Prince's Fire (30 page)

I
nyan ratification ceremonies were rare. The last one had taken place before Rayn was born. He had not realized there was so much ritual involved: a special robe, a crown of flowers, war paint on his face. War paint! Such adornment had not been used in the archipelago for centuries. The ceremony was old and apparently hadn't changed much. He supposed there was little reason to modernize it when it was such an infrequent event.

Celeste was taking longer than he'd expected to get ready.

Several robed magisters had arrived and were walking him through the ceremony and what was expected of him. It wasn't complicated. There would be music. He'd make a speech. After that, the Inyans in attendance would vote, yes or no, as to whether they wanted him to be their next king.

Tiasa's population had swelled in recent days. People from the outlying villages and other islands had come into town to attend the ceremony and cast their votes.

“Check on the Kjallan princess,” he ordered one of the servants. “Tell her we're almost finished here.” He was shaved and painted and wearing his ceremonial robe. The servants had done something curious with his hair—they'd separated it into three parts and dyed one part black and another red. The third they left in his natural blond. Then they'd braided them together.

“Yes, Your Highness.” The servant left the room.

The officials were teaching him some ritualistic words he was supposed to recite at the beginning of the ceremony. They were in the Old Language, but not difficult to memorize. He repeated them mindlessly.

The servant came dashing back. “The Kjallan princess is missing.”

Rayn stood up so fast he had to catch his chair. “What do you mean? Explain that.”

“She's not in her room. The door guard is in a panic because she says she was standing in front of the door the entire time, and no one came or went.”

“Are you sure she's not just in the dressing room? She can be shy.” He turned to the magisters. “Excuse me for a moment.” Feeling ridiculous in his ceremonial garb, he jogged down the hallway to Celeste's room.

The door stood open, and Vitala and Lucien were already there. Vitala was searching the room while Lucien spoke to a tearful Atella.

“Sage's honor,” said Atella. “I never left her door. I stood right here the entire time. Nobody came to the door, and she never cried out, never left the room—”

“Well, obviously she left the room,” said Lucien.

“Not through this door!” cried Atella.

Vitala moved to the balcony and looked outside. “Where were her balcony guards?” she called.

“She reassigned them,” said Atella. “They're watching Rayn's balcony.”

Lucien turned to Rayn with a look of fury.

Rayn felt hot all over. This was his fault? He swallowed. It was no use casting about for blame; first they needed to find Celeste. “What do we know so far? Is there any sign of violence?”

“None,” said Vitala, returning from the balcony. “She's simply missing. It may be harmless, but I don't think so. Atella says she came in here to get dressed, and when your servant came by and inquired as to when she'd be ready, she knocked on the door and got no response. She looked inside and Celeste was not here.”

He stepped into the room.
Stay calm,
he told himself.
Keep sharp and figure this out.
First he went to the balcony. Unless the room had a secret exit he didn't know about, the balcony was how she'd been taken. It was three stories up from the ground, but that problem was solvable with a ladder or even a rope. “You,” he said, pointing at a servant. “Go into the garden and look for ladder marks.”

“Yes, sir.” The servant ran off.

She'd come to her apartment to get dressed. He turned the corner into the alcove that served as her dressing room. One of the cabinets holding her dresses stood open. On the floor next to it was Celeste's mostly empty chocolate mug. “She was in here recently,” he called.

Lucien hurried into the alcove.

“See?” He pointed at the mug. “That's her morning chocolate.”

Lucien picked it up. “Why would she leave it sitting here?”

Rayn, spotting another servant, called out, “Fetch Magister Lornis.”

The servant ran off.

The man he'd sent to the garden returned. “Your Highness, there are deep grooves in the ground below the balcony. Would you like to see?”

“In a moment.” So the kidnappers had fetched her from the balcony with a ladder. Maybe they'd left some tracks he could follow.

“Found something!” cried Vitala. “There's a note wedged under the chamber pot.”

Rayn and Lucien ran into the bedroom and crowded around Vitala to read.

I
HAVE HER.
C
OME AND FIND HER.

“Oh, gods,” said Rayn. “
Who
has her?”

Magister Lornis skidded into the entryway. “What's going on?”

Rayn took the note from Vitala's hand and pressed it into Lornis's. “Celeste is missing. Read this.”

Lornis read it, and his face went ashen. “Who's got her, and what does he want with her?”

“I haven't the slightest idea.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“Find her,” said Rayn.

“Well, you can't do that,” said Lornis. “That's what the kidnapper wants you to do. Besides, you've got the ratification ceremony.”

“I realize the kidnapper wants me to come looking for her, but what else can I do? I can't just leave her there.” Furthermore, if his racing heart and sweaty palms were any indication, he was in no condition to give a speech this morning. Not until he'd found Celeste and assured himself that she was all right.

“We can't delay the ceremony,” said Lornis. “People arrive hours before it starts just to get a good view of the proceedings. And if you don't show up—well, think of Prince Turon.”

“Yes, I know.” Prince Turon had been a candidate for the throne centuries ago, who'd been passed over because in his arrogance he'd been three hours late to the ceremony.

This unseen enemy had forced on him the worst possible choice: lose Celeste, or jeopardize his sole opportunity to win the Inyan throne. He saw now that he was going to lose Celeste no matter what he did. If he didn't win ratification, he'd become a powerless political exile, and Lucien would never allow him to marry her. But at least in that case she'd be alive.

“Let's consider who's behind this,” said Magister Lornis. “It's obviously Councilor Worryn. I don't see that he has anything to gain from harming Celeste. He intends only to use her for the purpose of manipulating
you
. Which is why you have to go to the ceremony. If you're not ratified, you know full well what's going to happen. Worryn will seize control of the throne using your illegitimate daughter. You can't allow that to happen.”

Lucien pushed his way in between them. “Did I hear you right? Did you say you're going to sacrifice my sister so Rayn can win his ratification vote?”

“I'm saying they've no reason to want her dead,” said Lornis. “They just want to manipulate Rayn.”

“How do you know they won't hurt her?”

Lornis hesitated. “I'm making an educated guess.”

“My sister's well-being cannot be hazarded on a
guess
,” snarled Lucien.

Vitala stepped forward. “Why are we letting Worryn manipulate anybody? We know he's behind this. Arrest him! Make him pay for his crimes. We've got Bayard, who will testify against him. Take him and force him to tell us where Celeste is.”

“We haven't time,” said Lornis. “Rayn has to leave in about an hour for the ceremony. Arresting Worryn and getting the story out of him will take days.”

“If it's done through your Inyan court system,” said Lucien.

“What are you suggesting?” said Lornis.

“I'm not bound by your courts or your laws,” said Lucien. “I'm the emperor of Kjall, and my sister has been kidnapped. If I order my troops to take this Councilor Worryn and interrogate him, they'll do it. No one will stop me.”

“You haven't an army here to back you up,” said Rayn.

“I have two dozen Legaciatti,” said Lucien.

Rayn felt profoundly uncomfortable at the thought of the Kjallan emperor arresting a member of the Inyan Land Council. It was practically a declaration of war against Inya. But then, kidnapping the Kjallan princess might be considered a declaration of war itself. If he and his people were not careful, they could end up with disaster—tens of thousands of people dead in a pointless war. “I cannot authorize such an action.”

“I don't need your authorization.” Lucien turned to one of his guards. “Take a dozen Legaciatti to the council room and arrest Worryn. Bring him here—and bring a mind mage as well.”

•   •   •

Celeste awoke with her arms bound behind her back. She was aware of having been conscious for a short time already, in a dazed, uncaring stupor. Now the fog was lifting from her mind. The room was dimly lit, and she had the impression she was underground, perhaps in a cellar. The dirt floor pressing against her cheek was surprisingly chilly. Along the walls sat casks and barrels and lumpy sackcloth bags. The room smelled earthy. She thought the bags might hold freshly dug root vegetables: potatoes and turnips, or whatever their equivalent was in Inya. Rutabagas, perhaps.

Despite the underground chill, she figured she had to be still in Inya. She couldn't have been unconscious long—she wasn't even hungry yet.

She tried to move her legs and get to her feet but couldn't. They were bound. Her arms were twisted behind her at an awkward angle, and she felt almost certain the bindings were cutting into her wrists. Yet she felt no pain. She tried to move by curling and extending her body like an inchworm. Might that accomplish anything? No, it didn't.

“You're awake,” said someone behind her.

She angled her head back awkwardly and spotted a woman sitting in a chair, sharpening a knife with a whetstone.

It was Zoe, no longer possessed of that vapid look Celeste had seen before. Now the Riorcan assassin looked determined and cold. “For your information,” said Zoe, “we're too far underground for anyone to hear you scream. But if you do, I'm cutting that pretty throat of yours.”

“You're after Rayn, not me. Why take me instead of him?”

“You were easier to carry,” said Zoe.

Ignoring that flip answer, she tried to make sense of the situation. It was ratification day, and the assassins had taken her. They'd captured her alive, when clearly they'd had the opportunity to kill her. Why? Probably they wanted leverage over Rayn. “Has the ratification ceremony happened yet?”

“Should be starting about now,” said Zoe.

Celeste shifted, trying to make herself more comfortable on the dirt floor. Was Rayn at the ratification ceremony? Would he have the sense to win his political vote first and then search for her? Surely these people wouldn't kill her—to do so might start a war. Even Councilor Worryn wouldn't want that. But then, who knew what these assassins were after? Zoe wasn't Inyan; she was Riorcan, and a rogue Riorcan at that. She'd probably like it if Kjall and Inya went to war. “If I die here, my brother will destroy this nation.”

“Wouldn't that be a shame?” said Zoe.
Shick
,
shick
, went her knife against the whetstone.

“I see. You don't care,” said Celeste. “You'd
like
this peaceful nation destroyed. And Kjall embroiled in a meaningless war.”

“Honey, I don't give two tomtits,” said Zoe.

Above them came a faint sound, a wailing, as if someone were injured. No—after a moment, Celeste recognized it as the sound of a baby crying. “Is that your daughter? Yours and Rayn's?”

“Little brat never shuts up,” said Zoe, not moving from her chair.

“I'll quiet her,” offered Celeste.

Zoe just laughed.

“A war benefits nobody,” said Celeste. “Councilor Worryn wants to control the Inyan throne, and you want your daughter to be queen of Inya. But what good does that do either of you if Kjall invades?”

“Worryn is an idiot,” said Zoe. “He wants to rule, but he hasn't the stomach for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He says we can't kill Rayn on Inyan soil. Why should he care about Inyan laws, when he's broken dozens of them? But he didn't say I couldn't kill
you
.”

Celeste shivered. “If you wanted to kill me, you'd have done it already.”

“What fun would that be?” said Zoe. “Rayn has become such a bore. Now I've got his daughter
and
his lover. He's going to dance for me—you watch.”

D
own in the garden, Rayn searched for clues. There were a few boot prints in the soft mud by the ladder marks, but they disappeared entirely when the mud ended at a paved walkway. He tried to pick them up again on the other side, without success. He searched up and down the walkway, looking for a spot where the prints might resume.

“You'll not find her this way,” said Lornis.

“I don't know how else I'll find her.” He wished he'd learned tracking skills in his youth. Was there someone he could call upon who was an expert at this? A hunting master, perhaps?

“You're running out of time,” said Lornis. “We've got to get you to the plaza.”

“First we find Celeste.”

“There's no time!” cried Lornis. “Rayn, this is the culmination of everything we've worked for. Think about it—as king of Inya you'll be able to search for her more effectively.”

“If they haven't
killed
her,” snapped Rayn.

“They're not going to,” said Lornis. “It doesn't benefit them.”

“You don't know that.”

A servant ran up to them and bowed. It was a man Rayn had never seen before. “Your Highness.”

“Is this important?” asked Rayn.

“I think so, sir. I went to Aderyn's room to deliver her midmorning meal and found Kima flat-out on the floor, unconscious. The baby's nowhere to be found.”

“
Aderyn
is missing?” Surely these two events had to be related. Someone had taken both his lover and his daughter.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Kima all right?”

“She's breathing, sir. I called a Healer. I believe she's been drugged.”

“Thank you. Come back if you learn anything else.”

“Yes, sir.” The servant dashed away.

“It's the same people,” said Lornis. “You know it is.”

He nodded. “I'll bet they also drugged Celeste. If I find her, I find Aderyn too.”

A voice called down to them from the balcony. “Your Highness?”

Rayn looked up. It was one of Lucien's Legaciatti. “Yes?”

“Councilor Worryn is here.”

“Let's go,” he said to Lornis, and headed for the Hibiscus Tower stairs at a run. Worryn surely knew something about what had happened to Celeste and Aderyn.

Celeste's rooms were crammed with Legaciatti, at least twenty of them, all in their signature orange uniforms with the sickle and sunburst. Emperor Lucien stood among them, as did Empress Vitala. In the middle of the Legaciatti, spitting mad and held firmly with his arms behind his back, was Councilor Worryn.

Worryn flung words at Lucien. “You cannot do this. I am head of the Land Council. This is an act of war.”

“The act of war was your abducting the Kjallan Imperial Princess,” said Lucien. “This is merely my response.”

“I did not abduct or harm the princess!” cried Worryn.

“If you are truly innocent, you'll submit to a truth spell and tell us everything you know.”

Worryn hesitated. “The use of truth spells is restricted by law. First you must bring official charges, then—”

Lucien gestured at one of the Legaciatti, who brutally twisted Worryn's arm.

The councilor shrieked in pain.

“Tell me again about Inyan law,” said Lucien. “I find that subject so fascinating and relevant.”

“Why would I kidnap your sister? There is no benefit to me whatsoever—”

Lucien gestured.

The Legaciattus twisted Worryn's arm more sharply. There was a sickening crack.

Worryn bent over, screaming. He would have fallen, but the Legaciatti held him up.

“Get him a chair,” said Lucien.

Someone shoved a chair under Worryn's rear. The Legaciatti released their grip on him, allowing him to sit and cradle his broken arm, rocking back and forth.

Rayn said nothing. He had the creeping horrors just watching this.

“Truth spell?” said Lucien.

“Yes,” said Worryn softly.

A woman stepped forward and crouched beside him, placing her hands on his uninjured arm. Her eyes went distant, and she said, “Ready.”

“Where is Celeste?” asked Lucien.

“I don't know,” said Worryn.

“Truth,” said the mind mage.

“Who took her?” said Lucien.

“I don't know.”

The mind mage hesitated. “Half-truth.”

“Explain yourself,” said Lucien.

“I don't know who took her,” said Worryn. “But I think it was very likely a group of Riorcan assassins.”

“Is Zoe one of those assassins?” said Lucien.

“Yes.”

“Truth.”

Lucien turned to the mind mage. “Report only if he tells a lie or half-truth. Otherwise you may remain silent.” Then to Worryn, “Did you order the attack?”

“No.”

“Do you know where these assassins are?”

“No.”

“What is your association with these assassins?”

Worryn hesitated. A Legaciattus stepped forward and punched him in his injured arm. Worryn howled, and when the Legaciattus pulled his fist back for a more serious blow, he spoke rapidly. “I hired them initially—paid them for a number of tasks. But they're out of control. They don't take my orders anymore.”

Rayn moved to Lucien and whispered in his ear about Aderyn having gone missing and her nurse being drugged unconscious. Lucien's brows rose. He asked Worryn a series of questions about Aderyn and her nurse, but the councilor knew nothing.

Rayn had seen enough. He backed out of the crowd, found Lornis, and pulled him aside. “Worryn didn't take them,” he said in a soft voice.

“So I hear.”

“Then this gets us nowhere.”

“I told you, you've got to go to your ratification ceremony,” said Lornis. “If you don't leave now, you may be late, or we'll have to reschedule. And you have no idea how that might affect the vote.”

Rayn ignored that. He stepped away from Lornis and returned to the interrogation.

Worryn was crying and confessing his crimes freely as Lucien peppered him with questions. But it was becoming increasingly clear that the man knew nothing about Celeste's abduction, or Aderyn's. He
had
hired the assassins initially. He'd brought them to Inya and harbored them, and ordered them to kill Rayn on foreign shores. But they'd grown tired of his restrictions and stopped following his orders.

Lucien asked Worryn whether anyone else might know where the assassins were. Worryn could not think of anyone who would know. “Hold him for now,” Lucien ordered his Legaciatti. He gestured to Rayn and Vitala and Lornis, and they retreated to a corner of the room for a council.

“We've got nothing,” Lucien said. “It's clear this man has committed crimes against Rayn and against the state. But he doesn't know where Celeste is.”

“Rayn has to get to his ratification ceremony,” said Lornis.

Vitala, ignoring that, said, “If the Riorcan assassins have Celeste, and they're now operating independently, they might very well kill her. They won't care if their actions spark a war.”

“We have to find her,” said Lucien. “There's no other way around it.”

“Rayn can't stay any longer,” said Lornis. “He's going to be late.”

“I don't care if he's late,” said Emperor Lucien. “The Inyan people shouldn't care either—we've got a mountain of evidence that a criminal conspiracy is afoot. They'll understand if he has to reschedule.”

“They may or they may not,” said Lornis. “Some of them will have spent their life savings to be present for the vote.”

As Rayn listened to them bicker over what ultimately must be his own decision, he felt increasingly ill. This was his fault. Celeste had loaned him two of her three guards, and so the attack had targeted her instead of him. He'd laughed off her security concerns, even knowing a group of assassins was after him, because he didn't want to believe that Inya had turned into this sort of country—the sort where rulers had to be escorted everywhere and couldn't mingle freely with the townsfolk. He didn't want Inya to be another Kjall.

But corruption was not limited to nations like Kjall. It had come to Inya. He hadn't wanted to believe that, and now Celeste was in danger. Aderyn too.

They could not be far away. The kidnapping had been recent, and the note from the assassins implied they had their eyes on him. Celeste could be found. She
would
be found, if he had to knock on every door in Tiasa.

The others were still arguing.

“Enough!” he cried, loud enough to silence them.

All eyes turned to him.

“I'm not going to the ratification ceremony. I'm going to find Celeste. She cannot be far. We'll track her down.”

“But Rayn—” began Lornis.

“No arguments,” he said. “I've made my decision.” It tore him up inside, knowing that after all he'd been through, all he'd done to oppose the abuses of the Land Council, he might lose his opportunity to rule Inya. But what sort of king would he be if he let the woman he loved die for the sake of his political power? Celeste's safety had to come first.

“I'll get Justien. He can look at the baby's room and see if there are any clues there.” Lucien squeezed Rayn's shoulder in passing, adding, “Good man.”

“Let's get down to the garden,” Rayn said to those who remained, “and see if we can pick up her trail.”

•   •   •

Down in the garden, Rayn had no more luck than before. He tried following the boot prints again, and again they led him nowhere. Only to the walkway, and at that point he could discover nothing, not even whether they'd turned left or right. He tried to think which way it most made sense for the kidnappers to go. Either way made sense. The walkway meandered through the palace grounds, spawning a number of side walkways and ultimately joining up with itself. The side walkways led to other buildings or into the city of Tiasa. The kidnappers could have gone anywhere.

Where might they have taken her? Somewhere on the palace grounds? Certainly there were enough outbuildings, and many were not heavily used. There were plenty of places to hide. Or she could be in Tiasa. Perhaps he could organize search parties. They'd look inside every building, fanning outward in an ever-broadening circle, until they found her. That was a last resort, however. It could take days, and the assassins might kill her first.

Justien's team and some of the Legaciatti had looked through Aderyn's room and found nothing. Now they were searching here, looking for any clues that might have been dropped. A thread from her robe, a long black hair. Patricus was sniffing about the walkway.

“Poor fellow.” Rayn rubbed the dog's ears. “You know something's wrong, don't you? But you don't know what.”

Patricus looked at Rayn quizzically, waving his long tail.

“I bet you'd find her if you could.”

Patricus licked his hand.

A wild idea occurred to him:
could
Patricus find her? He'd never heard of a hunting dog tracking a person before—only wild game—but surely the concept was the same, if the dog could be made to understand what was asked of him. And Patricus knew this game already. Celeste had told Rayn they played hide-and-seek with Patricus at home.

“Patricus,” said Rayn, suddenly excited but trying to keep his voice calm. “Where's Celeste? Find Celeste.”

Patricus's ears flew up. He gave a happy bark and bounded about the garden, sniffing wildly, looking everywhere.

Rayn's spirits fell as he watched. The dog thought they were playing hide-and-seek here in the garden. He didn't understand that this was serious. Patricus wasn't going to find Celeste here. He had to pick up her trail and follow it.

“Here, Patricus,” he called, moving to the footprints below the balcony. He directed the dog to the footprints. Patricus sniffed diligently. Rayn waited until the dog had his fill of the scent and said, “Find Celeste. Go on, find her.”

Patricus left the footprints and went bounding around the garden.

Pox it, he couldn't communicate what he wanted.

Lucien came up beside him. “What are you doing with my dog?”

“I had a crazy thought,” said Rayn. “I thought I could convince him to pick up Celeste's trail for us. But it's not working. He doesn't understand.”

Lucien straightened, his eyes going wide. “Three gods, man, that's a
superb
idea. Even better if you've got a trained tracking dog. Do you?”

Rayn shook his head. “The royal dogs track rabbits and foxes, not people.”

“It'll be up to Patricus, then. Let's keep trying. Surely he'll get the idea if we keep at it. Patricus!”

The dog raced to the emperor and skidded to a halt in front of him.

“Find Celeste,” commanded Lucien.

Patricus bounded away again.

“No,” said Lucien.

Patricus halted in midstride. His ears fell, and he looked sheepishly back at Lucien.

“Here.” Lucien indicated the footprints with his foot. “Here.”

Patricus ran to the footprints, sniffed at them a moment, and looked up at him with cocked ears.

“Find Celeste,” said Lucien.

Patricus lifted a foot, torn between an obvious desire to run around the garden and his understanding that Lucien didn't want him doing that.

Lucien indicated the footprints again. “Find Celeste.”

Patricus returned to the footprints and sniffed. He looked up at Lucien.

“Find Celeste.”

Patricus continued to sniff. He made his way to the walkway and sniffed in one direction, then the other.

“Good boy, Patricus,” said Lucien. “Find Celeste.”

Patricus angled one eye up to Lucien and resumed sniffing. The path leading to the right seemed to interest him more than the one leading to the left. He worked his way along it a good ways. Then he gave a bark and began to lope down the path.