Steffan watched the people around him. Their faces reflected a range of emotions, from pure cruelty to the righteous anger of true believers. Death and religion held the people of Coronth in thrall.
All too soon, the dance with death came to a close, the greasy lump succumbing to the flames.
The Pontifax raised his arms. In a voice dripping with compassion, he said, “Our dear brother died a sinner. But in the purity of the Flames, he won forgiveness for his soul. Let us rejoice in the love of the Flame God!”
The people unleashed a volley of wild cheers. A carnival-like atmosphere swept through the square. The Pontifax waited for silence to return. An expectant hush settled over the people. The high priest raised his arms in benediction. “The people of Erdhe worship many false gods, but we of Coronth know there is only one true god. Only the Flame God proves his love for the faithful by granting miracles to his high priest. Watch and see the miracles of the Flame God!” Accepting a smoking brazier of incense, the Pontifax intoned a blessing, waving the brazier over the people. The crowd stilled, sensing a change in the ritual.
Clouds of blue incense surrounded the Pontifax in a nimbus of holy smoke. Holding the brazier before him, he descended the dais and walked among the people. Like a pebble dropped in a still pond the crowd knelt in ripples. The high priest walked through a sea of bowed heads as if searching for someone. He eventually came to rest in front of a mother holding a golden haired girl of three. Blessing the child with incense, he lifted the girl into his arms and carried her back to the dais.
The Pontifax stood on the dais, the patriarch of a religion, holding golden-haired child in his arms. “The Flame God shows his love for all those who believe. I have looked into this little girl’s heart and found a love that is pure.” He held the child aloft. “As a sign of the Flame God’s love, this child will join with her Pontifax in the Test of Faith!”
A wave of shock ripped through the crowd. Men gasped in surprise and women stifled tears. Some pleaded for the child to be spared, others muttered prayers. No one believed the child would survive the Flames.
The Pontifax held the child while an acolyte knelt to remove his sandals. Descending the dais, he stood before the roaring flames.
A woman screamed, “Spare the child!”
Mutterings of protest swept through the crowd, but the Pontifax ignored them. Grasping the ruby amulet in his right hand while holding the child with his left, he walked into the flaming pit.
The crowd held its breath.
A single heartbeat pulsed through the crowd. Flames snapped and crackled around the Pontifax and the child, a roaring furnace of heat. Minutes stretched to an eternity. As if bewitched, the crowd stood spellbound, watching the flames, waiting to learn the judgment of the god.
Steffan watched with them, hoping the magic would hold.
Time crawled, the fate of a religion held in the balance.
The Pontifax emerged from the flames, whole and unharmed. Laughing in his arms, the golden-haired child reached back toward the fire as if seeking a loved one. The child’s gesture broke the spell.
A woman’s voice cried, “It’s a miracle!”
Religious ecstasy swept through the crowd. Some fell to the ground in prostration while others chanted prayers to the Flame God. A few wept while many danced with giddy abandonment. Near the raised dais, hands reached out to touch the Pontifax. Everyone wanted to be a part of the miracle. The crowd had transformed into a frenzy of religious zealots.
Remounting the dais, the Pontifax held the child aloft. He blessed the crowd, waiting for the celebration to settle. Silence eventually returned but there was no quiet. Emotions were too raw for quiet. When the tension reached a fever pitch, the Pontifax said in a booming voice, “My people! You have witnessed the love of the Flame God! The child in the Flames is a sign that our god loves all true believers! As a token of this miracle, I have placed a special blessing on armbands bearing the symbol of the Flame. Come forward and proclaim your love of the Flame God. Wear the armband as a witness to his miracle!”
With a final blessing, the Pontifax unleashed the mob. The crowd surged forward, reaching for the armbands. Priests stationed near the fire pit handed the blessed tokens to the faithful. Small whirlpools of believers formed around each priest as the people scrambled for armbands.
Steffan turned away from the spectacle, well pleased by the performance. In a few days he’d return to the city streets to see if the armbands had the desired effect. He hoped the holy token would prolong the ritual’s ecstasy. They’d also serve to distinguish believers from infidels.
Making his way into a side street, Steffan thought about the ritual. The Pontifax had worked the crowd beautifully. With one ritual, he’d turned many skeptics into believers and many believers into fanatics. Soon it would be time to unleash all of this religious zeal, to gain another victory for the Dark Lord.
46
Danly
Danly’s anger boiled over. He was to be their future king yet the Red Horns told him next to nothing. Tired of waiting, Danly decided to take matters into his own hands. He slunk to the commoner’s garden and chalked a red horn on the rear wall. The day crawled by. Danly eavesdropped on conversations and peered into the eyes of those who served him but there was never any reply. Enraged, Danly sought the solace of brandy. He considered approaching the counselor directly, but even half drunk he knew such an idea was sheer folly. He could only sit and wait. But a prince of Lanverness should never have to wait. Despite his frustration, his eyes grew tired; the brandy having the desired effect. He decided to turn in for the night.
He found the scroll waiting for him on his bedside table. Tearing open the wax seal, he checked the bottom right hand corner. He was not disappointed. The scroll was an invitation to an exclusive dicing party at the manor house of Lord Tweed. The party was to be held tomorrow evening. A short note scrawled in red ink advised the prince to take the landau carriage given the inclement winter weather. He usually rode his stallion but the carriage would be fine. After re-reading the scroll, he consigned the evidence to the flames.
The next afternoon, he made arrangements to attend the party. The royal landau carriage would be waiting at first dark. His two guards, Hobs and Harland, would follow on horseback. At the appointed hour, Danly tucked a generous purse of golds into his belt pouch and swirled his favorite emerald green cape around his shoulders before heading to the west gate of the castle. A footman held the door as he stepped into the privacy of the covered carriage. From the dark interior, a familiar voice said, “You asked to see me, my prince?”
Startled, the prince stared at the figure sitting in the shadows.
“Have a seat, my prince.”
Danly took a seat on the opposite bench as the carriage lurched into motion. The leader of the Red Horns was dressed from head to toe in nondescript black. A simple black mask partially obscured the councilor’s face. The presence of the mask surprised the prince given that he already knew the man’s identity.
As if reading Danly’s mind, the counselor touched the mask. “When you play against the Spider Queen, all precautions are required. I wear the mask in case an overzealous footman should happen to peer into the carriage.”
Nodding, Danly said, “I’m surprised to see you here, I thought we’d meet in at the party.”
“The closed carriage is a much more elegant solution. The queen’s shadowmen are following the coach even as we speak. They have no idea that our meeting will be held before their very eyes.”
“What about the party?”
“A sleight of hand.” The counselor flashed a devilish grin. “Lord Tweed’s manor is far out in the countryside so we’ll have plenty of time to talk. When we reach the manor, I’ll remain in the coach while you attend the party. When the queen’s shadowmen transfer their attention from the coach to you, I will transfer myself to a different carriage and enjoy a leisurely return to the city” Lowering his voice, the counselor said, “To the eyes o
f the queen’s shadowmen, I will never have been to the party and this meeting could never have taken place. I tell you this so that you appreciate the elaborate efforts the Red Horns take to ensure the security of our cause. Premature detection would be the death of us all. I mean to keep my head and to seize the crown.” The councilor’s voice dropped to a deadly hiss. “Never ask for a meeting with me…unless it is of the utmost importance.”
Menace hung in the air.
Danly stared at the man, trapped between rage and fear. A bead of sweat formed on his brow.
The black-cloaked leader leaned back in his seat, his voice changing like quicksilver. “So, my prince, why did you ask to speak to me?”
Released from fear, Danly was swamped by anger. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the counselor. The man should pay for threatening his future king.
“Come, my prince, we have limited time and important matters to discuss.” The man’s voice was suddenly congenial.
The prince flung his words at the counselor. “Days pass and I see no evidence of change. Words whispered in secret will not win the throne. I need to know the Red Horns will take action and that the throne will soon be mine.”
“For the safety of us all, we must work in the shadows until the time is right. The fact that you have not noticed our work merely means our precautions have been successful, but rest assured, the work does go on. Each day brings you one step closer to the Rose Throne.”
The carriage swayed with a rocking motion, leather creaking against wood, marking the leagues. Danly stared at the Red Horn, nursing his anger.
The councilor leaned forward, his voice smooth and conciliatory. “Perhaps you would be more patient if you had a better understanding of our plans. The Red Horns are mounting a two-pronged attack on the queen. The first prong involves the army. Key army officers are being seduced to your cause. We do not yet have the numbers, but our ranks grow on a daily basis. The queen unknowingly aids our efforts by favoring the constable force. Many officers are disillusioned with her lack of leadership. Others chaff under the rule of a woman, yearning for a king. For the rest, there is always gold. All men have their price; it is simply a matter of finding it.” Pausing, the councilor added, “The second prong of the plan is designed to discredit the queen in the eyes of her subjects. Only a handful of people are involved in this plot and secrecy is paramount.” Spreading his hands wide in a gesture of openness, the leader said, “I hope this gives you some reassurance. Members of the Red Horns risk their lives on a daily basis to place the crown upon your head.”
“But when will you strike? When will the crown be mine?”
The leader mused, “The queen is distracted by the rumblings of the Flame God. If the situation in Coronth boils over, the added chaos will present the perfect time to spring our trap. In any case, I will arrange to meet with you when the time is right. You must be prepared to take your rightful place on the Rose Throne. The people of Lanverness will need to see that they have a lawful king as a ruler instead of a corrupt queen.”
Danly drank in his words, dreaming of the glorious day when he would ascend to the Rose Throne. Imagining it in his mind, he suddenly remembered an important detail. “And what fate awaits my royal mother and her first born son?”
“That will depend on the will of the king.”
It was the answer Danly most wanted to hear. A satisfied smile spread across his face.
The clopping of the horses’ hooves became muted as the carriage left the city’s cobblestone streets for the dirt lanes of the country. The queen’s councilor leaned forward, “Time grows short, yet there is one other thing that we need to discuss. The queen’s shadowmen are becoming annoying. Like hounds they cast for the scent, but at times they circle too near the true plot.” Pausing, he added, “When the huntsman’s hounds are baying, sometimes it is best to give them a fox. The queen’s men are looking for a traitor, so we shall give them one.”
Intrigued, the prince asked, “Whose head will you sacrifice?”
“You may not know this, my prince, but Lord Bradshaw once competed against your father for the hand of the queen. When the king had his untimely hunting accident, whispers blamed Lord Bradshaw, claiming he’d arranged the king’s death so that the queen would be free to marry another. It was never proven, but it would not take much to rekindle the fires of suspicion. When the queen’s shadowmen catch the scent of a traitor, the trail will lead to Lord Bradshaw while the Red Horns are free to finish their work.”
Danly could not imagine the queen ever accepting the courtship of the gray-haired, pot-bellied lord. The thought sickened him. It was yet more proof of how depraved and unnatural his royal mother was. “How will you do it?”
“By dropping hints and clues that the Lord Bradshaw intends to take by force what he could not take by marriage. It will be a pleasure to watch the queen’s shadowmen chase themselves into circles.”
The prince liked the imagery but he doubted that the queen’s shadowmen would be fooled for long. “But surely you don’t expect the ruse to work for long.”
“The plot is all smoke and mirrors, but it will gain us time.”
“Plots within plots.” Danly smiled, knowing it was precisely the type of convoluted game required to defeat the Spider Queen.
Before more could be said, the carriage pulled to an abrupt stop. Easing back into the far corner, the councilor whispered, “Remember, the queen’s shadowmen are watching. Stay late at the party and enjoy yourself. The shadowmen must be convinced you are here solely for entertainment.” Pausing he added, “In the meantime, be patient my prince, you will see the Red Horns act soon enough.”
As the footman opened the door, the prince stood to block the doorway. Exiting the carriage, Danly smiled, the trip to the country had been most worthwhile. He was looking forward to watching the queen’s shadowmen chase false clues. In the meantime, he planned to enjoy himself. It was the least he could do to further his claim to the Rose Throne.
47
Katherine
The world turned white and muted under the falling snow. More than an inch of fresh powder covered the road. Kath huddled beneath her cloak as she held her horse to a trot. How ironic that the snow waited this late to fall. If winter had started just a few weeks earlier then the knights would have had no trouble tracking the captain and she would have been spared the trials of her abduction. Then again, if the knights had rescued her, she’d never have found the crystal dagger or met the cat-eyed archer. Kath shook her head. Nothing was ever straightforward or easy, especially when the gods were involved.
She brushed the falling snow from her cloak; thankful the last week of travel had been uneventful. After leaving the wilds of Wyeth, they’d stopped at the first good inn where Kath finally had a chance to take a hot bath. Clean and warm, she took her dinner in her room and spent the night composing a long dispatch to her father while Sir Blaine stood guard outside the door. She warned the king that the Mordant had found a way to slip small bands of men through the defenses of the Octagon. She concluded the dispatch with a brief description of her escape and of the role of the cat-eyed archer. Kath asked her father to welcome the cat-eyed people to Castlegard, noting that their bows might be of value in the fight against the Mordant.
She also wrote a short note to Castlegard’s master healer, explaining that the goblin-man was able to ‘sniff stone’ and ‘track figurines from Castlegard’. She asked if the healer knew of any defenses against this type of attack, requesting that he write to her in Pellanor.
On a final sheet of parchment she wrote a long letter to her friends of the forge. In simple words she explained about her kidnapping and how their gift of the dagger hidden in her boot had been the key to her freedom. As a small token of thanks, she sent them the purse of golds she’d taken from her captors to be shared among the masters and apprentices. Gold did not come close to repaying them for their gift, but she wanted them to know how much she valued the dagger. As she finished the lette
r she smiled, imagining how surprised her friends would be to learn that ‘the Imp’ had actually killed an ogre. She longed to laugh with them and tell them about her adventures, but in her heart she knew that a difficult road lay ahead and that it would be a long time before her path took her back to Castlegard.
She sealed all three dispatches with her signet ring. The heavy gold ring bore the image of a hunting hawk, the symbol of house Anvril. There’d never been any need for her to wear the ring before, so she hadn’t. How quickly everything had changed. Her father had sent her to Pellanor to turn her into a princess, but it was the journey not the destination that had changed her.
She stared at the ring’s deeply etched image of a hawk attacking with talons extended. Since hearing her fortune told she’d felt like a hawk loosed from the hand of a god, but the question remained, who was her prey? Perhaps she was meant to circle on the wind till the prey broke from cover, waiting to strike for the kill. She slept that night with the ring on her finger, dreaming of hawks and gargoyles, but if there was any message in her dream she could not decipher it.
The next morning she discovered she was not the only one writing dispatches to the king. Captain Tellor had written his own missive about the events of the past fortnight. Kath wondered how the taciturn captain had described the abduction and escape, but the captain was closed-mouthed and kept his own council. Kath just hoped her father would listen to her advice despite the fact that it came from a daughter instead of one of his many sons.
After breakfast, the dispatches, the letters, and the purse of golds were placed in a special saddlebag marked with the seal of the Octagon. Sir Kirk and the junior squire, Todd, took the dispatches north, making haste for Castlegard.
Kath and the rest of the knights followed the road west to Lanverness. With each passing league, the isolated inns gave way to small villages and towns of ever increasing frequency and size. Prosperity covered Lanverness like a warm cloak, from the smiles on the faces of the people, to the stylish cut of their clothes, to the well-kept houses and towns. Markets overflowed with an abundance of goods and the people seemed cheerful and content. From snippets of conversations, Kath learned that the common people held their queen in high regard. Evidence of the prosperity deepened with every league of travel. Kath began to understand why her father had sent her to Pellanor. Queen Liandra was clearly a capable ruler with uncommon abilities for a woman.
The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1) Page 31
