Perrin shook his head. “The details of my communication with my Lord are too complicated, and too personal, for me to share. Suffice it to say that this was by way of a… promise, perhaps. Or a glimpse of the future. Averran deigned to work directly through me because he, too, disliked the idea of revolution, or so I understand. In the morning, I will return to requiring prepared blessings, and how grateful I am for my Lord’s forgiveness. But I am on probation, so to speak. I must constantly prove myself and my resolution to overcome my weakness.”
“So you can’t drink at all,” Sienne said.
“Not one drop. It will make my prayers more challenging, though who is to say I might not someday have that restriction—but I dare not even think that, for fear my desire for alcohol will lead me back into justifications.”
“That seems impossible,” Alaric said. “To go from… well, where you were to nothing—”
“I choose to take it one day at a time,” Perrin said. “True, it is a near-impossible task—I have been over-fond of liquor for years, and I have no illusions as to my own strength of will when it comes to drink. But my Lord is generous with human frailty when he is not in an ill humor, and with his divine help, I have faith that it will all work out. And speaking of faith, I believe Averran may yet have one more miracle in store for this day.”
He reached out and gently took Dianthe’s maimed hand, removing the handkerchief and tossing it aside. “O Lord of crotchets, have mercy upon me, and upon this woman,” he said.
Green light flared around the missing finger. Slowly, like a seedling sprouting, new flesh emerged from the wound, growing upward until the finger was wholly restored. Dianthe looked at it in wonder. “There’s no nail.”
“Ah, yes. Restoration is supposed to be perfect, and as I have no reason to believe Averran incompetent in this respect, I can only surmise that he wishes you to remember from what source your healing arose.”
“I don’t think that’s something I’ll forget, but I’m not going to argue with an avatar.” Dianthe flexed her finger. “It’s getting dark. Let’s get home before we can’t see our feet.”
“I can make lights,” Sienne said.
“True. But I want to get home nonetheless.”
“But we left all the rest of our gear, and our horses, back in Annis.”
“Something to worry about another time,” Alaric said. “I think we should sleep, and take passage on a ship in the morning. Once we’ve gotten rid of the artifact, we can take our time retrieving our gear.”
Sienne hoped the innkeeper in Annis wouldn’t sell their things when they didn’t show up. On the other hand, he might have been complicit in their kidnapping. Maybe his guilt would keep him from acting precipitously. If he sold Spark, she was going to make him suffer.
“Should we have let Lady Nerus and that wizard go free?” Perrin said. “She might attempt assassination another time.”
“Remember the prophecy from Lisiel?” Alaric said. “‘Free the captives and your quest will be rewarded.’ They were our captives.”
“I had forgotten that, yes.” Perrin shrugged. “Far be it from me to disregard a prophecy.”
“But what reward?” Dianthe said. “Getting rid of the artifact is hardly rewarding, at least not in the usual sense.”
“I’m hoping it means we’ll find a way to convince Tonia Figlari to give us the knives, since it did say we wouldn’t get money or power,” Alaric said. “But at the moment I’m tired enough not to care. We can worry about that later.”
They came out of the hills to find Fioretti spread out before them, glittering like a million jewels cast on the shore. The darkness of the Jalenus Sea defined the edges of the great city, curving away out of sight. Somewhere in the distance on the far shores was the dukedom of Sileas, and beyond that, Tagliaveno, and beyond that the southern continent few Rafellish had ever visited. Somewhere out there, they’d drop the artifact into the depths, and it could lie on the ocean floor for the next millennium and longer.
Sienne trudged along the streets of Fioretti after Alaric, barely noticing the bright colors and movement that characterized one of the many street festivals celebrating the turn of the seasons. The excitement and terror and pain had all worn off, leaving her too exhausted to care that she was carrying the emerald falcon openly through the streets. She adjusted her spellbook under her other arm. That other wizard’s spellbook, belonging to that Caberri who had died so awfully, was missing. It had been tucked inside what was left of the harness, but it was gone when Winifrey returned the book to her. She felt a moment’s regret at losing it, but only a moment. Taking the spells of a man she’d killed felt morbid.
Master Tersus’s neighborhood was quiet, with lights burning in some of the houses’ windows and in the spell-lit lanterns along the street, but no one was abroad even at this relatively early hour. Alaric unlocked the side door and let everyone in. The smell of roast duck filled the hall, making Sienne’s stomach growl, but the thought of digging out leftovers, however delicious, made her more tired. So she merely followed Alaric up the stairs and went into her room.
The soft sound of boots scuffing floorboards told her someone was in her room the moment before they grabbed her. She opened her mouth to scream, but someone shoved a cloth into it and pinioned her arms behind her back. The artifact fell to the floor with a hard thump. Sienne fought the hands immobilizing her, but there were too many of them, at least three people flinging her face-first onto her bed, binding her hands. Someone blindfolded her, pointless in the darkness, and that scared her more than anything else.
She kicked out and heard a pained grunt, but the hands didn’t release her. They lifted her off the bed, holding her tight against her struggles. Someone muttered the long, complex syllables of ferry, and suddenly the air was warm, almost hot, and smelled of wood smoke and, more faintly, a fruity perfume too sweet to be pleasant. The hands shoved her down onto something soft, a chair or a sofa, then withdrew.
Sienne struggled to sit up and listened frantically for anything that might give her a clue as to her surroundings. She heard movement, a shuffling, rustling sound, and someone grunting as if trying to speak through a gag. She wasn’t alone here, wherever it was—maybe the others had been captured, too. She hoped that wasn’t true.
Footsteps sounded on a wooden floor. “So,” a man’s voice said, “you intend to bring down a king, do you?”
26
The cloth in her mouth prevented Sienne from replying, not that she knew what to say. Bring down a king? They’d stopped that from happening! Anger and fear warred within her, anger at the complete unfairness of this, fear of what this person might do if he really believed she was complicit with Lady Nerus.
Someone plucked the cloth from her mouth, and she swallowed to rid herself of the dryness it left behind. Behind her, someone coughed, and then Perrin said, “You are sadly misinformed. I have no interest in attacking Rafellin’s government.”
“You met with Pyrenna Nerus in secret. You delivered her this artifact. I think you are lying.” The man had a noble’s accent and his words drawled, like he was considering each before he spoke it.
“Lady Nerus kidnapped us and stole the artifact,” Alaric said. Relief washed over Sienne. He and Perrin were here, likely the others were too, and they’d figure a way out of this, whatever it was.
“Something a liar would say to defend himself,” the man said. “What proof have you?”
“We still have the artifact,” Alaric said. “We took it back from Lady Nerus.”
“So you intend to kill the king yourselves.”
“That was Lady Nerus’s plan. We’re not in league with her, and we intend to put the artifact where it can’t be used by anyone.”
“And where would that be?”
Alaric went silent. Sienne guessed he was worried he was giving too much away. “None of your business,” he finally said, “since we don’t know who you are or what you intend. You might be interested in killing the king yourself.”<
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“You are in no position to withhold information.” The footsteps sounded again, pacing away from Sienne, then back toward her. “Your only hope is to tell me what I want to know, and hope I believe you.”
“Who are you?” Sienne asked.
“Someone who dislikes stubbornness in his captives.” A hand slapped Sienne so hard her head snapped back. She cried out in surprise and pain, and heard Alaric shout her name.
“Hitting a helpless woman,” he snarled. “My desire to be helpful just vanished.”
“I’m not interested in what you want,” the man said. “I care more about the safety of this country and the stability of its government than I do about your petty little lives.”
“You bastard,” Dianthe cried. “We stopped Lady Nerus from killing the king!”
“Then why did you not bring her to the palace for questioning? Instead, she’s free to plot against the government and possibly try her assassination attempt again in future.”
Sienne opened her mouth to speak and realized anything she might say would only make them look more guilty. Not turning Lady Nerus in now seemed like a stupid idea.
“Lady Nerus thought she was doing what was best for the country,” Alaric said. “I chose to give her exile rather than death.”
“You did, did you? And what entitles you to make that decision? You’re not even Rafellish.”
“Because I couldn’t tell her she was wrong to want better for the country. I don’t know if she was right about the king being selfish and greedy, but if she was, her intentions were good. I thought that was deserving of a second chance.”
Sienne realized he’d been using I instead of we and her heart sank. He was trying to take all the blame himself, probably so he could take all the punishment himself.
“That’s not your concern,” the man said. “You have no authority.”
“That’s true.” Sienne waited for more, but it seemed Alaric was done talking. It was no use. They were all dead. She only wondered why this man had even bothered talking to them instead of killing them outright.
More pacing. The cloying fragrance was making Sienne feel ill. “How does the artifact work?” the man said.
“We won’t tell you that.”
“Still recalcitrant, even though I can have you executed?”
“We won’t give that power to anyone, least of all a stranger who can have us executed.”
“I can also have you tortured.”
Sienne held her breath. If he started torturing her friends, she’d tell him. She had no strength of will about that.
“You can,” Alaric said, “but it won’t help. That artifact needs to disappear.”
The man came to Sienne’s side and hauled her to her feet. Sienne bit back a gasp. What they did not need at this point was for Alaric to transform into his other self when they had no idea where they were or who this man was, and if he thought she was in danger, he might do just that. “You are a wizard,” the man said. “You understand magic. How deadly is this thing?”
“Deadly,” Sienne said. “It destroys with a touch, living or inorganic, it doesn’t matter. The only thing preventing it from leveling armies is its limited range. Please, let us take it where it can never be found. No one should have this kind of power.”
The man released her. “Not even a good man? Someone who’d use it virtuously?”
“How could it possibly be used virtuously? It brings only death, and that too easily. Anyone who used it often would forget how terrible death is because it would be so simple to cause it. Trivial, even. I don’t think lives should be trivialized.”
“And you think Pyrenna failed to understand that?”
“She thought she could bring down the government with a few chosen deaths. But it wouldn’t have stopped at that.”
“So you supported her decision to overthrow the government, just not with the artifact?”
“No, damn it,” Sienne exclaimed, overriding a chorus of protests from her friends. “We’re not qualified to decide how good the government is. We just wanted to protect the city from destruction.”
“I see.” The man walked away. Sienne remained standing, not sure where the sofa was and afraid of falling if she tried to sit. “Letting Pyrenna go does not help your cause.”
“That was my responsibility,” Alaric said. “They had nothing to do with it.”
“We agreed,” Kalanath said, speaking for the first time. “We could have stopped you if we chose. Lady Nerus was not bad, just… it is when you think something is true and act on it, but it is false.”
“Misguided,” Perrin said. “We are scrappers, not murderers.”
Sienne tried not to think about the deaths they’d caused in defending themselves in the forest and in the cavern, or the beam of pale green light destroying men at her hand. She hadn’t wanted Lady Nerus dead, or turned over to people who might kill her, because she was sick of death. But she was afraid to say any of this, because it made them all sound guilty.
“So, if I understand your defense correctly,” the man said, “you refused to give Pyrenna the artifact, but let her go free because you sympathized with her cause. You will not tell me how to use the artifact because you think I will use it to kill indiscriminately. And you expect me to let you walk out of here with the artifact so you can supposedly dispose of it where it will never be found.”
Sienne ground her teeth. So many misconceptions! She heard someone rise from another sofa or chair near her. “We sympathized with Lady Nerus’s intentions, not her cause,” Alaric said. “We didn’t want any more deaths on our consciences. I judged she was harmless without her support and without the artifact and didn’t want to see her executed. If we’d agreed with her, we would have helped her in her plan. And we have no idea who you are, but we’re convinced no one, no matter how well-intentioned, can use this thing for good. That’s the last I’ll say on the subject. If you’re going to kill us, make it quick.”
Sienne held her breath. Then, to her shock, she heard the man laugh. “You have balls of solid brass to admit to being willing to kill your king under any circumstances,” he said. Someone took Sienne’s bound hands and slipped a cold knife between them. The ropes fell away.
Sienne pulled the blindfold off and blinked blurriness out of her eyes. The overheated room was a formal parlor, decorated in the simple, unadorned style of a hundred years previous. Sofas and chairs crowded around the fireplace, which burned high and bright. The mantel held rows of sappy porcelain figures painted in rose and pale blue, the kind of figures Sienne associated with elderly women with too much time on their hands.
She turned to survey the rest of the room. Her friends all stood or sat on chairs nearby. Perrin and Dianthe were rubbing their wrists, and Kalanath had just removed his blindfold. A short man dressed all in black velvet was just cutting the ropes around Alaric’s wrists. As he straightened, the firelight fell full upon his face, illuminating its strong lines, the neatly trimmed black beard outlining his jaw, the bright hazel eyes that gleamed with intelligence. Sienne’s jaw dropped.
“Your Majesty,” she said.
King Derekian glanced in her direction, sheathing his knife. “Sienne Verannus,” he said. “Your parents have been looking for you. In all the wrong places, apparently.”
“But—why—”
“Have a seat,” the king said. “I would apologize for the manner in which you were brought here, but I genuinely was not certain whether you were revolutionaries.”
Sienne groped for a chair and sat, unable to take her eyes off the king. Derekian turned his back on Alaric—brave man, that—and went to stand in front of the fireplace, clasping his hands behind his back.
“You should have taken Pyrenna into custody and handed her over to my guards,” he said. “No, don’t repeat yourselves, I understand why you didn’t. But you have to admit it looks bad.”
“We’re not in league with her,” Alaric said. “Your Majesty.”
“I bel
ieve you. Gavant save me from noble idiots.” Derekian shook his head. “I’m slightly more disturbed that you thought Pyrenna’s motivations were pure. What exactly did she tell you about me?”
Sienne looked at her friends. Now that they were facing the king, Lady Nerus’s justifications were hard to repeat. “She claimed you give preference to your favorites even when it’s not justified,” Sienne said. “That you spend government funds on your own pleasures, and that you disregard the laws when it suits you.”
Derekian laid a finger over his lips, tapping them in thought. “That is how it appears, yes,” he said. “I’m not sure I need to justify myself to you.”
“I’d think you’d want to defend yourself,” Sienne said. “Why should ordinary citizens trust you to protect them if you’re venal and selfish?”
“You’re bolder than I imagined,” Derekian said with a laugh. “Your father’s messages suggest you are unfamiliar with the ways of the world and potentially in great danger. From what I can see, that’s not the case.” His laughter died, and he started pacing in front of the fire. “None of you have the knowledge to understand the political situation in Rafellin. Suffice it to say that my government is constantly under threat from the nobles who wish to increase their personal power at the cost of everyone else. Those favorites I supposedly give preference to are the only men and women I can trust not to betray me. My spending is carefully directed at increasing the stability of the government. And the laws I disregard are outmoded ones passed years ago to govern situations that no longer exist in Rafellin.”
“What of Lusio Marchena?” Perrin said.
“What of him?”
“He has persuaded you to ignore Tonia Figlari’s claim to her ancestral dukedom despite her evident right to it. How is that anything but an abuse of power?”
Derekian’s eyes narrowed. “Your face is familiar. Are you a Delucco?”
“I was. My father disinherited me.”
“I remember. Perrin Delucco, I think.” He sighed. “The Marchenas are a persistent thorn in my side. I’ve had to keep them close to prevent them joining the coalition against me. Frankly, I should be grateful Pyrenna acted alone. Had she worked in company with anyone else, we would likely not now be having this conversation. At any rate, pretending to give heed to Lusio has kept the Marchenas at bay for over a year while I built my forces to deal with them more permanently. The time will soon come when I’m no longer obliged to endure his inane chatter.” Derekian smiled. It was an unpleasant smile that boded ill for Lusio Marchena.
Stone of Inheritance Page 28
