Limits of Power

  “I understand,” Arian said.

  The Knight-Commander was in his office when they arrived, writing in a ledger. “Sir king,” he said, rising and bowing. “Milady queen.” Juris Kostvan was a man of the king’s height with light blue eyes and honey-colored hair. He wore a long blue surcoat with the symbols of the Knights of the Bells embroidered in silver on the breast. He was new to this post, Arian knew; one of the king’s uncles had been the previous Knight-Commander, killed the same night as the previous Marshal-Judicar.

  He gave Arian a tour: the armory with its racks of swords of different styles, the polearms, the battle-axes and maces, the crossbows hanging from hooks, the longbows on racks. “And now the grange-hall,” he said. This hall was much larger than the royal salle, with ranks of seats along one side. “We hold the trials of arms here—so we needed more space for witnesses.”

  Arian started to ask a polite question, but as he moved forward, the light from his torch picked out a faint incised pattern on the floor, a pattern she recognized. It pulled at her less strongly than the one in Chaya, but she felt it nonetheless. “What is that?” she asked, bending to touch it. Her fingers tingled.

  He looked embarrassed. “I don’t know,” he said. “Some knight-candidates have asked, but it must be accidental, some flaw in the stone. The surface is smooth, as you felt, and it’s all one block of stone—you can see the joints to the next.”

  Her heart sped. How could they think that, when to her vision the pattern grew clearer every moment, colors beginning to show through the stone’s own pale gray. “Interesting,” she managed to say. Kieri had been very specific: if the pattern existed in the Tsaian palace, the king must be told—but discreetly. She thought back to that conversation. This man was a Konhalt and supposedly loyal to the Crown, but some Konhalts had not been. She would have to tell the king when they were alone.

  The king led her back to the corridor off which her suite opened and bowed to her there. “As we are to meet early at the salle, I will leave you now. You must surely be fatigued.” He bowed again.

  “Sir king,” Arian said before he could turn away. “I have a message from Kieri that I must give you now.”

  “Now?” His brows went up.

  “Yes.” She looked up and down the corridor. Only her own Squires and two of his palace guard. “It is of utmost importance.”

  “Well, then…” He looked around him and motioned his guards to move away. “Can you tell me here?”

  “Yes.” In courtesy, she gestured for her Squires to move away, and when they had retreated to the same distance as the king’s guards, she spoke. “That pattern in the Bells’ hall—that your Knight-Commander thinks is natural to the stone—is instead a pattern of elven devising, permitting those who know its use to travel from one pattern to another. Have you heard how such patterns were used for the Girdish to travel from Fin Panir to the far west and back?”

  “It cannot—are you certain?”

  “Yes. It is by such patterns that elves traveled to our palace in Chaya, and the iynisin who attacked and killed the Lady came through one in Kieri’s own office. He suspected one might be here and asked me to look for one and tell you—but privily—if I found it.”

  “And humans can use them,” the king said, scowling.

  “Yes, if they know how. But more dangerous, the iynisin use them—the kuaknomi,” she added, since he did not react to the elven term.

  “Could there be more than one?”

  “There were in our palace, sir king. They can be blocked, the elves told us, with a reversal pattern that prevents entry. I brought a drawing of such a design with me, for your use.”

  “Does my uncle know about this?”

  “That such patterns exist, yes, and can be used by kuaknomi, yes. But not more than that.”

  “You could have waited until tomorrow—”

  “No one knows when another attack might come,” Arian said.

  His lips tightened for a moment. Then he bowed again. “You are right, milady queen. Thank you. I will have a guard set this night, and we will speak more of this another time.”

  When Arian entered her suite, she told all the Squires what she’d seen. “I told the king; he says he will set a guard.”

  “One of the palace secretaries came by with a tentative schedule for tomorrow just after you had left to meet the king,” Darvol said. He handed it to her. “We also received a note from Armsmaster Fralorn, who said he’d be pleased to open the salle for you at dawn.”

  “I met him,” Arian said. “We will drill as usual.” She looked at the paperwork they handed her, including their own rotation. “This will do,” she said. “And if we’re meeting the armsmaster for drill at dawn, we should retire now.”

  Arian found it hard to sleep at first; the heavy scent of rose petals and lack of air movement stifled her. She woke to the sound of tapping on her door. “Come in,” she said. Maelis entered with a candle and a tray.

  “Thought you might like sib before drill,” Maelis said.

  Arian and her Squires arrived at the salle just as Armsmaster Fralorn pulled the door open. He smiled. “You’re very welcome this morning,” he said. “The young men you met yesterday evening will join us, as will the king. Just let me light the lamps.”

  Arian began her stretches while her Squires helped Fralorn light lamps and lay out bandas. Soon the king appeared with his escort of guards and his friends. Fralorn called for all to line up for footwork drills.

  “If it please you, Queen Arian,” he said.

  “Certainly,” she said. No one, she’d been taught, could spend too much time on footwork, the foundation of effective swordplay.

  Fralorn proved as exacting as Carlion or Siger: position of the foot, length of a half pace or full pace, all the other details. Before it became tedious, he called for seven of the group to do point-control drills on the pells at one end of the salle and the other six to pair up: Arian with Rothlin, two of her Squires with the king and one of his escorts.

  Practice did not last as long as in Chaya; Arian’s schedule for the day did not permit it even with so early a start.

  Kieri had described the chamber where the Tsaian Royal Council met. Now Arian faced them, recognizing only the king, Duke Mahieran, and Marshal-Judicar Oktar.

  King Mikeli introduced her and then said, “If you would, the Council would hear your account of the recent war and any information you can give us about the current state of Pargun.”

  Arian knew Kieri had sent letters to Mikeli giving details of the war but gave a quick review. “The last I know for certain,” she said finally, “is that Torfinn, their king, survived his brother’s attempt to take the throne and kill him. He did not order the invasion, and we no longer consider him a threat. His daughter Elis, the elder of his surviving children, is at Falk’s Hall, in training for knighthood. She is also his ambassador to our court.”

  “You have met her?”

  “Oh, yes. Last summer I was one of the Squires assigned to her when she was sent to marry Kieri. We had two princesses last year: Elis of Pargun and Ganlin of Kostandan.”

  “Ganlin seemed very interested in Rothlin,” Duke Mahieran said. “And he was flattered, I think.”

  “Her father, the king of Kostandan, would like an alliance south of the river,” Arian said. Let them figure out the implications themselves.

  “What of the Pargunese princess?” the king asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

  “She is not like to marry,” Arian said.

  “And Dzordanya … do they even have any convenient princesses?”

  Arian started to make a jest, but the look that flashed between Duke Mahieran and the king stopped her. The king … the young unmarried king … had an interest in princesses. “Not to my knowledge,” she said instead. “They sent an elderly woman to our wedding—a grandmother of the longest of long houses, she was announced. No mention of princesses or a king. Of course, it might be that there are. The Sea-Prin
ce of Prealíth is of an age to have children, but he did not mention them.”

  “Is it true, Queen Arian, that the curst webspinner, Achrya, was destroyed by the dragon, with all her evil servants?”

  “So the dragon said,” Arian said.

  “The dragon came here,” the king said. “I had not believed the rumor from Lyonya until then, not truly.”

  “Too many new things,” someone muttered.

  “Count Tivarrn, you wished to speak?” the king said. Tivarrn, a man Arian judged to be in his thirties, with a narrow face, flushed.

  “Sir king, it just seems to me that there are too many new things.” He looked around, challenging. “Those mysterious jewels we heard of but no one can now see, the gnomes moving into Count Arcolin’s domain, the dragon, the war with Pargun. All that started with the return of magery … with Duke Verrakai.”

  The king shook his head. “My lord Count, you were not here last year when we learned Duke Phelan was the rightful king of Lyonya. To my mind, the changes started when the paladin Paksenarrion went on quest to find that king … and the quest led to him. But I would guess some forces were already at work beyond our knowing.”

  Tivarrn did not look convinced, but he said nothing more. He was one of the newest on the Council, Arian remembered.

  “If I might—” Master-trader Palloton held up his hand; the king nodded. “I heard from a trader in Harway that King Kieri is considering improving the River Road into Lyonya and also reopening the Middle Way that crosses Verrakai lands.”

  “Indeed we are,” Arian said. “We would like to see easier travel between our realms.” She said nothing about the port. Had he heard rumors of that?

  “With the Pargunese weakened, do you think it might be possible to transport goods from your river towns all the way to the sea? Even to Aarenis? Does the river freeze over below the great falls? I suppose you know that the pass to Valdaire cannot be traveled in winter or even half of spring.”

  “As to that, I have little knowledge,” Arian said. “The Pargunese traded that far in their ships, I do know. The river freezes in winter between us and Pargun, but not solidly until near Midwinter, and flows again by the Spring Evener. We, too, have thought of attempting to use it for trade.”

  “You certainly have the timber to build ships,” Palloton said. “I’m sure a shipwright from Aarenis would be glad to get his hands on such trees.”

  Arian had not thought of that. Build their own ships? Cut down Lyonya’s precious forest for ships?

  “What about a place to load and unload?” Duke Serrostin asked. “Do you have river ports?”

  “Not real ports,” Arian said. “Lyonya had not engaged in river and sea trade before. Torfinn told us of a port the Pargunese built up one of the tributaries.” Kieri had not wanted her to bring up the idea of a port until theirs was well under way.

  Arian could almost see the thoughts in Serrostin’s head. Tsaia had the large city, the riverside developments, but no maritime trade because of the falls that made downriver shipping impossible. Lyonya had access to the river below the falls, with no barriers between there and the ocean, but no city on the river itself and no development.

  “If I might, sir king, lady queen—” Palloton began. The king nodded. “I might suggest that it could benefit both Tsaia and Lyonya if Lyonya were to build some kind of port—landing stages, warehouses—with access to the River Road, passable for wagons in most weathers.”

  “Are you suggesting a joint venture?” Arian asked.

  “I cannot do that, lady queen,” Palloton said with a look at the king. “I can say only that a river port, if it existed, could profit both of us.”

  “Master-trader, I believe this is something you and this Council may wish to discuss without a guest present. But it is something that—if the Council made a proposal—King Kieri would be pleased to know.” She paused. No one said anything for a long moment, glances going back and forth. “If you wish, I can excuse myself now—”

  “No, no,” the king said. “We can discuss this later. This morning’s meeting is intended to give everyone a chance to meet you. Most of the Council knew King Kieri when he was Duke Phelan.”

  Another pause, another set of looks back and forth. “Queen Arian, you were visiting Duke Verrakai when the Pargunese invaded, were you not?” That was Baron Brenvor. He and Destvaorn were both looking at her. “Did you see her work magery? Is it like elven magery?”

  “No to both questions,” she said. “If I had not been told she was a magelord, I would not have known it. As far as I know, the magery of full elves is different from that of magelords. I never heard of a magelord producing an elvenhome, for instance, or shaping the growth of trees the way elves do. I have seen a Kuakgan do something similar, however.”

  Duke Serrostin shifted in his seat. “Have you heard about my son Daryan, Queen Arian?”

  “Yes,” Arian said. “He was healed by a Kuakgan, was he not?”

  “Indeed so. His new thumb is still wrinkled and brownish but no longer stiff. Do elves heal injuries by grafting them with plants?”

  “No,” Arian said. “Elves think Kuakkgani magery is disgusting. The elves were appalled when we invited the Kuakkgani to come help us find what had poisoned me and the other women with child.”

  “I thought perhaps—as elves claim that bond with trees—”

  “It’s different,” Arian said. How could she explain about the taig to those who had no taig-sense or the Severance to those who did not live among elves?

  The king rose then, signaling the end of the meeting; the others rose as well, and the king offered Arian his arm. “A quiet luncheon—or as quiet as my younger brother allows it to be. I would have you meet Camwyn, my heir.” He grinned then. “At least until I marry and get one. Camwyn assures me he does not want to be king.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Arian had already heard gossip about the boy’s wildness and knew from Dorrin that he had been the target of assassination attempts. As he bowed over her hand and greeted her courteously, Arian sensed a vibrant energy in him that seemed stronger than the king’s. He had the family look in coloring and bone structure, and as they ate lunch, he showed he had the family charm as well.

  “I have told Cam about the pattern in the Bells’ hall,” the king said as they sat to the table.

  Arian was startled. The boy seemed too young to be trusted with such a secret.

  “I don’t tell secrets,” the prince said.

  “But you do talk out of turn,” the king said; the prince flushed and busied himself slicing cheese. The king turned back to Arian. “I also told the Knight-Commander, of course, and had him set a guard, but from what I heard, a kuaknom might overpower even two or three.”

  “Indeed,” Arian said. “The best thing would be to destroy or cover with reversal patterns any that you find.”

  The king nodded, his expression grim. “Do the Verrakai know this pattern?”

  “Dorrin Verrakai saw it in Kieri’s office when the rug was lifted. She thinks it is similar to, but not quite the same as, the pattern on that box she showed you.”

  The king pressed his lips together and looked at Camwyn.

  “I won’t say anything to anyone!” the prince said. “You know that.”

  “Not even one of your friends,” the king said.

  “Of course not,” the boy said. Then, with a change of expression, “I wonder where it goes.”

  “Cam!”

  “I wouldn’t try it, Mikeli—sir king. Last year maybe, but this year I know better. I can’t help wondering, though. If it’s the way the dragon moves, for instance. Would it feel like slipping through—”

  “Cam!!” The boy sat back. “Just … don’t.”

  “I said I wouldn’t,” the prince said. “And I won’t tell anyone … especially not Aris, because he would.”

  “Aris Marrakai,” the king said to Arian. “A mischief, but goodhearted; you met his sister at Duke Verrakai’s.” He p
aused for a swallow of wine. “Do you think Duke Verrakai knows about the pattern here?”

  “No. I’m sure she would have mentioned it if she had. Kieri thinks it would be wise to compare the patterns to that on the box of regalia.”

  “My lord—” A palace servant spoke softly from near the door. “You asked to be reminded of the time … the reception…”

  “Yes, of course,” the king said. “The reception—we will talk of this again when the formalities are over.”

  “Of course,” Arian said.

  For the grand reception, Arian entered on the king’s arm. This was her first chance to meet Tsaian ladies. Elaborate dresses, elaborate hairdos—no wonder they found Dorrin Verrakai strange. They found her strange, too, as she could tell from their expressions, but they seemed more puzzled than antagonistic. Flanked by the king and Duke Mahieran, she waited as they all—peers, wives, and older children—were presented for the ritual greetings.

  Duke Marrakai’s wife reminded Arian of their daughter Gwenno and a little of Estil Halveric.

  “I am so pleased to meet you,” she said. “Kieri was a friend in our house whenever he came to Vérella; I hoped so much he would find the right woman in Lyonya. Clearly he has.”

  Next came Duke Serrostin and his wife, short and plump. Lady Serrostin peered up at Arian with pale blue eyes but what seemed a genuine smile. “I’ve never met an elf before,” she said. “And is that elven costume? How lovely it looks on you … on me, of course, it would be ridiculous.” She bustled on to the king and greeted him with “Mikeli, lad, you get handsomer every day. You should find an elf like Queen Arian,” and to her husband, “Yes, yes, I’m coming.”

  After her came the counts and their wives, then the barons and their wives, and then the older sons and daughters. Finally the line was done, and Arian wandered the room, flanked by her Squires and a servant ready to fetch food or drink. She imagined Kieri in this crowd as he had been when she first saw him or when he first became a peer. For all the trappings of the military about the nobility, for all their practice in grange and salle, none of them, she was sure, had Kieri’s skill with a blade. Dorrin must have been a shock. For the first time she felt a little sympathy—not much—for these women when they first faced the new Duke Verrakai.