by Speer, Flora
“Never believe a woman!” The king’s plea had added the final spark to Mallory’s fury until he could barely control himself. All of his impatience with the weak man who hesitated to use his kingly influence to rule with stern vigor, all of his indignation over the lands and titles he had been denied by Dyfrig overflowed at last. The words he had repressed for so long tumbled from his lips. “Your wife has made a fool of you. You don’t even know what’s happening in your own kingdom. You don’t deserve to rule.”
Mallory released Laisren so unexpectedly that she staggered backward. Then he fisted one hand and landed a hard punch on Dyfrig’s chin. The king was flattened to the floor by the unexpected blow, his head striking the polished marble with a sickening thud that delighted Mallory’s corrupt soul.
In the next instant Mallory felt himself captured by a Power so immense and so potent that he had no recourse against it. Even if his own Power had been at its full strength he knew he’d have been helpless in the fierce grip that Laisren was exerting upon him. Only now did he comprehend that she hadn’t been afraid of him at all. The alteration in her hair color meant she had been drawing in upon herself in preparation for the full employment of her Power.
“Until this moment, out of respect for Dyfrig,” Laisren said, “I have restrained myself in regard to you. But you have no right to raise your hand against your king. You swore fealty to Dyfrig, yet you have just committed treason against him. I am thus free to use my Power to protect him. I tell you again for the last time, the Great Emerald is not here.”
“But it was here.” Mallory bared his teeth, which was all the defiance he was capable of exhibiting against the woman who continued to hold his body immobilized while she allowed his mind to remain active. That was one of the great joys that Mallory always found in using his own, corrupt Power. His victims knew what was happening to them and could not fight back. He couldn’t be sure what Laisren intended for him; he caught only a faint hint of her plans before she blocked her mind against him. That hint was enough.
“Now, I understand,” he told the queen. “I should have guessed before this. If I am a traitor to Dyfrig, so are you. You think to send the Emerald to your father, and you plan to use Calia to transport it. Calia will not succeed. She possesses no Power at all.”
“Perhaps that is why I chose her,” Laisren said with surprising mildness. “Now, go away.”
Though he did not will himself to do so, Mallory suddenly discovered that his legs were moving. In a moment he was standing outside the main door of the queen’s apartment, in an empty corridor.
“Leave the palace and do not return,” Laisren commanded.
“I will return when I am ready,” Mallory said, and added a vile slur upon Laisren’s virtue. The words were scarcely uttered before his mind went blank. When he awakened the sun was near to setting and he lay sprawled upon a heap of garbage in a narrow street in the worst part of Kerun City.
“Dyfrig, speak to me,” Laisren begged, kneeling beside him.
The only answer she received was a moan, but it was enough to reassure her that the king still lived. That was comforting knowledge, since she wasn’t accustomed to dealing with the aftereffects of physical force.
“My lord Dyfrig? My dear lady?”
Laisren looked up at the sound of that familiar voice. Relief left her weak as she glimpsed Euric in the king’s chamber. He looked through the open doorway, then rushed into the queen’s room to kneel next to her.
“What’s wrong with Dyfrig?”
“Mallory attacked him,” Laisren said. “And me. Where are Calia and the others?”
“They should be at the docks by now,” Euric answered, bending to raise the king in his arms. “Calia insisted on seeing Lady Elgida safely aboard ship before she would leave the city. She is remarkably loyal. You have chosen your messenger well, my lady.”
“I must go to the docks. I will be needed there.” Laisren didn’t move at once. Instead, for a long moment she looked at Dyfrig’s pale face. “Care for him, Euric.”
“I will, my lady. You may depend on me.”
“Yes, I know.” With her gaze still on Dyfrig, Laisren stood, balancing herself with one hand on Euric’s stout arm. “Mallory may have harmed him permanently, though I prevented him from employing his full Power on Dyfrig. Our king may not recover from the blow of Mallory’s fist.”
“Never say so, my lady. Dyfrig must recover. I am sworn to protect and serve him and I will do so unto death, if need be. I do not covet the position that will fall to me if Dyfrig can no longer rule.”
“I know you do not. That is why I trust you.” Laisren hurried toward the door.
“Aye, I got yer message. Leavin’ port in haste is fast becomin’ a habit with ye, Garit, me lad.” From the deck of The Kantian Queen, Captain Pyrsig surveyed the group assembled at the foot of the gangplank. “Children? And more women? There’s not enough room on me ship.”
“Yes, there is,” Calia told him. “Garit, Durand, Anders, and I will not be sailing with you. Lady Sundaria may use the berth that was previously mine, and the men’s former cabin will be free for Lady Fenella and her children. You have only to load the horses and the baggage before you cast off the lines.”
“Here is the queen’s order,” Garit said, handing over a document that was embellished with a blue wax seal and a dangling green ribbon. He added a purse that clinked enticingly. “You know that in addition to this purse, you will be paid well when you deliver your passengers to Port Moren.”
“Aye, but in the meantime,” the captain objected, “me and me crew will have to deal with brats climbin’ into the rigging and females bein’ seasick.”
“Please, captain.” Fenella held out her hands in supplication. Displaying no sign of fear that she might fall into the water she stepped onto the narrow, rickety gangplank. “I must escape from a man who means me harm. You can see what he has already done to my face. I am helpless against him and only you can save me, dear captain.”
As Fenella drew nearer, Captain Pyrsig looked more closely at her and frowned. “‘Tis a pity that any man would so hurt a beautiful woman.”
“Do you think I am beautiful?” Fenella asked in a soft, trembling voice.
“Aye, and twinin’ yerself about me heart even now,” the captain said. “Yer a dangerous woman, that’s what ye are. Did someone tell ye that I never ignore a lady who’s in a desperate situation?”
“Oh, Captain Pyrsig,” Fenella whispered, “please, help me, for I dare not remain in Kantia even another day longer. I fear for my very life.”
“As for me,” Lady Elgida interrupted Fenella’s pleas in her usual brisk way, “though their mother seems to have forgotten them, I am determined to see my grandsons removed from Kantia before their stepfather can kill them. I know you well enough, captain, to be certain that you will not want the lives of two little boys on your conscience when you could have saved them.” She waved a hand toward the dock, where Belai and Kinen stood waiting with Durand guarding them. Somehow, for a few moments the boys contrived to appear both innocent and pathetic.
“Ah, well.” Captain Pyrsig heaved a great sigh. “I never could resist a sharp-witted female, and now I’ve got two of them workin’ on me heart. Come aboard, then. You, men-at-arms there on the dock! Get yer horses into the hold as fast as ye can. If this sailin’ is as urgent as all of ye claim, we won’t want to miss the ebb tide.”
“Thank you, captain.” Calia sent a bright smile in his direction, but Pyrsig didn’t see it. He was too busy helping Fenella off the gangplank and onto the deck to pay attention to anyone else.
“I cannot imagine why she was worried about her future,” Sundaria said wryly.
“She was right to be worried,” Calia responded. “She’d never be able to charm Mallory the way she’s charming Captain Pyrsig. He has a heart and a conscience; Mallory has neither.”
“Garit, lend me your arm as far as the deck,” Lady Elgida directed. “Now, I expect you to
keep Calia safe until you return her to Saumar Manor.”
Calia kissed Lady Elgida on the cheek, gave Sundaria and Mairne each a hug, and then warned Belai and Kinen to behave. She didn’t think the boys heard her. They were too excited about their first sea voyage to pay any attention to her instructions. She comforted herself with the certain knowledge that Lady Elgida would be providing a flood of constant instructions and advice to her grandsons.
“Let us be off,” Garit said to her as he reached the dock again.
“Not yet.” Calia looked toward the city streets, searching for a sign of her brother. “First, we have to be certain that Mallory won’t attack the ship. If he sees us on the dock while The Kantian Queen heads out of the harbor, he will most likely let the others sail away and concentrate on trying to stop us.”
“If he thinks the Emerald is on the ship,” Garit objected, “he’ll do whatever damage to it that he’s capable of inflicting.”
“All the more reason for us to distract him,” Durand said.
Anders had just completed a long farewell embrace with Mairne. He sent the weeping girl up the gangplank and continued to watch as Mairne turned to wave to him. Suddenly, Mairne’s expression changed from sorrow into alarm. She uttered a hastily smothered scream and pointed to the city.
Guessing what had frightened Mairne, Calia whipped around. “I didn’t think he’d find us so quickly,” she whispered.
A lone figure was riding a large black stallion directly toward the dock. Mallory came at a leisurely trot, as if he felt no sense of urgency.
“Why is he so calm?” Calia asked. “Does he have his people hidden in the nearby streets and alleys? Or does he intend to play with us first, before he unleashes his Power?”
“Hurry it up, there!” Garit shouted to his men-at-arms, who were still urging their horses up the second, cargo gangplank and into the ship’s hold. “Get the baggage aboard now! Captain Pyrsig, cast off the lines as soon as you possibly can.”
“I’m doin’ me best, laddie.” Captain Pyrsig stood on the deck with Fenella’s hand tucked into his elbow. He detached himself from her with ill-concealed reluctance. “Lady Elgida, will ye be good enough to take yer companions below? If there’s goin’ to be a fight, ye’d best be stowed safely away where ye can’t be seen.
“Here, now, boys!” he yelled at Belai and Kinen, who had been wandering amongst the ropes and folded sails, investigating their surroundings with great curiosity. “On a ship ye must obey the captain’s orders, or else ye’ll be thrown overboard. Get below. I’m puttin’ ye in charge of keepin’ the ladies safe.”
With surprising alacrity Belai took his grandmother’s arm and Kinen grabbed Sundaria’s hand. Within a heartbeat all of the passengers except one disappeared through the hatchway that led to the cabins. Only Mairne lingered to watch Anders.
“My friends,” Durand said, “I suggest we line up across the dock and do our best to prevent Mallory from reaching the ship.”
“He doesn’t have to reach the ship.” Garit’s tone was grim. “He can use his Power.”
“If he does, we’ll fight Power with Power,” Durand said.
“You?” Calia gaped at him in surprise. Then, “Of course. You did say something days ago.”
“You are not the only soul who learned at an early age to control the Power and to use it only in the most dire circumstances.” Durand’s grin was wicked.
“I learned to control it so well that I’ve never used it at all,” Calia answered.
“Then this encounter should prove most interesting.” Durand looked as if he was looking forward to matching his Power against Mallory’s. His gaze shifted to the approaching figure. “Our adversary will be here in a few moments.”
“I possess no Power, but I can provide a physical defense against him,” Garit offered, drawing his sword.
“So can I.” Anders unsheathed his squire’s blade and took up his position next to Garit.
The four of them spread out across the dock with their backs to the ship where Captain Pyrsig was issuing his final orders about loading the baggage.
“I wish they would cast off and leave,” Calia muttered.
“Not until Captain Pyrsig is sure all of the cargo has been secured,” Garit told her. “He won’t want the horses crashing about below when the ship encounters the first sea waves, breaking their legs or panicking and hurting the men who are tending to them.”
They had no time for further discussion. Mallory was upon them. He paused just a short distance away. To Calia’s surprise, he did not dismount. Instead, he leaned forward with a movement that she’d have thought was relaxed, if she hadn’t known him so well. He made an impressive figure in his glittering black and silver tunic and black hose and boots, with his sword sheathed in silver and black metal.
Then Calia noticed that his long, elegant hands were dirty and his rich clothing appeared to be wrinkled. He was close enough that she could smell the stench of rotting food emanating from him. That was odd. Mallory always made a point of being clean and neat, attributes he saw as signs of nobility that set him far above the common folk, who were usually dirty and disheveled from their honest work.
Calia decided to use his quirk against him.
“Well, Sister,” Mallory drawled, his smile decidedly unpleasant, “what have you been doing?”
“I was just wondering the same thing about you. I have never seen you quite so unkempt. Have you been playing in a garbage pile?” The taunt was her initial thrust in an attempt to distract Mallory from what was happening aboard The Kantian Queen. Disgust at the way he’d beaten Fenella coupled with the sure knowledge of what he’d do to any or all of the passengers on the ship if they fell into his hands kept her spine rigid and her voice icy cold and very calm.
Mallory’s reaction was startling, for Calia fully expected him to use his Power on her, as he had done in her youth whenever she dared to defy him. This time Mallory sat perfectly still on his horse. He appeared to be studying her.
“I have been told that you are holding something I want,” he finally said.
“Really?” Calia knew he didn’t mean, as another man would have meant, his wife and stepchildren. Wanting to keep his attention on her and to delay any action on his part for as long as possible she continued, “Whoever would suggest such a thing about me? Surely you are aware that I possess nothing but a few pieces of clothing. Anyone who knows me, knows that.”
“You always were stupid,” Mallory said with a grimace that hinted at barely restrained impatience. When he continued, his voice held an implicit threat that Calia immediately recognized. “I will say it again, Sister. You were recently given something that ought to be mine. Hand it over before I—”
“Before you what?” Garit interrupted. “What are you talking about? Speak plainly, Mallory.”
“Very well. Calia, I want the item that Queen Laisren gave you. Hand it over.”
“What item?” Calia asked as innocently as she could manage.
“You are wasting my time. Give it to me.” Mallory held out his hand in an imperious gesture.
Calia had often seen his hand extended just that way during her childhood. If she didn’t do what he wanted and if their father was visiting Catherstone, Mallory would report Calia to him and she’d be punished. If Walderon wasn’t at home, Mallory would use his Power on her. That was what he was threatening now. She marveled that she was still standing, still daring to challenge him. She was even more amazed that he’d argue with her instead of unleashing his Power.
“If I knew what you want, I could tell you whether I have it or not,” she said. Behind her, she could hear Captain Pyrsig still shouting orders. She wished he’d hurry and set sail. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could play the delaying game with Mallory, whose patience was notoriously short. Yet she sensed a hesitation in him, a reluctance that puzzled her.
“You know very well what I want.” In a movement that was strangely awkward Mallory swung down fr
om his horse. He drew his sword slowly. “Do not make me use this, Calia.”
“If you plan to wield a blade against your sister, you will have to deal with Anders and me,” Garit told him, lifting his own sword.
Anders moved closer to Calia on her other side, while Durand, who was positioned a little behind his friends, assumed a relaxed stance with his sword held almost negligently, as if he didn’t expect violence.
“I will not ask you again,” Mallory said to Calia. “As for you, Garit, never imagine you can seize what belongs to me.”
“I am tired of repeating that I do not want Kinath,” Garit said, his words telling Calia that he was playing the game of delay, too.
“I wasn’t talking about Kinath,” Mallory sneered at him. “I was speaking of Calia, of your lover. Has Durand had her, too? And your squire as well?”
“You insult your own sister,” Garit exclaimed. “Have you no honor?”
“Garit, don’t,” Calia cried. “He’s deliberately trying to make you angry.”
“Indeed.” Mallory spoke over Calia’s warning. “I fear I have no sense of honor at all. Never have had, in fact. The circumstance of my birth, you know. Illegitimacy is not conducive to knightly illusions.”
“I’ve known illegitimate men who were honorable knights,” Durand remarked quietly.
Calia thought Durand was trying to deflect Mallory’s growing impatience. Instead, Durand’s words interrupted Garit’s concentration on his opponent. In the instant when Garit moved his head slightly, Mallory swung his sword in a great, slashing motion. He would have beheaded Garit if Anders hadn’t brought his blade up to meet Mallory’s.
“You fool! Out of my way!” Mallory swung again, striking Anders on his sword arm and then, with another vicious stroke, cutting his thigh open.
Garit had already entered the fray, with Durand beside him. Together they fought a frenzied, swearing Mallory.
With a cry of fear, Calia bent to help Anders. At the same moment Mairne ran down the gangplank to throw herself on her lover’s body.
