Clara

by Suzanna J. Linton

  As they came down to dry land, a squad of scarlet-clad soldiers stopped them.

  “What is this?” demanded one.

  “Jus' a slave, lieutenant,” said the leader. “Takin' her to the market today.”

  “Just the one? Shouldn't you have a boat full?”

  “It was a slow se'ennight, lieutenant.”

  Some of the men found that funny but the lieutenant ignored them. “She's very finely dressed for a slave.”

  “She was sold to me, fair and proper.”

  “I would like to see that paperwork.”

  The man hesitated before bellowing, drawing his sword, and attacking the lieutenant. The soldier jumped back while drawing his own sword and then met him with a clash of steel. The other men escorting Clara drew their swords as the scarlet-clad soldiers surged forward. Clara, seeing her chance as the men fought, ran down the road, her lead rope trailing behind her in the dust. She tripped and fell, knocking the wind out of herself.

  “Hey, now!” a man shouted.

  Looking up, she saw her captors were subdued and two soldiers came running up to her. They pulled her to her feet and she twisted, trying to get away from them.

  “Hold on,” one cried. “We're trying to unloose you!”

  Clara stopped, staring at him with surprise. The soldier made good on his word and untied her hands while the other got the collar off. She was rubbing life back into her hands as the lieutenant came walking up, his clothing torn and bloody.

  “My lady,” he said, “are you all right?”

  She nodded, trying to not look intimidated, as if large men in scarlet tunics over chainmail addressed her all the time.

  “What happened, my lady? How did you come to be in these men's company?”

  Clara worked her mouth uselessly, looking around for anything to write upon.

  “My lady, can you hear me?” the man shouted.

  Shooting him an exasperated look, she nodded.

  “Then, you are mute?”

  She nodded again and gave up any hope on finding a slate or paper in the near vicinity. Seeing a stick on the ground, she smiled and snatched it up. On the ground, she wrote, “I was kidnapped from my home.”

  “Where is your home, my lady?”

  Clara felt the blood begin to fall from her face as a suitable lie failed to come to mind.

  “My lady, are you the Seer we were sent to meet?”

  She looked up at him, her mouth falling into a little “o” of surprise.

  “His Majesty the King sent us to meet you. His Farseers had a vision, it seemed, that you would be here. If her ladyship will come with me, we can depart for Bertrand immediately. There are wizards waiting by the portal as we speak.”

  Clara twirled the stick in her fingertips, trying to make sense of this new development. Could she run, right then? Aye, she could, but how far would she get? Where would she go? She immediately thought of Candor, which had to be nearby, but then remembered Emmerich, who had lied to her. Besides, she wasn't sure if Candor had been taken. And what if she had been on the wrong side, all along? After all, she had only the word of others to go upon. Sadly, she realized she couldn't even trust what Gavin had told her because he obeyed Emmerich.

  Clara returned to her original question: should she run?

  Slowly, she ran her hand over the dirt of the road, smoothing it, and wrote, “And if I don't wish to accompany you?”

  “Then we will gladly escort you to anywhere you wish to go. His Majesty expressly forbade forcing you to go anywhere.”

  That did it for her. She wrote, “I will go with you.” And she tossed the stick to the ground and brushed her hands off.

  “Allow me to see to these brigands, my lady, and we will be on our way.”

  The lieutenant saluted her and returned to where his men were trussing up her captors. He said something, which caused the leader to struggle as they took them away. He began to yell her name and say something, but a soldier punched him across the mouth. They dragged him, half-dazed, to a nearby wagon into which the soldiers loaded him and the others.

  The lieutenant returned. “Is her ladyship ready?”

  She nodded, wondering what the brigand was going to say.

  “Then right this way.”

  They walked up the dirt road into the town proper. Barlow's Crossing was busy with its daily business, even though it was still quite early in the morning. People watched them only to look away if Clara noticed them.

  They turned down a side street and on to a small stone house. The lieutenant opened the front door and they came into a spacious hall.

  “Through here, my lady,” he said, gesturing toward the parlor at their left.

  The parlor was bare except for an intricate pattern painted onto the wooden floor. It was a large circle with knot work spreading out from it in a sunburst. Two wizards awaited them.

  “My lady,” one of them said and they both bowed low. “I will be escorting you to Bertrand while my colleague activates the portal.”

  She nodded as if she expected that.

  The wizards began lighting the thick candles set into sconces around the room. After that, the wizard that hadn't spoken to her began to thumb through a large book on a stand while the other approached her.

  “I am Wizard Bruin,” he said. “And I will be your liaison with the King and the rest of the Court during your stay with us. Her ladyship looks as if she's had a hard journey.”

  She nodded as she began to slowly feel more ill at ease. Was she making the right decision?

  Suddenly, the front door banged open and a soldier jogged into the room. “Men from Candor, sent by the Rebel, are coming. They will be here in a candle mark.”

  “Then we have to hurry. My lady, if you will come with me into the circle.”

  For a brief moment, she had a moment of doubt as she thought of Emmerich's face. But he murdered the Princess and won't say why, she thought. If Marduk was the enemy, she had to learn for herself, but she feared she had been with the enemy all along.

  Clara followed Bruin into the circle.

  “Excuse my forwardness,” he said, taking her hand, “but it's best this way. In fact, you may want to close your eyes.” He smiled. “But you don't have to. The first time is always the most disconcerting, though.”

  The other wizard began to chant and white light snaked through the lines on the floor. Outside, she heard shouts and the clang of steel. The lieutenant turned to the door, his sword in his hand, ready to face the threat.

  The light flared and Clara felt herself tip forward into the brightness. She gripped the wizard's hand as the light shifted into a multitude of colors and she continued to feel as if she fell, her skirts flapping around her. The colors spun and swirled, and she couldn't decide if she felt joy or pain as wind whipped over her skin. Suddenly, the light faded and she dropped to her feet.

  Swaying, she nearly fell but Bruin caught her.

  “Easy, my lady,” he said. He smiled at her. “Did you close your eyes?”

  She shook her head, grinning up at him.

  He laughed. “I didn't close my eyes on my first trip either. And I threw up when we landed. But you seem to be fine.”

  Clara nodded, looking around. They stood at the top of a great tower and at their feet spread a gorgeous city, the morning light glistening off the alabaster and ivory of towering monuments, curved roofs of basilicas, grey stone and red brick of other buildings, and the haze of wood smoke overhanging it all. In the distance, light gleamed on the waters of the Lyn Tone River. Wind whistled around them and she gripped his hand tightly. Up above, a strangely shaped bird with a too-long tail flew.

  “My lady,” said Bruin, “welcome to Bertrand.”

  The man who had led the men that brought Clara to Barlow's Crossing slammed against the door of the prison cell.

  “Let me out! We had a deal!” he yelled, kicking the door.

  A few moments later, he heard men coming down the hall and he backed up.
Keys clanged as the door was unlocked and Lieutenant Martinson stepped into the room.

  “Hey, I want–” the man began.

  “Shut up,” replied Martinson. “Did you tell her you were taking her to Tier? And she has no idea King Marduk sent you?”

  “Aye, that's right.”

  “Then why did you try to warn her back at the docks?”

  “I thought you were double-crossing me. But, aye, the girl has no idea.”

  “And Haggard? Is he still loyal to our cause?”

  “Aye. He's on his way to Candor right now to handle Emmerich.”

  “Then our deal is done.”

  Martinson stepped to the side and an executioner came in, bearing an ax.

  “What are you doing?” He started to back away.

  “Paying you your wages before Emmerich's men arrive,” said Martinson.

  Two soldiers dragged the man to the floor. He kicked, yelled, and struggled, but nothing prevented the whistling fall of the executioner's ax.

  “One of the men returned from the Crossing, my lord,” said Asher. “They were too late. Lady Clara is at Bertrand now.”

  With an oath, Emmerich threw his cup and it shattered against the wall, tonic spilling everywhere. Groaning, he clutched his side. Asher licked his lips and looked down.

  “What do we tell the men, my lord?” he asked.

  “The truth. They'll learn it eventually.” Emmerich panted, his forehead beaded with sweat.

  “Shall I gather a rescue mission?”

  Emmerich hesitated. “No.”

  Asher blinked in surprise. “No?”

  “I need every man to march on Bertrand.”

  “But, my lord–”

  “I will not be swayed in this, Asher.”

  The captain stared at his general, trying to comprehend this. He had never said it to anyone, but it had been his opinion that Emmerich saw Lady Clara as more than a tool in his fight against Marduk. He had half-expected Emmerich to try to throw himself into a saddle to go after her. “My lord, I'm afraid I don't understand.”

  Emmerich stared at him for a long moment. “We can't use the portal so it will take se'ennights of travel. There won't be anything left of her, by the time our men reach Bertrand.”

  Asher nodded slowly, remembering the creatures at Seasong and the rumors of the tortures Marduk inflicted. “I understand, my lord.”

  “The best thing we can do is end this war.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  But Asher wasn't so sure.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Bruin led Clara down the tower and several flights of stairs into a grand corridor. The pink marble floor gleamed and delicate white statuary of birds, deer, and lithe women stood in niches along the walls. Men and women laughed and talked as they walked, pausing to bow or curtsy as she and Bruin passed.

  One wizard stopped them. “Are you going to the audience chamber to see His Majesty, Bruin?”

  “I am.”

  “He's not in there. Check the courtyard.”

  “Ah. Thank you.”

  “Who is your lovely companion?”

  “Oh, forgive me. Lady Clara, this is Wizard Trevor. Trevor, allow me to present Lady Clara.”

  “Charmed,” said Trevor, bowing gracefully. “I would love to accompany you but I have a class to teach.” With another bow, he walked by.

  “Trevor teaches applied magics at the Academy,” Bruin explained as they continued on.

  Clara arched a brow and rolled her wrist to ask for more information.

  “Applied magics is taking theory and learning how to use it in a day-to-day setting. For example, a student may be familiar with the theory of earth magic. In applied magics, he'll learn how to take that theory and use it to clear out collapsed mineshafts or fill in sinkholes.”

  She pointed at him, raising her brows.

  “What do I teach? Ancient linguistics and alchemy. I know, it's a strange combination, but I enjoy it.”

  They descended a short set of steps and turned left. The shouts of children echoed down the hall.

  “Looks like Trevor was right.”

  They rounded a corner and came out into a cloister walk. Stopping, Bruin looked to his left. “There is His Majesty.”

  Clara's mouth dropped open. The King of Lorst, the sorcerer king, the usurper no one wanted, darted around the courtyard, kicking a dirty ball as his red robes streamed behind him. He laughed loudly as pages in their red tunics darted around him, trying to get the ball back. Finally, one succeeded, kicking the ball away and to the opposite end of the courtyard. Another boy jumped forward and sent it flying between two tall vases overflowing with ivy.

  “Good shot!” cried the king breathlessly, clapping.

  As the boys cheered, Marduk looked around and saw her.

  “Looks like it's time for me to go,” he said. The boys whined and the king chuckled, patting the heads of a few as he strode up to the cloister walk.

  Bruin bowed lowly as the king approached. “Your Majesty, allow me to present to you Lady Clara.”

  “My lady,” said the king, reaching them. He took her hand with both of his and kissed her knuckles. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

  Without thinking about it, she dropped a curtsy.

  He let go of her hand and she rubbed it with the other, her fingers tingling.

  “Bruin,” said Marduk, “why don't you make sure her ladyship's room is prepared?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.” He turned to Lady Clara and bowed before bestowing a deeper bow toward the King and leaving. She almost grabbed his arm to make him stay.

  “Now, if her ladyship will be so kind as to accompany me.” He proffered his arm.

  Clara slipped hers over his and he led her down the walk.

  “My Farseers told me you would have gone on a rough journey and they appear to be correct. Have you eaten?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then we will see to that first. Ah, you there.” Marduk signaled at a passing servant, who stopped and curtsied. “Have a breakfast sent up to my private study.”

  The servant curtsied again. “Yes, your Majesty.”

  Marduk led her away. They walked without speaking and Clara looked around constantly. They passed open doors into lavishly decorated rooms as well as groups of people who laughed and talked and their smiles did not fade as the king passed. The decorations were superb and exceeded anything Clara could have dreamed or had ever read about in the books she'd sneak into her room at Dwervin.

  They reached a large door flanked by soldiers, one of whom opened it for them.

  “Thank you, Andrew,” said Marduk as they entered.

  Clara sucked in a gulp of air at seeing the study. Bookcases so tall a catwalk ran along the middle of them reared up toward a vaulted ceiling. A spiral staircase in a corner led up to the walk. Comfortable chairs were arranged before a fireplace and several desks were scattered around the room. One particularly ornate one had two chairs arranged in front of it.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  Clara nodded.

  “It's one of my favorite rooms. I could spend hours here, if I could. Come and sit.”

  He led her to a table in front of a giant window overlooking expansive gardens. He pulled out a chair for her. Clara sat, feeling more overwhelmed by the moment. Marduk took the seat at the head of the table, folding his hands in front of him.

  She took the moment to really look at him. Handsome, with fair hair and pale green eyes, he appeared to be just passing the prime of his life. He did not seem to be a murderer or a madman. He did not fit the picture painted for her by Gavin and Emmerich. If anything, her world was feeling even more deeply rocked.

  “Do I please you?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

  Clara blushed and looked away.

  Marduk chuckled. “That was childish of me. I apologize. Ah, I'm very glad my soldiers got to you in time. When my Farseers came to me, we had mere hours to pull men to
gether. I did not even know that Emmerich had a Seer in his ranks.”

  She glanced at him.

  “My lady, please do not be afraid or worried. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't wish to do. But those of us who are touched with the ability to do more, to see more, than the average man must look out for each other. I couldn't just let you be taken to Tier.”

  A soft knock on the door interrupted whatever he might have said next.

  “Enter,” he called.

  The door opened and the servant from earlier came in bearing a tray. She set it in front of Clara.

  “I will leave you to eat,” said Marduk, standing. He started to leave but stopped. He turned back to her. “I have in my custody Gavin. Would you like to see him? I don't know if you were at all close to him while in the Rebel camp.”

  She nodded, her heart suddenly leaping to her throat.

  “Then I will have him with me when I return.” He bowed. “My lady.”

  She watched him leave before turning back to her breakfast. She had come to Bertrand on almost a whim, at the bare thought of finally getting the truth. Why, then, did she feel so uneasy?

  “She's here,” gasped Bruin. He had run all the way to the barracks and now he leaned heavily against the doorway of Jarrett's quarters.

  “You saw her?” asked Jarrett as he buckled on his sword belt. He had been on night duty and dark circles smudged the underside of his eyes.

  “Saw her? I was on duty at the portal at Barlow's Crossing. I escorted her. She's in the King's private study right now.”

  He ran a comb through his hair, trying to get it under control. “His Majesty is going to send for me soon, then.”

  “I imagine so. But don't be surprised if he won't let you see her until tomorrow.”

  “Give her time to get settled, to relax.”

  “To think she's been on the wrong side all along.”

  “Yes.” He grimaced. “What's our move, then?”

  “She's a mute, Jarrett. I don't know if that's because she's soft in the head or if there's some other cause. The King told me she would be a mute, but he didn't explain why.”