The King's Justice (29 page)

Yet she remained regal withal, imperious in her posture and her hard gaze, chin and head held high, anger flashing. For Jakob Plinth she spared one brief glance, for Quirk Panderman another. When she spoke, she addressed Vail.

In a tone to pierce the rain, she observed, “You are wounded.”

With a small wince, Vail replied, “That Estobate is skilled with a blade.”

“And the man himself?” inquired my Queen.

Vail bared his teeth. “Dead.”

She frowned. “That will stir up his forces.” Then she shrugged. “It was necessary.” Continuing to ignore the barons present, she asked, “Are you able to serve me still?”

Vail held his grin. “Pity the man who hinders me.” A moment later, however, he sagged. “But I cannot draw a bow.”

To this admission she gave no apparent heed. Instead she demanded of all who stood within earshot, “Tell me of those fiery engines. What are they? How can they be silenced?”

I positively gaped when the only response came from Baron Panderman.

“They are cannon,” he rumbled without courtesy or circumspection. “They use the same powder that we use for fireworks, but much concentrated. The powder sends an iron ball from the barrel. Some or all of the balls are hollow, filled with the same powder, and supplied with fuses. They burn what they do not break.”

There he appeared to recall that he addressed his sovereign—reminded, perhaps, by her frank stare. Ducking his head, he added more softly, “My house has documents. Records. The oldest describe cannon. Our lost homeland had them.

“I did not read the records. They were read to me by a scribe. It is an old custom of my house. I find it soothing.” A moment later, he mumbled, “Your Majesty.”

My Queen dismissed his defects of etiquette. “Are we able to devise such engines ourselves?”

Now Quirk Panderman squirmed. “If I understood my scribe, the principles are simple. We make fireworks. We shape iron. Therefore we can produce cannon. But the design, Your Majesty—”

Baron Indolent cut him off. Pleased despite his pain, Thrysus Indolent interjected, “It will be a laborious undertaking. You have not time enough. When that vessel has reduced Venture, its soldiers may storm the Domicile, aided no doubt by smaller cannon, ones more easily transported. Or the vessel may depart for other harbors until all have been reduced. Then other vessels may come, bringing men sufficient to conquer us at their own pace.

“You are done, woman. Abandon all thought of resistance. You must surrender now, ere more of what you presume to call your subjects perish.”

My Queen met his gaze with wrath in the set of her jaw, yet she did not grant him a reply. In a whetted voice, she called, “Baron Plinth!”

That man advanced a step, upheld by grim rectitude. “Your Majesty?”

“My lord Baron,” she said as though she had no doubt of him, “you will muster your forces—and those of Glare Estobate, if you can—to Indemnie's defense.”

“I will, Your Majesty”—the man's tone was a match for hers—“when you have given a satisfactory account of your marriage proposals.”

The rainfall continued to dwindle during these exchanges. Lightning still flared overhead, though it was passing with its thunderheads to the west. I was able to observe my Queen more closely as she sighed. Though she may have wished to do so, she did not attempt to impose her will. Instead she bowed to the exigencies of the occasion.

“I proposed wedlock to my five barons,” she confessed without remorse, “intending matrimony with none. By that expedient, I hoped to provoke traitors to expose themselves. You have witnessed the success of my ploy. Indeed, it succeeded beyond my expectations. That vessel could not have come upon us as it has without the guidance of a traitor.

“Should you challenge my methods, I care not. Should you think to question my motives, however, you must first consider the cost of your choices.”

Two or more of the enemy's cannon blared with one voice. Another distinct tremble passed through the house. Concussions and fires made wreckage elsewhere. As the rain faded, the screams of people and horses reached the Domicile.

Almost at once, I perceived that Baron Plinth's inflexible demeanor disguised a comprehending mind. He neither struggled within himself nor harassed my Queen with further inquiries. He permitted himself no more than a brief silence. Then he replied, “By your leave, Your Majesty, I will now hasten to my forces, that I may lead them in the defense of the Domicile.”

His sovereign forestalled his departure with the lift of one finger. “The defense of the Domicile must be delayed. For the present, my lord Baron, you must aid Venture. Do not expend your forces against our foe. Rather do your utmost to rescue townsfolk.”

As she spoke, a light caught Jakob Plinth's eyes—a reflection of conflagration in the harbor, perhaps, or a spark of respect. Saying only, “At once, Your Majesty,” he bowed and was gone.

Briefly I studied Thrysus Indolent, hoping to catch some sign of consternation. Despite my Queen's manner, however, and Baron Plinth's response, Indolent's mien revealed only satisfaction and anticipation—as much of both as the hurt done to his arm allowed.

With Jakob Plinth's leaving, Inimica Phlegathon deVry now turned to me.

Stone of eye and tight of mouth, she said, “I have warned you, Hieronomer. One refusal I permitted. I will not countenance another. Here you will counsel me according to your gifts.

“What must I do to end this carnage?”

When I had declined to sacrifice a child, she had replied,
Then I will demand more of you
.
Much more when the time requires it
. The moment of crisis was upon me—surely the last crisis of my life—and I was unprepared for it.

Yet not as unprepared as I felt myself to be. In the interval between my encounter—and my Queen's—with the alchemist Opalt Intrix, I had learned much. At a calmer moment, I might have said that I had also come to understand much. Indeed, I had considered much that would have been inconceivable to me scant fortnights ago. When I realized that Excrucia had come to my side—when I felt her hand rest on my shoulder as though she had determined to share my straits—words came to my lips, words half unbidden and no more than vaguely apprehended.

“Your Majesty,” I answered in a croaked and cracking voice, “you must do nothing. I will do it.”

“How?” she snapped at once.

Fright dimmed my sight. She confronted me as though through a greying mist. The blasts of cannon struck directly at my heart. With Excrucia at my side, however, I did not fail to continue.

“I will descend to Venture and approach the vessel under a flag of parley. When I stand before the captain of our foes, I will persuade him to desist. I will persuade him to name his terms, for truce if I can, for surrender if I cannot.”

“How?” my Queen repeated with some ferocity. “Why will he heed you?”

Desperately I wished to turn aside from my purpose, yet I could not. “Alone, he will not. In his eyes, I will be naught. Yet I believe that he
can
be persuaded.” In a rush, I endeavored to explain. “What is his purpose here? I have foreseen enslavement. One vessel cannot achieve that end. Harm it can do, terrible harm. But it cannot impose submission. Even an assault upon the Domicile cannot. Our people are too many, and the men under Baron Plinth's command are ready.

“Should that ship be the vanguard of a greater power, it must await reinforcement. If it is merely a scout, it must depart to summon aid. In either case, its captain will have much to gain by parley, a large victory at small cost. The only difficulty will be to assure him that I speak with your authority.

“For that reason,” I said, though my heart quailed and my throat was thick with fear, “I will be accompanied by a hostage, a personage of sufficient stature to confirm that my voice has weight and substance. By that demonstration, I will gain his heed.”

Now Inimica Phlegathon deVry nodded. “A clever ploy, Mayhew,” she conceded more softly. “I will be your hostage. I am
Indemnie's Queen. My shoulders must bear the burden of Indemnie's peril.”

Too quick for courtesy, I retorted, “
No!
” Then I recalled myself. With greater care, I said, “Your Majesty, you must not. You are necessary
here
. Your sovereignty must rally our defense. For that task, none other will suffice. You must remain Indemnie's Queen whatever the outcome of my efforts may be.”

Hearing me, her ferocity returned. Once again, I had refused her. Yet she did not gainsay me. Still more softly, as though she dreaded my response, she asked, “If I am not your hostage, whom will you hazard? Who among our personages of stature will consent to accompany you, certain of imprisonment and confident of death?”

There I turned from my Queen to regard Excrucia.

She did not glance at me. Speaking only to her mother, she announced, “I will do it.” Though her voice was small, it was also firm, unshaken at its core. “For Mayhew, and for you, and for Indemnie, I will do it.”

“An ideal choice!” bleated Thrysus Indolent in mockery. “Holding your daughter against you, that captain will be sure of his success.”

For that rejoinder, at least, I was prepared. “He will also be sure that I speak for Her Majesty.”

My Queen gazed at her daughter with droplets streaming from her eyes as though she wept rain. Of her emotions she gave no other sign. I saw—or perhaps merely imagined—
considerations of one sort or another scud like stormclouds across her sight. In her reckless youth, she had bedded a man without regard to his lack of gifted blood. At her command, her daughter's father had been murdered. I could only guess at her thoughts until she spoke.

Sounding strangely stricken, as though something within her had cracked, she said, “Some escort you must have. I will not consign either you or my daughter to that horror”—a twist of her head indicated Venture—“unguarded.”

Given a choice, I would happily have preferred fainting. Sadly, I had already announced my own doom. For a moment, I rubbed at my eyes, striving to wipe the dimness from my vision. Excrucia's fate I now held in my hands—hands which had not been formed for great deeds, but rather for shedding the blood of small creatures. Should I fail, my sole consolation would be that I would be slain while my only friend remained imprisoned or enslaved.

“By your leave, Your Majesty,” I contrived to reply, “I will have Vail and Slew. No larger escort will serve my cause. They will suffice.”

For an instant, my Queen showed her teeth as though she meant to spit an obscenity at my head. At once, however, she mastered herself. To Slew and Vail she merely nodded, committing her daughter and me to their care.

While the four of us left the balcony, she returned to her study of Venture's ruin. Her hands she propped on the wall,
perhaps hoping to steady or suppress the trembling of her frame. Yet her shoulders betrayed her. They shook as though she were overcome by wrath or woe.

H
olding aloft a halberd with Thrysus Indolent's white handkerchief tied to its blade as a flag of parley, Slew and Vail accompanied Excrucia and me from the Domicile on horseback. Slew himself bore the standard, for Vail could not. In addition to his saber and dirk, Slew had shouldered a longbow and a quiver of arrows. Leading us, he rode like the herald of a mighty force of arms, with his gaze fixed upon Venture to seek out the safest passage.

In contrast, Vail sat hunched in his saddle. At every third or fourth jolt, a thin gasp broke from him. His only weapon was his dirk, and I doubted his strength to wield it. Yet he rode with his jaw set as though he dared any foe to believe him weak.

I had been on horseback no more than twice in my life. I bounced and flailed in my saddle like a sack of grain loosely filled. Fortunately Excrucia was an accomplished horsewoman, and she glided more than rode with a supple cloak for warmth fluttering from her shoulders. At intervals, she turned toward me, perhaps to confirm that I had not unhorsed myself. When I met her gaze, she smiled like a woman born for daring.

Again fortunately, the rain had ceased. Slashing winds had driven the storm from the headland, leaving clear skies, a bright
moon, and multitudes of stars overhead. Though I understood none of my mount's movements, I was able to trust that it saw its road clearly enough to avoid mishap.

More swiftly than I had imagined, we neared the outskirts of the town. At some distance—a distance greater than it had appeared from the vantage of the balcony—the black vessel continued its bombardment as though its supplies of balls and powder were infinite. Across the whole of the east, burning merchantries, warehouses, inns, and residences flung flames that dimmed the stars, giving the very moonlight an infernal cast. Already we had passed small clusters of men, women, and children, all fleeing for the presumed sanctuary of the Domicile. Soon we encountered throngs of refugees, most cradling wounds or each other, some burned beyond recognition. One and all, they were too stunned with loss and pain to ask succor of us. Among the fire and concussions of their homes, their livelihoods, their futures, they had exhausted their capacity for terror. Now they merely ran, expending the remainder of their lives or their wits in flight. What hope remained to them, they fixed upon the Domicile and Inimica Phlegathon deVry.