The Quickening

by Fiona McIntosh

  Crys glanced towards Elspyth and caught her glare. ‘Well, because they apparently said as much. They were trying to track down Ylena Thirsk, who had been removed from Stoneheart by Romen Koreldy.’

  Pil nodded. ‘That’s right. Koreldy brought her to the monastery seeking shelter and sanctuary. She had been abused by the Crown, and I don’t put that lightly, sir,’ he qualified. He flushed at everyone’s attention suddenly locked on to him. He too had been sworn to secrecy about Wyl and was terrified he might slip up. ‘Romen left her with us.’

  ‘And then the King’s men burned Rittylworth you say — its monastery too. Whatever for?’ Liryk asked.

  Pil’s eyes misted as he thought of his destroyed home. ‘They were Legionnaires, sir, under orders to raze the village and teach it a lesson for harbouring a traitor. It was Ylena they were calling a traitor, although they would have to be especially brainwashed soldiers to believe that of Thirsk. Ylena was sure they were mercenaries masquerading as Legionnaires for this reason.’

  ‘None of whom were traitorous to my knowledge,’ Elspyth said, realising too late that it was a mistake to say this because she apparently had not known Wyl Thirsk. However, the Commander was sufficiently confused not to pin her down on this point. She suspected Valentyna might have and knew she would have to be still more careful when the Queen returned. She wished she could just come clean but they might throw them all out for being halfwits if she were to suggest that Wyl Thirsk now walked in the body of his sister.

  ‘The men were also looking for the woman known as Faryl of Coombe,’ Crys added. ‘She had been at Tenterdyn, but did not stay once we told her we had not seen Ylena,’ he said carefully. ‘Faryl had most recently come from the King and she too was tracking Ylena Thirsk with a view to killing her. We learned this through Aremys who arrived shortly after her departure, also looking for Ylena but to protect her not kill her. It is too much of a coincidence that these assassins, paid by the King, should be followed by more men bent on finding Ylena Thirsk.’

  ‘And this Aremys you speak of — if he is a hired mercenary why does he want to help Ylena?’

  ‘He is a friend of Romen’s,’ Elspyth cut in before either of her companions could respond. ‘I… er… gather they were both of Grenadyn,’ she added, recalling something Wyl had mentioned.

  The Queen re-entered, her expression grim enough to be set in stone. Both Liryk and Crys stood immediately and bowed. Pil leapt to his feet too late. Elspyth was not sure what the correct protocol was, having never been in a sovereign’s presence.

  ‘Relax, everyone,’ Valentyna said, pushing away some stray strands of hair. ‘We have much to discuss. You need a rest first, though. Please follow Stewyt who will show you to some rooms where you can sleep for a few hours and refresh yourselves. Commander, I have called a meeting of our senior nobles. Krell is gathering them now. We meet this evening. The news from Morgravia is extraordinary.’

  Elspyth lay restless on the bed in a small chamber that smelled of fresh herbs and offered a beautiful view of orchards. She knew she would not sleep. She felt as she had that day in Cailech’s fortress, when her emotions had churned inside her. Although she was desperately tired, she could not drift off as she so wanted to. The refreshing bath and the generously provided clean garments made her feel even more awake in fact and so she welcomed the soft tap at her door an hour or so after she had been shown to her room.

  It was Stewyt again. ‘Her highness wonders if you would care for some company, Miss Elspyth,’ he said with a small bow.

  Elspyth was both surprised and delighted by the invitation. ‘Of course,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll just fetch my shawl.’

  She followed the lad along the corridors and stairways of the palace. This time she did notice its elegance, so different to the duller grey of Stoneheart. It was built of the cool whitestone of Briavel which seemed to pulse with its own inner light, reflecting and intensifying the glow of flames from the sconces and cressets. Its architects were aiming for beauty alone in this palace of exquisite archways and wide, sweeping flights of stairs. Colour was everywhere in tapestries and carpets, paintings of previous kings and floral decorations. Elspyth had never been in a palace before but she knew from conversations with people who had visited Stoneheart that Morgravia’s royals lived in a far more sombre place than this.

  A sound of pleasure esaped Elspyth as they entered an area which contained a series of recesses which had been artfully painted to show glorious scenes, presumably from Briavel’s folklore. ‘Aren’t they brilliant!’ she exclaimed. ‘I feel as though I can see forever into the landscapes.’

  Stewyt beamed. ‘This is a special kind of art, peculiar to Briavel, Miss Elspyth. It’s called Pretence.’

  She glanced at him quizzically. He continued. ‘These are more than a century old. There was a movement of art in our realm called the Pretenders. They created scenes from our old stories and legends which is why they have this fantastical quality. And you mentioned the perspective.’ He nodded at her. ‘Their work tricks the eye into believing you are looking through a window on to a spectacular outdoor scene.’

  ‘I adore them.’

  ‘Thank you. It will please her majesty to hear this,’ he said graciously, then added as they turned a corner, ‘Our Queen loves music… and dancing.’ They passed a chamber through whose slightly ajar door Elspyth glimpsed a quintet of musicians practising. It was a wondrous sound of strings which echoed down the new wing they were currently travelling. Elspyth realised that they were not heading deeper into the palace.

  ‘The Queen will meet you in the herb gardens,’ Stewyt said and held open a door for her that led outside.

  They found Valentyna picking lavender. She had changed into a deep purple gown and again wore no adornments. She needs none, Elspyth decided, admiring the Queen’s natural beauty.

  Valentyna looked up at the sound of their arrival. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you came,’ she said to Elspyth, smiling warmly as if welcoming an old friend. She handed the lavender stems to the page. ‘Thank you, Stewyt. Would you have these sent up to my chambers, please.’ She turned back to her guest. ‘Walk with me, would you? It is a beautiful afternoon and these gardens do wonders for my spirits.’

  Elspyth hardly knew what to say as she fell in with the Queen’s graceful step.

  ‘I thought you might find it easier to speak freely without the men,’ Valentyna admitted conspiratorially.

  ‘Thank you, your majesty. Crys is having to face so much — it’s certainly difficult talking about it all.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what he’s going through, losing his family in such horrific circumstances.’

  ‘Do you believe us, your majesty?’ Elspyth asked in her direct way.

  The Queen paused beneath a lemon tree. She inhaled its fragrance. ‘Yes,’ she replied softly.

  Elspyth let out her breath. She felt like crying with relief.

  ‘Do you know that Romen Koreldy is dead?’ Valentyna asked, just as directly.

  Her companion nodded. ‘Word travels fast.’ Her mind raced as to how she could know this. Before she could find an explanation the Queen spoke again.

  ‘From whom did you learn this news?’

  Elspyth felt trapped. This was a test clearly. She wanted to be as honest as she could with this woman whose sanctuary they sought, but she could not betray Wyl’s wishes once again.

  ‘Originally some Briavellian merchants told me. I was travelling with them. But it was confirmed by a woman called Faryl,’ she said, making her decision, trying to be as truthful as she would with Valentyna.

  ‘And how did she hear of it?’ the Queen asked, bending down to smell some basil. It seemed a reasonable question but there was a tension there that told Elspyth how loaded it was.

  ‘I gather she was in Briavel when it happened, your highness.’

  ‘I see. That’s interesting. Would you describe her to me? I do have good reason for asking.’ The Queen handed Elspyth a sprig of mint to
smell and smiled disarmingly.

  Elspyth took a deep breath. ‘She is tall and strong-looking, a handsome woman. She has a very direct golden-brown gaze,’ she said, recalling Faryl in better detail as she concentrated on remembering those terrible few minutes after Wyl had entered the room at Tenterdyn.

  Valentyna put her hand on Elspyth’s arm. ‘Ah yes, her eyes have a feline quality, don’t they? And her hair is an auburn colour, not unattractive but unfashionably short for a woman at shoulder-length.’

  Elspyth blushed as the Queen turned her now-hard blue gaze on her. ‘Yes,’ she stammered. ‘That sums her up rather well.’

  Valentyna’s look darkened. ‘I believe, Elspyth, that this Faryl you speak of is the Hildyth who murdered Romen. No one else believes me here. It is not something that matters to them, but it matters very much to me to know who perpetrated this.’

  ‘She… she is in Celimus’s employ. Aremys confirmed that she is an assassin, your majesty, paid for by the King of Morgravia.’

  Valentyna raised her face to the sky in obvious despair. ‘I knew it,’ she muttered. ‘She killed him as he made love to her,’ she added in a choked voice.

  ‘Please, your highness, let us sit,’ Elspyth suggested, taking the Queen’s arm and encouraging her towards a low stone bench surrounded by sweet-smelling bushes.

  ‘Thank you,’ Valentyna said when they were seated. There was a slightly awkward pause as she pushed away the one stray tear that threatened to roll down her cheek. ‘May I tell you a secret, Elspyth?’

  ‘Yes, your highness.’

  ‘I was in love with Romen Koreldy but we never made love, not like he did with that murderous whore, Hildyth.’

  ‘He was an easy man to fall in love with,’ Elspyth admitted, unsure what was expected of her during this moment of candidness from the sovereign.

  ‘How well did you know him?’

  ‘We met each other in Yentro. We were captured together by men from the mountains.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘He told me everything of his time in the north.’

  Not everything, Elspyth suspected. ‘Then you have heard him speak of me, your highness?’

  ‘Yes, I know of you, Elspyth. This is why I do believe you about this terrible business at Felrawthy. But you see, all of my advisers and the nobility of Briavel so badly want me to marry Celimus. I need to give them proof that he is as sinister and treacherous as you tell us.’

  ‘And the death of your father is not sufficient, I presume?’ Elspyth said bitterly, then grabbed the Queen’s hands and swung to her knees before her. ‘Oh, your highness, forgive me,’ she begged. ‘That was cruel. You have been very fair with us — I just feel so frightened and desperate.’

  Valentyna smiled softly at the bowed head of Romen’s friend, wondering how he had not fallen for this pretty, feisty woman who had come into his life before she had.

  ‘You are forgiven, for it is a fair accusation,’ Valentyna replied. ‘But you need to understand that we cannot risk war with Morgravia, Elspyth. This is diplomacy at its most frustrating. It seems my father’s death must be overlooked in order to win peace for Briavel.’ She paused before adding, ‘Romen mentioned a Mountain man called Lothryn.’

  Elspyth flinched at the name and saw recognition of that reaction in the Queen’s imposing gaze. Honesty was required here. She nodded. ‘A very brave man who put our lives before his own because he did not believe we deserved to die. He defied his King, probably paid for it with his life.’

  ‘Romen said that you and Lothryn are in love.’

  ‘I… we were… are, your highness,’ Elspyth admitted, deeply disconcerted that Valentyna knew so much about her. ‘I will never love another.’

  Valentyna’s expression showed a ghost of a sad agreement. ‘Then you will know how hard this is for me. I too can never love anyone as much as I loved Romen Koreldy in the short time we knew each other, but I am being forced to marry the man who organised the slaughter of Romen, the assassination of my father, and the murder of Wyl Thirsk who tried to warn me about Celimus.’

  ‘Don’t marry him, your highness,’ Elspyth warned. ‘Do everything in your power to avoid it. Did you read Ylena’s letter?’

  ‘I did. She wants me to wait for her and says that she will help me.’ The Queen gave a short hollow laugh. ‘What can a young helpless noblewoman from Morgravia on the run from her own King — who wants her dead — do to help the cause of the Briavellian Crown?’

  Elspyth agreed, it did sound futile. She desperately wished she could tell the Queen the truth that Ylena was brave Wyl, had been Romen. ‘Trust her is all I ask. She begged me to implore this of you and to offer my service to you.’

  ‘Yes, she mentioned that too. I am glad of your friendship, Elspyth, really I am, but can you appreciate how odd all this is?’

  Elspyth nodded, returning to sit beside Valentyna.

  The Queen sighed. ‘The worst of it is that I do want to trust her! She sounds like a man writing to me if you can believe that — as though her own brother, the General, is talking as he did during our only meeting. Romen made me feel safe and secure; Wyl Thirsk did too when he ordered me to accompany Fynch to make our escape from the mercenaries who killed my father. And now his sister conveys the same sense of strength.’ She shook her head. ‘I miss Fynch. He has gone away too, you know. Did you ever meet him?’

  Elspyth held her breath at what Valentyna had just said. Without knowing it the Queen had already hit on the truth. Her senses served her well. ‘No, but Romen did speak of him.’

  ‘He is a very special person. Odd, most might think, and incredibly serious, but there is something about him I can’t really explain. It is as if he is all-knowing, or at least more enlightened than I often feel.’ She turned to look at Elspyth directly. ‘Do you know what Fynch believes?’

  Elspyth shook her head slowly, could guess what was coming.

  Valentyna raised her shoulders in a gesture of helplessness. ‘He believes that Wyl Thirsk and Romen Koreldy are somehow linked. I don’t mean through friendship either. He claims there is a spiritual link, as though they may be one. Are one, in fact, though he stops short of saying it. Now what do you say to that?’

  Elspyth squirmed, the truth aching to escape from her lips. She fought the temptation. ‘Queen Valentyna, I hope you won’t be offended if I admit that I believe very strongly in spiritual connections. I do not doubt that souls who belong together will always find one another again, even after death. They will be reborn and search for each other.’

  ‘Do you really?’

  She nodded. ‘I do, your highness. And that is why I believe you and Romen will find each other again,’ she added, coming as close to the truth as she dare.

  ‘But not in this life,’ Valentyna said sadly.

  ‘You never know, your highness. There are those who believe that sometimes if a life is taken early — before it is ready to be gathered by Shar — it stays close to the ones it loves.’

  Valentyna smiled at her. ‘That’s a rather lovely way of looking at life. It lifts my heart just to hear you say it, even if I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Oh, you can believe it, your majesty. Allow yourself…take a risk and believe it.’ Elspyth seized her opportunity. She owed Wyl Thirsk this much. ‘I believe that some people are reincarnated. Perhaps you should listen more carefully to your friend Fynch. It is to this which he refers, I am sure. And you must promise me that should another person look at you and perhaps touch you emotionally as Romen did, reminding you uncannily of the man you loved, that you will permit it.’

  ‘Permit them to love me, you mean?’ Valentyna said, her voice laced with gentle amusement.

  Elspyth nodded. ‘Perhaps even a woman,’ she dared.

  ‘Because it might be him?’ Valentyna’s dark eyes flashed with both embarrassment and bemusement.

  ‘Yes.’ It was a risk but Elspyth was glad she had taken it.

  The
Queen surprised her by giving her a hug. ‘I shall remember that. Now come, I have avoided it long enough.’ Elspyth looked at her quizzically. ‘I have called a meeting of the nobility. It’s serious and that is why I am out here.’

  ‘Thinking time?’

  Valentyna nodded, knew Elspyth would understand. ‘I feel as though I am about to enter a chamber to bargain for my life.’

  Pil preferred to remove himself from the world of politics and asked to be excused to spend time in the palace chapel with Father Paryn, a man he took to immediately. Crys and Elspyth were invited to attend the meeting which brought together the nobles of Briavel. Respecting the sensitivity of the issue, Chancellor Krell would take notes from the meeting himself and dutifully make a copy each for two important nobles who were not able to reach the capital at short notice. Couriers would take the notes of the meeting to their respective destinations across the realm.

  The Queen sombrely entered the chamber where the nobles were gathered. They had arrived a little earlier and were sipping on wine, which most barely tasted. The feeling of tension at being called to this unexpected meeting was overwhelming. Krell dismissed all the servants and, when privacy was assured, Valentyna introduced first Elspyth and then the new Duke of Felrawthy. Shocked whispers ran around the room; most there were familiar with the towering reputation of Jeryb Donal.

  ‘Gentlemen, these Morgravians are our guests and enjoy the full protection of Briavel,’ the Queen continued. ‘They risked their lives to bring us grave information, riding here in urgency and outrunning their pursuers, who we are presuming were sent to execute them.’ She allowed this fact to sink in. Then outlined succinctly the terrible events that had taken place in Felrawthy.

  ‘We are not just talking about a very high-ranking noble, gentlemen, but two of his heirs and his wife — all innocents. If it was not for the foresight of Elspyth here, there may well be no heir left to Felrawthy at all,’ the Queen finished.