The High King's Tomb (34 page)

“The way to the west is broken,” he said. “There are three towers that have been cut off from us by the breach. I cannot send a message the conventional way.”

“Conventional…the doves?”

“I will seek bridges,” he continued, “and hope I find the right ones. I should have dared this when I was first aware of the breach, when the Deyer first awakened me, but I hoped he could repair it. Now I only hope it’s not too late and the towers have not been sundered from us.” He adjusted the straps of his pack on his shoulders. “Check in now and then to see if I’ve returned, or if any of my colleagues have arrived. If a long time as you reckon it has elapsed, well, we can assume I’ve crossed a bad bridge.”

“Bad…bridge?” Not that Dale expected an explanation.

“Don’t despair,” he said, “I shall be very prudent. No unnecessary risks. Farewell, Rider Littlepage.” And he set off.

“You’re
leaving?
”

He halted and turned back to her, his cloak billowing around him, and she thought she saw in him not the peevish illusion to whom she’d grown accustomed, but a vestige of the great mage of old with unthinkable powers at his disposal. “My dear child, results sometimes command immediate action, no matter the danger that may lay ahead. To not leave could condemn us to even greater peril.”

Dale watched as he strode through the west archway. She kept watching as he trudged through hip-high grasses, becoming smaller and smaller until he vanished against the horizon.

“I
’m sorry, my lady, but His Majesty’s instructions were clear.” The Weapon put his hand on the stall door to block her.

Estora drew herself up. “You must let me go. I command it.”

She could see the discomfort in his face no matter how he tried to conceal it. “I’m sorry, my lady, but we’re responsible for the safety of your person, and His Majesty has not deemed it safe to allow you off castle grounds.”

Only years of training to retain a calm facade prevented Estora from screaming her frustration. She hated feeling so trapped, so…so kept. All she wanted was a ride in the country and a peek at the Eletian encampment. This morning she had dressed in her black riding habit and made for the stables, determined to take a ride no matter what obstacles arose. The ubiquitous Weapon Fastion had dogged her every step and now barred her way. Her hunter was so close, almost within reach.

“What danger is there if you’re with me?”

“I’m sorry, my lady.”

If she heard him say he was sorry one more time, she really would scream. And short of her being able to pick up the man and move him aside, she was not going to gain access to Falan no matter how determined she was. She flexed her riding crop in her hands. If only she were a Green Rider! Then she could ride away from this place and her keepers, but such was not her fate in life.

She turned on her heel and left the stable, the sound of Fastion’s boots close behind. She strode out onto castle grounds. There was only one person who could release her from this prison and she intended to see him
now.
She did not care what he was in the middle of.

She was so intent upon her goal, the skirts of her habit flaring out behind her, that she did not see Amberhill till she was almost upon him. He appeared to be strolling in a casual manner, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the castle heights, or maybe at the leaves twirling down from trees. He was the epitome of an idle noble with no responsibilities to fill his day.

He grinned when he saw her and swept into a low bow. “My lady, you are in a hurry today.”

Yes,
she thought,
and you best not hinder me.
“I’m on my way to see the king.”

“Oh,” he said. “By appearances you look rather ready for a ride.”

She sighed. “That is what I wish to discuss with him. This one—” and she pointed her crop at Fastion “—won’t let me take a simple ride in the country.”

Amberhill barely gave the Weapon any notice. “I see. It is most unfair, though I know Zachary has your best interests in mind.”

“
His
best interests,” Estora muttered.

Amberhill rubbed his chin. “Yes, I can see how the restriction chafes at you. Perhaps I can put in a good word on your behalf?”

His words calmed her. She had no idea if this young noble had any influence with his cousin, but she appreciated the offer of help and wasn’t about to turn down an ally.

“Would you care to accompany me?” she asked.

He bowed again and offered her his arm. “It would be my honor.”

He kept her laughing all the way across the castle grounds and into the castle itself and she almost forgot her troubles. A page informed her she would find Zachary in his new study in the west wing. By the time they reached his door, her mood had altered favorably, but now she must face Zachary.

“I wish to see the king,” she told the Weapon at the door.

He bowed, “I’m sorry, my lady, but he’s meeting with—”

“I am very tired of hearing ‘I’m sorry, my lady,’” she said.

“But—”

Bolstering her resolve with a deep breath, she reached past the Weapon, knocked on the door, and admitted herself without waiting for permission to enter. Zachary and his counselors stared and met her with flabbergasted silence. Colin Dovekey was first to respond and rose from his chair with a bow, followed by Captain Mapstone and Castellan Sperren.

“My lady,” Zachary said. “And Xandis?”

Amberhill swooped into a bow, a roguish smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” said the Weapon at the door. “I tried to—”

“It’s all right, Willis. Carry on.”

“Yes, sire.”

Willis and Fastion withdrew into the corridor, closing the door behind them. Zachary sat on the edge of his desk, waiting expectantly for Estora to speak. She glanced around, trying to collect her thoughts, her resolve turning to embarrassment. The chamber was barren but for the necessary furniture. Zachary’s possessions from his old study had not yet been unpacked.

“What is it, my lady?”

He asked politely enough and she could not read whether or not he was annoyed by her intrusion. Her gaze darted to his counselors, her determination flagging even more in front of this audience. She supposed she ought to get used to this trio, for they were his closest advisors, and if they were a part of his life, they were to be a part of hers as well.

She cleared her throat. “I wish to go for a ride into the country,” she said. “I need off castle grounds or—or I shall go mad.”

Zachary nodded slowly. “Yes, and as you understand from our previous conversation, we are as yet unsure of what threat, if any, our Eletian visitors pose. I do not wish to place you at risk.”

“If I may intercede,” Amberhill said, placing his hand over his heart, “the Eletians have been here a while and have not proven aggressive toward you or your people. They are carefully watched by your soldiers, and my lady is well guarded by your Weapons. It seems unfair to stifle the lady’s desire to ride into the countryside that she will soon be ruling jointly with you. What will the people think if they perceive her to be hiding in the castle?”

A silent hurrah rose up within Estora, for Amberhill stated what was in her heart and she found herself grateful for his presence and persuasive voice. His was a logical argument, as opposed to the emotional one she was sure to have used. He made her plight sound not a trivial complaint, but a matter of importance to the welfare of their country.

Their audience followed the exchange with interest, especially Captain Mapstone who, with a smile on the edges her mouth, appeared amused by the situation Zachary now found himself in, and maybe not displeased that Estora chose to assert herself.

Zachary shifted against his desk. “Lady Estora is our future queen and her safety is not to be taken lightly.”

“If it would ease your mind, assign her additional guards, and I will personally vouch for her safety and accompany her.” Amberhill bowed again.

“I will think on it,” Zachary said. He was not pleased, but he also sounded like he had run out of arguments. “I’ll have an answer for you in the morning.”

It was clearly a dismissal, and when Estora and Amberhill stepped into the corridor and the study door was shut after them, Amberhill said, “Be ready in the morning, my lady, for if I read my cousin right, we shall be cleared for a long day’s ride in the countryside.”

He sounded as eager as she felt.

A
mberhill took his leave of Lady Estora as swiftly as courtesy permitted. He must head down into the city and warn Morry of what was afoot. Then Morry must make contact with the plainshield. Plans and possibilities engulfed his thoughts as he strode through the castle corridors. This was the opening the Raven Mask had been waiting for.

In the morning, Amberhill walked to the stables attired in riding breeches, snug where it counted, his supple black boots unrolled to his thighs. He wore one of his better longcoats of rich blue velvet with matching gloves. Underneath was his canary waistcoat and a new linen shirt with a black silk stock. His hair was tightly drawn back with a black ribbon that blended into his hair. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his rapier.

He knew very well what effect the ensemble had on women. He knew how their gazes followed him, lingered on him, young and old, poor and rich. Some men would regard him as foppish, dismiss him as less than manly or incapable of using a sword. He preferred they underestimate him.

When he arrived at the stables that housed the horses of the nobility, including his own steed, he was not surprised to find numerous other courtiers milling in the stable yard, mostly ladies, including Lady Estora’s sisters. Word of her ride into the country must have spread quickly through the noble wing. Once the word was out, it would have been impossible for her to leave castle grounds without an entourage, whether she desired one or not. Nobles rarely traveled alone, and for someone of Estora’s rank to travel without an entourage would have been shocking.

In addition to all the courtiers, he picked out six Weapons and six cavalry officers who were Lady Estora’s guards for the excursion.

Interesting.

Some were mounted and others sipped tea and brandy while awaiting grooms to bring out their horses. Lady Estora sat sidesaddle atop her mare, the skirts of her habit splayed across her horse’s flank. Black was a harsh color on her, but he did not disapprove. The cut of Estora’s habit and surcoat had a military style to it, like that of many of the other ladies, but hers was filled out with enough brocade and frills to make it eminently feminine. Her golden hair was tucked and pinned under a hat that was decorated with long trailing pheasant feathers.

While his stallion, Goss, was readied, Amberhill made the rounds, greeting the assembled, making matrons blush and Estora’s sisters, both younger, giggle. The girls were pretty, but not of the same rare beauty as their elder sister. One still retained the roundness of prepubescence.

He counted fifteen additional nobles, accompanied by almost as many servants. Not a huge party, for which he was glad, but enough to permit confusion. Zachary, thank the gods, had not joined them.

Horses stamped and shook their manes and steam rose from their nostrils. It was a cold morning with a hard frost, but good riding weather. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.

A groom led Goss out to Amberhill and the stallion’s dark bay coat shone in the morning light. He mounted and soon the company rode off castle grounds, hooves clattering over the bridge at the gates, and onto the Winding Way. Three Weapons ranged ahead while the other three dropped behind to guard from the rear. The cavalry officers were more intent upon looking handsome in their uniforms and flirting with the ladies than performing guard duty. Lady Estora rode at the head of the nobles, conversing with Lady Miranda, and clearly enjoying herself. Last of all trailed the servants.

Amberhill stayed near Lady Estora, keeping watch on her. Townsfolk gathered to observe the company ride by, and to gaze upon the one who was to be their queen. She waved and smiled to them, and her greetings were returned with enthusiasm, and, it appeared, gratitude. Amberhill suspected she was going to make a popular queen.

When the party rode through the main city gates and emerged before the Eletian encampment, Lady Estora reined her horse to a halt. The colorful tents billowed in the breeze, their colors intense beneath the sun. As was usual, there was no sign of the Eletians astir in their camp, but if this disappointed Lady Estora, he could not tell. She just seemed glad to be free of the castle grounds, her features less taut, happier.

He edged Goss up beside her. “What do you make of it, my lady?” he asked.

“Eletian,” she said. Then she laughed.

“Truly,” and he couldn’t help but smile. “Do you have a particular course in mind for today?”

She laughed again and it made him think of the joyful girl she must have been before the world began to press its problems on her. “I did not think beyond this point.”

Those nearby who overheard began suggesting their favorite rides. Most were easy courses over rolling farmland, and well-traveled.

“I’ve another in mind,” Amberhill said, “perhaps a little more challenging, a little wilder, through the woods west of here. It is a trail most often used by hunters and woodsmen, but clear enough for those mounted. I daresay there will be logs to jump and streams to ford.”

Lady Estora looked uncertain, so he added, “There is a fine lake by which we may picnic. We are apt to see moose there, and waterfowl.”

“Oh, I know that place,” said Lord Henley. “It is as our Amberhill suggests, more challenging, but exhilarating. Most enjoyable.”

“Let us try it then,” she said. “I will not be put off by a little challenge, and today is all about different scenery.”

Amberhill fought to conceal his relief. If she had ignored his suggestion and taken some other route, it would have complicated his plans. He gestured down the road. “This is the way, my lady.” He reined Goss onto the Kingway and headed west.

Fields became apple groves, a sweet scent arising from fallen apples pulverized beneath hooves. Soon the apple groves turned to overgrown meadows with trees still clutching onto brightly hued leaves, and finally they entered the darker, more primal forest, all sounds subdued and the ground soft with pine needles and moss.

They had galloped and cantered over open land, jumped hedges and old stone fences, laughing and scattering birds and a fox from the fields before them. But now in the forest they quieted for a time, absorbing the feel and woodsy smell. Now and then a hoof clacked on a rock or a horse snorted.