by Martin Ash
Two possibilities might then present themselves. One: no person other than Queen Issul was capable of accomplishing what she had set out to accomplish. Or two: Queen Issul was one among any number of persons who could do it.
If the former was the case, Gordallith was to use his judgement to determine the most favourable path. He could abduct the Queen - a task fraught with obstacles but, with such skilled assistants, conceivable nonetheless - and then proceed with her to her objective; or he could allow her to achieve her objective without interference, and then abduct her as she returned to Enchantment's Reach.
But if the latter was the case, he should by any means at his disposal relieve her of any vital knowledge and/or apparatus she possessed, and proceed without her. In any instance Gordallith was made to clearly understand that Queen Issul's safe return to Enchantment's Reach was not essential, nor was it even desirable.
Additional instructions concerned the young soldier, Shenwolf, who was so clearly in Issul's favour. Fectur was bemused by his so rapid rise from raw recruit to personal bodyguard of the Queen. If, through unforeseeable or unavoidable circumstance, Queen Issul did return to Enchantment's Reach alive, Fectur would be pleased to have confirmation that she and Shenwolf were lovers.
Should Gordallith uncover no evidence of that, well, the suggestion, properly deployed, could be almost as damaging. But this, Fectur had quietly emphasized, was not the result he most hoped to see. Conceivably, he had suggested, almost as if to himself, Shenwolf himself might perish. Even better, he might perish after having been witnessed to have, for some perhaps undetermined reason, taken the life of the beloved Queen.
Hence Gordallith had departed with no doubt whatsoever in his mind of what was expected of him. And while his task was demanding, Gordallith was a resourceful fellow. Fectur did not doubt that he would be effective, one way or the other.
In the meantime Fectur formulated strategies to cover the situation at home. Any attempt to seize power again was, of course, unworkable. That which had so recently, under unusual and quite specific circumstances, been conducive to his ends, could now only serve him ill. Pader Luminis could not be persuasively overthrown. Not now. His leadership could be called into question, however. He might, with tact and careful planning, be fully discredited. He was no soldier, after all, and it was a soldier's mind that would best serve Enchantment's Reach now.
But such tactics would take time, and there was little of that with the Karai so close.
The Karai. Truly, so much depended on the Queen. Even so, there were other avenues still to be explored.
With this in mind Fectur rose from his desk and took leave of his office. Head inclined in brooding thought, he passed from the Ministry of Realm Security and strode through the Palace of Orbia to the guest apartments set off the royal wing. He approached the entrance to the chambers in which Issul had lodged Grey Venger, the leader of the True Sept. The sentries at the door snapped to attention.
Just the two guards? Fectur was curious. 'Open the door. I want to speak with the prisoner.'
The nearest sentry spoke with evident reluctance. 'My lord, we have precise instructions. I regret, most respectfully, we are forbidden to allow any person to enter without the express permission of the Queen or her designated Regent, the Imperator-Protector.'
Fectur's head drew back, his eyes like bolts of ice. 'Do you know who I am?'
'My lord, of course. With great respect, our orders are exact. We were made to understand that they apply to all persons bar the Queen and Imperator. I am sorry, my lord.'
Fectur fixed them with his most minatory glare. Elite or not, he could have disarmed and disabled the pair of them with almost no effort. He could have snapped both their necks before they had even moved. But he saw them starting to sweat, and that was enough. It would advance his aims not at all to commit violence upon Issul's appointed guards. He spun upon his heel and made off down the corridor.
III
Pader Luminis had been appointed temporary administrative offices on the ground floor of the royal wing of the palace, just along the corridor from Issul's. Such an appointment, central and easily accessed and guarded, was far preferable to his remote and dusty chambers in the White Eaglet's tower, where he preferred to pass his time, or the libraries, sancta and laboratories of the Arcane College, where he was otherwise generally to be found. The offices consisted of two quite small chambers, previously used for the storage of old ledgers and files and, more latterly, general lumber. They had been hurriedly emptied, swept and spruced up, and desks, shelves and seating were installed.
Pader was at his desk, poring over a chart of mysterious symbols when there was an abrupt knock upon his door. Kol entered. 'The Lord High Invigilate wishes to see you, sir.'
Fectur strode in, his lips compressed and downturned at the corners.
'Ah, my lord Fectur,' the Murinean beamed. 'How may I be of service to you?'
Fectur eyed him with cold appraisal, then turned to Kol. 'You may leave us.'
'My orders are to remain, my lord.'
Fectur's features set, his stare gelid. 'Do you think I am going to do him harm?'
'My lord, my orders are clear, regardless; unless the Imperator-Protector indicates otherwise.'
Fectur narrowed his eyes. 'I could kill you with barely a thought,' he said quietly.
'Oh but 'tut!', my lord, why would you want to do that?' said Pader Luminis, rising and stepping around his desk. 'Why indeed? And the answer of course is that you would not, and you speak in jest. Ha-ha! Now, Kol is doing his duty, quite properly, and I wish him to remain. You may speak freely before him. And I am sure you have not come with ill intent.'
Fectur became utterly still. Through clenched teeth he said, 'I wish access to the chambers where the prisoner is lodged.'
'The prisoner?'
'The leader of the True Sept, who the Queen took from my custody and moved to guest quarters. Soldiers guard the door--' A small, emerald green moth fluttered up suddenly from somewhere among the books and charts on Pader's desk. It flew close before the blunt tip of Fectur's nose, obliging him to incline himself backwards and flick at it with one hand. '--and like this person here,' he continued with a chill sideglance at Kol, 'they follow to irrational extremes orders which have been passed by yourself or the Queen.'
'Are you saying they did not permit you entrance?' queried Pader.
'That is what I am saying.'
'Oh, my! Oh, my my!' Pader's brow furrowed and he assumed a pensive expression, the finger and thumb of one hand lightly gripping his bony chin. 'Of course, their conduct cannot be faulted, my lord, for they are doing precisely as they have been ordered. Still, if you desire entrance to those chambers I see absolutely no reason why you should be denied.'
A second moth had appeared; the two performed darting orbits about Fectur's head. He flicked at them in irritation. They fluttered away and seemed to vanish in the shadows.
Pader Luminis smiled. 'These offices have been hurriedly refitted after a long period of disuse, my lord. Must and dust has escaped the attentions of the cleaners, it seems, despite their best efforts. Such is the way of things under such urgency. Now, Kol, if you would mind summoning the sergeant outside, I will have him escort His Lordship to the relevant chambers and permit him entrance.'
The sergeant entered, was instructed accordingly, and departed with Lord Fectur. Pader Luminis blew a series of short breaths between puffed cheeks, then returned to his seat and sat with his chin thrust forward. A small pensive grin hovered about his lips. He stretched his arms over the desktop, his eyes staring unseeingly at the charts laid before him. He drummed his fingers on the desktop. Then he looked over his spectacles at Kol, a mischievous glint in his eye. 'How long, Kol?'
'I would say three minutes at the most, Master Pader.'
'Yes, that would be my estimate also.' Pader drummed his fingers again. 'Ah, well.'
They waited, each held upon the delicate edge of nervousness and amusem
ent. At length Fectur returned. His expression left no doubt as to his humour.
'Where is he?'
Pader returned him a look of mystification. 'Where is who, my lord?'
Fectur fixed him with his most baleful glare. 'You know who, Imperator. I speak of the prisoner, Grey Venger.'
'Ah, the Grey Venger! I regret, I’m unable to say.'
'Do you play games with me?'
'Be assured, my lord, I do not.'
'Then why did you send me on a wild goose chase, knowing all the while that Venger is no longer in his chambers?'
'My lord, you said you wished to enter the chambers, to which I was pleased to comply. You did not declare an intention to speak to Grey Venger.'
'You think I went to consort with empty rooms?' Fectur leaned forward, pale as putty, and placed his fists knuckles down upon Pader's desktop. His head and shoulders inclined bullishly towards the little Murinean, his grey eyes bulging with insensate rage. At that moment a green moth rose from somewhere and brushed against his nose. He twitched his head back, slapping at the creature, which dodged his hand, flew behind his head, and as he turned, vanished into thin air.
Fectur looked daggers at Kol, who stood with feet apart, hands behind his back, his eyes upon the rafters somewhere above Fectur's head. Fectur glowered back at Pader. 'Where is he?'
'Grey Venger? The Queen had him moved.'
'To where?'
'I was not made party to that information, my lord.'
Fectur remained motionless, his eyes glistening. The muscles of his jaw rippled spasmodically. It seemed for a moment that he might have burst out of himself. Then he straightened, swivelled slowly upon his heel and strode from the room, the chill gravity of his exit marred by the trio of little emerald green moths which seemed to emerge from somewhere within his very clothing and flit about his head, causing him to twitch, flap and swat as he departed.
SEVEN
I
Shenwolf, his head bowed to ward off the rain, walked his horse back along the line of mounted soldiers to join Issul. His waxed cape was drawn close about him, the hood up over his head, but darkened hanks of wet, fair hair clung to his forehead and his face was gaunt from the chill wind and rain. He raised his voice above the lashing of the trees all around and the hammering of the rain on the wet ground and the bowed backs of the troopers. 'The fore-riders report a quagmire upon the road at Cally Pond about a league hence. They say it is almost impassable, at least for the wagons.'
Issul muttered a resigned curse. The weather had worsened considerably since they set out. The sky was foul, a dark mottled grey mass, driven low upon the forest, emptying its guts relentlessly upon the cavalcade. It was as if the very elements conspired against her. They had been on the move for five hours, but their progress was slow, far slower than she had hoped. There was no possibility now of reaching Crosswood by duskfall. She shivered, and looked back along the line of soldiers. Half-obscured in the rain she could just make out the bulk of the wagons near the rear of the column - two lumbering, tarpaulin-covered cargo carriers, and a pair of smaller, open carts, all laden with the sundry goods necessary to sustain more than fifty fighting men and their steeds for a period of many days. It was these vehicles that slowed the company the most, and almost certainly they would cause the greatest problems ahead. But she was unwilling to abandon them. It was not only the supplies they carried for the knights and men-at-arms and horses, but in the wagons, travelling separately, each unaware of the other's presence, were two auxiliary members of her company.
Issul had vacillated at first, in two minds over the advisability of bringing these two. Yet in the end she had accepted, just as she had known when she first accepted the inevitability of this journey, that she could not risk leaving them behind.
Grey Venger, in particular, had to be removed beyond Fectur's grasp. To further burden Pader Luminis with the task of Venger's protection would have been unfair and unjustifiable. Pader had more than he could comfortably cope with as it was. And besides, Issul needed to speak further with Grey Venger, to delve into the furthest recesses of his splintered, vicious mind, for she was convinced that she had not yet bled him of all he might disclose about the Legendary Child.
She had sent Sir Hespero, a knight of her Guard, to remove Venger from his chambers the previous night and spirit him from the city-castle, to join her company secretly on the road near the base of the scarp. She had ordered that Venger be given no explanation, and that he be bound, gagged and hooded. It would give him something to think about, and she was anxious to avoid the risk of his calling out or by some other means drawing attention to himself.
This morning Sir Hespero and his men had ridden forward from beneath the trees to meet the Queen. Issul had gone straight to Grey Venger and removed his hood and gag. He glared at her with blazing eyes and bared teeth. 'So, Issul-whore, what treachery is this?'
'No treachery, Venger. I thought you might enjoy both the change and the adventure.'
Venger glared about him, blinking at the dense oaks and elms and the misty, wet scarp rising at their backs. He seemed, just momentarily, disconcerted, which pleased Issul. It struck her that incredibly, this might be the first time in Venger's life that he had been outside the city-castle's walls. Then the indurate glare and sneer of cold contempt had returned to his features. 'It matters nothing. I’ve already said, my task is done.'
'Even so, we might have pleasant conversations together still.'
'They will be pleasant inasmuch as they will be very short-lived.'
'Why so?'
'I have told you, your doom is close upon you. You and all your kind.'
He twisted his torso, his arms straining against the rope that bound his wrists. Issul sensed he had been about to raise his arms reflexively in righteous, hate-filled declamation. She said, 'Can you really be so sure, Venger?'
Venger quivered wrathfully against his bonds. 'I am the Grey Venger, and you are the Godless and Unrighteous! You are the Deceived! And you will perish. I know it as surely as I spit in your eye.'
And he had spat. Issul shifted her head to the side. A gobbet of orange-brown sputum lodged itself upon her ear, deep inside her hood. She fought back her fury. Sir Hespero raised a hand as though to cuff Grey Venger hard, but Issul stayed him with a gesture. She put a gloved hand to her ear and wiped it clean of his spittle. Then she leaned close to him and hissed in a bitter undertone, 'That was not my eye, Venger.'
Grey Venger hawked as if to spit again. Issul stepped back. 'Gag him and put him in the wagon!'
She turned away.
'Where are we going?' Venger managed to call before the gag was applied.
Through her disgust Issul felt a glimmer of satisfaction: she had his curiosity; he was not so impermeable. She turned back and stood close before him again and said, in level tones, 'We go to change the way things are.'
She saw it then, the smallest flicker deep in his blazing grey eyes, an infinitesimal suggestion of his quandary, which even he could not hide. He did not know whether she spoke the truth.
Issul had left him then. She silently berated herself, for though she had gained a small triumph over Venger, she had not acquitted herself favourably. In that brief exchange she had mentally jousted with him, played mind games, even succumbed to the desire to taunt him. In doing so she realized she had been manipulated by him, though he might not even have been aware of it. She had come uppermost, yet he had somehow left her with the clear and galling impression that she had done so on his terms.
Issul tried to shake him from her mind, but he would not be so easily dislodged. He was under her skin; he was inside her. This is a man who wilfully sacrificed his own children! To sport with a mind such as his was hazardous and obscene.
The truth was she did not know what to do with Grey Venger. He could not be left behind, but how far could she allow him to accompany her? As far as Enchantment?
If not, what was she to do with him?
*
'But why, young Queen?' had been Arene's first response. 'I can do no more for you than I’ve already done, and I will surely be a hindrance.'
In spare terms Issul had explained something of the difficulties of leaving her behind.
'Then I will leave Enchantment's Reach forthwith, which is what I had planned to do anyway. I will make my way home.'
'You are mistaken when you say you can do no more for us,' Issul replied. 'I think I have more to learn from you - of the Fortress of the Hir'n Esh and the Well of Immaculate Vision, perhaps even of Enchantment itself and your journey through it. But you know that I cannot delay now. So I ask that you travel with me, at least part of the way.'
'I did not travel through Enchantment,' the old woman said. 'I came here via the Reach Lands.'
'Then you have travelled through lands of which I know little. Now, you know I have no choice but to undertake this journey. Will you accompany me?'
Arene nodded. 'Aye, then I will.
Issul then had her escorted secretly to one of the covered wagons, just before it was time to depart. She warned her to remain within and give no indication of her presence until they were well clear of Enchantment's Reach.
Now, as the driven rain fell upon and all around her, Issul looked at Shenwolf and said, 'If we have to we will leave the wagons behind. We will even take to the forest if we must.'
'What of Venger and the old woman?'
Issul turned her face again to the lowering, saturated skies. 'Venger can ride, or walk. That’s not a problem. I am not so sure about Arene.'
'Do you wish me to speak to her?'
Issul shook her head. 'I will. You go to Sir Cors at the fore. Ask him if men can be sent forward with a view to felling trees or shifting earth or something, to make a way across the quagmire.'
