The Queen of Mages (42 page)

Nyera shook her head slowly, but it didn’t
seem like a rejection. Before she could speak again, Gennevan
interjected. “Mother, I know it sounds insane, but… one must
consider that the Tarians are not known for spouting nonsense.
Unless Dardan has gone stark raving mad—and you must admit that he
comports himself quite well for a lunatic—he speaks what he
believes to be the truth. I do not think he deceives us in this.
There
were
those rumors we heard…”

She narrowed her eyes at her son. “I do
believe you were the one who called those rumors ‘preposterous
nonsense.’ And now you would turn over the castle treasury to
him?”

“Mother, please. Other methods might do to
help convince,” Gennevan said, turning to Dardan. “Perhaps… Could
your wife demonstrate this power of hers? Although if she shares
Edon’s power, and he used it to destroy a castle…”

“Amira’s power takes a somewhat different
form. It can be demonstrated harmlessly.” Dardan stared at Nyera
until she met his eyes. “Would that be a sufficient condition? If I
brought Amira here to demonstrate her power, would I have your
assurance that Eltasi will assist us in some substantial way?”

“You have quite a lot of nerve, claiming
your wife has magic powers, and demanding that we assist you,”
Nyera harrumphed. She glanced at Gennevan, who gazed at her
pleadingly. “Very well. I cannot speak for my father, but I can
likely arrange for you to see him. If your claims are true,” she
added, clearly skeptical. “I will send you an answer to your
proposal on the morrow.”

Dardan clenched his jaw shut. The rest was a
formality; he knew he’d won, and had to work hard,
very
hard, to keep a mighty grin from spreading across his face.

Nyera went on. “For now, I believe the house
staff may burst if we do not consume the luncheon they’ve prepared.
Shall we repair to the dining room?”

———

Dardan rode out of Seawatch the following
afternoon. Gennevan had met him at the inn to confirm that Duke
Eltasi would indeed see him and Amira, if she were brought to the
city. He was cagey about how Eltasi’s assistance might ultimately
manifest, but Dardan expected no less. Amira was a powerful lever;
they could extract something from the Eltasi for their troubles,
that was certain.

He was halfway back to Stony Vale, bedding
down at the same inn he’d stopped at before, when it occurred to
him to wonder whether Amira would appreciate being used as a
bargaining chip.

Three days after Dardan left, Amira sought
out Helen Walker, the blacksmith’s wife. They spent the day baking
and gossiping, having become quite good friends. Amira had learned
that the Walkers had no children, despite Orville’s best efforts;
they’d accepted that it was simply not meant to be. Instead Helen
kept a number of cats, who gathered at the kitchen door each
morning hoping for saucers of milk. Today, Amira fed them and
scratched at their ears for a while.

Helen was surprised that Amira had not
gotten with child yet—Dardan, having no other outlet to channel his
energies, had certainly been making his best effort in the
evenings. “When the Caretaker wills it,” Amira said, not certain
whether she really wanted it to happen yet or not.

She let slip that Dardan had gone off to
Seawatch. Helen looked at her, perplexed. “Just like that? Leaving
you here all by yourself? How dreadful! What was he thinking?”

“To tell the truth, he was upset with me.”
Amira stood by as Helen kneaded dough. “My power… He’d made me
promise to keep it a secret.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “Well you hardly
tried. Here I was terrified that Garen or Orville might let it
slip, but you went right off and did it yourself. But, really!
Leaving his wife here all alone! It’s not right.”

Amira felt ashamed. She hadn’t let herself
realize it until now, but she missed Dardan terribly. Had she
driven him away? What if he didn’t return? Valmir had been easy;
the man had had next to no pride, and had merely smiled tolerantly
whenever Amira had done something foolish. Her marriage to Dardan
seemed to require a great deal more work.

She found herself thinking about her manse
in Callaston again. It had felt like a real home to her, and she
did miss it. But hadn’t she made something of a new home here in
Stony Vale, and gained Dardan and Garen in the bargain? She
wondered how she could bring them both back to Callaston, to return
triumphantly to her manse.
That will only happen if Edon is
gotten rid of.
Her hope of an easy resolution remained
stubbornly out of reach.

She went to the village temple that evening,
as she had many times since arriving in Stony Vale. The steward,
Sendraj
Dannial, was a half-blind old man who left her alone
as she knelt before the altars and prayed. She went to them all in
turn, wanting to assuage every part of her soul and not being in
any particular hurry. She spent extra time before the altar of
Sacrifice, with its empty box carved of seastone, and the altar of
Terror, upon whose plinth sat absolutely nothing.

If the steward thought Amira was some sort
of heretic or monster for her power, he kept it to himself. The
Niderium was only interested in one’s spiritual welfare, and only
if one sought their help. They kept to themselves otherwise. Amira
was glad that there was someone in Garova who asked nothing of
her.

By the next morning, Dardan still had not
returned. Amira was walking toward the square just after sunrise
when she began to perceive hoofbeats. She looked to the north and
saw a cloud of dust lit by the morning sun. She shivered, wondering
if today Edon had come to find her at last, but when the men
crested the ridge just north of the town, none of them wore golden
armor. Instead, there were two knights all in silvered plate, plus
a score or so of royal soldiers in their dull mail. One of them
carried a banner of the royal army, depicting the eagle of Relindos
perched upon a mailed fist. All of the men were ahorse. A wagon
brought up the rear, full of what must be supplies and provisions
for the soldiers. At least the men didn’t whistle at her, but not
one failed to look. Her beauty would be evident even at that
range.

She realized with a start that the two men
leading the pack each had a crest on their shoulder: a sword lain
across balance scales. Not just knights, but Wardens of Aendavar.
What are they doing here?
She looked again as they went by,
and realized that she’d seen one of them before. The one she’d
taken to be older, with white hair, was on closer inspection
clearly the younger of the two. She couldn’t remember his name, but
she knew where they’d met: in the grand ballroom of Elibarran, at
the royal summer ball. He’d paid little attention to her at the
time, just about the only man at the ball who had done so.
That
she remembered.

The party rode past her to the town square.
She knew it couldn’t be safe to gain their attention, but her feet
carried her after them anyway. By the time she got there, they’d
all dismounted, the rank and file seeing to their horses while the
two Wardens strode over to the magistrate’s office. The older
Warden, who had bristly black hair and a sour expression, pounded
on the door until Constable Adams opened it, greeting the men with
a startled expression on his face.

Amira leaned on the wall of Tim Thorn’s
grocery and watched. The two Wardens disappeared inside with Adams,
while the soldiers milled around, eyeing the town and its folk. The
sun went up further as the day’s traffic thickened in the
square.

Tim Thorn came outside to gawk at the
soldiers. “Now what are the likes of them doing way down here?”

“There was a pair of Wardens with them,
too,” she told him.

Tim clicked his teeth together, an annoying
habit that Amira had learned meant he was thinking. “Now that’s
even odder. Anything to do with you, d’you think?”

Amira smiled. It wasn’t a hostile question,
just the obvious one. Everyone in town knew about her power. “I
hope not,” she said. “Wardens do tend to travel to odd places.”

“Well, they’ll be craving better food than
their rations, or I’m in the wrong business.” He fetched a basket
of apples and carried it over toward the loitering soldiers.

Amira’s discomfort grew as she watched the
soldiers and wondered when the Wardens would come out of the
magistrate’s office. She hadn’t seen Baxter yet; perhaps he’d
already been inside.

Well, standing out here staring was doing
her no good. Besides, she had come to the square intending to
breakfast at the inn. With Dardan gone, Amira didn’t feel like
making a whole meal just for herself. And she still had plenty of
the coin that Count Barnard had gifted them.

She had just tucked into a plate of eggs and
ham when the inn’s door swung open and the two Wardens came in.
Four soldiers were with them, all armored. The entryway of the
Giant’s Foot had become quite crowded. The younger Warden, the one
with the white hair, led the way into the common room.

Amira was the only patron this morning. She
put down her fork and folded her hands in her lap, waiting.
I
should have left with Dardan,
her conscience said. She ignored
it. Instead she thought about trying to charm the Wardens. It might
make them easier to deal with. She let her face relax into a
smile.

“Ma’am,” the young Warden said, bowing
slightly. “I am Warden Mason Iris, of the Virtuous Order of the
Wardens of Aendavar.” He tilted his head at the older Warden, the
one with dark hair who looked inexplicably angry. “This is Warden
Jack Penrose.”

“How do you do,” Amira said. She wondered if
Warden Iris recognized her from the summer ball, but he gave no
indication one way or the other.

“We are here on the orders of his majesty.
King Edon has ordered us to seek out those who have developed a
certain special ability.” The words came out by rote; clearly the
young Warden had practiced this speech many times. Had he been
delivering it in common rooms the realm over? Or were these Wardens
seeking Amira specifically? Warden Iris’s simple words provoked so
many questions, but Amira made herself stay silent.

The young Warden went on. “According to the
town’s constable, you have evinced such an ability over the past
several weeks. His majesty the king invites you to come to the
capital of Callaston, so that you and others with your ability may
learn from one another.”

All her other questions vanished in a flash
of anger. “The king
invites
me?” she snapped.
So much for
charm.
“And what if I refuse?” She wondered if these men knew
who she really was. If Edon had sent them, he might have warned
them about Amira Estaile, and perhaps Dardan as well. She belatedly
recognized that beneath her anger lay fear.

Warden Iris smiled. He had a kind smile.
Amira felt herself wanting to believe him, and she tried to fight
down the impulse. “I’m afraid his majesty does insist that all who
have this power attend him in the capital. As I’m sure you’re
aware, this power can be quite dangerous, and his majesty would
like to avoid letting things get out of hand.”

“Out of hand?” Amira stood up, enraged. “Did
his majesty tell you what he did at Foxhill Keep?”

“Watch your tone,” Warden Penrose blurted,
stepping forward and resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Watch yours,” she bit back at him. “You
speak to a noble lady, Warden.”

“A commoner or a countess,” the Warden said,
“I speak the same.”

“A—what?” Amira’s rage ground to a halt.
Countess?

“You are Countess Amira Tarian,” Warden
Penrose said. “Count Asmus Tarian is dead—I believe you said
something about what his majesty did at Foxhill Keep.”

Amira reeled, putting a hand on the back of
her chair to steady herself. So it was true. She could feel tears
coming, and blinked them back.

Warden Penrose barely paused. “Later, as we
learned, you and Count Dardan were married in Tyndam Town. That
makes you the countess of Hedenham.” He dismissed all that with a
wave of his hand. “In any case, you are still his majesty’s
subject, and he would have you come to Callaston.”

“I… I will need to think on it.” Her throat
was strangely dry. She wanted this to end.

She made to move for the door, but Penrose
stood in the way and did not budge. “There is no thinking to be
done. His majesty commands that you accompany us.”

Amira stared at the brusque Warden. “Did his
majesty tell you what my ‘ability’ is capable of? I suggest that
you move aside.”

After a moment, he said, “I want your answer
within the hour. You will not leave the town without us.”

“Fine,” she said, just to appease him. The
Warden leaned aside enough to let her squeeze past.

The rest of the soldiers still loitered out
in the square. Amira forced herself not to run as she made her way
to the cottage.

Once inside, she slammed the door and burst
into sobs. Why hadn’t she left Stony Vale? Why had she told
everyone about her power? She’d felt safe here, or wanted to. Now
Edon was knocking on her door. She slid to the floor and let the
tears pour out.

Each tear carried away a little of the
grief, and in a few minutes she could think again. Edon was
gathering mages. It made perfect sense: any king, even one with
Edon’s power, would want mages under his control. There must be
even more mages out there than Amira had dreamed. But Amira would
never go to him, not after what he’d done.

She considered packing her things and trying
to sneak out of the town, but then Dardan might ride into the
middle of this. And what about Garen? If Constable Adams had told
the Wardens about Amira, had he told them about Garen as well?

Amira had barely registered the sound of
footsteps outside when someone knocked on the door. She scrambled
away from it in near-panic.

“Countess Tarian? It’s Warden Iris.”

Amira crept to the window and peeked out
past the curtain. There he stood, splendid in his silvered armor.
Two soldiers were with him, but they had stayed back at the little
gate by the side of the lane. Only Warden Iris had come to the
door.

If he was alone then he was no threat to
her. Even if those soldiers came running, she could cut them down
before they had a chance to harm her. The memory of the dead
bandits roiled up again for a moment, making her feel ill.

She opened the door. Warden Iris sketched a
quick bow. “M’lady. Allow me to apologize. Warden Penrose can be
quite a… blunt fellow.”

“So you are the silk glove to his iron
fist.”

Iris blushed a little. “Um… Might I come in,
m’lady?”

“No,” Amira said, feeling a great deal of
spite just at the moment. “I am content with you where you
are.”

“Very well. Warden Penrose—”

“So Edon is collecting mages now, is
he?”

Warden Iris seemed a little surprised by the
question. “Um, yes. He dispatched us from Thorncross—but there will
be time for all your questions later, I assure you. Warden Penrose
has sent me to bring you to the village square.”

“Why? I must think, I… I must speak with my
husband,” she said, grasping for any further excuse.

Warden Iris pursed his lips. “He will be
gone for some days, I’ve come to understand. We spoke with the
constable. I fear there is not that much time.” Now he seemed to be
growing impatient. Good. Amira hoped he would trip up and reveal
something, or at the very least get flustered and go away.

And yet his tone had become a little
pleading. His voice quieted, as if to avoid being overheard by the
men at the gate. “Please. Come with me. I fear worse may happen if
you do not.”

“Fear? You fear… Warden Penrose?”

“Please,” he repeated.

She found herself feeling sorry for the man,
and a little regretful for snapping at him. But it was curiosity
that pushed her over the edge. “Fine. Lead on.”

———

Unease settled on Amira during the short
walk back to the village square. She watched Warden Iris sidelong
as they went. He seemed tense, and focused on the road ahead. He
never once looked at her while they walked. His hand rested on the
pommel of his sword, as if he were concerned about some attack. The
two soldiers followed behind her, but there was nothing to do about
that.