Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs)

by Margaret Weis

  Thomas recognized both of them in shocked dismay. He heard Kate ask softly, “Where is he? Do you see anyone?”

  “No,” Sophia replied, sounding worried. “I hope nothing has happened. What should we do?”

  “We will wait,” Kate said. “He will be here. He’s been delayed, that’s all.”

  Thomas didn’t know what to do. He did not want Kate and Sophia involved in such a dangerous plot. If he remained hidden, they would both give up and go away.

  But … this was Kate. Thomas knew her, knew she would never “give up and go away.” Far from it. She could take it into her head to march into the palace in search of him and put herself and Sophia into even greater jeopardy.

  “I have to make Kate see reason,” Thomas said to himself as he went out to meet them. “Convince her to leave.”

  He took care to rustle through the leaves so that he did not appear to be creeping up on them. Even so, the sound of his footfalls startled them both.

  “Stop where I can see you!” Kate warned. “I have a pistol!”

  “It’s me, Kate!” Thomas called softly, as he emerged from the shadows.

  Kate sighed in relief and lowered her pistol.

  “Is everything all right?” Sophia asked worriedly. “Is Phillip safe?”

  “As far as I know,” Thomas replied. “Where is Sir Henry?”

  “We have no idea,” said Kate. “He might be dead. We came to free Phillip instead.”

  “Then you have both acted foolishly,” Thomas said sternly. “Especially you, Sophia! It is far too dangerous. Smythe’s men are searching everywhere for you.”

  “Then this is likely the last place they will look,” said Sophia calmly.

  “And we are not being foolish,” Kate said irately. “We need her magic—”

  “No, we don’t, because I’m calling this off,” said Thomas. “You two go home.”

  Kate confronted him, her eyes glinting. “So we let Pip die?”

  “He would not want you to risk your lives for his sake,” said Thomas.

  “Bloody hell!” Kate cried, losing patience. “We are going to save Pip and you can help us or not, as you choose!”

  “We have a plan,” Sophia added.

  Thomas regarded them helplessly.

  “Besides, it’s too late to call off Dalgren,” said Kate. “He’ll be getting into position. Are you coming with us? Or are you going back to your nice warm bed?”

  “I’m coming,” said Thomas grimly. At least if he was with them, he might be able to protect them. “What is your plan?”

  “You are a drunken libertine taking advantage of two serving maids. Stand still.”

  Kate placed the basket on the ground, took out the Calvados, uncorked the jug and splashed some onto Thomas’s clothing.

  “What was that for?” Thomas gasped and shivered as the cold air hit his wet clothes.

  “So we can get past the guards,” said Kate. She handed him the jug. “Take a drink, swish it around in your mouth, and spit it out.”

  Thomas obediently took a swig of the fiery liquid, coughed, and spit it on the ground. Kate took the jug back and poured Calvados over her own clothes and Sophia’s. Then she took a drink, and handed the jug to Sophia, who drank as well, choking and grimacing in disgust.

  “We’re ready,” Kate said. She gave Thomas the black silk mask. “Put that over your face.”

  “Take off the royal sash and those rings you’re wearing,” Sophia ordered.

  Thomas obediently put on the mask, removed the sash, and took off the rings.

  “I will not take off this one,” he said, referring to the ring of King James. “Her Majesty gave it to me.”

  “Then turn it around so that the diamonds are not visible,” said Kate. “You take the lead. You know where you are going and we don’t.”

  “Where are we going?” Thomas asked.

  “Offdom Tower, of course,” said Kate. “I’ll carry the basket.”

  Thomas was starting to understand at least part of their plan. He led them across a deserted lane, taking care to keep to the shadows and avoid the entrance to the palace, where the guards would be yawning their way through their shift.

  They rounded the west wing of the palace, now under repair, the hole in the wall covered by scaffolding.

  “Smythe was the one who gave the orders to kill Queen Mary,” said Thomas. “He boasted to me of the murder.”

  “We know,” said Kate. “Sophia and I heard him. We were in the Rose Room next door.”

  “That was you,” said Thomas. “I thought I heard your voice. And Bandit’s bark.”

  They entered the courtyard at the rear of the palace, avoiding the glow of the walls for fear the patrol boat would see them. The square edifice of the tower stood apart from the palace, but the two were inextricably linked in Thomas’s mind—the dark half of a bright moon.

  “What are those lights?” Kate asked, stopping.

  “The guard box at the entrance to the tower staircase,” Thomas replied.

  “How many guards?” Kate asked.

  “Two inside the box, Guundaran mercenaries. They work for Smythe,” Thomas warned, remembering clearly the Guundaran soldier telling him, You’re not my king.

  “Have you been inside the tower?” Sophia asked. “Do you know your way around?”

  “Yes. Once we are past the guards at the gate, we enter the staircase tower. Pip’s cell is at the top level, up six flights of stairs.”

  “Any other prisoners?” Kate asked.

  “The other cells are empty, the floors sealed off. There are two guards posted outside Pip’s cell door, which is guarded by powerful magical warding spells, impossible to break.”

  “We know,” said Sophia complacently.

  “You have the key?” Thomas asked.

  “Better,” said Kate. “We have Dalgren.”

  She set the basket on the ground, handed him the jug of Calvados, and took out a ball of yarn. Thomas watched in amazement as she traced constructs on the ball with her fingers, then held it poised in her palm. Sophia drew out what appeared to be a sachet from her pocket.

  “I’m going to signal Dalgren,” said Kate. “When he sees the flare, he will give us time to enter the tower.”

  Thomas frowned. “Give us time before he does what?”

  “Attacks the tower,” said Kate.

  “Attack!” Thomas repeated, shocked. “But what about Phillip? He’ll be trapped inside!”

  “Do you trust me?” Kate demanded.

  “You know I do,” said Thomas. He added hesitantly, “But this is Pip.…”

  “He is my friend, too,” said Kate. “Dalgren and I won’t let anything happen to him.”

  She spoke a word of magic and the ball of yarn began to glow with a soft blue light. With another word of magic, she tossed the glowing ball of yarn high into the air, letting the magic carry it like a balloon filled with lift gas. The ball soared past the palace walls, higher and higher.

  “The paraffin causes it to burn really brightly,” said Kate, observing her work with pride.

  The ball burst into bright blue-white flame, trailing blazing sparks like a comet.

  “Quickly, Thomas!” Sophia ordered. “Put one arm around my waist and one arm around Kate.”

  “I’ll take the jug,” said Kate. “I’m going to offer the guards a drink and Sophia will work her magic. Just be sure to avert your head, look away from the guards when she does.”

  Thomas glanced up at the solitary light burning in the darkness.

  Kate knew what he was thinking. “I admit, our plan involves some risk, but if we don’t save him, Pip will die. He would want to make the gamble.”

  “You are right,” said Thomas. “I will play my part.”

  He tugged on his cravat to loosen it, and tossed away his tricorn. Shaking hair over his face, he adjusted the mask. “Cue the dissolute noble.”

  Stealthily, the three drew nearer the guardhouse, keeping to the shadows as
long as possible in order to watch what the guards were doing. They had no difficulty seeing, for the guard box blazed with light. Lanterns hung over the door and other lanterns shone inside. The guards were talking loudly, Thomas could hear every word.

  The two were pitching coins against a wall and he realized with a start that they were discussing plans for the invasion. He raised his hand, warning Kate and Sophia to stop.

  “What is it?” Kate whispered.

  “I need to hear what they are saying,” Thomas whispered back.

  “Your throw,” said one. “So when are we to seize control of the palace?”

  “Tonight, tomorrow night, a year from now. What does it matter? We do what we are told.”

  “We are the first to risk our lives and the last to know anything,” the other grumbled.

  “Loose tongues wag,” said his friend.

  He threw the coin. His friend tossed his and won, for his coin came closer to the wall.

  “King Ullr knows that none of us would talk,” the other argued. “We have spilled our blood for other nations. Now is the time for Guundar to rise.”

  “Damn! I keep missing!” said the other. “I have no luck tonight.”

  Thomas had heard all he needed.

  “Now,” he said softly.

  He slid one arm around Sophia’s waist and the other arm around Kate’s, and the three lurched forward into the light, giggling and talking.

  The guards dropped their coins, picked up their rifles, and came to investigate.

  Kate and Sophia and Thomas wobbled and slipped on the frosty cobblestones. The three reeked of Calvados.

  “Trundler swill,” one guard remarked in disgust. “How anyone can drink that stuff is beyond me.”

  His fellow raised his rifle and aimed at them.

  “Halt!” he said, speaking broken Freyan. “Stand and be recognized.”

  The three stumbled to a stop, leaning against one another and staring at the guards in inebriated confusion.

  “You stand and be recognized, my good man,” Thomas said good-naturedly. He released his hold on Kate and Sophia and sauntered forward.

  “That’s far enough, my lord,” said the guard.

  “I am Count Reginald Fortheringale, friend of the king’s, and I go where I please. It pleases me to take a look around this damn tower.”

  Thomas leaned forward to add in a wheedling tone, “I promised the young ladies! You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?”

  “Gives you the horrors, don’t it, Reggie,” called out one of the women.

  The guards glanced at each other, grinning. They lowered their rifles.

  “I cannot permit you or the young ladies to enter, my lord,” said one.

  Thomas shrugged. “Well, well. You are doing your duty, I dare say. Damn cold, isn’t it,” he added conversationally. “I don’t know how you chaps stand it. Will you have a drink with us? Come, girls. Offer the lads here a swig.”

  Kate and Sophia laughingly ran up to the guards.

  “It’s good stuff, sir!” Kate said, holding out the jug.

  The guard grimaced. “We are not permitted—”

  Sophia spoke a word of magic and flung the sachet in his face.

  The sachet glowed blue and exploded. The guard happened to have his mouth open at the time and the flour and pepper combination flew down his throat. The flour caught the other guard in the eyes and drifted down on both of them, coating their uniforms.

  The guards began to sneeze uncontrollably. One dropped his rifle to rub his burning eyes. The other coughed and retched between sneezes. He was still holding onto his rifle, however. Sophia spoke another word and the flour began to glow green.

  “Contramagic,” she warned. “If you have seen what happens when contramagic and magic mix, you know you should drop your weapon before it explodes.”

  The green glow of the contramagic grew steadily brighter, and the guard flung his rifle to the ground. Thomas kicked both of the weapons well out of reach.

  Sophia ended the spell and the green glow started to fade.

  Thomas took hold of one guard and Kate grabbed the other and they shoved them into the small guardhouse.

  “On the floor,” Thomas ordered.

  Kate had brought rope to bind them, but when she saw several sets of shackles hanging from hooks, she clamped these over their wrists.

  As she was working, one of the guards gave her a shove that knocked her backward and jumped to his feet. He got as far as the door. Sophia stood there, blocking his way.

  She pointed to his flour-coated sleeve; the flour shone blue and burst into flame.

  The guard cried out. Thomas punched him in the face and the man tumbled backward and collapsed by his friend. Kate removed a ring of keys from the hook on the wall.

  Sophia continued to block the doorway.

  “Your coat is still covered with my magical potion,” she told the Guundarans. “The potion is in your hair and your eyes. If you make a sound, I will turn you both into living torches.”

  As the guards shrank away from her, Thomas slammed the door on them and Kate locked it.

  “Now what?” Thomas asked.

  “We rescue Pip,” Kate answered.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Kate delved into the basket again and took out the second ball of paraffin-soaked yarn. She started to head toward the tower entrance, then realized Thomas wasn’t with her. He had torn off the silk mask and was still standing by the guardhouse, staring at the guards, his expression dark. Kate handed the ball to Sophia and went back to yank Thomas by the sleeve. He joined her and they walked past the guardhouse to the staircase tower.

  “What’s the matter?” Kate asked Thomas. “We’ve made it past the guards. The hardest part is done.”

  “Not that,” said Thomas. “Something the guards were saying.”

  “What was it?”

  “Merely confirming what I already knew,” said Thomas.

  Kate would have liked to question him further, but they had reached the door to the tower and she had to keep her mind on the mission.

  “Any magic on the door?” she asked Sophia.

  “I see constructs, but they don’t appear to be working,” Sophia reported.

  “That’s common practice,” said Thomas. “Otherwise the guards have to remove the spells every time they go in and out. When I was here, the guards left the door unlocked, as well. Pip’s the only prisoner and they know he isn’t going to escape.”

  Kate regarded him in concern. He was downcast, dispirited. She reached out to him in the darkness, squeezed his hand tightly.

  “We are going to save Pip, then Dalgren will fly the four of us to safety and freedom. Tomorrow we will watch the sun rise far away from this dismal place.”

  Thomas clasped her hand and held fast, as though holding onto a lifeline.

  Kate pushed on the door and it creaked open to reveal a spiral staircase, lighted by magical torches that burned with a bright blue light.

  “Simple magic,” Sophia said, examining one. “I can easily handle it.”

  Thomas went first, leading the way. Sophia followed and Kate brought up the rear, keeping an eye out for pursuit, though she wasn’t truly expecting any. The Guundarans had been so terrified of Sophia, she doubted if they would move for a week.

  The three climbed the stone stairs, moving as swiftly as they dared, while trying not to make any noise that would alert Phillip’s guards. They came to the door on the first level. Thomas pushed on it and found it locked, which was what they had expected. When they came to the second level, they stopped to confer.

  “What is the plan from here?” Thomas asked softly. He motioned to the upper levels. “The door on the third floor is always locked, for it leads to the guardroom outside Phillip’s cell. You have the guard’s key, but the moment we open that door, the guards will hear us.”

  “We are not going to open it,” Kate told him. “The guards are going to open it for us.”

>   She drew Amelia’s double-barreled pocket pistol.

  “Keep close to me. Did you bring a pistol?”

  “I brought two.” Thomas drew one of the pocket pistols.

  “Sophia, the torches!” Kate said softly.

  Sophia reached up to touch the iron sconce that held one of the torches, and traced a construct. Green flared and the torch went out. Sophia doused two other torches. The only light now shone from a torch on the staircase above them, shining on the door that led to Phillip’s cell.

  “Now what?” Thomas asked.

  “We wait for Dalgren,” said Kate.

  Minutes passed and all was quiet.

  Kate fidgeted. The waiting was the worst part, for she imagined everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Most of all, she worried about failure. This plan might go awry, like any number of her plans. She thought of so many things now that she should have thought of before, and she shivered in the cold.

  Just when she had decided that something terrible must have happened to Dalgren, she heard him launch his attack. Dragons in the Brigade were trained to batter down fortress walls. Dalgren struck the crenellations on top of the tower with his tail. Kate had warned him not to hit them as hard as he would have if he had been attacking in earnest, for she did not want him to accidentally bring down the tower on top of Phillip.

  The walls shook from the blow and Kate could hear stone from the broken battlements crash onto the cobblestones in the courtyard below. The guards must have looked out the window to see what was going on, for they started shouting in alarm. Kate didn’t speak Guundaran, but she knew enough to recognize the word “Drachen.”

  She heard the sounds of glass shattering. Dalgren must have knocked out the window. She could not see him from here, but she could visualize him thrusting his snout into the small aperture, gnashing his fangs at the guards and snorting flame.

  A rifle went off. One of the guards must have fired. She wasn’t worried. A single bullet would have little effect on Dalgren, as the guard must have realized, for the next moment the door at the top of the staircase flew open, and the guards came dashing down the stairs in such panic they did not see the three pressed against the wall in the darkness.