Ironcrown Moon (13 page)

“With all my heart, Deveron. But I’m no great shakes in a fight, you know—”

“Oh, sirs!” cried Vra-Mattis, rising up from his tree root and calling out to the two knights. “A terrible calamity has occurred at the palace. There’s been an attempt to kill Lord Stergos! His apartment and the library have been almost completely demolished by several tarnblaze explosions and a great fire.”

“Hell’s bells and buckets of blood!” said Snudge. “Is he dead?”

“Nay, sorely burned but expected to survive. I bespoke Vra-Sulkorig, who says that your speedy return is now more needful than ever.

The Royal Alchymist demands to speak to you and will take no remedy for his pain lest it send him to sleep and prevent him from giving you a special command. But he will tell no one what this command might be—not even the High King.”

“I see.” Whether it was Mat’s disgusting potion at work, or his own brain’s energy rising to the occasion, Snudge now felt clear-headed and revitalized. “Then the King’s Grace is unhurt?”

“He and the rest of the royal family are safe. The fire is confined to the wing of the palace where the Zeth Brethren reside. Sadly, numbers of them have been killed or injured. You’re aware, of course, that the devilish substance tarnblaze cannot be put down by magical spells. The conflagration is being fought with water pumped from the river and the palace moat. It still burns strongly, and the roof timbers are collapsing.”

“Tell Vra-Sulkorig I’ll try to attend him and Lord Stergos inside of an hour. Bid him have the City Guard clear the West River Road approach so we won’t be delayed. By now, there must be
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panicky crowds as well as gawkers on the streets surrounding the palace.”

Mattis nodded and covered his head again.

“All is in readiness, Deveron,” Gavlok announced, “whenever you wish to ride.”

A few minutes later they were all in the saddle, galloping back onto the highroad with the squire Valdos leading the way, holding the crown banner of the Sovereignty and shouting, “Make way!

Make way for the king’s men!”

five

My lord, I’m here. I grieve to see you so wounded.“ Snudge bent low over the bandaged face of the patient lying motionless on a bed in a room adjacent to the king’s suite. Only the hazel eyes were uncovered. They were partially open, with their lids blistered and lashes seared away, and darted aimlessly from side to side as if vainly seeking someone. Snudge felt his heart contract.

Was the poor man blind?

“My Lord Stergos, are you awake?”

Is it you, Deveron

? The response came in unsteady windspeech.

“The skin around his mouth has been terribly burned,” High King Conrig whispered. He sat on a stool beside his suffering brother, his own countenance a mask of anguish. “He may not be able to answer.”

Snudge said covertly, “He bespoke me. But I dare not let these other people hovering round about him know that we can converse mind

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Conrig climbed to his feet and addressed the crowd of red-robed physicians and alchymists.

“All of you, leave us. Sir Deveron and I will confer privately for a few minutes and pray over my brother.”

The Brothers reluctantly filed out of the sickroom and closed the door. A subdued roll of thunder announced the approaching storm.

Snudge said, “Lord Stergos, do you have a message for me? It’s safe to use windspeech. The others have gone away.”

Ah… Mustn’t compromise your secret, Deveron. Especially not now.

“No, my lord.”

All of them think… the explosion was an attempt on my life. Even Con! Not true. I believe…

someone demolished my quarters to get at the

Trove of Darasilo. You remember Kilian had it. We never found… impossible to wind-search sigils… we thought he hid it somewhere in palace… he’d never entrust it to another.

“I agree,” Snudge said. “Shall I tell His Grace about this?”

“Here!” Conrig protested. “There’ll be no secrets kept from me!”

Tell him.

“Sire,” Snudge said firmly, “in matters of high sorcery, you must always be guided by the judgment and wisdom of your Reverend

Brother. However, he’s given me permission to tell you his concerns. Do you remember the secret trove of inactive sigils and the two magical books that I discovered in the rooms of the former Royal Alchymist, Kilian Blackhorse?”

“Yes. Our search after Kilian’s arrest turned up nothing, so I assumed they had been lost. Gossy said so, too. If the things had turned up, he planned to destroy them to keep them away from that cunning little bastard, Beynor of Moss. He and Kilian were cooking up some conspiracy together.”

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“Your brother believes that the sigils were hidden somewhere in the Royal Alchymist’s apartment by Kilian, before Lord Stergos himself took up residence there. He also thinks that the tarnblaze assault was an attempt to uncover the items so that they might be stolen away.”

Conrig nodded. “So we can presume that either Beynor or Kilian himself was responsible for the explosion?”

Beynor… exiled among Dawntide Salka. No way to escape. Queen Ulla assured us. But Kilian…

friends at abbey

… The windvoice trailed away.

Snudge said, “Lord Stergos thinks Beynor couldn’t have done it himself. He’s a virtual prisoner of the Salka on a remote island in the eastern Boreal Sea. Kilian is confined under house arrest in Zeth Abbey, but he has many friends—as we know too well—whom he may have converted to his cause.”

Conrig was on his feet, clenching his big fists. He began to pace back and forth. A flash of lightning lit the room, followed almost at once by a crash of thunder. “Damn that scheming wizard! I knew I should have lopped off his treacherous head. But our mother couldn’t bear losing her precious brother!”

Queen Mother Cataldis was a gentle but steel-willed woman. Neither Conrig nor Stergos could bring themselves to oppose her.

Three visiting Brothers… scholars… outside library yesterday when all the others were away at the Solstice Eve feast.

“Lord Stergos says there were three suspicious Brothers of Zeth working near his apartment yesterday,” Snudge said. “By the library.”

The High King bent over the bandaged man. “Gossy! Can you tell Snudge their names?”

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Cant recall. Ask Dean of Studies, Vra-Edzal.

Snudge reached for a wax tablet and stylus that lay on a bedside table beside a tray of medicines, wrote the name down, and handed the tablet to the king. “This man will know, sire.”

Deveron… examine my rooms. See if there really is a hiding place… empty. Those unholy tools of the Beaconfolk must not reach Kilian…

Aah! The pain… very bad.

“Never fear, my lord. I’ll do as you say. If Darasilo’s Trove has been stolen, the thieves can’t have gone far yet. We’ll catch them.”

The sigils and books must be destroyed. You know what Kilian and Beynor would do with them. Even my dear brother might… Promise me!

“I promise, my lord.”

The pain… the pain

… No more, Deveron. Summon the doctors and I’ll take the poppy draft. God have mercy on me

…

“What’s he saying?” Conrig demanded.

“He’s finished speaking. He wants the doctors. He’s in agony.”

Conrig strode to the door and shouted for the medical attendants to return. They flocked back, and several of them lifted the burn victim, parted the ointment-smeared bandages covering his mouth, and administered the narcotic draft that had been refused earlier.

“You must leave him now, Your Grace,” one of the doctors said. “He will sleep for many hours.”

Conrig scowled, but he finally turned away and beckoned Snudge to follow. When the two of
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them were alone in the corridor, the king asked sharply, “What did you promise Lord Stergos you would do?”

“Pursue the mysterious Brothers,” Snudge said evasively, “presuming they stole the sigils and the books.”

“If those three are the villains who burned poor Gossy,” the king said with quiet menace, “they shall have their own close acquaintance with flame.”

“Perhaps they’re still hiding in the palace. But it’s more likely that they escaped in the confusion and fled the city. A search must begin at once, sire. You’ll need to summon this Vra-Edzal. He can provide the names and descriptions of the three, and perhaps even arrange for drawings of their faces. This would greatly assist both the windsearchers and the untalented hunters. The Lord Constable, Earl Marshal

Parlian, and the other members of your Privy Council will have to know about this.”

Including Duke Feribor Blackhorse, who might have played a key role in the disaster! But there was no way of proving that, nor even any chance now of discussing the possibility with Stergos.

“Hmm.” Conrig looked away, thinking. “I must decide how much to tell my counselors.

Unfortunately, we can’t avoid giving out some sort of description of the stolen trove. But it should be as vague as possible—old books of great value only to alchymists, and a few small stone carvings. We’ll offer a large reward, but make it seem that the most important consideration is capturing those who wounded

Stergos and destroyed the library. All of the searchers will be sworn to secrecy. Others will learn soon enough about this damned collection of moonstone sigils, but we must keep their dread capability secret. Only you and I and Stergos must ever know of that.”

“Not the Conjure-Queen?” Snudge asked softly. “Her Subtle Loophole would readily scry the location of the stolen things.”

“God forbid! If Ullanoth found them before we did, it could bring on a catastrophe far worse than the one we already face. You do understand that, don’t you, Snudge?”

“Yes, sire. I was not sure you did.”

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“Impudence…”

“However, you face something of a dilemma here, sire. I think Queen Ullanoth is bound to learn something about the theft before long.

News of the palace fire will spread from one end of the island to the other. Fortunately for us, there’s no easy way for her to get her hands on the trove, even if she scries its location. Her Sending is unable to take back anything to its point of origin. She’d have to come after the trove using her natural body. That would be quite difficult for her, given the situation in Moss and her present state of physical frailty.“

“What are you driving at? What’s the dilemma?”

“If the thieves aren’t captured in short order, you may be forced to ask for her help. To prevent the trove from falling into the hands of

Kilian or Beynor.”

“God’s Eyes! Of course. One of them certainly planned the theft.”

“Or both,” Snudge said. “This is what Lord Stergos believes. He asked me to inspect the scene of the conflagration. Perhaps I might find some useful indications.”

“The burned-out wing can hardly be cool yet, but the oncoming rainstorm will take care of that.” Outside the corridor windows it had grown very dark, and the lightning and peals of thunder were now almost continuous. “When you finish, come to my study. We still must talk of the reason why I called you back to the city.”

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Snudge let his chagrin show. “How remiss of me! This terrible disaster wiped all thought of the other matter from my mind.”

“We’ll talk of it later.” Conrig turned abruptly and strode away.

Snudge started off in the opposite direction, intending to go to the knights’ lodging in the Square Tower where he had left Gavlok and the others. He was going to need help searching the ruins, and he already felt deathly weary. The anguish emanating from the mind of Lord Stergos had deeply affected his own humor. It was a troubling aspect of his wild talent that he was only beginning to come to terms with.

There were other considerations as well, but they didn’t bear thinking of now.

And neither did his motive for not telling King Conrig all that he had promised Lord Stergos.

==========

Snudge, Gavlok, and the three squires armed themselves with iron-shafted pikes, donned waterproof military cloaks and heavy boots, then set off to begin the miserable task of poking through steaming rubble. A torrential deluge now beat down upon the palace. Since the damaged wing had largely lost its roof and was open to the elements, the rain had quenched the last of the flames. Most of the firefighters had withdrawn.

When Snudge’s party arrived at the ruined library they found Vra-Sulkorig Casswell himself. He had put off his robes in favor of waxed-leather hunting garb, and was supervising the removal of an incinerated human body from among the fallen stacks.

Stergos’s principal assistant bore the symbolic title Keeper of Arcana, but his actual duties were administrative. He was an austere, balding man in early middle age, more pragmatic than mystical. The king’s brother was over twenty years his junior, and had relied on Sulkorig’s greater experience to govern the scores of Zeth Brethren assigned to various palace duties.

As Gavlok and the armigers began a cautious tour of the gutted library, Snudge explained to the Keeper why he and his men had come.

Sulkorig nodded brusquely. “Looking for clues, are you, Sir Deveron? Then you’ll find this interesting.” He held out something in his gloved hand. “We found it with these sad remains.”

Snudge took the muck-encrusted, faintly gleaming object, bent down, and rinsed it in one of the myriad pools of rainwater. It was a solid gold gammadion pendant on a matching chain, one of those worn by every professed Brother of Zeth. On one side, the pendant was file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/May,%20Julian%20-%20[Bor...0-%20Boreal%20Moon%202%20