Ironcrown Moon (56 page)

Bozuk repressed a sudden pang of doubt. Would he be able to do that, even with the wench Induna to help him? But he spoke with full confidence, continuing to count the money. “Unroll your map and find a place called Fort Ramis on Tarn’s eastern coast. The woman is imprisoned near there. In a moment, when I finish here, I will use my windsight to confirm absolutely that she and the boy are still in the place where Ansel Pikan put them.”

Feribor uttered an impatient growl, but contented himself with studying the region in question.

It was dismayingly remote, with very few settlements, and would be a formidable ride overland from Northkeep. A single track led from Fort Ramis to a mining center called Gold Creek, that marked the head of navigation on the Upper Donor River. To Feribor’s surprise, Donorvale City was only 130 leagues downriver from Gold Creek. But of course the Tarnians would have made certain that their greatest national asset might be easily transported to the capital…

“There!” Bozuk heaved a sigh of contentment. “Ten thousand, as you said, and every coin true gold. Now do me the favor of leaving me

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon alone for a time while I perform the scrying. It’s a ticklish business, because of the bulky volcanos lying between here and our goal, so I require perfect silence while I concentrate. Return to me when the banker arrives.” Again, the snaggly grin. “And you might have your own windvoice bespeak King Conrig, and inform him that Princess Maudrayne and her son are to be found in the stronghold of Cold Harbor, on Tarn’s northern coast. That should put his Royal Intelligencer nicely off on a false scent.”

“Well thought,” Feribor conceded grudgingly. “Do what you must do. But remember that you will travel with me every step of the way, and woe betide you if you think to trick me!”

“Don’t talk like an idiot,” the old shaman snapped. “Either trust me, or take back your damned gold. But I will not stand for insults.”

Feribor stared at the old man with clenched teeth, a muscle in his jaw working. Then he bowed.

“I apologize. And I’ll return soon.” He left the cabin and closed the door.

When Bozuk’s oversight perceived the duke take up a rain-cloak and head for the main-deck, he bespoke his granddaughter Induna. It was a few minutes before she responded.

I was being shown to my bedroom in the cottage loft by my hostess
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, she said. I

arrived on the Desolation Coast only today, and have found lodging in a whaling station called Lucky Cove. My hosts think I’m a western herbalist in search of rare plants which, of course, —

I am! I’ve already found some interesting things around here

—

although a more wretched spot than this never existed on God’s green earth. The oil-rendering works is only a few hundred ells downshore from this cottage, and the stink from the blubber-trying pots fair turns my stomach. I’m going to have little but whale-meat to eat here, as well. I’ve a mind to demand an extra share of your loot, Eldpapa.

“Never mind that, you silly chit! When I die, everything I own will be yours. Now tell me: Where’s the princess? Did Ansel lock her up in Fort Ramis, as I thought he’d do?”

No. She’s in a small square keep called Skullbone Peel, on the coast five or six leagues north of this hamlet. It’s the summer residence of the Shaman-Lord Ontel and his family, who have their principal residence in Fort Ramis. I scried Maudrayne and her son very clearly.

There’s a rough path that goes along the cliffs from here to there, but nothing my horse can travel. This part of the coast is all cut up with ravines. But I can probably get to the peel’s vicinity on foot if need be.

“You’re not sure? Why aren’t you sure?”

Eldpapa, I only just got here! Don’t be so difficult and crabby. I scried the path hindered by intervening rocks, just as I scried the prisoners—and them right through solid stone walls, if you please! Which explains why I couldn’t find them earlier. Princess Maudrayne and her son Dyfrig and maid Rusgann are held by Ansel Pikan’s cousin. This Ontel isn’t much of a wizard himself-except for being a

—

good predictor of weather

.

“I know of him.”

But he does have three retainers who are fairly decent windtalents, and a pack of armed guards.

His wife, Sealady Tallu, is a famed

Wave-Harrier who’d fight tooth and nail to protect the prisoners, but she went away yesterday to a meeting of her peers in Donorvale.

And she took Ansel Pikan with her! As the High Shaman of Tarn, he’s obliged to attend the meeting of the Company of Equals, along with all the Sealords and Sealadies. She and Ansel went off over the cinder desert to Mornash Town, intending to ride south from there and pick up a riverboat at Gold Creek.

“Oh, bless you, Granddaughter! That’s such wonderful news. I was so afraid you and I would have to trade thunderbolts with Ansel!”

You… and I? Eldpapa, what are you up to?

“King Conrig’s emissary is here in Northkeep. A thoroughgoing rogue named Duke Feribor, who has some distant claim to the crown of

Cathra. He wants to seize Princess Maudrayne for reasons of his own, and he insists that I guide him to her hiding place. I agreed. For full payment of the reward, delivered immediately—and an extra five thousand gold marks on top of that! Banker Pakkor is on his way to pick up the coin right this very minute. Once it’s in his vaults, not even the High Sealord will be able to winkle it out.”

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Ohhh. Eldpapa, you fool! Even if this scoundrel pays you, how can you hope to ride all this way?

It’s a horrible journey, even for an able-

bodied young person. I daresay this Feribor wont want to be encumbered with anything so slow as a wagon

—

but it’ll kill you to ride horseback so far, at the pace the duke will likely set

, “Don’t fuss. We won’t be riding.”

What then?

“Duke Feribor came in a fine tall ship, the swiftest in Cathra. If I lend magical winds of my own to its great spread of sail, two or three days is all it will take to reach Skullbone Peel by way of Icebear Channel. And the ship is armed with tarnblaze cannons, my dear! That chymical is immune from magical defenses, as you well know. If Duke Feribor threatens to blast the peel to gravel, don’t you think Ontel

Pikan will be happy to be rid of Princess Maude and her brat?”

Brilliant, Eldpapa. Quite brilliant. Your plan will certainly work.

“Well, I had some doubts. If Red Ansel were there, along with Sealady Tallu, he’d probably find a way to stop us. Take the prisoners somewhere else, out of reach of the ship’s guns. But I know Ontel Pikan’s manner of thinking. He’s slow and steady, not given to quick action. By the time he decides what to do, the duke and I and the royal prisoners will already be well on our way to Lucky Cove, to pick you up and sail home to Northkeep.”

==========

?”

Conrig shouted so loudly that his spirited white stallion shied, and it was necessary for the king to hold off questioning Vra-Sulkorig more closely until the beast was brought back under control.

On this beautiful summer morning, with so much bad news already sticking in his craw, Conrig had decided to escape the palace and ride out boar-hunting in the great oak forest preserve across the River Brent. He took with him certain old friends and several members of his Privy Council, as well as the Keeper of Arcana, who still served as Acting Royal Alchymist and was a keen huntsman. Indeed, it had been Vra-Sulkorig who scried out the first boar, rightly assigning the quarry to High King Conrig because it was a such a huge animal, almost of trophy size. But the ground where the creature stood at bay was boggy, and the king’s horse misstepped in the muck, so that his lance failed to pass between the boar’s ribs but struck a bone and glanced off. The great beast crashed away bleeding into an adjacent marsh where the hunters could not follow.

Conrig seemed to shrug off the loss, but in his heart he blamed Sulkorig for not having chivvied the boar towards firmer ground before announcing its presence. Such use of overt talent would have been deemed unsportsmanlike, had there been proof of it. But with no other Zeth Brethren on the hunt, who would have known? Unfortunately, Sulkorig, like Conrig’s brother Stergos, was a model of righteousness.

And therein lay the difficulty.

Ever since the shaman Bozuk had bespoken them the news of Maude’s sensational revelations to her brother, Conrig had been afire with anxiety. Not so much because the Sealords of Tarn had been told that he was talented (lacking proof, they’d debate the matter long and hard before bringing it into the open), but because there was now one more person in a position to take the perilous allegation seriously, whether he had proof or not.

Before now there had been only five who knew for certain: Snudge, Ullanoth, Stergos, Ansel, and Maude, with only the latter posing a danger to Con-rig’s crown. Now Bozuk also knew, and the Tarnians, but they were not the ones who most worried Conrig.

The problem was Vra-Sulkorig Casswell, the austere former soldier whose own strong talent had
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only tardily manifested itself, making him all the more zealous to defend the Zeth Codex.

After relaying Bozuk’s message to the king, the Keeper of Arcana had seemed to accept Conrig’s assertion that Maude had been lying.

But a few days earlier, the king had learned from Stergos that Sulkorig was in an agony of conscience over the matter. The Keeper had asked Stergos’s advice, wondering whether he was obliged to report the allegation to the Council of Brethren or the Lords Judicial of the file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/May,%20Julian%20-%20[Bo...-%20Boreal%20Moon%202%20-

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Royal Tribunal. Stergos had counseled silence, since Maude’s statement was plainly inspired by spite and revenge and was apparently backed by no proof. The Royal Alchymist assured his brother the king that Sulkorig would obey. There was no need to worry.

But Conrig worried.

The Sovereignty that had seemed so secure at the start of Blossom Moon now was under assault from every direction, as was he himself;

and Sulkorig’s qualms were the last thing Conrig needed to top his other troubles. Thanks to Maude, the bloody-minded Tarnians must now think they possessed leverage to defy his edicts.

The advisers of poor entranced Ullanoth ranted hysterically of an impending Salka invasion and demanded that he defend them with his navy. Honigalus of Didion and his family were slain, astoundingly enough, by the same monsters, leaving the hell-raising Somarus as unchallenged ruler of that unstable nation. Cathra’s ambassador to Didion had reported that none other than Kilian Blackhorse had been welcomed at the new king’s court and now had the royal ear.

According to Earl

Marshal Parlian, war-clouds were gathering. It was only a matter of time.

And Snudge, in whom Conrig had placed such high hopes, Snudge—

What was the Keeper of Arcana trying to tell him about Deveron Austrey?…

“Your Grace,” Vra-Sulkorig said in a low voice, as the king finally calmed his fractious steed and the two of them drew apart from the other hunters, “I beg you to keep your voice down. A terrible message has just come to me on the wind, concerning the Royal Intelligencer. He and all of his party have vanished near Castlemont Fortress in Didion. They are believed to be either kidnapped or killed.”

“Who says so?” Conrig hissed.

“Several well-harnessed mounts were found running loose along the Wold Road, south of our own Rockyford Way Station. A caravan of honest merchants came upon the animals and brought them to the station garrison. The saddle of one horse bore the owl blazon of Sir Deveron. Another saddle had Sir Gavlok Whitfell’s pierced cinquefoil insignia. The station captain directed his windvoice to consult with

Beorbrook Hold, and it was from there that he learned the identity of the horses’ probable owners—and the fact that they were king’s men traveling on the king’s business. The mounts were found near the junction of the Wold Road and a track leading to the Lady Lakes, the notorious haunt of Somarus’s band of erstwhile outlaws.”

Conrig groaned. “And to think I cursed Snudge last night when he failed to bespeak me as ordered!”

“The windvoice at Rockyford informs us that a troop of Mountain Swordsmen from Beorbrook will begin searching at once, as will men from the station itself.”

“Commend them,” Conrig said in a dull tone. “Order the windvoice to keep Gala Palace informed of any progress.”

Vra-Sulkorig drew the hood of his capuchon over his face and spoke on the wind. When he had finished, he said, “Shall we rejoin the others, Your Grace? There may be another boar less than a
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league away, near Cadlow Brook. I had just scried it out as the wind-message came.”

“Stay with me a moment, Brother Keeper. There’s an important thing I would ask you.”

“Certainly, sire.” The sturdy Brother in the well-cut hunting habit spurred his mount closer.

“Vra-Sulkorig,” said the king, “let me ask you one question, which I adjure you to answer in all honesty: Is your conscience troubled by the assertion of the Princess Dowager that I possess secret talent?”

Sulkorig reacted to the query almost with relief. “So it is, Zeth help me! The notion bedevils me to the point where I can scarce think of anything else. Why should it not, since if it were true, then you must forfeit your crown, and our kingdom and the Sovereignty must be turned over to an infant. And with so many perils assailing us! But right is right in so grave a matter, as I told your lord brother.”

“And he told you to keep silence, and gave good reason for it.”