Blood and Memory (33 page)

The curious-looking trio of travelers was escorted to and then stopped at the magnificently ornate Werryl bridge. Llryk was given the news that a novice monk, a noble from Morgravia, and a young woman from Yentro, claiming to have a special missive for Queen Valentyna, were awaiting permission to enter the castle walls.

Liryk recognized the noble’s family name. It was not one to be ignored, but all the same, he shook his head. “Ask them to give us the documentation and we will consider their request.”

“I’ve tried that, sir,” his captain replied. “They’re quite firm.”

Liryk considered. The Queen’s mood had plummeted into nothing short of despair since the death of Romen Koreldy. She masked it well for strangers, but those close to her could appreciate that their sovereign was emotionally scarred. She carried on her duties with vigor and dedication, but she was withdrawn and strangely detached from all of them.

“Tell them it is impossible. The Queen is indisposed and they can either pass over the letter and await instructions or they can leave.”

His captain clicked a bow, and rather than leave it to one of his minions, he went out to meet with the Morgravians himself.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot permit your entry.” He saw the woman’s shoulders slump. “If you give me the paperwork you speak of, it will be reviewed and your request will be considered.” The soldier could see how exhausted and disappointed they were.

As fate would have it, Valentyna chose that moment to emerge from her private study and stroll out onto the battlements. She looked down and noticed the trio on the bridge.

“Who are those people?” she asked Liryk, who welcomed her with a broad smile.

“Morgravians, apparently, your highness. They seek entry to Werryl. They say they have a message for you. Captain Orlyd is finding out more information for us.”

She looked down again. Their clearly fatigued body language raised her sympathy. “Do we have their names?”

Liryk nodded. “The young noble says his name is Crys Donal and I admit that surname is known to me. A proud Morgravian family, but for all I know this man could be an impostor. The woman is originally from Yentro and her name is Elspyth. The youngest is called Pil.”

Valentyna frowned. “What an odd assortment to be carrying a missive.”

“Quite! This is why I have asked Captain Orlyd to find out more for us.” The Captain appeared. “Ah, Orlyd,” Liryk said.

The man’s eyes flicked warily toward his commander as he bowed to his sovereign.

“What news of those people, Captain?” Valentyna asked, the kindness in her tone irresistible to the young officer.

“Your highness, they beseech me to tell you that they are friends of General Wyl Thirsk. They…they mentioned Romen Koreldy,” he stammered, embarrassed. He had been one of those entrusted with the secret of Koreldy’s death and subsequent burial at Werryl.

Both men saw Valentyna’s eyes widen and the flash of color suddenly erupt on her cheeks.

“Bring them to me,” she ordered, flustered. “I’ll be in my solar.”

Liryk sighed, looked at Orlyd, and nodded. “Search them carefully.”

Two soldiers escorted them across the famous Werryl Bridge. Kings and Queens watched them pass and Crys, despite his bitter sorrow, voiced his astonishment at the spectacular setting. He mentioned that he had heard about it from rare travelers who passed through Morgravia’s north but no one had ever done its beauty justice. The men smiled, appreciating his sincere appreciation of their city’s centerpiece.

Their horses were led away and Elspyth, Crys, and Pil were relieved to be asked to follow the Captain beneath the huge gate that suddenly yawned open at the end of the bridge and permitted their entry to the famed Werryl. If Elspyth had not felt so disturbed by recent events, she would have marveled at its sparkling beauty and the soaring towers of the wonderful whitestone, exclusive to this region. Where Stoneheart was all dark and brooding majesty, its neighboring palace was bathed in a light of its own, reaching toward the skies. She did not remark on it, though. Instead she lowered her head and gratefully followed the man who would allow them an audience with Wyl’s queen. She could think of Valentyna no other way.

“Let me do the talking, Crys,” she cautioned.

He was so lost in his depression over his family that her warning was probably unnecessary. He nodded.

They ascended a superbly fashioned staircase at the top of which an older man met them. “Thank you, Captain,” he said, and dismissed Orlyd.

The old man bowed slightly. Elspyth appreciated his graciousness. “I’m Chancellor Krell and will escort you to meet her majesty,” he said. Elspyth smiled and held out her hand, which he took. “Perhaps we should hold further introductions until you’re presented to our queen and Commander Liryk. Come now, you all look terribly tired. Let me organize some refreshments.” As they followed him he signaled to a page. “You look famished, too—we’ll rustle up some food so none of you collapse at her majesty’s feet,” he said, and Elspyth grinned. She liked him straightaway.

“Why did she suddenly agree to see us?” Crys asked him.

Krell smiled benignly. “Perhaps her highness should answer that. We are here,” and he knocked, then opened the door for them.

Elspyth knew for certain why the Queen had invited them in—it was the mention of either Thirsk’s or Koreldy’s name. She had imagined Valentyna to be attractive and Crys had heard through his family connections that the former Princess of Briavel was a beauty, but nothing could have prepared either of them for the tall, statuesque Queen who turned to greet them as they entered.

“Your highness,” Krell said, “this is Elspyth of Yentro, Crys Donal of Felrawthy, and Pil, novice of Shar and lately of Rittylworth Monastery.”

Valentyna nodded thanks to her chancellor. “Be welcome, all of you. Krell, have we organized some refreshments?” She knew he would have done so, but making this sort of polite inquiry helped to ease introductions.

“On its way, your majesty.”

“Thank you. Come in, all of you.” She motioned as they all straightened from their various bows. “Do sit, please; I understand you’ve been on a long and tiring journey.” A little stunned to be in the same room as this dazzling woman, who wore no finery attesting to her status, they sat. “Now, forgive my informal welcome,” she said, smiling wryly at her garments. “These are the Queen of Briavel’s working clothes,” she added, arching an eyebrow and making Pil chortle briefly, which is precisely what she had been hoping for. They all looked so tense. She could hardly imagine what news was about to be delivered. “This is Commander Liryk.”

Their gazes turned toward the man standing near the solar window. He nodded at Crys.

“I know your father,” he commented. “A fierce soldier, a good man.”

“
Knew
him, sir,” Crys said. He had not meant it to come out quite so viciously, but he could not control his emotions. “He was murdered a few days ago, along with my mother and my two brothers.”

Elspyth’s shoulders slouched in a heartfelt sigh. She had hoped to handle this with a bit more diplomacy, but it was too late now. She risked a glance at the Queen, who threw a look of such sympathy toward Elspyth it was as if she sensed this was not how Elspyth had planned their meeting.

“What?” Liryk roared. “Felrawthy dead?”

Elspyth knew she had to take control; she could not let Wyl down again and allow Crys’s mouth to run away with a story—truth though it may be—that the Briavellians would not accept. This had to be told right in order to win their help. She stood. “Crys, please. Your highness, we have a shocking tale to tell and perhaps if you’ll allow me?”

Valentyna nodded. “Of course,” she said, waving away what Elspyth knew sounded like an apology. The Queen, she could see, was very concerned for Crys.

“My companion has much heartache. Please forgive us this sudden intrusion and how odd I know it must seem. Commander Liryk, Crys Donal is the new Duke of Felrawthy.”

The Queen sat, sensing the import of what she was about to hear. “Tell us everything,” she said as Krell ushered in some serving staff with trays of food and drinks, both hot and cold. “But first eat.” She smiled encouragingly at Crys, but it was Pil, utterly smitten, who beamed back.

In between mouthfuls, Elspyth told her audience their sorry story. When she had finished speaking, she could not help but lean over and squeeze Crys’s hand. He had not eaten or drunk anything.

“All dead,” Liryk muttered angrily. “You’re quite sure?”

“Pil witnessed all that I’ve spoken of. He can confirm that the Duke and his twin sons are dead.”

The young monk nodded bleakly.

“They would not have permitted my mother to live,” Crys said, emerging from a silent stupor.

“And you’re absolutely certain that these men were hired by King Celimus?” Valentyna asked, her voice as cold as the grave.

Liryk squirmed. This was everything they did not need.

“Your highness,” he began, but she held up her hand and returned a penetrating dark blue gaze at Elspyth.

It was unsettling to have such intense attention leveled at her. Elspyth felt as though no one else’s opinion mattered to the Queen but hers. She recalled how Wyl had mentioned that Valentyna could make you feel you were the only person in the room.

“From what I gather, your majesty,” she said carefully, “Celimus is capable of anything.”

“That’s not absolute certainty, though, is it?” the Queen replied, her gaze steady.

Elspyth blinked. “No, but Aremys and Faryl, each in the employ of Celimus, confirm it is his doing. Aremys defied the King and came to help us; Faryl came to kill Ylena Thirsk.”

“Your majesty, we cannot trust the word of hired mercenaries. They would say anything, do anything, for gold,” Liryk warned.

Elspyth bristled. “We did not pay them anything!” she said angrily, then pulled back her claws. “Forgive me, highness. Aremys can be trusted.” She delved into her pocket. “I have a letter for you. It’s from”—and she hesitated, almost saying Wyl—“from Ylena.”

“Wyl Thirsk’s sister?” The Queen frowned, taking the letter from her.

“Yes, your highness. Aremys took her to safety.”

Krell stepped back into the room, gliding toward the Queen. He bent down to whisper something to her. Valentyna nodded.

“Excuse me,” she said to her audience. “There’s an urgent messenger here from Morgravia.” She tucked Wyl’s letter away. “I shall return shortly. Please make yourselves comfortable and eat more. We won’t keep you long from your beds.”

In her absence, Liryk felt obliged to continue the discussion. He was shocked to learn of the death of Jeryb Donal, a formidable enemy who respected the laws of war and, like his former general, Fergys Thirsk, had not been one to fight battles merely for the sake of fighting.

“I’m very sorry to hear of your loss, son,” he said into the awkward silence.

Elspyth was glad that Crys was gracious enough to acknowledge the Commander’s commiseration.

“Can you enlighten me as to how you know for sure these were men sent by your king?” Liryk pressed, hoping they could not.

“Well, sir, because, according to Pil, they said as much. They claimed to be trying to track down Ylena Thirsk, who had been removed from Stoneheart by Romen Koreldy.”