The Queen's Poisoner (The Kingfountain Series Book 1) (11 page)

Too many people are frightened. They want youth to last. They complain bitterly if sickness comes. But the world is always in tumult, and fortunes rise and fall and fail. It is the ambitious who accomplish things. It takes courage to be ambitious, for never was anything great achieved without risk. I wish to become the head of the Espion. There—I’ve written it down. A goal not written down is merely a wish.

—Dominic Mancini, Espion of the Palace Kitchen

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Fountain

Ankarette was so quiet, so subdued, that Owen was not as frightened of her as he was of most strangers. But he was not quite sure if being a poisoner wasn’t worse than being a ghost.

“Do you have any questions?” she asked him softly.

“What is a poisoner?”

She seemed to have anticipated the question, and it did not trouble her. “Every prince in every realm has enemies, Owen. These enemies try to take away his crown. Being a prince is very dangerous business, you know.” She paused. “A poisoner’s job is to protect the ruler from his enemies. Sometimes there are dangerous men who need to be stopped. I know how to mix potions that can make someone very sick. Sometimes that is enough to stop the danger. Sometimes, I must make a potion that kills.” She glanced down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t like doing that, but sometimes it must be done.” Her voice was so soft and sad.

“You said you were the
queen’s
poisoner,” Owen said. “You mean the queen at Our Lady?”

“Yes.”

“Do you live in the sanctuary then?”

“No, I live here in the palace.” She pointed through the upper window to the spark in the knife-blade tower. “Up there, in that tower.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “I thought that’s where the king lived!”

She smiled again. “No. His back is crooked. It would be too difficult for him to climb the steps every day.”

She sat quietly, patiently, looking at him and waiting for more questions.

“Why don’t you serve the new king?” he asked. “I’m glad the queen sent you to help me, but she isn’t the queen anymore.”

“That’s a very good question, Owen. I will try to explain so you can understand. When King Eredur died, I was not here. He had sent me on a secret mission to another kingdom. Some terrible things happened while I was gone, and the king’s brother claimed the throne. He knew
about
me, but he did not know who I was. I was very loyal to his brother, not to him, you see. He sent men to try and kill me. But I killed them instead.” She paused, looking down at her hands. “He does not like me very much.”

Owen looked at her gloved hands and then at the brooch at her throat. “Does he think you are going to poison him?” he asked. He remembered that the king ate only from dishes that had already been sampled by others.

She gave him that little smile again. “You are very smart. For one so young. Yes, he
is
afraid I’m going to poison him. But I would never hurt children to stop him. You never need fear that, Owen. I only hurt dangerous men. You went to the queen for help. And so she asked me to help you.”

“But you can’t help me,” he said, shaking his head. “If I leave Kingfountain, my parents will be killed. I must stay here.”

She nodded encouragingly. “You’re right. You must stay here for now. But I have been giving this some thought. I’m very good at thinking, Owen—a poisoner must be, for a single mistake can be deadly. I’m going to be honest with you, and I hope you will be honest with me in return. Your parents may die. If I can stop that from happening, I will. But the king does not trust them and he will test their loyalty. But know this, Owen. They did not abandon you. It was a difficult choice for them, but they did their best to protect their whole family. Including you. They thought you would be the safest at the palace if I were still here to care for you. And I will do everything within my power to help you. You see . . .” Her words halted, her voice becoming thick. She reached out and smoothed his hair, just as his mother used to do.

“I miss
Maman
,” Owen sighed softly. Her shoulder looked soft.

“And I am certain she misses you terribly, Owen,” she whispered. She reached up her gloved hand and dabbed it against the tip of his nose. “You are a darling little boy, Owen. So young. The king is wrong to keep you away from your parents.”

Owen was getting tired, and he leaned against her arm, resting his head against her shoulder. “Can you really help me?” he asked hopefully.

She put her arm around him. “I think so, Owen. I’m working on a plan.”

“Really?”

“Just the beginnings of one.”

“Will you tell me?” he begged.

Hugging his shoulders, she planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Not yet. I have some ideas, but I need to ponder them more. Thoughts have a way of growing. If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish surprising things.”

“Truly?”

“Truly, Owen. Most people suffer from a lack of imagination. They don’t
dare
enough. But I do. I helped Eredur become king. Both times.” She nudged his arm. “The reason most people don’t arrive at a destination is they never embark. They think of all the reasons why they
can’t
do it, so they don’t even try.”

“I
thought
I could escape,” Owen said dejectedly. “I went to the sanctuary, but the king . . . he tricked me into coming out.”

He heard a silvery laugh at that. “Oh yes, he did indeed! The king is
Fountain-blessed
, Owen. Do you know what that is?”

He scrunched up his nose in surprise. “He
is
? I’ve never met one before, but in the stories they are like heroes. The king . . . isn’t like that.”

She hugged him again, as if she were very much enjoying sitting next to him. “Not exactly, Owen. You know how every baby is taken to a sanctuary so the deconeus can bathe his head with fountain water? That’s called the water rite. It marks a
hope
that the child will be Fountain-blessed. But very few are. Only one child in a thousand is Fountain-blessed.”

He turned and looked at her, gazing up at her pretty face. “I heard Monah talking about it. She said a man who made bread was Fountain-blessed.”

“From Pisan, yes. I heard about him. I know you’ve heard some of this before, but it will be easier to explain if I start at the beginning. Let me tell you about the true nature of the Fountain. The Fountain is all around us. It’s like a rushing of waters that you can feel but not hear. Have you ever lay down and shut your eyes and felt like you were . . . drifting?”

Owen nodded energetically.

“When someone is Fountain-blessed, they can gather the energy of the Fountain. Like filling a cup with water. Then they can use that power to do something. Something amazing! King Severn’s power is in his voice. When he uses the magic of the Fountain, when he speaks to you and touches you, he can make you believe what he is saying is true. But as I said, everyone who is Fountain-blessed needs to somehow draw in the magic. The king has an unusual way of filling his cup. Have you noticed it?”

Owen stared at her in surprise and tilted his head. “Is it his dagger? He’s always slamming it.”

Ankarette smiled fondly. “No . . . that’s just a nervous habit. He’s restless. Think about his words. He has power with his words.”

Owen frowned, deep in thought. “He’s always angry, except with the princess.”

“I told you that you were clever.” She brought her hands together under her chin. “There is power in words, Owen. So much power. When you tell your mother you love her, it makes her feel warm and happy. If you tell her that you
hate
her,” her voice became darker, crueler, as one of her hands reached away from her mouth and tapped his chest. “That carries hurt.”

Her voice softened again and she settled her hands in her lap. “The king gains his power through insulting others. You cannot be in a room with him without experiencing it. That is how he draws in the Fountain’s magic. Every insult, every cutting word, adds a drop to his cup. When it is full, he can use the magic of the Fountain against someone. An individual. And they will believe whatever he says, no matter how outlandish. He did not always realize he was Fountain-blessed. I think he discovered it almost by accident. Once he knew it, he began to use it to make himself king. I warned his brother about it, but he would not listen to me. He thought his brother was loyal.”

Owen looked at her curiously. “He doesn’t insult Princess Elyse.”

Ankarette nodded. “You are right. And observant. I need some time to work out my plan, but if you would like, I will come visit you tomorrow and we can talk again.” She paused before continuing. “I’ve been watching over you since you arrived, Owen. I like playing with your tiles
too. Now, you should be abed by this hour.” She mussed up his hair again,
then her fingers slowed and gently played with some of the feathery tufts.

“How do you know so much about it? About what it feels like? Are you . . . are you Fountain-blessed, Ankarette?” he asked.

She kept her eyes on his hair and then nodded once. “That is another reason the king wants to kill me,” she said. “Why don’t you head to bed?”

“You are going back to the tower?” he asked.

She nodded with a sad smile. “I must stay hidden during the day,” she said. “I do much of my work at night when everyone is asleep.”

“Can I see your tower?” he asked, grabbing her hands and squeezing them.

“Of course,” she agreed. “If you promise to tell no one how to get up there.”

“I promise!”

She patted his cheek tenderly. “There are secret passages throughout the palace,” she confided conspiratorially. “I can show you all of them. Would you like that, Owen?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly, enjoying her warmth. It had been so long since he had hugged anyone.

Ankarette was startled by his sudden show of affection, but she wrapped her arms around him as well and kissed the top of his tangled hair again.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” she promised. “Not as he did the others.”

“Who?” Owen asked, tilting his face up to her.

“His brother’s sons,” she answered gravely, and he could see the sadness in her eyes once more.

There is a precept amongst us in the Espion. We glory in the tales of our exploits, of our manipulations. We especially love to trick each other. You see, it is double pleasure to deceive the deceiver.

—Dominic Mancini, Espion of the Palace Kitchen