The Gray Wolf Throne
Page 22
And Ira was eleven years old. He wouldn’t go to the academy for two more years.
“General Klemath, you are right,” Amon said. “I should have anticipated it. It’s just—things are shifting so quickly, it’s hard to keep up. I expected to have years in the Guard to prepare. With the tragic loss of the queen, and then the loss of my father—it will just take a while to get used to the idea, I guess.”
Bayar’s expression said Don’t take too long.
“Corporal Byrne,” Mellony said. “We have this in common: we are both thrust into roles we never expected. We can learn together, you and I.”
Amon nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
That’s exactly what we don’t need, Amon thought. A young, malleable, inexperienced queen and a green captain of the guard.
“So you agree?” Mellony said, leaning forward eagerly, the child unwilling to be denied.
Amon inclined his head. “Yes,” he said. “I would be honored to serve as Captain of the Queen’s Guard, Your Highness.” After all, he already was, in fact.
Lord Bayar studied him for a long moment, then nodded, seeming satisfied. “Good.” He looked at Speaker Jemson. “Isn’t there some sort of religious ceremony?” he said, with clear disinterest. “Will you be handling that?”
Speaker Jemson nodded. “Typically, it takes place at the time of the coronation,” he said. “I will prepare for that, along with the rest.”
Jemson is a fair liar, for a dedicate, Amon thought.
“Thank you, Corporal Byrne,” Lord Bayar said, dismissing him. “This Regent’s Council meeting is adjourned.”
Amon rose and backed away, bowing, but they were no longer paying attention to him. Mellony climbed down from her high chair and stood, chatting animatedly with Micah. As Amon watched, the young wizard slid an arm around Mellony’s shoulders and drew her in for a kiss.
Amon didn’t look forward to sharing all this news with Raisa.
“Corporal.” Amon flinched and looked up to find Jemson next to him. “I am riding up to Marianna Peak now to observe the preparations. Why don’t you come along? We can make some decisions and you can get the lay of the land.”
“Yes, thank you, I will,” Amon said, yanking his attention away from Mellony and Micah.
Speaker Jemson followed his gaze. “It seems we have our work cut out for us, doesn’t it?”
Amon had to agree.
By the end of the day, Amon was physically and mentally exhausted. The Gray Wolves had accompanied Amon and Jemson to Marianna Peak, since Amon meant to use them as part of the honor guard for his father. Whatever the final plan, he wanted soldiers on hand he could trust during the memorial. His Wolves were all native-born, except for Pearlie Greenholt, who had come north with Talia, leaving her post as weapons master at Wien House. She had taken Wode’s place in Amon’s triple after Wode was killed in Tamron.
They walked the burial ground, and Amon took notes and made sketches. His father’s urn would not take much space, so there was no need to chop a deep grave out of the still-frozen ground. He spoke to the stone carvers about an appropriate monument. All the while, he racked his brain, looking for a safe way to bring Raisa in and out of the site without exposing her to those who would be eager to finish the job they’d started.
When they returned to Fellsmarch, Amon debriefed his Wolfpack again, giving them preliminary instructions for the day of the memorial. They wouldn’t know about the Princess Raisa until the very last minute. He trusted his Wolves, but the fewer who knew, the less chance word would leak out.
He left the urn containing his father’s ashes with Speaker Jemson. It would rest in state in the Cathedral Temple until the memorial service, when Amon and his Wolves would accompany it to the burial site.
He managed a late dinner with his brother Ira and his sister Lydia and her family. Three years older than Amon, Lydia was recently married and expecting a child. She and her husband, Donnell Graves, a merchant, had rented a home within the castle close, since many of her painting commissions came from the wealthy nobility who lived in the area. With their father gone, Ira would move in with Lydia until it was time for him to leave for the academy.
Lydia would have preferred to bury their father next to their mother in the Byrne tomb in the cathedral close, but it would not be the first time she had sacrificed her desires to the good of queen and realm.
There was much to talk about—memories and grief to share—and they were reluctant to let him go. As a result, it was quite late when Amon fetched his horse from the barracks stable for the long ride back to Marisa Pines. As he led the gelding through the stable doors into the courtyard, he saw movement in the shadows next to the building.
Amon assumed it was one of his fellow guards, staying late from the previous shift or early for the next. “Who goes there?” he called softly.
But the tall spare figure who stepped into the light was not one of the Queen’s Guard.
“What are you doing here?” Amon asked, sliding his sword free, but keeping it pointed toward the ground.
Micah Bayar came forward, hands raised, palms out, to show that he was not touching his amulet. “Relax, Corporal Byrne, I mean you no harm. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“That’s a shame, Bayar, because I don’t want to talk to you,” Amon said, sorting through what he did and didn’t know, and what he could and couldn’t admit to. “Have you been waiting for me all this time?”
Micah nodded. “I looked for you at the barracks, but it seems you aren’t staying here.” He paused. When Amon said nothing, he said impatiently, “Why aren’t you in the barracks? Where are you staying?”
“It’s crowded in the barracks. Too many new faces. And it’s none of your business where I’m staying.” Amon wanted to mount up, but he knew that would make him vulnerable to a magical attack. “Now, if there’s nothing else… ?”
Micah stepped into the gateway leading out of the courtyard, blocking the way. “I want to know if you’ve heard from the Princess Raisa, and if you know where she is.”
“The Princess Raisa?” Amon assumed a perplexed expression. “How would I know where she is? You heard what I said at the Council of Regents meeting. I’ve been at Oden’s Ford all this while, same as you.”
Micah’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me. I know you took her to Oden’s Ford. I know you had her hidden away there.”
Amon snorted. “Let me get this straight: you think the princess heir of the realm ran away with a fourth-year cadet and has been living at a military academy for nearly a year?” Some devil within him made him add, “Why would she do such a thing…unless she was absolutely desperate to get away?”
Micah scowled at the dig. “I know she was at Oden’s Ford because I saw her,” he said.
“If you say so,” Amon said. “Then maybe she’s still there. Unless you know something I don’t.” He paused, wondering if Micah would actually confess to kidnapping Raisa. When Micah said nothing, Amon added, “Why do you care where she is? Looks to me like you’re…ah…supporting the Princess Mellony.” Amon raised an eyebrow.
“If the Princess Raisa is still alive, she should be crowned queen,” Micah said.
Amon eyed Micah, trying to read his face in the inconsistent light. “Well, now, Bayar,” he said. “You finally hit on something we can agree on.”
“If you know where she is, you need to get word to her,” Micah continued. “She has to be at Queen Marianna’s funeral. Once Mellony is crowned, it will be too late.”
“I didn’t hear you speaking up at the Council of Regents,” Amon said. “Seems to me that’s who you should be talking to. Not a lowly corporal in the guard.”
You don’t fool me, Amon thought. You just want to know where she is so you can finish the job you started. Still keeping one eye on the wizard, he swung up into his saddle and nudged his gelding into a walk, aiming straight at Micah.
Micah Bayar waited until the last possible moment, then st
ood aside and watched him go by.
C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N
A CALCULATED RISK
The day after the newling queen’s confession, Han asked Willo to move him into the visitors’ lodge, where he’d have less supervision and more freedom of movement.
Willo disapproved. “You’ll overtax yourself,” she said. “At least here I can attend you and limit your visitors.”
He could have said, “You’re already letting in all the people I’d like to keep out.” But that wasn’t Willo’s fault. “I don’t need anyone attending me,” he said. “And I’ll get more rest away from all the comings and goings.”
Willo sat down next to Han on the sleeping bench. “What are you going to do, Hunts Alone?” she said.
“Do?” Han rubbed the back of his neck. “About what?”
“About Briar Rose,” she said.
“Who?” Han pretended not to understand. “Oh. The queenling. That girlie has more names than a Ragmarket fancy.”
“Be careful, Hunts Alone,” Willo said, her voice low and urgent. She glanced around as if to make sure no one else was within hearing distance.
“I’m always careful,” Han said. He couldn’t help looking around as well.
“I mean it. If the Demonai realize you are in love with her, they will kill you.”
“Who says I’m in love with her?” Han retorted, avoiding her eyes. “Where do you get that?”
“I saw what was in your face when you handed her down to me at trailside,” Willo said. “I heard what you said. If I can see it, so can others. Never forget that Averill is Demonai first—and he’s no fool. He will not hesitate to kill you if he has any inkling that your intentions are—”
“I don’t have any intentions, all right?” Han growled. “Except for staying alive and getting out of this mess as soon as I can. That will be hard enough to bring off.”
“I know you.” Reaching up, Willo brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “You will go after what you want, regardless of the risk. And you stand to lose everything.”
I have lost everything, Han thought. Then he corrected himself. Every time I think I’ve lost everything, I find there’s still something else to lose.
“Look,” he said, “I’m not a fool, though I act the part sometimes. I have no illusions about what I mean to Her Highness. I know all about bluebloods, and she’s worse than most. She’s been lying to me from the day we met.”
“You are wrong,” Willo persisted. “She cares for you—she really does. And that increases the risk. There are some that will kill her too, if they realize how much she cares. The Briar Rose represents hope for the upland tribes—a chance to finally put one of our own on the Gray Wolf throne. A chance to redress more than a thousand years of occupation by jinxflingers and rule by the Valedwellers. Believe me, there is no one more dangerous than one whose hopes have turned to despair.”
She fell silent, smoothing the folds of her skirts. “The Wizard Council has hopes also—to regain the power they once held. As long as they believe that the Briar Rose can be a part of that plan, she stays alive. And you are definitely not a part of that plan.”
Han ground the heels of his hands into his temples, wishing he could shut out Willo’s gentle voice. When had she become such an expert in politics?
Willo put her hand on Han’s shoulder, her touch easing the pounding in his head. “I know how to keep secrets to protect those I love. You must keep this secret too.” She searched Han’s face, her own drawn tight with worry. “Promise me you will.”
I might as well be spitting into the wind as talking to Willo, Han thought. He put his hand on her arm. “I’ll be careful,” he said. “I know how to keep secrets.” He paused, for a heartbeat. “And now I need some favors from you.”
In the visitors’ lodge, Han was granted one of the rooms reserved for important guests. It had a hearth of its own on the outside wall, and two sleeping benches, each wide enough for two, piled with blankets and fur throws.
He wished he had someone to share all this luxury with. His thoughts went unbidden to Rebecca. Raisa. This was new to him—this feeling like he’d had a limb hacked off.
Two of Willo’s apprentices were assigned to feed and dose him at regular intervals. But they knocked before they entered and peeked at him out of the corners of their eyes and acted like they thought he would flame them at the drop of a moccasin.
It was tiresome, but convenient at the same time.
Han wore Dancer’s replica of his Hunts Alone amulet displayed on the outside of his clothing, the Demon King’s amulet hidden underneath. The flash in the replica was a faint reflection of the original. Han worried that if Elena touched it, she would know it wasn’t the one she made. But though the matriarch likely noticed he wore it, she showed little interest in it.
Dancer continued to use the original Hunts Alone amulet, though he kept it hidden while in camp. He seemed to have made his peace with the borrowed jinxpiece.
That evening, Han and Dancer walked back to the Matriarch Lodge for the promised strategy meeting with all the players and plotters. It was the first time Han had seen Raisa since her confession to him. When they entered the common room of the lodge, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, engaged in animated conversation with Averill and Elena Demonai. Her father and grandmother, Han reminded himself.
Still, she looked up when Han entered as if she sensed his presence. Leaning forward, her hands pressed onto her leggings, she searched his face with a kind of mute appeal.
Han averted his eyes and found a seat on the floor on the far side of the room.
Amon Byrne and Averill Demonai reported on the news from the capital. If the Princess Raisa didn’t show at the queen’s burial, they’d put her little sister on the throne. So suddenly the discussion was not if she would attend but how she could do it safely.
So the Princess Raisa would get her way, as princesses usually do.
Reid Nightwalker Demonai and the newly minted Night Bird were there. Several times, Han felt the pressure of Bird’s eyes on him. He pretended not to notice.
Nightwalker was another matter. Han could tell that his presence was like a tick under the Demonai warrior’s skin. So Han made it a point to challenge his black stare every chance he got, like they were rival streetlords in the market.
The site for the memorial service lay on the south flank of the newly named Marianna Peak, north of the Vale. At least it was neutral ground; if anyone had an edge, it was the clans.
Han knew the place—he’d hunted the area with Dancer and Bird—though it had been a long time ago. The flatlanders called it Camelback Mountain. The clans had a more picturesque name for the double summit. Now both names would be discarded in favor of Marianna.
The memorial site was accessible from the mountains to the north, using a high pass between the twin summits. Though that would be hard going this early in spring.
“Before we go further,” Averill Lightfoot said, glancing at Han and Dancer, “there is something else you should know.”
All eyes turned to the Demonai patriarch.
“When I returned to the city yesterday, I asked the Demonai warriors assigned to my guard to search the queen’s gardens again, to see if there were any clues that Queen Marianna’s guard might have overlooked.” To Amon, he added, “I’m not meaning to suggest that the guard’s search was lacking in any way.”
“No offense taken,” Amon said evenly.
Averill nodded, then put his hand on Bird’s shoulder. “Night Bird, can you show us what you found?”
Now everyone stared at Bird. She fumbled in her carry pouch and withdrew an object wrapped in deerskin. Coming forward onto her knees, she set it on the ground and unfolded the leather covering.
It was a wizard’s amulet in an old-fashioned style—a tangle of branches and birds in white and yellow gold, some of its fine detail worn smooth with long use.
“And where did you find this?” Averill prompted.
“Is this familiar to anyone?” Averill asked. “Does anyone know which jinxfl—which wizard carries an amulet like this?”
They all shook their heads. Han rolled his eyes. It wasn’t surprising that none of them had seen it. Most of those present never interacted with wizards if they could help it.
Dancer extended his hand. “Could I take a look?”
Bird nodded, and Dancer lifted the amulet, cradling it between his hands, turning it to catch the torchlight. “This is an old piece,” he said finally. “Though made since the Breaking. Nearly all the flash has been discharged. It’s seen recent use.” He looked up. “I’d guess that somebody’s been seen using this, if we ask around.”
“Who should we ask?” Nightwalker said. “The Wizard Council? Why would they tell us the truth?”
“We will ask the flashcrafters at Demonai Camp,” Averill said. “Perhaps someone remembers renewing the amulet in the past.”
Han took the flashpiece from Dancer and weighed it on his palm. “It’s hard to believe that a wizard would drop his amulet without noticing,” he said, frowning. “Or leave it lay if he did.”
He met Bird’s eyes, and she looked down at her hands, embarrassed to be accusing wizards of a crime in his presence.
“If Queen Marianna ripped it off her attacker, and it fell into the garden below, maybe he couldn’t retrieve it right then,” Elena said, taking the amulet from Han. “Maybe someone was down there.”
Raisa shook her head. “Averill said that nobody saw the queen fall, or found her until Magret missed her.”
“It may not be positive proof,” Nightwalker said, “but it supports what I’ve said all along—we should not be allying ourselves with wizards to fight wizards who may be implicated in Queen Marianna’s death. It puts them in a difficult position—acting against their own kind.” Several of the young Demonai warriors nodded in agreement.