Nicholas's mouth was dry. He hadn't thought of that. "I'll make the exchange with their Shaman. She'll know."
"How will she know?" Canter asked. "Magic?"
Nicholas nodded. "Some Fey have a gift of clearness. The Shaman is perhaps the most gifted of all in that area. She will be honest with us."
"You're putting a lot of trust in them," Egan said softly.
"They saved my daughter's life."
"They had benefit in that too," Enford said. "She is their ruler's great-granddaughter."
"Jewel believed that they had benefit in the alliance," Nicholas said. "She believed it was the only way for Fey to survive."
"Not if you give them our Rocaan, it's not. Then they can attack us with impunity, especially if you take over the church. Who'll make the holy water?" Canter asked.
"I will," Nicholas said.
"Forgive me, Highness, but you don't know how," Holbrook said.
"Matthias will teach me," Nicholas said, although he wasn't sure how he would accomplish that.
"Giving you the secret to holy water would be useless," Canter said. "You would never use it against them."
"Exactly," Nicholas said. "That is one of the things that gives them safety in this bargain."
"But that will never protect us," Canter said.
"Of course it will protect you," Nicholas said. "As long as the agreement remains alive, the Fey will not attack us. They will work with us." He stood. "I have said I will do anything to save my daughter and to save this Isle. I mean that."
"Do you?" Holbrook asked softly. "Do you really mean that, Highness?"
Nicholas cocked his head and looked at Holbrook. "Why are you asking me that, milord?"
"Because, Sire, it seems to me that your actions now will destroy this kingdom. To separate the state and the Tabernacle is like severing the Isle down the middle."
"I find it ironic," Nicholas said, "that you men are blaming me for the severing. Matthias murdered my wife. Matthias already severed this Kingdom. If I let him go without punishing him, then we are all at risk. The Fey, and our own people, will believe that we will do nothing if the royalty is attacked. So they will attack. Matthias murdered Jewel. He did so in front of the elite of the Kingdom, and in front of her people. Witnesses saw that he planned this murder. If I do not punish him, I lose what little power I gained upon taking this throne."
The lords were watching him, open-mouthed. He had been speaking loudly and with a force he rarely used.
"If I do not punish him," Nicholas said, "Blue Isle as we know it will disappear. Chaos will reign, and eventually the Fey will win."
"The Fey will win under your plan. They almost did," Canter said. "If your wife had lived, we all would have lost."
"That's treason," Stowe whispered to him.
"No, let him say this," Nicholas said. He walked down the stairs until he faced Canter. "If he's saying it, so are others. I am only going to explain this to you once more. By your definition, the Fey won when they invaded. They breached our impenetrable walls, and slaughtered people in a nation that had never seen outside war. They changed the face of our land, of our religion, and of ourselves. If we do not acknowledge that, then we are fools."
Canter's eyes narrowed. He was frowning.
"We had beaten them back, but we couldn't let them leave. They can never leave. All we can do is wait for the Black King to arrive. He may never arrive. He may believe that Blue Isle is lost to him. He may have sent his son here to get rid of a rival. He may have no interest in the Isle. That's what we hope for."
"Then why do we ally with them?" Canter asked.
"Because we do not know. This Black King may not come. The next may not come. But the next will. And what do we do with all the Fey? They have more magicks than we know. Some will survive. And when the Black King comes, with his superior magicians, we will die. They will find a solution to holy water, and we will all die."
"We may not live that long," Canter said.
"And some of us might," Miller said.
"Some of us," Holbrook said slowly, "care about the future we give to our children, and our children's children."
"If my alliance with Jewel had been allowed to stand, we would have secured that future. Jewel and I would have kept the Isle running as it always ran. She was even willing to support the religious traditions which were deadly to her. Matthias changed all of that. Matthias, and people with attitudes like yours, Lord Canter. I will still try to meld both cultures into one. That is my job now. But I will do so my way. And my way does not include Matthias."
"Would it include another Rocaan?" Egan asked.
Nicholas took a deep breath. This was an option he had considered and discarded. "I don't know," he said. "I only know that a man who has purposely taken a life in the name of religion does not belong in charge of that religion."
"Are you suggesting a puppet leader of the church?" Holbrook asked.
"If need be," Egan said.
"There will be no need," Nicholas said. "I will make arrangements to give Matthias to the Fey, and get their killer in return."
"I cannot support this plan," Canter said.
The fury Nicholas had suppressed all afternoon rose and he almost brought up his fists. But he took a deep breath, as his father had taught him, and waited until the anger surged through him.
"You will support it," Nicholas said in the most measured tone he could manage. "You will support it and all I do or so help me God I will take your lands and your title and all you are from you so quickly that you won't see it coming."
"You wouldn't dare," Canter said. "You're a new King on shaky ground, a Fey-lover, and an appeaser."
"I can and will," Nicholas said. "Except for Sebastian, I am the only heir to the throne, with no possibilities for a regent. None of you can lead this country. You are stuck with me and no one else. And you are stuck with my policies. One of my policies is, Lord Canter, that you support me in all you say or do or I will confiscate all that you own, all that you are and all that you will ever be. Is that clear?"
"A man cannot rule by tyranny," Canter said.
"'A man must rule with force and dignity," Nicholas said. "My father ruled with kindness and a weak hand. It got him killed. I have to survive until my daughter reaches her majority. I will do so any way I can. Will you support me, Canter?"
Canter stared at Nicholas.
Nicholas nodded, feeling as if he had gotten his answer. He grabbed the skirts of his robe and started up the stairs.
"Wait, Highness," Canter said. "I will support you."
Nicholas smiled to himself before he turned around. He didn't know where this coldness had come from within him, but he was learning to work with it, to survive with it, to allow it to show him the way. The smile had disappeared by the time he faced Canter.
"You will support me in all things, Lord Canter," Nicholas said. "You will support me in action, in word, and in deed. If I hear so much as a whisper of your misconduct, I will strip you of your lands and titles so fast that you will not have time to steal a prized possession from the house."
Holbrook frowned. "Highness, a man says things —"
"Men say things, yes," Nicholas said. "But Lord Canter cannot and keep his title. If you talk in your sleep, milord, I suggest that you sleep alone. Am I making myself clear?"
"Very, Highness," Canter said. The dull red had risen in his cheeks again.
"Can you do this?"
Canter's lower lip jutted out slightly. "I'll have to, won't I?"
"Only if you want to keep your position," Nicholas said. He gave Canter's clothing an appraising glance. The gold embroidery sparkled in the candlelight. The rings on Canter's fingers were worth more than Ejil, the young groom, would spend in his entire life. "And it looks as if you'll be lost without your position."
The red in Canter's cheeks grew even darker. To his credit, though, he gave no other indication of his great anger.
"Highness," Enford asked q
uietly. "How will you achieve this exchange with the Fey? Do you need our services?"
Nicholas shook his head. "I know how to speak to them. I will do so my way."
He climbed the stairs back to the throne and sat. Then he stared at his lords. Impossible to say which would be loyal to him. Even Egan, who had touched him with kindness earlier, had reason to oppose Nicholas's policies. After all, the Fey had slaughtered his son. Stowe had been loyal to Nicholas's father, as had Enford, but who knew how such loyalties transferred.
"I will be acting quickly," he said. "But if word of this reaches Matthias before I take action, heads will roll."
"Literally, Highness?" Canter asked.
"Possibly," Nicholas said. He waved a hand. "You're all dismissed."
This time the lords were careful to bow on their way out. They did not speak as they filed past. Fesler struggled with his chair. He set his cane aside and attempted to pull himself up. Nicholas waited until the last lord had left the room before going down the steps. He put a hand beneath Fesler's elbow and eased the older man to his feet.
Fesler's arm was fragile in Nicholas's grasp. The bones were thin and brittle. Fesler trembled as he rose to his feet.
"Had I realized movement was so difficult for you," Nicholas said, "I would have arranged a better place for this meeting."
Fesler's smile was sad. "Movement has been difficult for years. I used to hide it better. I think this week destroyed the strength I used for pretense."
"I had never realized you were in such poor health," Nicholas said.
"It is not poor," Fesler said. "My condition is chronic. Your father knew. We had to discuss it when I first became ill. There was no one to take on my estate."
"And now?" Nicholas asked. He had not had time to look into any of the records.
"Now I shall wait and see if the plans I made are the plans I should follow," Fesler said.
Nicholas nodded. He understood that. Fesler looked at him. They were standing closer than they ever had, in all the years Nicholas had known him.
"You reminded me of your grandfather today." Fesler patted Nicholas's arm. "This is good. We need strength, particularly now."
"I don't feel strong," Nicholas said.
"But you act it. That is enough." Fesler braced his cane on the floor and shifted his weight from Nicholas to the cane itself. "It is a shame your strength had to come from events as tragic as these. But we cannot choose how we are forged."
"I would have preferred an easier way," Nicholas said.
"As would I, boy. As would I." Fesler leaned on the cane and slowly made his way up the aisle. "You know you made an enemy today."
"I know," Nicholas said. "My grandfather used to say that a strong man made an enemy every day."
Fesler stopped walking. He peered at Nicholas over his shoulder. "Your grandfather," Fesler said, "was not always right."
THIRTY-ONE
Rugar knocked once on the door to the Wisps' cabin, then let himself in. The cabin smelled of woodsmoke and fresh baked bread. Gift was sitting on the floor, as he often was. When he saw Rugar at the door, he let out a small yelp and backed away. Rugar terrified the boy and he wasn't sure why.
"Mama!" Gift cried, then stood and backed away until he was braced against the wall. Rugar smiled at him, but did not put him at ease.
Gift was a beautiful child. His hair was shiny black that reflected the flames from the fireplace as blue. His eyes were round, startling, and full of intelligence. His upswept brows, high cheekbones and thin features made him appear Fey, but his face belonged to his father. Anyone who saw him and Nicholas together would know Gift's paternity.
Rugar could never forget it.
Niche peered out of the back room. She was holding a towel. Wind was at her shoulder, his delicate features haggard. They had the look of people who had gone days without sleep.
"I thought you'd be in mourning," Niche said. Her voice was cold. She set the towel on a tiny table to her left and came into the room.
"I heard the boy had some trouble."
"He's fine now."
Gift was watching them from the wall. For one who had supposedly come close to death, he looked the healthiest of all of them.
"The Shaman had said he would not survive the night. I would like to know what happened," Rugar said.
Niche looked at Gift. His eyes were wide. "Gift, will you leave us please?"
"No," he said, his tone surprisingly adult.
"Gift," Niche said. "I need to talk with your grandfather alone." She had turned toward the boy to speak with him and Rugar saw that her wings were bandaged and held close to her side. Something had happened here. Something serious.
"Come, boy," Wind said. "Let me take you outside."
"No," Gift said again. He hadn't taken his gaze off Rugar. The boy's old eyes had a malevolence to them that they had never had before.
Rugar crossed the room in two strides and crouched in front of Gift. The boy tried to push himself even farther into the wall. "Do you have something to say to me, son?"
Gift pursed his lips. Niche shook her head at him. He didn't even look at her. His eyes narrowed, and he looked just like his father had when Rugar tried to take the baby.
"You let her die." The boy's words were stark, flat and cold.
Rugar took a step back.
Niche put a hand over her heart and looked at Rugar, as if asking him to explain. Wind straightened his brows in confusion.
Rugar felt as if the air had been knocked from him. "What?" he asked.
"I been thinking about it," Gift said. "You let her die."
"No one's dead, Gift," Niche said.
"Then why should he be mourning, huh? And why do you make me call him Grandfather? You don't call him father. Neither of you."
Niche looked at Rugar as if pleading with him. But he couldn't get a footing on this situation. Too much had changed for him too quickly.
Rugar swallowed. "I didn't let anyone die."
"You let my real mother die." Gift spat the words at him. They felt like little arrows entering Rugar's skin.
Niche gasped. Now it was Wind's turn to look at Rugar in shock. They both thought he had told the boy. He hadn't said a word.
"I didn't let anyone die," Rugar said again. The sentence sounded weak.
"You did," Gift said. He still leaned on the wall. Rugar still frightened him, but not enough to stop the boy from speaking. "I been thinking about it. You knew she was going to die. You said I Saw something and I Saw her die. And you knew that would happen and you did nothing."
"You don't understand, boy," Rugar said.
"I understand. I understand real good." Now the boy pushed off from the wall, the depth of anger propelling him forward. He wasn't yelling, but the power behind his words gave him a force that Rugar couldn't ignore. Rugar felt riveted to his spot. Apparently Niche and Wind did as well for they didn't move at all.
"You don't care about nobody," the boy said. "When that old lady told you my real mother was dead, you turned to me. And when the old lady said that I was dying, you said you wanted that baby. Not because you like us or want us, but because we can do something for you."
"I'm sorry, Rugar." Niche came up behind the boy and put her hands on his shoulders, holding him back. "But he was very ill."
"I wasn't ill," Gift said. "I was dying. The old lady said I almost died because of him."
Niche's gaze met Rugar's over the top of Gift's head. "The old lady?" Niche asked.
"The Shaman," Rugar said. He was breathless with wonder. "He Saw the fight I had with the Shaman."
"But how?" Wind asked. "He's just a boy. I thought that Vision was an aberration."
"I thought Vision didn't break the fog of the present," Niche said.
"Sometimes it does," Rugar said. He had seen Gift watching, but hadn't realized that the eyes belonged to his grandson. Until now. "But that's not what happened here."
"You lied. And you killed her. You killed my rea
l mother." Gift strained at his mother's grip. Her hollow bones wouldn't be able to restrain him much longer.
"What happened then?" Wind asked.
Rugar looked at Niche. She would understand. "The golem lives."
"Still?"
The boy didn't seem to hear. "I don't want you coming here any more. I don't ever want to talk to you again. I want you to leave us alone!"
"Gift," Wind said. His tone was mild. The boy ignored him.
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