The Seer And The Sword (10 page)

She had nothing to say, only quickened her step. He matched her, pointing to the walls of the castle, now in sight as they crested a small hill beyond the cemetery.

‘If Vesputo strikes you’ll be at his mercy.’ His face was full of concern.

‘If you believe this, why have you left him free to harm the king?’

‘King Kareed isn’t my father,’ he answered evenly. ‘And he’s blind to Vesputo, just as you were. Should I do Kareed’s killing for him?’

She bit her lip. ‘No, no. I see now, Landen. I see.’

They hurried along. ‘You intend to denounce Vesputo?’ he asked.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Be careful. Treachery is never the work of one man. Who can say what promises he’s made to his followers?’

Oh, Papa. This is our kingdom! We have made doorways for betrayal
.

‘Who are his followers?’

‘Beron, for one. Watch where you place your trust, Princess.’ His clear voice, lowered to almost a whisper, rang ominously.

‘What about you? Can I trust you?’

‘You know you can. Though once I’m gone, many will tell you I’m your greatest enemy.’

‘Who else knows you’re going away?’

‘No one, though the friends who warned me guessed it would be soon.’

They neared the place where the cemetery path met the main road. The road was filled with people, moving in streams to the banquet hall. Landen guided her away, into the trees behind the castle.

‘Why do you tell me?’ she asked.

His hand rested lightly on her elbow. ‘Because we were children together,’ he said.

She pondered for a moment. ‘You’re ready to live exiled?’

He gave her a wry glance. ‘I’ve lived exiled since I was a boy.’

It gave her pause. What had it been like to lose everything so young?

Like today has been for me. Except I still have my parents. My father! I have to talk to him
.

‘Take the stallion,’ she urged. ‘I give him to you.’

Landen smiled. ‘Thank you. I will.’ He stopped where the trees thinned. ‘There. You can go in the back way.’

She rushed past where he stood, then stopped. ‘When are you going?’

‘As soon as I make a visit to the stable.’

She doubled back to him, drawing a small gold ring from her finger. It was set with a tiny crystal globe. Ancilla had had it made for her, and she cherished it. She didn’t know what made her hold it out to him.

‘Please. Take it and keep it.’

Landen slipped it into a pocket, then felt inside his cape. ‘Thank you. I have something for you, too.’

He pulled out her crystal. As she took it, he held her hands, the crystal inside both their palms. There seemed to be a question in his eyes. But he only raised her hands to his lips.

‘Goodbye, Princess.’

As he walked away, Torina stared after him, numb to his leave-taking. She was overwhelmed to see the crystal she had thrown away.

‘Goodbye,’ she said, as if he could still hear her.

She gripped the crystal, gazing into it. She had wanted to put the seer’s gift behind her, and it had found her again, given back by Landen. How had he come to have it? It still held the warmth of his body.

In the crystal, small dark rainbows floated across a panelled room. Torina recognized it as a favourite
refuge of her father’s, one he used when he wanted privacy, a place to sort out the issues that came to him for decision.

Her father appeared. He stood alone, bareheaded, looking into the fire burning in the hearth. His head swivelled as the door opened and Vesputo came in. Torina heard the door close behind Vesputo with a soft echoing thud. The king motioned him forward, then turned back to the fire.

No, Papa!
She screamed inwardly, filled with horror. Vesputo’s face showed single-minded, emotionless determination. She stretched out a hand, as if she could stop him.

He advanced to stand behind the king. He pulled a small stiletto from his belt.

No!
She called to Kareed, and as if in response, his head came round. But it was too late. Vesputo plunged the stiletto into the king’s back and the crystal went black.

Torina reached for Landen’s retreating figure, just visible beyond the trees. She gasped, forming his name soundlessly with white lips, trying to call him back. But Landen disappeared around a hill.

In a spacious room near the banquet hall, Vesputo stood with Dreea, regally dressed, looking, he was sure, every inch a king. Tonight it would all come together, everything he’d worked for. A sumptuous feast was ready and Kareed had withdrawn to his private haven to prepare for the festivities that would set the marriage in motion.

There had been times over the past two years when Vesputo doubted Torina would ever be persuaded to marry him. But he’d watched her from the time she was a child, carefully storing away all her habits and delights. It had paid off. Now she was his. She had accepted his suit, and he’d seen in her eyes all the testimony he needed that she loved him.

Dreea had told him the girl was grief-stricken. Knowing Torina as he did, Vesputo expected the old queen’s death to affect her deeply. He chafed at the inconvenience of the timing, hoping it wouldn’t lead to delays. He was anxious to see Torina. She’d been inaccessible since his return. He’d meant to meet her at the funeral. But Kareed had turned urgent matters over to Vesputo in order to attend the burial. Of course, Vesputo could not refuse the royal request.

A tap on the door announced Mirandae. Her puckered forehead mirrored Dreea’s worried look.

‘Madam, we’ve searched everywhere.’

‘Poor child. So distraught. Who was last to see her?’ the queen asked in her gentle way.

‘I believe it was me,’ Mirandae answered. ‘When I went back for her at the grave.’

Dreea turned to Vesputo, who watched with misgivings.

‘I ought to have stayed beside her, but I thought she would come in with the rest of us. While you were away, Vesputo, all she talked of was you. Now that her grandmother has died, she can think of nothing but her grief.’

Vesputo addressed Mirandae. ‘Madam, you spoke with her at the graveside?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Tell me what she said,’ he probed, trying to modulate his voice to reflect a lover’s concern.

Mirandae threw up her hands. ‘Said there could be no wedding! Said she wanted to be with her grandmother!’

Vesputo’s fists clenched. He hid them behind his back. ‘My dear Queen,’ he said. ‘I must excuse myself to do what I can in this.’

‘Oh yes, Vesputo. You’re the best one to help her. Please, tell us instantly if you get any word.’

Vesputo bowed and let himself out of the room. His palms were cold and damp as he hurried along the corridors.

What if Irene had heard true? Could Torina have seen something. . .

Vesputo ground his teeth. It was the only explanation for her avoidance of him. Ordinarily she would have run to meet him. He had carelessly construed Ancilla’s death as the reason she shut herself away. Now he recalled she’d been missing for many hours before that last visit to her grandmother.

His fists opened and closed furiously. If she had seen what he planned, then he couldn’t wait. She was too headstrong. Not even her father could make her marry if she refused.

What if she were with the king now? Vesputo doubted they’d looked for her in Kareed’s sanctuary.

The commander forced his features into their usual mask of calm, striding through the halls to the king’s rooms.

* * *

King Kareed stood alone in the private room that had become his haven over the years. The walls were panelled with polished oak cut from his native forests; the hearth made of stone from the quarry where he played as a boy. Three tapestries hung where he could see them from his chair, all worked by his wife’s charmed fingers. One was a wreath of flowers encircling two clasped hands, made for their wedding day. Another showed rays of a rising sun, against the familiar ridge of the Cheldan Mountains. The third, she had only recently finished. Torina, standing in her garden, red hair flowing free, a riot of blossoms round her. It was uncanny in its lifelike quality. The eyes seemed to follow him, the lips ready to speak.

A fire the king had lit himself burned on the hearth. Warmed by its blaze, he gazed at the woven portrait of his daughter. A procession of memories drifted before him.

He saw the face of his wife, radiant with love, as the baby girl was placed in his arms. When the newborn gripped his finger, the strength of her tiny hand filled him with ecstasy. They thought then, and for many years, that more children would follow.

He recalled the small, fire-headed toddler, following him about whenever she could. And later, the prattling child, eager to tell him everything she’d seen and done, as if to introduce him to the world afresh. Then the mischievous young girl, with her endless escapades.

Such love she had given him. Powerful, innocent
love. Her face would light brighter than a hundred chandeliers when he was near. And then . . .

Somehow, she had grown up. Others were her confidants. He saw her frequently, of course, and always felt an aching pride in her. Yet she was reticent with him now. Hesitant, a little formal, distant in an unthought politeness that tore his heart.

He longed to lift her up and hear her laughter again, ask her of her day and have her tell him all she felt. He wanted to hear her feet running to him, wanted to convey to her his life; all he had done, and all he wished undone. But he was constrained. He felt the bricks of his absences and misdeeds, mortared together by his remote affairs of state, into a wall too high to come down.

And Vesputo? Was he the man to entrust her to?

Vesputo the promising commander had become Vesputo the powerful right-hand man. His ambition led him to undertake great risks.

Ambition! I wish I could be certain that affection rules him when it comes to Torina. He seems to care, but if she were not the king’s daughter? If only I could be sure he loves her!

And if he did not? Too late to train another king. Why these doubts? Kareed had fought beside Vesputo, trusted him with the gravest secrets of kingship. Rejoiced in and encouraged this match.

The door opened without a knock. Annoyed, Kareed turned.

Torina was running to him.

She wore an outdoor cape. Dead leaves clung to it. She came right up to him and put both hands on his
chest, panting, shaking. He folded his fingers over hers. She lifted a blanched face to him. There were purple smudges under the wide, frightened eyes.

Alarmed, the king guided her to his chair. She collapsed into it. He pulled another chair close and she reached for his hand.

She had come to him! She had a trouble and had come to him.

‘Torina, what is it, my dear?’

‘Oh Papa!’ She spoke through pale, trembling lips.

‘What is it, my Torina? What’s the matter?’

‘Papa, you must – listen to me!’ She sounded breathless.

‘Tell me what has happened.’

‘Not what has happened. What will happen.’

He smiled. ‘Cold feet over marriage? Is that the trouble? Torina, I promise you—’

‘No!’ She surprised him with her vehemence.

‘What then?’

‘Papa, do you remember the crystal you brought back from Bellandra?’

‘Crystal?’ He frowned. ‘Bellandra? Torina, there are things I regret. . .’ He drew back his hand. She snatched it, clung to it.

‘The crystal! You gave it to me. Remember?’ Her voice quivered.

‘I . . . vaguely recall something.’

‘Papa, I can see the future in it.’

‘The future?’

‘Believe me, Papa. I’ve seen many things and all of them came true.’ She seemed to choke on emotion, her
eyes imploring him. She was shivering, though covered with a wool cape and sitting near the fire.

‘Oh!’ she cried. ‘If only I had told you before. Now, when you need to believe me, you—’

‘Believe you!’

‘Papa, I have seen,’ she swallowed. ‘I have seen—’

‘Steady, girl. What are you talking of?’

‘I have seen Vesputo.’ She seemed to be strangling again.

‘Vesputo. Yes?’ The king chafed her wrists.

‘Papa, I love you.’

‘And I love you, my dear.’

Again, the door swung open without a knock. Vesputo stood framed in the doorway for a moment before it closed behind him.

Kareed rose, prying himself loose from Torina’s nervous grasp. He heard her trying to choke out a word.

‘Vesputo.’

‘My king.’ Vesputo was calm, deferential. He strode forward, eyes on Torina. He was dressed well, moving with his normal smooth, unfaltering gait.

The king coughed. ‘Excuse me. My daughter and I have things to discuss.’

‘Ah,’ Vesputo answered, but did not break step. His eyes looked very dark as he kept coming. ‘This will only take a moment. Sorry to intrude. There’s something I must ask you.’

‘Very well,’ Kareed allowed. ‘What is it?’

Behind him, Torina called to him. ‘No, Papa! Don’t let him near you!’

Vesputo was at his side, clapping him on the back.
Pain filled him in a rush and then burst. He tried to whirl on the traitor, but staggered forward instead, inexorable agony gripping his chest.

The warrior king fought to find his enemy, but could see nothing. He reached for his battle voice. No sound obeyed. His mighty arms, that had slain so many, refused his will.

His world darkened, and went out.

A piece of cloth gagged Torina’s mouth. Cords bound her ankles, fixed her arms behind her back, and tied her waist to a chair. She was in her own bedroom. Candelabra were lit. A massive man she remembered seeing with Vesputo stood in front of her. Her head ached and a strange, bitter taste was in her mouth. Next to her, Vesputo caressed her hair.

‘Awake, my dear?’

She glared at him.

‘Thank you, Toban. I’ll speak privately with the princess now.’

The guard left Torina alone with Vesputo.

‘Sorry they were rough with you, darling.’ He held up a menacing finger. ‘I’m going to cut your gag now. Since you never learned to keep your silence, I must be your teacher. From this hour, any word you speak against me will send someone dear to you to the grave. Take care.’