The Thief's Daughter (32 page)

I had not expected to be at court when such momentous times unraveled. The more superstitious denizens of the city, riled up I believe by the sanctuary men, who are natural criminals, tried to overthrow the monarchy by literally throwing Severn into the river. Their attempt met with a disastrous failure as the rebellion was snuffed out by the heavy snows and the steel courage of Severn’s knights. Order has been restored to the city, and people are keeping to their homes. The grounds of Our Lady have been deserted by all but the deconeus and the sexton. The lawless men who have lived under the auspices of the grounds’ protection have fled, and skulk in taverns and dark holes. The king, at this very moment, is with Duke Kiskaddon at the sanctuary. News of this event will spread quickly. One cannot know the consequences.

—Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Our Lady

The violence was over, the rioting quelled. The streets were deserted and the trampled snow had crimson stains that sickened Owen. He did not know how many had died, but the memory of the freezing corpses would haunt his dreams.

He had never seen the interior of the sanctuary of Our Lady so empty. The black and white tiles in the main foyer that had always reminded him of a giant Wizr board were now littered with debris from the hundreds of inmates who had fled the sanctuary, carrying their belongings and dropping many in their haste to exit. Owen nudged a book with a broken spine with his boot. The sight only added to Owen’s worry and despair.

“My lord sovereign,” the deconeus said in a tremulous voice to the king. “What is your intention regarding worshipping at the sanctuary of Our Lady? The grounds are despoiled. Men were . . . were
tromping
in the fountain waters to seize as many coins as they could before fleeing.” His voice was heavy with grief.

Owen slid the broken book out of his way and joined the king. The deconeus and the sexton were aged men, and they looked crushed and defeated in their cassocks and robes.

“Spare me the gloom, gentlemen,” Severn said with a sardonic edge in his tone. “And do not pretend to think I don’t know what really happens here.” He gestured to the wide, empty space. “The sanctuary has always been an illusion. A dream.”

The deconeus’s suffering expression turned grim. “You meddle with something you do not comprehend, my lord.”

“Do I?” Severn said with a tone of exasperation. “You curry the people’s fear to hold dominion over them. I did not raze the sanctuary, deconeus. The villains you harbor here
fled
of their own accord because they did not believe the Fountain would protect them from me.”

“They did not believe it because you had your Espion kidnap the Deconeus of Ely!” the sexton said in a tone that was almost a shout.

Severn skewered the man with his gaze, and Owen took a step closer. He did not believe the king would shed blood in the sanctuary. But he was not completely convinced. The sexton was a fool for speaking so boldly.

“The deconeus was a proven traitor to Ceredigion,” the king said venomously. “And you’ve been harboring him these many years while he continued to plot with our enemies in Occitania. How long have you known about his efforts to lure my niece away? You cannot suppose I would hold you guiltless for such treachery.”

The deconeus’s eyes blazed with naked fear. “I knew nothing of that!” he gasped.

“I find that terribly difficult to believe,” Severn said with a cluck. “For all I know, you’re an integral part of this conspiracy. You’ve been waiting for me to fail, to fall. Oh, don’t bother denying it, either of you!” he scolded when he saw they were about to object. “I’ve stayed my hand in punishing treason long enough. I have been too gentle.”

The sexton looked as if he were about to swoon.

“What’s to become of us?” the deconeus asked hoarsely.

Severn sneered. “You’ll have to wait for the Assizes, now won’t you? Unfortunately, your meddling has thrust me into the middle of a war. Atabyrion will invade, and I have no doubt that Chatriyon will use that as a pretext to take back the land Lord Kiskaddon wrested from him. If my enemies think I’m unable to fight two battles at once, they completely underestimate me. I had Mancini fetch Tunmore, but I did not throw him from the tower. You think I’m that great a fool? The gibbering coward leaped to his death. Lord Kiskaddon is my witness, for he was
there
and saw him do it. Mancini is dead, thanks to you, at a time when he is sorely needed. I will not forget this, gentlemen. Trust in that.” He looked up to the vaulted ceiling, examining the silver light streaming in from the stained-glass windows. “I will post soldiers at the gates of the sanctuary. This is a place of worship and you’ve made it the lair of thieves and murderers. I will let the people worship here, for now. Let them salve their consciences by tossing coins for their crimes in the fountains. But each night, you will dismiss the visitors. Each night, it will remain empty at the peril of your lives. My men will lock the gates.” He gave them both a stern, angry look. “Is that clear, gentlemen?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” choked the sexton, bowing meekly.

“Indeed,” said the deconeus.

“Leave us,” Severn snapped, and watched as the two old men shuffled away, their shoes clapping on the tiles.

Severn walked to the edge of the main fountain and gazed into the waters. As Owen joined him at the edge, he could see the mud and debris from the boots of the men who had trampled inside the fountain to steal the treasures. His heart wrenched with pain. He looked for the chest he had seen there earlier. He remembered exactly where it had been. There were two scraped gashes in the mud showing where it had been dragged to the edge of the fountain.

It is already gone
. Another Fountain-blessed must have taken it.

Owen gritted his teeth with frustration. He placed his hands on the rail, staring into the dirty water and feeling naught but disgust.

“Was I too harsh, lad?” Severn asked, putting his hand on Owen’s shoulder. “I was so angry, so
very
angry. I could have thrown them all off the bridge. But I didn’t because you were here. You have a calming effect on me. So many of them were men who have long defied my laws and flaunted the protection of the sanctuary.” He stared up at the statue of wisdom at the head of the fountain. “I do not think that was the intention when this place was hallowed.”

“What are you going to do with the deconeus?” Owen asked. He didn’t bother mentioning the sexton.

The king had a faraway look in his eyes. Then his lips began to quiver with wrath. “I suppose that depends, lad. It depends on whether I survive this conflict. Iago and Eyric are goading me to go after them, but it is Chatriyon who is pulling the strings. Occitania is our ancient enemy. He’s stolen my niece, and I will never forgive him that. Never. She deserves to be a queen.” Owen watched the emotions battle across Severn’s face. That he missed Elyse was obvious. But he was pained by her betrayal, and the wound was festering.

“She didn’t betray you, my lord,” Owen whispered. “I’m certain of it.”

His eyes flashed with anger as they met Owen’s gaze.

“It was Tunmore’s fault,” Owen said. “You know about his gift. He was Fountain-blessed with writing. Your niece is an exceptional person. I know both of us admired her. Elyse was the first person who offered me friendship when I came to the palace. But you were in an impossible situation with her. You could not marry her yourself for fear of impropriety, but she deserved more than to simply be remembered as your brother’s bastard. Her situation was becoming more and more hopeless. And then her mother died, probably by poison. All these events crowded together and made her vulnerable to being twisted and manipulated by someone with power. Someone who was desperate.”

Owen saw the tears in Severn’s lashes, but the force of the king’s will was too strong for them to fall. “She should have come to me,” he said thickly. “She should have come! I trusted her more than any person alive. Even more than
you
,” he added blackly, his jaw quivering. “If she could betray me, then I can no longer trust anyone. My brother Eredur knew I would never falter. He knew that loyalty bound me.” His frown was so heartbroken that Owen grieved for him. “I have no one like that. Not anymore. Well, I wish Elyse well with her new husband. A husband she will not keep for long, for I intend to crush Occitania and bring it as a vassalage to Ceredigion. I will do the same with Atabyrion. If they think I’m a monster now, they will not like what they have made me become.”

Owen’s heart cringed at the words. “You are
not
a monster!” he insisted, but he could see what was happening to the king. The constant pressure to be someone he was not was winning out. How uncanny Ankarette’s discernment of Severn’s character had been. The king was altering, irrevocably. It was like a tile that had been tipped from back to front. But this tile would not be easily set aright.

“Hear me now,” Severn said, turning to face Owen with ruthless determination in his eyes. “I will go to Beestone to prepare to defend my realm. I take your counsel and value you as the masterful strategist that you are. I’ll let Iago strike me, but after I give him a fleeting taste of victory, I will crush his raiding party and make him beholden to me. Unless I feel like killing him. I command you to go to Westmarch and hold the territory you’ve won from Occitania. I want you to take Etayne with you.”

“But what about the poisoner coming after you!” Owen stammered in surprise.

The king’s gaze was stony. Maybe he secretly hoped he would die. “I’ve lived under that threat for years. We foiled the plot here. All the Espion reports suggest he fled the city during the chaos. He’s probably skulking back to Occitania. It’s you that I’m worried about now. If Chatriyon comes himself, you will order her to poison him. You must defend Westmarch alone, Owen. I will not be able to spare the men to come to your aid. You do this, lad, and you will prove you are worthy of my trust. May the Fountain weep for you if you fail me.”

Owen felt the push of the king’s will against his mind as the king’s fingers dug into his shoulder. He knew the king was in earnest. And for the first time since he was a boy, he felt his life was at risk from this man.

Swallowing, Owen rested his hand on his sword hilt and steeled his courage. “I will not fail you, my lord,” he said solemnly.

“Then go at once. Do not waste a moment. Get you to Westmarch.”

Owen felt conflicted. He wanted to see if Evie was recovered, but the look in the king’s eyes showed that he was testing Owen. Duke Horwath had lost his own son, Evie’s father, in the Battle of Ambion Hill. Yet instead of going north to comfort his daughter and granddaughter, he had gone to Tatton Hall to fetch Owen. He knew this is what the king was expecting of him, although he would not say it.

“Send word for Etayne to join me, my lord,” Owen said with determination, swallowing his rising discomfort. “I leave at once.”

The king gave him a proud smirk. “Bless you, lad. May the Fountain bless you.”

With the king’s hand on his shoulder, they walked across the black and white tiles to the door of the sanctuary. As they crossed the threshold, Owen noticed that all the clouds had fled and a deep blue sky filled the horizon end to end. The snow and icicles were already starting to drip and slough.

“The storm has passed,” the king said with a touch of irony in his voice. “That’s all it was. Just a storm.”

But Owen had the distinct impression that it was something else that had caused the snow to abate. Something involving the chest that had miraculously disappeared from the fountain of Our Lady. And he also had a suspicion of where he might find it next, as well as the person who had taken it there. He would be going west, but not to Tatton Hall or to see the mayor of Averanche in the new territory he had won.

No, Owen would be going straight to the sanctuary at St. Penryn.