The Magehound cakt-1

by Элейн Каннингем

  It seemed odd that the queen's guard should be concerned about protecting the king rather than tending his own charge. But Matteo nodded politely and waited until the third and final door swung open, this time on hinges of solid iron. He stepped inside, aware that the man was hastily barring the heavy door behind him.

  The scene before him was like nothing he had ever seen or imagined. Long tables lined the room in precise rows. Here and there stood movable walls covered with large sheets of parchment. Upon them were written incomprehensible patterns of lines and runes. At second glance, Matteo recognized them as sketches for some new sort of clockwork device.

  These were everywhere. A climbing vine, too vividly green to be a living thing, was studded with purple flowers that budded and bloomed and closed, over and over again. Several tiny birds darted among them, «feeding» upon the blossoms. The soft whir of their wings was faintly metallic, incredibly, these were not true hummingbirds but flying toys. A metallic tiger, its markings a lifelike pattern rendered in gold and onyx, prowled about the queen's throne, keeping guard over its mistress.

  Queen Beatrix was not at her throne. She stood quietly to one side, studying one of the drawings. So still was she that for a moment, Matteo mistook her for one of her own clockwork devices. When she turned and regarded him with cold brown eyes, he wasn't entirely certain that he had been wrong.

  Once she might have been a beautiful woman. Her form was small and slim, and her still features were finely molded and without blemish. But her face was utterly white, painted to resemble fine porcelain. Her mouth was a prim crimson curve and her eyes deeply framed with skillfully applied kohl. She wore a wig of mingled white and silver, elaborately curled and studded with pearls and electrum netting. Her white gown was stiff, formal, and encrusted with silver embroidery. The effect was beautiful, but cold and not quite human. Matteo wouldn't have sworn whether she was woman, goddess, machine, or some combination of all three.

  "You may come forward," she said in a flat but unmistakably human voice.

  Matteo dipped into a bow and gave his name and that of his patron. "Lord Procopio sends his respects."

  "And has the wit not to deliver them himself," Beatrix said, without inflection of anger or humor. She turned away and gestured toward the drawing. "So, jordain. If you would be my counselor, come and tell me what you see."

  He came over and studied the complex pattern of sweeping lines and curves. "In form, it looks a bit like an elephant, Your Majesty."

  "Will it move? Walk? Attack?"

  "I am no artificer, but I think not." He pointed to a series of connected gears. "These do not seem of sufficient size to provide much power."

  'The gears provide a small amount of motive force, which is greatly enlarged by the life-force planted within," Beatrix said. "A true elephant is a rare thing and difficult to bring over the Muaraghal Wall," she said, naming the mountain range that divided Halruaa from the lands to the east. "We have tried and failed thrice."

  Matteo tried not to show the horror this news evoked. Elephants were rare and wondrous creatures. Though they didn't have speech or work magic, some sages thought them to be at least as intelligent as dolphins. "You will place the life-force of an elephant within this device?"

  "No. A donkey perhaps, or a Durparian merchant," the queen said in the same even, emotionless tone. "They are much the same."

  From another person's lips, this might have been a dark jest. Matteo realized that Beatrix was speaking simple truth as she saw it

  "Who builds these?" he asked, with a sweep of his hand that indicated the entire collection of strange contraptions.

  "I send for artisans and wizards as I require their services. There are none here now," she added unnecessarily.

  The queen didn't seem bothered by her isolation, but it seemed unnatural to Matteo. "There is music and feasting in the halls of the king," he said. "Will you allow me to escort you there?"

  She considered this and placed a small white hand at her waist. "I should eat," she said, as if calculating how long it had been since she had bothered to think of such things.

  He nodded and walked over to tap at the massive door. The guard let them out, and together they walked down the long corridor. Each of the clockwork dragons bowed as the queen walked past, dipping its metal head until its rusty horns rasped against the floor.

  Their appearance in Zalathorm's hall created quite a stir. For a moment conversation stilled altogether, which in mannered Halruaa was as obvious as a smokepowder blast might be in any other court. The king quickly excused himself from his courtiers and came forward, his hands outstretched and his ageless eyes alight with youth and hope.

  "Beatrix, my dear, this is a most unexpected pleasure."

  The queen responded with a single remote nod, but she put her hands into his. Matteo fell back as they spoke for a few moments, Beatrix answering in cool, measured phrases.

  After a few moments she excused herself and lifted a hand to summon one of the servants who carried trays of goblets and fruit around the room. The king sighed and turned to Matteo.

  "Walk with me," he said abruptly.

  The young man fell into step. They left the main council hall and entered an antechamber, which in turn led to a hanging garden. The king didn't stop or speak until they reached the rail and the city was spread out before them, twinkling with magical lights.

  "The queen was not always like this, you know," Zalathorm said abruptly, his eyes fixed on the city below. "When she came to the city fifteen years ago, she was a marvel. So beautiful, and so full of light!"

  Matteo nodded. Over the long years, Zalathorm had had several queens. Beatrix was the latest. She had been much admired in the early years of her reign for her intelligence and courage. The daughter of reclusive wizards who lived in a remote mountain village, she was the sole survivor of an attack by Crinti raiders. She didn't speak of her early years beyond that fact, but she had been tested and shown to be a generalist mage of middling ability. But as the years passed, she took more interest in clockwork than in magic and seemed to prefer the company of mechanical creatures to that of her human subjects.

  Worse yet, she had not provided Zalathorm with an heir. There were many in Halruaa who thought it past time for the king to put Beatrix aside and find a more suitable queen. Though it seemed likely that the king would outlive most of his subjects, the issue of succession was of no small importance. If Zalathorm didn't have an heir, ambitious wizards would vie for his throne. Halruaans knew their history and remembered the devastation that such a contest could cause.

  "You persuaded Beatrix to come tonight," the king said. "For this I am grateful."

  "It was no great matter. She is no clockwork device, and she needs food and music and company as much as any other."

  Zalathorm's smile was tight and wry. "A fact that she seldom remembers. It has been some time since the queen appeared in court. You have done well. I am delighted to see that she will be well cared for."

  Matteo nodded, hearing his fate in the king's words. He wasn't happy about it, but he saw no way to evade what was apparently his fate and his duty. Still, there was something he had to know.

  "What happened?"

  The king didn't need to ask what he meant. "Magic," he said shortly. "It is a great boon, the noblest of arts. But its effects can be as deadly to the spellcaster as the most potent poison. No one knows what spells Beatrix cast against the Crinti, or how she survived the raid. She doesn't recall anything about it, moreover, she has lost memory of all that happened to her before she came to Halarahh. No diviner could learn the queen's story. It took the most powerful of inquisitors to pull even this much memory from her. But something shattered within Beatrix, something that no magic can repair. In fact, she turns away from magic more and more with each day that passes."

  Zalathorm passed one hand across his face as if to erase the pain written there. "And Halruaa being what it is, that means she shuns the land and all who live within
it. Where she has gone, no one may truly follow. I will speak plainly to you and admit what many of my subjects whisper. The queen, the woman whom you must serve, is no longer sane."

  Matteo listened with great sympathy, chilled by the king's obvious grief and by the enormity of damage that magic had wrought. He knew the queen's scant history, as did most of Halruaa, but for the first time, it occurred to him that perhaps more could be learned. If he was to serve Beatrix, he would need to know all he could.

  "The inquisitor who learned of the queen's past… do you recall his name?"

  "It was a woman," the king said without much interest.

  "Or more strictly speaking, an elf woman. No, I do not recall her name."

  A chill swept through Matteo like the passing of a vengeful ghost. There was only one elf in all Halruaa who had risen to the rank of inquisitrix: Kiva the magehound.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zephyr stood at the rail of his patron's skyship, watching the small dark cloud that brooded over Lake Halruaa. The wind whipped the sparse white strands of his hair about his shoulders and sent a cruel chill through his bones. But he dared not go belowdecks until he was certain of his course. The gales that came off the lake were strong and dangerous. He wouldn't take any more risks with the skyship than he needed to.

  The elf had leave to take the Starsnake up whenever he chose, and the crew were instructed to follow his bidding and speak nothing of what they heard and whom they saw. It was among Zephyr's tasks to gather information, and few Halruaans would not eagerly accept an invitation to fly on one of the wondrous ships. Once away from port, the visitors were quite literally captive audiences until whatever time Zephyr chose to put down. Over the years, he had coaxed amazing secrets from people who were too thrilled or unnerved by sky travel to guard their words. It was a fine arrangement, and one of the few occasions in which Zephyr felt truly in control.

  Today, however, the elf had few illusions about who commanded whom. He had taken to the skies at Kiva's call.

  It occurred to him that the beautiful magehound had come a very long way from the bedraggled, terrified girl-child that Akhlaur's men had dragged from the trees of the Mhair. She had been nearly insensible with shock and grief, for she had escaped the first attack upon their village only to witness the slaughter of her people. Like Zephyr, she had survived years of torture and degradation at the hands of the wizard Akhlaur. But unlike him, she had escaped Halruaa and made a life for herself. Many years later, she had returned to learn the famed magic of the land, determined to use it to right this terrible wrong. For what she had endured and all she had accomplished, Zephyr admired her.

  Recently, however, he had also begun to fear her. He wished he could explain why this was so. Wasn't her life's quest, grim though it was, the same as his own? Didn't she bear the same grief and guilt over the creature that haunted Akhlaur's swamp? Hadn't they both sworn not to rest until the laraken was destroyed?

  The old elf squinted at the sky, cursing his fading vision as he tried to divine the nature of the small dark cloud. Yes, it was almost certainly the awaited signal. There was no lack of clouds over the lake, but most of them sailed briskly on the winds. This one sat and brooded, looking as if it wished for fingers so that it could drum them impatiently. More importantly, it lay just beyond the reach of the city's magical wards, powerful spells that informed the city guards whenever a wizard of power approached the city. Kiva would know of these wards and keep just beyond them.

  Zephyr gave the order to the helmsman to change course and sail through the dark cloud. He went below to await his visitor.

  He felt her presence in the sudden cool mist of the cloud that enveloped the ship. He watched as the fine droplets condensed into a solid female form, a wild elf with jade-green curls and skin of deep burnished gold, an unusually pale hue for a forest elf from this clime.

  "Greetings, Kiva. You look chilled." The magehound glared at him, then strode across the cabin and picked up a decanter of haerlu wine from the captain's table. She poured a small measure of the pale golden liquid into a goblet and then tossed it back with a single swallow. She grimaced at the fiery taste, but Zephyr noticed that some of the coppery color crept back into the golden pallor of her face. Apparently there was cold comfort to be found in the arms of a storm cloud.

  She turned to the old elf. "Do you have the girl or not?"

  "I will have her," Zephyr said stoutly. "She has been most bold of late. We have spotted her several times over the last few days. So far no one has been able to lay hands on her, but it is only a matter of time."

  "Has Matteo been of help?"

  The elf grimaced. "Not as much as I had hoped. The lad has changed service. I haven't seen him since he went to the court of Queen Beatrix."

  Kiva turned sharply to stare at him. "You cannot be serious. Whose doing was this?"

  "Procopio let him go, but at Cassia's urging."

  The elf woman nodded grimly. "I should have surmised. Cassia has long been suspicious of the queen. I hadn't suspected, however, that she knew so much."

  "Most likely she doesn't realize the full implications of her action. Matteo can be impulsive, and Cassia claims that she hopes to see him bring trouble or at least embarrassment to Beatrix's door. Perhaps that accounts for Cassia's first impulse, but I suspect she has other, more complex desires."

  "Such as?"

  Zephyr told her the story of Matteo's battle with the necromancer. "He killed Azgool Njammian, in combat, which, although impressive, fixes wary eyes upon him. All jordaini are taught to fight, but few of us actually kill. Matteo will be regarded as warily as a half-feral hunting hound. What is even more significant is that Azgool located Matteo through a spell of seeking. A difficult task, for as you know, few jordaini can be observed magically. If Matteo is one of these few, then Cassia might well have gained a window into the queen's chambers."

  "Cassia, that most honored of jordaini, using forbidden magic to observe a rival?" Kiva said with ironic surprise.

  The elf shrugged. "There is little that Cassia would not do. But don't credit her with too much knowledge of Beatrix. I think her primary goal is to supplant the queen in Zalathorm's affections."

  "More fool she. Cassia will never be queen. Jordaini cannot marry."

  "As she well knows. But Cassia already has the king's ear, perhaps she aspires to his heart as well. At present, Beatrix still holds Zalathorm's affections, but with each day that passes, the clamor for him to take a new queen and get himself an heir grows louder. I suspect that Cassia would be pleased to see Zalathorm put aside Beatrix and take a new queen. He is likely to resent whatever woman supplants Beatrix, and that would place Cassia foremost in his regard."

  Kiva sniffed. "Cassia might be a fool, but she is an ambitious fool. We will have to watch her closely."

  The elf inclined his head. "As you say. How do the plans for battle progress?"

  "Very well," she said with great pleasure. "The first great test lies ahead. If we do battle successfully in Kilmaruu Swamp, we will bring tested weapons and methods into the Swamp of Akhlaur. I am confident that before the summer rains come, the source of the laraken's power will be no more."

  "This is not what we agreed!" Zephyr protested. "The laraken must be destroyed outright!"

  "Of course," Kiva assured him in soothing tones. "The creature is tethered to the swamp by the spill of magic from the Elemental Plane of Water. Once that gate is closed, the laraken will be desperate to feed elsewhere. We will lure it away and see that it is appropriately dealt with."

  "You swear it?" the elf persisted.

  The magehound's face became deadly still. "By the graves of our people, by the trees of the Mhair, by the injustices visited upon us both, I swear that this evil will be set right."

  Zephyr nodded, satisfied by the solemnity of her oath. "I regret that I have not yet been able to deliver the girl Tzigone to you, but I must admit that I am not sorry to see young Matteo move clear of the matter. The l
ad might become something rather special, given a chance."

  "More likely one of Beatrix's machines will grind him up to oil its gears," she commented. "What a ridiculous risk to take! Warriors like Matteo should die in battle, not in some insane workshop."

  "You are one to talk of risk. Do you still intend to enter the Swamp of Akhlaur, knowing that the laraken could strip the magic from you?"

  "I'm working on that. There is no need to concern yourself."

  The elf shook his head. "There is need. There is a bond between us. We share a history, a homeland. We have both known great loss, and our secrets are mirror images." He fell silent for a long moment, then added in a softer tone, "We share blood."

  "Blood? Ichor, more likely!" she spat out. She took a moment to compose herself and then continued in more modulated tones. "We will be avenged, Zephyr. Never doubt that."

  For a long moment the gaze of the two elves locked, bound by shared memories of long-ago wrongs. Kiva shared the passion for vengeance that shone in the old elf's eyes, but she also harbored ambitions that went far beyond retribution. The laraken would be destroyed sooner or later-the wizards of Halruaa were too resourceful to let its rampage continue forever-but for many moons to come, the evil that the wizard Akhlaur had created would be visited upon his descendants. That was right and fitting. But Kiva wanted more. She wanted the dark power that Akhlaur had amassed at such unspeakable cost.

  And then, once she was strong enough, she would have Akhlaur himself.

  "You said that Matteo was well out of this matter," she said, schooling her voice into a mild tone. "Does the girl Tzigone seem to share this opinion? Has she finished with him?"

  "They have not been seen together for several days. I've had him watched, so I'm quite sure of this."

  "Perhaps she considers her debt paid," Kiva mused. "But we cannot be too certain. She might present herself on the doorstep of Beatrix's palace at any time, and that we must avoid. We need the girl and cannot risk letting the Cabal get hold of her. Not that there is much risk of that. For all anyone knows, they did away with the child years ago."