The Singer's Crown (11 page)

Kattanan let out a short, bitter laugh. “That is still true, Highness.”

Silence fell between them. Finally the prince said, “Be that as it may, you have my thanks, and what protection I can give you shall be yours. At least do not deny my gratitude.”

“YE'RE BOTH
looking like a splash of mead would be welcome,” Rolf observed. He fetched a small keg from the table and three fine goblets. He poured them each a cup.

Kattanan held his goblet awkwardly and sipped at the contents.

Rolf watched the singer's injured hands. “Curse that Faedre! She riled the king.”

“I think she riles everyone,” Kattanan said.

“All she did was report what Melisande thinks happened between us. My father hears all things about me with disapproval. Why doesn't he just call Melisande his heir and have done?” The prince took a deep draught of his mead.

There was a rap at the door. “Come, Thomas,” the prince called, and the page entered.

“Somebody's here, Your Highness, but not the same one.”

“Who is it?”

“I don't know. He said a friend.”

“You didn't ask him, did you?” Wolfram leaned forward, and sighed in relief when the boy shook his head. “Good. Tell him to wait just a moment. I'll open the door when I'm ready.”

Thomas gave a little bow and exited.

“Your guest is a wizard?” Rolf abruptly set down his drink.

“The man I expected is as trustworthy as a wizard can be; he has been looking into my father's ailment. It seems my man could not come and has sent me a stranger. I would not mind having witnesses to our talk, but best if you both remain silent.” He rose and walked toward the door. “Especially ask no questions.”

The visitor was a heap of a man with a wide, grinning face. His robe was long and full, sleeves dragging along the ground folded back to reveal a rich undertunic. Despite his girth, he swept into a bow and straightened again, still grinning.

“I do not know you,” Wolfram observed.

“Oh, need we stand on protocol?” The man's voice was a purr, his gaze meandering around the room. “After all, I am sent by our mutual friend to fulfill his duty in his absence.”

“There is a place for protocol, especially in the lives of kings. Tell me how you are called.” The last had an edge to it, accented by the prince's raised eyebrow.

“Ritual greeting, even, good prince.” The other shook his head. “Very well, I am the Wizard of the Broken Shell.”

“An enigmatic name, unlike the Wizard of Long Valley, whom I had expected.”

“An inquiry without a question; I can see you have played this game before. My name refers to turtles. But I shall dispense with vagaries and give you the news you seek. My associate of the drab name has succumbed to temptation. May I be seated?”

The prince gestured him to a seat and resumed his own. “And so he sent you in his stead, while he pursues this temptation.”

“Oh, no, I volunteered. I had a yen to see the palace and yourself; I have heard so much about you.” The grin grew a little more broad.

“If you continue to bait me to questions, you shall not see either for any length of time.”

The wizard sighed, leaning back. “Not one question for me, Prince? I would not take undue advantage.” He wafted one hand through the air. “If you wish to play with caution, so be it. I suppose I must submit myself to your rules, but won't you at least introduce your friends?”

Wolfram pointed to Rolf with a smirk. “This is my friend of the ready blade, and this is my friend of the quiet stare.”

Laughing, the wizard eyed the pair. “Both well named, and this one quite pretty also.” He turned his merry walnut eyes to Kattanan. “Have you a voice to match your looks?”

“He has a voice to match the king's, and no less. Tell me what you came for.”

“Yes, the Wizard of Nine Stars, was it not? It was foolish to allow the name to be known without being commanded to it, but, of all of us, the Nine Stars can afford to be foolish.”

“You know him.”

“I would not put it in those terms; you see, one special skill of this wizard is with illusion. He may project himself in any fashion, male or female, tall, stout, old, or young. He is most often seen as an old man, bent, with foul teeth, surrounded by crackling air. I have been told this is what you expect of a wizard.” The man settled into his role with a gleaming eye. “Many of my brethren would trade their very souls to master only that talent of all this wizard possesses. Illusion may be applied to great effect on oneself with no questions asked.”

“If his power is so great, it is strange I have not heard much of this man's works.”

“I have myself heard only rumors, and often from those who heard them from others.”

“I fail to see how an illusion could have so afflicted my father.”

“As do I. Is there no way I might examine him?”

“He would never allow it. He does not see strangers these days.”

“Then tell me how he suffers. What are the symptoms?”

“He is in command of his mind, but his body is racked with pains and spasms. His breathing is unsteady, and his hands shake even at the best of times.”

“But the condition varies? He does not merely worsen every day, but is better on some, then worse again?”

“Yes, and with no cause that we can find.”

“It does not sound like magic as I know it.” The wizard lost his grin. “Nor is it the style Nine Stars is said to favor. Were there no mention of such a wizard, I would have said poison or mere old age. But then, he is not so very old, is he. You are quite sure of his story?”

“It was confirmed by those who rode with him.”

“Assuming”—he held this word a long moment—“assuming there is magic involved, I think it doubtful that the wizard would be operating on his own. He was most likely hired to perform the task.” The wizard suddenly focused on the prince. “You are the one with the most to gain by the king's illness or death, it would appear.”

Kattanan shot a look at the prince, and Rolf twitched his sword halfway from the scabbard. “Give me another reason, wizard, and ye will meet my ready sword.”

But Wolfram laughed and shook his head. “It would seem so, I suppose, to anyone who covets power. For myself, I would prefer honor or love or any one of a number of things over the fear this crown earns me. To you it is a shining prize, to me, a small prison.”

“Perhaps so, but assuredly a comfortable one. I do not mean to offend, only to point out what I see; you are the heir, after all, and you would do well to consider who else would gain from this. Also, any wizard worth the name holds enough power to kill, not just to inflict some lingering sickness. What can be the purpose?” he drawled.

Wolfram looked a little startled by this thought. “I take it you have an idea.”

“In fact, Your Highness, I have none.” The man spread his hands wide. “Who could possibly want your father sick, but not dead; you in power, but only tenuously? Has there been anything unusual going on?”

“Nothing that seems relevant,” Wolfram answered

“My dear Prince, to believe this plot, if such it is, was hatched just since the king's illness is naive and laughable. Whoever it was must have been setting the stage long before.”

Kattanan jerked upright, eyes wide, remembering the temple. All eyes were upon him again, and Wolfram spread a questioning palm.

The wizard drew his glance from the one to the other. “Perhaps you and your friends have things to discuss.”

“Perhaps we do,” the prince agreed, “but they shall wait a few moments, I trust.” He did not take his eyes from Kattanan. “This Nine Stars must be a difficult man to find.”

“Impossible, unless you are the Liren-sha and can dispel all magic.”

“Then there is just one further point, Wizard of the Broken Shell. He of the Long Valley owed me a favor, and so was beholden to help me, but I do not know why you would do so.”

“Let me say that the Nine Stars is no friend of mine. If I could hire the Liren-sha to find and kill him, I would do that, for I must admit myself at a loss to dispatch him otherwise.”

“You speak of the Wizard's Bane as if he were more than mere legend.”

“Legend? Oh, no, Prince, he is as real as you or me, and deadlier than both of us together. Half of us wizards will tell you he is myth, or dead; some will tell you he is spawn of the time before the Goddess; and some will do all they can to search him out.” He let this dangle in the air until he was sure no one would ask him why, then tilted his head and explained, “They think they are immortal or immune. My brother of the Long Valley will not be returning your favor, Highness, for I have heard that he found the Liren-sha and has joined his legend.”

Wolfram met the wizard's eyes. “I am sorry.”

“Tempt not fate, or you will find it quicker than you think.”

“There's nothing further, except to thank you.” Wolfram rose and offered his hand.

The wizard took his hand and smiled. “You are gracious and prudent. I would not mind playing this game with you again. If you find this wizard, let me know. I may not stand against him, but I would be pleased to lend you what support I can.”

“Again, thank you. Walk with the Goddess.”

“And you, Prince,” but he was looking at Kattanan when he said it. Then he was gone.

“He is brimful of secrets and dying t' be asked about it. Good riddance to him!” Rolf said, checking the bar on the door.

Wolfram came to kneel again by Kattanan's chair. “You started; why?”

“I did not think of it before, Your Highness, but as a moment between two angry men.”

“What happened? Which men?”

“Hush, now, Highness, let him catch a breath,” Rolf chided, coming over beside them.

“It was after you denied Squire Montgomery a position here. I went to the temple to bind branches for the baron. Montgomery came in when I was alone and”—he looked away from the softening of the prince's face—“he asked me to leave. Someone else was coming, though, so I hid in the eastern alcove. I did not see the other, and he was not so angry as the squire, except when some comment was made about your sister, then he defended her. Montgomery said all their plans were ruined, the other told him no, that his goal was and always had been to woo the princess, and he was doing well in that. He counseled patience, and spoke vaguely of his plan. I only thought he meant to win the princess's hand, and was a friend of the squire's. Could it be something to do with this, Your Highness?”

“Could it be,” groaned the prince. He sat back on his heels. “How can I tell my sister one of her suitors may be plotting against us? How would that not sound like jealousy to her?”

“The voice, Your Highness,” Kattanan began, the ache in his palms suddenly more fierce. “I did not see him, but I feel sure it was Earl Orie. He said nothing against you or the king—I had no reason to think more of it.”

“There's the dog,” said Rolf suddenly. “He must know how angry ye'd be.”

“The dogs are dead.” Wolfram scrubbed a hand over his face.

“He gave her a new one, the earl did.” Kattanan flinched at the pain that crossed the prince's features. “She's asked us all to keep the secret.” He looked away.

The prince stood and paced to the window. “Does she think so little of me that I would deny her every pleasure?” He turned back, framed by bold light. “Kattanan, you have had a hard day already, and I know this will not make it easier, but I must have your answer. This earl is coming three days hence to pay court to my sister. We must assign a chaperone for their meetings; if you will tell me what you witness, I would have you there. She will expect me to ask in any case.”

The singer looked down at the badge of the princess, the mark of his fealty freshly stitched by her own hand, then he cast his gaze to the prince. Wolfram stood tall, but off-balance, as if about to run. The shadows of his eyes were ever-present. The king's crown sat above his brow, topping a tumble of ash-blond hair, a crown that would be his perhaps sooner than it ought. “If he makes any threat against the royal family or to betray the princess, I will tell you. More than that, I cannot promise.”

Wolfram nodded. “Quite right. Kattanan, you may return to my sister.” He swallowed, and his shoulders slumped. “I would appreciate it if she did not hear what happened in my father's chamber.”

“I will invent an accident, Your Highness,” Kattanan offered, but he thought of other lies, other wounds concealed just so. He made a brief bow and left the room. He looked at his fingers emerging from the bandaged palms; he would make no braids that night.

THE DAY
of Orie's visit dawned with drizzle, which made for an abbreviated walk with Prince and a dim breakfast. Melisande slept a bit later that morning, and went first to bathe, returning in her richest robe, attended by no less than seven ladies.

“I do wish you could do my hair today, Kat.” He frowned a little at this use of his more familiar name, but then she smiled her most brilliant smile, and he returned it. “I want to be perfect when he comes. Isn't he handsome?”

“Wonderful, Highness,” Laura said. “As if we hadn't all said so at least a dozen times.”

“Relax,” Faedre said. “He is only a man, surely not worth all of this worry.”

Melisande's eyes lit on Kattanan. “We have not sung Morning Prayer.”

“As you wish,” he replied, glancing at the ladies arrayed around the princess. Listen, he told himself, looking away from their silks and velvets. He could not yet be sure that Orie's intentions were wrong; he, too, needed to relax. He was a little surprised when Melisande joined in immediately, as if she recognized the moment he found his voice. They sang lower than usual, staggering their breathing so that the song went on. Melisande had eyes only for the singer. “That was the best ever, I think.” She rose to her feet. “Come help me prepare for this man.” Faedre took her hand, and the gathering of ladies swished into her room.

In their wake, Kattanan found himself trembling. He checked his image in the mirror and wondered if he looked like a spy. He put out a hand to steady himself against the mantel.

“What's the matter?” Laura asked, coming up behind him.

“Nothing.”

“You are shaking, Kattanan. The princess is too nervous to notice, but I do.”

He smoothed the gloves that concealed his bandages. “If today goes well, the princess will not be the only one moving to a new castle.”

Laura shrugged. “I'd've thought you'd be used to it.”

“I have always moved away from a master, never with one. I mean, I was a marriage gift several times, but always found myself left behind, or traded off again.”

“Oh, Melisande wouldn't do that.” Laura put a hand on his shoulder. “She enjoys your company too much. I never thought of what this must be like to you. The rest of us are here because we chose to serve, but you have had no choice.”

“That part, I am used to.” The remark rang more bitterly than he had expected, and he pressed his forehead against the mantel, working to master his breathing.

Shaking her head, Laura frowned, but a knock sounded on the outer door before she could respond. Laura backed toward it, still watching Kattanan as if expecting him to run.

“Prince Wolfram invites his sister to join him at court,” Thomas said with practiced care.

“Wait here.” The maid tapped at her mistress's door, and was admitted.

The page shifted from one foot to the other. “You okay, Kat?”

The singer did not look at him. “I'm okay, Tom. Just tired.”

“The prince sent this for you.” Thomas held out a thin figure carved of bone, its shield inscribed with the prince's device. Though Kattanan had seen few of their artifacts, it had the unmistakable style of the Woodmen. Kattanan slipped it into the palm of his glove.

The princess's door opened, and she emerged, surrounded by her ladies. Wearing a gown of deep green, a circlet with a matching stone, and the earl's flower necklace, she smiled warmly. Thomas's mouth formed a little O, and the princess laughed. “Faedre says I am a perfect vision, but I think this thing is giving me a headache.”

She was indeed a vision, glowing, her eyes and voice and face so bright with anticipation.

“Be sure to stand straight, dear,” an elderly matron put in.

“And smile, but not too much,” offered another.

Melisande shuddered. She grabbed her skirts and sprinted from their midst, catching the singer's arm. “Walk with me and protect me from them! Every one of them knows just how I should be, and act and look. You are so lucky you will never have to go through this!”

“Your Highness, it's not proper,” he protested, but she was already moving toward the door with his arm in hers.

“You are the only one of my household who doesn't pick at me or poke me. Besides, I'm the princess—anyone who thinks I am improper may take it up with me, or with my father.”

Despite her bold words, her hand looked pale and delicate on his arm, and the quick glance she shot him was far from confident. “You are beautiful, Your Highness,” he whispered, and saw the flash of a smile before he lowered his gaze.

“But what if he thinks me a child? Or if I do something wrong?” she whispered back urgently. “I can't be just beautiful.”

He thought of the earl's sharp voice in the chapel—but the anger had all been to put Sir in his place, hadn't it? Kattanan put aside his doubts for Melisande's sake. “He has already seen you in your night robe, but he still wanted this meeting, Your Highness, and he gave you something you love.”

She squeezed his arm. “You always know how to make me feel better. I hope he is as good at that as you are.”

“Either way, Highness, I will still be with you.”

She watched the floor for a time, then said, “This afternoon, we will be given time to ourselves, but with a chaperone. Would you stay with me?”

Kattanan stumbled, and caught his balance. “What about one of your ladies?”

“They all have such plans for me, I—it makes me nervous,” she finished quickly.

“I will stay, Your Highness.” He smiled then, and lifted his head. His heart raced, and Melisande's hand felt like a ray of sun that had pierced the ceiling and sought him out.

Thomas trotted ahead to announce the princess as they approached the court. The crowd smelled of cloves and civet. Wolfram had risen to welcome her, but faltered a little as he saw her escort. Kattanan gave a tiny shrug as he passed her hand to the prince with a bow, then moved to his own place. Melisande leaned in to whisper to her brother, who cast another glance at the singer, this time with a smile and a nod.

“I am sure you all know,” Wolfram began, “that my sister has a suitor waiting in the antechamber to call on her.” Cheering greeted this, and the herald had to rap his staff on the floor to regain their attention. “We are all eager to welcome him, so the old business shall have to wait. Have Earl Orie sent in.”

The doors opened, and the earl stepped into the aisle. He wore a dark tunic and a flowing cape that swirled along the floor behind him. His hair was darker than night, his eyes seemed as stars beneath it, matched by his glowing smile. He did kneel this time, not to center, but on the step before the princess. “I had not thought it possible that Your Highness could become even more beautiful. If it please you, may I kiss your hand?”

The delight of the audience sparkled through again, but Kattanan felt a chill. Looking back, he caught sight of Faedre, well off the dais among the ladies. Whatever charm she had seemed dead, arms held rigid, smile prim and set. Even the guards were not watching her.

“It pleases me, good Earl, though my beauty would not be so much without the necklace you wrought for me.” She offered her hand and blushed as her words brought applause from the onlookers. The earl bent his dark head over her hand, taking it gently, and shut his eyes as he placed the softest of kisses just above her wrist—the place of desire. Melisande felt the color rising again to her cheeks. The earl tilted his face then, to look into her eyes as he withdrew.

“You are well come into our court, Orie,” Wolfram said, managing a smile. “We would be delighted if you would join us for supper today.”

“I would be most honored, Your Highness,” the earl replied, only then sweeping his glance from the princess. “After supper, may I walk with your sweet sister in the gardens here, that she might hear my suit?”

“If it pleases her, and I see it does”—he nodded to Melisande—“then, in my father's stead, I grant you the favor you ask, excepting only that you be accompanied by a chaperone.”

“I would accept a dozen, if only I may share her company, Your Highness.”

“So be it, then. You may take a place among our court until that time.”

Orie smiled as he rose. “So long as I may have a clear view of the splendors of your court, Highness.” He bowed low again and took a place cleared for him in the nearest row. Several men clapped him on the back as he sat, and a gesture dismissed his escort.

Kattanan could not keep his mind on the affairs of court, but he had no need, for Melisande seemed inclined simply to exchange glances with the earl and give only half an ear to the matters brought before them. Faedre, now that she was in plain view of the man, seemed to disappear even more, fading in among the ladies. Wolfram alone applied himself to the matters at hand but turned his eyes to the silent conversation that passed between his sister and her suitor. At long last, he declared court at a close and led Melisande toward their refectory, closely followed by the ladies, the earl, and the singer.

“Tell us more about your holdings, Orie,” Wolfram said over the meal.

“Gamel's Grove borders the capital lands to the east, and covers from there to Tirey-on-the-River,” the earl answered. “I was young to take on such a parcel, but the old earl was lost in the same battle where I distinguished myself in His Majesty's eyes, the Lochalyn affair.”

“Oh, do tell us!” Melisande said. “Did you get to see the traitor queen?”

Orie laughed. “Indeed, no. I was but sixteen, and a foot soldier in the service of the earl. We were assigned to capture another stronghold, where the queen's relatives had hidden. There was a terrific battle; I was myself first to reach the gate.” He gazed off to the distance. “I had a bad moment when the siege ladder fell from beneath me, but held on with all my strength and topped the wall. I fought my way to the winch and drew up the portcullis to let in our men.”

“So the battle was won because of your heroism.”

He looked at the princess with a puzzled expression. “Unfortunately, there was nobody there. Somehow the royal family had escaped us. So we won the city but lost our quarry.”

“Oh.” The princess sighed.

“The earl had no family, so I was given his lands. I also command a garrison of soldiers that would be first on the scene if there is any further trouble for our neighbors.”

“I'm not aware of any problems, except the snow that prevents my betrothed from coming,” Wolfram observed.

The earl cast him a curious glance. “Only that it seems the very relatives who escaped us would like to press their claim to the throne.”

“But they have none!” the princess protested.

“Not directly, no, but they are saying that the royal family was murdered by the man who now sits the throne. If this were true, his claim would be solely by way of treason, and the throne would fall to the queen's family. She had a brother, I believe.”

“I take it there is no validity to these claims.” Wolfram had pushed away his plate and settled back with a mug of ale.

Orie's manner suddenly stiffened. “I do not think so, Highness, but I was only a soldier, and not privy to all the events that brought us to war.”

“I ask only because we've not heard much from Lochalyn, so our information is limited.”

“I have had similar problems lately, no doubt owing to the condition of the roads.”

“No doubt. I have never been there myself, I was too young to join the campaign, but my father attended the new king's coronation, and there betrothed me to Princess Asenith. I think she was about six at the time.”

Melisande exchanged a look with Wolfram, who nodded briefly and rose. “It is a fair afternoon for a walk, I am sure. Perhaps you would not mind if I asked your good singer, Kattanan duRhys, to accompany you?” The question was directed at Melisande, who rose also.

“Very good—if I should run out of conversation, we might enjoy a song.”

Orie offered his arm to the princess and led her out to the gardens, with Kattanan trailing after. With girlish excitement, Melisande took the earl up to the tower to look out over the land. The weather had cleared, though gray clouds still hung low overhead. After all the appropriate exclamations were made, Orie asked her to sit, and they settled on a stone bench, exactly as if Kattanan were not there. He perched in one of the crenellations of the wall.

“How is the puppy, Your Highness?”

“Oh, he's wonderful. We named him Prince.” They shared a laugh over this, and Orie took her hand lightly.

“Have you thought much of your marriage, Princess? Of what you would like it to be?”

“I have not thought as much as I should, I'm sure. I just want to be happy, as I think my mother was. She had only met Father once before their wedding day, and yet she still chose him. He is strong, powerful—a good king.” She looked back toward the castle.

“He is that, Your Highness. He has the obedience of thousands of men, myself included. I only wish he had not taken ill. All of the kingdom waits, dreading to hear bad news, praying for good.” The earl hesitated. “Would there be a chance that I could see him?”

“If he is able, I know he would want to see you. We can go whenever you like.”

“Right now, I am well pleased to sit right here, but I hope to have an audience later. It has been too long. In any event, we were not discussing your father but what you seek in marriage.”

“Yes. I do want children, of course, but I must know that my husband cares as much for me as for our future heirs.” She spoke quickly, looking up into the earl's face.

“Be not concerned on my behalf. I gained my lands through my own merit, and so am not as concerned with such things as those of older families. I sought your hand for smaller reasons.”

“And what were they, Orie?”