The Night of the Knives
Almiri tiptoed across the floor. She was shaking, still sweating from running up the stairs. And from what had gone on before. She held a single candle, and the flame flickered restlessly, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Her hands were trembling. She approached her mother's bed and felt like a young girl again, a child looking for a comfort she rarely received.
Shezira tossed and turned. Almiri knew those dreams. She'd had her own dreams, of being at home in the far-off north. Of someone tapping on her window, of the tapping growing louder, and then the rooms shaking and swaying. Of pictures falling off the walls, candles tipping over, ceilings cracking, beams breaking. Of castles falling and of the earth splitting open.
She knelt by the bed and gave her mother a gentle nudge. 'Your Holiness…'
Shezira twisted violently away. Someone in her bedchamber. In the middle of the night. Ill deeds…
Almiri tried again. 'Mother!' This time Shezira heard her. She sat up, wild-eyed.
'Almiri?'
'Yes. Mother, you have to wake up.'
Shouts outside. Swords clashing. Men screaming. Hiding…
Shezira rubbed her eyes and squinted at her daughter, shielding her eyes from the candlelight. 'Almiri,' she said again. 'What are you doing here?'
'Mother, someone has tried to kill the speaker.'
'Hyram's dead?'
'No, mother.' Almiri tried to keep her voice steady, but she couldn't hide the tension. 'Queen Zafir. Someone has tried to kill Queen Zafir.'
Lying on the floor in the dark, trying not to breathe. Armoured feet in front of her eyes. Vicious words and bared, bloody swords…
'I don't suppose they succeeded?'
'No, mother. She was wounded but not killed.'
Shezira chuckled. 'Pity.'
'Mother! This is not a joke.' Almiri's voice sounded shrill to herself. She wanted to scream.
'Who did it?'
'They say it was a rider disguised as a messenger boy. They say it was your knight-marshal.' She could see the coldness blossom inside her mother and sweep across her face. How long has it been since you were afraid, mother?
Her own husband, a king, dragged from his bed and thrown to the floor with a sword to his neck.
'Nastria?'
'Yes, mother.'
'No!' Shezira threw off her blankets and got up. 'No, Nastria would never do such a thing. Not without my order.'
'Yes, mother. They say that too.'
'Servants!' Shezira peered at her. 'I ordered no such thing. You look frightened, daughter. Why?'
'Because…'
The sword is lifted up…
Because I am. Because I'm terrified. Petrified. Paralysed. But she could never say that. Not to her mother. Shezira couldn't begin to understand. She wouldn't even try.
'Because the Adamantine Guard have seized our tower, mother. Valgar's riders are either dead or taken. They dragged my husband out of his bed.'… but never comes down. The feet march away and take him with them and she is alone in the dark, still silent and unbreathing. 'When he fought, they beat him like a common criminal. I hid under the bed. I heard them talking. They didn't see me in the dark.'
Servants were coming in now, sluggishly, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Shezira scowled at them. 'Dress me,' she snapped. 'Awake my riders. Awake everyone. Daughter, you're not making much sense. Why would Hyram's guards do such a thing?'
Almiri sat on the bed and held her head in her hands. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep it all clenched up inside her for much longer. 'They're Zafir's Guard now, mother. Your knight-marshal tried to kill her. They saw her. She fled, and they saw her come to our tower. But she's not there, mother. When they don't find her, they'll come here.'
'I'm quite sure you're right, especially if they saw you come here too.'
'What was I supposed to do, mother? It was dark. I wasn't asleep. I saw them take Valgar and so I ran. They killed our riders!'
Shezira held out her arms to be dressed. 'Yes, so you said.'
'Where is Lady Nastria, mother?'
'Missing.'
What's that, mother? A touch of fear? It is, isn't it? So you do remember what it feels like from all those years ago.
'Missing,' Shezira said again. She frowned.
'Would she-'
'No, daughter, she would not. She would never be so mindlessly stupid.'
Someone ran into the room and grovelled at Shezira's feet.
'Your Holiness-'
'What?'
'The speaker's soldiers are hammering on the door, Your Holiness. They demand-'
Shezira waved him away. 'Tell them that I am dressing and that when I am ready they may enter. Tell them that the person they're looking for is not here, but I shall be happy to allow them to see that for themselves. Tell them that my riders shall not be the first to bare their swords. And remind them that I have a good few more than King Valgar did.'
Another servant approached. 'Your armour, Holiness?'
'Are we at war? Don't be foolish.' She waved that one away too.
'Mother-'
'Enough, Almiri. The Guard may take their orders from Queen Zafir today, but for the last ten years they've answered to Hyram, and old habits are not so easily forgotten. Does he think I plan to go to war with them? That would be absurd. I will speak to Hyram in person, and if he intends to imprison everyone who disagrees with his foolishness then he can do it himself. No, daughter, something else is afoot here. Hyram will release King Valgar and Zafir will pay compensation to the families of his dead riders. I will see to it.' Finally she was dressed. She shooed all her servants away and marched out and down into the body of the Tower of Dusk. She swept down the stairs into the great hall with Almiri on her heels. A dozen riders were already there, some of them armoured, some of them still in their nightclothes, but all armed. Most of them were pressed against the doors to the outside. A heavy bar was braced across both doors, and the riders were shouting at the soldiers outside, such a cacophony of cursing that Almiri couldn't make out a single word. When the queen reached the bottom of the stairs, she snatched a spear and banged it on the floor. 'Open the doors,' she shouted. 'Let them in.'
'Mother, don't go outside.' Almiri almost snatched at Shezira's sleeve, but that would have earned her nothing but contempt.
The riders fell silent. Shezira glared at them. 'What are you waiting for?' She pointed at the nearest two knights, who'd managed to scramble into their armour. 'You come with me. The rest of you-'
'Mother!' Almiri almost screamed. It was a mistake to shout at a queen, but she couldn't help herself any more.
Shezira rounded on her. 'Queen Almiri is our guest,' she said very clearly. 'See to it that the Adamantine Guardsmen understand that. And we are not King Valgar, but the Queen of the North, the Queen of Sand and Stone, with twelve score dragons at our beck and call. See they understand that too.' She swept her cloak around her and marched towards the door. 'Why is this door still closed? Must I open it myself?'
She would have lilted the bar with her own hands if some of her riders hadn't hastily removed it. The doors swung open. Outside, dozens of Adamantine men stood waiting, fully armoured and with bared steel in their hands. They paused and then parted as Shezira strode towards them, and after all the shouting an eerie silence fell. Almiri watched her go into the gloom of the night. Tears stung her eyes.
You're wrong. Mother, this time you're wrong.
She kept her thoughts to herself, though, and as Shezira vanished into the darkness, she quietly slipped away.