Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  ‘”I miss you, my love. If you were here, you would know what to do. Almaric is a savage, crowned or not, and he will lay waste to this realm. Dinadan is unwilling to bed a woman and will leave no heir. Konall is a gentle lad, but his brothers will never accept him as their king, and as for Sertorius, I love him best, it’s true. Sertorius looks so much like you, my darling, yet his heart holds no love for anyone but himself. Tell me what to do, Aislynn? I need your help. I cannot decide. Who shall I pick to be king?” Frederick lifted the goblet, drained the contents, and threw the glass aside; the noise awoke the girl, and she sat up in bed. The king immediately started to cough, stood, stumbled, and fell onto the rug. The servant ran to him, checked his pulse, and left him where he lay. She retrieved the goblet, and left the room by means of a secret passage. Taliesin saw two forms within, before the door closed—Lord Arundel and Xander.

  “Help me,” Frederick cried in a weak voice.

  Guards entered his room and lifted the king onto his bed. The royal physician, as old as the king, arrived, but there was nothing he could do. People came and left the room, as the hours slid past. Dinadan clutched the arm of a handsome young man, who tried to comfort him as he sobbed. Lord Arundel and his son pushed their way into the room; both looked concerned. Over the next two days and nights, the doctor and servants tended the king, fed him soup, and wiped his brow while the royal court visited his chamber.

  Finally, priests came to pray for him, and when Frederick took his last breath, Arundel, Xander, and Dinadan stood beside his bed. Arundel took the crown from the king’s head, cleaned it with the hem of his coat, stuck it on Dinadan’s head, and said, “The king is dead. Long live the king.” Taliesin caught her breath as Dinadan started to laugh, joined by Xander. Arundel covered the king’s face with a blanket and called for the royal guards, and the image faded as the guards entered. Taliesin once more stood in the crypt and faced the ghosts of Frederick, Aislynn, and Konall.

  “You are in great danger, cousin,” Konall said. “Lord Arundel hired the girl to poison my father, but Xander and Dinadan watched him die. Arundel acted on the order of someone else. Can you not guess who hated Frederick more than anyone else?”

  Taliesin shook her head. “Who killed the king? Tell me, Konall!”

  “Aunt Calista wrote to Arundel and asked him to kill her brother as revenge for the murder of John Mandrake. She agreed to marry Arundel if he carried out her order, and he was very happy to comply. Be careful, cousin, for you are next on their list.”

  “Protect my sister,” Frederick cried, and held out his hands. “Do not name her, child. They will demand a name, but do not tell them. I see now what my hatred did to her, how it twisted her heart, and I regret my actions. I forgive her. They will also demand to know who I chose to be my heir, so tell them nothing. If someone must be blamed, then blame yourself for ever having been born.” The ghostly images faded.

  Taliesin collapsed into a pair of strong arms and felt the sword removed from her grasp. She turned her head and sobbed onto the shoulder of her savior, unable to speak as she was carried out of the crypt. The warmth of the sun on her face eased her sorrow and bitterness, and her emotions eased. Roland held her tightly as he strode across the lawn, followed by the guards, knights, and two princes.

  “Wait!” Sertorius shouted.

  Running to catch Roland, Almaric and Sertorius appeared on either side of him, and Taliesin noticed they looked grief-stricken. Doomsayer was back in its scabbard, yet Taliesin felt it again try to contact her, and looked away, wondering how Almaric tolerated being close to such a morbid weapon.

  “Tell us what our father said,” Sertorius demanded. “Who killed him?”

  “What did he say?” Almaric asked. “I know you spoke to him, our mother, and Konall, but we could not see them. You would not cry unless the truth was unbearable. Who killed our father?”

  Roland held her tighter. “Can you not see the princess is distraught? Doomsayer drains the soul of anyone who uses it. Give her a moment to recover, gentlemen,” he said. “Calm yourself, dearest. Lord Ungus and Duke Andre are coming as fast as they can.” He set her on the ground, arm firm around her waist. “You’re as pale as a ghost. Someone get her a cup of wine.”

  “No! Not wine! It was the wine that was poisoned!” Taliesin clung to Roland, the images still real and vivid in her mind. Andre led Ungus to her, and the old man looked distressed. “The king didn’t know who poisoned his wine. Nor did Konall or the late queen. All three came to me in the crypt. They are together, at least.”

  “That is all that you learned? What good is this sword if it cannot show you the truth?” Almaric snarled. He grabbed Sertorius’ arm. “I am sorry we ever quarreled, brother. I will not blame you for Konall’s death. This war is my fault; I am the one who raised an army and turned the dukes against our king. Forgive me.”

  “I am sorry, Almaric. I am ashamed of what has happened,” Sertorius replied. He hugged Almaric, pulled back, and glared at Taliesin. “It is the Raven Sword that has brought these woes upon us. The search for such a cursed weapon has led us astray. Had we stayed with father, he would not be dead, and you would rightfully inherit the throne. But now, brother, there must be a vote.”

  Taliesin glanced at the princes. “However, I can provide a list of those who came and left your father’s room,” she said. “Duke Andre. Lord Ungus. I saw what happened. Find the servant girl who was with the king the night he fell ill; she will be able to tell you what you want to know.”

  “The girl is dead,” Lord Ungus said.

  “Unfortunately, she was found in the Tannenberg Forest with her throat slit,” Andre said, with a shake of his head. “Even with a list of names, I do not expect anyone to admit their guilt. The girl knew, and this was why she was murdered.”

  “When I am king, I will learn the truth!” Enraged, Almaric spat on the ground and stormed off, following Sertorius and the Wolfmen.

  Lord Ungus motioned toward the castle with his cane. “This is why I have never relied on magic,” he said. “I told you this would come to no good, Andre. All we have done is upset the boys. Tomorrow we will decide who is to sit on the throne. For now, take me to my room; I must rest before the feast. Sir Roland, take the girl to her room and see she stays there. Keep guards posted; I trust no one.”

  “Nor do I,” Duke Andre added. “Thank you, princess. I am sorry to have put you through this ordeal. It will not happen again. We will see you this evening.” He led Ungus into the castle.

  Taliesin, left with Roland and the White Stags, gazed at the sun. It was already late afternoon and clouds stood long on the castle walls. She felt exhausted and conflicted as she took Roland’s hand and held it tightly as they returned to the keep. She had been asked to protect Calista, yet she wanted to tell Roland the truth.

  “You can trust me, Taliesin,” Roland whispered. “Did the king name the murderer? I cannot protect you if I do not know who to protect you from. Let me help you; share this burden with me, for I know you have a name. He told you, didn’t he?”

  “Please. Don’t insist. I know who the enemy is, and I will expose them when the time is right,” she said. “Now is not the time, Roland. Get me inside; I feel sick, and the sun is hot, so hot. I can feel everyone watching us.”

  “Then it is more than one person.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Now ask me no more questions.”

  Taliesin pressed her face against his shoulder as he led her inside. Tamal, Bedwyn, the Nova brothers, and half the Fregian soldiers accompanied them to the north wing. Laughter drifted down the hall. The soldiers stood against the walls, and Taliesin stared through the narrow opening as her mother shared a romantic embrace with Lord Arundel outside her room. Taliesin quickly entered the late queen’s chamber, disgusted and unable to speak without saying something ugly, and removed Ringerike. She placed the sword on the bed, struggling to suppress her anger, as Roland closed the door behind him and took long strides toward her. He pulle
d Taliesin into his arms, wiped tears from her cheeks, and cupped her chin in a calloused hand.

  “This isn’t like you,” Roland said, his voice tender. “You know your mother is to wed Arundel. There is nothing you can do about it, so there has to be another reason you shed tears, my love. What happened in the crypt? What did you see?”

  “I saw everything, Roland. Frederick showed me what happened that night. A servant girl poisoned him, and then ran. Arundel and Xander watched from a secret entrance. Zarnoc told me that Calista offered to marry Arundel for his help; they plotted this even before I destroyed Eagle’s Cliff and accidentally killed his wife. If only someone had read their letters, the plot would have been discovered.”

  “It was no accident; they hatched this plan together. Arundel got rid of a wife who could not politically advance him, and your mother got her revenge against her brother. If the king asked you not to speak of it, he merely desired to avoid further shame to his family. Ungus and Andre must be told. If you want to stop Arundel from rising to power, they must know what happened.”

  “My mother doesn’t love me,” Taliesin said. “The House of Draconus is cruel, and I want no part of it, Roland. The way they plot against each other sickens me. Whatever happens now is not my fault. I have done my best to help my family, and the bitter truth is they don’t want it. All I want to do is to kill Varg and Ragnal, and end the curse. Then we can go wherever we want with the Raven Clan.”

  Roland smiled as he cradled her in his arms. “You may be the first Draconus in history who places the needs of others before their own,” he said. “It is because you have a tender heart that I love you, Taliesin. On my honor, I swear to stand by you and see this through to the end. After that, we can make plans for our future.”

  “I can’t see that far; I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Then we will take it one day at a time, my love. That’s all anyone can do.”

  The lute strummed a chord, a reminder of Zarnoc’s plan, and she pulled Roland to his feet. She pointed at the chair where Eevhass was placed and sat on the edge of the bed. Roland walked to the instrument, picked it up, and turned to her.

  “Do you want me to play for you? I am a fair musician.”

  “Not unless you want me to fall asleep,” she said. “There is nothing I can do about my mother, Roland, and I might as well start thinking about Arundel’s next move.”

  Taliesin joined Roland at the window and gazed at the courtyard. The lute quivered in the knight’s hands.

  “The lute belongs to Prince Tamblyn of Duvalen,” Taliesin said. “It’s called Eevhass. Zarnoc wants you to give the lute to Simoon. The wizard thinks we may have trouble tonight. All Simoon needs to do is play the lute, and he’ll put the court to sleep. Make sure those you don’t want to slumber wear ear plugs.”

  “That’s my girl. Never surrender before the battle is fought.”

  Taliesin leaned her head against Roland’s shoulder. “I don’t intend to.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  Under the glass roof of the Sun Hall, Taliesin found the moonlight, mingled with the shimmer of a thousand candles, mesmerizing. The royal court sat at eight long tables before a sumptuous feast, each duke at the head of a table, and countless voices murmured in conversation. Taliesin, dressed in saffron with a green cape draped over Ringerike, sat straight on a stool at the far end of the head table. Sertorius sat next to her, with Dinadan and Almaric to his right. Lord Ungus chatted with Calista and Arundel who sat closest to him, while Lykus and Wolfgar sat at the other end of the table on a bench.

  Taliesin drank little, and after discovering a hair in her soup, refused to eat a single bite of the eight-course meal. It was far too easy for someone to add poison as a special ingredient, though no one had keeled over dead. It pleased her to know the Wolf and Eagle heirs remained guests in the dungeon, but she expected Arundel would arrange for their release.

  Musicians played for the court during the meal, which Taliesin found odd for a funeral feast. No one acted sad or offered a toast in honor of King Frederick or Konall, and at Raven’s Nest, she recalled Master Osprey had always lifted a glass and spoken the names of fallen Ravens. This place was not at all like her old home, she thought, for it lacked love; the one ingredient any family needed to turn the most dismal hovel into a palace.

  Roland and his men sat at the Fregian table with Duke Hercule. The duke and knights quaffed tankards of ale and pounded the table after each bard’s performance. At least someone enjoyed the feast, she thought.

  “You are quiet this evening, cousin,” Sertorius said as he lifted his glass. “My backside aches from sitting on a bench. I wondered where the gold chairs went, but now I see why the servants made a trade. You came armed, darling.” He winked at her. “Like you, I trust no one here; I have a dagger in my boot. The Knights of Chaos sit with the Duke of Scrydon. They are also armed, and I am sure the White Stags and Blue Stars had the presence of mind to bring weapons.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Taliesin replied. “Your oldest brother has big ears.”

  “Posh. Almaric stuffs his face with raw mutton. I can hear him growl with each bite and have no doubt he has sprouted a tail. It’s hard to imagine no one knew Lykus and the Wolf Clan were monsters until Almaric joined them. If you are quiet, you can hear them all growling. I’m glad you can control your wild side—there are far too many Wolfmen here. I ordered Sir Barstow and the Knights of Chaos to be ready for any trouble. Sir Roland continues to glance in this direction. He is protective of you, cousin, and for that I am grateful. I am protective of you as well, believe it or not.”

  “Thank you.”

  Taliesin didn’t believe Sertorius really cared for her, though he remained attentive, and he watched as she reached for a glass of wine. The long-stemmed glass was crystal, the upper border dark blue and the base clear. The wine was red, with a thick bouquet; she drank little of it, though she liked the taste.

  Dinadan filled Almaric’s ear with idle chatter and continually glanced at his ‘friend’ seated with the royal knights. The eldest Draconus prince slammed down tankards of ale, not wine, and barked when a servant failed to fill his plate with meat. He ate with his hands and used his sleeve to wipe his mouth.

  “Stop talking to me, Dinadan,” Almaric finally growled. “You annoy me with all this talk about a tournament. They may have once settled disputes with single-combat, but those days are gone, and I have no intention of fighting a champion for the throne.”

  “The Old Laws are quite specific on this, Almaric. We need not go to war when you can simply fight a champion to settle the dispute,” Dinadan said with a sniff. He leaned forward, a napkin pressed to the side of his lips.

  “No means no, boy. If you must talk, talk about something else.”

  “This is the first time all three clan leaders have sat at this table. I think our grandfather indulges the clans far too much. A Raven mistress, a Wolf chief, and an Eagle lord sit with us, when they should sit with the guests. I do not care if Rosamond is a princess, she still leads a clan. After how she treated the other two heirs, I am surprised she dares to show her face tonight. Lykus and Arundel are furious. Their sons will not sit in a cell for long.”

  Almaric snarled. “They’ll stay there because they belong in a cell.”

  Sertorius laughed. “Careful, Dina-dunce, or you may join them. Almaric has taken a fancy to our cousin, and in spite of what happened this afternoon, your name remains on Duke Andre’s list of suspected murderers. I know you had something to do with father’s death.” As Dinadan trembled, Sertorius addressed Almaric. “You glower, big brother. There are more courses to eat, so do not fill yourself on mutton.”

  “I do not want to hear from you, either,” Almaric snapped. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve as an attractive female bard took the stage. With a howl, he lifted his tankard in approval and caught the bard’s gaze. “Play something I will like, Gwyneth of Antilla! And see me later!”
He laughed and guzzled more ale.

  A collection of musicians streamed from all corners of the room, and men and women stood on the sides of the head table. Simoon stood at the end of the line, with Eevhass cradled in his arms. The crowd silenced as Gwyneth sat on a stool before a harp; her fingers glided across the strings, and she started to sing. Taliesin knew the song, written by Glabber the Glib, her favorite poet and bard.

  “Go and catch a falling star,

  Get a child with mandrake root,

  Tell me where the ravens are,

  Or who hobbled the wolf’s foot,

  Teach me to hear mermaids sing,

  Or to keep off envy’s sting,

  And take me to a magic place,

  Filled with the hope of the fairy race.

  Things invisible can be seen,

  Ride a thousand days and nights,

  To find a man with the heart of a king,

  Who takes wrongs and turns to rights,

  All strange wonders that we find,

  The place to search is within the mind.

  For a lover should always be true,

  And this woman offers all to you.”

  As the crowd applauded, Sertorius leaned toward Taliesin to whisper. “I normally do not eat at these banquets; the cooks are rushed, and the meat is frequently served raw. Blood fills Almaric’s plate. White fish and white bread, soaked in oil and bitter root, is the norm for a funeral feast. However, your mother insisted this be a celebration of her engagement to Lord Arundel. I wish she’d stayed at Talbot Abbey.”