by Rob Preece
Ellie shook her head. “I'm not that much of a partier. I'll camp with the army. Let me know when you're going to announce the parliament, though."
"Not tomorrow, but the next night. I'm having a banquet. It'll be a big occasion.” He flashed her his smile. “Sullivan is paying for it so make sure you drink plenty of his wine. But check for poison first."
He pocketed the remaining bag of gold and marched out of the cathedral surrounded by his growing entourage of barons and bodyguards.
They watched him leave. Mark jingled his own sack of coins. “You think he'll keep his promise?"
"He understands that he'll have a firmer grip on the crown if he's got a counterweight to the nobility,” Ellie said.
Mark stared at the gold. “Maybe. But does he need the peasants? I think the army is plenty weighty."
"He'll need the army to take on Harrison. They won't always be handy to keep the local nobles under control."
"I guess you're right.” Mark paused, then glanced around the empty church. “Hey, I guess I'm rich. Can I buy you a drink?"
"Maybe we should get back to the camp. We need to plan what we're going to do against Harrison. Besides, I suspect that drink prices just went through the roof around here."
"Good idea.” Except Mark didn't look like he thought it was a good idea. He looked disappointed.
Well, Mark could get something to drink around the camp. In a world where clean water was in short supply, beer and wine were an ever-present part of the local diet. Although Lawgrave had taught her a pattern to sterilize her water, few could afford to waste magic on drinking water.
Thinking of Lawgrave reminded her of the lack of magic at the coronation, though. And that troubled her. “You haven't seen Lawgrave around, have you?"
"He was supposed to be back in Moray somewhere."
"I think I'll look him up before I head for camp."
* * * *
Finding Lawgrave wasn't easy.
Ellie started at the bishop's residence where she'd first met the dour priest.
The priest who opened the door for her disclaimed any knowledge of Lawgrave's whereabouts, or even of Lawgrave's existence. He'd only been on the job for a couple of months, he explained.
The bishop was unavailable, recovering from the stresses of the coronation, the priest informed her. He shrugged off her announcement that she was the returned princess. The bishop was still unavailable.
Moray didn't have a public library the way Los Angeles does, but Ellie asked around.
Residents of Moray were happy to give her their opinions of the coronation (favorable), the future of Sergius's army in the face of Harrison (favorable) and the Rissel (bleak), and of the way the city had been decorated for the King's arrival (they thought it had been a waste of their time and were angry the bishop had reneged on his promise to pay the people he'd made scrub down the city walls and streets).
When it came to answering questions about where a mage-priest might be stashed, they were a bit less forthcoming—to the point where Ellie wished she'd gone ahead and taken the King's money. She could have used the gold to bribe her way around.
Still, persistence and threats have a way of getting questions answered. And the library wasn't exactly a secret.
What it was was a crumbling half-timber structure that covered most of a city block. Occult symbols of turquoise on white stucco formed a frieze near the roofline and a complex series of knots surrounded each of the small high windows. It was well away from the cathedral, far distant from the royal palace, but close to the river that ran through the middle of the city and that, unfortunately, also served as its sewer.
Once, when the city had been far smaller, the library might have been central, accessible, even in a position of importance. The neighborhood had deteriorated around it, though, until it was little better than a slum.
A small interior courtyard led to a single massive doorway. There was a guard station, but it was unoccupied. When Ellie looked more closely, she saw a thick coating of dust on the seat where a guard would sit.
In pre-industrial societies, books tend to be rare, expensive, and valuable. The lack of protection had to mean that this wasn't the library after all, or possibly that there was some other guard set to stop any thieves.
She loosened her katana and grasped the heavy stone doorknob.
It bristled with energy and resisted her twist.
But she recognized the purple sparks of magic and smiled to herself. In this universe, libraries were for mages. And a mage would rely on magical rather than on human guards to protect her treasures. From the energy draining out of her as she turned the knob, Ellie guessed that the door not only kept out the non-magical, it also used each mage's power to reinforce the protective spells.
It was a pretty neat system.
* * * *
The doorway led directly into a single room with open stacks, comfortable looking leather chairs, and casting tables where mages could practice the spells.
A person used to the wealth of books in a L.A. Public Library branch, or even in the local Barnes and Noble wouldn't be impressed by the number of volumes held by the largest library in the Lubica nation.
Perhaps one hundred books were placed on the shelves. Each one faced out, its leather or wood cover embossed with gold and hand-lettered with the book's title.
A few of the titles made sense to Ellie. Basic Spell Patterns sounded useful but obvious. Others didn't make much sense at all. Fungal Macrobiology of Red Gemstones and Their Limitations sounded like something only a Ph.D. candidate could love.
Three men, all wearing the brown cassocks of the local priesthood, looked up when she walked in. None of them was Lawgrave. Every one of them frowned.
"The library is barred to women,” one said. He was a tall slender man whose pale blue eyes gleamed with power and malice.
"The library is barred to the secular,” the second told her. He was a fat man who looked like he should be the happy joking type. But he wasn't happy or joking now.
"What the hell do you want?” demanded the third. Despite his robes, he didn't look like a priest at all. He was built like a bodybuilder and his head seemed planted directly into his shoulders.
Ellie dumped her gemstones on one of the tables. “I am a mage and have every right to be here. The library was built by mages, not by the church."
At least she thought so. Some of the symbols built into the brick and timber structure were very similar to the Celtic-style knots that formed the protective boundary to the pattern that had brought her to this universe. And those, according to Lawgrave, had come from earlier faiths than the one that currently dominated.
"Is that right?” The second priest wasn't asking her. He turned his attention to the third, rudest, priest.
Father Muscles shrugged. “Ancient history. We're in control now. And the presence of women still distracts us from our meditations."
"Proper attitude should take care of that problem,” Ellie said. “Concentrate on your breathing and free your mind of distractions."
"We aren't interested in your pagan notions of prayer,” the big priest told her. He took another step toward her as if he intended to throw her out physically.
It had been a rough couple of months and Ellie had gotten out of practice at taking crap. “I'd hate to spill your blood in this nice library."
"You could try."
The fat priest whispered something to the bodybuilder.
"Really? She's that—oh.” He turned his attention back to her. “Uh, so, what do you want?"
"I'm looking for Father Lawgrave."
The tall thin one giggled. “She's not the only one."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
The thin one avoided her glare and picked up one of the books, pretending to be interested in its intricate cover. “Lawgrave came back to the monastery, then he sort of vanished. Nobody knows where he's gone. The bishop had half the acolytes running around the city looking for him
."
He looked like he was telling the truth and the other priests nodded although Father Muscles gave her an unfriendly glare.
"If you see him, tell him Ellie is looking for him."
"Right."
They moved to the side to let her leave but Ellie figured, since she was here, she might as well do a little research.
They weren't happy about it, but big-muscles didn't say anything and she picked up her jewels and browsed the shelves.
It would have been handy if one of the books had been named something like Magical Aspects of Royal Coronation, but Ellie wasn't counting on it. She didn't find it, either. And there was nothing about crowning in the basic spell pattern books.
In a dark corner, though, she found a history book that looked like it hadn't been opened in a couple hundred years.
She flipped through it and discovered a single reference to the purple glow of magic at some long-dead King's coronation.
So, she and Lawgrave had done it right and the Bishop had done it wrong. She wasn't sure what that meant, or if it mattered at all. After all, how many coronations does any King need?
* * * *
The sun was setting when she left the library.
A city has different faces under daylight and under the light of the moon. With sunset, those who fear to be recognized sneak from their hiding places and try to make their livings. Prostitutes, cutpurses, and muggers ply their trades. All of these, and worse, were crawling from their holes as Ellie found her bearings and headed away from the river.
A wise martial artist avoids overconfidence. Ellie could probably handle anyone she could see, but the streets were narrow and dark. Someone hidden in the rooftops might trap her with a net or simply gut her with a spear or an arrow.
As the last wedge of the sun slipped beneath the chimneyed roofs, Ellie sensed someone watching her.
She drew her katana and continued.
As she passed a tavern, a drunk stumbled out, propelled as if he'd been thrown—or jumped at her.
She sidestepped, then used the flat of the katana to speed him even further.
The steel of her blade clinked against mail armor beneath his rough tunic.
"Help, assassin,” the drunk shouted.
Ellie turned in time to see the two bandits step from nearly hidden alcoves off the street.
"I'm not looking for trouble but I'm in a bad mood,” she told them.
"It's a woman."
"She's got a sword. Gotta be a Nob. Leave her alone. She'll be more trouble than she'd be worth."
The fake drunk looked like he wanted to argue but Ellie ignored him and he dropped off after following her for a minute or so.
So, her senses had gotten all worked up about a few casual thieves? She relaxed and continued on.
She heard nothing when the hand grasped at her back.
She whirled around, her katana singing as it cut through the air.
"Easy, Ellie."
"Lawgrave?"
"I heard you were looking for me.” He motioned her into a tumbledown structure that had lost most of its roof and seemed supported only by the buildings on either side.
"I've been worried about you. And I wanted to talk to you about the coronation."
"A bad business."
"Really? Because the magic wasn't there?"
Lawgrave nodded. “Of course you would see that. The crown is the thinking, calculating part of kingship. The hammer is for building, creating. The flail is sustaining. Lubica needs all three. A King who lives by brain but without heart is a disaster to the nation."
That made more sense than what the bishop had tried to say although Ellie still suspected that there was a farmer/worker connection there somewhere.
"So why not do it right?"
"Sergius's great grandfather was the last king to receive the full magic of the nation. For centuries, the church has held that only it should have the right to control magic, but recently, even church magic has been seen as defective, as a step away from the purity of the faith."
Which could explain why things hadn't gone so well in this succession. “Okay, so we need to finish the job."
Lawgrave shook his head. “I've got to stay out of sight. If the bishop's acolytes find me, I'll be banished to one of the remote monasteries."
She shouldn't be surprised. Lawgrave had disobeyed the Bishop's orders, after all. “Got it. Sergius is set to announce a parliament for the commons. It would be brilliant if we used the occasion to re-invest him with the regalia of kingship. You could stay in hiding until then.” The occasion could let her combine her own insights into the meaning of the symbols with those that Lawgrave believed in.
"Be careful. I haven't fully recovered from my exertions outside of Dinan, but I can see enough to know that there are dangers ahead for you."
She laughed. “I ran into one of those threats tonight. A few drunk highwaymen tried to mug me."
He shook his head angrily. “Not that. There will be more serious dangers, and there will be news that troubles you. Try to remember your purpose in coming to our world."
On that discouraging note, Lawgrave blended into the murk and left Ellie to make her way back to the army's camp.
Chapter 13
Her nightmares descended on her hard that night. She relived her father's murder while she hid, helpless. She endured, again, every fight she'd had, every life she'd taken. The burned and blackened faces of the peasant dead glared at her, blaming her for their deaths and for her failure to deliver on her promises.
Lawgrave's last words haunted her. She'd come to this world to track down the people who had killed her parents, hadn't she? She'd sort of abandoned that goal when she'd learned the reality of killing and murder. Her parents wouldn't want her to kill for them, they'd want her to live for them. And the way she could contribute was to share what was good about America with the people of her birthland.
Anyway, Sergius would be moving against his uncle Harrison soon. And Lawgrave's castings had confirmed that Harrison had sent the killers even if some of them had ended up in Dinan.
The sound of cheering finally pulled her from her uneasy sleep. She rubbed her eyes, wished someone had invented coffee here, and struggled to her feet.
The army was whooping it up, breaking into kegs of ale and wine as she stumbled from her tent.
"What happened?"
Dafed gave her an uneasy look. “Harrison has arrived to treat and to plea for the King's mercy."
"That's not possible."
The sergeant shrugged. “He could see the writing on the wall. It wasn't so much Sullivan and Sergius joining as it was Sergius's victories. The barons think they have the Fell Prince back and they're abandoning Harrison quickly enough that he needed to make his peace before he didn't have enough power to negotiate a deal.
Ellie shook her head. “Harrison threw in with the Rissel. He's everything we're fighting against."
"They're nobles, Ellie. Wake up to reality. They play games with lives and, when it's over, pick up their pieces and go to a party together. Did Sullivan's murdering all those peasants stop Sergius from making peace with him? Of course not."
Dafed had a point, but Ellie needed more closure. “Maybe I can break this up before they come to an agreement."
Dafed shrugged again. “You are a princess, after all.” He didn't make it sound like a compliment.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"How many soldiers, how many peasants do you think will get killed if Sergius marches against Harrison? For you to avenge the murder of two people, you'd kill hundreds, probably thousands of people who've already given everything for you. I guess you are ready to play the game of nobles."
"That isn't fair. It isn't like that."
"Yeah? Tell me how it's different. And then tell that to the parents, the children, and the wives of the soldiers you get killed in your vendetta."
Ellie didn't back down from fights, but she backed away from Dafed. Because h
e was right. Harrison had allied with his nation's enemies, killed her parents and would now be able to pal with the king, and that wasn't right. But nothing she could do would bring back any of the dead. Keeping the war going would only mean more dead.
"What do you think I should do?” She swallowed hard to push back the tears that threatened to spill out. “Lawgrave said I needed to remember why I came here. I came here to avenge my parents."
Dafed crouched beside her. “I think you should do what you're already trying to do. Forget about avenging anyone and concentrate on making things better, on building a world where nobles won't kill peasants simply because they got in the way. ‘Course I'm only a sergeant. I don't know about noble things."
Ellie wasn't sure she knew much about noble things, or the way nobles thought, either. She'd been raised in California, after all, where nobility is conferred by the silver screen and only lasts until the next star comes along.
"If Harrison and Sullivan both pledge fealty to Sergius, does that mean the war is over?” She'd invested herself in the fighting, in raising Sergius to his rightful place. So much so that she didn't have a clue what she'd do outside the army.
"The Rissel won't back off. We've been at war with them for a hundred years or so. Between marriages and conquest, they occupy about a third of the north directly, without any connection to Harrison. They'll just fight for their own King's claim instead of Harrison's."
Ellie nodded. Regardless of Harrison, the war would go on. Still, it wouldn't really be a civil war. When you fight a foreign enemy, you can think of them as someone who's simply following another master. When you fight people at home, words like traitor get tossed around quickly and often.
She tried to look on the bright side of things. “You'll be moving up, Dafed. I wouldn't be surprised if you became captain of a thousand, at least."
He didn't look pleased.
"Everyone is happy with Servius's money but I have a bad feeling,” he said. “There's something going on and I can't figure out what it is."
She had a bad feeling too, but she thought she knew exactly what it was. It stuck in her craw that Sullivan and Harrison were going to get away with murder. And together, they would be able to limit any real power devolving to her Parliament.
