The Keeper Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by JA Andrews

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  An hour later, Alaric followed a messenger all the way through the palace to the royal apartments where he found the queen reading at an immense wooden desk. The room smelled of blackberry tart and fresh bread.

  “Alaric,” she greeted him with an apologetic smile. She motioned him toward a table set with bread, fruit, and two enormous servings of tart. “Come eat, old friend. Let’s start over, shall we?”

  Alaric made her a bow, but she waved it away as she sat and began to serve herself. Alaric joined her, realizing how hungry he was.

  “I see you have been well, Your Majesty.”

  The smile she gave had a hint of steel behind it. “I know you didn’t plan it, but your return to the palace is timely. Some members of the council at tonight’s meeting may find the presence of a Keeper at court to be detrimental to their plans.”

  So much for easing into the role of Keeper again. Alaric tore off a piece of bread. “I doubt my presence will make much difference. I am too out of touch with what is going on.”

  “Of course it will make a difference. By now, rumors of your presence have spread throughout the palace.” Saren took a slow, savoring bite of tart. “The winds are changing already.”

  Her face was different than Alaric remembered. There was less youth and gentleness. Saren hadn’t been ready for the throne when Kendren died. She had been raised the daughter of a noble family, one that spent little time at court. King Kendren had married her because she was kind and good and honest—too much of all these things to naturally take to the political games played around her.

  “I’m sorry I left for so long,” Alaric said.

  Saren let his worlds hang in the air for a moment.

  “Come now, Alaric,” she said, an edge to her voice. “It’s been two years. Where have you been?”

  “When I left you to see if the nomads were allying themselves with the southern kingdoms, I had every intention of returning here when I was done. It took almost a year, but I found the rumors to be groundless.

  “I didn’t come back because on my way south, I met a woman.”

  The queen’s eyebrow shot up. “A woman worth keeping you from returning to your queen?”

  Alaric let the obvious answer speak for itself.

  “Send for her.”

  Alaric flinched at the note of command. It was going to be hard to get used to being ordered about again. He took a deep breath to push down the irritation. “She’s not here.”

  There was a long pause. Saren’s eyes narrowed as she waited for him to continue.

  “Her name is Evangeline. She was an innkeeper before she traveled with me.” Alaric’s throat tightened. “She’s not here because she’s dying. She was poisoned. She is… asleep while I search for the antidote.”

  Alaric looked at the bread in his hands. Across the table, Saren did not move.

  “I have slowed the spread of the poison, but it is not stopped. It will take a long time, but it will kill her.” Alaric met the queen’s gaze, seeing the sympathy there. “That’s where I’ve been. Searching through every corner of the world for an antidote, crawling through the darkest pits of humanity in search of anything that would help me.”

  The queen spun her wedding ring around her finger. “I often wondered, while Kendren was dying, if all the waiting and hoping and dreading was worse than the death would ever be.” She didn’t look at Alaric. “It turns out neither is better than the other. Mourning is just a continuation of the same dreadful waiting. Except now, I’m waiting for something that will never come.”

  Alaric looked at her, remembering when her hair was still brown, her eyes still young. “I think of your husband often. While searching for an antidote for Evangeline, I often found myself searching for an antidote that might have helped him, too, wondering if there was something else we could have done to save him.”

  She shook her head. “Such questions lead to madness. Kendren’s wounds were not the kind that could be healed.” She took a deep breath. “It is so good to see you, Alaric. The last time I saw a Keeper was when Will was here. That was not long after you left.

  “His visit was over my birthday feast. Will treated us to stories three nights in a row.” She shook her head and smiled. “I can still see the tales in my mind. Three old tales: Tomkin and the Dragon, The Fall of kin Elenned, and Mylen the Destroyer. That man can tell stories better than anyone I’ve ever heard.”

  Alaric smiled. “He could leave me breathless just telling me what was for dinner.”

  “He delayed his departure in the hope you would return.”

  Alaric felt a jab of guilt. Another person he’d let down. He picked up a small blueberry and rolled it between his fingers. “The last I knew, Will had gone to look for the elves. Evangeline and I were close to the Greenwood on the way back here when I decided to go look for him.

  “We had been catching glimpses of the Lumen Greenwood whenever we crested a hill, and she had been giddy at the sight. We reached a village that had been plagued by a fire lizard.” Alaric let the story spill out, telling her of the fire lizard and the arrow.

  “I didn’t know the villagers had poisoned their arrows.” He raised his eyes to Saren. “They were all killed by the fire lizard. They hadn’t told me.”

  Alaric looked at the table, the grain in the wood echoing the red lines that had wound their way up Evangeline’s leg. “It took more than a day for any sign of the poison to appear. By that time…”

  “I took her west, into the Scale Mountains to one of the deserted small keeps. I created a chamber around her, but even that does not stop the poison.”

  “I doubt there’s anything in our own records that you don’t already know about, but now that you’re back, the entire library is at your disposal, of course. And anything else I can offer. Anything at all.”

  Alaric shook his head. “As I mentioned earlier, I’m not really back. I need to leave. The sooner the better.”

  Saren’s brow contracted. “To go to Evangeline?”

  “No, where I am going now affects the whole country.” Alaric pushed his plate away. “Mallon was not killed by the elves.”

  Saren sat, pale-faced, while Alaric told her of Gustav and Mallon and the elves. When he told her of the gathering nomads, her eyes hardened and she rang a bell that sat on the table. The door opened and a guard appeared.

  “Summon General Viso and the map keeper. Have the quartermaster begin preparations for a full army supply and deployment.”

  The guard bowed and left.

  The queen smiled tightly at Alaric. “There’s not much I can do against Mallon, but I will not be unprepared with a nomad army on my border.”

  The queen shoved papers off her table and began to unroll another large map.

  “This news needs to be acted on. I’m moving the full council meeting to this afternoon. We’ll convene in two hours.” She glanced at him. “If—When you stop Gustav and heal Evangeline, you will come back to court.”

  He bit back irritation at the imperiousness of her demand. She waited for his agreement, but he couldn’t bring himself to nod. He’d been too long on his own to have a knee-jerk agreement with the crown.

  Saren turned her full gaze on him. “You were my closest advisor, Alaric. You were the one with the most influence over the nobles, the other council members, the people. And you left. The void you left in the court was swarmed by every power-hungry parasite that could reach it.” The queen’s voice shook slightly. “You have no idea the mess you left me in. There has always been a Keeper at court, Alaric. And with Will gone, there are no other Keepers the Shield can send to me.”

  Alaric shook his head. “You don’t know the things I’ve done. I’m not sure I can be the court Keeper anymore.”

  “The world is falling apart, Alaric,” Saren snapped. “We don’t have the luxury of you falling apart as well. If you’re not a Keeper anymore, you are the closest thing I have to one. And I need a Keeper. So whateve
r doubts you have, deal with them.”

  He opened his mouth, but she raised a hand to silence him.

  Her eyes glittered with anger. “There is a full council meeting in two hours. I don’t care if you feel like a Keeper, Alaric. Act like one.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Alaric left the queen’s room and strode toward the apothecary.

  There was a grim satisfaction in finding out that his return to court was as frustrating as he had expected. He’d spent too long making his own decisions and choosing his own path. He chafed against the commands of the queen.

  Alaric took a calming breath. None of this mattered right now, anyway. He just needed to deal with Gustav. And he needed this blasted storm to end.

  The rain had settled into a drenching downpour. Alaric pulled up his hood and dashed across the courtyard to reach the apothecary.

  Ewan’s door stood open, as always, and Alaric paused on the threshold, letting the water drip off of his cloak. The mossy smell of drying plants wafted out past him. Ewan, his white hair rumpled and his long beard braided to keep it out of his work, was hunched down on a spindly stool. Candlelight glinted off a honey-colored liquid as Ewan meticulously dripped it into a small clay bowl.

  Alaric held himself still, not wanting to interrupt. He glanced around at the familiar chaos of the room. The table was littered with pages covered in tightly packed writing and peppered with diagrams. A fire burning in the large fireplace reflected off hundreds of glass vials and bottles.

  Ewan set down his dropper and peered into the bowl. For a long moment, the only sound was the rain hammering on the roof, then a thin wisp of reddish smoke rose from the bowl. Ewan let out a whoop and grabbed for a nearby pile of papers.

  Alaric laughed, and Ewan spun about to face the door.

  “Alaric!” Ewan sprang to his feet and reached the Keeper in two long strides.

  Alaric hugged his friend fiercely. The old apothecary’s shoulders were nothing but bones.

  “Everyone who’s stepped through my door this afternoon has been giddy with the rumor of a Keeper in the palace.”

  “I didn’t know it’d cause such a fuss.”

  “Yes, well, you always did underestimate yourself.” Ewan motioned toward the corner of the room. “I hear you travel with an interesting group.”

  Alaric stepped around a silver apparatus and piles of papers on the floor to drop into the same smooth wooden chair that he always sat in. He leaned back in the chair and felt himself relax. How long had it been since he’d sat somewhere comfortable? Settling back, he told Ewan about his traveling companions.

  Ewan’s gaze searched Alaric’s face. Whatever he saw there, the apothecary’s face showed only warmth. “It is good to see you, Alaric.”

  “It’s good to see you, too,” Alaric answered. The apothecary had aged as Saren had. Not physically, it was something in his eyes. Something weary. “I know I’ve been gone too long.”

  Ewan’s mouth twitched into a half smile, and he shook his head. “You were gone as long as you needed to be. There’s no changing it now.”

  Alaric looked up at his friend, but he could find no reproach. Ewan wasn’t the queen, wanting to bend him to her will. He saw only friendship. Something deep inside him loosened. A thread that had been twisted around his failures and doubts unwound, and the snarled mass relaxed the slightest bit.

  “You don’t look like a man who found what he was looking for,” Ewan said. “What brought you back?”

  “The most immediate reason I’m here is this blasted storm. But the reason I’m passing through Queenstown at all is rather troubling.” Alaric told him of Gustav and Mallon and the elves. The apothecary’s frown deepened as the story continued. “And so now I am here, trapped because of the storm and at the beck and call of the queen.”

  Ewan let the words hang in the air for a moment before he said, “Your absence has been hard on the queen. I’m afraid you’ll have some more bitterness to wade through before she’s done.” There was no judgment in the words, just truth. “In the months after you left, a handful of nobles, led by Lord Leuthro, staged a coup.”

  “Leuthro? He’s always supported the queen.”

  Ewan nodded. “That’s one of the many things that made the situation even worse. Leuthro had positioned himself as Saren’s closest advisor.” Ewan shook his head. “When the truth came out about the planned coup, Saren had to charge him with treason.”

  Alaric sank back into the chair. “She had to execute him?”

  Ewan nodded. “It changed something in her.”

  Alaric groaned. “And if I had been here, Leuthro wouldn’t have been so bold. My entire absence has been a series of failures, each greater than the last.”

  Ewan shrugged. “I have no idea what your presence would have accomplished. But I know the queen felt very alone and very unsure of herself. It shook the foundation of her rule. Even today, there are pockets of trouble in the kingdom.”

  Alaric looked up at him sharply. “Who?”

  “Currently, the most troublesome are a pack of southern dukes led by Duke Thornton of the Black Hills. No matter what Saren does, Thornton is in the middle of it, stirring up dissent and maneuvering to gain more power for the southern duchies.”

  “I met Thornton already.” Alaric ran his hand through his hair. “He doesn’t have the power to cause Saren much trouble.”

  “Maybe not on his own, but he’s gained the loyalty of the southern duchies. He claims there are problems with bandits, but Saren suspects that he’s just creating a stranglehold on the gold trade between Queensland and the south. He keeps demanding money for training more troops. Unless Saren complies, the trade routes stagnate. Gold prices are astronomically high and merchants and nobles are up in arms.”

  “Still, Thornton is in no position to make demands like that of the queen.”

  “Saren thinks he is. And he’s blackmailed or bribed enough of the court to have gained himself an unreasonable amount of power.”

  Alaric shook his head and smiled. Here was something he could fix. “That’s one problem I can easily solve for Saren. How long has this been going on with Thornton?”

  “Since early last winter.”

  Alaric closed his eyes. “I should have come back sooner. There is so much Saren doesn’t know. There’s a treaty with the Black Hills duchy, but she probably doesn’t know about it.”

  Anyone could have found the treaty with some research, if they had known to look for it. The problem was, no one but King Bowman and Gerone, who had been the court Keeper at the time, had witnessed the treaty. It would be stored in the royal library, but such an insignificant document would have been easily overlooked.

  Ewan shook his head. “You have a ridiculous amount of knowledge stuffed into that head of yours. The Keepers were right to send you here to court.”

  “I wish I’d come back sooner…” Alaric looked at Ewan and felt desperation rise, “but I couldn’t.”

  Ewan waited patiently. Alaric let the words spill out for the second time that day, telling of Evangeline and the poisoning.

  Ewan listened as Alaric listed Evangeline’s symptoms and the progression of the sickness. “There was no antidote.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “For each individual poison, yes there was. But not for the rock snake venom.” Alaric pulled a small vial from inside his robe, a slip of paper that listed the poisons the villagers had used wrapped tightly around it. He handed both to his friend.

  Ewan unrolled the paper and read the list. “May I use a bit of it?”

  Alaric nodded.

  Ewan held the small glass vial up before a candle and peered at it through bushy eyebrows. The liquid inside was a murky grey.

  Perching on the stool by his workbench, he placed six separate drops on a large tray. Then with a clatter of glass and much muttering and clucking, he dripped, scooped, and mixed things into the poison. He soaked a small cloth with a white liquid then touched the corner to
the poison. Black, rancid smoke rose from the point of contact.

  “Remarkable,” Ewan said, waving the smoke away. “These woodsmen created a masterpiece of a poison.” He glanced at Alaric. “Her leg? The poisoned one?”

  “Black and cold.” Alaric squeezed his eyes shut against the image. “She has no feeling left in her foot. The blackness seeps up into her side.”

  “Lungs?”

  “Full. It pains her to breathe.”

  “The blackroot would infect her spine.”

  Alaric nodded. “Her left side is weaker. Or it was back when she had the strength to move.”

  Ewan looked down at the tray before him. “The symptoms didn’t appear until a day had passed because the blackroot weakened the rock snake venom. Neither would affect her until the looseweed had exhausted her body. She didn’t seem poisoned at first because she wasn’t. Just lethargic. But the looseweed would have weakened her body enough to let all the other poisons begin to work.

  “The exhaustion could be treated with lionsroot, but once the symptoms of the other poisons appeared…” Ewan leaned back and peered at a dark, empty corner of the ceiling. He scratched absently at his beard. He shook his head and looked back at Alaric. “I can treat everything but the venom. For that I know of no cure.”

  “I’m on the trail of one,” Alaric said, telling Ewan of Kordan.

  When he finished, Ewan picked up the vial again. “Do the villagers make this often?”

  Alaric shook his head. “They made it just for the fire lizard. They mixed every poison they could find. They had trouble even reproducing a list of the ingredients.”

  “Good. The thought of this poison being around is unsettling. Whenever you are done with it, it should be destroyed.”

  Alaric looked at the grey liquid. He was tired of carrying it. There was nothing left to learn from it. “I have no more need of it.”

  Ewan nodded briskly. He picked up a large glass vial full of a milky white fluid. Uncorking the poison again, he poured it in. The mixture fizzed, and Ewan held it at arms’ length, turning his face away from the smoke. In a moment, the bubbles subsided, and he was left holding a vial of dark brown sludge.