The Born Queen (10 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE
N
ATURE OF A
S
WORDSMAN

A
NNE FOUND
Cazio in the hen yard of the monastery, thrusting and stamping on the packed, swept earth. The chickens at the edge of the yard clucked protests but kept a respectable distance.

He hadn’t noticed her yet, and Anne waited a moment, watching his graceful movements. If she hadn’t seen him kill so many people with those deft, clever movements of his feet, she might think he was practicing some sort of dance.

She remembered the first time she had seen that dance, when two armed and armored knights had attacked her. Against such machines of war, Cazio had stood little chance, yet he’d put himself between her and them, anyway, and since then he’d never stopped.

But it hadn’t just been her, had it? Austra had been there, too.

The color of the sunlight seemed to change, becoming less like gold and more like brass.

He is Austra’s love, but he is my man,
she thought.

“Cazio,” she said.

He stopped in midaction, turned, and saluted her with his sword.

“Majesty,” he said.

For a moment she felt breathless and silly. Her attempt to seduce him flashed vividly in her mind’s eye.

She cleared her throat. “I’m told it requires three days to walk the faneway of Mamres, and as you know, I am pressed to return to Eslen.”

He nodded, an odd look on his face, but didn’t answer. She felt a flash of pique. Surely he understood what she was getting at. Did she have to make everything clear?

Apparently.

“You need to start walking the faneway today,” she said. “Within the hour.”

Cazio sheathed his sword.

“I don’t want to,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

But he didn’t sound apologetic.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You said I could walk it if I wished,” he replied. “I don’t wish.”

Now she thought she understood his tone. “You’re angry?”

He paused, then stared her in the eye. “I’m offended,” he replied. “When has my sword failed you? When have I not defeated your enemies with my own strength and skill?”

“You would have failed yesterday if I hadn’t helped you.”

You will fail when
he
comes. You will die; I have seen you dead.
But she couldn’t say that.

He flushed brightly. “Maybe so,” he admitted. Then: “Probably. But I am a dessrator, Majesty. I am not a killer or a mere swordsman but an artist. Would you give a singer a different voice? A painter a different pair of eyes?”

“If they could make better work, yes.”

“But it wouldn’t be theirs, would it?”

“Cazio, with the skills you already have and the blessing of Saint Mamres, you could be invincible.”

“I have beaten such invincible men. Their physical abilities made them foolish.”

“But you are not so foolish.”

“I think if I had that power I might become so.”

“Cazio…”

“Majesty, whatever gifts this faneway can give me, I do not want and I do not need.”

“But I want them, Cazio. I want them for you. I’m sorry if I’ve offended your pride. You are certainly the greatest swordsman I have ever known. I only want you to be the best swordsman you can be. How else can you guard me against the things that are to come? How else can you survive them?”

“The way I always have. With my blade and my wits.”

“That is no longer good enough,” she said softly.

“If you wish another bodyguard—”

Something had been welling up in her throughout the whole conversation, something hard in her belly and throat. She felt deeply shaken by something, frustrated by Cazio’s inability to
listen.
Now she suddenly convulsed and felt tears on her face.

“Cazio,” she managed. “Do not be so selfish. I need you. I need you with the blessing of Mamres. Would it be so bad to be lustrated by a saint? How is that wrong?”

He stepped toward her. “Don’t cry,” he said.

“I’m angry,” she snapped. “Sometimes I cry when I’m angry. Do not mistake these tears. I’m offering you something, something—you aren’t afraid, are you?”

“Afraid?”

“Of the faneway. Afraid you might die?”

One of his eyebrows lifted. “You’re calling me a coward?”

“Ten of my Craftsmen are walking it as we speak. Three of them are already dead.”

“That’s terrible.”

“They just weren’t worthy, Cazio. You are. By the saints, if anyone was ever worthy of the blessing of Mamres, it is you.”

“Who has died, Majesty?”

“I told you. Some of my Craftsmen.”

“Which ones? What were their names?”

It hit her like a punch in the gut, pushing the anger out of her. Her knees went weak, and she felt as if there were no longer anything in her at all. She put her hand against the wall, but it would not support her, and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground.

What was happening to her?

But then Cazio had her cradled in his arms. He smelled both clean and sweaty, which seemed odd.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No,” she managed. “I should know, shouldn’t I? I should know who died. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me, Cazio.”

“There’s a lot going on,” Cazio said. “A lot to worry about.”

“I feel—I’m sorry I asked you to walk the faneway, Cazio. I’m sorry. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“I want you to understand—” he began.

Something suddenly tumbled into place, and Anne nearly gasped with understanding.

“No, hush,” she said, knowing what she needed to do. “We won’t talk of this again.” She tapped his shoulder. “You can put me down now,” she said. “I’m fine. Pack your things. We’ll leave for Eslen by noon. Time for me to really act like a queen.”

Cazio cast a look back over his shoulder at the monastery. Besides the Craftsmen still walking the fanes, they had left it invested with nearly two hundred men. The Church was sure to attempt to take it back.

He glanced at Anne. Her face was composed and freshly powdered. He had no idea what she was thinking.

He wasn’t sure what
he
was thinking. First the sudden kiss, then her request that he make himself unnatural.

It had been very simple once. He had pledged to keep two girls alive, and with the help of his mentor, z’Acatto, he had managed to do it. But since Anne had come back into her kingdom, surrounding herself with knights, lords, and Sefry, he had been less sure of his footing. He had found his place in continuing to be her bodyguard, and he thought he had done tolerably well at it.

But she didn’t seem to think so. He had shocked her into withdrawing her request, but she had made it and could not take it back.

He glanced back again. Should he?

But the mere thought sickened him.

They traveled all day, following the banks of the Warlock River, stopping for the night at Tor Aver, a small castle just beyond the edge of the forest. They had stayed there a few nights before when preparing the assault on the monastery, and the knight who had charge of it, Sir Robert Taverner, had a feast prepared for them by the time they arrived. It wasn’t bad, but one of the discoveries Cazio had made in his travels was that good cooks were vanishingly scarce in this part of the world. The meat was heavy, greasy, more often boiled than roasted, and rarely provided with a proper sauce. The bread was grainy and dull, fruit nonexistent, cheese depressingly similar from place to place and meal to meal. The fare was better and more varied at court, of course, but then, he had spent hardly any time at court.

The wine was often undrinkably sweet, especially the white, and so far he hadn’t found much to like about beer or mead, which tasted to him like rotted bread and bear piss, respectively. Not that he had tasted bear piss, but now he didn’t have to.

Sir Robert’s meal did not set itself above the standard, but Cazio managed to fill himself without any unpleasant incidents. He didn’t feel much like talking, so he watched Anne, trying to gauge her mood. He had known her for more than a year and in many trying circumstances, but he had never known her to be so suddenly changeable as in these last few days.

But she seemed at ease, chatting with Sir Robert and the guests he had invited. The anger and remorse of the morning seemed forgotten.

And so, feeling heavy with the sweet wine, he excused himself to the chamber provided for him and lay there, wishing he were drunk on a better vintage, wishing for other things.

He was nearly asleep when the door cracked open. Blinking, he saw Anne’s face in the candlelight, and with a guilty start he realized that one of his wishes had come true. He opened his mouth to attempt another denial, but the words glued themselves there.

“Cazio?”

“Majesty.”

“Just Anne, for the moment,” she said.

“Ah,” he managed. “Anne.” How was it he once had felt comfortable saying her name?

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I haven’t come to test your virtue again. May I enter?”

“Of course.”

He was still in his clothes, but he somehow felt he ought to cover himself.

She stepped in, shuffled her feet another half step, and stopped.

“I was wrong to ask you to walk the faneway, Cazio. I want you to know I understand. There are so many people around me I don’t really know, much less trust. But I trust you. Today you’ve only proved that I can trust you to protect me, even against myself.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

She nodded, and something odd worked behind her eyes. She cleared her throat softly. “So,” she said. “I need you to go to Dunmrogh.”

Cazio blinked, wondering what he had missed. His king’s tongue was still not so good.

“Dunmrogh.”

“Yes. I want you to take a garrison there to guard the fane. I want you to command it.”

“I don’t understand,” Cazio said. “I’m not a commander. I’m a swordsman, that’s all.”

“You’re a swordsman I trust,” she said.

“To guard
you,
” he said.

“I have my Sefry,” she said. “And the Craftsmen.”

“Mamres knights.”

“Two or three of them might make one of you,” she said. “But I shall have to make do.”

“This doesn’t make sense to me,” he said. Was she trying to shame him into walking the faneway?

“It’s only for a while,” Anne said. “I know you’ll miss Austra, but I’ll send her to be with you. I know you want to guard me. But I’m asking you, as my friend, to do this.”

Cazio struggled for something to say. His chest was tight. This felt like an attack from nowhere, one he had no parry and riposte for.

“Won’t you reconsider?”

“Cazio,” she said softly, “you aren’t one of my subjects. Everything you’ve ever done for me, you did because you wanted to. I’m not ordering you to do this, just asking.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I had a vision. I need you there.”

Her eyes remained shut for a long moment, and he examined her face, thinking how familiar it had become and how strange that was. How had he come to this place? Shouldn’t he be back in Vitellio, sunning himself in some piato, seducing girls and starting duels? Guarding her was one thing, but this war—was it really his? Did he care about it if Anne and Austra were removed from the equation?

He didn’t know.

But he nodded when she opened her eyes. “Very well,” he sighed. “I shall do as you ask.”

Even as he said it, he felt something turn in him and knew that he had never agreed to anything in his life that felt more wrong.

CHAPTER NINE

Z
EMLÉ’S
T
ALE

S
TEPHEN WOKE
paralyzed, a shriek of terror fused in his throat. Invisible things crawled in the darkness, and just at the corner of his vision a hard red light sparked. He couldn’t look at it because he knew that whatever it was was so terrible that his heart would stop from the sheer horror of it.

He felt tears start in his eyes as he tried again to scream but could not.

Then, abruptly, the light vanished, and his whole body seized. He flailed his arms at the dark things, and finally the shriek tore from his throat.

Something grappled at his arms, and he sobbed another low howl, striking frantically at his attacker.

“Stephen! Stephen!”

At first he couldn’t identify the voice, but he was suddenly free of groping fingers.

“Why?” he heard himself shout.

“Stephen, it’s a Black Mary. Do you understand? It’s me, Zemlé. It’s me.”

“Zemlé?”

“It’s me, meldhe,” she said more softly, using her lover’s name for him. “It’s only me. You were thrashing in your sleep.”

“Where are we?”

“In our bed,” she said. “Wait, let me kindle the lamp.”

A moment later, features appeared and the darkness backed into the distance.

But it wasn’t Zemlé’s face.

When he woke again, every lamp and candle in the room was glowing. Zemlé sat across the bed from him, looking concerned.

“What?” he murmured.

“Well, at least you didn’t scream at me this time,” she said.

“It wasn’t you,” he tried to explain.

“Black Mary follow you back, then?”

Stephen nodded without understanding. Zemlé offered him a cup of something that smelled minty.

“Saint Weylan’s root and siftras,” she explained. “That will chase off the Mary.”

He nodded and took a sip. “There’s something wrong with me,” he murmured.

“Everyone has bad dreams.”

He shook his head. “Do you remember what I saw in the scriftorium in Demsted? The face in the flame?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“And the thing that passed through our room a few months ago?”

Her brow crinkled. “Meldhe, that might have been a dream, too,” she said softly.

“I wrote something in someone else’s hand,” he said, knowing it sounded quite mad. “It was a warning against that thing, I think, against something evil come into the mountain.”

“Who do you think was warning you?”

“Kauron,” he said. “I think he’s helped me before, on the way here. Maybe before that. And these Black Marys—I’ve had those before, too.

“I know,” she said. “More and more often. Almost every night now. But not usually so violent.”

He nodded and took another sip of the tea, then noticed something.

“What happened to the side of your face?” he asked.

She turned away, but it was too late to hide the red mark that by the morning would be starting to purple.

“I did that?” he asked.

“You did not mean to.”

“That’s no excuse!” he cried. “Saints, Zemlé, I’ve hurt you.”

“You were in a terror. You didn’t know me.”

“That’s…“ He reached forward, “I’m so sorry,” he said.

He was afraid she would flinch, but she let him touch her face.

“I know,” she said. “Believe me, if I thought you did it on purpose, you would know it.” She touched his arm lightly as she said it. “Now, tell me more. About today.”

“I found the journal.”

“The journal. Virgenya Dare’s journal?” Her voice pitched up.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In the shelves, like any other book. I thought it would be hidden away in a secret compartment, but I just happened upon it.”

“That was lucky.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it was luck. I think I was led to it. I started reading it, and when I stopped, I found that I had been writing.”

“And that was a warning about something come into the mountain.”

“Yes. And not to tell anyone about finding the journal.”

“Which you just did,” she pointed out.

“Well, yes. But if I can’t trust you…”

The remainder of the thought cloyed before it reached his tongue.

“What?” she asked softly. “Do you think you’ve made a mistake?”

He stared at her for a moment, then stood and paced across the room, hands folded behind his back.

Maybe he had.

“Stephen. Talk to me.”

He turned. “When we first met, you told me you had attended a coven. A coven not sanctioned by the Church.”

“And you didn’t believe me.”

“I believe you now. Tell me about it.”

Her face went blank. “This whole time you’ve never asked me about that. Why now?”

“Why now? A very good question. You talked me into coming here. No woman has ever shown all that much interest in me, but you were kissing me the first night we met. That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“Stop it, Stephen,” she cautioned. “Don’t walk that trail. Think. Why are you suddenly so angry with me?”

“I’m not angry,” he said. “But it wouldn’t be the first time you kissed a man to—”

“Stop it right there,” she said. “You don’t want to say that.”

You slept with Hespero,
his mind urged him to continue, but part of him knew she was right, and so he stopped.

“Sorry,” he said.

She nodded. “You’re not entirely wrong,” she said. “I wanted to win your trust. But I kissed you because I wished to. Maybe no one was ever attracted to you before, but more likely you were too inexperienced to see it. I am bolder than most women, Stephen. I don’t wait for the things I want.”

He sat on a stool and passed his palm across his eyes.

“I know,” he said. “I know. I told you there’s something wrong with me.” He looked straight at her then and saw a tear on her cheek.

“Look,” he sighed. “When you met me, you had an interest in all of this. You may have liked me, but you still had an agenda. And you weren’t working alone. Zemlé, I need to know who you work for. If the coven isn’t the place to start…”

“It is,” she said. “It’s the place to start.”

“Well, then please start.”

She wiped the tear away and pulled the covers about her like a cloak.

“It was the Coven Saint Dare,” she said.

“As in Virgenya Dare.”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“You know that Virgenya Dare unlocked the secret of the sedos power and used it to defeat the Skasloi. You know that she ruled the first Kingdom of Man and that one day she walked away from it and never came back.”

“Everyone knows that story.”

“It’s easiest to start there, Stephen, because here is where the story my coven tells is different from the one your Church does. According to canon, Virgenya left the throne to her husband, and it was he who founded the Church and became the first Fratrex Prismo, Niro Promom.”

“You dispute that?”

“My order does, yes. According to our teachings, Saint Dare had a council of four women and two men known as the
vhatii.
She left them in charge when she vanished. For half a century, the majority of highest officials of the Church were women.”

“The Revesturi told me a similar tale,” Stephen said. “Except they mention only one woman ruling, like a fratrex.”

“That’s true. When the
vhatii
finally understood that Saint Dare would never return, they elected a
mater prisma,
because Virgenya taught that a woman must rule the church.”

“Why a woman?”

Zemlé frowned. “I don’t know. The sisters believed that women rule with more mercy, but I can’t recall any text that says that. Doesn’t the journal say?”

“I haven’t gotten that far. She’s still a girl, a Skasloi slave.”

“How can you resist skipping to the end?”

“It’s in cipher, and the cipher changes as I go along. Besides, I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Well, read faster.”

“I will. Go on with what you were saying.”

“The arrangment didn’t sit well with some of the men, but the older generation respected Virgenya’s wishes. But eventually a
mater prisma
was elected who was really little more than the mistress of a powerful sacritor named Irjomen. She died soon after—murdered, probably—and he assumed the title of Fratrex Prismo. The
vhatii
objected, and war followed, but Irjomen had been planning his rebellion for some time. The loyal were slain, the male
vhatii
joined the fratrex, and the women fled into exile. Women were eliminated from all positions of power, and the covens where they once had been trained became their only homes in the Church. Certain covens remained true and were destroyed or went into hiding. Mine was one such coven.”

“And your mission is to bring women back to power in the Church?”

“No. The church is hopelessly corrupt. Our mission was to watch the heirs of Virgenya Dare until the arrival of the next Born Queen, the woman who will re-create the Church, remake the world, and set all right.”

“Anne Dare?”

“So my coven believes. When the sedos throne emerges, she must take its power and rule.”

“But what has that to do with me?”

“You’re supposed to find the throne,” she replied. “Her throne. And keep
him
from claiming it.”

“Him? Who would that be? The Blood Knight? The Demon Lord you mentioned when we first met?”

“The Vhelny is your great enemy, Stephen. He wants to destroy the world, all of it and everyone in it. But there is another foe, a man who would claim the sedos throne for himself.”

“Hespero.”

“That’s what I think,” she replied.

“Well, Fend says he’s found Hespero and is off after him. If that’s true, we won’t have to worry about him much longer. But if he’s lying, if he’s gone to join forces with him…”

“If he was going to do that, why wouldn’t he have done it months ago instead of battling him?”

“Maybe they needed me to find the journal. Maybe the battle was a ruse to make me feel safe and in charge. Maybe Fend is stark raving mad. That wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

“Or maybe, as some of the legends say, the Blood Knight is your servant and ally,” she said.

He nodded. “That’s his claim.”

“The thing in the mountain—suppose that’s the Vhelny? What if it’s here, watching, waiting?”

She paled. “I hadn’t considered it. I’ve thought of all of this as prophecy for so long, as an ancient and distant thing. In my mind’s eye, the Vhelny would come like a dragon, all flame and shadow, not sneak about like a thief. But no tale or legend describes him.” She rubbed her forehead. “Saints, it’s likely, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said, reaching for his clothes.

“Where are you going?”

“To read more of the journal. Virgenya Dare found this place. She walked the faneway I’m supposed to walk. Let’s see what she has to say about it.”

S
LAVES HAVE SECRETS, AND THIS IS ONE OF THEM, THIS CIPHER
. W
ILL AND
I
INVENTED IT TO WRITE EACH OTHER
. W
ILL’S MASTER MAKES LEAD TISSUE, AND SO HE FINDS IT IN PLENTY.

W
ILL’S MASTER BROUGHT HIM HERE WHEN
I
WAS TWELVE, BY MY FATHER’S RECKONING
. T
HEY PUT US IN A ROOM TOGETHER, AND WE KNEW WHAT WE WERE SUPPOSED TO DO
. T
HE MASTERS WERE WATCHING, BUT THEY COULDN’T HEAR WHEN
W
ILL WHISPERED AND TOLD ME IT WOULD BE OKAY
. H
E WHISPERED A LOT ABOUT HOW OUR FATHERS KNEW EACH OTHER, ABOUT WHERE HE LIVED
. I
T HELPED ME FORGET WHAT WAS GOING ON AND HOW SCARED
I
WAS. AFTER THAT
I
WASN’T SCARED
. I
LOOKED FORWARD TO OUR WHISPERED CONVERSATIONS
. I
T WAS LIKE MY BODY WASN’T THERE AT ALL
. W
ILL STARTED TEACHING ME THE SECRET LANGUAGE THE SLAVES IN HIS FORTRESS HAVE, AND
I
MADE UP THESE LETTERS FOR IT
. W
E PASS EACH OTHER NOTES WHEN WE MEET
. I’
LL SEE HIM AGAIN NEXT WHEN THE MOON IS FULL.

I
DIDN’T BLEED THIS MONTH, AND
W
ILL DIDN’T COME
. T
HE MASTER SAYS
I
WILL HAVE A YOUNGLING
. T
HE HOUSE SLAVES TELL ME THAT A LOT OF WOMEN DIE WHEN THEY DO THAT
. I
DON’T WANT TO DIE, BUT
I
AM OFTEN SICK
. M
Y FATHER SAID WE ESCAPE THE MASTER WHEN WE DIE
. I
WONDER IF THAT IS TRUE.

I
HAVE SEEN
W
ILL AGAIN
. T
HEY RACED HIM, WITH FIFTY OTHERS
. T
HEY DROVE THEM WITH CHARIOTS, AND IF ANY FELL, THEY CUT THEM TO PIECES. WILL RAN HARD; THEY DIDN’T CATCH HIM
. M
Y MASTER KEPT ME CHAINED AT THE FRONT OF HIS FLYING BARGE, SO
I
WOULD HAVE TO WATCH HIM, BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO LOOK AWAY
. T
WO DAYS THEY RAN, WITHOUT SLEEPING OR EATING
. B
Y THE END OF THE SECOND DAY, ONLY THREE WERE LEFT, AND ONE OF THEM WAS
W
ILL
. I
WAS SO PROUD OF HIM
. I
WAS PROUD TO HAVE HIS DAUGHTER IN MY BELLY.

S
IX MOONS HAVE WAXED AND WANED
. M
Y BELLY IS LARGE, AND THE MASTER HAS TAKEN ME TO THE MOUNTAIN FORTRESS FOR THE REST OF MY PREGNANCY
. I
T IS A HABIT FROM THE OLD DAYS, WHEN MASTERS COULD HAVE CHILDREN
. I
HAD NOT SEEN MOUNTAINS BEFORE, AND
I
LOVE THEM
. T
HEY MAKE ME THINK STRANGE, LOVELY THOUGHTS
. A
ND THERE IS SOMETHING IN THE FORTRESS, OR DEEP BELOW IT, SOMETHING THAT MAKES MY BELLY TINGLE AND SOMETIMES SETS MY TEETH ON EDGE.

I
HAD A DREAM LAST NIGHT
. I
DREAMED
I
WAS A MOUNTAIN, AND MY FEET PULLED LOOSE OF THE EARTH, AND
I
WALKED, CRUSHING EVERYTHING BENEATH ME
. I
CRUSHED THE MASTER
. W
HEN
I
WOKE
, I
WAS FRIGHTENED HE WOULD FIND OUT AND PUNISH ME, BUT HE DIDN’T
. I
ALWAYS THOUGHT HE COULD SEE MY DREAMS
. H
E HAS TOLD ME WHAT
I
DREAMED BEFORE
. B
UT THIS DREAM WAS DIFFERENT
. I
THINK SOMEHOW THE MOUNTAINS HAVE TAUGHT ME HOW TO DREAM IN SECRET
. T
HAT WOULD BE NICE.