Hearts in Cups (31 page)
In the cool, pale light
of early morning, Hollin and Daffyd made their way through the still shadowed
streets of the city towards their rendezvous point. Hollin had discarded her
skirts and was again in the comfort and practicality of her male garb. For an
instant that morning she had considered wearing her skirts but overcame modesty
by reflecting that tripping and stumbling through the rugged country that they
must travel was the more foolish affectation.
Both she and Daffyd had
refilled their packs with food and looked much as they had when passing into the
city, save that they were cleaner and walked with a livelier step. The few
people out this early greeted them with the same silent courtesy with which
they had been treated throughout their stay. Already they were like ghosts to
these people who lived in the Citadel of Dreams, neither having any lasting
impact on the other.
They came within sight
of the gate, but no one stood waiting for them. As they drew closer and could
look through the archway, they espied the prince, already outside the city. He
was dressed in surcoat, shirt, breeches and boots with a long cloak, fastened
at his shoulder by a brooch, that swept down to brush the tops of his boots:
the clothes of a nobleman from the Pentarchy. Revealed in them, Hollin saw the
powerful, well-knit body that to this point had been hidden by his acolyte's
robes. Catching sight of them, he moved in their direction with an easy,
loose-limbed grace.
Hollin suffered a
momentary twinge of uncertainty as she took in the grim countenance, secretly
marveling at the transformation a smile could make in that harsh face. But when
she met his eyes directly, she saw that they gleamed with something akin to
welcome. At close range, she noticed that the brooch fastening his cloak was a
great silver boss inscribed with a pentangle in gold with a silver griffon in
its center: the royal seal of the Kings of the Pentarchy. He wore no sword nor
weapon of any kind, but a pack, similar to the ones they wore, was slung over
his shoulders. Without once turning his head for a farewell look at the city
where he had exiled himself for so many years, he led them down the road
towards the entrance to the ice caves and into the sun of a new day. Beside
him, Hollin lengthened her stride to match his, and behind them stalked Daffyd,
now with two charges to protect and defend.
Lying on a couch with
the full strength of the afternoon sun burnishing his corn-gold hair, Colin de
Chantalcalm, Viscount of Treves, closed his eyes and basked contentedly. The
trip back from the Inner Ward had been uncomfortable to a body bearing a broken
arm and a mind feeling the sting of failure. That such a minor accident should
have such major consequences galled him. Fretting to himself about sending the
Duchess of Langstraad off on her errand, and worried about young Daffyd as
well, he had returned in an ill-humour.
Dinea had been waiting
for him when he arrived back in Pentarin. Although messengers had brought word
of the accident and assurances that Lord Colin was in no danger, she refused to
fully believe them until she had him under her wing and had seen for herself
the full extent of his injuries. Under her solicitous care he was healing,
recovering his wits and strength. She had informed him that all of the Great
Houses had left Pentarin within days of the departure of the royal embassy, and
were soon followed by the remaining Minor Houses. Percamber had been spending
his time closeted with the seneschal of House Sandovar, going over the records
of the duchy's holdings as well as the Pentarchy's day-to-day problems, getting
everything in order for the return of his grandson. Grateful to leave
everything in Dinea's capable hands for a few days, Colin allowed himself the
catlike pleasure of complete relaxation.
As he lay in his semi-somnambulant
state upon the couch, he heard the door opening and the swish of Dinea's skirts
over the floor as she crossed the room to where he reposed. Not opening his
eyes, he was nonetheless aware of her sitting down beside him and her cool hand
being rested on his cheek. At her touch his eyes flew open and he reached, in
some alarm, to take her hand in his. The eyes that met his were filled with
sorrow, her entire face stricken with a dreadful emotion.
"Dinea! My dear
heart, what is it?" He struggled to sit up, wincing as he bumped his arm
in the process. Dinea reached out to lend him support, easing him up against
the cushions. "Tell me, what has happened!"
"The search for
Prince Brian has failed," she told him flatly. Squeezing his good hand
tenderly between her own, she continued. "Messengers have just arrived
from Lord Brescom. He reports that the embassy was destroyed by a landslide
just after leaving the borders of the Inner Ward. There were few
survivors," she added.
"Lady
Hollin?" The question was asked in a tight, hoarse voice.
Dinea bit her lip
before answering softly, "She is reported to have been buried with her
horse under a mountain of rock." He gripped her hand convulsively and she
grew alarmed at the ashen quality of his face. "It was an accident, my
love! There was nothing you or anyone else could have done! If you had been
there, you would now be buried with her!"
"There can be no
mistake? No, I am but grasping at straws." His face was filled with
distress, pain and despondency. In one awful twist of fate they had lost all
hope of finding the prince as well as the one person who might have contrived
to appease and unite the Houses of the Pentarchy. He felt grief at the loss of
so many lives to no avail and a personal sorrow at the death of Hollin of
Langstraad. In the time they had spent together, preparing for the expedition
and their brief journey, he had developed a special regard for the woman. Many
things had impressed him favourably about her, and his admiration had grown
into a genuine liking. That she should be cut down in such an unexpected and
terrible fashion was a cruelty both to her and to the Pentarchy.
Reading her husband's
heart increased Dinea's own distress. She felt no guilt in the relief that she harboured
at his respite from the calamity, but she mourned for all who had died. Sitting
thus in commiseration with Colin, her own practical nature began to assert
itself as she strove to look ahead to the future. Percamber was yet to be told,
that would be the next step. The old man would take this very hard, she feared.
He had begun to anticipate the return of his grandson and the end of the duties
that were growing ever more fatiguing to him.
Abruptly, Colin swung
his feet to the floor and stood up. There was a resigned set to his shoulders
as he gazed back down at her. "Well my dearest, the worst has now arrived
on our doorstep and we must work quickly to salvage what we can."
Impulsively, Dinea rose and placed her arms around him, a comfort to them both.
"Percamber must be
told, and I think that it would be best to do it now. We must begin devising
whatever plans we may to forestall Mirvanovir, for Niall will be quick to use
this tragedy to his advantage. Hopefully he will not move with arms but will try
his devious brand of diplomacy first."
"You think he
would send an army against Pentarin?" Dinea was aghast at this suggestion.
"While I don't
know precisely what deeds Niall is capable of, I do think that his ambitions
will drive him to a great many disreputable actions before this matter is
settled." Kissing the top of her head, he loosened her arms and went to
find Percamber.
Telling Percamber of
the loss of all of their hopes was painful. The old man listened to what Colin
had to say with a composed face; only his eyes expressed his anguish and the
beginnings of fear. He knew all too well that they had lost the only two people
capable of thwarting the Duke of Mirvanovir's desire for the throne. Percamber
had known Niall for a great many years and had no doubts as to the extremes he
would go to obtain what he wanted. Time was needed to consolidate and marshal
the other Houses, both Great and Minor, in opposition to Mirvanovir, yet time
was the one thing that Niall would see that they did not have.
Putting aside his own
feelings, Percamber strove to deal with the situation presented to him. Dinea
was summoned to join her husband and Percamber as they talked late into the
night. From their own knowledge and observation they guessed that the Houses of
Creon and Tuenth would resist Mirvanovir's claim to the throne. Both Branwilde
and Gunnar distrusted Niall and neither would be amenable to having Niall set
himself in a superior position to themselves. The Minor Lords were harder to
read. With Colin as viscount, House Treves would stand firmly against any
attempt to take the throne by force or coercion. Lady Laurin of House Pentarell
detested Rashara of Mirvanovir and was not likely to support Niall. Also,
Laurin's grandson, Roraic, was married to Lady Genvra Iscoed, a possible
claimant to the Pentarchy's throne. Lady Caitlan ap Derwan, Lord Aidan of House
Thurin's wife, was sister to the Duchess of Creon, and might therefore be
counted to stand with Branwilde, although Aidan himself had an uncle who was
married to one of Niall's sisters. The lords of the Inner Ward and Gresha were
in positions where they might well be swayed. House Gresha shared a common
border with Mirvanovir and Lord Lewys Glendark, new to his title, might feel
compelled to offer fealty to Mirvanovir to avert the razing of his earldom.
Lord Brescom's earldom was far removed from a physical proximity to Mirvanovir,
but the earl had been seen coming and going from Mirvanovir's wing in the
palace during the recent council session.
"It looks to me
that there will be more who will be likely to oppose Niall than will support
him; that should give him pause, I think." Colin's words were a good deal
more positive than he felt.
"I will send
formal word of this tragic event to all of the Great and Minor Houses and call
for an assembly of the Pentacle Council in six weeks. At that time we shall
address the problem of succession. I had so hoped that it would not come to
this." Percamber ended with a quaver of worry in his voice.
"Could we not try
to resonate another crystal and seek the prince a second time?" Dinea
asked the question already knowing the response.
Both men shook their
heads dispiritedly. "In the first place, it was the combination of Lady
Hollin's ring and our crystal that really gave us a viable chance of tracing
him. More importantly though, Niall will never allow us the time, and I do not
think the other nobles will support a second try," Colin replied. He
looked glumly about him, then continued: "We must also send word to young
Ian de Medicat that his cousin is dead and, according to her stated will, he is
now the Duke Regent of Langstraad."
"Lady Genvra in
Pentarell will also need to be appraised of the fact that one of her children
will have to be sent to Lir to be fostered by Lord Ian until the child is of
age," added Percamber.
"What is Lord Ian
like? Have either of you met him?" Dinea interjected. "Will he
support us?"
Colin shook his head
and shrugged. "I've never met him."
"Neither have
I," said Percamber. "He's the grandson and heir to Baron Alister de
Medicat. His father was not of the nobility but a common artisan with
whom the baron's daughter ran away many years ago. It caused a great scandal at
the time, for her brother, Courant, had only recently been wed to the late Duchess
of Langstraad, Lady Morwen. Reports of the boy say that he is, or was, quite
intractable and that he and Sir Alister do not get along well."
"That doesn't
sound hopeful," Dinea remarked.
"No, but he is the
choice of Lady Hollin," was Colin's response. "If her grace thought
him a worthwhile trustee for her duchy, I shall trust in her judgment."
"Is he
married?"
Colin grinned at the
obvious hint in his wife's question; she had many nieces on her side of the
family. It was Percamber who answered. "Apparently his grandfather put up
quite a campaign earlier this year to marry him off, and he made a tour of all
of the nobles with eligible daughters that Sir Alister knew, but no contracts
were made, as far as I know. However, that is none of our concern.
"Meet me tomorrow,
Colin, and we can go over the border information that you requested. Until
then, a good night to you both. I need time to be alone."
Respectfully they withdrew, leaving the grandfather to grieve by himself
for the grandson he would now never see.
With an almost vicious
thrust, the hawk was launched into the air in quest of its prey. Beating
powerful wings, it spiraled up into the grey of the sky. A summer storm was
threatening and the air currents were unstable, forcing the bird to use his own
strength to combat and climb them. Below him, on the ground, the man who had
sent him aloft sat on his fretting bay horse. Higher and higher the hawk flew
until it was a dark speck in a dark sky. The man's hands tightened on the reins
and he urged his horse into a choppy canter as they crossed the field. Several
more men on horses waited respectfully at the edge of meadow as their master
pursued his game alone.