by Unknown
"Nor would I," Kaila repeated, "but against that beast Kreg rode alone."
Kaila paused for a moment and the silence held.
"All Knights of Aerioch can draw on the power of the Knightbond to work magic and Kreg was one of the strongest knights at using that power. When he arrived, he used the power to place protections on the temple orphanage. Only when the children were safe did he ride to face the beast. The battle was short, and Kreg slew the beast but not before it flamed upon him. He was a week dying of his burns."
The Schahi ambassador opened his mouth to speak but Kaila turned to Jian Pah.
"My lord, I am not the young woman I once was. I find I grow fatigued. May I have your permission to retire to my room?"
"But...the feast has barely begun."
"I crave pardon, My Lord, but I truly am fatigued."
"Very well," Jian Pah said, "if that is your wish."
"With our Lord's permission," Marek said, "I will accompany my lady to the door."
"Please," Jian Pah said.
Marek leaned close at the door.
"Are you well?"
Kaila smiled. "Do you remember the day this is?"
Marek paused a moment, then his eyes widened. "The day he came."
Kaila nodded. "This is not a good day for me, and that not a good subject."
"I miss papa too," Marek said, "but...."
"But you have a job to do." Kaila nodded. "Go back to the feast. Woo Jian Pah from alliance with Schah and into alliance with Aerioch."
"That I will, although I think little wooing is needed."
Kaila smiled and watched as he returned to his place at the high table.
* * * *
Kaila could not sleep. The heat of high summer, and her own thoughts, conspired to keep her awake in bed. The silence, more than anything else, disturbed her. If this had been her keep in Zantor, or the palace in Norveth, there would have been the noise of servants preparing for the next day, guards moving about on the walls, perhaps even a baby waking in the night and demanding to be fed. Here there was none of that.
She heaved herself to a sitting position and stood. If she could not sleep, she could make virtue of necessity and at least inspect the guards.
She flipped through the clothes in the wardrobe. The formal coathardie she had worn at the feast was inappropriate for an informal inspection. The dark green tunic she had worn at the tournament had already been cleaned, but the shoulder patch containing her device, combining the arms of Aerioch with those of Zantor, was missing. She made a mental note to speak to Lord Jian Pah about the quality of his household staff to so damage a guest's clothes. That left the dark gray work tunic.
Dressed, sword at her side, she opened the door, prepared to greet the guards, and froze. From her doorway she could see two guards in the hallway, both slumped to the floor. She ran to the nearest. Not dead, she could tell by the slow rise and fall of his chest. Asleep. A sleep as deep as any drink-induced stupor, as a sharp shake of the shoulder failed to arouse him.
From where she crouched she could see yet another guard, also slumped to the floor. Was the whole castle asleep? If so, that would explain the silence.
Poison or magic? She had to know. As Shillond had taught her all those years ago she drew on the power of the Knightbond and cast a spell of seeking. In a moment she knew—neither poison nor spell. The guard was under the influence of an herbal extract that healers use to cause patients to sleep through even the greatest pain. She would not be able to wake anyone until it had run its course.
She looked first one way down the hall, then the other. No one and nothing moved. Wine destroyed the extract, as did heat. None of the cooked food, nor the wine, could have been used to feed it to the guards. But Jian Pah had been holding a high feast. The final course was always a fruit ice. The common folk of the keep would have helped themselves after the feast. She could well be the only person awake in the entire castle.
No. That was not true. There would be at least one other and finding and stopping him must be her first task.
Someone with the Schahi embassy was almost certainly the assassin but who would be the target? Marek? No. That would cement the alliance between Jian Pah and Aerioch. But if they killed Jian Pah himself and blamed it on Aerioch....
Her missing badge took on a different meaning from simple carelessness as she sprinted toward Jian Pah's room.
A very large and ornate iron-bound wooden door, flanked by sleeping guards, greeted her. She tugged on the handle only to find that the door was barred from within. Kreg or Shillond might have used magic to open the door but she...she could not use those spells. They required control of the power that she had never mastered.
Hugging herself, she stepped back and looked right then left. There, a window. Shifting her sword from her side to her back as she ran, she dashed to the window. Perched on the windowsill, she looked across to the balcony to Lord Jian Pah's room. Too far to jump. No ledge across which to creep. Now, if she could remember that spell....
She whispered the words, drawing once more on the power of the Knightbond and slipped out the window. She clung to the stone of the wall, the magic held her hands and feet glued in place. One step at a time, she crept toward the balcony. While the power of the Knightbond was great, her ability to control it was limited and she was tiring.
Almost spent, she swung over the edge of the balcony, dropped into a crouch on the floor, and peered into the room. After a moment, her eyes adjusted to the gloom and she could make out the bed and furnishings. Nothing moved within the room. Keeping close to the floor, Kaila drew her sword and crept into the room. Still no motion but her own.
A moment later she stood—alone in the room save for the couple on the bed. The position in which she found them caused her to blush but she shoved embarrassment aside. They were both breathing and that was all that mattered.
A goblet lay next to the bedside table, its scarlet contents a bleeding puddle on the floor.
She could have been wrong, in which case somebody else would die, if they had not already.
A small, velvet-covered bench sat in the corner of the room, and Kaila dropped onto it. Laying her naked sword across her knees, she drew in slow deep breaths as she forced her body to relax. Soon enough she would know if she had arrived before the assassin, or if her mistake had cost some poor soul his life.
* * * *
Movement at the window drew Kaila's attention. The end of a rope dropped from above.
Kaila stood and stepped into a shadowed corner of the room. Her breathing had returned to normal and her arms and legs would provide their normal strength...for a while. She had still not fully recovered her ability to control magic, and she would only be able to use the most minor magics, none that would be useful in combat.
A figure clad in dark gray dropped from the rope onto the balcony and slipped through the curtains.
In silence, Kaila stepped from the shadows and lunged.
The assassin was fast, Kaila had to grant that. The figure facing her did not speak, just leaped back beyond the range of Kaila's lunge and drew his own sword.
In seconds, Kaila knew she faced a swordsman only slightly less skilled than herself, but stronger. She found herself being forced back.
Kaila's foot skidded in the spilled wine. Her opponent used that opening to lock his sword with hers and press. Kaila had no room to back up and break the engagement and found her sword forced back toward her.
Her eyes met those of her opponent and she smiled. She dropped her sword under her opponent's and thrust up at his belly. At the same time, she wrenched her body down and to the side. Her move pulled her out of the main force of the incoming blow so that the sword only raked along her ribs, leaving a bloody, but shallow gash. Her own sword speared up from below the sternum to the man's heart. He dropped without a sound.
Kaila staggered to the where she had waited and sat. Her side burned where the sword had cut her. She probed at the wound, meas
uring its length and depth. It did not seem to be bad and should not hurt so. Yet it burned down her side.
She sighed as realization struck. Poison. The assassin had faced a sleeping target, no guards that could have responded, no risk at all except for one old woman that he could not have guessed would be here. All that and he still had used poison.
There was nothing she could do but wait. The magic she could draw on could slow the poison but not stop it. Maybe if she were not so tired....If she could just hold on long enough for the castle to wake and for someone to bring a healer. But first....
Using her sword as a crutch, she pushed herself to her feet and swayed to the door. She drew back the bolt and unlocked the door. That would make it easy for the first guards or nobles to wake to get into the room. She returned to the bench and sank back onto it, resting her back against the cool of the stone wall.
* * * *
Sunlight streamed in through the open window as a group of armsmen burst through the door. In seconds, Kaila found no fewer than five swords pointed at her.
"Your pardon for not rising," she said, her hand still pressed against her side.
"Who is that?" One of the armsmen asked. "Who did you murder?"
"I murdered no one," Kaila said. She shuddered as another spasm of pain racked her body. "As for who I killed, remove his mask and see for yourself. I care not."
Marek's voice came from the back of the crowd. "Let me through!"
Strong hands pushed at people until the crowd parted and Marek arrived to kneel in front of her. "Your grace? What happened?"
"We know what happened," someone said, "her device was found clutched in the hand of the dead guard above."
Kaila nodded. "Not this tunic. My room. Green tunic."
Marek nodded and stood.
"If her device was found there, it did not come from the clothes she is wearing. Look." He pointed to Kaila's shoulder, where the badge remained stitched in place.
"It is obvious," Marek continued before anyone else could speak, "that she got wind of the plot and came to defend the lord."
"Then who?"
"Remove his mask, lackwit!"
Even as another shudder ran through her body, Kaila smiled at the gasp that ran through the crowd.
"It was the Schahi ambassador," Marek whispered to her. "You guessed?"
"Ambassador." One more shudder ran through Kaila's body. "Or one with him."
Marek leaned close to her ear. "Mother, can you walk? We've got to get you to a healer."
Kaila shook her head as the pain faded from her body, leaving a soothing warmth. "No need. I have no more need of healers."
She looked up. A familiar figure stood in the back of the crowd but she could not see who it was. She looked back to Marek, at the moisture sparkling in his eyes. "No...tears."
She stood up. The weakness and pain was gone from her body. She felt better than she had for forty years. Standing, she could see Kreg waiting for her at the back of the crowd.
She slipped past the people standing in the room, people who did not seem to notice her. Only Jian Pah, waking on his bed, stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and looking away.
"I have missed you," Kreg said.
"And I, you," Kaila said. "More than you can know."
She held out her hand.
Kreg took her hand in his. "It's time to go."
"But...Marek...."
"...will be fine. All our children, those of our bodies and those of our hearts, will be fine."
She looked back at Marek standing in the crowd. "Yes. They will at that."
* * * *
Marek looked down at his mother's body and wiped at his eyes. Tears would wait. There was work to do. His mother would not thank him to let the alliance slip away for his own grief. But even before that they had to learn how the assassin had slipped a sleeping drug into the food for the entire castle and how to prevent that from happening again.
First the work. Then, then there would be time for tears.
Not the Best Neighbors
by Julia H. West
The study of geography is important. Casting spells on enemies is one thing, but if the magic spills over into previously neutral kingdoms, they won't be neutral for long.
Julia H. West writes science fiction and fantasy while surrounded by penguins (which she has been collecting for over thirty years). Since her husband and daughters also write, the home office is full of computers, books, and the myriad office supplies that writers can't help collecting. The family cats attempt to write, but for some reason the humans always erase their efforts. Her website is at http://juliahwest.com.
#
Lady Janet, daughter of the Duke of Arbinclose, reined in her horse as a voice boomed, seemingly from nowhere, "Woe, woe, people of the kingdom of Chelming. This is the day of your doom."
Lord Henry, Janet's well-meaning but weak-chinned escort, pulled his horse up beside hers. He rested his hand on his sword hilt and called, "You there, you can't threaten Lady Janet."
As her horse stood restlessly shifting its feet, Janet looked about. No one on the road ahead or behind. None of the trees here at the edge of the fields were taller than two man-heights. Those slender trunks wouldn't hide a child, much less the deep-voiced man whose words still echoed in her ears.
The oddest thing about the situation was that this was the kingdom of Deccalia. Had he strayed a few leagues east to issue his pronouncement?
"This day will you fade from the sight of men. Know ye, people of Chelming, that this is the work of King Montgomery Alphonse Lawrence Edward the Third of Brixton, and tremble before you die. For a few moments, know the futility of resisting King Montgomery of Brixton."
Janet huffed an exasperated sigh. "You're in the wrong kingdom!" she called to whoever made the grand pronouncements. "This is Deccalia. We're not fighting you!"
The loud-voiced man, herald or whoever he may be, said nothing. Janet became annoyed. "Understand, lackey of King Montgomery. I'm Lady Janet, daughter of the Duke of Arbinclose, in Deccalia, and if you start harming our citizens you'll have our army on your ass so fast your head will spin."
"My lady!" Lord Henry chided. He drew out a handkerchief with his left hand, since his right still grasped his sword hilt. He mopped his brow and looked about, head bobbing like a swan's on his thin neck.
"He's the one threatening us," Janet replied. "Why should I mince words?" She raised her voice and addressed the unknown. "I'm serious, you know. Begone."
The deep voice began a series of odd syllables, in no language Janet could identify. "Eskthpf klintapoor m'skantflin."
"Knave! Cease this foul spell-mongering at once!" Janet called. Had King Montgomery started a war with Deccalia? She'd been away for a while—in Chelming, as a matter of fact—and that old windbag Montgomery could have picked a fight with King William of Deccalia while she was gone. King William would probably be just stupid enough to accept a challenge from Montgomery. That had nearly happened the time she visited Brixton and got in an argument with Prince Montgomery etc. etc. the Fourth—who was actually quite nice, away from his father.
The same hollow, echoing voice continued. Lord Henry jumped off his horse and ran up the road to inspect the nearest clump of trees. He shook his head, then returned to Janet. "I see no one. Where can he—"
"Asklefay!" bellowed the deep voice.
Janet's vision dimmed and her head swam. I will not faint! she told herself. Her horse sidled nervously across the road. She tried to calm the beast, and found she couldn't move. Her sight blurred, but she kept her eyes resolutely open. The oddest feeling swept over her body, like water (or maybe hundreds of ants) washing across her skin. If she could have moved, she would have shivered. Instead, she endured.
Moments later the feeling went away and sight returned. Janet blinked and felt for the reins; she seemed to have lost them. That was when she discovered she couldn't find the reins—or anything else that should have been there. She
was completely naked, bare as her birth day. Chemise, petticoats, underdress, overdress, robe and cloak, all gone. Even her stockings and boots were missing. She wiggled her toes, watched their naked pinkness. Oh my.
She felt a momentary pang of admiration for King Montgomery. He'd hired himself one talented wizard this time. A spell that could remove everything from its victim, including (she checked) rings and necklaces. But had it also transported her elsewhere? She sat on a hard surface, billows of coarse cloth all around her, the sun warm on her bare skin.
She heard a loud whuff, like the sound a giant horse might make—and realized she was still on her mare. She clambered over drifts of heavy blue cloth, oceans of coarse lace, and a veritable waterfall of fine linen to peer a very long way down to the road. Admiration returned. By all that's holy, a spell that shrinks an adult to the size of a man's hand. King Montgomery must have beggared his kingdom to pay for this spell.
* * * *
King Montgomery Alphonse Lawrence Edward the Third of Brixton sat astride his warhorse, grateful for the creature's stolid acceptance of the chaos around them. The wizard Searorun's horse, a few paces away, stood just as quietly, but King Montgomery was certain that was accomplished by magic.
One end of the meadow where King Montgomery's army massed was scorched, stinking of burnt manure, sulfur, and blood. He didn't think any of the cattle or sheep in the field had survived. Most of the foot soldiers had flung themselves to the ground when the demon—which Searorun had summoned—vanished in a flash of acrid smoke. Those still standing looked like they'd bolt for the forest behind them, given half a chance.
"The spell is complete," the sorcerer said, in a deep, hollow voice. He turned to King Montgomery and gestured toward the burned meadow. "As you can see, it has come at no little cost. Do you have my payment ready?"
