Lioness of Kell

by Paul E. Horsman

  The Overcaptain harrumphed. ‘You take a lot upon yourself, young man,’ he said. ‘We come with an army to defeat our enemies, to begin with this town.’

  ‘But we took the town already, Overcaptain. We took it; we captured the garrison and the Unwaari governor. It truly is ours.’

  ‘The Spellwarden is right,’ the queen said with a small smile. ‘Possession is the basis of rulership. Captain Yarwan, we were amiss in not consulting with you earlier.’

  ‘You are gracious, ma’am,’ Basil said, and his face was stern. ‘Only I claim a higher title, if my father permits. I am the Spellwarden and the Spellstor’s heir. Thus I will fight.’

  Argyr sat down heavily. ‘You know?’ he said. ‘I never spoke of this.’

  ‘Yet it’s true,’ Basil said. ‘You are the Spellstor, legitimate ruler of Vanhaar.’

  ‘I never wanted that title.’

  ‘Yet now you must.’ Basil looked his father in the eye. ‘We won’t flee a second time.’

  He turned to the others. ‘Before we get down to details, I just returned from a scouting flight. There is a large Unwaari army about five to six days away. They have got all we ever dreamed about—soldiers, banners, singers on carpets, everything. We can fight them; they won’t expect your arrival. Or we can parlay.’

  ‘Parlay?’ The old veteran tigress looked as if he had made a dishonorable proposal. ‘We come to eradicate them.’

  ‘I feel the same, inside,’ Basil said. ‘Yet in the long run a functioning neighbor would be more practical than a smoking ruin. We have neither the people nor the resources to rebuild them as well.’

  The veteran looked sharply at him. ‘True. Yet revenge would be sweet.’

  ‘Too many sweets are bad for your health,’ Jurgis said impudently. ‘They make you fat.’

  For a moment, the veteran seemed about to explode, but then she laughed coarsely. ‘You again. If your organ’s as big as your mouth, I understand why the lioness enjoys you.’

  The queen gave her a sidelong glance, and she colored.

  Jurgis smiled, but didn’t answer.

  Basil coughed. ‘Parlay, I said. Some weeks ago, we captured their governor of Southern Vanhaar. I sent one of his men with a message to the Unwaari High Singer, demanding his people’s unconditional removal from our soil. I threatened him with information about what happened to the masks. I told him I have this information, not that we have the Faces themselves. Ah, I do trust you brought them with you?’

  Wallanck coughed. ‘We had a ... spirited discussion about that, but in the end we did. They are locked up in the Mermion’s hold.’

  ‘Good; then we don’t have to send for them. Alas, instead of a reasonable reply, the High Singer sent an army.’ For a moment, Basil paused. ‘Yet my arguments should be strong enough to convince them to a peaceful solution.’

  ‘Do you expect them to pack up and leave?’ Argyr stared at his heir as if he saw him for the first time. ‘You really expect that?’

  ‘I hope they do; I don’t know. What I do know is that the loss of the masks broke their spirit. Their hold on Vanhaar is weak, their troops are spiritless and many singers have gone insane because their goddess deserted them. I count on their desperation.’ Basil hesitated. ‘I don’t want to go into details here.’

  ‘This room is secure,’ his father said, surprised.

  ‘There is treason in the air,’ Basil said. ‘I do not believe anything is secure anymore.’

  ‘A traitor?’ Wallanck said. ‘Who?’

  Basil shook his head. ‘I know who. I need one more detail to prove it. I’m not sure how to get that bit.’

  There was a noise outside and something crashed into the door. ‘Let me in,’ a voice shouted. ‘This is urgent.’

  ‘I know that voice,’ Maud said, and she threw open the door. Young Midshipman Lannard wrestled in the grip of a bulky tigress, yelling about his orders.

  ‘What’s all this?’ Maud said.

  ‘This ... boy wanted to rush in,’ the woman said. ‘He wouldn’t listen when we said he couldn’t.’

  ‘The midshipman is a Chorwaynie merchant marine officer,’ Maud said. ‘If he thinks his message is important enough, I want to know what it is. Next time, call me first, before you start mauling allied officers.’

  ‘Officer?’ the woman said, surprised. ‘Him?’ Then she straightened. ‘Your pardon, mister; it appears I was amiss.’

  Lannard, near to tears, nodded. Then he handed Maud a note. ‘It’s for the captain.’

  ‘Wait here,’ Maud said. ‘I shall give it to him. Well done, Mister Lannard.’ She closed the door. ‘Poor Lannard; those girls are twice his size.’ She handed Yarwan the note. ‘From the ship.’

  Yarwan scanned the letter and then he balled his fists. ‘Murder on board!’

  ‘Murder?’ Wallanck said. ‘That’s an ugly thing in a ship.’

  ‘Who?’ Basil said.

  ‘The Strapan. Someone must have poisoned his wine. They found him dead in his cabin.’

  ‘Damn! And the others? The entourage, the commander and Dalhaun?’

  ‘Elhir doesn’t say.’

  ‘Send Lannard back,’ Basil said. ‘I want them here. All of them. Under close guard. Hurry!’

  ‘I’ll fly him to the ship,’ Jurgis said. ‘Give the boy a treat.’

  ‘Who’s this Strapan?’ Wallanck said. ‘Was he important?’

  ‘He was the governor of Southern Vanhaar. A high official,’ Basil said. ‘I needed him to identify someone. Our traitor must have guessed it. I–hadn’t anticipated this.’

  ‘If you could foresee all, you should set up as a god,’ Wallanck said. ‘I suppose you don’t want to tell us who the traitor is?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Basil said. He sighed. ‘Damn, I focused too much on that fool Kelwarg.’

  ‘How about him?’ the queen said. ‘Have you had time to do something about him?’

  Basil hesitated. Then he lowered his voice. ‘This I will tell you, because the traitor probably knows or guesses I found this out. Kelwarg has been dead these last seventy years.’

  For a moment there was absolute silence.

  Then, Argyr laughed. A hiccoughing, slightly hysterical sound that had Basil glancing at him. ‘So that’s it. The tool was the artisan, and we didn’t see. How clever; oh, how clever.’ He blinked and tears ran down his face. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, and his voice was back to normal. ‘I should’ve known.’ He sighed. ‘All those years I saw Kelwarg’s hand behind everything that went wrong. All those rules you so rightly rebelled against, my son, they were his. And however much I strove, I couldn’t get them repealed. I never seemed to get a majority. Kelwarg, I thought. The serpent we fed and trained, and who turned to bite our hand. A traitorous serpent it was, but one of our own blood.’

  ‘No,’ Basil said. ‘Not of our own blood.’

  The opening of the door interrupted him. It was Jurgis, bringing a file of frightened Unwaari into the room. Their assorted finery looked crumpled and dirty and they smelled from their long stay in the Magonaut’s hold, but otherwise they were all right, if scared to death.

  Basil strode forward and faced them. ‘Gentlemen, my apologies for disturbing you. First, I must offer you all my condolences for the Strapan’s death. It was not our intention. Not to have him die this way, at least.’ He smiled at this and the faces before him became even unhappier. ‘I asked you to step over, because you can do me a small favor. It will cost you nothing, and it could, perhaps, buy you a favor in return.’ He pointed to the one who was the most composed. ‘Join me in the next room, will you.’

  He led the courtier, suddenly less self-assured, to the next room, a small cubbyhole that would be Lieutenant Dalhaun’s office.

  ‘I want you to look at some faces,’ Basil said suavely, and he placed the painting from Kelwarg’s room on the desk. ‘A nice, innocent picture of a group of students. Nothing unusual; there must be many such paintings, full of fond memories. I want you to look at those
people and tell me if you recognize anyone.’

  The man bowed over the painting and studied the faces one by one. Then he shook his head. ‘I am sorry; they are unknown to me. This one gentleman seems a Kell, which is strange, for the painting is not recent.’

  ‘No?’ Basil said.

  ‘Certainly not, unless it was a masked ball. Those costumes were of a style even my late grandfather would consider dowdy.’

  Basil smiled. ‘An astute observation. May I ask what was your position at the late Strapan’s court?’

  ‘I served as his valet, sir. Fashion styles are an open book to me. My master was a very stylish gentleman, if I may say.’

  Basil nodded. ‘I see. Well, thank you for your cooperation. Please wait in the hall, will you?’ Thus it went on, and no one knew a face or had anything more to add. Finally the last person entered, an ancient man in a gray suit of sober snit.

  ‘What was your position with the Strapan?’ Basil said, by now more or less automatically.

  ‘I was his secretary,’ said the old man. ‘Not one of his toadies, mind you.’

  ‘Naturally not,’ Basil said. ‘The Strapan. What kind of man was he?’

  The secretary sniffed. ‘A fool. He had no idea of how to rule, but he knew a lot of the right people at the High Temple in Cloudburgh.’

  ‘Ah,’ Basil said, and his heart beat faster. ‘So you visited the singers’ temple with him?’

  ‘I was born at the High Temple,’ the man said. ‘I come from a long line of secretaries. Alas, as a younger son, I had to make do with people like the Strapan.’

  ‘Awkward; I can imagine.’

  ‘Indeed. Lineage is everything; may I ask yours?’

  Basil smiled gently. ‘I am the Spellwarden.’

  At that, the man bowed. ‘Now that is what I call lineage. How may I be of service to you, Spellwarden?’

  ‘Check these faces, will you. Would any one of them be known to you?’

  The secretary fumbled in his pocket and produced a pair of glasses. He studied each face without comment. Suddenly his finger halted. ‘This face. The painting must be ancient indeed, for this is young Master Vystyn.’

  ‘Vystyn? Who is he?’ Basil said, curious as to the answer.

  ‘He is the late Senior Singer Glastym’s son. The senior singer was one of the four who disappeared when we lost the Faces of Aera. When the war broke out, his son disappeared. He was about seventeen or eighteen then. Some ten years later he returned to the High Singer’s court and from then on he rose through the ranks. And now ...’ The secretary looked triumphantly at Basil. ‘Now he is the High Singer himself.’

  ‘Vystyn is the High Singer?’ Basil said. ‘Interesting.’ He smiled at the old secretary. ‘You have served me well. For your own safety, I will place you under heavy guard. I might need you as a witness, and you must be alive for that. Would the High Singer recognize you, should you meet somewhere?’

  The secretary gave a discreet shrug. ‘You never know. He is a puissant mage, after all.’

  ‘Then you had best stay in the castle, out of sight. Come with me, please.’ When he joined the rulers, he called the veteran tigress.

  ‘This gentleman is a witness. I want you to arrange lodgings for him here in the castle, as many guards as his room will hold, and someone to taste his food and drink.’

  ‘Is he that important?’ the tigress said.

  ‘His testimony is vital.’ He turned to the secretary. ‘This lady is a general. She will arrange for your safety. I want you to do one more thing for me. Write a report of all you told me and all else you might remember. Sign it, seal it, and have it delivered to me. Tomorrow morning at the latest. I would be most grateful.’

  ‘Happy to be of service, Spellwarden,’ the old man said. Then he bowed and followed the veteran out.

  ‘It’s been a puzzle,’ Basil said. ‘But I have found the last piece.’

  ‘Tell us,’ Overcaptain Wallanck commanded.

  Basil smiled. ‘Forgive me, but it’s better I didn’t. Our opponent is extremely dangerous and I would rather keep the secret in my head alone.’

  ‘But what if the enemy got you?’ the queen said. ‘Then your secret would be lost.’

  Basil bowed to her. ‘Wise words, ma’am. I will tell my father.’ He smiled at her. ‘Don’t be angry, ma’am. I am not trying to be the pert one and I am grateful for your coming here, but I cannot tell you yet.’

  The queen smiled. ‘Then don’t. Wallanck and I will amuse ourselves with the preparations for war, and leave the game of scheming to you.’

  Basil colored. ‘It’s a fearful secret, ma’am,’ he said earnestly. ‘Not a game at all. I’m far too frightened for games.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Hilda said. ‘I trust you and your good sense. If you think it better to keep silent, then do so. Wallanck and I won’t be offended.’

  ‘No,’ the Overcaptain said gruffly. ‘Though I expect a full report later on, young man.’

  ‘You will get one, sir, I promise.’ Basil took his father’s arm. ‘Let us go to the battlements. It’s very windy up there; that will aid my shielding.’

  In silence they walked to the top of the castle tower. Once outside, with Basil’s shield in place, Argyr studied his son’s face.

  ‘Are you really Basil? You’ve grown so much.’

  ‘I really am. I have the foot to prove it.’

  Argyr’s face worked. ‘Your foot. Didn’t Kelwarg have that spell we sought?’

  ‘He did,’ Basil said. ‘But it required a human sacrifice.’ He shrugged. ‘I burned the book. I am no longer of Malgarth. Here, I deny the Council any jurisdiction. They can return here–as warlocks. But we are in charge, Father. The Spellstors. You, me, Jurgis and ... Saul.’

  Argyr gave him a puzzled look. ‘Saul?’

  ‘You really, truly didn’t know there are three of us?’ Basil said, watching his father closely.

  ‘Three? I ... You mean ... Gods! Who?’

  ‘You didn’t know?’

  ‘I didn’t. I honestly didn’t. I just gave the healer a list with some names to choose from. He told me about Jurgis, given to his birthmother, and you. Saul ... was the third name.’

  ‘He was the firstborn. That healer double-crossed you, Father. He sold the first baby to Kelwarg.’

  ‘That one!’ Argyr shouted. ‘He must have told the healer to make two into three. He wanted a third son, to ... to humiliate me.’ He shivered. ‘To turn him against me. Is he very ... bad?’

  Basil laughed. ‘Saul is of better mettle, Father. He hated Kelwarg from the start. Only a nasty spell kept him from running away. He contacted us and we freed him. The spell is broken and now we are three. He is here, Father. On board the Magonaut.’ For a moment, they stood in silence as Argyr wrestled with the news.

  ‘This is where Jurgis got those scars,’ Basil said, patting the merlons. ‘He wants to keep them, you know. Jurgis hated being the beautifullest–that’s his word. And Maud likes those scars. You know about him and Maud? Good. And about me and Yarwan? Saul is still alone. Has always been alone; more than I was. Still, he’s all right.’

  ‘I can’t grasp it. Three sons. And you changed so much. I hear my father in your voice.’ Argyr put his hands on the rough stone and gazed at the square below. ‘I had sworn never to speak of the war. Never. I tried to forget it all. I saw them die, you know. Not Father. He died alone. Sometimes I try to imagine how it must have been for him, seeing people he thought of as friends come thirsting for his blood. Killing. So much killing. And he knew not why. We heard much later, after we had fled, that those masks were gone. During those terrible days we didn’t understand what was happening. I saw Uncle Saul fall, and my brother Basil, hacked to bits by demented Unwaari soldiers. I used the portal to Casterglade, and destroyed it after me. There wasn’t anybody else left. You know about Casterglade?’

  ‘Dori told me,’ Basil said.

  Argyr stilled. ‘Dori? I thought–she died.’


  ‘She didn’t. She fled Spellstor and stayed at Casterglade long enough to see you escape. Then she and her mother went on and ended up here. She said Casterglade was a massacre.’

  ‘It was. Those old fools. Too unworldly, too damned senile to fight. We had become a country of old men and women. Confused, helpless, they died by the thousands. I tried to get them to fight back, but they didn’t listen. I tried to lead them to the portals, but they stampeded, brushing me aside in their panic. Suddenly I was done with it all. I stood there, arms spread out, trying to have them line up. I saw it wasn’t going to work. They were going to kill themselves. Worse, they would smash the portals in their fear. I turned around and stepped through. There I was. Safe on the first floor of our tower in Malgarth. There were some others, and some more came. Then the trickle stopped. I knew what had happened. It’s a century ago and the knowledge has never left me. I, the last Spellstor, had fled. I had left my people. Jurgis hates me for that; I have seen it in his eyes.’

  ‘He didn’t really,’ Basil said. ‘He was angry and confused. Now he understands and he respects you for trying.’

  ‘I must speak with him. And with Saul. Dear gods, poor Saul. How did he survive?’

  ‘We, too, are Spellstors, Father. We are tougher than we look.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘After Casterglade, was Volaut one of those who escaped with you?’

  Argyr pulled a face. ‘Yes. He was about your age, then. I didn’t know him; he worked as an understudy at Casterglade, so our paths had never crossed before. Yet even then, I felt he was not a friend.’

  ‘It is worse, Father. Let me tell you what I discovered.’

  For another hour they walked up and down the battlements. As they spoke, Argyr’s back straightened and his step became firm. When Basil was done, his father embraced him. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘To know what happened made it all better to understand. Better to bear as well.’

  The next day, the defense of Seatome began to take form.