The Singer's Crown (25 page)

“What?” she repeated, eyes wide.

“Lyssa,” her brother said softly, “I know that this is your calling, and this temple is the most important thing you have yet been a part of, but I do not want to risk you. I am asking you to come home.”

She nodded slowly, then smirked a little. “I reserve the right to complain about it, though; and I want my armor. I'll be riding with the Sisters of the Sword.”

Fionvar opened his mouth, then shut it, and gave a brief nod.

“We must be back as soon as possible, so—”

“Hold!” cried a new voice. Clattering steps approached from the castle's entry. “Watch! Don't let them pass!” the leader called, sprinting ahead with sword drawn.

“The horses!” Jordan cried, grabbing Lyssa's hand as the trio ran for their mounts.

“I am a prince!” the young man returned. “I order you to stand!”

“You are an idiot!” Lyssa laughed as Fionvar swung her up behind him. Jordan's horse danced to the side, snorting as he finally scrambled into the saddle. As he kicked it into a gallop, one of the pikemen slashed out at it. The horse shied, stumbled, and fell, slamming the Liren-sha to the ground. Fionvar reined in and turned back, calling out. Jordan gained his feet quickly, if shakily, flinging aside his cloak to reveal the bloodred garb. The men from the castle hesitated a moment at this.

“I am the Liren-sha!” he cried, then, over his shoulder, “Ride, Fionvar!”

Fionvar, struggling to keep the horse steady while slashing at a guard with the other hand, did not heed him.

Favoring his right leg, Jordan moved back a few paces from the advancing men. The prince stopped, unshouldering a crossbow. “The other one! Get the other,” he ordered his men.

The shout of the royal guard made Fionvar's attacker whirl; then he screamed as the terrified horse tore lose from Fionvar's grasp and bolted for the door. The riders plunged out into the night as bells rang behind them.

By the time Fionvar had mastered the beast, there was no turning back.

“I THINK YOUR
game is slipping, Wizard,” Wolfram said as he removed a marker from the board on his bedside table.

“I do not like waiting,” she replied, frowning over the next move.

“I wouldn't mind if I knew what we are waiting for.” He regarded her steadily.

“Do you never give up?” She nudged one of her pieces a little closer to him.

“Not easily.” After more than a week, the bruises on his face were much faded, enough to allow his minute smile.

“Hasn't the king told you anything?” She cocked her head, with a slight frown.

“He has not been allowed near me without a witness since the first time I saw him. Neither has Rolf, for that matter—no one has but you, in fact. Strange.”

The wizard shrugged. “Not very.”

“I don't suppose there'd be much purpose to assigning you a chaperone.”

“The duchess trusts me with the enemy, perhaps because she cannot believe that you would trust me. A more interesting question is, why hasn't she visited you herself?”

“Oh, she did, once. She came in the dead of night, when she thought I was sleeping, and stood at the foot of the bed, staring at me. I was expecting an interrogation, or at least an accusation from her, but there has been none.”

“She's had other things on her mind.” The wizard looked up quickly, with a little smile. “But I suppose you would know nothing of that.”

“Well, let's see. Jordan is involved, or he would have come here himself. So is the guard captain, for the same reason. Brianna, Kattanan's betrothed, is involved, but she is playing the role of not being involved. She is also pregnant.”

The wizard's eyes widened. “How did you figure that?”

“She carries herself that way.” He frowned a little. “I thought that was obvious. Anyhow, if I were to conjecture, I would assume that the father is one of the two missing men, and they have been sent away together, perhaps to remove the distraction from Brianna. Given that, I would probably further assume the father is Jordan, guarding the captain on his mission. Why are you smiling?”

The wizard shrugged. “You amuse me, Prince Wolfram.”

Wolfram eyed her a moment longer. “The guard captain is the father.”

She leaned in very close to him. “The captain's name is Fionvar duNormand; he helped the king to save your life. He may be the only man of honor in this place—”

“The earl's brother—he's the man who sent me stones!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Two years ago, my father and his barons were holding a Great Council in the south, so I was serving as regent, while Fionvar served for his brother. It was in the middle of a drought, but I had been charged to collect the king's due from the harvest. Gamel's Grove was in a bad way since the river had been diverted to provide a reservoir for the towns upstream. Fionvar sent a load of stones, along with the record specifying that this was one-fifteenth portion of the local harvest, half again as much as the tax, because they had had such a fine crop. My father would have taken it as insolence, and I suppose it was, but it was also the act of a lord who is watching his people starve.”

“What did you do?”

“He sent us a chest of silver,” Fionvar replied as he walked through the door, “with a message that it was to pay for stronger oxen since our harvest was the heaviest he had yet seen.” He managed a smile. “I am surprised you remember that, Your Highness.”

“He's not a prince anymore, and certainly not here,” the duchess snapped, sweeping in behind. “We are not paying a social call.”

“Should I go?” the wizard asked, gathering the playing pieces.

The duchess glowered at her. “You seem to have become well acquainted.”

Wolfram said lightly, “Given the absence of my old friends, I was forced to make new ones. And you are…?”

Still glowering, she snapped, “I am Duchess Elyn of the House of Rinvien, Kingdom of Lochalyn.”

“An honor, Excellency.” He lowered his head reverently. “Were I well enough to stand, I would do you the obeisance you deserve.”

Mouth slightly open, she stared.

Fionvar's smile broadened.

Standing, the wizard turned to him, with sudden concern. “The Liren-sha is not with you!”

“No, he is not.” Their eyes locked for a moment, and she sighed.

“Very well. I would hear of it when you are disposed to tell me.” She made a brief curtsy and left, closing the door behind her.

“What do you know of our plans, and how did you inform our enemies?” the duchess demanded, looming over the bed.

“I know nothing of your plans, Excellency, except that they involve the reclaiming of a throne too long held by a tyrant.”

“Don't think you can gain favor by feigning sympathy.”

Fionvar shook his head. “Perhaps we should come back when you—”

The warning look she shot him made him reconsider finishing that statement, and she turned back to the invalid. “Your family was responsible for that tyrant reaching power, Former Prince Wolfram, and now you regret it. Why would I ever believe you?”

“My father was responsible; I was a child, and I have learned much since then.”

“What could you learn at your father's feet but how to kick those who deserve much better?”

“I did not study at his feet, Excellency. Until four years ago, when my second sister married, I was heir to nothing.” Wolfram's gaze was hard. “I learned in his library and from his servants. I rode in the mountains with the people of the wood and walked the streets alone to hear the city's voices. I learned some of the truth of Thorgir's reign, and have come to see more since I have been here. I have been surrounded by teachers far better than my father. It hurts that he has no regard for me, but it does not surprise me.”

“Yet you were surprised by his archers,” she pointed out.

The faint ironic smile hovered. “How many men can be accused of treason by two kingdoms within the span of a month?”

“I have accused you of nothing, yet.”

“You asked how I communicated with your enemies. How many ways can that question be taken?”

With a rap on the door, a guard ushered in Kattanan, looking pale and flustered. Fionvar bowed immediately. “Your Majesty, I am glad you were able to join us.”

The duchess narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you not in the midst of your studies, Majesty?”

“I was told,” he began, glancing at Wolfram, “that a discussion was taking place that I might find more informative.”

“The wizard,” the duchess said.

“The acting guard captain,” he corrected softly.

Fionvar smirked, and the guard snapped to attention. “Welcome back, sir. I hereby return your command.”

“You seem to have discharged your duties quite well, Gwythym. Thank you.”

“At your service, sir! Your Majesty.” The man bowed and let himself out.

“Is there no one here whom I may trust?” the duchess snarled.

“If you chose,” Wolfram offered, “you could trust everyone here. We are none of us your enemies.”

“Someone in Lochdale clearly knows at least part of our intentions. How much remains to be seen. Until the source is discovered”—she stared hard at Wolfram—“or proven, there is no one I suspect more than those in this room.”

Fionvar darkened, Kattanan paled, but Wolfram only sighed. “Try kindness, Excellency, or faith before you take suspicion as your companion, or you will shortly have no other.”

“You dare to paraphrase the Lady's Word to me? How have you come by such arrogance as to preach to me?”

“How have you come by the pride that places you above the Lady's Word, Excellency?”

“Please,” Kattanan said, looking from one to the other.

“I thought you might have learned some manners,” the duchess hissed, “but it seems I was mistaken. Perhaps you'd like my guards to resume the lessons?”

Clearing his throat, Fionvar said, “You are not what I expected, Highness.”

“Nor I,” the duchess added dryly. She turned her back toward the bed to catch Kattanan's arm. “Majesty, it is time you were back to your studies. It seems our schedule may be accelerated. Captain, you will join me for dinner.”

“I…” Kattanan began, then nodded once and allowed himself to be led away.

Left in the room, Fionvar asked Wolfram, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Actually,” he remarked, “I was trying to ensure that, if someone must die, it would not be Kattanan or you. The other options were limited.”

“If you are innocent, why ask for her suspicion? It's absurd, Highness.”

“Not if you see it from my place. If she believes I am innocent before she ferrets out another suspect, she will assume one of you is guilty. I am the only one of us three who can afford the luxury of her distrust.”

Fionvar snorted. “You or I might be expendable, but her grandson is the rightful king. She would never raise a hand against him.”

“If he stands between her and the shaming of Thorgir, would she let him stop her?”

“She would never!” Fionvar repeated.

“Perhaps not. You have known her longer than I. Jordan's been taken, hasn't he? What was her reaction?”

“She—” Fionvar broke off, glancing sidelong at Wolfram.

Before he had a chance to speak the door burst open to admit Lyssa and a protesting guard. “She will do nothing!” the young woman howled, pushing the guard aside with a strong arm.

“Lyssa, get out of here at once!”

“I tried to stop her,” the guard offered.

“Lyssa,” Fionvar growled, “now is not the time, nor is here the place for this discussion.”

“By the Goddess, when are you going to listen to me? You bid me be silent all the way back, and I am sick to death of it!”

“This must be your sister, since I do not believe you are married,” Wolfram said, giving a lopsided smile.

“Lyssa yfSonya duNormand, may I present Wolfram duGerrod, former crown prince of Bernholt.”

She looked him up and down. “You don't look as good as your portrait.”

“Can't anyone in this family learn to keep their mouths shut? You've met, now we are going.” Fionvar grasped her elbow, but she pulled away to approach the bed.

“I learned all of my ill tempers from my brothers, despite what they may tell you. But then, they seem to be interested in the last word, rather than the truth, so I guess it's to be expected.” She shot a glance back to Fionvar, who collapsed into a chair. Lyssa grinned. “I have just been dragged back here against my will, and all I want is a little consideration of my feelings, but that seems to have been too much to ask from him.”

“Lyssa,” Fionvar said, rubbing his hand over his eyes, “we have been back only two hours, and we could both use some sleep. Can we continue this in the morning?”

“Every moment we delay, Jordan's peril grows. He wants to marry me, or have you forgotten?”

“What would you have me do? Mount a raid, perhaps? Lay siege to the castle? He knew the danger when he rode with me, and he would not ask us to sacrifice everything to rescue him.”

“There must be something we can do!”

“I am open to suggestions.”

“Talk to the wizard,” Wolfram offered.

Lyssa and Fionvar both stared at the former prince. “She has no reason to care what happens to him,” Fionvar said. “She probably prefers it this way.”

Wolfram replied, “She may surprise you.”

“I suspect you know something more about this.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I am in a position to see things that you have not.”

Fionvar frowned. “How is it you can lie in bed for not even a fortnight and claim greater understanding than any of us?”

“Fresh eyes? Or perhaps I simply have nothing better to do.”

“Or perhaps you are a spy.”

“No, Captain, only a student of humanity. By the way, I have not yet thanked you for the night you allowed Kattanan to stay with me. I am already in your debt.”

“You are trying to change the subject,” Lyssa cut in.

“Yes, I am”—he sighed—“because your brother is right. Aside from the wizard, who cannot get close to the castle as long as the Liren-sha is there, none of us can do a thing to help him. I am sorry.”

She glared at him, then at her brother. “Then I'll go talk to her myself if you won't!” She stormed out of the room, leaving the door standing wide.

The guards outside leaned around the corner. “Problem, Captain?”

“Only the usual ones, I'm afraid. Give us a few minutes of privacy, please.”

The man nodded and shut the door, but not until Rolf had a chance to salute from his post across the hall. Fionvar chuckled. “I would trade much for a man as loyal to me as your Rolf is to you. I gather you wanted to talk with me alone? I'm impressed with how you got rid of Lyssa, by the way.”

“Well, I do think that the wizard is her best chance to help Jordan, but I also think you and I have some things to discuss.”

“For example?”

“Does Earl Orie trust you?”

“As much as he trusts anyone. Why?”

“Do you trust him?”

“He's my brother.”

“Ignore that for the time being. He is the consort of her who will be queen in Bernholt. You and I both know he made it so. What makes you think he will stop at one kingdom when he could have two?”

Fionvar almost laughed. “Bernholt has always been his ambition in this. He knows who is to rule in Lochalyn.”

“And he approves it?”

“He has been supporting it.”

“Not the same thing, but I will let that pass for now. When he is that close to power, he will become a threat to Lochalyn, to everything you are working to build.”

“You are looking out for your family, are you not? Trying to encourage me against mine so that yours stands a better chance?”