by Speer, Flora
“Winn!” Calia shouted, seeing the man-at-arms on deck. “Help us! Get Anders aboard. He’s wounded.”
Winn charged down the gangplank, scooped Anders up, and tossed him over his shoulder.
“I’ll see to him. Come on, Mairne, move your feet.” Winn ran back to the ship with Mairne close by his side, weeping and talking to Anders all the way.
“Calia.” Suddenly, Laisren was there on the dock, though Calia hadn’t noticed her coming. She held out a hand. “Link with me. Durand, you, too.” Summoning Durand to a different kind of battle, Laisren reached her other hand toward the man who was still fighting Mallory with his sword.
Laisren spoke softly, as if she didn’t want Mallory to hear her. Garit continued to engage Mallory at sword-point and, to Calia’s amazement, her brother looked tired. She had only a moment to wonder about that bewildering oddity among the other strange aspects of Mallory’s behavior since he’d reached the dock.
Then she felt Laisren’s Power and understood that they weren’t just going to fight Mallory. The Kantian Queen was at last ready to leave the dock and Laisren immediately bent their linked strength to the task of hastening the departure.
The ship shimmered, wavered, and vanished from human sight, yet Calia, joined to the queen’s mind through their mutual Power, knew it was sailing out of the harbor to the open sea and safety. She also understood that the ship would remain invisible to any lurking pirates until it reached Port Moren, though to those aboard it was completely visible and sailing along quite normally.
Ensuring the safety of The Kantian Queen required an enormous expenditure of Power, yet Laisren never faltered and Calia did not begrudge the draining of her own strength. She knew that Durand felt the same way, that he, too, would give all of his strength to aid the queen in saving the people on that ship.
Calia gradually became aware that Garit was winning his swordfight with Mallory, who was looking more and more exhausted. Garit had wounded him on one arm, opening a small gash from which a surprising amount of blood dripped onto the stone dock. Mallory slipped on his own blood and slid off the dock and into the water. He hadn’t made a sound. Garit walked to the edge and peered down.
“Is he gone?” Garit asked in obvious bewilderment. “Just like that? Defeated by so small a wound?”
“No.” Laisren released Calia and Durand’s thoughts when she let go of their hands. Calia sensed she was still protecting The Kantian Queen and would continue to do so for days to come. But the initial effort was completed. The ship and its passengers were safe.
“Mallory is not gone,” Laisren said. “Nor is he badly wounded. See how the blood has already disappeared from the stone. It, and Mallory’s apparent fall were illusions. He is using what remains of his Power to hide himself.”
“What remains?” Calia cried. “What are you saying?”
“We had a confrontation earlier today,” Laisren explained. “As a result, Mallory’s Power has been severely depleted.”
“That explains why he was so slow,” Calia said, “and why he resorted to using his sword.”
“Yes.” Laisren nodded agreement. “He will need a long time to recover. So will poor Dyfrig.”
“Mallory harmed the king to whom he has sworn fealty?” Durand exclaimed, sounding as if he couldn’t believe it.
“I must return to the palace as soon as possible,” Laisren said. “Dyfrig will need me. So will Euric, I think. And Ilona. Durand, you and Calia look worn out. Come back to the palace with me now. You need to rest before you can think of departing for Tannaris. Besides, if you know what is happening here in Kerun City, you can report the news to my father when you see him.”
“Let’s go, then.” Garit spoke in a voice slightly louder than usual. “Queen Laisren, you may ride my horse if you like, and I will ride the animal Anders was forced to leave behind. I assume no one will want to sit upon Mallory’s beast.”
“Certainly not,” Laisren said, turning a look of approval on him. “Take the horse’s bridle and lead it back to the palace. I have men in the stables who will know how to handle it and how to drain it of whatever wicked Power Mallory may have inflicted on the poor creature.”
“Come on, now, Calia,” Garit ordered, still in that loud voice. “I’ll help you to mount. I’ll feel better once you are safe within the palace walls.”
Calia wanted to insist that they ought to be on their way north at once, but suddenly she knew the queen was right. She felt drained, barely able to keep herself upright. She allowed Garit to lift her into the saddle, while Durand assisted Laisren. They left the dock in silence and Garit stayed close to Calia, watching her as if he feared she would tumble from her horse. They were nearing the palace before anyone spoke again.
“You are a clever man, Garit,” Laisren said. “There on the dock you understood, as I did, that Mallory was lingering somewhere nearby in hope of learning what we intend to do next. He will probably assume that you will stay at least one night to recover from your fight with him. But you must delay your departure from Kerun City for no more than a brief time. Mallory is too exhausted to track you immediately and he knows I’ll send men-at-arms to search for him, so he will have to remain in hiding. That gives you the advantage. If you leave by nightfall you can be well on your way to Chandelar before Mallory regains his full Power.
“Garit,” Laisren continued, “I give you the responsibility of seeing that your horses are ready to travel and of choosing three extra mounts from the royal stable, so you can switch them when your own horses grow tired. That way, you will be able to ride swiftly, for time is important.”
“Agreed.” Garit did not question Laisren’s instructions. “Calia, eat a little and try to sleep before we leave.”
When he reached out to touch her arm as if he understood her complex emotions she managed to smile at him in gratitude at his concern for her, but she could not bring herself to speak. Later, she could not recall much of the ride from the dock to the palace and thought she must have dozed off in the saddle for a time.
Chapter 22
Calia, Laisren, and Durand reached the queen’s chambers to find Euric awaiting them. Laisren and Durand were still pale after their strenuous efforts at the dock and Calia knew she was in worse condition than the others, for she had gone in one moment from rigidly concealing and repressing her Power to turning all of it loose upon her brother. When Laisren motioned her to a chair, Calia sank into it with a sigh.
“How is Dyfrig?” was Laisren’s first question to Euric.
“He has regained consciousness,” Euric answered, “but he is confused. He isn’t able to make rational decisions or to muster the defenses that I and the other nobles consider necessary in the face of Mallory’s treason.
“As serious as the threat to Dyfrig’s life that Mallory embodies,” Euric went on, “is the danger the Matarami pirates will present to the coasts of Kantia if they should learn of Dyfrig’s incapacity. They’ll assume we can’t defend ourselves without a leader to direct us, so they’ll likely attack all along the coast.”
“That’s true. Kantia needs a strong king and needs him now, not later.” Laisren slowly paced to the nearest window, where she stood looking out toward the Western Hills that lay misty-purple in the distance.
Seeing how Laisren’s hands were balled into fists Calia had the impression the queen was gathering her remaining strength to take the next, unwelcome but necessary step. She thought everyone else in the room was under the same impression, for they were all silent, watching the queen and waiting.
When Laisren turned to face them again she appeared composed, though her eyes were suspiciously bright and the colors of her lustrous hair were subdued.
“What does Dyfrig’s physician say?” she asked.
“That he will recover, in time,” Euric said. “Unfortunately, he will never again be strong enough to rule. At the moment, his vision is blurry and his left side is paralyzed.”
“His vision?” Laisren’s vo
ice broke on the words. “Are you telling me that Mallory’s act of physical violence destroyed Dyfrig’s sight?”
“Not entirely. The physician promises that as the swelling recedes the eyesight and the paralysis will slowly correct themselves,” Euric said. “Dyfrig’s confusion will end. He can continue his scholarly researches. Eventually, he will be able to read again, and to write.”
“But not to rule.” Laisren took a deep breath and the colors of her hair faded still more. “We must convene the royal council.”
“I don’t want this.” Euric’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I have prayed to the Great God Sebazious that you and Dyfrig would have children, so the crown would never fall to me.”
“I know, dear friend.” For just a moment Laisren touched Euric’s hand. “You are the most acceptable candidate because you are Dyfrig’s first cousin, his nearest blood kin. You are honest, dependable and well-liked, a famous warrior. In the immediate future your skill at warfare will be important in keeping peace with our more belligerent neighbors, especially the Matarami, who do not consider the sea between us a barrier. Kantia will be fortunate to have such a king. Send the councilors to me and I will tell them so.”
“And Dyfrig?” Euric looked worried and even a bit frightened. “What shall we do with him? I won’t be a party to his death and I know you won’t, either. But there are nobles who are not so scrupulous.”
“Dyfrig will have to abdicate because of ill health.” Laisren’s voice was sad but resolute. “I think he ought to go into retirement in the Western Hills. It’s where his heart has always been. He will be content there, far from courtly intrigues and false friends like Mallory.”
“What will you do, my lady?” Euric asked.
“As soon as the changes are made, after Dyfrig is settled in some safe and peaceful retreat and after I have witnessed you and Ilona crowned king and queen, then I will return to Tannaris,” Laisren answered. “Once there, I will convince my father to sever the marriage ties between Dyfrig and me. Dyfrig will be free of a wife he never truly wanted and Kantia will be rid of its despised foreign queen. Perhaps then the Kantians will finally believe that I have the best interests of my adopted country at heart.”
“No one who knows you has ever doubted that, my lady,” Euric exclaimed.
“I think it’s time to send for Ilona,” Laisren suggested with a slightly watery smile. “Will you tell her she’s to be the next queen of Kantia, or shall I?”
“See what you’ve done?” Ilona asked of Durand as soon as Laisren and Euric had left the audience chamber. “Did you ever suspect while you were earning my dowry by secret missions for King Henryk that you were setting me on the path to become a queen?”
Calia was still seated in the same chair into which she had almost fallen when she arrived from the dock. Laisren had bid her farewell and then had touched her forehead, the brief gesture providing Calia with a feeling of renewed strength.
She could see that Ilona was hovering between relieved laughter to know Durand and the others were safe, and tears at the news Euric and Laisren had just imparted. Like her husband, Ilona did not really want to be a ruler, but out of love for Euric she would do her duty.
At least a few of Ilona’s tears were in reaction to the other piece of news she had heard, that Durand and his companions were leaving the city and were lingering only long enough for Durand to bid a hasty farewell to his sister.
“Had I known,” Durand responded to Ilona’s wistful question, “I would not have changed a thing. The Kantians will be fortunate to have you as their queen. So is Euric fortunate to have you.”
“My marriage to Euric is your doing, and I will never cease to thank you for that.” Tears stood in Ilona’s silver-grey eyes. “Oh, I do love you, Durand. Please, I beg you, don’t let the change in my life come between us.”
“Far from it.” Durand’s mischievous grin flashed, its brightness erasing all traces of his weariness. “In fact, I believe you will become an even more useful agent to me once you are queen.”
“What a dreadful man you are.” On a gust of helpless laughter Ilona embraced her brother. Then she turned to Calia, who finally rose to her feet to face the queen-to-be. “Dear friend, thank you for helping Durand. Wicked though he can be at times, he is important to me.”
“My lady.” Nearly overcome by her fresh realization of how close the affections between siblings could be and ought to be, Calia dipped into the deepest curtsy she could possibly make. She kept her head down until she was certain she had blinked away all of her tears so they would not show. “I agree with Durand. Kantia will be fortunate to have you as queen, and so is Euric fortunate.”
“You will always be welcome in my court,” Ilona said. “I only wish you could stay until the coronation, though I do understand why you cannot.” She turned back to Durand then, to bid him a tearful farewell.
Calia, sensing she wouldn’t be missed, seized the moment to slip out of the queen’s chambers quietly, without waiting for royal permission to leave.
Always it was the same, Mallory thought as he made his slow, painful way back to his house through the crowded streets, taking care to keep his well-known face averted from everyone he passed. Thanks to Laisren’s misuse of him, he was on foot and without his usual bodyguards. He knew very well that many people in the city didn’t like him and would be happy to take advantage of his solitary, exhausted situation.
If he’d felt stronger, he would have cursed aloud. It just wasn’t fair that he should be illegitimate, the son of a traitor, and now find himself without a royal patron. Ah, but he’d show the fools who thought they were so superior to him. He’d soon regain the Power that Laisren had drained – Laisren and his lying sister.
He could not fathom how Calia, that uninteresting, colorless creature, could have hidden her Power so well. But now he knew her secret, so he’d be more wary in future. For they would meet again when his Power far surpassed Calia’s.
He intended to make his way to the Northern Border, which he knew well after years of living there while Dyfrig was prince of that restless area. Mallory was on familiar terms with certain outlaws who would keep his presence in the borderlands secret until he was ready to strike.
Somewhere between Kerun City and Tannaris, before his opponents could reach the safety of Ultan’s capital city, he would find Calia, waylay her and her companions, and seize the Emerald from her. When he was finished, the outlaws who would help him could have the three, to kill or ransom as they pleased. By then it wouldn’t matter what any of them said or did.
With ruthless single mindedness Mallory consigned his erstwhile patron and friend, Dyfrig, to the past along with Kinath Castle, Fenella, and her children whose planned-for deaths had once promised him the right to inherit Kinath. They no longer mattered, either. Compared to the Power the Emerald offered to its owner, no mere woman, no king, no castle or title was of any importance at all. Nor did an insignificant country like Kantia hold any weight in Mallory’s thoughts.
With the Emerald in his hands he’d be invincible. He’d possess everything he had ever dreamt of: wealth, lands, titles. Then all the known world would understand that he, Mallory of Catherstone, was a great man, worthy of high regard and respect. Once the Emerald was his, he’d be even stronger than Ultan. He could enslave Ultan if he wanted, or destroy Ultan completely and make himself the Great Mage.
At last Mallory reached his house. When no one opened the door to his knocking he realized that the servants had fled. He wasn’t surprised, for word of an important man’s disgrace always spread rapidly, as he had learned after his father’s fall. Unlike his father, Mallory would survive to rise again.
He knew he didn’t have much time before Laisren sent troops to search the house for him. If they found him, they would seize him and bind what little Power he still retained and he was too weak to fight them off just yet. He needed a few days to rest if he was to recover his strength.
Wearily, feelin
g the ache of expended Power in his every muscle, but most of all in his throbbing head, he climbed the stairs to his private bedchamber, the room he kept magically locked and bolted against Fenella and the servants.
After employing some of his remaining Power to open the door, he changed into the simple, dark woolen tunic, hose, and sturdy boots he had always kept in readiness for flight. He tucked a pouch of gold coins into his belt next to his plain but very sharp sword and the eating knife that could be – and sometimes had been – used for other, deadlier purposes. Lastly, he swirled a long, black cloak around his shoulders and pulled up the hood.
In the stables he discovered that most of the horses were gone. Of course they were; the servants could sell them in the market to make up for the wages they would no longer be paid. Mallory shrugged his shoulders and dismissed the servants from his thoughts when he saw that the one remaining horse was a huge, black stallion that only he could master and upon which he had bestowed certain magical abilities. All of the grooms were afraid of the beautiful but vicious beast, as well they should be.
“So, Hob,” he whispered to the horse as he bridled and saddled it, “they have no idea what they’ve left to me. I know a safe place where I can hide until I’ve recuperated. Then, I will have the Emerald!”
Mounted at last, he headed out of the city, using the last remnants of his Power to make himself and his horse undetectable to the guards at the northern gate.
As evening drew toward night travelers on the road, hurrying home before full darkness, paid no attention to the fellow wearing a hooded cloak who slumped in the saddle of the spavined, speckled grey horse as the wretched animal rambled along. The pair was too derelict to attract thieves and, after a day of such great and distracting news from the palace, no one bothered with a lone rider.
Calia found Garit sitting on a stone bench in a small garden just off the queen’s chambers. In the exact center of the garden a fountain splashed merrily, its water shimmering and sparkling in the waning daylight. Garit rose at her approach.
