The guards must have spoken with the fake queen, because after that the queen would not let Fina leave her side. The following day the queen was more debaucherous than the previous one, first visiting a wharfside tavern, and then a bawdy theatre show with performers that coupled naked on stage. Everywhere the queen went she drew a crowd of astonished onlookers. It was all Fina and the other guards could do to keep her from getting mobbed.
And then this morning had happened. The queen agreed to everything Ambassador Mahalath proposed: the military aid, financial aid, the opening of the naval blockade in the Sol Sea. Everything suddenly fell right into the Old World’s hands. Makarria’s reputation was ruined, and now the Old World controlled Valaróz.
“You have made a wonderful decision,” Ambassador Mahalath said, smiling as he signed beneath the queen’s signature on the treatise. “I will send word to Senator Emil and the Senate in Khail Sanctu immediately. We can expect reinforcements by tomorrow afternoon, which leaves us with six days still before the Sargothian election. We’ll have to act quickly, but with our combined resources, we’ll ensure a new age of prosperity.”
Fina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The Old World ships will be here by tomorrow? That meant they had ships laying in wait somewhere in the Sol Sea, and that Ambassador Mahalath had a means of contacting them.
“Prosperity is all I want,” the queen said.
Mahalath’s mustache quivered as he smiled again. “Excellent. And you’ll be sure to send a raven to Valeza with word to your admirals to relinquish command to the Republic’s armada in the Ocean Gloaming?”
“I’m on my way right now,” the queen said, rising to her feet and shaking Mahalath’s hand.
Mahalath bowed and departed, and the queen followed after him, motioning for Fina to come along. Fina couldn’t understand why the fake queen bothered to keep her around, except perhaps to keep the appearance of normalcy. The body thief had to know Fina suspected something was awry.
In the corridor outside the sitting room, a courtier was waiting for the queen along with a sailor who wore a tunic bearing the red and gold stripes of Pyrthinia.
“Your Majesty,” the courtier said with a bow. “An airship has arrived from Kal Pyrthin. The captain here carries a message from Queen Taera.”
The queen looked the sailor over for a moment before holding out her hand. “An airship, hmm? Well let’s have it then. Give me the letter.”
“Queen Taera did not dare put the message to paper, Your Majesty,” the sailor replied. “She entrusted me to tell it to you in person, and then to return at once with your response to Kal Pyrthin.”
The queen snorted, and then strode away and motioned for them to follow her. “This way then, good sirs. I have urgent business in the scent-hound tower, but we can speak as we walk.”
“But Your Majesty,” the Pyrthin sailor objected as he followed after her. “The message I bear is urgent, and secret. No one else can hear. Not even your most trusted advisors or friends.”
Fina’s skin prickled. This was perhaps her one chance to gain someone’s help, she realized. Makarria—the real Makarria—trusted Queen Taera. Fina needed to find out what Taera’s message was, or if nothing else, at least send a message back to her with word of what had happened to Makarria. What little influence Fina had over the fake queen was tenuous, though, so she would have to play up her role as a worried bodyguard.
Fina steeled herself and pushed her way past the courtier as the four of them continued their way down a marble staircase to the central hall of the palace. “What is your name, sailor?” she demanded of the Pyrthinian messenger. “How do we know Queen Taera sent you?”
“I am Captain Hierome. I sailed a newly built Pyrthin airship to deliver Queen Taera’s message. Her message is known to me only, but you can see the official warrant she prepared for me, if you like. It pronounces me her royal messenger.”
“Let’s see it,” Fina commanded him.
The sailor produced the folded piece of parchment from his tunic and handed it over. Fina read it over quickly as they continued walking toward the rear of the palace. There wasn’t much to the warrant, simply a short sentence proclaiming Captain Hierome an official messenger to treat with Queen Makarria, followed by Queen Taera’s signature and her wax seal.
“It looks official,” Fina admitted, handing the parchment back to the sailor.
“Good enough for me,” the queen said, coming to a stop at the spiral staircase that led to the scent-hound tower. “Come along then, Captain Hierome. You can tell me your secret message as we climb the stairs. Fina, you have my leave to go. Find yourself a meal or whatever you please. Meet me in my quarters in an hour, and we’ll go speak to my generals.”
“But, Your Majesty, it’s not safe,” Fina protested.
“Go on,” the queen said with a flippant wave, and then she disappeared into the tower stairwell with the courtier and Captain Hierome right on her heels.
Fina stood there for a moment, uncertain what she should do. She considered trying to sneak up the stairwell to eavesdrop on the messenger, but she knew getting caught would be the end of her. It would be wiser, she decided, to utilize this moment of freedom to finally do what she’d been hoping to do for the last day and a half and go speak with the one person who could perhaps help her.
Her mind made up, she hurried back to the main hall and down the stairway into the library. There she found Natale at his usual reading table.
“Madame Fina,” he greeted, surprised to see her but pleased nonetheless. “Where is our young queen?”
“Sending a raven to Valeza with orders to surrender the western fleet to the Old World.”
“What? How can this be?”
“She signed the treaty with the Old World ambassador just now.”
“What? Why?”
The rotund scholar seemed to be filled with more questions than answers.
“Where have you been the last three days?” Fina asked. “Have you not heard the gossip of the Queen’s doings?”
“No, I’ve been here with my books.”
“I hope you’ve been reading more about body thieves then.”
“Yes, as matter of fact I have, but why? What’s happened?”
Fina told him everything, about all of the queen’s uncharacteristic behaviors and actions over the last three days, sparing no detail.
“I noticed the change as soon as the body thief was captured,” Fina added when she was done. “The way she paraded us through the dungeon to gloat over his body, even, was so unlike her. The body thief must have switched with her, even though she never touched him.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible. You’re sure he did not make physical contact with her in some way?”
“Makarria stood in the doorway beside me. When Lorentz—the body thief—started attacking the soldiers, Makarria used her power to fell him. She never got within ten feet of actually touching him.”
Natale’s face paled. “Wait. She used her magic to do what to him exactly?”
“I have no idea. She closed her eyes, and Lorentz’s body went limp.”
Natale turned to his desk and rummaged through his stack of books frantically until he found the one he was looking for. He thumbed through the pages, stopping at one that was dog-eared to scan over it with one finger. “Here it is. Tangere. To touch. ‘In order to switch bodies the pthisicis-corporis must touch the victim…’ Sweet Vala.” He looked up from the book to face Fina, his face ashen. “You’re right. I took the passage to mean the literal translation of tangere, to physically touch someone, but there are other usages of the word in the old tongue. It can also mean to use your magic upon another to manipulate or change them, something only dreamwielders can do. Makarria touched the pthisicis-corporis when she used her power. That means he could have switched with her. What have I done?”
Fina felt bile rise up in her throat. There was no satisfaction in confirming her suspicion. “Don’t blame yourself. W
e have both failed Makarria. We led her right into the body thief’s trap, and now he rules the kingdom in her guise and the real Makarria is chained up in the dungeon wearing the mind cage.”
“Mind cage?”
Fina closed her eyes and shook her head, overcome with shame. “I had assumed it was your finding, that you had given it to her while I was off fetching the kennel master. But of course not. It was the body thief, the fake queen, who knew where the contraption was stored when we went to the dungeons. She had the jailors screw it into Lorentz's skull to keep him from using his power, but it wasn’t the body thief in Lorentz’s body. It was Makarria, and now she’s helpless to use her magic.”
“We have to rescue her at once,” Natale said, pushing himself to his feet and knocking over a stack of books onto the table in the process.
Fina grabbed his arm. “I’ve already tried. The dungeon is well guarded. Neither one of us will be able to gain access without the fake queen’s permission. If we just barge into the dungeon, we’ll be taken captive and then the body thief will know we know. Is there any other way to subdue this thing? Haven’t you found anything in your scrolls?”
“Such as what?”
“We need to make it give Makarria’s body back.”
Natale shook his head. “I’m sorry. The pthisicis-corporis is a creature that acts of its own free will. It will only switch bodies back with Makarria if it so chooses.”
Fina let out a long breath. She was at her whit’s end. “We need help then.”
“Help from whom? We can speak to her parents, but they have no real power.”
“No,” Fina agreed. “Captain Haviero might help, but I’m not sure we could convince him. We need someone with real power who we can trust: Queen Taera. She sent an airship. It arrived this morning with a message to Makarria, with orders to return immediately with Makarria’s response. We need to sneak a message back on that ship to tell Taera what’s really happened.”
Natale’s face brightened. “Or better yet, we can send her a speaking stone. I have it here. Queen Taera’s stone is still in my possession!”
“Of course,” Fina said, stunned she hadn’t thought of it herself.
“Makarria sent Talitha and Prince Caile away with all the other stones, though,” Natale said. “That leaves us with only Makarria’s yellow stone. Do you know where it is?”
“It’s in her room, still untouched,” Fina said. “The body thief wasn’t here when you made them. It probably doesn’t even know the stones exist.”
“We must be quick then,” Natale said, scrambling away from the reading table in the direction of his office. “I’ll go to the airship at once and deliver Queen Taera’s stone and a letter. You go fetch Makarria’s stone before the pthisicis-corporis returns from the scent-hound’s tower.”
Fina didn’t need to be told twice. She sprinted away, past the shelves of books and back up the stairs into the main hall. How long have I been away? she wondered. The fake queen had told her to return to the royal quarters in an hour, and she couldn’t have been with Natale for more than a quarter hour, she was certain. Just act normal, she told herself, slowing to a brisk walk as she went through the hall and up the grand stairway leading to the royal chambers.
A Royal Guardsman stood on guard in the corridor outside Makarria’s private quarters, but he recognized Fina and let her pass by without a second thought. Fina didn’t even have to say a word. Still, she was on edge and had to pause to catch her breath once she closed the door behind her in the anteroom. After giving herself a moment to calm herself, she went to the opposite door and listened for any signs of life in the main bedroom.
It was dead silent.
She knocked before entering, just in case, then entered Makarria’s opulent bedroom to find it unoccupied. With a relieved sigh, she went to the fireplace mantle where the yellow speaking stone sat alongside a half dozen decorative baubles. She grabbed the speaking stone and turned back for the door, but realized she couldn’t just walk through the halls with a yellow stone in her hands. She needed to hide it somehow. She glanced about, looking for a loose handkerchief or something she could wrap around the stone, but of course the room was immaculately kept by the household staff.
A rucksack then. I have one in my room.
Fina darted back out the way she had come only to find the outer chamber door open and someone standing there.
“Hello, Fina,” the fake queen said. “What have you got?”
Fina glanced down at the speaking stone, her mind racing. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. I returned early from the kitchens and thought to grab this decoration.”
“Oh?”
“I mentioned to you that I liked it last week, if you recall,” Fina lied. “You said I could keep it in my room, since I have little in the way of decoration. I thought to grab it while I waited.”
“I see,” said the fake queen. “Well, I’ve changed my mind, so go put it back where you found it.”
Fina nodded, not trusting herself to speak further. She turned back into the main room and placed the stone onto the mantle, her heart thrumming in her chest.
The fake queen closed the door behind her, trapping Fina in the main bedroom alone with her.
“Our little messenger from Pyrthinia bore strange news,” the fake queen said.
Again, Fina only nodded, wary of leaving her place beside the hearth lest she get too close to the body thief.
“It seems Queen Taera has had a vision,” the fake queen went on. “She’s foreseen my murder.”
“Murder? She’s certain?”
The fake queen narrowed her eyes at Fina. “That’s right, and the perpetrator in her vision is someone who looks an awful lot like you.”
18
Behind Enemy Lines
A warm, rank gust of wind filled the tunnel, sending the torch sputtering and making Natarios Rhodas gag. “Gah!” he spat. “It smells like a privy.”
“Right you are,” Old Kram replied, bringing the torch in closer to his chest to shield it from blowing out. “These ancient tunnels must overlap the sewer canals below West-End by my reckoning.” He stared down at his map, squinting his eyes and leaning in close to see it in the flickering torchlight. “We’re past the king’s tower now, getting close to the dignitary wing, but we’re veering too far to the west. If the tunnel doesn’t swing east soon, we’ll have to backtrack and try a different branch. Could be there ain’t no tunnels under the dignitary wing.”
“There has to be,” Natarios insisted. “Why would anyone build tunnels in the first place if they weren’t made to spy on foreign ambassadors?”
Old Kram shrugged and shuffled his way forward, holding his torch out in front of him. Natarios was beginning to have doubts about the old architect he’d bribed out of retirement, but he had no choice but to follow. Without Kram, he was as good as lost. Kram was the only one who could make sense of the architectural drawings of Lightbringer’s Keep, and the chalk symbols Kram had drawn on the passage walls to mark their route were completely indecipherable to Natarios.
As far as Natarios knew, he and Prince Caile were the only ones in Col Sargoth who knew about the tunnels beneath Lightbringer’s Keep. Natarios had learned about them from Wulfram when Prince Caile had escaped Emperor Guderian the year past, and that’s exactly where Natarios had started—in the room from which Prince Caile escaped. He’d briefly entertained the idea of exploring the secret tunnels alone, but after prying away the floor stone and lowering himself into the tunnel, he realized venturing on alone would be as good as suicide. True, he had a knack for escaping trouble, but the tunnels beneath Lightbringer’s Keep were a complex maze of intersecting passages, many of them collapsed or filled-in thanks to remodeling efforts over the decades, and all of them choked in centuries of dust and cobwebs. He didn’t dare explore them alone. And so he’d sought out an expert.
All it took was some discreet questioning of the household staff to find “Old Kram,” the architect who h
ad overseen the building modifications Emperor Guderian ordered at the beginning of his reign. Old Kram had never heard of the tunnels, but he was more than willing to go explore them when Natarios offered him a small purse of gold and the chance to get away from his shrew of a wife.
They had been at it for three nights now, mapping out the tunnels as the people in the keep above them slept, and tonight they were finally on the verge of finding the passage Natarios sought. If we hurry, we’ll arrive just in time to find our guests returning from dinner.
“The passage is curving in the proper direction,” Kram said. He’d tucked the map into a pocket in his breeches and was eying an old compass. “Indeed, almost due east now. Maybe thirty yards and we’ll be beneath the dignitary wing.”
“Keep your voice down then,” Natarios hissed. “Just because you’re half deaf doesn’t mean the people sleeping in the rooms above us are.”
Kram grunted, but said nothing in reply. The passage became more narrow, and the ceiling lower, forcing them both to crouch. Twenty yards farther they began hearing voices. They were little more than disembodied echoes, but definitely voices. Forty yards in, the passage came to an abrupt end and the voices were clearer and louder now but indecipherable—a half dozen disparate conversations, all garbled nonsense in the still air around them. Kram held his torch up to examine their surroundings and discovered two side tunnels, one each to their right and left, teeing off from the main passageway. They were a good five feet off the ground and narrower than the main tunnel. Kram held a cupped hand to one ear and leaned in closer to the tunnel on the left to verify the voices were coming from within, then turned to Natarios and put a finger over his lips to keep him quiet.
Souldrifter: The Dreamwielder Chronicles - Book Two Page 20
