Iron Garland (Harbinger Book 3)

by Jeff Wheeler

  Caulton shook his head. “I can be in Lockhaven within the hour. There is no need to trouble yourself.”

  “How?” Cettie asked in surprise, then remembered that Fitzroy had managed to travel equally quickly in the past.

  “The abbeys are all linked together,” he said. “I can enter one and emerge from another. Yes, it’s one of the Mysteries.” He smiled, but it was a pained one.

  “Cettie,” Juliana said, her voice thick. “The Aldermaston said that a battle was fought over Hautland yesterday. A terrible battle. There was a storm.” She swallowed. “Fitzroy’s hurricane went down. Thousands are dead on both sides.” She shook her head, and the tears began to streak down her cheeks. “Neither side won. But F-Fitzroy is gone. He wouldn’t evacuate the ship until all the men were out. There wasn’t time before it crashed into the sea.” Caulton put his arm around Juliana’s shoulder. “They just ordered a zephyr to tell Maren. Hurry home, Cettie. Hurry.”

  Cettie felt as if the world lurched beneath her feet.

  Peace is such a tepid word. It fails to rouse the imagination. A much better term for it is an armistice. A cessation of hostilities. A truce from war, temporary by nature and design. Such a pleasant ring to it. In reality, it will be our opportunity to lull them into complacency. To let Comoros’s machine of industry begin to revive. They are sick of war. I am not.

  When the empire of Gahalatine fell, his people fled on enormous treasure ships to seek a land of safety. They were offered refuge in Kingfountain. One of the great Wizrs of the past had summoned a once formidable, vanquished land back from the depths of the Deep Fathoms. The drowned kingdom of Leoneyis was reborn and occupied once more. My mother named me after that ancient land. The glory of the past can be reborn as well. It is my name, my birthright.

  Let our enemies sue for a temporary peace with their disgraced princess. I’ll have none of it. I want more than just a throne. For after all, a throne is only a bench covered with velvet.

  —Leon Montpensier, Duke of La Marche

  SERA

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MIRROR GATE

  The news was delivered by the prime minister himself. The knock at the bedroom door could have been anyone, but Sera heard Becka’s gasp and turned suddenly to find Lord Welles standing in the entryway, his face a grimace of bad tidings. He looked wrecked, broken, and he’d aged since her meeting with him and her father only days before.

  “What has happened?” Sera asked him worriedly, leaving her book on the desk and striding across the room.

  “I think I’ll take a chair first,” Welles said with exhaustion.

  Sera obliged, and the two were soon sitting adjacent to each other, Welles’s head resting against a propped arm, his fingers massaging his eyes. Had the man been weeping? Sera hadn’t thought such a thing possible.

  Becka shot a questioning look at Sera, a silent query as to whether she should linger. Sera nodded subtly yes, and the maid retreated out of sight.

  “You look as if you are carrying the weight of the world, Prime Minister,” Sera offered gently. “The battle is over, I take it? Your news isn’t good. Please tell me.”

  A weary sigh expelled from Welles’s mouth. “It is over, my dear. If they attack us again, our defenses will fail. The empire is more vulnerable than it has ever been. They have been hit hard too, however, and we must sue for peace before they realize our desperate situation.” He lowered his hand, his bloodshot eyes meeting her concerned ones in an entreaty. “It is all up to you now, Sera.”

  She felt a flush start to rise in her cheeks. Oh, how she wanted to throw his failure in his face. But she resisted that dark impulse and carefully kept her expression under control.

  “Tell me what happened, Lord Welles,” she asked quietly.

  He snorted. “Our worlds collided. And the Knowing fought against us both. Our superiority in the air was diminished by a raging thunderhead. And their superiority in the sea was disrupted by enormous waves. They lost many ships. I can’t imagine how many. But we lost our ships as well. Three admirals and their hurricanes went down. Including Lord Fitzroy, our harbinger.”

  Sera gasped and felt a real stab of pain.

  “Indeed,” Welles said tightly. “Our harbinger has been lost. If they realize this, if they discover we can no longer foresee where they’ll attack next, we will be overrun by their ships. They don’t know he’s dead, not yet. We’ve kept that knowledge a state secret.”

  “Have you told his family?” Sera pressed.

  “Of course!” he snapped in frustration. “But they cannot tell a soul. Not yet anyway. I just finished telling Lady Corinne that her husband was also killed.” His lips trembled. “And she took it so composedly,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What was that?” Sera asked, unprepared for the shock of the news.

  “It’s no secret that your father fancies her,” Welles said disdainfully. “It’s all rather sickening. She and Lady Maren are now the wealthiest people in the empire. All the better reason to send you to broker a peace, Sera. Richard will not want you to corrupt his chances of siring another heir. He gets what he wants after all.” The last words were spoken with bitterness.

  Sera’s mind roiled with fury, but she kept her reaction muted. “The other admiral? You said there was a third?”

  “Admiral Rushworth,” he said flippantly. “Three capable men. Three strong leaders. The privy council is in a panic. I’ve been sent to enlist your aid in this situation. I’ve been charged to ensure that you will do all in your power to broker an armistice between our peoples. Even if that means forsaking your religion and homeland to appease their sensibilities. We just spoke of this, Miss Fitzempress. Are you prepared to make that sacrifice now that the moment is thrust upon you?”

  Sera was not ready to do such a thing, but she would never admit it to him. If she gave him any reason to doubt she’d do his bidding, they wouldn’t permit her to go. They’d find someone else more . . . amenable.

  “Of course, Lord Welles. If I can forestall another invasion, I will. What must be done?”

  Her words satisfied him. He wanted to believe her, and so he did. “Good. Good. Our ambassador is at the court of Kingfountain at this moment negotiating the terms so that you can cross through one of the mirror gates.”

  “I’ll admit that I’m rather ignorant of what all is involved. If I recall correctly from my studies, there needs to be an exchange of hostages, does there not?”

  “Precisely,” said Lord Welles. “The Law requires that anyone seeking to exchange worlds permanently must have a willing person to go the other way. A balance is required, one for one. We do this for visiting as well. Hostages are exchanged, people of comparable value. We wouldn’t accept a peasant for a princess. The length of stay is determined in advance and brokered with a covenant. If either party does not return on or before the agreed-upon time, then the magic binding the selected mirror gate will rupture, and the arch bridge will collapse. It is within the interest of both worlds to preserve these gates. But when there is a war, all the usual covenants are meaningless. We do this now as a sign of good faith.” He sniffed and leaned back in his chair. “You will have a fortnight to negotiate the armistice before you’re compelled to return and report the terms to the privy council. The privy council insists that the peace terms be at least three years, but you are to negotiate more if you can. See if you can also get reparations from them for the death and damage inflicted on us over the years. Anything would be acceptable, but I advise you to ask for a startling amount to begin the negotiations in earnest. Eight million? Also see if you can reclaim any of the treasures they stole from us in previous centuries.”

  Sera nodded at each of his requests to show him she understood. “Who will be coming with me?” she asked after he fell silent.

  “Our ambassador will be there to meet you, of course. And your maid to attend you. A representative from each of the four ministries will also accompany you to offer advice and protectio
n. But you are the one the privy council has authorized to negotiate on behalf of the empire. Remember that the people of Kingfountain are not as enlightened as we are, Sera. Their monarchy still holds absolute power, whereas Empress Maia created a shared responsibility in the empire. She believed each of the ministries deserved its turn in power.”

  She gave him a curious look, inclining her head slightly. “Does that mean you will not be prime minister for much longer, then?”

  Her words were clearly nettles in his ears, and he squirmed in his chair. “No. Well, not for a few more years at any rate. The Ministry of Thought will probably get its turn,” he added with a sneer.

  Sera nodded sagely. “I am ready to go when called upon,” she answered.

  “Good. You will be leaving today.”

  Sera’s mother came from Castlebury to see her off from Lockhaven. In the three years Sera had lived in Pavenham Sky, her mother had visited her once every other month, but they had little in common, and their relationship was still strained by their very real differences in opinion. Sera pretended even in front of her that her contrition was real. Her mother was weepy as she clung to her and hugged her good-bye. The bitterness she felt toward Lady Corinne seemed to emanate from her in waves. The lady of Pavenham Sky had elected not to greet her guest and had instead sent Master Sewell to the living room in her place. The insult was pointed.

  “Mother, can you post this to Fog Willows for me?” Sera asked, handing her mother a letter she’d written to Cettie. She’d kept it concealed until that moment, hoping for an opportunity to post it. Given that Lady Corinne was not present, she decided it was worth the risk.

  “I want you to write to me too, Seraphin,” Mother said through her sniffles, taking the sealed paper with an offended air. “I shall worry about you every day. If you do choose to wed the prince”—she struggled again—“I will not be able to visit you very often. There are so many legal difficulties. Your father has been trying to persuade the privy council to reduce my allotment. I must fight him from every side. It is odious how he makes me suffer so.”

  “I’ll be back in a fortnight regardless,” Sera said, anxious for the awkward moment to be over. She kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  Mother dabbed her eye with a silk handkerchief. “Be strong, Seraphin. You must be, for all our sakes.”

  Sera hugged her again and watched her leave. After her mother was gone, she turned and glanced at Master Sewell, whom she caught trying to stifle a wry smile.

  “You don’t approve of my mother, do you?”

  Sewell shrugged and said nothing. Had he noticed the letter? Probably. Very little escaped the man.

  “I will miss your companionship,” Sera said to him. “My stylish jailor.”

  “There are worse prisons than Pavenham Sky, ma’am.” He quirked an eyebrow as he said it.

  “Yes. I’m not complaining. You’ve run a splendid prison, sir. I thank you for your hospitality.”

  “I hope it has changed you,” he replied.

  “It has,” she agreed with a nod. Just not in the way you think. “Will Lady Corinne say farewell?”

  His brow furrowed. “No. She’s still grieving for the loss of her husband.”

  Truly? Sera wanted to ask, but she knew better. “Well, give her my regards as well.”

  With those parting words, Sera and Becka boarded the tempest that was waiting for them in the landing yard. Becka followed her up the gangway to the craft. On deck, Sera met the pilot and the four others who would be joining her. There was Mr. Pond, a vicar from the Ministry of Thought, with his reddish hair and overlarge nose. Colonel Worthington was her middle-aged escort from the Ministry of War. He wore a blue dragoon jacket bedecked with medals that were a welcome distraction from his scowling expression. Mr. Ricks, from the Ministry of Wind, was also middle-aged and had curly dark hair dashed with a little gray. He bowed respectfully to her when she noticed him. And the Ministry of Law had sent Master Baggles, who had once been a private tutor of hers years before. His partner, Master Eakett, had obviously elected to remain behind. Surely each of these men were in favor with her father and had been sent to spy on her.

  After greeting them all brightly, she retired to her stateroom, where Becka was arranging her things. The tempest departed Lockhaven, heading toward a heavily guarded mirror gate on the coast.

  They arrived a few hours later. Sera did not confide in Becka during that time, knowing they were undoubtedly being watched from the Leerings hidden around the sky ship. She gave her maid small orders but showed her no special favor, as they’d agreed on.

  They arrived at the mirror gate. The buildings of a small town dotted the coast, and there were probably fifty tempests posted there as well as a hurricane hovering in the sky. The town center had several dozen small buildings, the roofs speckled white from the multitude of seagulls infesting the area. Sera enjoyed the scent of the ocean on the breeze as the tempest docked.

  The sun was beginning its decline in the western sky, and the sea looked choppy and gray. It was blissfully empty but for a few fishing boats. Sera joined her guardians and her maid as they made their way down the plank and headed to the magistrate’s office in town. A snowy-haired bearded fellow awaited them, along with officers from the Ministry of War, in a cramped bureaucratic room that smelled of dust and rotting fish. He perused the documents provided and administered an oath to each one to certify that they were willing to exchange places in another world for the agreed-upon time. Sera was the last to swear the oath.

  That done, the group was escorted down to the docks, where they boarded a rowboat that would carry them to the mirror gate. Their baggage was already stowed in the back. Sera had never been on such a vessel before, and the boat’s swaying on the waters made her slightly nervous. Her stomach was a bit queasy as the oarsmen began to pull. But when she noticed Becka’s terrified look, she swallowed her own fear.

  Sera wanted to squeeze the girl’s leg comfortingly, but her movement was hampered by her dress. Her gown was restrictive, the bone bodice and corset too tight, as was Lady Corinne’s preference. And the heavy jewelry that had been provided for the occasion was swaying ponderously with the movement of the vessel.

  Colonel Worthington sat to her right, scowling in a rather uninviting manner, his arms folded over his chest.

  Ignoring his high-handed demeanor, she asked, “Why didn’t we use an airship, Colonel?”

  He didn’t look at her. “Because we don’t want to give them the chance to study our technology,” he answered gruffly. “They haven’t earned it.”

  As soon as they were a good distance from the pier, four zephyrs glided down to form a protective position around their boat. The oarsmen labored hard, and the water was choppy enough that it made Sera increasingly nauseated. So did the prospect that lay ahead of her. She was eager for the opportunity to see another world, but it was still daunting. There were so many places in her own world she hadn’t seen. That she might never see. As the boat rocked and swayed, she watched the cliffs approach. The jagged walls were thick with moss and nesting seabirds, their squawks getting noisier and noisier.

  Then she saw it. The mirror gate.

  It was a high arch of gray rock, taller than a palace, made from the sea’s erosion of a mountain. Greenery still grew atop it, and a small beach, unapproachable except by sky ship, lay just before it. There were tempests moored above the arch, hanging still despite the breeze. The cliffs were almost vertical. The opening was perhaps twice as tall as it was wide.

  As they approached, Sera saw that an enormous face was carved into the rock at the top of the arch. It was a Leering—one that issued warnings. It also empowered them to use the mirror gate as a portal to innumerable worlds.

  Seeing it, she was reminded sharply of her time at Muirwood. Of how she still had not taken the Maston Test. Regret and wariness brooded inside her heart. Their boat got closer and closer, and each moment she feared a disruption, something that would block
the portal ahead, stealing her one chance at freedom. The scenery reminded her a little of Pavenham Sky, where she had met the prince of Kingfountain for the first time. She alone had recognized that he was disguised as a servant. She’d not seen him in three years. How had he changed in that time? Though their interaction had been brief, it had made a deep impression on her. She genuinely believed he was someone she could talk to. Someone who might be sympathetic to her situation. An ally? Maybe that was too strong a word for someone on the other side of this great divide.

  She twisted a fold of her dress in her clenched fists, watching the gate loom closer. The huge mountain rose above them with crushing force. What power could topple such a structure forged by nature over thousands of years? Would it truly happen if they failed to keep their covenant?

  As they reached the gate, one of the zephyrs dipped lower.

  “All is clear, my lords!” shouted a soldier. “Send up the oarsmen!”

  A rope ladder was dropped down to the bobbing boat, and the oarsmen climbed it one by one, leaving the rest to their fate.

  Colonel Worthington reached for one of the oars, and Mr. Ricks took up another.

  “It’s not far, lads,” said the colonel gruffly. “They’ll be waiting for us on the other side.”

  Sera’s breath quickened as the boat began to move steadily toward the arch again. She gazed up as the eyes of the Leering started to glow. There was a zephyr parked in the air just before the Leering. She could sense that they were controlling the Leering from it.

  Becka wriggled nervously, breathing fast and hard and blinking back tears. Amidst all the turmoil, a feeling of calmness pierced the energy flooding Sera’s bones. She recognized the feeling from Muirwood Abbey. She closed her eyes, offering a silent plea to the Knowing.