The Black Queen (Book 6) (41 page)

“No,” she said. “He would know more. He had greater Vision, that’s all.”

Something in her words made him stop. “You saw the Black Queen in your Vision.”

She nodded.

“Was she in poor health?”

Lyndred shrugged. “All I saw was her face.”

“And it wasn’t yours.”

She laughed. “I would have known that, Daddy.”

“So Arianna will be alive when we get to Blue Isle.” He was silent for a moment. “We’re basing all of this on the supposition that the illness is fatal.”

“Why else would she send for her brother?” Lyndred asked.

Rugad had thought Arianna and Gift worthy successors to the Black Throne, which meant they thought like Lyndred. Bridge, on the other hand, was unimaginative and rather straightforward.

“We could be wrong,” he said. “She may need him for some other reason.”

Lyndred nodded. “I’d already thought of that,” she said, “and if she does, and he’s not there, she’ll have to turn to her family, won’t she? And that will be us.”

There was a coldness in the center of her, a self-interest that Bridge had tried not to notice. That was why she could forget Rupert the poet so easily, why she was trying to lure Ace under her spell. She was protecting herself, just as her great-grandfather used to do. She looked at the world with a coldness that made everything clear. Was that what frightened her about the Vision of the child? Because her heart would be broken, which meant that somewhere, somehow, her heart would be engaged?

He made himself smile and kiss her before he went up the stairs to find Ace. “I think Blue Isle will be the most interesting place we’ll have gone in years.”

“Oh, Daddy,” she said, “I know it will.”

TWENTY-ONE

THE CARRIAGE STOPPED inside the courtyard near the stables. The smells of hay and manure coming in through the open window were pungent and vaguely familiar. Coulter had forgotten that this was the main entrance to the palace.

His entire body was still bumping. He wondered who had come up with this singularly uncomfortable form of travel. He had half a hundred bruises, all from mud holes or the carriage lurching right when he expected it to go left. He had tried to sleep on the long trip, but the back of his head kept bouncing on the wooden seat. Somehow he had managed naps, but they had been shallow, uncomfortable things, filling his dreams with driving and bumping and narrow, winding corners.

The last thing he wanted to do was see Arianna now. He had to look as bad as he felt with several days growth of beard, and clothes he had been wearing since he left Constant. This was not as he imagined.

Nor had the reception at the palace gates been anything like he had imagined either. He had thought he would have to explain himself to the guard. He hadn’t been here in years. He didn’t expect them to know his name. Yet one guard had acted as if Coulter were visiting royalty, and two others had disappeared into the courtyard ahead of him with news of his arrival.

The door to the carriage opened and Dash peered it. His face was windburned, his blond hair tousled, but his blue eyes were lively, despite the long trip. Every morning, he had let Coulter drive the carriage while he slept, and somehow Dash had no trouble snoring his way through the most treacherous roads. They’d had to get fresh horses at some village along the way, and Coulter suspected he got the worse of the trade. But not even the horses looked as bad as he felt.

“You gonna stay in here all day? I’m starving. I hope they’ll feed us here.”

That had been Dash’s comment at every stop. Coulter sighed and grabbed the door frame, pulling himself out of the carriage. “They’ll feed us,” he said, “if only to get rid of us.”

He stepped down the single step as the carriage rocked lightly. The flagstones looked familiar, and so did the stone wall, but it still seemed odd to him to see all the Fey faces milling about, from Domestics to Infantry. They looked like they belonged.

When he had last been here—when Nicholas had asked him to live here—the mixture of Islander and Fey in this place wasn’t nearly so easy.

Several grooms surrounded the horses and were getting ready to move the carriage somewhere less obtrusive. Dash was watching the flurry of people, his mouth open slightly. Coulter had forgotten that, while Dash’s father had worked at the stables, Dash had never been to the palace.

“This place is huge,” Dash said in an awed voice. He was staring at the palace itself. Coulter remembered having the same thought the first time he saw it, with its three towers and its high stone walls. Clearly it had once had four towers, but one had been removed to make way for a modern kitchen with a high ceiling and ventilation in the roof. Sometimes Coulter thought of the towers as the eyes of the palace. The round, window covered rooms at the top allowed anyone to stare down at him, but it didn’t feel as if anyone were staring at him now.

“Yes,” Coulter said. “It is huge.” And he suddenly felt silly. He had come all this way because of what—a worry? How would he explain that to Arianna? He wasn’t even sure he would get to see her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. What would she think of him after all these years? She had taken control of an entire Empire. He had created a school.

“Coulter!”

The voice that called him was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He turned, saw a Fey woman in Domestics robes running across the courtyard. She held up her skirts with one hand and was waving at him with another.

She was a Healer, and her name was—Seger. She had saved the life, if you wanted to call it that, of Sebastian by keeping his pieces when Rugad had ordered her not to. For that, Arianna had deemed her trustworthy.

Why had Arianna sent her?

Dash stepped back slightly and Seger stopped beside him. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, sounding breathless. Apparently she wasn’t used to running. “You made good time.”

Coulter frowned. He remembered her as a Healer. Had he been wrong? Was she some sort of minor Visionary or was he confusing her with someone else? “You knew I was coming?”

She stepped back slightly and tilted her head. “You didn’t get my message?”

“No,” he said.

“Then what—?” she stopped herself, and glanced at Dash. “Is this a friend of yours?”

“Dash, this is Seger.” Coulter watched as Dash bowed slightly, hands behind his back. The movement made him look courtly. “Dash handles horses better than I do, so he drove the carriage here.”

“Coulter underestimates himself. He just wanted company,” Dash said.

Seger didn’t look interested. Something made her mouth tight, and even though she smiled in the proper places, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Forgive me,” she said, “but I need to speak to Coulter alone.”

Dash shrugged, trying to look casual but managing to look lost instead. “Certainly. I, um—”

“He’s hungry,” Coulter said. “Do you think someone in the kitchen could be persuaded to feed him?”

“I don’t think that would be a problem. We’ll go in that way.” Seger threaded her arm through Coulter’s as if she expected him to disappear. She led him to the wooden kitchen door, propped open despite the day’s chill. A waft of heat billowed out, along with the smell of fresh bread. They stepped inside.

This area was as he remembered it. Fires burned in the great fireplaces, and pots with stews hung from iron racks. Stoves, with their own internal fires, were also hot, and chefs stood before them, working on the evening meal. The bakers had the bricklined ovens working, and rows of fresh baked bread already stood on the warming tables behind them.

Coulter’s mouth watered. He was hungry too.

No one seemed to notice them as they passed through, but Dash gave a longing glance at the bread. Seger led them past it to the pantry. There a table stood, along with several chairs. The day-old bread and baked goods stood on one shelf, as did the sausage ends and cheese curds. This was where the servants ate, where the servants had always eaten. Coulter had never taken a meal here, but he had seen it more than once.

Seger pulled back a chair for Dash. “Eat as much as you want,” she said. “When you’re done, wait here. I’ll send someone for you after I’ve spoken to Coulter.”

Dash looked at Coulter for confirmation. He nodded, then let Seger lead him out of the pantry. The next area was the buttery, and he could hear low conversation as men worked the churns. Seger opened a door, and they found themselves in the Hall, with its great arched windows and the swords which covered the inner wall.

Light filtered in, revealing dust motes floating in the air. Seger went to the inner wall and, with her fingertips, opened a hidden door. Coulter never would have noticed it if she hadn’t pulled it open.

She beckoned. He followed. The area was dark, and he nearly fell down a flight of stairs that began at the door. There had been no landing. The interior here smelled musty. Below him, Seger lit a torch.

“Close the door,” she said.

He shoved it closed, and realized that the door was as hidden on this side as it was on the other. It was part of the maze of tunnels that ran below the entire city. He had heard of them, but he had never seen them.

Seger led him through a long corridor, and finally she stopped at a place where the corridor intersected another. She lit three more torches, and placed them in holders down the passageways, so that they could see if someone was coming.

He doubted anyone would. The corridors were lined with spider webs—albeit fairly new ones. There wasn’t much dust, so someone cleaned these tunnels regularly, but they looked and smelled as if cleaning was all that happened here.

“If you didn’t get my message,” Seger said, “what are you doing here?”

“I felt it was time to come,” he said, which was not a lie, but which was as much truth as he was willing to tell for now.

She nodded as if that didn’t surprise her. “I sent a Wisp for you three days ago. I sent her to Constant.”

“I left five days ago. Four and a half, if you want me to be accurate.” He waited. He wasn’t going to say anything more.

Seger glanced down the corridors. “You can feel if anyone approaches, can’t you?”

“If you want me to,” he said. “I can get a sense of anyone, as long as they have some magick. Usually, I don’t do that.”

“I want you to,” she said.

“Who are you afraid of?”

Seger sighed and bit her lower lip. “I need an Enchanter, Coulter. This is too big for me.”

“What is?”

“Arianna,” she said. “And Sebastian. Both.”

He felt cold. “What’s happened to them?”

“Rugad has them.”

“Rugad?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “Rugad is dead.”

“No,” she said. “His body is dead. His personality and his memories live on. They’re taking over Arianna, and I think they may have Sebastian.”

“How—?”

“Arianna sent me a message yesterday. She said something triggered the take-over early. It was supposed to happen ten years from now, and there would have been no reversing it. But she believes that Rugad doesn’t have his full powers yet, and we can dislodge him.”

Coulter’s head was reeling. Rugad, alive? Coulter had only seen him once, and that through Gift’s eyes. Literally. Rugad had taken over Gift, and Coulter had known it, had seen the stranger—the malevolent stranger—looking out of Gift’s eyes. Without thinking, Coulter had crossed Gift’s Links, gone inside Gift’s mind and thrown Rugad out, closing all the Link doors behind him. That action had caused a rift in his friendship with Gift that had never entirely healed. Gift had believed that Coulter’s action put Sebastian in jeopardy, and Gift had been angry at Coulter for taking control of Gift’s body without his permission. Coulter always felt as if, for the second time since they had known each other, he had saved Gift’s life.

But he still remembered how Rugad had felt in pure energy form: strong and old and so very powerful. The only reason Coulter had defeated him that day had been because Coulter had caught him by surprise.

And now Seger was saying he was back.

“When?” Coulter asked. “When did this all start?”

“I don’t know when it started,” Seger said. “We noticed it almost two weeks ago. Arianna was getting headaches…”

She went on speaking but Coulter wasn’t listening to the details. Almost two weeks ago, he had first sensed something wrong.

“So the light went through here first,” he said, interrupting Seger.

“The light?” She frowned. “What light?”

“A strong magick stream, a white light, threaded with black. Didn’t you—?” This time, he stopped himself. He knew a lot about Fey magick, but not enough. Apparently Healers couldn’t see such things either.

“Threaded with black.” She leaned against the dusty stone wall. “A light, filled with magick. And threaded with black.”

“That means something to you?” he asked.

“You saw this about two weeks ago?”

“Yes,” he said. “And from that point on, I had a sense that Arianna was in trouble.”

Seger put her hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she said. “Arianna had mentioned a light, and so had Sebastian, but I didn’t know what kind it was. Now I do. The black awakened Rugad early.”