“I will. Anything else?” He could hear Betta coughing from the next room.
“The girl from Westria, Lady Marguerite. It was she who apparently started the fire.”
“I’ve heard that. But it must be a mistake. The princess was especially fond of her; she told me so herself. And what would the girl hope to gain?”
“That’s not for either of us to decide. What matters is that the princess doesn’t know. Perhaps you can avoid mentioning it.”
“All right.”
“That’s all, then. Go ahead. But please be brief and don’t tire her out.”
The room was dark, just as she’d described it from that day long ago. The windows had all been shuttered, and there was no other light besides the candles on the tables by the bed. The air was overwarm and musty from long disuse. It smelled, besides, of medicine and sweat. And over all that was the pungent odor of burning, which filled every corner of the palace now and would for many months, maybe even years. Marcus was tempted to pull the shutters wide, let in some light and air. But he didn’t. The physician must have his reasons.
Betta lay under a linen bedsheet, the coverlet having been removed. The weight of it would be painful, he thought, pressing against her burns and other wounds. Her head and chest had been propped up on pillows.
“My lady,” he whispered as he approached the bed. “It’s Marcus here.”
She looked up at him with a kind of feverish excitement and tried to speak. But that started her coughing, and she couldn’t stop, so she covered her mouth with one hand and reached out to him with the other. He took her hand and held it gently in both of his. He saw the bandages on her wrist and arm.
“You came!” she finally said. “I’m so glad.”
She was breathing rapidly, almost panting. She’s not getting enough air, he thought, resolving to speak to the physician about the shutters.
“I will always come when you want me.”
“I’ve been calling for weeks, and nobody would listen.”
“No, my lady, you are mistaken. It’s only been one day.”
“Has it really?”
“Yes.”
“It seems like forever. Marcus, there is something I need you to do for me. It’s very important. Will you promise?”
“Of course, if it’s within my power.”
“It is. Sit, please. It’s hard for me to look up at you.”
“All right.” He released her hand and brought a chair over to her bedside. “Now what would you have me do?”
“Go to my bedchamber—”
“Oh, my lady! It’s—”
“I know, it’s a ruin. I’m not that addled. But there is something hidden there. Chances are it will have survived. And I must have it, Marcus. You must get it for me. It will ease my mind to know that it is safe.”
“I will try.”
“Find Claudia—my old servant, you know her. She’ll show you where it is. You’ll have to move the bedframe, and it’s heavy; but that’ll be nothing to you. It’s under a loose tile, in the corner.”
“I might not be allowed to go there, my lady.”
“I’ll write something out, giving you permission. And you must go alone—except for Claudia, of course. This is very private business and of great consequence. I’m very afraid that when the workmen start clearing out the rubble, they’ll stumble across it by accident. You have to get there first.”
“I’ll go today. But can you tell me more—what it is I’m looking for and where exactly it’s hidden?”
“Claudia will show you. She knows everything.”
There was no help for it. “My lady, you will have to tell me yourself. I cannot ask Claudia.”
She looked at him, then, with such alarm and sorrow on her face that it made him long to lift her and hold her like a little child. But he couldn’t do that. He could only wait for her to ask.
“She died in the fire, didn’t she?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
She turned her face away, and he could hear her weeping. The sobs soon turned into loud, spasmodic coughs, and the physician came hurrying into the room. He went to the other side of the bed and felt the princess’s pulse.
“Perhaps no more company for today,” he said, giving Marcus a significant look. “Maybe he can come back tomorrow, when you are feeling stronger.”
“No,” Elizabetta said. And though her voice was hoarse and rough, she sounded astonishingly regal. “He will leave when I am ready for him to leave. And now we would like to be alone.”
The physician was startled by this, but he gave her a low bow and backed out of the room. When the door had shut with a delicate click, she reached again for Marcus’s hand.
“I’m glad it was you who told me.”
He just nodded.
“She was like a second mother, you know. I loved her very much.”
He nodded again.
“She would have died for me, Marcus; I’m sure of that. And though I can’t remember what happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what she did.”
“If so, then she is with the saints and angels now.”
“She would be in any case.”
He gave her silence, and she took it. When she was ready, she said, “It’s a document bearing the king’s seal. It’s in a metal case, hidden under a tile in the floor. Near the corner, under the bed.”
“I should be able to find it.”
“Wrap it in something or hide it under your clothes. I don’t want anyone to see it or even to know that it exists. Then bring it to me, just to put my mind at rest. After that, I’m afraid I must beg another favor.”
“All right.”
“Keep it for me, somewhere secret.”
“I will do that gladly, my lady. Your document will be safe. No one shall see it or find it accidentally. And no one will know I have it.”
“Good.”
“Can I assume you will want it back at some point?”
“You are as sharp-witted as ever, dear Marcus. Yes, I will want it back—at the time of my father’s death.”
He just barely stifled a gasp—because suddenly he knew exactly what that document must be. It explained why she’d been so eager to learn about statecraft, and politics, and the history of Cortova.
“Your face is flushed of a sudden,” she said.
“I was just thinking,” he replied.
“May I be privy to your thoughts?”
He took a chance.
“I was thinking how splendidly you will rule Cortova.”
27
A Child Has Eyes, Same as Anyone
“YOUR MAJESTY,” ALARIC SAID, barely keeping his voice under control, “I demand to know why you have arrested one of my subjects—and a particular friend of mine, as you are perfectly aware. I would also know why you have refused to see me till now. It is altogether an outrage and a grave discourtesy.”
Gonzalo met Alaric’s ice with fire. “I had more important things to worry about than your dignity and your feelings. My palace was burning. My daughter almost died. And your ‘particular friend’ was the cause of it all. She may be one of your subjects; but she’s in my kingdom now, and she shall pay for what she did, as any criminal must.”
They were standing in the middle of the room, eye to eye, but they were not alone. Alaric had brought twenty of his knights; Gonzalo had many more.
“On what possible grounds do you accuse the lady of such a heinous crime?”
“There was an eyewitness.”
“Are you telling me that someone actually saw her set the fire?”
“I am.”
“And may I know who that person might be?”
Gonzalo lifted his head defiantly and looked down his nose at Alaric. “Yes,” he said. “It was my son, Prince Castor.”
Alaric was speechless for a moment, his mind racing. “But he’
s just a child,” he finally said, knowing that sounded hopelessly feeble.
“He has eyes, same as anyone.”
“Then he must have been mistaken.”
“He was not. Castor was very clear about what he saw.”
“If so, then why didn’t he stop her, or go for help, or warn his sister of the danger?”
“Are you calling my son a liar?”
“I suppose I am.”
“Then you will pack up your things and be gone from here before the sun has set.”
“I would do so gladly, but I will not leave without the lady Marguerite. She’s been falsely accused and is being wrongfully held. Perhaps you ought to question your son a little more closely, find out what really happened.”
Gonzalo’s knights were moving in now, and Alaric saw that in his fury he’d gone too far—and in doing so he’d shut a door that he very much needed to keep open.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said. “In my agitation I quite forgot myself. I only ask that the lady be tried in a fair and judicious manner, that she be well treated until her guilt or innocence has been judged, and that she be allowed to have visitors and advisers in her cause.”
A glimmer of triumph sparkled in Gonzalo’s eyes. Alaric watched him enjoy his little moment. “You may remain until her fate is decided,” Gonzalo said. “Then you will leave Cortova and never return. There will be no alliance and no marriage.”
“I want to speak with the lady myself. I want to be assured that she is well treated.”
“You may want those things, Alaric, but you will not have them. This is my kingdom, not yours. Already I am letting you stay when you are no longer welcome. Don’t ask for anything more.” And then when the king of Westria showed no indication of leaving, “This conversation is over.”
As Alaric was on his way out and had almost reached the door, Gonzalo spoke to his men in a carrying voice, clearly intending for him to hear: “Back in Westria, you know, they say she’s a witch.”
Tobias and the king stood side by side on the terrace where Gonzalo’s men had come for Molly. Only this time the common room was well guarded by Alaric’s knights, as was the south wall, though it was of such a height that you’d need a ladder to scale it.
“So from the beginning,” said the king. “Why were you here?”
“Molly had something important to say, and she didn’t want to be overheard. This seemed a private place.”
“Both private and remote. So how did they find her?”
Tobias considered. “I’m just guessing, but maybe one of Gonzalo’s men—disguised somehow, most likely as a slave—asked around for her, and someone remembered seeing us go off in the direction of the villa. It’s no secret that I often come out here. Knowing that, the rest would be easy. The villa was empty. Even the slaves were outside, gaping at the fire. And I know for a fact that the door wasn’t locked.”
Alaric nodded.
“They seemed quite prepared. They knew I was with her—well, I suppose they would since we left together—and they took that into account, in case I might be a problem—”
“The young Goliath.”
Tobias flushed with anger. “So I was called in jest back when I worked in your stables.”
“I’m sorry, Tobias. I didn’t mean it that way.”
What other way was there? But Tobias set it aside. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “The point is that the whole thing was handled quickly and efficiently.”
“Were they rough with her?”
“More than they would have been if she hadn’t fought so hard. But Molly’s tough. A few scrapes and bruises are the least of my concerns.”
“Yes,” Alaric said. He paced in little circles, thinking, then came back and faced Tobias. “What was the important thing she wanted to tell you?”
Tobias paused, remembering how stunned he’d been when she’d told him her suspicions. “That she ran into Prince Castor as she was leaving the princess’s rooms. He was behaving in an odd and suspicious manner. She thinks he’s the one who set the fire.”
But the king wasn’t shocked at all. “I agree with her. He’s the accuser, you know. Castor will swear in court that he saw Molly do it.”
Tobias hardly moved. For a moment he just let it all wash over him. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of,” he finally said. “It’s very bad.”
Alaric went over to lean on the railing, looking down at the sea, having his own private moment of despair. It was almost exactly where Molly had stood while she was still safe and free. Tobias remembered how she’d jumped back of a sudden, saying it filled her with dread. And with that memory there came the sudden realization that he might never see her again. He turned away, not wanting Alaric to see the tears that were welling in his eyes.
But the king didn’t notice. He was still staring at the sea.
“I suggested to Gonzalo that the prince might have been mistaken, and he took very high offense at that. He’ll never believe that his son started the fire and then lied about it. And even if he did, he’d keep the boy’s secret anyway and let Molly take the blame. Heir to the throne and all that.”
“Yes,” Tobias said, sweeping an arm over his face to wipe away the tears.
“Whatever the laws of Cortova might be, if there’s an eyewitness, and he happens to be the king’s son, I don’t see any hope that she’ll be fairly tried. I’m not even allowed the courtesy of visiting her or sending someone to advise her during the questioning. As you said so succinctly, it’s very bad.”
“Then we’ll have to free her ourselves.”
“Well, if you’ve got any ideas on how to do that, now would be the time to share them, because I’m completely at a loss. We can’t storm the walls without an army, and my army is in Westria, and we haven’t the time to bring it here. Gonzalo won’t drag this out. The trial will be soon. So whatever we do, we’ll have to do it quickly”
“I know.”
The word hopeless hung in the air, unspoken.
28
Tell Me What to Do
SIGRID? I NEED YOU! Right now, please!
I’m here, Molly. I’ve been here all along.
That’s good, because any minute now they’re going to kill me.
No. I don’t think so.
Really? Well, they’ve locked me up in a hot, dark room with guards outside and just one little window with bars on it, so high on the wall not even Tobias could reach it; and I’m accused of—
I know all that. Remember? I’ve been here all along.
Then tell me what to do.
Molly, I want you to pay close attention to what I’m about to say. You won’t like it, but it’s the truth. And your life depends upon it.
I’m listening.
I don’t have the answers. I’m limited in my powers and my knowledge of the world. I’m nothing compared to you. And every time you turn to me for help, you turn away from your own incredible powers. It’s up to you to save yourself.
But I don’t know how.
Of course you do. You’re the Great Seer of Harrowsgode; you possess the Gift of King Magnus. Just be what you are.
Oh, Sigrid!
I’m shutting the door now, precious child. You’re on your own.
That was hard. It was so hard that Molly curled up like a wood louse and lay there for a very long time. She didn’t think at all; she just felt, and all her feelings were sad and hopeless.
She might have lain like that a good deal longer if she hadn’t needed to use the chamber pot. Gradually her mind became aware of this, and the delicate question arose as to whether she should just go ahead and wet herself—and that certainly was tempting—or get up and make use of the vessel they’d given her for that purpose. And the more she considered this, the clearer it became how absolutely pathetic she was, lying there feeling sorry for herself and not even trying to do anything about it.
So she got up and found the pot, and used it. Then she sat on the floor with her back to the wal
l and stared at the small patch of sunlight on the floor, focusing her concentration. When she shut her eyes, the patch of light was still there, hovering in the darkness.
Soon the familiar floating sensation began. It was as if she were underwater, weightless and warm. The light had faded now, and there was only darkness. She waited for whatever would come. Her spirit knew what she needed. Molly just had to be patient.
There was no time anymore. It was just now, and more now, and still more now.
Finally, out of the nothingness that spread around her in every direction, there came a sound—more a feeling than a sound, really, just the vibration of it—and at the same time a soft glow of light.
Still she waited.
Here was the cat now, her cat, poking around in the ruin of the princess’s rooms. As always, he moved daintily for such a large animal, stepping over broken beams, weaving through the wreckage. Here was the cup, the Loving Cup, or what remained of it—crushed and half melted now. Leondas inspected it, then gazed out at Molly. Or that’s how it seemed anyway; he was looking out, and she was looking in.
Next he found the chessboard, or rather a corner of it, and a few scattered pieces. All of them were black now. Leondas selected one of them and touched it with his nose. Molly saw that it was a queen. The vision began to fade, and then it was gone.
Dark.
Quiet.
She was floating.
Her mind grew restless; her feelings rose up. She wanted to say, “What bloody use is any of this to me?” But she fought against it. Her spirit would tell her what she needed to know when she needed to know it. Sigrid had said so.
Hard as it was, she must be patient.
She waited.
She heard footsteps outside. They approached, then gradually receded into the distance. Then there was the sound of a door closing and a faraway voice.
But Molly was no longer listening. She was back inside her spirit-self, where it was dark and quiet. After a while a new vision began to emerge from the shadows, and with it came the thunder of hooves on hard-packed ground. Once again she saw Leondas, but now he was in a forest, just off the path, where weeds and scrub grew in a rich carpet of leaf mulch. He was stalking, as cats do, but his prey was neither field mouse nor bird; he was creeping up on a man.
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