“Are you harmed, Your Majesty?” Mahalath asked. “We heard fighting and came at once.”
“Stand guard at the entrances,” Senator Emil commanded the legionnaires. “Let no one pass but at the Queen’s command. Protect her life with your own.”
Makarria let her dreamstate dissipate and eyed them warily. They looked to be genuinely concerned for her safety. If it was an act, it was a convincing one.
“Are you all right?” Mahalath asked again.
“Wounded, but not gravely,” Fina answered for Makarria.
“Who was it?” Senator Emil asked, kneeling down to examine one of the dead attackers.
“These men we don’t know,” Lorentz replied. “But it started with our own guards inside.”
Makarria swore inwardly. She should have silenced Lorentz at once. The last thing she needed was the officials from the Old World to believe she had insurrection on her hands and doubt her competence even more.
“It is as we feared then,” Senator Emil replied. “We’ve heard rumors that Don Bricio still had sympathizers and that they were planning an uprising. We should have warned you, but you were angry with us already.”
“It was no uprising,” Makarria told him. “It was an assassination attempt.”
“They are one and the same, Your Highness. It was Don Bricio’s sympathizers who killed your grandfather, if I am not mistaken. It stands to reason they would try to kill you.”
“There are many reasons one might want to kill me, Senator. I’ll not be jumping to any conclusions yet. And you can rest assured I will get to the bottom of this.”
Senator Emil bowed. “Of course, Your Highness. Know that we are at your disposal, both my men and the entirety of the Old World Republic military should you accept our aid.”
Horses approached, sparing Makarria from having to respond. The four Old World legionnaires, Fina, and Lorentz all rushed to the main entrance of the stables to confront any would-be attackers, but it was only Caile, returning from the fishery borough with Talitha and Thon.
“What happened?” Caile demanded as he dismounted and ran to Makarria, eyeing the slain squires and attackers lying on the ground around her. “Are you all right?”
“An assassination attempt is what happened, and yes, I’m fine,” Makarria said. “What about the fire?”
“A diversion to get us away from you, it seems,” Talitha said. “It wasn’t even sorcery. Just a sulfur fire. Arson.”
“Damn it all,” Caile said, kneeling down next to Makarria to eye the wound Fina was still tending to. “Why didn’t you stay where we left you?”
“Because that’s where the first attack was,” Makarria snapped back. “And Siegbjorn is still in there. Gather what men you can—trusted ones—and detain every guard in there. I want to question all of them.”
“What?” Caile asked, confused.
“It was men wearing Royal Guard uniforms who first attacked,” Makarria explained, reticent to divulge too much information in front of the men from the Old World but seeing no way around it. “I barely got out of there alive.”
“Our own men hurt you?”
“I’m fine. Just go and figure out what happened.”
Fina grabbed Makarria around the shoulders. “I will tend her, Prince. She will be fine. Go.”
“Yes, go,” Talitha concurred. “We will protect the queen. Capture the men who did this, and for the love of Tel Mathir, bring back Siegbjorn alive.”
• • •
It was painstaking business sorting through the bodies and questioning the survivors in the meeting chambers, among them Siegbjorn, whose only notable injuries were bloodied knuckles from fighting off those who attacked him when he fell to the floor. Upon examination, no one could recognize or identify the slain attackers, not even Captain Haviero who knew every man in the Royal Guard. Even worse, none of the attackers seemed to have survived. Caile interviewed every single living person in that room and could identify them all as loyal Valarion guards. Furthermore, no one saw any of the attackers escape the room. It appeared they had all died in the attack, leaving no one to interrogate.
“How is this possible?” Caile demanded.
“It was mayhem, my lord,” one of the guards replied. “Too many people were in the room and all of them wearing the same uniform. If I didn’t recognize someone’s face, I stabbed him in the throat with my boot knife. My men did the same. The traitors didn’t surrender and we didn’t think to take prisoners. It was kill or be killed.”
Caile couldn’t believe he’d left Makarria in such a situation. It was a miracle she had gotten out of there alive. “Damn it all, Lorentz! I left you in charge. How did you allow these men to enter in the first place?”
Lorentz shrugged. “I don’t know. I summoned more men when you left, and guards kept coming. I simply thought them part of the same unit. By the time I realized anything was amiss, it was too late.”
“It happened very quickly,” Siegbjorn corroborated. “Be not angry at your man. My hands were full. If Lorentz were not standing by to drag Makarria away to safety, she would not be breathing and alive, I am to think.”
Caile rubbed his forehead. Siegbjorn was right. It was his own fault, he knew, not Lorentz’s. He was mad at Lorentz merely because he was mad at himself. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. Siegbjorn, go to Makarria and Talitha. Make sure Makarria’s safe and stay with her—we don’t know who we can trust right now. Captain Haviero, have your slain men removed and their families notified. Once our casualties are cleared, I want all the attackers’ bodies searched for anything that might give us clues. After they’ve been searched, take their bodies to the sparring yard. Lorentz, take a few men and gather the slain men from the stables and do the same. The city watch is bringing me the bodies from the fire in the fishery borough, and hopefully one attacker who is still alive, who I’ll deal with. Once we have all the dead bodies in the sparring yard, have the commander of the city watch look them over and see if he can identify any of them. None of us recognize the attackers, but they look to be Valarion—maybe they’re ruffians or cutthroats who have a history of criminal activity in the city. Also, let’s gather up any men we have who served in Sol Cavarel, Sevol, Talvera, Valeza, anywhere besides Sol Valaróz, to see if they recognize the assailants. We need to know who these attackers are and where they came from if we’re to determine who sent them. In the meantime, I’ll find out where these stolen uniforms came from and then go get Fina to examine the bodies—if they’re part of Don Bricio’s old regime, maybe she’ll recognize them.” Caile pursed his lips, running the plan over in his mind one more time to see if he was missing anything. “That’s all for now. Notify me immediately if you find anything. If no one else can identify our attackers, I guess I will…”
“Will what?” Siegbjorn prodded.
Caile let out a low, long breath. This would have to be handled delicately. “I’ll have to ask the most probable suspects, our guests from the Old World, to see if they can identify the bodies.”
• • •
Makarria was resting in her personal chambers, the wound on her back cleaned and dressed, when Caile came to her three hours later, disappointment written on his face. Lorentz stood at his side, his eyes wandering over the room from face to face: Makarria, Talitha, Fina, Siegbjorn, and Makarria’s mother, Prisca.
“Well?” Makarria asked Caile, not bothering to get up from where she sat in her chair by the reading table.
“Nothing,” he replied. “No survivors. The one man who was still alive died in a fit of seizures before he ever woke up to talk. No one recognizes any of the bodies. No one knows where they came from. Including the ambassadors from the Old World.”
“And you believe them?”
“No, but I’ll leave it to you to call them liars when the time comes. Are you all right?”
His expression was pained. It was clear he was worried about her, but Makarria wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “I’m
fine. Everyone, leave us. I will talk with Caile in private.”
The women and Siegbjorn left wordlessly. They had all heard Makarria’s telling of the attack in the council chamber, and even Siegbjorn had been swayed by Makarria’s concerns. Only Lorentz lingered. Of course.
“‘Everyone’ means you too, Lorentz.”
Lorentz glanced at Makarria, then nodded and walked out without complaint or any apparent self-consciousness. Maybe he doesn’t even realize I can’t trust him anymore, Makarria thought. Does he not see how he’s changed?
When everyone was clear of the room and Lorentz closed the door behind him, Caile knelt down beside Makarria. “Your wound, does it hurt?”
“It’s fine,” she said, standing up from her chair and walking away from him. This was hard enough as it was without him being overly worried about her. “I dreamed myself a chainmail shirt when the attack started, so the knife point didn’t go deep. The bruises where the chain links bit into my skin hurt more than the cut itself. Fina stitched it up for me… She told me who she is.”
“Yes,” Caile replied, standing up awkwardly from his kneeling posture. “I was going to tell you, but then…today happened.”
“I’ve reassigned her. She will be my personal attendant from now on. My royal bodyguard. I’ll have a scribe draw up the official appointment and a pardon for whatever supposed crime she committed during Don Bricio’s reign.”
Caile nodded. “Of course. It’s a wise choice.”
Makarria stared at him for a long moment, steeling herself for what she was about to say. “I want Lorentz sent away, Caile.” There. She had said it. Now the argument will begin.
Caile’s lips tightened. His brow knotted above his nose. “What?”
“Our trip to Khal-Aband rattled him, Caile. That’s all I can figure. He is not the same man he was. He nearly got me killed today. I don’t trust him anymore. I can’t trust him anymore. Send him back to Pyrthinia and your sister so he can clear his head, figure out who he is and what his job is again.”
“How could you even ask me that? Lorentz is like a father to me, and has been since the day I was sent away from my real father to be a ward of Don Bricio’s. To say what happened today is his fault is unbelievable. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have run off chasing smoke and left you there trapped.”
He was pacing furiously in front of her. Makarria held her ground, standing still and keeping her demeanor calm, though her heart was fluttering inside her. She hated confrontation as it was, but particularly with Caile.
“Look Caile, I’m not saying Lorentz was responsible for the attack, but he was the one who kept ordering more guards into the sitting room when it was already too crowded. I told him to send the men away, Caile, but he ignored me. And twice now he’s disregarded my commands and killed men who we could have easily taken prisoner—once in Khal-Aband and again today in the stables. He’s become overly protective of me—distanced and overbearing as if I’m his helpless child or charge to protect. I don’t question his loyalty, Caile, but his judgment. He’s trying too hard, not thinking clearly, and we can’t afford any mistakes. Not now. I’m on the cusp of losing my people’s trust entirely.”
“You’re imagining it,” Caile said, shaking his head. “Lorentz has been nothing but dependable all day, assisting me with the investigation. And Siegbjorn himself said it was Lorentz who dragged you out of that room. How could you turn your back on him like this? After all he’s done for you? After all he’s done for me?”
Makarria sighed. He was right. Lorentz had been a protector, a mentor, a father figure, and so much to the both of them, particularly Caile. But something wasn’t right about him anymore. Makarria couldn’t explain it, but she felt it in her guts.
“I’m sorry, Caile, but I’m queen. These are the sort of decisions I have to make. Lorentz has to go.”
Caile turned away. “You’re making a mistake. If you send him away, you send me away too. You send away the two men you can trust more than anyone.”
Makarria closed her eyes. She had known it might come to an ultimatum like this. She’d tried not to think about it, but here it was. The wise decision would be to send both of them away if that’s what it took, but when she looked at Caile, even with his face furrowed with anger and insolence, she couldn’t send him away. She just couldn’t. He was the one person she had relied upon all this time, even more so than her mother. And there were other feelings for him, too, but she pushed those thoughts away.
“You trust Lorentz with your life?” she asked.
“Always.”
“Do you trust him with my life?”
He paused only for a moment before answering. “Yes.”
“So be it then. He can stay, but talk to him and keep him at your side from now on. Keep him away from me. I have Fina now to watch over me. I don’t want him anywhere near me.”
“Thank you,” he said. Already the anger was draining from his face.
Makarria turned away from him and sat in her chair again, not trusting herself to look into his eyes. “Go then. Find yourself some dinner, then see if you can’t find us some clue as to who’s behind this attack. We meet with the Old World ambassadors tomorrow—the last thing we can do is approach them unprepared, and right now this all looks very bad. Senator Emil has all the bargaining power in his hands.”
“I know. I’ll figure this out. I promise.”
Makarria watched him leave and then let out a long, tired breath. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep, but there was no time for rest, not when the fate of the Five Kingdoms depended on her response to the Old World’s demands. If the rulers of the Five Kingdoms—two of them newly appointed young women, and another still undecided—were going to prove their strength, they needed to respond in unison, and that meant they needed to communicate. They had only fourteen days left until the Sargothian council elected a new monarch, and the Old World ambassadors had made their impatience abundantly clear: if there was no clear direction for the Kingdom of Sargoth, then they would use military force. The only way the Five Kingdoms could survive was if they could coordinate actions, and that meant communicating in real-time. Couriers would not suffice. Not even messenger ravens. And there was only one Siegbjorn and his airship. They needed relics like the Old World ambassadors had, a way of sending messages great distances with sorcery. The moment Makarria had returned to her chambers and gotten stitched up by Fina, she had sent word to her tutor, the scholar Natale, to search through his tomes for a way in which she could do just that.
It was well past dusk and she had not eaten supper, but with the Lorentz situation taken care of for the time being, she stepped outside her room to where the others awaited her.
“Mother, Siegbjorn, it’s late, why don’t you return to your rooms and get some sleep. I’ll be fine.” She hugged them both goodnight, then asked Talitha and Fina to follow her. The three of them strode quietly through the marble halls of the palace to the library in the lower levels of the keep where Natale dwelled. He looked up from his pile of scrolls and books when he saw them approaching, his cherubic cheeks extended in a forced smile, but clearly not bearing good news.
“Natale, please tell us you’ve discovered something,” Makarria said. “I can do much with my powers, but only if I can imagine it first, and I can’t for the life of me imagine how to talk to someone a thousand miles away.”
Natale averted his eyes downward. “Yes, Your Majesty, I’ve found a way. It will be a trifling matter for you to work your magic, and then you can communicate with whatever liaison you have in Col Sargoth easily. But you ask much of Queen Taera in Kal Pyrthin if you would speak with her.”
Makarria clenched her teeth. It was Taera who had first given Makarria confidence in using her powers. It was Taera, more than anyone, who she needed to counsel with to address the Old World ambassadors.
“Why should it be any different for Taera?” Talitha asked.
“You nee
d magical conduits to communicate,” Natale replied. “Makarria could use her powers to create new ones, but that would require her to deliver the relics to Kal Pyrthin and anywhere else she needed to communicate with.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Makarria said. “If I had anticipated the need earlier, I would have done something months ago, but not now.”
Natale nodded. “Your only option, then, is to use an existing magical conduit, and unfortunately, the only feasible conduits we have access to are the scent-hounds Emperor Guderian created. We have one here in Sol Valaróz, and the hound in Col Sargoth still lives, but—”
“But my grandfather killed the scent-hound in Kal Pyrthin during the war,” Makarria finished for him. “That means we can’t communicate with Taera in Kal Pyrthin?”
“I’m not saying that, exactly. As long as there is a part of the scent-hound apparatus still intact it could still work, but with the living portion dead—the sorcerer, bloodhound hybrid part—the person on the receiving end would have to be a sorcerer herself to establish the connection.”
Makarria shrugged. “That’s not a problem. Taera is a seer of no modest means.”
“It’s not a matter of her power,” Natale said.
“What is it then?”
“It’s a matter of how much pain you’re willing to put her through.”
“No, Makarria,” Talitha said, shaking her head. “It’s not worth it. You can’t put Taera in such a position. Besides, we don’t even have access to the scent-hound in Col Sargoth. Only Natarios Rhodas does. Let Siegbjorn and me go to Kal Pyrthin. I will help you use your powers to create a new speaking relic and take it to Taera. With our airship, we can be there in two days. From there, we can take a third speaking relic to Col Sargoth and the three of us can speak on our own terms. Without subjecting Taera to any torment.”
“We can’t afford two days,” Makarria said. “I meet with the Old World ambassadors in the morning. The Sargothian council elects a new king in fourteen days. We have to act now. Taera will understand. She would be more angry if I did not ask her to do it.”
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