Deathcaster

by Cinda Williams Chima

  They were facing a man and a woman, the only two pirates in the room who were not bloodsworn. They were arrayed in layers of glitterbits, as Ash’s da would have called them. These must be two of the shiplords Strangward had spoken of.

  “What’s this all about?” Ash said.

  “You know what it’s about,” the man said. “Lord Strangward has been nothing but kind to you, and this is how you repay him.”

  The bloodsworn murmured and tightened the cordon around them.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ash said. “Strangward was supposed to meet us for dinner and hasn’t shown. We were just going to go look for him.”

  “You poisoned him,” the shiplord said.

  “Poisoned him?” Fear and despair rippled through Ash. “You mean he’s dead?”

  “He’s not dead, but he’s very ill.” He thrust a stoppered bottle into Ash’s face. “We found this in your room.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Poison.”

  “How do you know? Is there a label on it?”

  He seemed stumped for a moment. “What else could it be?”

  “If it’s poison, what kind is it?”

  “The kind that poisoned Strangward,” he snarled. “You would know better than me.”

  “I never saw that before,” Ash said. “I came here with nothing more than the stinking clothes on my back. And if I had just poisoned somebody, would I come down here and jump into a hot bath?”

  “You hoped to cover your tracks so that we wouldn’t figure it out.”

  While they were talking, the other shiplord was methodically searching the room. Ash watched as she scooped up his amulet. She weighed it in her palm, then bit down on the chain to test the metal. Sliding the chain over her head, she tucked the amulet under her shirt. Clearly, she meant to add it to her collection.

  Her companion saw. “Jasmina! Give me that.”

  “It’s mine by rights, Jagger,” Jasmina said, clutching it more tightly.

  It’s mine by rights, Ash thought, but he doubted he would prevail in a three-way.

  Jagger grabbed Jasmina’s arm and yanked her in close so that the bloodsworn couldn’t hear. “I’ll need that as a token for the empress,” he hissed.

  “Find something else,” Jasmina hissed back. “And you’re a fool if you trust Celestine. Like I said, you should have discussed this with me before you—”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Jagger growled, “and I don’t need to be lectured by you, of all people.”

  “Why me, of all people?”

  “You need to shut up and do as you’re told. There’ll be plenty of shares to go around once I’m lord of the Desert Coast.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Jasmina said, “so I’ll take my share now.”

  With that, Jagger backhanded her across the face so hard that she landed flat on her back on the floor, her head slamming against the stones. While she lay there, momentarily dazed, Jagger ripped the amulet away and tucked it into his coat.

  As he turned away, Jasmina’s hand crept to her blade, then slid away again. Ash swallowed down disappointment.

  “Listen,” Sasha said, “if Strangward’s been poisoned, Freeman here may be able to help. He’s a healer. If you give him his pendant back—”

  “So he can finish him? I don’t think so,” Jagger said.

  A murmur ran through the bloodsworn. “Is it true the wetlander is a healer?” one of them said.

  “Please,” Ash said. “If you’ll let me see him, I might be able to treat the illness or counteract the poison.” Seeing hope kindle in their faces, he hurried on. “Lord Strangward is my friend. I wouldn’t harm him.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Jagger said. “He tried to murder the Stormlord. Why would he help him?”

  The bloodsworn wavered. “But if he’s a healer . . . ?”

  “He’s not a healer,” Jagger said. “He’s a liar. Now. Put the wetlanders in the cage.”

  Well, Ash thought, as they were hustled away, we’ve all learned something here today. I just hope we live long enough to use it. Meanwhile, any hope of going after Lyss seemed as remote as any one of the stars overhead.

  19

  SUMMONS TO COURT

  Lila reined in just outside the walls of the castle close, her eyes following the imposing granite to the crenellations at the top, the arrow slots an arm’s length below. Familiar and yet alien. These walls had kept her at a distance all of her life.

  After all that buildup back at Fortress Rocks, the information they had from Dancer and Willo was sketchy at best. The Gray Wolf line and the queendom were in danger, and Lila and Shadow were needed in the capital.

  Same old, same old, Lila thought.

  Shadow nudged his horse up next to hers. They both stared at the tower, poking above the wall walks, the windows illuminated as the sun dropped behind the Spirit Mountains, the Gray Wolf banner fluttering from the top.

  “He probably wants to retire and make me captain,” Lila grumbled.

  “I don’t think that’s a job you can retire from,” Shadow said.

  “Everything else is changing—why not that?” Lila said. Everything was changing—including the rules of their friendship. It had been Lila’s job to try to shine a light into the dark places in Shadow’s soul. Now their roles were reversed, and Lila felt like she was trapped in the wrong skin, and reading the wrong lines.

  “Look at it this way,” Shadow said. “If you’re captain, you can change the uniforms, right? You’ve always said that blue isn’t your color.”

  “I’ll make everybody wear bunghole brown,” Lila said. “And a red feather in their caps.”

  Shadow laughed. Lila sat on her horse, her mind in turmoil. What did her father want, and what would her answer be?

  “Stalling won’t make it any easier,” Shadow said finally.

  “Maybe not, but it will make it further away,” Lila said. Still, she sighed and rode on, toward the gate.

  The sentries seemed to have been notified about their arrival, because they were allowed through with little ceremony. Lila, reluctant to leave off her carefully honed identity, gave her name as Barrowhill.

  “Captain Byrne wanted to see us right away,” Shadow said. “Do you know where he is?”

  “Likely he’s with the queen,” the sentry said. “He’s there nearly all the time these days.”

  That’s nothing new, Lila thought. “Let him know we’ve arrived,” she said. “We’ll be in the guard barracks.”

  For years, Lila had moved like a chameleon between habitats, sliding from the sheltered student life at Oden’s Ford to the cutthroat Ardenine capital to the port cities of the empire. In each setting, she assumed protective coloration, playing whatever role suited her schemes and her surroundings. Except for the smugglers’ enclaves along the east coast, where she could be herself. And the northern capital, where she was nobody.

  In Fellsmarch, she’d always kept to the periphery, avoiding engagement in the life she’d been shut out of. She traveled through the city like a cloud shadow, leaving no impression behind. She preferred that to being shoehorned into a life she never wanted.

  And now that it suited her father to claim her, she’d come running like an eager dog whistled in from the field. True, she’d not come as quickly as he’d probably expected. She’d insisted on accompanying her southern guests as far as Hunter’s Camp, and getting them settled there. Since they’d been raised on stories about demons in the north, some of the lýtlings were having nightmares about being eaten alive or sacrificed to the northern gods. The Matelons, mother and daughter, were a big help in soothing them. No doubt, for them, memories of the monsters in the south overshadowed any worries about monsters in the north.

  The barracks were all but empty, since most of the Highlanders had been sent east to Delphi, to prepare to meet the empress in the field. With the army so thin, Lila sent up a prayer that Destin Karn was successful in convincing King Jarat that
the real danger lay on the coast and not in the northern capital.

  Her father must have meant it when he said that the matter was urgent, because they had scarcely stowed their belongings when the summons came—to report to the queen’s apartments as soon as they were able. Lila wasn’t able until after she’d bathed and changed into a uniform of her own choosing—a long wool jacket over a white linen shirt, narrow breeches, and tall boots, all in a color that might be described as “bunghole brown.” All sourced from the palace laundry, where there were no red feathers to be had.

  Shadow pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes when he saw her, but said nothing.

  The corridors leading to the queen’s apartments were quiet, all but deserted, reinforcing the impression that the capital had been abandoned, with every able body sent east. Was that why Byrne had warned them not to bring the hostages here? Because it was vulnerable to attack? There should at least be courtiers and officials coming and going from the queen’s chambers.

  Unless she was too ill to receive anyone.

  Lila tried to sort out what the mission might be. What would Queen Raisa want with them? What were they good at? And why would the orders come directly from her?

  Maybe she wanted them to smuggle the crown jewels out of the queendom.

  When they reached the queen’s wing, it seemed crowded by comparison to the rest of the palace. Blue-clad guards were stationed at the entrance to the suite, and they had to run an entire gauntlet of unsmiling wolves before they reached the doors to her reception chamber. There they were unceremoniously searched and all of their weapons seized.

  Finally, they were admitted to the sitting room. Queen Raisa and Captain Byrne sat together on a settee close to the fire—a fire that seemed scarcely needed on this warm spring day. Byrne’s uniform jacket was slung across the back of the seat, but a wool blanket was draped across their knees, and there was something domestic—even intimate—about the scene.

  Except that they were chaperoned by an older woman with a long white braid. She sat under the window, reading a book, her somber garb resembling that of a dedicate. As they entered, she stood and rested her hand on the hilt of a massive sword that leaned against the windowsill beside her.

  When Lila looked again, she saw that Byrne, too, had his sword close at hand. Maybe intimate wasn’t the right word. It was more like they looked . . . besieged.

  “Captain Byrne,” Lila said, with a stiff bow. “Shadow and I are here, as you”—Insisted? Ordered? Demanded?—“commanded,” she said.

  Her father looked up at her, then pushed the blanket aside and stood. The expression on his face was mingled relief and surprise.

  It had only been a matter of weeks since she’d seen him, but Lila was shocked at how he’d aged. He stood, erect as always, but his hair had grayed to the point that it almost matched his eyes. Lila had heard of that kind of thing happening overnight, but didn’t really believe it. Until now.

  Still, her father looked hale and hearty next to the queen. She’d always been small, but now she appeared frail. The bones in her face stood out like never before, and there were hollows next to her collarbones. They both looked like the sole survivors of a disaster—or an epidemic.

  Lila shifted her weight, put off balance by this peculiar, private meeting. She was used to meeting her father in taverns, barracks, and back hallways, while her encounters with the queen were always insulated by squads of bluejackets, herds of courtiers, and her own anonymity. Had they ever actually spoken to each other? Lila couldn’t remember.

  Should she salute, or curtsy, or what? Byrne answered that question by embracing her. “I am so very glad to see you, Lila,” he murmured, before he let her go.

  “Thank you for coming, both of you,” Queen Raisa said softly. “I wasn’t sure that you would.”

  “Well. It seemed urgent, so—we did.” Lila paused. When the queen didn’t follow up, she said, “I— We heard you’ve been sick. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  “I have been sick,” Queen Raisa said, exchanging a look with Byrne. “I suppose you could say I’ve been to death’s door. And back again.”

  Byrne smiled, in a strained sort of way.

  “Please,” the queen said. “Sit down.” She gestured to the woman with the braid and the sword. “Magret, could you bring some of that tea Master Gryphon keeps pouring into me? I imagine the rest of you would prefer something more—”

  “We won’t be staying long,” Lila said. “We don’t need anything.”

  “Perhaps we could tempt you with some sugar cakes, child,” Magret said, her jaw set disapprovingly. “They might sweeten your disposition.”

  “I love sugar cakes,” Shadow said, shooting a quelling look at Lila, “and I’ll drink anything but tea.”

  “Fine,” Lila said, sitting down and pressing her sweating hands against her brown trousers. “If you insist, I’ll have bingo. Or blue ruin.”

  She couldn’t seem to open her mouth without bitterness pouring out. It made her feel like a small, mean person.

  Magret rolled her eyes and stalked into the butler’s pantry, muttering something that would likely not sweeten Lila’s disposition if she’d been able to make it out.

  “We heard about what happened along the Smuggler’s Coast,” the queen said.

  “Really?” Lila said, hackles rising. She’d hoped to skate through this interview without discussing that topic.

  “Is it true what we heard—that all of the settlements along the shoreline have come under attack?” Byrne said.

  “They’re gone,” Lila said, hoping that would end it.

  Byrne and the queen looked at each other. Byrne cleared his throat. “Has there been any news about Chas and Leah, or—”

  “No,” Lila said curtly. “We saw a lot of bodies, but we couldn’t get close enough to identify anyone. I assume they’re dead, or carried off to Carthis. As soon as we’re done here, I’ll go find out for certain. And then I’ll decide what to do.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the queen said, leaning forward a little, attempting to meet Lila’s eyes. “This damnable war has stolen so much from us—not just one generation, but two.”

  “That’s war for you,” Lila said, looking up at the ceiling. It was decorated with plaster roses and thorns. “People die.”

  “Yes,” Queen Raisa said. “They do.”

  Stop being so damned sympathetic, Lila thought, eyes burning and throat aching. I am not going to cry in front of you.

  Blessedly, about that time Magret returned with the refreshments. Lila felt much better after she’d knocked back a mug of bingo. Better in a dangerous sort of way.

  “I look forward to hearing how you managed to abscond with King Jarat’s hostages,” the queen said. “I would love to have seen his face when he found out.”

  “It was a team effort,” Lila said. Eager to change the subject, she said, “Speaking of families, I’d hoped to catch up with Prince Adrian while I’m here.” She looked around. “Where is he?”

  “A lot has happened,” Queen Raisa said, pouring more bingo into Lila’s mug. “Which is why we need your help.”

  20

  A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION

  The next morning, Shadow looked up from a pile of papers he was sorting through to scowl at Lila. “Would you sit, Lila? It’s hard to concentrate with you careening around the room.”

  “You’re not supposed to concentrate on that,” Lila said. “You’re supposed to be thinking of a way to get us out of this.”

  “Get you out of this, you mean,” Shadow said. “That’s easy. Walk away. Or, better yet, ride. Go bury your dead on the coast, or go back to Ardenscourt and scheme with your friend Karn, or sail to Carthis or whatever it is you want to do. Just do it quietly, because I’m trying to work.”

  Their barracks residency had ended right after their audience with the queen. They’d been moved to Kendall House, a stately home within the castle close that was often used to house visitors and diplom
ats.

  “Why are you doing this?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

  “Why am I doing what?”

  “Why did you agree to sit on the queen’s council?”

  “Because the queen asked me to?” Shadow said. “Because she said it was important? Because she said the future of the queendom might depend on it?”

  Yeah, but other than that? Lila thought, rolling her eyes. Shadow’s sudden bout of patriotism felt like a betrayal. She’d always been able to count on him to be a fellow cynic.

  “Even if everything she said was true,” Lila said, “this job is all wrong for us—you know it is. Why would she ask us?”

  “I don’t know—maybe she wants to drive the queendom into the ground sooner rather than later.”

  “Be serious.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say she’s desperate,” Shadow said. “She’s scraping the bottom of the barrel. The princess heir is in Carthis—”

  “The queen is in Carthis,” Lila said. “Remember? Queen Raisa claims that Alyssa is the queen now. Only we’re not supposed to tell anyone. It’s some kind of Gray Wolf magical technicality.”

  “Queen Lyss is in Carthis,” Shadow amended, “and Prince Adrian is off trying to rescue her, and everyone else is in Delphi, preparing to fight the empress, so . . .” He shrugged. “Lyss is my friend. I want her to have a queendom to come home to. I want Aspen’s sisters to have a place to live.”

  “There are plenty of other people to choose from,” Lila said. “Anyway, it sounds like the council’s big enough. There’s Princess Mellony, and Princess Julianna, or whatever her title is, and for wizards you have Bayar, and Vega and—”

  “You have been studying up, haven’t you?” Shadow said, raising an eyebrow. “They are already on the council, and someone on the council tried to murder her, remember? She doesn’t trust them.”

  “She doesn’t trust her own sister?” Lila said, thinking, It’s pretty bad when you’re making arguments you don’t believe in yourself.