Gail Z. Martin - COTN 03 - Dark Haven (V1.0)(lit)

by Gail Z. Martin

  "Some of the traveling companies that came for the wedding have stayed because of the weather," Halik added. "Macaria and I can offer them our welcome. And, if in the process, we get down to swapping tales and songs, well, that's what bards do, isn't it?"

  Carroway stood and grinned. "That's my girl," he said, clapping her on the shoulder. "I'm willing to make a round of ale houses myself for the cause. If we made a tour of the inns in the palace city and a day's ride beyond, we might get ahead of it."

  "How can I break this to you—you just don't blend in," Bandele said with a meaningful look that swept from Carroway's long sable hair down his ruby silk flounced shirt to his bro­cade trews.

  Carroway rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "It's a curse." Macaria elbowed him in the ribs.

  "She's right," Halik agreed. "Everyone knows you're the King's Bard—and his friend beside. And everyone at court knows you're close to the queen. Coming from you, it might look like an effort by the palace to stop an embarrassing song—"

  "—which would just make the old song more popular," Macaria finished. "But .we can be your eyes and ears. Maybe we can even find out where the other songs are coming from."

  "We're going to need the luck of the Dark Lady on our side," Tadhg said.

  Carroway clapped Tadhg on the shoulder. "I know, my friend. I know."

  In the salle, Kiara wheeled and landed a solid Eastmark kick against the quintain. Once the worst of the morning sickness was over, Kiara found that a good workout just before dawn helped her calm her nerves. The quintain was the opponent of last resort. Until his imprison­ment, Mikhail had been a challenging partner. While he lacked Jonmarc's skill with the East-mark fighting style, Mikhail's strength and speed as a vayasb moru created other chal­lenges. But Mikhail was locked in the dungeon. And while Carroway was a dead aim with throwing knives, even by his own admission, his swordsmanship was lacking. There was no one else Kiara trusted as a sparring partner, and so she took out her loneliness and frustra­tion on the wooden quintain.

  It felt good to move. She was alone, with the guards on the outside of the salle doors. No one could accuse her of impropriety. Here in the salle, she was free of the cumbersome dresses required at court. A simple dress lay to one side, along with her amulet necklace and her other jewelry. She wore an Isencroft-made tunic and trews, dyed in the colors of flame. As she danced through the fighting forms, Kiara felt her spirits lift for the first time in many days. Jae dived at the quintain, easily dodging Kiara's sword strikes, scoring with his talons against the wooden practice dummy. When he tired of the game, the gyregon retreated to a perch high in the salle rafters.

  Focused on technique, Kiara could escape the thoughts that haunted her nights and nagged at her days. It was a relief not to think, to worry, to wonder what was happening with the army. Here, there was only the freedom of movement and the joy of performance.

  Without warning, the temperature in the salle plummeted. A gust of wind snuffed out the torches. Still too early for daylight, the win­dows at the top of the walls were dark. The salle was pitch black. Before Kiara could react, the quintain spun on its own accord, catching Kiara hard across the belly with the broad side of its lance. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground. And just as quickly, a stabbing pain doubled her up. She tried to call out for the guards, but there was no reply. Jae landed beside her, his head turning watchfully.

  The air around her swirled with a faint green glow. The glow grew brighter, and Kiara heard voices in the darkness.

  "It's too early—"

  "Not ensouled yet—"

  "Then the time is right. We must determine which of us—"

  "We had agreed—"

  "No agreement yet—"

  Kiara tried to climb to her feet, gritting her teeth to ignore the pain. The quintain began to

  spin wildly and she ducked down, fearing that another blow from its lance could easily knock her out or worse. The green glow grew closer, and she could hear the voices more clearly.

  "Not an easy thing to do—"

  "Still, not impossible—"

  "One of us will surely be a match—"

  A wind rose around Kiara, hard enough that she heard swords clatter down from the walls of the salle. "Guards!" she shouted above the wind.

  Laughter rose from the green glow. "They can't hear you. We made sure of that. We've locked the doors, just in case. We've been watching you. Waiting."

  "What do you want?"

  "To be reborn."

  The green glow closed in around Kiara, and she shielded herself, drawing on the regent magic. Laughter answered her.

  "You're not a Summoner. We're not mages. Your shields have no power over us." The glowing miasma swirled around her and Kiara was shivering hard, in cold and fear. She strug­gled to her feet, wincing at the pain in her midsection. She held her sword two-handed, knowing that it would do no good against these opponents. Kiara could see shapes in the glow now, faces emerging. A woman, not much older than herself. A man in his middle years. A young man with cold, determined eyes.

  "Who are you? What do you want?"

  The hard-eyed young man spoke. "We died in this castle at the hands of the Usurper and his mage. We were robbed of our lives. We want to live again."

  "How? I'm not a Summoner. You know that."

  "The soul is not yet fixed in your child. There's room for one of us in its place."

  Kiara's grip tightened on her sword as she realized the ghost's meaning. "Get away from me! I won't allow you—"

  The green glow streaked toward her. Jae leapt for the glowing shapes, only to pass through them without effect. Kiara felt the glow envelop her, felt the coldness slip through her with a chill so complete that she began shivering violently, dropping to her knees. Unlike when the Obsidian King forced himself through her shields, the spirits paid no heed at all to her magic or her shielding. Her heart was thudding hard. It wasn't her mind or body the spirits wanted. It was the child she carried, whose soul would not be fixed until quicken­ing. An empty vessel, yet to be filled. And if one of the spirits could take possession before the soul fated for the child by the Lady fixed itself in the babe.

  The large mirror on the salle wall suddenly fell to the floor, shattering in the darkness. The wind rose again, from the opposite corner of the room. Just as quickly as the glow had

  surrounded Kiara, it jerked free, pulling out of her so abruptly that she nearly blacked out. She looked up to see the dim form of a man in the uniform of the king's army standing in front of her, his eyes resolute. Beside him stood Seanna's ghost and the spirit of a woman dressed as a nursemaid. Kiara guessed her to be Ula, long-dead guardian of the heirs of Margolan.

  "In the name of the king, leave her alone!" the ghostly soldier said. "Her steel can't touch you, but mine will burn."

  From the outside, Kiara heard footsteps. Guards pounded on the locked doors, shouting to her. The green glow wavered and then streaked forward, filling the salle with a hideous wail. Seanna dived to cover Kiara with her own ghostly form, while the soldier set about with his sword. Ula blocked the glow from one direction, while the soldier-wraith slashed his sword through the green mist. The revenant sword sliced through the green glow and a deafening shriek filled the room. Jae dived at the glow, but flew through it without connecting. Outside, the guards began to ram the heavy doors. The ghost soldier took the offensive. Ula knocked the amulet from where it lay on the bench and sent it skidding across the floor. Kiara clasped it in her fist. Ula added her defense to Seanna's, blocking the attack. The soldier's sword sliced through the glow once more and with a final scream, the glow winked out.

  The pain in her belly had grown worse. Kiara was curled in a ball, shivering violently.

  "Who are you?" she managed to ask the ghostly soldier who knelt beside her in concern.

  "Comar Hassad, liegeman to Bricen," the soldier said. "I was unable to protect Bricen. I am sworn to the defense of his heirs."

  "Did the ghosts...tak
e the soul?" The room swam around her, and Kiara struggled to remain conscious. She could hear the wood of the doors splintering.

  The spirits around her began to fade. "No. We'll watch over you until the living come." Hassad's voice grew faint. Jae flew down to land beside Kiara and nuzzled her hand.

  Kiara heard the doors crash open and saw torchlight. Through the windows, the faint glow of dawn began to light the room. "Get the healer!" a guardsman shouted. One of the guards went to do as he was bid as the other two ran for Kiara.

  "We saw something in the corridor and went to investigate. M'lady, who did this?"

  "Ghosts," Kiara managed. She fought the urge to cry out as another wave of pain swept over her. "Gone now."

  Kiara heard running footsteps and the guards moved aside. Cerise and Alle knelt beside her. "Macaria went to get a stretcher. What hap­pened?" Cerise gentled Kiara onto her back, noting with concern as Kiara winced trying to lie flat.

  "Let's give the queen some privacy," Alle said, taking control of the situation. "You— bring a pitcher of cold water and a pot of hot water. And you—get rid of the broken glass." With the guards occupied, Alle knelt beside Cerise.

  "Tell me what you need and I'll do it."

  Cerise worked silently while Kiara haltingly told of the attack and her ghostly defenders. "Is it true? Could they take the soul?"

  "The old stories say so. I always thought they were just the prattling of old women. But out in the midlands, I've heard the hedge witches tell of ghosts that possessed a babe before its soul was fixed. A changeling. It takes blood magic or a Summoner's power to do such a thing after birth, but there are tales of that as well."

  "Hassad didn't think they had succeeded. Can you tell for certain?"

  Cerise closed her eyes and laid her hands on Kiara's belly. After a few moments, she shook her head. "Only one life thread for both of you. The soul is not yet fixed."

  Kiara let out a deep breath and relaxed. "Thank you." Just as quickly, a spasm caused her to grit her teeth and wince.

  "I don't know whether it was the blow to the stomach or the stress of the attack—or whether you were pushing yourself too hard in practice. But we've got to get those contrac­tions stopped before you lose the baby."

  "My rooms—"

  Cerise shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kiara. There's no time. We'll have to make do."

  Macaria arrived with the rest of Cerise's healer's satchels and a stretcher. From the hot water the guard brought, Cerise made both tea and a poultice and began to work. Alle shooed the guards from the room, and they took up their places outside the broken doors. Macaria found a sailcloth tarp in a storage chest and rigged it to shield Kiara from the view of passers by. Alle dabbed Kiara's face with a cool, wet cloth, and Macaria held her hand. For a candlemark Cerise worked, digging through her satchels for herbs and dried mix­tures and applying them to ease the muscle spasms. Kiara clutched the agate amulet in her left hand. Finally, Cerise straightened.

  "You're going to be all right," Cerise said with a tired smile. "You're both safe. Let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

  Alle signaled the guards, who gently lifted Kiara onto the stretcher. Carefully, they made their way up to the queen's quarters. Tris's dogs, sensing something amiss, stayed close. The gray wolfhound, Kiara's favorite, lay down alongside the couch. The mastiff took up a watch at the head of the couch, and the black wolfhound lay at the foot. Jae settled himself on the back of the couch. In the shadows, Kiara saw the dim outlines of Seanna and Ula, standing watch.

  "I'm sorry, my dear," Cerise said, taking Kiara's hand. "We've had so many other wor­ries, I never thought to warn you about the spirits."

  Kiara leaned back against her pillow. "I knew Tris wasn't sure whether he'd laid all of the ghosts of Jared's victims to rest before he left. He tried but—Goddess!—there were so many."

  A knock sounded at the door. Alle opened it cautiously, her hand near the knife hidden in the folds of her skirt. Carroway stood in the doorway, and Kiara waved for him to enter.

  "I came as soon as I heard. Are you all right?"

  Kiara nodded. "If I remember Tris's story about the night of the coup, I think I met one of your old friends. He said his name was Comar Hassad."

  "Hassad was one of Bricen's most loyal guardsmen—and one of the first to die in the coup. He guided us through the forest to that burned out inn, only when we stayed there the first time, it looked solid and quite safe—not a charred shell!"

  "If you see him again, tell him 'thank you' for me."

  Carroway smiled. "Me, personally, I don't go looking for ghosts. But since Tris left with the army, Hassad's been busy. I've heard tell that the guardsmen have seen him all around the castle. Scared a couple of minstrels out of their wits down on the road by the bridge."

  "Seanna and Ula seem to have taken a per­sonal interest in you and the baby," Macaria added.

  "I was never so glad to see a ghost," Kiara said, managing a smile. "Jae tried to protect me, but he flew right through the spirits." She shivered at the memory.

  "I'd hoped that you'd avoid the problems your mother had," Cerise said. "And I think in many ways, you have. But you've got to be careful." She held up a hand to stay Kiara's protest. "I know that many of our soldiers train almost up to when they give birth. I know the battle healers say such training is safe. But if you have Viata's constitution, you must take care. Your mother was just as excellent a fight­er as you are, but she had to be very careful when she was pregnant with you—and even so, it was a difficult and dangerous birth. If you want to continue to train in the salle, you'll have to take it easy—perhaps work on form and stretching instead of whacking our your frustrations on the quintain," she added with a smile.

  "Paiva and Bandele have some new songs," Carroway said, standing. "I'll have them come up to give you a private audience once you've had a chance to rest. If you need anything, Macaria can find me." He bowed and left.

  Macaria followed him into the hallway, clos­ing the door.

  "I'm afraid for her," Macaria said.

  Carroway took her hand, and was surprised that she did not draw away. "So am I. When I promised Tris we'd look after her, I wasn't expecting anything like this. I'm starting to won­der where the real war is—out there, or in here."

  "We're still no closer to knowing whether it's Curane's people or the Isencroft separatists who've been behind most of the incidents. Now, with the ghosts—"

  "Maybe the other minstrels will hear some­thing. Whoever's behind this may overplay his hand. You've got to help keep an eye on Kiara—and an ear open to the palace gossip. I can't do it—I don't dare. People will talk."

  "What I said about your reputation with your patronesses, that was a joke."

  "The reputation is real even though I didn't earn it. I can't stay close enough to make sure she hears the court gossip. But you can. Paiva's too young. Bandele doesn't have the nose for politics you do. There's no one else I trust to be that close to her. Alle only hears the noble's talk. You hear what's said below stairs, what people in the crowd say when they think no one important is listening."

  Macaria smiled. She gave his hand a reassur­ing squeeze, and he returned the pressure. "I will," she said. "But stay as close as you can— all right?"

  Carroway made a deep courtly bow. "I live to serve, m'lady."

  Kiara and Alle looked up when Macaria came back into the room. "How's your bard?" Kiara asked.

  Macaria looked away. "My bard? He's just worried about you. That's all."

  Kiara gave a tired smile but did not argue. She could hear Cerise moving about her room, putting her satchels and medicines away.

  Alle sat down in a chair beside Kiara. "I know you don't want to worry Cerise. How are you—really?"

  Kiara pulled herself into a sitting position. "In Isencroft, I understood the rules. When I went on my journey, I was sure of my ability to fight—and I had a war steed as well as Jae. On the road last year, heading to Westmarch and then o
n the way back to confront Jared, I knew I could hold my own, even in a battle. Now— everything's different. We still don't know who's trying to kill me—or whether it's more than one person for different reasons. Tris is at war, and we don't know anything about how that's going. I've never felt this helpless in my life—and I hate it. I couldn't protect Mikhail or Make, and I failed today to keep the baby safe. I've let Tris down—I've let everyone down."

  "Now, you sound like Viata," Cerise said, joining them. "Your mother was merciless with herself when she made a mistake, but she never recognized her successes. You've gotten used to

  relying on yourself since Viata died. That's made you strong. But it takes courage to admit when you need help. We won't think less of you." She paused. "What of your regent magic, Kiara? Is it of any help?"

  "We found out last year how dangerous it could be for me to scry," Kiara said. "It worked too well. Arontala nearly killed me. I can shield against magic, although a sorcerer of power can break through. I learned that the hard way," she said ruefully. "Father said his magic let him sense the weather—helpful for battle, not much use for me at the moment. If anything, perhaps the regent magic makes our child even more likely to be a mage. But I'm not counting on it for protection."

  "We need a plan," Alle said. "We've got to figure out a way to keep you safe without mak­ing you a prisoner—and still have the court see enough of you that the gossips don't spread too many rumors."

  Macaria flinched. "Speaking of rumors... Carroway says he needs to keep his distance from Kiara because of his 'reputation.' I've always heard comments, but I figured it was his looks—there's no denying the boy's hand­some. I can't figure it out—in the years I've been at court, I've never known him to take a lover, but he's got a reputation for bedding his patronesses. I'm afraid for Carroway. Some­one's been peeling away Kiara's supporters. What happens if they go after him?"

  Macaria looked at Alle. "You and your aunt Eadoin know everything that goes on at court. What's behind the rumors? He won't tell me. I've asked."