The summoner cotn-1

by Gail Z. Martin

  The cell door opened, and the captain gestured for Royster and Berry. Carina hugged Berry tightly.

  "It will be all right, Carina. You'll see," Berry said with a child's certainty. Carina managed a smile.

  "You'll be safe with the Sisterhood," she said, her voice tight.

  Royster laid a hand on Carina's shoulder. "I'll see to the girl," the librarian said. "Thank you."

  Carina nodded as the two were led out of sight. The guards returned to their post, and Carina buried her face in her hands. Kiara knelt next to her cousin and waved the others away, wrapping her arms around Carina as she sobbed. Vahanian

  turned away from the cell bars with a potent curse, and kicked at a rock. Carroway sat down next to Tris.

  "At least we're headed in the right direction," the bard observed, with as much hope as he could muster.

  Tris closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "The question is-do we get to stay?"

  "It's nearly two days' ride into the city," Carroway said quietly. "Do you think… tonight… that Gabriel…?"

  Tris shook his head. "Doubtful. Their fight is with Jared, not this king. And the vayash moru decide their own schedule. Technically, we're not in danger-at least, not yet. They won't risk reprisals here killing mortals."

  "If the witch biddies are as smart as they look, maybe they'll figure out something's wrong when Royster and Berry show up on their doorstep," Vahanian said, leaning against the wall. "Although they don't ride to the rescue very often." He cursed again. "Which means, we're on our own."

  The captain returned in a candlemark with six armed men to lead them to their horses for the ride into the city. He stood before Vahanian, fists on his hips. Vahanian's eyes narrowed and he spat just shy of the captain's boot.

  "You will be taken for questioning," the captain announced. "Cooperate, and no harm will come to you," he advised. "Get moving."

  THEY SPENT THE night under heavy guard at another outpost, and woke at dawn for the ride into Principality City. The roadway grew wider, leading to the castle. Merchants and beggars moved aside to let them pass. They reached a heavily gated entrance in the base of the castle, and as they entered, the massive iron portcullis creaked back into place behind them.

  "I don't like this," Vahanian muttered.

  "For once, I think I agree with you," Carina murmured.

  Tris's imagination supplied many possibilities during their march, none of them pleasant. When they reached the castle, he expected to have the party split up, searched for the rest of their weapons, and locked-perhaps chained-in dungeon cells, awaiting an escort to Margolan.

  The king's guardsmen met the captain at the inner bailey. "We'll take the prisoners from here," the guardsman said.

  "General Gregor gave me orders to deliver them personally," the army captain countered.

  "You may give the general the king's thanks. But we will take the prisoners from here."

  The army captain's displeasure was clear in his face, but he gave a bow and signaled to his men to retreat.

  "You will come with us," the captain of the guard said expressionlessly, as the liveried men-at-arms formed a column on either side of the prisoners. The captain of the guard marched them past the cells, and Vahanian and Tris exchanged puzzled glances as they climbed

  up a winding stairway toward the higher levels of the palace. They emerged behind a heavy wooden door in a well-appointed room.

  "You will wait here," the captain said. He drew a dagger from his belt and split the cords that bound them, then gave a crisp bow and retreated, leaving only enough guards to block each exit. The prisoners looked at each other warily.

  "Do you know this king, Tris?" Kiara asked.

  "I've never met him. But perhaps Jared has," Tris replied. The reception hall, while not opulent, was quite comfortable, with a fire blazing in the hearth. A large, stern portrait glowered above the mantle, a strapping king dressed for a hunt, his trophy fox kill hanging from his grip, one black leather boot poised in triumph atop a downed stag. Finely woven tapestries covered the other walls.

  "I'd say we're going nowhere fast," Vahanian said, rubbing his wrists. "I don't get it. First they inarch us here as if they've got a gallows waiting. Now it looks like they're going to serve dinner."

  "Maybe they are," Carroway replied uneasily. "Question is, are we the guests or the peace offer-ing?"

  Just then a door burst open. A streak of green brocade, the rustle of taffeta and running footsteps caught them all off-guard as their visitor lunged at Vahanian, nearly carrying him backward. Caught by the fighter's sharp reflexes, the newcomer beamed at them, a bright-eyed girl with a cascade of auburn hair braided with pearls on strands of gold.

  "I told you I'd be all right!" Berry exclaimed, and before Vahanian could react, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the

  cheek.

  "I see I have no need to inquire which of you might be Vahanian," a deep baritone voice said from the door, and the astonished group found a bearded, sturdily built man watching them, powerful arms crossed across his chest, his expression no longer stern as in the portrait above the fireplace, but mirthful and indulgent.

  Berry released Vahanian, running with undignified joy to greet each of the travelers. Gone was her tattered tunic, replaced by an ankle-length gown of Mussa brocade, its bodice alight with small gemstones and pearls. The unruly auburn curls were tamed into a dignified braid that shimmered in the firelight, plaited with gold. Scrubbed clean, perfumed and powdered, the tomboy had disappeared, replaced by a beautiful young girl too excited by her guests to worry about her finery. "And this is Carina," Berry concluded her introductions.

  "I have heard much concerning each of you," the king said, stepping closer. "Forgive the… irregular greeting," he said with a smile and a perfunctory bow. "I am King Staden of Principality. I believe you already know my daughter, Berwyn."

  Behind Staden, Soterius and Harrtuck crowded their way into the gathering room, followed by Royster. They greeted Tris and the others with hearty cheers.

  Tris stepped forward. "Greetings, gracious king," he said with a bow. "Forgive our surprise, but we had no idea-"

  The king chuckled. "Yes, Berwyn told me of her ruse. She has, I fear, her mother's love for a prank," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "And I believe her role-playing may have saved her life, for her captors might have gone harder on her had they known the truth," he said, sobering. "For that same reason, when her traveling party was beset by bandits, we did not publicize that it was my daughter who was captured."

  "The noble's daughter," Vahanian said, and King Staden nodded in confirmation. "The one the travelers at the inn said had been taken by slavers."

  "We knew she could not conceal her noble birth," the king replied, "but we hoped to make her less of a hostage." His eyes grew serious. "When Berwyn returned to me last night, she told me about your capture. Forgive my use of the guards," he said with a gesture toward the soldiers who now filed from the room, dismissed. "But your friends here," he said with a nod to Soterius and Harrtuck, "warned me that you might not answer my summons any other way."

  Staden smiled. "I, and my kingdom, are in your debt," he said. He walked among them, and stopped in front of Vahanian. "Yes, you fit Berwyn's description of an adventurer," he said with a grin, extending his hand to the mercenary, who shook it dubiously. "She told me you were her special champion," he said. "Tonight, there will be a banquet in your honor," he proclaimed. "For all of you, and your bravery in returning my daughter to her home. You have only to ask of me, and it will be done."

  "Your Majesty," Tns began, and King Staden turned to him, taking his hand in greeting and clapping him on the shoulder.

  "Berwyn told me of your circumstances, Prince Drayke," the king replied. "I shared many hunts with your father, and found him a worthy companion. I understand the urgency of your journey."

  "I am grateful for your hospitality," Tris said. "But I fear that an open welcome may place
your kingdom in peril."

  Staden dismissed Tris's warning with a gesture. "On the morrow, we will talk, and you shall have the resources of my kingdom, my best men-at-arms, and my wisest military strategists at your service," Staden announced. "I have no love for Margolan raiders within my boundaries and I have heard the tales of the refugees who crowd my border villages. We shall all be better off when Margolan answers to a fit king.

  "But tonight," he continued, "we feast. I never thought to see my daughter again. You have returned her to me. Nothing is more important. Come, we must get ready," he said, clapping his hands sharply. Servants streamed from the doors, gathering around Tris and the others and moving them toward the exits. "My servants will help

  you prepare," the king called after them, as Berry stood beside him with her arms around his waist.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  TRIS WAS LED to a room that rivaled the most comfortable in Shekerishet. One servant poured a steaming bath, laden with musky oils, while another laid out fresh clothing on the bed and a third prepared a respite of wine, sliced fruit and bread. Berry's presence enabled him to relax his guard. He removed his soiled and tattered traveling clothes and slipped into the hot bath.

  I may have already learned the first lesson of kingship too well, he thought, forcing himself to relax as he sipped from a goblet of wine. I've started to expect a knife between my shoulders no matter where I go.

  Whether it was Carina's antidote or the passage of several days, Tris felt much recovered from the wormroot. He shuddered as he recalled the empty feeling of having his power out of reach. Its absence felt as if something vital were pulled from the marrow of his very bones, and he did not doubt Carina's observation that a long, strong dosing of wormroot could indeed kill or drive a mage to madness. He resolved to take up the issue with the Sisterhood at the first opportunity.

  Better to have run into it now, when I can figure out how to deal with it, than later, when I'm up against Jared.

  He finished an unhurried bath to the obvious satisfaction of the servants assigned to his care. Tris wondered how much Berry had stressed that the servants were to see to his every need, for despite having grown up with valets and footmen, Tris could not recall being pampered so lavishly, even in his own kingdom.

  The bells of the courtyard tower were ringing the supper hour as Tris straightened his tunic and paced in the reception room, awaiting his companions. Staden's servants had done remarkably well at finding clothes to fit, and he now awaited the banquet in a gray tunic and slacks of the finest satin, chagrined at the costumier who insisted on adding what he called a "wizard's cloak" to complete the outfit. Catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror, Tris had to admit that he looked the part of a Summoner, a spirit mage dressed in the color of shadows.

  Carroway and Soterius arrived together. Carroway was obviously enjoying their first opportunity in nearly three months to dress for court. The bard wore a flamboyant tunic of gem-toned silks, with draping sleeves and bright colors. Soterius could not have appeared more different in a muted outfit of hunter's green, devoid completely of ornamentation, remarkable only for the luxuriousness of its brocade and the perfection of its fit. To their surprise, Gabriel arrived a few moments later, dressed head to toe in midnight blue.

  "The Sisters told me that I might find you here," the vayash moru said off-handedly at his unexpected appearance.

  "No! I won't do it. You can beg me all you like. Bad enough that I can't take my sword. Be off with you!" Tov Harrtuck arrived, still arguing with the valet who had been assigned to him, adamant that he would continue to wear his worn leather vest over a rich brown brocade ensemble.

  The costumier pulled at the scuffed vest, attempting to wrest it away by force, but Harrtuck scowled and held his ground like a terrier with a bone, prompting chuckles from Tris and the others. "Please, sir, reconsider. You're to be the guests of the King tonight! Surely you can make an exception-"

  "I like my vest," Harrtuck retorted. "And you've already gotten me into these… things," he said with a wave toward his fine clothes. Tris realized that in all the years he had known the armsmaster, he had never once, no matter the occasion, seen Harrtuck dressed for anything but the barracks.

  "Sir, please-" The costumier was almost in tears, but Harrtuck was resolute, though it appeared that the stolid fighter had availed himself of the proffered bath and made an attempt to tame his unruly hair and groom his recently regrown beard.

  "No! I will not! Now go," Harrtuck said, shooing his groomers away with a flurry of waving arms. "Go dress Vahanian. It'll take half a dozen of you just to get his sword away from him," he said, chasing the flummoxed servants from the room. He shut the door soundly behind him, standing hands on hips as if ready should the servants return. He turned toward Tris and the others, grumbling under his breath as he scratched at his beard.

  "Lady and Whore!" he exclaimed. "What's the use of making a body miserable for a feast, I ask you?" he continued, in such obvious distress that Tns and Carroway burst out laughing.

  "Oh yes, go ahead, have a good laugh," he said as even Soterius joined in. "Our little peacock finally has his finery back," he said with a good-natured jibe at Carroway. "And Ban here was thinking of nothing but the ladies when he dressed." "Now it's not so bad," Tris answered, trying to keep his laughter out of his voice. "I didn't think they did too badly with me."

  Harrtuck paused and looked Tris over from head to toe. "Aye, my liege, you're right. Anyone who saw you would know you for a wizard, and a king," he said, with unexpected seriousness. Then he shook his head, returning to his self-pity. "On the other hand, it's a waste of good cloth to dress up the likes of me," he added, giving Soterius a scowl when the soldier vigorously agreed. Whatever more might have been said was lost as the doors opened to admit the rest of their companions.

  Royster strode into the room first, a wide grin on his face and a bounce in his step. His wild, snow-white hair was trimmed and tamed under a scholar's cap, and the thin little man beamed with pride at the flowing academic robe that replaced his riding gear. He hummed a tavern ditty and executed a sprightly pirouette for his audience. "Not bad, don't you think?" he said with a broad wink. "Oh, it almost makes me wish Kessen were here!" He looked quickly at Tris. "Not that I'd want you to summon him, mind you, but it would make him pop to see me in this! Scholar's robes indeed! I hope we get to keep them," he said impishly. "I'll save them until I'm back at the Library and wear them every day, just to vex him!"

  Kiara and Carina entered together, the Isencroft princess leading the way into the room, with Jae circling overhead. Gone were Kiara's riding leathers and breastplate, the solid boots and coarsely woven cloak. In their place was a copper-colored gown of silk that played off her auburn hair and enhanced the firm-toned contours of her body by its slim cut. Tris met her eyes across the room and blushed as a smile crept to her lips, realizing that his expression betrayed his appreciation. Jae landed lightly on her shoulder, and Tris noted that the little gyregon now wore a slim gold chain around his throat.

  Carina was a step behind. A green gown of Mussa silk replaced her healer's robes, and a headband of pearls secured her short black hair. But where Kiara's ease was apparent as she teased with the others and glowingly accepted their compliments, Carina hung back, and Tris realized that the court healer was at a loss outside of her role of physician, without the barrier that the status of her robes made easy to enforce.

  "You clean up well," Vahanian said from behind her, and Carina blushed scarlet.

  "At least it's green," she managed, for once at a loss for words.

  Vahanian chuckled. "I've always wondered what healers wore beneath their robes," he murmured. Carina feigned an outraged swing at him which Vahanian dodged easily. "Hey, take it easy. All I meant was that you give Kiara competition in that dress."

  "Really?" she replied, with a glance toward Kiara, who was joking with Carroway about the brightness of his waistcoat.

  "Absolutely," V
ahanian replied, executing a courtly bow without a hint of mockery. He was dressed head to toe in black velvet, with just the lightest hint of gold around the collar and cuffs. It complemented his hair and complexion perfectly, and Tris decided that Berry herself must have had a hand in their wardrobe. The only items out of place were Vahanian's scuffed black boots and the absence of a sword belt around his waist.

  The mercenary pulled at his collar uncomfortably. "I still want to know whose rule it is that we can't take our swords. Stupid rule if you ask me."

  "You can't wear a sword in the presence of the

  King," Carina replied. "Everyone knows that."

  "Excuse me," Vahanian retorted, returning to their usual banter, "but everyone doesn't spend their days at court. I don't go anywhere without my sword."

  "Where you go, that's probably a good idea."

  "There's one small piece of business that hasn't been taken care of," Tris said with a glance toward Vahanian. "We have a little settling up to do." He walked to the table, and from beneath it, lifted a brassbound chest, heavy enough that it shuddered the table with its weight. "I promised to pay you once we reached Principality," he said to Vahanian. "Here it is."

  Tris released the clasp and flipped open the chest to reveal an ample mound of Dhasson gold. More than enough to let a man live well for the rest of his life. Tris looked at Vahanian, an unspoken question hanging between them.

  The smuggler had not moved, and while his stance suggested that he, too, heard the challenge in Tris's tone, his eyes were unreadable as he stood silent for a moment, looking at the chest.

  "I'm going to Margolan," Vahanian replied. "Why don't you put it somewhere safe 'til I get back."

  Tris broke out laughing and slapped his friend on the back as Kiara and the others gathered around the fighter, expressing their pleasure at his decision. Vahanian shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention, then grinned his pleasure at their acceptance.

  "The feast awaits, honored guests," intoned a servant from the main doors. They filed down the corridor, and Tris found that, despite the assurance of Berry's presence and her father's sworn assistance, he was holding his breath as the wide doors swung open.