The Queen of Mages (48 page)

Liam looked down at Katin as she held him.
She met his eyes, and he nodded. “Can’t be worse,” he muttered.

The little wooden house had a garden around
back. The goodwife brought them through a gap in a hedge beside it,
and in through the back door. Liam could feel his strength slipping
away, and it was a blessed relief to sit on the chair she offered
when they came into the kitchen.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Katin said. Liam
couldn’t summon the energy to speak.

The goodwife fetched them cups of water and
a bit of bread. She watched them eat and drink, then patted her son
on the back. “Edward, go out in the garden and play. Don’t you dare
go out in the road, you hear?”

The little boy looked no older than five or
six, and had been staring intently at Liam and Katin with pale blue
eyes under a blond mop. He nodded at his mother and scampered
outside.

“My name’s Lisa,” she said. “Lisa Cordway.
My husband’s a tanner. He’ll be home soon. There’s not much
business right now.”

“Thank you so much for helping us,” Katin
said, standing.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m doing
this,” Lisa said after a moment.

“Yes,” Liam blurted, “we’re just too polite
to ask.” Katin shushed him.

Lisa leaned against the counter, clasping
her hands before her apron. “Strangers like you’ll get in trouble
in this town. There’s… Now this’ll sound mad, I know, but by the
Aspect of Terror I swear it’s true.”

“It’s all right,” Katin said. “What is
it?”

“Well, these weeks past… one of the women in
town, she… she’s a witch.”

Liam forgot all his pain for a moment. “Come
again?”

“She… she can do things. She makes fire out
of thin air. We all thought it was trickery at first, but when
she…” Lisa’s voice wavered. “Our blacksmith, Arliss, he challenged
her, and she… he just burst into flames.”

Liam and Katin exchanged a look. “Amira?” he
whispered.

Katin shrugged uncertainly. The goodwife
wrung her hands and went on. “Anyhow, I couldn’t let strangers walk
into that without at least knowing about it. We pride ourselves on
providing for travellers, in this town. Or we did. She’ll likely
let you be if you don’t cross her or take her fancy, but them that
do…”

“What does she look like?” Liam asked.
“Young, old, tall, short, fair, dark?”

“Young, maybe twenty years. I’m not sure
exactly. Shorter than I am. Dark hair. She’s married to old Farmer
Broxton. Now did
that
pairing ever raise some eyebrows.”

“Not Amira,” Katin whispered back to Liam.
He nodded.
It sounds like we’ve found another like her.
If
this woman had gotten the townsfolk whipped into a state like this,
she wasn’t likely to be as friendly and kind as Amira.

“If you please, ma’am,” Liam said, grunting
a little as he straightened in the chair. He’d be covered in
bruises for days, but at least he could move. “Could you tell us
from the start, what happened with this… person?”

Lisa Cordway eyed them. “Maybe you’d better
tell me something. I already did you fair with the warning.”

“True enough.” Liam coughed a little and
looked to Katin. “Maybe you’d better tell the story… wife.”
Let’s keep the ruse up,
he meant, hoping she’d take the
hint.

Katin nodded and told the story of Oliver
and Susan Smith, and how they’d been unfairly exiled from a trade
caravan. Missus Cordway looked a little dubious at the assertion
that Liam would never, ever stray, and even Liam thought Katin’s
insistence a bit much.
She really wants to believe it.

When Katin finished, Lisa told them about a
young woman named Adeline Broxton. An unremarkable girl from an
unremarkable family of farmers, she’d been married off
young—
very
young, barely of age—to old Jerome Broxton, who
had a sheep farm out west a ways. Some said she had a cruel streak,
and it was good she was out in the countryside. But then a month or
so ago, she’d come into town on market day, and Sally Parkins,
who’d always hated and teased Adeline, suddenly dropped dead right
in front of a stall full of turnips. Everyone was startled and
horrified, but Adeline laughed, saying the girl only got what she
deserved.

Rumors began to fly, and two weeks later
Adeline returned, only this time she had half a dozen thugs with
her, brutish men who obeyed her every command. Some said they were
from out near Averhel, to the west. Liam wondered if Adeline had
made trouble out there; maybe that was why Averhel’s magistrate had
been so paranoid.

Adeline had the thugs start beating people
she didn’t like, men and women both, and taking whatever she
fancied. The magistrate of Carson’s Watch mysteriously vanished.
Arliss Felton, the blacksmith, got some men together to try and
stop them, but when he confronted Adeline in the town square, she
pointed her finger at him and his clothes all caught fire. No one
dared help him, and he died screaming.

Adeline had named herself the new
magistrate, and made the townsfolk swear fealty to her or suffer
the same fate as Arliss Felton. The thugs continued roaming the
town, vandalizing and stealing. Some townsfolk fled; others, who
Adeline didn’t like, just disappeared.

Baron Corvis Tollerand, who held sway over
this part of Barrowmere County, heard the news of havoc wrought,
and brought twenty men and a Warden from the nearby garrison. When
they arrived, demanding Adeline present herself, she did. Tollerand
and the Warden were killed; perhaps five of the soldiers had
escaped with their lives. Adeline had subsequently declared herself
the new baroness of Carson’s Watch.

That had been two days ago.

———

Katin and Liam listened raptly as Lisa’s
story spilled out. This Adeline obviously had the same power as
Amira, but she sounded even crueler than Edon.

When her story ended, Lisa Cordway stared
down at her hands, trembling. “I’ve got chores to see to. You’re
welcome to stay awhile,” she offered to Katin and Liam. “Although,
my husband… he’ll be home soon…”

Anger coursed through Liam, but it met up
against a stubbornness that said
Don’t get involved.
Liam
might stand a chance against any normal foe, but if this girl could
do what Amira could, she could kill him with a thought at fifty
feet. They had to get out of here.
How? We have no money, no
horse, and I’m half-broken. For now.
He’d heal. He’d gotten
better after Foxhill Keep. He’d been beaten before. When his father
had found him at that army garrison… The memory of it made Liam’s
blood rise, and then he thought about the caravan, and how Stump
had taken him by surprise and beaten him senseless. It was good he
was too sore to move; he wanted to take the Cordways’ skillet off
its hook and start smashing things.

Katin spoke while Liam was still brooding.
“Will he take kindly to strangers in his house?”

Lisa shrugged. “He’s a good man. He trusts
me. If I say you’re travellers, if I explain—”

Liam heard the front door creak as it swung
open. Lisa bolted upright and nearly ran toward the front of the
house. “James, dear husband…” Her voice trailed off, and Liam could
only hear low murmurs. His fury had begun to drain away. He focused
on his sore muscles and tried to sit up straighter.

“We should go,” Katin said, nervously
peeking toward the front room.

“Where? Into the dragon’s maw, daggers
swinging? Dagger, that is. We’ve only got the one.” He shifted his
weight again. “At least give him a chance. Maybe he’ll let us stay.
Once I’m better, I can work. And you already can. Never met a
goodwife who didn’t appreciate some help around the house.”

Katin raised an eyebrow at him. “Hanging
around other men’s women hasn’t been good for you lately.”

Liam chuckled as much as his aching sides
would let him. “Coalridge and Janice weren’t married any more than
we are.”

Katin glanced away. “You never—you wouldn’t
have—”

“By Ardor, no,” Liam insisted. “I mean,
don’t get me wrong, there’s hardly a man alive who wouldn’t stare
at Janice’s—hey, don’t look at me like that,” he said, when Katin
looked at him exactly like that. “Anyway, you said you saw her with
that bastard Longwood.”

“Yes, you’re right, I did.” She blushed,
holding his hand but still not meeting his eyes. Liam blew out a
sigh and shook his head a little. Did Katin know how well and truly
she’d scrambled his wits?

Footsteps approached, and Liam did his best
to look unthreatening. Being covered in bruises might not endear
him to this James Cordway. Well, maybe if the man thought Liam was
easy to beat up…

James Cordway was tall, with a strong jaw
and wide shoulders, as blond and blue-eyed as little Edward, who
could not more obviously be his son. Lisa stood behind him,
nervously chewing on a thumbnail.

Katin stood and curtseyed. “Mister Cordway,
thank you so kindly for you and your wife’s hospitality. I’m Susan
Smith, and this is my husband Oliver.”

Liam nodded as deeply as he could. “I would
stand, but I seem to have recently fallen onto a pile of
cudgels.”

James Cordway grinned. “Lot of folks had
accidents around these parts lately. My condolences.”

“Your missus told us about the… incidents…
of late.” Liam didn’t want to raise the man’s hackles, and tried to
stay conversational. “I suppose we picked the wrong town to stumble
into.”

James eyed them both. “Well, aside from your
own misfortune, you seem like decent folk to me. You can stay for
dinner, if you’d like. Assuming you can help out.”

“I can do whatever needs doing,” Katin
offered.

“I can crack wise from a sitting position,”
Liam added.

And so they did, Katin helping Lisa with the
meal and Liam keeping them all entertained with jokes and stories.
The Cordways’ daughter, Samantha, came back around dusk, and
introductions were made. Samantha was thirteen, apprenticed to the
dressmaker in town, and a font of useless gossip about the
mysterious Adeline Broxton, until her mother shushed her.

Liam saw tension in the elder Cordways after
this. He waited until bellies were full and children had been put
to bed before he broached the topic again. “If I may ask… what was
burning yesterday?”

James hesitated for a moment, staring down
at his empty plate. “The trade office. Some goods come up from
Stokeston and Turnbull through here, off east toward Brookings and
Elland, on the coast. After… what happened with Baron Tollerand…
Missus Broxton…” His brow furrowed with the effort of phrasing
things carefully.
They’re all subject to wrath of this Adeline
now.
“
Baroness
Broxton decided it was no longer
needed.”

Perhaps the cloak of night made Lisa braver.
She leaned in over the table. “We’d heard rumors from up north,
about some kind of… witchcraft,” she whispered. “I didn’t believe
them at first, of course, no one did, but now…”

“Witchcraft,” Liam repeated. “Was this to do
with Prince Edon?”

Lisa nodded. “That was terrible, what
happened to King Viktor.” She repeated the story about Edon killing
his father with some kind of magic power, and it mostly matched
what Liam and Katin had heard in Callaston. The news was spreading;
Amira and her ilk were no longer a secret. And now there were at
least two others like Amira, so there could easily be more.
If
Amira’s alive, and half as bright as I think, she’ll be trying to
find more like her.
Maybe she could build an army to fight
Edon. The thought made him shudder: dozens of witches throwing fire
at one another, a contest of gods, where regular folk either stayed
out of the way or died.

———

The Cordways’ hospitality extended as far as
letting Liam and Katin sleep on the kitchen floor, on a pile of
spare blankets. After a night’s sleep, Liam was still sore all
over, but no longer felt as if merely walking would sap all his
strength.

Katin helped Lisa in the kitchen with
breakfast. Liam found himself at the dining table with James,
drinking tea from little polished pewter mugs. He’d been thinking
all morning.
We have no resources, no way to get out of here.
Even once I’m healed, walking all the way to the coast seems
impractical. We need horses.
With a witch like Adeline running
around, not to mention the ruffians under her thumb, strangers like
Liam and Katin couldn’t move freely in Carson’s Watch.

He glanced up at James, who seemed lost in
thought. “So. I imagine folks here might take it kindly if the
Adeline problem were to end up solved.”

James started and looked at him. “I suppose
that’s true.”

“If I could deal with that problem, do you
think the townsfolk might see their way clear to lending me and my
wife a pair of horses?”

James narrowed his eyes. “I’d ask where you
need to get to so bad, but… What d’you have in mind?”

Liam quickly outlined his plan. The women
didn’t need to hear about this. Katin would raise a fuss, and who
knew whether Lisa would go along quietly with her husband? Maybe
when riled, she was as combative as Katin. “All I need is a way to
signal you. How many men could you gather?”

“If you do what you say you will… I can get
the whole town behind me.” He glanced at the kitchen and leaned in
close. “But how can you just ‘deal with’ a witch?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just give me a day
or two to rest up.”

James chewed on his lip. “We’re in danger if
anyone finds out you were staying here.”

“You’re in danger as long as that mad girl
is playing with fire. I can get rid of her. I just need to know I
can count on you.”

James looked down at the tea. He drained his
cup in one long draft, and clanked it onto the table. “So be
it.”

Garen rode on the pack horse Count Kirth had
given them; its load had been lightened considerably in the weeks
since they’d acquired it, and the rest of its cargo was distributed
among the other mounts. He ambled along beside Amira, and at a
moment where Dardan rode ahead and Mason lagged behind a little, he
spoke. “M’lady—I’m sorry. Amira.” He blushed as she smiled at his
stumble. “I’m really sorry about what happened. I should have been
able to fight.”

“You were surrounded by a score of men.
Trained men. Armed soldiers. What did you expect to do?”

“Something… I don’t know. Something better.
I’ve got this power and I couldn’t even use it.”

“I am told that even trained soldiers rarely
do well in their first battle. Many are overcome by fear.”

She’d meant this to comfort Garen, but he
seemed to pout even more. “I should’ve been able to do something,”
he muttered, and urged his horse on ahead. Amira sighed. Why must
men be so proud and unreasonable about these things?

At least Dardan had understood how she’d
felt, after the battle in Stony Vale. But how could he think she
was responsible for what Warden Penrose had done? She had been
given this power without being asked. It was not her fault if men
like Edon and Penrose acted badly because of it. They were the real
monsters, not her. Weren’t they?

———

The odd little party came into Seawatch
early the next day, after spending the night in a roadside inn a
few miles from Seawatch’s gate. They’d made it out of Stony Vale in
the late afternoon, after a round of farewells and some discussion
over what Hugh Hamm—and the others who had started the attack on
the royal soldiers—might do if Warden Penrose returned. They’d
seemed confident in their ability to defend themselves, and some
had argued that Penrose would chase after Amira instead, so they
had nothing to worry about. She’d prayed they were right, and she
would miss them, but they could not be her problem any longer.

It might be a moot point if they encountered
Penrose on their way to Seawatch—if he’d fled to the garrison near
the city—but they saw no sign of him or of any armed force on the
road.
Perhaps he went west to find Edon.

She eyed the walls of Seawatch as she rode
through the gate. Dardan had told her of the city’s innate
defensibility, but she knew mages would not be so easily stopped.
Garen on his own could knock a hole in the city wall in a few
moments. It would be a very rude way to announce oneself to the
duke.

Duke Fortarin Eltasi. Could he really help?
Amira wanted to start searching for mages at once, but Dardan had
insisted that they go to Eltasi first—he expected them, and might
be able to provide men and funds. If Edon was gathering a mage
army, then so would she, and she had to admit that Eltasi’s
resources could help her in that task.

She glanced at Mason Iris now and then as
they made their way through the city. He was always polite, even if
he did utterly disapprove of her. She’d had second thoughts about
him, wondering whether it would not just be safer to leave him
behind—or kill him. No, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. He’d
sworn his oath, and she would trust that.

Dardan took them straight to an inn, the
largest, most opulent inn Amira had seen in a long time. He made no
secret of their presence, openly giving his true name and title to
the innkeeper and asking for their largest suite of rooms. Mason
gazed around with mild interest. Garen all but gaped. He’d been to
Seawatch a time or two before, he’d told her, but he had never seen
anything like this: gilded fixtures, plush velvet seats in the
common room, nobles and wealthy merchants lounging about enjoying
elaborate breakfasts.

Dardan wrote a note on parchment, sealed it
with red wax, and gave it to the innkeeper to deliver to the
Eltasi. He assured Amira it wouldn’t take more than a day or two
for the invitation to arrive.

They left their belongings in their suite
and went about the business of acquiring new garments. They stopped
at a nearby tailor first, to get Dardan and Garen measured for
suits to be retrieved the next day. “I do not see what it gains us
to wait another day,” Amira said as they wound through the crowds
toward a dressmaker’s shop that the tailor had recommended. “You
said Duke Eltasi expects us.”

Dardan clucked his tongue. “You have set our
course, my love. Now let me steer the ship.”

“Nautical metaphors? Are you a sailor
now?”

“We’re in Seawatch. It seemed appropriate.
Now look: I have more experience dealing with high nobles than you
do. It is not bluster, just a simple fact. We will do better to
await a proper invitation. And Duke Eltasi, like all men of rank,
will be better swayed if we are dressed like those with power.”

“I have power,” she retorted.

Dardan glanced around and replied in a
whisper. “Setting the duke on fire will not impress him favorably,
I assure you.”

The dressmaker insisted that she could not
provide a new dress for Amira in less than three days. They instead
settled on an existing bronze gown that would suffice after a few
alterations, but it would still take until the next day at the
earliest.

When that was done, Dardan declared that he
and Garen would visit the nearest malthouse, and strongly suggested
that Mason and Amira take dinner at the inn. Amira wasn’t sure what
her husband was up to, but she acceded without complaint. Even with
Mason as her dinner companion, a nice quiet meal in an upscale inn
would be a dream come true after all those long weeks on the road,
and in the pleasant but admittedly rural environs of Stony Vale.
She’d had enough of wild game to last several lifetimes.

Amira changed into one of the dresses she’d
bought in Stony Vale. She came out into the suite’s antechamber to
find that Mason had removed his armor. He instead wore a
serviceable suit of black wool that he said he’d had rolled away in
his pack.

Even without his armor he drew many eyes in
the dining room. He was reasonably handsome, though his white hair
was distracting.
If only he’d smile.
She could not bring
herself to dislike him; even if he had travelled with the
despicable Warden Penrose, even if he did insist on upholding his
oath to obey Edon, he had displayed a justness and humility that
impressed her. Mason might not be her friend, but she saw no reason
to be hostile to him. And perhaps their growing familiarity would
soften his attitude toward her.

The meal passed pleasantly, and as they were
surrounded by many ears, they restricted their conversation to idle
chatter about what little background they shared—their time in
Callaston, mostly. Mason told her of the Bastion of Spirit—the
headquarters of the Wardens—and how he had spent long hours in its
grassy courtyard, practicing with his sword, studying his books, or
just meditating.

She in turn told him about her life on
Willbury Street, about which she had not thought much in quite a
while. It unsettled her to think about what might have happened to
her manse and servants in her absence. Of course this led her to
think of Katin, and she paused for a moment to offer a prayer to
the Aspect of Despair. She had not thought of her friend and
vala
often enough.

They finished their meal and retired to
their suite, which had two large bedchambers adjoined by a sitting
room. Dardan and Amira would share one room for the night; Garen
would have the other to himself, for Mason had volunteered to keep
watch in the sitting room. Perhaps he thought she might try to
sneak away in the middle of the night.

As the other men had not returned yet, Amira
took wine there. The inn provided a serving girl to attend them,
but Amira gave her a silver, told her to take the evening off, and
poured the wine herself.

Mason refused to drink. “It would be
inappropriate while I am in your company, m’lady.”

She shrugged and went through the carafe
herself. Mason seemed to grow sullen as the night wore on, and
Amira eventually gave up trying to make further conversation.

Footsteps heralded the return of her husband
and Garen, who both staggered drunkenly. She bade Mason a good
night and guided Dardan to their bedchamber.

He seemed to sober up a bit once the door
was shut. Amira asked how his evening went. “Quite well. I think
there’s no more concern as far as you and he are, er,
concerned.”

Something about the way he phrased it, and
how he did not meet her eyes, piqued her interest. “Tell me all
about it,” she said sweetly.

“It’s… nothing you’ll find interesting.”

“Oh, I think I should be the one to judge
that.”

Now Dardan looked at her, his face slowly
contorting with dismay. “It… um… it’s no fit conversation for a
lady.”

“Ah, I see. You took him to a brothel.”

The look of horror on Dardan’s face made
Amira burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, dear. Surely you don’t think
I was so sheltered a girl as to be unaware of the existence of
brothels?” In truth she knew a great deal more about brothels than
merely that they existed, but she would have to be a great deal
more inebriated for that discussion. Magic powers were one
thing…

“I did not—I did—only he did!” Dardan
protested. “I stayed in the lounge!”

She put a finger over his mouth. “I believe
you, dear. Now enough about the boy.” She put her lips on his and
guided his hands in removing her dress. There were no more words
after that.

———

As promised, the new garments were ready the
following afternoon. Amira’s gown was bronze silk striped with
gold, long hanging sleeves, and a colossal lace ruffle at her neck.
Dardan’s suit was simple, fine black linen; he’d also acquired
shiny new boots that would probably hurt his feet terribly until
they were broken in.

With Mason in his silvered Warden’s plate
and Garen looking like he might not have too recently fallen off
the turnip wagon, they perhaps might stand a chance of persuading
the great, aged Duke Fortarin Eltasi to help them. Amira’s only
obligation, Dardan told her, was to demonstrate her power for the
duke and a few other nobles—his daughter and grandson, in
particular. He seemed greatly relieved when Amira told him that she
didn’t mind at all. As far as she was concerned, the more people
who knew about her power, the better.

That afternoon they also received a response
from House Eltasi: they were to come to the castle the following
morning. This they did, taking a coach up the central street of
Seawatch, the Salt Road, which ran straight as an arrow toward the
duke’s castle at the highest point of the bluff. Amira, Dardan, and
Garen rode in the coach, leaving their horses at the inn, but Mason
chose to ride Hawthorn.

The fortress of House Eltasi was named
Wind’s Fury. It was built into the rock of the promontory itself,
an angular slab of limestone slotted into sea rocks of a darker
gray. Narrow window slits rose in a helix up a central, tapering
tower. It was imposing and stolid, forbidding beneath the flat gray
clouds. In four hundred years it had never been taken by any
attacker.

The gate guards expected them. Amira wasn’t
sure if they stared at her or Mason more. Everyone in a big city
like Seawatch would have seen Wardens at least a few times in their
lives, but it was still an excitement to meet one up close.

A page was summoned to lead them into the
castle keep. Amira tried to remember their route through the keep,
but it was hopeless. All the stone corridors looked the same to
her. The fortress had been built for defense, which meant lots of
choke points, exposed corners, and heavy barred doors. She prayed
that Dardan had kept track of it all.

They were first brought to an audience
chamber, but Duke Fortarin Eltasi was not there. Instead Amira was
introduced to half a dozen nobles, all of whom seemed to be
Eltasi’s descendants: his eldest son Thervan, who was already old
and gray; Thervan’s brother Marin, who frowned and drummed his
fingers impatiently; Lady Nyera Helgar, Fortarin’s eldest daughter,
with whom Dardan had spoken on his first visit; her son Gennevan,
who Dardan knew from past encounters; and a few others who seemed
to be of lesser import. Their
valai
were all present as
well, clustered at the edge of the room.

“So this is your little countess,” Lady
Nyera said once the introductions were complete. Younger than her
brothers, and in no position to inherit much of anything, she
nonetheless took the fore while Thervan, the heir apparent to the
dukedom, sat idly in a velvet chair. Nyera gave Amira a thorough
examination, even going so far as to circle around her and inspect
every angle as if she were a horse for sale. “A very pretty girl. I
imagine you expect that to impress us, Count Tarian.”

“My lady,” he replied noncommittally. “Once
the demonstration is complete, we will be brought to the duke, as
you agreed, correct?”

Nyera’s smirk betrayed how likely she
thought that was. Amira wanted to knock her down a few pegs, but
she kept her hands folded before her and bit her tongue. “By all
means, my dear count.” Nyera glanced at Amira. “Please show us…
whatever it is.”

Amira had spoken to Dardan about what she
should demonstrate. He’d wanted her to start small, so as not to
frighten anyone, but upon meeting Lady Nyera, Amira knew that that
would be a mistake. She had to impress them, and Nyera most of
all.

She pushed her bead out and stretched it
into a net, then lay it around Nyera’s head and gently pushed
energy into it. Nyera’s smirk dissolved into a frown, and she
looked about in confusion as she began to warm. In a few moments,
beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Amira stretched the net
larger, so that it enveloped Nyera’s whole body. The woman
unconsciously wiped her hands on her skirt as her palms began to
sweat. She glanced around, still looking for the source of the
heat, and then suddenly swung her startled gaze upon Amira. Amira
just smiled at her.