Sword of Waters

by Hilari Bell

  “Well,” said Holis. “Well. I hardly know what to say. Congratulations, my dear. And to you, Your Highness. With both the sword and shield recovered in your reign, your popularity in the countryside will soar! This is an excellent thing!”

  He looked so delighted. And it was all for Edoran, Arisa saw. He really wasn’t thinking about what it signified for him.

  A question she hadn’t even realized she was considering resolved itself. She held out her hands to the prince, and after a moment’s hesitation Edoran passed her the sword.

  “You found it,” he said. “It’s your right to bestow it. It worked out well enough, last time.”

  Arisa smiled at Weasel. She had promised this, the day he had given her mother the shield. Now she could keep her word.

  She turned to Justice Holis and held out the sword. “This is yours, sir. For as long as Deorthas needs your protection.”

  Holis took the blade automatically. “But I… Well… Thank you, my dear. And you, Prince Edoran. I am honored by your trust.”

  Edoran nodded gravely, which Arisa thought probably meant more to Holis than an antique sword. The prince had been given no choice of regent, neither the first time nor the second. His acceptance would matter.

  The guardsmen were staring, openmouthed, eyes wide with wonder. The story would be all over the palace by noon, spread through the city within a day, and probably reach the borders of Deorthas before the week was out.

  Weasel was grinning like a loon. And her mother… Arisa turned abruptly to the Falcon, and was surprised to see an expression rigid with cold fury.

  She gasped. “Mother? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  But even before she spoke, the Falcon’s angry expression dissolved into neutrality. “Nothing’s wrong. This is a great day for Deorthas, and I’m proud of you. I can’t believe you actually found it!”

  She was smiling now, with genuine warmth, and Arisa blinked. Had she imagined that sudden flash of anger? She must have.

  “Which brings up the matter of announcing the good news,” the Falcon went on. “Though before we worry about that, we should go back to the palace and have someone who knows what they’re doing clean off that paint.”

  “What?” said Holis, coming out of an abstracted fog. “Yes, of course. It must certainly be announced. This is the best of good fortune! It will make a difference in the very parts of the realm most affected by the pirates. This might give us the political breathing room we need to bring them down!”

  “So the sooner we make a formal announcement the better.” The Falcon turned her horse toward the palace and set the party into motion. “You’re the historian, Your Highness. Where were the sword and shield kept before they were lost?”

  Edoran looked as if being described as a historian pleased him. Weird kid.

  “In the old great hall,” he said. “Which wasn’t used much, even back then. It’s only used now for very formal events. I think that big throne makes people nervous. The sword and shield used to hang on the wall behind the throne.”

  “Then I think they should be returned to their places,” said the Falcon. “At least for the announcement party. And after, if we can guard them properly.”

  “I don’t think they were stolen in the first place,” Weasel told the Falcon. Why was he frowning? Because the Falcon had kept the shield in her office these last three months, and Holis wouldn’t have the sword in his? That was nothing, compared to reuniting the sword and shield for the first time in centuries! And the Falcon was giving up the shield to do that.

  “Party?” Holis asked. “That hardly seems—”

  “‘Party’ may be the wrong word,” the Falcon admitted. “I was thinking more along the lines of a grand ball, with every shareholder and minor noble in the realm invited to see what your regency has accomplished. If you serve free beer and sweet cakes in a couple of the major squares, you could earn some popularity in the city as well.”

  “Not a lot,” Weasel warned her. “Oh, they’ll drink the beer and eat the cakes, but it takes more than that to change the city’s opinion. You’ll have better luck if you can convince the One God’s priests that this is a sign of His favor.”

  “I don’t like to encourage these ancient superstitions,” Holis told them all. “Besides, the sword and shield were gifted to King Brend by the priests of the old gods. I’d think the One God’s clergy would object…”

  The old gods, whose priests had been driven into hiding by those who claimed they’d sacrificed more people than just one long-ago king.

  For a moment Arisa saw a whole web of connections stretching out from the plain sword, with its ugly peeling paint. Connections that reached beyond Regalis and the Mimms, back and back, between priests and people, between the people and their king, all the way back to Deor’s blood, dripping slowly into the earth.

  “Are you all right, Ris?” The Falcon had fallen back to ride beside her. “You’re white as a ghost.”

  “It’s nothing,” said Arisa, shaking off the sudden chill. “Are you angry that I gave the sword to Justice Holis? Since Weasel gave you the shield, I thought—”

  “I’m not angry,” said the Falcon. “The symbols of power don’t matter when you hold the reality. I’m lord commander of the army and navy of Deorthas—that’s plenty for me. And I’m also the mother of the smart, courageous girl who found the sword of waters. I’m proud of you, love. Remember that.”

  The words warmed Arisa’s heart, but she had been angry, no matter what she said now. Unless her mother was deliberately lying, Arisa usually read her very well. Usually.

  This might be one of those exceptions, for the Falcon had volunteered to give up the shield. Perhaps the anger had swept over her before she’d had a chance to think things through. In any case, Arisa had accomplished an impossible task, and her mother was proud of her. That was what mattered.

  As they rode toward the palace together, she realized that it had finally stopped raining.

  CHAPTER 16

  Astray: the true path lost.

  Mistakes, errors, bad choices.

  In the three days before it could be held, the announcement ball turned into a costume ball.

  “Which is worse than a regular ball,” Arisa grumbled to Weasel and Edoran as they rode their horses down the still-muddy path. “You take a ball gown, which is bad enough anyway, and then add stuff to it.”

  The shepherdess costume had stood on a stand in her room for several days, growing ever more elaborate and uncomfortable. Surely no shepherdess had ever worn anything like it. Or trimmed her hooked staff with those ridiculous ribbons. Didn’t any of these people know that sheep were dirty?

  “You can go masked,” said Weasel. “If it’s a full mask, you could get up to all kinds of things and no one would recognize you.” But even Weasel sounded as if his heart wasn’t in it. Edoran looked almost as gloomy as Arisa felt.

  On the other hand, the discovery of the sword of waters had created so much excitement in the court that the Falcon had loosened her edict enough to allow the three of them to ride together—as long as a groom accompanied them, for propriety’s sake.

  Today’s sacrifice trotted behind them now, far enough back to keep from overhearing, but close enough to keep an eye on them. He looked thoroughly bored, and probably had some real work he was neglecting for this. And his presence wasn’t necessary. The cessation of the rain had brought all the courtiers, who usually regarded exercise as a vulgar form of torture, out into the park to walk or ride. The place crawled with them, and Arisa almost wished for the rain back.

  But the eternal storm had wrung all the water out of the sky—in the last three days, they’d seen only one brief shower.

  Everyone’s mood had brightened with the weather, except for Arisa’s, because she still fretted about Baylee and her family.

  “Just put on whatever your maid hands you,” Edoran advised her. “Then take off any removable parts after the first hour. Unless your servants hate you, it
shouldn’t be too bad.”

  He would know. “My new maid doesn’t hate me.” Since the truth about Katrin’s death had become common knowledge, the plump motherly woman was acting too nice. If she gave Arisa one more gentle pat she’d bite the woman’s hand—that would do wonders for her reputation in the servants’ hall.

  Weasel laughed. “You two look like you’re going to an execution! It’s just a party. A boring party, I grant you, but there are lots of worse things. We could all be locked up in a cell somewhere, or…”

  Arisa thought about Baylee, and shivered.

  She went to see her mother after their ride. She’d been avoiding the Falcon for the last few days. She still had a feeling that her mother was angry about the sword—and if she wasn’t, she might remember to ask Arisa how she and Weasel had known about the Mimms’ arrest. Arisa no longer cared about being punished for breaking her word, which she hadn’t, anyway, but she was less than eager to reveal her escape route. If her days became any more ladylike, she’d have to start running around the city at night to keep her sanity!

  Since her errand wasn’t urgent, she waited outside her mother’s office until the current meeting broke up. Most of the men who emerged were naval officers, in full uniform, with their shiny familiar boots. Had they found the traitors in the navy yet? Were they tracking down the pirates? Arisa hoped so.

  “Hello, Ris,” the Falcon greeted her cheerfully as she came in. “I haven’t seen you for a while. I’m sorry about that, but with one thing and another I’ve been cursed busy!”

  She didn’t sound angry. Had Arisa misread her mother’s expression after all? “That’s all right. But I have to ask… Has anything been decided about the Mimms family?”

  The Falcon’s gaze softened. “You care about them, don’t you?”

  “Not only them,” said Arisa quickly. “I’m curious about all of it. Whether you found any connection between Ethgar and Master Darian, whether you’ve arrested the traitors in the navy, whether… All of it.”

  The Falcon drummed her fingers thoughtfully on her desk. “I can’t tell you everything, but you can stop worrying about your friends. Master Mimms thought he was dealing with smugglers, and that the information he passed on was to help them avoid navy ships until they got their cargoes in. He’s being charged as a smugglers’ accomplice, but he’s given us so much help that he’ll probably get off lightly even for that. The rest of the family won’t be charged at all.”

  “Lady be praised,” Arisa whispered. But even as relief flooded her veins, suspicion pricked. Would Master Mimms have hosted such large meetings for a smuggling ring? Smugglers met in twos and threes, to avoid drawing attention—even Arisa knew that! Master Mimms had attended the meetings himself. He had to know what they’d discussed. But if she asked those questions, would Baylee’s family get into more trouble?

  “I’m afraid there’s bad news to go with the good,” the Falcon continued. “At least, bad for the investigation. There are plenty of connections between Ethgar and Master Darian. We think they must have been working together, but we may not be able to prove it. Ethgar hanged himself in his cell last night.”

  “He hanged himself?” Arisa repeated numbly. “Shareholder Ethgar?”

  “I’m afraid so. And the Mimms say they don’t know either one of them. We think that Master Darian might simply have gone to the tavern for a drink that night.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Arisa exclaimed. “Shareholder Ethgar didn’t have the dedication, the spine to kill himself—not just to protect his friends.” Poor Ronelle. Arisa wouldn’t have wished that grief even on her.

  “I thought the same,” the Falcon admitted. “But it appears we’re wrong.”

  “Or that someone arranged his death.” Arisa wrapped her arms around herself, warding off the sudden chill. “But if Ethgar was the conspiracy’s ‘palace patron,’ who ordered his murder?”

  “It’s almost certain that Ethgar was Master Darian’s patron,” the Falcon said. “There might be someone else involved, but I sent people I trust to investigate his death. If someone murdered him, they did a perfect job. There’s no evidence of any hand in his death except his own. Knowing he couldn’t get out of it, he might have chosen to cheat the hangman and finish it himself. In either case, it’s a dead end,” the Falcon concluded, with a wince for the gruesome pun.

  “You don’t cheat the hangman by killing yourself,” Arisa objected. “You just give him the day off!”

  “You may be right,” the Falcon told her. “But if you are, there’s no evidence. And you know what a stickler Holis is for evidence. He’s throwing his weight around, these days.”

  “He’s the regent,” Arisa pointed out, troubled by her mother’s grudging tone. “He’s supposed to run things. It’s not like you don’t have enough weight to throw around.”

  “True,” the Falcon sighed. “And I’ve been throwing it into this investigation with all my might, so I shouldn’t complain about other people doing it too. I wish we agreed with each other more often, but that’s not your problem.”

  Arisa’s daughterly ear picked up the threat of incipient chores in that last sentence. “What is my problem?”

  “Edoran asked me if it would be all right for you to be his partner at the ball tonight,” the Falcon told her.

  Arisa sat up straight in astonishment. “Why me? After that stupid business in the old stable, I’d think I’d be the last girl he’d want as a partner.”

  “That’s why he asked me first,” the Falcon told her. “But a lot of the gossip has died down in the excitement about the sword, and since you were the one who found it, it makes sense for you to partner him tonight. It’s not like you won’t be chaperoned in a ballroom full of people, so I agreed.”

  “Why didn’t he ask me about it?”

  “He probably didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case I said no,” the Falcon replied. “Besides, he had a wicked gleam in his eyes. I think he’s up to something, plotting some prank. That’s allowed, almost expected, at a masked ball. Whatever it is, go along with it, Ris. We need his friendship.”

  “All right,” said Arisa dubiously. Knowing Edoran, whatever he had in mind wouldn’t be unkind. It wasn’t like him to get involved in a prank, but he had been loosening up over the last few weeks. It just seemed strange that he hadn’t brought her and Weasel into it—whatever it was.

  The rest of the afternoon was taken up with a special etiquette lesson, covering the rules and restrictions of masked balls. Arisa had to suffer through it alone, for Justice Holis had finally found a tutor who met his exacting standards, and Weasel and Edoran had returned to their own lessons. To Arisa’s dismay, a masked ball entailed a lot of etiquette.

  At least her teacher confirmed that pranks were an old tradition. “Though at a royal ball, only jests in the best of good taste!”

  If Edoran was up to something—tasteful or not—more power to him. Arisa began to look forward to the evening. It was supposed to be a celebration, after all, and she had plenty to celebrate. Baylee, and all her family except her father, would soon be free. Even Master Mimms wouldn’t be treated harshly! They’d probably be celebrating themselves, in their cells… assuming someone had told them they were going to get off.

  Arisa spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince herself the matter was settled—and she failed. They’d probably been told—almost certainly been told! But the image of Baylee, cold and terrified in a noisome cell, still haunted her.

  By evening Arisa was tired of it. She had more than an hour before she had to don the stiff and frilly shepherdess costume, but putting that off wasn’t the main reason she lit a thick candle and took the long stairs down to the corner of the cellars where prisoners were lodged. She couldn’t go to a party unless she knew that Baylee and her family were able to celebrate too—at least that they weren’t still in terror of the noose!

  When she and Weasel had first moved into the palace, one of the footmen had taken them on a
tour that ranged from cellars to attics—or it was supposed to. The man had skipped a number of rooms near the servants’ hall—the sewing rooms, the pantry, and several other work areas. The only part of the cellars they’d seen was the wine cellar, but their guide had mentioned that the cells were under the guardsmen’s quarters, which was another part of the palace he hadn’t shown them.

  Arisa had a rough idea where the guardsmen slept. After wasting some time wandering though a maze of wine racks and barrels, and a dead end trip down a corridor lined with gardening tools, Arisa finally found an arched gateway, blocked by a grid of steel bars. A heavy padlock hung from the latch. It was open.

  And shouldn’t there be a guard by this gate? She’d have posted several here, if she’d been in charge of holding prisoners.

  The barred door swung back, without even a squeak from its well-oiled hinges. Its silence seemed more ominous than the traditional squeal.

  Arisa crept down the corridor, with cells on either side, as quiet as an assassin—though the candle she held would warn whoever guarded the Mimms’ cell of her approach.

  There was no guard. Because there were no prisoners.

  Frowning, Arisa traversed the corridor to its end and then returned, peering into the shadowy cells as if she might have missed them. Could there be another cell block under the guardsmen’s quarters? There were certainly enough cells to hold all the people who might offend any reasonable king. Though last fall, when Regent Pettibone had arrested Justice Holis’ conspiracy, the palace dungeons had been so full that Weasel and Arisa had been locked in a converted storeroom. A good thing too. They’d never have escaped from here. And if there were two cell blocks, surely they’d adjoin each other.

  Baylee and her family weren’t there.

  Her mother’s office was empty, but with the ball drawing near it wasn’t hard to figure out where the Falcon would be.

  Arisa burst into her mother’s bedroom without knocking. “Where is Baylee’s family? What’s happened to them?”