Sorcerer's Moon (28 page)

'My friends!' Conrig's voice, while carrying to every corner of of the great hall, had an oddly flat and ironic timbre. 'You
were invited here tonight to witness and celebrate a ceremony of betrothal between my son, the Prince Heritor of Cathra, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Hyndry of Didion. A certain difficulty has arisen . . . However, it is my fervent hope that the betrothal shall proceed as planned.'

Bewildered whispers and exclamations were suppressed as the High King turned and beckoned - first to the curtained vestibule on his right, and then to the one on the left. 'Let our beloved children enter.'

Orrion and Corodon, a thickset youth and a tall one, wearing simple gold coronets on their heads, came from the right, moving in front of the dais. They were dressed alike in white brocade with full-length crimson cloaks that concealed most of their upper bodies. Their faces were emotionless.

The Princess Royal, wearing a gown of Didion's heraldic silver and sable, emerged more tardily from the left. She was not very tall, but moved with the grace and confidence of a dancer. Her low-cut bodice and spectacular diamond necklace did nothing to distract attention from her admirable breasts. Hyndry was one-and-twenty years of age, widowed for two years after being married at sixteen to an elderly timberlord whose loyalty Somarus had been anxious to ensure. She had not yet given birth, so her waist and hips were still as lissome and shapely as those of a girl. Her hair was dark, worn in an elaborate coiffure of multiple braids topped by a diadem decorated with glittering rays of platinum. Her face was comely rather than beautiful, with a sharp nose and chin, and thin lips stained rosy pink.

Hyndry Mallburn stopped short when she saw
two
Cathran princes approaching her. Her blue eyes widened in perturbed surprise; but an instant later she regained her composure and stood with the twins before the Sovereign. Orrion and Corodon bowed to their royal father and Hyndry made a
deep curtsey. Then they stepped back, made polite obeisance to one another, and again faced the High King.

'My dear daughter Hyndry,' Conrig said, 'you are plainly astonished - as are most persons within this hall - at the sight of two prospective husbands rather than the one you expected.'

'Damned right she is!' King Somarus surged to his feet, upsetting several goblets on the table before him; fortunately, they were still empty. 'What kind of a game d'you call this?'

'Be at ease, Your Majesty,' Conrig said, 'and all will be made clear.' He paused while the Didionite monarch sank back heavily into his seat, then addressed his sons. 'Orrion. Corodon. Please remove your cloaks and extend your arms.'

There was bedlam as the princes obeyed and the truth of the Heritor's condition became obvious. Gasps and groans of sympathy and revulsion came from many, along with furious roars amongst some of the warriors of Didion, who seemed to regard the revelation as an affront or even a misguided prank. Somarus emitted a howl that was almost triumphant, while poor Queen Risalla, Orrion's mother, fell back in her chair in a swoon, prompting the noble ladies at the high table to rush to her aid.

Princess Hyndry stood transfixed, her face turned to a mask devoid of emotion. She mouthed a single word inaudible in the tumult, which made Corodon's brows lift.

Earl Marshal Parlian picked up a great silver ladle intended for the serving of soup and banged it on the high table. 'Silence, all of you!'

The cries and babbling died away. Ironcrown continued in a tone that was unnaturally calm. 'My son Orrion has by doleful mischance lost his sword-arm and hand whilst hunting in the mountains. By our law he is now ineligible to become High King of Cathra and Sovereign of Blenholme. With my permission he abdicates in favor of his twin brother, Prince Corodon.'

In a manner obviously rehearsed, Orrion dropped to his
knees and kissed his brother's hand. After this he rose, approached the table, took off his coronet, and gave it into the outstretched hand of the Sovereign.

Conrig nodded and said to his son, 'Carelessness on your part caused this disaster. Therefore you will be punished.' He turned toward the right end of the high table. 'Hale Brackenfield, Lord Lieutenant of the Realm of Cathra, arise and approach.'

Looking mystified, Brackenfield did so.

Conrig once again addressed the entire company. 'I decree that Orrion Wincantor is here and now reduced to the rank of Knight Bachelor, forfeiting all honors and revenues attached to his erstwhile royal position. He is further banished from my court and commanded to take up residence in Castle Stormhaven, in the County of Westley and fiefdom of Brackenley, where he will remain subject to my pleasure. To this end, I place him in the charge of my Lord Lieutenant, owner of that castle, who will at dawn convey Sir Orrion thence by the fastest means possible.'

'Very well, my liege,' Brackenfield said. 'And is Pr - Sir Orrion now subject to my authority?'

‘I name you my deputy in this matter,' Conrig replied, 'and command that you keep my son secure and safe. Please remove him from the hall immediately and keep him under close guard until your departure.'

'I will do so, Your Grace.' Brackenfield led Orrion away by grasping his good arm. Countess Orvada left her place at table, accompanied after a few moments by Lady Nyla, who had tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks. The countess retrieved Orrion's cloak, beckoned to her downcast daughter, and followed after her husband and Orrion.

When the four of them were gone, Princess Hyndry drew herself up, looked Conrig boldly in the eye, and said, 'That's all very well, sire! But what about
me?'

'Hold your tongue, girl!' King Somarus growled.

'The man I agreed to marry is degraded and banished,' the princess persisted. She flipped a dismissive hand at Corodon. ‘I won't be given casually to his twin brother like some outgrown garment handed down to a younger child! Orrion was at least a person of gentility and intelligence, with whom I was acquainted. I don't know
this
man at all, and what I've heard of him does not impress me.'

Corodon laughed aloud, and so did some seated at the low tables; but High King Conrig stood impassive.

'The law of Didion cannot compel a Princess Royal to take a husband against her will,' Hyndry declared in a voice that rang from the walls of the hall. 'I won't marry Corodon Wincantor.'

Most of the minor nobles and knights of Didion gave a great cheer and pounded their knife hilts on the tables until Somarus surged up again, face gone red and apoplectic, and shouted, 'Enough, damn you!'

Kilian the Lord Chancellor, who sat beside his king, now addressed him in urgent whispers. When Somarus nodded peevishly and took his seat, Kilian rose and bowed to the Sovereign. 'The reluctance of a spirited young woman to accept a husband without knowing more of his true character is quite understandable. Perhaps an interim period of courtship is in order, Your Grace, during which the new Prince Heritor and the Princess Royal can take the measure of one another. We may then hope that certain misunderstandings will be smoothed away -'

'No!' Hyndry said, turning her back on Corodon and pouring the full measure of her scorn upon the blackrobed wizard. ‘I let you pressure me before with your crafty appeals, my lord. I won't make that mistake again. I'll choose my own second husband.'

'It
is
her right, you know!' The Duke of Dennech-Cuva
spoke up with unconcealed relish. The others at the high table recalled that the duke's son Egonus - diplomatically absent from the feast - was the swain favored by the princess.

Kilian shot Cuva a malignant glance. King Somarus looked guileful and toyed with his table-knife. More roars of approval came from the Didionite warriors, while certain Cathrans responded indignantly to what they perceived as an insult to the new Heritor. Corodon favored his partisans with a shrug and a sad smile that pretended hurt feelings, as if to ask how a woman of sensibility could reject one so handsome and charming as he.

Earl Marshal Parlian spoke under his breath to Conrig. 'They'll be fighting in another minute.' He banged the soup-ladle again, commanding silence.

'No decision on this matter will be made tonight,’
the Sovereign declared. Sighs of relief and frustrated mutterings came from below the salt. ‘I command that you, Princess Hyndry, and you, Prince Heritor Corodon, now join us at the high table. Come along! No pouting! Since we cannot celebrate a betrothal tonight... I intend to provide us with another reason for happiness and good cheer.' He paused, casting his gaze about until all of those present realized that something momentous was about to be revealed. A vast stillness prevailed until Conrig spoke again.

'Minutes before we entered this hall, I was informed by Duke Ranwing's chief windvoice that there is no doubt that the Salka are in full retreat.'

The hall erupted in a thunderous roar. Conrig waited a few moments and then resumed. 'Tarnian sloops with highly talented shamans aboard have confirmed that the monsters are indeed withdrawing to Moss, as we hoped. Their invasion has been abandoned. The threat of all-out war is over. Our troops will soon be able to return home.'

Jubilant shouts shook the stones of Boarsden Castle. At

Duke Ranwing's signal, pages and other servitors rushed into the hall to fill every cup and carry in bowls and platters of food. And so the great feast commenced, and the tribulations of Hyndry and Corodon (and Orrion as well) were forgotten.

After a time, Kilian Blackhorse excused himself, telling Somarus that the excitement and noise and rich food and drink were giving him a liver attack. Rather to his surprise, the monarch commiserated and urged him to seek a little fresh air before getting a good night's sleep. Somarus even beamed with kindly satisfaction as Azarick Cuva helped the wizard to rise. When Kilian was gone, the two old friends put their heads together in earnest conversation.

At the other end of the high table, the Royal Alchymist Stergos was beginning to show the effects of consuming a bit too much of his favorite Stippenese vintage. He was gladdened and relieved that the many stressful situations of that long day had been satisfactorily resolved. Beynor was behaving impeccably and there had been no need to call upon Emperor Bazekoy's blue pearl again. The prospect of peace on the island and an early return to his own quiet sanctum in Cala Palace seemed worthy reasons for Stergos to celebrate, so he overindulged in wine and eventually fell into a doze, thus failing to notice when the seat next to him at table was suddenly vacant.

Nor did anyone else take note of Beynor's disappearance. The spell he cast was entirely benign, designed to work in concert with the effects of ardent spirits and a surfeit of fine victuals upon those enchanted. Using windsight to track Kilian Blackhorse out of the castle hall onto the long battlement overlooking the River Malle, the Conjure-King slipped away after him.

* * *

The Lord Chancellor had already coerced the sentries patrolling that section of the curtainwall to move off and
give him privacy. He was not really ill, only weary of verbal fencing with Somarus and his crony Cuva. Both of them had been elated by Hyndry's rejection of Corodon and flatly unwilling to consider Kilian's suggestions for changing the wilful widow's mind.

The very situation that Kilian dreaded was coming to pass: Somarus was thinking seriously of disavowing the Sovereignty. His surly manner tonight proved it. With the Salka horde in apparent disarray, Didion no longer had desperate need of Cathra's military support. Prospects for the royal marriage Kilian had counted upon to solidify the union between the two nations were in ruins.

'And so are my own ambitions,' the old schemer said to himself. 'Well, I'll think of something else ... Or is it finally time to give up on intrigue and manipulation and living dangerously, take my accumulated treasure, and sail away to some warm and pleasant land?'

He began to pace slowly. Quitting the court of Didion and retreating to the Continent might be the best possible solution. Beynor's appearance boded nothing but mischief. What if he was still in league with the Salka? The scoundrel must be hatching some sort of convoluted plot, else he would not have approached Conrig so audaciously -

'Kilian Blackhorse!'

The wizard froze as he heard his name spoken.

This part of the castle's massive northern rampart was lit by fire-baskets; but they were far enough apart so that large areas of the parapet lay in deep shadow, especially the niches used by sentries for shelter during inclement weather. It was within one of these that the invisible man stood, only calling attention to himself after Kilian walked by, so that the wizard had to turn about to see who had called out softly to him.

But he knew it could only have been one person.

Beynor revealed himself in an eyeblink, standing with legs apart and arms folded nonchalantly. His smile was almost apologetic, so compelling and unthreatful that Kilian found himself holding back the magical thunderbolt he'd been about to fling. After all, Beynor was incapable of using harmful sorcery - and the Sovereign had accepted his pledge of fealty. One might as well find out what the rascal wanted.

'Have you been waiting long, Your Majesty?' Kilian inquired.

'No time at all, Lord Chancellor. Actually, I followed you out of the great hall unseen. What business we two must conduct won't take long. I'll have to return before I'm missed. The spell of misdirection I spun over the company won't last indefinitely.'

The Conjure-King was only a little taller than his former partner in crime, magnificently dressed in borrowed finery but without his Sword of State or anything resembling a crown. His narrow face with its frame of straight silvery hair was almost skull-like in the faint light, and his eyes were perceptible only as flame-sparks within dark orbits.

He vanished again. A moment later the wizard experienced the most frightful pain he'd ever known. It emanated from behind his right collarbone and was so appalling that he was rendered incapable of moving or uttering a sound. He would have collapsed from the shock, but a strong invisible hand cupped his chin from the rear, forcing his head back while the arm spanned his chest and held him precariously upright. Probing fingers dug again into the supersensitive spot. With his jaw held fast shut, Kilian's shriek of agony was muffled.