Daughter of Regals (10 page)

Still he had not spoken,
and I had not questioned him. But after we had rounded one corner of the manor,
he stopped abruptly. Leaning against the outer wall, he peered into the massed
darkness of the hills. Sharply, he whispered, “There!” and pointed.

At first. I saw nothing.
Then I discerned in the distance a small, yellow flicker of light—a traveler’s
lamp, perhaps, or a campfire.

“I see it,” I murmured
stiffly.

Moonlight caught the
sweat on his bald head as he nodded. Without a word, he began walking once
more.

Within ten paces he
halted again, pointed—and again I saw a yellow flickering among the nearby
hills.

Down the next stretch of
the parapet, he showed me three more glimpses of light, and along the following
section, two more—barely visible bits of flame at once as prosaic as torches
and as suggestive as chimera. When we had completed a circuit of the manor, I
had seen that we were surrounded at significant intervals by these uncertain
lights.

Around me, the chill of
the dark seemed to deepen. I knew from many strolls at night upon the parapets
that the few villages among the hills were hidden in valleys, invisible. And in
all truth these lights did not appear to be the lamps of travelers. I had not
seen them moving— and in any case none of them lay on the roads which led to
the manor.

Yet Ryzel did not speak.
Hugging his Scepter to his chest, he stared in silence into the heart of the
wide dark.

I had resolved patience;
but at last I could endure no more. “I have seen, Mage,” I breathed tightly. “What
have I seen?”

“Carelessness, my lady.”
His tone was distant and low. “Count Thornden is shrewd in his way, but not
meticulous. You have seen the ill-muffled lights of his armies.”

I held myself still and
listened, though his words made my blood labor fearfully in my temples.

“He cannot believe that
a woman will prove Regal, and so he lacks one fear which constrains both King
Thone and Queen Damia. It was his intent to besiege the manor this night—to put
it to the torch if necessary—in order to rid himself of all opposition at one
stroke. You know that we have no defense; I was hard-pressed to persuade him to
hold back his hand, at least until after midnight. Only the promise of my
support brought him to hear me at all, and only my offer of an opportunity with
you—or against you—caused him to agree that he would first allow me chance to
give him the rule, before grasping it himself with bloodshed.”

Therefore my lies about
Cashon had turned Thornden aside from my harm. Only the Fire which Cashon might
cast could hope to protect the manor from the forces of Nabal.

That I understood. I
understood many things; my thoughts were as clear as the cold night. And yet
inwardly I was stricken with treachery and loss, scarcely able to hold up my
head. The presence of those armies surpassed me.

“You knew this,” I
whispered like weeping. So many men could not have moved among the hills to
surround the manor without the knowledge of Ryzel’s spies. “You knew this—and
did not tell me.”

The sense of betrayed
hope filled my throat. Only dismay restrained me from shouting. “There was no
need to. fear these armies. Cashon would easily have been persuaded to aid us,
if I had known to ask him Thornden would not have dared his forces against Fire—not
if he had known that you were able to silence Brodwick’s Wind. All this could
have been forestalled. If you had told me.”

But now the chance was
lost. Proud of my-victory over King Thone—and ignorant—I had in effect sent
Cashon from the manor, thus unbalancing the powers arrayed against me, tilting
the scales in Thornden’s favor. Now I could only pray that Queen Damia would be
able to counter him.

That thought was gall to
me.. I grew sick from the mere suggestion of it.

Ryzel’s presence at my
side had become insufferable. Gripping my voice between my teeth, I said, “Leave
me, Mage.”

“My lady—” he began—and
faltered. He was old and no longer knew how to reply to his own regret.

“Leave me,” I repeated,
as cold as the night. “I do not desire your company in my despair.”

After a moment, he went.
The door opened light across the parapet, then closed it away again. I was
alone in the dark, and there was no solace for me anywhere.

If he had stayed, I
would have howled at him, You were my friend! Of what value is the realm, if it
may only be preserved by treachery?

But I knew the truth. My
father had gauged the Mage accurately: he could not have been driven to such
falsehood, except by one thing.

By the fact that I had
no Magic.

From the moment of the
Phoenix-Regal’s death, all other considerations had paled beside the failure of
my heritage. Born of a Creature—from a line of Creatures— I had nothing in
common with them except yearning and love. Ryzel would have been steadfast in
my service if he had held any hope at all for my Ascension.

I should have stopped
trusting him much earlier. But he had told me so much, taught me so much, that
I had not once wondered if he had indeed told or taught me everything. So I had
been left to work my own doom in ignorance.

Above me, the moon
entered its last hour before midnight. The end was drawing near. In me. the
line of the  Regals and all their works would fail. Because I did not wish to
flee, I had nothing left to do with my life except approach the Seat as if it
were an executioner’s block.

Perhaps I would go to
the Seat early, attempt my Ascension now, before midnight, so that my part in
the ruin of the realm would not be protracted beyond bearing.

“My lady.”

His voice startled me.
He had not come through the door behind me—I had seen no light. And I had not
heard his steps.

Handsome as a dream in
the moonlight, Wallin stood before me.

I tried to say his name,
but my heart pounded too heavily. Clasping my arms under my breasts, I turned
my back so that he would not observe my struggle for self-command. Then, to
ease my apparent rejection, I said as well as I could, “You are a man of
surprises. How did you find me?”

“I am a servant.” His
tone conveyed a shrug. “It is an ill servant who remains unaware of the
movements of his lady.” Now I felt rather than heard him draw closer to me. He
seemed to be standing within touch of my shoulder. “My lady,” he continued gently,
“you are grieved.”

Somewhere in the course
of the night, I had lost my defense against sympathy. Tears welled in my eyes.
I was incapable of silence. “Wallin,” I said in misery, “I am a dead woman. I
have no Magic.”

lf he understood the
implications of my admission— how could he not?—he paid them no heed. From the
beginning, he had done and said things which I could not have expected from
him; and now he did not fail to take me aback.

“My lady,” he said in
his tone of kindness, “some have claimed that your grandmother failed of
Ascension be-cause she was not virgin.”

“That is foolish,” I
replied, as startled by his statement as by his sudden appearance. The Seat was
a test of blood, a catalyst for latent Magic, not a measure of experience. “None
have claimed that the Regals were virgin, either before or after they came into
their power.”

“Then, my lady”—he
placed his hand firmly upon my shoulder and turned me so that I would look at
him— “there can be no harm if you allow me to comfort you before the end.”

The pressure of his kiss
made the sore bones of my cheek-burn; but I found in an instant that I welcomed
that pain like a hungry woman, starving in the desert of her life. The smell
and warmth and hardness of him filled my senses.

“Come,” I said huskily
when his embrace loosened. “Let us go to my chambers.”

Taking his hand, I drew
him with me back into the manor.

I had no reason to trust
him. But everything trustworthy had been proven false: therefore it was not
madness to place trust where none had been earned. And I was in such need—I
cared for nothing now except that he should kiss me again and hold me during my
last hour, so that I might die as a woman instead of as a girl.

In part because I wished
to be circumspect—but chiefly because I did not want to be interrupted—I chose
the back ways of the manor toward my chambers. As a result, we encountered some
few servants busy about their last tasks, but no guests or revelers—and no one
that I recognized as a minion of Ryzel’s. During our passage, Wallin remained
silent. But the clasp of his hand replied to mine; and when I looked to him his
smile made his features appear dearer than any I had seen since the death of
my father. I did not know how such eyes as his had come to gaze upon me with
desire. Yet—by a Magic I had not felt before—their regard seemed to make me
less plain to myself, leaving me grateful for that distant taste of a
loveliness I did not possess.

But at the door to my
chambers I hesitated, fearing that I had mistaken him, that I had been misled
by my need—that at the last he would think better of himself and recant. Yet
now his eyes were dark and avid, and the muscles at the corners of his jaw
bunched passionately beneath the skin, so powerful were the emotions which
drove him.

To my surprise, the
sight of his intensity increased my hesitation. Suddenly, I found myself truly
reluctant for him. I was reconsidering the danger he represented.

That he was dangerous
was manifest.
A
harmless man would not have dared the things he had done
this night. And how was it possible for a woman with my face to believe
seriously in his desire for me? Deliberately,! placed my hand on his chest to
restrain him from the door and said, “Wallin, you need not do this.” Somehow, I
contrived to smile as if I were not sorrowing. “Your life is too high a price
for my consolation. I am content to think that perhaps you have cared for me a
little. That is enough. Accept my gratitude and go to procure what safety you
can for yourself.”

Altogether, he was a
surprise to me. At my words, his visage grew abruptly savage. Snatching my hand
from his chest, he jerked me around, clamped his fingers over my mouth with my
back gripped against his side so that I could not break free. His free hand
wrenched open the door. “My lady,” he panted as he impelled me inward, “you
have not begun to grasp the things I care for.”

Though I kicked at him
with my heels, tore at his arm with my fingers, he held me helpless. In my
chambers, he closed the door and bolted it. Then he lifted me from my feet and
bore me to the bed.

Forcing my face against
the coverlet, he knelt on my back to keep me still while he pulled free the
sash of my robe. Deftly, as if he had done such things many times, he pinned my
arms behind me and bound my wrists with the sash. Only then did he remove his
weight so that I might roll over and breathe.

As I struggled up to sit
on the edge of the bed, he stood before me with a long, wicked knife held
comfortably in his right hand.

Pointing his blade at my
throat, he gave me a grin of pure malice. “You may scream if you wish,” he said
casually, “but I advise against it. You can do nothing to save your life—or to
prevent our success. But if you scream, we may be forced to shed more blood
than we intend. Consider’ what you do clearly. It will be the innocent guards
and servants of the manor who will die in your name, and the outcome will not
be altered.”

Feverishly, I tugged at
my hands, but could not free them. My life seemed to stick in my throat,
choking me. I had been so easily mastered. And yet the simple shame of it—that
I had been beguiled from my wits by nothing more than a handsome face and a
bold promise—made me writhe for some escape, some means to strike back. As if I
were uncowed I glared at him and said, “You have lied and lied to me. It has
been your purpose from the start to kill me. Why do you delay? What do you
fear?”

He barked a short laugh
without humor or pity. “I fear nothing. I have risen above fear. I wait only to
share your dying with my companion—the one who will rule the realm for me—and
will in turn be ruled by me.”

Still straining at my
bonds, I mustered sarcasm to my defense in the place of courage. “You dream
high, Wallin. Servants are usually too wise for such ambition.”

His smile was handsome
and malign. “But I am no servant,” he replied. His eyes glittered like bits of
stone. “I am Kodar the rebel, and my dreams have always been high.”

He astonished me—not in
what he said (though it had surprised me entirely) but in that I believed him
instantly. “Kodar?” I snapped, not doubting him, or what he would say, but
seeking only to cover my dismay while he spoke. “Again you lie. It is known to
half the realm that even now Kodar and his rebels prepare an assault upon
Lodan.”

He appeared to find a
genuine pleasure in my belligerence. Softly, he stroked the side of my neck
with his knife. “Of a certainty,” he replied smugly. “It has required great
cunning of me to ensure that every spy in the Three Kingdoms knows what my
forces will do. But my end has been accomplished. While lesser men fight and
die in my name, attracting all attention to themselves, my best aides and I
have found employment here, disguised as servants. Unsuspected, we have placed
ourselves in readiness for this night.

“My companion and I will
slit your throat.” The tip of his blade dug in until I winced. “Then we will
summon the other monarchs to private audiences with you, and we will slit their
throats.” He made no attempt to hide his relish. ‘Then my men will fall upon
the Mages and noblemen loyal to my enemies. Your Ryzel will not be spared.
Before dawn, the rule of the realm will be ours. In truth, the rule will be
mine, though my companion will assume that place.” He considered himself clever
in concealing the identity of his ally from me. “In that way,” he said with a
smirk, “my success will be as high as my dreams.