The Poisoner's Enemy (a Kingfountain prequel) (The Kingfountain Series)

by Jeff Wheeler

  There were pillars coming up throughout the cistern and she noticed markings etched into the stone showing the depth of the water. It was the middle of autumn. The scorching summer heat had long since ended, but the winter rains had not come to replenish the stores. Ankarette had tested with the oar and felt the paddle scrape the stone bottom.

  “What are those sounds?” little Elyse asked, and her voice echoed and rippled off the stones.

  “Shhh,” the queen urged her in a whisper. “It’s just the rippling of the water against the pillars.”

  There were other noises as well. Some commotion was going on above them in the palace. It had to be past daybreak already. They had gone as quietly as they could, but their speed was limited by the queen’s delicate condition.

  When they reached the end of the cistern, Ankarette spotted a stone portcullis higher up on the wall, hanging from a series of chains and pulleys. She guided the boat toward it, but it was too high for her to reach.

  “Let me see the lantern, please,” she asked, and little Elyse handed it to her.

  Shining the light at the door, Ankarette saw a small catwalk leading up to it. Steps led from the bottom of the cistern to the catwalk. She asked the queen to hold the light and steered the boat toward the steps.

  “Keep the boat here,” she said to the queen. Elyse handed her the lantern, and Ankarette climbed up the steps. There was a metal grate at the top of the portcullis and she was able to see outside. Beyond the stone door, she saw a gentle sloping ramp and quickly deduced this was the drain of the cistern. If the water filled the cistern too much, the excess would spill through the grate down to the ramp, which fed directly into the river. The winch system was rigged with counterweights so that if the lever was pulled, the entire stone door would be hoisted open and the water from the cistern would be drained into the river.

  Craning her neck, she tried to get a view downriver to see how close they were to the falls. A feeling of hope began to swell in her chest. The ramp faced the rear of the sanctuary of Our Lady. If a boat were put into the river at the end of the slide, there would be time to steer it toward the back of the sanctuary. It was, indeed, the most direct route possible, but missing the sanctuary would be disastrous. The current would surely rush the boat directly down the falls.

  Ankarette gripped the grate bars and thought about it. Yes, it seemed that the design had been deliberate. The system allowed for the cistern waters to be purged, but it also provided a secret way of escaping the palace. It was possible that Warrewik didn’t even know about it.

  It would definitely be a faster way to safety. Ankarette pondered it again, but she didn’t want to risk the life of the queen or her unborn child recklessly. While squeezing the bars, she bowed her head and sought to summon her Fountain magic. She plunged deep into herself, listening to the muted rush of the river behind the thick stone wall. The power came to her, invited in gently. In her mind, she saw the small boat gliding down the ramp and splashing into the waters. She felt a thrill of wonder, a sense of peace and certainty. The presence of the sanctuary seemed to draw her to it, compelling her to bring the queen there to seek the protection they offered in such times.

  And yet, in that moment of certainty and assurance, the Fountain magic inside her also warned her of the presence of another Fountain-blessed who was inside the castle that very moment. Lord Hux was searching for her and the royal family.

  A spike of fear shot through her chest when she realized that she’d revealed herself to him. Now that she had invoked her magic first, she sensed him respond immediately, like a flare of flame striking pitch.

  He was coming for them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The Dreadful Deadman

  Ankarette tightened her grip on the bars as her heart began to batter inside her chest and her throat went dry. Controlling panic was never easy. But panicking led to mistakes, and mistakes were fatal in her profession. She gazed down the ramp, looking at the angle, and clung to her magic, trusting it with all her thoughts. The river’s turbulent waters thrummed against the stone.

  “My lady, I think I found a way for us to escape,” she called down.

  “Where?” asked the queen.

  “There is a ramp that leads down to the river. Once the lever is pulled, this portcullis will grind open and the current will push us down the ramp. We could make it to the sanctuary this way.”

  “But what about the falls?” asked the queen with worry.

  “We are far enough upriver.”

  “I don’t like the thought of going into the river,” the queen said worriedly. She clutched her daughter tightly.

  A noise reverberated from the far end of the cistern. The door had opened, and the sound of boots marching echoed throughout the vast chamber. Voices grunted and called, sounding eerily close.

  “He said they were hiding down here,” muttered one man. Torchlight illuminated the distant side.

  “What does he know?” carped another soldier. They were too far away to be seen, but Ankarette presumed they were Warrewik’s men.

  The queen pressed her daughter even more tightly to her bosom. Ankarette tiptoed down the stairs.

  The men’s voices echoed throughout the chamber. “How deep is the cistern?”

  “Look at the notches. Not that far. Go in there and test it, Beannon.”

  There was a splashing sound. “Only up to my waist. Come on, spread out.”

  Ankarette reached the edge of the boat and pitched her voice softly. “Lord Hux is coming. He’s Lewis’s poisoner. We must go.”

  The queen flinched. She bit her lip and nodded.

  “Do you see anyone? Could be hiding behind one of these pillars.”

  “Shush, man! They’ll hear you.”

  “I don’t care. Do you really think she’s down here? Warrewik would pay us well if we find her.”

  Ankarette stepped into the waters to direct the boat. Her skirts were quickly soaked up to her waist, tangling around her legs.

  Then she heard Lord Hux’s voice. “You’re making enough of a racket,” he said angrily. “Be careful. Do you see anyone?”

  The light from the torches was getting closer. The queen’s daughter began whimpering with fear and the queen hugged her close, trying to soothe her. The queen’s eyes went wide with panic. Waves generated by the advancing soldiers sloshed against the hull of the craft. Ankarette positioned it prow-first against the stone portcullis.

  “Come, Ankarette!” Lord Hux’s voice ghosted. “I know you’re down here. We both know it. Come into the light.”

  “I think I see something,” one of the soldiers grunted.

  “Where?” Hux demanded.

  “At the far end. There’s a little boat. Oy! I see them!”

  “Get them!” Hux ordered.

  The soldiers began charging through the cistern waters, making loud splashes.

  Little Elyse started to sob, and the queen quailed with fear. Ankarette felt a peaceful tug at her heart despite the commotion. They would make it. She reached up and caught the end of the lever that held the counterweight. Pausing, she waited until the soldiers were closer. Anxiety knifed her stomach, but she kept her eyes on the closest man. She could see the hunger in his eyes as he approached his prey through the water.

  Ankarette yanked on the lever and the stone door began to grind open. She felt the tug of the water immediately, sucking at her legs as the pent-up waters burst down the spillway. She hoisted herself into the boat, rocking it violently, and then felt it rush forward. The queen and her daughter screamed as the tiny craft pitched down the ramp. Ankarette swung her legs inside, and fear and excitement battled inside her as they careened into the river. The force jolted her, nearly capsizing the boat, but it righted itself and began to plunge down the river. Ankarette grabbed the oar and began to steer toward the island sanctuary.

  Another splash sounded behind them and she whirled to see one of Warrewik’s men had tumbled into the river behind her. He spl
ashed frantically, trying to swim against the avalanche of water. His head bobbed up and down, and his screams for help were cut off when he was dunked by a dip in the current. Ankarette worked at the oar, not trusting her strength as she watched the river carry the man away in its deadly embrace. It was a stark reminder of what could happen to them if she was not successful. The boat sliced through the current and headed for the dock. Ankarette summoned her strength and continued to row hard. She felt the presence of Lord Hux behind her, and when she turned, she saw him standing at the top of the rampart, gazing down at them. His fury was almost a palpable thing, but she could not watch him. She needed to give the river all her attention.

  As they approached the dock at the rear of the sanctuary, she sensed the presence of another Fountain-blessed. The deconeus, John Tunmore, and his sexton came hurrying down the wooden ramp to meet them. The sexton threw her a rope, which she caught, and the boat was secured. The deconeus helped the daughter out first and then the queen.

  “You are safe, Your Majesty, thank the Fountain,” Tunmore said, helping her up the steps. “The duke’s men have blockaded the gates of the sanctuary, searching every person who comes to visit. I have told them they are not permitted within the grounds for now, but they are looking for you and your husband. Where is the king?”

  Ankarette heard the soldier’s screams again as he went over the falls.

  Queen Elyse shivered at the sound and the deconeus wrapped his arm around her shoulders and started leading them down the pier. The sexton reached down and helped pull Ankarette up.

  “He is gone, Deconeus,” the queen said. “And this I promise you. My husband is the rightful king, and he will return to claim his throne.”

  The deconeus nodded worriedly, glancing up at the sky. “He must. Before it is too late.”

  The shouting from the confrontation in the chamber echoed across the stone walls and tiled marble floor. Ankarette stood concealed behind a pillar to watch and listen. Warrewik had come to face Tunmore two days after learning that the queen had taken sanctuary there. His men patrolled the exterior of the grounds day and night, though the queen was hidden deep within the sanctuary in a private cell. The thieving sanctuary men had found their trade disrupted and tensions ran high.

  Ankarette watched as the two men faced each other in postures of defiance and authority. The sanctuary was the deconeus’s domain. His was the ultimate authority there.

  “My quarrel is with Eredur, not his peasant wife! You think I would harm a woman?”

  “I think you are capable of any deed if it suits your ambition, my lord,” Tunmore shot back. “I am not keeping her here against her will.”

  “She’s with child and due imminently. Let her come back to the palace where she may receive all due care and attention.”

  “The queen does not wish to leave.”

  Warrewik exploded with rage. “She is not the Queen of Ceredigion! Morvared is the queen, duly anointed by the sacred chrism. Your rightful king has returned to power. You can be replaced, Deconeus!”

  “Your false king cannot replace me,” Tunmore said with bravado. “And I find it the height of hypocrisy that you support him now that your daughter is wed to his son. You are the one who overthrew him in the first place!”

  Warrewik’s cheeks were purple and quivering. “Your service ends with your life, Deconeus. Must I remind you of that?”

  “Are you threatening a deconeus of the church?” Tunmore said hotly. “Mind yourself, my lord. There is a crowd gathered at the gates. They know you are here and they will gladly obey my will and throw you into the river should I denounce you. The people of Kingfountain love Eredur now, not you. Your fame has waned since you usurped control of the throne. Mind your tongue and don’t you dare threaten me.”

  The words proved effective. The Duke of Warrewik stepped back away from the deconeus. A look of fear muted the rage in his eyes.

  “You’ve made an enemy of me,” Warrewik said. “I thought you were wiser than this, John. I’ll not forget this betrayal. Wherever my nephew went, my men will find him. He will not be coming back.”

  “But his wife is great with child, a child who will be born in this very sacred place. Who knows. The child may be the Dreadful Deadman.”

  Ankarette wrinkled her brow. It was a prophecy from the ages about the return of an ancient king, a ruler who would unite all the kingdoms in peaceful harmony. A worldly man like Warrewik would consider it superstitious.

  Warrewik sneered. “I don’t think so.”

  Ankarette heard the soft clip of boots and turned to see Lord Hux approaching her in the alcove. His eyes were guarded but respectful. Her worry intensified a thousandfold.

  She turned to face him, surreptitiously twisting her ring to expose the needle.

  “No need for that, lass,” he whispered coaxingly. “I’m very aware of how resourceful you are.”

  “Thank you,” she answered, not feeling at all at ease. She knew he was dangerous, that every part of him could kill her.

  “Your king does not have many pieces left on the Wizr board,” he said with a conniving smile. “The game is almost over.”

  “I will not tell you where he is,” Ankarette said. “You will get nothing from me.”

  He smirked. “I don’t need you to tell me what I already know. He arrived today in the city of Marq.”

  It was an arduous journey to Marq. There was no possible way that a spy could have traveled so quickly. Was he simply guessing in the hopes of making her reveal the truth? She kept her reaction neutral.

  He took a step closer. “You have no idea the game you play,” he whispered. “Or what the rules are. Someday I will teach you. There is much that I could teach you.” His eyes smoldered at her with heat. She saw just a little hint of teeth.

  Suddenly Warrewik was standing next to Lord Hux. The duke saw her in the shadows and her stomach lurched with even more foreboding. His eyes narrowed and his cheek twitched.

  “Ah. There you are. I’m not surprised to find you in the shadows,” he told her.

  She inclined her head to him, keeping her poise and dignity.

  “It’s because of you that Isybelle’s babe died,” he said with acrimony. “You betrayed her as well as me. She was your friend.”

  It would have been easy to fling something back at him. To defend herself and justify what she had done. To tell him about Vauclair’s wine or the way Morvared had mistreated Isybelle. But no words from her would ever convince him that he was the one who had betrayed himself. And so she did not answer at all, but met his look with one of defiance.

  “We must go,” Warrewik finally said, nodding to Lord Hux. “I cannot trespass against Tunmore’s goodwill any longer. It would be a shame if he died suddenly, Lord Hux. Life is so fragile. Isn’t it?” Although his words were addressed to Hux, his eyes were glaring at Ankarette.

  “As you will,” Lord Hux said graciously. He bowed to Ankarette and turned to leave.

  Warrewik kept her fixed with his dark look. As he turned to leave, she finally spoke.

  “One of your men went over the falls, my lord. It will not be long before it’s your turn.”

  A month after taking sanctuary at Our Lady, the queen’s pangs of childbirth began. It was late in the day when they started, and Elyse had experienced the precipitous sensations before. There were no servants present, only Ankarette and the queen’s daughter. Light came from oil lamps, which helped dispel the gloomy shadows of the windowless cell. The queen was brave during the pangs, her teeth clenched as she strained against the stuffed pallet that had been brought in to comfort her. Sweat drenched her skin.

  The queen gasped with the strain, the beads of sweat trembling before dripping down her cheek or her nose. The hushed groans grew more urgent. Ankarette applied some oil to her hands and helped minister to the queen’s comfort as best she could. The deconeus stood guard at the door, gazing in periodically to check on the progress, only to leave immediately with a look of grotesq
ue disgust on his face.

  The daughter tried to comfort her mother through the pangs, whispering assurances. The queen was exhausted, but there was still work to be done. Somewhere far away, her husband was a fugitive, unaware that she was giving birth.

  Ankarette’s mind wandered, as it often did, to Sir Thomas. Her heart ached to see him. Winter was poised to begin and there would be no war during those months. The treacherous seas or the Deep Fathoms would prevent the situation from progressing. And so, a mad king sat on the throne in Kingfountain. Some said he mostly played on the floor like a child, humming to himself. Queen Morvared waited in Averanche with her son and Warrewik’s daughters and an army of Occitanian knights ready to invade. Horwath was besieged at Dundrennan by an army from Atabyrion and Warrewik’s remaining loyalists. She wondered how the siege would affect the upcoming marriage of Horwarth’s daughter to Sir Thomas’s older brother. She knew Sir Thomas was heartbroken. But she was good at mending things . . .

  “I’m . . . I’m so tired,” the queen panted, lying back after the spasm had passed. The contractions were coming closer and closer together. It would not be long now.

  “How old were you when you first went through childbirth?” Ankarette asked as she performed her examination. Questions always helped people think through the pain and discomfort.

  The queen smiled weakly, her eyes closed. “I w-was, let me think, I was eighteen. You’ll be that age . . . next year.”

  “How old were you when you married Lord Degriy?”

  “Fifteen. I was . . . nghhh! . . . so young. Too young, maybe, but it was a good alliance. I loved him well enough. These cursed wars. Will they never end?” She panted, gasping for breath. “If only it were true, and a king would come to end such feuding.”

  The pain started again in earnest and she sat up, arching her back and straining with agony.

  “You can do it, Mama,” said little Elyse.

  Ankarette was ready when the babe came. It was an easy birth this time, with no complications. The gooey infant was wrapped up in a towel and Ankarette’s heart was thick in her throat. A surge of happiness filled her with such sweetness. Little Elyse began stroking the soft, feathery hair atop the babe’s scalp.