Shadow Magic

by Patricia C. Wrede

  “I can’t do all that; I don’t know enough about magic or politics. It is impossible!”

  “You were trained as a child of the house Brenn,” her father said, “to serve Alkyra.”

  “The Nine Families and the Regent will never agree to it,” Alethia pointed out desperately. “They already feel that the family of Brenn is too ambitious; they will never accept me as queen.”

  “Some of them may not accept you,” Gahlon corrected gently. “I, at least, will do so. And the Regent follows the lead of the Conclave. If you can persuade a few of the other First Lords, you need not worry about his acceptance.”

  “And if I can’t? Unless they accept me, the First Lords certainly won’t let me keep the Crown and the Gifts without fighting for them.”

  “Then we will fight,” Herre said grimly.

  “Such a war would smash all hope of reuniting the four peoples,” Murn said thoughtfully. “Too many would see the Shee and the Wyrds in the army, and not the humans.”

  “Even so, we will fight,” Herre insisted. “You yourself said that unless Alkyra is united, these Alkyran nobles will turn against us. Should we tamely hand them the Gifts and wait for them to attack?”

  “But fighting with the First Lords would be just as bad as the Lithmern invading!” Alethia said. “You would have to conquer all of them, and that means nearly all of Alkyra. I won’t let you do it; I’ll give them the Crown myself first.”

  “It does not matter whether you give the nobles the Crown or not, Alethia,” Gahlon said. “If the Conclave does not accept you, there will be war. But at least there is a chance to avoid it, if you agree to rule.”

  Alethia thought of the tired men outside the tent, who would be the ones to fight if this new war actually occurred. She thought of the maimed and wounded soldiers who had barely begun to recover from the battle with the Lithmern, and of the dead who would never recover. She did not reply.

  “You have worn the Crown,” Murn said sympathetically, almost as if she knew what Alethia was thinking. “Only with your death can you put this burden down.”

  “No!” Maurin said, under his breath.

  Alethia hardly heard him. She looked at the sober faces of the Shee, the Wyrds, the Neira, and the human friends about her. Her duty as a child of the house of Brenn was to serve Alkyra. Clearly, if she did not try to persuade the Alkyran nobles to accept her as queen, they would fight among themselves for possession of the Crown and the Gifts. Would she really be serving her country by plunging it into certain war? Once more she scanned the faces around her.

  “Would you truly accept me as queen, and your people as well?”

  “We will,” said Herre. “All the Shee will bow to the Crown. It was made to bind the four peoples together.”

  “I speak for the Wyrds; and I agree,” said Murn.

  “I for the Neira; I also.”

  “Then it seems that again I have no choice,” Alethia whispered. “I will be your queen.” As her eyes fell, the firestone flared, sending the shadows dancing through the tent once more. Unnoticed, Maurin slipped out into the cold night.

  Chapter 24

  FOR THE REST OF the week, the allied armies at Coldwell tended their wounded, buried their dead, and prepared to depart. The Lithmern prisoners were kept separate and under constant guard; with the pass blocked, they would have to go through Brenn to return to their homes once ransoms had been agreed upon. The Neira, too, were going through Brenn. The River Selyr was the closest waterway, and though they could travel overland if necessary, the sea-people preferred not to.

  Most of the Veldatha had chosen to remain with the army, at Alethia’s request. They were to study the Gifts and to continue Alethia’s instruction in magic. Some of the Shee and the Wyrds departed on the fourth day after the battle, but many remained. In a few days, others began arriving to pay their respects to Alethia and to see the treasures of Alkyra for themselves.

  Among the new arrivals was Isme. The Lady of Brenn arrived without warning on the fifth day following the battle. She listened patiently to all Bracor’s reasons about why she should not have risked such a journey, then said firmly that she did not choose to remain in Brenn while her husband was lying wounded at Coldwell Pass. Since she had obviously arrived safely, Bracor found it difficult to argue convincingly. The discussion might have gone on for a long time if Alethia’s entrance had not put an end to it.

  “Jordet told me you had come,” Alethia said as she greeted her mother. “I came straight here. Har is with Murn; I’m sure he’ll come as soon as he hears you are here.”

  “I am sure he will,” Isme agreed.

  “What is he up to?” Bracor demanded.

  “He’s helping Murn decide how we’re going to get all the Lithmern swords and armor back to Brenn,” Alethia said. “We don’t have enough carts for all of it.”

  “We shouldn’t leave it to rust,” Bracor said, frowning. “If the Shee could take some of it, we could—”

  “Relax,” Alethia interrupted. “Larissalama told you to stop worrying about things and rest, and if you don’t, he’ll probably keep you in that bed for a month.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Bracor said ruefully.

  “Then Alethia and I will leave and let you rest,” Isme said. She rose as she spoke, and a moment later she and Alethia were outside the tent. “I would like to speak to the healer, and then we need to talk. I don’t know if you realize it, but I have not yet heard all of what you have been doing these past weeks.”

  They found Larissalama, who answered Isme’s questions without hesitation. Bracor’s wound was healing slowly, partly because he continued to be more active than the Neira thought desirable. Isme only nodded, but the look on her face made Alethia certain that Bracor would have far more rest for the next several days at least.

  When Isme was finished with Larissalama, Alethia brought her to the small tent that had been hastily erected for her. Inside, Isme seated herself and looked at her daughter expectantly. “Now, what has been happening to you since you… left Brenn?”

  Alethia explained. Isme listened without comment until Alethia described the finding of the firestone; then she asked what had become of it. Alethia held out her hand to display the ring, and Isme smiled.

  “I am glad you kept it,” she said. “I think it will be of some use to you.”

  “It already has been,” Alethia said. “It led me to the cave where the Crown was, when I was lost in the blizzard.”

  Isme nodded, and Alethia went on with her story. “And now they want me to be queen,” she finished. “And I don’t want to be!”

  “Why not?” Isme said calmly.

  Startled, Alethia looked at her mother. “I’m not sure,” she said, after a moment. “It frightens me. Everything is changing. The Wyrds and the Shee are coming back into the world, and probably the Neira, too, and people will be afraid of them. The Nine Families will be in an uproar and everyone else as well. Alkyra needs wisdom now, not raw power. I feel like the Lithmern, fumbling with magic I don’t understand.”

  “These will be difficult times,” Isme agreed. She looked thoughtfully at Alethia. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t have a choice,” Alethia said. “Because of the Crown.”

  “There is always a choice,” Isme said firmly. “You could hide the Gifts again, or let the Regent and the First Lords continue to rule Alkyra for you, if you really wanted to. What you mean is that you don’t like any of the choices any better than you like the idea of being queen.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Alethia said slowly. “I couldn’t hide the Gifts again; they are too dangerous to risk someone like the Lithmern finding them by accident. And I couldn’t just pretend to rule, because the Shee and the Wyrds won’t stand for the First Lords.”

  Isme nodded. “You see? You seem to know all kinds of things you do not wish to do. I want to know what you do wish to do.”

  “I want,” Alethia began, and stopped. She was
silent for a long time, then finally she looked up. “I want to learn more about the Gifts. I know a little already, but I don’t think anyone really understands them. And I’d like to learn more magic, and more about firestones. I don’t think anyone really understands them, either.”

  “And if you do not wear the Crown, how can you study it?” Isme asked. “Do you think the nobles will let you near the Gifts if you once give them up?”

  “That’s true,” Alethia said thoughtfully. “But even if I’m queen, they can—” She stopped again, and her eyes narrowed. “No, they can’t! I would be queen, not regent; the First Lords couldn’t overrule me as they do him. Not unless I let them.”

  “When you come to them with your Crown and your Gifts, seeking fealty,” Isme said, “they will see only a young and pretty woman—inexperienced, and easily manipulated. But when you are their queen, they may learn otherwise. There is much good you can do for Alkyra, daughter.”

  Before Alethia could reply, they heard a flurry of sound and Har burst into the tent. “Mother!” he said, sweeping Isme into his embrace. “I heard you were here.”

  “Alethia and I have had matters to discuss,” Isme said, smiling at her son. “And I’m sure you have a question or two on your mind as well.”

  Har nodded. “It’s not everyday you wake up and find that you’re not quite human.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Alethia said. “Why did you never tell us?”

  “There is very little to tell,” Isme replied. “I was Keeper of the Western Ward when I was about your age, Alethia. Your father and his brother Reidon were ambushed during a counter-raid into Lithra. Reidon was killed, and your father sorely wounded. When he rode into the Kathkari Mountains to shake off the Lithmern, he stumbled across my cottage.” Isme smiled reminiscently. “Literally stumbled; he couldn’t see through the Veil spell that guards the Wards, so he fell down the stairs into my garden.”

  “And you took care of him and then married him?” Alethia said. “It sounds like one of Tamsin’s songs!”

  “That is probably the way the minstrels will sing of it in a hundred years, but it was not so simple then. He stayed until he was healed, and I helped him slip by the Lithmern, but I did not go with him then. Once or twice in the next year, when he could get away from Brenn, he came back to see me. But he did not speak of marriage until the following summer, when he had become more accustomed to being Lord of Brenn in his brother’s place. By then I was ready to listen—though I knew what it would mean.”

  “The covenant of exile,” Alethia said.

  “Not merely exile, but a pledge never to speak of Eveleth or the Shee, and never to use magic openly.” Isme’s smile held a trace of irony and bitter memory. “The Shee were worried about the consequences, should anyone outside the mountains learn they existed.”

  Har grinned. “Well, there certainly have been a lot of consequences! Did you have to promise not to tell us, too? It might have made things a little easier, if we’d known.”

  Isme said, “There was no need, and by the time you were old enough to tell, it did not seem very important any more.”

  “Not important!” Alethia said. “But, Mother—”

  “Your lives were in Brenn; so was mine. There was no reason to think the knowledge would make any difference, except perhaps to make you curious about your heritage. Under the circumstances, that would not have been particularly… wise.”

  Alethia laughed. “I suppose not. The Shee didn’t seem too anxious to have us in Eveleth even when we had a good reason for being there; I can just imagine how they’d have behaved if we’d come out of curiosity.”

  “I can’t,” Har said. “And I don’t want to. But I have a few more questions.”

  “About the Shee?” Alethia said.

  “No, about Brenn. The last I heard, there were still four or five nobles and First Lord Stethan who hadn’t answered our request for troops, and I want to know whether any of them ever did.”

  The talk turned to affairs in Brenn. Alethia was glad of the change in the conversation; she wanted more time to think over some of the things her mother had said.

  She had more time to ponder than she expected; the journey back to Brenn took six days. The trip itself was uneventful, but as they neared the edge of the forest the scouts brought back disturbing news of a great army of Alkyrans camped around Brenn.

  As soon as the news arrived, Bracor sent messengers to Brenn to discover what had occurred. Alethia, accompanied by Murn and Har, insisted on riding to the edge of the forest with them to see Brenn for herself.

  The group returned before the messengers, much excited. “The fields are full of nobles,” Alethia informed her father as she dismounted. “All of the banners of the Nine Families are there, even Thielen’s and Gahlon’s.”

  “The Regent is there, too,” Har said. “You can see his banners right in front of the East Gates.”

  “I could wish they had moved against the Lithmern as promptly,” Bracor said. He turned to one of the guards who had accompanied Alethia. “Go tell Lord Herre, the Lady Murn, Lord Vander and First Lord Gahlon what you have seen, and ask them to come to us.”

  By the time the messengers returned, all of the leaders of the various parts of the mixed army had arrived in response to Bracor’s summons. The first of the messengers bowed to them all, then handed Bracor a sealed note. Bracor opened it and began to read. “What does it say?” Har burst out.

  “I am summoned by the First Lords this evening to answer charges of treason,” Bracor answered without surprise. He handed the paper to Gahlon with a grimace.

  “Treason is a serious matter,” Lord Vander said worriedly.

  “I don’t think it’s as bad as you fear,” Gahlon said, looking up from the note. “Not all of the First Lords support this charge; there are only four seals on this letter.”

  “First Lord Thielen can’t support it,” Alethia said. “If he did, he would be guilty too; his men were at Coldwell with us.”

  “Having two First Lords involved will only make the charge more serious.” Bracor shook his head. “I expected this to happen—but not so soon.”

  “What difference does it make?” Har said impatiently. “Alethia is going to be queen, and you haven’t committed any treason against her.”

  The Shee commander laughed. “I think this will be an interesting meeting! I hope you will not mind if I come with you, Lord Bracor?”

  “We still have to convince the Conclave of First Lords that Alethia should rule Alkyra,” Gahlon said to Har. “I don’t think that will be easy.”

  “Let one of them try on the Crown,” Har suggested nastily. “That should settle things in a hurry.”

  “No!” said Alethia. “How can you joke about such a thing?” She remembered raw power coursing through the ornamental metal and shivered.

  “Are you certain that this is the best time to tell them about the Gifts?” Lord Vander asked a little nervously.

  “I must tell them sometime,” Alethia said. “I would rather get it over with now. And they are conveniently on our doorstep.”

  “I think we should all go to meet with the First Lords tonight,” Murn said. “They will find it more difficult to deny your right to the throne if they realize that the Wyrds, the Shee, and the Neira have already accepted you.”

  Gahlon chuckled softly. “I would not miss this meeting if you offered me the Crown itself. The First Lords are going to be very annoyed.”

  “Will you wear the Crown?” Har asked Alethia.

  “No,” said Alethia, thinking again of that raw power. “Not until I must.”

  “You should take it with you, though,” Gahlon said quickly. “And the Gifts as well. We will need them to convince the lords that you are truly meant to be queen.”

  Vander frowned. “Is it wise to risk treasures of such value? The Lords could simply seize them all.”

  “No they can’t,” Alethia said in a quiet voice. “They cannot possibly take the Gifts away from
me.” Vander gave her a startled look, and on that note, the conference ended.

  They left camp early that evening. Murn, Maurin, Jordet, and Larissalama each carried one of the Four Gifts muffled under their cloaks; Alethia herself held the Crown. There was an air of great tension about the group. No one spoke.

  They were met halfway to the city by nine guards, each wearing the badge of a different First Lord. The men seemed uneasy about their duty, and cast frequent glances at Murn, Herre, Jordet, and Larissalama as they rode toward the large tent where the First Lords and the Regent waited.

  As she entered the tent, Alethia saw a long table. Eight of the nine First Lords were seated along one side of it, with the Regent behind them. The ninth chair, Gahlon’s seat, was empty, and one of the lords motioned Gahlon toward it.

  “Thank you, Stethan, but I cannot take the seat you offer,” Gahlon said, bowing. “If Bracor is guilty of treason, then I am also, and I cannot join you.”

  Alethia noticed Lord Thielen shift uncomfortably in his place midway around the table. She looked back at Gahlon, who smiled slightly as he took one of the seats on the same side of the table as Bracor and the rest of the party. Alethia suppressed an answering smile and seated herself beside her father, scanning the lords for any sign of support or sympathy.

  The Regent cleared his throat officiously. “Lord Bracor, the charges against you are very grave. That is why we have come to you, instead of summoning you to the Conclave, as is the usual custom.”

  “The charges are obviously justified,” a large blond man at the end of the table said. “Why, he has the effrontery to bring his demonic allies with him! What more proof do we need?”

  “Peace, Orlin,” one of the others growled. “I know your views. There has been far too much talk of demons for my taste. Lord Bracor has the right to answer the charges, and I for one would hear what he has to say!”

  “Yes,” said another. “I understand there are a large number of Lithmern prisoners with the army; if Lord Bracor was correct about the threat of invasion, I do not see that we can condemn his actions.”