Bearers of the Black Staff

by Terry Brooks

  “So your plan is to go up into the passes and find out if the barrier is still in place or if it is crumbling?”

  “Yes,” Panterra responded, and she liked it that he didn’t equivocate.

  “Just the four of us,” Tenerife added. “A quick survey and a solid determination of what’s happened. Once we know, we report back to the King and the High Council.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s stopping you?”

  “We can’t go without the King’s permission.”

  “Then ask it of him!”

  There was a collective hesitation. “We hoped maybe you could do that for us,” Tenerife said finally.

  She stared at him. “Why me instead of you, cousin?”

  “Because we think whoever tells him needs to ask him to keep it to himself for a while and not confuse the matter by allowing other individuals to become involved,” Tasha blurted out. “Cousin.”

  She hesitated only a moment. “You mean my stepmother and her lover. You’re worried about them.”

  Panterra and Prue exchanged a quick glance. “‘Her lover’?” the boy repeated carefully.

  “Phryne, that sort of talk can get you in a lot of trouble,” Tenerife said quietly. “Those are rumors, nothing more.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “Maybe that’s what you think, but I know the truth. I have to live with it every day. And I don’t have to pretend it doesn’t exist. My father may choose to do so, but that is his affair.”

  She turned to Panterra and Prue. “I better explain, since this obviously comes as a surprise. My beloved stepmother has taken a lover. First Minister Teonette, a man in a position of power second only to my father. The choice was calculated. Their affair is a carefully guarded secret from most, but not from me. My father knows, I think, but he pretends not to. At least, that is how I intuit things, since we have never discussed the matter openly. But I see it in his eyes. He is hurt and ashamed, but he chooses not to make it public. Maybe he thinks she will come back to him someday and be the good wife he thought she was.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not holding my breath. But back to the business at hand. You believe that I might better be able to persuade my father to keep your plans a secret from others, is that it?”

  Tasha nodded. “In a word or two.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know that he will, Tasha. I can’t depend on him that way anymore.”

  “But you could at least ask him. If we ask, he will not only stop us from going but likely refuse even to see us again for a very long time.”

  “Probably true.” She thought about it. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what it is that you’re afraid of, though. What is it that you think my stepmother and the first minister might do? Why would they even care?”

  “I’ve been wondering that, too,” Panterra cut in.

  Tasha took a long pull on his tankard of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s the nature of the beast,” he said. “The lady and the man in question are ambitious and looking for opportunities to advance their own interests. This bit of news, if true, will change the lives of everyone living in the valley. All people, all Races. I don’t want to give anyone a chance to exploit that before the King and the High Council are prepared to deal with it. That’s all.”

  Phryne made a face. “I find it hard to argue with your logic. Very well, cousin, I will do it—but on one condition. I’m going with you.”

  She had made up her mind instantly, not bothering to think it through, just knowing that this was something she wanted to be a part of. If they wanted her to be their foil, they were going to have to make her a full member in their conspiracy.

  “You most certainly are not,” Tenerife declared at once.

  “How quickly do you think the King will turn us down if he finds out you’re involved?” Tasha added.

  She gave them a look. “Leave that up to me. You trust me enough to speak to my father on your behalf. You’ll have to trust me enough to persuade him to let me come with you.”

  They stared at one another in heated silence for a moment, their faces saying everything.

  “I think it’s a very good idea,” Prue said finally, breaking the silence. “If I can go, Phryne ought to be able to go, too.”

  There were all sorts of arguments against such thinking, but no one was about to make them. Tasha threw up his hands, and his brother slumped back in his chair, frowning. Panterra, entirely on impulse, smiled encouragingly at Phryne Amarantyne, and she smiled back.

  She found she was liking the boy and the girl from Glensk Wood better all the time.

  PHRYNE WAITED UNTIL THE FOLLOWING MORNING to approach her father, not wanting to disturb him when he might be sleeping. She had always been close to him and mindful of his needs, no more so than in the weeks right after her mother’s death. But in the months after that, when both father and daughter began to find a new path through life, they had drifted apart. It was not done consciously or even with any real understanding at first that it was happening. At least, not on Phryne’s part. She was never really sure about her father. But gradually he began to spend less time with her. There were obvious reasons for this. He was King, and as such he was busy with the affairs of the Elven people. After the death of her mother, he had immersed himself in work as a way to avoid dwelling on his loss. She had done the same, after all. She knew, as well, how difficult her father found it to be around her. She was a constant reminder to him of what he had lost, of how like her mother she looked—small-boned, fine-featured, her auburn hair a perfect match, her favorite expressions ones she had learned from her mother. It was likely that her father found her presence too painful to endure for more than short periods of time. It should have been the opposite, she had told herself when she realized what was happening. But then things didn’t always work out the way you wanted them to.

  As she’d discovered when, out of nowhere, Isoeld Severine appeared. Young and beautiful, she was a baker’s daughter from Kelton Mews, a tiny village off to the far west, with a population that would barely make up half a dozen large families. How her father had met her was open to question; he told one story after another, charmed by the idea that it was their secret and no one else’s. Isoeld had manners and poise as well as beauty, and she won over her doubters much more quickly than any objective measure would have found reasonable. After all, this was the King who was so besotted, and there were many reasons to wonder at how this had happened. Phryne had never been fooled; from the beginning, she had questioned what was happening. The age difference was troubling. The mysterious circumstances of their meeting were troubling. The way that Isoeld went so quickly from friend to lover to wife went so far beyond troubling that it brought Phryne and her father to their one and only shouting match.

  But her father had made up his mind, and his daughter was not about to change it. He made it plain to her that this was his life and therefore his choice. If marrying Isoeld made him happy and if Isoeld proved a proper Queen for the Elven people, then no one had any right to object.

  For a while, Phryne had left the matter alone, half willing to reconsider her dislike of this interloper, this marital bed thief who sought to take her mother’s place. She knew she was jealous and protective and entirely unreasonable in her insistence that Isoeld was the wrong choice. She also knew that no one could ever be the right choice because in her heart no one could ever replace her mother.

  Then, through a series of small recognitions and deductions, she had decided that Isoeld had taken a lover. First Minister Teonette was handsome and available; he was also ambitious and politically driven. They were right for each other—more so than she and the King—and the looks they directed at each other said as much. Such looks were few and cautiously exchanged in moments when they thought no one was looking, but Phryne was always looking because she had never stopped being suspicious.

  She had thought to tell her father on more occasions than she cared to th
ink about, but each time she pulled back. It was not her place. It would sound wrong coming from her, and her father would in all likelihood not believe her. After all, she had no real proof. She had never caught them in a compromising situation; she didn’t know of anyone who had. Anyway, perhaps her father already knew, she decided. Perhaps he had chosen to let it be and expected others to do the same if they loved him.

  Now too much time had passed for any real chance of ruining Isoeld. Phryne had waited too long. The relationships of all parties concerned were too settled for any of them to tolerate disruption. Her father loved Isoeld, and Isoeld loved being Queen. She had a good idea what the first minister loved as well, but she didn’t care to ponder that.

  Well, that last was a lie. Of course, she pondered it. She thought about it all the time. She just didn’t know what to do.

  Thinking back on all this, she walked out into the gardens and sat on a stone bench, staring down into the still waters of the lily pond that provided a focal point for the surrounding beds. Trees cast dappled shadows across the green sweep of the grounds, reaching beyond the gardens to the lawns and hedgerows, giving all of it an oddly secretive look on a day that was sunny and warm in spite of winter’s lingering hold. She watched birds flit from branch to branch, everything from wrens and sparrows to tiny hummingbirds. She could hear their songs mix with the buzzing of dragonflies and bees and the rustle of leaves. In the solitude of the moment, she found she could forget everything.

  She leaned forward and looked down at her reflection in the waters of the pond. Her short-cropped red hair softened the angular features of her sun-browned face, and her startling blue eyes stared back out of the watery depths, watching as she watched, as if she had divided herself.

  “Do you see anything you like?” a familiar voice asked.

  It took a certain amount of effort, but she forced herself to look around as if it were the most casual of acts, smiling at Isoeld. The Queen wore soft yellows and pale blues and with her nearly white-blond hair and delicate features looked stunning.

  “Not really,” Phryne replied, staring directly at the other.

  To her credit, Isoeld smiled back, as if no insult had been given. “We none of us much care for the way we look, do we? Even if others sometimes do. Good morning to you, Phryne.”

  “Good morning, Stepmother,” Phryne answered. She paused, taking in the basket the other woman carried over her right arm. “Off to the market for fresh fruits and vegetables?”

  “No, off to work with the sick and injured this morning. The healers say I bring smiles to the faces of their patients, and I am happy enough if I can do that.”

  “Of course you are. My father says you bring a smile to his face just by walking in the room. I imagine you can do that for almost anyone, can’t you?”

  Isoeld looked off into the trees a moment. “Why do you dislike me so, Phryne? What do you think I have done that makes you so unhappy with me?” She looked back quickly, shaking her head. “You know, I had no intention of having this discussion now, but suddenly I find I cannot put it off another moment.”

  Phryne rose so that they were facing each other. “I don’t like it that you are taking my mother’s place in my father’s affections. I don’t like it that you are so quick to assume that you are entitled to be Queen in her place. I don’t like anything at all about the way you insinuated yourself into my father’s affections and took him away!”

  It was out before she could think better of it, her anger rising instantly to the surface, released in a rush of vitriolic words. She stopped short of saying more, already knowing she had said too much.

  “Why stop there, Phryne?” the other woman asked suddenly. “Do you think I am not aware of the rest? You don’t like it that I am so young and your father is so much older. You don’t like it that you think I am unfaithful to him and see another man behind his back. You don’t like it that he spends so much time with me and so little with you. Isn’t that right?”

  Phryne compressed her mouth into a tight line. “Yes, that’s right.”

  Isoeld nodded slowly, as if something important had been confirmed. “You have reason to feel as you do about some of what you’ve said, but not all. I have taken your mother’s place, but only because your father does not want to be alone. I am a comfort to him, but I will never replace your mother, even though you might see it that way. If I have taken your father away from you, it is not because I intended for that to happen, and you must speak to him about his neglect. I am Queen because he fell in love with me and for no other reason; I am lucky to be Queen but more so to be his wife.”

  Phryne started to turn away, but the other woman grabbed her arm. “No, you let me finish! I can’t help that the age difference between us is so great, but age does not necessarily determine the depth of a couple’s love for each other. I have no consort and I do not betray my marriage vows. I am aware of your suspicions; others have voiced them, as well. But I am faithful to your father. The first minister is a friend and nothing more. Your father knows this; if you speak to him about it, he will tell you so.”

  She released Phryne’s arm and stepped back, her face stricken. She was crying, and Phryne wondered suddenly if perhaps she had been wrong about her. What she was seeing was genuine; Isoeld was all but broken. Phryne had an almost overwhelming urge to embrace her, to tell her she was sorry, that she would think better of her after this. But instead she looked down at her feet, avoiding the other’s eyes. She couldn’t quite manage an apology. She wasn’t ready to let go of the past just yet.

  “We must put this behind us, Isoeld,” she said, needing to say something. “We must be better friends.”

  Isoeld nodded quickly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Yes, we must do that. We both love your father. That should be reason enough.”

  “Yes,” Phryne agreed, “it should.”

  Isoeld tightened her grip on her basket. “I have to go. Can we talk more later?”

  “Of course. Anytime you wish.”

  Phryne watched her walk away and wondered if maybe this was a turning point in their relationship.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, she was standing in her father’s office, speaking to him as she had promised her cousins and the pair from Glensk Wood that she would. But even given the importance of what she was attempting and her efforts to concentrate on the business at hand, she could not stop thinking about her confrontation with Isoeld. Something in the way the other woman had spoken to her had touched her heart and made her believe. But to have been so wrong and so mean-spirited was difficult to accept, and she was struggling with it.

  “My cousins Tasha and Tenerife wish to hike up into the mountains north to Aphalion Pass, Father. They have visiting them a boy and girl from Glensk Wood, who are Trackers. They are sharing their skills and experience while here, and all of them want an outing where they can use those skills and that experience in a practical way. I was hoping you would give them permission to go.”

  Her father was a man of average size and looks, the sort of man you might pass by without a second look. He had kind eyes and a pleasant, open smile, and he looked to be someone you might want for a friend. What set him apart was not immediately apparent. His voice, for instance, was deep and rich and compelling, and when he spoke of how the world was and how it needed to be and what was good for the people and the creatures that inhabited it, you believed him. More important, he believed, and it showed in his commitment to his service as King. Born into the royal family, a Prince since birth, he had always known that one day he would be King, and he had prepared himself. First Minister Teonette looked more the part—tall, strong-featured, and athletic—but it was her father who was centered and reliable and who instilled confidence in a way that few others could. While growing, he had observed how others reacted to his own father’s behavior and learned accordingly. But he had learned as well what it meant to win respect and admiration and gain real loyalty.

  She was reminded of it now, as s
he was every time she stood before him, and the feeling generated was a mix of deep, abiding respect and love. Her father was a good and honorable man, and everyone who came in contact with him knew it.

  He gave her a questioning smile. “And this was something they could not manage to ask me themselves?”

  She shook her head. “No, Father, it isn’t that. They were perfectly willing to ask you, but I suggested it would sound better coming from me. I haven’t quite told you everything. I want to go with them.”

  Oparion Amarantyne frowned. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “For many reasons. I want to be a part of their adventure, and they have offered to let me accompany them. I want to learn something about tracking and scouting. They can teach me better than anyone. I am tired of sitting around in the city; I haven’t been anywhere in months. I need to do something, and I need to feel like it has meaning.”

  “Your studies here have meaning.”

  “My studies here are sedentary and boring. I am not saying they lack importance in my education. I know they don’t. But I want practical experience, too. This is my chance to gain a little of that.”

  Her father pursed his lips. “No wonder you didn’t want them to make this request. It would be easier for me to turn them down than you.”

  “I didn’t want them to have to make my request for me. I thought it better to face you myself. I learned from you; if you have something you want, you should be the one to ask for it.”