Altogether, he was a surprise to me. At my words, his visage grew abruptly savage. Snatching my hand from his chest, he jerked me around, clamped his fingers over my mouth with my back gripped against his side so that I could not break free. His free hand wrenched open the door. “My lady,” he panted as he impelled me inward, “you have not begun to grasp the things I care for.”
Though I kicked at him with my heels, tore at his arm with my fingers, he held me helpless. In my chambers, he closed the door and bolted it. Then he lifted me from my feet and bore me to the bed.
Forcing my face against the coverlet, he knelt on my back to keep me still while he pulled free the sash of my robe. Deftly, as if he had done such things many times, he pinned my arms behind me and bound my wrists with the sash. Only then did he remove his weight so that I might roll over and breathe.
As I struggled up to sit on the edge of the bed, he stood before me with a long, wicked knife held comfortably in his right hand.
Pointing his blade at my throat, he gave me a grin of pure malice. “You may scream if you wish,” he said casually, “but I advise against it. You can do nothing to save your life—or to prevent our success. But if you scream, we may be forced to shed more blood than we intend. Consider’ what you do clearly. It will be the innocent guards and servants of the manor who will die in your name, and the outcome will not be altered.”
Feverishly, I tugged at my hands, but could not free them. My life seemed to stick in my throat, choking me. I had been so easily mastered. And yet the simple shame of it—that I had been beguiled from my wits by nothing more than a handsome face and a bold promise—made me writhe for some escape, some means to strike back. As if I were uncowed I glared at him and said, “You have lied and lied to me. It has been your purpose from the start to kill me. Why do you delay? What do you fear?”
He barked a short laugh without humor or pity. “I fear nothing. I have risen above fear. I wait only to share your dying with my companion—the one who will rule the realm for me—and will in turn be ruled by me.”
Still straining at my bonds, I mustered sarcasm to my defense in the place of courage. “You dream high, Wallin. Servants are usually too wise for such ambition.”
His smile was handsome and malign. “But I am no servant,” he replied. His eyes glittered like bits of stone. “I am Kodar the rebel, and my dreams have always been high.”
He astonished me—not in what he said (though it had surprised me entirely) but in that I believed him instantly. “Kodar?” I snapped, not doubting him, or what he would say, but seeking only to cover my dismay while he spoke. “Again you lie. It is known to half the realm that even now Kodar and his rebels prepare an assault upon Lodan.”
He appeared to find a genuine pleasure in my belligerence. Softly, he stroked the side of my neck with his knife. “Of a certainty,” he replied smugly. “It has required great cunning of me to ensure that every spy in the Three Kingdoms knows what my forces will do. But my end has been accomplished. While lesser men fight and die in my name, attracting all attention to themselves, my best aides and I have found employment here, disguised as servants. Unsuspected, we have placed ourselves in readiness for this night.
“My companion and I will slit your throat.” The tip of his blade dug in until I winced. “Then we will summon the other monarchs to private audiences with you, and we will slit their throats.” He made no attempt to hide his relish. ‘Then my men will fall upon the Mages and noblemen loyal to my enemies. Your Ryzel will not be spared. Before dawn, the rule of the realm will be ours. In truth, the rule will be mine, though my companion will assume that place.” He considered himself clever in concealing the identity of his ally from me. “In that way,” he said with a smirk, “my success will be as high as my dreams.
“Lest you misunderstand at all,” he concluded, “let me assure you that I have never felt the slightest desire for you or your person. You are a savorless morsel at best, and I would not sully myself with you.”
I heard him in silence. But if he thought that his insults would hurt me, he had misjudged his victim. His contempt only brought me back to clarity. To all appearances, my attention remained transfixed upon him; but within myself I was gone, see* king help and hope in places where he could not follow.
He looked at me narrowly. His excitement or his arrogance required the vindication of a response. “You would do well to speak,” he said with velvet menace. “If you plead with me, perhaps I will spare you briefly.”
I did not speak; I did not risk provoking him. I did not want to die. [wanted to learn who his confederate was.
A frown pinched the flesh between his brows. His desire to see me grovel was unmistakable. But before he could attempt to dismay me by other means, a faint knocking at the door interrupted him.
Nothing kindled in me at the sound. It was clearly a signal—a coded sequence of taps for Kodar’s benefit, not mine. He cocked his head, at once gratified and vexed— gratified that his plans developed apace, vexed that he had no abject victim to show for his pains. Yet he did not hesitate; he had not come so far by giving spite precedence over ambition. Lithe and virile, he strode to the door and tapped a response.
When his question was answered, he unbolted the door and opened it, admitting Queen Damia to my chambers.
She appeared more radiant than ever. As Kodar sealed the door again, she hung her arms around his neck and kissed him as if she were insatiable for him.
His ardor in return was everything a woman could have wished, yet she broke off their embrace before he was done with it. Her gaze turned to me, and her eyes were bright.
“Kodar, my love,” she beamed. “You have done well.
She considers herself defiant, but she will make an apt sacrifice nonetheless. I am pleased.”
Watching her, I wondered if Kodar had noticed the subtle way in which she had already taken command of the room, reducing him from mastery to the status of one who obeyed.
But I did not understand why she had allied herself with him. For desire? Perhaps. It was conceivable in his case, but I did not think so. And if she had at her disposal the power of a Dragon—either Real or Mage-made— what need had she of him?
Kodar and his knife were several paces from me. I might be able to say a few words before I was silenced. Meeting her gaze alone as though I were capable of ignoring her companion, I said, “My lady of Lodan, this Kodar has advised me that I should not scream. But now that he has told me how he has betrayed his cause to serve you, and how he means to give you the rule of the Three Kingdoms by slaying all those who stand against you, I find I no longer comprehend why I should not. His plan will be foiled by any forewarning, however slight. With one cry, I will deprive you of all that he offers. Why then should I not—?”
Gripping his knife, Kodar started toward me. I snatched a breath, filled my lungs to call out with all my strength.
My threat meant nothing to him. Yet Queen Damia said, “Withhold a moment, Kodar.” Her command was certain. “For the sake of blameless lives which would otherwise be lost, I will answer her.”
This game was hers, and I was outplayed. But in the face of death I could do-nothing but strive for life. My eyes held her as if Kodar had no significance between us, and I prayed that he had wit enough to understand her— and me.
“My lady,” she said with demeaning courtesy, “you have not failed to reason that Mage Scour is not in truth able to create Magic. If he possessed that power, he would not suffer any other to rule him. Assuredly he would not suffer me.” Her tone said plainly that Scour was a man and would gladly have suffered anything for her sake. “Therefore his Dragon was but an image. And therefore it follows that there is a Creature in the realm that has remained hidden from all eyes.”
She smiled gloriously. “All eyes but mine.”
Kodar grinned at her. I wanted to curse him for the arrogance which blinded him to the queen’s cunning; but I kept my gaze upon her and waited for her to continue.
Lacking Ascension, his power has been latent,” she went on, “but fortunately Mage Scour and I discovered it.”
Doubtless that had indeed been fortunate for her.
“My lady, he is the reason you will not scream. Kodar and I pursue this plan against you because it will cost little bloodshed—and will enable us to assume rule swiftly. But if we are foiled in that, we will simply call upon the rebels concealed in the manor. They will assist the Dragon to the Seat, and he will take what we desire by greater violence. So you see,” she said as though contradiction were impossible, “we cannot be defeated. You will accept your death quietly in order to spare a great many lives in the Three Kingdoms.”
Perhaps I was too slow-witted for her. Perhaps I should have worked out much earlier what she wished me to understand. But at last I knew. I might have cried out in my anguish, had I not been too desperate for such weakness; she pushed me to the limit of what my sore heart could endure. That such beauty had come to such evil! I had no recourse but to prove myself equal to it or die.
“My lady,” I said slowly, “you speak as if even a Dragon will be glad to serve you when you claim the rule. That is clever—to put a smiling face upon the fact that you will be merely a figurehead through which the Creature commands. If indeed he will not cast you off when he has gained his ends. You seek to distract me from the truth.
“But Kodar lacks so much wit. He has already vaunted himself outrageously before, me. Your Dragon will teach him the worth of his arrogance.
“Unless the Creature is Kodar himself.”
He was facing me now. He seemed deaf to insult. His face was alight, not with umbrage, but with a savage glee. He felt in himself the power of the coming transformation and was exalted.
But Queen Damia stood behind him and to one side. With his gaze upon me, he had no view of her. He did not see her smile broadly in my direction.
I did not take up her hint. Instead,I turned my attention to Kodar. Having failed to make him think better of his trust for Lodan’s queen, I encouraged him to see my grave regard as a new deference. “My lord,” I said quietly, “I do not understand.” If I could have pulled my hands free at that moment, I would not have done so. They would have been of no help to me. “Possessing such strength why have you troubled to mime rebellion?” I had no doubt now that the lesser men whose lives he spent to further his plans were the sincere ones, the honest rebels who believed—however wrongly—that the realm would be, better without rulers. “Why do you persist in subterfuge now? And why do you accept the hand of this treacherous queen in your dealings? Why do you not declare yourself openly and claim what is yours by right? You require nothing but the touch of true Stone.”
At once, I saw that he would not refuse to answer me. Where his Magic estate was concerned, pride outweighed judgment.
While Damia watched him with a loveliness which might have signified either adoration or scorn, he replied, “A hidden threat is stronger than a declared power. When first I conceived my intent to rule the realm, my nature was unknown to me. Therefore rebellion was the only path open. And now it is clear that I will be stronger if none know how I betray those who serve me. My queen will assume the throne—and an unknown Dragon will roam the Three Kingdoms, wreaking her will and its own— and my rebels will continue to strike where I choose, thinking that they still serve me. Stark fear and incomprehension will unman all resistance. The realm will be unified as no Regal has ever been able to master it, and every man and woman will tremble at my feet!”
His vision of sovereignty seemed to entrance him. But Queen Damia had no use for his transports. “Kodar, my love,” she interposed, “this is pleasant—but the time flees before us.” She was marvelously unafraid of him. “If the guests are called to the Ascension before we have dispatched Thone and Thornden, our opportunity will be lost. We must be at work. Will you accept the brave sacrifice of this daughter of Regals?”
He glanced down at his knife and smiled. “Gladly.”
The unmistakable look of bloodshed on his face, he started toward me.
I had no time left. I had been meditating to the depths of my mind on what I must do in order to live—what must happen to save me. There was but one hope, and it was as scant as ever. But if I did not act upon it, I was lost.
Summoning every resource of will and passion and heritage, I sent out a silent cry of desperation and protest. Then I ducked under the knife and flipped forward, away from the bed.
I was hampered without the use of my hands; but I contrived to roll my feet under me and spring erect. Whirling around, I faced Kodar.
He charged after me. The knife swung. The unsashed brocade of my robe caught the blade, deflecting his thrust as I danced aside. Though my sandals were paltry as weapons, I swung my foot with all my strength against his knee. He answered with a grunt of pain.
Trusting that small hurt to slow him, I dove past his reach. He slashed at me and missed. Another flip and roil returned me to the bed. Nearly staggering for balance because I could not use my hands. I leaped onto the bed. From that position above him, I would be able to ward off his knife with my feet for a moment or two.
“Kill her, you fool!” Queen Damia hissed furiously.
A loud crash resounded through the chamber as the wood around the doorbolt splintered.
Another heavy blow burst both bolt and latch. The doors sprang inward and shivered against the wails.
Mage Ryzel strode into the room.
His bald head was flushed with exertion; but there was nothing weak or weary in the stamp of his feet, the stretch of his thick chest. His Scepter attacked the air; threats glared from his eyes.
My relief and jubilation at seeing him were so great that I nearly sagged to my knees—into Kodar’s reach.
When he saw the knife, Ryzel stopped. “Wallin?” he demanded. “What means this?”
For a moment, Kodar’s attention jerked from side to side as if he were a cornered animal. Damia appeared frozen by surprise or indecision. The four of us remained motionless, gauging the ramifications of Kodar’s blade. Now Kodar would gain nothing by shouting for his rebels—not while Ryzel might fell him before help came. But the Mage was alone. Though he held his Scepter, its power would be useless against knife. And he was no longer young. Would he be a match for the tall, strong rebel?
Kodar decided that the Mage would not. Turning his back to me, he advanced warily toward Ryzel.
Queen Damia stopped him without discernible effort. “You are timely come, Mage,” she said calmly, defying anyone to credit that any threat or interruption could unsettle her. “This man is not Wallin the servant. He is Kodar the rebel. He means to slay both me and the lady Chrysalis. And when we are dead, he intends to treat King Thone and Count Thornden similarly. Then he will claim the rule—”
With a snarl, Kodar launched himself toward her, aiming his blade for the deep hollow of her décolletage.
He did not reach her. Though Ryzel was old, his hands were swift. One sure jab drove the end of his Scepter into the pit of Kodar’s stomach. Kodar tumbled to the floor and groveled there, retching for breath.
“I thank you, good Mage,” Queen Damia murmured as if she thought that she could sway Ryzel.
He did not waste a glance on her. When he was sure that Kodar would be unable to move for a few moments, he came to me and helped me down from the bed. Only the trembling of his hands as he undid my bonds betrayed his fear.
“My lady,” he said grimly, “I felt power here. Therefore I came.”
“That was Kodar,” the queen answered. “He thinks himself a Creature.” Her scorn for her confederate was evident. “Some small capacity for magery there is in him. But for the most part it remains stubbornly trivial.”
I did not look at her; I did not wish her to see my reaction to this new demonstration of mendacity. Doubtless Scour had been clever in persuading Kodar to think himself a Dragon, so that his plans for rule would serve Damia’s ends. Yet she betrayed him
in his turn without compunction. I did not question that her purpose against me remained unaltered. My hands shook like Ryzel’s as I took the sash from him and knotted it about my waist to close my robe.
From his place on the floor, Kodar gagged on gasps and curses.
“Mage,” I said, controlling my voice as well as I was able, “Queen Damia and her servant have done with me. Will you escort them to the Ascension hall?”
He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. The look in my eyes silenced him. Though his jaws chewed questions and fears, he bowed to me, then turned his attention to the monarch of Lodan and Kodar the rebel.
When he had plucked Kodar’s knife from the floor and concealed it somewhere in the sleeve of his cassock, he bunched one heavy fist in the back of Kodar’s coat and heaved him upright. Supporting Kodar with that grip, he said to Queen Damia, “My lady, will you accompany me?”
“Gladly,” she replied. Wrapping her hands around his arm, she turned her back on me without farewell and clung intimately to him as they left my chambers. Still she treated me as if I signified nothing—and him as if she meant to seduce him before they gained the end of the passage.
Then I heard him shout a summons to the guards; and I had no more concern for him. On his own terms, at least, he was a match for Damia.
I needed time—and had none. Time to recover my courage from the close touch of death, time to think and to understand. Time to prepare myself for the attacks which would be directed against me in the Ascension hall. But no time remained. If I did not go now, I would risk missing the moment of midnight. More than once, my father had stressed the importance of midnight on the eve of my twenty-first birthday, when the moos would be full above the realm and I would attempt the Seat.
Daughter of Regals Page 8
