Authors: Julian May
Tags: #Kings and rulers, #Epic, #Fantasy fiction, #General, #Knights and knighthood, #Fantasy, #Fiction
“Other rumors say she is your lover, who can deny you nothing—not even at the cost of her own life! Oh—don’t look on me that way.
I’m not jealous. You said it yourself: love will not be gainsaid! But I do pity her, poor soul, since it seems that her great sacrifice on your behalf was all in vain. Is it not true that she’s dying after exerting her sorcery overmuch hunting for the fire-raisers?”
He turned away from her, arms crossed, and stared over the balcony rail at the moonlit palace gardens. “So her close advisers say. If it gives you satisfaction, know that I never had a heartfelt love for her. I was infatuated for a time, but that passed away, leaving only—only respect and appreciation for all she had vouchsafed to me. You’re right to pity her, Risalla… And any other woman who loves without being loved in return.”
Risalla rose on tiptoe and kissed his unyielding lips. “I’ll go back to my own chambers now.
Good night, my lord husband. It may give you satisfaction to know that some women are content with other things besides love.”
He said nothing, but only stood looking down at the silvered trees and flower beds until a deep-throated double hoot rang over the palace grounds. The huge winged form of an eagle-owl glided above the curtain wall like a wraith and disappeared behind a clump of weeping willows in the garden. Something screamed. The giant bird lofted up again, carrying its prey, and flew off towards the parklands along the River Blen.
Snudge! the king thought. His self-chosen heraldic device was an owl, the stealthy hunter.
“Hunt her down, lad,” he whispered. “For Maude will never be content as needy Ullanoth and wise Risalla are. Lacking my love, her
only satisfaction will be in my destruction.”
fifteen
“Induna!” the old man cried testily. ”Are you wasting time picking wild strawberries again, you idle chit? Attend me at once!“
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When there was no response he repeated his demand on the wind, and this time the saucy young minx condescended to reply.
It won’t do you any good to yell and call me names. I’m coming as fast as I can. And if you don’t treat me with the respect I deserve, I’ll just go back to Barking Sands see if I don’t
—
!—
and you can bully someone else into doing your longspeaking and scut work
.
He ground his few remaining teeth in fury, but held back the stinging rebuke she deserved. She was only seventeen, and the young boys and girls out berry-picking along the river were better
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company than a cranky old blind man on a fine sunny day. She’d make a good shaman in time, once she got the girlish giddiness out of her system. He should have thought of her before, rather than using that greedy old witch, Yavenis, to relay his overtures to the Cathran king. And now his need for a trustworthy confederate had become even more crucial.
He picked up his staff and moved painfully to the door of his cottage. His oversight picked her out, coming up the path with a basket in one hand, a wee slip of a thing in a blue kirtle, with hair as brightly golden-red as rowan fruit. When she came to the stout gate in the fieldstone wall surrounding his steading she flicked open the latch with her talent and walked through the herb gardens without haste, humming a tune.
“Hurry!” he growled. “I need you to bespeak Gala Palace for me immediately.”
“Then I suppose you’ve no time to share my strawberries,” she said with a sly smile. “I picked enough for two, Eldpapa, but if you’re going to be grumpy and hateful… well, never mind.”
The notion that she’d do him that small kindness shamed him out of his ill humor. “I’m sorry, Induna. I’m impatient. And I’m worried that King Conrig thinks I’m only a charlatan trying to dupe him out of a bucket of gold. He should have replied to my proposal by now, even if the answer was No.”
“You asked for too much,” the girl said. “If he wants to bargain, don’t slam the door in his face.” She took two bowls from the cupboard of the neat, well-appointed kitchen, then sat down at the table and began to hull the tiny sweet berries.
“It’s what I need to retire to Andradh in style,” he mumbled resentfully. “Young people don’t understand these things. If you settle in a foreign land, they only respect you if you’ve got money.”
“You already have a nice cottage, with Tigluk and Wollu to take care of you. I don’t know why you want to go to Andradh. They’re all wicked pirates.”
He started for his sanctum. “It’s none of your business why I want to go there. Come along with me. Let those berries be till after we bespeak the Cathran king, and I’ll have Wollu bring clotted cream from the ice-house for us to eat with them.”
The girl sighed. “Oh, very well, Eldpapa.” She wiped her reddened fingers on her apron and followed.
Blind Bozuk’s sanctum was in the loft of the cottage. There were dormer windows of real glass in gablets on all four sides so he could scry in any direction without material hindrance. The walls were lined with shelves full of jars, crocks, and boxes containing the magical ingredients that he used to concoct his wonderful spells and potions. None of the containers had labels; he knew where every item was.
Cobwebs dripped from the rafters, and all the surfaces were filthy with dust because he never allowed the housekeeper upstairs to clean.
Induna planned to do something about that before too much longer. She had good eyes, even if her grandfather didn’t, and she wasn’t going to work and study in a pigsty. If he wanted to be her teacher, he’d have to change his slovenly ways. Otherwise she’d go back to her own home at Barking Sands and carry on as Mum’s apprentice.
“Sit down, girl,” Bozuk growled. He plumped himself into a heavy old armchair with tattered cushions.
She wiped off a stool with her apron. “I’m ready, Eldpapa. Shall I bespeak the Cathran wizard Vra-Sulkorig, as before?”
“Yes. Tell him I have important new information for King Conrig, which I’ll pass on to him gratis. It concerns a rendezvous between
Tarnian ships that took place early today off Kolm Head. The High Sealord, Sernin Donorvale, met and conferred with Liscanor
Northkeep, the brother of Princess Maudrayne I read their lips. They talked about a boy who should by rights be sitting on the throne of
Cathra. They said that the boy’s father is ineligible to reign, because he secretly possesses arcane
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talent. Ask if King Conrig would like to have the conversation between Sernin and Liscanor repeated to him, word for word. At no charge, of course.”
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Induna sat with her head bowed for some minutes. Then she opened her eyes and grinned.
The blind old man snapped, “Well? Well? What does the Cathran king say?”
“He’s very eager to hear what the two sealords said, Eldpapa. And he says it gives him great pleasure to agree to your fee of five thousand gold marks for information on the whereabouts of Princess Maudrayne and her son.”
The old man let out a gusty sigh of relief. He recited the conversation between Liscanor and Sernin, and prompted Induna as she relayed it to Con-rig. When the girl finally cut the thread of windspeech and would have left the sanctum, he held up a hand and said to her, “Wait. There’s more.”
“Another message to be sent?”
He shook his head, “No, Granddaughter, a more difficult thing by far. Please be seated again while I tell you.”
Rolling her eyes impatiently, she resumed her place on the stool.
“Ansel Pikan has taken Princess Maudrayne and her son into the far east, beyond the volcanos.
At such a distance, with such massive rock bastions hindering even my mind’s eye, it becomes increasingly difficult to track him and his captives. Thus far, Ansel has used a cover spell that has proved no hindrance to my oversight. I am fairly certain of his ultimate destination, and when the Cathran king’s messenger arrives with the gold I shall know where to direct his men in their preliminary search.”
Her shrewd little face had tightened with premonition. “Eldpapa, what has all this to do with me?”
“Be patient! When the Cathran manhunters set out after Maudrayne, Ansel will know it. He’ll shift her to another hiding place. And this time, he’ll erect a more formidable magical cover—one that I’ll be hard put to pierce because of the great distance that now separates us from the fugitive princess and her son. And so, my dear, I desire that you should leave here at once, and travel to the region where the precious pair are secreted, and be my agent on the spot to direct Conrig’s hunters. I’m not so foolish as to believe you to be too frail and vulnerable to undertake such a mission. You’re tough as a seal-hide boot—
and a formidable magicker already, in spite of your tender years. There will be perils on the journey, Induna, but none, I think, that would overwhelm you. You need not endanger yourself by approaching the princess’s hiding place. You need only oversee her from a safe distance and report to me if Ansel Pikan attempts to spirit her away elsewhere.“
“Where am I to go, then,” she asked in a level voice, “if I accept this charge? And what will be my payment?”
He burst into delighted laughter. “A wench after my own heart! Your fee, little love, will be one-third of what I wring from Conrig. And the place you must go is the uttermost eastern coast of Tarn, north of that Fort Ramis which is held by a kinsman of Ansel. Of course I shall find stout companions to accompany you—”
“No,” she said.
“No?” The blind eyes widened in dismay. “But all could be lost to me otherwise, for Conrig will never pay what he owes until he has the woman and her son in hand!”
“Silly Eldpapa! I didn’t mean that I would not go, only that I wish no clumsy guardians hindering my freedom.” She rose from her stool and took his bony hands in hers. “I rejoice at the opportunity to have a real adventure. Have no fear that I might behave rashly: I value my own
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skin too much to risk it as a foolhardy boy might do. Even less would I risk losing such a fine reward for my services.” She unhanded him and stepped back. “We must plan everything with care. Come back downstairs, and we’ll do it while we eat the sweet berries.”
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Snudge let his mount fall behind the others, after making the excuse of an urgent call of nature, then halted beside a peat-stained stream where graylings leapt from the water in pursuit of clouds of gauze-winged insects. The place was also alive with voracious midges, but at least Snudge was able to sit on firm ground while windspeaking.
“I’m ready. You said there was both good news and bad.”
The good is that the Tarnian shaman Blind Bozuk has agreed to tell us where Ansel has taken Maude. For reasons of state, the High King has decided to send the shaman’s considerable payment to him by ship, guarded by the Lord Treasurer, and so we will not have Bozuk’s information immediately.
“Feribor Blackhorse! I wish to God it were anyone but him going to Tarn. He might insert himself into this affair whether King Conrig wills it or not, and the results could be disastrous.
The man’s a villain, Vra-Sulkorig, but the king will hear no bad word spoken against him.”
He’s embarking around noon on the high tide, taking the fastest naval frigate available. With luck, he may reach Northkeep, where this rascal Bozuk resides, in four or five days. The agreement is, we hand over half of the sum, and he tells us Maudrayne’s hiding place. It’s somewhere in the deep interior of Tarn. Lord Feribor wanted to set out after the princess himself with an armed company, but the king has strictly forbidden it and commanded him to wait in Northkeep with the balance of the payment. His Grace has no mistrust of the Lord Treasurer, but rather fears that Ansel Piken would easily discover what Feribor was about and move the princess elsewhere. The king believes you will have better luck outwitting the High Shaman and capturing her than any military force, since you come from an unexpected direction and also have unexpected tactical advantages.
“Well, at least I’ll have a solid lead to follow by the time I reach Tarn myself. Now tell me the bad news.”
The princess seems to have told her brother all of her secrets. And Liscanor has spilled the beans to the High Sealord. They met earlier this morning at sea and are returning to Donorvale, where Lord Sernin plans to call a secret meeting of his council.
“My God! All of Maude’s secrets? Not just the fact of her son being Con-rig’s legitimate heir?
Do you mean she actually told her brother of the High King’s… personal problem?”
Yes. You needn’t dissemble. I’m aware now that His Grace possesses a small portion of talent although Zeth knows I would rather be in
—
ignorance. The princess feared that something might happen to her and the boy, Dyfrig, before she could confide in Sernin Donorvale.
She was determined that Conrig’s secret should be revealed to the world. Or at least to the sealords of her homeland, so they might use it and Prince Dyfrig as a lever to free themselves from the yoke of the Sovereignty.
“How has His Grace reacted? Is he there with you?”
He has closeted himself in his private apartments to consider his options. The salient fact, of course, is that the Tarnians will have to present incontrovertible proof of both their allegations.
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This is not as easy as it may seem, especially since they don’t have custody of the princess and her son. So they probably won’t act in haste.