The Exiled Queen (14 page)

ODEN’S

FORD

It took more than a week for the Gray Wolves to reach the border of the Kingdom of Tamron. The spiderwebbing waterways of the Fens eventually coalesced into the broad and lazy Tamron River. It meandered south, wrapping around islands and sandbars as if it didn’t really care where it was going.

Waterwalkers poled rafts and flatboats up and down the river at will, there being little current to fight. The Wolves traveled mostly at night, staying well away from the riverbanks, and making wide circles around Waterwalker villages. After their experience at Rivertown, they did not know how they would be received.

They slipped across the border one night, waiting until after sunset. They needn’t have troubled themselves. The keep that frowned over the river road on the Tamron side was abandoned—occupied only by feral cats and armies of mice, living amicably together. The stable yard was overgrown with brambles and grasses. Some of the stonework had been cannibalized by scavengers.

“Tamron must’ve sent their armies south and east, to reinforce the border with Arden,” Amon said, kicking at a rusted bucket lying in the weeds. “Seems they’re not worried about the Waterwalkers down here.”

They slept that night in the shelter of the ruined castle. Amon directed Raisa to a corner of what must have been the officers’ mess, and planted himself and his bedroll next to the door. The other Wolves found sleeping space in the courtyard.

Raisa could see stars above where portions of the wooden roof had rotted away. It was good to have sturdy walls around her, after their experiences in the Fens, yet she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Once again, she second-guessed her decision to leave the Fells. Homesickness lay like a cold stone under her breastbone.

The mountains called to her, all the dead queens in their tombs of stone. Raisa, they whispered. Raisa ana’Marianna ana’Rissa and all the other ana’s back to Hanalea. Come back home.

I refuse to cooperate in the re-enslavement of the Gray Wolf line, she thought.

Finally, she rose and walked to the doorway and stood over Amon Byrne, where he lay cocooned in his blanket. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he whispered. “Why are you up?”

“Why can’t I ever sneak up on you?” she demanded.

Amon sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Why don’t you try it in the daylight?”

Raisa snorted. “If I can’t do it when you’re fast asleep, how could I expect to do it when you’re awake?”

“I’m just saying it would be more convenient in the daylight.” He yawned.

Oh. Right. Raisa stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just I can’t sleep.” She stared down at her feet in the heavy wool socks that were scarcely needed in this strange southern climate.

“Hmmm.” He raked his hand through his tousled hair. “Here. Sit,” he said, patting a stone bench next to the door. Raisa sat. He slid out of his blankets, wearing only his breeches, and sat next to her.

She took his hand between her two and leaned her head on his shoulder. She traced the veins on the back of his hand with her forefinger. His hands were large, blunt-fingered, capable. She loved his hands.

A voice whispered in her head. I will lean on Amon Byrne for the rest of my life.

After a brief silence, he said, “If it means anything, I think you made the right decision. Leaving the Fells, I mean.”

Raisa blinked up at him. “How did you know that’s what was bothering me?”

“Lucky guess,” Amon said, looking away and shrugging his shoulders. “You’re not one to run from a fight, and you can hold your own with most anyone in a fair go. But how could you hope to fight your mother and the High Wizard both?”

“But my mother’s the queen,” Raisa said. “How can I expect others to bend their knees to me if I rebel against my liege ruler? How can my people trust me if I run away?”

Amon gazed down at their joined hands. For once he didn’t pull away. “You pick a battle you can win, and choose the time and place of it. Don’t let the enemy choose.”

“Is that what they teach you at Wien House?”

“It’s what my da says. The Bayars wouldn’t have risked pushing this marriage and enraging the clans if they weren’t sure of the outcome.”

Raisa sighed. Somehow, out here in the lonely dark of this peculiar autumn, what had happened back in Fellsmarch Castle on her name day seemed like an overwritten melodrama starring somebody else.

“They could be wrong. The Bayars, I mean.”

“Aye, they could be,” Amon said, his voice measured. Meaning he doubted it.

“She does resist Lord Bayar sometimes,” Raisa persisted, somehow compelled to defend her mother. “Maybe it’s more a matter of influence than control.”

“Maybe. Still, you’d be married to Micah Bayar if you’d stayed.”

Micah. Raisa looked up at the stars, focusing, trying to dispel the memory of Micah’s face, of the kisses that had sizzled through her like flame through paper.

“Let’s talk about what will happen when we get to Oden’s Ford,” she said, suddenly eager to change the subject.

“I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered the idea of going to the Temple School?” Amon said this with little hope.

Raisa sighed. “Except for my time at Demonai Camp, I’ve studied art, music, and languages all my life. I need to learn something else.”

She looked up into his face, willing him to understand. “Going to Oden’s Ford is risky, but it’s also an opportunity. None of the Gray Wolf queens has gone there, not recently, anyway. I’ll learn things my mother can’t teach me. The queendom is under siege, and we’re running out of time.” Raisa suddenly realized she was gripping Amon’s hand really hard, and let go her death hold a bit.

Amon looked sideways at her. “Because of what happened with the Bayars?”

Raisa shook her head. “It’s not just them. I feel like the sand is washing from under my feet.” She laughed bitterly. “I sound like my mother, the melancholy queen. But, unlike her, I’m not willing to trade sovereignty for protection.” She paused. “The problem with the gift of prophecy is you’re never sure if it’s a true vision or just the doldrums setting in.

“Lord Bayar is right about one thing—we’re going to be under assault from the south as soon as the Montaignes quit fighting each other. I’ll never be a soldier, but I need to know more about diplomacy, politics, and military strategy. I need to know my enemies better.”

“So you want to go to Wien House.”

She nodded.

The moon freed itself from a veil of clouds, and light spilled into the ruins.

“Micah and Fiona Bayar will be at Mystwerk House as first years,” Amon said, raising an eyebrow. “The Manders, too.”

She sighed. “I guess I’ll run into them sooner or later.”

“Maybe later, if we’re lucky.” He rubbed his nose. “One advantage of Wien House is that it’s on the opposite side of the river from Mystwerk. Warriors, engineers, and accountants—the practical arts—train on one side of the river. Wizards, healers, and the temple artists train on the other side. There’s not much mixing between.”

“Really?” Raisa said, surprised. “Why not?”

Amon smiled, his white teeth flashing against his sun-dark skin. “Any red-robed wizard newling who wanders onto the Wien House side is likely to be pitched into the river. It’s mostly southerners on our side, and they aren’t keen on anything magical.”

“Wouldn’t they think twice about tangling with a wizard?” Raisa said.

“You’d think.” Amon nodded. “But there are strict rules about magical attacks within the academy. Any kind of aggression, actually. You’ve heard of the Peace of Oden’s Ford, I guess.”

Raisa nodded. “It’s amazing they can enforce it. And since the school’s between Arden and Tamron, I’m surprised neither has tried to take it over.”

“Arden and Tamron would both love to have the academy, with all its wealth and knowledge,” Amon said. “Arden disapproves of Mystwerk because it trains wizards. The Church of Malthus wants to shut Mystwerk down, and they’ve tried to overrun the school before. But the faculty and students fight to defend it. You’ve got the most powerful wizards, the best military and engineering minds in the Seven Realms. Nobody’s messed with them in a long time.” Raisa waited, but Amon seemed determined to make a long story short.

“Do you think getting into Wien House will be a problem?” Raisa asked.

“My da said he’d write recommendations to the masters of the Temple School and Wien House. He used to teach at Wien House, so he has some influence.” Amon paused, as if debating whether to go on. “Taim Askell is the master of Wien House, though, and he could be difficult.”

“Difficult? How?”

“Let’s just wait and see,” Amon said. “I don’t want to call down trouble that might pass us by.” He looked up at the sky. “Promise me you’ll go to Temple School, though, if you can’t get into Wien House?”

“Let’s just wait and see,” Raisa said. I’ll get in, she told herself. I’m not wasting my time at Oden’s Ford.

“If you’re recognized, you may have to leave at a moment’s notice,” Amon said, tightening his grip on her hand.

She nodded. “I understand. But I don’t see where I could go that would be safer. Not Arden. Tamron’s a possibility, I guess,” she said, thinking of Liam Tomlin.

“What about farther south? Bruinswallow or We’enhaven?” Amon said.

“You’re the one who suggested Oden’s Ford in the first place,” Raisa said. “Besides, I don’t know people in Bruinswallow or We’enhaven. That’s my problem. I haven’t been anywhere; I don’t know anyone outside of my own realm except the people who came to my name day party. I could end up someplace where they sacrifice foreign princesses to their gods.” She paused, but Amon didn’t smile. “I can’t put myself under someone else’s control. And I want to stay close enough to get a message to my mother.”

Amon’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t mean that, Rai. It’s too dangerous.”

“She needs to know I’m still alive,” Raisa insisted. “And that I still love her, and that I’m coming back. I don’t want her to have any doubts about that.”

“How are you planning to send a message in a way that doesn’t lead directly back to you?” Amon said. “Here I’m worrying about your running into Micah, and you’re planning to stand up and wave at Lord Bayar and say, ‘Here I am!’”

“I’m not writing to Lord Bayar,” Raisa growled.

“Same as,” Amon retorted. “Besides, because of the war it’s not all that easy to send mail from Oden’s Ford to the Fells.”

“I don’t know how I’ll do it!” Raisa snapped. “Why is it that everything I want to do is dangerous? Everything worthwhile, anyway. Some chances are worth taking.”

Amon muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, Corporal?” Raisa demanded. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Amon clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead, his dark eyebrows drawn together.

“What?”

“I said, Your Highness, that the difference between you and me is that if you get yourself killed, you don’t have to blame yourself every day for the rest of your life.”

Raisa’s cheeks warmed as the blood rushed to her face. “Do you really think anyone is out to kill me?” she said softly. “Isn’t it more likely that I’ll be carried back to the Fells to marry Micah if I’m recognized and taken?” She shrugged. “If that happens, I’ll deal with it. As long as I’m alive, I’ll find a way. I promise you this: I will not be a captive queen.”

Amon looked up at the sky, the silvery moonlight washing over his face, gilding his chest and arms. He seemed to be struggling over whether to speak.

“You mentioned prophecy before,” Amon said finally. “I just can’t shake the feeling that you’re risking more than a bad marriage.” He cleared his throat and gestured toward her bedroll. “Best get some sleep, Your Highness. We’ve a long way to go tomorrow.”

In contrast to the Fells, where much of the land was too rocky and steep to farm, all of Tamron seemed to be tamed and under cultivation. Great orchards stretched down to the river, the arching branches of the trees loaded with fruit—peaches, apples, and strange orange and yellow fruits that made Raisa’s mouth pucker when she bit into them.

Fields of wheat, beans, corn, squash, and pumpkins were centered by great manor houses and studded with the huts of the crofters who labored in the fields. The houses were sprawling, elegant structures with ground-floor windows, not built for defense. Tamron had been at peace for as long as anyone could remember.

It was hard to believe that a war raged just a few hundred miles to the east.

Amon had visibly relaxed since they’d crossed the border, becoming almost chatty for a Byrne. There was little hunting to be had, so they bought provisions from markets in the villages along the way. Amon always made sure they paid a fair price for everything.

Raisa gained a little weight back, requiring no nagging to devour the rich, fresh, southern food. What she gained was mostly muscle, because the daily workouts continued. Raisa trained regularly with her new staff, and found it surprisingly effective, even against a swordsman. Her bladework was improving, too, although she’d never be a champion, given her size.

As they followed the Tamron River south, she was struck by how geography, weather, and terrain drove the economies of nations, creating haves and have-nots.

The industries that thrived in the north relied on materials readily available there—precious stones, gold and silver, wool, furs and leather. The Vale was the only sizable stretch of land that was arable.

So the clans had become masters of commerce, buying and selling goods produced by themselves and others. But that made the Fells vulnerable in times of war, with trade disrupted. It made it difficult to keep the people fed.

When the Seven Realms were joined together, goods, money and people flowed freely among them, making the whole stronger than its component parts.

Traveling through Tamron, Raisa thought of Prince Liam Tomlin, heir to the throne of Tamron, who’d attended her name day party. It was only two months ago, but it seemed a lifetime had passed since their flirtation in the Great Hall had been interrupted by Micah Bayar. What might have happened had Micah not hauled her away to what was intended to be a clandestine wedding?