by Cas Peace
Sullyan flung herself down beside the unconscious Elias and laid a hand on his brow. Before she could reach into him to begin healing, rough hands seized her shoulders and thrust her violently away. She stared up into the furious face of Baron Reen.
“Get away from him, you treacherous witch! You’ve done enough damage. I’m not going to let you finish what you started.”
Shocked by the accusation, she made no response as others clustered around the prone body of the King, feeling for a pulse and loosening the collar of his shirt. She stood and backed off, Reen still staring savagely at her, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“What the Void happened, Sullyan? Is the King all right?”
She turned to see Taran looking down at Elias with a horrified expression. Jinella and her maid were right behind him, tears in Lily’s eyes.
“Is he dead?” shrilled Jinella, her hand at her mouth. “Has she killed him?”
Taran frowned at her. “What are you talking about? No one’s killed him. It was an accident, that’s all.” He swung back to face Sullyan and froze when he saw her expression. “Wasn’t it?”
She made a negative gesture and he fell silent. When she felt his tentative contact, she slammed down her shield. Taran gasped with the abrupt pain of it and gave her an injured look, not understanding her caution. But that brief moment of sensing some unknown Artesan manipulating Earth had alarmed and frightened Sullyan, and she wasn’t taking any chances. Explanations would have to wait. Ignoring Taran’s puzzled hurt, she turned back to Elias.
His physician was now in attendance, having been close by at the Queen’s insistence. The King was showing signs of regaining consciousness, and there were sighs of relief all round. The physician helped him to sit, although he still looked badly shaken. He looked around in groggy alarm.
“Brynne?” he croaked.
Brushing aside Reen’s threat—he still had his hand on his sword—she shouldered past him to kneel by Elias’s side. Looking deeply into his fogged blue eyes, she felt disturbed by what she saw.
“Just stay still, your Majesty,” she soothed, “all will be well. Will you permit?”
Before the Baron could stop her, she sent her senses into Elias. There was bruising to his skull where his head had hit the railing and she reduced it, calming the resultant swelling before it could affect the King’s brain. She could hear Reen protesting all the while. He was proclaiming loudly that the accident had been her doing, and telling the crowd that he had heard her give some command or other just before the tree toppled. They all knew Artesans could do things like that, didn’t they? Was he the only one to hear her laughing before the tree fell?
He wasn’t, of course. Others had heard her laughter and the people started to mutter. Taran regarded the crowd with concern, frowning as their murmurs grew louder. Sullyan ignored them. She was concentrating on Elias, who was returning to himself. His physician watched her carefully and with suspicion, but as the King had called for her, he couldn’t force her away.
Elias felt his head gingerly and raised his eyes. “Thank you, Brynne,” he breathed. “I feel better now.”
The physician helped him stand and Sullyan looked round for their mounts. A Kingsman had already caught Drum’s bridle and was leading him over, but Darius, who had struggled shakily to his feet after his crashing fall, was snorting and backing away. Sullyan soon saw why. With hands outstretched and tears pouring down his face, the deformed youth Huw was hobbling toward the colt.
“Get that imbecile away from here!” shouted Reen, a mixture of fear and disgust on his face. Huw was sobbing, mumbling about the “poor horse,” obviously distressed to think the colt might be hurt. The young stallion, still trembling from his dreadful fall, tossed his head and sidled away, alarmed by the youth’s jerky movements. The Baron made a lunge for Huw’s arm, but the lad shrieked and dodged him awkwardly, terror in his mismatched eyes.
Sullyan moved to intercept him. “Gently, Huw,” she soothed, and reached instinctively for his mind to pacify him. She encountered a void, a blank wall, which was unexpected and gave her pause. But the King’s condition was her main concern and she couldn’t afford to be distracted. She had to calm the boy in order to reach Darius, and they had to get Elias back to the castle.
“The horse has taken no hurt,” she murmured. “He is only frightened. And the King will be well too, although he will have a sore head for a while.”
Huw clutched her hand. “Hurt head? Horse not hurt?”
“Not hurt, Huw, they will both be well. Come, see for yourself, but gently.”
Pulling him by the hand, she led him toward Darius, using her soft, trilling whistle to calm the anxious beast. The horse allowed her approach and she laid her hand on his nose. She heard Huw perfectly imitating her characteristic whistle, and was amazed. Darius responded by snuffling the boy’s hair, making him giggle. It calmed him and he smiled, showing uneven teeth.
“Horse not hurt. Pretty Brynne.”
“There, Huw. Now we must lead the horse to the King. You can walk with us. I think he likes you.” She disengaged her hand and took Darius’s bridle. Huw just stood where he was, staring with wide eyes as she led the colt toward Elias.
Before she reached him, Baron Reen stepped into her path, his hand still on his sword. Darius snorted and threw up his head. Drum whinnied loudly.
“Stay back, you treacherous witch,” snarled Reen, drawing his sword and pointing it at her breast. Unarmed, she halted, unable to counter his threat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ardoch come forward, about to draw his own weapon. She signaled him and he subsided.
Elias, however, had heard Reen’s words. “Baron,” he rasped, “that’s enough! This was an accident. It was no one’s fault. If I hear you accusing Colonel Sullyan again, you’ll have me to deal with, do you hear?”
“But I heard her!” protested Reen, falling silent when he saw the King’s furious expression.
“I said enough!” Elias raised his voice to the crowd. “And that goes for the rest of you. This was a simple accident, there was no intent to injure and no one is to blame. Was anyone else hurt?”
No one came forward, and Elias glared hard at those around him. “I don’t want to hear any wild rumors circulating the city. Do I make myself plain?”
The crowd muttered as he turned a pale face to Sullyan. “Brynne, will you accompany me back to the castle? I think we both need some quiet and cool refreshment.” She inclined her head and he raised his voice again. “The rest of you, go back to the fair and enjoy what is left of the day. To those of you with bets, I pledge that all wagers will be honored once the placings have been agreed.” He waved the crowd away and they began to disperse, still muttering among themselves.
Sullyan beckoned to Taran, who came to her side at once. Someone helped the King to mount and he started slowly back toward the castle, waving off his physician’s plea to wait for a carriage. Sullyan and Taran walked behind him, the Colonel leading Drum. Baron Reen stalked at the rear.
Lady Jinella, abandoned by Taran without a second thought, could only stand and watch them go.
Queen Sofira was at the castle steps to meet her lord. She stood imperiously on the top step; perfectly straight, slim, and tall, her honey-blonde hair piled on her head in elaborate coils. There was disdain in her pale and angular face. Even her eyes were stony gray, no hint of softness anywhere. Her cheeks were sunken and her lean body showed no sign of having borne two children.
She stood looking down on the little group approaching the steps, no concern in her flat expression. Her eyes flicked from Sullyan to Reen before she turned her attention to Elias.
“So, it finally happened. Haven’t I warned you not to ride in these silly races, my Lord?” Her voice was brittle. “When will you stop taking these ridiculous risks?”
Sullyan noticed Elias closing his eyes briefly, but whether from the effects of his fall or as protection from the Queen’s spite, she could not say.
; “Bring him inside,” Sofira ordered. “Not you!” she snapped as Sullyan and Taran made to follow.
Elias raised his head as he mounted the steps and he stared hard at his Queen. “They are here at my request, Madam.” His voice was low and neutral, but it was made of iron.
She shot him one look and backed down. “Whatever my Lord desires,” she said, stalking before them into the castle. Sullyan exchanged a look with Taran.
They helped Elias into his private suite, and he sank into an easy chair with a great sigh of relief. The inevitable bruises and stiffness from his fall were making themselves felt, and Sullyan wondered if she would be permitted to help him. Yet she made no offer. Taking into account all that had happened and what she was beginning to suspect, she didn’t feel like pushing herself forward right now.
The Queen sent a servant scurrying for refreshment before crossing to the window and seating herself in a straight-backed chair. The light from the afternoon sun obscured her features from those in the room. It was a blatant act, and Sullyan wondered at it. Baron Reen followed them in and moved to stand behind Sofira’s chair, where he could observe everyone.
“Well, my Lord?” the Queen said. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Elias sighed. “A tree fell. My horse stumbled and threw me, Madam. That’s all.”
Sullyan studied his face. He was still very pale and she hoped he would let himself rest soon.
“With respect, your Majesty,” said Reen in a voice entirely devoid of respect, “that isn’t precisely what happened, is it?”
Elias sat straighter in his chair. “What exactly was it you thought you saw, Baron?”
Reen was unfazed by Elias’s tone. He had the protection of the Queen’s presence. She smiled up at him. An unhealthy smile, and the first real emotion Sullyan had seen her display.
“Yes, my Lord Baron,” she said, “would you be so kind as to tell us what you saw?”
Reen moved to the center of the room. “Madam, I happened to be standing near the finishing line and so had an uninterrupted view of the race course.”
How convenient, thought Sullyan.
“I saw the riders come toward the folly tunnel. Colonel Sullyan was slightly behind his Majesty at that point. It was obvious to me that she was desperate to get past him and win the race.”
He stared at Sullyan as he said this and met her agate glare. He continued, unperturbed by the hostility in her gaze.
“She was pushing her horse hard and causing his Majesty to ride faster than was prudent. I could hear her laughing as he was forced into such recklessness.”
Taran made a tiny movement, as if he would protest. He knew why Sullyan had been laughing. She motioned urgently with her hand and he stilled.
Reen did not notice and continued his fabrication.
“As the horses came out of the tunnel, it was clear his Majesty would win the race. Just then, the Colonel noticed me. She saw her chance. She knows I disapprove of her kind, and she saw an opportunity to remove me. I heard her say something that sounded like a word of command, and suddenly the earth heaved, causing a tree beside the course to fall toward me. As it came down, it caught the King’s horse, causing it to stumble and throw the King onto the rails. The Colonel’s mount, of course, was able to avoid the disturbance because she guided it round where she knew the earth would buckle.”
He turned, appealing directly to the Queen. “I was in considerable danger, Your Highness, and barely escaped serious injury. Yet my safety is not my prime concern. The Colonel’s hatred of me nearly cost the King his life. She must be tried and dismissed from his service.”
Queen Sofira rose from her seat, anger pinching her hard face. “How do you answer these charges, Colonel Sullyan?”
Before Sullyan could respond, Elias came to his feet.
“Peace, Madam! There are no charges to be answered here, only vicious and unsubstantiated accusations from one who has an unreasoning dislike of the Colonel’s kind.”
Queen Sofira opened her mouth to argue, but Elias stared her down. “I would bid you remember that the Colonel is a member of my forces, Madam, a valued and respected one at that. If any charges were to be brought against her, they would have to be approved by me. Since I was personally involved and would be the aggrieved party if these ridiculous allegations had any shred of truth to them, I say there is no case to answer.
“That will be the end of the affair, Madam. Do I make myself clear?”
At this reprimand before witnesses, the Queen’s face turned paler still. She turned from her husband’s anger, presenting her unbending back to them all. Reen, however, was still staring venomously at Sullyan.
“Baron!” said the King.
Reen flicked him a glance, realizing he could go no further. “As your Majesty commands,” he said, barely inclining his head.
Elias wasn’t satisfied. “I believe you owe my Colonel an apology, Baron.”
Sullyan wished he would let the matter drop. Forcing Reen to apologize would only stoke his resentment. With stiff grace, Reen grated, “You have my apologies, Colonel.”
She inclined her head politely, not trusting herself to answer. Turning instead to Elias, she said, “Your Majesty, I ask your permission to withdraw. You have had a very nasty shock and ought to rest. If you have further need of my services, I am at your command.”
She knew Elias could not speak frankly to her in the presence of either his Queen or the Baron, and since he could not order Sofira to go and she would not part with Reen, any discussions would have to wait. Elias gave his permission and the two Artesans bowed themselves out.
Sullyan and Taran walked slowly back to the race course, intent on examining the area of Earth-shift. As they walked, she told Taran what she had sensed at the time of the incident and asked him if he remembered who had been standing near the railing when the tree fell.
He thought carefully.
“Well, there was Jinny and me, of course, Denny, Master Ardoch, and a few of the King’s Guard. I also saw the Baron—oh, and that simple lad, Huw. I didn’t see anyone else I knew.”
Sullyan considered his words. “Except for you, none of those you mentioned has any Artesan skills. Of course, the person responsible need not have been close. They would only need to know which tree, and be signaled at the precise time.” She eyed Taran. “What really bothers me is the determination of whoever was behind this afternoon’s attack. Clearly, they were perfectly willing to see both me and Elias injured, or even killed. And that throws up another question. Who exactly was the intended target?”
Taran’s eyes widened at this new speculation. Sullyan carried on. “It puts me uncomfortably in mind of Rykan’s challenge on the Hierarch, and causes me to question our theories as to the real motives driving our man, whoever he is. The gracious Baron openly protests against our kind and would clearly delight in our downfall, but now I wonder whether he would also support a conspiracy to remove Elias, a king who makes no secret of his support for Artesans.”
She frowned at her own musings. “Yet if that is the case, then surely the Baron risks showing his hand by casting such vehement accusations? Or was it that he merely saw an opportunity to discredit me? Because of his revulsion for our kind, indeed, for anyone who is not Albian, I find it hard to believe that he is more deeply involved. Surely he would not be able to control his repugnance or demean himself so far as to deal with our mysterious Artesan? But if he can, might he also have had dealings with Rykan?
“And there is still the question of whether the Artesan behind these attacks is cooperating willingly or being coerced.”
She shook her head. Such thoughts were disturbing. “From what we have learned about Queen Sofira and the Baron, I doubt either would stoop so low as to deal with an Artesan or outlander. If either of them is involved, they must be using an intermediary. If they were Rykan’s backers, they must have been planning to silence him somehow once he had overthrown the Hierarch. For how could they trust hi
m once he had gained such power? I seriously doubt Rykan would have been permitted to keep the Staff had his challenge succeeded. I believe it would have been the instrument of his death, as was intended for so many others. I fervently hope it was the only one of its kind. At least the incident today bore none of the hallmarks of such a weapon.”
She glanced at Taran, her eyes clouded. “My friend, I am talking in circles when what we need are facts. We must sift the substrate and see if we can glean any clues that might lead us to our adversary.”
They arrived at the spot of the Earth-shift, where already servants were beginning to clear away the fallen tree. As they stood there, preparing to cast their senses through the substrate, Denny and Master Ardoch approached them, demanding to know what had happened and how the King fared. Sullyan briefly gave them the details and asked them to watch while she worked. There were still fair-goers about, and some were glancing curiously at them, no doubt recognizing her from the earlier incident. Sullyan was keen to know if anyone would show undue interest or concern in what they were doing. The two men readily agreed.
Once she had instructed Taran in what she required, they both used their metasenses to trawl through the substrate, searching for a signature or any clue to their adversary’s pattern.
One pass later and they exchanged glances.
“Nothing?” asked Sullyan. Taran shook his head. “Then link with me, please,” she said. He obediently meshed his pattern with hers and they used their pooled resources to do another sweep.
Still nothing.
Puzzled now, as it was virtually impossible to influence one of the elements without leaving a single trace, Sullyan suggested a Powersink. Taran smiled. He had not experienced one for many months. Sensing his excitement she asked, “Will you be able to cope?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
