The Black King (Book 7) (41 page)

“That’s why he said three weeks,” Lyndred said.

“What?” Gift asked.

“He said to try to kill Coulter after three weeks. If he couldn’t that was all right, but waiting for three weeks was perfect.”

Gift nodded. Somehow this made him calmer. He had fought Rugad before. He was familiar with the man’s mind. Even this order made sense. “I would have been on the sea in three weeks. No one who knew about the Binding would have made the connection.”

“You would have just died,” Coulter said.

Gift looked at him again. “Like you.”

“That means we have an additional problem.” Bridge looked even more upset than his daughter did.

“The Assassin,” Gift said. “We’ll be able to deal with him.”

“He expects Coulter to be near the Cliffs of Blood,” Lyndred said.

Bridge shook his head. “You don’t understand. Assassins never give up. And to my knowledge, Assassins rarely fail.”

THIRTY-TWO

MATT STOOD in the listening booth. In his right hand, he clutched one of the dolls. He had been standing there for a long time—he had no idea how long—and a moment ago, he had heard a door close.

He had pushed himself closer to the back wall. Earlier he and Wisdom had opened the secret door wide enough for him to slide through. The door’s hinges creaked, and Matt didn’t want to make a lot of noise when he entered the room.

They didn’t open Wisdom’s door. Wisdom said he wanted to make noise.

Matt glanced toward Wisdom, but couldn’t see past the platform. They had doused the lightsticks long ago.

There was shuffling inside the room. Matt peered through the small crack of light he got from the open door, and saw what he had seen every other time: part of a stone column, a chair, and in the distance, a bit of blue sky through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. He had a feeling they were in one of the towers, but he wasn’t sure which one. They had climbed too high to be in that great hall with all the swords. He hadn’t gotten a complete look at the palace, but that seemed to be the only other place that had windows which covered an entire wall.

The outside door opened and then closed, as if someone had entered the room.

“Good.” It was the Black Queen. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“You wanted me to discuss troop readiness, Arianna,” said a male voice that Matt didn’t recognize. “The Infantry is hopeless. I can’t believe you’ve let them deteriorate this far.”

“You’re insubordinate,” she replied, but the words were spoken with affection. “I’m mending my ways.”

“But not fast enough. I wish you had taken on this task years ago. Maybe then we’d be ready to sail to Leut by spring. As it stands, if you take these troops to Leut, you’ll make the Fey into a laughingstock.”

“Are you telling me this is impossible, DiPalmet?”

“I dislike the word ‘impossible,’” DiPalmet said. “How about ‘extremely unlikely’?”

The Black Queen laughed, and a chill ran down Matt’s spine. “You are good, and you anticipated my objection before I could even utter it. I don’t like extremely unlikely either, but I am willing to listen to that. Tell me, then, when do you think it is likely?”

“I think you should send for some of the older troops from Galinas. Most of Rugad’s elite forces were killed fifteen years ago, but the older troops, the ones left behind to keep the peace, are good as well. Most of what I have to work with now are second-rate soldiers who were either left behind to keep track of Jahn while Rugad fought his battles and whom you decided to keep alive for some reason, or the descendents of the handful of Rugar’s soldiers who had somehow managed to survive the Destruction of the Failures years ago. Not a promising bunch.”

“You fit into that category,” the Black Queen said. “You’re one of the few I let roam free on Blue Isle.”

“I’m a Charmer, not a military leader. And I’m sure there are better Charmers in Nye.”

The words sounded charming enough to Matt. Smooth and political and exactly the right thing to say.

“I’m sure there are.” The Black Queen was silent. Then Matt heard footsteps, and his eyes caught movement before he actually realized what that movement was. The Black Queen had walked to the windows. He could barely see her, silhouetted between the column and the window itself. She was looking out the windows as if she saw something there.

“If I send to Nye,” she said, “I’d have to wait a year to get those soldiers ready. Minimum.”

“Are we in a great hurry?” DiPalmet asked. “We’ve waited fifteen years.”

“I would like to act as soon as possible. Fifteen years was too long, don’t you agree?”

There was a grating sound from the other side of the room. Even though Matt knew what it was, he felt his body stiffen.

“What was that?” The Black Queen asked.

“It was me.” Wisdom’s Charmer voice was deep and musical. It seemed warm, even though Matt knew it wasn’t supposed to sound that way.

“By the Powers,” the Black Queen said. “What hole did you crawl out of?”

“Probably one that wasn’t buried as deep as the one you crawled out of, Rugad.”

“Rugad?” DiPalmet said. “What’s this? Have you gone crazy, Wisdom?”

“Get help, DiPalmet,” the Black Queen said.

“I’m not crazy, DiPalmet,” Wisdom said, “and I’m not dead. And you were right. There are better Charmers than you on Nye. There are better Charmers than you in the room.”

“DiPalmet, I gave you an order,” the Black Queen said.

“I can’t leave you with him,” DiPalmet said.

“You can’t help me with him either. Now get me some guards.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Matt saw a blur as DiPalmet left the room. This was his chance. He slid through his own door and it didn’t screech, even though he expected it to.

“I thought you lost your tongue,” the Black Queen said. She had turned so that her left side was facing Matt. She was looking toward the other side of the room.

“Don’t play games with me, Rugad. I know who you are and I know how you got there.”

“Then you’ll remember what I said.” The Black Queen took a step away from Matt.

He was breathing shallowly. He held the doll in a death grip.

“You said I’d be punished.” Wisdom’s tone was mocking. “I don’t think you’re in a position to punish anyone.”

“I have my power back,” the Black Queen said.

“All but your Vision.”

Matt moved toward the column. His shoes didn’t make any sound on the stone floor.

“What do you want from me?” the Black Queen asked.

He could see Wisdom now. Wisdom did look crazy. Cobwebs hung off him, and his face was streaked with dirt. His tattoos were visible in the bright light, and his braids surrounded him like a blanket.

“I want you to get a taste of how I’ve lived the last fifteen years,” Wisdom said.

Matt eased the head off the doll.

“If you can speak, you didn’t live the way I wanted you to.”

Matt clasped the neck in his right hand.

“My tongue came back recently. It was a gift from a friend.”

Matt ran forward and shoved the doll against the Black Queen’s hip. She turned and stared at him for a moment, then looked down.

Wisdom stayed rooted in place. There were footsteps on the stairs.

For a moment, the Black Queen seemed to separate into two beings. Her body started to crumble. Matt saw a shape made of smoke rise from her eyes. The shape looked like a young man, with a handsome Fey face and eyes the color of night. The shape stretched, and drifted toward the jar.

The footsteps sounded closer.

Then the shape pulled up, as if something grabbed it. It rose, and the face peered into Matt’s. Matt took a startled step backwards, and the shape absorbed into the Black Queen’s body.

The Black Queen’s hand caught Matt’s.

“I thought you were too old to play with toys.” With her other hand, the Black Queen yanked the doll from Matt. She flung it toward the window. It hit the ancient glass and shattered. “That’s an old magick, Matthias’s son, and it only works against loose souls.”

The Black Queen held Matt’s wrist and pulled him closer.

“I am not a loose soul. I own part of this body. It’s mine. I was raised here, and I cannot be pried loose by Islander tricks.”

Her eyes were darker when the shade was inside her. Her voice was deeper too.

“I know what you are,” Matt said.

“That really doesn’t matter,” the Black Queen said, “because you’re not going to live long enough to do any more damage.”

The Black Queen’s face was only inches from his own. With a twist of his finger, Matt could hurt her. He could even kill her, but what would that do to Arianna? He didn’t know, and he didn’t dare find out.

Wisdom grabbed the Black Queen’s shoulders, trying to pull her away.

The door burst open and guards rushed in. All of them were Fey. DiPalmet was yelling, but Wisdom turned toward them.

“
Stop!
” he yelled in Fey and to Matt’s surprise, they did.

“Keep going!” DiPalmet said. “Get him!”

“They won’t.” The Black Queen’s voice was dry. “He was always the best Charmer I knew.”

“
You will not harm Matt or myself, ever
.” Wisdom said to the guards. Then in a normal tone, he said, “Come on, Matt.”

Matt shook himself free of the Black Queen. It was unexpectedly easy. Wisdom stepped away, and grabbed his arm as the Queen reached inside her boot.

“You’re supposed to take them prisoner!” DiPalmet yelled.

Wisdom pulled Matt forward. The guards parted. Wisdom’s grip was hard. Matt turned—he was going to say that the passage would be quicker—when Wisdom made a gurgling sound. He arched his back and his eyes widened with surprise.

Blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell to his knees. The Black Queen bent with him, her knife still in his back.

Now the guards started to move forward as if the spell broke with Wisdom’s death. And Wisdom was dead. His eyes were glazed and he was losing too much blood.

The guards rushed toward him. Matt looked at the Black Queen who smiled at him. She let go of the knife and Wisdom fell forward. Matt was all alone here, and he had to get out.

The first of the guards were just reaching for him when he ran his hands along his length and made it seem as if he had burst into flame. They screamed and stepped backwards. He flung a fireball at them, not caring who it hit.

“You!” DiPalmet yelled. “You stop!”

But his Charm didn’t seem to work on Matt. Or maybe the wall of flame protected him. He ran for the passageway, but someone was already guarding it. He used the levitation spell, lifting and flinging the guard aside. Then he dove through the door, not bothering to pull it closed.

He flung frantic fireballs behind him. He was probably setting the entire palace on fire, but he didn’t care. He ran down the stairs. The fire around him lit the cobwebs and flame skittered across them, lighting the staircase all the way down.

He wondered if he would run out of air, then realized that he didn’t have to. He made a clear bubble of air around his face so that he could breathe.

Matt wasn’t sure exactly how to get out of here, but he would find the way. Once he was at the dungeons, he would be fine.

He could hear screaming behind him, and then shouting. Then he heard a door creak open just above him. He flung another fireball up the stairs and continued running, sometimes tripping over his own feet, sometimes missing a step, but always managing to catch himself.

He had no idea where he was. He wished he hadn’t listened to Wisdom’s plan, but done it on his own. Not that it would have made the spell work. The dolls didn’t work at all, and Coulter had to know that. They all had to know that.

But if Matt had come alone, Wisdom would still be alive.

Matt reached the bottom step and turned toward the corridor, the clean corridor. A door was open on the side, the side he and Wisdom hadn’t gone down, and the entire corridor was lit, not with flames from the cobwebs, but from torches and Fey lamps.

Foot Soldiers, Beast Riders, a dozen guards cut off all his escape routes. He knew a hundred spells, but none that would get him out efficiently, none that would keep him from being hurt.

He intensified the flames around him, and then saw what was through that open door.

The Hall with all the swords.

“Varin swords, varin swords,” he muttered. “I need a varin sword.” And then he recited a summoning spell.

Some of the Foot Soldiers were coming toward him, not caring that he was surrounded by flames. They had a crazy look in their eyes. He’d heard from his father that Foot Soldiers didn’t care about themselves. All they cared about was the kill.

Matt backed against the wall. Wasn’t his summons working? He didn’t know what else to do.

One of the Foot Soldiers slashed at him with an open hand. The nails at the end of his fingers were long and so sharp that they cut the skin on Matt’s arm, flaying it right off. He screamed.

Matt had to let Coulter know, even if he didn’t make it out.

He opened his Link and let the information fly.

THIRTY-THREE

EACH REVELATION made Gift look older and stronger and fiercer. Once Coulter would have put a hand on his old friend’s shoulder to comfort him, or maybe to apologize for yet again placing him in a position that neither of them wanted.

But something about this new Gift prevented that. It was as if the soft and gentle edges of the Gift he had known had been worn away, and the Gift he saw now was a honed version, rather like steel after it had been forged.

Gift wasn’t just the center. He was their only hope.

Arianna had her hand on Coulter’s arm. The cousin—Lyndred?—kept shooting frightened glances at Con, although why anyone would be frightened of Con was beyond Coulter. Dash looked alternately fascinated and confused. And Bridge reminded Coulter of Adrian—conscious of the fact that he lacked the power of the others, but content that his knowledge could be of use.