"Really? In whose service? The empire or the old Warric fleet?"
"No service. It was my ship."
Wesley looked astonished. "You were…a pirate?"
"Opportunist, sir. Opportunist."
***
Hadrian awoke to a misty dawn. A steady breeze pushed the tartane through undulating waves. All around them lay a vast and empty sea.
"They're gone," Wesley answered the unasked question. "We've lost them"
"Any idea where we are?"
"About three days sail from Dagastan," Wyatt answered.
"Dagastan?" Grady muttered looking up. "We're not headed there are we?"
"That was my intention," Wyatt replied.
"But Wesbaden is closer."
"Unfortunately, I confess no knowledge of these coasts," Wesley said. "Do you know them well, Mister Deminthal?"
"Intimately."
"Good. Then tell us, is Mister Grady correct?"
Wyatt nodded. "Wesbaden is closer, but the Dacca know thi and will be waiting in that direction. However, since it is impossible for them to be ahead of us, our present course is the safest."
"Despite our earlier differences, I agree with Mister Deminthal," Thranic offered. "As it turns out, Dagastan was the Storm's original destination so we must continue toward it."
"But Dagastan is much farther away from Avryn," Wesley said. "The Storm's mission was lost with her sinking. I have no way of knowing her original destination, and even if I did, I have no cargo to deliver. Going farther east only increases our difficulties. I need to be mindful of provisions."
"But you do have cargo," Thranic announced. "The Storm's orders were to deliver myself, Mister Bulard, Dr. Levy, Mister Bernie, and Staul to Dagastan. The main cargo is gone, but as an officer of the realm it is your duty to fulfill what portion you can of Captain Seward's mission."
"With all due respect, Your Excellency, I have no way to verify what you say."
"Actually, you do." Wyatt pulled a bent and battered scroll from his bag. "These are Captain Seward's orders."
Wesley took the damp scroll and asked, "But how did you come by this?"
"I knew we'd need charts to sail by. Before I left the Storm, I entered the captain's cabin and, being in a bit of a hurry, I just grabbed everything on his desk. Last night, I discovered I had more than just charts."
Wesley nodded, accepting this and, Hadrian thought, perhaps chose not to inquire further. He paused a second before reading. Most were awake now and, having heard the conversation, watched Wesley with anticipation. When he finished he looked over at Wyatt.
"Was there a letter?"
"Aye, sir," he said and handed over a sealed bit of parchment. This Wesley did not open, but slipped carefully into his coat.
"We will maintain course to Dagastan. Being bound by imperial naval laws, I must do everything in my power to see the Storm's errand is fulfilled."
Chapter 13
The Witch of Melengar Modina stared out her window as usual, watching the world with no real interest. It was late and she feared sleep. It always brought the dreams, the nightmares of the past, of her father and of the dark place. She sat up most nights studying the shadows and the clouds as they passed over the stars. A line of moonlight crossed the courtyard below. She noted how it climbed the statues and the far gate wall, just like the creeping ivy. Once green, the plant was now a ruddy red. It would go dormant, appearing to die, but would still hang on to the wall. It would continue its desperate grip on the stone even as it withered. For it at least, there would be a spring.
The hammering at her chamber door roused her. She turned, puzzled. No one ever knocked at her door. Except for Gerald, who always used a light tap. Amilia came and went frequently but never knocked. Whoever it was pounded frantically, beating the door with a fury.
The pounding landed harder and with such violence that the door latch bounced with a distinct metallic clank as it threatened to breech the latch. It never occurred to her to ask who was there. It never crossed her mind to be fearful. She slid back the bolt letting the door swing inward.
Standing outside was a man she recognized as the Earl of Chadwick. His face was flushed and his eyes glassy. The collar to his shirt lay open in a manner unlike him. He usually took such care with his attire.
"There you are," he exclaimed. "At long last I am rewarded with your presence. Permit me to introduce myself again, in case you've forgotten me. Although I am sure you have not. I am Archibald Ballentyne, the twelfth Earl of Chadwick." He bowed low, taking an awkward step when he lost his balance. "May I come in?"
The empress said nothing and the earl took this as an invitation. Pushing his all.into the room, he held a finger to his lips. "Shh, we need to be quiet, lest someone discover I'm here." The earl stood wavering, his glazed eyes canvassing the full length of Modina's small body. His mouth hung partially open and his head moved up and down, as if trying to save his eyes the effort.
Modina was dressed in her thin nightgown but did not think to cover herself.
"You're beautiful. I thought so from the first. I wanted to tell you before this, but they wouldn't let me see you." The earl pulled a bottle of liquor from his breast pocket and took a swallow. "After all, I am the hero of your army, and it isn't fair that Ethelred gets to have you. You should be mine. I earned you!" The earl shouted, raising his fist.
Pausing, he looked toward the open door concerned. After a moment he continued. "What has Ethelred ever done? It was my army that saved Aquesta and would have crushed Melengar if they had let me. But they didn't want me to. Do you know why? They knew if I took Melengar, then I would be too great to hold back. They're jealous of me, you know. And now Ethelred is planning to take you, but you're mine. Mine I say!" He shouted this last bit, then cringed at the sound. Once more, he placed a finger to his lips. "Shh."
Modina watched the earl with mild curiousity.
"How can you want him?" He slammed his fist against his chest. "Am I not handsome? Am I not young?" He twirled around with his arms outstretched until he staggered. He steadied himself on the bedpost. "Ethelred is old, fat, and has pimples. Do you really want that? He doesn't care about you. He's only after the crown!"
The earl took a moment to glance around the empty room. "Don't get me wrong," he said in a harsh whisper. He leaned in so close he had to put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself. "I want the crown too-anyone saying different is a liar. Who wouldn't want to be emperor of the world, but…" he held up a wavering finger, "I would have loved you."
He paused, breathing hotly into her face. He licked his lips and let his hand caress her skin through the thin nightgown. His hand left her shoulder and inched up her neck, his open fingers slipping into her hair. "Ethelred will never look at you like this." Archibald took her hand and placed it against his chest. "His heart will never pound like mine just by being near you. I want power. I want the throne, but I also want you." He looked into her eyes. "I love you, Modina. I love you and I want you for my own. You should be my wife."
He pulled her to him and kissed her mouth, pressing hard, pinching her lips to her teeth. She did not struggle-she did not care. He pulled back and searched her face. She did not respond except to blink.
"Modina?" Amilia called, entering the room. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Ballentyne said, sadly. He looked at Modina. He searched her face again. "Absolutely nothing at all."
He turned and left the room.
"Are you all right?" Amilia rushed to the empress, brushing her hair back and looking her over. "Did he hurt you?"
"Am I to marry Lord Ethelred?"
Amilia held her breath and bit her lip.
"I see. When were you going to tell me? On my wedding night?"
"I-I just learned about it recently. You had that fainting spell and I didn't want to upset you."
"It doesn't upset me, Amilia, and thank you for stopping by."
"But, I-" Amilia hesitated.
"Is there s
omething else?" Modina asked coldly.
"Ah-no, I just-you're different suddenly. We should talk about this."
"What is there to talk about? I will marry Ethelred so he can be emperor."
"You'll still be empress."
"Yes, yes, there's no need to worry. I am fine."
"You're never fine."
"No? It must be the good news that I am to become a bride."
Amilia's expression looked terrified. "Modina, what's going on? What's happening in that head of yours?"
Modina smiled. "It's okay Amilia. Everything will be fine."
"Stop using that word! You're really frightening me," Amilia said, reaching toward her.
Modina pulled away moving to the window.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself. I'm sorry there was no guard at the door. I'm sorry you had to hear such a thing from the brandy soaked breath of-"
"It's not your fault, Amilia. It's important to me that you know that. You're all that matters to me. It's amazing how worthless a life feels without someone to care for. My father understood that. At the time, I didn't, but now I do."
"Understand what?" Amilia asked, shaking.
"That living has no value-it is what you do with life that gives it worth."
"And what are you planning to do with your life Modina?"
Modina tried to force a smile. She took Amilia's head in her hands and kissed her gently. "It's late. Goodbye, Amilia."
Amilia's eyes went wide with fear and she began shaking her head faster and faster. "No, no, no! I'll stay here. I don't want you left alone tonight."
"As you wish."
Amilia looked pleased for a moment then fear crept back in. "Tomorrow I'll assign a guard to watch you."
"Of course you will," Modina replied.
***
True to her word, Amilia remained in Modina's chamber all night, but slipped out before dawn while the empress still slept. She went to the office of the master-at-arms and burst in on the soldier on duty, unannounced.
"Why wasn't there a guard outside the empress's door last night? Where was Gerald?"
"We couldn't spare him, milady. The imperial guard is stretched thin. We are searching for the witch, the Princess of Melengar. Regent Saldur has commanded me to use every man I have to find her."
"I don't care. I want Gerald back watching her door. Do you understand?"
"But milady-"
"Last night the Earl of Chadwick forced his way into the empress's room. In her room! And has it occurred to you-to anyone-that the witch might be coming to kill the empress?"
A long pause.
"I didn't think so. Now, get Gerald back on his post at once."
Leaving the master-at-arms, Amilia roused Modina's chambermaid from her bunk in the dormitory. After the girl had dressed, she hurried her along to Modina's room.
"Anne, I want you to stay with the empress and watch her."
"Watch her, what for? I mean, what should I be watching for, milady?"
"Just make certain the empress doesn't hurt herself."
"How do you mean?"
"Just keep an eye on her. If she does anything odd or unusual, send for me at once."
***
Modina heard Anne enter the room quietly as footsteps, probably Amilia's, walked away. She continued pretending to sleep. Near dawn, she stretched, yawned, and walked over to the washbasin to splash water on her face. Anne was quick to hand her a towel, and grinned broadly to have been of assistance to her.
"Anne, is it?" Modina asked.
The girl's face flushed, and her eyes lit up with joy. She nodded repeatedly.
"Anne, I am starved, would you please run to the kitchen and see if they can prepare me an early breakfast? Be a dear and bring it up when it is ready."
"I-I-"
Modina put on a pout, and turned her eyes downward. "I am sorry. I apologize for asking so much of you."
"Oh, no, Your Gloriousness! I will get it at once."
"Thank you, my dear."
"You are most welcome, Your Worship."
Modina wondered if she kept her longer how many elaborate forms of addressight come up with. As soon as Anne left the room, Modina walked to the door, closed it and slid the deadbolt. She walked toward the tall mirror that hung on the wall, picking up the pitcher from the water basin as she passed. Without hesitation, she struck the mirror, shattering both. She picked up a long shard of glass and went to her window.
"Your Eminence?" Gerald called from the other side of the door. "Are you all right?"
Outside the sun was just coming up. The autumn morning light angled in sharp, slanted shafts across the courtyard below. She loved the sun and thought its light and warmth would be the only thing, besides Amilia, that she would miss.
She wrapped her gown around the end of the long jagged piece of glass. It felt cold. Everything felt cold to her. She looked down at the courtyard and breathed in a long breath of air scented with the dying autumn leaves.
The guard continued to bang on the door. "Your Eminence? He repeated. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, Gerald," she said, "I am fine."
***
Arista entered the palace courtyard, walking past the gate guards, hoping they could not hear the pounding of her heart.
This must be how Royce and Hadrian feel all the time. I'm surprised they don't drink more.
While easy for Royce, for her it was literally death defying. She shook from both fear and the early morning chill. Esrahaddon's robe was lost the night of Hilfred's rescue, leaving her with only Lynette's kirtle.
Hilfred. He'll be furious if he reads the note.
It hurt her heart just to think of him. He had stood in her shadow for years, serving her whims, taking her abuse, trapped in a prison of feelings he could never reveal. Twice he nearly died for her. He was a good man-a great man. She wanted to make him happy. He deserved to be happy. She wanted to give him what he never thought possible, to fix what she had broken.
For three nights they hid together, and every day Hilfred tried to convince her to return to Melengar. At last she agreed, telling him they would leave tomorrow. Arista slipped out when Hilfred left to get supplies. If all went well, she would be back before he was, and they could leave as planned. If not-if something happened-at least the note would explain.
It had occurred to her, only the night before, that she never cast the location spell in the courtyard. From there, the smoke would certainly locate the wing and if lucky enough, she might even pinpoint Gaunt's exact window. The information would be invaluable to Royce and Hadrian, and could make the difference between a rescue and a suicide mission. And as much as she did not want to admit it, she owed Esrahaddon as well. If doing this small thing could save Degan Gaunt, a good man wrongly imprisoned, ease the wizard's passing, and vanquish her guilt, it was worth the risk.
The gate guards had failed to arrest her. She took this as a good sign that no one had connected Ella the scrub girl to the Witch of Melengar. All she needed to do now was cast the spell and walk out again.
She crossed the inner ward to the vegetable garden. The harvest had come and gone, the plants cleared, and the soil turned to await the spring. The soft earth would allow her to draw the circle and symbols required. She clutched the pouch of hair still in the pocket of her kirtle as she glanced around. Nothing looked amiss. The few guards on duty ignored her.
As casually as she could, she began drawing a circle by dragging her foot in the dirt. When she had finished, she moved on to the more tedious task of the runes, which was more time consuming to do with her toe than with her hand and a bit of chalk. All the while, she worried that her drawing would be obvious from any number of upper story windows.
She was just finishing the second to last rune when a guard exited the palace and walked toward her. Immediately she crouched etending to dig. If he questioned her, she could say Ibis sent her to look for potatoes, or that she thought she might have dropped the pantry key when she was
in the courtyard. She hoped he would just walk by; she needed to be the invisible servant this one last time. Only it quickly became apparent he was specifically coming for her. As he rapidly closed the distance, her only thought was of Hilfred and how she wished she had kissed him goodbye.
***
Amilia was in her office quickly going over instructions with Nimbus. They had only ticked off a few items for the wedding preparations and if she could give him enough to keep busy, she could return to Modina. The urgency pulled at her every minute she was away.
"…if you get done with that, then come see me and I'll give you more to do," she told him curtly. "I have to get back to the empress. I think she might do something stupid."
Nimbus looked up. "The empress is a bit eccentric certainly, but if I may, she has never struck me as stupid, milady."
Amilia narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.
Nimbus had been a good and faithful servant, but she did not like the sound of that. "You notice too much, I think, Nimbus. That's not such a good trait when working in an imperial palace. Ignorance is perhaps a better choice for survival."
"I'm just trying to cheer you up," he replied, sounding a little hurt.
Amilia frowned and collapsed in her chair. "I'm sorry. I am starting to sound a bit like Saldur aren't I?"
"You still have to work on making your veiled threats sound more ominous. A deeper voice would help, or perhaps toying with a dagger or swishing a glass of wine as you say it."
"I wasn't threatening you, I was-"
He cut her off. "I'm joking, milady."
Amilia scowled then pulled a parchment off her desk, crumpled it into a ball and threw it at him. "Honestly, I don't know why I hired you."
"Clearly not for my comedic sense."
Amilia gathered a pile of parchments, a quill, and bottle of ink and headed for the door. "I'm going to be working from Modina's room today. If you need me look for me there."
"Of course," he said as she left the room.
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