The Fall of the Dagger (The Forsaken Lands) (30 page)

Ardhi raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn’t apologise. She was so weary of people making stupid assumptions about him. Mathilda and Ryce had both irritated her with their innate belief that their birth made them automatically better people, and it looked like Bealina might be the same.

Royalty. Pah!
“I’m ready,” she said. “Your Highness, I beg you, for the sake of your son and your husband, trust us.”

Bealina gave her a weak smile and nodded.

Ardhi had been right. She did spin and she bumped her knee once, hard enough to give herself a bruise, but she was down on the roof in seconds. He hauled the rope up, and it wasn’t long before she was steadying Bealina’s descent as Ardhi paid out the rope from above. The silly woman had her eyes closed, and if Sorrel had not warned her, she would have landed with a thump.

“I thought I was going to die,” Bealina said.

“Garred seems to think it was fun.” Indeed, the boy was chortling.

“Again!” he shouted, and they both hastened to shush him.

Ardhi loosed the rope and it dropped down from above. Bealina jumped. “How will that fellow get down?” she asked.

“His witchery,” she said. “No, don’t take the harness off. You are going to need it again. Come, we’ll wait for Ardhi in that bartizan over there. We’ll be out of sight.”

“And then what?” the princess asked.

“A boat. That’s why we need the rope.”

“But—”

“Quick.” She grabbed Bealina by the arm and hustled her across the roof. It sloped slightly downwards to the parapet walk of the curtain wall bordering the river. The door to the bartizan stood open and once inside they had a view through the wooden watch port, now propped open, while remaining concealed themselves. Back through the doorway, Sorrel saw Ardhi climbing down the outside of the central tower, using no more than his fingers and toes.

At her side, Bealina shivered. “He looks like a spider. Why doesn’t he wear shoes?”

“People don’t where he comes from. There is little need to, for the weather is always warm.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve been there.”

Bealina’s eyes widened. “How brave!”

She didn’t reply. Instead of joining them, Ardhi had disappeared behind the tower.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” Bealina’s whisper was barely audible over the sound of wind and waves and the distant barking of dogs finding a scent.

Fiddle me witless, what’s bothering her?
“I don’t know you, Your Highness. Forgive me if I was rude. I am scared too, because we are running out of time. Right now, I’m worried about my friend as well.” She managed a smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll have you both safe soon.”

She looked around the interior of the bartizan. Ardhi had already anchored a rope on the solid bracket of the door bar; she needed to to make it long enough to reach the water. Fortunately, sailors’ knots came easy to her after her time on board ship and she began to knot her rope to his.

“This will all be over soon,” she said, working at the task. “Prince Ryce is coming to Vavala with an army.” She sketched in all that had happened to Gromwell and why the prince had gone to Throssel first. “So, you see, it was our job to rescue you. I’m sorry I made a mess of it and the guards and Prime Fox have been alerted.”

“He will never let me go,” Bealina whispered. Her face was as white as bleached linen.

“Fox? He won’t have a choice in the matter. As soon as the boat appears, we go down the rope to the water. And then we take you to the Great Oak shrine. In the many months the shrines have been hidden, not one has been found by Fox’s men. You can wait there in safety for the prince’s army.”

“The guards will find us any minute.”

“That’s what the rope is for. To lower you into a boat. We planned for every contingency. The boat will already be on its way, manned by loyal Shenat boatmen all arranged by Pontifect Fritillary.” All the boatmen had needed was a word from Peregrine – and Ardhi had seen him leave.

“Me look!” Garred said, pointing to the lookout window.

Hounds in the distance bayed and Sorrel suppressed a shudder as she bent to pick him up, glad of the distraction.

“And you’ve spoken to His Highness?” Bealina persisted, frowning.

“Prince Ryce? Yes. He’s been fretting about you and Garred. He adores you, doesn’t he?”

Her words didn’t appear to cheer Bealina. She looked sick.

Garred wriggled in Sorrel’s arms as he leaned out of the window. “Water,” he said.

She tightened her grip on him. “Yes. That’s a river.” She looked across his head to Bealina. “You’ll be safe soon, and together with your husband. You’ll be queen before you know it.”

“I can’t see a boat.” Bealina’s shoulders slumped. “Fox controls everyone. You can’t fight him. You just can’t, no matter how hard you try…”

“We have witcheries on our side.”

“There was a time,” Bealina said, so softly that Sorrel had to strain to hear, “when all I wanted to be was Ryce’s queen. But sometimes dreams die, and evil men win.”

“Fox hasn’t won yet,” Sorrel said.

Princess Bealina gave a bitter smile. “Fox saw to it that I will never be a queen.”

Oh, blister it. What does she mean?
She made a guess. “He’s… hurt you? That won’t make any difference to Prince Ryce. Have faith in him, in his affection for you. He spoke of his admiration for your courage during the siege, and how his men adored you. There is nothing that would ever change that, truly.”

“You don’t understand anything.”

“Try me.”

Bealina was silent.

“Ah, look – I think that’s them now.” A small sailboat was battling a moderate headwind towards the palace seawall. “I do believe that could be Horntail in the prow!”

The princess fixed her eyes on the boat. She began to shake. “It’s a long way down,” she whispered.

“It looks further than it is,” Ardhi said, entering the door behind her. “I think I’ve confused matters a bit for those searching the palace. I barred the door to that guard room, so they won’t know what happened inside and will have to spend time breaking it down. The guard is still out cold.”

“My shoes?” Sorrel asked.

“I dropped them, and the kerchief, from the roof on to three different levels below to confuse the dogs. They found the first shoe almost immediately, and that diverted the search to the other side of the palace.” He turned to Bealina. “This time, Princess, you go first. Sorrel is stronger and Garred is obviously fine with her holding
him, so she will take him down after you. Let’s get you ready for when they arrive underneath us.”

Sorrel watched as he tied the rope to the harness Bealina still wore.

She would have understood fear, or panic, but the closer rescue came, the more the princess appeared subdued and miserable, rather than scared. “Don’t worry. I’ll take such care with Prince Garred,” she said. “He’s the most precious of cargoes. Ryce will be so proud of the way you have kept him safe.”

The look the princess gave her was unreadable, and it worried her. Something was not right.

They both helped Bealina over the sill of the watch port the moment the boat arrived underneath. Ardhi began to pay out the rope as quickly as was safe. At least this time there was no danger of her hitting the wall; the bartizan projected far enough over the water to make that unlikely. As soon as the men in the boat caught the tail rope and began to haul her in, Sorrel stopped watching to turn her attention back to the roof, in time to see guards stepping out from a dormer window on the far side. Quickly, she closed the door.

“Guards coming,” she said, putting Garred down on the floor. “At least three.”

“Did they see you?”

“No.”

“The moment you arrive in the boat, I’m going to throw the rope down and jump,” Ardhi said, watching as the princess was helped out of the harness and seated next to the mast.

Sorrel nodded, aware they might not escape in time.

He hauled the rope up the moment the harness was free, and she put it on while he wound the other end around the bracket for the door bar to keep it taut while she climbed out through the window opening. He handed Garred to her and started to unwind the rope.

“Ardhi,” she called out as she began to descend. “There are another two men running along the parapet walk!”

The rope dropped shockingly fast, and her stomach lurched in protest. Garred squealed as they spun. Eager hands grabbed them as they reached the boat.

As soon as she was safely seated, Horntail snatched the boy into his arms, laughing with joy. “I remember you, lad!” he cried.

Garred grabbed the sergeant’s beard and began to prattle about whizzing round and round.

Sorrel only had eyes for Ardhi. He splashed into the water beside the boat almost immediately. “Get out of here!” he cried as one of the sailors hauled him in. “They’ve seen us!”

The helmsman in the stern was already pushing the tiller over for the sail to catch the wind, the boat heeled and Ardhi tumbled in over the gunwale.

“Get down!” Horntail yelled, and bent protectively over Garred. Sorrel thought he was warning them about the boom swinging over, and ducked, but at the same time there was the bang of an arquebus being fired up on the wall, followed quickly by a second.

Bealina gasped and flung herself down between the seats, Sorrel spreadeagled on top of her. There was a silence, and then more shots. The boat scudded on.

When Horntail raised his head a little later, he said, “It’s all right. We’re out of range now.”

Sorrel pulled herself on to the seat, and bent to help Bealina up. The princess’s face was ashen and she was clutching her chest.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Sorrel asked.

Bealina looked down and pulled her hand away.

Her dress was torn. Blood stained the edges of the tear.

For a moment Sorrel was uncomprehending, until she realised the first ball fired must have hit the princess. She hadn’t flung herself down for safety; she had been toppled by the shot.

She looked up at Sorrel, and then leaned against her, gasping. “I feel strange.” She sounded surprised.

“Let me look.” Sorrel slipped an arm around her back to hold her upright, and the princess slumped against her, coughing.

“Va save!” one of the sailors said, appalled. “That’s blood!”

A froth of red bubbles spattered down Bealina’s dress.

Aghast, Horntail handed Garred to the sailor and scrambled over. He ripped up his own shirt to make a pad of cloth to press against the small wound in her chest, but it was obvious to them all that the real problem was internal. “We need a healer!”

“Garred needs you. Stay with us,” Sorrel said into her ear.

“Va knows… better…” Bealina’s words were faint. Blood dribbled from her nose. She began to cough again and this time there was much more blood. In between the spasms, she tried desperately to draw in air.

Sorrel clutched at the bambu around her neck, fumbling for another wisp of feather. Ardhi dived at her, rocking the boat, to stop her from opening it. “No,” he said. “No, Sorrel. That is not what it is for.”

“Saker did it for me!”

He didn’t reply, but his hand tightened over hers, clamping the stopper in tighter.

“Tell… Ryce…” Bealina whispered. She closed her eyes as if she was too weak to keep them open. She dragged in more air in rasping gulps between each word as she murmured, “Love… always… but… better… this… way. Tell him I won. For Garred…”

Garred pulled away from the sailor to clutch at his mother’s knee. The final movement she made was to touch a finger to his cheek – and smile.

Sorrel held her close, resting her own cheek against the princess’s. Each breath wheezed into Bealina’s lungs, a ghastly sound, and was expelled in a haze of blood. Each breath was further and further apart.

Somewhere before they reached the shore, life was gone.

Sorrel exchanged a look of despair and guilt with Horntail over the top of Bealina’s head. His face was ashen. “I remember everything,” he whispered. “Everything.”

B
ealina looked tiny in death. More girl than woman and mother. A Staravale princess who had fallen in love with the man she’d married, dreamed of becoming a queen – and died far too young. The shrine keeper, Akorna, laid her on one of the shrine-oak’s great boughs, close to the trunk. In the subdued light filtering through the oak leaves, her body lacked substance, as if in death it had begun to fade away into its surroundings.

Sorrel stood by the body grieving and wretched, shaken, wishing she had done things differently, knowing that if she had fled out of the gate after the dog attacked instead of going to look for the princess, Bealina might still be alive.

My mistake killed her
…

Ardhi came up and slipped his hand into hers. He pulled her away to where they could speak privately. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She buried her face in his shoulder. “If only I had−”

“Valerian Fox was to blame, the guards were his instrument – and it was just appalling bad luck that a stray ball hit her the way it did and did the damage it did. It could have been you. Or me, or Horntail, or one of the sailors.”

“I thought I could use the feather to—”

“We can’t save everyone, Sorrel.”

“Saker saved me with one of his!”

“And the power disappeared from it for ever. You are part of the ternion; Bealina was not. Your life is key to success. But using it to save you has left us with only three pieces – and there are three sorcerers in this world who have dangerous access to power because of who they are: Valerian and Mathilda’s twins. The feather pieces
were granted to us to rid this world of sorcery. We have to use them where they are most effective.”

She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. He was
right
, confound it. “I don’t like the idea that my life is worth more than another’s…”

“I know.” He didn’t speak again until her tension dissipated and she took a deep breath and stepped away from his hold.

“What was it the princess said to you?” he asked.

She revisited the horror of the moment in the boat. “She knew she was dying. Ardhi, she was
glad
! She said it was
better
. She meant it was better to die than to live. She told me to tell Prince Ryce. It was horrible.”

“What would make her say that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she was ashamed. I think Fox raped her.”

He frowned. “But if so, that wasn’t her fault!”

“No, but women of her class are taught to hold to their virtue as though it’s their exclusive responsibility.”

“Maybe she thought Prince Ryce wouldn’t want her back. That he’d blame her,” he suggested.

“I don’t think he’s like that. And I don’t think she thought he was.”

“No, there’s more to it than that.”

The remark came not from Ardhi, but from Peregrine, who had come up behind them with Gerelda and Pontifect Fritillary. “There was more than just the smutch of Fox’s touch on the princess,” he explained. “When I first saw her body, I knew there had been something sorcerous alive inside her.”

He was blushing and it took her a moment to understand what he was too embarrassed to say. “Oh, sweet Va. Another Fox,” she whispered. “She was pregnant.”

None of them said anything.

“Hang me for a muckle-top. She
knew
.” Sorrel hid her face in her hands. “That’s what she was trying to tell me. She was terrified of giving birth to another sorcerer.”

“More than that, perhaps,” Fritillary said. “If she had another boy, Fox could have passed him off as Ryce’s, killed Bealina and Garred and put his own son on the throne as the supposedly legitimate king.”

Sorrel shuddered. “Oh, Va, that man is so vile.”

“Why don’t we shoot him?” Gerelda asked.

“It has been tried,” Fritillary replied. “And it doesn’t work.”

“Why not?” Peregrine asked.

“The would-be assassins killed themselves instead of him.”

“He coerced them from a distance?” Gerelda asked.

“None came back to tell us how he did it, but it is certain that he has built his power to a level that we really know nothing about. Fortunately, he doesn’t use it much because of the cost to him.”

“But if he’s in extreme danger from us,” Gerelda said, her tone dry, “he wouldn’t count the cost then.”

Sorrel walked away. On the other side of the oak, she stood and laid her forehead against the bark of the trunk, but there was no respite there. Her thoughts circled the same path:
What if I had…? Or maybe if I’d…?

It was Fritillary who found her and laid a hand on her shoulder, saying, “We pay a terrible price for the gift of life: pain, grief, death and mortality.”

“Then is there any point to all this?”

“Of course there is. Life itself! Have faith in Va, my dear. We make a mistake when we expect Va to intervene in our lives. Belief gives us hope and strength. Witcheries give us help. The Way of the Oak and the Way of the Flow bring us peace and tranquillity and a glimpse of our eternity as part of creation. Expecting anything else is arrogance. In our arrogance, we pray for help, when what we should be doing is working on our moral strength to live good lives. Believe that, and you’ll be happier and your life will have more meaning. Perhaps Bealina knew that. She died a warrior and a hero, knowing she was offering Fox a defeat of considerable measure. If she had ever given birth to a son of his, she would not only have brought another sorcerer into the world, she would have condemned Garred to death, and she knew it.”

“She was so young.”

“Perhaps she was also wise beyond her years.”

“What will happen to Garred now?”

“I will take him to his father through the timeless paths. I will tell Prince Ryce her last words.”

“I could take Garred and tell him myself.”
And I would see Piper
…

“You are needed here still, whereas my presence is required in Throssel now. The Ardronese need to know I am alive.”

The words shredded Sorrel’s surge of hope.

“Garred clings to Horntail,” Fritillary added, “so I think it best that the sergeant comes with me. He has regained his memory, you know. In the meantime, I’ll send a nun who knows the timeless paths to take a letter to Ryce. He said he’d pick up messages at the Seaforths’ home in Throssel.”

Fifteen days after leaving Twite,
Golden Petrel
anchored in Throssel Water, a short row from the coast, just after dusk. Over the next hour, the ship’s boats ferried men quietly to land, where they began the ten-mile walk to Throssel city. Among those who left the ship were Prince Ryce and all his men, Lord Juster and half his crew, and Saker.

By dawn, separated into different bands, they had all reached the city’s walls, where they mixed in with the crowds entering through the five gates. Ryce’s men, dressed as sailors and with strict orders not to catch the eye of any of the town guard who might recognise them, joined the jostle of fringe dwellers, day labourers and hustlers surging into the city alongside the farm carts bringing produce to market. Throssel was a busy port, and sailors were no uncommon sight.

Saker and Grig Cranald travelled together, and once inside the city the two of them headed for the Barklee house. As they approached the docklands, an uncomfortable tightness developed in Saker’s chest. The closer he was to finding out how Piper had fared, the worse it grew.

He need not have worried. As soon as she heard his voice greeting Surgeon Barklee at the door, she hurtled out of the kitchen and raced into his arms. She snuggled there as if he had never been away, so loving and so totally forgiving of his desertion it was hard to believe she had a drop of sorcerer’s blood. The tenaciousness of her clutch, though, did indicate she would be reluctant to have him disappear again.

He looked over her head to where Barklee and his wife watched. “Thank you for taking such good care of her, both of you.”

“She was no trouble,” Mistress Barklee said with a tender smile. “A little charmer, she is. Just smiles and my boys do anything for her.
She’d be welcome to stay for ever. I’ll miss her when she goes, for sure.”

“I’m afraid we will be leaving Throssel soon,” Grig said. “I’m sorry we have to take your husband away again. And Banstel too.” He grinned at the ship’s boy, who had followed Piper from the kitchen. “That is if the lad still hankers after the sea.”

“Aye, sir!” Banstel said.

Mistress Barklee tousled his hair. “He’s mad keen on being a privateer, this lad. Barklee is another, chafing for a deck beneath his feet! That’s sailors for you.”

Saker looked down at Piper and touched the Chenderawasi circlet she wore. “Did you remember not to take it off, sweetheart?”

She nodded, her curls bobbing in her enthusiasm. “Papa not go away again? Never, ever, ever?”

“Not Papa, dearest,” Mistress Barklee said, and blushed. “I’m sorry. She’s been hearing the children talk to Barklee, and so she started calling him Papa too. Then of course, the bairns told her he wasn’t her papa, so she decided
you
were.”

“You my papa!” Piper cried.

He smiled at her. “Oh, not exactly. In fact, you’re a lucky girl. You have lots of papas. Lord Juster and Ardhi and Mate Finch and Mate Cranald and—”

“And you?”

“And me too.”

“I want Mama. Where’s Mama Sorrel?”

“You’ll be with her soon, sweetheart. And she won’t go away again, I promise.”
Va forbid.

“Time to go,” Grig Cranald said. “We’ve business in the city. Barklee, Banstel, you’re wanted too.”

Five minutes later they were on their way to the Seaforths’ townhouse on the other side of Throssel, where everyone was to reassemble.

Originally, Saker had wanted to leave Piper with Mistress Barklee, thinking she would be safer there, but Ryce had insisted that she be brought to Seaforth’s residence. “Saker, if we fail,” he’d explained, “Barklee’s house won’t be a safe place for her.”

That was a disputable excuse if ever he’d heard one, but Ryce had made it an order.

Saker chatted with Piper as they walked through the city, but he was preoccupied, his thoughts churning. Pox on’t, what was that canker of a prince up to? He’d always thought Ryce needed to assert himself more and take charge – but now that the man was showing leadership, well, his intentions were worrying.

When they arrived, Ryce requested his immediate presence, so he left Piper with Barklee and was conducted by a servant to the library, an impressive room lined from floor to ceiling with shelves of leather-bound books. When he entered, he found the prince leaning against the mantel of the fireplace, talking to Juster. Both of them had evidently been fitted out with clothes from the Seaforth family’s wardrobe, because they looked immaculate in outfits that had seen neither a siege nor a sea voyage. In fact, Saker thought they’d both not only had the benefit of a bath, but had received the attentions of a barber as well, rot the two of them.

“You wished to see me, Your Highness?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed. Brandy? Seaforth’s cousin keeps a splendid cellar.”

“No, thank you.” Unless he had sadly misjudged, this was a meeting better attended cold sober.

“I’ve decided on the best way to get into the palace with my men,” Ryce said, “without killing too many people. I want to dress Piper up as Prince Garred, and tell the guards on the gate that I am surrendering my son into the king’s care, thereby relinquishing my own claim to the throne, as he has requested.”

He gaped at the prince, his rage rising.

Juster had the grace to look abashed but Ryce was unfazed. “Juster has not long informed me that she is my niece, rescued by you and Sorrel from all that Lowmian codswallop about twins and devil-kin. For which I am very grateful. I was seeking a way to enter the palace without a fight, and this appears to be our only chance to have the guards open the gates for me and a group of armed men. Edwayn declared Garred his heir, and the heir to the throne is granted a company of forty guards.”

You bastard, Juster.
“You would risk her
life
?”

“If there is a fight, I risk my own, and those of my men. However, everybody knows that the king has ordered me to deliver Prince Garred to him. If I arrive at the gate with a child in my arms, I think
there is a good chance he will grant me entry. In fact, there’s a chance I could persuade the guards on the gate to open it without even consulting the king.”

He stared at Ryce, aghast. “May I point out that Piper is a year older than Prince Garred. She’s also a girl, and surely the palace guards are familiar with Prince Garred’s visage!”

“Piper is small for her age, and Garred is large,” Ryce said calmly. “Their colouring is not dissimilar. They are cousins, after all. Moreover, it is over a year since anyone here saw Garred, and growing children of his age alter rapidly. And who’s going to look in the pantaloons to see if the child is a boy when I tell them it’s my son?”

He tried to subdue his fury. “What if the king has already heard that Prince Garred was taken to Vavala?”

“Oh, he has heard. Fortunately Seaforth’s brother is still welcome at court in spite of his connection to me, and he knows what happened. Edwayn sent an outraged letter to Fox, who denied the rumour and said Bealina and Garred are still in Gromwell with me. The king believed that denial. He has not yet heard that the siege has been lifted – we are about to inform him.”

The idea of Piper being used with such casual disregard for her safety was an abomination. He swallowed back his bile. “Your Highness, what will happen to Piper if your plan fails?”

“What do you think will happen to any of us, Saker? We die.”

“Piper is a child, and she doesn’t have a choice. And as you’ve said, she is a legitimate royal princess of the Vollendorn line.” It wasn’t often he uttered such outright lies to a friend, but he didn’t care. Piper
mattered.

“We are all in Va’s hands, isn’t that what you clerics tell us? May I remind you, Saker, that you do not have any say whatsoever in Piper’s well-being. She is evidently my niece. In the absence of her mother, and given King Edwayn’s madness, I am her nearest relative. I am also your liege lord, I believe, seeing that you have arraigned yourself at my side rather than my father’s. She goes with us tomorrow to the palace.”