Daughter of Regals (6 page)

His
wife and daughters? I wished to cry out. Are you so base? And do you call
yourself fit to rule? The nature of Thone’s machinations horrified me; his
revelation explained much.

But the
sheer intensity of my outrage served as self-command. “In that case,” I said,
my heart pounding, “perhaps you will be so kind as to summon a servant.” I
indicated a bell-pull near him.

A
slight faltering exposed him. Behind the veil of his gaze, I felt him study me
closely. But I offered him no reason, and my countenance told him nothing.
Perhaps now he sensed his peril, yet he had come too far to retreat.

After a
moment, he shrugged slightly and gave a condescending tug to the bell.

When a
servant answered, I said clearly, but without inflection, “Request the Mage
Cashon to attend us.”

I was
pleased to see that Thone now found he could not speak again, in protest or in
warning, without appearing foolish. To keep himself still, he chewed upon his
lower lip.

Cashon
came to the chamber promptly. As he entered, his bearing was wary. Now that I
knew his plight, his pain and his fear were unmistakable. Beneath its flesh,
the courage which sustained his face was being eaten away. In his life, he had
given up much which a Mage might find desirable for simple love of his wife—and
it was plain that he had never regretted the loss. But now she and their
daughters were threatened, and fear for them consumed him. It ruled him. He did
not look at me; the suffering in his eyes was fixed on King Thone. His hands at
his sides closed and unclosed uselessly.

For his
sake, I spoke as soon as the door had been closed behind him.

“Mage,”
I said evenly, “this unscrupulous king has told me of the means by which he
thinks to make himself monarch of the Three Kingdoms. You are the sword, which
he thinks to hold at my throat. But my word is otherwise: I say to you that you
need not fear for your loved ones.” At that, Cashon’s attention wrenched toward
me.

Thone
opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again, waiting to hear what I
would say.

“You
are reputed a master of Fire, Mage” I continued. “Therefore King Thone seeks to
compel you to his use. And therefore you are able to defy him. Turn your Fire
upon
him,
Mage”—now at last I allowed my ire to rasp in my voice—”upon
this heartless fop who threatens thousands of innocent lives merely to serve
his own ambition. Should you simply surround him with flame and let him feel its
heat, he will reveal where your family is held to save himself pain. And he
will go further. He will give you his written command for their release, so
that you may free them this night.”

That
was my gambit for the protection of the realm.

But I
saw no hope leap up in Cashon’s eyes; dread had dissolved all his strength. And
the lord of Canna did not falter. His gaze did not shift from the Mage as he addressed
me softly.

“You
are a fool. Do you conceive that Cashon has not considered such threats for himself?
But he knows that my men have been given command to first rape and then slay
his wife and daughters, should harm of any kind come to me. If they hear any
report that I have been hurt or defied, they will act. And I will never command
any release.

“Look
upon him.” Cashon appeared to wither under Thone’s scorn, so acid was the Mage’s
fear. “He counts himself fortunate that I will permit him to save his family by
obeying me.” Then Thone turned to me. “And I will achieve the same fate for you”—the
calm of his demeanour broke into a shout—”if you do not submit to me
now!”

My
heart went out to Cashon in pity; but the safety of the realm hinged on him,
and I could not afford to spare him. He had once been stronger. I gambled that
he had not forgotten.

For the
second time this night, I mustered a laugh. Smoothly, I rose from my chair. As
I moved toward the door, I said, “Cashon, I leave him to you. You are a master.
I trust you will, do no harm to the manor. His command against your family will
not be obeyed.

“Canna
has not forgotten that he came to kingship through the suspected murder of his
uncle—and that from the first moment of his rule all the laws and commands of
the Kingdom were altered. When word of his death reaches those who hold your
loved ones, they will not dare obedience for fear that they will lose favour
with the next monarch.” I threw my whole weight into the scales on Cashon’s
side. “And you will be the next monarch— should Thone fail to satisfy you here.”

At the
door, I paused to look again at the king of Canna and smile. “I trust you will
enjoy the ball, my lord,” I said in my sweetest way. Then I left the
meeting-room and closed the door after me.

There
my legs nearly failed me. Dismay at the risk I took made my head whirl with
faintness. If Cashon did not take courage from my display of confidence—if he
did not conquer his fear—I Hardly able to stand, I clung to the door and
listened and did not breathe.

Through
the panelled wood, I heard the first muffled roar of Cashon’s magery—and King Thone’s
first shout of panic.

A
servant nearby looked toward me in alarm. To calm her, I said. “Be not
concerned.” In an instant, my faintness became the light-headedness of relief “King
Thone and the Mage Cashon will resolve their differences well enough alone.” I
wanted to shout with jubilation. “And I wager that when King Thone emerges he
will be unscathed. Leave them to themselves”

Turning
in the direction of the ballroom, I walked away. For the first time, I felt
that perhaps I was fit to become Regal over the Three Kingdoms.

A
moment later, Ryzel appeared in the passage and came hastening toward me,
barely able to hold his dignity back from running. “Chrysalis,” he breathed
urgently, “are you well? There is power at work in that chamber.

He was
unusually sensitive to the vibrations which spread from any exertion or
presence which touched upon the Real. Any magery or Magic anywhere in the manor
was known to him instantly. By that means, among many others, he bad determined
that I was no Creature. Now as he approached his alarm was briefly plain in his
face— concern for me, perhaps—or perhaps anxiety that something had transpired
to undermine his own intentions. But when he saw that I was unharmed—and that I
was grinning—he drew himself to a halt, stifled his haste. “My lady,” he asked
cautiously, “what has happened?’

Before
I could consider my reply, the door of the meeting-room leaped open, letting
the reek of brimstone wash into the passage; and Cashon came out, alive with
energy and hope. In one hand, he gripped a scrap of paper. He waved it toward
me, then sped in the opposite direction, running to gain his horse.

Firmly,
I took Mage Ryzel’s arm and turned him away from the aftersmell of Fire.
Despite my inexperience, I knew that it would be unwise policy to humble King
Thone further by forcing him to make his exit from the chamber before
witnesses. Let him repair his appearance and attend the ball as he saw fit; the
mere thought of how he had been weakened would give me hold enough over him. To
answer Ryzel, I said softly, “It would seem that Cashon is no longer bound to
the lord of Canna.” But I gave him no explanation. He had his own secrets; I
would keep mine. Also—to be honest—I was young yet and did not wish to give him
opportunity to chastise me either for the risk I had taken or for bragging.

My
silence made him frown dourly, but he did not question it. Instead, he said, “Then
I am no longer chagrined that I learned nothing of Cashon’s circumstances to
aid you.”

As we
walked, I asked, “Is it not the custom of Mages to talk at these rare
gatherings?”

“It is,”
he replied. “But Cashon spoke no more than three words from first to last.”

Something
in his tone alerted me. In an instant, I set King Thone’s defeat aside and
turned my attention to the Mage. “If Cashon did not speak, who did?”

He
mulled his answer for sometime, chewing it around in his mouth as if he loathed
the taste of it but feared to spit it out. Then, abruptly, he said, “Scour.”

His
dislike of Queen Damia’s Mage was of long standing; but it did not account for
his present vehemence. And my own apprehensions concerning the lady of Lodan
were many. Carefully, I inquired, “And what did this Scour say?”

“My
lady,” Ryzel said, obscurely angered and unable or unwilling to say why, “he
spoke nonsense—hints and jests to no purpose. He could not be silenced. His own
cleverness was a source of vast amusement to him.” The Mage snarled his
vexation. “Only one thing did he say clearly: he revealed that at his request
Queen Damia’s minstrel would sing of the slaying of the last Dragon for your
banquet.”

The
sudden tightening of my hand on his arm stopped him. His words brought the
monarch of Lodan’s unexplained subterfuge back to me. Almost involuntarily, I
asked, “Is it true?”

He
turned toward me at the doors to the ballroom.

From
beyond them came the sounds of musicians tuning their instruments. “That Scour
requested that song for your banquet? I know not. Surely he wished me to
believe it.”

I met
his questioning look squarely. “Is it true that the last Dragon was slain by
the Basilisk-Regal?”

He
scowled as he studied me, trying to guess what was in my mind. “That tale is
told,” he said slowly. “Perhaps it is true. There are many who believe that one
Dragon still lived in the world when the Basilisk-Regal’s rule began—and that
it was gone when his rule ended. But only one portion of the tale is known to
be certain: for the last years of his reign, the Basilisk-Regal wore his hands
covered.”

Unwilling
either to outface or to satisfy Ryzel’s curiosity, I moved toward the doors.
But as they were opened for me, I thought better of my silence. On the
threshold of the ball, I turned back to the Mage and said, “Then his grief must
have been as terrible as his crime.”

A step
or two ahead of him, I went forward to continue this night’s festivities.

Most of
the guests had preceded me. King Thone’s retinue appeared somewhat unsettled by
his absence; but Queen Damia presided over her portion of the ballroom in great
state and glitter; Count Thornden and his attendants kept their backs to her
as pointedly as possible; and around the hall moved those families, courtiers,
eavesdroppers, and lovers of dancing or sport who were not restrained by
allegiance or personal interest.

At my
entrance the gathering was hushed. The musicians ceased their tuning; the
rulers and their entourages looked toward me; after a last giggle or two, the
more playful girls joined the general silence. For a moment, I gazed about me
and tried to appear pleased. Taken together, these people were a gay and
enchanting sight under the bright gleam of the chandeliers. They were comely
and fashionable—and well-to-do. Indeed, hardly a person could be seen who did
not display some form of wealth. Here was evidence that the realm had prospered
mightily under the imposed peace of the Regals. The rule to which I aspired was
manifestly worthy and admirable; yet all these gallant men and women bedecked
in loveliness also served to remind me that I was the plainest woman in the
Three Kingdoms, as Ryzel had said. For all my victory over King Thone, I was
not the equal of the manor’s guests.

Nevertheless,
I played my part as I was able. Assuming a pace I did not possess, I advanced
into the centre of the ballroom and spread my arms in a gesture of welcome. “Please
dance,” I said clearly. “This is the night of my Ascension, and I wish all the
realm happy.”

At
once, the musicians struck up a lively tune; and after a moment’s hesitation
the ball came to life. Commanding every opportunity for advantageous display,
Queen Damia allowed herself to be swept into the arms of a fortunate swain and
began to float around the floor. Quickly, other eager young men found
themselves partners; dignified old noblemen and their wives made stately
circles as they moved. From the corner of my eye, I saw King Thone enter the
ballroom, unremarked amid the first swirl of dancing. To myself, I applauded
the way he contrived to rejoin the festivities without calling attention to himself;
and I noted that he had managed to change parts of his apparel, thus
eliminating the marks of Cashon’s persuasion. In a moment, he garnered a
partner for himself—the wife of one of his dependents—and busied himself
about the task of pretending that nothing had happened.

Even
Mage Ryzel tucked his Sceptre under his arm and took a woman to dance—a girl
who gazed at him as if he were the highlight of her life. Thus he also played
his part. Soon it appeared that only Count Thornden and I were not dancing. He
remained aloof, too fierce for such pastimes. And I—Apparently there were no
men in the room bold enough to approach me.

Stiffly,
I turned to remove myself from the path of the dancers. My thought was to gain
the edge of the whirl and there to watch and listen until I found my chance to
slip away unobserved. I did not enjoy what I felt as I saw the youngest
daughters of the least consequential families outshine me. But when I left my
place in the centre of the ballroom, I nearly collided with the servant Wallin.