's just see how they gasp at my dinner entertainment next time, now that they know he also conspired with Niarg, the dragons and the Elves to not only poison poor King Brutely and Queen Bee, but also to burn all of Goll's sukere crop in a plot to conquer us...”
“Not to mention that your handsome husband turned your firstborn against you, arranged for his abduction and left you when you were about to give birth to your twins,” said Demonica with angelic sweetness, as she appeared dressed in white with halo and wings. “You did tell them that too, dear, didn't you?”
“What?” said Spitemorta. “You weren't listening? And why are you dressed like that? Planning to visit your ugly little troll brute?”
“And you actually care?”
“Why should I? It'll be years before he's big enough to use his powers, so he's no use to me.”
“Really! Conquering the entire world in a few months then, are you?”
“What do you want, Demonica? I've a full schedule today and I simply don't have time to play games with you.”
“Games with me?” she said. “Oh my dear, there's no way we'd ever be in the same league to play them. But no matter. I just thought you should know that your handsome general and his army have arrived and I expect he'll be wanting to speak to you directly.”
“Really. And why would he be so anxious to speak with me, Grandmother?”
“My word! You didn't order him to report to you upon his arrival? But then perhaps you were in such a hurry to get away from him before he could ask any more about General Cunedda that it merely slipped your mind.”
“Beat it, Grandmother.”
At that moment there was a knock.
“Why, that must be the general himself,” said Demonica as she vanished laughing.
“Damn you!” she barked. “You need to die all over again.”
Demonica laughed out in the air before her, unseen.
Spitemorta yanked open the door to find a startled young page.
“What?” she snapped, taken aback for a moment. “In fact, what are you doing, knocking on the door behind the throne? What idiot trained you? You approach the throne from the front and wait to be recognized, if you want to be alive afterward. I am queen, and you dare not ask me to answer to you ever again, especially to your rude knocks. What do you want, anyway?”
“Your General Coel has arrived and wishes to speak...”
“Beat it, snot face! And send in the general on your way out.”
The page bowed and hurried down the carpet to the entrance.
“Hey!” hollered Spitemorta, nearly causing the page to stumble in his abrupt halt. “I want tea. See that I have tea before you send in General Coel.”
General Coel found Spitemorta sitting on the great chair with her tea. She set her cup into the saucer on her knees and raised her chin.
He gave one of his abbreviated bows. “Reporting as ordered, Your Majesty,” he said as he looked about at the scattered pieces of shattered teacup on the carpet.
“The idiot knave fetched two cups,” she said, making no offer to have a seat whatsoever.
Coel made no expression in reply as he stood there, watching her pour another cup and finish her tea, while looking him over as if he might do better stood between the davenport and the big chest of drawers. He could hear pigeons. The tower outside struck eleven bells.
“Well General,” she said, sitting back at last, “report then.”
“All the skinweler balls have been distributed as you directed and I'm here with all the soldiers from Niarg and Goll except for those left behind in Niarg to search for your daughter and to work on the castle, and except for the remains of General Cunedda's army.”
“What did you just say?”
“I said all your scrying balls...”
“Not that part! The part about the regular army not coming with you. Where are they?”
“I'm afraid I don't know,” he said. “They refused to disclose where they were going when they separated from my mercenaries on their way here.”
“But they must have said something to someone.”
“Not a word. My officer in charge said that they headed west, which is meaningless since the army could've changed direction any time after they were out of sight. He did try to track them, but he said that they must have gone to a lot of trouble to keep from being followed.”
Spitemorta chewed on her thumbnail. “They're on their way home to whine to King Vortigern,” she said, staring at the drapes.
Immediately there was loud clapping in the room which only Spitemorta could hear. “Hear Rouenez Bras!” cried Demonica, appearing in the chair which had never been offered to Coel.
“Get out of here!” shouted Spitemorta. “I don't have time for this.”
“Yea? Well you need make time dear, because this is just as serious as I've been saying. If the regular army makes it to Gwael before you talk to Vortigern yourself, you may as well go back to Goll with your tail between your legs and take up sheep herding.”
“Oh don't be so dramatic Grandmother. I'm certain this can all be handled...”
“Certainly. But only if you immediately send handsome here on to your first objective and go straight to Gwael, dear. Your only moment to get control of the situation will be over for good when the army gets there. Vortigern will respect the fact that you had the honor to come to him and admit your errors in handling his soldiers. And you and he can surely work out something over the loss of your darling biter...”
Coel raised his eyebrows and drew a breath. “If you're too busy to confer with me...” he said, “I could return...”
“Sit!” barked Spitemorta, pointing at Demonica's chair. “Dear Grandmother is leaving.”
“Have you forgotten that he neither sees nor hears me?” she said, standing aside in time for him to sit.
“Damn you Demonica! Just go.”
Demonica laughed as she vanished.
Spitemorta turned to Coel. “Tell me General, how do you think Vortigern will take the news of my daughter's disappearance?”
“I thought we already had this conversation, Your Majesty.”
“Did we? Then humor me and refresh my memory, General.”
“All right. Knowing Vortigern, he'll be quick to point out that Cunedda and I failed to keep the princess safe. And he could easily execute us for it unless she's found unharmed or unless you ask him to spare us.”
“Now why would I ever do that?” she said, drumming her fingernails on the arm of the great chair. “After all, she is indeed gone because of you two.”
“Perhaps because we were following orders so deliberately strict that you left us no choice in the matter. And because you need us.”
Spitemorta was quiet for a moment. “And if your soldiers never do find her,” she said, “what do you reckon Vortigern will do?”
“He can only execute us once, Your Majesty.”
Spitemorta laughed. “So you're dead,” she said. “What would he do about his agreement with Goll?”
“Well pardon my saying so, but if I'm burnt in a wicker man, my men will go home, regardless of what you want. And as far as Vortigern's concerned, he's certainly going to ask for something to replace your dear daughter.”
“What if he doesn't get his 'something?'“
Coel drew a breath. “He'll say you didn't hold up your end of the agreement and call back every single one of his soldiers. But
it won't matter in the least because I'll already be dead.”
Demonica laughed out in the empty air.
Spitemorta thrust out her chin. “Looks like I have no choice,” she said. “I simply go see Vortigern. Nasteuh is undoubtedly dead by now.”
“I'd say so,” said Coel. “There's not been one ransom demand or anything, but there's always a chance...”
“By now? There's not been a wet nurse who could stand to feed her.”
“I'd heard tell,” he said with a careful nod, “but I never put much stock in rumors, Your Majesty.”
Spitemorta stared at him for a cold eyed moment. “Good policy, General,” she said. “How much rest do your men need before our campaign?”
“Rest? I'd allowed we'd be heading out at first light.”
“That's what I'd planned on, truth to tell, but I've thought better of it. You should wait a few days. Have your men at their best. It may be quite some time before they have the chance again. No doubt our campaign will last well into cold weather, though we ought to be in the south by then.”
“I've not seen her that considerate without Demonica's help,” he thought as he nodded at her remark. “Now are you not going with us, Your Majesty?” he said.
“No,” she said. “But I'll meet you right before you surround Ellsmore Proper, General. And I want your few days rest to be exactly all of tomorrow and all of the next day. March for Ellsmore at sunrise the day after. I have some business to take care of in the meantime.”
“Then if there's nothing else, I shall go address the men, Your Majesty...”
“You've said nothing of Cunedda. In fact, I'd swear that you referred to him a time or two as if he were still alive. Could you possibly think he's on his way to Gwael?”
“I knew he was dead,” he said with no expression on his face. “You want my candor here, or is it dangerous?”
“Your opinion, General, is mine to examine as I please.”
“And you still own that it's my place to advise on military matters?”
“Obviously.”
“If General Cunedda needed to die, it was Vortigern's job to kill him and no one else's.” he said, holding a breath for a moment. “But you're the queen here. I only advise and warn. I did tell you what would happen if you killed him. Vortigern will not be pleased, but that's none of my affair. And Cunedda was indeed my friend, but I'm a soldier and I know better than to let my feelings get in the way of my duty to you.”
“Very well General,” she said, studying him coldly. “I shall see you before you reach Ellsmore Proper.”
And with a bow he turned about and left.
“I must say Granddaughter, you handled that rather well,” said Demonica, appearing at once. “You may have a bit of my blood in you after all.”
“Yea? So why am I suspicious of your praise?”
“Fledgling wisdom. So. Off to see Vortigern, then?”
“Righty-o. And when I have him convinced, I'll go through with the betrothal to his stupid son, Artamus. But mark me, the little cachu will die long before there would ever be a wedding.”
“My! What of Vortigern, then? He'll surely not sit still after you've done in his only heir.”
“Ha! Vortigern will be rotting in his grave long before I kill the prince. And the beauty of it is that I won't be anywhere near him when he dies, and the Gwaels will never be able to pin it on me.”
“Really? Mind telling me how you plan on doing that?”
“All in good time, Grandmother. Now beat it.”
“See you in Gwael,” said Demonica as she winked out.
***
Spitemorta walked to her apartment with her empty teacup. She put the cup on her night stand, filled it with water and klenved-mor herbs, passed her hand over it to bring it to the boil and sat down on the bed with her skinweler to study Leskycastel for where she might appear unseen. Every place she looked, there seemed to be more activity than she wanted to deal with. “Is Vortigern even there?” she said. “Ha! There he is.” She chose an empty balcony outside a small sitting room down the hall from the throne room where he was. She set aside her ball, hurried to her wardrobe and chose out a crimson dress she had resented seeing on Demonica. She would have to rely on the Staff for any further changes of clothes. She drank down her tea, picked up her bag and skinweler from the bed and stood with her staff.
At once she found herself on the balcony at Leskycastel in the shadows of the late afternoon, looking out over the houses of Jyantylesk and the Argos Ocean beyond. She took out her ball, found Vortigern in it and stepped into the corridor.
***
“Your Myghternsys,” said the page with a bob of his head. “Queen Spitemorta from Niarg-Loxmere-Goll is outside, demanding an immediate audience.”
King Vortigern squinted at his page. “By herself?” he said.
“Entirely,” said the page. “Shall I see her in?”
“Weren't there others already waiting?”
“Aye sire. And still are.”
“And she scares you, does she?”
“Am I that easy to read, sire?”
“You're trembling.”
“Well I know that I shouldn't be, sire, but it was the very way she said, 'now.' I mean, it was the way she added the, 'if I wanted to live' part, don't you know. Somehow it struck me as though she actually had some sort of influence over my mortality. None of this is any excuse. I am embarrassed and I do beg your pardon.”
“I've never once seen you upset before, Gwyth,” said Vortigern as he scratched the side of his nose. “And I thought she was kind of volatile the last time. She just might kill you if she's not let in here next. See her in.”
“Thank you, Your Myghternsys.”
Vortigern set aside his crown and rubbed his face. He looked up from unbuckling one of his slippers to find Spitemorta staring at him.
“What?” he said. “Look. If you're offended by my stockings, just remember that I took them out of my drawer just last Monday. And if that isn't good enough, just remember that you never know what you'll run into when you make a habit of horning your way in unexpectedly. I've been having a day of it.”
“I quite understand, King Vortigern,” she said in a voice wholly unrelated to the dark look which flickered across her face. “My abrupt appearance has to do with the disturbing news which I bring. May we speak in more private surroundings?”
Vortigern buckled his shoe as Spitemorta noticed that the robust wooden throne which he was leaning out of had utterly no upholstery nor cushions of any sort. Presently he rose and led her to a davenport on a balcony in the waning light.
“Now where's Demonica?” he said, sitting at the far end of the davenport. “Since it was she who negotiated our arrangements, I would've...”
“Demonica did indeed,” she said, “on my behalf. Looking out for her granddaughter, you could say. She has all she needs on the Dark Continent.”
“I'm right well aware of her holdings, Your Majesty,” he said as he settled his leg across his knee. “As I am also aware that she never involves herself in anyone's affairs unless she gains substantially from it.”
“I see that you were indeed close to her then,” she said as she studied him for signs of weakness.
“Yea? I know all about you, too, and I don't have time for posturing. Why are you here?”
This struck a nerve. “How dare he speak to me in this manner!” she thought, tightening her grip on the Staff. “Maybe I should begin ruling Gwael today...”
“Keep your mouth shut!” hissed Demonica. “Open it and you've lost everything!”
Spitemorta twisted this way and that, trying to see where she was.
“Aah, aah, aah!” said Demonica “I suggest you get yourself under control, dear. There are at least a dozen guards outside this room. Do something to Vortigern and they'll get you before you can say the first line of a traveling spell.”
“I'll get you for this, Grandmother!”
“No you won't,”
said Demonica. “You already got me. So forget your childish revenge while you still have your chance to fix things.”
“Just what did you tell him about me, anyway?” thought Spitemorta. “And why didn't you tell me you could hear my thoughts?”
“Look at you Spitemorta! You've got Vortigern shaking his head. He's about to leave. If he does, I doubt that you'll ever recover.”
“He wouldn't dare!” thought Spitemorta, gasping at the sight of him already on his feet.
“I'm sorry, Your Majesty,” he said, turning to face her, “but as I said, I have work to do. Why don't you make an appointment through my steward? And you're certainly welcome to stay here until then. Otherwise, have a safe trip back to Brastyr Cleth.”
Spitemorta worked her mouth like a beached fish. “I'm sorry too, Your Majesty,” she said, finding her voice. “I'm afraid it's imperative that I speak with you now, since I must be with General Coel for the first engagement of our second campaign.”
Vortigern studied her for a moment. “Very well,” he said, sitting down again. “So why are you here? It must be important to pull you away from your campaign.”
“It's several matters actually,” she said. “Firstly, the princess has been abducted and by now undoubtedly murdered, so if we are to unite through marital ties, other arrangements will have to be made.”
“But how can that be with the protection of Cunedda and Coel's armies?”
“I'm afraid she was left at Castle Goll with her wet nurse, inadequately guarded for what was to come. No one dreamed that Niarg would launch their own attack against Castle Goll while we were taking down Castle Niarg. They completely destroyed my castle and took everyone in it with them.”
“So why do you reckon the princess is dead rather than being held to extort you sometime soon?”
“She was a gorgeous baby,” she said serenely. “However, she had problems nearly impossible to overcome to take care of her. She was despised by nearly every wet nurse we tried. Grandmother didn't think that anyone low enough to abduct her could possibly have the patience to see to her needs.”
“And you said there have been no ransom demands, didn't you?”
“Not one,” she said. “And another reason for my visit is that the war has been more devastating to your armies than anyone could have guessed it would be. Niarg was a fearsome adversary. We won, but the regular army was reduced to two hundred men.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 184
