Fire of the Soul (36 page)

Calia wanted to insist that they ought to be
on their way north at once, but suddenly she knew the queen was
right. She felt drained, barely able to keep herself upright. She
allowed Garit to lift her into the saddle, while Durand assisted
Laisren. They left the dock in silence and Garit stayed close to
Calia, watching her as if he feared she would tumble from her
horse. They were nearing the palace before anyone spoke again.

“You are a clever man, Garit,” Laisren said.
“There on the dock you understood, as I did, that Mallory was
lingering somewhere nearby in hope of learning what we intend to do
next. He will probably assume that you will stay at least one night
to recover from your fight with him. But you must delay your
departure from Kerun City for no more than a brief time. Mallory is
too exhausted to track you immediately and he knows I’ll send
men-at-arms to search for him, so he will have to remain in hiding.
That gives you the advantage. If you leave by nightfall you can be
well on your way to Chandelar before Mallory regains his full
Power.

“Garit,” Laisren continued, “I give you the
responsibility of seeing that your horses are ready to travel and
of choosing three extra mounts from the royal stable, so you can
switch them when your own horses grow tired. That way, you will be
able to ride swiftly, for time is important.”

“Agreed.” Garit did not question Laisren’s
instructions. “Calia, eat a little and try to sleep before we
leave.”

When he reached out to touch her arm as if he
understood her complex emotions she managed to smile at him in
gratitude at his concern for her, but she could not bring herself
to speak. Later, she could not recall much of the ride from the
dock to the palace and thought she must have dozed off in the
saddle for a time.

Calia, Laisren, and Durand reached the
queen’s chambers to find Euric awaiting them. Laisren and Durand
were still pale after their strenuous efforts at the dock and Calia
knew she was in worse condition than the others, for she had gone
in one moment from rigidly concealing and repressing her Power to
turning all of it loose upon her brother. When Laisren motioned her
to a chair, Calia sank into it with a sigh.

“How is Dyfrig?” was Laisren’s first question
to Euric.

“He has regained consciousness,” Euric
answered, “but he is confused. He isn’t able to make rational
decisions or to muster the defenses that I and the other nobles
consider necessary in the face of Mallory’s treason.

“As serious as the threat to Dyfrig’s life
that Mallory embodies,” Euric went on, “is the danger the Matarami
pirates will present to the coasts of Kantia if they should learn
of Dyfrig’s incapacity. They’ll assume we can’t defend ourselves
without a leader to direct us, so they’ll likely attack all along
the coast.”

“That’s true. Kantia needs a strong king and
needs him now, not later.” Laisren slowly paced to the nearest
window, where she stood looking out toward the Western Hills that
lay misty-purple in the distance.

Seeing how Laisren’s hands were balled into
fists Calia had the impression the queen was gathering her
remaining strength to take the next, unwelcome but necessary step.
She thought everyone else in the room was under the same
impression, for they were all silent, watching the queen and
waiting.

When Laisren turned to face them again she
appeared composed, though her eyes were suspiciously bright and the
colors of her lustrous hair were subdued.

“What does Dyfrig’s physician say?” she
asked.

“That he will recover, in time,” Euric said.
“Unfortunately, he will never again be strong enough to rule. At
the moment, his vision is blurry and his left side is
paralyzed.”

“His vision?” Laisren’s voice broke on the
words. “Are you telling me that Mallory’s act of physical violence
destroyed Dyfrig’s sight?”

“Not entirely. The physician promises that as
the swelling recedes the eyesight and the paralysis will slowly
correct themselves,” Euric said. “Dyfrig’s confusion will end. He
can continue his scholarly researches. Eventually, he will be able
to read again, and to write.”

“But not to rule.” Laisren took a deep breath
and the colors of her hair faded still more. “We must convene the
royal council.”

“I don’t want this.” Euric’s voice was barely
above a whisper. “I have prayed to the Great God Sebazious that you
and Dyfrig would have children, so the crown would never fall to
me.”

“I know, dear friend.” For just a moment
Laisren touched Euric’s hand. “You are the most acceptable
candidate because you are Dyfrig’s first cousin, his nearest blood
kin. You are honest, dependable and well-liked, a famous warrior.
In the immediate future your skill at warfare will be important in
keeping peace with our more belligerent neighbors, especially the
Matarami, who do not consider the sea between us a barrier. Kantia
will be fortunate to have such a king. Send the councilors to me
and I will tell them so.”

“And Dyfrig?” Euric looked worried and even a
bit frightened. “What shall we do with him? I won’t be a party to
his death and I know you won’t, either. But there are nobles who
are not so scrupulous.”

“Dyfrig will have to abdicate because of ill
health.” Laisren’s voice was sad but resolute. “I think he ought to
go into retirement in the Western Hills. It’s where his heart has
always been. He will be content there, far from courtly intrigues
and false friends like Mallory.”

“What will you do, my lady?” Euric asked.

“As soon as the changes are made, after
Dyfrig is settled in some safe and peaceful retreat and after I
have witnessed you and Ilona crowned king and queen, then I will
return to Tannaris,” Laisren answered. “Once there, I will convince
my father to sever the marriage ties between Dyfrig and me. Dyfrig
will be free of a wife he never truly wanted and Kantia will be rid
of its despised foreign queen. Perhaps then the Kantians will
finally believe that I have the best interests of my adopted
country at heart.”

“No one who knows you has ever doubted that,
my lady,” Euric exclaimed.

“I think it’s time to send for Ilona,”
Laisren suggested with a slightly watery smile. “Will you tell her
she’s to be the next queen of Kantia, or shall I?”

“See what you’ve done?” Ilona asked of Durand
as soon as Laisren and Euric had left the audience chamber. “Did
you ever suspect while you were earning my dowry by secret missions
for King Henryk that you were setting me on the path to become a
queen?”

Calia was still seated in the same chair into
which she had almost fallen when she arrived from the dock. Laisren
had bid her farewell and then had touched her forehead, the brief
gesture providing Calia with a feeling of renewed strength.

She could see that Ilona was hovering between
relieved laughter to know Durand and the others were safe, and
tears at the news Euric and Laisren had just imparted. Like her
husband, Ilona did not really want to be a ruler, but out of love
for Euric she would do her duty.

At least a few of Ilona’s tears were in
reaction to the other piece of news she had heard, that Durand and
his companions were leaving the city and were lingering only long
enough for Durand to bid a hasty farewell to his sister.

“Had I known,” Durand responded to Ilona’s
wistful question, “I would not have changed a thing. The Kantians
will be fortunate to have you as their queen. So is Euric fortunate
to have you.”

“My marriage to Euric is your doing, and I
will never cease to thank you for that.” Tears stood in Ilona’s
silver-grey eyes. “Oh, I do love you, Durand. Please, I beg you,
don’t let the change in my life come between us.”

“Far from it.” Durand’s mischievous grin
flashed, its brightness erasing all traces of his weariness. “In
fact, I believe you will become an even more useful agent to me
once you are queen.”

“What a dreadful man you are.” On a gust of
helpless laughter Ilona embraced her brother. Then she turned to
Calia, who finally rose to her feet to face the queen-to-be. “Dear
friend, thank you for helping Durand. Wicked though he can be at
times, he is important to me.”

“My lady.” Nearly overcome by her fresh
realization of how close the affections between siblings could be
and ought to be, Calia dipped into the deepest curtsy she could
possibly make. She kept her head down until she was certain she had
blinked away all of her tears so they would not show. “I agree with
Durand. Kantia will be fortunate to have you as queen, and so is
Euric fortunate.”

“You will always be welcome in my court,”
Ilona said. “I only wish you could stay until the coronation,
though I do understand why you cannot.” She turned back to Durand
then, to bid him a tearful farewell.

Calia, sensing she wouldn’t be missed, seized
the moment to slip out of the queen’s chambers quietly, without
waiting for royal permission to leave.

Always it was the same, Mallory thought as he
made his slow, painful way back to his house through the crowded
streets, taking care to keep his well-known face averted from
everyone he passed. Thanks to Laisren’s misuse of him, he was on
foot and without his usual bodyguards. He knew very well that many
people in the city didn’t like him and would be happy to take
advantage of his solitary, exhausted situation.

If he’d felt stronger, he would have cursed
aloud. It just wasn’t fair that he should be illegitimate, the son
of a traitor, and now find himself without a royal patron. Ah, but
he’d show the fools who thought they were so superior to him. He’d
soon regain the Power that Laisren had drained – Laisren and his
lying sister.

He could not fathom how Calia, that
uninteresting, colorless creature, could have hidden her Power so
well. But now he knew her secret, so he’d be more wary in future.
For they would meet again when his Power far surpassed Calia’s.

He intended to make his way to the Northern
Border, which he knew well after years of living there while Dyfrig
was prince of that restless area. Mallory was on familiar terms
with certain outlaws who would keep his presence in the borderlands
secret until he was ready to strike.

Somewhere between Kerun City and Tannaris,
before his opponents could reach the safety of Ultan’s capital
city, he would find Calia, waylay her and her companions, and seize
the Emerald from her. When he was finished, the outlaws who would
help him could have the three, to kill or ransom as they pleased.
By then it wouldn’t matter what any of them said or did.

With ruthless single mindedness Mallory
consigned his erstwhile patron and friend, Dyfrig, to the past
along with Kinath Castle, Fenella, and her children whose
planned-for deaths had once promised him the right to inherit
Kinath. They no longer mattered, either. Compared to the Power the
Emerald offered to its owner, no mere woman, no king, no castle or
title was of any importance at all. Nor did an insignificant
country like Kantia hold any weight in Mallory’s thoughts.

With the Emerald in his hands he’d be
invincible. He’d possess everything he had ever dreamt of: wealth,
lands, titles. Then all the known world would understand that he,
Mallory of Catherstone, was a great man, worthy of high regard and
respect. Once the Emerald was his, he’d be even stronger than
Ultan. He could enslave Ultan if he wanted, or destroy Ultan
completely and make himself the Great Mage.

At last Mallory reached his house. When no
one opened the door to his knocking he realized that the servants
had fled. He wasn’t surprised, for word of an important man’s
disgrace always spread rapidly, as he had learned after his
father’s fall. Unlike his father, Mallory would survive to rise
again.

He knew he didn’t have much time before
Laisren sent troops to search the house for him. If they found him,
they would seize him and bind what little Power he still retained
and he was too weak to fight them off just yet. He needed a few
days to rest if he was to recover his strength.

Wearily, feeling the ache of expended Power
in his every muscle, but most of all in his throbbing head, he
climbed the stairs to his private bedchamber, the room he kept
magically locked and bolted against Fenella and the servants.

After employing some of his remaining Power
to open the door, he changed into the simple, dark woolen tunic,
hose, and sturdy boots he had always kept in readiness for flight.
He tucked a pouch of gold coins into his belt next to his plain but
very sharp sword and the eating knife that could be – and sometimes
had been – used for other, deadlier purposes. Lastly, he swirled a
long, black cloak around his shoulders and pulled up the hood.

In the stables he discovered that most of the
horses were gone. Of course they were; the servants could sell them
in the market to make up for the wages they would no longer be
paid. Mallory shrugged his shoulders and dismissed the servants
from his thoughts when he saw that the one remaining horse was a
huge, black stallion that only he could master and upon which he
had bestowed certain magical abilities. All of the grooms were
afraid of the beautiful but vicious beast, as well they should
be.

“So, Hob,” he whispered to the horse as he
bridled and saddled it, “they have no idea what they’ve left to me.
I know a safe place where I can hide until I’ve recuperated. Then,
I
will
have the Emerald!”

Mounted at last, he headed out of the city,
using the last remnants of his Power to make himself and his horse
undetectable to the guards at the northern gate.

As evening drew toward night travelers on the
road, hurrying home before full darkness, paid no attention to the
fellow wearing a hooded cloak who slumped in the saddle of the
spavined, speckled grey horse as the wretched animal rambled along.
The pair was too derelict to attract thieves and, after a day of
such great and distracting news from the palace, no one bothered
with a lone rider.