The Summoner (25 page)

“I imagine you’re right, Malae,” Kiara said, cradling her teacup. “I guess I’m just afraid of finding more questions and no answers.”

There was a quiet rapping at her door, and Kiara called for the visitor to enter. It was Allestyr, looking as if he had been up and active since dawn.

“My princess,” the elderly seneschal said gently. “Your father calls for you.”

With a sigh, Kiara finished her tea and set the cup aside. Malae was already on her feet, handing the princess a warm woolen robe. “Perhaps your father will know what you should do,” Malae said, helping Kiara into the robe. “The magic that has crippled his body has not touched his mind.”

Kiara nodded, squaring her shoulders. “I try not to give him more to worry about,” she replied.

Jae fluttered into the air with a squawk and landed on her shoulder.

“He is the king,” Malae said. “Kings worry, whether you want them to or not.”

Kiara smiled. “I think you’re right,” she said, and followed Allestyr into the hallway.

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Her father’s rooms, which always smelled of leather, cologne, and spices, now had the odor of a sickroom. His favorite hunting bows hung unstrung along the wall. His riding outfit lay folded in the armoire, next to his robes of state. Even his beloved intricate wooden puzzles lay forgotten on the table, too vexing for him now.

Kiara made her way to the king’s massive bed, where her father lay propped up on pillows, a shadow among the furs and blankets. Next to his bedside was a steaming pot of mulled wine laced with the medicines that kept the king alert. King Donelan smiled and gestured for his daughter to join him, making a place for her to sit on the edge of the bed. Kiara smiled and climbed up, sitting cross‐legged and wrapping herself in one of the king’s sleeping furs.

“Good morning, Little Bird,” King Donelan said fondly. Kiara reached out for his hand and pressed it to her cheek. He looked up at Jae, who hopped about on Kiara’s shoulder, awaiting attention, and Donelan reached up to stroke Jae’s crest. “And good morning, Jae. Any good hunting lately?” he asked, and the gyregon squawked in excitement.

“Good morning, father. How do you feel today?”

King Donelan coughed and shook his head, gently freeing his hand to reach for his warmed wine and holding the steaming mug in his hands for a moment before he sipped at the medicine. “The same as always, I’m afraid.” He paused. “You look a bit worse for wear, Kiara,” he said gently.

“Tell me about the ambassador’s visit.”

Kiara recounted the details of Catoril’s visit and her evasion while King Donelan listened. When she finished, the king nodded as he thought. “You did well, Kiara. You’ve bought us time, but you are also correct that it will be more difficult to dissuade him come spring. But there is no other answer which would have satisfied him, so don’t fret yourself.” Kiara took his mug to keep it from spilling as coughs racked the ailing monarch.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the mug once more when the coughing fit ended. “Now, you 208

haven’t told me everything,” the king said with a knowing glance at his daughter. “You are too tired for having had a simple dinner with an ambassador. You’ve done another Working lately, haven’t you?”

Sheepishly, Kiara nodded. “Did you know or did Tice tell you?”

King Donelan smiled. “No, Tice kept your secret. But I can feel the regent magic when it is done by one of the blood, whether you work it in my presence or not.”

“I don’t know what to do, father,” Kiara blurted, looking down at her hands. “Your illness hasn’t gotten any better, no matter how many mages and physicians we bring in. If they’re right, and it’s mage‐sent, then we still don’t know by which mage. Margolan won’t stop until we’re at war or Jared has me to wife, and the scouts are bringing back more reports that there are dark creatures along the western border, unnatural things that shouldn’t be, but are. No matter where I turn, Isencroft is in peril, and it seems as if nothing I can do will help.”

She caught her breath, then continued headlong, feeling a little relief as the worries tumbled out in words. “Then in the Working, I saw Cam and Carina in trouble. There was danger, and flames…” Despite herself, a tear made its way down her cheek. “They’re not going to make it to the Sisterhood,” she said miserably. “So we won’t know whether the Sisters know how to heal you, andl can’t bear to think of life without Carina—”

“Hush, child,” King Donelan said sternly, but his hand was gentle as he reached out to brush away Kiara’s tears. “Now listen to me. First of all, remember that a scrying shows what may be, not what must be. So what you’ve seen, while troubling, isn’t certain. Cam and Carina are quite resourceful,” the king said with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t count them out just yet.” He paused, thinking. “But I agree, the other things together are worrisome, even for an old battle horse like me.” His eyes saddened. “I never intended for you to take this on yourself just yet, Kiara. I hoped it would be many years before you shouldered these burdens, and that you had a consort to share them with. I am so sorry.”

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Kiara took his hand and folded it in both of hers. “Oh, father,” she said, sniffing back her tears.

“I’m made of sterner stuff than that. After all,” she said, managing a smile, “I’m your daughter.”

The king chuckled. “That indeed you are. But even the king knows to get help when he’s outnumbered. So this is what you must do,” he said, his voice hardening as it did when he was about to issue a royal decree. “You must go to the Oracle at Chenne’s temple. Whatever she tells you, you must do it, even if it means leaving on your Journey.”

“But father—” Kiara protested in amazement, eyes wide. “You’ve never had any patience with the Oracle!”

King Donelan’s face was stern as he shook his head, silencing her protests. “No ‘buts.’ If it means you must leave the palace, then that is what you must do. If it means you must leave Isencroft, then so be it. If this is the time for your Journey, then you will go without protest. Tice and Allestyr have kept the kingdom running while I was out on campaigns long before you were born. They’re not so old that they can’t do it again, if that’s what the Goddess wishes.”

Seeing the resolve in his eyes, Kiara swallowed and nodded. “Yes, father,” she replied, looking down at her hands again. The king reached out to tip her chin upwards, so that she looked into his blue eyes.

“Kiara, you are very brave. The Goddess did not come to you to have you trapped in a palace by an old man’s sickness. I have known since the first moment I held you that there was some great purpose for which you were born. Perhaps this is your time.”

Kiara nodded, all tears gone, and clasped his hand firmly. “I’ll do what you ask, father. I’ll go tonight.”

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King Donelan nodded. “That’s better.” He began to cough once more and reached for his wine.

“Now leave me to my medicines, my dear. And have them make you a better breakfast than that little bit of fruit you pick at each morning.” He smiled at her surprise. “Oh yes, my dear. The king knows even that.” He waved his hand at her gently. “Now, be gone. I feel a nap coming on.” He watched her as she made her way to the door.

“Kiara,” he called after her as she reached the doorway, and she turned.

“Trust the Goddess.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

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That night, when the moon was full, Kiara set out. Jae caught up with her as she reached the stables, alighting on her shoulder and making questioning hisses as she readied her mount. She reached up and scratched his scales just below the crest on his head.

The horse she chose, a midnight stallion, nickered. The same intuition that made her select the war horse also nudged her to find a saddle suitable for a long journey, though the Oracle was only a candlemark’s ride from the palace.

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She left a note for Malae, telling of her journey to the Oracle, adding a note to Tice that author-ized the seneschal and Allestyr to assume the regency in her stead until she returned. Hardly a note one leaves for a quick ride, she thought, grimacing as she cinched the saddle straps. Then again, princesses, even in Isencroft, rarely felt moved to take off in the night.

Kiara grabbed a saddlebag and checked her gear. Her sword and belt daggers hung at her side.

She wore her drabbest riding gear and her most comfortable boots, along with a heavy cloak.

Deep in her packs was a signet ring with the royal seal which would open any border in Isencroft and end any argument.

Under her riding cloak was the leather and light mail bodice she wore whenever she ventured beyond the castle grounds. Had she been more vain, it might have vexed her that the protective gear did nothing for her figure. Now, as she twisted her long hair into a knot and secured it at the nape of her neck, she was glad that she rarely fussed over such things. Otherwise I’d be sick, since I probably look more like a hired sword than a princess right now, she thought.

“Your Highness.”

Kiara looked up at the voice that came from the shadows. Rall, the late queen’s champion, led his horse into the small circle of lantern light. “We are here.” With him was Hastart, another of her father’s most trusted soldiers. She had sent for each, asking them to outfit themselves for a night journey and meet her in the stables at the twelfth hour. She saw that they took her instructions literally, and were ready for a long and dangerous journey.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, as she swung up into her saddle. “I have an urgent request to take to the Oracle. Ride with me to the temple. Perhaps she will have a message for us.”

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Both men bowed. “As you wish, my princess,” said Rall. “We will accompany you wherever you go, for as long as you need us.”

Even at this hour, there were travelers leaving the palace grounds. Not wanting to attract attention to her quest or her absence, Kiara slipped past the guards without comment by attaching herself to another group long enough to clear the gates. Once they were out of sight of the palace walls, she urged her horse toward the temple of the Oracle.

The Oracle’s temple nestled at the edge of the forest, near the river, where the trees parted to frame the open sky. Its white marble glistened in the moonlight, and a reflecting pool mirrored the stars and the altar fires. On three sides, a ravine‐shrine to the goddess ringed the temple, both monument and protection. Stone monuments were silhouetted in the glade, homage to military heroes, favored by Chenne.

The temple was quiet as Kiara hitched her horse to a tree and stepped onto the marble terrace.

She motioned for Rall and Hastart to wait with the horses, and started down the pathway toward the grotto. They passed the mews of falcons, sacred to Chenne the warrior, and the birds fluttered and shrieked in alarm. “Well, they’ve certainly heard us coming now,” Kiara muttered to Jae, who eyed the falcons as she jerked his traces lightly in a warning reminder. The little dragon hissed in disappointment and settled down on Kiara’s shoulder, his scaled head swivel-ing as he looked for other late‐night morsels.

Kiara looked toward the altar and stopped. A white‐robed woman who seemed to appear from nowhere stood just beyond the fire. The Oracle! Kiara thought. Drawing a deep breath for courage, Kiara swallowed and moved closer.

“My apologies, priestess, for disturbing your night,” Kiara began, unsure of how to proceed. “I am Kiara of the House Sharsequin, and I—”

“I know who you are,” the cowled woman replied. “Why have you sought the Goddess?”

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“I’ve come to pray for my father’s health,” Kiara replied, hoping her courage didn’t desert her.

She paused. “And to ask the Lady how to save our kingdom.”

The cowled priestess nodded. “Your father is dying,” she replied matter‐of‐factly. “But the illness is mage‐sent.”

“We recognized that a dark mage sent the illness, my lady,” Kiara said.

The priestess nodded slowly. “You have sent your best healer to find a cure, is that correct?”

“Yes, m’lady, but it will be some time before she returns—”

“The Sisterhood may help delay your father’s death, but to destroy the spell, you must destroy the caster of the spell.”

“Your Grace, we have no mages of such power—”

“From Margolan comes both the spell and the solution,” the priestess replied. “The dark hand who cast the spell and He Who Can Restore.”

Her voice took on a singsong lilt as she swayed in trance, insubstantial beneath her robes. “Your path lies along a different course. If you wish to save your kingdom, then you must let others save your father.” The Oracle paused. “You must play your part in destroying the caster of the spell. What you seek can be found within the Library at Westmarch. The time for your Journey is come. You must go to Westmarch.”

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“Westmarch!” Kiara breathed. “But it doesn’t exist! It’s nothing but a children’s tale—isn’t it?”

Her voice trailed off, unsure.

“Behold my servant.” At that, the priestess raised her hand and Kiara saw a figure, clad in the brown robes of a land mage, step from the shadow of a marble column. “If you succeed, my Chosen, you will save your king and kingdom,” the Oracle continued, her voice becoming more firm and certain, losing the singsong of the priestess. “If you fail, the darkness comes.” For an instant, Kiara saw the same flash of otherworldly eyes that she remembered so well from the battlefield of her childhood. “Go with my blessing.”

At that, the fiery eyes dimmed suddenly and with a moan, the robed figure slumped, its hood falling back to reveal the mortal priestess through whom the Goddess spoke.

“Come with me, Kiara Sharsequin,” a brown‐robed figure said from the*” shadows. “The priestess will be well. She is privileged to serve her Goddess. Now, your turn has come.”

“I must let my guards know,” Kiara stammered. “I can’t just disappear.”

“We will announce your Journey to them,” the robed figure replied, “and to your father. He has awaited this time. Come.” The figure held out a hand, and heart thudding, Kiara stepped forward, despite Jae’s hisses. As she neared, the figure reached out to envelop her in a cloak that smelled of herbs and smoke and the wet moss after a new rain, and for an instant, as her head swam, Kiara swore the ground melted from beneath her feet. When the mage lowered the cloak, the temple was gone.