Sorcerer's Moon (36 page)

'Induna, Lord Ising says the boat has slowed down,' Casya Pretender pointed out, speaking in the imperious manner she seemed to adopt whenever things were not going according to her wishes. 'Are you and your husband faltering in your magic? We must keep up to speed if we're to reach Boarsden before the ninth hour tonight. It'll be impossible for me to enter my grandsire's camp after that. There'll be a military curfew. All of the whores will be shooed out, and my clever disguise will be useless.'

'Deveron is presently using his talent to search for Rusgann, the woman we're charged to rescue,' Induna said mildly. She refused to call the girl Your Majesty, as the rebel baron did, but made no issue of it. 'I'm filling the boat's sail with air all by myself for the time being. Deveron will rejoin
me when his other uncanny work is done. Ordinarily, a person can exert only a single magical talent at a time.'

'That's not acceptable -' Casya started to say.

'Madam, our mission is no less urgent than your own. You made no complaint earlier, whilst my husband was scrying out Duke Kefalus's force amongst the many others emplaced about Boarsden Town and learning details of the new Salka threat. Be patient. We're really moving along at an excellent clip. Suspiciously fast, as a matter of fact, since the air is almost dead calm. Fortunately, there are only a few herders along shore to see us defy the laws of nature.'

Casya scowled. Then with the mercurial mood-change of youth, she grinned at Induna and plumped down on the deck beside her. Both of them were wearing male clothing and had their hair stuffed beneath knitted caps. 'I'm overeager. I admit it. To see Eldpapa face-to-face for the first time scares me and at the same time makes me wild with excitement. His letters have been few, but generally sympathetic. I pray he still believes in my cause!'

'Have you any reason to doubt it?'

'He's one of Didion's great timberlords, with rich holdings. If he openly supports my claim to the throne, Somarus could charge him with sedition and high treason and seize everything.'

'Why are you so determined to meet with Duke Kefalus now?'

'Ising has heard rumors. The first invasion of the Salka monsters strengthened Conrig Ironcrown's hold over the vassal states. Even free-minded nobles such as my grandsire found that their desire for an independent Didion softened in the face of the alien threat. King Somarus is an ineffectual leader, but he's ruled for years, leaning on men more clever than he, such as Kilian Blackhorse. But now that scoundrel is dead. Somarus's defiance of the Sovereign over
the Tarnian deployment will have bolstered his tattered reputation greatly amongst our people. You can understand why! I need to know whether my own cause has any chance of prevailing - or if I pursue an impossible dream, encouraged only by a few fanatics like dear old Ising Bedotha.'

Induna looked away with a sniff. 'A strange thing to say about one so loyal and devoted!'

Casya spoke with quiet authority. 'I'd be a fool if I didn't know Ising's flaws. No queen can afford misjudgments based on sentimental feelings.'

'What a cold thought,' Induna said. 'And prideful. How can you even be sure you're really a queen and not some poor foundling?'

'I am a foundling for certain,' was the surprising reply. 'I was plucked from the River Malle by a wizard named Tesk at the behest of Mistress Cray, who was commanded to rescue me by the Source himself.'

Induna's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

'My nursemaid Dala was rescued with me. Dala and Tesk became man and wife and raised me in a cottage hidden deep in the Great Wold. I was given the education of a future queen, although I did not realize it at the time. When I entered womanhood at thirteen, Cray came to me again and told me who my parents had been, and why they and my brothers had been killed. At base, the deepest guilt lies with Somarus. He knew what the evil sorcerers Kilian and Beynor planned, but was so greedy for the throne of Didion that he did nothing to prevent the atrocity.'

Induna stared at the girl with wide eyes, momentarily forgetting to make the breeze blow. The sail fell slack.

'Oy!' cried Baron Ising from the stern. 'What're you silly magickers playing at up there? More wind, damn your eyes!'

'Sorry,' Induna called. The sail bellied full. She turned back to Casya, addressing her with fresh respect. 'So you learned
you were a queen without a country. Did Cray and your other friends advise you how to regain the throne?'

'No,' said Casya. 'Up until now, almost all decision-making has been left to me. If I am to rule this troubled land, I must hone my wits and political skill and understand the obligations and perils of leadership. Otherwise I'll be unworthy to wear Didion's crown - a puppet ruler controlled by others, as Somarus is. And so, for three years I've traveled the wild regions of central and western Didion, seeking out discontented barons and . . . others who are unhappy at the situation in our land. I explained what I intended to do if the throne were mine: what ancient wrongs I would redress. A year or so ago, when Cray felt confident in my maturing abilities, she went to Baron Ising and commanded him to send a message to Duke Kefalus Vandragora - an old antagonist of his who yet was a childhood friend - telling him of my existence. Ising also sent my baby bonnet, embroidered with the regal crest, which I wore when the royal barge foundered. It was not hard for him to convince the duke that he spoke the truth. My mother Queen Bryse was Vandragora's dearly loved only daughter . . . and Kefalus had long suspected that Somarus colluded in the Salka attack that killed her and my family.'

Induna said, 'What will you do after speaking to your grandsire? Will you remain with him?'

'No, but I do intend to seek his advice and give it my deepest consideration. The time is ripe for me to do so. Earlier this summer, before the Salka invasion, I announced myself to all the people of Didion and declared my intent to take back the crown denied me by the usurper. Somarus named me an outlaw and sent a company of soldiers into the wold to seek me out and kill me.' Her mouth curved in a dark smile. 'They failed. Instead, my warriors and I slew them almost to a man. We left a handful alive to return to Somarus
and tell him what had happened. Other bands of searchers met a similar fate. I became Casya the Wold Wraith, with a huge price on my head. I had intended to gather my loyal fighters into an army and march on Holt Mallburn, gathering more partisans along the way. But -’

‘The Salka came,' Induna put in.

'Along with High King Conrig and his Army of the Sovereignty. My followers were unwilling to pursue a rebellion then - not with a horde of monsters invading the Green Morass and Ironcrown ensconced in the heart of our nation, preparing to direct its defense. So Cray suggested another plan to me, one of great audacity that I was able to pursue only with her help. Now, with a second Salka attack impending, I'm at a disadvantage once again. But I'm mulling over an idea that may provide a useful weapon against the monsters.'

'What is it?'

Casya Pretender rose to her feet without responding to the question. 'I think I'll take a turn at the tiller and give Ising a rest.'

'Thank you for telling me your story, madam.' Induna inclined her head in respect. She could not help but be moved by the girl's resolution "and political astuteness. ‘I wish you good luck in your bold quest. Deveron and I will help you as we are able.'

Casabarela Mallburn gave a condescending smile, as though she had expected no less, and went aft.

She had hardly left when Deveron returned from the stubby bow of the flatboat, wiping sweat from his brow. His face was pale and he walked unsteadily.

'Love!' Induna cried anxiously. 'Is aught amiss?'

He busied himself obtaining a flask of Baron Ising's good wine from the vessel's tiny cabin, then rejoined his wife with a sigh and drank deeply from a wooden cup. 'I'm only
exhausted after two tough bouts of far windsearching. But I finally found poor Rusgann. She's in a duck blind or some such place in the marsh south of Boarsden Castle, guarded by a couple of men wearing the badge of Tinnis Catclaw. They've flogged her back severely.'

'Oh! God pity her ... Do you think she betrayed Maudrayne?'

‘I know she didn't.' Deveron was an expert reader of lips. 'She taunted the guards, using language to make a sailor cringe. Said they'd never find the letter Maude sent to Dyfrig, even if they minced her flesh and made soup from her bones. She's a brave wench, but the men said the Lord Constable would find a way to make her talk when he returns at nightfall. They made atrocious suggestions. Red-hot irons were the least of it.'

Induna flinched. 'Will we get to her in time?'

'I hope so. The Malle flows more swiftly than the Kelk, and there's usually a good breeze in its deep valleys. Once we drop off Casya and Ising at the army's landing stage, they'll be on their own. You and I will have to steal a light skiff somewhere, then go invisible with my Concealer sigil as we try to rescue Rusgann. This flatboat is too bulky and clumsy to take into the marsh.'

'Then we can reach this duck blind by water?'

'Creeks wind all through the area.' He dropped to the deck and rested his back against the mast. 'Bazekoy's Brisket! I'm knackered, love. Can you keep up the breeze for a little while longer without my help? I should do an oversight of Boarsden Castle itself and find out where Catclaw resides, but first I need to rest.'

'Just close your eyes,' she told him, and made the sail snap like the blow of an axe. The boat surged forward.

'That's a hell of a lot more like it!' Baron Ising yelled happily from the stern. 'Keep up the good work, you two!'

* * *

Using an ordinary spell of invisibility, the sort that merely distracts observers so that they pay no notice to the intruder, Beynor entered the rooms formerly occupied by Kilian Blackhorse and his three henchmen. It was mid-afternoon, and the tower where the visiting magickers resided was quiet. No one had even bothered to put a guard on the suite assigned to the late Lord Chancellor and his minions. The outer door that had been locked by Garon Curtling upon his departure posed no obstacle at all to the Mossland sorcerer's art.

Beynor was not there out of idle curiosity, but came in search of a needed reference tome and certain exotic ingredients he suspected might be found in the dead wizard's laboratory. Kilian had brought from the capital a large traveling library and collection of thaumaturgical materials and implements. After collecting what he needed, Beynor settled down at a worktable to concoct a certain potion. He'd never had much use for such a thing earlier in his career; but he now hoped it might facilitate his scheme to influence Prince Heritor Corodon in a manner so benign that the constraints of Bazekoy's blue pearl would not come into play.

He measured and mixed, seethed and distilled; and when the liquid was ready at last he infused it with the proper spell, decanted it into a small faceted crystal vial, and held it up so that a beam of late sunlight pierced it, causing it to glow like a liquid ruby.

'Beautiful,' he murmured in satisfaction, 'and the color and flavor will be fully compatible with red wine. The only potential problem lies in the administration. But with careful coaching, even a dolt such as Corodon should be able to do it properly.'

Smiling, he stoppered the bottle containing the love philtre, tucked it into his wallet, and began to clean up all evidence that he had ever been in Kilian's rooms.

* * *

Even though the suspicious jeweler at the Great Market of Beorbrook gave Maudrayne less than a third of its value, the sale of a silver finger-ring with a small amethyst stone provided more than enough money for her immediate needs.

At the stall of a dealer in second-hand garments she obtained a gown, smallclothes, and a cape for the little maid Chelaire, who had been forced to journey down from the mountains wearing the torn, inadequate garments she had escaped in. For herself she purchased a veil and wimple, which she donned immediately in order to disguise her unusual auburn hair. The rest of her clothes were dusty and rumpled after two nights of sleeping under the stars and still smelled faintly of smoke; but their superior quality was undiminished, lending believability to her pretense of being an unemployed lady's maid dressed in the castoffs of her former mistress, come to Beorbrook in search of her sister.

Using this explanation, Maudrayne engaged a tiny private room at a run-down inn. Bedraggled Chelaire played the role of her daughter, who had supposedly suffered a fall on the highland track during the trip to town. By the time they had bathed and tidied themselves and eaten a meal of day-old duck soup and dumplings it was nearly the fourth hour.

'We have at least two more hours of daylight,' Maudrayne said to their hovering hostess. As yet, they were the only guests in the shabby little place. 'I mean to spend the time looking for my sister's house. Not that I'd be likely to spend the night with her,' she added hastily, seeing the innkeeper's eyes narrow. 'Ludine's husband and I were often at odds in former years, and he might not welcome us.'

'Well, you've already paid for your bed here,' the hostess pointed out tersely. 'There'll be no refunds if you do decide to stop elsewhere.' She eyed Chelaire, who was meekly finishing her small beer. 'And if you ask me, that little one of yours would be better off tucked in bed. She looks done
in. And I've got some salve that would help her bruises and her poor black eye.'

Maudrayne rose from the table. 'It would be a kindness if you'd let the lass have the salve. But she's stronger than she looks and the bumps are healing well. It'll do her no harm to stay up for an hour or two longer. Isn't that right, Chelly?'

'Oh yes, my - my mother!' the girl exclaimed. 'I do so want to see dear Auntie!'

'Likely we won't find my sister today.' Maude said, continuing the charade with only a small wince at the maid's dubious acting ability. ‘I don't even know what street she dwells on - only that her husband works as a fuller. His name is Olan Wadhurst. I don't suppose you know of him?'

'The dyers and fullers mostly live in the Mercers' Quarter,' the innkeeper said with a dismissive gesture. 'In the south end. If you intend to go there, you'd best be moving. It's clear across town.'