It always comes to this, Faithful remarked. A god can guide a mortal, nurture, teach. And yet there comes a moment when the god must stand away from the fosterling and let the inevitable happen.
“Why?” she asked, curious.
That’s how the universe is fashioned, Faithful replied. There are moments when only a human can affect the outcome of events.
She picked him up, letting him perch under her left ear. “You mean they don’t know what’s going to happen?”
People like you are the fulcrums on which the future turns. He gave her ear a nuzzle. Don’t mess it up. I have a reputation to maintain.
Leaving the Hall of Crowns, she was surprised to come face-to-face with Delia of Eldorne and Princess Josiane. Both wore plain dark gowns and veils over their hair. Plainly they were as surprised as she was.
Delia recovered quickly. “Well, if it isn’t ‘Sir’ Alanna,” she sneered, her green eyes glinting. “The Woman Who Rides Like a Man!”
Taking her cue from Delia’s words, Alanna bowed as a man would. “Princess Josiane. Lady Delia.”
“I used to have to dance with her when she posed as a he,” Delia told the tall blonde. “I sensed something was not right.”
“Funny,” Alanna said thoughtfully, “as I recall, you chased me. You made a point of flirting with me, because the men said I was a woman-hater, and you wanted to make me fall in love with you.”
“Liar!” Delia hissed.
Alanna shrugged. “As you like. I was taught not to question a lady’s word.”
“I’m told you were Jonathan’s lover once,” Josiane said abruptly, veiling her blue eyes with her lashes. “Is that why he made you Champion?”
Surprised by the attack from this unknown source, Alanna took a step back. She clenched her hands, her nails biting into newly formed scars, as she controlled her temper. “I’m told you replaced me in his affections—for a little while,” she replied sweetly. “Why didn’t he make you Prime Minister?”
Josiane’s beautiful face changed into an ugly mask. “No one gets the better of me,” she hissed.
“Did you plan to be King’s Champion?” Alanna wanted to know. “You don’t have the training.”
Delia gripped Josiane’s arm; Alanna could see her blood-red nails digging into the princess’s flesh. “I don’t waste time in conversations with sluts, Josiane,” she snapped. “Neither should you.” She literally dragged the princess away, quite a feat in so delicate-looking a woman.
“She could do harm,” Alanna told Liam and Myles later that night as they sat over brandy. Outside they could hear the sounds of the Beltane festival. “I’m no expert, but that Josiane is crazy!”
“There’s bad blood in the Copper Isle kings,” Liam drawled, his eyes sleepy. “They birth a mad one every generation. Josiane’s uncle is locked in a tower somewhere. It comes from being an island kingdom—too much inbreeding.”
“I think it might be a good idea if the Provost’s spies kept an eye on her,” Alanna said frankly. “I don’t trust her.”
“He has her watched,” Myles said reassuringly. “Any foreign noble is suspect at a time like this.”
Alanna fidgeted in her chair. “I wish the coronation was over. The waiting is getting on my nerves.”
“Once he’s sealed to the crown and the land, he’ll be hard to dislodge.” Liam yawned. “And if the Jewel’s all it’s supposed to be, so much the better.”
“In the meantime, we still can find no traces of a plot or plotters.” Myles sighed. “With people starting to arrive for the ceremonies, it will be hard to spot fighters coming to take part in an overthrow.”
“George and I ride through the city every day,” Liam said unexpectedly. “The Lord Provost and Duke Gareth, too. Between the four of us, any group of warriors will be easy to spot. The Provost’s men stand alert as well.” He noticed Alanna staring at him and grinned. “Did you think you could leave me out of your worries? I’m still your friend. I won’t sit idling when there’s a hint of a fight in the offing.”
Alanna smiled gratefully at the Dragon. “It is a weight off my mind, knowing you’re keeping an eye on things, too.”
George glanced into the library. “Ah, here you all are. Myles, I’ve another visitor to cast upon your tender mercies.” He bowed gracefully, ushering the guest into the room.
“Master Si-cham!” Alanna cried, jumping up. The tiny old man in the orange worn by Mithran adepts smiled and held out gnarled hands for her to kiss.
“And Liam Ironarm,” he said, nodding cheerfully to the bowing Dragon. “What a pair of warriors to grace your house, Myles!”
Alanna looked from Si-cham to Liam to her father, baffled. “You know Liam?” she asked. The redheaded man winked at her. “You know Myles?”
“I traveled more when I was younger,” Myles explained. “Si-cham, have a seat. George, thank you for bringing him. Where was he?”
“Cornered near the Water Gate by a set of young louts. The drunken fools wanted him t’dance for the Goddess,” George said, pouring tea for the Mithran priest. “There’s no respect for old men anymore.”
“I’ve danced for the Goddess in my day,” Si-cham admitted with a grin. “Not after such a journey, though.” He drank his tea. “I’m sorry to be so long in answering your summons, George Cooper. I had a thousand loose ends to tie up in the City of the Gods once they realized I was truly going. Also, I do not cover so much ground as I did when I was young. I had to be carried in a litter—a sad comedown for me, when I rode so well.”
“But why are you here?” Alanna wanted to know.
Si-cham put down his glass, his face tired. “George tells me your brother is ill—desperately so, perhaps. He asked me to come to Master Thom’s aid.”
“Now all we have to do is convince Thom he needs it,” admitted George.
* * *
At first Thom refused to consider talking to his former master. His rage on learning why Si-cham was in the city scared Alanna, not so much because she feared his temper, but because she heard despair and fear in Thom’s voice as he screamed at her. This made her determined that Si-cham should meet with her twin. Thom resembled a skeleton now; his skin was dry and cracked with the heat that ate at him from within.
A week before the coronation Thom gave in. Even Roger was banned from their meeting, a ban he accepted gracefully. When Thom and Si-cham instructed the palace servants to bring their meals to Thom’s rooms, Alanna gave up waiting for word. They would send for her when they needed her.
She had a number of mundane tasks that needed to be taken care of in the days remaining. Visiting the palace scribes, she had a new will drawn up: The last had been done prior to her Ordeal. They were disturbed to see such a document when death should be the last thing on her mind, but she could not shake uneasy feelings about the coronation. She wanted nothing left to chance, just in case. She took her mail to be polished and her sword to be sharpened. While neither her gold mail nor Lightning required the extra attention, she felt better for having it done. When the hairdresser came to style Eleni’s hair for a court party, Alanna asked him to cut her hair as well. Everyone but George and Buri cried out when they saw her. The coppery locks that had fallen past her shoulders were trimmed back to her ear lobes in the short cut she’d worn as a page. She shrugged at the protests. “I couldn’t keep it out of my eyes,” she explained.
Finally one of the palace servants came to House Olau, four days after Thom and Si-cham had cloistered themselves, to ask Alanna to visit her brother. She did so, wondering what delightful surprise the sorcerers had ready for her.
Thom was pacing when she arrived. Alanna dropped into a chair with a grateful sigh. “It’s baking outside.” About as much as you’re baking inside, she added to herself, noting that his skin was peeling and his lips bled.
Thom looked at her quizzically. “Tell me, Sister Mine, when is your Dragon going to make an honest woman of you?”
She made a face at him, thinking he
had to feel a little better if he was nosing into her affairs. “He isn’t. We were done before I came home. He doesn’t like magic.”
“Silly man. What about Jonathan, then? Everyone knows you two used to be lovers, even if he is a prig about other things. Maybe I should talk to him. Having sullied your reputation, he can’t be allowed to abandon you. You have a good name—”
“I’m not amused, Thom.”
“I think you should take the thief, if you must take someone. If you marry George, I’ll give you my blessing.”
“If I marry anyone, I’ll let you know. Can you change the subject?” She shifted in the big chair, hooking her legs over one arm. “I love you dearly, Thom, but you’re prying, and I don’t appreciate it.”
He grinned. “What sort of twin would I be if I didn’t pry?” That made her smile. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he tugged his beard as he looked her over. “It’s changed you—the Jewel. Time was you’d’ve lost your temper with me for calling him a ‘prig’ or teasing you about the Dragon. You only save your anger now for big things, is that it?”
“Thom, do you mind?” she snapped. “I didn’t come here to be analyzed by my own twin, thank you very much!”
He looked away. “Sorry,” he murmured shyly. “I forgot how much I dislike it. And you have changed. For the better, I think.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, touched by the rare compliment.
There was a rap on the door; it opened to admit Si-cham. “There you are, Lady Alanna. Now we may begin.”
Alanna looked at Thom, feeling the first pricklings of mistrust. “Begin what?” she wanted to know.
“We’ve been going over the books in Jonathan’s sorcery library,” Thom explained. “And we found some possibilities. For now, I want to drain off a little of the power that burdens me. Without it, I can think clearly. Because you’re my twin, you’re the best person to carry it.”
“Wait a minute—” Alanna began, rising out of her chair. “What if it poisons me like you’ve been poisoned? Even a beginning hedgewitch knows you can carry your own Gift and no more!”
“That would be true, if we spoke of weeks or months or years. This transfer is for a week. Our spells will enclose it, keep it from leaking into your Gift,” Si-cham reassured her. “We are sure of it.” He met Alanna’s eyes, smiling.
Alanna stared at the sorcerers for a long moment. “A week?”
“No more,” Thom said. “The most important of the infusions I need takes that long to make.”
Alanna bit her lip. He was so thin! “It’ll help? It won’t interfere with my participation in the coronation?”
“It will help,” Si-cham affirmed. “It will not interfere. You won’t even notice it after the first night, unless you try to use your Gift, of course. I would not advise it.”
She sat down with an exhausted sigh. “What must I do?”
Alanna kept to House Olau for the next few days while her head buzzed and her stomach lurched. Grimly she continued her exercises with Liam in spite of it, fearing to slack off for even a day. At last her body adjusted to the new burden. But she refused to do so tiny a spell as the one for lighting candles, fearful of what might happen. Visiting Thom once more, she was glad she’d given in—he looked better already. Together with Si-cham, he had embarked on the beginnings of an intricate spell. It would be finished several days after the coronation, and—if Thom was lucky—it would purify his magic.
Three days before the coronation, Jonathan summoned Alanna to the palace to discuss how the Jewel would fit into the ceremonies. “It seems like a silly thing to worry about,” he admitted with a smile, “but the Master of Protocol wouldn’t let me alone until I agreed to do it his way. You see, I can’t take it up when I’m crowned, or when I get the scepter and the Great Seal. Those are all Tortallan things, and the Jewel isn’t Tortallan.”
Alanna had to laugh. “Poor Jon! Maybe I should’ve given it to you for your birthday, or something.”
The king-to-be grimaced. “Very funny. Here’s how we will do it. When you come to give me your oath as King’s Champion, say this.”
He gave her a parchment on which her oath was written. It read very like the one she’d taken as a knight. At the end, in scarlet ink, were lines, which she read aloud. “‘Sire, as token of my fealty, I gift you and your heirs with this most awesome artifact—’ Jon, do I really have to say ‘awesome artifact’?” Jonathan nodded, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Wonderful,” Alanna muttered as she read further. “‘For which I have gone in quest to the most distant corner of our world. Through peril I have borne it, for the glory of Tortall, and for the glory of King Jonathan. Accept, I beg, this symbol of my devotion to realm and crown, the Dominion Jewel.’ Jon, this is some kind of a joke!”
Jon shook his head. “Wait till you hear what I have to say in reply. I’d better go—the delegation from Tyra is waiting for me. Don’t forget to memorize your lines!” With an evil grin he left Alanna to scowl at her revised oath.
She shoved it into her pocket. “I guess I’m too old to put a frog in his bed,” she muttered as she headed for the stables. “‘Awesome artifact,’ indeed!”
8
CROSSROAD IN TIME
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE CORONATION, ALANNA stayed with Jonathan as he kept vigil in the Chapel of the Ordeal. While he meditated on the obligations of Kingship, she worried. None of those who’d made his protection their goal were satisfied that the single men pouring into the city in recent weeks had come to enjoy themselves. They’d had no choice—Raoul, Gary, the Lord Provost—but to let the coronation take place, so they had every fighting man in service to the palace on duty and alert. Alanna attended their talks with Jon that afternoon but had nothing to add. The back of her neck prickled constantly, reflecting her uneasiness, but that wasn’t solid evidence of trouble. When she and Jonathan reached the chapel, she was pleased to see Raoul had posted a double guard. The night inched by quietly; the only movement she noticed occurred when she or Jonathan changed position.
The iron door of the Chamber shimmered in the candlelight, a vivid reminder of her Ordeal of Knighthood. Here Jon would undergo the Ordeal of Kings. The only advantage she could see to his entering that room a second time was that the King’s Ordeal was said to be short. For herself, she knew that no inducement could get her to enter that place again.
Suddenly the light shifted. The Dominion Jewel danced in the air in front of her, so real-looking she had to touch the pouch at her waist to make sure the Jewel was in there. She stared, wondering if this was a glimpse of the future, or something of the Jewel’s making. The false Jewel shimmered and grew, coming closer, until it overwhelmed her eyes. Inside it she saw:
In the center of the Chamber of the Ordeal Roger lay on a block of stone. He got up and held out his arms. “Come, loved one,” he whispered.
She had been warned not to speak or scream. Her jaws knotted to keep from yelling her fury. She couldn’t move. Closer he came. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep silent—coppery blood flooded her mouth.
She was in his arms and they danced, his face lit with love and with rage, his sapphire eyes insane. “We’ll dance until the end of everything, my darling, my pet,” he crooned. “Promise me we’ll dance forever.”
She shook her head, struggling wildly against his grip. She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut.
She was forbidden to scream in the Chamber of the Ordeal!
She was in the chapel once again, her hands tight over her mouth. Luckily Jonathan was in some kind of trance, unable to notice her antics. Slowly she lowered her hands, trembling. What did today have in store?
When the first rays of sun slid through the high windows of the chapel, the priests came. Jonathan rose to go with them, still in a trance. Gently they conveyed him to the Chamber and ushered him inside. Alanna tugged at her earbobs, trying to think of nothing at all.
When the door swung open, fifteen minutes later, she was the first one there to cat
ch Jon, as he had once caught her. He smiled at her tiredly, murmuring, “Not bad—if you like ordeals.”
Alanna bit back a laugh. Gary came up to take Jonathan’s other arm; they helped him to his rooms, where he could sleep for a few hours. With a sleepy wave, Alanna parted from Gary and went to the nearby chamber that had been prepared for her. The last thing she saw as she drifted off to sleep was her gold-washed mail, glimmering at her from the rack in the corner.
In his suite of rooms, Alex of Tirragen sharpened his sword. He was dressed in black and wearing breeches—he did not plan to attend the coronation. Testing the edge of his blade, he smiled.
Delia of Eldorne fussed with her hair at the mirror. Unlike Alex, she was in full court regalia, her emerald silk with its stiffened skirts rustling as she put last-minute touches on her appearance.
“Aren’t you the least bit nervous?” she asked, adjusting a hair ornament.
“Why should I be?” was the cool reply. “He’s thought of everything.”
“What if Josiane succeeds?”
Alex chuckled. “Delia, have you no faith in our Champion? We have an appointment today, though she doesn’t know it.” He held up the sword, his eyes dreamy. “She won’t let a madwoman like Josiane prevent her from coming.”
Squire Henrim knocked and stepped into the room. “Lord Alexander, I let the men-at-arms into the back corridors near the Hall of Crowns. They’re concealed in the storerooms. Captain Chesli says the Eldorne men have taken their places inside the hall, among the crowd.” He bowed to Delia, who smiled.
Alex stood, sheathing his sword. “You’ll be with the men on the dungeon level. Before you go there, remind both captains they are not to act until the signal, which will come after the crown rests on Jonathan’s head. After the crowning, understand?”
The squire hesitated. “But—surely—he will be bound to the land. He will use Tortall’s magic against the Duke—”
Lioness Rampant (Song of the Lioness) Page 19
