by Greg Keyes
Swearing, he drew Acredo, but there was nothing much to be done until the riders caught up with them, which wouldn’t be long. Then there wouldn’t be any time for tricks, just two against six.
Well, that wasn’t so bad. He had beaten more than that below the palace in Eslen. Of course, they hadn’t been as heavily armored, but the odds had been worse.
If he could reach the same state, chiado sivo, they had a chance.
So he paused, clearing his mind, trying not to think about the fight ahead, only about the symmetries of arm, foot, body, point, edge, and grip.
A moment later they passed into a wood, and Cazio began humming, because that was even better: Their horses would be less useful here, their armor more of an encumbrance. He was just about to jump to the ground and start the fight when z’Acatto cursed a saint whose name itself was a curse.
He turned to find out why in time to see footmen pouring into the road from the trees and the trap well and truly closed.
Chiado sivo. Entirely sword.
He leaped from the carriage toward the lead rider, blade straight out like a spear.
CHAPTER SIX
BRINNA
NEIL KNELT to the masked woman.
“Majesty,” he said, trying to keep his mind still.
“Pleased to meet you, Sir Neil,” she said with a slight emphasis on “meet” that he thought he understood.
Neil heard a little gasp behind him and saw that Alis had been brought in. Her eyes were founts of incredulity.
“Ah, Sister Alis,” Brinna said. “Did you know who I was?”
“Lady, I did not know,” Alis said. She seemed completely off her footing, something Neil hadn’t ever seen before. Of course, he was having a hard time keeping his own face composed.
“And now you do,” the woman he had known as both Brinna and Swanmay said. She took a step toward Alis and raised a cup of wine. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, Highness, I would rather not.”
“You admit it, then,” the inquisitor snarled. “You admit the attempt at murder.”
Alis held her head high. “My queen and this knight knew nothing of my intentions. You cannot hold them accountable.”
“Oh, it was all your idea, then?” the masked woman said.
“I’m telling the truth,” Alis said.
“I’m sure you are,” Brinna relied. “You just haven’t mentioned who actually put you up to it.”
Alis didn’t reply, but Brinna’s gaze turned languidly to Neil. “That would be your Queen Anne, Sir Neil.”
“I don’t believe that, Highness,” Neil said.
“Because it is untrue,” Alis added.
“Well, we shall see. Inquisitor, take Lady Berrye to the room of the waters. Don’t do anything permanent to her, do you hear? I want to talk to her myself later.”
“Very good, Highness. And the knight?”
“I wish to converse with him alone,” she replied.
The matron frowned. “That is unwise.”
“I do not think so, inquisitor. Every exit from this place is guarded, and he is unarmed. But from what I’ve heard of this man, that wouldn’t stop him any more than your continued presence would if his intention was to strangle me. What will stop him is his word. Sir Neil, will you behave yourself if left alone with me? Will you promise to make no assault on me or attempt to escape?”
“I promise not to harm your person in any way, Highness, and I won’t try to escape during our conversation. After I leave this room, I can’t make any such promise.”
“That seems fair enough to me, inquisitor.”
“Lady, it is still not appropriate.”
“I say what’s appropriate in my own house,” Brinna purred. “And there will be no gossip of it, or I will know where it came from.”
“I serve your father, not you,” Walzamerka said.
“But unless my father gives a very specific command to disobey, you will do my will.”
“Why do you want to be alone with him?”
“Because I believe you can torture Sir Neil for a thousand days and learn nothing. But a candid conversation held in private might yield some…insights.”
The inquisitor’s mouth parted, and a look very like fear passed across her features. “I see, Highness,” she said. “I didn’t understand.”
“Good.”
When she was gone and the chamber door had closed, Brinna smiled.
“Walzamerka thinks I’m going to tear your soul out.”
“Are you?”
She gestured toward a chair. “Sit, Sir Neil.”
He did so, and she stared at him for several moments with those eyes of hers, so deep blue that in any light other than sunlight they appeared almost black.
“Did you also come here to kill me, Sir Neil?”
“I swear by the saints my people swear by that I did not, Princess Brinna.”
Her lip quirked, and she poured two goblets of wine.
“This is not poisoned,” she said. “Would you have some?”
“I would.”
She handed him the goblet. He took it with numb hands.
“You’re Marcomir’s daughter,” he said at last.
“Yes,” she said. She reached up and removed the mask, revealing the strong cheekbones and contours he remembered so well. Only her gaze was different; it looked slightly unfocused.
“I don’t understand,” he said, unable to look away from her dark eyes. “When I met you—”
“Fancy a game of Fiedchese?” she interrupted.
“Fiedchese?”
“Yes.”
She rang a bell, and a moment later a young girl in braids brought a board and pieces. The board had squares of rust and bone. The girl left again through a cleverly placed door Neil was unable to see once it had closed.
“It’s the same board,” he said. “From the ship.”
“Yes, of course.” She placed the pieces in their starting positions. “This set is rather dear to me.” Her eyes shifted up. “King or raiders?”
“Raiders, I suppose,” Neil replied.
Her melancholy little smile broadened, and she made her first move. He saw now it was more than her gaze. There seemed to be something slower about her, dreamier. Not stupid, but calculating and diffident.
“I’ll answer all of your questions, Sir Neil,” she said. “I’ve nothing to hide from you anymore.”
Neil made his own move mechanically, unable to concentrate on the game.
She tsked softly. “You’re better than that,” she said.
“I’m distracted.”
“As am I. I didn’t know I would be so nervous at this meeting. I’ve thought about it often.” She shifted the king a few spaces.
He remembered their kiss months before. It had been soft, inexperienced, tentative, and at the same time frighteningly sincere. It was more real at the moment than anything else in his recollection.
“No,” he said, moving another raider. “It’s not silly.”
“Now you know what tower I was trying to escape from and why I couldn’t tell you at the time.”
“Yes,” Neil replied, watching her capture a double-headed ogre. “And no. Why were you fleeing your own father?”
She studied the board. “It wasn’t just my father I was running from,” she said. “It was everything. Look around you, Sir Neil. This tower has five floors. I live in the top three. Everything I need is provided for me. Attentive servants surround me. I once had friends, but since my escape, many of them are now out of my reach.”
“I’m sorry,” Neil said. “I know it was because of me. But I still don’t understand why.” He sent a lizardish monster down the board.
“I was born in this tower, Sir Neil. I have lived all of my life here except for the few months of freedom in which we met. I will die here, in this place with one window.”
“What about the rest of the castle? The city? The countryside?”
“All denied me,” she sai
d.
“Then you are a prisoner.”
“I suppose so,” she said, moving another of the kingsmen to block Neil’s weak stratagem.
“Again, why?”
A frown pinched her brow. “I’ve been watching you, Sir Neil.”
He had the sudden feeling of the very sky growing heavy and fragile above them, a huge plate of glass pressing on the tower, crushing them and breaking under its weight.
“At the battle of the waerd,” he said. “I thought—”
“I was there,” she said. “I saw you fall. I did what I could.”
And then he knew.
“You’re the Hellrune,” he said.
“What a funny way of saying it,” she replied.
“Wait,” Neil said, closing his eyes, trying to put it all together. Anne’s insistence on his coming, Alis’ many questions about the Hansan seers.
Brinna was the enemy, the beating heart of the Hansan war beast.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Brinna said softly.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked.
“Don’t,” she said. “Please.”
“How long?”
“They knew when I was born. They started giving me the drugs when I was two, but I was nine before I was of much use. Move, please.”
He did so, a reckless attack that she swiftly crushed.
“And how old are you now?” he asked.
She paused. “That’s an unfriendly question,” she said. Then, more softly: “I had nothing to do with your father’s death, Sir Neil. I have twenty-three winters, but you don’t imagine I was seeing for a band of Weihands.”
“And yet you know—”
“I have seen it now,” she said, “The death of your father, your first hard wounding. As I said, I have been watching you, past and present.”
“Nevertheless, in these years you have caused the deaths of many friends,” he said. “The fleet at Jeir—”
“Yes, that I was responsible for,” she replied. “You understand? I will not lie to you.”
“I lost an uncle there.”
“How many uncles did you slaughter, Sir Neil? How many children did you leave fatherless? It was war. You cannot be so squeamish or judgmental.”
“This is hard, Brinna,” he managed.
“For me as well.”
“And now you’re waging war on my queen and country.”
“Yes. Because it is my duty. We discussed duty, didn’t we? You approve of it if I remember correctly.”
“I did not know what your duty was then.”
“Really? And would you have advised me differently if you had? Is my duty less relevant when it conflicts with your own?”
He looked at the game he’d just lost, trying to find something to say.
“Or would you have sacrificed yourself and killed me?” she asked very softly.
“No,” he managed. “Never that.”
“Then you still consider yourself obligated to me.”
“I consider myself more than obligated,” Neil replied. “But that puts me in an impossible situation.”
“I had escaped,” she said. “Do you know that? Even after the delay taking you to Paldh, we sailed through the straits of Rusimi. My father would never have found me.”
“What happened then?”
She sighed. “You.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sir Neil, I found you nearly dead, hurt to the heart by betrayal, yet still steadfast in your duty even to those who betrayed you. That grew in me. It was because of you that I returned. You and a vision.”
“A vision?”
“I’ll tell you more about that later. May I tell you why I left in the first place?”
“Of course.”
“You’re beaten in two moves,” she said.
“I know. Why did you leave?”
“I have two roles in this life, Sir Neil, two obligations deeper than birth. I enjoy neither of them. One obligation is to be my father’s haliurunna. I dream and send men to death. I take drugs that allow me to see better, but days of my life vanish sometimes. There are whole months I have no recollection of. I know too much and too little all at once. But I did what I was told, dreaming one day of freedom, knowing in my heart I would never have it. I fastened myself on duty and pride in defending my father’s throne—and especially on my higher calling—and hoped that would be enough. And it might have been, but my father asked me to do something…wrong. Worse, I did it, and it ruined something in me. Soon it wrecked far more than that.”
“What was that thing?”
“I broke the law of death.”
For a moment Neil was speechless. “My queen, Muriele. She believes she did that, with a curse.”
“Oh, she did the worst of the damage. But my brother Alharyi was dying, and my father always loved him best. He commanded me to stop his death, and I managed it before understanding what I had really done. Once I knew, I tried to mend the law, and I think I might have done it, because I only stopped him from his rightful death, I didn’t bring him back from it. But then Muriele made her curse and brought Robert back, and the law was well and truly breached.”
“What about your brother?”
“He went to Vitellio after Anne. His men found him chopped into many pieces—by your friend Cazio, I think. The parts were still alive. There is a ritual. The power was passed on to my cousin Hrothwulf, whom you cut into pieces.” She shrugged. “Anyway, after making my brother a nauschalk I no longer wanted any part of it. I made my escape.”
“And willingly returned. Because of me. Because of duty to Hansa.”
“Because of duty to the world,” she replied. “I am in part responsible for what is coming. I must do what I can to stop it, although I don’t think there’s much hope.”
“Stop what?”
“Your queen, Anne.”
“Why? I know your father wants Crotheny.”
“Oh, yes, he does,” Brinna said. “But I wouldn’t have returned here to feed his ambition. I wouldn’t be a part of a war waged because of an old man’s vanity.”
“Then why?”
“Because if she isn’t stopped, Anne will destroy us all.”
The forest smelled fresh, of evergreen and rain. Muriele tried to focus on that, on seeing beauty at the end of her life, trying to not have fear be her last feeling.
Everyone dies, she thought. If not now, later. There is no escape.
But that was not what her gut told her. She wanted to beg, and every moment brought it closer to the surface.
How far was it, this bog? How long did she have to live?
Berimund was resolved; she could see that. The boy in him was hidden again, replaced by the hard man he was becoming.
She wished she could see Anne once more. There were things she should have told her when she had the chance.
Had Anne foreseen this? Part of her wondered. Had her own daughter sent her to her death? Was some greater purpose being served?
She had to be brave a little while longer.
“Berimund,” she murmured. “One thing, please.”
“What’s that?”
“Let Sir Neil and Alis take my body to Liery. Give me that, at least: a resting place with my ancestors.”
Berimund’s response was to look at her as if she were crazy, and her heart sank.
“You don’t think I’m actually going to kill you, do you?” he exploded.
She was afraid to understand that at first.
“But Marcomir—”
“That’s Father. He’s old, near to losing his mind. I won’t execute you on his whim. It goes against all honor and all common decency. My brothers may do his every bidding, but I will not.”
Muriele felt relief, but it was guarded. “Where are we going, then?”
“A place only my wulfbrothars and I know about,” he said. “A place we found during our roving days. You’ll be safe there until I can either calm him down or arrange
passage for you back to Eslen.”
“You would do that?”
Berimund nodded grimly. “I am no traitor,” he said. “Our war with Crotheny is just, holy, and right. But that means our actions have to be just, holy, and right. I will not become evil to fight evil.”
“My daughter isn’t evil,” Muriele said.
“I wouldn’t expect you to believe so,” Berimund replied.
“Do you think I am evil?”
He shook his head. “I think you are in every way honorable.” He smiled. “And I’ve never heard anyone talk like that to my father. For that alone, I would spare you.”
“Then how can you imagine I would serve an evil cause?”
“Without knowing you do so,” he said.
“Couldn’t the same be said for you? Mightn’t you be serving the wrong master?”
“My father might well be the wrong master,” Berimund said. “But the holy Church is behind us.”
“You think you can trust the Church?”
“Yes. But even if I couldn’t, there is someone I do trust. Someone very dear to me. And I know we have to fight your daughter.”
“Then we are enemies, Berimund.”
“Yes, we are. But we shall be civil ones, yes? We shall behave honorably.”
“You’re still hung over,” Muriele said.
“Indeed. And as soon as possible I shall cure that by being drunk.”
“And your men?”
“My wulfbrothars. I’ve known them all since childhood. Our first oaths are all to one another. None of them will betray me.”
Muriele nodded, but in her mind’s eye she saw Robert watching her being led off and the words he had mouthed at her. She hadn’t caught them then, but now with sudden clarity she knew what he had been saying:
I’ll see you soon.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE COMMANDER
ACREDO’S POINT struck the knight just below the gorget and slipped up beneath the helm. Helped by the man’s reflex of throwing his head back, the weapon lodged in his throat. Cazio let his elbow bend as the blade struck home, but the shock was still terrific. The knight flipped back out of the saddle, and Cazio, helpless to control his flight, followed him to the ground.
He hit hard on his off-weapon hand and used it to tumble head over heels, but he had too much momentum and ended up rolling four times before he could come back up on his feet. When he did, he turned unsteadily to meet his fate, Acredo still in his hand.
