Briar King

by Keyes, Greg

  “Coming with you, of course. I’m not going to let you die alone.”

  “Austra, no!”

  But it was too late. Austra gave the briefest of shrieks. Her passing made a slight breeze before she hit the ground with a pronounced thud.

  “Her arm is badly bruised, but not broken,” Captain Marl told her, very matter-of-factly. He was that sort of man, taciturn and plainspoken. His manner went well with his pitted, homely face.

  “I want to see her,” Anne demanded.

  “Not just yet, Princess. There is the matter of what you two were doing.”

  “We were being silly. Wrestling near the window, and lost our balance.”

  “And how is it you aren’t even bruised, when she was hurt?”

  “I was lucky. But I did soil my gown, as you can see.”

  “There’s that, too. Why were you fully dressed?”

  “I wasn’t. I didn’t have my shoes on.”

  “Your maid was in a nightgown—as you should have been.”

  “Captain, who are you to presume how a princess of Crotheny ought to be dressed? You treat me as if I’m a captive of war!”

  “I treat you as what you are, Princess—my charge. I know my duty, and I take it seriously. Your father trusts me. He has reason to.” He sighed and folded his hands behind his back. “I dislike this. Young women should have their privacy, away from the company of men. I thought I could afford to give you that. Now I see I was foolish.”

  “You aren’t suggesting that I share my room with one of your men?”

  “No, Princess. None of my men will do.” His face pinkened. “But when I cannot find lodging that precludes escape, I must stand watch in your room myself.”

  “My mother will have your head!” Anne shouted.

  “If that’s so, that’s so,” Marl replied obligingly.

  She had learned not to argue with him when he adopted that tone. He had made up his mind and really would take a beheading before changing it.

  “May I see Austra, now?” she asked, instead.

  “Yes, Princess.”

  Austra’s face was white, and her arm bound in a sling. She lay on her back and wouldn’t meet Anne’s gaze when she entered.

  “I’m sorry,” Austra said, voice curiously flat.

  “You ought to be,” Anne replied. “You should have done what I told you. Now Marl will never let me out of his sight.”

  “I said I was sorry.” Tears were streaming down Austra’s face, but she made none of the sounds of crying.

  Anne sighed and gripped her friend’s hand. “Never mind,” she said. “How’s your arm?”

  Austra set her mouth stubbornly and didn’t reply.

  “It’s all right,” Anne said, more softly. “I’ll find another chance.”

  Austra turned to her then, red eyes glaring and angry. “How could you?” she said. “After all the times I’ve watched out for you, lied for you, helped you play your stupid games. Your mother could have sent me to work with the scouring maids! Saints, she could have had me beheaded, but I always did what you said anyway! And for what? So you could leave me without a second thought?”

  For a moment, Anne was so shocked she couldn’t say anything.

  “I would have sent for you,” she finally managed. “When I was safe, and—”

  “Sent for me? Do you have any idea what you’re planning?”

  “To run away. Seek my love and destiny.”

  “The destiny of a woman, alone, in a strange country where you don’t even speak the language? What did you think you would do for food?”

  “Live off the land.”

  “Anne, someone owns the land. People are hanged for poaching, do you know that? Or rot in prison, or serve as slaves until their debt is done. That’s what happens to them who ‘live off the land’ in your father’s kingdom.”

  “No one would hang me,” Anne replied. “Not once they knew who I was.”

  “Oh, yes. So once caught, you would explain that you are a very important princess, and then they would—what? Let you go? Give you a small estate? Or call you a liar and hang you. Of course, since you’re a woman, and pretty, they wouldn’t hang you right at first. They’d have their pleasure from you.

  “Or suppose you could somehow convince them of who you are. In the best case they would send you home, and this would all start again—except for me, for I’ll be carrying charcoal on my back up from the barges, or something worse. Worst case, they would hold you for ransom, maybe send your fingers to your father one at a time, to prove they really have you.”

  “I plan to dress as a man,” Anne said. “And I won’t get caught.”

  Austra rolled her eyes. “Oh, dress as a man. That will work.”

  “It’s better than going into a coven.”

  Austra’s eyes hardened further. “That’s stupid. And it’s selfish.” She balled her unbound fist and banged it against the bedpost. “I was stupid—to ever think you were my friend. To think you gave a single piss about me!”

  “Austra!”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Anne started to say something else, but Austra’s eyes went wild. “Leave me alone!”

  Anne stood up. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Away!” Austra shrieked, dissolving into tears.

  On the verge of bawling herself, Anne left.

  Anne watched Austra’s face, limned against a landscape of rolling pasture broken by copses of straight-standing cedar and elegant cottonwood. Her head eclipsed a distant hill where a small castle lorded over a scattering of red-roofed cottages. A herd of horses stared curiously at the carriage as it rattled by.

  “Won’t you talk to me yet?” Anne pleaded. “It’s been three days.”

  Austra frowned and continued to look out the window.

  “Fine,” Anne snapped. “I’ve apologized to you until my tongue is green. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

  Austra murmured something, but it went out the window like a bird.

  “What was that?”

  “I said you could promise,” Austra said, still not looking at her. “Promise not to try to run away again.”

  “I can’t escape. Captain Marl is much too watchful, now.”

  “When we get to the coven, there will be no Captain Marl,” Austra said slowly, as if speaking to a child. “I want you to promise not to try to escape from there.”

  “You don’t understand, Austra.”

  Silence.

  Anne opened her mouth to say something else, but it fell short of her teeth. Instead she closed her eyes, let her body fall into the restless shuddering of the coach, and tried to pretend she was far away.

  She put on dreams like clothes. She tried on Roderick, to start with, the memory of that first, sweet kiss on horseback, their steadily more intimate trysts. In the end, however, that brought her only to that night in the tomb and the humiliation that followed. Her whole memory of that night was tainted, but she wanted to remember, to feel again those last exciting, frightening caresses.

  She changed the scene, pretending that she and Roderick had met instead in her chambers at Eslen, but that went no better. When she tried to imagine what his chambers in Dunmrogh were like, she failed utterly.

  At last, with a burst of inspiration that stretched a little smile on her face, she imagined the small castle on the hill she had seen a few moments before. She stood at its gates, in a green gown, and Roderick rode across the fields, brightly caparisoned. When he came near her he dismounted, bowed low, and kissed her hand. Then, with a fire in his eyes, pulled her close against the steel he wore and kissed her on the mouth.

  Inside, the castle was light and airy, draped in silken tapestries and brilliant with sunlight through tens of crystal windows. Roderick entered again, clad in a handsome doublet, and now, finally she could conjure the feeling of his hand on her flesh, and imagine more, that he went farther, that they were both, finally, unclad. She multiplied the remembrance of the touch of h
is palm on her thigh, imagining the whole length of him against her. There was just one part she couldn’t picture, exactly, though she had felt it against her, through his breeches. But she had never seen the privates of a man, though she had seen stallions aplenty. They must be shaped the same, at least.

  But the image that conjured was so ridiculous she felt suddenly uncertain, and so she adjusted her imagination again, to his eyes staring into hers.

  Something didn’t fit there, either, and in swift horror, she understood what it was.

  She couldn’t remember Roderick’s face!

  She could still have described it, but she could not see it, in the shadows of her mind. Determined, she shifted scenes again, to their first meeting, to their last—

  But it was no good. It was like trying to catch a fish with her hands.

  She opened her eyes and found Austra asleep. Frustrated, Anne watched the scenery go by and now tried to imagine what sort of people lived out there, in that country so unknown to her.

  But in the vain search for Roderick’s face, she had somehow awoken something else and found a different face.

  The masked woman with amber hair. For almost two months, Anne had pushed that phantasm away, encrypted it as she had the dream of the black roses. Now both came back, joined, nagging for her attention, despite Praifec Hespero’s assurances. Having endured three days of silence and Aus-tra’s sulking, and with nothing else to distract her, thoughts of that day on Tom Woth nagged at Anne like an itch, and the only scratch for it was thinking.

  What had happened? Had she fainted, as the praifec believed? That seemed most likely, and it was what she most often told herself. And yet, in the middle of her heart, she knew somehow it wasn’t the truth.

  Something real had happened to her; she had seen a saint, or a demon, and it had spoken to her.

  She could almost feel the voice in her head, a sort of remonstration, a scolding. How could she be thinking of herself and Roderick when so much was happening? Her mother and father were in danger, maybe the whole kingdom, and only she knew it. Yet despite that, she had done nothing, told no one, pursued this hopeless, selfish love. The praifec’s word had only given her the excuse.

  “No,” Anne said, under her breath. “That isn’t me talking. That’s Fastia. That’s Mother.”

  But it was neither, and she knew it. It was Genya Dare, her voice whispering across the leagues from that crack in her tomb. Genya Dare, the first queen, her most ancient ancestress.

  Would Genya Dare have ignored her responsibilities for the selfish pleasure of youth?

  Anne gave a start. That hadn’t been her own thought; that had been a voice, spoken into her ear. Not a whisper, either, but a confident tone. A woman’s voice.

  The voice of the masked woman, she was nearly certain.

  Anne tossed her head back and forth, searching for the speaker, but there was only Austra, sleeping.

  Anne settled back in her seat, breathing hard.

  “Are you there?” she whispered. “Who speaks?”

  But the voice didn’t return, and Anne began to wonder if she had dropped into sleep for a moment, long enough for the Black Mary to whisper in her ear.

  “You are not Genya Dare,” she murmured. “You are not.”

  She was going crazy, talking to herself. That was certainly it. She had read of such things, of prisoners in towers who spoke at length to no one, whose minds were shaved of reason.

  She shook Austra’s knee. “Austra. Wake up.”

  “Hmm?” Austra opened her eyes. “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

  “I promise, Austra.”

  “What?”

  “I promise. I won’t try to run away.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. I have to …” She frowned, embarrassed. “Everyone is trying to tell me the same thing. Mother, Fastia, you. I’ve been selfish. But I think—I’m needed for something.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing probably. But I’m going to do my best. To do what I’m supposed to.”

  “Does that mean you’re giving up Roderick?”

  “No. Some things are meant to be, and the two of us are fated to be together. I asked Genya to make him fall in love with me, remember? This is my fault, and I can’t just abandon his love.”

  “You asked Genya to make Fastia nicer, too,” Austra reminded her.

  “But she was,” Anne replied, remembering their last two meetings. “She was. She was almost like the Fastia I loved, when I was a girl. She and Mother did this thing to me—but they think what they are doing is for the best. Lesbeth explained it, but I didn’t want to listen, at the time.”

  “What convinced you?”

  “A dream, I think. Or a memory. Mostly you. If even my dearest friend thinks I’m a selfish brat, how can I not wonder?”

  “Now you’re starting to worry me. Did you bump your head, going out the window?”

  “Don’t make fun of me,” Anne said. “You wanted me to be better. I’m trying.”

  Austra nodded gravely. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “I was lonely, without you to talk to.”

  Austra’s eyes watered up. “I was lonely, too, Anne. And I’m afraid. Of where we’re going, of what it will be like.”

  “We’re in this together, then, from now on. Yes?”

  “By Genya?”

  “By her grave. If I had lead to write it on, I would. I swear I will make no attempt to escape from whatever awful place my mother has sent us. And I will be your companion in this, and no matter what, I will never, ever leave you.”

  Finally, fitfully, Austra smiled. “Thank you,” she said. She reached across the space, and they briefly squeezed hands.

  “Where do you suppose we are, anyway?”Anne remarked, to change the course of the conversation. “I gather we’ve been traveling south.”

  Austra dimpled a little.

  “I know that look!” Anne said. “You know something.”

  “I’ve been keeping directions,” Austra said. “The names of towns, rivers, and all. So we might find our route, if ever we see a map.”

  Anne gaped in astonishment. “Austra! Clever girl. Why didn’t I think of that? I’m so stupid!”

  “No,” Austra said. “You’ve just never been out in the world. You probably figured if you ran away the road would just take you where you wanted to go, like in the phay stories. But in the real world, you have to have directions.”

  “Your journal, then! May I see it?”

  Austra reached into her purse and withdrew a small book.

  “I didn’t get every town,” she said. “Only when I heard one of the guards mention it, or sometimes I would see a sign. The writing looks almost the same here, though with some odd flourishes. Here, I’ll read it to you; you could have trouble with my scribbling, and I can sum up for you.”

  “Go on,” Anne replied.

  “We first crossed over the Warlock on the raised road. The sun set on our right, so we were going south. Then we went up into some hills, still south.”

  “We were in Hornladh, then!” Anne said. “Roderick is from Hornladh! I found it on the map, after meeting him.”

  “In the hills we stayed in a place called Carec, a very small town. The next few nights I didn’t catch any names, but we went through a forest I think was named Duv Caldh, or something like that. At the edge of it we stayed in a little place named Prentreff.”

  “Oh, yes. The inn with the dreadful lute player.”

  “Exactly. From there, I think we went still south but more west, but then the next day it rained, so I couldn’t tell. Then we spent two nights in Paldh.”

  “I remember Paldh from the map! It’s a port, so we were on the sea! I thought I smelled the sea that night.”

  “After that we crossed a river. I think it was called the Teremené, and so was the town there. That’s when we started seeing more fields than woods, and the houses with red or pale roofs. A
nd vineyards—remember those endless vineyards? Then we slept in a little town named Pacre, then Alfohes, Avalé, and Vio Toto. Most of that time, I think we were going south and west. We crossed another river; I don’t know its name, but the town on the other side was Chesladia. I missed some towns, after that, but the place where you tried to run away was named Trivo Rufo. Since then I haven’t written anything. I was too angry.”

  “It’s enough!” Anne said. “But I don’t understand. If you didn’t want me to run away, why do this? Why map me a way home?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you about it until you promised not to run away. But I thought—it’s always better to know where you are. Suppose something awful happens? Suppose we’re attacked by bandits, our escort is killed, and we have to run? It’s better to know.” She shook a finger at Anne. “But a promise is still a promise, yes?”

  “Of course,” Anne replied. “But you’re right. From now on, I’ll keep a journal, too.”

  “What country do you think we’re in, now?” Austra asked.

  “I have no idea. I never paid attention in the tutorials, and I looked at the map only to find where Roderick was from. Perhaps we’re in Safnia, where Lesbeth’s fiancé lives.”

  “Perhaps,” Austra said. “But I don’t think so. I think it’s Vitellio.”

  “Vitellio!” Anne peered out the window again. The road arrowed through a vast field of some sort of grain. It had cut steep banks, and the soil was a vivid white.

  “I thought Vitellio was all yellow and red, and covered up with great cities and fanes! And the people are supposed to dress all in silk of fantastic colors, and quarrel most constantly.”

  “I could be wrong,” Austra allowed.

  “Wherever it is, the countryside is quite beautiful,” Anne remarked. “I would love to run Faster through those fields. I wonder how far we have to go?”

  “Who can say?” Austra replied. “This coven must be on the very edge of the earth.”

  “Maybe this will be an adventure after all!” Anne said, feeling her spirits rise.

  But she did have one quick, guilty thought.

  Roderick would walk off the end of the earth to find me, Anne told herself. And if I can send him one letter, he’ll know where that is.

  She tried to brush that away, stay firm to her new convictions, and a few moments later, as the girls chattered about what Vitellio might be like, she almost forgot that it had even occurred to her.