The Demon King

by Cinda Williams Chima

  The climb up the narrow ladder to the garden house was scary, as it always was, with the added burden of the saddlebags bumping against her sides. Finally she reached the top and pushed at the stone cover.

  To her vast relief, someone gripped it from above and wrestled it away. Then Amon’s face appeared in the opening, taut and grim. “Where have you been?” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d come back and gone to bed without telling me.”

  But still you stayed, Raisa thought with a rush of gratitude. Thank the Maker for Amon Byrne.

  Amon gripped her hands and hauled her up through the opening, setting her down next to him on the garden house floor. “I’ve been crazy with worry up here. I had a feeling that ...” He swallowed hard. “Well, anyway. What’s going on?”

  Raisa opened her mouth and words poured out, in seemingly random order. “Lord Bayar has put a spell on the queen. I don’t know how. It’s as if the binding isn’t working. They’ve got a stash of magical pieces that predate the Breaking.”

  “A spell?” Amon said. “What does he . . . ?”

  “He means to marry me off to Micah and name him king,” Raisa said. “They’ve got a priest and everything. Mama’s going along with it. I’d be married already, but I insisted on coming back to my room first. It won’t be long before they know I’m gone.” She grabbed his hand as if she could drag him away. “We’ve got to leave. Now.”

  “But ...?”

  “I know. I’m not allowed to marry a wizard. But the Bayars don’t like the old rules. Seems they’re too confining. I’m going to have to leave the city until we can sort this out.”

  Not just the city, Raisa thought. The queendom. She couldn’t take refuge with the clan. That would start a war between her parents and make the Fells vulnerable to invasion from the south.

  Amon took her saddlebags and slung them over his own shoulders. “Let’s go. We’ve got to clear the drawbridge before they sound the general alarm.”

  They clattered down staircase after staircase, incredibly loud in the early morning stillness, encountering the occasional sleepy-eyed upstairs servant. Each time, Raisa turned her face away, hoping to go unrecognized. It would cause talk at any time—the princess heir sneaking through back hallways with a soldier the morning after her name day party. They would be remembered, and it wouldn’t be long before the Bayars would know she hadn’t gone over the balcony, that she’d been seen with Amon Byrne. She didn’t wish it on Amon, to have the Bayars for enemies, but she was glad to have him at her side.

  She needn’t have worried. Just like before, no one recognized the princess heir in breeches and tunic.

  Down on the ground floor, the corridors were broader and there was even more traffic about. They forced themselves to walk, so as to be less conspicuous, though Raisa’s every nerve was firing. They passed through the Great Hall, where petitioners were already gathering in hopes of an interview with the queen.

  They walked through the huge arch that led onto the drawbridge, passing under the portcullis. Raisa put a little space between her and Amon so they wouldn’t look like they were together. She might be a clanswoman, on her way back from a delivery to the castle. Amon might be a soldier on the way to his post.

  They were midway across the river when she heard a clamor of bells and duty officers calling to one another. With a harsh metallic squeal, the portcullis descended until it slammed into the dirt.

  They know I’m gone, Raisa thought.

  The guardsmen loitering at the far end of the bridge looked up in curiosity.

  “Corporal Byrne!” one of them called to Amon. “What’s going on?”

  “Maybe some poor crofter stole a loaf of bread from the princess’s party,” Amon said, rolling his eyes.

  The soldier laughed. “They sure seem tizzied up about something,” he said, peering toward the castle.

  “Showing off for the southern royalty, no doubt,” Amon said, without pausing. “I’m leaving so that I don’t have to polish any brass.”

  Once clear of the bridge, Amon pulled Raisa aside, toward the guard barracks and stables that crouched at the far end of the bridge. “Let’s go to the stables,” he said. “We’ll want horses.”

  They were crossing the stable yard when Raisa heard a rattle of hooves on cobblestones, someone riding into the compound excessively fast. Amon pushed Raisa behind him and drew his sword.

  Two riders thundered in, wrenching their mounts to a halt just in front of the stable doors.

  “Raisa?” One of the horsemen swung down to the ground. He was sweaty and blood-stained, one arm wrapped in linen, his face stubbled. He pulled Raisa into his arms. “Raisa, thank the Maker.”

  It was her father.

  Joy mingled with surprise and worry, crowding her heart so she thought it might burst. “Father! You’re hurt! What happened? Where have you been?”

  “It’s thanks to Captain Byrne it’s not worse,” Averill said, nodding at the other rider. “We were ambushed just west of Chalk Cliffs. Ten armed men. They did their best to kill us, but Captain Byrne seems to have a third eye. He spotted the ambush before they closed on us.”

  Byrne handed off his horse to the stable boy. The captain too was much the worse for wear. Dried blood trickled down his face from a wound over his eye, and he favored his right leg.

  “They were masked, but they rode military mounts, Your Highness,” Byrne said grimly. “Same as we use in the Guard. I’m thinking they were Guard-trained.”

  “So the Guard has been compromised,” Raisa said bluntly.

  Captain Byrne hesitated, then nodded. “Aye.”

  “I’m sorry, Raisa,” her father said. “I meant to be there for your ceremony. It seems someone had other ideas.”

  “Gavan Bayar,” Raisa said with conviction. “It must have been.”

  Byrne and Averill stared at her, questions in their eyes, but before they could speak, the rattle of chains drew Raisa’s attention back to the castle. “Bloody bones!” she said. “They’re raising the drawbridge. We’ve got to go on before they finish searching the castle and realize I’m gone.”

  “What is going on?” Captain Byrne demanded. “What’s happened?”

  In a few terse sentences, Amon explained the situation.

  Byrne shouted for the stable boy, who reemerged from the tack room, blinking away sleep and confusion.

  “Ready four fresh mounts,” Byrne said. “Two saddled, two on lead lines. Pack bedrolls and provisions. Not next week! Now!” he roared when the boy didn’t move immediately. The boy scurried away.

  “Will you go to Marisa Pines?” Averill asked. “That’s closest.”

  Raisa shrugged. “We could go there tonight. But we can’t stay there long. It’s still within the realm. If the queen demands my return, the clan will refuse, but she won’t let that stand. She cannot. I’ll have to leave the Fells until things settle.”

  “I don’t like it,” Captain Byrne growled. “There’s no place safe. Arden’s in chaos, Bruinswallow and We’enhaven are likely to be drawn in, even if you could get there. And Tamron’s no fit place for the princess, even if it wasn’t three days’ hard march from Arden. There’s pirates on the Indio who would hold you to ransom if you went that way, and—”

  “Sir? What about Oden’s Ford?” Amon broke in. “No one would dare bother her there. Especially if no one knows who she is.”

  The two men stared at Amon for a long moment.

  “The boy makes sense,” Averill said finally, nodding.

  “How would she get there?” Captain Byrne said, looking less enthusiastic. “They’ll be waiting to intercept her at Marisa Pines Pass.”

  Amon nodded. “That’s what they’d expect because it’s closest. She could go west to Demonai and pick up provisions, clothing, and fresh horses.” He looked at Averill, who nodded assent. “Then she’d cross at Westgate and travel down through the Shivering Fens to Tamron and east to Oden’s Ford.”

  “The Fens?” Captain Byrne fro
wned. “That’d be rough traveling. They’re nearly impassable this time of year. And I’ve been hearing rumors of trouble with the Waterwalkers.”

  “There’s a way,” Amon said. “The road’s not bad now, if you know where you’re going.”

  Averill nodded agreement. “It’s better that Raisa stays out of Arden—there’s too much bloodshed there at present. Too much chance she’ll be captured or killed. At least the Waterwalkers respect Hanalea’s line. In Arden, they refer to our queens as witches.”

  Who are the Waterwalkers? Raisa thought, looking from Averill to Byrne. I am Hanalea’s line, and I’m still the last to know anything.

  “Lord Demonai, with all due respect, I cannot send the princess heir into the Fens unprotected,” Captain Byrne said. “The queen would be right to demand my head.”

  Amon cleared his throat. “Da. Sir. We could escort Raisa to Oden’s Ford,” Amon said. “The Gray Wolves, I mean. It’s nearly time for us to return to Wien House anyway. All of the fourth-year cadets will be expected to travel together—that won’t draw any attention. I know the Fens; you know Lord Cadri’s family, and I’ve stayed with them before. The princess can travel with my triple as a first-year plebe.”

  “You’re just fourth-years,” Byrne said, shaking his head. “Hardly more than boys. It’s too dangerous for everyone involved.”

  Averill put his hand on Captain Byrne’s arm. “Edon, I think maybe the boy’s idea is a good one—for two reasons. First, my daughter’s best protection is to go unnoticed. I’ve traveled in the south as a trader, remember. We could send a whole salvo of guards with her, but they could still be overwhelmed by a larger force. There are armies of mercenaries, hundreds strong, roaming the countryside.

  “Secondly, the queen can’t know we’ve had a hand in this, especially you. If you send any of the Queen’s Guard with the princess, Marianna will know you were involved. That’s treason, in her eyes. You can’t offer much protection to Marianna if you’re in jail. And she needs your protection more than ever.”

  Byrne turned to Raisa as if she might be an ally. “What happens to your marriage prospects, Your Highness, if you’re discovered traveling with a triple of soldiers?” he said bluntly.

  “If I stay here, I’ll end up married to a wizard,” Raisa said, equally bluntly. “What happens to my prospects then?”

  Captain Byrne turned back to Averill, seeming to prefer to debate him than the princess heir. “Where would she stay at Oden’s Ford? She can’t live in the barracks. She needs someplace safe to lodge until we can get this sorted out.”

  “Why couldn’t I stay in the barracks?” Raisa interjected. “Why couldn’t I lodge there as a new cadet?”

  Captain Byrne made a pained face. “Your Highness, that’s impossible! The princess heir living with pack of soldiers?”

  “Hanalea was a warrior queen,” Raisa said. “She killed the Demon King and led an army against the usurper when she wasn’t much older than me.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Byrne said. “Queens these days are less . . . warlike,” he said. He looked at Amon. “Do you really think nine cadets could keep a secret like this, all the way to Oden’s Ford?”

  “They can’t give it away if they don’t know about it,” Amon said. “We’ll pretend she’s the daughter of some Chalk Cliff noble. They already know her as Rebecca Morley. We’ll say her father asked if she could travel with us to study at the Healer’s Hall at Oden’s Ford. She’ll travel in the guise of a plebe, for her own protection.”

  “There’s a temple at Oden’s Ford,” Averill said. “The princess could lodge there as a new dedicate. You know, this could be a blessing in disguise. Oden’s Ford is a crossroads of ideas. She could learn a lot while in residence there.”

  “She’ll be vulnerable to kidnappers, fortune hunters, and younger sons,” Byrne countered.

  “Not if they don’t know who she is,” Averill said. “Besides, the Peace of Oden’s Ford will protect her. Even with the wars going on all around, it’s held for more than a thousand years.”

  “She can’t stay away for too long,” Byrne said. “There’s always the risk that Bayar will convince Marianna to name Mellony heir.”

  “We can debate all this later,” Raisa said, glancing back toward the castle, still buttoned up tight as a flatland corset. “Once they’ve searched the castle, they’ll be crossing the bridge. Captain Byrne, please tell the other cadets to meet their corporal at Demonai Camp. Corporal Byrne and I will ride on ahead.”

  Byrne stared at her a moment, then inclined his head. “Understood, Your Highness,” he said, a faint smile overlaying his worry lines. “Corporal Byrne, a moment, please.” Byrne drew his son aside, and the two joined in a brief intense conversation that ended in an embrace.

  While they’d been talking, the stable boy had led the horses out. Byrne sent the boy off to bed.

  Raisa chose the smallest horse, a mare, and untied her reins from the rail. She turned to Amon. “Give me a leg up, if you please?”

  Amon boosted her into the saddle and adjusted the stirrups to her small stature.

  Byrne gripped Amon’s hand in a soldier’s double grip. “Keep her safe,” he said, looking his son in the eyes. “And bring her back to us.”

  Amon nodded, then mounted up himself.

  “Travel safely, daughter,” Averill said, tears pooling in his eyes, then streaming unmoated down his face.

  Byrne clapped him on the back. “Let’s go on to the castle, Lord Demonai,” Byrne said, grinning. “I want to see Gavan Bayar’s face when we arrive alive.”

  The two men turned away. Raisa dug her heels into the mare’s sides, and they clattered out of the stable yard and onto the Way, leading their two spare horses. When they passed out of the city gates, Raisa turned and looked back at Fellsmarch Castle glittering in the morning sun. She was leaving it behind again, sooner than she’d thought possible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The End of Days

  When Han returned to the stable after visiting the markets, Mari’s fever was high again. It seemed to burn the flesh off her—her face had grown noticeably drawn and thin just since he’d been home, and her skin had turned a sickly yellow. He’d seen it before. It was never a good sign.

  So he went to see the healer in Catgut Alley and made him come, promising to pay him double his price in a day or two. The man came, all sweaty and shifty-eyed, no doubt aware of Cuffs’s bloodthirsty reputation and worried about the cost of failure. The healer fed Mari foul-smelling brews and burned an unidentified incense that released stinky yellow fumes into the room. After an hour in his presence, Han concluded he was a grifter, but Mam insisted Mari looked better afterward, and breathed easier.

  The next morning, in desperation, Han left the city and walked all the way up Marisa Pines Trail, meaning to bring Willo back with him to tend Mari. When he arrived in camp, he learned she’d gone up Althea Mountain to midwife a birth. Bird was out with the Demonais, and Dancer had gone with Willo, so overall it was a wasted trip. Han slept a few hours in the Matriarch Lodge, then returned to Fellsmarch, leaving word for Willo to come as soon as possible.

  Back in the city, he went straight to Southbridge Market, to Taz’s shop. Though it was late in the day, Han knew the dealer slept in the back so as not to leave his valuable inventory unguarded. Han needed money fast, and it wouldn’t be long before the Guard was onto him again and he’d have to leave town for good.

  When Han peered through the shop windows, he saw the dealer standing behind his desk, furiously stuffing papers into a leather satchel. Almost like he was packing to leave.

  Taz upset his cup of tea when the bell over the door announced Han’s entry into the shop. When the dealer looked up and saw Han, he cracked an uneasy smile.

  “Cuffs! There you are!” The big man madly blotted at the papers on his desk with a rag. “Where have you been? I found a buyer for the carving you showed me. He’s most anxious to see it.” Taz always called them “
carvings” or “art pieces.” He never acknowledged the fact that they were both magical and illegal.

  “Really?” Han said. Was it his imagination, or did the dealer seem unusually nervous? “He’s met my minimum price, then?”

  “Yes, yes. He’s good for it, though he wants to see the piece himself, of course. Do you have it on you?” Taz squinted at Han as if he might see it glowing through his clothes.

  Han shook his head. “No, but I can go get it.” He turned toward the door.

  “No, no,” Taz said hastily. “As a matter of fact, the buyer is on his way here now. Serendipitous, isn’t it? That you’re here, and he’s coming?” He wet his lips.

  Han was confused. “But it does no good if I don’t have the amulet,” he said.

  “My client is most anxious to meet you,” Taz said. “He has some questions about the piece. I’ll collect my commission, and you can take him to get it.”

  “I’d rather do business here.” Han knew well the risks of selling swag in back alleys. “I can be home and back in no time.”

  “It was at home all along, then?”

  Something in Taz’s voice set off alarm bells in Han’s head. He hadn’t lived so long by ignoring his instincts.

  “What do you mean?” he demanded. “Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing, nothing,” the dealer said, mopping sweat from his brow with the rag he’d used to wipe off the desk. “I just wondered where you’d hidden it is all.”

  Before Taz could move or say another word, Han had him pressed against the wall with a knife at his throat. “What did you tell the buyer, Taz?” Han asked softly.

  “N-nothing. I . . . just described the piece, and he said it sounded like something he’d want to buy. That’s all. I swear by the blood and bones of our sainted queens.”

  “Did you tell him where I live?” Han demanded.

  “I never did, I swear it,” Taz babbled. “He found out some other way.”