Marcus had to admit that working in the kitchen had grown on him. Maybe that was because he would get to see Kaië each morning when she delivered her pastries. She arrived early that day and stayed for more than an hour, helping out where she could. Marcus was glad for the company, even if they were only friends.
Marcus closed the pantry and returned to the kitchen, passing Xerxes in the corner. The enchanted walking stick had been on his best behavior since being left in the room for dinner several nights before. At the counter, Zyll slid a pile of freshly chopped basil into a bowl. Beside him, Val, the head chef, explained the art of dicing vegetables.
“It’s all in the way you grip the knife,” Val said, holding a large butcher knife up for Zyll to see. “And you curve your knuckles over the carrot, like this.” He demonstrated it by deftly slicing paper-thin circles from the carrot. Marcus thought it funny how Val’s sparse mustache moved as he spoke, as if it were a live caterpillar wriggling around on his lip.
“That’s right,” Marcus said as he passed behind Val, “this old man has never cut carrots in his life.”
From the grunt Val gave, Marcus could tell his comment was not appreciated.
“This is not some poor villager’s stew,” he said with a huff. “This is a very special recipe for the king himself. Everything must be perfect.”
Marcus folded the potato sacks. There would be turnips delivered later, and he wanted the bags handy.
“I can just see it now,” mocked Marcus, plucking a wooden stirring spoon from a crock on the counter. “Kelvin lifts a spoonful of soup to his lips and—‘What’s this?’ he cries. ‘This carrot slice is too thick! Death to the cook!’” Marcus tasted the invisible soup and then drew the spoon across his neck like a knife.
Val snatched the spoon away from him. “Laugh if you will,” he said, “but there is a good reason why I am the chef and you are the storage clerk. Now you, Marco, prepare my tea while Zit and I finish the stew.”
“Once again, I’m Marcus and he’s Zyll,” said Marcus, rolling his eyes. Val had proven bad at names.
Suddenly the door to the delivery area swung open, and there was Kelvin’s young page gasping for breath as if he’d been running. “They have caught him!” he shouted.
“What? Who?” asked Val, his knife poised over a parsnip.
“The Agoran who burned the ship and killed the king’s guards!”
“How do you know this?”
“The gatekeeper just told me,” answered the page. “The guards are bringing the culprit before Chancellor Prost as we speak.”
Marcus looked at Zyll, but Zyll had already removed his apron and was heading for the hall with Xerxes in hand. Marcus flung the empty potato sacks across Val’s shoulder, following Zyll.
“Wait!” called Val. “Where are you two going? And who will serve His Majesty’s tea?”
* * *
The door to the throne room stood open when Marcus and Zyll arrived. The throne was empty, but Prost stood beside it as usual and was speaking to someone else in the room.
“Kelvin has reconsidered his decision,” Prost was saying. “He has decided to honor Fredric’s decree.”
“I see,” said a voice Marcus recognized as Jayson’s. “I’m certain the Agorans will be pleased to hear of it.”
The attending guard announced Zyll and Marcus’s arrival. Prost nodded, permitting them to enter. “Hello, Master Zyll, Marcus,” said Prost. “How goes it in the kitchen?”
“Splendidly,” answered Zyll, smiling. “I have learned that for the past fifty-seven years of my life, I have been defiling the very art of vegetable preparation. Ah, but we did not mean to intrude,” he added, bowing respectfully. “Please, continue.”
“Yes, of course,” said Prost. “Jayson, Dokur owes you its thanks in locating the Agoran rebels. They are now in custody and will be tried and condemned for their crimes.”
“They?” asked Jayson. “I only brought you one.”
Prost nodded to the guard to open the chamber doors. Two more guards entered the room, leading two prisoners behind them in chains. One was Eliha the Agoran. He held his head high, though his face and back bore the signs of a serious beating. Beside him the second prisoner stumbled and would have fallen had the guard not yanked her back to her feet. Her hair, caked with dirt and mud, lay stiffly on her shoulders. As she passed by, Kaië’s eyes met Marcus’s, and the pleading look in them made his heart break.
“No!” he whispered, too stunned to say more.
Forty-six
Prost stepped closer to the two prisoners. “I believe you know each other,” he said, addressing Jayson. “The girl’s mother was Ivanore’s lady-in-waiting. After her mother died, she lived with you and Ivanore—until you were exiled. Both she and Ivanore disappeared after that.”
Kaië tried to speak, but the guard slapped her across the face. Marcus started forward, but a warning glance from Zyll stopped him.
“Well,” continued Prost, “now we know where she’s been all this time and what she’s been up to.”
Jayson was outraged. Marcus could feel the anger radiating from him.
“I brought you the Agoran,” said Jayson. “Why would you arrest an innocent girl?”
“Because she is not innocent.” Prost placed a bony finger beneath Eliha’s chin, pressing it up. Eliha hissed at him through gritted teeth. “When we asked this rebel how he learned about the secret tunnel,” continued Prost, “he gave us her name.”
“Chancellor,” said Jayson, pleading, “I’ve known this woman most of her life. She would never do such a thing!” He turned to Kaië. “Tell them you are innocent!”
Kaië’s eyes filled with tears.
“Let her speak,” Prost told the guards. “Go ahead, girl. Say what you’ve already told me.”
Kaië swallowed. Her lip, swollen from being struck, had a thin line of blood on it. “During the invasion,” she began, “I sneaked into the Fortress and freed the Agoran from prison. We escaped through the tunnel. It was I who showed the Agoran how to get into the Fortress unseen.”
Marcus was stunned by what he heard. Kaië had purposely left him out of her story. It had been his idea to free the Agoran, not Kaië’s. He would have explained it before if he’d had the chance.
Marcus tried to speak, “Father, I need to—” but Jayson cut him off before he could finish his sentence. Then Jayson gave him a look that told him to be silent or else they might all be endangered. Marcus reluctantly held his peace.
“Does Kelvin know about her arrest?” asked Jayson.
“I have full authority to act in Kelvin’s name in these matters,” replied Prost.
“I demand to speak to him.”
“I cannot—”
“I will speak to my son NOW!”
Jayson’s hand went for his sword, but the guards drew theirs first, stepping between Jayson and Prost. Prost gloated.
“I know how you must feel about her, Jayson,” he said, “but their crimes are more serious than we first believed. We have reason to suspect they are responsible for Fredric’s death and have been plotting against Kelvin, as well.”
Kaië jerked forward, her chains pulling taut. “That’s a lie!”
“You can’t be serious!” said Jayson.
Prost’s gaze grew icy. “I assure you I am deadly serious, Jayson,” he said. “We found traces of poison on the rim of Fredric’s wine glass, which, thankfully, we had preserved. It is clear the Agoran is guilty of murder, and since the girl was working with him, so is she.”
Prost motioned to the guards. “Take them now,” he said. “They will remain in custody until their trial.”
The guards led the two prisoners away. The enormous doors shut heavily behind them. Prost turned to leave as well, but Jayson stopped him.
“You said before that Kelvin will honor Fredric’s decree. Do I have your word on that?”
“You will have your lands—after our war with Hestoria is over.”
“
What do you mean, after the war?”
“As I said before, we need the resources on that land to provide for our soldiers and to rebuild our ships. The war won’t last long, I assure you, and then the land is yours.”
“But that is not what Fredric promised.”
“It is all we can promise.”
“The Agorans will want a war, too.”
“Is that a threat?” Prost glared at Jayson. Then one corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “You really ought to control your son, Zyll,” Prost said. “He’s liable to get hurt.”
With that, Prost motioned to the remaining guard to open the door to Kelvin’s private chambers. He left Marcus, Zyll, and Jayson alone in the throne room.
The three of them stood in silence for several moments, not knowing what to do next. Finally, it was Jayson who spoke. He turned on his father. “Why didn’t you do something?”
“What should I have done?” asked Zyll, leaning calmly on Xerxes.
“You’re the enchanter!” said Jayson. “You could have freed her!”
“And bring the entire royal guard upon us? I’m a magician, not a miracle worker.”
Until now, Marcus had stood rigid as a statue, but now his entire frame began to tremble. “This is all my fault,” he said, his voice barely audible. “It was me Kaië led into the Fortress the day the Hestorians attacked. We rescued the Agoran. Now he’s used his freedom to put us all in danger. And even worse, he betrayed Kaië! If it weren’t for me, Kaië would be safe.”
“I can’t let her stay in prison,” said Jayson, pacing back and forth, from one end of the room to the other like a wild cat trapped in a cage.
“We could break her out,” suggested Marcus. “I did it once before.”
“And barely survived the attempt, so you’ve said,” remarked Zyll. “No, we must prepare an argument in her defense and do our best to clear her name at her trial.”
Jayson stopped suddenly. His eyes were filled with both rage and sadness. “I don’t care what it takes,” he said, “I will save her. I swear it.”
Forty-seven
Marcus did not sleep that night. How could he, knowing that Kaië was shivering in a cold, damp prison cell? Even worse was the shame he felt for not having spoken in her defense. If he had only told Prost the truth, maybe he would have let her go free and taken Marcus instead.
The darkness in the room pressed in on him until he felt suffocated by it. Finally, Marcus flung off his covers and hurried out of his room into the hall. He would go to Kelvin and tell him the truth. He would do whatever he must to help Kaië.
The corridor was dimly lit by a single torch set in an iron sconce. Marcus’s shadow stretched across the floor like a ghost. Standing there in the darkness, he felt his old fears rise up inside him. This time he brought his knife with him, though he longed for the blade concealed in Xerxes’ staff. During his quest, he had relied on that blade for protection, but with only this small dagger, he felt vulnerable.
Marcus started down the hall, but he had not gone far when the sound of a door opening behind him made him pause. He turned and saw Zyll, dressed in his night robe and cap, slip from his room and walk as quickly as he was able down the corridor in the opposite direction. He did not have Xerxes with him.
Zyll disappeared around a corner. Curious, Marcus followed. When he reached the spot where Zyll had disappeared from his sight, he found a narrow, stone stairwell spiraling upward into the darkness. Marcus climbed the steps, which led to another corridor with several doors along either side.
Marcus heard voices coming from an open door at the end of the corridor. He approached and glanced in. Two men stood inside the small room. One was Zyll.
“You deceive yourself, Taren,” Zyll was saying. “You thought that by killing Fredric you would gain power. But power is an illusion, as elusive as a rainbow.”
Chancellor Prost stood at a window, his back to the room. He placed his hands on the windowsill and gazed out over Dokur. Zyll continued.
“Yes, I know who is really to blame. And I know how you manipulated Kelvin into breaking Fredric’s treaty with the Agorans. You want them to turn against him so that you can gain his crown.”
“Well, the treaty will be honored—in time,” said Prost. “That is the best I can do. What more can you ask of me?”
“Spare the girl,” said Zyll. “Please. Do not punish her for your crime.”
Prost did not move from his place at the window. Instead, he raised one hand and swept it over the scene below him.
“Do you see what’s down there?” he said. “An entire city. Beyond the city there is a mine, a mine filled with the world’s most precious gem, Celestine. It is found nowhere but on Imaness. Whoever controls the mine controls our world, Zyll. Not just Dokur. Not just Imaness, but the world.”
Prost turned from the window, his gaunt face even more pale against his blood red robe.
“Fredric hoarded Celestine, kept Imaness isolated to protect it. I, on the other hand, shall open free trade with Hestoria and other lands that will give us whatever we desire in exchange for Celestine.”
“At what cost?” pleaded Zyll. “The girl’s life? Kelvin’s?”
“My dear Zyll, I have sworn my allegiance to the crown. Why, the boy looks to me like the father he never truly had.”
“Kelvin has a father.”
“Oh yes. The mongrel. Well, recent events have shown how deeply Kelvin cares about him.”
Marcus felt the anger rising in him. He had to restrain himself from charging into the room and cutting out Prost’s heart. But if Prost had killed Fredric, why didn’t Zyll do something about it? Why not tell Kelvin the truth?
More secrets. Marcus was sick of secrets.
Zyll’s voice was closer now, just on the other side of the door. “Beware, Taren. Do not think your acts are accomplished in darkness. The truth always finds its way into the light.”
“So nothing’s changed since we were young,” said Prost.
“You are wrong,” answered Zyll. “You have changed.”
The door opened wider, and Zyll stepped through it. Marcus leaned back into the shadows as Zyll walked past him down the hall. Marcus waited for Zyll to descend the stone steps. If Zyll would not punish the guilty, then he would. Marcus didn’t care what pain it might cause him, he would use magic to make Prost pay for what he had done to his other grandfather, Fredric.
Marcus was about to slip into the room, but the sound of a new voice, one he did not recognize, sent him back into hiding. Whoever it was had not been in the room before and must have entered through some other door.
“I can take him now,” the voice said.
“Not here, Arnot,” replied Prost. “We do not need another “accident” within the Fortress. Kelvin might become suspicious. No, the deed must be done in the open, tomorrow in the marketplace. There must be no doubt he is dead.”
There was a pause, and then Prost spoke once more. “And Arnot,” he added, “bring me back some fresh willenberries while you’re there. I do so love willenberries.”
Forty-eight
Prost had killed Fredric, and now he planned to murder Zyll, as well. Marcus’s stomach clenched at the horrible discovery. He again thought of his vision of Zyll’s death. So he had seen the future after all, which meant there was still time to change it. He had to warn Zyll. But first . . .
Marcus leaned his head back against the wall and tried to calm his breathing. He had better do it now before he lost his courage. Holding up both palms, Marcus concentrated. He felt the heat building inside of him and drew energy from every source he could reach within his mind. His chest started to throb before he even stepped into the room. Ignoring the pain, Marcus pushed open the door and leapt inside. A column of orange flame burst from his palms, engulfing the room. A second later, it was over. Except for the streaks of black where the walls had burned, the room was empty. Arnot and Prost had already left.
Marcus ran to the door at the opposite
side of the room. He tried to open it, but it was locked. Zyll! He had to find Zyll.
Marcus hurried back down the stairwell and through the corridor toward Zyll’s room. As he neared, however, the throbbing in his chest grew to an intense pain. His failed attempt to hurt Prost had triggered another attack.
The pain radiated throughout his entire body, his knees threatening to give way. He tried to call out for help, but the pain gripped Marcus so tightly he could not speak. He collapsed to the floor and let his mind fall into the void.
* * *
By the time Marcus had strength enough to stand again, the earliest rays of sunlight were creeping through a nearby window. The pain had diminished to a dull ache, which he did his best to ignore as he got to his feet. He hurried as fast as he dared to Zyll’s room and rapped on the door. When no one answered, Marcus tried the door and found it unlocked. The room was empty. Zyll and Xerxes were gone.
* * *
Dokur was quiet this morning. Only a handful of merchants had arrived early to secure the best locations for peddling their wares. Marcus recognized the woman who had sold him his gryphon amulet. He nodded a greeting as he passed, and she smiled in return.
Marcus started across the town square toward the Seafarer Tavern. Zyll had planned to meet Jayson there again today, so it was the most likely place he’d be. The attack from the night before left Marcus feeling drained. His ribs felt bruised, as if someone had punched him. Between that and the real bruises from Eliha breaking a chair over his back, Marcus would probably need to spend the next week recovering in bed. But he didn’t have time for that now. He had to find Zyll and tell him about Prost’s plans.
He reached the great fountain. The Seafarer was not far now, just on the other side of the town square. He was about to move on when the door to the tavern opened. A bright column of gold light spilled from the doorway, and the figure of a girl emerged. Marcus raised his hand to wave at Lael but stopped when he saw the fear on her face.
The Last Enchanter Page 12
