The Queen of Mages (11 page)

Instead she sat back and thought. This must
be related to Amira’s ember, but how? Did Edon have it too? “Show
me again where you saw the light.”

Amira turned her head and pointed. Katin
leaned in close, pulling at Amira’s hair to see better. Amira
squeaked and slapped her hand away. “Stop that!”

“We must know if there’s any visible sign of
it!”

“Well at least wait until we arrive home. My
hair is in enough disarray as it is. The servants will gossip.”

“They’ll already gossip, with you coming
home so early.” The ball often lasted till dawn, Countess Besiana
had said. But Amira glared at her, so Katin let her be.

Coach and horse traffic was virtually
nonexistent this late, but crowds of men and women roamed the
streets, dancing and drinking and singing. The commoners made their
own ball on summer’s eve, a ragtag celebration that spread through
much of the city. Last year, not yet nobles, Amira and Valmir had
taken all their servants out onto Willbury Street and set up a
table with food and refreshments for the neighbors. Katin had
fallen asleep on the steps of their manse some time after midnight,
and had awoken later to find Amira still dancing and smiling and
laughing.

Tonight, the crowds slowed the coach some,
but before terribly long they arrived home. Katin rushed Amira
inside, declaring that her lady was feeling quite ill and taking
her up to her bedchamber at once. She called for broth and bread
and commanded the other servants to keep their voices down, so as
not to disquiet their mistress.

Once alone, she helped Amira out of her gown
and into nightclothes, and then examined her scalp. She could see
nothing unusual at all beneath Amira’s hair. If there was something
amiss, it was invisible to her.

Sara brought in a covered tray bearing warm
soup and bread for Katin and Amira both, although Amira protested
that she was still full from the delicacies at the ball. Katin’s
envy sprouted fresh thorns at that.

“We should leave,” Katin said once Sara was
gone.

“Returning to the ball would seem very odd,”
Amira said.

“Be serious. I mean leave the city.”

“What? Why?”

“If you aren’t simply going mad, then Prince
Edon likely saw in you what you saw in him. He does not have a
reputation for gentleness. What if he comes here, looking for
you?”

“What, show up on our doorstep with a
regiment of royal soldiers?” Amira laughed. “Don’t be
ridiculous.”

“I am not being ridiculous! Do you think
these walls will protect you if the royal family decides you’re
some kind of threat? Do you think the king will hesitate to strip
your peerage, if they investigate you and your true history is
uncovered?”

Amira blanched. “He can’t do that. Peerage
is irrevocable.”

“Unless obtained by deceit.” Katin forced
her voice into a harsh whisper. This discussion could
not
go
beyond the walls of this room. “Do you think anyone would leap to
your defense, if it were discovered that you are the daughter of a
madam, with a whore for a
vala
?”

“Stop it! Why are you trying to frighten
me?” Amira’s face was red and she seemed close to tears.

“Because this childishness is going to get
us killed. After they take your title we’ll be lucky if they don’t
hang us both!”

Amira trembled. But Katin had to make her
understand. The shield of her title, of Valmir’s wealth, was
nothing but paper and wind.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but
Amira interrupted. “Go to bed. I have no more need of you tonight.”
Her voice was acid.

“Amira—”

“Go,” Amira repeated, and turned her
back.

Katin felt chagrin settle upon her. “Yes,
m’lady,” she whispered. She waited a handful of heartbeats, but
Amira did not say anything. Katin went off to her own cell, feeling
a hollow in the pit of her stomach.

She lay awake in the darkness for a long
time, fearing that their safety had come to an end.

Dardan paced from one end of the sitting
room to the other. Thirteen steps each way. Across, and back. He
half expected to see a rut worn into the carpet.

Liam stood by the door, opposite one of
Amira’s other servants, Sara or something. The girl seemed to quake
with fright every time Dardan came near. “More tea, m’lord?” she
squeaked.

“I don’t want any blasted tea, I want to see
Lady Amira!” he barked at her. The girl blanched and scurried out
the door, lukewarm tea almost splashing out of the pot she
carried.

Liam, for once, held his jests. Dardan was
in a truly foul mood. Amira’s early departure from the ball had
been disappointing enough, but then he’d had to endure taunting
from some other lordlings once he’d returned without her. Skender
Faroa had been there, naturally, and while he hadn’t said anything,
his smirk told all. Dardan had burned with embarrassment and forced
himself to walk away from the duke’s son.

He’d never wanted to go to the ball anyway,
and with Amira gone, he’d had no reason to hang about. He made his
excuses to his mother, but extricating himself from the party took
longer than he’d hoped: a number of noble matrons had noticed his
companion’s departure, and must have thought there’d been a falling
out. They’d descended upon him with invitations to breakfasts,
luncheons, dinner parties. He’d recklessly accepted any number of
them in order to escape. Now he’d have to spend another week or
more in this appalling city.

At home, he’d found he couldn’t sleep. He
sat at his window, staring across at the drawn curtains of Amira’s
manse. He’d had to admit to himself that he had enjoyed Amira’s
company, but it was muted by his resentment at being abandoned.
After a while he’d gone to bed and drifted into fitful sleep.

Morning had come too soon, after dreams of
running through a field with hundreds of matrons chasing after him,
all carrying their naked daughters on their shoulders. It should
have been erotic, but within the dream he’d been terrified.

Etiquette demanded that he call on Amira to
see if she was well, even though he’d been terribly embarrassed by
her departure. Sara had shown him to the sitting room, and soon
Amira’s
vala
arrived to inform him that her lady was still
unwell, but might soon attend on him if her spirits improved.

Well, it had been long enough, near on an
hour. Making a gentleman caller wait was a favorite pastime of
noble Garovan ladies, but this was becoming intolerable.

Footsteps approached, and Amira’s
vala
came in again. She gave an odd look at Liam, then took
a deep breath and focused her gaze on Dardan. “M’lord, Lady Amira
is feeling somewhat better. Pray wait a few more minutes for her to
dress, and she will attend you presently.”

Dardan knew he should try to be polite, but
he snapped anyway. “Yes, well, I’ve waited this long, what could
another few minutes possibly hurt?”

Sara would probably have fainted at his
tone, but Katin just raised an eyebrow. “M’lord might recall that
Lady Amira is not
choosing
to waste m’lord’s time. She was
severely unwell last night and m’lord would best reconsider his
tone if he wishes to meet my lady today.” She whirled around and
nearly stomped out.

Dardan was aghast. “The insolence—!” But
then he glanced at Liam, who appeared to be having a convulsive
fit. It took Dardan a moment to realize that his
valo
was
trying, and failing, to conceal great mirth. “Liam!” he
shouted.

It took several moments for Liam to compose
himself. He leaned on the wall and took several deep breaths before
turning to face his master. His mouth twitched a few times but he
managed not to burst out again. “Yes, m’lord?”

Dardan almost berated him, but stopped
himself. It would just make Liam laugh more.
Curse the man, he’s
got the better attitude for this. Why can’t I have such
composure?
The only time he ever saw Liam raise his voice or
grow irritable was in the malthouse, which was exactly the place
for it. Liam would never shout impatiently at an innocent
maidservant.

He collapsed onto a couch and sighed. “Never
mind.” He didn’t feel like apologizing or explaining. He just
wanted this to be over.

Finally, the Caretaker be praised, Katin
entered again, followed by her lady. Dardan rose at once. Katin
showed no further signs of hostility, her face a serene mask.
Instead she stared at the ceiling, not noticing Liam, who in turn
pretended not to stare at her.

Amira wore a simple blue linen dress, her
hair combed out straight and held by a plain silver clip. She was
still radiant, if a bit drawn. But she smiled to see Dardan, and
took his hand. “My lord, thank you ever so much for concerning
yourself with my welfare this day.”

He nodded, bowing low over her hand. He
stopped short of kissing it; this was not the right time for that.
But he felt much better just seeing her. It was hard to retain his
animosity in the face of her beauty. “I was distressed to see you
depart last evening,” he said, leading her over to one of the
couches, where they sat. “I hope—”

A pounding came from the entry. They all
swung their heads to look. Katin was nearest the door and leaned
out.
What now?
The pounding came again, and someone else
rushed past in the hall, followed by the sound of the front door
opening. “May I help you?” he heard Sara say, and then she cried
out.

Dardan shot to his feet, and Liam was
already moving toward the doorway. His dagger had appeared in his
hand, a short-bladed dirk he kept in a sheath at the small of his
back, under his coat. Dardan had never seen him actually use it in
anger, and had only seen him draw it twice before.

Loud booted footsteps echoed in the hall.
Liam pulled Katin behind him and backed into the room. A man in
helmet and armor appeared in the doorway, wearing a checked coat of
purple and blue over mail and leather. His sword was sheathed at
his side.

The guard glanced around, then stepped aside
and nodded. A swarthy, mustachioed man, clearly of higher rank,
came into view. A captain of guards or some such. He had black hair
and dark eyes. Dardan marked him as Parilian. “Lady Amira Estaile,”
the man said, his eyes settling on her.

Dardan interposed himself between them.
Katin had gone to Amira’s side, and Liam still stood closest to the
door, his dirk in his hand. He was not threatening anyone with it,
just holding it down at his hip. The king’s men might not even have
noticed it. But what he thought he could do with it against armored
men with swords, Dardan had no idea.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dardan
demanded. King’s man or no, it was still shocking to barge
uninvited into the home of a lady.

“His royal highness Prince Edon, he commands
to be brought to him at once the Lady Amira. And her
vala
.”
His eyes went to Katin, the obvious candidate.

Amira stood. “What is this about?”

“The prince’s business, m’lady. Please, with
me you will come.”

“I would hear more about what this business
entails,” Dardan said. “Who are you?” He was becoming agitated. How
dare this man make demands of them?

The guard captain bowed slightly. “I am
Captain Portio. Might I have the pleasure of your name,
m’lord?”

“Lord Dardan Tarian, son of Count Asmus
Tarian of Hedenham,” he intoned in his most authoritative
voice.

The guard captain was unimpressed. “How
fortunate. The prince, he has commanded your attendance as well.
And your man.”

Dardan’s mouth worked but no sound came out.
What on earth was this about? He could not rightly ignore such a
command, but this was most improper.

The guard captain spoke again, impatient.
“His highness is not accustomed to waiting on his lessers. At once
we must go, all of you.”

Dardan saw no choice but to comply. He
looked at Liam and nodded. The
valo
casually sheathed the
dirk, which he had kept palmed. Neither of them had brought swords
into Amira’s house, and the guard captain seemed unlikely to let
them return home to arm themselves.

Dardan looked at Amira. Something intense
passed in the gaze between her and her
vala
, but Dardan had
no idea what it meant. After a moment, Katin stepped forward. “My
lady is in no fit state to travel. At least she must dress
properly.”

“She is clothed enough, and there is a
coach. She will be protected from prying eyes.” The captain stepped
aside and gestured to the front door.

Dardan picked up his hat and took Amira’s
hand. “I will not leave your side until this is resolved, I swear
it,” he announced. She met his eyes silently.

Katin and Liam followed them out. Three
guards stood in the front hall, and several more waited outside
beside a coach. It was as ornate, if not quite as large, as the one
they’d taken to the ball the night before. Two of the guards rode
along on the runners; the other guards were all ahorse, including
Captain Portio, who led the way.

The curtains were drawn, but there was no
glass in the windows. They could not talk without being overheard
by the guards. Not that Dardan knew what they could even say to one
another.

Mother!
he thought suddenly. Did she
know what had happened? Surely one of Amira’s servants would have
the wits to run next door and tell the tale. Once the countess
found out, pandemonium would ensue, which might not be for the
best. There was little he could do about it here, in any case.

Was this something to do with the ball?
Amira had grown ill immediately following their turn in the
receiving line. Prince Edon had been there. But nothing had
happened aside from Amira lingering a few seconds too long. Surely
even Prince Edon would not exact some sort of retribution for such
a trivial mistake.

He cast about for other ideas, but nothing
came. He watched his companions. Amira stared off into space.
Katin’s head kept swiveling, as if she were searching for a way
out. Liam breathed evenly, his eye on the door, his foot tapping
rhythmically.

Dardan was still mulling over why Edon might
have summoned them when the shadow of Elibarran’s wall fell across
the window. He pushed the curtain aside and saw that they had
returned to the palace’s coachyard, where they had last been only
the night before. But the red carpet was gone, and there were no
liveried footmen waiting to escort them. Only armed guards.

This time they took a different path, the
four of them herded swiftly along like so many sheep. Two guards
and the captain led the way, and two more brought up the rear.
Dardan kept Amira’s arm in his, and looked back to see that Katin
had taken Liam’s hand. The
valai
tried to keep their
expressions neutral, but Dardan thought he saw fear in Katin’s
eyes, and fury in Liam’s.

They were taken through halls, up stairs,
along corridors, deep into a part of the palace that few ever saw.
They passed into one of the wooden constructions that filled the
gaps between stone towers, and stopped before a wide double door of
pale blond ashwood. The walls and ceilings here were painted sky
blue, with clouds and cherubs frolicking across them. It looked
like a nursery.

Captain Portio knocked on the door. “Enter,”
came a gruff voice, and Portio led the whole party into an
antechamber dominated by a wide oak desk carved with scenes of
naval battle. Behind the desk stood a balding, white-haired man
with leathery skin. He too wore a surcoat of the royal colors, and
beneath it Dardan glimpsed gleaming steel plate. A gray cloak
flowed over his shoulders, and one hand rested on the golden pommel
of the longsword at his hip.

“Thank you, captain,” he nodded. The guard
captain bowed slightly and withdrew, leaving two of his guards
behind. “M’lord, m’lady, please, sit,” the armored man said. “I am
Sir Gaelan Thoriss, Prince Edon’s man.”

There were four plush chairs set out, low
seats with thick velvet padding. Dardan nearly fell into his in
shock.
Gaelan Thoriss?
The man was legendary, famous across
the realm for his feats in battle. In the Vaslander war, he’d
supposedly held a tower against twenty Vaslander berserkers all on
his own for an entire day, until reinforcements showed up. He must
be older than Dardan’s father, but Dardan could not think of a man
he’d less want to match swords with.

Sir Thoriss waited until the four of them
sat down. “Prince Edon wishes to speak with you,” he said. “I
apologize for the abruptness of your summons, but his royal
highness is very busy and must attend to many important matters. If
you will please wait here, the prince will see you shortly.” He
left through a narrow door in the rear of the room, closing it
behind him. Moments later another door opened, and in came a
serving girl bearing a tray of wine and bread and cheese. Dardan
had not eaten since breakfast, but chafed at the idea of taking
food from this prince who had all but kidnapped them.

Liam and Katin were not quite so picky.
Barely waiting for nods from their masters, they each began to eat
and drink. Amira considered the food for a moment, then nodded to
herself and started methodically chewing on some bread.

Eventually Dardan gave in and nibbled on
some cheese. But no sooner had he taken his first bite than the
narrow rear door opened and Sir Thoriss emerged again. “Lord
Tarian, if you please.” He gestured within.

Dardan hesitated. He’d sworn to stay with
Amira, but again he was left with no choice. He searched her eyes,
and she nodded. “I’ll be all right,” she whispered. He clutched her
hand for a moment, and went.

The room beyond was a study of some sort.
There was another desk, smaller than the one outside, with narrow
legs carved like those of an elk or deer. A closed double glass
door led to a balcony. Behind the desk sat Prince Edon, dressed
much more simply than he had been at the ball. But now he seemed
somehow more dangerous, removed from the public formality of the
throne room. And of course he’d had them brought here without
warning or consent, which did not endear him to Dardan.