17
A Royal Jest

Quist sipped his ale and eyed Tor, who was laughing with Locky while they chose from an exotic and unfamiliar array of food. The Queen had generously ordered that all the former prisoners be taken to the inn and fed properly at the city’s expense before being offered passage home. But Quist was not interested in food right now.

This stranger, Gynt, who had his wife’s energetic support, did not fear him as other men did. But then, why should Gynt fear him if he was not a pirate himself? No, if he was honest, it was not Gynt who bothered him so much as Eryn’s friendship with him. In his years with Eryn, this was the first time Quist had felt threatened by another man. Eryn was a gorgeous woman, but she was also a former whore and now a brothel madam. Men were her business, but none of them had generated jealousy in his heart.

And yet this one’s relationship with her hurt. A friend; that meant so much more than paid lover. Her message through Locky had been precise: Please help him find what he seeks to the best of your abilities, no matter the expense, no matter how much time it takes. Please also give him your full protection.

That was some request. Actually, it was more of an order. She had not left any room for translation; her meaning was plain. If he did not do as she asked, it would be considered an insult to her—and that would never do, for Janus Quist worshipped the very ground Eryn Quist trod upon. He found it hard to tell her this, but a laugh at one of his jests or a simple affectionate gesture could please him for weeks.

He remembered the incident Tor spoke of very well. Quist’s memory was sharp at the best of times but his recollection of the Kloek was very clear. He had even liked the man. He had taken the falcon knowing it would fetch a rare price. And it had.

How was he going to explain to Gynt that it simply would not be possible to retrieve this creature? The bird was gone and the proceeds now adorned Eryn’s elegant neck.

Quist was a forthright man, known for his honesty. He would tell Gynt how it was. Perhaps he could purchase a new falcon for the man. It would be expensive but Light, for Eryn’s happiness, he would hang any expense, especially as his recent voyage had been so profitable.

‘So,’ Tor said, finally coming to join Quist at the small table. ‘Let us speak plainly. You must recall the falcon. He is magnificent, I am sure no one could forget him.’

‘I recall him.’

‘I suppose it is too much to hope for that you may still have him?’

‘Yes.’

‘You do still have him?’ Tor was surprised. Could he be that fortunate?

‘No, I mean, yes, it is too much to hope. I’m sorry, Gynt.’

‘So you’ve sold him. Please, tell me everything.’

Quist saw pain cross the stranger’s face. His quest was real all right.

‘I will. But first tell me, why is this hawk so special?’

‘He’s a falcon, Quist. We have been together for many years now. He is very special and he was given into my care. I must not forsake him.’

‘I see.’ Quist did not see anything. ‘Can we not purchase a new falcon for you? I realise it will not make up for the years you had with the other one, but birds are easily trained; this new one would become a companion of equal stature.’

‘No, you don’t understand, Janus. He is more than that. I can’t explain it. Please, just tell me everything.’

Quist sighed. ‘We brought him ashore at Cipres one moon or so after leaving Caradoon. To be honest, I thought he might die on the voyage.’ He saw Tor wince. ‘He was very silent for a bird of that size. To my knowledge, he ate nothing at sea, but I think he liked being out on deck.’

‘He was tied, of course,’ Tor said.

The captain nodded. He could tell from Tor’s tone of voice this was not going to be an easy conversation. Just the mention of the bird not eating made him look angry.

‘We came ashore and, because he is what we call a “perishable”, he was sold within a day of our arrival.’

‘And to whom was he sold?’

‘Well, you see, Physic Gynt, that’s just it. I don’t know. The bird was sold at market. He fetched a right good price but I don’t go taking the names and lodgings of my buyers.’

‘You cannot tell me that a peregrine falcon like Cloot is sold every day at market to the ordinary passer-by.’

‘No. The man, who paid good coin, was a master falconer for sure.’

‘Well, where would someone like that take Cloot?’

Quist shrugged. He could have saved Gynt all of this trouble. He really had no idea where to start trying to track down a falcon.

‘Would you remember this man?’

‘No. I did not sell the bird; one of my men did.’ Now Quist saw grief flit across the physic’s features. He had promised Eryn he would help but he was failing badly. ‘Now look, Gynt, it’s true I have no idea where your bird is, but you’re right, there are not that many falconers around.’

‘Where is your man? Why can’t we start with him?’

‘Ah…’ was all Quist could say. He tugged at his eye-patch and then scratched at his beard.

Tor groaned. ‘Tell me the bad news, Quist.’

‘He died. He got involved in a boisterous game of dice, was accused of cheating and was murdered.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘Though Basyl was a pirate, he never cheated at dice. They killed a good man.’

Tor nodded, as though resigned to his hopeless situation. ‘Then we no longer have a score to settle, Janus Quist. Thank you for trying to help.’

Quist was unsettled by this sudden end to their conversation. ‘No, wait, Gynt. I must offer recompense. It is more than my life is worth.’ He smiled, then added, ‘Eryn’, and shrugged again.

Tor put his right hand on Quist’s right shoulder, a Caradoon gesture for sealing friendship. ‘You are a good man and she cherishes you. No, you owe me no debt. If I ever need your help, Captain Quist, may I call upon it? It may be a long time coming, but it could also be tomorrow.’

Quist returned the gesture and they stood facing one another, arms crossed in front of them and resting on the other’s shoulders. ‘Count on me any time you are in need,’ he said and meant it. ‘Good luck in your search. Where will you start?’

Tor smiled wryly. ‘At the palace. I have an appointment to meet a powerful Queen.’

Tor was deeply concerned about Cloot. He had tried opening a link several times but it led nowhere; it was not dissimilar to the sensation he had felt when trying to reach Alyssa all those years ago. Alyssa had been blocked first by Merkhud and later by the archalyt. Tor wondered what could be blocking the falcon’s powers. Of course, there was one simple explanation. He could be dead.

Cloot dead? No, it was unthinkable. Tor could not entertain such a frightening turn of events.

At that moment he felt the cold slice of a link opening in his head. It did not have Cloot’s memorable signature. He recognised the magic of Adongo before the man even spoke.

So troubled you look, Adongo said quietly from his corner.

Tor turned towards him. You don’t seem so jolly either.

It is time for me to leave.

Yes, I thought it might be. I am pleased Queen Sylven pardoned you.

Adongo nodded. It was appropriate.

So where now? Tor asked.

I search. I must find the one to whom I am bonded.

Will we meet again?

I feel sure of it. In that place you called the Heartwood.

Until then. Stay safe.

Adongo effected a farewell gesture; Tor responded in kind across the inn. He felt suddenly very alone and wished the tall Moruk could remain with him. It occurred to him to say so but Adongo was already crossing towards the door. He had obviously said his goodbyes to his men. He carried nothing in his hands. His brightly coloured robe was just a simple sheet of woven fabric wrapped expertly around his body, yet he looked like a king nevertheless. And then Adongo of the Moruks, Fifth of the Paladin, was gone.

Tor wondered if he would actually lay eyes on Queen Sylven at this meeting which she had requested the day after his release. It suited him to be summoned. Questions asked of various courtiers had led him to understand that the Queen admired birds of prey and kept a large team of handlers on her staff to look after her aviaries both here and at her winter palace in rural Cipres. It was a start. If Cloot had fetched such a high price, it was more than reasonable to suppose that he had been purchased for one of the royal aviaries.

Tor was led into a cavernous hall with exquisitely carved stone walls. It was very cool, almost cold in fact, due to the wintry chill which was beginning to descend upon Cipres. From this room high in one of the towers of the palace, he could look out over the beautiful city. Surprising himself after years of enjoying a hermit’s existence, Tor believed he could live here and be happy. If it were not for the terrifying notion of Orlac breaking free, or Goth possibly being alive and still a threat to Alyssa, he might have asked the Queen for permission to settle in Cipres.

He smiled to himself as he peered out across the city. He would have liked to show Alyssa this place.

Tor tried to imagine what she might be doing this very minute. He knew Queen Nyria would never allow any harm to come to her and hopefully she had been given lodgings at the palace in Tal. Plus she had Saxon and Sallementro to watch over her. He reassured himself she was safe. Perhaps she was building a new life now? She would push the memories of his grisly death deep inside and she would triumph over that grief; he was sure of it. One day some other man would be incredibly fortunate to call her his wife. Tor grimaced…but she was his wife. Nevertheless, as far as she believed, her husband was dead and she was free to marry another. Could she ever love someone as much as she had loved him? Tor knew he could not love another woman so deeply. Still, that had not stopped him making passionate love to Eryn, had it? He should not begrudge Alyssa new love if she was fortunate enough to find it.

A servant tapped him gently on the shoulder and disturbed the path of his thoughts. Tor was glad to leave them; they were becoming too painful. The Queen’s lady-in-waiting was a beautiful creature, tiny and dark of skin with a light, soft voice and wide smile. Light! How could he resist these gorgeous women? His musings on Alyssa were pushed back into a safe spot in his mind as Hela bid him follow her.

Guards pulled their frightening weapons aside to allow Tor and Hela to pass. They walked through numerous decorative and sumptuous rooms before climbing a flight of stairs, which Tor assumed would lead them into another tower. Tor had not thought it possible for anything to be more captivating than what he had already seen until they entered another suite of rooms. All the grandeur of the rest of the palace was left behind; these rooms were magnificent in their simplicity of colour and style. In her private living quarters, the Queen of Cipres had chosen to surround herself with uncluttered space. The walls of the reception room were adorned by a few beautiful paintings and one superb tapestry. It seemed darker up here but cleverly placed torches lit the room and wider arched windows let in plenty of light. The furnishings, although beautiful and sophisticated, were also practical and—as far as Tor could tell—chosen for comfort. A small, painted porcelain stove had been lit against the chill in the air.

‘If you would wait here, Physic Gynt,’ Hela said, softly.

She walked barefoot out of the room. Tor took the opportunity to look around but almost immediately a pair of great arched doors were opened from the inside. No guards in this area, Tor noted, though it was heavily secured outside.

Hela pulled back a set of heavy drapes and smiled. ‘Queen Sylven will take audience with you now, sir.’ She bowed politely to him, allowed him to pass and then closed the drapes and doors behind her as she left the room.

‘Approach, Physic. Let me see you,’ came a familiar voice; one used to giving commands.

Tor walked towards the voice. He saw the outline of a tall carved chair behind a fine curtain. He dropped to his knees and waited, sensing a practised eye casting over him. He realised he had shielded himself. Curious. The precaution must be habitual now.

‘You may stand.’

He obeyed.

‘And you are a real physic?’

‘Yes, your highness. From Tal.’

‘Ah, yes. I have only this morning received some troubling news from your capital.’

‘I have been away from the city for many years, your majesty. I am not familiar with any of its tidings.’

‘I see. Then you will be saddened to hear of the death of Queen Nyria,’ she said.

Tor momentarily lost his composure. He was rocked by the casually spoken news and his face betrayed his shock.

‘This information is disturbing for you, Gynt, I can see.’

‘Madam…I…’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Queen Nyria was a wonderful woman. Was it her heart?’

‘The communiqué did not specify details. As far as I can gather, she was thrown from a horse and died soon afterwards. Did you know her personally?’

Tor chewed his lip. ‘Yes, your highness. I was Royal Physic to the King and Queen.’

The sovereign paused. ‘Then I am deeply sorry, Torkyn Gynt, that I delivered these tidings to you so harshly. You obviously worked closely with the royal couple?’

‘Especially with Queen Nyria, your majesty. But she was a fragile woman and I should not be surprised to hear this news. The Kingdom has surely lost one of its greatest treasures.’

The curtains opened and a young woman stepped out. She was adorned in a jewel-encrusted gown with slippers to match. Her looks were similar to Hela’s and her olive skin gleamed. She smiled to show teeth which were perfectly white, perfectly straight. Her lips and cheeks were coloured with rouge. The woman stepped towards him and spoke.

‘I am sorry for you, Torkyn Gynt.’ She laid long, elegant fingers on his arm.

Still fazed by the news, Tor did not immediately react to his own senses which spoke urgently to him.

‘Come, sit with me. I wish to speak with you about happier things.’

Tor allowed the Queen to lead him to a beautifully carved window seat. ‘Please,’ she said gently and motioned for him to sit.

He did so but something nagged insistently at his mind.

‘What business do you have in Cipres, Physic Gynt?’ she asked, joining him on the window seat.

‘Well, I…er, that is, I am in search of something.’

The feeling grew stronger. He looked closely at the woman sitting next to him. Her breasts were full and shown off to their very best effect by her low-cut gown, which itself was dazzling with precious stones sewn into the heavy fabric. Her perfume was rich and heady.

Why did he feel something was not right?

He dropped his shield and ‘listened’ as he liked to consider it. Then all his thoughts fell into place. He almost laughed.

‘Your majesty,’ he said, standing.

‘Yes?’

‘Oh, not you, my lady,’ he said to the woman sitting next to him in all her finery. ‘I mean to address the real Queen Sylven, behind those artful veils.’

He heard a burst of delighted laughter and a clap of hands. This time her majesty, Queen Sylven, stepped out. She was not a young woman but Tor imagined every woman in Cipres would pale in comparison with her. Her natural olive complexion gleamed its health. She wore no false colouring bar the kohl that outlined her feline, almost black eyes which disclosed her exotic heritage. She was tall, much taller than the impostor, and devoid of jewellery. Her gown of rich cream revealed the flawless, polished skin of her neck and the tops of her arms but the rest of her body was modestly covered. Tor could not see her slippers but wondered if they matched her gown. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a thick single plait and he could see that it was still naturally black. She was utterly radiant and her height and slimness reminded him of Queen Nyria.

‘How did you know?’

Tor smiled. ‘That was a fine trick, your majesty,’ he said.

‘That is one of my favourite jests. Tell me how you knew,’ she replied and quietly dismissed the jewel-encrusted impostor Queen with a nod.

‘Well, if your state rooms are anything to judge by, then understated sophistication is your trait, your highness,’ he said. ‘I walked through fabulous halls and reception rooms on the way here and yet it was only when Hela brought me into your chambers that I realised I was seeing the true taste of Queen Sylven.’

‘Go on,’ she said, intrigued and amused.

Tor continued. ‘Elegant and clean. Modest yet quietly proud. Strong and practical. Devastatingly beautiful, a beauty which time cannot affect.’

Tor watched her smile at the last.

‘I wish we had met when I was your age, Torkyn Gynt. I think I would have fallen in love with your easy charm.’

It was rare for Queen Sylven to lay open her thoughts in such a way but she found the man in front of her disarming in all respects.

‘Age means nothing, your majesty,’ Tor said and meant it. ‘Queen Nyria, who was almost old enough to be your mother, possessed similar style and poise. Like you, she was a Queen in every aspect of her character. I cannot imagine you ever need to search for male companionship.’

This amused Sylven. ‘My brothel is brimming.’

Tor’s eyes widened. ‘So it is true?’

She gave him a puzzled look and he continued. ‘I heard a rumour many years ago that you kept a brothel. Is there no King of Cipres, or any likelihood of one?’

‘Even if there were, I am sure you Tallinese could never understand that the royal brothel would not be disbanded.’ She loved the look of confusion which swept across his face.

Sylven took his arm and guided him to sit down once again. He noticed that her hand was soft and unwrinkled. It was impossible to judge the age of this woman. She was certainly years Alyssa’s senior, yet younger than Nyria. That would have to put her somewhere beyond thirty summers but before forty.

‘Allow me to enlighten you about Ciprean royal tradition, Tor. May I call you Tor?’

He nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Cipres has never been ruled by a man. As a consequence of tradition and centuries-old magic, the crown is always handed down to a woman. The Queen chooses her mate and, through secret powers of her own, ensures that a daughter is born. The lover is no longer required. The Princess becomes Queen at her rightful time. The Queen of Cipres has absolute power over all her subjects and she is taught to be magnanimous towards them; she is their protector and will see no harm come to her people. There are no poor in Cipres.’

Tor agreed. ‘I can guess that from the homes I saw just briefly.’

‘There are always less fortunate people, for many reasons. But we care for those who fall into trouble or despair. We give all our people the chance to better themselves. No child goes hungry. No one goes without lodging. All our people are educated. Our farms thrive.’

‘We could all learn from the way of Cipres, your majesty.’

She nodded, knowing he meant this compliment. ‘And, in return, the people give their absolute loyalty to the Queen.’

‘Is there a Princess, your majesty?’

‘Indeed there is. Her name is Sarel. She is presently but twelve summers. Still a girl, but her father was carefully chosen and Sarel will be a great Queen one day. For now though, I expect her to enjoy being a child.’ She sighed. ‘I fear my mother and grandmother never quite grasped the importance of being allowed to play and enjoy as normal a childhood as can be permitted for a royal.’

‘You have great insight, Queen Sylven. I am sure that ensuring freedom for Sarel now will reward you in later years.’

‘I hope so. She will have a vast and powerful realm to rule. She must have no regrets about her role.’

Tor looked wistfully from the window where they sat. ‘I was thinking as I looked out over the city, your majesty, how I could easily fall in love with Cipres and live here.’

She looked surprised. ‘But Tor, we would welcome you here with open arms. Physics are always in high demand.’

He shook his head. ‘But I cannot, Queen Sylven. I have tasks ahead of me which I do not relish but which must be done.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘Well, I hope you will tell me more. Come, let us stroll the gardens together, and then why not join me for dinner?’

‘I would be honoured,’ he replied.

Much later that evening, while sipping sweet wine and munching on exotic fruits, Tor wished he really could forget the past and make a new life here. Sitting out on one of the many fine balconies of the Ciprean palace, shielded from the cool breeze by the tall, sentry-like trees and warmed by many braziers, he felt relaxed for possibly the first time in years.

He and Queen Sylven had spent the entire afternoon together and thoroughly enjoyed one another’s companionship. Sylven possessed a sharp intelligence which Tor would have found attractive in any man or woman, and her wit was deeply engaging. He was in no hurry for the evening to end.

The feeling appeared to be mutual as Sylven ordered another jug of wine to be brought out to them. Tor stretched languidly and once again felt an appreciative glance sweep over him.

‘You never did tell me how you worked out my fine trick.’

Tor knew it was dangerous to tell anyone of his powers, but his instincts told him there was no threat here, only friendship.

He took the risk. ‘I am sentient, your majesty.’

She was pouring him another goblet of the sweet wine but stopped. His comment had obviously taken her by surprise.

‘You jest, of course?’

‘No, Sylven. It’s true that I did make some crucial observations,’ he grinned at her open mouth, ‘but, in all honesty, I relied on my ability to sniff out magic. Congratulations, it is a fine trick.’

He took his half-filled goblet from her long fingers.

‘Prove it!’ she demanded, her eyes glinting with high amusement.

‘Tell me how and I shall do it.’

‘All right.’ She closed her eyes. ‘What am I thinking?’

Tor cast. He caught the thought and laughed. ‘I’m not going to repeat it out loud but I shall be delighted to do that to you.’

Sylven shrieked. She was deliciously excited now. ‘That’s just you teasing. You couldn’t know what I was thinking, you wretch.’

Tor was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had used his power for fun. The last occasion was as a child, when he had done whatever he could to amuse Alyssa and hear that wonderful laugh of hers. When Sylven laughed it was not dissimilar to the undisguised mirth of the young Alyssa and he enjoyed the gentle reminder of the woman he adored but could not have.

‘No,’ the Queen said shaking her head, ‘you will have to do something much more dramatic.’

Tor dragged his mind away from Alyssa and back to the present. While he was thinking, the jug Sylven had ordered arrived and was put down in front of them.

The Queen was quick to dismiss her servant. ‘Thank you. We wish for privacy now.’

‘Yes, your majesty,’ the servant whispered and discreetly disappeared.

‘We are alone, Tor, show off your magic!’ she commanded.

He decided to perform a trick which had terrified Merkhud but which he knew would thrill Sylven. In the blink of an eye, Tor disappeared. The Queen screamed with delight.

‘Shh!’ Tor warned, reappearing immediately. ‘You’ll have them running from all corners. They’ll chop my head off before I have time to explain.’

Sylven’s perfectly manicured hands covered her mouth but her eyes betrayed her excitement, and her complete disbelief at what she had just witnessed. ‘What else can you do?’ she whispered.

Tor shook his head. ‘I am not a performing animal, your majesty. I have sentient ability; that’s it. I can…’ he searched for the words, ‘sense things.’ He did not feel it appropriate to explain the full breadth of his powers. ‘And you, your highness, how far do your powers extend?’

‘Tor, if I could do what you just did, I would be the most powerful sovereign of all the lands in all the world. I still cannot believe you did that,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Your majesty, may I request that this be kept private between us? I am not in the habit of boasting about my power.’

She grinned. ‘Only to sovereigns?’

‘No,’ Tor said, leaning across and taking her hand. ‘Not to just any sovereign, only indescribably beautiful ones.’

‘You will stay the night with me, Torkyn Gynt. I should like to see in which other ways you can use this mighty power.’

If it had not been for the cushioning barrier of trees, the Cipreans would have heard their Queen’s and her guest’s laughter almost as far away as the city’s centre.