The Queen of Mages

by Benjamin Clayborne

For three days Liam recuperated in Lisa and James Cordway’s house. He and Katin had to stay hidden; if anyone in the town became aware of their presence, it could ruin his whole plan. Liam thanked the Caretaker every hour that the thugs who’d confronted them that first day didn’t show up at the Cordways’ door.

  Their daughter, Samantha, had to be warned firmly not to tell anyone about Katin and Liam’s presence. Liam watched from a doorway as James cautioned his daughter. The girl nodded firmly at his instructions, sparing a quick glance for Liam, apprehension and curiosity in her eyes.

  Liam carefully cleaned his travel-worn clothes and washed himself in the Cordways’ garden, hidden from prying eyes by the tall hedge. Lisa Cordway lent him her comb to brush the tangles and knots out of his hair, which had begun to grow long in the weeks since Hedenham. As the sun set, he met James in the Cordways’ sitting room, which made up the front half of their house. Lisa had taken the children into the bedroom, but Katin appeared in the doorway, watching the men.

  Liam turned away from her for a moment. There’s still time to back out. She’ll be insufferable if I fail. Of course, I’ll be dead if I fail. “It’s time I was going,” he said to James.

  The taller man nodded back at him, uncertainty written plainly on his face. He glanced at Katin for a moment, then spoke in a near-whisper to Liam. “We’ll get her out somewhere safe if… if we need to.”

  Liam felt a pervading anxiety, and he hadn’t even gone out the door yet. He clasped James’s hand. “Be ready.”

  He went over to Katin. She leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. “You know I have to do this,” he said.

  His plan had only stayed a secret for half a day. Katin had known something was afoot when James offered to let them stay as long as they want and Liam hadn’t objected. “You’d never stay in one place like this without a reason,” she’d sniffed at him.

  How could he hide it from her? If he did fail, she couldn’t be left to wonder where he’d gone and what he was doing. So he’d told her what he aimed to do. She’d listened quietly, and when he finished, she did not berate him, she did not tell him he was mad. Instead she’d offered some suggestions.

  But her smile was gone. In those weeks in the caravan he’d seen it plenty, once they’d settled into a routine. Now, a permanent grimness had welled up from somewhere.

  She relaxed not a hair as he stood before her. “Just be careful. You won’t get more than one chance.”

  There was nothing more to say. He kissed her once and went out the door.

  ———

  The wide dirt paths that made for streets in Carson’s Watch were deserted by sundown. Nobody wanted to be caught out in the dark by Adeline’s thugs, no matter what business they might have. Samantha Cordway had brought home tales each night of townsfolk harassed and assaulted.

  But Liam was counting on it. He made straight for the town square, letting his legs stretch out. It felt good to walk, even if he was still sore from the beating. He reminded himself to seek out the town’s temple and pray at the altar of Sacrifice. And then find a malthouse… if he survived the night.

  Liam found no one in the town square, not frightened townsfolk or swaggering thugs. The inn stood quiet and desolate, the walls scorched. At least it did still stand, unlike the trade office across the square. That building was gutted, the roof collapsed. It happened to sit apart from the other buildings, which was probably why the whole town hadn’t gone up in flames when Adeline burned it. Don’t play with fire, children.

  He waited around as the last daylight faded, but no one came. When the square was lit only by starlight and the faint glow of distant hearths, he turned west and walked. According to James, Adeline Broxton had taken over some merchant’s house on the edge of town. The house was easy to find, even in the dark. It was the tallest in Carson’s Watch, the only two-story building besides the inn, and brightly lit. Liam heard the noise before he saw it. Coarse laughter and a periodic thumping sound floated down the lane toward him. He touched the dagger at the small of his back to reassure himself, then walked up the gravel path to the house. He wondered who the merchant was who owned it, and what had happened to him.

  The door stood wide open. So this Adeline thought the whole town was hers; she could waste her hearthfire, letting the warm air waft out into the darkness. Stealing more firewood from the locals would be easy for her.

  Liam’s boot creaked the front steps, and a man in a grimy black woolen coat leaned out the door. “What do you want?”

  Liam came to a halt where the lamps inside lit him clearly. The man would have a good look at his face. And here we go. He summoned up every ounce of haughtiness he could, every raised eyebrow and arch tone of voice he’d ever seen or heard from Dardan, or Asmus, or any of the other nobles he’d ever come across in the parlors of Callaston and Hedenham. He planted his fists on his hips and lifted his chin. “And who, precisely, are you supposed to be?”

  The man frowned a little. “Name’s Black Tom,” he said, trying to sound menacing, but uncertainty crept in, even in those three little words.

  “And I presume this is where one might find Miss Adeline Broxton, hmm?”

  Heartbeats passed, and then something clicked in Black Tom. His head ducked only a fraction, but Liam saw it. The man had marked Liam as a noble, despite his common clothes. “Uh, yes, uh… m’lord? She’s right inside. Um, wait there. If y’please.” He backed away, then rushed down the hall and through a door.

  Liam ignored the instruction and stepped inside, doffing his hat. He’d borrowed it from James Cordway, and it was almost comically overlarge, but with luck he wouldn’t need to put it on again.

  The tenor of the voices from within changed, and the thumping sound stopped. Liam forced himself to be patient. Nobles wait for introductions. Suddenly a shrill voice cut through the noise. “Well bring him here!” Black Tom came back out, looking frightened. He gestured through the door. “This way, m’lord.”

  Liam nodded stiffly and strode past, ignoring Black Tom completely. He passed into what must be a sitting room. It was almost as large as the Cordways’ entire house. Quite a well-off merchant. This Adeline went straight to the richest man in town. Liam wasn’t going to hold out hope that the merchant was still alive.

  The sitting room was strewn with people, men and women both. The thugs who had rained terror upon the townsfolk were the bulk of those present: hard-eyed, rough-edged, clothed in wool and leather and even some mail that had seen better days, all with daggers or swords or clubs at their sides. Some stood; others slouched on chairs or settees or the floor, cups of wine or ale at hand. One man sitting by the hearth had a drum clasped between his knees. Apparently that was the best musical talent Adeline had been able to scrounge up. The women all seemed to be half-clothed, wrapped in the thugs’ grimy arms, eyes nervously casting about.

  All except one woman, who sat in a high-backed chair beside the roaring hearth. She wore a scarlet gown, a garment one would only properly wear to a ball or masque, or perhaps even a town dance, but never for lounging about. She looked like a girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes: the gown was cut wrong for her, too low in the bodice, for breasts that just weren’t there. Her dark hair was undone all around her shoulders, but it looked messy, not alluring. Her skin was too sun-browned to be that of a wealthy woman who stayed indoors or took a parasol out on strolls.

  Liam took all this in as he walked up to her and inclined his head slightly. “You must be Adeline Broxton.” Every eye in the room centered upon him, but he kept his attention on Adeline. The heat had made him start to sweat.

  She stood up at once, glaring at him. “You have the honor of addressing the Baroness Adeline Broxton.” She held out her hand, as if he should kneel and kiss it.

  He stayed on his feet but took her hand and bent over it, letting his lips brush it slightly. He kept his eyes locked on hers. “Forgive me, baroness. I was not made aware of your station.”

  Her hostility ha
d faded to confusion. “Who are you?”

  “A weary traveller seeking to meet the one whom I was told is the true power in these parts. Might I trouble you for a cup of wine?”

  She waved a hand at someone, and Liam found a pewter mug pressed into his hand. He drank deep, still without taking his eyes from hers, then held the cup out until someone took it. He didn’t know who; it didn’t matter. If he had her, he had them all.

  “What is your name?” Adeline asked.

  “I have heard much about your power. I believe I can be of some assistance to you.”

  Adeline started slightly. “What do you know of my… of this?” she said. The caution had returned, but she was still fascinated by him.

  “I know that you are not the only one who has it. I know that you have certainly heard the rumors from the north and west, of King Edon.”

  All conversation had stopped when he came in, but now a few voices muttered at the king’s name. Adeline finally tore her eyes away, to give a warning glare at someone. Liam still did not look away. “Rumors and nonsense,” Adeline said. “None have my power.”

  “Ah, but they do. Edon himself tore down a castle, striking as if he commanded lightning itself, blasting stone walls apart like a child smashing wooden blocks.”

  “Lies…” she trailed off. “Where did you hear this?”

  “Hear this?” Liam laughed, dismissive. “My lady, I saw this with my own eyes. I was there.”

  Adeline’s voice grew faint. “Who are you?”

  “Forgive me, my lady.” He stepped back, and swept a formal bow. “You have the honor of addressing Count Dardan Tarian of Hedenham County.”

  Someone laughed behind him. “You, a count? In clothes like that? Where’s your valo?”

  Liam turned around, as slowly as he could make himself. A bearded man with an angry red scar on one cheek stood up and stared defiantly at him.

  “I’ll assume you’ve simply had too much to drink and forgotten your manners,” Liam said. He took a step toward the man, holding his hands wide. “My valo, you see, was killed when King Edon attacked us, at Foxhill Keep in the north of Hedenham.” Step. “As was my father, and his valo, and my family’s master-at-arms, blacksmith, and captain of guards. Men I have known my whole life.” Step. “King Edon is out for Tarian blood. So let me ask you this, good sir: Would you travel openly as a noble, when the king had learned magic and wanted your head?”

  He stood at arm’s reach from the scar-cheeked man, whose expression had not softened but who now crossed his arms petulantly. Liam held his gaze for a moment longer, then scoffed and turned around. His heart raced, but he kept an arrogant grin on his lips. “My lady, I fear you need better courtiers. These are no fit companions for a noblewoman.”

  Adeline looked unconvinced. “If you are who you say you are, what are you doing here? Why not go to your duke for help?”

  He hadn’t expected that question. “Alas, it is not so simple.” Turn it around. Buy time. “How much experience have you with noble politics, my lady?”

  “Uh… some.” An obvious lie. Adeline had been a farmwife a month ago; if she really knew anything of how nobles dealt with one another, he’d eat James’s hat.

  “Well, then you must certainly be aware that House Arkhail has many close ties to House Relindos—they would be just as likely to turn me in themselves if I went there for aid. Thus I seek assistance from others who are more removed from the royal court.” He reached out to her, and she put her hand in his without seeming to realize quite what she’d done. “Thank the Aspect of Chaos that I’ve found you. Edon shares the power you have, but I think you could be even greater.”

  Adeline’s lips parted slightly, and her eyes unfocused. Liam had slowly drawn closer to her. But then that grating voice came again from behind. “He’s a liar. Kill him!” shouted Scar-cheek.

  Liam sighed in exasperation, and turned to berate the man again—pray he hasn’t got his sword out already—but before he could, there was a loud pop and several people in the room shouted or screamed. Scar-cheek thumped onto his knees, his blade clattering to the floor as he clutched at his arm. Liam had started to reach for his own dagger—that old reflex—but he stopped himself mid-turn. Adeline’s finger, outstretched, pointed at Scar-cheek.

  “No one touches the count,” Adeline said as commandingly as a young farmer girl could.

  Aside from Edon’s attack at Foxhill Keep, Liam had never seen the power used. He’d expected to be terrified, but instead found himself simply astonished, and then excited. Such a weapon!

  The faint aroma of charred meat filled the air as Scar-cheek struggled to his feet. “My… apologies… m’lady.” He bowed toward her, but his eyes held only hatred for Liam.

  Liam let his eyebrows crawl back down to their normal station, and looked at Adeline again. “That was quite remarkable, my lady. It is good to see that you do not hesitate to deal with those who need… to be dealt with.” He grimaced inwardly. That sounded idiotic. Liam gave his best smile to cover it. “Might I suggest a meal? I’m quite famished.”

  “But… the servants have already washed up…”

  “So? You are their lady,” Liam whispered.

  She blinked at him, then comprehension dawned. “Yes. Of course! Fetch the cook. I shall require a meal for the count.”

  ———

  Whatever had happened to the house’s previous owners—Liam was now all but certain that they had been killed—a few of the servants had stayed behind when Adeline took it over. They were brought forth, looking exhausted, clearly having gone past initial terror into the enduring misery of serving this mad new mistress.

  The meal managed a semblance of class: pan-fried pork medallions and baked carrots and turnips, and more wine brought up from some cellar. The one maid who remained did all the serving, scurrying about in terror. When she was too slow at clearing away the plates, Adeline flicked a peevish finger and the maid’s apron caught fire. Adeline laughed as the girl flung it to the floor and stomped on it.

  Liam made casual chatter through dinner, but when the plates were all cleared, he came around and sat next to Adeline, taking her hands. “My lady, we must make better use of your power. Subjugating flyspeck towns such as this is beneath you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think this realm has been ruled by fools long enough, don’t you?” He didn’t, of course—well, Viktor had been no fool, even if Edon was. “I think it’s time we had a ruler who had real power, and would not hesitate to use it. With this,” he reached up and gently touched her forehead, “you could be a queen like none the world has ever seen before.”

  Adeline let out a little gasp, but then cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I shall think on it.”

  “Of course. It’s a bit late for an after-dinner stroll, but perhaps you could show me around this fine home of yours?”

  Adeline stood up and laughed. “Oh, it’s not really mine,” she said. “It belonged to Master Rastbury. He traded in grain. And always cheated my husband and me when buying our stock. I simply took back what should be rightfully mine.”

  Liam paused, pretending wariness. “Ah. You have a husband?”

  Adeline’s eyes widened, and she waved dismissively. “Oh, well, yes, but he’s out at our farm. His farm. Far away. You don’t need to worry about him.” She slipped her arm through his and led him from the dining room.

  The house was really no different from any of a dozen other country houses Liam had visited, usually with Dardan on some official errand. Nonetheless, he feigned interest as Adeline took him on a little tour. The thugs and other hangers-on were scattered around, lurking about in hallways and parlors. Liam did his best to pretend they weren’t there.

  As casually as she was able, Adeline asked, “Does m’lord have a wife?”

  “Yes, but she is also far from here.” He held up his hands; he had taken off the false rings. “I had to remove my rings as part of my disguise.”

  “Oh,” Ad
eline said, and then giggled nervously. “Might I show m’lord the upstairs?”

  Liam grinned widely. “That would be an excellent idea.”

  She took him to the upper floor, which had a long hall branching off into various chambers. “I’ve taken the largest bedchamber for myself, of course.”

  “As you no doubt deserve,” Liam murmured. “Show it to me.”

  Liam could hear her breath quicken. She nodded, and drew him down the corridor.

  His own pulse quickened as well, but it jumped a beat when he saw Scar-cheek standing by the double doors at the end of the hall. The man’s arm had been bandaged, and he stared daggers at Liam, even though Adeline had been the one to burn him. He kept one hand firmly on the pommel of the sword at his belt.

  Adeline sniffed at him. “We are not to be disturbed.” Scar-cheek watched silently, hatred written across his face, as Adeline pulled Liam past him.

  The door had a narrow bar that might stop someone from bursting in for a minute or two. Liam set the bar, then put on his most lascivious grin and turned around just as Adeline threw herself onto him. He reflexively drew back, but made himself stop. No. I have to do this. It is no betrayal of Katin. Still, the girl’s lips were warm and wet on his, and made him tingle. He could feel his cock bulging against his trousers already. Maybe just a little, before—

  He cut that thought off cruelly, and turned that aggression toward Adeline, pushing her toward the bed. She kissed and licked and bit at him, frantic with lust. “M’lord, take me,” she purred, yanking his vest off over his arms, then pulling at the buttons on his shirt.

  Aspect of Wrath, guide me. He let her unbutton it as he sought out the fury that lay there, always there, in the back of his mind. Adeline pulled his sleeves down as he held her sitting on the edge of the bed. Liam threw his arms back, tossing the shirt off completely, and then drew the dagger from its sheath at the small of his back, leaned away from her slightly, and slammed the blade up through the base of her jaw.

  The dagger pierced her neck off-center and jammed against the bottom of her skull. She jerked back, pulling herself off the blade, and blood sprayed onto Liam’s hand. A loud crack sounded from above him, but he ignored it and grabbed her arm, his fingernails digging viciously into her flesh. He spun her around, yanked her head back by her hair, and slit her throat, cutting through the great artery on each side.

  She spasmed, knocking the dagger from his grasp, red and slick. Liam stumbled backward. Blood roared in his ears. Adeline flopped off the bed and crashed to the floor, her arms jerking. Liam scrambled to pick up the dagger and plunged it into her back half a dozen times before he realized that someone was pounding on the door. “Open up!” came Scar-cheek’s muffled voice. He banged on the door some more, and then Liam heard quick footsteps recede down the hall. The dagger slipped from his hand again, clattering in the growing pool of blood.

  ———

  Liam had only ever been in two real fights. The first was during his time with the royal army. His company had been sent to root out a nest of bandits in the Barnston Wood, in the south of Stotsbury. Their lair had been found in a narrow gulch between two ridges. Liam’s squad had been kept in reserve, in case the bandits tried to escape past the swords of the lead squads.

  But they’d had some secret tunnel, because the bandits erupted out of the ground practically under Liam’s feet, as surprised to find royal soldiers waiting there as the soldiers were to see them. Armed with pikes, Liam and his brothers had kept the bandits at bay long enough for reinforcements to arrive, though no less than four men Liam had trained alongside took fatal wounds that day. Once the other squads showed up, surrounding them all, the bandits were quick enough to throw down their weapons. They’d all hanged for it, of course, and the ringleader had been drawn and quartered. Liam had watched, and no matter how hard he tried, he’d never been able to forget the memory, or the screaming. That had been at a safe remove, in the nearby village square, as he watched from a hundred yards away, standing with his squad.

  The second fight was at Foxhill Keep, scant weeks ago. There he’d matched swords in anger for the first time, against men much closer, within arm’s reach. On horseback, in the dark, he barely hit anything he swung at. He didn’t even know if he’d killed anyone that night. The few solid hits he’d scored could have been mere inconveniences to men in plate. Well, he’d only been buying time for Amira to escape.

  He had never done anything like this. He’d been in Adeline’s embrace, pressed tight against her bosom. He realized he was gasping as if he’d just sprinted a mile. Every fiber of his body shook. He knew he should fight it, but he did not. He crawled over to Adeline’s body again and lifted her head up. Her eyes were glazed over; blood still dribbled from the great slash on her neck. He should have found it horrible, but it thrilled him.

  He dropped her to the floor again and looked up. A smoking crater a foot wide marked the ceiling above where his head had been. That had been the sound he’d heard; she’d tried to use her power on him. If her aim had been true, she’d have blown his head clean off.

  Liam began to feel calm reason pushing aside his rage. Scar-cheek and friends would be back any moment. He had no sword; in close quarters, his dagger might be sufficient to take down one man, even against a sword, especially if he had the element of surprise. But Scar-cheek wouldn’t be alone.

  He stood up, aching, and looked in the dressing mirror beside the bed. He was spattered with blood, a sight to to make folk tremble. He saw Adeline’s body in the reflection, now nothing but an empty shell. No one would consecrate her body and send her to rejoin the earth, would they? He picked up the dagger and went to the door.

  It had been no more than a minute since Adeline had slumped to the floor. Pounding footsteps vibrated to him through the floorboards. Aspect of Courage, make this work. He unbarred the door and opened it.

  The three men outside skidded to a halt, Scar-cheek in the lead. Adeline’s body was clearly visible from the corridor. Liam stood by, dagger in hand, dripping blood. “Her power could not save her,” he growled. He lifted the dagger and pointed it at the men. Their eyes widened in horror and confusion. “And it will not save you.” He took a step forward, his voice rising. “Tell them that she is dead. TELL THEM!”

  The two young men behind Scar-cheek spun and fled on the instant. Scar-cheek himself seemed made of tougher stuff, but whatever loyalty he had to Adeline must have died with her, for he backed away down the hall, wary eyes on Liam, and then rushed down the staircase.

  Liam heard panic and shouting down below as he pulled on his shirt and vest. There was no time to lose. He stalked down the stairs. Men and women fled past him out into the night, shying away from him when they caught side of the blood and gore. He paid them no heed and went out onto the front steps. There, clearly lit by the house’s lamps, he turned and stabbed his dagger into the doorframe.

  Across the road, something moved in the darkness: a reflected eye, footsteps scuffing in the dirt as a shadow ran off. The signal was sent.

  ———

  A few minutes after Liam had left the Cordways’ the night before, James Cordway had slipped out into the darkness, and went from house to house, rounding up men he trusted. They’d gathered in clusters at the roads leading out of town, waiting.

  One man had been sent to skulk in the shadows, to watch for Liam’s signal. The dagger in the doorway set the man off to spread the word that Adeline was dead and the town should be retaken.

  The thugs put up hardly any fight at all, confronted by armed mobs of angry townsmen, staves and wood axes and torches in hand. Without their patroness, they were no more than common ruffians, and vastly outnumbered.

  James Cordway was made interim magistrate by acclamation, although he swore up and down he never wanted it and would step down as soon as the new baron appointed a replacement. But he didn’t hesitate to condemn the men who had served Adeline.

  A makeshift gallows was erected in the town squ
are, built from the fallen timbers of the trade office. Six men swung from it in turn at the next noon, the sour thugs who’d flocked to Adeline’s call. Scar-cheek and Black Tom were among them. Some of the others had escaped into the night, making for parts unknown.

  Men of the town patrolled all that day, keeping an eye out for troublemakers. Liam didn’t ask what had happened to Adeline’s body, or the house she’d occupied. He cleaned himself up and changed into garments borrowed from men James knew. They were happy to gift them to this Oliver Smith, the man who’d faced down Adeline.

  He went back to the Cordways’ and found Katin waiting for him. She’d stayed inside the whole night with Lisa and her children, huddled and praying. The relief on Katin’s face was obvious, but she stayed back until Liam went over to her and wrapped her in an embrace.

  “It’s over,” he murmured to her. “They’ll give us horses and supplies. We can make for the coast, and then north into Seawatch.”

  James was still out in the town somewhere. Lisa Cordway came in, shepherding her children. “Come along. We’ll go visit your cousins.” With a last, awed glance at Liam, she took the children out.

  Katin pushed Liam back a little, looking up into his eyes, and took his hand. She pulled him along into the cozy little bedroom at the back of the house. It held only a single large bed shared by the family, not a patch on Adeline’s stolen bedchamber. No lights were lit; only the afternoon sun crept in through the cracks of a shuttered window.

  Katin stepped back from him. “I’ve made you wait too long,” she said. She sounded afraid. She undid her blouse, her dress, bodice, shift, all falling away into a pile on the floor. Afraid? Why? She’s done this before.

  She came over to him and helped him undress. Soon they both stood naked, skin to skin in the quiet dimness. He recalled the few sensations he’d felt with Adeline: the formless lust, the cold certainty, shuddering wrath. This was unlike that in every way.

  There were no words. He kissed her and lifted her onto the bed. He caressed her arms, thighs, breasts, as she rubbed her leg against his groin and stroked his back. Soon, too soon, he slipped between her legs and pressed into her.

  It wasn’t the act. It was only faith that mattered. He prayed to the Aspects, all of them, to the Caretaker himself, but not with words. Just emotions, his rage, lust, envy, disgust. He plunged into Katin, and she was silent, biting her lip, eyes squeezed shut. Was it pain? Ecstasy? Did it even matter?

  He’d always been careful to pull out before he came, always, even with prostitutes who could make their bitter tea. But now he didn’t. He thrust, and came, grunting, feeling Katin’s fingernails digging into his ribs. She wrapped her legs up around him, pulling him down, never to let him go.

  He awoke when the dawn came, as Katin breathed slowly beside him. There will be others like Adeline. This was only one skirmish.

  A war is coming.

  CHAPTER 34

  DARDAN