Stormcaster

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “It’s likely he’s given their titles away. From what I hear, he’s been handing them out like candy.”

  “Lady Beatrice Scoville.”

  “There’s Aunt Beatrice,” Robert said, frowning. “She looks a lot thinner than before.”

  Hal scanned the line of waiting families, sure he would recognize Harper and his mother despite the masks. When he didn’t see them, sweat began trickling down the back of his neck. Was this just some kind of cruel trick or trap?

  Just as he was beginning to panic, the crier called, “Lady Marjorie Scoville Matelon and daughter Harper Scoville Matelon.”

  Hal’s heart twisted as they walked forward, hand in hand, chins up, eyes straight ahead. It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized them. For one thing, they were thinner, especially Harper, but that was partly because she was so much taller than the last time he’d seen her. When was that? More than a year ago? She’d pinned her hair up, too, which he wasn’t used to.

  Hal’s breath caught when he saw something glittering at Harper’s neckline. It was the thimble.

  “Did you see that?” Robert whispered. “It was—”

  “I know,” Hal said, his voice thick. He still didn’t trust Destin Karn, but he’d kept that promise, at least.

  Anger nudged aside everything else as the Matelon ladies curtsied before the king and then moved off to the side, where the hostages huddled in a small group, as if unsure what to do next. As if they’d been invited to a party with people they had nothing in common with.

  Robert took a step forward, but Hal put out a hand to stop him. “Wait until there’s more mingling before we beeline to them. In the meantime, why don’t you ask someone to dance?”

  His brother gave him an irritated look, then crossed to the gathering of down-realm guests and bowed to an especially lovely young lady wearing a half-mask. Moments later, the band had struck up again, and he was out on the floor with her.

  Others among the wall-hangers were moving out into the throng, choosing unescorted ladies, offering their arms. Hal’s heart beat faster as he walked toward the gathered hostages, but somebody got there before him.

  “Ladies,” the masked interloper said, bowing deeply to Harper and his mother. “May I just say that you look absolutely bewitching this evening.”

  Hal detoured a bit and walked past them, stopping within earshot, pretending to sample sweets from a platter.

  “Granger,” Hal’s mother said, her back stiff with disapproval, her voice icy. She and Harper dipped into the briefest of curtsies.

  “Actually, it is Lord Granger now,” he said.

  “Is it?” his mother said. “Forgive me. It’s so difficult to keep up with all of the newly minted lordlings here at court.”

  Hal struggled not to stare. Usually his mother treated everyone with gracious courtesy, whether she was addressing the king or one of her tenants or a beggar on the street.

  Harper, too, was studying Granger, her arms crossed. It reminded Hal of that time he’d found his three-year-old sister standing in the pasture with a stick in her hand. There was a viper in her path, and she couldn’t decide whether to go around it or club it to death.

  Who the hell was Granger, and what had he done to earn such a chilly reception?

  “I am hoping that your lovely daughter will consent to dance with me.”

  “Lord Granger, my lovely daughter is far too young to consider—”

  “Let’s go,” Harper said, shooting a warning look at her mother. She stalked toward the dance floor, with Granger following behind.

  Hal’s gracious mother glared after him, cursing under her breath. “Harper doesn’t know what she is getting into with that unprincipled scoundrel.”

  Lady Heresford took her arm. “Don’t worry, Marjorie, I’ve sent Helene to keep an eye on them. If anything untoward happens, she’ll fetch us right away.”

  Hal was torn between forcibly cutting in on Lord Granger’s dance and waiting until he had more information. Good sense prevailed, and he found himself bowing to his mother. Up close, he could see that, despite her fine clothes, months in a dungeon hadn’t done her any good at all.

  “Thanelee Matelon,” he said, swallowing hard. “May I . . . may I have the pleasure of this dance?”

  He could tell that she was about to come back with a snappish reply, but then she froze, staring at him as if she could see through the mask to the man underneath.

  “Thank the Maker,” she whispered, her voice husky with tears. “It’s really you. I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not.”

  Hal offered his arm, and she accepted, and he led her out onto the dance floor. He tried hard to remember the steps she’d taught him so painstakingly. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, but she didn’t miss a step.

  “Don’t cry, Mother,” he whispered. “They’ll think I’m stepping on your toes.”

  That brought a smile.

  “Now,” he said, “Robert is here, too. Don’t look,” he hastened to add. “I’ll tell you what I know about the plan, and then you tell me about Granger.”

  When he’d finished, he said, “Can you remember that? Any questions?”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “Good. Now I need to get the same message to one adult in each and every one of the families. Can you help me with that? I think if you and Harper do it, it will be less obvious.”

  “Of course,” his lady mother said. “I will make sure that everyone knows.”

  “Now tell me about Granger.”

  “He came out of nowhere, moved up in the King’s Guard, and now he’s serving as bailiff,” she said, with brisk brevity. “He’s taught King Jarat everything he knows about debauchery, and also handles a lot of his dirty work. Jarat has rewarded him by giving him Whitehall.”

  “Whitehall?” Now Hal understood his mother’s barely concealed anger. Whitehall had been held by the Scovilles for centuries, since just after the Breaking. His mother had brought it to the marriage as her dowry. It was close to White Oaks, and they’d often stayed there as children. “He couldn’t have taken possession of it, surely. I was just at White Oaks. The armies are massed, and the thanes are preparing to march.”

  “How is your father, dear?” his mother said, smiling at Lady DeLacroix as she swept by. “He takes things so much to heart, and he’s not as young as he used to be.”

  “Father’s furious, as you’d expect, and determined to win. Now about Whitehall.”

  “Granger hasn’t taken possession—and he never will, if your father and I have anything to say about it. I think he’s trying to hedge his bets. He’s already betrothed, mind you, to an heiress in the down-realms who is considerably older than he is. But now he’s thinking that if he marries Harper, that will damp down resistance to his claiming Whitehall, even if the thanes prevail. If they don’t, he could make a case for claiming White Oaks, too. After all, they go so well together.”

  “He won’t if I kill him first,” Hal muttered.

  “Don’t scowl like that, dear, it will give you frown lines one day, mark my words. No. I will kill him myself.”

  Hal stared at his mother. “What?”

  “Better me than you. You’re young and you have your whole life ahead of you. Now that I have you back, I won’t have you throwing it away. I’m old, I’ve had my children, enjoyed the love of my life, and what’s important is my legacy.”

  “Mother, do you really think—?”

  “Danielle!” she said, waving at Lady Oberon like she was having the best time ever. “That dress is so becoming.” And then, hardly missing a beat, said, “I almost cut the bastard’s throat the other day, when he came to see us in the Pit. He was sniffing around Harper, and I’d had enough, but then I heard about this party and couldn’t resist finding out what it was all about.”

  Hal all but stopped dancing. “He’s keeping you in the Pit? Women and children in the Pit?”

  “Don’t raise your voice, dear. It’s His Majesty’s private little
prison. It wasn’t so bad, once we evicted most of the vermin.”

  Except for the human vermin, Hal thought. “No killing will be necessary, because we’re getting you out tonight. Now I’d better move on, or people will gossip about Thanelee Matelon, endlessly dancing with someone young enough to be her son.” He stepped back and bowed. She curtsied, and he watched her walk away, cloaked in her usual dignity.

  If we survive this, I won’t make the mistake of underestimating her, ever again, he thought.

  42

  MOTLEY CREW

  The rooftop garden at Fellsmarch Castle had been one of Ash’s favorite boyhood haunts. It was planted deep with memories of time spent with his mother in sociable silence, planting, weeding, pruning, and harvesting, in tune with the rhythms of nature. Here he could bask in sunlight all year round, above the politics and drama of life in the capital.

  Here he’d read, and dreamed, and grown the herbs and medicinals important to the healing trade.

  Now he was back in the garden, planning the impossible with an improbable crew.

  They sat in a circle in the garden temple, in the light from the waxing moon. Adrian sul’Han, runaway prince. Evan Strangward, Carthian pirate and weather mage. Sasha Talbot, a member of the queen’s Gray Wolf guard. Finn sul’Mander, wizard and healer. Hadley DeVilliers, wizard and commander of the Fellsian navy. Julianna Barrett, queen’s councillor for intelligence and diplomacy.

  He’d hoped to include Rogan Shadow Dancer as well, representing the clans, but he’d left on some mission or other to the upland camps or the coast. That might be just as well. Shadow was a bit of a loose cannon.

  They’d all been sworn to secrecy. They all looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

  It was no wonder they’re wary, Ash thought. They don’t know you. He’d been closest to Finn, and even he had become a stranger since they were boyhood friends.

  It was his job to win them, and he’d never practiced being charming.

  “Thank you for coming,” Ash said. “Once I explain what this is about, each of you is welcome to opt in or opt out, no questions, no hard feelings. I just ask that none of this be shared outside of this circle. Agreed?”

  When everyone nodded, he continued. “As you know, my sister Alyssa was taken captive by the empress Celestine of Carthis in an attack on the port of Chalk Cliffs. We assume she’s being held prisoner somewhere in the east. I plan to rescue her.”

  Talbot flinched, then pointed at Strangward. “Why is he here?” she said, in her blunt fashion.

  “Strangward is a weather mage and a skilled pilot with an intimate knowledge of the Desert Coast. We’ll need him.”

  “Huh,” Talbot said. She shifted on the hard temple floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and fixed the pirate with a suspicious gaze. “What’s in it for you? Why would you risk your life to save our princess?”

  “I am here to stop the empress, free my homeland, and save my own skin,” Strangward said. “It seems to me that the best way to do that is to join in on a rescue of the wolf princess.”

  “Before we get into the weeds on this, are we sure Lyss isn’t being held in the keep at Chalk Cliffs?” DeVilliers said.

  “Corporal Talbot saw her being taken aboard the empress’s flagship just off Chalk Cliffs,” Ash said.

  Talbot nodded. “Plus, she left a message on the beach,” she said.

  Finn’s head came up. “She did? Before she was carried off, she had time to write a note?”

  Talbot reached into her uniform tunic and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded and refolded many times. Carefully flattening it, she held it up for everyone to see.

  AG + BdT

  Finn squinted at it. “What does that even mean?” he said.

  “Alyssa Gray plus Breon d’Tarvos,” Talbot said.

  DeVilliers raised an eyebrow. “The busker?”

  Talbot nodded. “Plus, there was an arrow pointing out to sea. That means they were carried off by ship.”

  “How do you get that?” Finn said. “That looks more like a lover’s inscription. Saying they ran away together.”

  “Well, she didn’t have time to write a whole story,” Talbot said, scowling, folding the paper up again.

  “Even if we assume she was alive on the beach, and carried away aboard ship, how do we know that she is still alive?” Julianna said.

  “She is,” Talbot said, without hesitation. Then added quickly, “Captain Byrne says so. He says that he would know if the line was broken.”

  “Can he tell where she is?” DeVilliers said. “That would help a lot.”

  Talbot shook her head. “He says that her bound captain might, if she had one. His primary connection is to Queen Raisa, and now—” She paused, took a breath, and looked down at her hands. “It would help if Lyss had a bound captain of her own.”

  The mysterious connection between queens and the captains of the Gray Wolf guard had existed for more than a thousand years. After the magical disaster known as the Breaking, Queen Hanalea the Warrior was the first to take a bound captain, who happened to be a Byrne. Ever since, it had always been a Byrne.

  Bound captains were magically compelled to defend the Gray Wolf line at all costs. They had the ability to anticipate threats and counter them, and to track their queens, even over long distances. When Ash’s sister Hana was killed in the borderlands, her bound captain, Simon Byrne, died fighting at her side.

  The ritual that bound captain to queen was a closely held secret, known only to the captains, their queens, and the presiding speakers.

  “In order to do that, we’d have to involve Captain Byrne,” Ash said. “I can’t imagine that he would approve.”

  “He might,” Talbot said. “I’ve been reading up on it in some old texts. The captain’s first allegiance is to the Line, not to an individual queen. In order to save the Line, he might give the go-ahead. Anything we can do to improve our odds, we should do.” Talbot raised her chin, meeting Ash’s eyes unflinchingly.

  Hmm, Ash thought. Obviously, she already has a plan. I’m going to have to find out more about this.

  Julianna shifted her weight and glanced at Finn, then back at Ash. “Speaking of the queen, has she approved this idea of a rescue mission?”

  “No,” Ash said. “I haven’t asked her.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I know it’s unforgivable—to leave again after being gone for so long, especially since she’s so worried about Lyss. It’s a terrible thing to do to my mother. But it’s the right thing to do for the realm. The only way to succeed with this is to launch a quick, surgical strike—in and out before we’re noticed. I’ll understand, though, if that’s a deal-breaker for anyone.”

  “How’d you choose us?” DeVilliers said.

  “I’m trying to keep this operation secret. Most people in the realm still think I’m dead—nobody will miss me. That’s why I’m not inviting the High Wizard, the captain of the Queen’s Guard, or the general of the army. If they disappear, people will notice, and wonder what they are up to—not to mention the effect their absence would have on the war effort.”

  “So we were chosen because we’re unimportant?” DeVilliers said, tilting her head back and looking at him down her nose.

  “Unfortunately, some of you are very important,” Ash said, “but you all have skills that we need for success. For instance, you are the best ship’s master this side of the Indio, and Talbot, you’re a member of Lyss’s personal guard, and you know Lyss better than anyone. Finn, you are an academy-trained wizard and apprentice healer, and we’ll need all the firepower we can get against these bloodsworn warriors. If you’re willing to take time away from your new calling.”

  “Of course,” Finn said. “I will need to ask permission from Lord Vega, but—”

  “We need to ask forgiveness, not permission,” Ash said. “If my mother forbids us to go, then it’s treason to disobey. Plus, if word leaks out to the empress’s spies, it will put all of our lives at
risk, Lyss’s most of all.” As he said that, he was ambushed by a memory of the day of the attack at Oden’s Ford, when he’d wanted to tell his mentor, Joniah Balthus, that he was leaving, and Lila talked him out of it. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “What about me?” Julianna said. “I want to help, but I’m not sure my skills fit this kind of mission.”

  “Besides,” Finn said, taking her hand, “your absence will be noticed.”

  “Hang on,” DeVilliers said, “let’s hear the plan, and then we can figure out what kind of crew we need.”

  The “plan” was embarrassingly sketchy, given that they had little information about what they would find on the other side of the Indio. DeVilliers and Strangward were the only ones among them that had been anywhere near the Desert Coast. Strangward had no memory of being to the Northern Islands, but he had studied the history of the Nazari Empire and knew the Desert Coast as well or better than anyone.

  “Let’s look at the map,” Ash said.

  Strangward spread a map over the mosaic floor of the temple and they all leaned in.

  “It is rumored that Celestine is rebuilding her capital amid the ruins of the old capital,” he said, pointing. “Here.”

  “Her bloodsworn mentioned taking prisoners to a place called Celesgarde,” Talbot said.

  Strangward looked up at her in surprise. “Right,” he said. “Celesgarde.”

  “How well-protected is the harbor?” DeVilliers ran her finger over the spits of land enclosing the port. “Are there cannon on the heights?”

  Strangward shook his head. “I don’t know. What I do know is that the islands are protected by a barrier of storms.”

  “Really,” DeVilliers said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Storms that just . . . stay there. All the time.”

  “It’s magery,” the pirate said. “A boundary created by the empress’s enemies. It’s kept her contained until recently.” He seemed to be picking his way carefully. “All I know is what I heard when I was young. The trick will be to get through it without sustaining so much damage that we can’t get out again.”

  “You’re a weather mage, right?” Julianna said. “Can’t you do something about that?”