Ematay arrived quickly. He had always been loyal to Ukina. She knew she could count on him. When she was a little girl, she used to sneak out to the stables to sit and watch the horses. Ematay would come along and sit beside her. He'd reach into his pocket, pull out an apple, and deftly slice it up for her. She'd eat half of it and feed the rest to the horses, holding her hand flat open and extending it to let the horse lick the apple from her palm.
"I need your help," Ukina told him. "I have a journey I wish to make immediately, but I don't want it known where I'm going. Can you have my coach readied for me?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." He bowed and backed out of the room, leaving her alone. She was glad that she had already dismissed her servants for the evening. All the better; servants talked way too much for their own good.
Ukina found a small pack and quickly stuffed a few articles of clothing into it. She was familiar with life on the road, so she chose clothes that would suit her well on a long journey, sturdy shoes instead of beautiful ones and thick warm clothes that were easy to wash and mend. When the pack was full, she slung it over her shoulder and carefully closed the door behind her.
She wound her way through the dimly lit halls of the darkened and silent castle. She occasionally stopped to back into the shadows and hide as some servant or another passed by in the course of their duties. Ukina didn't think she'd been seen, or if she had, she hadn't been noticed.
All the better.
If no one knew where she was when the nobles arrived to ravish the treasury, they might wait for her return. At least, she hoped that would be the case. The nobles had grown aggressive lately. She wasn't certain that they wouldn't simply force their way into the treasury despite her absence.
When she arrived at the stables, there was only a single lantern lit. Ematay stood beside her coach waiting for her, the pair of matching black horses harnessed and ready.
Ematay bowed deeply and held the door open for Ukina. He took her pack as she scooted inside.
"Where to, Your Highness?" He closed the door to the coach and hefted her pack onto the roof.
"Across the river and then to Kirdon. I want to get out of town as quickly as I can before anyone notices that I'm gone."
"As you command." He bowed his head and climbed to the driver's seat.
The coach jerked to a start and Ukina was on her way. She watched out the window as they jostled through the empty streets of the city but closed the blind and hid her face as they reached the gate. She heard Ematay tell the guards that the queen had sent her coach to fetch a young man for her entertainment and heard the guard's laughter mixed with ribald comments as they opened the gate for the coach. So much for the love and respect of her people.
Ukina tried to relax as the coach bumped along the rough road outside the castle. She found herself falling asleep, only to wake every time the carriage hit a rut in the road. She wanted to shout at the driver to be more careful, but she knew it wasn't his fault. The roads were rough, especially as they neared the bridge over the Kirdish River.
The bridge was constructed by Ukina's grandfather. He said that opening a trade route to the farmers in Quilst would help feed the people by allowing lower price grain, since it could be hauled in without the cost of shipping it leagues to the east where a rough ford offered a route.
The bridge was made of stone, mortared together to form three grand arches. The workmen had dropped stones into the river to form the foundation of the two central pillars. The archway in the middle was tall and wide enough to allow river traffic through in both directions at once. The bridge was one of the major achievements of her grandfather's reign and something she had always taken pride in.
The road approaching the bridge was unusually rough due to the heavy traffic it saw on a regular basis, but this late at night, the bridge stood empty. No guards, no tariff collectors, no patrol regulating the traffic. The bridge was free to all who wanted to cross the river between Veldwaite and Quilst. No restrictions, no tax, no duty, no bribe was necessary. That was part of the reason she had chosen this route. She would be over the bridge and out of Veldwaite before the nobles discovered that she had gone.
She was jerked upright as the coach bounced out of the last rut and onto the cobblestone surface of the bridge. The ride quieted down as the coach pulled smoothly forward onto the roadway. Ukina felt the straining of the horses as they labored to pull the coach up and over the high arch.
Before they reached the crest, the horses stopped and the coach came to a halt. Ukina opened the shade and looked out the window, but the night was black, clouds covered the moon and there was no light to show her why the coach had stopped. She grasped the handle of the door and prepared to call out to the driver, but something made her hesitate.
A sharp double thud rang through the coach followed in quick succession by several more. Something struck the coach from outside. It took her a moment to realize that she was under attack. Crossbow quarrels penetrated the thin walls and broke through the other side.
Ukina dropped to the floor. If she had remained in her seat, the quarrels would not have found an easy path out of the other side of the coach, they would have found her, no doubt their intended target.
"Stop it, you fools," a sharp voice called. "I told you not to kill her."
Light flared through the arrow holes in the side of the coach, and Ukina could see where the shafts had entered and exited. A few stuck from the upholstery where she usually sat. Her inquisitiveness may very well have saved her life.
Any moment, the door would open and she would face her attacker. She prepared herself. She didn't have long to wait. The door opened and a lantern was thrust into the coach. It was followed by a head covered in a mask so that she could not make out the features of her assailant.
The man hesitated and turned his head back to the others. "She's not here."
Ukina took that as her cue to act. She jumped up, knocking the lantern out of the man's hand. She aimed her head for his chin and caught him by surprise. The man staggered back, blood gushing from his mouth. Probably made him bite his tongue off. Served him right.
Ukina shoved her assailant out of the way and ran along the bridge. She hoped that if she made it across, she could lose herself in the brush at the foot of the bridge on the Quilst side of the river. Quilst had never been big on keeping the way clear as Ukina's people did. There was plenty of brush and trees to confuse her pursuers if she could only make it across before they realized she was on the run.
She had only made it a few steps when a crossbow quarrel struck the bridge beside her, sending sparks into the night air as metal hit stone. "The next one will go straight through you. I told them not to kill you, but I'd rather have you dead than on the run."
Ukina tensed up and stopped. She raised her hands in the air to indicate that she was unarmed and turned slowly. The man she had struck was doubled over on the cobblestones, a pool of red growing at his feet as he held his hands over his face. Beside him stood another man, crossbow in hand. He, too, wore a mask, but his clothes marked him as a noble. Ukina thought she recognized the scarf he wore. She had been there when it was presented to him as a gift from her father. Unless she completely missed her guess, this was Jaurn, the head of the council of nobles.
"Nice to see you, Jaurn. I'm glad to see that you attend to matters of such importance personally and don't leave them to your hired hands. Too many nobles have lost touch with the realities of business and trade that have earned them their wealth in the first place."
The man reached up and pulled the mask from his face. Sure enough, it was Jaurn.
"Since there's no need for the masquerade any longer, I'll give you the pleasure of seeing my face." Jaurn smiled at her, then glanced at the two crossbowmen at his side. "Bind her and take her back to the castle."
With that, the men stepped forward and took her by the arms. Ukina wanted to resist, to scream out in rage, to fight her attackers, but she was no fool. Anything other than
surrender would simply give them a reason to beat her. She walked between the men, head held high as if she were entering the great hall back in the castle.
Silently, she called out for Lorit, hoping what little was left of the magical connection they shared would be enough to let him know she was in trouble. Not that he would necessarily come running to her aid, but she could hope.
The men threw her back into her coach, where she landed on her knees. Jaurn stepped in and slowly closed the door. "Care to tell me where it is?"
Ukina felt the coach move and heard the splash as the remaining men tossed the bodies of the dead into the river. She was in no mood to play games with the nobility. This meant war.
She turned to Jaurn with a slight smile. "Where what is?"
Jaurn slapped her face with the back of his hand, and she tasted blood.
"Where's the egg? What have you done with it?"
Ukina reached up and touched the split lip that bled heavily. She rubbed her finger in the blood and stuck it in her mouth, tasting the sharp tang of her own blood. She smiled at Jaurn but remained silent. He hit her again. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 9
Lorit raised a small fireball, ready to turn the priest to ash, when Kedrik interrupted him. The vial full of green liquid that Kedrik had removed from the priest's pocket glowed brightly in his hand.
Lorit turned back to the priest. "This may be your lucky day." He grabbed the priest by the arm and lifted him from the woodpile where he sat. Lorit reached out with his magic and staunched the blood flowing from the priest's tongue. He would heal the man later, but for now, he just wanted to keep him alive.
Kedrik pocketed the glowing vial and followed Lorit back to the inn. They dragged the priest up to the room Lorit had hired and tied him to a chair.
"Ready to talk?" Lorit raised the fireball in his hand, gently tossing it up and down as he looked at his frightened prisoner.
The priest's eyes widened. He shook his head from side to side.
"Maybe I was a little too hasty before. I was prepared to turn you to ash where you sat, but I've reconsidered."
Lorit saw the priest relax slightly at his words. He smiled and leaned in. "I've decided that I want to keep you alive for a while, so you can enjoy this." He brought the fireball closer to the priest's face. The smell of burned hair erupted along with a wordless scream from the priest.
"No? Would you rather explain to me what this is all about?" Lorit withdrew the fireball and reduced it to the size of the end of his finger. He brought it close to the priest's cheek and watched as the skin turned red beneath it.
The priest shrieked and banged his head against the back of the chair.
"Ready to talk?" Lorit backed away.
The priest shook his head vigorously up and down. Lorit laughed. "I thought so."
Lorit reached out with his magic. He examined the priest where the man had bitten his tongue. Lorit had healed it sufficiently to stop the bleeding, but he had not restored it enough to allow the priest to speak. He debated whether to restore the priest's tongue, but that would pose problems in the future if he let the man live.
"Lingua restituet." Lorit visualized the man's tongue being restored temporarily so he could speak, but not permanently. The spell would wear off soon, and the priest would be stuck with his self-inflicted wound.
"What were you sent here to do?" Lorit demanded.
"To enlighten the people."
Lorit raised a fireball in his hand. "Not the temple babble. What were you sent here to do?"
The priest's eyes opened wide. He drew himself back, as if trying to scramble out of the chair to back away from Lorit. "I was sent to spread disease so the temple can sell healing."
"What is in the vial?"
"It's...It's..."
White foam came from the priest's mouth as he struggled ineffectively against his bonds. He choked and turned red.
Lorit examined him with his magic. The priest was under a suffocation spell. Lorit tried to find a way to break the spell, but it was strong, stronger than he would have hoped for a man such as this.
The priest gasped, breath rasping as he tried to get air. He turned purple and slumped in the chair. As the life went out of him, Lorit swore.
"He's dead," Kedrik said, examining the priest.
"Yes. They must have put a spell on him to keep him from talking."
"What now?"
"Now we go back to Amedon and find out what's in the vial."
"What about him?" Kedrik nodded toward the body of the priest.
Lorit raised a fireball and threw it at the priest. The man exploded into a shower of ash and blew away on the breeze.
Lorit extended his hand to Kedrik. "Come on. Let's get back to Amedon."
Chapter 10
Chihon was restless whenever Lorit was out on the road alone. At least this time he had Kedrik with him so she feared less for his safety than when he was alone, but she missed him, even though she was furious with him. She had lowered the block enough to sense where he was and what he was doing, although she still wasn't talking to him. She wasn't sure if it was him or the casual way he treated the whole subject of marriage and family that hurt her more. She wasn't sure she knew what she wanted, either. She respected the council's admonition about having children with Lorit, but at the same time, she longed for a closer relationship with him and was angry that he seemed to miss the point completely.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in." Chihon sensed Kimt without getting up.
"Chihon, I need your help." Kimt didn't bother with niceties or take the time to sit. Chihon had come to know the healer well enough to recognize when something was bothering her. "I have a friend whose daughter is sick. Her name is Sond and her new baby, Ril, is deathly ill. I've tried everything I can, but the child just keeps getting worse."
Chihon frowned. Kimt was the best healer in Amedon. If Kimt couldn't help, what could someone like Chihon do? "How can I possibly help? I'm not a healer."
"I sense a malignant power at work in her. It's blocking my magic so that I can't heal the girl. It's strange and twisted, like the priests'."
Chihon sat on the edge of her chair. "Do you think the temple has something to do with it? Why would they do such a thing? Is she a key noble?"
"No. Just a simple seamstress. Sond said the temple has moved into their area recently. The priests ask for gold and offerings in return for healing. They say that offerings are an act of faith, and without them, the priesthood cannot heal anyone."
"That sounds like the priests. Where does Sond live?" Chihon asked.
"In Frostan." Kimt wrung her hands.
Chihon stood up and grasped Kimt's hands, separating them. "Have you been there? Can you lead me there?"
"I can. I've been there often," Kimt replied.
Chihon felt for Kimt's memories of Sond and her home. Kimt opened her mind to her, and Chihon saw the woman they were to visit. The small house on the outskirts of the city was built of sticks and plaster, thatched over and in good repair. The yard was small with washing hung between the house and its neighbor. Chihon focused on the tiny details that distinguished this house from so many others. The nicks in the doorpost from constant banging of kettles, the imperfections in the wood when it had been hewn, the spots in the thatch where it was tied in a hurry; all these things made it unique, and Chihon knew she could make it real in her mind.
Chihon reached out for the house and pulled. The chill of the study vanished and was replaced by a cloying warmth of the house that was barely more than a hovel. A pot of water boiled gently on the stove, putting out a cloud of steam that added to the closeness of the place.
The woman tending the pot was not much older than Chihon. She was thin despite the recent birth of her daughter and wore her light brown hair tied back in a kerchief. She dropped a handful of herbs into the water, releasing a burst of aroma that made Chihon wrinkle her nose. What was the woman using that smelled so foul?
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Chihon cleared her throat to get the woman's attention. Sond startled, turning so quickly she knocked the pot off the stove. Boiling water and aromatic herbs splashed, sizzling and raising a cloud of steam as the water hit the stove-top.
"Sond. This is Chihon." Kimt reached out and drew the woman into her embrace. "She's the sorceress I told you about."
Sond pulled free of Kimt's embrace and dropped to her knees on the wet floor. She grasped Chihon's hand, touching it to her forehead. "Thank you, Mother. Please help my daughter. She's so sick. She's my world. I can't lose her."
Chihon grasped Sond's hand and pulled her up from her knees. "No need for that. Where is the child?"
"In here, My Lady." Sond lifted a thick blanket and stepped into the bedchamber. "We keep the house warm. It helps with the sickness."
The bedchamber was dark and stuffy. The windows had been covered with rugs hastily nailed to the wall, giving the room a dark, gloomy feel. Even the air felt heavy, as if the illness were filling the room and pushing out the fresh air. A small cradle stood against the wall. It looked to be a hand-me-down that was well worn; the wood was dry and cracking, but it was sturdy.
The cradle was stuffed with blankets that overflowed the sides and hung to the floor. Inside, an infant lay sleeping. She was curled up with her face pressed into the blankets. She breathed raspy breaths that gurgled in evidence of her illness.
"Her name's Ril," Sond said. "She's been sick for almost five days. She coughs so hard and her poor little nose runs like a river." Sond grasped the side of the cradle and leaned in. She gently touched the infant on her cheek.
Chihon felt that gnawing emptiness in her stomach that she got when she saw a loving mother and daughter. Chihon's own mother had died when she was but a little girl, and she barely remembered her.
The baby snuffled in her sleep, shifting but not waking. Chihon put her hand on Sond's shoulder. "Let me have a look." She gently guided Sond away from the cradle and leaned in to get a better look at the baby.
Master Wizard Page 6
