THREATS
A bell tolled through the impenetrable blackness. Its
sonorous clanging scraped Laren’s mind raw, and all she could think
was that it was a death bell, ringing out the news. The news of . .
.
So trapped in the
tide of the dark was she that at first she could not remember, but
as she tossed beneath blankets, the horizon lightened to gray, only
to falter and dim again as she dreamed of arrows, arrows impaling a
little boy she loved very much.
The bell pealed out
one last note that hung in the air.
“Zachary!” She sat up, blinded by light,
disoriented. Where was she? This was not her bed.
Someone’s hand
pressed her shoulder and she sank back into her pillows. “Easy,
Red.”
At the sound of
Elgin’s voice, Laren sighed and rubbed her eyes. When they adjusted
to the light, her vision was blurry and her head throbbed.
“Terrible dream,” she murmured. Her mouth was dry. “Terrible dream
about Zachary.” She floundered for a cup of water on the bedside
table. Elgin saw what she was after and helped her drink. When she
drained the cup, he filled it for her again from a pitcher. This
time she drank more slowly.
“What happened?” she
asked. “Where am I?”
“Destarion said you
fell ill night before last,” Elgin replied. “You’re in the mending
wing.”
“I don’t remember .
. .” Her head hurt too much and she was too groggy to recall the
other night’s events. “I heard the death bell.”
“Death bell? Just
now? Nah, that was just the midday bell.”
“Then it was all a
dream,” she whispered in relief. “Zachary is all
right.”
There was a painful
period of silence before Elgin spoke again. “I don’t know what your
dream was, and while that was not a death bell, the prince—the king
is not all right, but he lives. For now.”
“Oh, gods.” Unbidden
tears streamed down her cheeks as she pieced together shreds of
memory. The mad ride down the Winding Way with Ben, the wagon
charging up the street bearing Zachary impaled with an arrow and
Lord Coutre dying beside him. “Tell me, tell me about
him.”
“Well,” Elgin said,
“I don’t know much more than he made it through two
nights.”
It gave Laren hope.
If Zachary made it through two nights ... Now he just had to keep
making it. He had to!
“Your Riders have
been worried about you,” Elgin said
quietly.
She squinted at him,
made out his blurry form sitting in a chair beside her bed. “I
don’t think I was sick. I don’t know.” She racked her brain,
searching for other memories of the day. She recalled being in
Zachary’s quarters and talking to Colin. She remembered Lady Estora
coming to see Zachary.
“Destarion said it
came on rapid. He thought maybe it was the strain.”
That certainly could
be, she thought. However, her vision was already subtly improving
and the headache lifting. Elgin was less of a blur. In fact, she
could discern dark shadows beneath his eyes, a grayness to him she
had not seen before.
“There is something
else you’ll want to know about the king,” he said. “He’s a married
man now. We have a queen.”
“What?” Laren sat bolt upright and the world
darkened once more and she thought she might fall back into
unconsciousness.
“Easy there, Red,”
Elgin said. “The menders wanted me to warn you to take it
slow.”
His voice anchored
her and she blinked away the dark. “They did it,” she whispered as
a rush of memory hit her all at once, the heated discussion with
Colin, the tea. “Those bastards. They did it.”
“Er, you’re not
calling the king and his new queen ...”
“No, I mean Colin
and the others. His conspirators. They got Zachary married. Tell
me, have my Riders gone out with the news of any of
this?”
Despite her obvious
disorientation and emotional behavior, Elgin remained calm, steady,
her anchor. “Counselor Dovekey ordered them out late this morning
with the joyous news.”
Laren crushed
handfuls of blanket in her fists. No doubt they downplayed
Zachary’s injury, as well, if that was even included in the
message. Oh, yes, she had done what she could to promote the
forthcoming marriage between Zachary and Estora, but she hadn’t
wanted it to come about in this manner. Not at all. Not through
duplicity. There were those who would see through the deception no
matter how well concealed, and if that happened, it would only make
matters worse.
She threw her
blanket off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. They’d
clothed her in a sleeping gown, but she was relieved to see her
uniform hanging on hooks. She jumped to her feet.
And the room slanted
and the gray pervaded her vision.
“Whoa, lass!” Elgin
said. “Steady now. Remember, take it slowly.”
She sank back down
onto the bed and glared at Elgin, her hands trembling. “They dosed
me with something, Chief,” she said. “They put something in my tea.
They did not want me to interfere with their little plan.” She
thought he’d probably think her raving, delirious. He did not move
or react to her words, but rubbed his chin thoughtfully as if
considering her sanity.
“Huh,” he said
finally. “Who all is involved?”
Laren closed her
eyes and sent up a small prayer of thanks to the heavens. He
believed her. Colin and the others probably preferred to cast doubt
on her rationality, which could only serve their own cause. If she
gainsayed them, they could undermine her authority, her very
sanity, so no one believed her. Her assertions would be brushed
aside as the ravings of a woman grief stricken by the loss of
someone she was so very close to. She’d been in such despair,
they’d say, illness had weakened her mind.
But they hadn’t
counted on Elgin. Or her Riders. Elgin believed her. Her Riders
would believe her. She’d have to move carefully so the conspirators
did not work to discredit her.
“Spane,” Laren said.
“He started it, then Colin joined in. Destarion is the one who
dosed my tea. And Colin said Harborough, with the army to back him,
was in favor of it. I’m going to kill them.”
“The whole
army?”
“You know what I
mean. The conspirators. They went against protocol, against king’s
law, and they didn’t want me to inform the lord-governors of
it.”
“I see,” Elgin
replied, “but the king was going to marry Lady Estora anyway, and
this should help secure a smooth transition of power.”
“Oh, Chief, not you,
too.”
“I’m not saying it’s
right, at least in a legal sense. I’m sure Zachary will have a few
things to say should the gods grant us his recovery. And it was
certainly wrong of them to remove you from the process as they did.
But what can you do? Gah, politics and intrigue. It’s why I didn’t
want to come back.”
Laren’s shoulders
sagged. “I don’t think I can do much, but there is a chance before
she’s crowned—”
Elgin cleared his
throat and looked out the window. “Too late, as of this
morning.”
“What? They already
held her coronation?”
“Yep. Before your
Riders got sent out.”
“Those bastards. I
am going to kill them. I guess the only
thing left for me to do is register a formal complaint with the
queen. She is now the law of the land.”
“That could be
dangerous,” Elgin said.
“Estora has always
been reasonable, but sudden power does have a way of changing
people. Still, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“I recommend you eat
something first.” Master Destarion appeared in the doorway bearing
a tray of food and drink. “You’ve missed a few meals and that’s
adding to your weakness.”
Elgin sniffed at the
fine aromas rising from the tray. Laren’s stomach
roiled.
“I suppose the
food’s dosed with whatever you gave me the other night in the tea.”
Laren said, her voice full of venom.
“I regret the
necessity of what we did,” Destarion said. He set the tray on a
table. Laren was tempted to upend it and throw the dishes at him,
but she figured it would only be another excuse for them to dose
her well and good.
“There is nothing
mixed in your food or drink, except whatever spices the kitchen
staff use to make it taste better,” Destarion said.
She glowered at
him.
“You do have the
ability to check the truth of my words,” he said.
She did, and she
reached for where her brooch usually was, but it was not clasped to
her sleeping gown. Elgin, who knew what she wanted, fetched her
shortcoat, but her emotions must have been strong enough that she
did not require contact with the brooch to receive her answer.
True, her special ability told her.
Destarion had not lied about the food or drink. She took her
shortcoat from Elgin, and touching the brooch only reinforced the
first message.
So the items on the
tray were safe. The knowledge did not, however, ameliorate her
anger toward Destarion. As galling as it was that she must rely on
him for information on the conditions of Zachary and Ben, her
concern for the two overrode her personal feelings. “How is
Zachary?”
“Feverish. This will
be a difficult day.”
“And
Ben?”
“Still
unconscious.”
“He over-exerted his
ability,” Laren said. “He could have killed himself.”
“That is what we
believe, but we’ve no experience with this sort of thing—at least
in our lifetimes. I’ve a couple of apprentices checking back
through our archives to see if there is any mention of a similar
case occurring in the past.”
“You will tell me if
you find out anything about Ben’s condition, won’t you.” She’d made
it a statement, not a question. She was curious to know just what
the mender documents said about Riders, since so little Rider
history had survived the ages. It hadn’t occurred to her before to
search their archives. “It could help all Riders.”
Destarion bowed. “Of
course. Now I suggest you eat, as our queen has been asking to
speak with you, and decisions have to be made.”
“Decisions?” she
murmured, but Destarion had already left.
“I thought he was
one of the ones you were going to kill,” Elgin said.
“He was. Is. After
he finds out what’s going on with Ben.”
After Laren ate and
dressed, no one forbade her to leave the mending wing. She peered
in at Ben who lay peacefully in bed. He looked only to be asleep,
but when she called to him and shook his shoulder, he did not
awaken.
She also saw Sperren
reclined in a daybed in a sunny common room, where an apprentice
mender read to him.
“Captain!” he called
out. “I’ve a new hip, is it not wonderful?”
So wonderful that
Zachary was in danger of dying because of that hip, and Ben
remained unconscious.
“And we’ve a new
queen! ” Sperren added. “It is a remarkable day.”
Laren ground her
teeth. On her way out, she said to Elgin, “I’m going to kill him,
too.”
“The carnage is
going to be terrible.”
Elgin accompanied
her all the way to the royal apartments. It wasn’t necessary, but
she was grateful for his presence. In the course of two nights, it
felt as though everyone else had turned against her.
The Weapons
permitted her into the private portion of the apartments, leading
her to Zachary’s dressing room. There she found Colin in
consultation with Zachary’s secretary, Cummings. When she arrived,
they stood.
“Captain,” Colin
said, “so good to see you up and about so soon after your
illness.”
“You are sticking to
that story, are you? So if I make trouble it will be easier to
convince everyone I’ve cracked?”
“I’m so sorry,
Captain,” Colin replied. “But it was necessary. We will face the
consequences if it comes to that.”
“By Zachary’s hand,
or mine if he is not able, you will.”
Colin’s expression
darkened. “I hardly think it helps matters to make
threats.”
“I don’t make
threats, Colin. You know that.”
“You may find
yourself in a position, Captain, unable to do more.”
“Who is making
threats now?” she murmured.
Colin lifted his
chin but did not reply. Cummings excused himself, no doubt to
escape the tension in the room. Elgin remained solidly by her
side.
“When Zachary
recovers,” Laren said, “I look forward to seeing him make you
accountable.”
“I pray to the gods
he does recover,” Colin said, “no matter what it may cost
me.”
His demeanor had
become very humble, remorseful, and his words rang with truth, even
without her consulting her ability. She would never understand the
Weapon mentality of Death is honor. It
was even more astonishing to her that this man who had dedicated
himself to Zachary, Zachary’s father, King Amigast, and his
grandmother, Queen Isen, would betray Zachary in this manner. But
then, Weapons were mysterious in their ways, and though it was
never said overtly, more than being protectors of the royal family
and the royal dead, their directive was to guard the kingdom more
than the person who ruled the kingdom. Did they construe that
directive to mean they could initiate a coup if they deemed it
necessary? If Zachary did recover, they needed to have a serious
talk.
“Destarion told me,”
Laren said, “that Lady ... Queen Estora
asked to see me.”
“Yes, Captain, but I
wish to be forthright and warn you there has been a good deal of
discussion about you.”
“Really.”
Colin nodded. “It is
under consideration that you be relieved of duty, at least
temporarily.”
“What?” It was Elgin who bellowed out the word.
Laren was not surprised.
“At this crucial
time,” Colin explained, “we need all of us to be in accord
regarding our new queen. We are unsure of your absolute loyalty and
we cannot judge your honesty in the same way your ability allows
you to judge us. However, we also understand you cannot leave the
service voluntarily or under coercion due to the properties of your
brooch. Therefore, suspension of duty may be the preferred
alternative.”
“After all my years
of service?”
“It pains me,” Colin
said. “I know how dedicated you are to Zachary and the realm. It is
nothing personal, of course.”
Of course not. It
was political expediency. There were, Laren knew, other ways to
silence her that were far less gentle than suspension. Would her
continued resistance force them to resort to other measures? They
were quite capable of concealing anything they did to her. There
would be lies about her whereabouts. They’d inform interested
parties she was not favored by the queen.
“Because I wanted to
follow legal protocol you are suspending me?” she asked, her soft
tone only underscoring her contempt.
“It is not for me to
determine,” Colin replied. “It’s the queen’s decision. Naturally we
hope she will express confidence in you, and you will accept all
that has come to pass.”
“Good gods,” Elgin
muttered. “It’s Gwyer Warhein all over.”
“That was another
time, a different situation,” Colin retorted.
Was it really so
different? Laren wondered. Gwyer Warhein, captain of the Green
Riders two hundred years ago, had been vilified by his king, the
paranoid Agates Sealender, for the unspeakable crime of honesty;
for telling truths the king hated hearing about himself and his
reign. Warhein had been a reader of honesty, just as Laren was—she
wore his brooch. It had come to her, chosen her, from across generations of Riders. She
fingered it now, the gold smooth and cool to her touch. She tilted
her head as she regarded Colin.
She had worked with
him long enough to know he was no fool—far from it—and that he was
well-versed in history. As much as he’d deny it, he’d see the
parallels with the past—not only Laren telling truths he did not
wish exposed, but how Warhein’s loyal Riders had rallied to him,
had gone into exile with him, despite the threat of royal reprisal.
Colin and his conspirators would have deduced that Laren’s Riders
would do the same for her. Censuring her by any harsher means than
suspension of duty would incur the wrath of her Riders, and the
conspirators could not afford to lose them; they could not function
without them.
Still, Laren
reflected, it didn’t mean the conspirators wouldn’t hesitate to do
what was necessary and expedient to silence her if she made too
much trouble.
Despite the
potential for danger to herself, she could not repress a smile, and
the line between Colin’s brows deepened in response.
“Gwyer Warhein is
considered a hero today,” she murmured as if to herself. Not only
had he resisted a tyrant by telling the truth, but when old,
unlamented Agates died without an heir and the realm plunged into
the Clan Wars, Warhein and his Riders had helped Smidhe Hillander
attain victory, bringing Zachary’s line to the throne, and
initiating two centuries of peace and unification. Colin would know
all this, too. He could not act without considering the weight of
history.
Laren squared her
shoulders and straightened her back, proud as ever of her Rider
heritage and the brooch she wore. “Gwyer Warhein supported Clan
Hillander,” she said. “And so have I. Always. And so will I
continue to do.”
“So be it,” Colin
replied. “Best not to keep the queen waiting.” He led the way to
the bedchamber door and opened it for her, but blocked Elgin from
entering.
“It’s all right,”
she told her old friend, and she stepped into the room to face her
new queen.