Blackveil

  “No,” Trace agreed, “it is not. Connly hasn’t been able to see her. Destarion claims she’s been taken ill, and has confined her to the mending wing. He says she’ll recover and not to worry.”

  “Who is in charge?” Alton asked, his chest tight.

  “Connly is in charge of the Riders,” Trace said. “He reports mainly to Colin Dovekey. As for the realm ...” Her pause was ponderous. “As for the realm, we now have a queen.”

  Estral and Dale gasped.

  “Lady Estora,” Alton murmured.

  Trace nodded, the corona of green light flaring around her head with the gesture. “Queen Estora.”

  “But how?” Dale demanded. “If the king is so injured—”

  “Exactly why she’s been made queen.” Alton, the son and heir of a lord-governor who had grown up immersed in the politics and machinations of the provincial court, could see all too clearly what had happened. “King Zachary’s condition must be truly precarious for them to go forward with something like this. A deathbed wedding.”

  “Someone wanted to ensure there was continuity of power,” Estral added. “But what of an heir? Surely the king had someone in mind in case something like this happened.”

  “Even if the king had an heir,” Alton said, “it would cause a disruption, not something we need right now. Just what Second Empire would want.”

  They all fell silent, absorbing all that Trace had told them, and what it might mean for their future. A future without King Zachary? Alton shook his head. It would be a blow to the realm, a blow to himself, for he’d admired King Zachary, who always put his people before himself. Could he already be gone, and those closest to him had not yet revealed the truth?

  And Karigan. Now that he knew where her affections truly lay, he couldn’t help but hurt for her. She would not know until she came back from Blackveil. If she came back. Estral squeezed his hand, and the somber look she gave him indicated her thoughts were along the same lines.

  “What does Connly want us to do?” Alton asked Trace.

  “To keep doing as we’re doing. Our orders have not changed. Meanwhile, he’s going to find out what he can do about the captain, and take your information about the Sleepers to the queen. He wanted me to tell you to remember we are still His Majesty’s Messenger Service, but if the king dies, we are the queen’s Riders.” A solemn silence followed this pronouncement.

  “I’d like us to touch base daily,” Alton told Trace. “More often if necessary.”

  “Absolutely.”

  When they said their good-byes, Trace vanished and Merdigen reappeared.

  “We’ve got to tell the others,” Alton said. “Can we do it this same way?”

  Merdigen nodded. “Except, obviously, with the towers east of the breach.”

  “I can ride to Garth,” Dale said.

  Alton nodded. “He and Fern will need to know about Haurris and the Sleepers, as well. We need to impress upon everyone just what Connly said, that we need to keep doing our duty, whether we are the king’s Riders, or the queen’s.”

  THREATS

  A bell tolled through the impenetrable blackness. Its sonorous clanging scraped Laren’s mind raw, and all she could think was that it was a death bell, ringing out the news. The news of . . .

  So trapped in the tide of the dark was she that at first she could not remember, but as she tossed beneath blankets, the horizon lightened to gray, only to falter and dim again as she dreamed of arrows, arrows impaling a little boy she loved very much.

  The bell pealed out one last note that hung in the air.

  “Zachary!” She sat up, blinded by light, disoriented. Where was she? This was not her bed.

  Someone’s hand pressed her shoulder and she sank back into her pillows. “Easy, Red.”

  At the sound of Elgin’s voice, Laren sighed and rubbed her eyes. When they adjusted to the light, her vision was blurry and her head throbbed. “Terrible dream,” she murmured. Her mouth was dry. “Terrible dream about Zachary.” She floundered for a cup of water on the bedside table. Elgin saw what she was after and helped her drink. When she drained the cup, he filled it for her again from a pitcher. This time she drank more slowly.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Where am I?”

  “Destarion said you fell ill night before last,” Elgin replied. “You’re in the mending wing.”

  “I don’t remember . . .” Her head hurt too much and she was too groggy to recall the other night’s events. “I heard the death bell.”

  “Death bell? Just now? Nah, that was just the midday bell.”

  “Then it was all a dream,” she whispered in relief. “Zachary is all right.”

  There was a painful period of silence before Elgin spoke again. “I don’t know what your dream was, and while that was not a death bell, the prince—the king is not all right, but he lives. For now.”

  “Oh, gods.” Unbidden tears streamed down her cheeks as she pieced together shreds of memory. The mad ride down the Winding Way with Ben, the wagon charging up the street bearing Zachary impaled with an arrow and Lord Coutre dying beside him. “Tell me, tell me about him.”

  “Well,” Elgin said, “I don’t know much more than he made it through two nights.”

  It gave Laren hope. If Zachary made it through two nights ... Now he just had to keep making it. He had to!

  “Your Riders have been worried about you,” Elgin said quietly.

  She squinted at him, made out his blurry form sitting in a chair beside her bed. “I don’t think I was sick. I don’t know.” She racked her brain, searching for other memories of the day. She recalled being in Zachary’s quarters and talking to Colin. She remembered Lady Estora coming to see Zachary.

  “Destarion said it came on rapid. He thought maybe it was the strain.”

  That certainly could be, she thought. However, her vision was already subtly improving and the headache lifting. Elgin was less of a blur. In fact, she could discern dark shadows beneath his eyes, a grayness to him she had not seen before.

  “There is something else you’ll want to know about the king,” he said. “He’s a married man now. We have a queen.”

  “What?” Laren sat bolt upright and the world darkened once more and she thought she might fall back into unconsciousness.

  “Easy there, Red,” Elgin said. “The menders wanted me to warn you to take it slow.”

  His voice anchored her and she blinked away the dark. “They did it,” she whispered as a rush of memory hit her all at once, the heated discussion with Colin, the tea. “Those bastards. They did it.”

  “Er, you’re not calling the king and his new queen ...”

  “No, I mean Colin and the others. His conspirators. They got Zachary married. Tell me, have my Riders gone out with the news of any of this?”

  Despite her obvious disorientation and emotional behavior, Elgin remained calm, steady, her anchor. “Counselor Dovekey ordered them out late this morning with the joyous news.”

  Laren crushed handfuls of blanket in her fists. No doubt they downplayed Zachary’s injury, as well, if that was even included in the message. Oh, yes, she had done what she could to promote the forthcoming marriage between Zachary and Estora, but she hadn’t wanted it to come about in this manner. Not at all. Not through duplicity. There were those who would see through the deception no matter how well concealed, and if that happened, it would only make matters worse.

  She threw her blanket off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. They’d clothed her in a sleeping gown, but she was relieved to see her uniform hanging on hooks. She jumped to her feet.

  And the room slanted and the gray pervaded her vision.

  “Whoa, lass!” Elgin said. “Steady now. Remember, take it slowly.”

  She sank back down onto the bed and glared at Elgin, her hands trembling. “They dosed me with something, Chief,” she said. “They put something in my tea. They did not want me to interfere with their little plan.” She thought he’d probabl
y think her raving, delirious. He did not move or react to her words, but rubbed his chin thoughtfully as if considering her sanity.

  “Huh,” he said finally. “Who all is involved?”

  Laren closed her eyes and sent up a small prayer of thanks to the heavens. He believed her. Colin and the others probably preferred to cast doubt on her rationality, which could only serve their own cause. If she gainsayed them, they could undermine her authority, her very sanity, so no one believed her. Her assertions would be brushed aside as the ravings of a woman grief stricken by the loss of someone she was so very close to. She’d been in such despair, they’d say, illness had weakened her mind.

  But they hadn’t counted on Elgin. Or her Riders. Elgin believed her. Her Riders would believe her. She’d have to move carefully so the conspirators did not work to discredit her.

  “Spane,” Laren said. “He started it, then Colin joined in. Destarion is the one who dosed my tea. And Colin said Harborough, with the army to back him, was in favor of it. I’m going to kill them.”

  “The whole army?”

  “You know what I mean. The conspirators. They went against protocol, against king’s law, and they didn’t want me to inform the lord-governors of it.”

  “I see,” Elgin replied, “but the king was going to marry Lady Estora anyway, and this should help secure a smooth transition of power.”

  “Oh, Chief, not you, too.”

  “I’m not saying it’s right, at least in a legal sense. I’m sure Zachary will have a few things to say should the gods grant us his recovery. And it was certainly wrong of them to remove you from the process as they did. But what can you do? Gah, politics and intrigue. It’s why I didn’t want to come back.”

  Laren’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t think I can do much, but there is a chance before she’s crowned—”

  Elgin cleared his throat and looked out the window. “Too late, as of this morning.”

  “What? They already held her coronation?”

  “Yep. Before your Riders got sent out.”

  “Those bastards. I am going to kill them. I guess the only thing left for me to do is register a formal complaint with the queen. She is now the law of the land.”

  “That could be dangerous,” Elgin said.

  “Estora has always been reasonable, but sudden power does have a way of changing people. Still, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  “I recommend you eat something first.” Master Destarion appeared in the doorway bearing a tray of food and drink. “You’ve missed a few meals and that’s adding to your weakness.”

  Elgin sniffed at the fine aromas rising from the tray. Laren’s stomach roiled.

  “I suppose the food’s dosed with whatever you gave me the other night in the tea.” Laren said, her voice full of venom.

  “I regret the necessity of what we did,” Destarion said. He set the tray on a table. Laren was tempted to upend it and throw the dishes at him, but she figured it would only be another excuse for them to dose her well and good.

  “There is nothing mixed in your food or drink, except whatever spices the kitchen staff use to make it taste better,” Destarion said.

  She glowered at him.

  “You do have the ability to check the truth of my words,” he said.

  She did, and she reached for where her brooch usually was, but it was not clasped to her sleeping gown. Elgin, who knew what she wanted, fetched her shortcoat, but her emotions must have been strong enough that she did not require contact with the brooch to receive her answer. True, her special ability told her. Destarion had not lied about the food or drink. She took her shortcoat from Elgin, and touching the brooch only reinforced the first message.

  So the items on the tray were safe. The knowledge did not, however, ameliorate her anger toward Destarion. As galling as it was that she must rely on him for information on the conditions of Zachary and Ben, her concern for the two overrode her personal feelings. “How is Zachary?”

  “Feverish. This will be a difficult day.”

  “And Ben?”

  “Still unconscious.”

  “He over-exerted his ability,” Laren said. “He could have killed himself.”

  “That is what we believe, but we’ve no experience with this sort of thing—at least in our lifetimes. I’ve a couple of apprentices checking back through our archives to see if there is any mention of a similar case occurring in the past.”

  “You will tell me if you find out anything about Ben’s condition, won’t you.” She’d made it a statement, not a question. She was curious to know just what the mender documents said about Riders, since so little Rider history had survived the ages. It hadn’t occurred to her before to search their archives. “It could help all Riders.”

  Destarion bowed. “Of course. Now I suggest you eat, as our queen has been asking to speak with you, and decisions have to be made.”

  “Decisions?” she murmured, but Destarion had already left.

  “I thought he was one of the ones you were going to kill,” Elgin said.

  “He was. Is. After he finds out what’s going on with Ben.”

  After Laren ate and dressed, no one forbade her to leave the mending wing. She peered in at Ben who lay peacefully in bed. He looked only to be asleep, but when she called to him and shook his shoulder, he did not awaken.

  She also saw Sperren reclined in a daybed in a sunny common room, where an apprentice mender read to him.

  “Captain!” he called out. “I’ve a new hip, is it not wonderful?”

  So wonderful that Zachary was in danger of dying because of that hip, and Ben remained unconscious.

  “And we’ve a new queen! ” Sperren added. “It is a remarkable day.”

  Laren ground her teeth. On her way out, she said to Elgin, “I’m going to kill him, too.”

  “The carnage is going to be terrible.”

  Elgin accompanied her all the way to the royal apartments. It wasn’t necessary, but she was grateful for his presence. In the course of two nights, it felt as though everyone else had turned against her.

  The Weapons permitted her into the private portion of the apartments, leading her to Zachary’s dressing room. There she found Colin in consultation with Zachary’s secretary, Cummings. When she arrived, they stood.

  “Captain,” Colin said, “so good to see you up and about so soon after your illness.”

  “You are sticking to that story, are you? So if I make trouble it will be easier to convince everyone I’ve cracked?”

  “I’m so sorry, Captain,” Colin replied. “But it was necessary. We will face the consequences if it comes to that.”

  “By Zachary’s hand, or mine if he is not able, you will.”

  Colin’s expression darkened. “I hardly think it helps matters to make threats.”

  “I don’t make threats, Colin. You know that.”

  “You may find yourself in a position, Captain, unable to do more.”

  “Who is making threats now?” she murmured.

  Colin lifted his chin but did not reply. Cummings excused himself, no doubt to escape the tension in the room. Elgin remained solidly by her side.

  “When Zachary recovers,” Laren said, “I look forward to seeing him make you accountable.”

  “I pray to the gods he does recover,” Colin said, “no matter what it may cost me.”

  His demeanor had become very humble, remorseful, and his words rang with truth, even without her consulting her ability. She would never understand the Weapon mentality of Death is honor. It was even more astonishing to her that this man who had dedicated himself to Zachary, Zachary’s father, King Amigast, and his grandmother, Queen Isen, would betray Zachary in this manner. But then, Weapons were mysterious in their ways, and though it was never said overtly, more than being protectors of the royal family and the royal dead, their directive was to guard the kingdom more than the person who ruled the kingdom. Did they construe that directive to mean they could initiate a coup
if they deemed it necessary? If Zachary did recover, they needed to have a serious talk.

  “Destarion told me,” Laren said, “that Lady ... Queen Estora asked to see me.”

  “Yes, Captain, but I wish to be forthright and warn you there has been a good deal of discussion about you.”

  “Really.”

  Colin nodded. “It is under consideration that you be relieved of duty, at least temporarily.”

  “What?” It was Elgin who bellowed out the word. Laren was not surprised.

  “At this crucial time,” Colin explained, “we need all of us to be in accord regarding our new queen. We are unsure of your absolute loyalty and we cannot judge your honesty in the same way your ability allows you to judge us. However, we also understand you cannot leave the service voluntarily or under coercion due to the properties of your brooch. Therefore, suspension of duty may be the preferred alternative.”

  “After all my years of service?”

  “It pains me,” Colin said. “I know how dedicated you are to Zachary and the realm. It is nothing personal, of course.”

  Of course not. It was political expediency. There were, Laren knew, other ways to silence her that were far less gentle than suspension. Would her continued resistance force them to resort to other measures? They were quite capable of concealing anything they did to her. There would be lies about her whereabouts. They’d inform interested parties she was not favored by the queen.

  “Because I wanted to follow legal protocol you are suspending me?” she asked, her soft tone only underscoring her contempt.

  “It is not for me to determine,” Colin replied. “It’s the queen’s decision. Naturally we hope she will express confidence in you, and you will accept all that has come to pass.”

  “Good gods,” Elgin muttered. “It’s Gwyer Warhein all over.”

  “That was another time, a different situation,” Colin retorted.

  Was it really so different? Laren wondered. Gwyer Warhein, captain of the Green Riders two hundred years ago, had been vilified by his king, the paranoid Agates Sealender, for the unspeakable crime of honesty; for telling truths the king hated hearing about himself and his reign. Warhein had been a reader of honesty, just as Laren was—she wore his brooch. It had come to her, chosen her, from across generations of Riders. She fingered it now, the gold smooth and cool to her touch. She tilted her head as she regarded Colin.