Brendan Airedale, occupying the seat recently left vacant by his father’s suicide, responded dismissively, “They can riot all they want. They don’t make the decisions. Flog enough of them and put the loudest of them in prison and they’ll settle down.”
Duke Cantley grunted in agreement, but Count Malvern and Earl Balistair looked uncomfortable at the young lord’s remarks. Ariadne spoke up first, “Lord Airedale, you are young and new to your title, so I will forgive your ignorance. We are not in the habit of oppressing our people in order to keep the peace. That is, and should always be, our last resort.”
Cantley interjected, “Sometimes it does the people good to see their ruler isn’t afraid to use a little violence when necessary.”
Ariadne’s eyes were cold as she turned them on the Duke. “I’m sure my late-husband, Prince Leomund, would have agreed with that sentiment. It is my opinion, however, that such is not a good foundation for ruling a nation. Surely you can see that.”
Gregory Cantley blanched at her rebuke. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I meant no offense. I only meant to suggest that the people should be aware that Your Majesty is not afraid to use stern measures when necessary.”
“It is the definition of necessary that is often a point of dispute in these cases,” opined Count Malvern dryly.
Ariadne stared down the table, letting her eyes drift to take in each person, one by one. “So long as all of you recognize that I am the final arbiter on what is necessary and what is not, we won’t have a problem.”
There was a chorus of voices as everyone hastily agreed, then Gareth returned to the topic. “The point of my bringing this up was not to debate our reaction, but rather to consider the origin of these rumors. The common people don’t usually manufacture such rumors from nothing. Lord Illeniel’s history was known only to a few until very recently; mainly to those of us here now. I believe the seeds of these rumors were deliberately planted.”
His pronouncement brought an uncomfortable silence to the table. Even the Queen was unsure how to continue. At last Malvern responded, “And do you have any suggestion as to who among us might have been motivated to do such a thing?”
Suggesting that one of the council members might be a traitor was not something to be done lightly. But there was one thing that could be said about Lord Gaelyn. He was not faint of heart. Outwardly, he still seemed relaxed as he continued his conjecture. “The Prince-Consort could have been behind it, at least in part, but I doubt he was alone. David Airedale is another who might have decided to shift the current power structure, but I have—”
Brendan Airedale shouted over him. “You dare accuse my late-father?”
Gareth stared coldly at the young man. “As I was saying, I have no proof of that. At the very least, your father’s sudden suicide is suspicious.”
“As I have repeatedly said!” said Lord Airedale vehemently.
“You misunderstand me,” said Gareth, “and to your own detriment. If your father’s death is something other than a suicide, then you, as his heir, would be the prime suspect. I was referring to his motivation for taking his own life. I suspect he felt guilty, perhaps over these rumors, or perhaps for his part in falsely accusing Mordecai Illeniel of the Prince’s murder.”
Lord Airedale paled at Gareth’s words. “You have no evidence of any of those suppositions.”
The Queen appeared pensive. “Take care with your words, Lord Gaelyn. The court has already rendered a verdict on that matter.”
Conall, now occupying the seat as Lord Cameron, spoke for the first time. “I don’t think my father was guilty either.” He glanced up and down the table, then added, “Though I recognize the court’s authority, and I remain a loyal servant to the Queen.”
Duke Cantley gave Conall a look of disgust, then said, “Is there a point to your speculation, Lord Gaelyn, other than provoking dissension among us? Whether your conjecture is true or not, both David Airedale and Prince Leomund are now dead. Or are you accusing Lord Illeniel of working with them to put himself on the throne?”
“Not at all,” responded Gareth. “From what I’ve seen of the man, he has no desire for the throne, but there are those who might see a change in power as an opportunity. Lord Cameron’s trial has done serious damage to our Queen’s position. She has lost not one, but two powerful supporters. This is aside from the fact that Lady Hightower was possibly the only one of us skillful enough to ferret out who the real traitor is.”
Cantley snorted dismissively. “Lady Hightower marked herself as a traitor when she attempted to murder both you and Lord Illeniel, or have you conveniently forgotten that fact, Lord Gaelyn?”
Ariadne broke in, “We have no proof that she had a hand in the assassination attempt.”
Lord Malvern responded, “We don’t need proof. She incriminated herself by aiding Lord Cameron in his escape.”
“I have lived a long time,” began Gareth. “Long enough to gain a certain perspective. While the attack on my life angered me, I cannot help but note the end result of all this. Two powerful and well-connected supporters of the Queen are gone, while this council itself is increasingly populated by young and inexperienced lords.” He dipped his head in Conall’s direction. “No disrespect meant to you, Lord Cameron.”
“None taken,” said Conall. Brendan Airedale ground his teeth, though, for Gareth had pointedly not made the same mention for him.
The doors of the room opened and the Queen’s chamberlain, Benchley, stepped inside. “Lord Illeniel has returned,” he announced.
The man that entered had Tyrion’s appearance, but his hair was drastically different. Where before it had been so dark as to be almost black, now it was a shimmering silvery white, as though each strand had been coated in metal; it fell in glittering waves to his shoulders. “Forgive me for being late, Your Majesty,” said Tyrion. “I had urgent business at home and only just returned. I trust I haven’t missed anything important.”
All eyes were glued to the Duke of the Wester Isle, but it was the Queen who spoke first. “Your hair…”
Tyrion’s teeth flashed white beneath eyes that seemed even bluer than before. “Pardon my appearance, Your Majesty. As you know, while I was born human, my time as a She’Har elder has changed me in certain ways. In the past I’ve made cosmetic changes to avoid unsettling my peers with my strange differences, but today I had little time. I hurried to the council chamber as soon as I heard a meeting was in progress.”
Gareth Gaelyn’s eyes narrowed at Tyrion’s words, but he said nothing.
Count Malvern was more welcoming. “If I had hair like that, I’d never hide it, though my wife might die from jealousy.” Several at the table joined him in laughter.
“Is all well with the She’Har?” asked Ariadne.
Tyrion nodded. “All is well with them. My problem was a matter of personal health. After Mordecai’s escape, my injuries were more serious than I was willing to admit. I was forced to return and rejoin my tree for a time.”
“And how are you now?” asked the Queen.
Tyrion bowed slightly. “Fully recovered, Your Majesty. Thank you for your concern.” He took his seat then, and the meeting resumed. The next item on the agenda was the state of affairs in Cameron.
“I returned home yesterday,” began Conall. “Washbrook is fine, but the castle is sealed off behind the protective shield my father created. No one can enter.”
“What about the teleport circles?” asked Lord Gaelyn.
Sir Conall shook his head. “They aren’t working. Someone must have disabled them.”
Duke Cantley looked angry. “You mean your father.”
Conall shrugged. “Possibly. It hardly matters. The castle isn’t habitable.”
The Queen leaned forward. “What about the dragon eggs?”
“The circle to the dragon eyrie was disabled as well, but I went there the long way. The eggs are gone.” The young lord looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“How important are the
se eggs?” asked Tyrion.
Gareth Gaelyn answered first. “Each one contains approximately as much aythar as one of the Shining Gods. Their value is beyond calculation.”
“How many are there?” said Tyrion, probing further.
“I don’t know,” admitted Conall.
“I helped Mordecai create them,” offered Gareth. “At the time he had me make forty vessels for them.”
“Vessels?” asked Count Malvern.
“Small dragon bodies,” clarified Gareth.
“And how many do we have?” asked Duke Cantley.
The Queen answered, “Five. My dragon, Carwyn, plus the dragons that were given to Sir Harold, Sir Egan, Sir Thomas, and Sir William.”
“This is outrageous,” complained Cantley. “The Crown should control all of the dragons. This is just another example of Count Cameron’s brazen arrogance.” He paused. “I mean, the prior Count, of course. In any case, I recommend Your Majesty move to secure the rest of the dragon eggs. By all rights, they should be in your hands.”
Lord Gaelyn held up a finger. “While I agree the eggs represent significant power, I think you overreach your bounds, Duke Cantley. Mordecai created the eggs, with my help. They do in fact belong to him, though I think it might be wise for the Crown to lay claim to them. It is for the Queen to decide whether to attempt to claim them for the benefit of the people, not you, Your Grace. Her Majesty might wish to consider the implications of taking them by fiat. However we feel about the man, making an enemy of him might not be wise.”
“Moira claims ignorance regarding her father, and the circumstances surrounding Castle Cameron,” said Ariadne. “It might be good to question her once more.”
“I’ll go,” said Conall at once.
Cantley snorted. “Of course, you want to see her! You simply want to further your conspiracy with her and your father.”
The Queen glared at the Duke. “You have no basis to make such a claim, Lord Cantley. I have no cause to doubt Lord Cameron’s fidelity.” She paused for a moment. “That being said, it would be wise to send someone else with him.”
“I’ll do it,” volunteered Tyrion.
“Considering your overzealous behavior in the past, Lord Illeniel, I would prefer someone else,” said the Queen. “Lord Gaelyn, perhaps you would undertake the task?”
Gareth bowed his head. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Ariadne smiled. “Then it’s settled.”
Chapter 7
Moira was outside, enjoying the sunshine that flooded down on the mountainside in front of her family’s home. Humphrey bounded from place to place, exploring the thick grass with his nose and searching amid rocky outcroppings for hidden treasures. The half-grown dog was a source of constant amusement for her, and the only remedy she had for her loneliness.
Through most of her life, home had been a place filled with people. Her brothers, sister, parents, and friends had made the place lively and sometimes chaotic. She hadn’t really appreciated it at the time, but now her isolation gave her plenty of time to consider the past.
For once, she was alone, utterly and completely, except for Humphrey, of course. Technically she was still under guard, but the guards were hers; they no longer had their own minds. With Myra gone, she had no one to talk to but herself. Consequently, she spent a lot of her time thinking about the people she missed, most of all, her mother.
I never appreciated her, thought Moira for the tenth time that day. Penny had been her world as a child, her obstacle as a teen, and only recently, had become her most trusted confidante when she had no one else she could talk to. And now she was gone.
Humphrey finished his latest investigation and ran back to her, yipping to gain her attention. She stroked his head and ruffled his ears. “It’s just you and me, Humphrey.” Then she looked back at the house, where her spell-twin/guards were. “And me, and me, and me, and me—well, you get the idea, don’t you, Humphrey?
“Everyone else is off somewhere else, doing who knows what, and here I am stuck on the mountainside.” She thought it was somewhat ironic that she was also probably doing more than anyone else while simultaneously being completely bored. While she was doing next to nothing, her proxies were prosecuting a secret war on her behalf.
Gareth and Conall are here. The silent message came from one of her guards inside. Rising to her feet, Moira dusted off her skirts and walked up the slope to the front door, encouraging Humphrey to follow. She didn’t want the young dog to get lost while she was inside.
She was waiting in the living room by the time Gareth and Conall got there. “Would you like some tea?” she asked them politely, keeping her expression aloof.
Gareth Gaelyn ignored her question, while Conall moved closer to her. “How have you been? Have any of the others come home?”
Are you asking for yourself or for the Queen? Moira responded mentally, making no attempt to hide her mistrust from her younger brother.
Before Conall could respond, Gareth spoke up. “Please don’t do that again. If I sense your aythar moving again, I’ll take it as a hostile action. Do you understand?”
“She was only greeting me,” said Conall, turning to his companion with exasperation.
Moira smiled. “Lord Gaelyn is right, Conall. As a Centyr mage, anything I do should be viewed as a threat. I might scramble your brains or turn Lord Gaelyn into a puppet.”
“She wouldn’t do anything like that,” protested Conall.
How little you know, brother of mine, thought Moira sourly. You’re too trusting, both of me, and those that currently surround the Queen. She kept her thoughts to herself, though, to avoid rousing Gareth’s ire.
The archmage moved forward and took a seat without waiting for an invitation, giving the impression he owned the place. “Have you seen any of your family?” he asked pointedly, repeating Conall’s question.
Moira had never felt particularly close to Gareth, but now she found herself developing a newfound dislike for the man. She studied him for a second and briefly considered attacking him. It would give away her hand, but if she could take control of the archmage, it would greatly strengthen her position. There were four guards in the room, three of them krytek. If they acted in concert, they might be able to overwhelm Gareth’s defenses before he could react.
She decided in favor of discretion. Giving the archmage a polite smile, she sat down across from him. “No. I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone. The rest of my siblings are too smart to put themselves within the Queen’s grasp.” She gave Conall an accusatory stare as she finished her remark.
“The Queen is only trying to do what’s best for Lothion,” argued her brother.
“She betrayed our family, Conall, her family, as do you, by continuing to support her,” Moira replied, rebuking him. “You helped her arrest your own father. Do you still have any shame left?”
Conall’s face grew pained. “I’m not a traitor, Moira.”
“The Queen is,” she responded sharply. “She’ll pay for what she’s done.”
“One more threat and I’ll act to remove you as a threat to the Crown,” warned Gareth. “Here and now.”
“I’ll speak as I please in my own home, Lord Gaelyn,” said Moira coldly. “You should consider where you are before threatening me. Either that, or you should bring more guards. I’m not sure ten would be enough to protect you if you make me angry.”
Gareth’s eyes narrowed. “If you’d like more guards, that can be arranged.”
“Please do,” said Moira sweetly. “I’m sure we’d all feel safer.”
“Enough, Moira!” interjected Conall. “We didn’t come here to argue. We came because Castle Cameron is locked behind the shield.”
“Does that inconvenience you, Your Excellency?” said Moira in a voice that practically dripped acid. “I assure you I had nothing to do with it.”
Her younger brother winced at her words, but he didn’t give up. “What about Myra?” he asked.
“Who
is Myra?” asked Gareth.
Moira closed her eyes, annoyance written on her features. “My spell-twin, or as I prefer to call her, my sister,” she answered, then turned her eyes on Conall. “She’s with me, as always.”
“I’d like to talk to her,” said Conall. “Just to verify that.”
Moira nodded. “Certainly, so long as Lord Gaelyn promises to behave himself. I don’t want him to think this is an unprovoked attack.”
Gareth’s shield, already strong, became even more intense. “Do as you wish.”
A second later Moira’s aythar began to move, sliding away from her body and splitting into a separate being, one composed entirely of aythar. Then her doppelganger said, “Hello Conall.”
Gareth growled. “So your mother was right. You have been continuing your evil tricks.”
“How have you been, Myra?” asked Conall.
“Well,” said the spell-twin. “Though I don’t like the direction of current events.”
Moira spoke as well, directing her words to Gareth. “You can tell your wife I’ve been behaving myself. Myra was a product of the war in Dunbar. I haven’t broken any more of the rules since then.”
“This thing’s very existence is an abomination,” spat the archmage. “Why haven’t you gotten rid of it?”
Furious, Moira glared at him. “You should consider what you married before you start hurling insults and suggesting people be eliminated.”
Gareth’s power flared. Raising one finger, he signaled to the guards. “Separate the two of them. I’ll take care of this one right now.”
The krytek stepped closer, hands going to the spellwoven weapons already on their belts. Moira’s eyes flicked from one side to the other, as she debated whether to blow her cover and escalate the situation or let Gareth have his way to continue her façade.
Everyone froze in surprise as Conall stepped between Gareth and the spell-twin, his own shield increasing in strength and his hands held away from his body, as though he was preparing to fight. Coruscating sparks of actinic power flickered around his fists. “That’s enough, Lord Gaelyn. I won’t tolerate threats against my family. Not in my home or anywhere else for that matter. If you intend to do violence here, we have a problem.”
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