The Vanished Queen

by Lisbeth Campbell

  Karolje says, “You have no allies. Kneel.”

  The woman obeys. Coward, thinks Mirantha. But there is little choice.

  Karolje rises from his chair and walks to the woman until he is almost touching her. He grabs her hair and pulls her head back.

  “Ashevi planned to kill me,” he says. “Do you tell me you knew nothing of it?”

  “Nothing, my lord.” Her voice is strained from the position.

  “He wanted Lady Tahari to poison me. She reported it at once.”

  That’s interesting, thinks Mirantha. Had he decided to help her after all? But the king might be lying. Perhaps the arrest is nothing to do with assassination, it is some other kind of treachery or Karolje has grown tired of his counselor. Or she has done something offensive and Ashevi’s death is to be her punishment.

  The woman says, “I know nothing about it, my lord.” Goran’s foot moves a nervous half step forward before he catches himself.

  “Ashevi is your lover.”

  “Never, my lord.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know about the two of you,” he says. “I brought him here to do me a service and gave you to him as a reward. There are peepholes in the chapel. I’ve seen you fuck him there, more than once. It made you feel powerful, didn’t it, to think you had a secret from me? There are no secrets, Mirantha. There is no place you can hide from me, ever.”

  It almost shocks her back into her body.

  Karolje is the one lying.

  The woman says, “My lord, I will swear on anything you like that I have been faithful.”

  He gestures to the Truth Finder.

  Mirantha knows what will happen next. She feels sorry for the woman. It will hurt. She looks at Tevin and sees his entire body ridged with tension. Karolje has misjudged. His son is going to hate him for this.

  The Truth Finder puts his hand on the woman’s forehead. The room goes quiet. It will be over quickly. The woman doesn’t know anything, after all. The woman’s hands go to her ears and her face crinkles with pain.

  The Truth Finder brings his hand down and says, “She has been faithful, my lord. Ashevi tried to seduce her and she rejected him.”

  Clearly Karolje has not expected to hear that. He sits back down. “Is she a traitor?”

  “No, my lord. She cares only about her children, and nothing else matters. She is loyal.”

  “A cow,” says Karolje. “A bitch.”

  The woman’s face colors. Mirantha knows the worst is over. When the king descends to insults, he has given up on getting anything.

  “Get her out of here,” he says.

  Outside the room, Mirantha almost collapses. Returned to her body, she can barely see through the pain in her head. The guard stands patiently while she regains strength. He hadn’t liked what happened either. How many are there like him, who still believe in honor? Tevin will need such men around him.

  * * *

  Karolje comes to her that night. He leaves the light on and undresses her. The room is cold. He has brought the whip.

  I can’t take much more of this, she thinks.

  DO YOU BELIEVE him?” Sparrow asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “He gave me my freedom when he gained nothing by it. Then he gave me my father’s worth, before he knew I was the same person he had freed. That’s two times he helped me when he didn’t have to.”

  “He’s using you.”

  “I know. We can use him.” Anza said it with more confidence than she felt. They were at Miloscz’s house. She felt the skepticism emanating from the circle around her. She did not blame them—she would find it hard to believe herself—but it was tiring. Irini’s face was particularly grim.

  “Use him?” Miloscz said now. “To what end? Is he going to kill the king or slay his brother? Of course not. The most likely thing is he gets himself killed. Or worse, goes into hiding and we’re saddled with protecting him. Even if he’s telling the truth, the risk is all on us and the benefit is to him. We don’t need more spies within the Citadel.”

  “I think we do,” Sparrow said. “The ones we have are not placed highly. If we’d known about Karolje’s plans to blow up his own men, we’d not have killed that guard commander yesterday. We could have planned some other destruction of our own to happen during the chaos.”

  “Did the prince know this was planned?” asked Miloscz. “From what he told this girl, he didn’t. He’s no more useful than a Citadel cook. Less, perhaps. A cook could poison the king.”

  Sparrow said, “Karolje’s blaming everything on the Tazekhs, and we’re out of sight. A prince can put us into view. We need that.”

  “What we need,” Apple said, “is a strategy. Ever since Ivanje was killed, we’ve been acting like a drunk in an alley, staggering around and bashing into things. We need to plan further ahead than a week or a month. When we have that in place, we can decide how useful one of Karolje’s sons can be. Since he’s not offering himself as a hostage, there’s no hurry.”

  Anza said, “He’s no use as a hostage. The king would let him die.”

  “The reason we don’t have a strategy,” said Jasper, “is that we have failed to agree on our goals. The prince wouldn’t be making this offer if we had shown we were stronger.”

  “He wouldn’t be offering at all if he thought we were weaker,” Anza said. Her body ached from the violence yesterday, and her heart ached with grief for Radd, and she had no patience for subtle argument.

  “Why is he offering?” asked Sparrow. “What turned him?”

  “I have a friend in the Guard. He told me the king is dying.” Better to put the secret on Jance than on the prince. “He’s afraid of what might happen in the Citadel when Karolje dies. I think Esvar is too. We might be headed for a civil war.”

  Sparrow said nothing at first. The silence was unnerving. Finally she said, “How sure is your friend that the king is dying?”

  “Sure. And he is sure enough there will be trouble that he advised me to leave the city.”

  Miloscz said, “I mistrust all of this. It’s too tempting. We’re being trapped. Even if the prince means what he says, he could still be being used by Karolje. Or by his brother. I am not willing to make Tevin a king in his father’s mold. We should consider that this invitation might be meant to split us.”

  Anza said, “There’s no way to know what either Esvar or his brother want without listening to them. He wasn’t lying when he told me he hates the king. Karolje’s been as brutal to him as to the rest of us.” She thought of the story of the man he had been forced to kill. Remembering hurt more than hearing it had. Damn it, was he coming to mean something to her? She couldn’t let that happen.

  Sparrow said, “I have no doubt that he wants an end to Karolje. But the resistance is not to be used as a step stool for anyone. We aren’t kingmakers.”

  “If Karolje is dying, someone will come to power. This way we have some influence in the matter,” Anza said.

  Jasper said, “A country needs a leader. Is this a resistance or a revolution?”

  He was a quiet man, brown and nondescript like a sparrow as Sparrow herself was not. That didn’t lessen the impact of his words. He had exposed the turning point.

  “Who among us would you trust to rule?” asked Sparrow. “The resistance is not about taking power for ourselves. It’s about ending the tyranny.”

  “That’s not enough,” said Miloscz. “We need to end the lock the Crown has on us altogether. There can’t be an opportunity for another Karolje to arise.”

  “Tyrants always find a way out of ashes,” said Apple.

  “We shouldn’t make it easy for them,” Miloscz said.

  The wooden planks beneath Anza’s feet were smoothed and polished. Miloscz was a rich man; his goals could not be the same as other people’s. Did he care who ruled as long as he had lower taxes? Sparrow wanted Karolje dead. Irini wanted revenge. Apple, Jasper, River, the others, she did not know what they wanted, but she do
ubted they all wanted the same thing. People were more complicated than that.

  Apple said, “I don’t want to discuss this in front of Esvar’s messenger. If we decide to listen to him, she can’t be allowed to tell him what we intend. And he certainly shouldn’t know anything if we decide not to listen.”

  “That’s fair,” said Sparrow. “Harpy, leave the room. I know you wouldn’t willingly reveal secrets, but they can’t force out of you anything you don’t know. If you’re going to be an intermediary, you only get to know what we decide you should tell him.”

  “I’ll be outside,” Anza said. She could at least practice shooting.

  After collecting her bow and arrows, she walked down the lawn toward the pavilion, stopping when she was close enough to hit the statue within it. Drawing the bow made her shoulders ache more. Her first shot fell short and to the side. The second was wild.

  Her mind would not break free of the memory of the arrow piercing the commander’s neck, of the sudden terror. The explosion.

  Karolje had taken her father, her friends. She would not let him take her ability to shoot away from her too. Her father had said, To shoot, you must breathe into your entire body. Every muscle you have must be aligned with your eyes, and there is no room for anything else. Breathe. Don’t think.

  She centered herself, shot. This time the arrow struck the statue. Not where she had aimed, but a hit was a hit.

  Soon she had fallen into the rhythm of it. Afternoon sun was hot on her hair and back, loosening the tight muscles. Set, draw, release, over and over. The only noises were the occasional buzz of insects and the soft coos of a dove somewhere in the trees. It would be easy to forget about everything else.

  When her name was called, it startled her. She turned around. Sparrow was walking toward her. Anza pointed at the quiver and the statue, went to gather the arrows. By the time she finished, Sparrow had reached her.

  “You shoot well,” Sparrow said. “I watched for a while.”

  “You didn’t see me start. If I only have one chance to shoot, I’m afraid I’m going to miss.”

  “Do you intend to go back to Radd’s?”

  “No.” She had gone earlier. Inside it seemed the same place it had been when they had left to go see the execution, just waiting for their return. Papers untidy on her desk, a glass with the dregs of wine, a stack of closed ledgers. She pulled out the three contracts she knew Radd had been working on and the two letters that needed to be answered and wrote brief responses advising of his death. Then she locked the door and went to meet Sparrow. “That’s all done.”

  “You could stay here.”

  “Then people won’t know how to find me.”

  “That’s the idea,” Sparrow said, her mouth hinting at amusement. “And it would give you much more time to practice.”

  “I’m not your only archer. And if I meet Esvar and someone follows me back, it gives you all away.”

  “Why do you trust him? What you said inside is good enough, but it’s not complete.”

  She unstrung the bow. The sun was hot, and she walked forward a few paces until she was in the shade of the pavilion. Sparrow followed. The lake was intensely bright. For a moment Anza considered telling Sparrow about the journal, about the faith the queen had had in her sons. But that was not her secret.

  She said, “He told me why my father was executed. He led a raid on the resistance. The leader of the resistance was killed instead of being taken prisoner. That was accounted a failure. The prince seems to think it wasn’t. And he told me that before we ever talked about me being in the resistance.”

  Sparrow said, “Skilled manipulators lay their traps well before anyone starts looking for them. As soon as he determined you were in the resistance, he began thinking about how he could use you.”

  “So you think this is a trap?”

  “I think the possibility has to be considered. And Miloscz was right when he said Esvar could be being used by other people. You always have to look below the top layers.”

  “Do you trust anyone at all?” Anza asked.

  “Only a few. It’s a hard way to live, but I do live.” Sparrow flexed her hands. “You’re to tell the prince we will listen, but there are conditions. He needs to send you back with something only he could own, something that is of great value to him. If he will give it into my keeping, I will treat with him through you. Not face-to-face, ever. I want to know what sort of help he expects. We aren’t an army. I won’t risk any more of my people in the Citadel as spies. I want a promise from his brother not to turn around and jail us when it’s over. If he won’t do all of that, we won’t talk.”

  “What are you going to ask him for?”

  “That depends on what he offers. He has to satisfy my other conditions first.”

  “I doubt he carries anything valuable with him. I’ll have to meet him twice.”

  “He can take all summer if he needs it,” Sparrow said. “It’s his move. Don’t bring his answer back to anyone but me.”

  “What if something happens to you?”

  “Jasper is the only one likely to negotiate in good faith. And that you are not to tell anyone else. Anyone.”

  “I know how to keep confidence,” Anza said. “Isn’t River trustworthy?”

  “He’s too hurt. He would try and fail. I’m going to have to keep other things from you for the moment, too. Meet the prince tomorrow, see what he says to our conditions. Treat the negotiations as you would work for Radd.”

  “And then? Will you still be here?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll send someone with a message.”

  Anza nodded. She and Sparrow stood in an almost companionable silence, looking down the lawn to the water. The smell of smoke had lifted by that morning. Nothing indicated the city was anything but peaceful. A duck flew by and landed on the water with a splash.

  “Come back in,” said Sparrow. “You’re needed. We have work to do.”

  * * *

  The Red Hawk Tavern was familiar to Anza; she had spent many evenings drinking in it while she was at the College. She thought that was why Esvar chose it. He was meeting her on her ground, not his, which should have signified more equal terms but only made her more suspicious that he was trying to get something from her. She had already fortified herself with two glasses of wine in a different tavern. The door was propped open. The inside was dark and smoky, as usual, and crowded and hot. It smelled of beer and grease. She didn’t see Esvar. She made her way to the back, excusing herself and sliding by and pushing. Only one man pinched her.

  Someone said her name. It was him, perfectly concealed in workman’s clothing and cap. Since the people in the tavern had probably never laid eyes on him except from a distance, he didn’t need much disguise. His guards needed more.

  She slid in on the high-backed bench opposite him. A wall was on her left, and they weren’t likely to be heard over the amount of noise other people were making. His chin was stubbled and his hair mussed under the cap. He seemed younger. Part disguise, part a way to put her at ease. She needed to be careful.

  “I ordered,” he said. She had to lean forward to hear him. He poured beer from a pitcher into a mug for her, then drank from his own. “I hope it’s to your taste.”

  “You’re paying,” she said, cutting off a my lord. She would play along with the disguise. She lifted the mug with both hands. “How did you know about this tavern?”

  He took off his cap and spun it on one finger. “When I was younger, I used to come to places like this pretty often. No one ever recognized me. I was damn proud of myself for living wildly outside the Citadel. Later on I realized my little rebellions had been watched and permitted like everything else. The box was bigger than I had thought, that’s all.”

  His contemplative tone was more frightening than rage or resentment would have been. She thought of Mirantha. I don’t remember anything of the trial. A woman went each day and watched, but she was not me. To make people deaden themselves, that
was an especially vicious way to kill.

  “Why did he allow it?” she asked.

  “It was a form of winnowing. If I was stupid enough to get killed in a brawl, he was well rid of me. If I lived, he could have turned dissipation into need.” He put the cap down. “Why didn’t you tell me Radd was killed? I would have been gentler that night.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter. He’s gone.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. She had been turning the question over and over with no conclusion. “I thought Radd took me on, that the College admitted me, on my own. Sparrow says my father bribed them.”

  “They would not have taken you if you weren’t fit,” he said. “Your father didn’t have the money for that sort of a bribe. I know what a captain’s rate of pay is. But for you to succeed at the College, you must have had an excellent tutor as a child.”

  “Karolje became king,” she said. “Men of learning found it prudent to hide.”

  “They did.” He paused. “I found out about your friend. Velyana Roshikian. She was killed shortly after she was arrested. Do you want to know more?”

  She tried to imagine telling Irini. It would be awful. “Was she tortured to death?”

  “No. She resisted a guard and died during the fight.”

  There was a whole story unspoken, an attempted rape or a desperate suicide, a shattered skull or broken neck. A trumped-up reason for arresting her. Whatever had made her a target in the first place. Esvar could find it all out if he hadn’t already, but to what end?

  If it was not invention. “That’s enough, but give me your word it’s the truth.”

  “I so swear.”

  There was no point in asking for his word if she wasn’t going to believe it. “Thank you.”

  “Karolje’s recordkeeping is meticulous,” he replied, hard and bitter.