Servant of the Crown

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  He took a deep breath. The Cup would see him through. If he could make its effects permanent, all his problems would be easily dealt with. If. One problem at a time. Just deal with one problem at a time, and all would be well. The results would be worth it, and when the day finally came that Mirabay’s authority was questioned, the people would thank him. If he wasn’t pulled from the palace and burned at the stake first.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Gill stared across the grassland and distant forest in the direction of Mirabay. He, Solène, and Pharadon had taken a short break from their frenzied pursuit of the person who had stolen the Cup from the Temple of the Enlightened to allow Solène to work her magic to refresh their horses. Gill was tempted to ask for a dose of whatever it was she did for himself, but could see how tired she already was, and how much of a strain it seemed to be placing on her.

  He was tired also, and hoped the mug of coffee he had brewed over the small, hastily built fire would invigorate him a little. The coffee had been stolen from Vachon’s supplies before they’d departed the temple. Between dragons and the Prince Bishop’s henchmen, the past weeks had exacted a toll on Gill’s body, and age dictated that it was taking far longer to recover than once it had.

  Raising his gaze to the sky, Guillot tried to search Pharadon out. He had headed out in dragon form to see if he could locate their quarry. It was bizarre to be allied with a dragon, equal parts terrifying and intriguing. Pharadon had lived during times that had drifted from history into legend. That he had proved to be anything but the mindless beast of terror described by the stories that had been passed down from that time was a jarring concept that was going to take a while to get used to.

  “Do you think we’ll catch her?” Solène said.

  Gill shrugged. The reality was, they had to. The alternative was not one he could bear thinking about. If Amaury managed to get the unused Cup—what Pharadon referred to as a vessel of enlightenment—he would be able to tap into a level of power that no person had been able to wield in nearly a thousand years. Back then, many people had been capable of wielding powerful magic, a fact that kept them all in check.

  If Amaury became that powerful, there wasn’t a person alive who could stop him. Solène might be able to, if what was said about her was true, but at times she seemed afraid of her ability, and was particularly opposed to the idea of using it as a weapon, even in a good cause.

  “I hope so.” A growing speck in the sky caught his attention. “Looks like our new friend is on his way back. I hope he’s got good news.”

  Solène followed his gaze before returning her attention to the horses. She looked even more tired than she had only moments before, and Gill worried. Unless Pharadon had the thief clutched in his talons, they had plenty of hard riding ahead of them, and very possibly a hard fight at the end of it. If Solène kept working herself to the limit, she’d be lucky to last that long.

  Pharadon drew closer at an alarming rate, then cast them both in shadow as he spread his great wings to arrest his flight and drop to the ground, touching down as nimbly as a cat. There was no body in his talons.

  “No joy?” Gill said.

  Pharadon shook his head, the expressiveness of his reptilian face still coming as a jolt every time Gill saw it.

  “I’ve detected traces,” Pharadon said in a sonorous bass voice. “Places where she delayed a moment and her magic was unable to completely hide her scent. It’s not powerful magic, but it’s very skilfully worked. I’m unable to see through it.”

  “So unless we find her the old-fashioned way…” Gill said.

  Pharadon nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  As unappealing a prospect as Gill found Amaury getting his hands on this last unused Cup, he realised it was far more devastating to Pharadon, if he hoped to help the other remaining dragon to enlightenment.

  “We can set off as soon as you’re ready,” Gill said. They couldn’t travel through the countryside with a dragon lumbering along beside them, so Pharadon had to transform himself into a surprisingly innocuous-looking human, using magical means that were nauseating to watch and that Gill had no desire to attempt to understand.

  “I’ll be as quick as I can,” Pharadon said, prowling lithely off to obtain some privacy behind the tree where he had left his human clothes.

  Gill forced himself not to laugh at the comedy of an enormous dragon hiding his modesty behind a twig of a tree, but he supposed it was large enough to conceal Pharadon while he was in human form, which was when it mattered.

  He cast an eye at Valdamar’s old armour, bundled on a horse’s back. He’d recovered it from one of Vachon’s packhorses, along with his swords. He wondered if he should get into the armour in preparation for trouble, but it would make a hard ride pretty unpleasant, comfortable though the armour was.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked Solène.

  She gave him a tired smile and nodded. “As soon as Pharadon is.”

  He mirrored her smile and checked his horse. It looked far fresher than he felt, but it would do no one any good if the horses carried them to their destination with legs to spare, and he didn’t have the strength to lift a blade. Pharadon returned, looking tired. Drained. He had said the process of transforming was incredibly taxing, and it was showing on his face. They mounted in silence and got moving. The tender spots, rubbed raw by his saddle, complained instantly, but Gill did his best to ignore them.

  Their quarry continued to elude them, no matter how hard they pushed their horses. Their only advantage was that they were pretty certain where she was headed: to Mirabay and the Prince Bishop. Equally, that meant Gill was all too well aware that they were running out of road. Their best chance of getting the Cup back was before the thief reached the city. After that, she would be sheltered by the Prince Bishop and all the resources he could bring to bear.

  The evening drew in faster than Gill expected, the changing of the season into winter having caught him off guard thanks to the distractions of the past couple of months. Dusk had taken hold when Gill spotted a rider ahead, moving more quickly than any ordinary traveller. He squinted to make sure his sleep-addled mind and dry eyes weren’t imagining it, but the figure was definitely there, cloak billowing out, and he thought he saw them cast a furtive look behind. That was enough to give him hope they had their prey.

  “Rider ahead,” he shouted, above the thumping of their horses’ hoofs on the soft ground of the road.

  “You think it’s her?” Solène shouted back. “I can barely see from here.”

  “That person has the Cup,” Pharadon said, his voice no different from the way he usually spoke, yet perfectly audible.

  “Come on then!” Gill urged his horse on for all it was worth, the excitement of finally being on the thief’s tail giving his energy level a boost.

  The others followed suit, and the horses thundered down the road. The exhilarating sensation reminded Gill of the joy of the hunt, something he hadn’t done—dragon hunting aside—in many years. But the pleasure started to quickly leak away as he realised they weren’t making up any ground.

  “How long can she keep up this pace?” Solène shouted.

  “How long can we keep up this pace?” Gill shouted back. Magical intervention or not, Gill knew there was no way their horses would be able to run this fast for long. In the distance, he could make out details he had been dreading. Mirabay was in sight.

  He tried to push his horse on harder, but it was already running at its limit and he still grew no closer to the woman ahead. He wondered how she kept her horse moving. They knew she could use magic, so perhaps she was constantly feeding it benefits similar to those Solène provided during their rest stops. If so, there was no way they could catch her. There had to be a way he could slow her.

  “Might she be using magic on her horse?” Gill shouted.

  “Perhaps,” Pharadon said. “It seems likely.”

  “Can you do the same for mine?” Gill asked. “I know dragons
have powerful magic. Cast something on me so I can catch her.”

  “I can’t in human form,” the dragon said. “If I change, it will take time before I can shape it again. I was only able to in the temple because the Fount was so strong there. Almost limitless.”

  Gill looked over at Solène, head and heart railing against one another. Her face was pale and she had dark shadows under her eyes. How could he ask her for more? Was there another way? If there was, he couldn’t think of it. There was so much about magic he didn’t understand, but he could never forgive himself if he demanded more from her than she was able to give.

  Before he could say anything, he saw her brow furrow and his horse surged forward. Rather than argue, he tucked down and encouraged it. Immediately, the distance between him and the thief started to fall away. He could see the woman more clearly now—she looked back every few moments and knew as well as he did that he was catching up.

  The walls and towers of Mirabay were growing ever larger and more distinct.

  He saw her throw her hand out behind. It took him a second to realise what that meant, and at the speed he was galloping, he barely had time to swerve to the side to clear the caltrops she had thrown on the road. He hoped the others would realise the danger, but was riding at such breakneck speed he wasn’t able to look back to see.

  Mirabay’s walls loomed up, and he could make out the gates now, as well as people standing around them. He was close enough that the muck thrown up by her horse’s hoofs was hitting his face. He was close enough to move over in preparation for coming alongside her. The walls were racing toward them and her horse was showing no signs of slowing. He could make out her features now, when she looked back. Dark curls framed a pale face with large eyes and dark lips. Something about her seemed oddly familiar, but Gill didn’t have the time to dwell on the thought.

  “I’m an agent of the Crown! Let me pass!” she shouted. “Stop my pursuers!”

  There was a momentary hesitation before the duty guards burst into a flurry of activity. More of them appeared from the guardhouse, spears at the ready. They moved forward to create a spear wall, and Gill knew the game was almost up. Standing in his stirrups, he leaned forward as far as he could, reaching for the thief. Arm outstretched, he felt the end of her cloak flutter against his fingertips. He made one last desperate grab, nearly throwing himself from his horse, but seized nothing but air.

  His horse stumbled a step, not enough to fall, but sufficient to break its rhythm and slow it. The thief sped on; the spear wall opened to allow her through, then closed again to prevent Gill from following. He brought his horse to a halt and wheeled around, spotting his companions some distance away. His horse was anxious and breathing hard—as was its rider.

  Gill looked back at the guards, steadfast in their determination to not let him pass, and swore. There was nothing to be gained by trying to force his way in. He would be swamped by the guards’ greater numbers and killed, and that would be the end of it.

  He turned his horse and rode back the way he had come. They would have to find another way.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Ysabeau trotted her horse toward the palace, through streets far quieter than she would have expected even at that hour. The City Watch were a stronger presence than normal and there was an uncomfortable atmosphere about the city. It wasn’t something she could put her finger on, but things were definitely not right in the city of Mirabay. It felt like a black cloud had descended, which at any moment would burst into rain.

  If the increased numbers of patrolling watchmen had imbued the city with a foreboding attitude, the number of guards at the palace gates made her suspect something very serious was going on. She was not accustomed to be stopped, so when the guards made her wait for her identity to be confirmed by the palace before allowing her through, she was convinced that there was trouble.

  She had to wait for over an hour, glaring at the guards impatiently all the while, until a clerk from the Prince Bishop’s office came down in person to escort her. They rattled up the cliffside in the elevator, its creaky nature barely disguised by the plush cushioning on the benches. The winch-operated platform generally accommodated those aristocrats and merchant potentates who lacked either the ability or the desire to make their way up the long, winding, tree-lined avenue that led to the main palace building.

  As she quickly swept through the palace, she passed clusters of whispering courtiers, all of whom fell silent once they became aware of her presence, probably not wanting to be overheard by someone not a member of their inner circles.

  The Prince Bishop’s offices were in the same part of the palace as the king’s—close to the centre of power, but hidden behind its majesty. Ysabeau wondered if she got her preference for operating from the shadows from him. Having been without a father for the greater part of her life, she felt odd referring to anyone by that title, let alone the Prince Bishop of Mirabaya, one of the most powerful men in the world.

  He wasn’t there when she arrived. His clerk showed her into his office to wait. Dominated by a large desk, the office wasn’t much to look at. It was very much a place to work, rather than a statement of wealth or power, unlike many of the offices she had been in—usually to assassinate their occupants. The clerk was one of the few who knew who she was—knew the reason she was the only person the Prince Bishop completely trusted—so she was left alone to wait where others would be closely watched.

  She wondered if the Prince Bishop was smart to have so much faith in her. She was his daughter, and blood was thicker than water, but after her mother died, she had sworn to always look out for her own interests, to hells with anyone else. Should her long-absent father be exempted from that? Sometimes she wasn’t sure if he should, although for the most part he seemed to be trying to make amends for the years he wasn’t around. Which, to be fair, was because he hadn’t known about her.

  Also, he had saved her from the Intelligenciers. That was a big debt, and one she felt would never be completely settled, no matter what she did. Perhaps giving him this Cup would do that, and finally show him how much she was worth. Nevertheless, she wondered if his seeming absolute confidence in her fidelity led him to take her for granted.

  The door opened and she stood. Her father, the Prince Bishop, walked in, giving off that air of authority that so many men desire, but few manage to achieve. He was dressed in his usual powder-blue vestments, the uniform of his religious office, even if his temporal one of first minister occupied most of his time. He looked tired, even more than when she’d departed on her last mission, and he had looked exhausted then.

  “Please tell me you bring good news,” the Prince Bishop said.

  No “hello.” No “how was your journey.” No “good to see you.” Ysabeau forced a smile. She’d make him wait for what he really wanted to hear.

  “I bring mixed news,” she said, deciding that he deserved the bad news first. “Your detachment of Spurriers arrived at the temple with a prisoner. That woman you sent, the one who’s good at magic? She allied with him and they killed most of your men, the commander included. Oh, and there were dragons. Two of them. Both still alive when I left, so they’re still a problem.”

  The Prince Bishop turned puce and let out a breath like a hiss. “That doesn’t sound like ‘mixed’ news.” He took a moment to consider the information, the veins in his temples throbbing. “Is there anything else?” he said between gritted teeth.

  She chewed her lip and thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. The big dragon. It turned into a man.”

  “It turned into a man?” the Prince Bishop said, his voice laden with disbelief.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Really was something to see. Can’t say I expected it at all.” She paused for a moment. “Rather gruesome to watch, though. Not sure I’d want to again.” She was enjoying toying with him, no matter how childish it might have been. Still, it was time to get on with things.

  Taking her purse from her belt, she heft
ed it in her hand. “I also bring a gift, which I think will improve your day substantially.” Ysabeau pulled open the purse and spilled the Cup into the palm of her hand. The Prince Bishop’s eyes widened as soon as he saw it.

  The Cup was a curious little thing. Round and with an engraved lip, it bore a resemblance to a sugar bowl. It was made from Telastrian steel, a rare and expensive metal found mainly in the Telastrian Mountains, on the other side of the Middle Sea—hence its name—although small deposits could be found elsewhere, such as in the mountains on Mirabaya’s southeastern border. Delicate, swirling blue patterns ran through the metal’s dark grey substance. The Cup was beautiful in its own simple way, but there was little to make it remarkable.

  “You found another Cup,” the Prince Bishop said. He took his from a pocket in his cloak, and looked at it, then at the one Ysabeau held. They were identical. “It was at the temple?”

  She nodded. Although he had a Cup already, he had confided in her that he didn’t understand it, and only seemed able to use a fraction of its reputed power. He had hoped the Temple of the Enlightened, another of the discoveries from the trove of ancient, forbidden knowledge he kept secreted away under the city’s cathedral, would teach him how to properly use the Cup, so he’d sent her to find out. She hadn’t—things there had gotten too dangerous, very quickly—but hoped this new Cup, and what she did know about it, might make up for that fact.

  “What good is another Cup if I don’t know how to make them give me the permanent power they are reputed to?” he said. “I presume you were successful in finding that out?”

  She shook her head, knowing that her response would frustrate him, and that soon enough he would vent his frustration at her, if she allowed it to build too much. She hoped to alleviate that.

  “The reason the one you have doesn’t work the way you think it should is because it’s already been used, and they only imbue their full power once.”

  “This one hasn’t been used?” His voice changed instantly from growling malevolence to something brighter, hopeful. Desperate.