Shadow Over Kiriath (51 page)

Thus, the Chesedhan crown prince joined him in his private dining chamber to share a supper of baked codfish, roast quail, boiled leeks and spinach, and fine white bread. At first they confined their conversation to banalities of weather and yesterday’s attack. Then, finally, as the currant duff was served and Leyton still hadn’t brought up whatever had moved him to request this audience, Abramm turned to his own concern. “You must know why I agreed to this meeting, Donavan.”

“You want to talk to me about the scepter.”

“Maddie told me you’ve done a great deal of research into our regalia.”

The Chesedhan shrugged. “Most of it’s really just tales.”

“But not all.”

Leyton concentrated on spooning currant duff from his bowl. “
Did
you conjure that wind, sir?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you certainly did something. Many have taken shieldmarks because of it.”

“So I’ve been told.” A number of both the merchants and the officers at the Ministry of the Navy had worn their doublets unbuttoned to reveal the new-made marks that afternoon. “I’ve also noted they are spreading various tales of what I did, most of which are wrong.” He glanced up from his own pudding. “You were there. What do you think I did?”

Leyton’s ruddy cheeks reddened further. “I was too busy fighting Esurhites to notice. Certainly there was a wind generated, and it sprang up around you. Since that is what you brought the scepter there to do . . . I wonder why you would question your results now.”

“Because I did not consciously move the Light to make that wind.”

“Just as you did not generate the Light nor make a wind the day you were crowned.”

“Nor the day I cleaned out Graymeer’s. Nor even when I slew Beltha’adi. It just . . . happened. That first time it was to be expected, because I was newly marked and knew nothing. But I thought as time went by I was supposed to learn to use the Light, and yet . . .”

“It seems from what you’re saying that every time the Light has manifested through you it’s been more or less an accident.”

“Except for maybe the morwhol.” He caught the dubious flicker of Leyton’s eyes when he mentioned that incident, but he ignored it. “Though I didn’t consciously release it even then. It was more that I . . . rested.”

He frowned as he traveled back through that memory—then jerked free of it when he realized how tied up with Maddie it was.

Leyton ran his spoon around his nearly empty pudding bowl, collecting up the remnants. “Well, you certainly didn’t appear to be resting yesterday, the way you were swinging the thing around, bashing heads as if it were a war club. I will say I’ve read nothing about that as a method of unlocking the implement’s powers. Though it seemed to work.”

“You said yesterday that to use it, I needed to know it. Is that all you remember the account saying?”

“There might have been some elaboration. . . . I’ve actually brought along a copy of the account. If you’d like I’ll send it over.”

The man’s uncharacteristic openness both surprised Abramm and made him wary, for clearly the Chesedhan was trading for a favor.
Very well, Prince Leyton . . . I’ll bite
.

“I’d like that,” Abramm said. He left his spoon in his own empty dish and sat back in his chair, eyes upon his guest. “So why have you sought this meeting, Donavan?”

It was astonishing to watch the man shrivel before him, his eyes dropping immediately to his wineglass, which he then picked up and sipped from. Setting it very carefully back into its place, he hesitated, then lifted his face and spoke. “I realize this is brash of me, Your Majesty, but I have to ask . . . do you see any hope at all of repairing this breech that has been opened between us?”

Chesedhans are brash if they are nothing else,
Abramm thought, keeping the smile off his face. He let his gaze drop to the hands of the servant removing his empty dish from before him. “My people will never accept Briellen now—even if I were inclined to do so myself, which I am not.” He caught Leyton’s eyes again. “I will admit, the actions of you and your men in yesterday’s fighting have acquitted you to some degree.Were it not for that I’d have sent you away with your sister.”

The other man nodded as if he’d expected such an answer. “But that’s the limit of your generosity.”

“We need your ships, it’s true. And I suspect, eventually, it may turn out we’ll need much more. . . . Nor do I much like the prospect of having the Shadow controlling my next-door neighbors. Because of that I think we could abide some form of agreement between us. But unless you are willing to accept it without a marriage to bind it, I would have to say no. I see no real hope of true alliance.”

“It was only the prospect of seeing you married to a Chesedhan daughter of royal blood that allowed my father’s counselors and highest lords to consider agreeing to any alliance at all.”

“Well, then, you have found your answer.”

Leyton sat staring at his wineglass, running his finger back and forth around the edge of its flattened foot. “There
is
another daughter, sir,” he said quietly.

And at those words, a current of Light zinged through Abramm, raising every hair on his body. He stared at the man intently. “A Second Daughter through whom the royal line does not flow. I fail to see how that would solve your problem.”

The Chesedhan frowned at his fingers as they stroked the foot of the wineglass a few more times, then he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands at the edge of the linen-draped table, his gaze still turned downward. His voice came low and tight. “Briellen has disgraced us all. She cannot possibly be offered in marriage to anyone now, and Father will certainly disown her once she returns to Chesedh.” His gaze lifted to meet Abramm’s. “I would be well within my authority to declare her disowned here and now, and make Madeleine First Daughter in her place.”

The room lurched at the edges of Abramm’s vision. For a moment he could hardly breathe, as a roaring filled his ears. “Maddie would be First Daughter, you say?”

Leyton nodded. “But only if she consents.”

Only if she consents . . .
Exactly what Eidon had said to him.
I will not violate her freedom to choose. . . .
Abramm felt as if his entire world had taken a cataclysmic shift.

Apparently misreading his shock, Leyton frowned. “I know she is not exactly suitable—”

“She is eminently suitable,” Abramm interrupted, his flat tone causing a lift of the Chesedhan’s blond brows. “The only question is—”

“Can she be persuaded to undertake a role she has sworn all her life she could never fill and doesn’t want to.”

Abramm smiled wryly. “There is that, too. But I was thinking more of the logistics. I fear we might not be able to reach her before she leaves for the Western Isles.”

“Western Isles? I thought you sent her to investigate the guardstar at Avramm’s Landing.”

“That was merely the excuse we put to it.” And now it was Abramm’s turn to contemplate the foot of his wineglass.

After a moment he heard the swift intake of Leyton’s breath. “Plagues, man! You mean the rumors about you two were
true
? And you had the gall today to—”

“The rumors were gross exaggerations and lies. Whatever is between us, we did not act upon.”
Save that one incident in the library,
his treacherous conscience reminded him. “Or at least, not as the rumors would have it. In truth, it was realizing I had feelings for her that caused me to send her away.”

“And are your feelings reciprocated?”

“Without question.”

The Chesedhan regarded him narrowly for a moment, an odd, almost surprised expression on his face. “Then you must send word as soon as possible.”

“I’ll send a pigeon out at dawn. It should arrive by tomorrow afternoon. We can only pray that will be soon enough.”

They were rising from the table to leave for Terstmeet when Simon Kalladorne stepped into the room. Donavan started to excuse himself, but Simon stopped him. “You’ll need to hear this, too, sir.”

But then the old duke said nothing, just stood glancing from one to the other of them.

“Well?” Abramm prodded.

His uncle’s gray brows drew down and he looked the king in the eye. “I’m afraid there’s bad news from Avramm’s Landing, sir.” He paused, then said flatly, “
Starchaser
’s been sunk.”

“
Starchaser
?” Leyton said. “Wasn’t that the vessel my sister—”

Simon nodded. “There was a raid on the fortress there early yesterday, coordinated apparently with the attack here at Springerlan. They believe the Esurhites sank her beforehand off the point of the Widow’s Walk. Probably to keep her from warning the fort of their presence. Right now there appears to be no survivors, and seeing as that stretch of the coast is mostly cliffline, I doubt there’ll be much wreckage found.”

His words faded into silence. Abramm stared at him, his mind blank, his flesh turned cold.
How could this be? To come so close and have it all ripped away. . . ? What are you doing, my Lord?

Suddenly Leyton whooshed out a deep breath and said, “The Esurhites have a habit of tagging big ships. Sometimes they cable them, then ride behind for a while, using their magic to modulate wind and sea. Eventually they come aboard to take new men to replace the slaves they burnt out on the rowing benches. The rest of the crew they kill before sinking the ship.” He paused. “It would make sense they’d do such a thing right before they attacked. They’d need fresh muscle to get in and out again swiftly.”

Abramm listened to him without really comprehending what he was saying, merely glad the other was speaking so he didn’t have to. Even so, Simon’s eyes had not left his own for all the length of Leyton’s discourse, and the room seemed to be flashing and spangling around him.

The Chesedhan prince now touched his arm, drawing his eye. “If they found a northern woman aboard, sir, they’d surely take her with them.” He risked a small smile. “And knowing Maddie, she’d just as surely find a way of escape.”

Abramm realized then that he needed to start breathing again, for he had not since the moment Simon had said his first words. And now that he took in that deep breath, whatever paralysis had locked his mind released it, a thousand thoughts tumbling in.

“They’ll have to come by Springerlan,” he said grimly, unwilling right now to even consider any possibility other than that she had been captured by Esurhites.

“It would be a tough job to spot ’em if they do,” said Simon. “Apparently they can navigate at night. And if it’s misty, as it likely would be . . .”

“She’ll know they’d protect her if she claims her heritage.”

“But they know a Second Daughter is worth nothing,” Leyton pointed out.

“Who says she has to claim to be Second Daughter?”

Leyton looked at him hard for a moment. Then one of his bushy brows lifted as if in amusement. “I see you do know her well.”

“If I’m right about the Gulls,” Abramm went on. “They’ll take her there.” He fell silent, calculating the number of days it might take a galley to travel from Avramm’s Landing to the Gull Islands versus how long it should take his own men to reach them.

He turned to Simon. “Tell Hamilton I’m moving up our departure date by a week. Tell him his people will have to work round the clock, double shifts if need be. We can’t afford to let her get there ahead of us.” He paused. “Or at least not much ahead of us.”

Simon frowned. “Sir, you don’t even know for sure that she’s—” He broke off, evidently seeing the futility of suggesting anything else. “Yes, sir.”

After he left, prince and king stood silently, each lost in his own thoughts.

Then Leyton said, “I’d like to add my ships to the attack force.”

“Thank you, Prince Leyton, but we have what we need.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I know that’s not true.”

“Well, true or not, we have no official alliance. And not really much hope for one, seeing as we have no sure reason to believe she’s even alive.”

“I think she’s alive, and I believe you do, too.” He hesitated. “I’ve heard rumors you two have some sort of mystical connection . . . the sort where you would know if she were dead.”

Again Abramm only stared at him, struck by the awful realization that he
had
known. Or at least he’d known something was wrong. In his dreams. The details of which he’d never recalled once he’d awakened. But he couldn’t even try to think of them now, lest they cast him into an abyss of hysteria.

“I’m told you mean to pull together a contingent of wind-driven ships and galleys,” Leyton said when Abramm did not deny his assertion. “Let my frigates serve as the former. That way you can keep your own big vessels close to home, guarding your shores.”

This was an offer Abramm had not expected. A tempting one, for he disliked leaving his shores thinly defended even for the week or two he expected the operation to take. It would also mitigate somewhat his people’s hostility toward the Chesedhan alliance, so that, if all worked out and he did get Maddie back, he wouldn’t have to fight his own subjects, as well.

“You would be willing to submit yourself to the commander of this mission?”

Leyton frowned. “As the highest-ranking noble, would I not be the commander?”

“If you were the highest-ranking noble.”

“Sir?”

And now Abramm gave him a grim smile. “I will be leading this party myself, Donavan. But I will be glad to accept your offer—of ships and men, and of your leadership, as well.”

CHAPTER

30

Maddie had wrestled down the fear generated by the Broho’s magic and freed the Light just before he had appeared on
Starchaser
’s foredeck. As he’d looked into her eyes, she’d felt the strength of his will. Yet she’d also felt his fear, and with the Light running through her, she knew he would not touch her. Nor did he, commanding one of the sailors nearby to bring her and Liza aft. Walking through unspeakable carnage, the images of which she was still trying to forget nearly a week later, she and her maid had been lined up with what remained of the crew. It was then that she declared herself to be the First Daughter of Chesedh and the bride-to-be of Abramm Kalladorne and demanded they treat her as such.