Fortress Draconis (45 page)

The king snapped his fingers and his son fumbled at a pouch on his belt. From it he drew a signet ring that his father slipped onto his middle finger. He mouthed a word silently and the ring’s flat face glowed red, though Will caught no heat from it. Scrainwood pressed the ring against the leather, right between and above the eyes. A puff of sour smoke rose from the leather. The ring came away with a sticky sound, leaving in its wake a coiled dragon in scarlet.

Scrainwood returned the ring to his son, then motioned for Will to turn around and face the audience. He did so and could feel the intensity of the stares. He blushed, so the touch of the mask to his face was cool, but not for long. The king tied the mask tightly, catching hair in it, but Will didn’t cry out.

“We are pleased to present to you Lord Wilburforce Norringtonof Oriosa. Let whatever he has been be forgotten, and what he will become be the subject of song and tale.” The king led a round of applause, making Will blush further. Scrainwood’s hands landed on Will’s shoulders, holding him in place, and the flagging applause picked up for a moment or two.

“It is customary, at the time of a man receiving his adult mask, for him to be granted a gift. We would ask you, Wilburforce, what you would have of us?”

The thief glanced down at the floor for a moment, then canted his head and looked up and back. “I would, my lord, just wish to shake your hand in friendship.” Will turned and offered the king his hand amid gasps and a smattering of applause.

Scrainwood hesitated for a moment, clearly caught off guard, then shook hands with the thief. Will clasped his left hand on the king’s right, and the king completed the knot with his hand. Will smiled broadly and the king matched him, then gave their hands one final shake and pulled his free.

Stepping up onto the dais as the king withdrew, Will offered his hand to the prince. The young man hesitated, then extended his hand toward Will. The thief stumbled, falling against the prince, then shook his hand and backed away apologizing. “Ever so sorry. Need to learn how to see what I am doing through this mask.”

“You will learn, Norrington.” The prince’s comment came mixed with disgust and resignation, as if he detested Will, but could not muster enough outrage to make his feelings known.

Will’s head came up, but he kept his voice low. “Not easy being our fathers’ sons, is it?”

The prince’s eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed and died. “There are some things you will never learn, boy.”

The thief turned from the prince, then stepped down to the floor and greeted well-wishers. Many of them seemed genuinely pleased, and he drew warmth from their smiles and comments, but viperish glances and weak grips told him many others did not like him at all. He assumed they were jealous, or some afraid, with the group displaying outrage all being Oriosans with well-decorated masks.

The last person to greet him offered his left hand instead of the leather-wrapped metal of his right. “I’m Sallitt Hawkins of Fortress Draconis.”

Will gave him a smile. “I saw you before, with your wife, when the Draconis Baron was introduced.”

“They would both have liked to be here, and send their best wishes to you, but they are away reviewing plans as the discussions about what we will be doing now begin in earnest.” Sallitt’s mail flesh rustled a little as he smiled. “I should return to them quickly, but I could not stay away. You know, I trust, that the prophecy says you will have a Hawkins at your side when you destroy Chytrine.” Will blinked. “I guess I didn’t know that.” Resolute appeared at Will’s right shoulder. “You’re not incorrect, Colonel, though scholars and philosophers still debate nuances of the Elvish words used.”

“I can understand that.” Themeckanshü nodded slowly. “I was too old to know your father well, but I recall how well my father served your grandfather. You’ve heard tales of how Hawkinses have always served the Norringtons, I’m certain. I want you to know that if you need help—need for anything—you have a Hawkins who will help you.”

Will’s skin tightened into gooseflesh as Hawkins spoke. Not only did he hear sincerity in the man’s voice, but a conviction and desire to do his duty for Will and, by extension, the world. It didn’t matter the cost—and the man’s having let himself be made over into ameckanshü bespoke a commitment Will was unsure he could have accepted.

“Thank you, Colonel, thank you.” Will nodded solemnly. “With a Hawkins and a Norrington set against her, Chytrine’s nights of sleeping easy are going to be distant memories.”

The man gave Resolute a nod, then turned on his metal leg and limped away. Will looked up at the Vorquelf after Hawkins had moved from earshot. “Is what he said true?”

Resolute nodded solemnly. “There are many things in that prophecy, and what he said is but one of them.”

“But this is right, him offering his service like that?”

The Vorquelf’s silver eyes flashed coldly. “It is, but pairing a Norrington and a Hawkins is not enough. The efforts of good soldiers like him have to be put in a position to be effective, and we don’t know if they will or not.”

Will frowned. “Meaning?”

“This is a Council of Kings, boy. It is a marketplace of power.” Resolute’s voice became a razor-edged whisper. “For over a century Chytrine has owned my homeland, not because the world lacks the power to liberate it, but because the world leaders see no power to be harvested in liberating it. In these meetings, Cavarre will be pitted against Adrogans, and everyone else will have their own little games to play. If they forget the goal, a hundred thousand Hawkinses accompanying a hundred thousand Norringtons would accomplish nothing.”

“But—but that makes no sense.”

“No, it doesn’t, boy.” The Vorquelf sighed and patted Will on the right shoulder. “But in the eyes of a politician, they have won if their nation is the last to be devoured by Chytrine. These people will do whatever it takes to taste victory. Know that and beware.”

T/ ing Scrainwood slid a thumbnail under a fingernail and li scraped at the dirt. He worked the dark ball out and IVrolled it between thumb and index finger, then flicked it away. He inspected his nails again, then nodded to his chamberlain, Count Cabot Marsham.

“The old witch has waited long enough; bring her.”

Marsham bowed deeply, which made the varicolored ribbons hanging from his mask flutter and float. “As my lord demands.”

The king suppressed his snarl until the little man had vanished behind the mask-curtain. Marsham had once done him a favor and, despite being a scheming toad, had continually made himself useful. Marsham knew how to cultivate back-alley allies, and the meeting to which Scrainwood subjected himself had been one of Marsham’s manufacture.

Scrainwood would have postponed it, but Marsham had insisted it was very important. The king’s head throbbed with a hangover from the previous night, for he

had drunk many a toast to the honor of Oriosa and its claim on the person of the Norrington. The headache had been exacerbated by his fury with his son for having lost the state seal. What had angered Scrainwood the most about Linchmere’s losing it was not that he’d actually misplaced the thing—that had happened before—but the fact that he had noticed it missing at midnight and had not commenced a search until mid-morning, after he’d awakened.

That boy has been useless ever since his mother drowned.The king shook his head.Praise be to the gods he is not my eldest.

The king’s loss of his own ring contributed to his ill humor. The ring itself had insignificant material value, though the magick on it had proved very valuable. It also made it rather unique and possible to track down by sorcerous means. He would have preferred to have it with him, though he really felt he had little to fear from his guest, so the ring’s absence would be tolerable.

Scrainwood smiled as the mask-curtain parted and Marsham led the old woman into the small library. He guided her to a large leather-upholstered chair and made to pour her some wine. She laid a thinly fleshed, liver-spotted hand on his arm to stop him, then looked up at King Scrainwood.

“Thank you very much for seeing me, Highness.”

Scrainwood inclined his head. “Your request to speak with me, Grand Duchess, has honored me deeply. You come on your nephew’s behalf, I shall assume.”

The old woman lowered her cloak’s hood, revealing white hair tightly gathered at the back of her head. Scrainwood shivered slightly as her icy gaze met his eyes, then she glanced at Marsham. “My words are for your ears alone, Highness.”

Scrainwood looked up at his chamberlain. “Leave us, Marsham. Attend my son and aid his search.”

Marsham again bowed deeply and departed. Had

Scrainwood not given him specific instructions, Marsham would have taken up a position just beyond the mask-curtain, where he could listen to everything without being seen. While Scrainwood was not certain what Tatyana wanted, he was sure he didn’t want Marsham knowing about it until he had decided how much the chamberlain should know.

Scrainwood came over and sat across from the old woman. “He is gone. What is it you have to tell me?”

The frail old woman sat back in the massive chair. “A drop of wine first, perhaps, Highness?”

Scrainwood’s nostrils flared, but he got up and poured the ruby vintage into a cut-crystal glass. Despite wanting a drink himself rather fiercely, he just served her, then returned to his chair.

“You will not join me?”

“As well you know, Grand Duchess, wine often aids speaking, though seldom helps hearing.”

“So true, Highness, and seldom helps thinking—much of which you will wish to be doing.” She sipped the wine, then gave him a quick smile. “Very good.”

“If I like what you tell me, you’ll have a cask of it by morning.”

The old woman’s icy blue eyes slitted. “I will accept your gift, though what I give you will grant you the continued leadership of your nation—quite cheaply at that price.”

What game are you playing? “Twocasks every year I am on the throne then, and you still live.”

“Better.” She set the glass down on the table with the decanter, then leaned forward. “In our councils I have discerned certain unanimity of thought shared by you and the Draconis Baron.”

“We do not walk in lockstep, but we have many things in common. He is married to my sister. My eldest is commanding Fortress Draconis in Cavarre’s absence.” Scrainwood forced his eyes wide so she could see them easily within his mask. “As with every other leader, I would prefer it if he were to share with us the secret of the dragonel, but he has so far refrained. Is he wise in assuming that if we had this secret we might war with each other? Perhaps.”

She folded her hands together and rested them on her knees. “I would have thought you more discerning than that, Highness.”

“Drink more, Grand Duchess, speak plainly.” Scrainwood rubbed at his left temple. “I have neither the time nor the disposition for divining hidden meanings.”

“I shall be blunt, then, King Scrainwood. This offer you made me, to give me two casks of wine as long as I lived or you were on the Oriosan throne—this is an offer I will live to lament the cessation of.”

Scrainwood had no doubt Tatyana was too bitter to die soon, but he expected his reign to continue for a long while yet. “You think I will be unseated, and unseated by Cavarre? Perhaps you’ve drunk too much if you believe he covets my throne.”

“No, Highness, I do not believe such foolishness. He would not take it for himself, nor for the children he’s gotten on your sister, though the throne is close to being their right. No, he would win it for your son, Erlestoke. He is teaching him a great deal and Oriosa will be better for his being on the throne. So will most of the world.”

“You go too far.”

“No, Highness, you have gone too far.” Tatyana’s voice became a rime-tinged hiss. “Do you think any of us have failed to notice that Oriosa serves as a staging area for Chytrine’s forces? Cavarre sees Oriosa as an enemy at his back, so it must be dealt with. The army that assaulted Porasena, here on your border with Alcida, came from Oriosa. We all know that. While the urZrethi are tight-lipped about their affairs, stories have filtered out of Oriosa about Aurolani forces fighting with the urZrethi in Bokagul. Oriosa, under your leadership, is a putrefying wound that threatens to spill its poison throughout the world.”

Scrainwood snorted. “You know I track her forces, keep count of them, and share that information with others. Her predations are kept to a minimum while our armies are honed by fighting her. Look at your own Princess Alexia. The blood on her sword has been Aurolani blood.”

“A fair point, and wise.” The old woman steepled her fingers. “The simple fact of the matter, however, is that if the Council decides in Cavarre’s favor and does not support Adrogans’ request for troops, armies will gather and march through Oriosa. You know they will prey on your people, punishing them for your dealings with Chytrine.”

Scrainwood’s flesh tightened as he looked down at his clawed hands. He could still see his mother’s head clutched there. He could feel her warm blood dripping down between his fingers. He could see her lips moving in a final message to him, but with no lungs she could not so much as whisper. The ten seconds of life she had beyond beheading expanded into a lifetime in his memory, and each heartbeat of it tightened his stomach into a rock.

The Okrans mystic continued in a sepulchral whisper. “How easy it would be for Cavarre to send your son to Meredo to take command. He unseats you, perhaps blood-lessly, forcing you and Linchmere into exile on some little farm. He then turns its forces on Chytrine’s troops in your nation, rooting them out. You know she will kill you for that, and most horribly. And you know Erlestoke would gladly let her do it, since he still lays the blame for his mother’s death at your feet.”

“He should lay it at Cavarre’s feet, for the blame is his. He never should have allowed her to go sailing when the weather was so unpredictable.”

Tatyana slowly shook her head. “Some think he was your agent in that, you know. Your wife was visiting his wife. You had no love for your spouse, as evidenced by various dalliances, and she no love for you. Did you have her thrown over the side, or did she leap?”