“I will not harm you, sir,” Smythe was careful to assure him. “You are the true and rightful king. I need you, and I hope you will eventually realize that you need me. We will make a good team. But in case you don’t come to your senses, I am holding His Grace as surety for your good behavior, as well as your mother and father, who are now prisoners in Bheldem. They will remain safe so long as you do what you are bidden. Your first test will come with the dawn.”
Smythe had rehearsed that speech many times during the long watches of the night in that wretched fortress in Bheldem. Thomas would see that he had no choice. The enemy had him surrounded on all sides. He would have to make an unconditional surrender.
He went on to tell Thomas a great deal more, explaining his plan to him, how he intended to blame the Rosians for the death of the queen and implicate Princess Sophia in the plot.
“You will start a war!” Thomas protested, horrified.
“Such is my intent,” said Smythe.
All had gone according to plan thus far. His plot to kill the queen with a green-beam gun had succeeded. A few minor problems had arisen, but Smythe had dealt with those swiftly and effectively. He had been quick to take advantage of God-given opportunities. Learning that Princess Sophia of Rosia had been dining with the queen this night, he had sent his soldiers under command of Corporal Jennings to find the princess, place her under arrest.
Smythe’s only regret was giving way to his temper and shooting Sir Richard Wallace, an influential member of the House of Nobles and a leader in the Faithful. That had been a mistake, but he had lost patience with the old fool. Too late, Smythe had remembered he would need the support of the Faithful and the House of Nobles in days to come and Richard could provide it. At least, he hadn’t killed him; only winged him. Smythe was confident he could frighten Richard into keeping his mouth shut and doing what he was told.
Thomas cast a glance toward the door to the balcony that was standing wide open. The thought came to Smythe that the young man might be contemplating jumping off the balcony to his death.
“One of you, shut those doors,” he ordered. “His Highness finds the sound of gunfire distressing.”
As the soldiers did his bidding, Smythe walked over to Thomas and placed his hand on his shoulder. No man was supposed to touch the person of the king; Smythe not only touched him, he tightened his grip.
“Make up your mind to accept God’s will and this trial will be easier for you. You will be king, Your Highness, for as long as I say you will be king.”
Thomas regarded him with a look of contempt and struck his hand aside.
Smythe shrugged. “At least Your Highness has the wit to act like a king.”
He turned to his soldiers and gestured to Phillip, who was starting to regain consciousness. “Take His Grace to Offdom Tower and lock him in a cell. Do not worry, Your Highness,” he added as the guards picked up Phillip and hauled him away. “So long as you behave, His Grace will be well treated.”
He fancied he could see Thomas sink beneath his words, crushed and humbled. Thomas disdained to answer him and Smythe again saw him glance toward the balcony door.
Why the devil does he keep looking that direction? Smythe wondered.
He recalled that Thomas had been standing outside on that balcony when he had entered the room. Thomas had left the balcony to confront him and the door remained open behind him. Smythe had been preoccupied with more important matters and had paid little heed. A chill wind was blowing into the room. Leaving the door standing wide open made no sense—unless Thomas had left it open for a reason.
Smythe walked outside to investigate. As he passed Thomas, he thought he noted a crack in the king’s calm demeanor.
The balcony was not large, and Smythe was soon satisfied that no one was lurking in the darkness. He walked to the stone rail and peered down to the ground below.
The palace walls shone with faint white radiance that came from the magical constructs placed into the stone. The magical constructs lit the night with a pale glow, like moonlight. The only people he could see in the garden were his troops, wearing the uniforms of the palace guard.
He looked to either side. Every room on this level had its own balcony that overlooked the palace gardens. The adjacent balcony was not ten feet away. The balcony appeared deserted, its glass windows dark. He was about to go back inside when he heard the clock in the room behind him chime midnight and he could faintly hear a clock in the room next door chime the hour.
Someone standing on that balcony could have overheard his conversation with Thomas.
“Who was in that room?” Smythe asked one of the soldiers.
“His Highness was there with Sir Richard, sir,” the soldier answered. “We brought them both to this room on your orders.”
Smythe was struck by a sudden unwelcome thought. He had never before been inside the palace, but he had studied the layout extensively in order to deploy his men. He recalled that Sir Richard had brought Thomas to the Rose Room, which contained a secret passage. Sir Richard had chosen that room for that very reason, for he had smuggled Thomas through the secret passage into the palace to meet with the queen.
Smythe walked over to confront the wounded man.
“Sir Richard, is that room known as the Rose Room?”
Richard lay back in his chair, his hand pressed over the bullet hole in his arm. His face was white and haggard, but he rallied enough to glare at Smythe. “Go to the devil.”
“You two, keep watch on His Highness,” Smythe ordered. “He is not to leave this room.”
Drawing his pistol, Smythe flung open the door and walked out into the hallway. His sudden appearance startled the guards.
“Where is Corporal Jennings?”
“I don’t know, sir,” said one. “We haven’t seen him since he posted us here. He said he had orders to search for the princess.”
“Did you see anyone come out of that room?” Smythe demanded, gesturing.
The guard blinked. “What room, sir?”
“That room!”
Smythe pointed at the door to the Rose Room, only no door was there, which meant no room was there. But the room that didn’t exist had a balcony. He had not imagined that.
“Illusion magic,” he stated. “There is a door. The magic tricks your mind into thinking there isn’t. Concentrate your thoughts and you will see through the illusion.”
The moment he spoke the words, he broke the spell and had the satisfaction of seeing the magic shimmer and ripple like the surface of a pond when a stone hits the water. The door to the Rose Room appeared. The soldier gave an audible gasp of astonishment.
“I know of only one person who is adept at casting illusion magic,” Smythe said grimly. “I believe we have found the Princess Sophia.”
He looked back and saw Thomas tending to Sir Richard’s gunshot wound and pointedly ignoring Smythe. The prince could not fool him, however. Smythe fancied he saw Thomas smile and he guessed the reason why.
“The princess was hiding on the balcony of the Rose Room, wasn’t she, sir? That was why you left the door open, so she could hear us.”
“On the contrary, sir,” Thomas returned coolly. “I left the door open to rid this room of the foul stench.”
He looked pointedly at Smythe.
FIVE
Smythe had judged astutely when he realized that someone on the balcony of the Rose Room could have overheard his conversation with Thomas. Kate and Sophia had both been out on the balcony, hiding from his soldiers, and while they had not been able to hear everything, they had heard enough.
They had listened in horror to Smythe telling Thomas the queen was dead and boasting that he was responsible. They had then heard the sound of a pistol shot, and after that, they had heard Smythe ask a “Corporal Jennings” if he had found Sophia.
They had not been able to hear the man’s reply, but they heard Smythe’s order: “Search every room on this floor until you find her. Go room by room.”
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“Jennings mustn’t find us here!” Kate said urgently, jumping to her feet. “He knows me. Smythe will know we were eavesdropping. We have to leave. Quickly, before the search gets organized!”
She opened the balcony doors and entered the Rose Room. Sophia picked up her dog, Bandit, and hurried after her. The room was dark, for they had not dared light a lamp. Their eyes had already adjusted to the darkness out on the balcony, and they swiftly made their way through the room, doing their best to avoid bumping into the furniture.
They had just reached the door when they heard voices out in the hallway. They both froze in alarm, and Sophia clamped her hand over Bandit’s muzzle to keep him from barking.
“But, Corporal Jennings,” one of the soldiers was saying, “there’s nothing here. This is a wall.”
“We are meant to think this is a wall, Sergeant,” said a voice Kate recognized as Jennings’. “But it isn’t. It’s an illusion spell. Remember, the princess is a witch.”
“A witch?” Sophia gasped, shocked.
“No time! Hide!” Kate whispered back frantically.
Hiding places were few and time was short. Sophia crouched behind a sofa, holding Bandit in her arms. Kate ducked behind a curtain. She hoped Jennings would simply look inside, glance around, and then move on.
Parting the curtain slightly, Kate saw the door open. Jennings and his companion, the sergeant, were both carrying bull’s-eye lanterns, which they sent flashing about the room. To Kate’s dismay, they both walked into the room.
“Close the door, Sergeant,” Jennings ordered. “We must conduct a thorough search.”
Kate bit her lip. Smythe would catch both of them, and he would make short work of her, for when she had previously encountered him, he had realized by the horrified expression on her face that she recognized him as the man who had murdered Lady Odila. Needing a weapon, she looked around and saw the fireplace, directly opposite.
The sergeant turned to close the door.
Jennings drew his pistol and used it to savagely strike a blow to the back of the sergeant’s skull, dropping the man to the floor. Jennings stepped over the body, locked the door, and then turned around, holding the lantern.
“I know you and a companion are in here, Your Highness. Only a savant could cast such a spell.”
As Sophia slowly rose up from behind the couch, Bandit wriggled in her arms and started to growl. Kate stepped out from behind the curtain and hurried over to stand protectively near Sophia. She cast a surreptitious glance at the fireplace, noting that the tools used to clean it rested in a stand beside the grate.
“I am glad I found you, ma’am,” Jennings was saying in a respectful tone. “We must hurry. We don’t have much time.”
Sophia gave Jennings a defiant stare. “I do not know what you mean. What are you going to do with us?”
“I am going to take you to a place of safety, ma’am. I am an agent for the Countess de Marjolaine.”
Both women regarded him in astonishment. Bandit growled.
“I agree with the dog,” said Kate, recovering from her shock. “Don’t trust him, Sophia. He works for Smythe.”
“You may trust me, Your Highness,” said Jennings gravely. “I have a message from the countess. ‘In the sky, I see a bee plucking its lute.’”
Sophia gasped in relief and extended a hand to him. “Thank God!” She turned to Kate to explain. “This man is telling the truth. He knows the code. The words are from a nursery rhyme the countess taught me as a child.”
“We have no time to lose, Your Highness,” Jennings urged. “The colonel is searching for you and for this young woman as well.”
“We know. We heard. He thinks I’m a witch and he’s going to use me to start a war with Rosia!” Sophia flushed, indignant. “But how can we escape? His soldiers are everywhere!”
“This room contains a secret passage,” said Jennings. “The door is behind a painting that depicts a woman holding roses.”
“I saw it,” said Kate. “It’s over there.”
Jennings lit the bull’s-eye lantern and shined the light in the direction she indicated. The woman in the painting seemed to step out of the darkness to greet them. Jennings hurried over to the painting, accompanied by Sophia, who was still carrying Bandit. Kate circled around past the fireplace, surreptitiously picked up the brass poker and hid it in the folds of her cloak, then joined them.
“How is Phillip—His Grace?” Sophia asked worriedly.
“He was beaten and drugged,” said Jennings. “But don’t worry, ma’am. His Grace is a strong young man. He will recover.”
“And Thomas? What will happen to him?” Sophia asked. “We heard that horrible man claim to have him in his power.”
Jennings shook his head. “I do not know His Highness well, but he appears to be courageous and resourceful. You must think of yourself now, ma’am. The colonel plans to implicate you in the queen’s death. He could have you executed.”
“I am a royal princess of Rosia! He would not dare!” Sophia exclaimed, shocked.
“You do not know the colonel,” Jennings replied grimly. “He would dare a great deal.”
They gathered around the painting, which was an immense, full-length portrait mounted in a gold-painted and elaborately carved heavy wooden frame.
Jennings flashed the lantern up and down the frame. “The magical latch is supposed to be concealed somewhere among the carvings. I know the magic still works, for Sir Richard brought His Highness through this passage only a few hours ago.”
All three of them were crafters and they studied the frame. They could see the faint blue of magical constructs glowing amid the carved roses and lilies, grapes and pears and leafy vines and garlands. But the constructs were very old, many of them broken and starting to fade.
“I wish I knew what we were searching for,” Sophia said, frustrated.
“Look at those roses in the center of the frame on the right!” Kate said, pointing.
“Did you find the construct?” Jennings asked.
“No, but I think it must be there. You can see where the dust has been cleaned off, as though a hand had recently touched it—”
“I see the construct!” Sophia exclaimed. “Kate is right. It is concealed beneath those roses. The magic is quite cunningly done.”
“Can you unlock it?” Kate asked.
“Yes, I believe so,” said Sophia. “Here, hold Bandit.”
She handed the dog to Kate. Bandit squirmed, but he had stopped growling. The spaniel gave a whimper, then resignedly settled into Kate’s arms. He was undoubtedly tired of being manhandled.
The clock in the Rose Room chimed midnight. Kate could hear the faint echo of the clock in the next room where Thomas was a prisoner. She hoped he knew she knew the truth. She hoped he knew she would do everything in her power to help him.
Sophia ran both hands over the carving on the frame.
“One, two,” said Sophia, touching the constructs in turn, counting as she went. She drew a line between them with her finger. “Three.”
The constructs connected with a bright blue flash, and they heard a click as the latch gave way. The painting moved slightly, then a crack appeared in the wall behind the frame, and the door slowly swung open.
They stared into darkness lit here and there by a faint glimmer of blue.
“The passage will take Your Highness to the back of the palace—” Jennings began.
“Hush!” Kate whispered. “Listen!”
Someone was outside the Rose Room, rattling the door handle, reporting that the door was locked.
“I know you are inside, Princess Sophia,” Smythe called through the door. “Your Highness would do well to surrender.”
“You must hurry, Your Highness!” said Jennings. “Into the passage! Quickly!”
“Smash down the door,” Smythe ordered.
Sophia darted into the passage, accompanied by Kate, carrying Bandit and the poker. Jennings started to shut the door.
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“You must come with us, sir!” Sophia said softly, reaching out to him. “Smythe will know you helped us escape!”
“I will tell him I was out on the balcony looking for you,” Jennings replied. He drew one of his pistols and held it out to Kate. “I will trade this for the poker you are trying to conceal. I wish I could give you the lantern, but if the colonel saw it was missing, he would grow suspicious.”
Kate wordlessly handed over the poker, took the pistol, and tucked it into the waistband of her slops. Jennings shut the door. The latch clicked and they heard him walking away. Then they heard a gunshot.
Sophia paled and put her hand to her mouth.
“Jennings! Oh, God!” she murmured.
“We must keep going,” Kate said, urging her along.
She placed Bandit on the floor, turned around, started to take a step, and nearly pitched headfirst down the steep staircase.
She gasped and reached for the wall to steady herself, as Sophia caught hold of her and dragged her back.
Now that she took time to look, she could see that the landing was narrow, only a few feet wide. The staircase plunged straight down into darkness, its walls dimly lit by the faint blue glow of magical constructs which must be as old as those on the picture frame. The stairs were made of stone, rough and uneven.
Bandit pattered down the stairs, glad to be free and apparently determined to stay that way, for he ignored Sophia’s whispered calls to come back. Kate could hear the sounds of the wooden door splintering and Smythe issuing orders.
“You go ahead with Bandit,” said Kate, drawing the pistol. “I’ll be right behind you. Be careful. Those stairs are treacherous.”
Gathering up her skirts, Sophia placed one hand on the wall and began to descend. Kate slowly crept down the stairs after her. She could hear Smythe’s voice coming from the Rose Room. She couldn’t understand what he was saying, but she didn’t have to. She quickened her steps as much as she dared.
Sophia reached the bottom of the stairs and came to a halt. The hall branched off in three directions.
“Which way?” she asked as Kate caught up with her.
Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs) Page 5
