A Rule of Queens (Book #13 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (17 page)

Volusia rode in her golden carriage, borne by
her procession of men, a dozen of her finest officers and advisors accompanying
her on this long march to Maltolis, the city of the touched prince. As they
neared the gates, the great city unfolding before her, Volusia looked up and
wondered. She had heard of the mad city, and of the touched prince, Maltolis,
who took his name from the city, like her, ever since she’d been a girl, but
she had never laid eyes upon it herself. Of course her mother had warned her, as
had all of her advisors, never to venture anywhere near it. They said it was
possessed; that all who went, never returned.

The idea excited her. Volusia, fearless, hoping
for conflict, looked up at the massive walls, all quarried from black stone,
and saw immediately that, as great of a city as Volusia was, Maltolis was ten
times greater in scope and size, vast walls soaring to heaven. While Volusia
was built on the oceanside, crashing waves and ocean blue visible from
everywhere, Maltolis was landlocked, deep in the eastern lands, framed by an
arid desert and a field of twisted, black cacti. They were a fitting adornment
to herald this place.

They all came to a stop before a stone bridge
spanning a moat, twenty yards wide, its deep blue waters glistening, encircling
the city. There was only one way in and out of this city, across this arched,
black bridge, guarded heavily by dozens of soldiers lining it.

“Set me down,” Volusia ordered. “I want to see it
for myself.”

They did as she commanded, and as Volusia’s
feet touched the ground, it felt good to stand after all those miles of being
carried. She immediately began to march for the bridge, her men rushing to fall
in behind her.

Volusia stopped before it, taking in the sight:
lining the bridge was a series of pikes, all pierced with the freshly
decapitated heads of men, fresh blood dripping down. But what really surprised
her was what she saw above it: high above was a golden railing, and from it
there dangled the torsos of soldiers, their legs torn off. It was a gruesome
sight, and an ominous way to herald the city. It made no sense, as these
soldiers all appeared to be the touched prince’s men.

“He us rumored to kill his own men,” Soku
stepped forward and whispered into Volusia’s ear, he too gaping up at the sight.
“The more loyal they are, the more likely to be killed.”

“Why?” she asked.

Soku shrugged.

“No one knows,” he replied. “Some say for fun;
others say boredom. Never try to analyze the ways of a madman.”

“Yet if he is so mad,” she countered, “how does
he run such a great city? How does he hang onto it?”

“With an army he inherited, vaster than ours
will ever be.”

“It is said they all tried to revolt when he
took power,” Koolian said, coming up to her other side. “They thought it would
be easy. But he surprised them all. He killed the rebels in the most gruesome
ways, starting with their families first. He turned out to be more vicious and unpredictable
than the world could have known.”

“I urge you again, my lady,” Soku said. “Let us
stay clear of this place. Let us find an army somewhere else. The touched
prince will not lend you his armies. You have nothing he wants, nothing you can
give him. Why would he entertain it?”

Volusia turned to him, her gaze cold and hard.

“Because I am Volusia,” she said, her voice
ringing with authority, with destiny. “I am the Goddess Volusia, born of fire
and flame, of wind and water. I will crush nations beneath my feet, and nothing
of this world, no army, no prince, shall stop me.”

Volusia turned back to the bridge and led the
way, her men hurrying to follow, until she reached the base and was blocked by a
dozen soldiers lowering their halberds, blocking her way.

“State your purpose here,” one said, his face
obscured behind his helmet.

“You shall address her as Empress,” Aksan said,
stepping forward, indignant. “You speak to the great Empress and Goddess of Volusia.
Queen of Volusia. Queen of the great city by the sea, and Queen of all
provinces of the Empire.”

“We let no one pass without the Prince’s
permission,” the soldier replied.

Volusia stepped forward, raised her hand to the
tip of the sharp halberd, and slowly lowered it.

“I have an offer for your Prince,” she said
softly. “One he cannot refuse. You will let us through because your Prince will
kill you if he found you turned us away.”

The soldiers, unsure, lowered their halberds and
looked to each other, puzzled. One nodded, and they all slowly stood erect,
making way for her to pass.

“We can bring you to our Prince,” the soldier
said. “But if he does not like your petition, well…you can see his handiwork,”
he said, looking up.

Volusia followed his glance and looked up at
all the mutilated bodies adorning the bridge.

“Is it a chance you’re willing to take?” the
soldier asked.

“My Empress, let us leave this place,” Soku said
urgently in her ear. “Some gates are best left closed.”

Volusia shook her head and took the first step
forward. She looked out, beyond the soldiers, at the daunting gates, two huge
iron doors, each adorned with a grotesque iron sculpture, upside down, one
screaming and the other laughing. Those iron sculptures alone, Volusia thought,
would be enough to turn away any person in their right mind.

She looked the soldier right in the eye,
resolved.

“Bring me to your ruler,” she commanded.

*

Volusia walked through the soaring gates of the
mad city, taking it all in in wonder. A drop hit her shoulder, and thinking it
was rain, she looked down at her golden sleeve, and was puzzled to see it
stained scarlet. She looked up and saw a series of ropes crossing the city
walls, from which were hanging a collection of limbs—a leg here, an arm there—all
hanging like wind chimes, dripping blood. They swayed in the wind, the
weathered rope creaking.

Some ropes hung lower and some higher, and as
Volusia and her men passed through the gates, she had to brush up against them,
swinging against her.

Volusia admired the Prince’s barbarism. And
yet, she wondered at the extent of his madness. His cruelty did not scare
her—but the haphazardness of it did. She loved being vicious and cruel herself,
yet she always did it within a rational context. But this…she just could not
understand his way of thinking.

They passed through the gates and entered a
vast city courtyard, the ground made of cobblestone, the city boxed in by the
towering city walls. Hundreds of troops filled the square, their armor
clanging, their spurs echoing, as they marched about. Otherwise, the city was
oddly silent in the morning air.

As they slowly crossed the square, Volusia felt
as if she were being watched; she looked up, and all along the city walls she saw
people, citizens, their faces etched with panic and concern, leaning out of
small windows and staring down, wide-eyed. Many wore grotesque expressions,
some of them smacking their own heads, others swaying, others rocking and
banging their heads into the walls. Some moaned, others laughed, and others,
still, wept.

As she watched, Volusia saw one young woman lean
so far out a window, she fell flying forward, face-first, shrieking. She landed
on the stone with a splat, greeting her death fifty feet below.

“The first thing the touched Prince did when he
inherited his daddy’s throne,” Koolian whispered to Volusia, walking beside
her, “was to open the gates to all the asylums. He let all the madcaps have
free rein in the city. It is said it pleases the Prince to see them on his
morning stroll, and to hear their cries late into the night.”

Volusia heard the strange moaning and crying
and screaming and laughing, echoing off the walls, bouncing off of the square, and
she had to admit that even she, undaunted by anything, found it unsettling. She
was beginning to sense a feeling of dread. When dealing with a madman, all bets
were off. She did not know what to expect in this place, and she had an increasing
sense of foreboding that it would not be good. Perhaps, for the first time in
her life, she would be in over her head.

Still, Volusia urged herself to be strong. She
was a goddess, after all, and a goddess could not be harmed.

Volusia could feel the tension thick in the air
as they were marched across the square, and finally, to a soaring golden door.
Knockers as big as she were yanked slowly by a dozen soldiers, the immense
doors creaking. A cold draft came out and hit her from the blackness.

Volusia was led into the castle, and as she
entered this dim place, lit only by sporadic torches, she heard laughter and
heckling bouncing off the walls. As her eyes adjusted, she saw dozens of
madcaps, dressed in rags, pacing along the floor, some following them, others
shouting at them, and one crawling alongside them. It was like entering an
asylum. The soldiers kept them at a safe distance, yet still, their presence was
unnerving.

She and her entourage followed them all down an
endless corridor, and finally into a massive entry hall.

There, before them, Volusia was shocked to see,
was the touched Prince. He did not sit on his throne, like a normal ruler, or
come out to greet them; indeed, his throne, Volusia was surprised to see, was
turned upside down—and the Prince, instead of sitting, stood on it, arms out
wide at his sides. Barefoot, he wore nothing but shorts and the crown on his
head, mostly naked despite the cold day. He also was covered in filth.

As they entered and he spotted them, he
suddenly jumped down.

They all approached, Volusia feeling her heart
pounding in anticipation; but instead of coming out to greet them, the Prince
instead turned and ran to one of the walls. He ran alongside the ancient stone
wall, adorned with the most beautiful stained glass, holding out his palms and
running them alongside it. As Volusia watched the precious limestone walls turn
red, she realized the Prince’s hands were covered in paint. Red paint. He ran
back and forth along the walls and smeared this paint along the precious stone,
along the stained glass, ruining them; he smeared banners and heralds and
trophies, all, no doubt, of his ancestors. And no one dared stop him.

The Prince laughed and laughed as he did so.

Volusia glanced at her men, who all looked back
with equal apprehension.

It all might have been amusing, had not the
chamber been filled with hundreds of deadly soldiers, all standing at attention,
perfectly lined up along the center of the hall, surrounding the throne, all clearly
awaiting the Prince’s command.

Volusia and her men were led down the hall,
right up to the Prince’s throne, and she stood there, waiting, facing the empty
throne turned upside down, watching the Prince run about the room.

Volusia stood there for she did not know how
long, growing impatient, until finally the Prince broke free of what he was
doing, ran across the room, the jewels on his crown jiggling as he went, raced
to his upside-down throne, and jumped on the back of it. He slid down it like a
little boy, landed on his feet, laughed and clapped hysterically, and then ran
back up and did it again and again.

Finally, on the fifth slide, he landed on his
feet and ran toward Volusia and her group at full speed. He stopped abruptly a foot
before her, and all of Volusia’s men flinched.

But not Volusia. She stood there, resolute, staring
back at him, calm, expressionless, as she watched a rainbow of emotions pass
over his face. She watched him go from happy to furious to neutral, to happy
again, to confused, all in the span of a few seconds, as he examined her. He did
not really make eye contact, but rather had a distant gaze to his eyes.

As Volusia summed him up, she realized that he
was not unattractive, an eighteen-year-old man, well-built, with fine features.
The madness on his face, though, made him seem older than he was. And of
course, he needed a bath.

“Have you come to help me paint?” he asked her.

She stared back, expressionless, debating how
to reply.

“I have come for an audience,” she said.

“To help me paint,” he said again. “I paint
alone. You understand?”

“I’ve come…” Volusia took a deep breath,
measuring her words carefully. “I’ve come to ask for troops. Romulus is dead.
The great Empire leader is no more. You rule the eastern lands, and I, the
shores of the east. With your men, I can defeat the capital, before they invade
both our lands.”

“Both?” the Prince asked. “Why? It is
you
they are after. I am safe here. I have always been safe here. My parents were
safe here. My fish are safe here.”

Volusia was surprised by how astute he was; yet
he also was mad, and she could not tell how much of him to take seriously. It
was a confusing experience.

“Troops are but troops,” he added. “They fill
the skies. You want to use them. They may use you. I myself don’t care for
them. I have no need for them.”