Carroway listened to the city bells chime as he paced in his room above the Dragon's Rage Inn. He had tried-and abandoned-several distractions. Neither music nor books could still his restlessness or dispel the sense of foreboding that filled him. The smell of roasting mutton filled the air from the kitchen below as the inn filled with patrons for Candles Night. And although Carroway was certain the innkeeper would reserve a plate of the evening's fare for him, even the delectable smells could not overcome the knot in his stomach. When the door to the passageway opened unexpectedly, he spun to face it. Paiva's eyes widened as she and Bandele closed the door behind them. "Sweet Mother and Childe, Carroway! You're jumpier than an old hen."
"You're early," he said, ignoring her comment. "Does that mean you have news?" Paiva smiled conspiratorially and gestured for them to move to the corner farthest from the guards' post outside the door. She set the basket of food she had brought on the table. "I broke into Crevan's office."
Carroway felt the blood drain from his face. "You did what?"
Paiva shushed him. "Keep your voice down. Bandele watched the corridor while I picked the lock." She shrugged at his sideways glance. "I was on my own for quite a while before Macaria brought me to the palace. You learn things. Anyhow, we knew Crevan would be tied up down in the kitchen seeing to Candles Night. So it was the best chance we were going to get." "And?"
Paiva withdrew two stacks of sealed parchments from beneath the food in her basket, each tied with twine. She handed them to Carroway, who felt his hands begin to shake as he recognized the writing on the first stack. "That's Tris's handwriting," he whispered. "And the other stack is in Kiara's hand. I don't understand."
"You know how Kiara has been pining because she hasn't received a letter from the king since he left for battle?" Bandele said, her eyes flashing. "Turns out, that's not exactly true. Count the letters in that stack-all sealed with the king's signet and addressed to her. There's one there for each week. Only they never got further than Crevan's office."
Paiva lifted the other stack. "These are the queen's letters-but they never got put in the packets that went to the king. I found them in a false bottom beneath the trunk he keeps in his office." She looked rather proud of herself. "Still have the touch," she said, dusting off her hands as she returned the unopened letters to Carroway.
"Want to bet Crevan didn't want the king to know what's really going on here-the attacks on Kiara, locking up you and Mikhail and Bian? Zachar and Malae dead. Kiara would have mentioned all of that and Crevan couldn't take the chance," Bandele added. Carroway nodded slowly. "I can see that. But what of Tris's letters for Kiara?" Bandele met his eyes. "What better way to make her feel completely alone than to make her think her new husband can't be bothered to write to her? Besides, Crevan couldn't take the chance that Tris might say something in one of his own letters that made it clear he wasn't getting Kiara's letters."
"That's not all," Paiva said smugly. "I found something else in Crevan's desk." She reached into her pocket to withdraw a small item wrapped in rags. An oddly-shaped metal implement spilled out onto the table. It had two sharpened conical points attached to a ring big enough to fit over a man's two fingers.
"What's that?" Carroway said, reaching out to touch it before Paiva smacked his hand clear. "Watch out! They're sharp. Take another look at them." She picked up a stale roll from the table and slipped the metal ring over her two fingers, then stabbed the points into the roll. "Look like anything to you?"
Carroway swallowed hard. "Puncture marks. Like a vayash moru might leave in a victim's neck."
Paiva nodded. "Mikhail said the marks didn't look right. But at first glance, if the shape and spacing was about right, who's going to look harder? People see what they want to see." Her face darkened. "There was one other thing, but I couldn't bring it. I found it in a locked box in Crevan's drawer. Managed to get the lock opened, but even I could tell the thing inside had some kind of curse on it, and I've got no magic in my bones at all. I'm not scared of much, but you couldn't have paid me enough gold to set my hand on that awful thing!" "What was it?"
"A dagger, the likes of which I've never seen. Had a handle made from what looked like
human bone. But it was the blade that caught my eye. The steel had lines in it, wavy and folded, as if someone had made a design in it. The lines seemed to blur and move when I looked hard at them, and I could swear when I listened closely, I could hear voices in the distance." She shivered. "I couldn't tell what they were saying, and I didn't want to know. I was scared to death. Never put anything back where I found it so quickly in all my life." Carroway walked across the room to pull down a book from the shelf near his bed. He flipped through the yellowed pages until he came to the drawing he sought. "Did it look like this?" he asked, pointing. Paiva nodded. "That's it. Good as its twin, it is."
Carroway's hands were shaking as he set the book aside. "Was Crevan still at Shekerishet when you left?"
Paiva and Bandele exchanged puzzled glances. "Yes, but he was just getting ready to leave. He was going up to the hunting lodge to take the feast night dinner to the queen." Carroway gave a low groan and they looked at him in alarm.
"He's going to use that dagger to kill Kiara tonight. The evil you sensed from the blade must be blood magic." Glancing nervously toward the door, Carroway read them the passage from the book in a low tone. Bandele covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her exclamation.
"What can we do? Halik and Tadghe haven't returned yet with Harrtuck. No one will believe us-and that goes double for you," Paiva said, gripping Carroway's arm.
Carroway shut the book and set it aside. "I've got to stop him."
"You can't! You go anywhere near the queen and the guards have orders to kill you on sight," Bandele whispered.
"There's no one else to do it. How can I stay here, knowing what's going to happen? That would be a true betrayal." He shook his head. "If Crevan hasn't left yet, I just might make it in time to warn Kiara and Macaria before he arrives. I might be able to slip past the guards so that no one sees me except Kiara. If they're warned they can defend themselves. I can be safely back here before anyone knows I'm gone."
Bandele cleared her throat. "Nice plan, except for the guards at the door. They're friendly enough, but I doubt they'll let you out of here, even with a story like that one." "Then again." They turned to look at Paiva, who had a guilty expression on her face. She reached beneath her cloak into her bodice, drawing a small vial of indigo liquid from between her breasts. "It's sleeping potion. I got it from the hedge witch when I was asking around about the herbs we found in the kitchen. Thought it might be handy to have on hand, just in case." "Just in case of a jail break?" Bandele hissed.
Paiva unwrapped the food in the basket she had brought from the palace. Inside was a warm meat pasty, fresh pastries with cheese and a bottle of aged Cartelasian brandy. "Nicked the bottle on the way out of the kitchen. Figured the guards might have some good food from the inn given the feast night, but no one pours a brandy like this for the help." "Did you have anything in mind after you put the guards to sleep?" Bandele asked with an edge to her voice.
"I figured Carroway could improvise something."
Carroway grinned at Paiva's audacity. "All right. Here goes. I tie the two of you up, so that if this goes wrong you can say I overpowered you. Then I take Bandele's cloak-she's tall enough that it should cover most of me. With the feast crowd, no one should give me a second look if I hunch over and keep the hood up. I'll slip down the back stairs and steal a horse. I should be at the lodge within a candlemark." Bandele looked appalled. "They hang horse thieves in Margolan, you know." Carroway fixed her with a sideways glare. "If I get caught, I'll have an arrow through my chest or a knife in my back. Hanging's the least of my worries." He fetched two mugs for Paiva and watched as she poured a liberal draught into each one and then emptied half of the vial into the cups in turn.
She gave each a swirl and looked up with a guileless smile. "Shall we give the boys their feast day treat?"
Carroway and Bandele hung well back from the door as Paiva fixed a plate for the guards to go with the brandy. She tugged at her dress to make the bodice scandalously revealing, flirting coyly with the guards as she teased and joked before giving them their drugged repast. She closed the door and leaned against it, all coquettishness gone from her manner. Paiva put a finger to her lips and kept her ear to the door. Before long, there were two heavy thuds from the other side.
"You're dangerous," Bandele said, only partially joking. She stripped off her heavy woolen cloak as Carroway looked around the room for a belt and a sash to tie them with. He dug into the trunk that held his things to find the daggers that were hidden in the lining, and slipped them into
his belt. Within a few minutes, he had bound and loosely gagged both of his friends and wrapped himself in Bandele's cloak.
"Hurry," Paiva said, her voice muffled through the cloth. "Get out of here before the innkeeper decides to bring up your supper."
"Wish me luck," Carroway whispered with more certainty than he felt as he slipped from the room, locking the door behind him.
"That's the sixth hand of tarle you've won tonight!" Macaria exclaimed. Kiara set her cards down triumphantly. "Honestly, if you weren't queen you could earn a living as a card sharp!" Kiara, Macaria and Cerise sat around a low table near the fire in the great room of Bricen's hunting lodge. Compared with Shekerishet, the room was closer to the size of a parlor, sufficient for a hunting party to feast on the spoils of their hunt. Kiara grinned at Macaria. "I spent a large part of the winter cooped up in a library in Principality last year," she said. "While Tris trained, all the rest of us had was salle practice and card games to pass the time." She laughed. "And if you think I play a bloodthirsty game of cards, don't ever make a bet with Berwyn of Principality. She actually beat Jonmarc a few times." When the laughter subsided, Macaria stretched and sniffed the air. "I don't know what Alle has the cook making for dinner, but it smells wonderful." As if on cue, the mastiff that sprawled at Macaria's feet stretched and stood, wagging its tail. He padded to the door, and the two wolfhounds followed him, heading in the direction of the kitchen. On the hearth, Jae lifted his head and looked around, then curled back up and went to sleep. Kiara sighed. "Candles Night was a minor holiday in Isencroft, but it was still an excuse for jousting and bonfires."
"Name one holiday in Isencroft that isn't an excuse for jousting and bonfires," Cerise replied drolly. "Now that I've heard more about how the other kingdoms celebrate, I've started to think that Isencroft is ever-so-slightly less than creative."
"You're probably right. Between the jousts and the legends of the warriors of yore, we do seem a bit focused on things military." "Really? Hadn't noticed," Cerise deadpanned.
"On the other hand," Kiara said, enjoying the harmless sparring, "I haven't seen quite so good a joust since I left Isencroft. Maybe all that practice makes perfect."
"I don't miss freezing my rump off watching grown men beat at each other with sticks," Cerise rejoined. "But I've been hungry for the mincemeat pie and for Cook's mutton roasted in ale since the snow began to fall."
Kiara leaned back in her chair. "If I'm going to have mutton, I like the little balls Cook made with dates and cloves and currants in them. It covered up the mutton taste!" Outside, the bells in the distance chimed the eighth hour. "I thought Crevan said he'd be out with some of the palace goodies," Macaria said. She stood and moved away from the fire, walking to the window and pulling back the heavy draperies. "He's quite late. I thought he'd ride out before nightfall."
Kiara shrugged. "He probably got detained taking care of one issue or another. Honestly, with the feast going on, I'm surprised he planned to come at all." Just then, Alle came to the door with a pleased expression on her face. "Ladies," she said with a flourish, "dinner is served."
Alle joined them and they took their places at the table as the cook and her assistant began to bring out the food. A platter of crispels in honey and pokerounce with a thick spread of dates was served with mugs of warm watered wine, followed by an almond egg custard and spicy stuffed eggs. Two steaming crocks followed, one of peas porridge and the other of stewed cabbage and onions. Finally, the cook presented a platter of roasted lamb seasoned with wine and currants and Kiara and the others gave a round of applause. When the cook reappeared a few moments later with ramekins of warm almond rice milk with cinnamon and fig pies basted in spiced honey, Kiara and the others exchanged glances at the bounty. "A magnificent groaning board!" Kiara pronounced, and the cook beamed at the praise. "But surely, you didn't expect four women to eat all this?"
"You're eating for the young prince as well, m'lady," the cook said with a glance to Kiara's belly.
"Fair enough," she laughed. "But there's only one in there, not a hungry legion! You've done yourself proud. I promise there will be more than enough for you and the guards to feast as well."
"Thank you, m'lady," the cook said, smiling broadly at the praise. "Now please, enjoy while it's hot. There'll be a round of wassail to drink with the desserts."
Alle and Macaria made certain that Kiara's plate was heaping full. They laughed and talked, remarking on the ingenuity of the cook to put so fine a meal together without the resources of the full castle kitchen.
Finally, when they could eat no more, Kiara pushed back from the table. "Goddess true! I feel like I should spend the next week in the salle working off a dinner like this one. I'll need a stouter horse to carry me back to Shekerishet if you feed me like this too often!" Alle chuckled and set aside her napkin. "I'll give the cook your regards," she said, rising. "And if Jae wants to come with me, I dare say the cook will have some leavings for him- that's where those greedy dogs are, I wager." She reached for Jae and the little gyregon flapped his leathery wings once, then settled down and let her gently pick him up. "Let me go check on something." Alle grinned. "I asked Cook to make one of my favorites-little cakes with a charm inside for good luck. I brought the charms with me from Aunt Eadoin's. It's said that you may know your fortune for the month by the charm in your cake." She excused herself and went toward the kitchen, which was in a separate building just outside the main lodge.
"This may be the best time to get some herbs from the cellar," Cerise said, standing. "If I wait much longer, I'll be too full to move and as wonderful as this feast was, I'd rather not find my way to the bottom of those steps in the dead of night if your stomach decides to disagree with you!"
Kiara and Macaria sat in silence, staring at the ample food that remained on the table. "I was just thinking of how many nights we ate salt pork and hard biscuits on the road outrunning Jared's troops," Kiara said, shifting in her chair to find a more comfortable position. "I don't think I'll ever take a meal like this for granted again after that." Macaria laughed. "When we minstrels fled the palace, we played for our supper in taverns far enough from the palace to avoid the king's eye. Many a night the meat didn't bear too close a look, and you didn't want to scrape away the sauce to see what was underneath. Those times make a good tale, but they weren't something I'd like to repeat." Outside, Tris's dogs began barking loudly. Kiara moved to the window. "Funny," she said. "I don't see anything out there."
"Come back by the fire," Macaria urged. "They've probably spotted a stag in the woods." After a few moments, the barking subsided and Kiara took a chair by the hearth. Macaria went to the corner of the room to fetch her lute. Just as she returned, footsteps in the doorway made them turn. Crevan entered, his face flushed with the outside cold and his eyes bright.
"We'd just about given up on you making it tonight," Kiara greeted him. "Late for you to come all this way."
"It's Candles Night," Crevan replied, still warming his hands in the pockets of his cloak. "I wouldn't have missed it."
"Come over by the fire and tell us the news from Shekerishet," Kiara said, motioning toward a chair. "The good news, at least."
"I can't stay long," Crevan said as he joined them. Macaria's head was bent over her lute as she tuned it, but something in Crevan's voice made Kiara pause. "Is there a problem?"
Crevan gave a tight-lipped smile. "Not after tonight." Moving more quickly than she had ever seen the seneschal move, Crevan stabbed a dart into Kiara's shoulder. As Kiara gasped, Crevan wheeled, grabbing a pewter pitcher and slamming it against Macaria's temple. Macaria went down hard, landing on her lute which splintered into pieces beneath her. Crevan backed away a few steps as Kiara groped for the dart in her shoulder and came away with bloodied fingers. The room was beginning to spin around her and she felt sick. Her entire body felt by turns cold and hot. Kiara tried to rise from her chair but her body refused to obey her thoughts.
"I didn't know the true extent of your regent magic, but that dose of wormroot should be sufficient to stop even a mage like the king," Crevan said as he watched her struggle. "It's a kinder poison than what I gave to the guards-and to those troublesome dogs. Don't expect the others to barge in and save you. The healer is locked in the cellar, and the others are
locked in the kitchen. They won't be going anywhere for a while."
Kiara struggled for words against the drugs that dulled her senses. "Why?"
"Because Isencroft must be free." From the folds of his cloak, Crevan withdrew an ornate dagger with a strange, patterned blade. "Your father thought I was the perfect spy. And I was-for Curane and the divisionists. With you out of the way, we can go back to the natural order of things. No heir, no joint kingdom. As it should be."
Crevan raised the knife and it glittered in the firelight. "The blade eliminates the threat to Isencroft, while your blood shed this night seals the magic that will defeat King Martris." He smiled, moving forward. "Don't move, and I'll make this quick."
The whirr of a blade was the only warning as a throwing knife arced across the room and struck Crevan between the shoulders. Kiara's eyes widened as the blade bounced harmlessly aside, making a cut in his cloak that revealed a cuirass beneath Crevan's shirt. With a growl, Crevan turned. Carroway stood in the doorway. He looked more frightened than Kiara had ever seen him, but his blue eyes were resolute. "Get away from her, Crevan. I'll have no conscience over killing you." Crevan began to laugh. "This is better than I expected. I didn't see a way for me to avoid the blame, but now you've given me an alibi. The spurned lover, come to take his vengeance. A struggle, and you both die. What a pity that I arrive too late to stop it from happening." Carroway ran at Crevan with a shout, his own dagger raised to strike. With unexpected agility, Crevan dodged the blow and knocked Carroway off balance. As Carroway reached for the table to steady himself, Crevan stabbed down with the blade, pinning Carroway's left hand to the heavy oak table. Carroway twisted in pain, trying to free his hand from the knife that was sunk deep into the hard wood. Crevan took up a carving knife from beside the mutton roast and stepped over Macaria to move closer to Kiara.
"Crevan, no!" Carroway shouted as Crevan lurched forward, stabbing down toward Kiara's belly as she tried to throw herself out of his way. There was a rustle from the floor, and a blur of motion. Crevan stiffened, eyes wide, as blood gurgled from his lips. The shattered neck of a wooden lute protruded from his throat, and he crumpled to the floor. Macaria staggered, bleeding on one side of her head, her hand covered with Crevan's blood. In the distance, the bells tolled nine times.
Carroway gripped the hilt of the dagger in his right hand and wrested it from the table with a cry. His freed hand was bleeding badly and he wrapped it in a discarded napkin from the table as Macaria knelt next to Kiara. Blood stained the side of her gown, and Kiara's eyes were wide and her pupils large. "Is she-"
Macaria knelt next to Kiara and gingerly pulled the carving knife free. "He sliced through her gown and there's a gash in her side that's bleeding pretty badly, but the blade went into the back of the chair, thank the Lady."
Pounding bootsteps behind them made Carroway and Macaria turn. Both of them stepped protectively in front of Kiara. "Hold it right there."
Five Margolan guardsmen, crossbows notched and ready, filled the room. Carroway and Macaria raised their hands in surrender and Carroway saw two of the bowmen train their weapons on his heart. "Our orders were to shoot on sight," the bowman said, raising his hand for the signal.
"Belay that!" A stout man shouldered past the guards, sword in hand. Harrtuck pushed his way into the room. "I'll have the skin of anyone who fires on them. Weapons down!" "Sir?"
"Are you hard of hearing? Put down your weapons."
"You've got to find Cerise," Carroway said, daring to take a step so that Harrtuck could see where Kiara lay slumped in the chair. "Kiara's hurt badly."
"She's locked in the cellar," Macaria said, reaching to steady herself as she eased into a chair. Carroway stepped aside, cradling his wounded hand close to his body as the soldiers rushed in to take over the scene and two men left to free Cerise and the others. Harrtuck walked over to him, shaking his head. "What a mess."
"I take it Halik and Tadghe reached you?"
Harrtuck rubbed his beard. "Aye. I had a feeling in my bones we shouldn't have left the queen when Crevan sent us out to put down that uprising. And I was right. It was hardly more than a feast day riot. We turned around to come back as quickly as we locked up the handful of troublemakers, and we were only a day's ride out from the city when your two friends came riding like the Crone Herself was chasing them." He chuckled. "Believe me when I say that it's the first time I've had bards ride down a guard squadron. I took half the group and rode for the lodge, and sent the other half to the palace, just in case." He shook his head, stepping back to make way for Cerise to reach Kiara. "I'm only sorry we didn't get here sooner."
"Thanks for not shooting me."
Harrtuck's expression sobered. "I can't lift Crevan's order of banishment, although I can explain why we didn't follow his directions to the letter. But I'm afraid I'll have to take you back to the palace and put you under arrest until Tris comes back." Carroway swallowed hard and nodded. His hand throbbed, making it difficult to think clearly, and blood was soaking through the napkin he had wadded against the wound. The slightest motion of his fingers sent excruciating pain up his arm.
He watched as Cerise felt for Kiara's pulse and called for a guard to bring her healer's bag
from her room. "Will she be all right?" Harrtuck asked as Cerise ripped a large enough hole in the side of Kiara's gown to treat the wound.
"It's a deep cut, but the point of the blade went into the chair. She'll be sore, but it's not the gash that worries me. She's not reacting right."
"Crevan drugged her with wormroot," Macaria said. She held a cloth against her bleeding temple and was pale enough that Carroway thought she might pass out. "He hit me with the pitcher, and it stunned me. It's good I have a hard head."
"You're luckier than the guards," Harrtuck said, his voice roughened from the weather. "They're both dead in the guardhouse-poisoned. One of the dogs is dead and the other two looked mighty ill. I'm betting Crevan brought them poisoned meat to shut them up." "Crevan said he'd locked Alle and the servants in the kitchen," Carroway said, not taking his eyes from where Cerise labored over Kiara. Harrtuck barked an order to one of the guards, who left immediately to free the others. Alle joined them in a few minutes, with Jae perched on her shoulder. The little gyregon gave a shrill cry and flew to perch on the top of Kiara's chair. Alle took one look at Macaria and Carroway and left the room, only to return with a bowl of water and strips of cloth for binding. Carroway motioned for her to take care of Macaria first.
"Looks like you'll have a goose egg tomorrow, but it's not as bad as it could be," Alle said, wiping the blood from Macaria's temple and giving her a cool wet cloth to hold against the injury.
Alle grimaced as she glanced at Carroway's hand. "That's beyond my skill. When I patched up bar fights with the Resistance, I left the bad stuff for the healers. But I can get you something for the pain." She went to a cabinet at the far side of the room and returned with a bottle of whiskey. Carroway bit back a curse as she gingerly daubed the wound with water to clean it and then splashed it with whiskey. She poured an ample amount of the amber liquid into a cup and pressed it into his good hand. "Drink this before we have to carry you out, too."
Cerise straightened and stood. They grew silent and looked at her, fearful of what she might say. "Kiara's life isn't in danger, but the wormroot dose he gave her was massive. She's drugged to a stupor, and I have no idea what that will do to the baby." She looked to Harrtuck. "There's no point in keeping her here, since Crevan was the danger. It would be best to get her back to the palace."
"There's a wagon in the barn," Alle said. "We can leave in the morning if there's no hurry. We're not in much shape to meet up with wolves on the way back by night."
Cerise nodded. "Agreed. And in the meantime," she said, "I'll see to the two of you as best I can," she said with a look to Macaria and Carroway.
Harrtuck gave terse orders to his men. He turned back to Carroway and the others. "I'm sorry we didn't get here earlier." He looked down at Crevan's body. "We'll get that out of your way and take it back with us." Harrtuck gave an apologetic look to Carroway. "And I know it doesn't make any sense, but technically, I need to put you under arrest." Macaria looked up sharply, her eyes worried. Carroway gave a slight shake of his head. "I understand," he said, wishing the whiskey did more for the pain. "Surely you can leave him with me long enough for healing," Cerise said, glancing at Harrtuck from where she knelt next to Macaria.
"For my money, I'd leave him free on his own judgment. But I can't undo the seneschal's edict, and I don't want to make it any worse on him than it already is," Harrtuck muttered. Carroway found himself holding his breath as Cerise turned her attention to his hand. She said nothing, and even her gentle touch was agonizing. His hand curled protectively around the gash through his palm, and straightening out his fingers to let her see the wound made him cry out through gritted teeth. Cerise was silent as she applied a poultice, and Carroway felt her healer's magic closing skin and knitting together tissue. Gradually, the worst of the pain subsided, although the slightest movement of his fingers made his whole hand throb. "I've healed the flesh and sinew, but a hand is a delicate thing," Cerise said. Carroway felt his heart thud in his throat. "I don't know how that will affect motion." "Can I play again?" Carroway asked in a strangled voice, looking at the pieces of Macaria's lute that littered the floor.
Cerise met his eyes. "I don't know. We'll have to see how it goes. I'm sorry I can't do more." Carroway couldn't bear the look in Macaria's eyes as she gasped at Cerise's words. Macaria reached out to take his uninjured hand, and he knew that she understood just how great a loss it was to him. She pressed his hand against her cheek and brushed her lips against it.
"I'm glad you're all right," he said quietly, giving her hand a squeeze. She returned a wan smile, and he knew she realized how thin his control was right now. Harrtuck laid a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, lad. Let's get some sleep. We'll put your arm in a sling tomorrow, so you can handle the reins with the other hand. Don't fret. I've busted up my fingers plenty of times, and I still grip a tankard of ale just fine."