Limits of Power

He shifted in his seat. “I have never been to Tsaia,” he said. “Is it far by road?”

  Arianya had no idea what “far” meant to an elf who usually traveled from pattern to pattern. “Three hands of days, perhaps,” she said. “Longer if the river has flooded; it does most springs.”

  He frowned. “I have no … no sight for Tsaia.”

  Arianya had no idea what that meant.

  “Perhaps I should go instead to visit the Lady’s grandson, the new king, in Lyonya.”

  “That would be a good idea,” Arianya said. She would like to see that meeting of kings.

  “But you must recall those of your people—the Girdish—from the west,” he said. “For I do not know when we will be able to close the rock.”

  “We would like to bring back the archives,” Arianya said. “I understand it was your land first, but what the humans there left—the writings, the things they made—are important to us. For our history.”

  “History!” one of the other elves said, with a dismissive wave of the hand.

  “History to us,” Arianya said firmly, “though but a blink of time to you. Since we do not live long, we need the records of past times to give us some guidance for the future.”

  “How long will that take?” the king asked.

  “I will ask our archivist,” Arianya said. “We have brought back some already. The archivist will know how much is left. How long can you stay? It may take a few days for the archivist to determine how many trips it will take.”

  “We will go … I must prepare my kingdom for the longer journeys to eastern lands,” the king said.

  “You could not send an ambassador?”

  “I do not know,” the king said. “Would he be believed? Respected?”

  “Why not?” Arianya said. “From what I know, both kings have dealt with elves before. King Kieri certainly has.”

  The elven king frowned. “I will consider it. And for now we will leave open the patterns your people have used to go back and forth. Only you must bring them away as soon as you can.”

  “How can I tell you when we are all gone?”

  “We will know. We are watching.”

  That was all he would say; the elves bowed courteously enough and then went back to the High Lord’s Hall, stepped onto the transfer pattern, and disappeared.

  “I wonder if it’s their fault,” Marshal Pedar said. “Whatever they’re doing to close the rock—could that be what’s waking magery?”

  “Or was it our first expedition out there?” Arianya wondered. “It seemed so reasonable, with the scrolls of Luap Paksenarrion brought to us … a joint expedition of humans, elves, dwarves, just to find out what happened.”

  “So … Paksenarrion started it?”

  Arianya shook her head. “I acquit her of that: whatever it was started long ago, before even Gird. But her finding those scrolls … that might be the shove that starts a boulder downhill.”

  “What now?”

  “I don’t know. We cannot wake those enchanted magelords; that, I’m sure of. I don’t know why the combined skills of the Elders will not wake them … what enchantment could be stronger than theirs?”

  “A dragon’s?”

  “Perhaps, but … why would a dragon cast embattled magelords into enchanted sleep?” She rubbed her temples. “I thought the return of magery more than enough challenge for the Fellowship. I suppose I had best write the letters to both kings and also Duke Verrakai. I doubt they will know any better than I what to do, but at least they must know what the problem is.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Arian left Vérella with relief she carefully concealed from the king and court. They had been cordial; they had done everything they could think of—but to be surrounded by buildings and walls in spring, of all seasons—to be so distant from trees—stifled her. Besides, she had information Kieri needed, which she had not trusted to a courier, since at least one had disappeared between Chaya and Vérella.

  Riding east with only her own Squires, her heart lifted with every league covered. Flowering trees, flowering hedges, drifts of flowers in some fields … Their perfume filled the air, and the various shades of spring green looked edible. It felt like a holiday—all the strain of trying to uphold Lyonyan honor in a foreign court past, and any duties to come days away.

  At the border, the taig welcomed her, the sense of that living grace rising from the ground. Even riding up the scathefire track toward Chaya … Though the scar remained, ferns and flowers already grew along the margins where only natural fire had burned.

  At last they came out of the forest track into the open and rode across the bridge onto the meadow just outside the palace. On the far side of the bridge, Kieri waited with his Squires. Behind them a small crowd stood waving flowering branches and cheering.

  She and Kieri rode in together, showered with petals. It was hard not to throw herself off her horse into his arms. From his expression, he felt the same way. They made it through dinner and up the stairs into the royal chambers. Kieri shut the door firmly in the Squires’ faces.

  “I missed you,” Kieri said mildly.

  “And I, you,” Arian said.

  “I suppose I should ask you all the important questions,” Kieri said. “About Tsaia, about Mikeli…” He was undressing as he spoke. “But the only real question is … are you too tired?”

  “No,” Arian said. “Not now. Not ever.”

  Later, Arian gave him a report of her visit, starting with the most important. “They have at least one of the patterns. They hadn’t noticed; apparently they saw only irregularities in the stone, like our servants.”

  “Where?”

  “In the grange-hall for the Bells. I didn’t see any others, but I did not visit every room in the palace; there wasn’t time. I did warn King Mikeli.”

  “The elves found more here after you left,” Kieri said. “As we suspected, under the elf-gifted carpets in the public rooms. They’re not all identical, however, and I don’t know what that difference means. Did you see the pattern on that box with the regalia?”

  “No. It’s sealed in an outer box they can’t open. Only Duke Verrakai can, they said, and elven magery had no effect on it.”

  That night, Arian slept at ease, waking at dawn to find Kieri looking down at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She stretched. “Very well, now I’m home. Did you enjoy living there? In Tsaia? In Vérella?”

  “I didn’t live in the palace, though I visited … but yes, I enjoyed it. What was wrong with it?”

  “Not enough trees,” Arian said. “And no gardens in the palace grounds. It’s stuffy inside.” She looked to the window, the curtains pulled aside to let in the early summer breeze. “I don’t know how they can stand it.”

  “It did not bother me then,” Kieri said. “It might now. What about the people?”

  “At first they seemed very strange, but soon I saw they were much like us but for being all human. I saw no part-elves at all. Those who look young are young … it’s almost frightening how young the king is. He’s trying very hard, but no one that age can know enough. At least the present dukes are older.”

  “Don’t underestimate him,” Kieri said. “I knew him as a younger boy—and knew his father. How’s his brother?”

  “Impulsive, hasty, full of energy, eager.”

  “Envious of his brother?”

  “No, not that. I think he wants adventure and considers kingship dull. A boy still. Yet … there’s something endearing about him.”

  Kieri grinned at her. “You’re going to make a fine mother, my love.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Camwyn’s a scamp, and our son may be one, too. Some women cannot love a scamp. I’m glad you can. Tell me, are you tired from your journey, or do you feel like practice this day?”

  “Practice always,” Arian said. “And that’s another thing. Our royal salle is much better than their royal salle.”

  “Agreed. I’ve practice
d there.”

  Arian rejoiced in the familiar morning routine, sparring with Carlion and Siger and the Squires. Breakfast with Kieri, catching up on the news: work had begun on the River Road extension and the river port. They walked in the rose garden, now a riot of fragrance and color.

  “I cannot tell that the taig is much different without the elvenhome,” Kieri said. “What do you feel?”

  “It certainly reacted when the Lady died,” Arian said. She laid her hand gently on the stem of one of the old roses trained on a wall. From there to the trees beyond the wall, and the heart of the taig, the flow of energy felt easy, unrestricted. “You’re right, though—barring the gaps and injuries done by the scathefire, it seems healthy and much the same. Has Amrothlin said anything about the taig in particular?”

  “No. He’s been helpful on other points, though it takes at least half a day for him to tell me one thing I need to know. I’m learning patience along with far too much about things that happened a vanryn ago. He insists it’s all connected, and I suppose it is, but I wish there weren’t so much of it.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “And now, my queen, how do you feel about the burdens of queenship?”

  Arian laughed. “I am not the same woman who was afraid back in the winter, my king. You said I would not find it as difficult as I feared, and so it has been. Oh—that reminds me—I met Duke Mahieran’s daughters and their formidable aunt.”

  “Maris?” Kieri said. He shook his head, his expression rueful. “The first time I met her after being elevated to duke, she looked me up and down and said she didn’t know how someone like me got to be a duke. I think she blamed me that her husband died in a campaign I survived when I was still very young and had no title at all.”

  “She seems very…” Arian paused, unable to think how to say it.

  “Difficult? Yes. But honest, as well. How were Sonder’s daughters?”

  “Scared and rebellious both,” Arian said. “They’d been confined—less closely than Beclan but forbidden most of the things they usually did.”

  “Are they living with their mother?”

  “No, with Maris. And there’s concern they may have the magery, as Beclan does.”

  “And so they’re less likely to marry,” Kieri said. “Could you tell?”

  “No. I’m not sure I could, anyway; it’s not our kind of magery. I could tell they were spirited and bored and touchy. I invited them to share the picnic with us—everyone else was ignoring them.”

  “Good for you,” Kieri said. “I met them, of course, when I visited the house once or twice, but they were just children to me. They made their courtesy and went away while Sonder and I talked.”

  “What about Celbrin? His wife?”

  Kieri chuckled and kissed her hand again. “Not my kind of woman. Very sure she knew exactly how everyone should dress, eat, stand, sit … impressive at court and very influential with the other ladies. Well, any wife in that family would be, but Celbrin was fond of the deference she got. Gracious with steel underneath. And yet I could not imagine her with a sword.”

  “What I heard was that she was elegant, regal, and always knew what to do.”

  “You heard that from—?”

  “Several counts’ wives. Not Lady Marrakai or Lady Serrostin.”

  Kieri chuckled. “No—they were never close friends, as I recall. Still, I’m sure it’s hard on her being separated from her home, her daughters, and her chance to impress the wives of lesser peers.”

  Arian spent the rest of the morning wandering around the palace, simply happy to be home again. It seemed inconceivable now that she had been afraid she would not make a good queen, that she would find the duties too difficult. Glad as she was to be away from Tsaia’s court, the trip had given her much more confidence. Queens and kings, she understood now, were merely guardians of the taig and the people … and she had trained as a guardian of the taig most of her life.

  Amrothlin sought her out later in the day. “My lady,” he said, the inflection making it clear she was not the Lady of his heart.

  “Amrothlin … how are you?”

  His eyes darkened. “Sun and stars both fade without the Lady.”

  “Is it so for all of you, or only for you, her son?”

  “It is so for the whole world, if you could but see.” He sounded angry but then shook his head. “I am sorry, Arian. You did not kill her.”

  Arian thought of asking him more about Kieri’s mother and sister but did not feel like sitting through a long recital on this bright day. “I wish you more happiness than you now have,” she said instead. “And I thank you for the loyalty you show Kieri in such a difficult time. Tell me, have you ever visited Tsaia?”

  “Yes,” he said. “At one time we sent elves there regularly … to … to watch.”

  “To watch Kieri? You knew then, did you not?”

  He nodded. “We knew, and we watched, as the Lady bade us. At first we hoped to see some sign of his inheritance, but as you know, it did not blossom until he returned here.”

  “Where the taig could reach him,” Arian said. “The taig there is so frayed, I doubt anyone not already trained could feel it.”

  “We did not think of that,” Amrothlin said. “He had spent years with Aliam Halveric, after all.”

  Sometimes,” Kieri said, running a hand through her hair, “I think the Elders are not what the dragon would call wise. Foolish, in fact. How could they think only of humans taking my mother? By all accounts she was a superb swordswoman, a skilled rider—” He had been telling Arian what he’d learned from Amrothlin while she was in Tsaia. “And to assume the child killed as well and not search for the body … unless…” He shuddered.

  “What, love?”

  “Unless, I was thinking, whoever did this killed a child, damaged the body so it could not be identified, and they found that—”

  “Did Amrothlin say that?”

  “No. But they’ve said nothing of a lot of things. My mother being the Lady’s heir and having the power to create an elvenhome, for one.” He sighed.

  Arian looked at his face, now somber, almost angry. She had not wanted to think about his childhood after capture; the evidence of those old scars was bad enough. How had he survived to become the man he was?

  “You are a good king, Kieri,” she said.

  “I hope so,” he said, his expression shifting. He smiled at her. “If I become one, it will be because of you. You will not let me brood.”

  “Nor you, me. But I agree with you. For so long I had thought of the Lady as all-wise as well as all-powerful, but—”

  “But not so wise as she might have been. What do you really think of Amrothlin? Could he be the traitor and still intent on fooling us?”

  Arian thought a long moment before answering. “I think he is not the traitor. I think he felt his purpose missing after your mother died. I think he was loyal to your mother and then to the Lady.”

  “If I did become able to do … that … with the elvenhome, would he be loyal to me?”

  “Do you think you can, Kieri?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it before. Orlith never mentioned the possibility. I have no idea how to try, even. But if I could … Annoying as I’ve found the elves this past year, they’re still my responsibility. If I can be what they need, I would be a better king.”

  “How are the other projects coming?” Arian asked. “The road from Harway to Riverwash was certainly improved.”

  His face brightened. “I’ve talked to Master-trader Chalvers and given him permission to mark out a route from the border to Chaya. Work has begun on clearing for the port—that will take much of the summer, I fear, but at least it’s a start.”

  “We should have some kind of agreement with the Pargunese,” Arian said. “They’re weaker now and have lost land; if raiders came up the river—”

  “They trust Kostandan more than us,” Kieri said. He frowned thoughtfully. “Then again … if Ganlin marries into the Tsa
ian royal family … if the three could all be allies some way … that would be a very strong position should Alured invade.”

  “They’re a long way away if he comes over the mountains,” Arian said.

  “Yes, but he was a pirate first,” Kieri said. “He controls the Immer ports now, and from what Andressat said, he may still control piracy in the Immerhoft Sea. I have worried about that. Tsaia would never suspect that—and he could not get past the falls—but he could wreak havoc on all of us below the falls.”

  “What did you think of the Sea-Prince?” Arian asked.

  “Wary,” Kieri said. “He’s younger … Alured’s age, I would say. And like him in some ways. He said nothing about it, but I would not be surprised if Alured had traded around the Eastbight to Bannerlíth.”

  “Talk to Torfinn,” Arian said, “and the Kostandanyans as well. If Ganlin makes a good marriage in Tsaia, they should be happy with you for giving her that opportunity.”

  “I can hope so,” Kieri said. “But now—I need fresh air. Let’s go for a ride.”

  The Royal Ride on a spring afternoon was pure delight for eye and ear and nose alike.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Vérella

  When the king called Prince Camwyn into his office before supper the day after Queen Arian left for Lyonya, Camwyn was sure he’d done something wrong.

  “I’ve set the day to depart on my progress, Cam,” Mikeli said. “At first I thought I would leave you here for your safety, but after what you told me about Egan, I can’t do that. You’ll come with me. We go first to Duke Verrakai, then—if we have time and the road permits—south through Konhalt and on to a town called Brewersbridge, where we’ll meet the South Trade Road.”

  Camwyn’s heart rose. “I’m coming with you? All that way?”

  “Yes. I’ve just sent word to your tutors that you’re excused from all classes until you return. It’s a working trip, not just a rest period. I want you to be on the watch for things that may be kept from the king, and I’ll expect a written report of what you see, day by day. Are you willing to do that?”