Secrets of the Night Special Edition (46 page)

Leaving the king's presence a short time later, he congratulated himself on his appointment as palace steward, certain he could meet the challenge but regretting the circumstances that had created the position. How he missed Fergus Morrigan, a friend for so many years.

Ideas and plans dominated his mind, ways in which he could aid the king in his new employment, but more important, ways he could garner evidence against Balor. First, however, he must return to his room in the officers' housing and clean out his quarters. Whenever possible, he intended to familiarize himself with the primary rooms in the two-hundred-and-five room palace and the dungeon below. Seldom used under Tencien, the dungeon might take on a new life if Balor--Goddess forbid!--became ruler.

A growing suspicion breached his thoughts. Had Fergus's death been an accident, as everyone thought? If not, was his murder connected to the plot against the king? Who would benefit from both? No matter how demanding his new status proved to be, he'd investigate these questions and find answers.

About to go downstairs, he heard footsteps on the flagstone floor and turned to see Princess Keriam approach, her steps quick and purposeful, her dress fluttering around her ankles. A look of pleased surprise captured her face, quickly transmuted to an expression of studied nonchalance.

Bracing himself against an onslaught of fierce emotion, he stopped by a wooden bench. How lovely she looked, a woman any man would desire. Yet, thoughts of his wife intervened. He cleared his throat. “Princess Keriam, if you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you."

"And I’ve wanted to speak with you. Let us go somewhere private." She motioned for him to follow her along the hallway. Several steps behind her, he noted her firm buttocks, her upright posture, the flow of her dark hair down her back. They passed several stone statues of gods and goddesses, the most majestic one being of Talmora, the earth-mother Goddess. The Goddess looked confident and serene, an iron spear enclosed in her right hand, The Book of Laws in her left.

They reached a small antechamber adjoining her bedchamber, both rooms part of her spacious apartment. After closing the door, she gestured toward a chair and took one opposite.

The sun was sinking below the eastern horizon, and the brass oil lamp on her desk glowed in the fading light, casting a mellow tinge to the room.

“Please close the door and sit down,” the princess said. In her pale blue linen dress–beautiful in its simplicity–her long dark hair flowing down her back, she looked quite regal, every inch a royal queen. Her dangling silver earrings swung with each movement, catching the lamplight. A sweet-spicy scent clung to her, a fragrance vaguely familiar, redolent of country gardens. He admired her hand movements as she rearranged papers on her desk, those long, supple fingers, the purple ring flashing on her right ring finger. With her ivory skin, dark blue eyes, and rosy lips, she was pleasing to look at, a balm to his troubled mind and a temptation he must defeat.

A hodgepodge of books, papers, and knickknacks cluttered her desk, a disarray at odds with her neat, concise manner. A small statue of Talmora adorned an oaken table.

He settled into the chair, giving her an expectant look.

“I need someone to spy on Balor,” she said without preamble.

Shock tightened his stomach. “How do you know about him?”
Delbraith, no doubt.
“If I may ask.”

“Someone warned me about the general.”

“And you’re wondering why I didn’t tell you when I found you outside the library in Moytura.” He changed his position and crossed his legs, increasingly aware of the dangerous game he played.

“Yes, I have wondered.”

“Madam, I wanted to wait until I had more names, so we could move against all the conspirators at the same time. I wasn’t withholding information for any devious reason. It seemed safer this way.”

“I understand. In any event, I need someone to discover who visits him and whom he visits. Do you know of any officers or men we can trust to do this?”

I’m ahead of you, he wanted to say, having already considered several likely candidates, spies he could rely on. “Madam, there are a few officers I trust, men I’ve been close to for many years.” He tapped his fingers on his thigh. “I’ll speak to them in the coming days, as soon as possible.”

“Them?” She flipped her long hair over her shoulders, sending her earrings swinging again.

“We’ll need at least four men; five would be better. The ones I have in mind are quite skilled in espionage. They’ve spied for the king, truth to tell. I suggest they spy not only on Balor, but also on those he contacts.” If that’s possible, he thought, well aware of what a cunning person Balor was. Things did not always work out the way you expected, a lesson he’d learned long ago.

“Very well. And another thing–surely you are aware of Aradia, her close relationship with the general. I fear very much those two have formed an alliance.”

“Madam, I share your concern.” Aradia was nothing but trouble. He’d seen evidence of her troublemaking already in the short time since she’d arrived at the palace. “We must rid the
palace
of
Fergus
’s widow. I suggest you send her back to her family.”

“I intend to.” She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. "I strongly suspect she had a hand in Fergus's death."

"Do you have proof?"

"No proof, only suspicion. But I will do everything I can to find proof. Now the other men involved in this plot–you refuse to tell me their names–“ She held up a hand–“and I understand your reasons. But would any of them act on their own, without Balor’s direction to . . . to get rid of the king?”

“I doubt that very much, Princess Keriam. Balor holds a tight rein. He and he alone heads the plot.” He paused, marshaling his thoughts. “I do know of two wealthy merchants the general has contacted. But Balor doesn’t know that one of them is on our side.”

“Thank the Goddess!”

Roric nodded. “He hates Balor as much as you and I do. In return for their financial support, the general has promised them important positions in the government he intends to form with . . . your father’s demise. Of course, the other one loyal to Balor will deny knowledge of the plot. I agree that spying on the general will yield the most favorable results, for now.” He leaned forward, his hands clenched between his knees. “We must have evidence. Sooner or later, the spies should find incriminating information we can use.”

“Let us pray so.”

Before it’s too late.

“Very well, Major Gamal. That will have to do for now.” She hesitated. “But you had something you wished to speak about.”

“If you have time, madam.”

“I do.”

Now that he had the chance to speak, the words stuck in his throat. "That newly-hired woman at the palace--"

"Radegunda?
The witch!
May I ask why you hired her?"

She tilted her head. "But I thought you knew. She's a healer, skilled in herbs and such. She cured His Majesty's backache."

"I fear you are gravely mistaken.” He paused, considering bluntness or subtlety and decided the former was best. “She's a witch."

She flinched, as if he'd struck her. Seeing her frightened expression, he pressed his point. "You know as well as I that magic is forbidden in the kingdom. For her own sake, I beg you, send her away. Do you want her to suffer at the stake?"

"Sir, I fear
you
are mistaken. She has done much good at the palace. Surely she has shown no signs of practicing the evil craft." She gave him a level look. "What makes you think she's a witch?"

"She told me."

Her hands jerked. "When? When did she say this?"

He related saving Radegunda from the thugs. "She admitted to me that she is, indeed, a witch."

"Very well.” She nodded and retrieved a paper from her desk, as if in dismissal. “I shall speak to her."

"That's all, just speak to her?” he asked, every muscle tense. “You must send her away."

"I 'must'?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

“What I mean is, I would want no harm to come to her.” He licked his lips. "I have suffered from witchcraft. A sorceress killed my wife and baby."
Will the heartache ever go away?

"I'm so sorry!" She frowned. "I didn't know you'd been married."

"A long time ago."

Keriam fingered her pearl necklace. "I find it difficult to believe she's an enchantress, with all the good she's done at the palace. I have only your word about her.”

“Talk to Radegunda, then. See what she says, madam. Remember, witchcraft is illegal  in the kingdom. If found guilty, she could be burned at the stake."

"Major, you don't need to instruct me in the law. This much I will do. I will investigate the matter.”

He started to rise, painfully aware he could expect no more for now. Sacred shrine.  Radegunda must leave the palace.

* * *

After Roric left the antechamber, Keriam breathed a long sigh, but puzzlement disturbed her thoughts. Yes, she knew that Radegunda had
andhashelladh
--the second sight--but that didn't make her an enchantress. She wondered why the woman would confess such a thing to Roric Gamal. And what if Roric knew
she
had the second sight, would he consider her a witch? There must be more here than she understood. She'd speak to Radegunda, ensure that the healer woman understood the danger in practicing witchcraft.

She glanced at the statuette of Talmora, and for only a moment, she thought it moved, as if the Goddess wanted to tell her something. Quickly, she dismissed the thought as only a figment of her imagination.

Despite her concerns about Radegunda, she laid a hand on her breast, wondering why Roric’s presence always sent a warm glow through her, a quickening of her heartbeat. Recalling his deep voice, his every gesture, she smiled to herself, each image playing itself again and again in her mind. She shook her head, telling herself she dreamed idle fantasies, wild illusions that had no place in her life, longings that would forever remain unfulfilled.

Tossing aside these futile yearnings, she brought her mind back to her immediate concern–Radegunda.

Later that evening, after the kitchen staff had gone to their quarters and a peaceful quiet had settled over the palace, Keriam found Radegunda in the still room. The healer woman worked at the hearth, where a sweet-smelling concoction bubbled in an iron cauldron over the fire. Pine torches in iron sconces provided dim illumination in the dusky twilight, casting wavy shadows across stone walls that reflected the heat from the hearth and made the room uncomfortably hot.

“Radegunda.”

Next to a long table, the woman spun around, as if caught in a crime; then a cautious smile spread across her face. "Princess Keriam.”

Leaning against the wooden counter opposite, Keriam returned the smile, wanting to put the woman at ease. She must broach the subject of magic with care. "Is everything to your satisfaction here?" Her gaze shifted to the various wooden bowls of petals and herbs that rested on the table where the healer worked. Pleasant herbal fragrances floated through the air. "Do you need anything else?"

"All settled, princess, although I'm used to more light. But I'm not complainin', just makin' a statement." She wiped her woolen apron across her shiny forehead. The flickering candle flames caught her movements, distorting her shadow on the wall. "I make up my lotions, soaps and such every evening. Once in a nineday, my partner, Adsaluta, comes and picks them up to sell at the shop. We share the proceeds."

Keriam nodded, impatient to get to the subject, but in a roundabout way. "Have you always lived in the capital?"

The woman jerked back, knocking over a wooden bowl of rose petals. "N-no, madam.” She brushed the petals back into the bowl while she talked. "I-I lived in a village on the outskirts of Moytura before I came here. M-my house burned to the ground."

"I'm so sorry! How terrible for you!" Keriam sucked in a breath, her gaze scanning the room to ascertain that there were no eavesdroppers. "Radegunda, what are your feelings on magic?"

A guilty look captured the old woman's face. "Magic, madam?"

"Practicing magic.” Keriam folded her arms across her chest.

Radegunda paused, staring down at the floor. She looked up and spoke in a quiet voice. "Madam, I am skilled in the healing arts--"

"Which some may construe as enchantment," Keriam said, "but that doesn't answer my question."

"Princess Keriam, may I ask why you want to know about my-my skills? What makes you think I practice magic?" She bowed her head. "If I may ask."

“One of the king’s officers has spoken to me of your skills.”

"I seen him this morning! I don't know his name--"

"Roric Gamal, the king's steward now, since Fergus Morrigan was . . . uh, died."

"Oh, my," the healer said with a crestfallen look. "Back in my village, he saved me from thugs who was beatin' me. I didn't know he worked for the king. He was wearin' his cloak so I couldn't see no palace emblem." She brushed her hand across her glistening forehead. "An' I guess I was too upset to notice, even if I could see it."