by Connie Ward
Brave words, but a once prosperous and peaceful nation was about to fall asunder thanks to Uncle's rashness. Lesuperis was the least of my worries. “Who's to be my replacement?” I demanded. “Not that drunkard Roche, I hope? Surely not Chiverly? That bumbler can't lead a horse to water let alone an army."
"I have not yet decided."
"Not yet decided?” Truly the man was mad. “You retire the Gryphon Highlord—your most faithful officer—while your realm totters on the brink of civil war ... and you have not yet decided who will replace her?"
"It is no longer your concern, Kathedra."
"It is my concern. You expect me to prepare for a wedding that might not even take place. You expect me to conceive an heir for a throne that might not even exist at the time of his birth. Uncle, be sensible! You cannot replace the Gryphon Highlord. You cannot replace me."
"No one is irreplaceable."
With effort I calmed myself, tried to think logically instead of emotionally. “You need me, Uncle,” I pressed, lowering my voice. “The Cru—upstarts have harnessed the hate and resentment of the exiled Umagi. I am your best defence against the powers they may unleash against you. You invite their wrath, yet dismiss the one person who can help you."
"I don't recall asking your opinion,” Uncle burbled, his need for calm forgotten. “What vanity. What pretension. Know this, Kathedra. I gave you a position of respect because you are family. But on the day your mother died, you died with her. The Gryphon Highlord is a figurehead, an instrument of fear. You are no great warrior, no battle genius. You merely follow my orders. You were useful for a time, but I have decided that such a time should come to an end. Your reign as the Gryphon Highlord is over."
His words cut deep. With that one terse statement I learned I am a fraud. I learned I am expendable. But most of all, I learned I am not loved. Everything that I had believed had turned out to be an illusion, if not an outright lie.
Rage erupted then, pushing thought against the barriers of restraint. I tried to arrest it, and almost succeeded. Emotion must never be allowed to displace thought, I reminded myself. But willpower and self-control were never my strong points. An unruly mindspell wrestled itself free. Thus an unlit torch, set in a wall sconce not two feet above Uncle's bald pate, burst into flame. Its ignition startled Uncle and made the guards jump. It also jarred me into the realization that I stood in extreme danger.
Shaken, I hastened to apologize. “Forgive me, Uncle, but you did express a desire for more illumination."
Sweat beaded on Uncle's brow. His cheek twitched, betraying his nervousness. Calmly, lest the smallest provocation on his part bring another, perhaps more deadly outburst from me, he asked, “Have you taken your tonic, Kathedra?"
"Yes, Uncle."
"Is it time for another dose, then?"
"Yes,” I lied. “I believe it is."
He looked relieved. Presuming the discussion ended, he dismissed me with the curt, “Do dress appropriately for supper, as I shall be announcing your engagement."
I made no motion to leave. I did not consider the matter closed, nor had I forgotten Uncle's cruel words. “Uncle, listen to me. If you would just trust me, trust in my abilities, you could let my—"
"Kathedra, enough! The subject is not open to debate."
His arrogance grated, like the rough stone of the wall I was banging my head against. “How can you humiliate me this way? Regardless of what you say, I remain your sister's daughter. Blood is blood. Decommission me, imprison me, I am still the Princess Kathedra, and I will sit on that throne one day."
"The only way you'll ever sit on my throne,” Uncle growled, his hands bunched into fists of fury, “is if you marry Lesuperis and give Thylana an heir."
The last of my self-control broke. I should point out that it is never in one's best interest to call the Regent of Thylana a greedy, pompous, moronic slug, even if one is that same slug's niece. A pair of sentries seized my arms, and after a futile struggle on my part, forced me to my knees before Uncle's dais.
"Confine her to quarters,” Uncle snarled. “And see to it she receives the correct dosage of tonic."
On that ominous note, I was dragged to my feet and hauled away through the castle by Uncle's personal bodyguard, known as the Halberdiers. Only then, judging by the taunting grins of the sentries, did I begin to suspect something sinister was afoot. There was more to the forced retirement of the Gryphon Highlord than met the eye.
Over the shoulders of my guards I strained to catch one parting glimpse of Uncle. He still sat on his throne, hunched in despair and bitterness, one hand covering his eyes as if the light were too bright, or the thoughts behind them too heavy, too bleak.
* * * *
Alone in my rooms, behind a closed and barred door, I pondered the wisdom of my temper. Without protest, I had accepted my tonic under the Halberdier captain's watchful glare. Only I knew it was, in fact, in addition to the two doses I'd taken that morning. Consumed in such quantity the potion gave me a headache, which I reasoned I'd have acquired anyway, given the circumstances.
Thus, I sat on my velvet settee and concentrated my thoughts on the green goblets atop my wine cart, hoping to blast them to crystal shards. But my powers were sufficiently diluted. I resorted to breaking dishes the old fashioned way. Hardly productive, but it made me feel a whole bunch better.
All is not as simple as I've made it sound, therefore an explanation or at least a brief summary is in order. I'll start with a little family history, beginning with Uncle Bertrand. As the former queen's second born, he was content to live a comfortable life in a castle and demesne of his own, complete with doting wife and loving child until the day a resident Umagi, his own hearthmage in fact, cast a simple everyday spell that went horribly wrong, discharging a lethal dose of magic. The wayward spell left the keep in near ruin and many within dead or dying, including my aforementioned aunt and cousin.
The magical onslaught caused torches and hearths to burn out of control, setting alight anything within reach, whether that be tapestry or table, and spread with deadly speed through the rushes that covered the floor. This same uncontrolled release of power also compelled portions of the keep's stone walls to crumble and collapse, trapping and maiming many unfortunates in the rubble.
Horrified witnesses also claimed that every sharp edge in the castle suddenly gained a life of its own to spread mayhem and gore throughout. As if wielded by invisible hands, swords slid from their scabbards, battle-axes leapt from their racks, and kitchen knives flew from their cupboards. Some spun at furious speed, carving circles out of the air, while others careered wildly about, slashing and hacking at anything that moved. And though Uncle never discussed the incident in detail, it was said that his young son had died with a paring knife imbedded in his throat, thrust with such strength, it severed his spine and pinned him to one of the support posts in the keep's kitchen.
When the spell had at last fizzled itself out and the poor woman had collapsed to the floor, overwrought by the chaos she had unintentionally inflicted, Uncle ordered her clapped in irons and taken to the dungeons. As the tale goes, the hearthmage's cries of remorse and anguish reached as high as the tallest tower in the keep and as far as the village that squatted in its shadow, through steel and stone and timber, for three days running. No one who heard those screams could refute the agony expressed in them, and they took pity on the woman, who had lost loved ones of her own in the tragedy.
All except Uncle who, mourning the loss of his family, ordered her execution.
Sadly enough, such incidents were not uncommon. Lack of proper training and poor concentration on the part of the spellcaster often led to a wild and violent discharge of magic, even by the most benevolent Umagi. But it was this unfortunate occurrence that birthed Uncle's hatred for all Umagi and in time led to his persecution of them.
In his stupor of grief, Uncle brought all who was left of his household from the keep he'd called, ironically enough, Idyll, here to the cas
tle and put himself at Mother's mercy. A compassionate woman, she welcomed her only sibling and accepted him into Gryphon, where he's lain ever since, like a wounded dog, licking and snapping and snarling at an injury he won't let heal. So steeped in hatred and mistrust, he was naturally appalled when he learned the husband whom his beloved sister had taken was also Umagi. Uncle felt betrayed, this man whose reason was twisted beyond all repair by grief and rage.
Thus it came as no surprise to anyone when following my Mother's death Uncle, newly installed as Regent and named my guardian, ordered all Umagi sent from Thylana in exile. Not even the Halberdier captain at the time was above Uncle's suspicion, for he had connections to the Umagi world. He vanished soon after the edict came down, and the truth of his disappearance was never revealed. A cheerful and fair-minded man, he had a neatly forked beard as dark as the hair that curled to his nape. Val and I could always expect from him a kind word or two, and perhaps a small wooden toy. Sometimes a soldier, sometimes an animal or bird, the toy had been carved by his very hands. I'd always felt sorry for him, that he didn't have children of his own to make these wonderful toys for. And I remember shedding some few tears on the day that I learned he was gone, telling myself I cried for the loss of playthings yet to be, and not the ache in my chest that his abrupt departure caused.
As it stands, Uncle never recovered from the horrors he had seen that awful day, from the grief that ate away at his soul. I really think he had no inclination to try. After all, it is much easier to wallow in one's misery than embark upon the arduous task of getting on with one's life. There are days yet when he can be seized by fearsome rage, laying waste to anything in his path and issuing orders that no sane man can follow. Madness stalks my poor uncle, as relentless a hunter as death itself. In my opinion, his fits of lunacy are no different from the effects of an improperly cast spell.
Yet despite my Umagi heritage, Uncle was kindly disposed towards me, perhaps because I was all the family left to him, and he raised me as if I were his own. I had a roof over my head, the finest food to eat, the best tutors, and the promise of a crown. He saw to it that I lacked for nothing. Though he tried to teach me to hate my Umagi blood and the Umagi father I'd barely known, he did not succeed.
So while I revile Uncle for his actions on one hand, I pity him on the other, and love him with the loyalty of an heir who will one day take his place. No one, least of all Uncle, doubts my allegiance. I am his most trusted, his most valiant. He has made a very grave mistake indeed, to cut me from his side, as if I were a rotting appendage in need of removal.
CHAPTER TWO
That night Valleri came to my apartment through the secret passageway by which romantic interludes are possible. His appearance surprised me. I had hoped he wouldn't come, for I wanted no witnesses to my humiliation. But he possessed the loyalty of a hound.
He sat beside me at the table and took my hand in his. “I'm sorry, Kathedra."
"So you've heard?"
Valleri nodded, his expression grave. “Bertrand addressed the troops. He said you resigned in order to marry Lesuperis, that you stepped down as Gryphon Highlord because you have too long neglected your duty to give Thylana an heir."
"And you believed him?"
"I didn't believe you resigned willingly. My first thought was that you were with child.” He cast me a sidelong glance. “Are you?"
"I can't believe you have to ask that,” I hissed, feeling my cheeks flame as I shot to my feet.
"Sit.” His hand gently pulled me back down into my chair. “I had to ask, Kathedra. The announcement was so sudden ... what would you have me think?"
Shrugging the question aside, I muttered, “Well, we're in a fix now. Uncle knows about us."
"He suspects. He has no proof. Unless, of course, you admitted it."
"Don't be ridiculous. I saw no point in dragging you down with me. Uncle only retired me. He can do worse to you. Much worse.” I shuddered at many a gruesome possibility. “He lied, Valleri. Does everyone believe him?"
"Not everyone. Your troops don't believe you'd ever resign, much less marry Lesuperis."
"Did he name my replacement?"
"That's to be disclosed later."
"That's because he doesn't know."
Valleri fell silent. His silence irritated me.
"It doesn't make sense!” I cried out suddenly. “The commoners mass against us. The Umagi join them. Our allies quibble among themselves. All Thylana is about to crash down around his ears yet Uncle retires the Gryphon Highlord, the one person who may be able to hold it all together, and, and, he has no idea who should replace her?"
In my frustration I slammed my palms onto the table and pushed myself to my feet. Ordering my thoughts, I paced awhile, mindful of Valleri's stare. As I passed the wine cart, I caught sight of the crystal goblets so impervious to my will, thinking, What a hideous bloody shade of green!
Finally I stopped before my window and looked out it, where I could see for miles, down upon Thylana.
"If only Mother hadn't entrusted her throne to him,” I spat. “Then I would rule and none of this would have happened. Not the witch hunts. Not the revolt. None of it."
"I suppose she thought she had no choice. You were only nine when your mother took ill. She had to make arrangements ... and Bertrand seemed the logical choice."
My gaze remained on the view beyond the window, though I really wasn't seeing it. “He'll never let me have the throne, Val. He says I'm too young, too immature. Yet Mother was just eighteen when she received her own crown. If Uncle has his way I'll be an old hag."
"Or never,” Valleri mused. “I've warned you about this before, Kathedra. Bertrand has always questioned Thylana's law of succession, especially the point bestowing the title of Heir upon the first born, regardless of gender. He believes the first born male child should inherit the throne. He's always coveted your mother's crown. He certainly won't surrender absolute power to her daughter, not without a fight."
"Oh, Valleri,” I sighed, resting my elbows on the casement. “Why must everything with Uncle be such a struggle?"
"I think you know why."
"Because he's suffered and so wants the entire world to suffer along with him?” I let out a delicate snort. “That is an old excuse, and one that I indulged because Uncle has suffered as no man should. But enough is enough, Val. The people say they have endured too long without their hearthmages, their healers, their fortune-tellers. The farmers want back their weather-weavers and forecasters. The village elders want back their rune-readers. The fishwives want back their good luck charms and love philtres."
Lowering my arms, I buried my face in my hands to murmur, “As for the Umagi ... they just want to come home. And Val, I think its time that they did."
That was treason worth a trip to Gryphon's dungeons, even for one such as I. But I would not break faith with Uncle by usurping him. Treachery is not an option for me.
"Shh, Kathedra. Such talk is dangerous."
"Why? Haven't enough years passed to ease his vengeance, if vengeance is what he seeks?"
"He doesn't seek vengeance,” Val said in a quiet voice, the voice he chooses whenever this subject is broached. “He wants peace of mind."
"Peace of mind? Of course. And the best way to find peace of mind is to search for it amidst the chaos and conflict of war.” What the hell sense did that make?
"You know what I mean. He wants to make sure that what happened to him, will never happen again. Or what happened at Idyll won't happen here at Gryphon. To you."
Valleri defending Uncle? That was something new. As was the mention of Idyll. Normally Val avoids the topic, for he was one of the lucky few who survived the events of that tragic day, having lost his parents and a sister, and followed Uncle to Gryphon all those years ago.
As children Val and I were playmates, almost inseparable, drawn together as orphans often are. As adolescents we studied our letters and trained with sword and shield side by side, sometimes rivals
but always friends. And all at the sufferance of Uncle, who was just pleased to see that at least one other child, no matter his parentage or gender, was not afraid to be with me, a fledgling Umagi.
But Val's relationship with Uncle has always been strained, uneasy. While Uncle nurtured Valleri as a boy, giving him every advantage as he did me, he also constantly criticized and berated him. Val's swordplay was mediocre, his bowmanship passable and his academic skills merely adequate. This assessment astounds me because in truth, Val was always quicker with a sword, handier with a bow, and keener with chalk and slate than I, though I manage to hold my own on a field of battle or a hall full of smarmy courtiers.
While Val never refutes Uncle's criticism or questions his decisions, I am not fooled. This ready subservience does not disguise Val's contempt for his benefactor. He lets his hatred for Uncle shape his every thought, every action, every word, which are always at war with his desire to achieve an acceptance and approval he knows he'll never win. For Uncle never lets Valleri forget that he is common, that he is something less than sufferable.
"I never wanted this, you know,” I murmured. “I never wanted strife and bloodshed. I never wanted to be the Gryphon Highlord. I did not want to raise arms against my own people. But Uncle left me no choice. He gave me a sword, a helm, and told me to fight. So I did. But not for the same reasons. I fought to protect the land I love from being wrenched out of the hands of my family. I fought to protect Castle Gryphon, the only home I've ever known. I fought to protect my future throne."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Kathedra,” Valleri said by way of comfort. “You've done all you can. I know it's difficult for you to see Thylana in such turmoil, for you to watch the innocent suffer. You risk your life with mercy missions, spiriting in sacks of meal and medicines to those in direst need ... and it works to your advantage. Now is the time to engender a sense of respect and admiration in the people, so you won't be reviled later when you become queen."
He made it sound so mercenary. Compassion and pity move me foremost. To my people I can be generous. To my enemy, remorseless.
