Fey 02 - Changeling (49 page)

Ice settled in the pit of his stomach.
 
His throat was dry.
 
He hadn't felt this way since Alexander was killed beside him.
 

Stowe ran out of the cabin, and quickly mounted his horse.
 
He snapped the reins, and let the horse pick his way out of the Settlement.
 
When they reached the road, Stowe turned away from his home.
 
He had to get to the palace first.
 
He had to know what was going on.

The main road leading from the bridge to the palace was empty.
 
No one was outside, and most of the small shops — those that were still in business — were closed.
 
His horse's hooves made small clomping noises on the road.
 
The sound echoed.
 
Had everyone disappeared and left him as the only inhabitant of Jahn, bearer of bad news that everyone already knew?

He reached the palace walls quickly.
 
The gates were closed here as well.
 
Two guards stood in the tower.
 
They had bows up and strung before he reached the gate.

He held up his hands.
 
"I'm Lord Stowe.
 
I'm here to see the King."

He hoped.
 

One of the guards called down to the ground below.
 
A grating sound started almost immediately, then the gate came up.
 
Stowe nodded his head in thanks as he cantered inside.

The courtyard looked more or less normal.
 
The kitchen door to the palace was open, and smoke rose from the fireplaces.
 
The grooms were tending the palace horses, and servants went from their quarters to the main buildings.
  

The difference, though, chilled Stowe farther.

Guards stood beside each doorway.
 
They were armed with swords, daggers, and bows.
 
Many had their quivers at their feet.
 
They all watched him approach warily.
 

He led the horse the stable and dismounted.
 
The groom who came out had a thin, drawn face.
 
He looked as if he hadn't slept for days.

"What happened here?" Stowe asked.

The man ran his hand along the horse's flank.
 
The stallion was filthy.
 
He had been groomed as well as possible, but Stowe had run him to his limits.
 
"Ye best talk ta nother lord, sir," the man said.
 
He started to lead the stallion away.

"Wait!" Stowe said.

The man stopped, keeping his back to Stowe.
 
The man was stocky, younger than he expected, and immaculately groomed.
 
"That horse has been traveling at top speed for three days.
 
Give him your best care."

"Aye, sir."
 
The groom took the horse inside.

As he did, one of the guards came over.
 
The man was beefy, his arms solid muscle.
 
His blue eyes were small in his large face, and his lips were thick.
 
Tiny white scars marred the skin on both cheeks, as if he had been in dozens of fights, and wounded in most of them.

"State yer business," the man said.

"I'm here to see the King," Stowe said.
 
He had never been quizzed quite like this before.
 
He held out his hand for what had become an obligatory holy water testing.

The guard looked down at it.
 
"That don't matter," the guard said.
 
"I need yer weapons, instead."

Stowe brought his hand to his side, unwilling to let go of his weapons until he knew what was going on.
 
"What happened here?"

"Ye came from the Rocaan, did ye not?"

"No," Stowe said. "I was one of the lords traveling with King Alexander.
 
I've been investigating his death.
 
I'm here to report to his son.
 
I would have gone home to clean up, but it seems something strange has happened here."

"Ye dinna know?"

"Know what?" Stowe asked.

"About the Rocaan killin' the Queen."

The breath left Stowe's body.
 
He felt as if he had been hit in the stomach.
 
"What?"
 
The question came out in a rush of air.

"Twas at the service.
 
Melted her, he did."

Stowe blinked, trying to grasp the change this implied.
 
Jewel was dead?
 
A Fey had murdered King Alexander and a few days later, Jewel was dead at the hands of the Rocaan?

"He put holy water on her?" Stowe asked.

"I dinna see it.
 
Twas told ta me.
 
But I seen her body n all, n she look like a Fey what met with holy water."

"My god," Stowe said.
 
He made himself breathe.
 
He needed to go in now, just to see what kind of shape Nicholas was in.
 
"When did this happen?"

"Yestade.
 
Them Fey twas in n outta the kitchen until the wee hours.
 
Taint seen em since."

So that was why the guard forwent the holy water, and had asked if Stowe was from the Tabernacle.
 
At the moment, Nicholas was not treating the Fey as the enemy; he was treating the Rocaan as one.

Stowe ran a hand over his face.
 
His skin was oily and dirt-covered from his long ride.
 
His news would change things again.
 
He sighed against his palm, then brought his hand down and slowly removed his sword and dagger.
 
He handed them to the guard.

"I need to see the King," he said.

"Taint no one seen the King since he come out to say the Queen was dead."

"After the Fey left?" Stowe asked.
 
He didn't want to get inside and learn that Nicholas was dead too.

"Aye, Sir."

"Well, then.
 
He may not like my intrusion, but he's going to need it.
 
Do you know where he is?"

"Tis sorry I am, Sir, but I got orders.
 
Taint no one ta go in."

"He'll want to see me."

The guard glanced over his shoulder.
 
There were no other guards of higher rank.

"I'll go to Monte if I have to," Stowe said.

"I dinna know where he is, Sir."

Stowe waited.
 
The guard shifted back and forth.
 
Finally he indicated to another guard to come closer.
 
When the guard approached, the first guard handed him Stowe's weapons.
 

"He asked ta see the King.
 
I'm takin him," the first guard said.

"Tis glad I am taint me," said the second.

Stowe swallowed.
 
His mouth was still dry.
 
He probably looked terrible, all dirt-spattered and sweat covered.
  
He knew he smelled like his horse, and probably the foul mud of the Kenniland Marshes.
 
Still it was beginning to sound as if things would not wait.
 
More changes had occurred in Jahn in the last week than in any other time since the Invasion.

The guard nodded at Stowe.
 
"Come with me, Sir," he said.

He clasped his hands behind his back and led Stowe into the kitchen.
 
The chef was kneading dough on one of the tables.
 
A housekeeper had his head inside one of the brick-lined ovens, scrubbed a black substance off the walls.
 
The kitchen wasn't as warm as usual.
 
The hearth fire was burning, but apparently the ovens weren't in use.

More housekeepers scrubbed at the floor before the hearth fire.
 
Dark stains covered the flagstones.
 
Stowe remembered the last time he had seen this;
 
two days after the Invasion, when it became clear that the Fey had been routed.
 
The Islanders had finally started cleaning up the blood.

Stowe said nothing as he was led through.
 
The guard paused just as they entered the pantry and held up a finger, indicating that Stowe was to wait.
 
He peered back into the kitchen.
 
No one smiled.
 
No one even met his gaze.
 
Seeing these people unnerved him more than the silent city had.
 
They were working hard, but it seemed as if the work were merely a way of keeping busy, not a way to do their jobs.

The Rocaan and Jewel.

Stowe had not expected that at all.

The guard was talking to the Master of the Hall.
 
They were at the far end of the pantry, and Stowe couldn't understand them.
 
The Master was gesturing with his right hand.
 
His face had fatigue lines, and a long smudge of dirt marred his brown shirt.
 
Finally the guard nodded and returned to Stowe, but said nothing.

They continued to walk through the corridor.
 
They went past the audience hall and stepped into the Great Hall.
 
Stowe grabbed the guard's arm, holding him back.

There, in the center of the Great Hall, was Jewel's body.
 
She lay on her back, her hands clasped over her breasts.
 
She wore a blood-stained white gown.
 
Stowe went ahead of the guard, and circled Jewel.
 
The top half of her head had been destroyed.
 
In the remains of her face, her beauty still showed.
 

Candles burned around her, and someone had placed a single rose bud at her side.
 
It must have been the first flower of the season, beside a woman who would never see it.

"What's she doing here?" Stowe asked.

"They dinna know what ta do with her," the guard said.
 
"The Fey left without her, n tis the Rocaan what killed her."

The Rocaan.
 
And the Tabernacle, who were in charge of the graveyards and the burials.
 
Stowe shook his head.
 
What a mess he had walked into.

Someone had tried to arrange a small cloth around Jewel's forehead, but Stowe could still see the disfigurement caused by the holy water.
 
Poor woman.
 
He had never liked her.
 
He hadn't disliked her either.
 
He had just not trusted her, always wondering what she was about, what she really wanted from Nicholas.

Perhaps she had been honest all along.

Then he realized what was missing.
 
"What happened to the child?"

"The Fey, sir.
 
They dinna leave until twas born.
 
Tis said twas ugly thing.
 
A monster, not even human."

Stowe closed his eyes.
 
Another one.
 
Ah, Nicholas.
 
He was half afraid to find the new king.
 
With all these tragedies, the boy might well be mad.
 
If that were the case, then, the lords would have to appoint a regent.
 
They would have to know how Nicholas was.