Necromancer: Book Ten Of The Spellmonger Series

by Terry Mancour

  “They can conspire as a unit,” offered Landrik. “That can be just as effective. Depending upon what targets they select and how they decide to take them, they could easily conquer any number of poorly-run domains.”

  “They don’t even have to conquer,” corrected Sandoval. “They just have to disrupt our society enough to give them an opportunity to attack it. I can think of a dozen ways to do that, myself. Hells, we’ve done that to ourselves a dozen ways in my lifetime.”

  “Do you think inflicting Prince Tavard on us was part of his evil plan?” Wenek asked, with mock suspicion. “We owe them a raid just for that!”

  “No, unfortunately, we have no one to blame for Tavard but Grendine,” I observed. “And Tavard, for that matter. I do hope he’s having a lovely time conquering the lichen-covered rocks of southern Enultramar for the glory of the Castali people. I’d hate to see my tribute wasted on half-efforts,” I said, shaking my head.

  Just normal bitching about the boss that everyone but the King gets to indulge in . . . but some divinity must have heard me. About ten minutes later we were approached by a young girl about ten, bearing a baldric with an odd device: a spiny-looking thistle.

  “Begging your pardon, Baron Minalan,” she said in a Wilderlands brogue, after politely waiting for a break in the conversation to introduce herself, “but I was sent to inquire if you would be free to wait upon Princess Rardine for a few brief moments of conversation, this evening.” She added a darling little curtsey, Wilderlands-style.

  “Princess Rardine?” I asked surprised. “I thought she was at Anguin’s country estate?”

  “Her Highness chose to come to Vorone for a few days, to meet with her seamstresses and dressmakers,” the little girl explained. “It was mere fortune that brought you to town at the same time. She’s staying at Yhiza House, as a guest of Lady Loreth. I can take you there now,” she said, in a tone that told me she wasn’t impressed by my title.

  I decided not to resist. Terleman was telling the same story for the third time, Wenek was falling asleep, chin on his chest, Sandoval and Andra were snuggling and squirming under his cloak, Rustallo and Landrik were eyeing the barmaids, and I had already had a long day.

  “I must attend the Princess, it seems,” I announced to everyone, to a few groans. I said my farewells and followed the little girl into the night.

  I had no idea what Rardine wanted with me, but if she had some intelligence I could use – and that was likely – I wanted to know.

  Chapter Sixty

  Rardine’s Revenge

  My relationship with Princess Rardine, of House Bimin, had never been particularly friendly. I could date my personal distaste for her to the day after the Battle of Timberwatch, when I found out she’d ordered the assassination of a duke and a duchess and tried to assassinate me. We’d had a complicated relationship, since then. I was, therefore, at least somewhat justified in the feeling of anxiety that came over me briefly as I mounted the ornate stairs up to the magnificent doorway of Yhiza House.

  But the young woman who met me that evening was much different than the arrogant girl who’d ordered my valet to stab me in the back. Age and her ordeal had contributed to her maturity, I could see. And she wasn’t even snide as she invited me into her chamber with two ladies of the court. That alone told me at once that she’d transformed.

  “Baron Minalan,” she said, formally, as she led me to a comfortable chair. “Thank you for taking the time to see me at such an inconvenient hour.”

  “I was carousing with old war comrades,” I shrugged. “And a wizard keeps his own hours. It was my pleasure to respond. What can I do for you this fine evening, Your Highness?” I asked, nodding to the two other women. One of which I recognized at once.

  Ishi.

  “Excellency, this is Baroness Amandice and Viscountess Threanas, of my cousin’s court. They have been advising me, since I came to Vorone, in the options available to me,” she said, quietly, as she took a seat on a divan.

  “Options, Highness?” I asked, innocently as I stared at Baroness Amandice. Of course she had to be involved.

  “As you know, I am estranged of my parents, in the face of their . . . reluctance to commit to certain policies,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. That was her way of letting me know she was still livid with Rard and Grendine over letting her languish in Olum Seheri.

  “Politics is oft a strain on families,” I nodded, simply. No need to make any enemies prematurely.

  “In this case, it has interrupted a search for . . . well, for a suitable match,” she said, a trace of the arrogant girl returning.

  “As you may have heard, I have encountered challenges finding a husband who is of suitable position and stature, as well as one I find compatible. My recent tour was to present me to suitors . . . though it felt more like an auction,” she confessed, bitterly. “After finding no suitable prospects in Farise – which was not unexpected – my father was considering approaching a count in Vore to consider my hand.” She gave me a determined look. “In fucking Vore, Minalan!” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “That’s not even in the kingdom!”

  “That was by device,” assured Viscountess Threanas, a smug smirk on her thin lips. “It is well known at court that the Princess – the other princess – wants Rardine as far away from the royal court as possible. And the Castali ducal court,” she added. “If she can’t force Rardine into a convent, then marriage to an aging aristocrat on the other end of the world is acceptable to Her Royal Highness.”

  “That will not do at all,” Baroness Amandice – better known as Lady Pleasure, or, more precisely, Ishi, Goddess of Love and Beauty – declared. “Not for a Princess, the first princess of Castalshar.”

  “I empathize, Your Highness,” I nodded, cautiously, “but I fail to see how I can help. I have a wife,” I said, ensuring that she took it as a joke, and not an honest proposal. Women are funny that way.

  “When I discussed a possible course of action with my new friends,” Rardine continued, fidgeting slightly, “the Baroness insisted we contact you . . . and that she knew you were but blocks away this evening.”

  Damn Sandoval and Andra! Their smoldering passion had told Ishi where I was!

  “Is there someone you want me to charm, then, Your Highness?”

  “Nearly,” she nodded. “Not magically. Indeed, right now I have more need of your wise counsel than your spellcraft. No, my friends wish to hear your opinion on a possibility I proposed.” She paused, as if steeling herself. “I am thinking of wedding Anguin.”

  I think Ishi wanted me there just to see the look on my face. She stifled a giggle.

  “Now that,” I said, slowly, taking my pipe out, “is an interesting idea.”

  “The political advantage to both parties would be significant,” Viscountess Threanas suggested. “Duke Anguin would get a bride of his station and position, as well as take a suitable dowry,” she pointed out. For such ducal weddings, I knew, the dowry tended to be in the form of entire domains and baronies. “I have it on authority that His Grace finds Her Highness a pleasant and engaging companion, of sharp wit and elegant taste.”

  “Does he, now?” I asked, glancing at Ishi.

  “More, it would aid in legitimizing his position as Duke, and make it much more difficult for King Rard to repudiate him in favor of a rival claimant to the coronet, regardless of how much of Alshar he might control.”

  I hadn’t considered that – if Rard made common cause with the Count of Rhemes, and recognized his claim to Alshar in return for his fealty, that could see Anguin out of his inheritance. A marriage to Rardine made that a lot less likely. One does not disinherit one’s son-in-law. Not if your daughter is an assassin by training.

  “There’s one additional benefit for Alshar and Anguin,” Rardine pointed out. “He gets someone who knows every detail of Mother’s network. Including who her secret spies are here in Vorone. I will volunteer to take over the intelligence operations for the cour
t,” she declared.

  And then there was that.

  “So, what do you get out of it, Your Highness?” I asked.

  “I get security,” Rardine answered. “Security and a political base from which to operate. One closer than Vore,” she added, with a sneer. “That means more to me than anything, right now. Believe it or not, Baron, it was actually more difficult to discover that I was, for all purposes, exiled from my own court when I returned than it was to hear the simpering excuses about why no one was sent to deliver me.”

  “I can appreciate that,” I said, truthfully. “But . . . there are issues with your proposal,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  “Consanguinity?” Viscountess Threanas asked. “His Grace and Her Highness are first cousins. Such unions have been permitted in the past, with sufficient clerical attention.”

  “It could be used as a means of blocking a wedding,” agreed Ishi. “But it is really the only leverage they have against the idea. Rardine is old enough to make her own decision, now.”

  “They could apply considerable social pressure,” I pointed out. “If the King and Queen raised a fuss, they could make it almost impossible. Or attempt to change your mind.”

  “I find myself strangely unwilling to be persuaded,” Rardine said, evenly. “I learned a lot about commitment, in that cell.”

  “Let’s assume that you do, somehow, convince your parents to bless the union,” I proposed. “Is there not still the problem of . . .” I said, trailing off as I stared at Rardine.

  “Speak plainly, my lord,” Rardine said, her eyes narrowing.

  “Well . . . it is widely suspected that Grendine was behind the assassination that gave the Orphan Duke his name,” I pointed out. Threanas stiffened. Ishi leaned forward in anticipation of the drama. Rardine sighed.

  “I have confessed my part in that plot to Anguin in private, and begged his forgiveness. He has . . . he has been very good to me, much better than I deserve,” she confessed. “While he is still angry about it, he doesn’t blame me, personally,” she stressed.

  “If he’s deceiving you, it will likely be a short honeymoon,” I suggested, as diplomatically as I could.

  “I’ve already given Anguin the opportunity to strike me dead,” Rardine said, softly. “I put the naked sword in his hand. I heard what he did to the regent, here. I threw myself on his mercy, and he granted me grace.”

  That was surprising! I never thought she’d have the humility or empathy to make such a dramatic display . . . nor was I entirely confident that Anguin would restrain himself, at such an opportunity. A more religious man might consider it a gift from the gods.

  I glanced at Ishi before I continued.

  “Would this be viewed favorably in court?” I asked, looking at Threanas. She nodded. Reluctantly.

  “Anguin is in almost as difficult a position as Rardine,” she pointed out. “He could enter into an unproductive alliance with Remere by marrying one of Clofalin’s many nieces, or he could marry into the lesser nobility of Castal. Either course of action presents difficulties and opportunities lost.”

  “Whereas, if Anguin marries Rardine, he not only marries into a ducal house, he marries into the Royal House – effectively putting him in the line of succession should – the gods forbid! – anything should happen to Tavard while he’s abroad.”

  “There is still the Heir and his mother,” I pointed out.

  “Exactly,” Rardine said, her eyes narrowing. “By marrying Anguin, I become a legitimate threat to Armandra and her brat. Not a vague, indistinct, in-the-background threat, but a real and constant factor in every decision she makes for the rest of her anxious life!”

  Usually, a young woman seeks passion and strength in marriage. Rardine was seeking revenge. I sighed.

  “I feel I should at least ask . . . do you bear even a modicum of actual, authentic love for the lad?”

  “That is a bold question, Baron!” Threanas reproved, her wrinkled brow furrowing.

  “If I am to give honest counsel, I need candid information,” I reasoned. “I would not support a union if it was based entirely on political considerations,” I said. “That would be an affront to Trygg and Ishi,” I added, glancing at the Baroness.

  “I . . . I do love him, a little,” she confessed, after some thought. “Enough. He is kind and brave, determined and intelligent, respectful and commanding,” she concluded. “All those weeks in that cell, I prayed to the gods to send me a deliverer. They could have sent anyone. They chose him. And he chose to risk his coronet, his future, and the lives of brave men to come and get me. That, Baron Minalan, is more than enough to base love upon,” she said, proudly.

  “And . . . what kind of wife would you make him?” I asked, curious.

  “Again, Baron!” scolded Threanas.

  “Bide, Viscountess,” Rardine pleaded, quietly. “As he said, he needs candid information. And he is not wrong to ask. He has seen me at my worst,” she said, guiltily, “in the depths of my entitlement, risen in position on the corpses of others – too many others!

  “But it is a fair question,” she continued, staring at me. “One any man wishes to know about a friend’s prospective bride – and Duke Anguin does count you his friend,” she affirmed. “To answer? I know not, Spellmonger. I saw every shred of dignity and pride stripped from me in that cell, and swore I would do anything to get out. Considering how bloody my past was, that entailed quite a bit,” she added, with dark humor.

  “Now, by Trygg’s grace, I find myself free once again. Free, secure, and at liberty, in answer to my fervent prayers.

  “And it gives me pause for thought,” she said, contemplatively. “If I was willing to commit vile murder and base betrayal to gain my freedom, what if the cost was instead . . . humility? Humanity? When all that I held dear and worked so hard for was not just taken from me, but used against me, what if the price of my redemption was . . . decency?”

  “That’s not oft a characteristic of a good intelligence head,” I pointed out, skeptically.

  “Nor am I pious enough to believe in conversions of character,” she agreed. “I said I had a change of heart. I didn’t say I was struck with stupidity. I take no trouble in doing the unfortunate, indecent things that sometimes need to be done . . . as long as it is in service to Anguin, who is decent. If it takes my wedding vow for him to entrust me with that responsibility, I am ready.

  “And if the price of my freedom is a lifetime of marriage to a good man, I shall seek to pay it gladly and without resentment,” she continued. “Trygg knows I would have done far worse things, to escape Olum Seheri. Why not marry, and give my support and my skills into the hands of a man I respect?”

  “Respect enough to bear his children?” Ishi asked, expectantly, because she has an inherently dirty mind.

  “Of course,” Rardine dismissed. “A woman finds her legacy in her children the way a man does in his work or his lands. I would bear him an army of heirs,” she said, proudly.

  “And fidelity?” Ishi prompted.

  “My lady, you are newly acquainted of me, personally, so I forgive the implication . . . but if I plight my troth with Anguin, I will faithfully see it fulfilled. I have seen enough of courtiers’ dalliances to know what a distraction and erosion of faith they can be.”

  I think that disappointed Ishi, from what I could read on her face. I knew Rardine well enough to know that promiscuity wasn’t among her vices.

  Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what deeper game she was playing. Rardine was perhaps the most intelligent of the royal family, and while she shared her mother’s ruthless ambition, it seemed tempered by her father’s sense of statecraft. I took her at her word, but I strongly suspected there were further plots in that twisted mind of hers.

  I took a deep breath. “If that is the case, and I confirm this with Anguin, then you have my support, as well as my counsel. I certainly have no objections . . . though I confess I still harbor the tiniest feeling concerning our encounter
at Timberwatch,” I reminded her.

  She shrugged. “I am sorry. That was Mother’s order, by the way, just as she ordered Isily to . . . do what she did. I was more concerned with the political situation in the army, actually. Two captains and an ancient died mysteriously, after Timberwatch. Agents of Remere and Merwyn.”

  “You still tried to kill me with my own manservant,” I pointed out, dryly.

  “Would you rather I had Isily do it? At the time, you were quite fond of her. And she of you,” she added, knowingly.

  “Yet it was her loyalty to your command that compelled her to . . . gain leverage on me,” I said, thinking of the first daughter Isily bore from me in secret. That had been on Rardine’s command. The second was due purely to Isily’s madness and obsession with me.

  “She was perfectly normal, until you gave her that witchstone,” Rardine pointed out. “After she left our service and began an affair with Dunselen – Dunselen, of all people!” she snorted in disgust. “After that she was her own creature. I so swear.”

  I didn’t really doubt it. Isily had used her freedom from the Family gainfully, and the power she gained in irionite soon fueled her obsession for arcane power. That obsession had lea to her constructing the Greenflower array . . . and maiming my wife.

  I was still a little resentful about that.

  “I will begin working on this at once,” I promised them, as I rose. “The consanguinity issue is the most serious and pressing, I think. I will work on that. But you have my support, Highness. Provided you do not betray my friend Anguin. That would . . . lose my support.”

  “If I can make myself accountable to the gods, I think I can manage to do so to you, Baron. Thank you for your time, and your counsel,” she smiled. “I think perhaps this is the beginning of a great alliance.”