The Queen of Mages (30 page)

Liam produced two silver hair clips in the
shape of butterflies and had her put them on. Her hair was not too
messy, combed as for bed. Liam seemed satisfied when the clips were
in place, and led her onward.

They were in the servants’ ways, under one
of the stone towers. Katin wanted so badly to ask Liam how he had
found her, how he had arranged their escape, where they were going;
but any delay could mean death. They turned, and turned again, and
Liam said, “Ah-ha, here we are—”

He came around a corner and collided with a
servant who was walking the other direction, a chubby young man
with dark hair and a confused expression. For the briefest of
moments, he hesitated. Then his eyes went wide and he shouted,
“Guards—!”

Liam struck the man in the face, then
crashed into him, knocking him over. By the time they landed, the
valo
had plunged his dagger into the man’s chest. Liam
clamped his hand over the man’s mouth to muffle his screams. The
servant gurgled and flailed his arms uselessly under Liam’s weight.
Liam drew the dagger out and stabbed twice more, eliciting a jerk
from the man each time.

Katin bit her hand to keep from shouting.
She had seen death before, on the streets of Cleavesport, in the
field before Foxhill Keep, but never with such savagery. Liam knelt
on the servant until he twitched and died, then drew out his
dagger, wiped it on the man’s tabard, and sheathed it. “Come
on.”

Katin took his hand. Liam had gotten a spot
of blood on his pant leg, but it would be hard to see in the
darkness. She began to feel grief for the poor man who had just
died.
But the risk was too great.
She blinked away
tears.

Up a flight of stairs, they came out into a
hallway lined with tapestries. Darkness reigned here, with only a
stand-lamp at one end providing faint illumination. They went out
through a narrow door, and Katin gasped when she recognized the
coachyard. There was the gate!

The man-sized sally port to the left of the
gate had a guard shack just inside it, hard against the wall, warm
yellow light spilling from its window. Two guards stood watch
there, and there were no doubt more men inside the shack. The sally
port itself was shut and barred, not with a wooden bar one could
lift, but a metal bar that slid out of the palace’s wall and
secured the door firmly in place.

Liam stopped her when the shack came in
sight, and turned to whisper at her. “Listen. You are a
prostitute.”

Her stomach dropped. “How did you kn—” she
gasped, just as he said, “I’m smuggling you—what?”

“Nothing. Go on.”
Oh, by Despair! What
have I done?
His eyes glinted with reflected light from the
shack, and moments passed, but he said, “I’m smuggling you out
after you came to service Duke Terilin Faroa, but he rejected you.
Understand? Say nothing unless it can’t be helped.” He grabbed her
arm and pulled, rougher than she thought would be necessary for any
ruse. She had no choice but to stumble along.

Liam’s face was stormy when the light
illuminated it. The guards saw him coming, and one stepped forward,
holding up a hand. “Who goes there—oh, you.” He stared at Katin for
a moment, but just a moment. “The duke’s done already?”

“He didn’t like her,” Liam said. “Open the
gate.”

The guard
tsk
ed and held his hand
out, palm up. “First things first.”

Liam fished into his pocket, drawing out a
handful of silver. He dropped two coins into the hand of each
guard, then made to pass. The chief guard stopped him with an arm
across the chest. “Seems to me our silence’s worth more’n that.” He
showed yellowing teeth.

Katin felt Liam tense, but there was no
choice. Whatever arrangement he’d made, they’d changed it, and they
had the swords. He dumped more silver into their palms, until
finally one of the guards leaned in through the shack’s window and
spoke some quiet words. A creak and a groan, and the metal bar drew
back. The first guard pushed the door open and nearly shoved Liam
and Katin through it, out into the Great Square, and freedom.

———

It was a long, cold walk down the Way of
Trade. Callaston didn’t technically have a curfew, but the city
constables patrolled at all hours, and in the dark they’d accost
anyone they felt like. Twice Liam pulled Katin into a dark alcove
when they heard footsteps approaching. She clutched him, feeling
his heartbeat, savoring his warmth and dreading the conversation to
come.

He led them to a dingy hostel called the
Sailor’s Delight. He had to pound on the door to be let in, and the
rheumy-eyed owner answered it in his nightrobe, glaring and
cursing, only quieting down when Liam gave him a copper for his
trouble.

At long last, with the door to his room shut
and the lamp lit, Katin let out a mighty sob, embracing Liam and
showering his chest with her tears. He held her close and said
nothing. After a minute he guided her to sit on the bed.

“How did you find me?”

“I had to put together some gossip. First
was that Edon had brought a woman back from Hedenham with him and
stashed her in the dungeon. Second, Taya’s bedgirl was on every
tongue—pardon the pun. They said she was some idiot girl. I figured
you might be both of them.” He wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“So you set the fire to get a chance to talk
to me.” Suddenly she was angry. “You didn’t know for certain it was
me, did you? I could have been hurt, or burned alive! What if it
really had been some idiot girl, too stupid to escape, burning to
death because of you?”

His cheeks reddened. “Would you rather I’d
not tried at all? I didn’t even know for sure that you were in the
palace. Maybe Edon had left you in a shallow grave somewhere.” He
stopped, looking down at his hands. “
Were
you her
bedgirl?”

Katin gaped.
He’s worried about
that
, of all things?
“Of course not! It was a ruse, to hide
me from Edon. And to cover the fact that Taya’s
vala
is her
bedgirl.”

Liam drew back, stunned. “The royals really
do think they can get away with anything, don’t they?”

Katin shrugged. “I’m just glad to be gone
from there. That
vala
of hers is almost as mad as her
mistress.” She gulped and told Liam what she’d had to do to
escape.

His eyebrows climbed almost as high as
Taya’s had. “I’d like to have seen the look on her face,” Liam
said, grinning.

“It wasn’t funny at the time,” Katin
said.

“So why did Taya want to hide you from
Edon?” His grin disappeared. “What did she want with you?”

“She…” Katin hadn’t thought her stomach
could fall any further. She was glad she hadn’t eaten in hours.
“She wanted to know about Amira. About why Edon wanted her so
badly.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “You know why?”

I told the likes of Taya. How could I
hide it from Liam?
And so she told him everything she’d told
the princess, although Liam was stunned and asked many fewer
questions. By the time she finished, he was up and pacing around
the little bedroom.

“Tell me Amira cannot do the monstrous
things Edon can.”

“No! Her power is much weaker, and it is
just a tool, no more. Edon was a monster even before any of this
happened. Amira is good, you know it. You know her.”

“I thought I did.” He shook his head,
leaning against the wall for a moment. “If only we’d known…”

“Blame me if you must. I swore her to
secrecy. Can you imagine if we’d explained this power months ago?
Before going to Hedenham, before the summer ball?”

Liam chuckled, his eyes crinkling a little.
“Dardan would have had conniptions, in that contained way of his.”
He mimicked his master, shaking violently while trying to hold very
still. Katin laughed, for what felt like the first time in memory.
Liam sat down on the bed next to her, and took her hands, laughing
as well.

“How did you arrange our escape?” she asked
when her mirth subsided.

“Ah, well, the plan was to bring one woman
in, and later take one woman out, only not the same woman.” Liam
blushed. “I had to visit, ah, quite a number of… establishments… to
find a woman who resembled you.”

Katin’s grin vanished. “What of her? Is she
still in the palace?”

Liam shrugged. “Indeed, although by now I’m
sure Duke Faroa is trying to explain to his wife that he has no
idea who the girl is. I told her to arrive at his door at half past
midnight, with a silver for each guard. I put her in a matching
dress to what you wear now, with the same silver clips.” He reached
up and took them out of her hair. Here, where there was more light,
she could see that they were only iron that had been painted
silver. “She looked similar enough that I hoped the guards would
think I was bringing her back out again.”

“She’ll be whipped, you realize,” Katin
said. “Duke Faroa will want to prove he knew nothing of her.”

“Yes, well, I… I had to get you out of
there.” His face closed up a bit. “What was that you said, in the
yard, when I started explaining how you were to pretend to be a
prostitute?”

No. No no no no.
She’d prayed he’d
forget, but the man was too canny. Telling him about Amira’s power
was one thing, but this…

He must have seen the desperation in her
face, for he took her hands in his again and leaned in. “Katin.
Katin, look at me.” She did, gazing into his deep brown eyes. “I
love you. Do you hear me? I love you. There is nothing you can say
that will change that. Unless you’re actually Prince Edon in a
wig.” She snorted despite herself, but the dread came back.

I love you.
He’d never said that
before. Men had claimed it, men she’d barely known, but Liam had
never said it… until he’d proved it. Her own feelings about him
were muddled. She’d thought he was dead; even before that, she’d
never let herself really care for him. Or maybe she had, and denied
it to herself.

She could not be ungrateful. He’d done her a
good turn. A
great
turn. She owed him. Anxiety like she’d
never known clawed at her innards. It almost caused her physical
pain.
I owe him.

The first word was the hardest. “You must
promise me you will never repeat this to anyone. You cannot even
tell Amira you know, if we ever do find her again, unless I allow
it.” Liam nodded, his frown showing his confusion.

She took a deep breath and let it out, then
another and another, until she felt calm enough to speak. “Amira
and I lived in Cleavesport when Valmir Estaile found us. That much
is true. But… Amira is not the daughter of a silk merchant. And I…
I’m not anyone’s daughter. I was an orphan.” She bit her lip.
“Orphaned girls only have one use in a town like Cleavesport.”

She couldn’t even say the word, but she
didn’t have to. Liam grasped her meaning at once. “You… you were a
prostitute?” Katin shut her eyes and turned away. She’d scream if
she saw betrayal on his face. “What about Amira? Her as well?”

“No!” Her voice trembled. “No… She
was—is—the daughter of the woman who owns the… establishment.”

“Where you sold your body to men,” he said
flatly.

Now she looked at him and bristled. “And
you’ve never been to a brothel, I suppose?”

Liam’s mouth worked for a moment. “I… Yes. I
suppose I have.” All his humor was gone now. “But you—”

“I had no choice. It was safety and
security.” Her face had grown hot. She was surprised to find that
she was angry, not embarrassed. “Should I have stayed on the
streets for the sake of your pride? Is a used girl not good enough
for you?”

“No! I mean, yes. I mean, it doesn’t matter,
of course! I just… I did not suspect this, not at all. It will take
some getting used to.” But he let go of her hands and stood. “Are
there any other surprises in store?
Are
you really Prince
Edon in a wig?”

“No, and no.”

“Then tell me your story. Please.” Liam
leaned against the wall again. He’d given her some space; or was
the space for him?

———

Karen was a quiet little girl. Her mother
died when she was four. Who knew who her father was? No other
relations were found, and Cleavesport had no orphanage. The count
did not believe in them. He claimed they only encouraged people to
breed irresponsibly.

Karen fell in with a crowd of other street
urchins who prowled the docks and alleys of Cleavesport, stealing
and begging and running games and tricks, just to gather enough to
eat. They squatted on the rooftops and in the attics and cellars of
the goodfolk.

But Karen was small and weak. She was
knocked around by the bigger boys. None of the others would help
her, or protect her from their taunts, their fists. One day, a few
years later—when she was a little bigger—she stabbed one of them
with a shard of glass and ran away.

She hid. She came out at night, to scavenge
and forage, a ghost in the streets, silent and invisible as a
shadow in the dark. She came to know some of the locals, the shop
owners, the goodwives and servants who lived in the poorest parts
of town that Karen haunted. They took pity on her, giving her
scraps or a copper here and there, or letting her sweep rooms for a
hot meal. Some even offered her a place to sleep, but that took
more trust than Karen had.

She grew bigger. She saw men start looking
at her in ways that made her uncomfortable. She learned a little
bit about what men and women did together, and thought it sounded
horrifying.

She drifted to a nicer part of Cleavesport,
begging for change, looking for loose purses, or unwatched
merchandise in market stalls. In one market in particular, she saw
a plump blonde woman, pretty but gone a little fat. The woman
turned piercing eyes upon her. Karen ran.

She saw the woman again the next day, at a
wagon that sold hot skewered pork. The woman sat on a stool and set
down two plates. After a moment she caught Karen’s eye and patted
an empty stool next to her.