The prince attempted to sit up. He felt peculiar—not hurt, just peculiar. His body seemed too heavy, a tremendous force was weighing him down, yet there was nothing on top of him. Bane whimpered a little in fright and at the feeling of being alone. He didn’t like these strange sensations and he crawled over to shake Alfred, to try to wake him. Then Bane saw Hugh’s sword, lying on the deck beneath him, and the child had a thought.
“I could kill them both now,” he said, gripping the feather amulet tightly. “We could be rid of them, father.”
“No!” The word was stern and sharp and startled him. “Why not?”
“Because you need them to get you away from this place and bring you to me. But first, there is a task I want you to perform. You have landed on the isle of Drevlin in the Low Realm. A people known as Gegs inhabit this land. Actually, I am quite pleased that chance has brought you here. I was planning to come myself, when I acquired a ship.
“There is a great machine on this isle that very much intrigues me. It was built long ago by the Sartan, but for what purpose, no one has ever been able to discover. I want you to investigate it while you are there. Do this and find out what you can about these Gegs. Though I doubt if they can be of much use to me in my conquest of the world, it is wise to know as much as I can about those I intend to conquer. I might even be able to make use of them. You must watch, my son, for the opportunity.”
The voice faded. Bane scowled. If only Sinistrad would stop his irritating habit of saying “When ‘I’s conquer, when ‘I’s rule.” It was to be “we.” Bane had determined this.
“Of course, my father can’t know much about me yet; that’s why he’s never included me in his plans. When we meet, he’ll get to know me. He’ll be proud of me and he’ll be glad to share his power with me. He’ll teach me all his magic. We’ll do everything together. I won’t be lonely anymore.”
Hugh began to groan and stir. Bane hurriedly lay back down on the deck and shut his eyes.
Hugh eased himself up painfully, propping his body with his arms. His first thought was one of absolute astonishment to discover he was alive. His next was that he would pay that elven wizard who cast the spell on his ship double what he charged for magic and feel that it was cheap. His next was for his pipe. Reaching into the soiled and sodden velvet tunic, Hugh discovered it safe, unbroken.
The Hand glanced at his companions. Alfred was out cold. Hugh had never in his life known anyone to pass out from sheer terror. Marvelous person to have around in a crisis. The boy was also unconscious, but he was breathing steadily, his color was good. He hadn’t been hurt. Hugh’s future security was alive and well.
“But first,” muttered the Hand, edging across the deck to the boy, “we need to get rid of daddy, if that’s who this really is.”
Moving slowly and cautiously, careful not to wake the child, Hugh slid his fingers beneath the silver chain from which the feather amulet was suspended and started to lift it from around the boy’s neck.
The chain slid through his fingers.
Hugh stared at it incredulously. The chain had not slipped off his fingers but through them—literally! He had seen it pass right through solid flesh and bone with as much ease as if his hand had been as insubstantial as that of a ghost’s.
“I’m imagining things. The bump on the head,” he said, and grasped the chain, this time firmly.
He held nothing in his hand but air.
Hugh realized then that Bane’s eyes had opened, the boy was watching him, not angrily or suspiciously, but with sadness.
“It won’t come off,” he said. “I’ve tried.” The prince sat up. “What happened? Where are we?”
“We’re safe,” Hugh said, sitting back and drawing forth his pipe. He’d smoked the last of the sterego, not that he had any way to light it even if he hadn’t. He clamped the stem in his teeth and sucked on the empty bowl.
“You saved our lives,” Bane told him. “And after I tried to kill you. I’m sorry. I truly am!” The limpid blue eyes lifted to gaze at Hugh. “It was only that I was afraid of you.”
Hugh sucked on the pipe and said nothing.
“I feel so strange,” continued the prince in easy conversation, that one small matter between them having now finally been cleared up. “Like I’m too heavy for my body.”
“It’s the pressure down here, the weight of the air. You’ll get used to it. Just sit still and don’t move.”
Bane sat, fidgeting. His gaze went to Hugh’s sword. “You’re a warrior. You can defend yourself the honorable way. But I’m weak. What else could I do? You are an assassin, aren’t you? You were hired to kill me?”
“And you’re not Stephen’s son,” Hugh countered.
“No, sir, he is not.”
The voice was Alfred’s. The chamberlain sat up, looking around him in confusion. “Where are we?”
“My guess is we’re in the Low Realm. With luck, we’re on Drevlin.”
“Why luck?”
“Because Drevlin’s the only continent down here that’s inhabited. The Gegs will help us if we can make it to one of their cities. This Low Realm is swept constantly by terrible storms,” he added in explanation. “If we’re caught in one out in the open …” Hugh finished his sentence with a shrug.
Alfred blanched and cast a worried glance outside. Bane squirmed and twisted to see. “It’s not storming now. Shouldn’t we leave?”
“Wait until your body’s gotten used to the change in pressure. We’ll need to move fast when we go.”
“And you think we’re on this Drevlin?” Alfred asked.
“Judging from our location when we fell, I’d say so. We were blown around some by the storm, but Drevlin’s the largest landmass down here, and it’d be hard to miss. If we’d been blown off course too far, we wouldn’t be anywhere.”
“You’ve been here before.” Bane sat up straight, staring at Hugh.
“Yes.”
“What’s it like?” he questioned eagerly.
Hugh did not immediately reply. His eyes shifted to Alfred, who had lifted his hand and was examining it in puzzlement, as if certain it must belong to someone else.
“Go outside and see for yourself, Your Highness.”
“You mean it?” Bane scrambled to his feet. “I can go outside?”
“See if you can find any signs of a Geg settlement. There’s a big machine on this continent. If you can see parts of it, there’ll be Gegs living nearby. Keep close to the ship. You get caught by a storm with nowhere to go for shelter, and you’re finished.”
“Is that wise, sir?” Alfred looked anxiously after the boy, who was squeezing his small body out of a hole smashed in the hull.
“He won’t go far. He’ll get tired sooner than he realizes. Now, while he’s gone, tell me the truth.”
Alfred became very pale. Shifting uncomfortably, he lowered his eyes and stared at his too-large hands. “You were right, sir, when you said that Bane was not Stephen’s child. I will tell you what I know—what any of us knows for certain, as far as that goes, although I believe Trian has conjectured some theories to explain what happened. I must say that they didn’t seem to completely cover all the circumstances—” He saw Hugh’s face darken, the brows draw together with impatience.
“Ten cycles ago, a child was born to Stephen and Anne. It was a boy, a beautiful baby, with his father’s dark hair and his mother’s eyes and ears. You think that is odd, that I mention the ears, but it will become important later on. Anne, you see, has a nick in her left ear, right here, at the outer curve. It is a trait in her family. The story goes that long ago, when the Sartan still walked the world, one of their kind was saved from harm when a spear thrown at him was deflected by Anne’s ancestor. The point sliced off a part of the man’s left ear. All children born since have been marked with that notch as a symbol of the family’s honor.
“Anne’s child had the notch. I saw it myself when they brought the babe out for the showing.” Alfred’s voice lowered.
“The child found in the cradle the next morning did not.”
“A changeling,” commented Hugh. “Surely they knew?”
“Yes, they knew. We all knew. The baby appeared to be the same age as the prince, only a day or two old. But this baby was fair-haired with bright blue eyes, not the milky kind of blue that will turn brown. And the child’s ears were both perfectly shaped. We questioned everyone in the palace, but no one knew how the switch was made. The guards swore no one had slipped past them. They were good men. Stephen did not doubt their word. The nurse slept in the room with the baby all night and woke to take him to the wet nurse, who said that she put to her breast Anne’s dark-haired boy. By this and by other tokens, Trian judged that the child had been placed there by magic.”
“Other tokens?”
Alfred sighed. His gaze strayed outside. Bane was standing on a rock, peering intently into the distance. On the horizon, black clouds flecked with lightning were massing. The wind was beginning to rise.
“The baby had a powerful enchantment woven round him. Anyone who looked at him must immediately love him. No, ‘love’ isn’t the right word.” The chamberlain considered the matter. “‘Dote on,’ perhaps, or ‘become obsessed by.’ We couldn’t bear to see him unhappy. A tear falling from his eye made us feel wretched for days. We would have parted with our lives before we parted with that child.” Alfred’s voice fell silent and he ran his hand over his bald pate. “Stephen and Anne knew the danger of taking this child as their own, but they—all of us—were helpless to prevent it. That’s why they named him Bane.”
“And what was the danger?”
“A year after the changeling was delivered to us, on the birthday of Anne’s true child, a mysteriarch from the High Realm came among us. At first we were honored, for such a thing had not happened in years—that one of the powerful magi of the Seventh House should so humble himself that he would deign to leave his glorious realm above and visit with us below. But our pride and our gladness changed to ashes in our mouths. Sinistrad is an evil man. He took care that we should know him and fear him. He came, he said, to do honor to the little prince. He had brought him a present. When Sinistrad lifted the babe in his arms, we knew—every one of us—whose child Bane truly was.
“No one could do a thing, of course—not against a powerful wizard of the Seventh House. Trian himself is one of the most skilled wizards in the kingdom, and he is only Third House. No, we had to watch with smiles plastered on our faces as the mysteriarch slipped that feather amulet around the baby’s neck. Sinistrad congratulated Stephen on his heir and left. His emphasis on that word sent shivers of horror through all of us. But Stephen was helpless to do anything except dote on the child more fiercely than ever, even though he began to loathe the sight of him.”
Hugh tugged at his beard, frowning. “But why would a wizard of the High Realm want a kingdom in the Middle? They left us cycles ago of their own free will. Their own kingdom is wealthy beyond anything we can imagine, or so we’ve heard.
“As I’ve said, we do not know. Trian has theories—conquest is the most obvious, of course. But if they wanted to rule us, they could bring an army of mysteriarchs down and defeat us easily. No, as I said, it doesn’t make sense. Stephen knew that Sinistrad was in communication with his son. Bane is a cunning spy. The boy has learned every secret in the kingdom and has passed it all on, of that we are certain. We might have lived with that, for ten cycles have passed and our strength grows. If the mysteriarchs wanted to take over, they could have done it before this. But something has happened that made it urgent for Stephen to rid himself of the changeling.” Alfred glanced outside to see the boy still occupied in scouting out a city, though he was obviously tired and now sitting on the rock instead of standing.
The chamberlain motioned Hugh near, whispering in his ear. “Anne is with child!”
“Ah!” Hugh nodded in sudden understanding. “And so they decide to get rid of one heir, now that there’s another on the way. What about the enchantment?”
“Trian broke it. Ten years of study it took him, but he managed at last. Now Stephen was able to”—Alfred halted, stammering in confusion—“to …”
“… hire an assassin to kill him. How long have you known?”
“From the first.” Alfred flushed. “It was why I followed you.”
“And you would have tried to stop me?”
“I’m not certain.” Alfred’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head confusedly. “I … don’t know.”
A dark seed fell into Hugh’s mind and took root. It grew fast, twisting around his brain, flowering and bearing a noxious fruit. I decided to break the contract. Why? Because the boy is more valuable alive than dead. But so were a number of men I contracted to kill. I never before broke faith. I never before broke a contract, though sometimes I could have made ten times the fee paid me. Why now? I risked my own life to rescue the bastard! I couldn’t kill him after he tried to kill me!
What if the enchantment isn’t broken? What if Bane is still manipulating all of us, beginning with King Stephen?
Hugh looked intently at Alfred. “And what’s the truth about you, chamberlain?”
“You see it before you, sir, I am afraid,” said Alfred humbly, spreading his hands. “I have been in service all my life. I was with Her Royal Highness’s family at their castle in Uylandia. When Her Majesty became queen, she was kind enough to bring me with her.” A slow flush spread over Alfred’s face. His eyes sought the deck. He plucked nervously at the shabby clothing with his clumsy fingers.
Lying does not come easily for this man, not like it does for the child, thought Hugh. Yet, like the child, Alfred is, seemingly, living a lie.
The assassin let it drop, closing his eyes. His shoulder pained him, he felt queasy and lethargic, effects of both the poison and the heavy air pressure. Thinking of all that had passed, he twisted his lips into a bitter smile. Worst of all, his hands smeared red with the blood of countless men, he who had proudly believed himself to be masterless had been mastered—by a child.
Prince Bane poked his head back through the shattered side of the ship. “I think I see it. The great machine! It’s off in the distance, that direction. You can’t see it now, because the clouds have covered it. But I remember the way. Let’s go there now! After all, how can it be dangerous? It’s only rain—”
A bolt of lightning sizzled from sky to ground, blasting a hole in the coralite. The thunderclap shook the ground and nearly knocked the boy over.
“That’s why,” said Hugh.
Another lightning bolt struck with shattering force. Bane shot across the deck and crouched down beside Alfred. Rain pounded on the hull. Hail beat on it with deafening ferocity. Soon, water began pouring in through the cracks in the smashed timber. Bane’s eyes were wide, his face pale, but he didn’t cry out. When he saw his hands were trembling, he clasped them together tightly. Looking at the boy, Hugh saw himself long ago, battling fear with pride—the only weapon in his arsenal.
And it occurred to him that perhaps this was just what Bane wanted him to see.
The assassin fingered the hilt of his sword. It would take only a few seconds. Grasp it, wield it, thrust it deep into the boy’s body. If he was going to be stopped by magic, then he wanted to see it act, know for certain.
Or perhaps he had seen it already.
Hugh moved his hand away from the sword. Lifting his pipe, he saw Bane watching him. The boy’s lips curved in a sweet, charming smile.
CHAPTER 29
WOMBE, DREVLIN,
LOW REALM
THE HIGH FROMAN WAS HAVING A SAD TIME OF IT. HE WAS BEING plagued by gods. Literally dropping from the skies, gods rained down on his defenseless head. Nothing was going right. His once-peaceful realm that had not known a whisper of trouble in the last several centuries was now running amok.
Trudging across the coralite, his band of coppers marching along reluctantly behind him, the head clark marching righteously at his side, the from
an thought long and hard about gods and decided that he hadn’t much use for them. First, instead of neatly getting rid of Mad Limbeck, the gods had actually had the audacity to send him back alive. Not only that, but they came with him! Well, one of them did—a god who called himself Haplo. And though confused reports had reached the ears of the high froman that the god didn’t consider himself a god, Darral Longshoreman didn’t believe it for a flicker.
Unfortunately, whether this Haplo was or he wasn’t, he was stirring up trouble wherever he went—and that was pretty nearly everywhere, including, now, the Gegs’ capital city of Wombe. Mad Limbeck and his wild WUPP’s were dragging the god across the countryside, making speeches, telling the people that they were being misused, ill-treated, enslaved, and the Mangers knew what else. Of course, Mad Limbeck had been ranting and raving about this for some considerable length of time, but now, with the god standing at his side, the Gegs were beginning to listen to him!
Half the clarks had been completely won over. The head clark, seeing his church falling apart around him, was demanding that the high froman do something.
“And what am I supposed to do?” Darral asked sourly. “Arrest this Haplo, this god who says he isn’t a god? That won’t do anything except convince the people who do believe in him that they’ve been right all along and convince the rest who don’t that they should!”
“Bosh!” sniffed the head clark, who hadn’t understood a thing the high froman said but who knew he didn’t agree with it.
“Bosh! That’s all you’ve got to say! It’s all your fault, anyhow!” the high froman shouted, working himself into a rage. “Let the Mangers take care of Mad Limbeck, you said. Well, they took care of him, all right! Sent him back to destroy us!”
The head clark had stormed off in a huff. But he’d been back quick enough when the ship was sighted.
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