Dark Lady's Chosen (29 page)

Alle held Kiara’s hand as Cerise mixed together the ingredients Macaria brought to her.

Kiara’s hand was clammy, and her face was ashen. Alle managed to get Kiara to sit up enough to sip at the elixir Cerise mixed, only to have Kiara roll to the side and retch.

“She’s not bleeding, thank the Lady!” Cerise said, giving Kiara a thorough going-over.

“Kiara, how do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Sick. My head is pounding. Everything looks blurry.” Kiara’s voice had lost the timbre of a few minutes ago. Now, she sounded drained and weak.

“What’s wrong?” Alle asked.

Cerise reached for a pillow to prop underneath Kiara’s head. Macaria ran to grab a blanket from the bed, and returned with it along with her flute. As Cerise and Alle mixed tinctures and poultices, Macaria stepped back to give them room, and began to play a calm, beautiful song infused with magic that brought a peacefulness into the room and helped quell Kiara’s fear.

“I haven’t seen this often, but it can happen with pregnancy. The internal humours haven’t sorted themselves out, and when they struggle among themselves in the womb, it upsets the balance of the body,” Cerise said as she made a paste of herbs and water and a strong-smelling liquid from a vial in her bag. “If the humours war against themselves too strongly, they can cause the baby to be expelled before its time.”

“This is feverfew and lemon balm. They may help.” Cerise gentled Kiara’s gown up to expose her belly, and spread a thick mixture of the poultice across her abdomen. Sliding her skirts back into place, Cerise laid one hand on Kiara’s forehead and the other on her wrist. Cerise closed her eyes and murmured a chant to herself, rocking back and forth.

Kiara felt her heartbeat slow, and the pain over her ribs gradually decreased. She had no idea how long Cerise chanted, but Kiara could sense the healing magic filling her, drawing down the pressure that made her

head feel as if it might burst. Finally, Cerise sat back and helped Kiara lie flat on the floor.

“Don’t move just yet,” Cerise cautioned. “There’s no hurry. When you’re ready, we’ll get you into bed.”

“What happened? Am I going to lose the baby?”

Cerise touched Kiara’s cheek. “I don’t think so. I’ll have a word with the cook about your food. And there is a special tea you’ll need to drink. The stress isn’t good for you—though, Lady bless, I don’t know how you’re to avoid it, given the state of things. It reminds me of your mother’s difficulties when she was pregnant with you. You’re going to need to be very careful.”

Macaria lowered her flute and came to join them, sitting on the floor beside Kiara. Kiara managed a weak smile. “Thank you. Your playing helped.”

“Glad to be of use, m’lady,” Macaria said. Kiara could tell from Macaria’s eyes that the episode had scared her badly.

“Cerise—is the baby going to be all right?”

Cerise’s eyes were uncertain. “I hope so. I can sense the life. The heartbeat is strong. And the energies have sorted themselves. It’s a boy.”

Kiara felt herself tear up.
A son. That will make the succession so much easier. I wish Tris
were here.
“That’s wonderful,” she murmured. “Can you tell… will he be a mage like Tris?”

Cerise smiled. “Too early to tell. We may not know that until long after he’s born. After all, Tris didn’t realize his power for quite some time.”

Please be a green-eyed, blond mage like Tris,
Kiara thought.
Let there be absolutely no
question about who your father is. In anyone’s mind—the court, or Tris.

Riordan Carroway watched the street below his window at the Dragon’s Rage Inn. It was already well past tenth bells, and his impatience for the minstrels to visit was starting to become worry. And while he knew they would come to the back door of the inn to avoid being seen, he couldn’t sit still. The street was quiet. Earlier, plenty of carts and people struggled through the snow on the eve of Candles Night. It might be a minor holiday, but it broke the tedium of dark winter nights, and this year in particular, Margolan’s people needed something to lift their spirits.

Carroway turned as the guard outside his room opened the door. Paiva, Bandele, Halik and Tadghe spilled into the room, faces flushed with the cold. One of the guards nodded in thanks for the bottle of rum Halik withdrew from beneath his cloak, the price of admission.

Carroway

received their hugs and backslaps with a tense smile. “How goes it at court?” he asked as his guests settled in, draping their snow-wet cloaks near the fireplace to dry out.

Tadghe pulled a bottle of brandy from the ample sleeve of his heavy great cloak and thumped it down on the table, pouring liberal draughts for everyone while Paiva and Bandele unwrapped the stash of food they brought from the palace kitchen. “Drink first,”

Tadghe suggested, pressing a goblet that was more full than usual into Carroway’s hand.

With misgivings, Carroway tossed it back, letting it burn down his throat.

“All right. What have you learned?”

Halik turned a chair around and straddled it, taking a long sip of his own brandy. “The court’s buzzing about the Queen’s decision to go to the lodge. Not that their gossip wasn’t the cause for it,” he said, disdain thick in his voice. “Some are saying that the King sent orders to move her there, placing her under house arrest. Others are sure she means to flee to Isencroft before the baby’s born to conceal the parentage.”

Carroway paled. “Sweet Chenne.”

Halik met his eyes. “Pray the child takes after King Martris, and Queen Serae’s side of the family,” he said with a level gaze. “If he’s dark-featured, like Jared was—”

“They’ll conveniently forget Bricen’s coloring and blame it on me,” Carroway finished the sentence. He turned away from them with an oath and ran a hand back through his hair.

“Does it get worse?”

“I’m afraid it does,” Tadghe said quietly. “Count Suphie and Lord Guarov claim to have their own intelligence from the war front. They say the war is going badly, and that the troops are being squandered against an opponent that’s too well fortified to destroy. There are even claims that plague has broken out—a mage-sent plague. Guarov says it’s probably something King Martris and his mages cooked up to use against Curane that backfired on him—”

“Tris would never do such a thing!”

Tadghe shrugged. “Unfortunately, at least some of what Suphie and Guarov are saying does seem to be true. I’ve been down to the barracks—have a few friends down there from the rebellion. They’re the couriers who take Crevan’s packs back and forth to the king. Their stories don’t sound good. One man said he saw a cairn as tall as a house. Another said he wasn’t permitted to come inside the camp because the King didn’t want him carrying plague back to Shekerishet. He was ordered to drop his pouch outside the gate, and another pouch was waiting

for him there.”

Carroway shook his head. “Tris left with four thousand soldiers. I wouldn’t be surprised if others joined up along the way. Curane couldn’t have that many men at arms. I knew minstrels who played at Lochlanimar. It’s not as large at Shekerishet, and I don’t think you could billet four thousand men or close to it at the manor.” He started to pace. “Senne and Palinn were experienced generals. Ban knew a thing or two about war as well. And while I never liked Tarq or Rallan, no one ever accused them of incompetence.”

“Just insufferable arrogance,” Tadghe muttered under his breath.

“It’s the magic,” Bandele replied. “Even the hedge witches are talking about it. They say there’s a magic river of power that all mages draw from, and it’s gone mad, for want of a better word.” She met Carroway’s eyes. “There have been rumors about Curane taking in Arontala’s blood mages since the rebellion. If the magic really isn’t working right, that would work against the King.”

“What else is being said at court?”

Halik and Tadghe exchanged glances. “There’s talk of a
vayash moru
uprising.”

“I thought we ended that nonsense when Jared lost the throne.”

Halik shook his head. “When the King left for war, the
vayash moru
stopped coming to court—except for Mikhail. You said at the time they weren’t sure of their welcome without the King. But from what I hear, it’s gone beyond court. I have friends in the village whose

‘extended family’ include
vayash moru
. They’ve gone missing, and rather suddenly. No one knows where or why.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re planning an attack. Damn, I don’t know,” Carroway said, leaning back against the wall. He rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache that was rapidly gaining strength. “It’s not like the
vayash moru
talk about their customs when they’re with mortals. Maybe there’s a religious celebration. It could be anything.”

“You know the court,” Bandele replied. “They’ll never take a simple explanation if a conspiracy can be concocted. But people are afraid. The King’s gone to war. The Queen’s under suspicion of treason. Lord Acton and Lord Dravan are two of the sane voices at court, but the panic is starting to feed on itself. Eadoin might have been able to sway people, but…”

Carroway swallowed hard. “How is Eadoin?”

Bandele’s eyes filled with tears. “The only word we’ve had came when Brynne and Seren rode out to Brightmoor. Guards stopped them before they reached the gates. They had to shout to their friends inside the manor. It’s bad. Eadoin refused to leave when the fever first broke out. She didn’t want to bring it to court and risk harming the Queen. Now she’s fallen ill herself. It’s a killing fever,” Bandele said, her voice dropping. “About half who come down with it die. And Eadoin’s not a young woman.”

Carroway closed his eyes, fighting back grief.

“I’m sorry,” Bandele said, reaching out to take Carroway’s hand. She held it tightly and rested her cheek against it. “I’m so sorry.”

After a moment, Carroway found his voice. “What of Crevan?”

Paiva leaned forward. “Bian’s niece took me with her to the public house in the town where the kitchen girls like to go. I spent a night drinking with them, and got them talking. Seems Crevan’s taken an interest in the cooking since Bian got locked up. Crevan hired her replacement himself. She’s a fearsome old hag. The girls call her a witch, but they don’t mean magic. They are afraid to speak of it near the palace, but I got them drunk enough to say what was on their minds,” Paiva said with a satisfied smile. Her tale reminded Carroway that Macaria had told him Paiva made nearly as much picking pockets as she did with her music before Macaria had brought her to the palace.

“This new cook of Crevan’s brings her own ingredients and won’t let anyone else touch them. But one day, one of the girls snuck into the pantry on a dare. She found tansy, rue and pennyroyal, plus hellebore, ground up fine as flour.”

Carroway looked mystified. “I don’t understand.”

Paiva rolled her eyes and sniffed derisively. “Men. The girls knew immediately what it meant—and they were scared witless over it.” At the blank stares Carroway, Halik and Tadghe gave her, Paiva slapped her palms on the table. “Have you never heard it said that a wench ‘takes a flower to bed’ with her if she doesn’t want to end up with child?”

“They’re all herbs to prevent pregnancy,” Bandele said quietly. “Worse—they’re the herbs women take to be rid of an inconvenient babe. It’s more than old wives’ tales. Taken at high enough doses, they bring miscarriage.”

From the other men’s stunned expressions, Carroway knew he was not the only one floored by the news. “Dear Goddess. Wouldn’t Cerise be able to tell? Kiara’s had Jae testing her food since Malae was poisoned.”

Bandele shrugged. “Since it’s not technically poison—in that it won’t kill the person eating it—Jae probably wouldn’t notice. As for Cerise—the girl said the herbs were ground up to dust. If the cook was careful, she might use just enough to do damage without affecting the taste or making Cerise suspicious.”

“Can we prove Crevan is behind it?”

“Not unless we can show that he paid for the herbs and knew what they were,” Tadghe said roughly.

“Macaria said Alle hand-picked the servants for the lodge,” Carroway said, feeling panic begin to rise. “We can hope she saw to the provisioning herself, too. Do you know how much a woman has to eat before she loses the child?”

Paiva shrugged. “Most of the women I knew were so desperate, they figured more was better. I think it depends on the woman.”

“Kiara has had a difficult time from the start,” Carroway said, sitting down as shock overtook him. “She told us that her mother had nearly died bearing her. But if Crevan intended this, no wonder he wanted Bian out of the kitchen.” He looked to Halik. “Can the boy who spies for you find out anything more?”

Halik looked away. “He’s gone missing. No one’s seen him all day, and he didn’t come home last night. Someone said there was a fresh hole in the ice on the lake.” He bit his lip.

“I never thought he’d be in danger. I wouldn’t have asked him to help if I’d ever dreamed Crevan was this thick into it.”

“We still don’t have enough to accuse Crevan,” Carroway fretted. “But I know who will listen.” He looked from Halik to Tadghe. “I need you to ride out and find Harrtuck. Surely whatever rioting Crevan sent him to quell has been resolved by now. He may even be on his way back. We need his authority to do anything. He’ll believe you, and he’ll know what to do next.”

Halik and Tadghe nodded. “We’ll leave in the morning. With the Queen gone, there’s less call for music so it’s not as if we’ll be leaving brokenhearted patrons behind.”

“What about us?” Bandele asked. “What can we do?”

“Stay away from Crevan. We don’t need anything happening to you, and he’s bound to suspect if you’re underfoot. Find out what you can, but don’t put yourselves or anyone else at risk. If he is behind the boy’s disappearance, he won’t hesitate to hurt you if he thinks he’s being found out. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Bandele and Paiva nodded solemnly. “We’ll be careful. We’re no use to you or the Queen if Crevan bans us from the palace.”

Carroway managed a smile he didn’t feel. “That’s my girls. While Halik and Tadghe are gone, play when you can for the court and see what you hear. Tris and Kiara are going to need all the friends they can get if they’re going to hang on to the throne.”