Myra shook her head. “We don’t know that. Ariadne is still Queen. As far as we know Tyrion is just acting as her vassal.”
“Do you really believe that?” asked Alyssa, who had been silent until then.
“Moira does,” said Myra. “She observed him closely during one of his visits. While she couldn’t risk interfering with him directly, she didn’t think he was trying to control the Queen.”
“That doesn’t help much,” said Chad. “That just means the Queen’s lost her damn mind all by herself.”
“As much as I disagree with her actions,” said Irene, “her hand was forced by political factors. The question in my mind is who set things up to force her, and us, into this situation.”
Karen sat straighter in her seat, intrigued. “You think there’s someone working behind the scenes to orchestrate this mess?”
Irene pursed her lips. “Maybe.”
Cyhan broke in. “Then the question is who stands the most to gain from recent events?”
“Tyrion,” said Chad firmly.
“ANSIS,” countered Alyssa.
Lynaralla cleared her throat softly, drawing their attention. “It’s entirely possible that matters arise from random factors. Especially given the difficulty arranging something as improbable as what has happened. Even ANSIS couldn’t predict all the chaotic events that have occurred.”
“The Illeniel She’Har could,” observed the ranger, giving Lynaralla a flat stare.
“Not those present today,” said Lynaralla without showing any sign of discomfort at his remark. “I don’t believe Tyrion has the ability, and Lyralliantha is probably still too young. I can’t discount my distant ancestors, but I don’t think they could arrange such specific events from across such a vast gulf of time. My instinct tells me this is a result of natural chaos rather than a deliberate plan.”
Chad chewed on the last bit of his bread. “I’d sooner believe things have been cocked up by plain stupidity and happenstance.”
Lynaralla frowned. “I believe that is merely a paraphrasing of what I just said.”
“Stupid never dies,” stated Irene, echoing her father’s old motto.
There was laughter at that, but as it died away Myra stood. “I’m going to go see what he’s written.”
“It won’t be much,” cautioned Irene. “It took him two days just to start.”
“I don’t care. I need to see,” said Myra, and with that she left the room, heading for the stairs that led up to the room Matthew occupied. Karen and Elaine rose to follow her.
Chad glanced at Elaine’s cup, then reached for it. “Well, if you aren’t going to finish your wine…”
When Karen and Elaine caught up with Myra they found her leaning down to study the parchment Matthew was still writing on. Karen frowned as she saw it. “That doesn’t look like his handwriting. It’s too messy. What does it say?”
Elaine looked at her in surprise. “You can’t read?”
Karen shrugged. “I’ve just gotten a good handle on your language. I still haven’t mastered your writing.”
“Then how do you know that’s not his usual handwriting?” asked Elaine.
“Because he was teaching me,” replied the curly-haired young woman. “I’ve seen plenty of his writing. It’s small and tight, not like this.”
“He’s rushing,” said Myra. “Read it.”
Elaine moved to stand behind Matthew and began reading aloud for Karen’s benefit. “Send Myra back. Tell Moira to unify Lothion. Don’t wait to read the r—” She straightened up. “That’s all there is so far.”
“That’s my answer,” said Myra. “Karen, can you take me back?”
“It isn’t finished, though,” complained Elaine.
“It’s clear enough. ‘Don’t wait to read the rest’,” said Myra. “He thinks we’re pressed for time. He knows it may take too long for him to write it all out. You can tell me the rest in a few days.”
Karen nodded. “I can take you to the border, but we’ll need Irene or Lynaralla to cross. After that I can teleport you back home.”
Irene had just entered the room. “I’ll do the crossing. I need the practice.” She glanced at Lynaralla with a slightly sour expression. Her She’Har sister had mastered the technique much more quickly than she had.
Lynaralla nodded, and Karen held out her hands to the others.
“Shouldn’t we inform the others first?” asked Elaine.
Myra shook her head. “You and Lynaralla can tell them. Karen and Irene can have me there in a matter of moments and then they’ll be back.” She paused, then corrected herself, “Actually, Moira may want their assistance, but I doubt it will take long.” Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around Karen’s; at her nod Irene did the same.
“Wait—,” Elaine started to protest, but the three women were gone. She pursed her lips and looked at Lynaralla. “And they leave us to clean up the mess.”
The She’Har woman frowned. “Mess?”
“We have to explain where they’ve gone, and everyone is going to have a different opinion. If any of them disagree, they’ll blame us for not talking to them first,” said Elaine.
Lynaralla shrugged, consciously employing the human gesture to communicate her lack of concern. Inwardly she felt a sense of pride at remembering to use the bit of body language. “It’s simple enough. We merely report what happened. Their decision was rational enough.”
Elaine sighed. “Sometimes I envy you, Lynn.”
Chapter 12
Irene managed to open the barrier with less difficulty than she had anticipated, and once they were back in Lothion proper, Karen teleported the three of them to Mordecai’s workshop. “You’re sure the guards won’t report our presence to Tyrion or the Queen?” asked Irene anxiously.
Myra nodded. “She has them firmly under her control. Well, except for the humans. She’s avoided tampering with them much.”
“Much?” said Karen, raising one brow.
Myra looked uncomfortable. “Just little things, like erasing a few memories, if they see something they shouldn’t.”
“That’s a little thing?” observed Karen with obvious distaste.
“It’s the lesser of two evils,” said Myra defensively.
Irene spoke up to head off an argument, “How are we going to get into the house without them seeing us? We didn’t bring Elaine with us.”
“No need,” answered Myra. “She already knows we’re here. I’m talking to her now.” She tapped her temple with one finger.
Irene frowned. “The workshop is warded. She shouldn’t be able to sense us in here, much less communicate telepathically.”
“She can’t sense us directly, but our telepathic skills are a little more advanced than you may realize—,” Myra informed them. Irene blanched, and Myra hurried to add, “You’d feel it if one of us tried to tamper—at least at first.”
Irene remembered a warning her father had given her. “Then what Dad said…”
Myra nodded, already aware of what she was referring to. “He was right. If you ever do find yourself facing a Centyr mage, go for the kill. Given enough time, anyone can be manipulated.”
Suddenly uncertain, Irene stared at Myra. “But the only living Centyr mage is my sister.”
“Sisters,” corrected Myra.
“But you couldn’t,” began Irene stumbling over her words. “You need her to survive, so you couldn’t…”
The door to the workshop opened and Moira stepped in, closing it behind her. “She could,” she said, answering for her twin. “The only reason she’s tied to me is because she hasn’t turned to evil. If she wanted, she could steal one of your bodies, and claim your aystrylin. That would be murder, though.”
Irene paled, but Karen shrugged off the dark mood and spoke boldly. “Why would you tell her that? Even if true, you’re only undermining your sister’s trust.”
Moira smiled. “Because our father isn’t here, and while I think I’m safe now, I don’t know fo
r sure that I always will be. Every time I’m forced to—” she paused, searching for words, “do things, I become a little less sure of myself.”
Myra frowned, then interrupted. “What she hasn’t told you, though, is that she’s implanted a geass in her own mind to prevent her from tampering with her family.”
“And are you sure it will work?” Moira glared at her spell-twin. “What’s been done can be undone. It’s better they not have a false sense of security. I have no idea what I may or may not be capable of in the future.”
Karen shivered, then muttered, “And I thought my world was scary.”
Moira smirked. “Are you still sure you want to marry into the family?”
Straightening, Karen answered, “If I ever have any doubts, it won’t be on your account.”
“That’s enough,” said Irene. “We need to focus on matters at hand.”
“Myra’s already given me the details,” replied Moira. “I was unsure before, but Matthew’s message is clear enough. I already have a plan in place.”
“What do you need?” asked Irene.
“Just to borrow Karen for a few minutes. The portal to the palace is heavily guarded. If she can take us into Albamarl, it will simplify matters,” said Moira. As she spoke, Myra stepped closer and the two of them merged.
“That’s all? What are you going to do?” said Irene wonderingly.
“What our father was always too high-minded to do,” said Moira. “Take control of the Queen and thereby the country.”
“I’m not sure that’s what Matt intended,” responded Irene.
Karen nodded in agreement. “That’s going too far.”
Moira laid her hand on Karen’s shoulder, and Irene felt a faint movement of aythar as her sister replied, “Of course it’s what he intended. He knows me better than anyone. He knew exactly what his message would set in motion.”
Karen’s eyes fluttered for a moment, then her gaze cleared. “You’re right. I should have thought of that.”
Irene’s eyes went wide, and her mouth formed an ‘o’. “Myra just said you couldn’t…”
“Karen isn’t family—yet,” interrupted Moira. “And apparently time is short. I can’t waste it by arguing.”
Irene’s power flared, and her shield began to glow intensely. “Undo what you did,” she warned, her voice threatening.
“Relax, Rennie,” said Moira calmly. “I didn’t do much. I just took a shortcut around the argument. She’ll be fine, though you should probably make her spend some more time working on her shields. That was far easier than it should have been.”
“Undo it, Moira,” repeated Irene.
Moira found herself reflexively beginning to squint. The vivid glow of Irene’s shield was invisible to normal sight, but the power of her aythar was so strong that the air around her began to shimmer visibly, like heat waves on a sunny day. Moira could feel its resonance in her teeth. She’s so powerful, like Father, she realized, then shrugged mentally to herself. I could get around it, though, if I wanted to risk her searing the flesh from my bones before I could rein her in.
She had no desire to test her theory, however. No matter what else I become, family first, Moira repeated to herself. “I will, Rennie,” she reassured, then she sent a silent command to her latest pawn.
Karen’s eyes focused on Irene. “I’ll be right back.” Then she glanced at Moira and the two of them vanished, leaving Irene alone in the dark workshop.
In the silence that followed, it was all Irene could do to control her impulse to shatter the stone walls of her father’s shop. With an effort of will, she relaxed her power, but it was several seconds before she realized the growling noise in the air was coming from her own throat. Being alone, she finally vented her irritation in a stream of invective she had previously heard from Chad Grayson, “Toad-sucking dandy trollop!”
***
Karen and Moira appeared in a shadowed alley just a few blocks from the palace in the central district of Albamarl. “Is this what you had in mind?” asked Karen.
“Exactly,” chuckled Moira, knowingly.
“I’m going to have a hell of a time calming Irene down when I get back,” observed Karen ruefully.
Moira nodded. “Not to mention yourself.”
Karen blinked, her eyes framed by her curly, almost black hair. “Huh?”
“I tampered with your mind,” Moira informed her. “But it was only temporary. I didn’t do anything permanent. When you return, my influence will fade and you’ll likely find yourself extremely angry.”
Karen seemed confused. “That can’t be,” she muttered, then she felt an image enter her mind, one she knew came from her companion.
“Remember that,” advised Moira. “A shield that can block normal attacks isn’t necessarily the best thing for stopping my sort of intrusion. No matter how strong, once I find a pattern or resonance, I can get in. You have to keep it shifting, almost random, if you hope to thwart me for very long.”
“Why would you show me this?”
Because you might need it someday, thought Moira to herself. “Teach the others, and make sure you practice. Now, go.”
Without hesitation, Karen teleported back to the workshop where they had left Irene. Moira was alone.
You’re never entirely alone, communicated Myra from within. I live here too.
Stay out of this, said Moira silently.
You don’t want my help?
No, this is my task, answered Moira. I don’t want you getting your hands dirty.
Why? asked Myra.
Who knows how much this will affect me? If you can keep from becoming tainted like I am, you can serve as my conscience.
Myra wasn’t particularly happy about that statement, but she knew it was pointless to argue. How do you plan to proceed? she asked.
Moira reached down and smoothed her long black skirts with pale hands. She had dressed for the occasion. With her magesight she could already sense the approach of several krytek, moving to investigate the appearance of a new mage in the area. “I won’t touch the people, if I can help it, but I’m going to need soldiers. Thankfully, Tyrion has provided the perfect solution.”
You won’t touch any of the people?
“Except the Queen, of course,” explained Moira, “and possibly a few of the nobles, if they seem likely to rebel against their monarch’s new directives.”
You realize everyone disagrees with your plan, including me, Myra informed her.
“Except Matthew,” corrected Moira. “He knew exactly what I was considering, I’m sure of it.”
This is wrong.
“Ariadne gave up whatever right she had to free will when she decided to cross my family,” Moira stated firmly. “Don’t worry, though. She won’t even realize it’s gone when I’m done.” She began walking toward one end of the alley, moving to meet one of the krytek advancing toward her. It would be easier if she could take one first, rather than fighting both at once.
From within, Myra watched Moira’s transformation with fascinated horror. It wasn’t external, of course, but she could see the change in her twin’s spirit as she approached the human-like krytek guard. In the blink of an eye Moira’s inner self became dark and hard, almost reptilian. Lifting one hand, she reached toward the krytek with invisible claws.
The contest was swift and brutal, yet bloodless, as Moira ripped at a weak spot in the krytek’s simple shield and seized its mind. Seconds later she had control, and with its assistance she subdued the second krytek easily. Then she coldly crushed their souls, devouring their free will and replacing it with newly constructed spell-minds of her own design.
Unlike Myra, these new spell-twins were more independent. Moira had effectively murdered the krytek and given their bodies and aystrylins to her new servants. Where one Centyr mage had entered Albamarl, now three stood in the darkened alleyway. Summoning a mental image, Moira shaped her aythar and covered herself in an illusion, making herself appear as one of the krytek
guards.
“That won’t fool anyone with magesight for very long,” cautioned one of her new servants.
Smiling, Moira replied, “Anyone with magesight is an ally, or will become so.”
You’re referring to the krytek, clarified Myra within Moira’s head. What about Conall, Gareth, or Tyrion?
Moira responded aloud, for the benefit of her two servants, “If we encounter my brother, he must not be tampered with. Disable him, even if it costs us. We have lives to spare, but I only have two brothers. Gareth is a different story. Incapacitate him if possible. If that turns out to be too difficult, destroy his mind and bring me his body. It would make a powerful vessel.”
Moira! cried Myra silently.
Shut up.
She went on. “Tyrion is to be taken. If possible, I’ll bring the She’Har under control, but I won’t shed any tears if he dies today.” With that said, Moira strode from the shadowy alley into the light, but she carried her darkness with her.
Chapter 13
Lady Rose sat in a darkened corner of Red Tom’s Parlor, at a table he had directed her to when she arrived. In front of her was a glass of cheap wine, doubtless the best they had to offer. She sipped at it slowly, doing her best to hide a wince at the sour taste.
Rose felt considerably better today, having bathed and dressed in new clothes. She smirked at herself as she looked down at the green fabric of her dress. It was well made, but the quality of the material was inferior and there was a notable lack of embroidery, trim, or lace. A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have been caught dead in something like this, she thought. Now I’m just glad to not look like a laundress.
She glanced at her escort, a young man named Glen. He was the youngest son of a local butcher and had no experience at being a bodyguard, or any other type of servant for that matter. His most important quality was that he was unknown to the men frequenting the establishment. If she had hired one of the usual mercenaries, the man she was about to meet would have known it. Glen helped provide the illusion that she had some power and influence of her own, beyond what the people of Iverly knew.
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