Fortress Draconis (34 page)

It was her!He leaned to the left, tugged urgently on Crow’s sleeve, and whispered to him. “The woman there, . from Okrannel. She’s the one from Stellin. The one on the horse. The bandit leader.”

Crow leaned a bit forward, his eyes tightened. “You could be right. Who did they say she is?”

Will shrugged, but Estafa leaned in. “That’s Princess Alexia, Prince Kirill’s daughter.”

Crow’s voice grew small. “Sothat is Alexia.” Will frowned. “You say that as if you knew her.”

“I…” Crow hesitated, then coughed into his hand. “I recall hearing she survived her father’s death, but I had heard nothing of her since then.”

Estafa sniffed. “She was taken to Gyrvirgul to be raised. Rumor has it that she was exiled from court here by Grand Duchess Tatyana, the king’s aunt. Having been raised by the Gyrkyme, she is a savage.”

Will shot the gossipy magicker a sharp glance, then shook his head. “Don’t know about your sources, but she sits a horse pretty good.”

“She does indeed.” Crow shared a smile with Will. “And carries that gold gown well enough, too.”

The Okrans party passed slowly, but only King Stefin and Princess Alexia greeted King Augustus, so the next group did not have to wait very long to move forward. Will didn’t know who the small man was, all dressed in royal blue velvet with black striping, but he knew he had to be from Fortress Draconis. Behind him came ten individuals, paired male and female, but warriors all by the look of them. That wasn’t shrewd judgment on Will’s part—they weremeckanshü and had been paired such that their artificial legs and arms were to the interior of the line, with metal hands holding metal hands, as appropriate.

Crow’s voice grew slightly distant. “That’s Dothan Cavarre, the Draconis Baron. He’s the one we’ll have to convince to scatter his fragments of the DragonCrown.”

The young thief nodded. Cavarre was actually the first adult at the gathering who stood shorter than Will. His white-blond hair, which he wore long and unfettered, matched his well-trimmed moustaches and goatee. The grey eyes, complete with blue flecking, searched the room endlessly and restlessly. Will had seen that sort of behavior in the streets and did not assign it to paranoia or fear as much as a habit of suspecting and hunting.

The man looked more than once at Crow, and that sent a shiver through Will.

“Who is he with?”

Crow smiled. “That is his wife, Ryhope, of Oriosa. She is Scrainwood’s sister. Time has treated her kindly.”

Will arched an eyebrow at Crow and the old man nodded.

“I’ve more than heard of her. I once saw her here, at the Harvest Festival, when last it was held in Yslin. She had a few less lines on her face then, and no hints of that white forelock in her raven hair. She did, however, have that sense of self and grace you see there. The people following them, I believe, are the leaders of the fortress’ battalions, some newly promoted.”

Estafa cleared his throat. “My sources there are better. The last two are new. She is Jancis Ironside, from Muroso. The man’s her husband, from Oriosa. He’s a bit of a prig about the masks, but I think that’s because he wants something covering what little face he has left.”

Will frowned. The woman looked fairly normal, since her gown was long and full enough to hide whatever was making her limp. Her left hand even had a blue leather glove on it, so if it had more than just two fingers and a thumb, no one could have known there was anything she was hiding. She did wear a mask of blue velvet, trimmed in black, which matched the uniforms from Fortress Draconis perfectly.

Looking at her husband, Will had to admit the wizard did have a point. At some time in the past, her husband must have lost most of the flesh on his face, along with a bit of his nose. Around the edges of his black mask, which was decorated with ribbons and little sigils in white, the silver mail that had replaced his skin was easy to see. Will couldn’t quite be certain, but seemed to recall having seen that sort of very fine mail being worn by some of the Vorks, so he wondered if some elf had used it to repair the soldier.

Crow frowned. “Does that soldier have a name?”

“Hawkins, I believe, Sallitt Hawkins.”

Will’s eyes grew wide. “Wasn’t he the traitor?”

The sorcerer chuckled lightly. “No, he was the brother who aided King Augustus in the Okrannel campaign. He’s the one who redeemed that name from the shame.”

“Sure, like someone could clear up that sort of mess.” Will shook his head. “Impossible.”

The Vilwanese mage snorted. “No tougher than your task.”

“What?”

“The vaunted prophecy, the Vorquelf prophecy.” Estafa shook his head. “Kenwick Norrington and his son serve Chytrine assullanciri, yet the prophecy calls for a Norrington to destroy her. You’re that Norrington, Will.”

“What?” He looked over at Crow and saw distraction melting into distress on the man’s face. “That’s what this is all about? No, NO!”

Crow extended a hand toward him, but Will slapped it away, then turned and bolted through the door. He heard Crow call for him to wait, but he ignored him. Will snarled at guards, twitching his fingers as if preparing to cast a spell. As they recoiled, he rushed past them and out of Fortress Gryps. Weaving a confused path through the throng in the streets, Will cut north and lost himself in the Dimandowns.

As King Scrainwood continued his diatribe at the first Council of Kings session, Alexia concluded that he not only lived up to his reputation, he surpassed it. The green mask he wore—all gaudy with ribbons and feathers sewed to it, and sigils decorating it here and there—still possessed more nobility than the man himself. The whine in his words reflected stress, but his sarcasm brought with it free-flowing venom. Seated in the second rank of the Okrannel delegation, she felt tempted to vault the table, cross to where he paced, and drop him with a short punch.

Scrainwood’s upper lip curled back in a sneer, half hidden beneath his mask. “And now, as a little ‘side issue,’ we are told by the Vilwanese that they had the Norrington who is prophesied to put an end to Chytrine and theylost him? How is the presence of the savior of civilization a side issue? How is his loss trivialized so?”

Scrainwood’s pacing took him across the inner ring of tables. The frontline nations of Alcida, Oriosa, Muroso, Sebcia, and Jerana all occupied that first circle, with long tables covered by banners with the appropriate arms for each delegate. Two smaller tables held the Alcidese contingent at the north side of the circle. Between them Augustus sat in a throne on a dais as the presiding officer of the gathering.

Opposite him in that first circle also sat two small tables. Okrannel had been given one out of courtesy. The other table belonged to Fortress Draconis. The Draconis Baron sat there alone, though two of hismeckanshü officers were seated behind him.

A sorcerer in a plain grey robe stood at the second ring table given to Vilwan and folded his fingers together. He let his hands rest at his waist, so his sleeves came down and hid them. “If it would please King Scrainwood and his exalted peers, my report, if uninterrupted, would explain.”

King Augustus, seated at the front of the room in a throne on a dais, nodded. “Please, King Scrainwood, restrain yourself for the moment. Give them a chance to explain.”

“Yes, Augustus, I shall, though I believe their priority in reporting is reversed.”

The Vilwanese representative bowed his head. “I sought to provide a chronological framework for events. As I was saying, volunteers from south Saporicia came to Vilwan to defend the island. When they arrived, we were informed that a young man in the company of other travelers likely was the Norrington of prophecy. We undertook steps to ensure his safety. They were successful and he was brought here as part of our contingent to keep him hidden and safe.”

Scrainwood laughed aloud. “You failed.”

“Our failure, King Scrainwood, was in not fully communicating to members of our group more than we, albeit mistakenly, thought they should know. We were distracted. When the volunteers came to Vilwan, we used their ships to evacuate our Apprentices from the island. These are the sons and daughters that all of your people have sent us.

They are the best and most talented children on the face of the earth. Each was endowed with special magickal abilities that we were honing.

“It now appears that Chytrine’s strike at Vilwan had two goals, neither of which was the conquest of the island. The first was the reduction of the Wruonan pirates. Since the fall of Okrannel, and the loss of its navy, the pirates have largely been unimpeded in their predation of the lower sea. They harassed her ships heading south, so she fashioned a sham alliance with them. By enlisting them to aid the invasion, she ensured that a significant portion of their ships and personnel would be killed. Since none of her best-known ships were present, it is even assumed that Vionna might have colluded with Chytrine to cull enemies in the invasion.

The man hesitated for a moment, and his shoulders sagged. “Her second goal… It appears she anticipated our desire to evacuate our youngest. The pirates swept over them, sinking boats, burning them, ramming them. They slaughtered hundreds. Others drowned. Many are still missing. Of the nearly nine hundred children we sent away, fewer than fifty have managed to report.”

Grand Duchess Tatyana barked a harsh laugh. “You allowed our children to be cast like so much chum into the sea? You’ll find it a cold day when next an Okrans child is sent to Vilwan.”

The sorcerer nodded. “Not an unreasonable statement, and one doubtless finding resonance in all your hearts. I believe this was precisely the reaction Chytrine wished to inspire. Not only has she devastated a crop of wizards, but she has salted the ground so no more will grow up. If she holds off another ten years, or twenty, their lack will be sorely felt.”

Scrainwood stood at his place again. “But she will be vanquished, will she not, by this Norrington? Oh, wait, you have lost him as well.”

“Yes, Highness.” As the man sighed, Alexia could easily imagine the bone-weary fatigue dragging on him. “We have people searching for him.”

“But not using magick to do so, if my sources are correct.” Scrainwood sniffed triumphantly. “Perhaps your dead children were the experts in seeking things out?”

The wizard stiffened. “You are welcome to impugn the competency of our leadership, King Scrainwood, but do not sully the memory of our children,your children, with your sneers. The simple fact of the matter is this: if we use magick to seek him out, it is possible that Chytrine or her agents might be able to use our efforts to locate him first. The reverse is, of course, true, so we have people working to cover that eventuality.”

Queen Carus of Jerana raised a ringer. “You suggest by this comment that Chytrine already knows the Norrington exists?”

“Yes, Highness, this is what I have been told.”

“How is that possible?”

The wizard’s dark eyes narrowed. “The method used, by others, not by us, to ascertain the veracity of his identity exposed his presence to Chytrine’s agents. In their defense, I would say that this risk was unavoidable.”

Augustus sat forward on his throne. “Why did the boy run?”

“He had not been told he was the Norrington of prophecy. When he learned who he was, well, imagine the shock. He bolted and went into hiding.”

The King of Oriosa’s eyes blazed. “He was known to bethe Norrington, which makes him one ofmy subjects, and he was not told who he was?I was not told who he was? This is impossible.”

“Were it up to me, Scrainwood, you’d still not know he existed.”

The snarled voice came from the second ring of tables, so Alexia had to turn toward her left to see the speaker. She recognized the white-haired Vorquelf from the previous night’sreception.He’dabandonedthegibberer-scalp cloak, which meant his tattooed arms were in full display. She thought for a moment, then nodded.He’s the one called Resolute.

Resolute swept his silver gaze over the room. “I found the Norrington, here, in Yslin. I took him to where his identity was verified. I was taking him to Fortress Draconis, and from there to confront Chytrine. The Vilwanese had no part in this, save for transporting us back here.”

King Augustus stroked his beard carefully. “I have known of you for years, Resolute, and your dedication to the liberation of Vorquellyn is well known. When I ask what I ask it is not to cast doubt on you or your wisdom, it’s just to gain some information.”

The Vorquelf nodded slowly. “Your sense of fairness is well known, Highness. Ask.”

“Why didn’t you tell the Norrington who he was?”

“He is barely a man, and that is in years alone. Not in size nor mind nor disposition is he yet grown. I found him here, in your Dimandowns. He’s a thief who knew nothing of the world outside Yslin’s shadows. He needed to be taught things, taught to accept his destiny.”

“Accept his destiny?” Scrainwood threw his arms wide. “This boy should be accepted and feted by every nation here. He is our liberation from the scourge of the north. We would raise armies and he would carry us to victory.”

The Vorquelf’s eyes hardened. “You mistake two things, Highness. First, we know he is a Norrington, but we do not know that he isthe Norrington. It could be that even now some girl harbors his child in her belly. Second, even if he isthe Norrington, to assume his patrimony means he will be unopposed, or would give him a clue about how to direct forces to destroy Chytrine, is stupid.”

“Moreover,” offered the Draconis Baron, “to assume we need this child to destroy Chytrine is beyond stupid. If I remember the prophecy correctly, it says he will kill a scourge of the north, not Chytrine. He could account for just one of hersullanciri —his father, perhaps, or grandfather even— and would have fulfilled the prophecy. And we must remember that this prophecy only promises the redemption of Vorquellyn. I’m certain that the good people to my left do not find the continued occupation of Okrannel acceptable.”

Tatyana stood abruptly. “We do not. And we do not at all appreciate the Oriosan attempt to lay claim to this Norrington.”

Scrainwood smiled slowly. “You mistake me, all of you, in thinking that I desire to possess this Norrington, or to push him into anything he is not ready to do. No, not my desire at all. My desires regarding him are simple. First, I wish for his recovery so Chytrine cannot have him. Second, since she knows of him and is presumed to be making an effort to find him, I believe we can use him. If we do raise him up, praise him, put him at the head of an army, she will be forced to pay attention to him. She has to fear him, and that will distract her from your efforts, my brother Dothan.”