Sorcerer's Moon (15 page)

'Not before you climb that tree,' the lanky prince said. 'Give the tooth to Brother Odos - and come stand on my shoulders.'

* * *

The Sovereign of Blenholme and his most trusted adviser rode side by side along the crumbling dike track of the River Malle below Boarsden Castle. They were accompanied by two knights from the household of their host, Duke Ranwing.

The Didionite nobleman had done his best to dissuade his guests from making the excursion, pointing out that the bridge at Boar Creek had been destroyed and portions of the dike itself washed away by a powerful spring flood. Repairs were still incomplete because so many of the dukedom's ablebodied men had been called to arms against the Salka. Unsaid was the fact that the troops, along with over thirty thousand other warriors of Didion, Cathra, and Tarn, had cooled their heels at a vast encampment near Boarsden for over a moon because no one knew what the invaders were going to do and the leaders could not agree on defensive strategy.

'Surely Your Grace and Earl Marshal Parlian would better enjoy a boar hunt in the marshes,' the duke had urged. 'It would be my honor to accompany you -'

'No thank you, my lord,' Conrig said in a tone that was courteous but brooked no argument. 'I've no stomach for pig-sticking today. My old friend Beorbrook is all the company I need, and you yourself are no doubt occupied with preparations for tomorrow's great reception and betrothal feast. We'll go out by ourselves and view the historic spot.'

'But you must not ride alone, Your Grace,' Ranwing Boarsden protested. 'The dike track is dangerous.'

He would have given them an escort of a dozen knights, but Conrig insisted that only two would be permitted. With one warrior leading the way and the other trailing, and both well beyond earshot, the king and the earl marshal set out to see the spot where the infamous tragedy had taken place so many years earlier.

It was now mid-afternoon on the-day before Conrig's three sons were scheduled to arrive at Boarsden for the betrothal ceremony. The sky was overcast and mist already rose over the marshy bottomlands below the castle's knoll. The air had
turned chilly, although the autumnal equinox was still several days away, and dew hung heavy on the seed-plumes of the reed beds. A few small flocks of buntings and ducks took wing as the horses passed by. Out on the wide River Malle, covered barges laden with corn, the stoutly built flatboats of fur-traders, and narrow rafts of timber were being guided downstream to the populous valley settlements and the shipbuilding cities of Didion Bay.

'See over there, sire,' Beorbrook said, pointing ahead, 'where the rivercraft have pulled up along the opposite shore? That's where the great whirlpool lies. Boats and rafts must go carefully around it, then negotiate the long stretch of rapids below, one at a time.'

Conrig guided his mount across a rock-strewn cut. 'The track is in better shape than I thought it would be from the duke's warning. I think he had other reasons for not wanting us to ride out here.'

'He knows you'll want to talk about the disaster when you return, and King Somarus won't like that. The topic is an uncomfortable one to the king and his family - most especially now that the young Pretender has declared herself.'

'Ah, yes, Casya the Wold Wraith! We'll have to send someone capable to check her out. Or at least try to. Somarus's intelligencers haven't had any luck locating the wench's boltholes. I've heard that some searchers who went into the Great Wold after her never came out again.'

'It's wild country,' Beorbrook admitted. 'Parts of it are said to be even worse than the morass, with impenetrable scrub in areas once burnt over by wildfire, as well as treacherous sucking bogs.'

'Do you think there could be any validity to the girl's claim to Didion's throne, Parli?'

The earl marshal shrugged. He was a stocky, still powerful man of nine-and-sixty years, with hair and beard gone
snow-white while his brows remained black, giving startling emphasis to eyes that glittered like blue glacier ice. 'The body of the infant princess was never found. Of course, neither were those of over half the victims of the attack on the river, including King Honigalus and Queen Bryse. The Salka monsters devoured them flesh and bone. The two little princes drowned, poor lads, but their bodies came down the rapids almost unscathed. There have been whispers about Princess Casabarela's survival for years. The Vandragora clan - the late Queen Bryse's people - would unite in a heartbeat with the great timberlords and certain discontented barons to pull down Somarus if this Casya Pretender looked at all legitimate.'

They rode in thoughtful silence for a few minutes. Then the Boarsden household knight ahead of them reined in, turned his horse to face the river, and removed his plumed hat.

Conrig urged his own mount forward and came up beside the man, who only pointed wordlessly to the broad expanse of water. In a moment, they were joined by the earl marshal and the knight who had been riding in the rear of the party.

'Where did the Salka ambush the royal barge, Sir Vargus?' the Sovereign asked.

The first knight lifted his head, which had been bowed in prayer. He was balding and jug-eared, with rugged features, at least two decades older than his companion. 'Just upstream of the great eddy, Your Grace. The action was very cleverly planned. The oarsmen of the royal barge were weary after having come upstream through the rapids, but they easily avoided the vortex by keeping to the far shore. When the boat returned to midstream and the approach to the castle, the monsters rose up out of the water, smashed the oars and rudder, and began swarming aboard. The royal barge drifted helplessly in the current and was sucked down into the whorl
and smashed to bits. Nearly a hundred souls perished besides the royal family of Didion, including an aunt of my own who was a lady-in-waiting to the queen.'

'What a hideous tragedy,' Conrig said. 'And there were no survivors?'

Sir Vargus hesitated, whereupon the other knight, a thin, hard-faced young man whose name was Gansing, exclaimed, 'No one at all! And those who say otherwise are liars.'

Parlian Beorbrook interposed smoothly, 'It's been long rumored in Cathra that the Salka were incited to commit this heinous crime. A human sorcerer, Beynor of Moss, who was once Conjure-King, is said to have sought revenge against the royal family of Didion for some alleged insult.'

'I've heard the rumor,' Sir Gansing said. 'The best-informed persons at our court think it ridiculous. It's well known that the Salka despise all human beings. Why should they have done the bidding of Beynor? The notion is laughable.'

Sir Vargus stared out at the river and spoke in a voice full of suppressed tension. 'Those of us from the Firedrake country think otherwise. When Archwizard Fring Bulegosset was on his deathbed in Thornmont Town, he confessed that Beynor had admitted responsibility for the atrocity in a wind-spoken conversation with him. Fring also said that certain other persons of high rank knew that the attack would occur and did nothing to warn the king and queen.'

'Codswallop!' Gansing scoffed. "Treasonous drivel! You should know better than to talk of such rubbish to the Sovereign.'

'Did this dying wizard name the other conspirators?' Conrig asked Vargus.

The knight's reply was reluctant. 'If he did, no one in Firedrake country will admit to knowing. I myself have no idea who they might have been.'

'Perhaps I can ask King Somarus when we dine tonight,' Conrig said, eyeing the earl marshal obliquely.

'Please don't, Your Grace!' Vargus's face had gone ashen. 'The rumors are very vague, and the tragedy took place many years ago. Our king would be distressed if he were reminded of it on a night when the mood should be one of joyful anticipation.'

'Oh, very well,' the Sovereign said. ‘I suppose it would be bad form to speak of such sad things just before a betrothal. And as you said, Sir Vargus - it happened a long time ago. Let's go back to the castle. I've seen enough here. You and Sir Gansing ride well behind us. I wish to speak privily with the earl marshal. We are well aware of the track's hazards now.'

Both of them trotted off ahead of the Didionites. After a while, Conrig slowed and let Beorbrook draw up beside him. 'What did you think of the byplay between the knights, Parli?'

'It only confirms what we already know, sire. Didion is split into rival factions that would be at each other's throats - and ours as well - if the Salka threat didn't keep them united.'

'No, there's more,' the king said thoughtfully. 'The ambush on the River Malle was never satisfactorily explained. The Salka monsters hadn't ventured so far inland in centuries, and there was no easy way for them to have known about the annual progress of the royal barge upstream - unless a human confederate told them. Beynor certainly had a hand in the affair. He was exiled to the Dawntide Isles and had the opportunity to arouse the Salka. But revenge on his part seems a weak motive for slaughtering the entire royal family of Didion. There had to be a link with Somarus. He was the one who benefited, and I find it significant that he declared Beynor to be an outlaw after the fall of Moss. But what did
Beynor
hope to gain by killing Honigalus and his wife and children?'

The old general shook his head. 'Power of some kind. We may never know the truth of it unless he resurfaces. If Beynor had hopes of using the Salka to take back Moss from his sister Queen Ullanoth, he miscalculated badly.'

'I never heard the tale of the dying archwizard before,' the king remarked. 'Fascinating - Fring and Beynor and Somarus conspiring together, using the Salka to pull off a stupendous coup.'

'The Archwizard Fring was once a crony of our old nemesis Kilian Blackhorse, you know. And
he
restored his lost fortunes very handsomely when Somarus took Didion's throne.'

'Kilian, that silver-tongued whoreson!' Conrig growled. 'It's a good thing he's kept out of my way during these strategy meetings at Boarsden. I realize he's kept Somarus from flirting with rebellion. Still, I don't think I could control myself if we two were in the same room.'

'As Didion’s Lord Chancellor, Kilian Blackhorse may well show up for the betrothal feast,' Beorbrook said. 'If so, you'll have to swallow your bile and put a cool face on it, sire.'

'Don't tell me how to behave, damn your eyes!'

But Conrig knew that his friend was right, and the knowledge made him sulky. Mulling over Kilian's spectacular treason, he was distracted from thinking further about Beynor and the Salka ambush; and so the Sovereign of Blenholme and Earl Marshal Parlian Beorbrook rode on together without speaking further of that matter.

For over three hundred years, the distinguished Beorbrook family of warriors had held Cathra's most critical frontier castle, which guarded the only reliable route between Cathra cind its northern neighbors. The marshal's two elder sons, both able warriors, had lost their lives in the Edict of Sovereignty massacre, leaving only the third son, Count
Olvan Elktor, in line to inherit Beorbrook Hold and the vital duties that went with it. Though goodhearted and stalwart, Olvan was acknowledged to be too slow of wit to assume the important office held by his father. The earl marshal had been resigned to having the honor pass out of his family upon his death, when the shocking reappearance of Maudrayne Northkeep, along with her son Dyfrig, changed everything.

To the surprise of many, Conrig declared that he would be magnanimous to his divorced Tarnian wife, even though she had accused him of possessing windtalent. The king refused to acknowledge Dyfrig as his son (there was no proof his mother had cohabited with another, but neither was there proof that she had not); but in a great compromise intended to placate the Tarnians while preserving the dynastic status quo, Conrig decreed that whatever Dyfrig's heritage, he would be accepted into the ranks of Cathran royalty, placed third in the line of succession, and styled prince. The boy was to be adopted by Parlian Beorbrook and would inherit the office of Earl Marshal of the Realm if he proved competent.

It was an ingenious bargain that had defused several potentially ugly situations - including the ambitions of Duke Feribor Blackhorse, who was thereby demoted to fourth in the succession. But the bargain was also one that Conrig subsequently came to regret with all his heart and soul.

Prince Dyfrig Beorbrook was now an adult in Cathran law and the apple of his adoptive father's eye, while Conrig's feelings toward the young man were clouded with dark misgivings. He knew well enough that Dyfrig was his own first-born son, conceived while Conrig was still wed to Maudrayne, and the legitimate heir to the throne in spite of the royal divorce. But the king had only found out about the boy's birth four years after marrying Risalla Mallburn of Didion. The twin
sons born to her were already named first and second in the royal succession when Dyfrig's existence became known. To have placed Risalla's sons behind the son of Maudrayne, when Dyfrig's parentage could not be officially verified, would have affronted hotheaded King Somarus beyond all endurance. (He was Risalla's full brother, while his more rational predecessor Honigalus had only been her half-brother.) The compromise placing Dyfrig third in the succession had been intended to strengthen the allegiance of Didion, while still appeasing Maude's uncle, Sernin Donorvale, the powerful High Sealord of Tarn.

In recent years, as Dyfrig matured into a young man of conspicuous intelligence and courage, Conrig became all too aware that certain influential persons in both Cathra and Tarn considered Beorbrook's adopted son to be a much better candidate for the Iron Crown of Sovereignty than either Orrion or Corodon: the Prince Heritor was thought to be worthy but colorless, while his younger twin was a harebrained roisterer. The earl marshal's loyalty to the Sovereign was absolute and he swore that he had inculcated Dyfrig with the selfsame virtue. However, Beorbrook was an old man, with no aspirations other than service to his liege. The king brooded about what would happen when his faithful friend died and young Dyfrig became the principal military leader of Cathra, second only to the Sovereign himself.