Flight Into Darkness (59 page)

“I am glad to hear that the prince is in good health.” Celestine could not hide an affectionate little smile as she spoke. “I owe him my life. He rescued me from the Inquisition in Smarna.”

Enguerrand's expression became grave. “I've been hearing disturbing rumors about the Inquisition. They seem to have fallen under the influence of the Rosecoeurs and Girim nel Ghislain.”

Celestine could not hold back any longer. “They've arrested my partner, Lieutenant de Rustéphan, sire,” she cried, “and they're threatening
to execute him unless I give myself up too. Is there any way you can help us?”

“Rustéphan?” repeated Enguerrand. “But you were the ones who saved my sister's life in Bel'Esstar! Why would Ilsevir seek to destroy two such loyal Guerriers?”

“Because,” and Celestine hesitated, knowing that she was taking a terrible risk in revealing her secret to the king, “I am the daughter of a magus. I have mage blood in my veins.”

Enguerrand was staring at her.
I've said too much.
She lowered her gaze. But then he held out his hand to her, beckoning her close. She knelt before him and felt his fingers gently touching her head, raising her face to his.

“You're truly blessed,” he said, gazing deeply into her eyes, “because the blood of angels flows in your veins.”

“A—angels?”

“The priest who saved our lives, Abbé Laorans, showed me the lost Holy Texts, the ones that tell the true story of Azilis and her father, Prince Nagazdiel. Now I understand that the magi are not to be feared and persecuted because of their powers; they should be honored and respected.”

Celestine could hardly begin to comprehend what the king was telling her. But the one thing she understood was that he was her friend and ally.

“We have been in discussion with the Emperor,” Enguerrand went on, “and we have a plan. But are you prepared to risk your life?”

“I'll risk anything,” she said without hesitating, “if it will save Jagu.”

A secret meeting was convened late that night. Corméry had already departed for Muscobar, bearing a dispatch box with sealed, encrypted instructions inside for Fabien d'Abrissard.

Celestine looked around the candlelit table. Enguerrand of Francia and Eugene of Tielen were sitting, talking quietly together over glasses of red wine from Vasconie. Francia and Tielen in harmony, after so many years of bitter conflict?

“Isn't this exciting?” Aude said to her. “A midnight conspiracy— just like in
The Secret Kingdom!”
When Celestine looked at her blankly, she said, “Haven't you ever read it? The Empress lent it to me; she has a fine collection of novels—”

The door opened and Kaspar Linnaius appeared.

“Welcome, Kaspar!” cried Eugene, gesturing to the chair beside his. Celestine was astonished to see the Magus break into a smile. She had never realized before how strong the friendship must be between the two men.

“I don't think the Magus is much used to smiling,” whispered Aude in her ear.

“Now that we're all here,” said the Emperor, “let's not delay any further. Demoiselle de Joyeuse, we have to ensure that you return to Lutèce as soon as possible.”

“My plan is to try to gain an audience with Princess Adèle, and beg her to intercede on Jagu's behalf,” said Celestine.

“Kaspar”—and Eugene turned to the Magus— “are you willing to transport the demoiselle right into the heart of Lutèce? It's asking a great deal of you to take such a risk…”

“If the demoiselle is willing to trust me,” said Linnaius, gazing steadily at Celestine through the shimmer of candleflames. Celestine could not hold his gaze and, confused, glanced away.

“If you see my sister, I'd like you to give her this message,” said Enguerrand, passing her a little folded paper across the table.

“And I'm coming too, to create a little distraction,” declared Aude.

“Good,” said the Emperor briskly. “Then here's our plan. Enguerrand and I will set out with the Northern Fleet from Holborg, making for Fenez-Tyr.”

A doubtful look appeared on Enguerrand's face.

“If this is going to succeed, we need to keep you out of sight for as long as possible. We need to start rumors that you've been seen alive. If we've judged the mood of the people of Lutèce correctly, they'll be overjoyed when you return. We must increase the uncertainty for Ilsevir and his Rosecoeurs and keep them guessing. That way we can catch them off guard.”

One by one, the others left the chamber until only Celestine and Linnaius remained.

If the demoiselle is willing to trust me,
he had said. She felt deeply ashamed that she did not know how to begin to apologize for attacking him. But she knew that at least she must make the attempt.

“All my life,” she began haltingly, “I've believed that you betrayed my father.” She stared at her hands, which were folded together in her lap, unable to meet his gaze. “Now I see that…I misjudged
you.” At last she found the courage to look up into his eyes. “‘Here I am, condemned to die, and where is Linnaius?’ Those were my father's last words to me. Can you understand me now, Magus?”

There was a long pause. “Yes,” he said at last. His eyes no longer seemed to be looking at her, but through her at some far-distant point. “It was mere chance that I was away from Karantec when the Inquisition struck. But I was ailing, so Maistre Gonery sent me to be healed in Khitari. If I had known that you were alive, I would have done all I could to find you and bring you to safety in Tielen. But the only news that I could gather when I returned was that the magi and all their kin were dead.”

Celestine was feeling more uncomfortable with every word that he spoke. “I was convinced that you had wronged my father. To be sitting here, in Tielen, talking with you, when the last time we were in Swan-holm, you were my prisoner…” She shook her head, still trying to come to terms with the situation. “I did a terrible thing to you, Magus. And you nearly died…” Her voice faded away. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“You were influenced by the teachings of the Inquisition,” he said gravely. “Celestine, I want you to reflect a moment and ask yourself who your true enemy is.”

Suddenly Linnaius reached out to touch her face, cupping it in his hands and staring deep into her eyes. She was so surprised that she was unable to react in time and froze, hypnotized by his penetrating gaze.

“I warned you, didn't I?” he said but there was no disapproval in his voice. “You are only frail flesh and blood, and by carrying her within you, you are using up too much of your precious life essence.”

There was an almost fatherly tone to his words. “Too much? What do you mean?”

“You will shorten your life if you continue in this way. The warning signs are there already. Don't you think that the time has come to set her free?”

“But how am I to get anywhere near Princess Adèle without a disguise? I have to try to save Jagu!”

“Who is speaking now?” he asked gently. “Is it you, or Lady Azilis?”

“It's me!” Celestine blazed back, suddenly defensive.

“I put it to you,” he said, “that your two souls have been intertwined for so long now that you find it impossible to distinguish who is Celestine and who Azilis. That isn't what Hervé intended, is it?”
Linnaius took his hands away. “I don't think for one moment that he wanted you to shorten your life by merging with her.”

“How can you know what my father wanted?”

Linnaius sighed. “You've become too dependent on each other. You've given her a taste of mortal life again, and it's proved too delicious for her to give it up. And she's given you a taste of her immortal power, which is the most seductive force of all to resist.”

The ormolu clock on the mantelpiece struck one in a sweet-chimed tone, and Celestine realized how worn-out she was feeling; the strains and excitements of the day must be taking their toll.

“I—I hear what you're saying,” she began, trying to stifle a yawn, “but how can I let go of her when she's my only hope of saving Jagu? Would the Emperor jettison all his ammunition before sailing into battle?”

“We leave before dawn,” said Linnaius. “Get what rest you can; it will be a long day.”

Rough hands seize her and bind her to the stake. The ropes cut into her flesh as she tries to struggle free. A hooded figure stands before her pyre. “Burn her,” he orders the soldiers, and they set flaming brands to the logs on which her bare feet rest.

“No,” she whispers. Fire—such a cruel, horrible death. As the flames lick at her skin and the smoke stings her throat, she sees her executioner's face, his cold eyes reflecting the scarlet flicker of the flames.

Haute Inquisitor Visant.

Still gasping for breath, Celestine opened her eyes. There was no choking smoke, no searing flame, only the elegantly draped bed she was sleeping in.

That dream again, always that dream of death by fire—the cruel death that the Inquisition had inflicted on her father and the other magi in the belief that the flames would purify the evil in their cursed blood.

The fine linen sheets were damp with her perspiration. Since Hervé's execution, she had lived in the shadow of that pyre. But she had never imagined that she might have to watch as the man she loved was forced to undergo that same cruel method of execution.

“Visant,” she said aloud.
Never forget that name, Klervie,
her mother had warned her.
He is a cruel, vindictive man.

She rose and opened the shutters; a cloudy dawn was breaking over the green hills around Swanholm. By its dull light, she opened her little jewel casket and took out the one precious item she had never sold, even when she had no money for food or lodging: the jet mourning brooch given to her by Adèle after she had sung for Prince Aubrey's funeral.

“Dear Adèle,” she said, staring at the little brooch, “you were always so kind to me. Will you still be able to protect me now that I'm a wanted heretic?”

Jagu emerged into full daylight, blinking like a night creature, to see a contingent of Rosecoeur Guerriers waiting on the quay to escort him across the bridge into the Forteresse. Shackled like a common prisoner by the wrists and ankles, he was forced to shuffle along, hauled up again every time he tripped, in full view of the staring crowds on the quay.

The Rosecoeurs would do all they could to intimidate and humiliate him, of that he was certain. He would have to draw on resources of endurance and courage that he wasn't even certain he had within him. The only thing that he was sure of was that he would not let them get their hands on Celestine—not while he had breath left in his body.

Three men were sitting in the inquisition room, waiting to interrogate Jagu. He recognized the lean features of Inquisitor Visant. On either side of him sat Grand Maistre Donatien and, to Jagu's displeasure, Girim nel Ghislain.

“This is a sad day for the Commanderie,” said Maistre Donatien. “I never expected you, Lieutenant, to betray us.”

The words stung. “With respect, Maistre,” said Jagu quietly, “I made my vows to the Sergian Commanderie, not the Order of the Rosecoeur.”

Donatien sighed. “Such a rebellious and uncooperative attitude will do you little good. Are you not aware of the seriousness of the charges brought against you?”

“I'm aware that I was drugged and abducted against my will from Muscobar.” Jagu was not going to let them intimidate him. “And if you're going to bring charges, then surely I'm entitled to a lawyer to defend me?”

Visant picked up a sheet of paper from the table and began to read
aloud. “In Colchise, you let the Smarnan heretic Rafael Lukan escape an hour before he was due to be executed. You claimed that you were knocked unconscious by the rebels as they stormed the citadel, but I put it to you, Lieutenant, that you were part of the rebels’ plan. Perhaps they even bribed you. In fact, you were heard to express your opinion on several occasions that you thought the Inquisition had made a grave error in arresting the professor.”

That was ridiculous. “I had no connection with the rebels.” They were twisting the facts to make their case against him.

“Can you prove it?”

“I was in Colchise on an intelligence-gathering mission for Maistre de Lanvaux. I was only drafted into the citadel when the students threatened to storm the prison.”

“And your partner on this mission was Celestine de Joyeuse?” asked Visant.

So this was the way it was going. “Yes.”

“The same Demoiselle de Joyeuse who poisoned two of my agents on the
Aquilón,
when they were bringing her back to answer charges of sorcery?”

“The same Demoiselle de Joyeuse whom I sent you to arrest five months ago,” put in Donatien.

“This report from Lieutenant Guyomard says that he traced you and Demoiselle de Joyeuse to Mirom and found you living together,” said Girim. “Do you deny it?”

Jagu said nothing. Whichever way they chose to put it, he was already guilty in their eyes.

“You broke your vow as a Guerrier. You disobeyed your orders.” Donatien's expression was implacable. “And you were living with a wanted criminal, the very woman I sent you to arrest.”

“Where is she now?” Visant demanded.

“Why don't you ask Lieutenant Guyomard?” said Jagu.

“There's no need for insolence,” said Donatien. “Answer the Inquisitor's question.”

“As far as I'm aware, she's still in Mirom. I have no idea why Lieutenant Guyomard failed to arrest her.” But even as Jagu spoke he was silently praying that she had not fallen into Kilian's trap. It would be just like her to cast all caution aside and come after him. And powerful as her guardian was, she was surely no match for the might of the Commanderie and the Inquisition together.

“I wish to make a formal protest,” he said, feeling the leather
collar around his neck pressing against his throat as he spoke. “Lieutenant Guyomard told me that if we returned to Francia, Maistre Donatien would ask King Ilsevir to grant us a royal pardon.”

“‘We’? I see only you, Lieutenant.”

“If you will not tell us of your own volition where she is,” said Visant, “we will have no alternative but to draw the truth from you.”