Daughter of Regals (12 page)

Then I heard him shout a
summons to the guards; and I had no more concern for him. On his own terms, at
least, he was a match for Damia.

I needed time—and had
none. Time to recover my courage from the close touch of death, time to think
and to understand. Time to prepare myself for the attacks which would be
directed against me in the Ascension hall. But no time remained. If I did not
go now, I would risk missing the moment of midnight. More than once, my father
had stressed the importance of midnight on the eve of my twenty-first birthday,
when the moos would be full above the realm and I would attempt the Seat.

I was not concerned for
my apparel; the robe I wore would do well enough for the occasion. But I went
to my glass and expended a few moments with my hair, pinning it this way and
that in an effort to give my, appearance more grace if not more
comeliness—striving by such small vanities to cover the hollow place which
Kodar had opened in my heart. With a trace of rouge, I concealed the mark of
Thornden’s hand by matching its color upon my other cheek. However, I could not
remove the memory of Kodar’s kiss from my mouth. Schooling myself to steadiness,
I gave up the attempt.

Alone and afraid and
resolute, I left my chambers and went to meet my fate.

The hail in which the
Seat of the Regals stood upon its pediment was at the far side of the manor.
When I reached it, all the guests and personages of the realm had gathered
there before me. I heard their excitement and anticipation in the hum of voices
which issued from the open doors. And at the sound I nearly failed of courage.
To meet King Thone alone did not seem to me a great matter. To strive for my
life in private against Count Thornden and Queen Damia and Kodar had been necessary,
inescapable. To bear the loss of Mage Ryzel’s allegiance was a burden I could
not avoid. But to risk failure and humiliation publicly, to prove unworthy of
my heritage before the assembled lords and nobility of the Three Kingdoms—ah,
that was another question entirely. I did not know how I would endure the
shame.

While I remained
hesitating outside the hall, Ryzel appeared in the passage and came toward me.

I believed that he meant
to hinder or challenge me. There was a grimness in his face which spoke of
anger and accusation. Therefore I prepared to rebuff him despite my gratitude.
My fragile hold upon myself was not a thing which I could submit to the
consideration of his uncertain loyalty.

He did not speak at
once, however. Taking my arm, he steered me a few paces from the door, so that
we would be unheard as well as unseen. And he did not meet my gaze as he asked,
“Chrysalis, are you sure of what you do?”

That question I could
answer honestly. “No,” I said. “I am sure only that I must make the attempt.”

The effort of will which
brought his eyes to mine was plain in his visage. “Then trust me,” he breathed,
not in demand, but in appeal. “I have become a cause of shame to myself. I will
support you to the limit of my strength.”

With one touch, he drove
home the linchpin of my resolve. And with that touch, all my thoughts
concerning him turned. A moment earlier, I had determined that I would reject
him, though he had saved my life. Now I made promise to myself that I would not
risk him.

“The matter is mine to
hold or let drop, Mage.” I said, speaking at once in kindness and severity. “Whatever
the outcome, the realm will have need of you. Do not intervene here. Only do
as I command you—and stand aside. That will suffice for me.”

His gaze sharpened; be
regarded me as if he were unsure of what I had become. Then he turned his head
aside. so that I would not see how he took my words. “As you will, my lady,” he
said. His frown was black and lost— the ire of a man who had been denied
restitution for his faults. But I said nothing to case him. Only by refusing
his service could I hope to save him if I failed.

Because of his pain, I
left him and moved toward the door. Midnight was drawing near, and I did not
mean to miss it. The coming day would give time aplenty for regret or
forgiveness, either in life or in death. Therefore I nearly did not hear the
words he uttered after me:

“I have spoken with King
Thone.”

Almost I stopped to
demand an explanation. His soft statement sent implications hosting at my back,
dire and imprecise. Did he seek to warn me? Had he given himself new cause for
shame? What role did he intend for the lord of Canna in my last crisis?

But I had no time, and I
feared that if I halted now I would never move again. I had come to the last of
my questions—to the one upon which all others depended. Though my stride
faltered and my head flicked a glance backward, I continued on my way.

Unattended and
unannounced, I entered the great Ascension hall, where the high Seat of the
Regals stood empty.

The place had a stark
majesty which consorted ill with the festive apparel and conflicting dreams of
the gathered guests. The hail itself was round and domed, its ceiling beribbed
and supported by the most massive timbers of Lodan. The light came from many
wide, flaming censers, where the perfumed oils of Canna burned over the wrought
metals of Nabal. Some sophisticates thought such things barbarous, but I
considered them fit accompaniment for the grandeur of Creatures. Around the
walls stood the spectators of my crisis in their anticipation. The floor had
been formed of large but irregular slabs of basalt polished to a fine sheen and
then cunningly fitted like the pieces of a puzzle, their cracks sealed with a
white grout like tracery. It was said that these white lines across the basalt
had a pattern which could only be discerned from the Seat. Some averred that the
pattern was the image of a Basilisk, the first Regal; others, that the lines
depicted the Creature which would be the last of its line, the end of the rule
of Magic in the realm. But Ryzel had scoffed at such claims. He asserted
bluntly that the floor of the hail was neither more nor less than a map of the
Three Kingdoms.

And from the center of
that floor rose the Seat.

Upon a stepped base of
white marble—itself nearly as tall as I was—stood the heavy and rude-timbered
frame which held the Stone. This frame was not properly a chair, had neither
arms nor back; it had been built so that it might be approached from any side.
But the frame itself was of no importance. All that mattered was the dull Stone
of the Seat—the Magic slate to which nothing could be touched which was not
also Magic. Upon occasion in the past, Ryzel had shown me that the Stone made
no actual contact with the frame which supported it, but instead floated
slightly among the members of ordinary wood that composed the Seat.

Upon that Stone I must
place my hands or die.

Fully human and fully
Real.

I had already made the
attempt once and failed.

Count Thornden stood
with Brodwick and his adherents not far from the door by which I entered the
hall— and Mage Ryzel behind me, though he did not presume to move at my side.
The lord of Nabal had taken his place because it was across the hall from Queen
Damia and her entourage, Kodar among them, his arms pinned at his sides by two
guards. But Thornden took the opportunity of my nearness to speak.

“You lied to me, girl,”
he growled, making no effort to conceal his anger. “My scouts report Cashon
riding wildly away into Canna, with no other thought but flight.” He seemed not
to care how widely he was overheard. With a mounting tightness in my throat, I
observed that he and all his men were now armed.

“I have sent out my
orders,” he continued. “You are lost.’

I understood him. The
heat of his scowl was plainer than his words. He meant that his armies had
begun to march on the manor. I should not have attempted to provoke him. But I
knew now that he had spurned Ryzel’s support; and that thought gave my heart a
lift of audacity. Also I was angered—though not surprised—that he and his men
had come armed to my Ascension. So I turned on him a gaze which would have
withered a wiser man, and I said, “No, my lord. The loss is yours. Until now, I
have striven to spare you from the cost of your own folly.”

I held his glare until I
saw that at last it occurred to him to fear me. Then I swept past him with all the
dignity which my slight form and uncomely face could convey.

Moving directly to the
base of the Seat, I set myself before the three rulers.

Instantly, the murmurs
of tension and curiosity and speculation in the hall were stilled. Every gaze
and glance came to me. I had become the center of the night. Obliquely, I
noticed how few nobles had brought their wives and children to witness my
Ascension.

With Count Thornden and
Queen Damia standing opposite each other, I expected to see King Thone somewhere
equally distant from them both. But he was not; his party was beside Thornden’s,
so close that the two were almost intermingled. Thone’s stance was turned toward
the lord of Nabal rather than toward me.

A sizable number of
Canna’s courtiers had also procured weapons for themselves.

At once, I seemed to
fall dizzy as a whirl of inferences passed through my head. Count Thornden had
already set his forces into motion. Therefore he no longer cared for Ryzel’s
support. Or Ryzel had informed him that my Ascension must fail. And the Mage
had spoken to King Thone. Deprived of Cashon’ s power, had Those now been
persuaded to cast his lot with Thornden as the lesser evil, so that Queen Damia
would not gain ascendancy? The prospect affected me as if it were a form of
vertigo.

But I had come too far
for retreat-and was too close to fury. The truth I would disentangle if I
lived. If I died, lies would lose their significance. Therefore I faced the
assembled doubt and hope and hunger of the Three Kingdoms as though I could
not be moved. And when I spoke, I did not quaver in any way.

“People of the realm,” I
said clearly, “the passing of the Phoenix-Regal has left a time of-trial upon
us all. The future of the peace which the Regals have wrought has been
uncertain—and uncertainty breeds fear as surely as fear breeds violence. It is
tempting to took upon those who are our foes and believe them evil, avid for
our destruction. Therefore they must be slain, before they slay us. And no
reason can put an end to this bloodshed, for how can we dare to set aside our
fear when our enemies fear us and remain violent? For that reason do we need Regals.
A Regal is a Creature and has no need or fear of us—and so is not driven to
violence. Rather, a Regal’s power gives us peace, for it frees us from the fear
of each other which compels us to war.”

To one side, Count
Thornden’s men watched each other and him tensely. King Thone made a studious
portrait of a fop immersed in the contemplation of his manicure. Queen Damia
breathed deeply, but gave no other sign of her expectations. One ringed and
immaculate hand rested on Mage Scour’s shoulder. Kodar glared murderously at
her, but she did not deign to notice it.

I was a plain woman,
alone, and powerless; but my enemies had lost the capacity to make me afraid. “This
night,” I said as if I could hear the fanfare of trumpets which had never been
sounded in my name, “I will put an end to uncertainty.”

Thus I brought down upon
my own head the crisis of my Ascension. Without hesitation or haste, I turned
to the Seat and placed my feet upon the marble steps.

If I had spoken less
clearly or appeared more frail, the  rulers might have withheld their hands,
awaiting the verdict of the Seat as both wisdom and caution urged them to do.
But I had foiled each of them in turn, giving them cause to estimate me more
highly. And I went to meet my Ascension as if there were no doubt of its
outcome. In that way, I inspired them to risk themselves against me. If I
succeeded, how could they believe that they would survive the punishment for
their recent actions?

I knew that I was still
some few moments early, that midnight had not quite come. But I had set my
decision in motion at last. Better to hazard myself in advance of the time than
to be made late by any delay or opposition.

Before I gained the
second step toward the Seat, I heard Count Thornden’s harsh command—and felt
Wind begin to gather at my back.

Brodwick’s image
appeared to leap from nothingness to the force of a Banshee during the space
between one heartbeat and another. And the hall erupted in a clangor of shouts
and iron.

Involuntarily, I started
to turn. A mistake: the mounting gale came upon me without my feet planted.
Flame from all the censers gusted toward the timbers of the ceiling. I made a
small pirouette like an autumn leaf in the air and fell to the basalt.

Somehow, I regained my
feet—and lost them again. I stumbled heavily against the base of the Seat. The
edge of the first step hit sharply across the center of my back. Wind pulled my
robe away from my legs. I saw that both my knees were split and bleeding.

Then Brodwick’s blast
became so strong that I could hardly hold up my head. But I saw Kodar twist his
arms from his surprised captors and break free. With a wrench, he sprang beyond
them. His cry rose over the tumult:

“Kodar and freedom!’ To
me, rebels!”

 At once, all the doors
burst open, letting a dozen men into the gale. They were dressed as servants;
but they bore swords and pikes, and they fought the Wind toward Kodar’s side.

He did not await them.
With a single blow, he struck down one guard; he snatched a long dagger from
the man’s belt. Slashing that blade about him, he kept Damia’s defenders back
as he hurled himself toward the lady of Lodan.

Her hand on Scour’s
shoulder pushed the Mage away, out of Kodar’s reach. So great was Scour’s
concentration that he simply pitched to the floor, unconscious of his own fall.
Damia’s smile did not waver as she met Kodar’s assault.