by Greg Keyes
It happened again, slightly louder this time, and he got it.
“Come in if you wish,” he said finally.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing Areana, and for a long moment he couldn’t speak. The pain in him fled as shadows flee light, and he had a sudden happy memory of his first meeting with her at the ball in Lady Gramme’s mansion. They’d danced; he could remember the music, a country dance known as a whervel. He hadn’t known the steps, but she had shown him easily enough.
She stood framed in the doorway like a painting by a master of the brush, her blue kirtle glowing in the moonlight, the darkness of the hall behind her. Her red-gold hair seemed molten, dark, sensuous.
“Leoff,” she said tentatively. “Have I come at a bad time?”
“Areana,” he managed to croak. “No, please. Come in. Find yourself a seat.” He tried to push back his disheveled hair and nearly stabbed himself in the eye with the pen. Sighing, he let his hands drop to his sides.
“It’s just—you haven’t been coming out,” she said, walking across the room to stand beside him. “I’m worried about you. Are they keeping you confined?”
“No, I have freedom to roam the castle,” Leoff said. “Or so I’m told. I haven’t tested it.”
“Well, you should,” she said. “You can’t spend all your time up here.”
“Well,” he said, “I’ve a lot of work to do.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, smiling. “Your singspell about Maersca.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “And what will you do this time? Really?”
“Exactly what he asked.”
He dark eyes widened. “Do you think I would betray you?”
“No,” he said. “You’ve been very brave about all this. I never got a chance to tell you how perfect your singing was that night. It was a miracle.”
“The miracle was the music,” Areana said. “I felt—I thought I was her, Leoff. I really did. My heart was breaking, and when I leapt from the window, I felt I would die. There is so much magic in you…”
She reached to stroke his face. He was too stunned to react until she touched him, and then he jerked away.
“What they did to you…” She sighed.
“Yes, well, I knew it could happen,” he said. “But I promised you better. I’m so sorry.”
“No, you warned me,” she said. “You warned us all, and we were all with you. We believed in you.” She moved nearer, and her breath was sweet. “I still believe in you. I want to help with whatever it is you’re really doing.”
“I told you,” he murmured. Her hand was warm, and if he moved his face a fraction, he could kiss it. A small movement more and he could reach her lips.
But he couldn’t put his hand against hers. Not like this. So he turned away slightly.
“I’m doing what he asked,” he said. “Nothing more.”
She withdrew her hand and stepped back. “You can’t,” she said. “Don’t fool with me.”
“I must. He’ll kill you and Mery,” he replied. “Don’t you understand?”
“You can’t give in because of me,” she said.
“Oh,” he replied. “Oh, yes—yes I can. And I will.”
“Don’t you think he’ll kill us, anyway?”
“No,” Leoff said, “I don’t think he will. That would undo everything. He’s trying to win your family—and the other landwaerden—back to him.”
“Yes, but the truth is that you were tortured, then forced to do this. Prince Robert can’t allow that fact to get out. And yet there are three of us who know. Not to mention what they did to—well, never mind. Do you really think we can be allowed to survive, knowing what we know?”
“We’ve a better chance than if I go against him,” Leoff argued. “You know that. If I defy him, he’ll torture you to death right in front of my eyes; then he’ll start with Mery. Or maybe he’ll go the other way around, I don’t know, but I can’t bear—”
“I can’t bear to see you doing his bidding,” Areana exploded, and he saw sudden real fury in her eyes. “It’s obscene, a perversion of your talent.”
He stared at her for a moment, unblinking, as he registered something she hadn’t quite said.
“What did they do to you?” he asked at last.
She blushed and took a further step back. “They did not hurt me, not as they did you,” she said quietly.
“I can see that,” he said, growing angry. “But what did they do to you?”
She flinched at his tone.
“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing I want to talk about.”
“Tell me,” he said more softly.
Her eyes teared up. “Please, Leoff. Please leave it be. If I don’t tell you—”
“Don’t tell me what?”
Her mouth parted. “I’ve never seen you like this,” she said.
“You’ve barely seen me at all,” Leoff hissed. “You think you know me?”
“Leoff, please don’t be angry with me.”
He took a deep breath. “Were you raped?”
She looked away, and when she turned back, her face had a grimmer cast. “Would that make a difference to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, could you still love me if I had been raped?”
Now he was aware that his jaw was hanging completely open. “Love you? When did I ever say I loved you?”
“Well, you didn’t, did you? You’re too shy and too preoccupied. I don’t know; maybe you aren’t even aware you love me. But you do.”
“I do?”
“Of course. And it’s not that I think everyone loves me, you know. But sometimes a girl knows, and with you I know. Or did.”
Leoff felt tears streaming down his face. He held his hands up. She shook her head.
“That doesn’t matter to me,” she said softly.
“It matters to me,” he replied. “What did they do to you?”
She lowered her head. “What you said,” she admitted.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
“I’m so sorry, Areana.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, looking back up. Her eyes were smoldering now. “Make them pay.”
For a precious moment he wanted to tell her his plan, to take her in what remained of his arms. But that would only weaken him, and now, more urgently than ever, he needed the worst he had in him.
“Robert doesn’t pay,” Leoff said. “Robert gets away with it, and we pay. Now, please go. I have work to do.”
“Leoff—”
“Go. Please.”
He turned away, and a few heartbeats later he heard footsteps retreating slowly and then picking up speed.
When he looked again, she was gone, and his feeling of sickness returned, stronger than before.
He settled back in front of the score and began again.
ANNE SURVEYED herself dubiously in the looking glass.
“You look every inch a queen,” Austra assured her.
To that Anne could only answer with a dour chuckle, thinking of her mother with her alabaster skin, flawless hands, and long, silky hair. What she gleaned from the flecked mirror Artwair had found somewhere was a very different image.
Weather had chapped and reddened her face, and her freckles—always ubiquitous—were fatted on Vitellian sunlight. Her shorn hair was tucked underneath a wimple of the sort that hadn’t been popular outside of covens since before she was born. The gown was nice, though, a red-and-gold brocade, not too fancy, not too simple.
Even so, she felt like a toad in a silk slip.
“You have the bearing,” Austra amplified, clearly understanding her doubts.
“Thank you,” Anne replied, having nothing else to say. Would anyone in Eslen agree? She supposed she would find out.
“Now, what should I wear?” Austra mused.
Anne raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t matter, I think. You aren’t going.”
>
“Of course I’m going,” Austra said firmly.
“I thought I asked you never to question me again,” Anne said.
“You never said that,” Austra protested. “You said I might argue with you, try to persuade you, but in the end your word would be my law. That is still the case. But it would be foolish not to take me.”
“And how is that?”
“How will it look, a queen with no servants?”
“It will look as if I do not feel the need for them,” Anne replied.
“I don’t think so,” Austra countered. “It will be a sign of your weakness. You must take an entourage. You must have a maidservant, or else no one will take you seriously.”
“I’m taking Cazio. Or is that what this is about?”
Austra pinkened, and her brows lowered in anger.
“I won’t pretend I don’t want to stay near him,” Austra said, “but I want to be near you, too. And I stand by my reasoning. You claim to be queen, you’ve come to take the throne—you must act the part. Anyway, are you really so afraid?”
“I’m terrified,” Anne admitted. “Robert agreed so readily, so confidently. I don’t know what it means.”
“That, at least, is a wise assessment,” Artwair’s voice came from outside the tent. “May I enter?”
“You may.”
The flap brushed open, and her cousin ducked in, accompanied by a man-at-arms.
“You have reservations, then?” Anne asked.
“Holy saints, yes. You have no idea what Robert is playing at, Anne. You might be slain the moment you leave our sight.”
“Then Sir Neil will chop off Robert’s head,” Anne said reasonably. “How will that benefit him?”
“Perhaps instead you will be taken prisoner and tortured until you give the order for his release. Or merely held until Hansan troops arrive.”
“I’ve made it clear to my uncle that if I am accosted in any way, his head will roll. Besides, I’m taking fifty men with me.”
“Robert has thousands in Eslen. Fifty is a only gesture, nothing more.
“Think, Anne! Why would Robert allow you to place him in this position? He could easily have held Eslen against us until his support came.”
“Then maybe he isn’t so certain that his support will come in time,” Anne suggested. “Or maybe he’s not so confident that his allies will support him at all. What if the Church should claim a Hansan as regent and send my uncle to the gallows?”
“That’s possible,” Artwair said, then he sighed. “But if that’s the case, why not open the gates and let all of us in? I believe he must have some dark design. Or perhaps it’s worse than that; perhaps Robert isn’t actually the master here, and he’s being sacrificed to lure you into the grip of whoever is in control.”
“And who would that be? Praifec Hespero?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly,” Anne echoed.
She held her cousin’s gaze, wishing she could explain her visions to him, how she had seen the secret ways that lay within the walls of Eslen. Whatever her enemies had planned, they were men, and men could not know about the hidden passages.
Unfortunately, the same glamour made it impossible to explain that to Artwair.
“Perhaps to any and all of that,” she admitted. “But what alternative do you see? You’ve just admitted that we cannot easily take Eslen by brute force. Besides, whatever Robert’s plan may be, I have an advantage he cannot know about.”
“What advantage?”
“I could tell you,” Anne said, “but you would not remember.”
“What does that mean?” Artwair asked irritably.
Anne bit her lip. “I have a way of getting troops into the city.”
“That cannot be. I would know of such a thing, were it true.”
“But you are wrong,” Anne told him. “Only a very few know of this way.”
He rubbed at the stump of his hand for a moment.
“If this is true, so…” He shook his head. “You have to be more specific.”
“I can’t,” Anne replied. “I’ve sworn an oath.”
“That’s not good enough,” Artwair said. “I can’t allow it.”
Anne felt suddenly light. “What are you saying, Cousin?”
“If I must protect you from yourself, I will.”
Anne drew a long breath, surveying the guards. How many more did he have outside?
Well, there it was.
“How do you intend to protect me, Artwair? What do you imagine you will do?”
Artwair’s face twisted with some emotion, but Anne couldn’t see what it was.
“We need you, Anne. Without you this army has no cause.”
“What you mean is that without me, you have no army.”
He stood silent for a long moment.
“If you must put it that way, Anne, then yes. What do you know of these things? I’ve always liked you, Anne, but you’re just a girl. A few months ago you hadn’t the least care for this kingdom or anyone in it besides yourself. I don’t know what naïve notion you have—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Neil MeqVren interrupted, shouldering into the tent. Cazio came in just behind him, and beyond them Anne could see a dozen or more of Artwair’s guard, watching intently. “Anne is your queen.”
“You’re supposed to be watching Prince Robert,” Artwair said.
“He is in safe hands. I came, like you, to try to talk her away from this dangerous course of action.”
“Then I urge you not to involve yourself.”
“You have involved me already,” Neil replied. “She will not be convinced, and you must not attempt to force her.”
“I hardly think you can enforce that,” Artwair said drily.
“He’ll have my help,” Cazio said. The two brushed past Artwair’s men to stand at Anne’s side. She knew that even with Neil’s strange weapon, he and Cazio hadn’t a chance against her cousin’s men. But it felt good to have them there.
Artwair grimaced. “Anne—”
“What is your plan, Duke Artwair?” Anne interrupted. “How do you plan to claim your throne?”
“I want no throne for myself,” Artwair said, hotly now. “All I want is what’s best for Crotheny.”
“And you think I don’t?”
“I’ve no idea what you want, Anne, but I believe your desire to rescue your mother has clouded your judgment.”
Anne walked over to the tent flap, threw it open, and speared her finger toward the mist-covered island. The men outside stepped back.
“There is the throne, across that water, on that island. That’s what we’ve come here for. I’ve a chance to—”
“You’ve no chance at all. Robert is too devious. Better we withdraw, build our strength, join with Liery.”
“Liery,” Anne said, “is already out there. Do you honestly believe Sir Fail does not have a fleet in the water, even now?”
“Then where are they?”
“On the way.”
“They will never reach us,” Artwair said. “What fleet can survive—much less take—Thornrath?”
“No fleet,” Anne replied. “But you could.”
Artwair opened his mouth, then closed it.
“It’s possible,” he said, “but not bloody likely. Yet if there is a Lierish fleet…” He looked thoughtfully into the distance.
“There is,” Anne said. “I’ve seen it. Two days from now they arrive. If we do not control Thornrath, they will be destroyed, crushed between the wall and a Hanzish fleet.”
“Seen it?”
“In a vision, Cousin.”
Artwair barked a little laugh. “Visions are of no use to me,” he said.
Anne gripped his arm and stared up into his eyes. “What you said about me was true,” she admitted. “But I have changed. I am not the girl you knew. And I know more than you, Cousin Artwair. Not about tactics and strategy, I grant you, but about other things of perhaps greater importance. I know how to ge
t troops into Eslen. I know Fail is coming. You do need me, but not as the figurehead you imagine.
“I will not be, as Robert put it, your poppet. We will do this the way I want it done, or we will not do it at all. Unless you think this army will follow my corpse. Or yours.”
Her anger was grown now, a kernel of rot in her belly. Once again she felt the waters of life and death pulsing around her and followed them through the seams of Artwair’s armor, past the scratchy surface of his skin, into the tangle of bloody tissue and the flexing muscle of his heart. She felt it beat for a moment, then, gently, she caressed it.
The result was immediate. Artwair’s eyes bulged out, and his knees started to buckle. His man caught him as he clutched at his chest.
“No,” he gasped. “No.”
As if she were still watching herself through the looking glass, Anne heard herself talking.
“You say I am your queen, Artwair,” she murmured. “Say it now. Say it. Say it again.”
His face was bright red, but his lips were going blue.
“What…”
“Say it.”
“Not…like…this.”
She felt his heart spasm and realized he would die soon if she did not stop. How marvelously delicate the heart was.
But she didn’t want Artwair dead, so with a sigh she released him. He gasped and sagged, then tried to straighten, his eyes brimming with shock and fear.
“I am not what you think I am,” she said, releasing her grip on his arm.
“No,” he managed weakly, eyes still bulging. “You aren’t.”
“The fleet is coming—I know that. You know how to fight wars. Can we work together?”
Artwair held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s discuss this, but quickly. In one bell I’m going to Eslen.”
A bell later, as she approached Robert’s boat, Anne felt a sudden jolt. It was like waking from one of the dreams she’d had as a child, a dream of falling. What made those dreams so disconcerting was the fact that they often happened when she didn’t know she was asleep.
She felt a bit of that now. She remembered her confrontation with Artwair well enough, and the conversation that followed, but the memory possessed an unreal quality, suddenly thrown into focus as the sights, smells, and sounds around her returned with such acuity that they were distracting. The iron-and-iodine scent of water was overpowering, and falls of liquid gold seemed to drop through the clouds. She noticed the fine wrinkles in the corners of Artwair’s eyes and the soft crush of her feet on yellowed grass, followed by the hushed friction of stone and leather.
