Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs)

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Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs) Page 7

by Margaret Weis


  “The stables will be in an uproar,” said Sophia. “Soldiers will almost certainly have my carriage under guard.”

  “Where are the horse barns?” Kate asked.

  “The buildings form a square around a main quadrangle,” Sophia explained. “In the center is an open grassy area for riding and training. The coach houses are in a building to the west. The griffins are stabled in the Queen’s Stables, which are to the north, and the horses and wyverns are in the Equestrian Stables, which are to the south. They keep the horses away from the griffins. Griffins are said to be quite fond of horse meat.”

  Kate dreaded the thought of having to ride a horse, and she was tempted to try to convince griffins to carry them, but she immediately rejected the idea. Griffins were proud beasts, very touchy and difficult to handle. They agreed to carry a rider as a favor, and then they had to be flattered and cajoled and paid for their services. And griffins wouldn’t go anywhere near dragons.

  Sophia seemed to know what Kate was thinking. “We should avoid the griffins. They adored the queen. The beasts will be shocked and upset to hear she has died. I doubt if anyone could ride them this night or maybe ever.”

  Kate and Sophia had come to the end of the garden and they could now see the Royal Stables, a sight that was astounding to Kate, who had expected just another horse barn, though perhaps larger than most. The red brick complex seemed at first glimpse to be as immense as the palace. The buildings were two stories high, with lead-paned windows, and topped with tall, ornamental spires, all surrounded by a brick wall. The entrance was a double wrought-iron gate between two marble posts surmounted by statues of griffins rampant. The gate stood open.

  Soldiers guarded the entrance, stopping the carriages that were leaving for the palace, trying to question the drivers and servants. They seemed to be having a difficult time. People who worked and lived at the stables had formed a crowd around the soldiers, shouting at them, asking questions and demanding answers.

  Noting Kate’s concerned look, Sophia said, “Don’t worry. We don’t have to go through the gate. That building at the far end is the riding school. I took lessons there when I was a student at University after the war. The school has its own entrance and it’s attached to the stables. No one will be there tonight, of course.”

  “Do you think the soldiers will be guarding it?” Kate asked.

  Sophia considered, then shook her head. “I wouldn’t think so. They appear to have work enough to do as it is.”

  They had to wake Bandit, who had fallen asleep. He whimpered in protest, but permitted Sophia to carry him. Leaving the garden, they kept to the shadows cast by the wall of poplar trees.

  They gave a wide berth to the carriageway running in front of the entrance, where soldiers posted at the main gate were trying to placate the stable hands and search the carriages.

  The riding school was a single-story building that stood to the south of the main gate. The windows were dark; the school’s horse stalls were empty, and there was no sign of soldiers. Kate handed Sophia the lantern and carried Bandit, to give her a rest. They ran across the open carriageway and fetched up against one of the walls, keeping in the deep shadows. For the convenience of the stable hands none of the doors were locked, so they easily slipped inside, then stopped to listen.

  All the noise and commotion was coming from the quadrangle, the coach house, and the main gate. The stables were quiet. Sophia knew her way around and she led Kate past the empty stalls across the darkened quadrangle toward the Queen’s Stables.

  The area was dark; only a few lights appeared at intervals and those probably belonged to the night watchmen, who were slowly and methodically checking on their charges.

  Kate and Sophia slipped in the back and were immediately assailed by the smell of the horses. The smell brought unpleasant memories to Kate. She nervously kept clear of the stalls.

  The horses had heard the unusual stir and commotion outside and they were wakeful and restless. As Kate and Sophia walked past the stalls, the horses thrust their heads over the partitions to see what was going on.

  Sophia approached the animals, speaking to them soothingly. Some were merely curious and inquisitive, sniffing at her and growing calm at her touch. Others were nervous, though, rearing back their heads, flattening their ears, and shying away from her. Sophia did not approach them.

  Kate was worried about Bandit and how he would react to horses, but Sophia said she took him with her when she went riding and he was used to them. Bandit was more at ease than Kate. The dog had perked up. Kate put him down. The dog trotted along at Sophia’s heels, sniffing at the hay on the floor and occasionally sneezing.

  Kate paused at a window, glanced outside, and was alarmed to see one of the night watchmen come out of one of the stables carrying a lantern. She watched him, thinking he must be making his rounds and wondering uneasily if he would head in this direction.

  The man was walking away from the stables, however, not toward them. The lantern light crossed the quadrangle and headed toward the coach houses, and she sighed in relief.

  “The watchmen are prowling about,” she warned Sophia, who had stopped to stroke the nose of a large black horse with a white blaze. “What are you doing with that animal? We don’t have time—”

  “This is Charlie,” Sophia explained. “I came to know him when I visited the queen. I will ride him. Now we must find a horse for you—”

  “I can’t,” said Kate. She looked askance at the horse as Sophia led Charlie out of the stall, and backed away. “I don’t like horses.”

  Sophia was perplexed. “Kate, you ride dragons that fly among the clouds! You said yourself we need to leave quickly. This was your idea, and it is a good one.”

  “I know.” Kate swallowed. “It’s just … When I was a little girl, the horse I was riding jumped a fence and I fell off. He stumbled and broke his leg. They had to shoot him. Right there in front of me.”

  Kate could still hear the horse screaming and see him thrashing about in pain. She remembered the stable master standing over the horse, pressing the gun against its head. He pulled the trigger, as tears streamed down his weathered face.

  “Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry. Don’t worry. Charlie can carry us both. You will ride pillion. Stay here with him while I fetch the saddle.”

  She handed Kate the reins and Kate took them, keeping as far from Charlie as she could. The horse apparently thought as little of Kate as she did of him, for he rolled his eyes and snorted at her. Finally, after what seemed like much longer than a few moments to Kate, Sophia returned, lugging a small, lightweight leather saddle.

  Kate was impressed to see Sophia heave the saddle onto Charlie’s back and strap it into place.

  “Where did you learn to saddle your own horse?” she asked. “I would have thought you had an army of grooms to do that for you.”

  Sophia smiled. “The countess taught me. She says every woman should know how to do three things: saddle a horse, load a pistol, and bake a loaf of bread.”

  “You know two more than I do,” said Kate. “What about Bandit?”

  “He will ride in front…” Sophia began.

  An eerie wailing sound—part ragged caw and part grief-filled roar—shattered the stillness. The wail began softly and slowly rose in intensity. Kate clutched at Sophia, who grasped her hand.

  “The griffins are mourning their queen,” Sophia said softly.

  Their cries throbbed and pulsed. Kate could feel their grief in her bones.

  The keening swelled, rending the night. The strange sound unsettled the horses. Already restless, they whinnied and kicked at the stalls.

  Charlie lunged sideways, showing the whites of his eyes and yanking on the reins, almost dragging Sophia off her feet. Kate stumbled backward, away from the enormous hooves. Sophia knew how to handle him. She quickly seized hold of the bridle and swung Charlie’s head around so he had to look at her, and talked to him soothingly.

  Kate grabbed Bandit and duc
ked into a corner. Sophia steadied the horse and pulled herself up into the saddle. “The stable hands will be coming. We don’t have much time. Give me Bandit.”

  Kate lifted Bandit up onto the saddle and he lay down across the front. Sophia reached out her hand to Kate. She hesitated a moment, a sick feeling in her gut.

  The stables were in an uproar. Across the paddock, the wyverns began shrieking and biting and flinging themselves against the walls of their stalls. Grooms and stable hands ran from their quarters, converging on the horse and wyvern stables, while others were trying to calm the carriage horses. No one dared go near the griffins.

  Kate grabbed hold of Sophia’s hand and managed to awkwardly scramble onto Charlie’s back. Sophia gave his flanks a little kick and he lurched forward, almost unseating Kate. She flung her arms around Sophia and held on tightly.

  “I can’t breathe!” Sophia protested.

  “Sorry!” Kate muttered and eased up a little.

  Charlie galloped out of the barn and into the carriageway. Someone shouted that a horse was loose, but everyone was too busy trying to control the other animals to chase after one.

  Sophia guided Charlie onto a road that ran behind the stables. Judging by the wheel ruts, it was used by wagons transporting goods and supplies. Kate jounced up and down on the horse’s rump, holding fast to Sophia in fear of being thrown off.

  They rode about two miles and saw no signs of pursuit. Sophia slowed Charlie to a trot, so as not to tire him out. The road was dark, lined with oak trees that still retained some of their leaves. Even at this distance, though, they could still hear the griffins wailing.

  Kate had assumed the road would be empty this time of night and she was dismayed to hear the sound of wagon wheels coming toward them. Sophia didn’t seem worried, though, and she calmly guided Charlie into the shadows as the wagon rumbled by.

  “Night deliveries,” Sophia explained. “They’re bringing supplies, especially perishables such as fresh vegetables and milk that are delivered daily.”

  Two more wagons rolled past them as they waited in the shadows. No more came after and Sophia guided Charlie back onto the road. They followed it through the palace grounds until they reached the outer boundary. One final obstacle remained: the wall that surrounded the palace and a gate with a guardhouse. A light shone in the guardhouse, revealing two soldiers inside. The gate stood open to admit the delivery wagons.

  Sophia slowed the horse and turned around in the saddle to confer with Kate.

  “Those guards are going to be suspicious the moment they see us—two lowly housemaids riding a fine horse.”

  “We’ve made it this far,” said Kate. “Let me do the talking. Your Rosian accent will give you away. Follow my lead and be ready to ride like the Evil One is after us when I give the word.”

  Sophia nodded and they rode slowly toward the gate. Kate wondered if these were Smythe’s soldiers, and if so, whether they had received orders to watch for the princess.

  “Start crying,” she whispered. “Hide your face.”

  Sophia obligingly put her hand over her face and began to sob.

  A soldier carrying a lantern came out to stand in the road. Kate was relieved to see he wore his rifle slung over his shoulder, not expecting trouble. He lifted the lantern and stared at them in wonderment. He appeared puzzled at first and then disapproving.

  “Here now, what do you two girls think you’re doing? Out for a joy ride? And where did you get that horse?” He frowned at Sophia, who was sobbing uncontrollably. “What’s the matter with her?”

  Kate gave a gulp and wiped her eyes and spoke breathlessly, jumbling her words together. “Oh, sir, we are so frightened! We had to get away and we found this horse and it seemed like God Hisself sent it, so me and Ida took it, not meaning no harm, sir, but there was the explosion and we thought the ceiling was going to come down on top of us, and then William the footman, he says the queen was dead—”

  “The queen dead?” the guard repeated, aghast. “Hey, Wilson, they say the queen is dead!”

  His fellow left the guardhouse and came to join him. He was older and clearly did not believe them.

  “What a load of crap! You two! Get down off that horse—”

  “Now!” Kate cried.

  Sophia kicked her heels into Charlie as Kate struck the horse on the rump with the flat of her palm. Charlie leaped forward, forcing the guards to dive to either side of the road to avoid being run down.

  They clambered to their feet and shouted for them to stop, threatening to open fire. Looking back, Kate saw them fumbling with their rifles.

  “Look out!” Sophia yelled at the driver of a wagon heading for the gate. He had to swerve to miss Charlie, and he shook his fist at them as they galloped past.

  They kept to the road and finally arrived in the park outside the walls of the palace where the common folk could stroll about beneath the trees, peer through the wrought-iron palisade and gape at the splendor. Kate had jumped off the Naofa onto the roof of a building not far from here and she knew where she was.

  The church clocks chimed the hour of one of the clock. The street was deserted, save for an occasional solitary cab or wagon. The taverns had closed, the drunkards would be in their beds or lying in alleys. Most of Haever slept in happy ignorance. The terrible news of the queen’s death would flow out of the palace with the coming of daylight and spread through the city like raging flood waters, drowning peace in grief and sorrow, outrage and fear.

  Sophia slowed Charlie, who was scarcely even breathing hard. She looked back at Kate.

  “What do we do now?”

  Throughout Freya, as news of their loss spread, a bereft nation would be asking the same question.

  “We go home,” said Kate. “To Dalgren.”

  SEVEN

  Thomas watched the door slam shut as Smythe and two soldiers left to search the Rose Room. Two more soldiers stayed with Thomas and Sir Richard with orders to prevent them from leaving. The soldiers took up positions in front of the door, holding their rifles across their chests. Thomas was interested to note that when they answered Smythe, the soldiers spoke with thick Guundaran accents—members of Smythe’s Army of Retribution, disguised as soldiers belonging to the Twelfth Westlands regiment.

  An astute move, Thomas thought, giving Smythe grudging credit. The Twelfth Westlands regiment was made up of Guundaran mercenaries who served in the Freyan Royal Army and, indeed, most armies around the world. Guundarans were much admired for their heroism and tenacity in battle. No one would think to question their presence in the palace, especially when the palace was in the grip of tragedy and chaos.

  Thomas had been a soldier himself. He had fought alongside Guundarans during the war against the Bottom Dwellers and he judged these men to be veterans of that war and perhaps others.

  He went to speak to Sir Richard, who was slumped in his chair, his face drawn with pain, his eyes closed.

  “How are you feeling, my lord?” he asked.

  “Pay no heed to me, sir,” said Richard. “We must think of how to free Your Majesty—”

  A shot rang out nearby, and then another. The sharp cracks echoed through the hallway.

  Sir Richard sat bolt upright. “What the devil was that? He would not be mad enough to kill the princess!”

  “On the contrary, sir, he has already assassinated a queen,” said Thomas.

  He strode toward the door. The guards raised their rifles, barring his way.

  “Let me pass!” Thomas commanded angrily.

  “Keep back, sir,” said one, respectful, but firm and cold. “You don’t want to get hurt.”

  “We are responsible for Your Majesty’s well-being, sir,” said the other. They both spoke Freyan, though with a thick accent. “Stand away from the door.”

  He turned to his fellow, switching to Guundaran. “Find out what is going on, who fired those shots.”

  “Your Highness, he is right,” said Richard. “You must stay here for your ow
n safety!”

  Thomas seemed to capitulate, but as the guard shifted the rifle in order to open the door, Thomas lunged at him, hoping to twist the rifle out of his hand.

  He managed to seize hold of it, but before he could wrest it away, the other guard struck him expertly in the back with the butt of the rifle, near the kidney. Thomas collapsed, dropping to his hands and knees.

  Sir Richard lurched to his feet. “How dare you strike your prince?”

  “He is not my prince,” returned the soldier in his thick accent.

  The door opened and Colonel Smythe strode into the room. He came up short at the sight of Thomas, who was still on the floor, gasping in agony.

  “He tried to escape, sir,” the guard reported.

  Smythe bent down to assist Thomas. “Allow me to help you, sir.”

  Thomas would have liked to have angrily refused the man’s aid, but at this point he could scarcely breathe for the lancing pain. Smythe put his arm around Thomas and assisted him to hobble to a chair.

  “These men are Guundaran mercenaries. They owe no allegiance to you, sir,” Smythe cautioned. “They are loyal to those who pay them, and I pay them very well.”

  “What were those gunshots?” Thomas demanded, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Is the princess safe?”

  “The matter does not concern you, sir—”

  “The hell it doesn’t!” Thomas cried angrily. “For better or worse, you made me ruler. Tell me what is going on!”

  “If you insist, sir. Corporal Jennings discovered the princess and a friend in the Rose Room. Jennings recognized the friend as a female spy who works for Sir Henry Wallace, this man’s treacherous brother. When Jennings attempted to apprehend the two, the woman shot him, wounding him. The two women managed to escape. We will find them soon enough, however.”

  Thomas could scarcely contain his relief. He thought he had heard Kate’s voice and Bandit’s bark and he was glad to know she and Sophia were together. At least for the moment, the two appeared to have been able to evade capture.

  Smythe shifted his gaze to Richard, who was shakily standing with one bloodstained hand pressed over the wound in his shoulder, glowering at the colonel.

 

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