The Lords of Anavar

by Jim Greenfield

  "Orders from the Queen. Seems rumors from Curesia started it. Curesia is supposedly raising an army against us."

  "We heard nothing of this."

  "I wouldn't think so being closed up in Lathor. Everyone knows the Mage Council is up to something. Most think you have a hand in this war that's coming. Of course we know you will defend Wierland if nothing else but to protect your castle. However, aren't some Council members from Curesia?"

  "Yes. We do not have enough facts to discuss this situation. However we do need to speak to the Queen about serious matters."

  "You shall, you shall. Forgive my long wind. I think that's why the Captain always assigns me the gate. The Queen gave orders for all Mages to be presented to her as soon as they arrived. I have two men prepared to escort you through the commotion."

  They soon found themselves lost in the winding streets watching the colorfully dressed people go about their business. A person or two looked at them, but on the whole they were ignored. The ceremonial guards at the palace bowed low as the Mages entered and were met by the steward; a tall muscular man of middle years, white hair cropped short and a faint scar from his chin to his ear. He moved precisely and appeared coiled for danger. A former fighting man with intelligence enough to rise to a prestigious position. At his belt he wore a ceremonial dagger; however, the handle was well worn. His voice was soft and a surprisingly high tenor.

  "I am Karsten Roe, Chief Steward of her Majesty, Queen Beatrice. Be welcome and follow me. I have rooms set aside for you to stay and refresh yourselves. The Queen will expect you promptly in one hour. I will send a page to fetch you."

  "We heard of rumors that Curesia is raising an army," said Lars Vokas.

  Karsten Roe paused in his walk and turned to them, speaking low.

  "Do not put faith in rumors, especially in Wierland. This place feeds on rumors and gives life to some, death to others, and the same to the followers of those rumors."

  He spoke no more and they found themselves at their rooms. Zae Pol rested on her bed, sipping wine and recalling her instructions from Gerrand. Zae Pol stared at the closed door for several minutes and then opened it and ran to Lar Vokas' room. In the corridor she bumped into a tall fighting man.

  "Oh, excuse me," said Zae Pol. "I wasn't paying attention."

  "Nothing broken," grinned Kisle Ber. "You may run into me anytime."

  She ignored the look and continued down the hallway.

  Kisle Ber arrived from Curesia an hour earlier than Lars Vokas and Zae Pol and in the guise of a nobleman from Calendia, received a similar welcome and had a room next to Zae Pol. He had not asked for an audience because he wanted to limit his ties to the circumstances of the Queen's impending death. He was too well known as a mercenary and a price would be on his head. No, he would wait for his chance. He would find out what the Mages were doing and determine what Queen Beatrice planned to do. He knew that he received only part of the information from High Lord Gharom, but that was to be expected, after all, Kisle Ber was only a hired hand.

  Back in Curesia he listened to the covert discussions of the Curesian lords and watched the shadowed wanderings of Petyr Wolk. He saw the changes manifest in High Lord Gharom and knew his liege lord no longer followed his own mind. The fact that the Mages were here in Wierland indicated that something was afoot. The Mages seldom showed themselves at court.

  Kisle Ber sat in his room drinking wine. His door was ajar to allow him to hear if Zae Pol left the room again. She had spent an hour in Lars Vokas' room no doubt talking of whatever news they brought the Queen. Again, he was not surprised by the flow of information and would have laughed in anyone's face who said they were trustworthy. He did not believe that of anyone. He lived far too long in the world of politics and its intrigues to trust any person.

  He heard someone come to Zae Pol's room and he peered out into the hallway. Hart Mariah, one of the nobles, whispered urgently to the Mage. Kisle Ber marveled at such conversations since a guard was posted every six doors so at any time two guards saw the visitors. It made no sense. Surely Queen Beatrice knew everything that transpired in her palace.

  A page approached and beckoned Zae Pol and then knocked on Lars Vokas' door. Kisle Ber decided he wanted to know what the Mages would say to the Queen. He had spent enough time in the palace on previous visits to learn most of the less traveled passages. There were at least three that would give him a chance to hear, if not see, the Mages' audience with the Queen. He hoped the passages still were not well known, but it had been a year since he used them. He moved quickly past the guards, resisting the opportunity to stick his tongue out at them, and turned down a different corridor than the path of the Mages.

  The listening place he recalled proved easy to find. It unnerved him that only a curtain covered it. He looked up and down the corridor, and did it once more. If he had been seen entering it he would be in peril. The curtain would not be able to stop a knife blade. However, his choices were few and he wanted to hear what Queen Beatrice would say to the Mages and what news the Mages brought the Queen.

  "Yes, Karsten?"

  "Your Highness, I present Zae Pol and Lars Vokas from the Mage Council."

  "Excellent! Be welcome. Chairs for our guests." She clapped her hands. Kisle Ber tried to find a hole large enough to see into the room, but did not succeed.

  "Zae Pol, where are you from?"

  "We hail from Calendia."

  "I see. Are all nations are represented in the Mage Council?"

  "Yes, your Highness," said Zae Pol.

  "I assume then Petyr Wolk is a member?"

  "Yes, and Techna Vole, your Highness."

  "Ah, so Curesia still has a presence there. Why are you here?"

  "The tale is long, your Highness, and Petyr Wolk figures into it. He did not attend our Council meeting and Gerrand spoke against him."

  "I am listening. Tell me the entire story."

  Zae Pol spoke of Cehana's vision and of Macelan's return. She emphasized Gerrand's belief that Macelan was indeed coming back.

  "A very interesting tale, Zae Pol. It would seem that these rumors of Curesia's army have a basis of merit. If this Petyr Wolk is at the heart of your tale, then he is at the head of our troubles. As for what I shall do this I must think on this evening. I will speak with you again at dawn. Be ready, for I believe we must move quickly."

  Kisle Ber could not believe what he heard, yet it made sense with what he discovered on his own. He sat considering his options.

  "You shouldn't spend too much time here for the guards check it periodically."

  He turned to see a beautiful redhead grinning at him. Then he saw the tiara. She noticed the change in his face.

  "Oh yes, I'm Princess Alicae. Come with me before the guards come. I need an escort to walk in the gardens. Mother demands that I do not venture anywhere alone."

  "You don't know me."

  "But I do. I've watched you since you arrived and I've asked around. You are Kisle Ber, the mercenary. Hurry, before we are found out."

  "You don't fear me?"

  "Should I?"

  "I could kidnap you. You don't know who is paying me now."

  "That is true," said Princess Alicae. "However, you know very little about me. Do not be quick to judge. Now, move quickly Kisle Ber. We must reach the gardens unseen."

  "I thought you needed an escort."

  "I do, but you do not appear to be the sort Mother had in mind. The guards will try to stop me from leaving the palace, but if I am already outside, it will prove most difficult. Let us be gone from here."

  She took his hand and pulled with surprising strength. Kisle Ber thought the princess to be thirteen or fourteen, but now he believed her three or four years older than that. It wasn't her strength of arm, rather the strength in her eyes. He saw something there that seemed unfamiliar to him. He felt his experience with women gained him much insight. Of all the eyes he had gazed into, none showed the fire and power of Princess Alicae. He wondered where
she spent her time and why her presence eluded the spies. He certainly never heard of her before today. To his knowledge the Queen never had a daughter. Here before him set a puzzle and he would decipher it.

  They slipped out of the palace unseen. Kisle Ber smiled at the bright flowers ringing the garden. Everything in Finald shone with color. Was it the Queen's command, or nature's; he did not know. Noise seemed muted in the garden. Outside noise that is. The birds of the garden chirped loudly and piercing. The Princess sat on a wooden bench and beckoned Kisle Ber to do the same.

  "Why are you here, Kisle Ber?" asked Princess Alicae. "You are not attached to any noble here, nor have you advertised your sword."

  "You do not sound like a young princess. Where did you test your mettle?"

  "I have been away for several years. Now, do not try to evade my questions again. You cannot leave this garden without my leave."

  Kisle Ber laughed and glanced back to the path, expecting to see a guard or two, but the path had closed, blocked by huge rose bushes with inch long thorns.

  "This garden is mine and responds solely to me. If I wish it, the thorns would hold you tight for eternity. You may think me a young woman or perhaps a child still, yet I warn you, I am neither. My power reaches deep into the earth to the very roots of the mountains and forests. I claim you, Kisle Ber, as my sword bearer."

  A touch of cool breath washed over him and the hair on the back of his neck rose. She didn't give him a chance. What did she do to him?

  He felt the heat in his face and breathed slowly trying to contain his anger. His fingers twitched from his tension and the Princess laughed a silvery sound that tingled up his spine. He released the tension and anger fled his body.

  "You are precious, Kisle Ber. Realize this, that you may never hurt me. Save your anger for my enemies."

  "Who are they?"

  "All in its time. I believe your command comes from Curesia. The High Lord Gharom perhaps. Tell me what it is."

  Without thinking, he spoke. "To kill Queen Beatrice."

  "Ah, I thought as much. Then perhaps you should do it."

  "What?"

  She laughed again. His face contorted in confusion and she laughed until tears seeped from her lashes.

  "I told you I am not what you expect. My Mother's plans do not always please me and whether she knows it or not, I rule Wierland. If she must die to protect Wierland, so be it. Are you scandalized by my behavior?"

  Kisle Ber watched her face, her bright green eyes, her hair shining red in the sunlight and he smelled the fragrance of the garden. He realized his choice could only be with the Princess. Already her grasp tightened on him.

  "I refuse to comment on your behavior; however I give you my oath to serve you, Princess Alicae, daughter of Beatrice on the condition that you name your father."

  Her hand cracked against his face so swiftly, he, a trained fighter, did not see it coming. It stung like a blow from a large man. Her eyes flashed, her jaw tightened, and her voice hissed.

  "Do not question my parentage. I promise to protect those pledged to me, but Kisle Ber, the question of my father is never spoken of again. Do you understand?"

  "One question first. Is he alive?"

  "He is not dead. Leave it at that. Come with me. I must speak to Mother."

  He shook his head and followed the Princess. Once he tried to take a different turning in the palace and felt a tug upon him. Puzzled, he looked to the Princess who smiled. A hard knot formed in his stomach. Should he be magically bound to Princess Alicae, then he took the short end of the bargain. In retrospect, it was not a bargain at all.

  The Queen sat surrounded by nobles and attendants, speaking rapidly. Kisle Ber recognized Alanic Froania, Warlord of Wierland. Froania turned to the newcomers and upon seeing Kisle Ber smiled crookedly.

  "Well Kisle, what a surprise. Are you here to aid Wierland? I have not checked the coffers so I do not know what we can pay you."

  "He is in my service," said Princess Alicae. "I did not give you leave to speak to him."

  Alanic Froania laughed. "What leave do I need?"

  Suddenly, the room howled with wind. The gusts battered the Warlord to the floor. He gasped for breath as he tried to pull himself to his feet. Another gust drove him against the wall.

  "Daughter! Enough!"

  Immediately the air calmed. Froania glared up at the smiling Princess.

  "I underestimated you, Princess. I shall not do it again."

  "Place your anger elsewhere, Alanic," said Queen Beatrice. "The Princess has skills you could not begin to comprehend. Leave us all of you. I wish to speak to my daughter alone." The room cleared rapidly, leaving mother and daughter and fighting man.

  "I seem to be unable to depart," said Kisle Ber, who tried to follow the nobles out the door.

  "I see," said Queen Beatrice. She glared at her daughter. "I told you this could wait for a year or two yet."

  "It can't wait. Gerrand has set everything in motion."

  "You think this concerns you? I had hoped to hide you for a while yet."

  "I realize your concern Mother, but the choice is out of our hands. Macelan has returned to the land. What else can I do?"

  "How would you counsel my daughter, Kisle Ber?" asked the Queen.

  "I would not know where to start," replied Kisle Ber. "My understanding of the situation is shaky for I fear I lack enough facts to judge it."

  "It is true that you lack facts. Alicae keeps much to herself, but she is only half my daughter. She follows her father in much of her behavior."

  "I already told Kisle Ber he is not to ask about my father."

  "Did you? Well, he must know soon enough. Kisle Ber, I know you and believe your sword even shed blood for Wierland on occasion. Why did you come this time?"

  "High Lord Gharom hired me to kill you."

  Queen Beatrice looked at the man, her shoulders bowed and weary. Her forty plus years weighing like sixty as the events of the world spin out of control. She looked to her daughter and nodded, then sighed.

  "It appears my daughter is correct in this. Alicae, I advise you to gain the aid of the Mages who came here today. Hear their words firsthand and decide how they affect what you need to accomplish. Tell me what you decide before you leave me."

  "Do you think I would run from you without a word?"

  "Your father did." She waved her arm, dismissing them.

  Kisle Ber stepped back as the Princess bolted past him. The tears rimming her eyes made her appear her age.

  "That was dangerous, your Highness," said Kisle Ber.

  "I do know it, sir. I gambled and lost. Now I have to see this through."

  "I don't understand."

  "I know. Pray you never understand it as fully as me. Go, Kisle Ber. Protect my daughter as best you can. How you can protect her from herself, I do not know. Godspeed, Kisle Ber. We may not meet again."

  He followed the Princess to his room where she waited outside while he packed his gear. She was gone where he left the room, but Zae Pol's door hung ajar. He heard the voice of the Princess and knocked on the door as he pushed it open.

  "This is Kisle Ber," said Princess Alicae. "He is my sword bearer."

  "I am Zae Pol and this is Lars Vokas. We are Mages."

  "I know who you are," said Kisle Ber. "My best friend is Deah Vole, brother of Techna Vole. I heard much about the Mage Council and their activities, which included a description of each member. However Zae Pol, you are far prettier than I imagined."

  "I see. Princess Alicae has told us what she knows and asks us to share our information and join her. That is contrary to our instructions from Gerrand. We are to contact every head of state and tell them what we told Queen Beatrice."

  The air shimmered with heat. The Mages shielded themselves.

  "It's the Princess," said Kisle Ber.

  "They must help us!" cried Princess Alicae. She stamped her foot, waving her fists in the air.

  "You act as a child now, Princess
," said the mercenary. Abruptly the air returned to normal.

  "Do not call me a child, Kisle Ber." Her calm voice exited through thin pressed lips.

  "What power is this?" asked Zae Pol. "Little knowledge of you we have, but no knowledge of such power. Your mother has no such power. Where did you come by it? Tell me about it."

  "No. That topic shall not be discussed. Do not try to change the subject. You must come with us. Kisle Ber, I will tell my mother we are leaving immediately with the Mages. Be sure they are prepared when I return." She turned and stomped toward the throne room.

  "Well, that is a terror, no mistake," said Lars Vokas. "What is she?"

  "I have a suspicion that I will keep to myself," said Zae Pol. "Gerrand sent us here to meet her. I do not doubt it. He said I could go in any order to the lands, but to go to Queen Beatrice first."

  "He said that?" asked Lars Vokas.

  "Yes. His reasons become clearer as time passes, although I wish he would share more information sooner. I hate guessing games. He said not to miss the gardens. I still don't know why."

  "I do," said Kisle Ber. "The gardens are the Princess's domain. She seems to draw her strength from there."

  "That crafty Gerrand. What else did he not tell us?"

  "Time for that later," said Kisle Ber. "You best prepare to travel quickly. She will return soon. I am bonded to her in some way and can feel her presence. It's very strange. At least I shall have your company, Zae Pol, to lighten my cares." Lars Vokas shook his head at the young man's remark.

  "Drop dead."

  "Too late for that. I must have the Princess's permission first. I am under a spell to be her sword bearer and companion, remember?"

  "I will discuss it with her."

  "Pray she doesn't bond you the same way."

  Zae Pol's eyes widened and she nodded her head. She gathered her clothing together in a bundle silently.