by Jeff Wheeler
There was a short knock at the door, and Suzenne sighed and pushed away from the table to answer it. Maia did not feel like seeing visitors. In truth, she yearned to don a simple disguise so she could leave the palace grounds to visit the people and learn firsthand about their troubles and the mood—much as her own husband did on occasion in his own kingdom. She did not want to rely solely on the lord mayor’s telling. Suzenne’s expression changed quickly, and she turned aside to admit Sabine and Simon Fox.
Smiling eagerly, Maia rose to greet them and rushed to embrace her grandmother. “Have you eaten yet?” Maia asked her. “We have more than enough. Come share with us.”
Sabine smiled and patted her back. “I had a meal already, but thank you. If we could speak privately?”
Suzenne nodded and quickly dismissed the ladies-in-waiting, who left the chamber from a back exit without even a murmur. Jayn Sexton paused in the doorway, looking back to see if Suzenne would join her, but Sabine gestured for her to stay. When her private chamber was private once more, Maia gave her grandmother a worried look. “What is it?”
Sabine’s expression was thoughtful, pensive. “I know about your troubles, Maia. I have heard about the rebellion. But I must leave Comoros again almost as quickly as I have arrived.”
Maia’s heart sank. “I know I should not strive to keep you here longer,” she said, taking her grandmother’s hands and squeezing them tenderly. “But it pains me to be apart from you. You are my only Family. Where must you go next?”
Sabine shook her head sadly. “I still have duties to perform, dear one. I must continue to open the Apse Veils throughout the realms. I have already opened one each in Avinion and Mon. I go to Dahomey next and then Paeiz.” She glanced at Simon. “There is troubling news, Maia. I must go to Hautland as well.”
Maia stiffened. “But they are loyal to the Dochte Mandar,” she said.
Sabine nodded. “I know. Simon received word from the Hand of the Victus. The Hand is the one who directs them. The person in that position is given his title because of the saying, ‘the hand directs the knife.’ The Victus, as you know, employs various machinations throughout the kingdoms. They are behind Paeiz’s attack on Dahomey. They seek nothing but turmoil and conflict; their aim is to pit each kingdom against the other. Obviously they want to embroil Dahomey in a war with its neighbor to prevent your husband from defending Comoros when the armada comes.”
Maia’s heart wrenched at the mention of her husband. She missed him dreadfully and had not heard from him since he had sailed from Comoros.
“What news have you received then?”
“The Hand communicates throughout the realms through waymarker Leerings they have stolen. One of the properties of Leerings is to bind two points that are distant, allowing individuals to touch minds and speak to each other.”
Maia knew about this phenomenon already, having experienced it in the cursed shores of Dahomey. She had touched a Leering to summon water and had found herself ensnared in a duel of wills with Corriveaux and another Dochte Mandar.
“Yes,” Maia said, revolted by the memory of wearing the kystrel, “I have used a Leering that way in the past.”
Sabine turned to Simon. “Tell her the rest.”
She had not seen Simon for several days. His dark eyes were even more brooding than usual. “The Hand of the Victus has changed. I normally would not mention something like this to you, except you know the man who now leads them. His name is Corriveaux, from Dahomey.”
Maia felt a cold shudder at the mention of his name. He had hunted her throughout the realms, conspired to make her the queen of the hetaera. The Medium had saved her from him in Naess, where she had feared her journey would end.
“You told me of him,” Suzenne said, touching Maia’s arm. She looked grave. “He was in authority with the Dochte Mandar in Dahomey. He hunted you.”
“And he leads them now?” Maia asked, new fear blossoming in her heart. In all the times she had faced him, his power of will with the kystrel had exceeded her own. And yet now she served the Medium without using some trinket to control it. Surely that would make a difference.
“Indeed,” Simon said. “I received word from my master that Corriveaux suspects him of betraying the Victus. He believed that Corriveaux would test his loyalty.” He looked so dark and serious, and every word he spoke carried a weight. “He will very likely test my own loyalty as well. Walraven would like to meet Sabine in Hautland to discuss recent events. He seeks her wisdom and input on how to proceed. It may be time for Walraven to come out openly against Corriveaux.”
Maia felt a warning throb from the Medium. “I do not like this,” she whispered.
“Nor do I,” Sabine replied. “Messages delivered through Leerings are troubling because you do not always know the identity of the sender. There are Dochte Mandar throughout each major city of the realm who transcribe and transmit these messages. So while the message Simon received claims to be from Walraven, I have my suspicions.”
“I felt a warning from the Medium,” Maia said.
Sabine touched her arm. “As have I,” she replied. Suzenne’s expression was grave as she listened.
“What will you do?” Maia asked.
“There are abbeys under construction throughout the realms,” Sabine said. “I plan to go to Hautland to open the Apse Veil in Viegg anyway. But the Cruciger orb tells me Walraven is still in Naess. I will check it every day. If he stays in Naess, then I know it is a trap from Corriveaux. But if the Cruciger orb shows him in Hautland, then I will know it is possible to meet him there. I trust the Cruciger orb will guide me to him. I will take some Evnissyen with me, of course. But I am concerned about Walraven. I have an uneasy feeling whenever I think about him.”
Maia frowned—the disquiet inside her had not abated. “I will worry about you, Grandmother,” she said. “I could not bear it if anything happened to you.”
Sabine smiled and smoothed Maia’s cheek. “We have an advantage the Victus do not share. With the Apse Veils restored, we can send mastons across the kingdoms very quickly. As I travel from realm to realm, I will ask for help to join you in Comoros. You have the support of Pry-Ree and Dahomey. We must negotiate the support of other kingdoms so we can wrench loose the yoke of the Naestors completely.” She sighed. “How I wish I had Lia’s Gift of Seering. Instead, we must stumble ahead through the fog, not knowing the way. But the Medium will guide us.”
Maia felt pain in her heart at the thought of not seeing her grandmother for a while.
“There is more,” Simon said, reaching into his tunic and withdrawing a sealed letter. “I have not read the contents.”
“From my husband?” Maia asked eagerly.
Simon smiled and handed her the letter. It bore the royal seal of Dahomey. “It came a short while ago. I am told he arrived safely.”
Maia broke the seal and opened the letter, her heart filling with giddiness at the prospect of seeing her husband’s words.
The first thing she noticed sent a stab of terror through her heart. It was the signature at the end. Corriveaux.
Greetings, Queen Maia of Comoros
Knowing full well that you can read, I address this to you personally. If my will has been done, this note has reached you through the hand of one of my loyal supporters in your realm. I congratulate you on your coronation. You will not long wear your crown. When you betrayed us and refused to lend your support to our cause, do not suppose that I would let you claim a crown without my consent. I hereby warn you, Marciana Soliven, that I am coming for you. I will strike the heart of your realm first. Your heart, to be precise. You will suffer greatly for your arrogance and conceit. What you have been given can be ripped from you. You will watch your people be murdered. Those you have sheltered from Assinica will curse your name in the end. You will learn firsthand the consequences of defying me. Yes, I am coming for you, Maia. Be warned.
Corriveaux
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Uprising
Corriveaux’s message served its intended purpose. Though Maia’s grandmother had warned her that the message’s intent was to cause fear and worry, the very emotions that would repel the Medium’s assistance, in the days following her receipt of the note, she often found herself ruminating over it.
It did comfort her to hear directly from Collier not long after she received her enemy’s ominous missive. Her husband had scrawled a quick note confiding his plans to bring the Paeizians to heel. She could easily imagine him in the costume of Feint Collier, dashing around the countryside on his cream-colored horse, and she secretly wished she could join him. In her darkest hours, she could not help but worry for him; Corriveaux had threatened her heart . . . could he plan on attacking her husband? She was anxious for Collier to pass the maston test, but it had taken several months of study for the Medium to permit her to take it.
Her days were no longer full of meetings, as her council was busy implementing the plan they had adopted. She had not inspected the city’s defenses yet, but the city watch was on patrol. Maia had no recent word from Caspur, increasing her sense of dread, but a note had arrived via courier from Dodd that he had three thousand men marching day and night from the north.
Reports indicated that Kord Schuyler’s army was moving slowly, gathering more volunteers each day, but it was still two days from Comoros. Maybe three.
In the late afternoon, she was speaking to Richard in the chancellor’s tower when they were interrupted by the sound of boots rushing up the stairwell. Maia was poring over rosters of provisions and inventories of weapons and hastily set them down, alarmed by the sound. Comoros had a sizable armory and there were plenty of spears, swords, chain hauberks, helmets, shields, arrows—enough to outfit a sizable army . . . if only they had the soldiers to use them. The city blacksmiths were hammering all day long as well, repairing broken weapons and armor and manufacturing new ones.
“I feel comfortable,” Richard said, glancing at the doorway, “that we have enough provisions for a month, maybe two if we ration. I advise using the river to ferry in new supplies from around the realm. If there is a chance the city will be under siege for some time, we will do better to be prepared.”
Simon Fox appeared on the stairwell, his face flushed and pale. He was normally very calm, so the extent of his agitation was alarming in itself.
“What is it, Simon?” Maia asked. The chancellor just stared at their visitor in concern, his brows knit together.
“My lady,” Simon said, almost out of breath. “Pardon . . . but as soon as I found out, I ran all the way from my shop.”
“Speak,” Maia implored, feeling a well of darkness open up beneath her before he even explained the situation.
“Caspur has betrayed you,” Simon said curtly, beginning to pace.
“Oh no,” Maia whispered. “What has he done?”
Simon ran a hand through his hair and continued to walk the room. “When you told me how insistent he was on leading a force against Schuyler’s, I sent some of my men to follow his movements. My lady, he raised a force of ten thousand from his domains. He was urgent in his preparations, acting as my men thought one in his position should. He started them marching almost immediately. That was four days ago. I thought all was well until his army suddenly veered to the north to intercept Schuyler’s.”
Maia closed her eyes, feeling the terrible moment keenly.
“It is worse, my lady,” Simon said vehemently. “By design or not, I do not know, but when Caspur’s army closed with Schuyler’s, the two were camped near each other. In the morn, his men joined Schuyler’s.”
Richard’s expression was even more grave, if that were possible. “They joined, Simon?”
The Dahomeyjan spymaster nodded vigorously. “My lady, combined, they are nearly unstoppable. Even if Lord Price gets here in time, his troops will hardly make a difference. My lady, you are betrayed. Schuyler’s army is also much closer than you realize. The outriders will reach the city limits sometime tomorrow.”
Maia felt light-headed as she turned to look at her chancellor. “We have more money and resources, but we lack time to summon them. My husband is caught fighting his own war. My grandmother left for Hautland, and even if Pry-Ree were willing to offer their support for our internal war, it would take too long for their troops to arrive.”
Simon scratched the back of his head roughly. “This is a perilous hour. I came straight here. No one else knows. If the city finds out, there will be a panic and an exodus.”
“When they find out,” Maia corrected him. “This is not a secret we can keep.” She sighed in despair. “Should I have given him the command after all? I did not believe him capable of such treachery. He and Schuyler are rivals. Caspur stands more to gain if he supports me than his enemy. I am hurt, but I am also astonished. I truly did not believe him capable of such a betrayal.”
Richard stared solemnly at the floor for a moment and then lifted his gaze to her face. “I also did not expect him to betray the Crown. He threw in his lot with you when your father was murdered. Speaking of which, the interment of his body was supposed to happen tomorrow. I suppose that must be altered. Our options, it seems, are few.”
Simon folded his arms. “Fight, flee, or fail. There are truly only three choices. By fail, I mean capitulate . . . surrender. You do not have enough troops to fight. If you flee now, you will lose your throne forever. Taking back a lost throne is almost impossible. And if you surrender . . . I cannot imagine Schuyler will show you mercy. He was only too eager to behead you when you were your father’s prisoner.”
Maia started pacing. “There is only one choice,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “We must fight with whatever force we have available to us. The citizens must help . . . and to help, they must be told. We do not have time to waste. Richard, summon Justin and any available Privy Council members. We must share this news immediately. I will not be returning to Muirwood tonight.”
“But my lady,” Simon implored. “Are there no mastons we can summon to aid us?”
“We must and will summon every ally we can,” Maia said. “I will meet you in the council room. I had promised to inspect the kitchens this afternoon. I will do that now while you gather the council. I need a moment to think and prepare. Tell me as soon as everyone has been summoned.”
Richard nodded and rose quickly from his desk. Simon looked greensick with worry as he unbolted the door. Collier had left him to advise her, a task that had to seem futile at the moment. She could see that he was determining the possible outcomes, and all of them looked equally bleak.
“Courage, Simon,” Maia said, resting her hand on his shoulder. Though she addressed the words to him, she knew she was really telling herself.
Maia wrung her hands as she walked down the hall toward the castle kitchen. Dinner was underway, and she could smell the scents of baking bread and sizzling meat. Normally it would have made her mouth water, but her knowledge of the impending attack had buried her appetite. The kitchen worked day and night to feed so many, and Maia was concerned that young children were being worked too hard or treated with excessive harshness. She loved visiting Muirwood’s kitchen, but the castle kitchen lacked any kind of hominess. Here there were ten chimneys, dozens of tables, two larders, a pen holding animals to butcher, and cellars stuffed with sacks of vegetables and grains.
It would be difficult to explain the situation to the Privy Council. She wanted to trust that the Medium would lead them to victory—that Dodd’s three thousand men could come out ahead just as Garen Demont’s small force had done at the battle of Winterrowd. And truly she did trust that the Medium would protect them from Kord Schuyler, a man who denigrated others and scorned Aldermastons. But the struggle before them still terrified her, and she could not forget how many lives she carried in her hands.
The thoughts made her frown with anger, and she noticed several servants were gathered outside the kitchen, staring at her with concern. She turned the frown int
o an apologetic smile and continued toward the kitchen door. One of the servants bustled up to her, his look nervous.
“Your Majesty, we knew you were coming, but there is a problem in the kitchen. We need a few more moments before your visit.”
Maia did not slow her stride. “Unfortunately Solomon, I do not have time to delay. I must be at a Privy Council meeting shortly. I will not stay long.”
He seemed desperate to persuade her otherwise. “Well, it is just that there is a situation and I had hoped it to be resolved already, but it is not.”
Maia raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
The servant looked flustered. He was tall and lanky and very proper. Her father had given special uniforms to the court servants denoting their place within the hierarchy. While Maia cared nothing for such matters, she was trying to learn the various protocols of the lower staff. Her hunch would be that this fellow ranked highly.
“Well, Your Majesty instructed us to feed any vagrant who entered the castle hungry. One arrived earlier this afternoon and . . . well, he has not only eaten a fair amount, but he has also rattled the cooks with his advice about how to cook properly.”
Maia’s eyes widened with surprise. “I wish to meet him at once,” she said, hardly daring to hope.
“Well, if you insist,” Solomon said bleakly, wringing his hands. The doors opened and as Maia entered, she heard Jon Tayt’s voice ring out with a laugh.
“The entire kingdom of Dahomey eats cheese this way, by Cheshu!” he roared. “Melted! Little metal skewers dipped into bowls. It burns your mouth at first, but if you add the right spices to the cheese . . . oooooh, I tell you there is no finer feast than this.”
Maia’s heart nearly burst when she saw Jon Tayt slouched over on a barrel, his belt stuffed with throwing axes, his cloak askew off one thick shoulder, his coppery hair ruffled from the journey. He looked over his shoulder at her when the door opened, and the warm smile he gave her made tears sting her eyes.
